#probably not even then. oh boy i just love capitalism

[lobotomizedlady]

oh good my whole days plans are thrown off bc my sister took the car. lol. I sure do love sharing one shitty vehicle made in like 2002 with 5 other people. being poor is so fun! whatever I'm gonna take my dog to the park and suck the dregs from this weed pen & try to let the daylight do it's work so i don't feel like overdosing on my pills when I come back home

[how-the-feathers-have-fallen]

Me, fighting tooth and nail against my irl friends who are sw*fties: yeah well, maybe I want my sad girl music to have a 3 minute guitar solo and distorted audio after the second verse of vaguely gay lyrics have you considered that ?!

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Petting Their Hair

Lucifer

"I am only going to say this once: stop."

You get one warning. One. If you do not cease and desist, he is throwing you out of his study, so help him Diavolo's Dad. No, he does not like it. No, not even a little bit. You really aren't going to stop? You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?

....You're very lucky he's too busy to hurl you bodily from this room. He'll just endure it for now.

Mammon

"Hah?! What's the big idea?! This is the revered hair of THE Great Mammon, I'll have you know. So that'll be 100 Grimm a touch, thanks! ....Hey, no, wait, why'd you stop?"

Once he's done turning bright red and clearing his throat, he'll try to capitalize on this whim of yours by offering you a discount on hair touches. A very poorly-planned scheme, because you're not going to pay to do something he'll start begging you to keep up as soon as you stop.

Oh, so Mammon is willing to let you touch his high-value hair for free? You're so honored. What a good boy you are, Mammon. (You can expect a bit more sputtering and some denials that he is anything like a good boy, but bro's into it big time. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.)

Leviathan

*shrieks in confused, touch-starved otaku*

Wait, no, he didn't say to stop! What's with these mixed signals? Petting his hair then stopping just because he shrieks a little bit? Did you want to touch his hair or not? Is it greasy? Oh god, when did he last bathe? ...It was only the other day. You have no reason to be disgusted. You're just a bigoted normie who assumes all otaku are crusty and gross!

Ahhhh?!?!?!?! Again?! Fine! Just don't change your mind again, because that's super confusing! And yeah, obviously he's blushing, you're petting his head and it feels nice and kind of tickles! ....Mm.... You know, once he's settled into it, it's really relaxing, actually...

Fast forward an hour or two and he's probably conked out with his head in your lap, drunk on affection and mostly asleep.

Satan

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

It feels weird. Why are you doing that? Wait, you're petting him? Like he's....a cat? Hmm. Interesting. He'll allow it. But you should do it properly. None of this mussing his hair around with wild abandon. You have to be gentle and use small movements. Maybe use your knuckles? Gently though. There, that's it.

So this is what it feels like. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't take kindly to this if anybody else was doing it, no matter how well they imitated proper cat-petting technique. But you're a special exception, so in the future, if you feel the need to do this, just let him know. And for the love of all things unholy, don't breathe a word about this to his brothers.

Asmodeus

"Oh, you like my hair? Isn't it soft? I'll show you the conditioner I use."

Asmo loves having his hair played with! Or brushed, or combed, or tugged (just not too hard, please!) His hair is silky smooth thanks to a mixture of his natural good looks and his shampoo/conditioner combination. He'll let you borrow them if you're interested. Your hair will look amazing! And it'll feel even better!

This is cozy. He'll just settle in and let you do this as long as you want. Careful you don't get too handsy; he knows how irresistible he is.

...Well, maybe if you're a little handsy he'll let it slide, but just because it's you.

Beelzebub

"Are you....petting me?"

Kind of weird, but it feels nice, so he isn't complaining. It's a little bit embarrassing, just because it makes him feel a little bit like a puppy, but then again, who doesn't like puppies? He'll be able to continue to go about his day not minding you petting his hair now and again. The only awkward part is how damn tall he is. You might need to keep a step stool handy.

Belphegor

"Nnngh, knock it off...! ... ... ...I changed my mind, do it again."

His initial reaction to being woken up to you stroking his head is annoyance, because dammit, he was sleeping. But once he shakes the cobwebs out of his brain, he'll realize that it actually felt really good and he could absolutely fall asleep under these circumstances.

He'll wait a little while, hoping you'll give it another try of your own accord, but if you don't, he'll eventually cave and grumpily ask you to do it again.

Diavolo

"Hahaha... That's enough, now."

He isn't actually a fan. Maybe it's the fact that he's a prince and has been acting as an autocrat more or less for centuries, but being stroked like an adored pet feels really degrading. Of course, he won't hold it against you, but seriously, stop.

Barbatos

"Are you finished playing around quite yet?"

Another one who isn't into this at all. He's more than happy to spend his free time petting you, if that's what you're interested in, but he is a petter, not a pettee. Read into this what you will.

Solomon

"You're so forward!"

Solomon likes it very much. Too much, possibly. Are you flirting with him? There's something incredibly intimate about touching someone's hair, don't you think? No, please, continue.

Simeon

"Um, what are you doing? ...As long as you're enjoying yourself, I guess!"

Simeon is more bewildered by this than most. Like, are you trying to scratch an itch for him? Is this one of those "viral memes" he's heard so much about? Well, it feels nice, and it isn't as if it's hurting anybody. He'll indulge you for now.

A little to your left, please. Ahhhh, that's the spot...

Luke

"Hehe, that tickles... Hey! Is this a Chihuahua joke?!"

It feels kind of nice, but as soon as he takes a second to think about it, he realizes that you're treating him at best like a little kid, and at worst, like a dog, and he isn't having any of that. He'll scold you for treating a Celestial being so casually, remind you that he's actually a lot older than you, technically, so who's the real baby, and secretly pine for more pets for the rest of his life.

[tartarusknight]

I want more platonic stobin and bisexualy disaster Steve and gay disaster Eddie in my life. So I wrote some :)

Steve wanted to scream as he tried the handle again. "Steve. Steve!" Robin pulled him away from the door. "They aren't opening the door, and you're just gonna break the handle. Keith already hates your guts. Don't make it worse." She pointed out, weirdly calm about all of this. "Plus, it's not like we don't share space normally." She says and sinks down to the floor, tugging him down with her.

Steve looked at the door, "Why can't they accept that we're only ever going to be platonic?" He asks and runs a ran through his hair. He was sick of this. Of the comments and the teasing. It stresses him out.

They kept pushing the two of them together, and Steve was worried that it could mess up what friendship he had with Robin. Because Steve's used to messing up and hurting someone, and he really doesn't want to hurt Robin. He has nightmares of outing her by accident and ruining her life. It terrifies him.

"Steve, come on, it's okay. It's just a stupid bathroom. We've shared a bathroom stall. This is bigger than that." She jokes, and he pulls his knees up to his chest.

"I can't do this, Rob." He admits and watches her freeze. Her walls climbed up like he said something really stupid. "I'm sorry, but I'm just-"

She cuts him off, "I get it. You don't want to deal with the backlash of being a lesbian's friend." She says, and he blinks.

"What? No! I don't want to say the wrong thing. I get bitchy when I'm annoyed and I'm easily annoyed when I'm stressed. And I'm stressed! So I don't - I can't be the one to out you. I can't mess that up for you." He says, and it's nice to finally admit his fears.

Robin blinks at him, "That's what- Steve, that's what bothers you about all this?"

Steve nods, "I mess up everything I touch. I can't do that to you, I won't do that to you. Honestly, you should probably find better friends. One who thinks with his brai-"

"Shut up." Robin snaps, and he stops speaking. Looking at her with wide eyes. "You can't talk about my best friend that way. I won't let you," She states.

"You're best friend?"

Her eyes soften, "yeah dingus. Who else would be my best friend? We're soulmates," She decides, and he's confused because she sounds like she means it. "Platonic, with a capital p, soulmates."

He swallows back a ball of emotion, "even if all the kids I babysit-"

"Mother."

"Babysit," he stresses, and she smiles. "Try to get us together at every opportunity and won't believe that we aren't in love. Or that I'm in love with you at the least. I think you're better off because you call me dingus more than my name," he mused.

Robin sighed, "I won't say that it's not annoying. But I'm used to dodging questions about boys, and this way... with you, I have someone to be myself with. That's more important to me than some stupid preteens who think locking us in a bathroom would get us together."

Steve smiles, "last time we shared a bathroom did go pretty well, honestly." She knocked her knee into his. He glanced over at the door. "Do you think they'll give up?"

Robin snorts, "Dustin's more invested in your love life than you are. I don't think he'll give up unless you're dating someone else or the truth comes out."

Steve sighed, chewing his lower lip until something clicked in his head. "What If I come out?"

Robin blinked, "you- what?"

Steve nodded, "I mean I like both but I could just say I favor guys." He shrugs, "it's not like they could disprove it since it's mostly true."

Robin stared at him, "Steve... since when did you- what? Steve oh my god," She shifted onto her knees and slammed into him. "Since fucking when! Why didn't you ever tell me!"

Steve raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean since when? I literally point out hot guys all the time! When we watched watched Rocky Horror, I said Tim Curry was sexy!"

She shook his shoulders, "you did no such thing! You ask if I also think a guy is hot and you said- oh." It clicks for her and she falls back on her ass. She covers her face, "holy shit."

Steve smirks, "holy shit."

A giggle escapes her lips, "you so have a type."

"Shut up," he groans.

But before they can really dig into it, there's a loud knock on the door. "We're gonna open the door in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" The door swings in a Dustin's hand is over his eyes like he's gonna be scarred at the sight of them.

"We're literally just sitting on the floor Henderson. Not having freaky bathroom sex," Steve rolls his eyes and stands, Robin following suit.

Dustin looks upset like he expect his plan to work. "I don't get it." Steve ruffles his hair as he passes the kid. Robin lets out a small laugh as she stretches her limbs like she had been stuck in there for more than just 15 minutes. Steve turns, and she locks eyes with him, a silent question.

"Kid, I've said this a million times, but I'll say it one more time." He glances at the other kids that had either always been there or gotten here at some point since he'd been locked into the bathroom. "Robin and I will never date. She and I have no romantic feelings for each other. And if you pull this shit when we're at work again, I'll kill you."

"It's not like it was hard to figure out how to check someone out," Max shrugged and Steve huffed at her nonchalant grin from behind the counter.

Steve ushers the kids out from behind the counter before taking his normal spot, looking around at the empty store. Robin moves and bumps shoulders with him. "Platonic feelings only." She gestures between them.

Dustin groan, "I just don't get why!"

Steve glances at Robin, "because I'm too gay for her." He states and everyone goes quiet. "Honestly boobies are so high school." He winks at Robin who looks at him like he's bravely stupid.

"Wait but you dated Nancy?" Mike questioned arms over his chest.

Steve rolled his eyes, "so? I am more picky on who I date. Doesn't matter the gender. Robin doesn't tick my boxes."

"But she should!" Dustin complains and Robin groans.

But then Steve sees someone in the windows, heading towards the doors to Family video. "My type is more," and he just gestures just as the door dings to call their attention to the newcomer.

Eddie Munson glances at the kids and then at Steve. "Sheepies," he says. Eyebrows raised in confusion at the eyes on him. Eddie glanced at Steve, "Harrington, you break the kids?" He asks as all the kids continue to stare at him as he moves to the horror section.

Steve waves his hand, like he can brush off the confusion. "Nah, they're just shocked that I'm not completely in love with Birdie over here."

Everyone's jaw is on the floor as Steve leans his arms on the counter, not even bothering to hide the way he checks Eddie out when the man looks away. "Right," Eddie sighs and grabs a movie. "Well, not everyone's type is jocks." Eddie teases slightly, having warmed up to Steve little by little when Steve picks the kids up from Hellfire.

Steve takes the movie from Eddie, giving him his one free movie he gets for the week and hands it back to Eddie without charging him. "I'll win ya over." He winks, and Eddie's eyes go a little wide.

Eyes glanced around like he could ask if anyone else saw that. "Um, well, yeah, how-how much for the-"

"Consider it on me." Steve waved his hand and then leaned more into Eddie's space, "I haven't seen this one yet."

Eddie swallows, "You should check it out. It's, uh, pretty good."

Steve smiles, "I'm shit with horror, maybe if I had someone to hold my hand through it." He sighs overdramatically, then snaps, "Oh, I know! If you're not busy we could watch it together. I mean, it seems like a scary metalhead like yourself would be capable of holding my hand through the jump scares."

Eddie's eyes are blinking rapidly, "it's for the boys." He says, looking lost. Steve frowns, and Eddie jumps into action, "But I could-" He stops himself and groans. "I've got to- plans- fuck-" He stumbles and practically smacks into the door in his rush to leave family video.

Steve sighs and leans his head down on the counter. Robin pats his back, "I miss my whiteboard." She sighs and he looks up to glare at her.

[bethanysnow]

How I think Stray Kids Members would date a Plus Size girlfriend ~ Hyungline

Maknae line

-Bang Chan

This man deadlifts 350lb....do you think it's only for our benefit????? NAH this boy got an actually plus size gal in his minds eye. Large arms, soft shoulders, STOMACH, back???, calves???!?!?!?! Why does no one talk about calves!?! Where this man can man handle and grab and pull to his hearts delight and not break her. Lord knows one spank from him would probably break someone's pelvis if it didn't have padding.... Now I do think he would need to work on himself internally on some of his "complexes" and self image and self confidence?? I love this man to death, but you'd be reassuring him just as much as he is you. He went from the body checking capital of the world to the plastic surgery capital of the world at a formative age; it fucks with your head.

But he would love you, becoming friends would be faster than blinking, but I get the vibe it takes a while to fully trust? He trusts too easily and has been hurt by it in the past so he needs to know that you're gonna he there for him as he is you. He would 100% be the bf to make sure that there are clothes you can wear in his closet but not say anything. He's conscious of how he has insecurities and understands that it takes more than kissing it better and a love making session. It takes work. And he'd be there to remind you every step of the way how much he loves you.

-Minho

This quiet man might surprise you. Now I don't think he'd be the first to come to mind when possibility dating a plus size gf, but this man is a intelligent one. He is introspective, quiet, understanding. He is one of those people in life that either body size wouldn't even cross his mind when dating you, or he would be very conscious of it. Not in a bad way of course.

He is just very concerned about you in how people treat you because of your size, not liking that he gets treated so special cuz he happened to end up being traditionally handsome. Where he sees the mistreatment you deal with and feels protective over you. So he plans ahead, makes sure the restaurant has chairs without arms, would rather people look at him and how OH LOOK ITS LEEKNOW than make you uncomfortable that you think people are staring.

If diets and conversation around diets make you uncomfortable I can see him changing the topic even around the members if you're there. He wants you to be happy and comfortable around him. While he isn't very affectionate or loud about his love its just as deep.

Also.....you got the best ass even if its flat

-Changbin

I think for someone who goes to the gym as much as he does he would understand if someone was having bad experiences tied to it? Like he is paid to work out and have a nutritionist and a stylist and all these team members. Not everyone has that. So he wouldn't pressure you into going with him unless you wanted to go. If you did though he'd be the first one to brag to everyone that you can out-leg press him. It would be the first thing in the group chat in all caps.

Dating Changbin, it is so domestic? I imagine? Like you start dating and he is just this big ol' teddy bear and he would feel so honored if you let yourself be timid around him. Being plus size (insecure or not) you have to have a thick skin, you grow to defend yourself, you protect your heart because people have been cruel and society is a bitch. In doing so the walls are a bit higher, and the fortress is a bit more imposing. But with Binnie, he is a hug that is open anytime anywhere. The absolute pride in his man once you allow yourself to lean on him, or dare to lay on his chest while cuddling? ahhh thats the good stuff

I also think he would be the first one to defend you, knowing the boys love language is poking fun he wouldn't have it if it was you. Be prepared to be presented with one of the boys' heads in a headlock by Binnie if they say anything. He is your knight in shinning armor and will make sure you are laughing and smiling and having a good time. Also he like chan feels more at ease knowing you aren't gonna break if you two get up to something more rough or naughty in the bedroom. Even on a more innocent path just knowing you aren't gonna judge him for how he looks like he doesn't judge yours makes his heart soar.

-Hyunjin

Hyunjin I think would have the most obstacles in regard to dating someone of size. Not that I don't think he wouldn't, but I think with the Korean beauty standard he has a lot of internal stuff he needs to work out before he could be in a healthy relationship. He knows what its like to be judged on only by how you look. He wouldn't want that for you or any of his friends, so I think he would be friends to lovers? You are a great deal of a reality check for him, when he gets very internal and in his head about stuff he goes to you.

So by the time he figures out he has a crush on you his entire art book has already started to look like Renaissance drafts of plus-size women. Starts seeking out media and art that reminds him of you. I don't even think hes conscious that he's doing it? I think it feels like an itch he can't scratch just right and its driving him insane because he doesn't know how to pin down this feeling. Not in art, not in lyrics, it evades him. Till he is standing in front of you, at your apartment, with an Idol worthy bouquet of flowers. Opening his heart and hoping you don't reject him.

Which....would never happen? Your relationship is one of the ages, he writes songs about you, and draws you constantly. In-person he has to be near you, even as simple as playing with your jewelry or showing you memes on his phone while you eat silently side by side. It is a love that is comfort, its like warm clothes out of the dryer for hyunjin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@7ndipity @kaciidubs @itshannjisung @dreamescapeswriting @moonlightndaydreams

[ak4e7a]

i hate valentine’s day — boyfriend!hoon x reader

It's pretty self-explanatory. But one person is determined to change your mind.

wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be short and then i blinked and now i’m here)

cw: fluff, slight angst if you read it sideways i guess, smut, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, lots of pet names bc hoon is a loverboy end of story

author's note: WHEEWWW my first full drabble on here! i hope y'all enjoy and please please please let me know if you do <3 likes and comments and reblogs are super appreciated ♡ happy Valentine's Day!

It’s just a capitalist holiday designed to sell flowers and chocolates and give people a reason to start a fight in their already unhappy relationship. Your friends had heard you say that time and time again, year after year, and they were almost wholeheartedly convinced that you really did not enjoy a holiday centered around love.

The truth, however, was the opposite. You loved it—the pink hearts, the stuffed animals, the candy, the red roses, the romantic gestures. You were just… bitter that you’d been spending all of the past Valentine’s days with a card and a bar of your favorite chocolate that your mom would either give to you in person or mail to your apartment once you’d moved out for college. 

You didn’t want to be one of those people that liked Valentine’s Day with a nonchalance about themselves and droned on and on about how it could also be interpreted as a day of “self-love”. You could do a lot of self-love with a rose toy and an hour of uninterrupted time locked in your room. But a rose toy wouldn’t be able to laugh at a rom-com with you, and you’d probably get looked at funny if you walked around the mall holding it in your hand for everyone to gawk at.

Did you hate seeing happy couples? Maybe.

Did that hate go away once you found yourself somehow in a relationship with the quiet boy from your statistics class? The boy who you, at first, thought seemed cold and uninterested in anything but the assignments? Just a little bit.

You told Sunghoon last week that he didn’t have to do anything, that he shouldn’t waste his paycheck from his part-time campus job on gifts when it wasn’t even Christmas or your birthday, and he’d already gotten you something for your 100 day anniversary a month ago, anyways. You hammered it home with the same speech that you’d given your friends since you learned what capitalism was.

And all he did was nod his head with a thoughtful, “Hmm,” and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before you turned as red as the roses you’d hope he’d still get you anyways and went back to typing away at your laptop, allowing the white noise of the library to drown out your racing thoughts.

Now it’s the morning of the 14th, and you wake up in your bed, alone. You sigh, maybe Sunghoon had gone home already even though neither of you have a class today. Trudging to the bathroom, you brush your teeth and wash your face before returning to bed to sulk and stare at the wall. 

You mentally kicked yourself, this was your fault, why did you tell your first and only boyfriend you didn’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day—a holiday primarily meant for couples? Now, if you were lucky and your relationship happens to last until next year, would the next Valentine’s Day also go uncelebrated? What about your one-year anniversary? What about—

And then your door creaks open. And you scream.

Sunghoon screams, too, almost dropping the mountain of bags he’s holding.

“Why are you screaming?” Sunghoon yells, stumbling to regain his balance as he walks towards the bed. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Because I was under the assumption that I was alone in the house!” you exclaim, although now your fear is mixed with excitement as you scan his muscled arms wrapped around all the stuff he’s carrying.

“Oh,” he says, more quiet now. “You thought I left and wouldn’t come back?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “I thought… I thought…”

“That I wouldn’t do anything for Valentine’s Day just because you went on that long-ass tirade in the library last week?”

You frown, eyebrows knitted together. But you’re not upset at him, no, the entire reason you let yourself fall for him was because he was always so understanding. You could feel yourself falling even more because he didn’t fall for your pathetic attempt at being a “chill, low-maintenance” girlfriend. “I don’t deserve you,” you say.

Sunghoon sets the bags on the rug beside your bed and sits beside you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. “That’s not true. You put up with a loser like me.”

“Hey,” you sniffle. “You’re my loser. Which makes you not-a-loser.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

You like him. You like him so much. You like the way he dresses (including his glasses), you like every single different cologne he uses, you like the way his hair falls in his face, you like the way he scrunches his nose when you offer him a bite of your mint choco ice cream, you like the way he accepts the chocolate toothpaste taste because it makes you happy to share snacks with him. You like the way he switches to his wired earphones instead of his big headphones when he studies with you so you can listen to music with him when you study. You like him. You like him a lot. In fact, you—

“I love you,” you blurt out, and the wide-eyed look he gives you makes you slap your hand over your mouth in some sort of vain attempt to get the words back in where they came from.

But just like toothpaste, once it’s squeezed out of the tube, you can’t put it back in.

Unless, of course, you had a syringe or a pipette or something but that’s neither here nor there, because you just told Park Sunghoon, your former statistics partner, Park Sunghoon, the best part-time barista on campus, Park Sunghoon, your (somewhat) new boyfriend, that you love him for the first time.

And to make it extra corny, you’ve told him on Valentine’s Day, the day you’ve adamantly lied about hating.

Sunghoon finally grins, his pearly white teeth (that you also like so much) on full display. “I knew it.”

“What?”

“I knew you liked Valentine’s Day, you little liar,” he teases, playfully flicking your forehead.

“Ugh,” you groan, falling back on your pillows. “Go home for real this time if you’re going to gloat.”

Sunghoon crawls over you, his face inches away from yours. “For the record, though, I love you, too. Lies and all.”

“Sunghoon,” you whine, trying to push at his chest. “Stop embarrassing me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” As he presses apologetic kisses to your cheek, you feel something else press against your leg.

“Hoon,” you repeat. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

“Yeah, ‘cause my girlfriend just told me she loves me.”

You smile. “Really? You’re easier than I—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Then two. Then three. Then four. Then finally it evolves into a full-on makeout session, with your hands tangled in his hair and his hips nestled between your thighs. His glasses are on your nightstand; he’d taken them off after they were getting in his way of kissing you.

“Want it,” you murmur, as if you didn’t just tease your boyfriend for being easy to turn on. “Wanna do it...”

You figure since you’ve already confessed your feelings, losing your virginity to your boyfriend who you’re definitely madly in love with is a good idea. (Spoiler: it is.)

Now he hovers over you, looking at you with hearts in his eyes. "Relax for me, okay, baby? It's gonna hurt a little bit. Just say the word and I'll stop."

"O-okay, Hoonie."

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his shaft in his hand, pumping it twice before lining it up with your entrance. "Gonna put my cock in you now, baby... oh... ah, fuck... 's better than I imagined... So tight, even after I've prepped you... You're squeezing around my tip, you okay, sweetheart?"

You nod, biting your lip as he stretches you with his thick girth. "'M okay, Hoonie, 's just big, so big..."

"You're being such a good girl for me, baby. 'M gonna push it all the way inside you now, okay? Just breathe." One of his hands skims down your body, reaching in between you two to stroke at your clit. The pleasurable friction against your nerves dulls out the pain of him breaking your hymen, but you cry out nonetheless.

"Ah! Hoonie, it hurts," you whimper, your chest heaving and nails digging into his back. 

"'M sorry, baby, we can stop now if you want. I don't mind—"

"No!! No, please, just... don't move yet, please? Need t'get used to—fuck—you inside..."

"Alright, baby. I'll keep still." He kisses your cheek, petting your hair gently. Then he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. He's so beautiful, it's mesmerizing. "You're such a good girl, aren't you? So pretty and perfect for me... you're getting my cock so wet, baby. Want me to make you cum like this? Make you feel better?"

"Y-yes please!"

He leans back until his head is just above where you’re connected, and you watch his abs flex in that position. He spits on your clit, rubbing it in slow, languid circles. Softly, he asks, "you're such a sweet little girl, anything else you want, love?"

You clench around him at the pet name, your entire body flushing with warmth. "Um... can you... um..."

"Oh, I know," he smirks, his free hand moving up to toy with your nipples. "Does it feel good with my cock inside you, baby? Gonna cum while you're stuffed full of me?"

"Yes, so good, Hoonie, thank you!" You squirm a little, unintentionally grinding yourself against his dick, and the movement makes him groan. 

"Fuck," he says under his breath. "You're so cute... and you're so hot, you don't even know it... that's it, pretty girl, cum whenever you want. you earned it."

"Hoonie," you keen, back arching off the bed as you orgasm around him. "can you m-move, please?"

"Yeah, baby, you like being stretched by me? Gonna let me fuck you open, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah... y'can move now, Hoonie."

"God," he chokes out, thrusting shallowly. "You're sucking me in so good, baby." He puts a hand over your lower abdomen, pressing down. "Can you feel me right there?"

You squeal as the tip of his dick rubs firmly against your g-spot. "Y-yes! 'S big, so big, hoonie!"

“You're so tight, princess, gonna make me cum so soon already, fuck, pussy feels like heaven..."

"So... big," you gasp, staring up at him in adoration. He's so handsome. 

He reaches down and tenderly cups your cheek before leaning in and kissing you softly. "Taking me like a good girl, baby... 'm I making you feel good?"

“Yes, yes,” you manage to stutter out, legs wrapping around his slender waist.

"Gonna cum... need to pull out, baby, can I cum—fuck! Can I cum on you, baby, please?"

"Yes! Yesyesyes! Cum on me, Hoonie, wanna feel it!"

"Where... where do you want my cum, princess?" he pants, sliding his cock out of you and stroking himself.

"Cum on my pussy, Hoonie!"

He groans, and the two of you look down and watch as he cums right over your core, the milky essence dripping down onto the bed. Despite the mess, he immediately lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms like you’re about to go back to sleep.

You feel good. Maybe better than good. Definitely better than good. You can hear his heartbeat when you rest your head on his chest.

“Aw, fuck,” Sunghoon mutters into the crown of your head. “I think the ice in your drink melted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I went out to get your gifts from my apartment, and I got you an iced matcha from that one place you like on the way back.”

“I’ll drink it anyways… but you didn’t have to get me any gifts,” you mumble, still trying to stay true to your lie, even though Sunghoon has already seen right through it. But you definitely mean the next sentence. “Just spending the day with you is enough for me.”

“I know, I know. But I wanted to. I never want you to feel like I only do things for you because you ask me to. I want you to know that I do them because I love you.”

Okay. Maybe you really did hate Valentine’s Day before.

But not anymore. You feel good. You feel great. You’re loved, and you’re in love.

You look up at him and he kisses you on the forehead before you repeat, “I love you, too.”

[toothfa-1-ry]

METAMORPHOSIS -finnick odair

The capital has a way of messing up with your head. Finnick saw it happen to him, he saw it happen to Peeta and worst of all, he had to see it happen to you too

GENRE: Angst

PAIRING: Finnick Odair x gn reader,

WARNING: PTSD, mental illness and abuse, suicidal thoughts, self harm on Finnick's part, reader want through a lot of psychological abuse and physical abuse, Finnick has panic attacks basically very hunger games coated abuses

A/N: back in for a hot minute with the new release of a the ballad of songbirds and snakes! I seem to be pulled back into the hunger games lol however since it's been a pretty long time since I've read or watch the movies this fic is probably not going to be accurate at all! Also I have no idea how to end this fic so I just did it in a hurry. I don't rlly like how it came out but oh well!

You weren't supposed to get taken away

You weren't supposed to fall back down behind, you weren't supposed to be left behind while Finnick was distracted talking to Katniss.

Finnick wasn't supposed to leave you behind, he was supposed to stay by your side just like he promised. He wasn't supposed to let you be taken away and yet your there stuck in the capitol while he lies with wounds all over his body in the 13 district

It should have been him, he thinks, that maybe if he had switch places with you in that moment, that he was right next to you instead of ahead of you, that he would pulled you towards him, maybe..maybe you would be there next to him.

Maybe you would be lieing next to him, perhaps is bruises and wounds as bad as his but atleast the both of you would be safe in each others arms.

Finnick knows that he should get out of his room. The plain cold room with grey walls seem to surround him on all four sides and yet his grief seems to swallow him as a whole

The ringing sound in his ears continue relentlessly and the tremble in his hands refuse to go. He'd find himself picking his scabbed scars and almost healed wounds and waking up in the dead of night screaming. He finds himself scarring his once golden skin which now seemed rusted with red and all of his old wounds once which was kissed by you being reopened at the dead of night.

He screamed screamed for you, every night and even while he was awake he seemed to be mumbling your name over and over again under his breath. As if believing that if he did so that maybe you'd appear infront of him and tell him it's just a bad dream

Sometimes he'd be forced out of his room, sometimes it's by Haymitch or some other person. He couldn't care less, however he was also a beacon of hope for the people maybe not flaming as bright as Katniss the girl on fire but rather hope like the beach waves hitting the shore

But you were different. You were a different kind of hope, not burning bright and flaming with fumes like Katniss or calm and majestic in all its glory like Finnick but you were like moon.

Hope like the moon in the dark night sky guiding travelers for the past million centuries, sailors, prophets and even kings and helping them find way back to their homes, to their solace. You were the light in the dark, a elegant beam of radiance showing way even to a poor man.

You were Finnick's light. The only thing that helped him see, the only time he felt truly like himself not like the capitols charming prince, or the victor from the 4th district but rather just like plain Finnick. The boy who had golden tan skin, hair dry with salty sea water, the boy who smelled like the sea ans the boy he once was before the capitol got a hold of him.

Like the moon's reflection on the ocean bed in the calm, you were a beam of radiance to him that helped him sleep in night, safe and sound..and loved.

He misses you more than he remembered you. And it scared Finnick.

Being forced out was now a usual thing for Finnick. Being forced to sit in a cafeteria with a plate of food which would go cold and remain uneaten.

He usually stayed alone still away from the others which was unlike him but his mind would be plagued with the last look you gave him, his ears repeating your mortifying scream

Sometimes he'd talk to Katniss. She understood him, after all her Peeta was taken away to just you were taken away. Both Finnick and Katniss blamed themselves more than they should have,

He thinks, at first that he is a little envious of Katniss and the way she looks strong. She holds herself in a way he doesn't. He thinks, how does she do it? How does Katniss remain like a fire burning torch when Peeta the person she adores the most is gone like how you were

But then he hears a familiar voice, he sees a all too familiar face across the tv screen and he is immediately filled with desperation and dread. He looks at Peeta's stoic and unmoving face on the tv screen and he feels the tremble beginning in his hands again.

The capitol couldn't have..could they? They wouldn't have- they couldn't have done it. They didn't kill Peeta but..they seemed to have done something even worser

Finnick's thoughts are left troubled when it was disturbed a loud sound of a metallic plate dropping and a cry of despair

He sees Katniss, her tears and the way her hands fly towards her mouth and try to cover her cry.

Thats when he notices the bags under her eyes and the cuts on her hand. He notices the way her heart sank just like his did and he notices the way Katniss called out Peeta's name. He remembers the way she held him in the games and the way she begged him to live

He thinks, maybe they aren't so different at all.

"he's alive..he's alive" Katniss whispers under her breath and Finnick's holds his, his eyes scan the tv screen scanning for your face whi- and he sees it.

Your face in the background, your hair combed and slicked backed tightly into a bun. Your faced filled with white powdery makeup making you look almost as if you were a corpse. Your eyes seemed scarily full and your lips dry.

But you weren't dead, but you didn't really seem alive either.

The fact that you were alive had a unsettling feeling in Finnick but right now he couldn't care, you were alive and breathing

"y/n" Finnick breaths out as he runs towards the screen with no hesitation. His mind is no longer on Katniss or Peeta or the capitol but at you and your face.

His trembling fingers slowly trace your face as he cries your name out repeatedly, he isn't listening to what Peeta is saying or all the commotion in the back

Your alive.

"they're back! Peeta, Johanna and y/n they- they're back"

Finnick runs faster than he has ever done in his entire life.

Faster than he did in the hunger games or faster than he did from the capitol people after they were done with their business with him in their bedrooms.

He throws down whatever he was holding in his hands, leaves whatever thought was occupying his head and runs faster than he ever did

He doesn't care about whether he hit someone or if he was making too much noise. He cried your name out as he ran calling you, searching for you before opening the door with a bang, his eyes red with tears and trembling body.

He sees you in a wheelchair lying lifelessly in the the chair which held your body.

He doesn't notice the way everyone else in the room looks at him, Haymitch, the doctors or nurses or even Johanna who was sitting in a similar wheelchair a few metres away from you. They way they all immediately stood up straight and their body tense, the way their faces were looking at him with pity

Finnick feels as if though he had stopped breathing, every single bone in his body moves automatically. The tears stream across his golden skin as his hands itch to touch you

All he needs is you. All he needs is your touch, your warmth

He runs towards you unaware of the way you tensed up when you saw him, he shouts your name as his hands stretch out to finally hold you, he begs for forgiveness again and again but finds you shaking instead

"Finnick don't go near her- wait Finnick don't" Beetee's immediate warning fails when you start thrashing against Finnick's touch

"y/n?- y/n my love? What's wrong?" Finnick panics as he tries to calm you down as you shout and scream

Just a few seconds ago you were silent and unmoving refusing to speak but here you were with Finnick, screaming and crying trying to get away from him like he was a monster

"my love please-" Finnick begs as his hands touches your face, the panic in his voice and the tears unhidden from anyone. The despair and regret dripping from his words and unhelpful touches which seem to drive you insane even more

"away! Get away from me! I- get away! away!" You try to push Finnick away but your not that strong. You seem to be repeating the same things again and again but you shake your head and scream even louder than before

"Finnick let go of her- don't Finnick!" Finnick's hears the others shouting at him but he can't let you go, not when you don't even recognise him

"it's me- it's me y/n. It's Finnick your sweetheart" his voice cracks at the nickname you gave him, his eyes search for a second of recognition or even love but your eyes are filled with terror and fear

"y/n it's me! I'm here now! I'm sorry I'm never going to let you go- please y/n..it's me" he begs and pleads you but you don't stop resisting against him even going lengths of hitting him with your hands helplessly

"Finnick let go!" Finnick hears Haymitch shout as he pulls him away from you "she isn't the same y/n you know- the capitol played with her mind"

Finnick feels his entire world go cold, his skin gone numb and his brain feels all muddy. There's a dark deep sinking feeling in his gut as he watches you look at him in complete fear, crawling away from him and into the corner of the room hugging yourself

Finnick takes a few steps towards you but is fiercely pushed away by a agitated Johanna "get the fuck away from her Finnick!"

Johanna glares at Finnick alongside with everyone in the room before she runs to the corner you were sobbing in and cradles you in her arms muttering "don't touch us, don't touch us" again and again.

"what- what do you mean? What's going on?" He turns and looks at the faces in the roomwhich was responded with a nervous glance. Finnick feels his blood boil and his anger consume him

"I said what do you mean" he shouts "what the hell happened" his eyebrows furrowed as he watches Betee struggled to form sentences

"we- we don't know exactly what happened" Betee says as he motions towards you and Johanna who was rocking you in her arms, shooting everyone in the room dirty looks still repeating the same words

"but-"

"but what? what...what happened to my y/n why.. why does she seem afraid of me? Why is she scared-" His voice cracks before he began to sob uncontrollably "why?"

The room goes silent and all that could be heard was Finnick's sobs and yours alongside with Johanna's muttering.

Haymitch walks slowly to Finnick and holds him in the shoulder "I think..you should sit down somewhere while we talk about this" he says grimly as he turns around and gives looks at the rest of the people in the room to give them some space

Finnick's breathing is shallow as he listens to Betee. The more he listens the more he wishes that he were dead, that it was all fake. He wishes even more that it was him who was taken into the capitol and regret and anger fills him up

"the capitol obviously wasn't going to let it slide, I mean y/n she- she was the capital's sweetheart. She was one of their favourite victor and seeing her being a part of the uprising? Snow would have never let her or any of them for the fact go unscarred but, we never expected this much"

Betee continues in a whisper, he stops every 2 minutes and looks at Finnick to say something but Finnick would always remain silent and unmoving.

"Johanna she- she's developed this insane fear of water- she was drowned multiple times by the capital and Peeta he..he was also brainwashed. He has developed this insane hatred for Katniss."

"and y/n?" Finnick finally broke his silence "what did they do to her?" You could hear the desperation leaking from his voice, his voice at the verge of breaking

Betee seemed to be hesitant to say, often refusing to make eye contact with Finnick but he sighed and looked straight at him

"y/n was strapped. She was strapped into this machine and they kept on fiddling with her memories. She couldn't differentiate with what was real and what wasnt. They inserted this entire new plot into her head which she now believes some parts of it to be true"

Finnick breathing stopped, a chill ran down his spine as he internally begged that it was not what he was thinking of

Betee looks up to Finnick with sadness and guilt painted in his eyes, he didn't want to break it to Finnick this way. He knew how much it would hurt him

"Finnick" Haymitch says instead, choosing to be the one to break the news to Finnick "y/n, she's scared of you. Just like how Peeta has developed hate for Katniss, y/n has developed fear towards you."

A all too familiar feeling came over Finnick. He was where he was in the beginning. He was nothing but a monster, a killer, a damaged product before you came along and showed him a new path but he had to ruin everything. He had to break you too, he had to ruin you too, it was all his fault

Panic engulfed Finnick as it hit his very core, today was the day he got you back and yet today was also the day he seemed to have forever lost you

"but-" he trembles as he talks "but why- what did they show her? What did I do to her" his breathing becomes fast

"it's not your fault" Haymitch says as Betee nods his head "we're trying to figure that out right now"

"is it only me?" Finnick's blood shot eyes pierce Betee's "am I the only person she's scared of?"

"she's scared of everything and everyone except for Johanna. Johanna was the only one who was there to comfort her but Johanna herself isn't in the right mind right now either" Betee replies

"oh" Finnick's voice is empty and hollow, he doesn't want to ask the question but it seems inevitable "will she ever stop being scared of me?"

Finnick is scared of Betee's answer, his heart hammered agains his chest in panick "do you think..I can get her back?"

Betee purses his lips as he continues "it won't ever be the same Finnick. Y/n.. whatever they implanted in her head has been recognised as real to her now but if we keep on pressing on with the truth maybe" he looks hopefully at Finnick "maybe you could get a piece of her back, not fully but a fragment of her"

"I just..I just want her, I don't care if it's a piece of her or whatever. I just..I want her to be okay"

Betee just nods his head wordlessly as he watches Finnick break down. Right infront of him was probably the strongest person he ever knew, he watched him during his games, watched him become victor and knew everything he went through but he never saw Finnick this broken.

"I'm going to get her back" Finnick says "if that's the last thing I ever do I swear, she's going to be okay"

[matchavellichor]

i’m not sure if your requests are open (if they’re closed just ignore this lmao!!) but hear me out: the yule ball’s coming up and mc has been receiving several gifts from people trying to woo her. meanwhile, sebastian is jealous and pouty and building up the courage to ask her to the ball……… until one of the gifts she had been given is doused with amortentia and she suddenly starts acting all lovey dovey towards some other guy. and sebastian realizes this, and ominis has to pretty much hold him by the neck of his shirt to prevent him from throttling someone

A.N: ty for the request! i adore jealous protective sebastian Aaaa <3

A Worrisome Box of Chocolates

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - Fluff - 2.6k Words

Tags: Banter, Pining, "Un"requited Love, Inappropriate Use of Amortentia, Jealous Sebastian, Protective Sebastian, Friends to Lovers

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Sebastian scowled, gaze trained on Amit as he crossed the courtyard to approach her, a bouquet of prissy, yellow flowers in hand. “Is there a single person in this school who isn’t going to try to ask her?” 

“You, apparently,” Ominis murmured, licking a finger to turn the page of his paperback.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Ominis feigned innocence.

“Gods, I’m going mad,” Sebastian looked ready to pull out chunks of hair. “Okay, you know what, tonight will be the night. Yes, tonight. I’ll wait up for her after dinner and— actually, she’ll probably be too tired, right? We have double potions today. Alright, tomorrow then. Perfect, yes, tomorrow morning. Damn it, no, that won’t work, there’s that—”

Ominis looked ready to pull out chunks of hair himself. He sighed. “How about now, Sebastian? She’s right there, for heaven's sake, just walk up to her.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ominis, that’s a terrible idea.”

Ominis hit his forehead against the cover of his book in a desperate measure to cling to sanity. He turned his head towards the entrance of the courtyard. 

“Suit yourself. However, I see Leander making his way over to ask her now.”

Sebastian’s head whipped around at neck-breaking speeds. “What? Where?” 

Ominis quickly capitalized on this narrow window for escape, slipping from the bench they were on.

“He’s not—” Sebastian turned back perplexed to an empty seat. “Oh, you git —you can’t even see!” 

//

When Sebastian finally made his way back to the common room after an entire day of watching other students fawn over her in their shared classes, she was already there, curled up near the fireplace chatting with Ominis. 

He attempted to exude nothing but platonic indifference as he plopped down on the couch beside his two friends with a sigh. 

“Long day?” She looked concerned. Ominis looked aggravatingly amused.

“You have no idea,” He muttered, intentionally omitting the reasons for his sour disposition. He glanced at the package in her hand. “Where on earth did you get so much chocolate?”

She flushed. “One of the older Ravenclaw boys gave it to me.” She outstretched the box towards him. “Want some?” 

Sebastian tried his very best to suppress his look of revulsion, he truly did. Unfortunately, he was only able to school his expression into a mild sense of loathing. “I’m alright.”

She shrugged and popped a square into her mouth. She hummed at the gratifying taste of sugar melting on her tongue, ignoring the strange aftertaste in her mouth. She ate another. 

Sebastian watched perplexed when after a few bites in, she suddenly shot up from her seat, box of chocolates forgotten and scattered onto the emerald carpet. 

“Uh, where are you going?”

“I have to go see him,” Her voice was soft, almost wistful.

Ominis looked equally as confused. “See who?”

She paused, contemplating. “Oh, I’m actually not sure of his name…” Her brows furrowed. “None the matter, what’s important is just how strongly I feel for him — oh, my heart just might burst.” 

She attempted her departure once again but Sebastian quickly grabbed her by the back of her robes, sitting her back down on the couch. She looked deeply unpleased with this hindrance. 

“It’s past curfew, are you mad?” He looked at her bewildered. “You’ll have to wait to see your lover tomorrow.” He didn’t even bother to conceal his jealous sneer as he said the word.

“Lover?” She mumbled, almost trance-like. “Oh my, do you think he loves me, too?” She gasped and tried to stand from her seat again. “Well I just have to see him now! Maybe he’ll ask for my hand in marriage.” 

Sebastian sat her back down yet another time and glanced over his shoulder to Ominis as if to ask a little help here, but quickly found the blonde preoccupied with burying his nose in her discarded box of chocolates.

He held the box in front of Sebastian’s face, who was still struggling to detain a very eager witch who was much stronger than her size let on. “Smell this.”

“What? Why—”

“Just smell it— tell me what you smell.”

Sebastian obliged with a sigh and picked up nothing but the rich notes of chocolate at first, until it hit him. 

Lavender, crushed dittany leaves, and the slightest hint of mallowsweet. He recognized it immediately, the scent derived from the very witch beside him, the same scent that’s been wafting from his Amortentia brews in Professor Sharp’s classes for months.

Sebastian turned back to her immediately, grabbing her face in his hands. He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes to find her pupils blown abnormally large, almost glazed-over with artificial infatuation. His suspicions were confirmed.

He saw red.

“I’m going to strangle him.” He gritted, teeth clenched as he stepped away from her.

Ominis rose from his seat to place a placating hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “Hold on a second, Sebastian, we have to help her first—”

“No, I’m going to torture him first, and then I’m going to strangle him.” Sebastian amended, pacing the room in his rage, Ominis’ pleas falling on deaf ears.

Ominis quickly took his place in trying to restrain her attempts at escaping the common room. “Are you even listening to me?”

“How fast do you think Garreth could brew me a love potion for a blast-ended skrewt if I asked? I should give this prick a taste of his own medicine.” His fists tensed at his sides as he rambled, self-consumed. “Make him walk around with third-degree burns for the rest of the semester.” 

“Sebastian, will you snap out of it?” Ominis hissed. “I promise to be an accomplice to his murder, but after we get her an antidote!” 

She suddenly darted for the door and the blonde had to catch her with an arm around her waist, dragging her away. 

“Ominis, let me go! He’s the love of my life, please!” She thrashed frantically.

“Hold on, stop struggl— ow!” Ominis gasped, incredulous, flailing his hand in pain. “She just bit me! Sebastian, stop planning his demise and help me, before she realizes she has a wand!” 

Ominis immediately regretted his words as she proceeded to wrench her arm out of his grip, dipping her hand into her pocket. Finally catching Sebastian’s attention, both boys dove for her, yanking the wand out of her hand despite her frustrated shrieks. 

Out of breath, Ominis attempted to calm her. “We’ll go take you to the love of your life now, how does that sound? He’s very excited to see you, but you have to calm down.”

She finally stilled, a lovesick smile pulling across her lips. “Is he really?” she sighed, dreamy. “Of course he is, we’re meant to be…Oh, what do you think our children will look like, Sebastian? Maybe they’ll have his eyes and my lips—”

Sebastian looked on the brink of bursting a blood vessel. “Please, let’s get her to Garreth before I find this vermin and do something violent.”

//

Sebastian and Garreth huddled over his personal potioneering kit in the Gryffindor common room, meanwhile Ominis tried to calm her restlessness on one of the couches.

“Is he almost here? What’s taking him so long?” She pouted, arms crossed around her middle. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Sebastian hissed in a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed at Garreth. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of expert at this?” 

“Antidotes take time! Whoever did this to her used something strong.” Garreth stirred the murky liquid in the cauldron before them, unpleasant fumes bubbling from the surface. “Who did do this to her anyways?” 

“Some Ravenclaw prick. Go fucking figure,” Sebastian seethed. “Speaking of which, do you have any potions that inflict painful, long-lasting boils? Preferably one that leaves permanent damages?” 

Ominis piped up from the couch like an owner scolding an unruly dog. “Sebastian, no.”

“Sebastian, yes.” Garreth grinned, looking just as intrigued and vengeful. “I actually have just the thing, I’ve been wanting to test it out for a while now.”

Ominis went to chastise the both of them, but a petulant whine beside him pulled his attention. “Ominiiiis. Where is he? I miss him so much, I can’t bear it. Will you take me to him?” 

Ominis sighed, and told himself that the fact he survived this day without casting a bombarda to his own skull yet was a testament to his great mental fortitude. 

He patted her shoulder. “He’s on his way, be patient, yes? He’s just getting some uh…flowers for you.” 

Her face lit up with a gasp. “Is he? Oh, how can someone be so romantic? Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Sebastian looked ready to hurl on the tacky, red and gold carpet he was crouched on. 

“Aha!” Garreth flicked off the flames underneath his cauldron with a wave of his wand, procuring a ladle to scoop the viscous substance into a vial. “All done. Here, give this to her and I’ll get started on the Boils Brew.” 

“No Boils Brew!” Ominis shot up to object. 

Sebastian kneeled by her on the couch, uncorking the glass and holding it to her mouth. “Here, drink this.”

She wrinkled her nose at the smell, twisting her lips shut.

He sighed. “It’s a present from your…beloved,” Sebastian choked on the word. “He really wanted me to give it to you.”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth in consideration before she finally let him pour the bitter-tasting liquid in her mouth, swallowing with a grimace.

Sebastian waited with bated breath as her pupils slowly shrank back to normal size, pulling her out of her trance-like state. Confusion quickly crossed over her face. 

“Why the hell are we in the Gryffindor common room?”

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief, immediately tugging her into a bear-hug that compressed all the oxygen out of her lungs.

“Sebastian, you’re strangling me,” she choked, voice strained. 

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, pulling back. “You’re actually not the one I want to strangle.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me we’re here because you’re trying to murder Leander again. It was one time, I don’t think he even meant for that swarm of vampyr mosps to find your dorm specifically.”

Garreth winced from behind them. “He definitely did.” 

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” Sebastian looked prepared to commit double homicide. “But no, I actually have to head to the Ravenclaw tower.” He glanced over his shoulder as he stood up. “You coming, Garreth?” 

Garreth scoffed as he packed up his equipment. “Obviously.”

She watched, utterly bewildered, as the two made their departure together as if they were the best of friends, any past grievances forgotten in favor of some mutual vengeance. She was half-convinced she was experiencing visual hallucinations as a side-effect to whatever toxic sludge Garreth had brewed for her to drink.

Sebastian pushed open the portrait door of the common room. “You share a dorm with Leander, don’t you?” 

Garreth nodded.

He gave the ginger a friendly clap on the shoulders. “Heads up, sleep in the common room tomorrow night.”

Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long-suffering sigh, the state of this new, unlikely truce making that self-inflicted bombarda seem exponentially more tempting. 

//

Slipping back into the Slytherin common room in the wee hours of the night after his escapade to the Ravenclaw tower, Sebastian was thoroughly exhausted and fully prepared to sink into bed and never get up again.

His plans changed as soon as he caught sight of the witch curled up on the wingback chair in front of the fireplace, nearly dozing off. She shot up as soon as she heard his footsteps, rising to her feet. 

“You should be in bed,” he scolded lightly. “You’ve been through enough tonight.” 

“I was waiting for you,” she shifted nervously in place. “I wanted to thank you. Ominis, uh…filled me in about what happened. Said you were pretty upset.” 

Pink tinged the freckled tops of his cheeks. “I was just a bit worried is all,” he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “He’s exaggerating.” 

She laughed. “It’s just,” she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t expect you to care as much as you did. You’ve never really…” she shook her head, dismissing the thought. “Nevermind. Thank you, really.” 

“It’s what any friend would do.” Sebastian tried to suppress a wince as he said the word, hating the taste of it in his mouth. 

“Right, yeah,” she bobbed her head. “Friends.” 

He didn’t miss the way she almost looked disappointed as she nodded. Something warm and hopeful bloomed in his chest. He crossed the small space between them, breaching the gap before he could talk himself out of what he wanted to do, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“I care about you dearly, you understand that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice timid. 

She nodded. “Of course, you and Ominis are both very—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Not like that. I mean, yes, Ominis cares for you, of course, but…” he sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that I care for you…differently. I have for quite a while now.” 

Her brows knit together. “I’m not sure I follow, Sebastian.”

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

Her eyes widened, followed by her entire expression falling. “Well, geez — rude, but if that’s what—”

“No, wait — shit, that’s not— I do want to be your friend, of course,” he shook his head, amending, “Or well, no, I actually don’t, I—” he groaned. “I want to be more than friends.” 

It finally all clicked for her, like the pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly in place. She smiled then, a delighted laugh escaping her lips. Sebastian grinned just as brightly, taking her hands in his, elation bursting in his chest at her finally understanding.

“You want to be best friends.” 

His smile faded and his head dropped to her shoulder. “Merlin help me.”

She burst out laughing then, nearly doubling over.

“I’m messing with you, oh my gods, come here,” she took her face in his hands. “I understand.” 

“Oh, thank Circe,” he breathed a sigh of relief.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “For quite a while, huh?” 

He nodded, a bit embarrassed. “It’s terrible. I’ve been head over heels for you pretty much ever since you kicked my ass in Hecat’s class.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, in that case, I’m very upset with you.” 

Sebasian blanched. “Oh gods, what have I done this time?” 

“Made me wait around like a fool for weeks for you to ask me to the dance,” she batted his chest. “Just out of spite, I think I’ll go with Leander.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, then just out of spite, I think Leander might find himself bedridden in the nurse’s ward for the next few weeks.” 

She bit back a smile. “You’re incorrigible.” 

He shrugged. “I simply protect what’s mine.” 

She scoffed. “Oh, is that what I am now?” 

He nodded, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Well, I’ve been yours for the longest time now, I think it’s only fair.”

She laughed. “Have you now? I suppose it is fair then, huh?”

Something flickered behind his eyes. “Well, there’s only one way to make it truly fair.” 

She raised a brow. “Oh? And how’s that?” 

With one hand to the small of her back, he pulled her flush to him, and curled the other in the nape of her neck to bring her lips down to his. 

He kissed her until he was sure there were no doubts about exactly who she belonged to, and who he belonged to just as devotedly. 

[sweetismyaddiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

SUCROSE

Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Where the nicknames came from, how they meet, starts. (They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love)

Word account: 2005

Warnings: Fluff, friends to lovers, anxiety, mentions of menstruation and coffee facts?

A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like and comment. I am accepting suggestions for next parts. Please be nice. Past in italic. Gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

Chapter 2: Sugary

Spencer’s point of view

It has been weeks since Morgan met my neighbor and he can’t just drop it aside. At least he has capited a secret so far.

“I am just curious. That 's all. The girl has the key of your place and you never mentioned her.”

“I did talk about her…”

It's a murmur, Morgan almost can't hear it, maybe things were better when no one knew she existed besides me.

“She called you Sugarpout… Does Pretty Boy have a Lady?”

There is mocking in his tone, and a little of happiness.

“What exactly are you asking Morgan?”

“Are you two dating?”

“She is my friend, we ain't dating”

“Oh, pitty, she is beautiful, maybe I should gave a shot, she is very talkative”

“Leave the girl alone Derek.”

“Why? Are you jealous? Worried that I stil her? We could be your couple's best friend. Me and her would make cute babies”

“I am not jealous. Just shut up”

He leaves me be, we take care of paperwork, but he can't stop, it's like I can hear the engineers of his brain thinking.

“Ok, I just really got to know, where Sugarpout came from? I can't stop thinking about that”

“Why? Is just a nickname”

“A special nickname”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Why so much secret?”

The truth is, I don’t really know why, where, when it all started. Is if we have being knowing each other even before we existed.

—----------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy day, and I was just getting to my building when a strange woman got under my umbrella tugging herself at me.

“My savior. Could you leave me there? To that building?”

Was my building… is she a stalker?

“Sorry for just throwing myself at you. Is just I am made from sugar, so I could have melted with the rain”

Ok, she gots a weird sense of humor. Doesn’t she know about the danger of talking with strangers? That is one of the reasons I get so much work to do. She smells nice though… What am I thinking? Why is she staring at me? Say something Spencer!

“Ahn… yes… I was just going that way too.”

We walk together to the building and she opens the door, almost closing it in my face.

“Sorry. Why are you coming in?”

“I live here”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that. I am a new resident. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too”

She didn’t try to shake my hand… so she respects boundaries and personal space the same way she doesn’t do that? She is so confusing, she seems like a very complex human being.

We both get to the elevator and she presses the button… is my floor button… How I didn’t know about someone moving to my floor? Maybe because I spent the last three days away in a case. The elevator stops and she gets out with me behind her, observing her body language. Wait a minute, that’s… she lives just in front of me.

“Are you following me?”

“Ehn…” she catch me staring, I am probably very red and more awkward then the normal me. “No, no. It's just, we are neighbors, I live here, just across the hall.”

She keeps looking at me, like if she is not sure to believe me or not, just open your damn door Spencer, and prove you ain't lying.

“See?”

“Nice place, very organized…”

When she ends up beside me? Her eyes run across my place, making quick analysis scanning what she can see by the door.

“Ok, I will live you be, sorry for being so intrusive, and thanks for the umbrella ride.”

“You’re welcome. Also, welcome to the building”

She smiles, her smile is pretty.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There is a nock on my door. Weird, I basically don’t get visited. I open it slowly and there she is the rain day girl, and she has something in hands.

“Hi, I made some cookies, and decided to give you some, since you were so nice to me that day”

“Oh, thanks.” I was very surprised. “You didn’t have to.”

“No problem, it is a pleasure. I hope you like them. It is the classic one, with chocolate drips.”

“It was very thoughtful of you. I really appreciate it.”

I take it from her hands, every time I see her there is that warm feeling, she is always so nice to me.

“How is the moving going?”

“Slow, I'm still putting things in place. The kitchen is almost ready. I am not in a rush to finish it to be honest. Just, baby steps, one day at a time…”

“Well, it is your space, your stuff, it is alright going slow, its you, it should go in your pace”

“Thanks. Well, when you finish the cookies you can return the ball.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------

The cookies were the most delicious ones I have eaten in my life. I made sure to compliment her, and the way she smiles and giggles, makes my heart beat faster in my chest.

Today I discovered that I am out of sugar, so why don't I go to the new girl? She made cookies and other delicious stuff she is always happy to share with me, for sure she has sugar.

“Just a cup? Sure Sweetie, I will go grab it for you, make yourself comfortable.”

I shyly enter her house, the first thing that hits me is the smell, I think haven smell exactly like it, I can see she still has a few boxes, but all the essentials are displayed, a kindle, books, a lot of types of books, fantasy, biography, history, classics… she also has a few plants, no much decoration… Why is that hard profile her?

“Here you go, a cup of sugar to my sweet boy”

I asked her sugar a lot of other times after that, just to see her, to feel my blood run in my veins, the fast piece of my heart, the smell invading my nose, that warm feeling.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

“Hi, so, do you have plans for today?”

She was standing outside my door, smiling at me, eyes glowing. How can she always be so beautiful?

“No. I did not plan anything for today.”

“Great. What do you say about taking me to a coffee shop? Any coffee you do like to go. Wanna know more about my neighbor.”

“Hm… Yeah, sure. I will just grab my things”

We go to a nearby coffeehouse and order our drinks while we have small talk.

“I love those cloudy and rainy days, so calm…”

Our orders get to the table and she points out when I drink my full of sugar cup of coffee

“Someone really likes sugar.” She smiles and is like electricity running me. “I can't drink black coffee, it gives me an awful headache.”

“Actually. Caffeine withdrawal could be an important but often overlooked cause of headache.”

She nods in agreement.

“People say that I am just being silly or have an infant paladar. I have tried a lot of types of black coffee, but nothing worked. So i decided just to drink my milk coffee, tha latte”

“Caffeine or 1,3,7-trimethylxanthine is totally, actually 99% and rapidly absorbed; it reaches the highest plasma concentrations after 30-60 minutes of ingestion, but this duration can be shorter or longer due to the variation in gastric emptying time. The half-life of caffeine fluctuates between 2.5 and 4.5 hours in young individuals but can be longer in elderly. Caffeine can cross all biological membranes including blood-brain barrier because of its lipophilic character. Only a very small amount of caffeine is excreted in the urine. It is metabolized in the liver, mainly by the cytochrome P450 1A2, to paraxanthine, theobromine, theophylline, and further to urates. Caffeine acts on the brain and the heart by blocking adenosine receptors and inhibiting phosphodiesterase. It is considered the most common psychostimulant, it enhances concentration, improves mood and energy, induces wakefulness, and enhances exercise performance. It can also trigger anxiety, tachycardia, and hypertension. Caffeine is known to cause dependence and withdrawal symptoms such as fatigue and headache.”

Oh, no, no. She is going to think I am such a weirdo now. Couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Things were good, where nice, and now I ruin it all.

“I have heard that coffee was addictive, but I didn’t know it was absorbed that fast, or that it didn't get expelled out of our body by urine like most of the other drinks. Maybe one of those things causes my headache every time I try to drink black coffee”

“Caffeine also narrows blood vessels that surround the brain. That is its link to headache. In some types of headaches, the blood vessels in the brain dilate, or swell. They expand into the surrounding tissues, which triggers pain.”

Why can’t I shut my mouth, she is lookin at me. She will avoid me like the plague. Why am I like that? Can’t have anything nice, ever! It is like I can’t stop, and she does not stop me, so I just keep rumbling.

“Headaches in general are a common problem for reproductive age women. Migraine headaches are 3 times more common in women than men in this age group with the difference believed to be the result of hormonal fluctuations. In women with spontaneous ovulatory cycles, headaches have been documented to occur more frequently immediately before and during the first few days of menses. Approximately half of women with migraine headaches report their occurrence associated with menstruation, with decreasing estradiol levels hypothesized as the etiologic factor. Today's low-dose oral contraceptives all contain the same estrogen component (ethinyl estradiol [EE]) but vary in the progestin component. Until recently, all progestins in OCs, the oral contraceptives (norethindrone, levonorgestrel, desogestrel, and norgestimate) were derivatives of 19-nortestosterone. A novel OC with the progestin drosperinone (DRSP) is not derived from 19-nortestosterone, but instead derived from spironolactone. This DRSP-containing OC has been shown in a large placebo-controlled trial to significantly improve the physical and behavioral symptoms of premenstrual syndrome (PMS) and premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) attributed to its unique antimineralocorticoid activity. This improvement in symptoms has been attributed to the antimineralocorticoid activity of the spironolactone-derived DRSP. Spironolactone is the only diuretic shown in randomized placebo-controlled trials to improve the behavioral and physical symptoms of PMS. While studies using validated instruments have shown improvement in PMS/PMDD with DRSP-containing OCs, headaches have not been specifically addressed.”

I managed to hold myself for a few seconds and she finally speaks something.

“Are you trying to mansplain my menstruation cycle to me?”

“No, no… that's not it, I was just…”

“It is ok, I believe you”

She smiles, how her chicks don’t hurt with how much she smiles? Why, how is her smile always so captive.

“Spironolactone. I didn’t know about the diuretic in the OCs. It is interesting to know that, I have noticed that when I drink more water my period of blood in the menstrual cycle feels less worse than normally does.”

She… she paid attention, and… interacted? My heart hammers as a symphony in my chest. It seems the whole word is more worm, as if I had been in the cold dark without releasing it until she showed up illuminating everything and involved me with a cozy blanket proofing there is more, what truly could my life be, how good could it be. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

From that day, I knew I was different, happier, she became a constant thought, always making everything better, the world more supportable. I felt the butterflies, the tingling, that stupid and uncontrollable happiness, the craving of being in contact with her, the maximum and anyway I could. It just happened, little by little. With no rush, never.

“Hey, Kid.”

Morgan snaps his fingers in front of my eyes.

“Where did this pretty brain of yours was?”

The teasing again, but we hadn’t had time, JJ passed rushing calling for a case, urgent.

A/N: Did you guys like the dades I insert? I had to read a few articles, I have the links, they will be right below. Thanks for the support. If you like the little facts let me know so then maybe I will bring more (cause in my opinion is a very Spencer Reid thing to do, talk about the facts.)

Links:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1663116/

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1051227621000339

https://www.uclahealth.org/news/caffeine-connection-between-coffee-and-headaches#:~:text=Caffeine%20also%20narrows%20blood%20vessels,surrounding%20tissues%2C%20which%20triggers%20pain.

https://headachejournal.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1526-4610.2007.00650.x

---------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist

[ellecdc]

Mother, serious question mainly for my own self-esteem 😮‍💨😅

How do you think the boys (any of them really) would view a partner with like all sorts of facial piercings and like rat tails in their hair and funky colors(truly best describes as a queer little gremlin lol). Cause I know Marlene and Sirius have an alt rock aesthetic (I don't think I spelled that right) but as much as I love these characters I never feel like I would have fit in with them if I was really there ya know?

Idk it's kinda stupid but just curious on you're thoughts on this. They're just so cool and I would hope they would like me enough to at least be my friend if they were real 😮‍💨😖

okay first of all, love the title queer little gremlin; let's all capitalize those letters and add them to surveys when they ask you how you identify plsss??

Here's my take:

James:

I love (and follow religiously) the headcanon that James is pansexual but I believe that expands beyond just gender identity, if that makes sense?

It doesn't matter if you're male or female or anywhere in between or beyond or both or all

and I feel like it doesn't really matter what you look like to him

I feel like he loves people for their hearts, their minds, their interests, etc

I feel like he'd maybe be worried because....those had to hurt??? you do that on purpose? doesn't it hurt terribly? his poor sweet angel????

I also see him as the type of bf who would be like "oh! are we changing colours? which one's? can I help?" and will dutifully like, adorn gloves and sit in the bathroom breathing in dye fumes and chatting away with you while the two of you talk about everything and nothing - I think he'd love spending that time with you and it would be special bonding time

(also, have you seen the James fan art with him with a nose ring??? fuck me sideways)

Sirius:

you're so right re: alt-rock aesthetic etc

I think he'd find the facial piercings awesome tbh, you might even have inspired him to get one or more of his own

I think he'd make it almost a competition of who can dress the most grunge that day hahaha - but the two of you would make quite the couple

also? you look like the kind of person his posh, prissy, stuck up parents would hate seeing him with - that's totally a bonus

I see this guy as someone who loves hair care and would be horrified at how much/often you change your hair colour and would insist on helping you/buying the more expensive products/ensure you're doing it right to save your hair from too much damage

that's the only 'problem' I see him having

Remus:

idk, I kind of see him a little bit like James tbh; looks would be a little less important to him? like he doesn't care how you express yourself in terms of style and clothes

what would be important to him is that you're kind and patient, that you're openminded and considerate of others

I mean...he's littered with scars, is he not? He doesn't exactly look "normal" (derogatory) and would probably feel very similar to what you've described; like he doesn't feel he particularly 'fits in' with his friends

I see him having like, not long hair but like a decent head of curls, and he'd totally love if you braided a few little pieces of his hair like your 'rat tails'

I think he'd find the hair fun; you'd show up one day with new colours and I could see his face lighting up like 😃 "that looks great love; so fun"

Regulus:

he's tricky because he's so posh and stuck up lmfao

BUT

people also ship bartylus and I see so much Barty fan-art somewhat similar to how you've described yourself and if Reg likes Barty - he'd certainly like you too

Barty:

as mentioned above, I could totally see him having like a green streak in his hair or something

perhaps some piercings (I think he'd get piercings down below.....), tongue piercing, nose piercing, eyebrow piercing - I feel like he'd be down for it all himself, so he wouldn't mind it on you at all either

and again, as a guy with daddy issues, he'd be a lot like Sirius and think the better chance he has at dating someone who would sooooo piss of his dad - the better!

thanks for your ask babes <3

[rhoorl]

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 17: Cousin Joel

Series Masterlist | Chapter 17 A03 Link 323 Mulefall Crt Chapter One: Monday (by @trulybetty)

Word Count: 7k

A/N: This is probably the chapter I’ve been the most excited about. In case you missed it, the Delta Landscaping universe is expanding. @trulybetty and I have been collaborating behind the scenes for months on this companion series. More to come at the end!

Previously on As the Mule Falls: Benny featured heavily as the boys continued to get him ready for fight night. The neighbors hosted a party at Lucille’s house to welcome the Pikes and Vanessa to the neighborhood. Benny and Vanessa finally kissed, which was inadvertently live-streamed via the Pike’s Ring doorbell camera. 

In this Episode: If this were an actual TV show, this would be the episode when that special guest star they’d been teasing all season finally shows up. dun dun dun Cousin Joel finally arrives. Before we get to him though, there’s some Benny and Vanessa to get through. Then we have the boys at the gym and enjoying a meal together. Thoughts on which neighbor Joel meets first?

Chapter Warnings: Cousin Joel. I’ve edged you for months with his arrival and he’s finally here. Other warnings - mention of hangovers, children, flustered Benny, the boys at the gym, swearing, and more food. Also, David. But, you should already that by now. 

*Cue the theme music and roll opening credits*

Five Days to Fight Night

Marcus groaned as he heard Mariella flopping around in her crib through the baby monitor. He could already feel the pounding headache starting despite preemptively taking some Tylenol last night. 

Next to him, Victoria rubbed her eyes. “I'm never drinking again,” she groaned.

With a chuckle, Marcus leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest sweetheart, I'll get the kids up. Don't worry about today. Stay home. Vandy and I can take them to the aquarium.”

“Oh shit, that was today, ughhh. I'm the worst mom ever.” She flipped on her stomach, burying her head into the pillow. 

“Baby, you're not the worst. You're just a mom with a hangover. Just sit tight, I'll bring you some coffee soon.”

“Can you just pluck my eyeballs out instead, they're throbbing,” she whined.

“Hangovers are a bit different than in your 20s huh?” He smirked. “I'll be back, mi amor.”

Victoria looked up, squinting as she watched her husband throw on a pair of thin gray sweatpants. “I love you.”

He paused as he fed his arms through his faded Washington Capitals T-shirt sleeves. “I love you too. As much as I love seeing you like this,” his eyebrow twitched as his eyes dragged down her body, appreciating how little of the comforter was covering her naked form, “you should probably throw some clothes on in case you get an unexpected visitor.”

Vanessa padded down the stairs to the smell of coffee and pancakes as Disney Junior played softly on the TV. She was still on cloud nine from her kiss with Benny after he walked her home last night.

She rounded the corner to the kitchen and leaned against the wall, a soft smile across her face as she watched Marcus. He hummed a tune to himself as he cut up strawberries for Mariella, swaying to whatever imaginary beat he was playing in his head. It was in these small moments that Vanessa appreciated her brother-in-law even more; he was her standard for what a father and husband should be.

Sensing someone behind him, Marcus turned around slowly before a giant smile flashed across his face realizing who it was. “Oh hey, Vandy! You have a good walk home last night? Benny get you back here ok?” He tried to suppress his grin, eyes following Vanessa as she walked over to the coffee pot. Her cheeks flushed, remembering the way her and Benny's tongues tangled together.

“He did, it was a good…walk,” she cleared her throat. “Where's Vic?”

“Your sister is nursing what she calls ‘the world's worst hangover’ so she's still in bed,” Marcus said as he flipped a pancake. “Looks like it's just you and me taking them to the aquarium today,” he nodded toward the living room.

“Buck, you're probably not feeling too hot either, you guys got back late. You can stay, I'll take them. Besides, I'm sure having hours to yourselves with an empty house will perk Vic right on up,” she snorted as she sipped her coffee.

Marcus shifted his weight to one leg, drumming his fingers along the quartz countertop. Vanessa had a point. He did have a splitting headache and would much rather spend a lazy day in bed with his wife than surrounded by people.

“You make a compelling case…you sure you're ok taking both of them on your own?” He looked over at Vanessa who nodded with a tight smile. She was an amazing aunt and the kids adored her, but he knew she got anxious doing things alone with them in public. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off. “Hey, I know…why don't you ask Benny to go with you?”

“Bunny?! I see Bunny?” Mariella screamed from her high chair, clapping her little hands.

“Umm…we'll see Mari,” Vanessa called over before she turned to Marcus. “She has superhero hearing I swear,” she whispered.

“Only when it suits her,” Marcus winked.

“You put me in a real bind here, Buck. She's going to be so disappointed.”

“Just ask, I'm sure he'll say yes,” he avoided her gaze as he put some pancakes on a plate for her.

“I'm sure he has plenty of better things to do on a Sunday than spend it with two kids at an aquarium,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, pouring syrup over her neatly formed stack.

“Yeah but you'll be there…c'mon just try, give him a call…pleaaaase,” he pouted. “Do it for Mari.’

“That's downright cruel you know, using your daughter like that,” she narrowed her eyes with one hand on her hip.

Marcus threw his hands up in surrender, “you'll thank me later.”

Vanessa took a deep breath as she eyed her phone.

Will couldn't help but grin when Benny trudged into the kitchen, tossing his phone on the counter and running a hand through his hair. He’d been debating texting Vanessa good morning but didn’t want to seem too eager.

“How was the rest of your night?”

Benny's eyes narrowed. Will was a morning person, sure, but he was a bit too chipper. “Good…just walked Vanessa home.”

“How'd that go? Made sure she got there safe and sound?” Will winked.

Benny was thankful to have his back to his brother as he poured his coffee. He blushed remembering their kiss…and what he did once he got home.

“Speak of the devil, look who's calling,” Will picked up Benny's phone from the counter and handed it to his brother, eyeing him as he listened to one side of the conversation. 

Benny shifted from one foot to the other as he talked to Vanessa. He sported a toothy grin as he rubbed the back of his neck, occasionally breaking into some nervous laughter. 

“I really don't mind…when do we leave…ok I'll be there. See you soon.” He stared at his phone as he hung up.

“Sooo?”

Benny told him about how the Pikes were nursing hangovers and that the kids were supposed to go to the aquarium today. He noted that Vanessa sounded nervous to ask him to go with her, but he accepted before she could get it out. 

“Wow, I know you like kids but damn, she must really be special,” Will chuckled.   

Victoria managed to get herself out of bed in time to help change the kids into their marine-themed outfits and pack their bags. She sat on the couch fussing with Mariella to get her little curls into pigtails when Marcus walked by, arms flexed while carrying a folded stroller. 

“Babe, I’m going to go put this in Vandy’s car and then I’ll come back to load up the bags.”

“Ok…looking good there Agent Pike,” she winked as he rolled his eyes, even though his chest puffed out at her praise. If there was one thing about Victoria, she always made sure Marcus knew how much she appreciated him in all aspects.

As Marcus closed the trunk of Vanessa’s SUV he heard heavy footsteps behind him, turning in time to see Benny walking up the driveway. 

“Oh hey man,” Marcus waved.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Benny shook Marcus’ outstretched hand.

“Killer headache, but I’m in better shape than Vic. Thanks for going with Vandy, means a lot that she won’t have to go by herself,” Marcus smiled.

“Course, it’s going to be fun…need help loading anything else up?” 

“Nah, all good. Just have to get Nico and corral Hurricane Mari, but it’ll help now that you’re here. She may listen to you. C’mon, come inside.”

Benny and Marcus walked over the threshold just as Vanessa came down the stairs. She was dressed in a simple black athletic dress and sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a Tampa Bay Rays baseball cap. Benny’s eyes trailed down her neck to her exposed collarbone, involuntarily licking his lips as he remembered kissing it mere hours ago.

Vanessa paused when she saw Benny, amazed at how made the most casual outfit look so good. He paired a tie-dyed “Miller Contracting” T-shirt with a simple pair of slate gray shorts. His hair was still damp, he clearly took a quick shower before coming over. He passed his baseball cap between his hands as he looked at her, his eyebrows doing that little puppy dog look that always made her melt.

“Bunny!” Mariella squealed, getting herself down from the couch and scurrying over to Benny who quickly picked her up and tossed her in the air to a fit of giggles.

“Hey baby girl, you excited to go see some fishies?” 

Mariella babbled on as Marcus and Victoria gathered everything and Vanessa got her crossbody and keys. Nico looked on a bit shy as he packed up his tablet and headphones into his backpack 

“Hey bud,” Benny bent down on one knee, Mariella clutching his side. “I'm excited to hang out with you today.” 

Nico smiled and Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. She knew she was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't help the butterflies seeing how seamlessly Benny fit into her family. 

Walking up to Benny, she quickly hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, “It’s not too late if you want to back out,” she whispered.

“Nah, you’re stuck with me,” he winked. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to this aquarium, just didn't wanna go by myself.”

With a wave to Marcus and Vanessa, they were off. Benny offered to drive, but Vanessa politely declined, saying she needed him on entertainment duty should Mariella grow tired of her tablet. 

They seemed to hit every red light on the way to the interstate, but it gave Benny and Vanessa a chance to steal glances at each other. At one particularly long light, she looked over and noticed his hand twitch before covering it with his other hand in his lap.

“Everything ok?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm? Oh yeah… it’s just…” He didn't want to admit how nervous, but excited he was. “I haven't told you yet, but you look really pretty today.” He swallowed hard.

Vanessa was thankful the light turned green, so she could face forward and try to cover the fact that she was starting to blush. “Well, thank you. You look pretty good today yourself.”

“Thanks.”

She placed her hand on the gear changer, seeing out of the corner of her eye that he was looking at her hand. Deciding to just go for it, she moved her hand to grab his, which he eagerly took. He brought their joined hands up to his lips, kissing the back of her hand, and then moved to each knuckle. They stayed like that for a while before Benny dropped her hand so he could rest his on her thigh. The contact sent an electric pulse down Vanessa's spine.

David: How's everyone feeling? Just came back from a run and everyone looks to still be sleeping.

Melissa: How are you even up right now? My head feels like it’s in a vice 😩

Ty: He got up at 6. He's unfazed

David: I feel fantastic! 

David: Thoughts on inviting Tori and Ness to this group chat?

Megan: Already have nicknames for them huh? 😆 But I vote yes, they're fun!

Ty: Agreed, they're fun. Ness is so sweet, I'm trying to see if I can help her find a job.

Olivia: That's so sweet of you Ty!

Lucille: She and Benny are so sweet.

Oliva: They’re so cute!! 😍

David: Who's going to be the one to spill that we all watched them kiss?

Ty: I feel like we know *cough* Liv

Oliva: Hey!

Katie: Aw guys, we can’t say anything. They're going to be so embarrassed if they find out! I swore Will to secrecy

Ty: You hear that babe? Zip it.

David: Alexa play Our Lips Are Sealed 

“Aaaand we're here! Sit tight while Bunny and I load up ok?” Vanessa looked back at her niece and nephew who nodded enthusiastically.

She popped her trunk open and got out, slipping on her crossbody before making her way around to the back of her SUV. There, she saw Benny busying himself with unloading the stroller, struggling with how to unfold it. 

“Here, it’s just…this latch right here,” she pointed. 

She used her sunglasses as a cover to admire how Benny’s forearms flexed as he undid the latch and opened up the stroller before going to help get Mariella out of her car seat. The toddler protested a bit when Benny tried to put her in her stroller. Vanessa couldn't help but laugh, realizing that Benny was going to get a full dose of headstrong Mariella today. 

“Bunny, no…uppies! Uppies peeeease!” She pleaded, raising her hands toward him.

Vanessa was about to step in when Benny put his hand up to stop her and turned his attention to Mariella. “Baby girl, how about this. When we get inside the aquarium you get allll the uppies you want. But right now when we’re in the parking lot, can you go in the stroller for me? Please?”

The little girl twisted her face as she processed what he said before finally pointing to her stroller. Benny pulled out some Goldfish crackers from the lunchbox, placing some on the tray in front of Mariella who clapped and eagerly started shoveling them into her mouth.

“Dang, Goldfish crackers at an aquarium. Your sister is hardcore,” Benny quipped as he started walking with the stroller.

Vanessa giggled. “You’re kind of a natural at this, you have any kids I should know about?” She side-eyed him with a smirk as she and Nico walked hand-in-hand towards the entrance. 

Benny brushed his hair back and put on his hat. “Nah, I don't have any kids. I do have a niece though. Well, she's technically not my niece, she's my cousin Joel’s daughter, Sarah…she made me this shirt,” he proudly showed it off. “I lived with Joel for a bit when she was a toddler. I dunno, being around Mari reminds me of those times.” 

“Well, you're a natural,” Vanessa smiled, noticing how his face lit up when he talked about Sarah.

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, making the queue to purchase tickets. Despite her protest, Benny insisted on paying for everyone and stopping to take the commemorative photo at the entrance. As soon as they scanned their tickets, Mariella put her hands up and made a grabby motion with her tiny hands.

“You have a good memory,” Benny chuckled as he picked her up. “C'mon let’s go explore huh?”

Vanessa noticed that every time they stepped foot into a new room Benny quickly scanned the space to identify all of the exits. Although it broke her heart that being on alert was second nature to him, it did make her feel safe. Outside of Marcus, she had never felt safer with another man than Benny. It definitely helped ease her anxiety about going out with Mariella and Nico alone.

Benny was so patient with the kids. Mariella clutched at his side like a baby koala. His arms had to be hurting, but he never complained. The pair was simply adorable. Occasionally, she asked to be put down so she could walk up to a tank. It was in those moments when Benny made sure to pay extra attention to Nico, which elicited big, but shy smiles from the boy.

Mariella insisted her brother walk her to the next exhibit, the one with jellyfish she was so excited about. Vanessa looked on affectionately as the two navigated their way hand in hand. She didn't realize that Benny had moved closer to her, his hand brushing against hers before he finally reached for it. He looked up at the sign as they walked under it and snorted. 

“What’s so funny?” Vanessa arched an eyebrow. 

“Sorry…it's just,” he chuckled, angling his chin up so Vanessa could read the sign. 

No Bone Zone

“Hell of a name for an exhibit, don't cha think?” 

Vanessa groaned and rolled her eyes which made Benny clutch his stomach as he laughed. 

“Sorry, sorry…I just had to, it was too funny to pass up,” he flashed the biggest smile.

“I feel like I could make a joke, but I don’t know…” Vanessa smirked. 

“Make a dirty joke here? With kids around?” Benny sarcastically scoffed. “What am I going to do with you boss lady?”

Vanessa flashed a mischievous look. She got up on her tiptoes, her lips hovering around his ears, goosebumps forming on his forearms, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She quickly got back flat on her feet, winked at him, and scurried off to catch up with Mariella and Nico, leaving Benny a bit stunned…and insanely turned on. 

“It kinda smells weird, you smell that?” Benny asked, sniffing the air before he turned to see Vanessa's smirk. “What?”

Vanessa turned her attention to Mariella, “Do you need your diaper changed?” Mariella nodded and then turned to Benny who suddenly looked panicked. “Don’t worry Bun, I won't subject you to the full immersive experience,” she winked. She grabbed the backpack and turned to her niece, “Ok, we'll be back, ven aquí mi amor.”

Mariella reluctantly let go of Benny’s hand. He turned to Nico who looked nervous. To his left, Benny noticed a small interactive table for kids with some activities. “Nico, wanna go over there while we wait on the girls? I think they have coloring.”

Nico’s face lit up as he walked up and saw some coloring pages. He found a spot to sit while Benny struggled to get his tall frame into one of the small chairs. Once seated, he grabbed a few colored pencils and asked which animal was Nico's favorite so he could start sketching. 

Benny got a bit frustrated with himself, not liking how the fins of the shark were turning out. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair before putting the cap on backward. He noticed Nico looking up at him. 

“Tia likes your hat like that.” He said softly before quickly focusing his attention back on coloring.

Benny felt himself blushing, wondering what Vanessa may have said for Nico to know that. He cleared his throat and picked his pencil back up to continue sketching. “You know, I really like your Aun- I mean your Tia.” 

Nico nodded, not looking up as he continued to color in his cartoon shark. After a few moments, he stopped and turned to face Benny. “Her last boyfriend made her cry a lot. Are you going to make her cry?”

Benny shook his head, his brows pinched as he regarded the boy, “No, no buddy. That's the last thing I wanna do.”

“Good, because I like when she smiles. And she smiles a lot around you. And she laughs too. I like that.” And with a small smile, he went back to coloring.

Benny could feel himself tearing up at the boy's candor. He didn't know a lot about Vanessa's ex, but he gathered it was a bit tumultuous at best.

“You boys having fun?” Vanessa appeared behind Benny, her eyes looked a bit misty seeing the boys bonding.

“Sure are, nice to have some guy time, right Nico?” Benny knocked the little boy lightly on his shoulder. 

“You really don't have to get them anything, Bun,” Vanessa leaned over as they watched Mariella peruse the stuffed animals in the gift shop while Nico looked at the books.

“I know, but I want to. It was a fun day, we should get something to remember it.” Mariella excitedly pointed at a pink jellyfish, her big brown eyes looking up at Benny. “This one?” He pointed to the toy, laughing when she started jumping up and down. “What about you darlin’?” He looked at Vanessa.

“Me? I… you're sweet, but I don’t need anything.” She looked down, feeling her face get warm.

“C’mon, course you do. My treat.”

Vanessa grinned as she looked at the display of stuffed marine animals, trying to control herself when all she wanted to do was squeal and kick her feet.

“Here, let me drive,” Benny lightly grabbed Vanessa's wrist after they finished loading everything up. “Just relax, I've got this.”

“Ok, thank you.” Vanessa smiled. Today was fun, but also overstimulating. She was thankful for the offer and appreciative that Benny thought to do it.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, she looked over her shoulder to see both kids passed out. Benny turned on the radio, turning it down slightly as he hummed along. Vanessa rested her head against the headrest and turned her face toward Benny, admiring how his forearm on the steering wheel flexed when he turned a corner. 

She reached for his right arm, fingers grazing down his forearm until she reached his hand and threaded her fingers with his. He glanced over with a quick smile and brought her hand up, again pressing his lips to it. The rest of the drive they kept in some contact, whether it was holding hands or Benny resting his hand on Vanessa's thigh.

When the exit for Torrey Hills was in sight, Benny looked over, “You can say no if you'd rather have some alone time, but the guys’re going to a baseball game tonight…I was gonna stay home and watch a movie since I should get to sleep early…if you wanna come over…no pressure.”

Vanessa placed her hand on top of the one Benny had rooted on her thigh, “I'd like that. I can make you something for dinner. My treat for putting up with us all day.”

“You don't need to do that sweetheart. It was fun, I liked hanging out with you…all of you.”

“Bun, I know you have to be hungry. Goldfish crackers and that sad turkey sandwich from the café didn't cut it…besides, I can’t have you starving on my watch. We have to keep your strength up for Friday, right?”

Benny glanced over with a smirk, “Good point. I’m kinda trying to win this fight. I’ve got some extra…motivation.”

Four Days to Fight Night

“I made it baby girl…yeah, I’ll tell them you said hi…maybe we can FaceTime with everyone later ok? Alright, have fun with your mom. Love you.”

Joel cursed under his breath as he walked out of baggage claim to the bustling, chaotic scene that was arrivals. The Florida humidity was thick and he already felt the beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. He set his backpack on the ground and undid the buttons on his green plaid shirt, deciding to just go ahead and take it off leaving him in his white Miller Contracting T-shirt. 

He spotted Will’s Jeep in the distance, waving over the crowd which Will acknowledged as he made his way over to the curb.

Will looked around Joel, brow furrowed as his cousin opened the door, “Where’s Tommy?”

“Well hello to you too,” Joel scoffed, putting his suitcase in the back before settling into the passenger seat. “It’s hot as hell here man.”

“Welcome to Florida,” Will winked, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Good to see you J.” He put the Jeep in drive and started to make his way out of the chaos.

“Good to see you too man. Sarah says hi, she sent me with some stuff for you and the guys.”

“She’s a sweetheart…hopefully you can bring her next time. I’m sure Bean will lose his mind wanting to take her over to Disney or something,” Will chuckled.

“Yeah and maybe Tommy’ll stay out of trouble for more than five goddamn minutes and he can come too,” Joel shook his head as he took in the rows of palm trees lining the road.

“What’d he do this time?”

Joel took a deep breath in through his nose and out, “I dunno…he went to a bar, sounds like some guy was harassin’ the bartender…girl he likes. Anyway, one thing led to another and he decked the guy, knocked ‘em unconscious, so he got taken into Travis County. By the time he got around to callin’ me it was early this mornin’ and I needed to leave for the airport...at least I have a free airline ticket now,” Joel shook his head with a smirk. 

“Damn…sounds like we should have had him out here to help Fish train Benny then huh?” Will looked over with a lopsided grin.

“How’s he doin’?” Joel asked.

Will glanced over, “Gotta say, I was really nervous when he first signed up for this but over the last week or so…I dunno man, he's unstoppable.”

“Good…good. Reckon Nox has something to do with that. She seems like a sweet girl.” Joel looked over quickly making eye contact briefly before the stoplight turned green.

Will paused, taking in the fact that Joel not only had an unprompted nickname for Vanessa already, but he seemed so supportive of the relationship. “She is…really sweet girl and she looks at Benny like he's the most important person in the world, which is a good thing because he does the same with her,” Will chuckled. “He's started drawing again…even singing too, heard him in the shower the other day. He thinks I don’t notice, but I'm pretty sure I saw him writing too.”

“The kid sounds happy, he deserves it…” Joel trailed off, smiling at himself.

David: 🚨 🚨 COUSIN JOEL ARRIVES TODAY 🚨 🚨 

Megan: I'm surprised you aren't camped out on your lawn waiting!

Ty: Don't give him ideas. We're out scouting a couple of wedding venues for a client so we are going to be gone all day.

David: The. Worst. So we need one of you to send us the goods when daddy shows up

Megan: 💀

Melissa: Ty do you just walk around with a spray bottle for him 😆 

David: You could dump my ass in the bay and it still wouldn't quench this THIRST

Megan: Well at least you're self aware

David: Katie. I need a flight number. Airline. General ETA. Anythingggg

Lucille: He'll definitely be here by dinner time, Benny asked if I could make them some food for tonight. I’m at the hair salon so I may miss his arrival.

Megan: I’m in the waiting room for Connor’s physical so we’re not around either.

Olivia: I don’t even know what time it is right now. Diana was up and down all night.

Melissa: I’m with a client today. 

David: YOU ALL ARE THE WORST

David: Katie. You’re my only hope. 

David: Katie??

Joel looked out the window as Will turned into the subdivision and turned down Mule Fall Court. “Looks like a nice place,” he observed.

“It is, I think you’ll like it here. It’s quiet, but the people are really fun.” Will pulled into the driveway and cut off the ignition.

Joel climbed out of the Jeep and took a look around, giving an approving nod at the landscaping in front of 319. He looked further down the street at the other houses and their manicured lawns, stopping to admire the construction of one of the homes a few doors down. It had a beautiful, large window in its front room.

Will started pointing out where everyone lived, starting with Lucille. “Great fuckin’ cook man, you’ll see tonight. She’s been taking care of us so we look after her.” He then pointed out Megan’s house, Melissa and Danny’s, Olivia and Chris’, and David and Ty’s. “And right over there is where Vanessa lives with her sister Victoria and her brother-in-law Marcus.”

“Well, ain't it damn Leave It To Beaver ‘round these parts,” Joel chuckled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

A sudden slam of a door made them both turn their heads. Katie carefully rushed across her porch, minding some of the gaps between the planks so as to not trip in her heels and break an ankle. She had rushed home quickly before her big presentation to find an elusive USB drive. Her hands were full as she made her way down to her car, juggling her sweater, purse, and work bag.

“Oh, someone I want you to meet,” Will smiled, patting Joel on the chest as he took off in a light jog down the driveway. “Hey, Katie!” He called over.

She was even more beautiful in person than the photos Joel had seen or that random FaceTime they had a few weeks ago. Trailing behind Will, he cleared his throat, taking full advantage of the fact that he was wearing sunglasses, giving her an appreciative up and down, stopping just a beat longer to admire how her legs looked in her pencil skirt and heels.

“Hey, Will,” Katie responded a bit out of breath.

“Katie, I wanted you to meet Joel,” he patted his cousin on the back. “He’s in town for an overdue vacation and just in time for Benny’s fight this weekend!” 

Joel extended his hand, his sunglasses now pushed to his forehead. “It’s great to finally meet you, Katie. I’ve heard a lot about you from Will,” he said with a friendly smirk. 

“So you’re the infamous Cousin Joel we’ve been hearing so much about?” 

Amused by the question, Joel’s smirk turned into a smile, “Infamous, huh? I hope Will's been keeping it a positive one,” he joked.

Will raised an eyebrow at Joel’s flirtatious tone, one that he knew very well from their younger days, but hadn’t heard in well over a decade. Joel and Katie stayed looking at each other for a beat before the sound of running feet snapped them out of it. 

“J MONEEEEYYY! You made it!” Benny sprinted across the street and leapt at Joel who caught his taller cousin with ease. 

Katie chuckled, seeing Benny so excited. Will mentioned how much he was looking forward to Joel’s visit, but now witnessing his reaction in real time, the energy was infectious. 

“Bean. It’s good to see you.” Joel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he hugged his younger cousin with equal enthusiasm. 

Benny pulled back after a moment and grinned at Katie, his eyes sparkling excitedly, “So you got to meet the man himself!”

“Indeed,” Katie responded. She knew this sudden uptick in activity at the end of her driveway was sure to have pulled the attention of the Neighborhood Watch. The group chat would be blowing up any minute now. “But, J Money? Did I hear that right?”

Joel laughed, “It’s a nickname,” Benny swung his arm around Joel’s shoulder, “It’s a long story.” 

Katie willed herself not to melt into a puddle with the way Joel smiled at her. Her phone buzzing in her hands brought her back to reality. “Sorry,” she held up her phone. She could have sworn she saw a flash of disappointment sweep across Joel’s face, but she didn’t focus on it.

“Work?” Will asked, giving her a sympathetic look.

“Yeah,” she mumbled as she read Miranda’s message and looked back to the guys. “Unfortunately. Big presentation.”

Will nodded sympathetically. This presentation had been weighing on Katie for the past week, but he knew she could handle it after all the preparation she put in. “No rest for the wicked.” he quipped with a wink.

“Yeah,” Katie rummaged through her tote for her car keys before finally finding them at the bottom of her bag.

Benny pulled Joel’s attention away, running through his training regime for the week. Will walked a couple of steps closer to Katie and placed a reassuring hand on her arm, “You got this Kat.”

“Thank you,” she said with a tight smile. Her phone buzzed again and she sighed, “Okay, I really have to go now.”

They all quickly said their goodbyes, Joel and Katie lingering on each other just a beat longer than the rest. 

“J, you wanna come to the gym today? Fish says I need to take it easy, but I dunno maybe you wanna get in there, see what we've been up to, n’case you have suggestions,” Benny shadowboxed towards Joel as they made their way across the street. 

“Yeah Bean, sounds good, whatever you want man,” Joel smirked, wrapping his arm around Benny’s shoulders.

Benny talked a mile a minute on the way back to the house, Will laughing occasionally at how his brother’s hands flailed as he gestured excitedly. Joel turned his head, catching Katie who watched them all with a smile. He nodded his chin towards her to say goodbye, feeling something he wasn't quite sure how to describe. 

Katie took a deep breath before getting into her car and dialing her phone. “Hey, Miranda, I’m on my way back to the office… yeah I’ve got it. We need coffee, what can I get you?”

Benny connected with a combination, putting a bit too much behind his last punch, and knocking Frankie off balance.

“Ok, Ben, you're good man, let's put up the gloves and get out of here,” Will called over from the side.

Next to him, Joel chuckled, arms folded in front of him as he stood with his legs hip distance apart. After sitting for a few hours on the flight and then in the car, he didn't mind standing around and watching Benny spar. Santiago tossed a towel to Benny and Frankie while Connor brought their water bottles over.

“Whad’ya think J?” Benny asked as he tried to catch his breath. He flipped his hair back frustrated that it was getting in his eyes.

“Lookin’ good Bean, how are you feeling?”

“Good, actually…yeah, I feel good,” he smiled.

“You need to ask Vanessa to give you a haircut, hermano…you were too distracted with your hair getting in your eyes, I almost got you a few times,” Frankie’s hand ruffled through the front of Benny's hair.

Joel and Will exchanged a knowing look. “She cuts hair too?” Joel asked with an arched brow, eliciting a snort from Santiago.

“She did mine,” Connor offered, his bright eyes looking up at Joel.

Joel gave the boy a once over, his head cocked to the side with an approving look and shrug. “Talented girl, huh Bean?”

“Wonder if you’ll get some special treatment, Ben, get the full service,” Santiago snorted, ducking to avoid Frankie slapping him upside the head as he cut his eyes towards Connor.

Benny felt his face getting hot so he turned on his heels and headed toward the weights, missing the way all the guys tried to stifle their laughter. 

The group trailed behind, pairing off to different stations to finish their workouts. Joel walked over to Benny, who sat on a bench checking his phone.

“Need a spot?” Joel asked softly.

Benny turned around, sporting a big smile, “Yeah, that'd be great.” He reclined onto the bench and under the bar bracing himself to do some bench presses. 

“This gonna be your last fight Bean?” 

“We'll…see…depends on…how it…goes,” Benny managed between reps, racking the bar and taking a deep breath. 

“You seem more focused this time…this guy do somethin' to piss you off or what?” Joel chuckled softly to himself. As he brought the bar off the rack, his chest tensed, waiting for Benny to start his next set.

“Nah,” Benny chuckled. “I dunno…feels like…things are…clicking,” he let out a big exhale. 

“That's good Bean, that's good,” Joel looked down with a soft smile as Benny gritted his teeth to finish the set.

After two more sets, Benny slid from under the bar, sitting up and wiping his brow with his shirt.

“You should get that haircut,” Joel smirked.

Benny looked down at his feet, feeling warm as he thought about Vanessa and her fingers in his hair like they were the night before. As he glanced up at Joel, he chuckled. “You need one too?”

“Nah, but I'll go with you…supervise.”

Benny snorted and they both started laughing. Benny hopped off the bench and gestured towards it. “C'mon old man, you gonna do a couple of sets or what?” 

Joel stretched his arms up, his shirt riding up a bit before he brought his hands to his hips, “Sure, rack it up, Bean.”

“She should be here any second,” Benny rubbed his hands together looking over to Joel with a huge grin. 

And almost on cue, they heard the doorbell, Frankie moving to answer the door while Will finished setting the table and Santiago poured whiskey for everyone.

“Hola Lulu,” Frankie said softly, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile before he leaned down to kiss Lucille.

“Hola mi amor,” she leaned in, patting his arm. Frankie pulled back, brows drawn together as he saw she was empty-handed. “I didn’t forget the food Francisco, it’s down there,” she nodded behind her to the little wagon at the bottom of the porch steps. 

Frankie tutted, “¿por qué no llamaste? We would have helped bring this over.”

“Ay, I didn’t want to bother, figured I’d just drop it off anyway.”

“Drop it off?” Benny appeared behind Frankie, Joel trailing behind him. “What do you mean Lulu? You’re not gonna stay and have dinner with us?”

“I didn’t want to impose, mi vida. It’s ok, I have leftovers,” Lucille waved him off.

Joel cleared his throat, pushing himself past Benny so he stood shoulder to shoulder with Frankie. “Hola, señora soy Joel,” he reached out to shake her hand. 

She eagerly took his hand, realizing how frail her small hand looked in his. She felt the rough calluses of his palms, the hands of a working man. He was striking, his broad frame seemed to tower over the other men, but there was a softness tucked away in his eyes as he looked down at her. “Joel. Un placer conocerte. You speak Spanish a lot better que tus primos,” she winked.

Joel chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Benny who pouted a bit. “Well, I cheated a bit. Grew up speaking Spanish because of my mom.”

“Bueno, well, I’ll leave you boys to it,” she started to turn before Joel pipped up.

“Where are you going? Stay with us. How’re we supposed to compliment the cook if she’s gone?” He winked. She got the sense this man could be quite persuasive when he wanted to be.

“Yea, Lulu, please stay,” Benny pleaded, resting his forearm on Joel’s shoulder.

“Ok, ok, fine. Here let’s get everything in before it gets cold,” she motioned towards the wagon.

She spared no expense in preparing this meal, knowing she had five grown men to feed, really six if you count how much Benny had been eating in the lead up to his fight. Arroz con pollo was always a crowd-pleaser and easy to make in bulk. She also brought some yucca, black beans and snuck in a few favorites for the guys – empanadas for Benny, maduros for Frankie, tostones for Santiago, and a flan for Will.

They sat around talking, catching up, and eating. Lucille watched on fondly as Joel shared the latest with his daughter Sarah. His face softened when he spoke of his little girl, she could tell what a proud father he was. 

As the last forks hit the plates, Joel pushed his forward, leaning back in his chair, resting his hands on the back of his head, and letting out a low whistle. “Wow, Lucille, that was delicious. Couldn’t remember the last time I had a meal like that.”

Lucille blushed as the rest of the guys chimed in with their praise. “Oh stop, you mean to tell me you don’t have an old neighbor who cooks for you and your daughter and brother?”

Joel shook his head laughing, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “Nah, best Mrs. Adler can do is cookies. They’re mighty fine cookies, mind you, but she’s not much of a cook.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked it,” she pushed back from the table, moving to get herself up to start clearing the dishes. 

Joel moved, resting a hand on hers, “No ma’am, you sit on down. We’ll take care of it.” He stood up and took her plate and glass from her. Frankie, Santiago, and Will all followed suit and started promptly clearing the table.

Benny stayed back, scooting his chair closer to Lucille whose eyes lingered on the men as they walked to the kitchen, “Hey Lulu, I…um…I have a question”

“Que mi vida?” She raised her eyebrow.

“I was wondering if sometime you could show me how to make something.”

“Empanadas may be a little advanced, but we can try it,” she smiled, patting his hand.

“No, no, not that. I…um…could you show me how to make Cuban coffee sometime?”

She eyed him conspiratorially and nodded, whispering that she’d be happy to give him a lesson just as Frankie returned to the table. 

“Lulu, we’ll clean everything up…return all the dishes tomorrow if that’s ok?”

“Well, with this kind of service I may be making dinner for you all every night,” she laughed.

Benny and Frankie laughed as they helped her get to her feet. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home,” Frankie offered her his hand as he walked her over to the kitchen to say goodbye to everyone.

Lucille and Frankie exchanged small talk as they walked the short distance back to her house. Before long, the conversation naturally shifted to Jo. 

“She’s actually coming on Friday, for Benny’s fight,” his hopeful eyes found Lucille’s.

She cocked her head to the side, the corners of her mouth curling up as she rubbed his arm, “Well, I’m excited to meet her. Can’t wait to see the woman who is making you look like that.”

His forehead creased, “Look like what?”

“In love.” She said matter of factly. It didn’t take extremely astute powers of observation to see the shift in Frankie’s demeanor over the last two weeks. The sadness that used to be at the surface, ever present in his eyes even when he smiled, had evaporated. There was a glow to him. He seemed more relaxed, sure of himself…happy. 

Frankie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, taking in her words. With a deep breath, his eyes met hers, “yeah, yeah maybe I am.”

Next Time on As the Mule Falls: Benny goes to a foodie event with Vanessa (get the Bingo cards back out, we'll have a cameo). The boys have a poker night. And there’s another encounter between Katie and Joel. David also continues to wait until he can get eyes on Joel.

A/N: Hi! Sooo…what do we think? Benny and Vanessa continue to be one of my favorite storylines, but Cousin Joel is right up there! 

I’m still sharing some extras between chapters. Since the last chapter, I posted a little extra of Benny’s Instagram thanks to the creative help of @undercoverpena. I also had a Benny x Vanessa post, After, about how they both reacted to their first kiss. I’m planning on posting another Benny x Vanessa extra about what happened after the aquarium. 

I highly recommend checking out 323 Mulefall Crt if you want some more Cousin Joel! We've been dropping little hints for months and I'm so excited to finally share it. Betty - working on this little universe with you has brought me so much joy. Thank you <3

Until next time!

Taglist: @goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @noxturnalpascal / @periodtsparadox

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings /  @avastrasposts / @meveispunk  

@chaoticfestninja / @beboldbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474  / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain

@pimosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz  / @mclibs23

@pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247  

@for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes 

@sherala007 / @midnightraain / @partyofone3413 / @inthedarkestnight / @millennial-teenybopper 

@csarab615 / @darkheartgatita / @southernbe / @weho2kcmo / @itspdameronthings

[straighttohellbuddy]

what you love you devour {c!Wilbur Soot}

Summary: As someone who is chronically honest and the self-appointed court jester of this world, your place in any conflict or situation had always been whichever place to be amused you the most; being on the side of the grown-ass man who put time and effort into waging war against smartass kids over discs? Of course. Immediately switching sides to join the child as he and someone you've never met before start a drug empire? Of course. Except said newcomer seems to know exactly how to keep you entertained; your place becomes by his side, and you quickly come to realise that no-one else will ever compare.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: She/They Reader. Villain!Reader. Past, toxic c!Quackity/Reader, established platonic c!Dream & Reader. Set during the DSMP timeline. 

A/N: 25,323 words. this has been about 2 years in the making, which is why i haven't tagged the few people on the taglist but anyways, i finally came back and reread what i had and was like.... this actually holds up pretty well as is. so yeah, i've added and subtracted a few things here and there in the last few hours to make it all make sense overall, but holy shit im so happy to have it out there. is it possibly the wankiest/dramatic thing ive posted in a while? yes. but its also 25k so eat up. and if you wanna talk to me about it! PLEASE DO!!

Warnings: VILLAIN!READER, discussions/implied suicidal ideation, violence & blood, implied and joked about smut, heavy psychological/emotional manipulation, romantic obsession, betrayal, murder, implied torture. it gets pretty dark at times, just take care.

Citrus Scale: 💚 LIME 💚

{ full playlist }

"You've created capitalism, good job," sarcasm dripped from your words as you leaned against the side of the Camarvan while Sapnap attempted to arrest Tommy and the most recent newcomer, a brunette with a way with words that you found yourself admiring.

"I didn't create capitalism," Wilbur automatically defends himself, turning on you like he had the words on the tip of his tongue, simply waiting for someone to bring it up. Though he was playing at being innocent, you could see he was holding back a smile.

"What do you mean?" Tommy, behind him, frowned, before spluttering, "you know what, who cares- Wilbur, buddy don't listen to her, she'll say anything to get a rise out of people," he grumbled, but you just talked over him, addressing the newcomer.

"I'm not implying that you, new boy -"

"Wilbur," he corrected you automatically.

"- you, Wilbur, were the theological creator of capitalism," you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help your own smile at the situation, "I'm saying that you're trying to have a monopoly on potions and the ability to brew them, so you can inflate the price to whatever you want with no competition that people would be able to buy from, all that artificial supply and demand bullshit."

"Don't know what you're on about," but Wilbur's back was to the others as he said it, lips twisting into a grin, "this is but a humble hotdog van."

"A humble hotdog van!" Tommy added resolutely for emphasis, which you yourself repeated, much quieter, turning the words over in your mind as you narrowed your eyes and looked over all of them, "oh get lost, go run back to Dream," Tommy huffed, before turning on Wilbur, "why are you even giving her the time of day? She's in his guard, she's probably here helping Sapnap."

And that's when your gaze finally flicked to the man himself in full diamond armour, who was glowering at you, bow half raised. He stays quiet.

"He doesn't seem too keen on her," Wilbur points out, looking over his shoulder, giving the faintest smile to the kitted-out guard.

"It could be a ruse!" Tommy insisted.

"I'm simply a court jester -" you tried, hands raised defensively, but Tommy cuts you off.

"You shot me!"

"What's a humble court jester doing at our humble hotdog van?" Wilbur asks, turning back to you. At this prompt, however, your whole face lit up and you stood up straight, frantically digging around your pockets, searching, until you offer a small stack of blaze rods, like it's an offering.

"Playing along," you tell him, eyes alight with mirth and mischief.

"Why?" But he takes the blaze rods and you give a shrug, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"It's the funniest option."

---

"It's not capitalism, it's a drug empire," Tommy grumbled under his breath the moment they bring you into the Camarvan and shut the door behind you, before he added, "and I still don't like that you're here."

"It's not my fault that the concept of a grown-ass man going to war with literal children over two discs is deeply funny," you raised your hands in mock surrender as you sat on the counter in the hotdog van.

"Then why were you on his side?" He demanded, and you schooled your grin into something seriously.

"Thomas, Thomas listen to me -"

"Do not call me Thomas," Tommy told you flatly, and for a moment you couldn't help your sharp smile.

"Listen, Tommy, my boy, I was on the side of the grown-ass man who was waging war over discs; you're a kid, dude, being on your side would make too much sense and would be far less funny."

"One, you're a terrible person," Tommy says flatly, and you can't help but laugh not exactly inclined to disagree with him, "two, I'm not your boy, and three, if it suddenly becomes fucking funny for you to turn on us, I will kill you a lot, okay?"

"Okay," you nod, conceding, and though he's still frowning at you, mistrustful, you can't help but follow it with, "but I think you underestimate how much I appreciate our new friend, whose first thought, after finding his way to us, was 'I'm going to build a drug empire and recruit Tommy-goddamn-Innit as my first ally'; very few things can top that, honestly."

Wilbur, who was kneeling by a chest a few feet away and had been quiet this whole time, snorts a laugh. Good.

"Does Dream trust you?" However, when he spoke, your bright mood evaporated. Then he stands, turns, and leans his hip against the chest he was just rifling through, cocking his head to one side as he regards you, "it's not bait, I'm not asking you if you're a double agent, I trust you -" though there was something behind his eyes that contradicted his words, "- just, does Dream trust you?"

"Dream and I have... an understanding," you said carefully, "I understand that he is incredibly powerful -" Tommy made a derisive noise in the back of his throat at that, "- and he understands that I am simply a court jester."

"I don't remember many jesters with enchanted netherite axes," Tommy mutters under his breath. For the barest moment, when he looks at you he sees you looking right back, something dangerous, something like a warning in your eyes that vanishes so fast he’s half concerned he imagined it. No-one else seemed to have seen it, judging by how Wilbur’s continuing on. You’ve already looked away.

"So he may expect you to turn on him?"

"Eventually," you agree, "but he also knows I'd turn back to his side with the right incentive," you knew no good could come of trying to hide your nature, especially since it could lead to others actively attempting to win your loyalty, which you couldn't deny was pretty nice. Tommy was actively glaring at you after this particular admission, however Wilbur hums thoughtfully, regarding you with an expression you can't quite read, one that makes you feel like he's evaluating you; you sit a little straighter.

"Would you steal his potion supplies for us if he had any?" And suddenly, Wilbur's tone was light, as if he were asking for you to run an errand rather than commit treason. While Tommy was flabbergasted at his bluntness, you nodded emphatically.

"Oh, absolutely."

----

"Could you be more subtle while robbing me?" Dream frowned the moment he saw you up to your elbows in a chest in what he considered to be his base of operations.

"Not my fault you're bad at hiding your stuff and good at finding me," you huffed in return, not even bothering to look up, even as Dream peered over your shoulder to see what he'd left behind that you were currently looting. Tortoise shells and empty bottles, not much, but it's something.

"I don't appreciate you stealing my shit for Tommy," Dream pointed out, and you snorted a laugh, beginning to pocket your findings. He sat beside the chest, watching you, "I'm going to stop him."

"You're going to try."

"I thought you were on my side," but even as he said it, he wore a grin that was all teeth; you both knew he was joking, "you'd tell me where the discs were if you knew, wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat," you agree without hesitation, sitting back on your heels and finally looking at your sort-of ally, "but we both know Tommy doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me."

"He's a smart kid," Dream's smile gets tight at the edges for just a moment, and when you look to him, he’s looking back at you with a shallow gaze - you ever take something from me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you; you hear your own voice in your head, and wonder if Dream’s thinking of that same moment, of your violent, possessiveness rearing it’s head, your axe pressed to his chest in the dead of night. Back in the present, his gaze clears and he looks at the chest you’re currently elbow deep in, pointedly, "you are robbing me." The memory passes from your mind.

"You weren't here and I'm not using actual force; this is looting at best," at your indignance, he rolls his eyes, looking away, and you open the chest again, taking the remaining items, despite their meagre value. "I'm not doing this for Tommy; Wilbur's the one who suggested it."

"The new guy?"

"The new guy," you confirmed with a nod, "the first thing he does after getting here is commit crimes; I think I'm in love," you tell Dream flatly, mostly joking.

"Sounds like a man after your own heart," Dream points out, not even trying to hide the teasing edge to his words; how deeply bizarre this interaction would be if anyone else were to walk in.

With all of the chest's contents safely in your pockets and satchel, you sit back, eyes narrowing as you give Dream and his mischievous smile a look as you finally try and figure out what this whole interaction means. However the teasing does well to hide the faint notes of apprehension in his voice.

"'s the reason I sided with you in the first place;" you said slowly, "you know how chaos gets me going," your tone was flat, clearly conveying that you hadn't deciphered the nature of this interaction, but your actual words were enough to have Dream himself laughing despite this, the air clearing. "You here to stop me?"

"Does anyone else know where my base is, and are you going to steal anything else from me?"

"No and yes," you answer bluntly; if you were anyone else that answer would be two death sentences, one right after the other, "blaze rods," you quickly elaborate, wilfully digging yourself deeper as Dream opens his mouth.

"You can't have my blaze rods," he says, though he's smiling faintly at your well-worn antics.

"Agree to disagree," you stood swiftly, trying to step over his legs to get to the next chest. Dream grabs your shin with one hand, stopping you in your track as he's sighing deeply.

"Go away, Y/N," he says firmly, letting go of you to get to his feet, beginning to push you to the entrance of the bunker, even as you whined; the fact that he let you take as much as you already had was not lost on you however, and you let yourself be nudged to the door, only putting on a show of protesting.

The timer that had started ticking the moment he'd found you in his bunker had finally run out.

"Get better security," you told him, and he gave you a wide, toothy smile.

"Love you too," he responded, "and keep me updated if you ever find those discs." At that, you give him a quick salute and head back in the general direction of the Camarvan.

----

"L'Manberg?" You said, not even trying to hide your scepticism.

"L'Manberg," both Tommy and Wilbur reiterated, sounding completely sincere in their dedication to the ridiculous name.

"L'-Man-Berg?" You said, slower, squinting at them, waiting for their sincerity to crack.

"But don't worry, Tommy himself said that 'even women can work here'," Wilbur said, corners of his mouth twitching at Tommy's various irritated exclamations, "like... in the hotdog van... with us; we're not implying that women have to work to be here, this isn't- this isn't communism -"

"You've made that abundantly clear," your scepticism broke in the face of his floundering, "I remember you brought capitalism to the Greater Dream SMP, Mr Soot," you were desperately trying not to laugh, though Tommy was fairing much worse than you at that.

"I mean- I mean- I mean-" Tommy spluttered through his laughter as it died down, trying to get himself back to being something resembling serious, "you also- you can't be on Dream's side if you're with us."

"I'm not," you answer honestly and easily.

"So you're on our side?" He clarified, though you had to hum at that.

"No..." you said carefully, before finally looking him in his eyes, "I'm on my side, I just happen to like," without breaking eye contact with Tommy or your serious facade, you pointed directly at Wilbur, to his left, "him." Tommy's outrage at your answer was predictably hilarious, hence the main reason as to why you gave it, and Wilbur's delighted 'that's good enough for me' and accompanying smile was enough to solidify your loyalty with them, at least for the time being.

----

"I knew it would be you," they've taken no chances with you when they started taking people prisoner; Tommy was the first to go, and you happened to show up right as Fundy was being lead away. Wilbur and Tommy had both sent you messages, letting you know people were being arrested, and while they probably meant for you to stay away, you had other ideas.

So now, here you were, with Sapnap's crossbow bolt between your shoulder blades as you were being unceremoniously shoved to the courthouse.

"Stop talking," he muttered, poking you probably harder than necessary, but it did little to dim your smile.

"I've barely said anything," you shrugged, the nonchalant movement only serving to remind you, as if you could forget, about the weapon at your back, "but I'm flattered, really; I knew it would be you."

"Stop. Talking."

"They've got several people escorting Tommy, and even Fundy has Eret and Tubbo," you kept chattering away, despite your guard's grumbling, "but we've fought together, you know what I'm like, and so does he," you gave a faint laugh, "they knew I'd listen to you; you're the only one besides Dream himself who could get me to go peacefully."

"Why then? If you're going to keep talking, can you explain why? Why are you going peacefully, why with me? Are you actually saying you would have put up a fight if I were anyone else?"

"Would you trust anyone else to bring me to jail on their own?" You asked simply.

"I think you overestimate how challenging you are -"

"So that's a yes, you'd trust... Tubbo to lead me to the courthouse alone?" Your tone was sly and heavy with implications, "or Ponk? Or what about Eret? I don't know him but he seems nice. I'd like to get to know him, if you're saying you'd like to swap -"

"I don't trust you," he cuts you off, words forced out through gritted teeth.

"But you trust you," you hum thoughtfully, "because you know you're the only one up for it. They're sweet kids, but they're still kids, aren't they? If the right person talked for long enough they'd believe anything. This is why I knew it'd be you taking me to court; you're better than that," you're better than them hangs in the air, unspoken but still so loud, and you're glad he can't see the way you're grinning.

Then, you give a self deprecating chuckle, shrugging again.

"Honestly I'm probably giving myself too much credit here, I'm unarmed and unarmoured, you're easily overkill as my escort, but again, I'm flattered," the pressure between your shoulder blades lessens until the sharp bolt is gone, and you hear Sapnap's footsteps fall silent. Intrigued, you turn, and you see him scowling.

"Don't do that, don't be cute, don't be coy;" he frowned at you, at how your expression had been schooled into something tamer than the delight you were feeling, "you won't trick me; I remember Dream in that warroom, you remember, we were all planning and he assured us that you were your most dangerous unarmed and unarmoured -"

"I can't believe you remember that," you huff a disbelieving laugh, hoping the delight in your eyes didn't give you away.

"Yeah, well I do; don't coy, don't be shitty, okay? I was sent here for you for a reason, me, alright Y/N? I'm the one with the crossbow," already your words were working their way into his psyche, the bestowing of compliments, building him up, only to undermine it all. Whether he realised it or not, the praise you hid amongst your teasing and self-aggrandizing felt good to hear; you're just glad he believed it.

And so you walked with a crossbow bolt nestled between your shoulders, in silence for the rest of the way, being shoved into a cell beside Tommy, who'd been sitting on the bed provided, chattering away loudly to the other guards.

"What took you so long?"

----

The jacket you're given doesn't fit quite right; it's close, but maybe the arms are a little too long, and it sits strangely when you button the front with more than one button, but you wear it with pride, grip tight on the lapels as you spin on your heel, waiting for an approval from the others.

"Looks good on you," Wilbur's voice is carefully neutral, though he nods, his slight smile betraying him.

"Now will you finally admit you're on our side?" Tommy asked, brow pinched as he looked you over.

"What do you mean? She's with us, of course she is," Tubbo voices his confusion, and you finally, finally relinquish.

"Yes, Tommy, I'm fighting for L'manburg," you inclined your head towards him, smiling faintly.

"Say it, say you're on my side," Tommy demanded, "because I wanna remember this moment when you inevitably double cross us."

"Tommy," you said carefully, trying not to show how amused you actually were.

"Don't patronise me," he warned.

"Tommy," you shifted your tone to something a touch more respectful, but the boy's mouth remained set in a firm line, "I'm on your side as long as you're on Wilbur's side."

"Of course," Tubbo pipes up brightly, "we're all on the same side, for L'manburg," and he so cheerfully misses the subtle nuance in your words that it seems to convince Tommy. Wilbur's smiling to himself, genuine, whole face scrunched up and pleased.

"Seems like an overreaction," Eret, who you were yet to get a proper read on, looked over the four of you with interest; he hadn't been here long either, "they robbed Dream for us, they got arrested too -"

"Y/N is a trickster spirit at the best of times," Tommy tells him, "you can never be too careful, trust me."

"I'm just a jester," you raised your hands in a placating gesture, gaze dipping if only to hide the spark of mischief that found its way to your eye every time you found yourself underplaying your abilities.

"A revolutionary jester," Wilbur corrects, and your gaze snaps to him, your smile growing a touch wider, a shade sharper.

"A revolutionary jester," you agreed.

----

"You should have a home here," you hear Wilbur musing as he's chopping wood with a distracted energy, "do you have a home?" He quickly follows it with, and you snort loudly.

"Christ dude, of course I have a house," though you take a moment to reconsider, "well I have a bed in the savannah," you paused, "near... near Dream's Mountain." You admitted. There's a hum, and when you look to Wilbur he's regarding you curiously.

"Still?"

"Dream doesn't operate out of there anymore," you told him candidly, "but I like it; lots of sand," you added, and Wilbur actually paused.

"Can I ask you something very frank?" He asked, leaning against the handle of his axe where it was pressing into the dirt. You nodded, "what incentive would it take for you to turn on us, and on L'manburg? If Dream offered any number of weapons or diamonds or armour, would you take it?"

"I have everything I need," you told him honestly, "and I don't think Dream could offer me enough incentive to turn against L'manburg the way it stands right now," you shrugged, but he tipped his head to the side, frowning.

"So what would it take you to turn on us individually?"

Your mouth fell open, unused to being properly listened to, properly understood.

"You listen too much," you muttered, unused to being caught out in the way you would twist words. Wilbur, seemingly surprised at your reaction, grins from ear to ear.

"You know, while you were all being arrested, I heard something; I heard someone say that you're at your most dangerous when you're unarmed and unassuming, and I think I'm starting to get it-"

"If I find Tommy's discs, I have an obligation to give them to Dream," you let the words fall from your lips in an effort to derail that train of thought, gaze on your hands as you pluck blades of grass from the ground, twisting them in your fingers. Wilbur carefully lowers himself to the ground, to your level.

"From what I understand, that seems perfectly reasonable, in your mind at least," he says with a half smile, looking to you, expression somewhat unreadable, his pause harbouring something quietly hungry; "and what about me?"

Mouth opening and closing at a sudden loss for words, you find yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

"I have no pre-existing reason to turn against you," your voice is quiet, is flat, but your forgetting fingers betray how antsy this particular shred of honesty made you.

"So, Tommy's the only one you'd throw under the bus?"

"Its up to you," you shrugged, "and I'd only steal Tommy's disc and hand them over, I wouldn't hurt him."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't lie;" your tone was harsh, looking to him with a fire in your eyes, "I will not betray them, or Tommy in any other way, so long as they are all... aligning... with... you." There's no pretty way to twist your words around it, and you can't help your faint, flustered embarrasent, "my word is my bond." Then, softer, heart in your throat, "stop looking at me, Wilbur."

"That's a lot of power you've given me there," he said with a faint laugh, "so if it's no longer in my best interest to align with them-"

"It depends on if you mean that they're no longer allies, or if they're actively hostile," you point out, "because the ways in which I would betray them if they are not my allies are... varied. If they're my active enemy, then that's more of a straightforward fight, you know?"

"And if I decided it's no longer beneficial to be allies with you?"

"You'd be smart," you tell him, knee-jerk reaction, which startles a laugh from him; you give a faint, self-conscious apology, "honestly I'd respect it, it'd be an incredibly funny move after the things I've said, you know?"

"But, no, if I betrayed you, what would you do?"

"Are you planning on betraying me?"

"Not currently," he shrugged easily, and you blinked slowly at him.

"I don't know what I'd do, not yet, but I can get planning," you said with an almost teasing air, while he splutters in protest, "yeah I know you just said you weren't planning on it, but I'm pretty sure you've lied to every single question I've asked since getting here," you paused, smile growing wider, and strangely fond, "actually I think you've lied more than you've told the truth in general since you arrived."

A second passes, then another, then finally he breaks out into laughter.

"And you accuse me of listening too much!" His expression was frankly delighted.

----

You follow them into the dark, down the stairs, listening to the way they were joking about Eret managing to come up with a nuke. The night is unassuming. Spirits are high. 

But they bring you all to a small room full of  chests. Something is wrong. You stay with Eret by the door, and he's got a hand on your shoulder - you can't run. 

"The chests are empty-" you hear Wilbur's confusion, right before Tommy asks what the button in the middle of the room does, and before he can even press it, his fingertips barely contacting the wood, you step forward -

"Easy now," Eret's voice is a gentle murmur, only for you, grip tight on your pauldron. When you look at her, a moment of silence amongst the others' confusion, his expression is… unreadable. Ice cold now, there's a sword through your chest, you can feel it where you shouldn't, followed by the searing heat of blood filling your lungs and windpipe -

"Y/N?!" Wilbur's eyes land on you as Tommy presses the button, you fall to your knees, choking on a mouthful of blood, and when your gaze locks with his, the reality of the betrayal sets in. There's horror in his eyes, and you see Tommy and Tubbo turning before you're suddenly gasping awake in your bed in L'manburg, shaking, eyes wide and goosebumps rising along your skin as you hear your comrades screaming and shouting for help, horrified at Eret's betrayal, all coming in tinny through the communicator still on your hip. You don't properly know what happened after the button was pushed, and you think that was a conscious decision.

Your first life is taken quietly, not with a bang but with a whimper.

There's something inevitable about it for you, at least in your mind, but the others didn't deserve this, didn't deserve that betrayal. You can still feel the sticky heat of the blood in your lungs, your throat, ice cold sword where it had pierced through your back, slipped between your ribs, and come out the other side. 

"It was never meant to be," Eret sounds like they’re smiling as they say it, as the others are yelling, and you realise that they're probably reviving in their own homes. You want to ask, want to demand answers, but your hands shake, and when you find your voice, all that comes out is a furious growl, low and full of venomous malice the likes of which the others had never heard from you, judging by how your voice cut through the chaotic mess of shouting.

"What the fuck did you do?" 

Eret leaves the communication channel. The silence rings in your ears.

"He betrayed us," Wilbur said, tone flat, thinly veiling his own fury at the situation, "she had us killed by Dream and his men," and then, "he killed you." Like it means something, like he's worried your apathy, or even your connection to Dream, could sway you from your anger. Like he knows betrayal of your nation means little; like he knows you well. Something about this catches in your mind; you knew it was only a matter of time before you were betrayed, but the rest of them cared - Wilbur cared enough about you to know you, and Eret had him killed too. 

Your communicator vibrates for a moment, and you look down to see a message from Wilbur himself; Where are you?

Your life was of little consequence, the same could not be said for your comrades.

"They killed me," you said softly, before you swallowed hard; home. Dig the ground by the corner of the walls near the river, you send back. "You died too; you all died. Who was there?"

"Who do you think?" Tommy cut in, loud and brimming with rage.

"It was all so fast, but I saw George, and Sap, and Dream," Tubbo cut in, voice a little shaky, bring Tommy's fury down somewhat.

"Punz was there too," Wilbur said carefully, "they have our things." And you stay quiet as they rage, as you sit in your bed, unable to get up, mind moving a thousand miles a minute as you try and figure out how to process all of this, what it all means. It doesn't take too long before there's sunlight streaming into your little, cosy hovel, followed by Wilbur climbing down the ladder provided, packing dirt into the hole he'd made to keep your location secret. 

When he gets to the bottom of the ladder, he takes a deep breath - Tommy and Tubbo are chattering away, audible over both your communicators. Making eye contact, finally, he doesn't quiet seem to know what to do, or where to go. You turn off your communicator. Everything tastes like iron. You don't move. He leans against the wall by the ladder, closing his eyes tightly for few moments, and slowly sliding down, sinking to the ground. 

"Wilb- mate are you alright? Where are you?" Tommy's voice rings out from the communicator still on Wilbur's hip, and he sighs deeply.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, just need a few moments, I'll be with you soon," and he turns off the communicator before getting a response. 

Silence. Deafening silence.

"I'm sorry," your voice is a whisper, but it's clearly audible in this little room. 

"What?" Tone immediately defensive and sharp, Wilbur's eyes snap open and he looks to you with a glare.

"No, I- I've had betrayal coming for a long time, but you- you all didn't deserve that," you clarified, hand on your chest, feeling the raised, tender scar tissue where the sword had come out - it had slid through your sternum like fucking butter, it had been so cold, even as the points where it had touched your clothes caught fire, even as it melted through the metal of your armour - your hand starts to shake. Everything tastes like iron. 

"What happened?"

"What did Eret say to you?" His question surprised you, and when you look to him, his gaze is hard and cold.

"Easy now," you remember, "held me back when I went to step forwards, and ran their sword through me before the button had even properly been pressed -"

"I saw," Wilbur's voice was softer.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you -" your lip was trembling, shake in your words as you drew your knees up to your chest. 

"You didn't know, you couldn't have-"

"I could have done more, I could have done something -" the tears start to fall.

"Dream's guard were laying in wait, and the button was their cue to ambush us," Wilbur explained carefully, "but you…" he swallowed hard, "I watched you die." He sounded furious and disgusted, looking at his own hands, twisted into claw-like shapes, ruminating on his own helplessness at the situation.

"You're the only one who noticed," you said, barely audible, "I don't think you were meant to notice."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I wasn't meant to see what happened, and it was meant to be assumed that I died in the skirmish," you said, tone flat and bitter, before your tone grows malicious, "because Dream is a coward."

"I wasn't meant to notice?" He asks, voice weak.

"No-one was; dying in the skirmish is less targeted, but if I had glimpsed any of their team killing -" You swallowed hard, dropping your gaze, "any," you push the word to hide that it's not exactly the truth, "of you… Dream knows I am more than capable of exacting revenge." There was a dark truth to your words that Wilbur couldn’t even begin to fathom, a history he was unaware of.

"I do notice you," Wilbur says, and you're brought from your bitterness momentarily, surprised by the earnestness of his words. He stands, "and I've never heard you speak like this before." 

"There are rules," you tell him, watching him cross the room to your bed, to sit by your side, "and I don't expect the same level of honesty that I give, but I expect- I expect- I-" but you can't find the words for what you're trying to say, sitting forward scowling at your hands.

"You would have let him betray us all still if you'd know, wouldn't you? You would have even let her kill you," Wilbur's tone is alight with realisation, and your mouth drops open with surprise; yes, yes of course you would, how did he put it into words like that? He doesn't even sound particularly hurt by that realisation, more fascinated.

"I absolutely would have," you answer.

"But you had no idea," its not accusatory in the slightest, his tone matching yours, alright with bright interest, "which is why- why- why you're so- why you're reacting like this," its like he's trying to piece together how he sees you out loud, "you need to know where all the chess pieces are, what moves are being made, you're not playing as much as you are a spectator delighting in the chaos of it all, with a front row seat." But he's grinning from ear to ear. Your whole body is alight with the instinct to reach out and touch him, to prove he's real and not something you're imagining, because no one else has even cared to figure you out like this, and no one would even come close to reacting so brightly about it. 

"I'm sorry I'm like this," you say with a momentary huff of disbelieving laughter, but he reaches out and puts a hand on your knee. The contact burns. You look down at his hand like you can't quite believe it, head swimming, trying to process this all. 

"Don't be; knowledge is power and you never lie," he pointed out, "you're a good ally to have." Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. Wilbur Soot I'd die for you; the words press against your teeth until it's almost painful, and his hand is still on your knee. You grab it - he's real, he's here, the things he's said are real too!

"I won't betray you," is what you say instead, and Wilbur's expression turns to surprise in the face of your earnestness, your seriousness. You never lie; the thing he's said is playing on both of your minds at this moment, of this you're sure.

"You shouldn't say things like that," he says very carefully.

"Then you understand the full extent of what I'm saying, don't you?" You take his hand now in a handshake, palm to palm, "Wilbur Soot, I will never betray you."

"You have never lied to me," he said, voice low and serious, demanding an answer. You meet his gaze.

"I have never lied to you," you affirm, before adding, "you know me." And you're fairly certain he doesn't quite understand the importance of that, that his understanding of you is the reason for your loyalty. "You don't have to extend the same sentiment, don't worry, like I said I don't expect the same lev of honesty -"

"I will not willingly betray you, Y/N," Wilbur says, matching your earnest seriousness, "and I will attempt to only be honest with you." 

----

“What is it about you?” There was a strange quality to Dream’s voice as he voices a question that had seemingly been weighing on him for a long while. Wilbur, where he was trying to fit all of his friends’ equipment on his person to carry back to them, snaps his attention to Dream, brow furrowed. 

"What?" 

"Loyalty is the one thing Y/N covets above all else, and yet for some reason they’ve given it freely to you -” Dream’s voice was smooth and thoughtful, like he’s not quite aware he’s speaking out loud. 

“Maybe it’s because I respect them -”

“I respected them, but still...” he trailed off; again the idea of a darker shared history between you and Dream makes itself known. Wilbur's scowl deepened, "I don’t think they genuinely respected me... or anyone, before you. They get possessive, like dangerously possessive, but you’re different." 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know the thing they do, the way they can talk around people and topics without even lying, and make it look, you know, like it’s easy?” And the minute the words leave Dream's mouth, Wilbur's gaze drops; of course he'd noticed.

"They’ve got a way with words," Wilbur's agrees, slowly, eyes narrowed. At the defensive notes in Wilbur’s voice, the smile dropped from Dream’s face. He’s seen this loyalty before, but never before in someone you yourself were loyal to in turn. This is uncharted territory. This suddenly feels like a dangerous conversation to be having. 

“Everything they’ve done is to amuse themselves, so you make no sense to me; what about you is so compelling that they find entertainment in playing revolution?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur says, tone light but clearly well thought out, “someone who is used to listening to everyone else finds a certain novel charm in being heard.” His gaze is icy, but he’s not looking at Dream; he’s standing at the end of the room, gaze hard as he looks at the door, as if focusing intently on something in his mind as he spoke; “I think you assume everyone believes in the ideals that their side stands for, and I also think,” he narrows his eyes, still staring into space. Despite not being the target of his glare, Dream, for the first time in the conversation, feels a strangely familiar powerlessness, “that you underestimate an individual’s loyalty to another individual, rather than to a cause,” he paused, “or a nation.” 

“I’ll fight for you, of course, but I can’t kill any of those kids -” in Dream’s mind, he’s taken back to the moment he’d recruited you to his side after he’d stolen Tommy’s discs. You’re looking up at him from where you’re leaning over a grindstone, sharpening your axe. When he’d asked why, you blinked slowly at him, “I’ve barely spoken to them; I can’t discern if they deserve it.” There’s something cold in your eyes as you look at him, and he hears it clear as day without you needing to say it out loud; I don’t kill people I don’t know.

Something about Wilbur in this moment reminds Dream of you. He feels the faded scar on his collar bone ache faintly; the part of him that had wanted to somehow warn Wilbur of your true nature was quickly growing quiet in the back of his mind.

Then, Wilbur looks at his own hands for a moment, before digging through his bag, through the various belongings he was now carrying. He pulls out your axe, and looks back up at the space by the door. Then, to the button, before finally looking at Dream, your axe still in hand, but it rested by his side, nonthreatening. Dream can’t look away from the weapon.

“You were laying in wait for us in the name of your nation,” Wilbur says, tone strangely neutral; he looks back at the door; “you complain about a lack of respect but won’t warn them when they’re about to die.” This is where he’d watched you die; that, atop the various other insights Wilbur has shared here have Dream’s blood running cold. Dream wants to argue that you would have tipped them off, but his words die on his tongue; he at least knew you better than to interfere in a good plan, an entertaining plan, where you would be able to watch the effects of a major plot twist play out in real time, even if it meant you too had to be sacrified... And Wilbur knew this about you too.

“I see,” Dream muses, trying to hide how shaken he was by the moment that had just passed, “you’re starting to make more sense now.”

“And you know what,” Wilbur said, unsettling tension breaking as he grinned, “I think you’re making more sense too; Y/N’s willingness to still bring up their loyalty to you does at least.”

“Their loyalty to me?”

“They still look out for Tommy’s discs on your behalf,” he said candidly, “we all know, but they’re yet to find them so Tommy’s yet to have a proper go at them.”

“It’s always sunny in L’Manberg then,” Dream says, dryly. 

“It’s... amusing, to try and see the world the way you see it,” Wilbur’s chipper, but there’s something almost malicious in his bright tone, and Dream’s hair stands on end. His own words haunt him, your loyalty called into question; did you simply help him because you found him trivial and amusing? While it doesn’t exactly surprise him, it stings in a way he didn’t expect. Looking back at Wilbur, it’s clear that at least some of Dream’s feelings about this particular revelation showed on his face, despite his best efforts. Wilbur’s grin was cheshire-esque. Even his smugness somehow had an echo of yours. 

He leaves. Dream feels sick, alone in the final control room.

----

"Can I ask you something?" Wilbur asks tentatively, and you look away from the furnace you'd patiently been waiting to smelt your iron ore.

"Of course."

Another long pause; you approached him where he was sitting at the table, watching you with reservation. 

"What happened between you and Dream?"

Surprisingly, your expression dropped to something blank in an instant, gaze going glassy. 

“He’s my friend,” you say flatly, turning back to the furnace, but not before Wilbur caught a glimpse of your grimace.

“I think he was trying to warn me against you,” Wilbur huffs a faint laugh, but it’s more to test your reaction; when you turn back, your expression is wide and innocent, almost pleading.

“What did he say?”

“That I’m the first person you’ve shown actual respect to,” Wilbur says, tone light but words blunt; it surprises you, which he can read on your face, and you hesitate for a moment, not wanting to confirm or deny as much. His smile grows wider, grows endeared, “and he did say you tend to get possessive.” Your gentle, flustered nature turns into something colder at that, and you look to your hands.

“He says a lot of things,” you mutter, with an air of bitterness. It’s interesting interacting with you; half the time you still seem to try and put on an act around him, though the other half you seem to let yourself be as honest as you’re able, “he says a lot of things to the people I like, then they like me less.” Then, suddenly, you look to him, defiance in your eyes, “I don’t care what he said, I’m not using you, Wilb-”

“Hold on, he never said anything like that,” he holds up his hands, defensive, placating. Your eyes go wide and your mouth snaps shut; you can’t look at him, sitting down, hunching in on yourself. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, sighing deeply enough that your shoulders sag, “Dream is my friend, I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I thought... he’s taken things from me like this before, things I, well...” you can’t quite put it into words, but Wilbur sits back, watching you, when something in his mind clicks.

“Covet.” His voice was soft with understanding, gentle as he asks “who was it?”

You blink slowly; there was something visceral and feral burning through your veins. You’d spent so long intricately designing the way the world would see you, this single moment feels like you’re on the knife’s edge trying to figure out if having him understanding you is endearing and heartwarming, or cloying and dangerous. He promised he wouldn’t betray you, but he’s not as honest as you’ve trained yourself to be. 

But you promised not to betray him, and you’ve become someone defined by your word. All you can do is leave, if that’s what you want. You can’t lash out, you must let him live with the way he knows you, with no promise to keep it to himself. Self preservation is the way your fingers flex, aching for your axe.

“I’ve given you too much power over me,” you swallow hard, hands in fists. 

“You won’t hurt me, though.”

“We both know I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“And you do want to,” he says it like it’s a fact, all light and neutral. You keep your mouth shut; you can’t lie if you don’t speak, no matter how sweet you know it would taste to lie. “I have never felt fear or anger like I felt when I watched you die,” he breaks the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter through clenched teeth, staring intently at the floor.

“You’re not to blame,” he says easily, “none of us deserved that; you didn’t deserve that.” 

“You didn’t deserve to see that,” you corrected automatically. 

“I thought you wanted to hurt me.”

“Well I can’t.”

“You won’t,” he says, tone still light. You glance a look at him, only to see him resting his chin in his hand, regarding you with a gentle smile. The distinction stings in your mind, the way he clearly understands your internal conflict, it sets your teeth on edge, “you knew what you were getting into when you offered your loyalty; Dream was confused, you know, about why you’d given it so freely when you covet it -” that word again, your expression twists into something frustrated as you drop your gaze back to your hands, “- but he doesn’t really get you, does he?”

“He likes to think he’s like me,” you mutter, “but then he acts like he’s better, like he’s building a family from this war, but he’s going to be left with people filled with resentments. I was aquiring resources, but he didn’t like my methods...”

“Who?” Softer this time, Wilbur asks.

After a very, very long time, you look to him, gaze shallow.

“I thought Quackity was like you, I thought he’d understand.”

“Understand you?”

“Understand the world, the truth,” you wet your lips for a moment, “but he clung to pretty words without question; I could see he had potential, so I kept him around, and it was easy - it was so fuckin’ easy -” You recount how you’d set your sights on loud-mouthed, brash, desperate for recognition Quackity, and how you’d made him your whole world, bombing him with affection and attention, making him feel understood, like the place he belonged was by your side. Quackity had always looked for somewhere to belong, that hadn’t changed, though you muse that you may have made it harder for him to trust it when he finally found a place where he felt like he belonged. 

“Everything I fed him was a lie I’d laced with something that sounded close enough to love and sincerity that he’d believed it,” you looked down at where you were tracing shapes on the back of Wilbur’s hand as he listened intently, “I gave him nothing, but made him believe he had everything, until... until I wanted to see how far I could go. I wanted to see if he’d die for me... and he would have, until Dream decided to grow some morals.” You stood, sudden fury burning through your veins at the memory, “he had to sew the fuckin’ seeds of doubt in Q’s mind, had to pick holes in my lies -”

“You lied that much?” This seemed to genuinely shock Wilbur, and you stopped your pacing to look to him.

“It’s why I don’t lie; it’s harder to pick holes in the truth, harder to undermine me,” your lip curled, “Q lost faith in me, stopped trusting me, and there was fucking nothing I could do about it; it was my fault, honestly, so I don’t lie anymore. I’m upfront about who I am. I only keep people around if they’re useful, or they’re entertaining, because that’s the other fucking thing I learned; nothing fucking matters more than keeping me happy, because everyone gets too serious for their own good in the end. Dream was fun before he- he- he-”

“So am I useful or entertaining?” Wilbur asks, and you freeze. Then, slowly, you take a deep breath.

“It was novel to feel understood.”

“And now it’s bloody terrifying you,” he says gently, “because as much as you want to, you can’t trust anyone as much as you trust yourself.”

“I understand people, Wilbur, and no-one I’ve ever met has understood the inherent benefit to honesty the way I have.”

“But you still promised me your loyalty.” He says. You swallowed hard, nodding once. You meet his gaze, refusing to break it, refusing to back down, waiting for him to elaborate. “And I promised you mine, as best I could,” he pauses gives you an evaluative look over, “I can’t trust people, obviously, but I know I can trust you.”

“People don’t like me when they realise I can pick them apart, that I can rewire and reprogram them like I’m an engineer,” and Wilbur regards you curiously as you say this, like he’s going to try and counter it, but you square your shoulders, “even you, Wilbur; do you think, when we met, you’d still trust me if I was upfront about this?” And he closes his mouth, thoughtful, “I wanted so desperately to keep around the first person to halfway understand me, you’re impressed rather than fucking terrified like you should be. Because you know it’s true.”

“Are you trying to push me away?”

“We both know you won’t go,” you say with the faintest, self-deprecating smile, “a stalemate of respect, of our own design.” Then, your expression turned serious, “I have never felt fear or anger like I did when I realised you watched me die.”

Then, very slowly, his gaze meets yours, hard-edged and dark.

“Do you trust me as much as I trust you?” It’s a loaded question; he’s never been given any reason to doubt you, mostly thanks to your honesty and loyalty, but you’d never been afforded that same assurance. But in this instance, it didn’t matter, you knew your answer without a shred of doubt.

“Yes, absolutely.”

----

Its said a shark can smell blood in the water from a mile away, and you, you know there's a traitor living a peaceful life up in the castle. It irritates you, sets your teeth on edge; it's not that they killed you that bothers you, it's that they were careless about it, they let the one person you never wanted to hurt watch you die. The event had shaken Wilbur; the taking of your life was not the matter you cared about. 

"You okay?" Others had noticed how distracted you were; in your mind, all you could see was the shocked horror in Wilbur's eyes, and the feeling of the blade in your back. Blinking quickly, back to the present, you smiled brightly at Tubbo, or as brightly as you could manage.

"Of course." 

You watch the others sparring and training together and your hands ball into fists, as if aching for a fight. But you've got an image to keep up; you're not the brawn here, you're a jester, you're meant to keep those who you care about smiling. 

"You ever wanna hold a sword to my neck like that..." you tone is suggestive as you trail off, grinning at Wilbur, who's got his sword poised beneath a training dummy's chin, glaring at it with ferocity. The moment you call out, however, his focus break, and you see him fighting back a smile as a flush works its way up his cheeks.

"Come test your luck then," he calls back, and you blinked quickly.

"I don't want to fight you, Wilbur," you tell him, quieter, hoping it comes off as soft, as something endeared.

"You should know how to fight," he points out, lowering his sword, digging the tip into the dirt as he leans on the pommel a little.

"I know how to fight," you counter, and a long moment of silence follows as he considers that.

"How have I never seen you with a weapon then?"

"You have, you just haven’t seen me use it as a weapon." You tell him rather pointedly, voice low, and though you’re still smiling, there’s something sharp at the edge of your voice that’s unfamiliar to him. It takes him aback, and for a long moment he’s silent as he regards you with a newfound seriousness, “I’m just a jester; what’s a jester want with a sword anyways?” You half laugh, a little louder now, gaze flicking to the others milling around nearby. Nobody outwardly acknowledges you, nobody apart from Wilbur, who just frowns. His gaze is trained on a spot just past your head, where you know the hilt of your axe sits. 

You know you need to act soon, the idea of Eret living in the lap of luxury after everything that happened has your blood boiling. It's getting out of hand. It's getting distracting. 

"You're very observant," you note, tone fond as you come back to the moment. Wilbur surfaces from his memories too, his own smile turning all kinds of fond.

"Out of necessity," he points out, making his way over to you. There's something about his tone that is fond, is knowing, and it melts your heart a little, those hints of understanding that no-one else had bothered to afford you. The person who'd betrayed the only person to understand you had been crowned king; soon, your retribution would come soon. 

"What's bothering you?" Quiet enough that no-one else could hear, Wilbur reaches out, fingertips gentle on your cheek as he tips your face, has you look him in the eyes. You wonder what he sees when he looks in them, because for a brief second, for a flash, again you see the memory of silent horror as he'd watched you lose your first life. You swallow hard, and close your eyes, leaning into his touch for the briefest moment. 

"I keep thinking about what Eret did," your voice is barely more than a whisper, giving only the truth, no attempt made to obfuscate it, like you usually would. Wilbur was quiet. You didn't want to open your eyes, didn't want to witness his reaction, but he's quiet. 

You don’t tell him what you’re going to do, what you’re planning; there’s no need for him to worry unnecessarily. If you survive, you survive, and if you don’t, well you have another life to fall back on. If you wake up in bed with a new scar and one less life, that was your decision to make. No-one should worry on your behalf, but Eret needed to know that their actions would have consequences. 

So you choose a night where the moon is overshadowed by clouds, and take your axe with you. 

You’ve always been one to make an entrance, and even now you don’t disappoint, laying in wait for as long as it takes, hours spent dead silent and idle, simply waiting.

"You should be very careful if things don't go exactly to plan," finally your voice rings out through the throne room, and Eret, all dark hair and pale eyes, stops dead where they'd been passing through. Slowly, so slow its almost painful, they turn to look at you. You, draped in the throne like you own the place, axe leaning carefully against the arm of the seat. Your name escapes her mouth like a curse.

"It did go to plan," she hisses, tone guarded. 

"If it had gone to plan, I wouldn't be here," you say, shifting a little, sitting a little lower, "if your timing had been better," you paused with a shark-like smile, "I may have been the only person in L'manburg to have no issue with your betrayal," and finally you look at him, watching his face as he tries to piece together what you mean, why you're here, "on paper I admire you." You tell them callously. Their lip curls in derision.

"Dream said you'd see my side," they say carefully.

"Dream says a lot of things to a lot of people," for a moment, your expression darkens, "I'm sure he told you to kill me first."

"To avoid…" she trails off, frown deepening. Your smile returns, wide and dangerous.

"You broke something of mine, Eret," you tell him seriously, a mad glint in your eyes, "and part of your plan worked like a charm; I won't go after anyone else because I've got plausible deniability, I didn't see who killed who in that skirmish." 

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

"Because you killed me, and Wilbur watched; it's all he could do. It was a cruel thing that you did, making someone feel helpless like that."

"You're not here because I killed you?"

"Why would I be? I'm a court jester," you huffed a little laugh, smile turning cruel, "but you used me to make Wilbur sad, and someone's got to take the blame for upsetting the thing I like."

"If that's true, why spend all this time talking? Why not just kill me?"

"Because I like to make sure you get my message; Dream's heard my message, he tried to tell you," this is where you stand, finally, rising, gaze shallow, picking up your axe as you go. Slowly, you descend the steps of the throne, and Eret draws his sword. There's uncertainty in his eyes; he's close to where you want him.

"You're stalling."

"The more I talk, the more you try and remember what people have said about me, don't you? But they don't talk about how I fight, it's never been the most impressive thing about me," you give a low, guttural laugh, axe low in your tight grip, "I'm most dangerous when I'm unarmed and unarmoured, right? That's what they say, right? What do you think that means, really think about it?" 

Eret swallows hard.

"It means that you're all talk," he's trying to put up a confident front, but you watch him tighten his grip on his sword. You raise your axe.

"Not quite." 

There's nothing elegant about the way you attack, movement uncharacteristically blunt with speed that surprised the King before you. Teeth bared, you slash and duck and weave, playing dirty, tripping them up. You take hits and lash out, snarling and spitting with anger until there's no mirth, only malice, and you bring your boot down on their hand, knee pressed to their throat. There's fear behind their glasses. There's a cut above your brow, blood trickling down your face, slashes along your arms, certainly a few on your chest, but Eret's on her back on the cold floor of the throne room.

"You have no fucking idea of what I'm fully capable of," you snarl, leaning in close to their face, applying pressure until they drop their sword, hissing in pain, "this is your only warning; if you hurt- if you fucking touch my things again, I'll make it stick-" and leaning back, you use your axe to separate their head from their shoulders, taking their first life. 

And you're alone, breath coming out shakily, gasping as the adrenaline courses through you. Somewhere in the castle, Eret is waking up with your words echoing in their head. You should leave. Standing slowly, you cast a derisive look to the blood stain on the floor, the only proof of the altercation. Someone else's problem. 

You leave through the front doors, still carrying your bloodstained axe. Really, he should have better security. 

At the doors to the castle, you pause, casting a derisive look over your shoulder; this all could have been avoided. You pull out your communicator, flicking through your contacts.

[keep your things on a shorter leash] you send to Dream. He should have chosen more carefully, or been more insistent. But that was his problem; if he kept up like this, you may have to start questioning your friendship with him. 

But there's something cathartic that comes as the adrenaline is depleting. It's said that revenge doesn't provide the cathartic relief that one hopes for, but you weren't looking for revenge as much as you were looking to send a message. And you're fairly certain that message was thoroughly received. Eret had been afraid, deeply and truly afraid; you'd seen it in her eyes. It made up for the fear you had seen in Wilbur's. 

You breathe a deep sigh, letting your shoulders relax for a moment; you head home.

There's static in your ears as you travel back to L'manburg, and you don't quite register that you're back on your nation's soil until you hear shouts. Tommy, Tubbo; the children, they spot you covered in blood that's both yours and not, and they're full of concern. You smile. The wound on your head starts to ache a little, the adrenaline wearing off fully.

"Don't worry about me -" you try, unable to keep the fondness from your voice.

"Wilbur!" Tommy hollers, because he knows. Everyone knows. You've staked your claim enough that even your allies know where to turn when you're acting out of character. It has you laughing, quietly at first - Dream had tried to warn Eret, how stupid must they be to ignore that, to not follow his instructions to the letter? - but your laughter only gets louder as Tubbo takes off, also calling for Wilbur ad Tommy, genuinely concerned, asks what the fuck happened to you.

"I'm a jester," you laugh, eyes a little wild as you look to the child, "I'm just a fucking jester! A messenger! Can't kill the messenger," there's something wild, something feral about you, covered in blood with a grin that's all teeth, bloody and bruised and covering a bloodstained axe. Tommy takes a step back, wary and quiet. His eyes are wide as he looks to your axe. 

"I thought you used a bow," he says quietly. Your smile grows wider.

"I'm a bad shot with a bow," you tell him seriously. He blinks slowly, processes your words.

"You shot me," there's apprehension in his voice. He's getting it. Perhaps you should take more caution here; you don't want to break the illusion of you he sees.

"I didn't know you then," is what you say, and see the confusion and vague horror as he tries to figure out what you mean by that. But he's interrupted.

"What did you do?" Wilbur doesn't see the humour in your appearance, he seems like he's barely containing rage. When all you do is grin, giving a slight shrug, he turns to Tommy, tells him he'll take care of you, that the boy should join Tubbo. Tommy looks between the two of you; he tells Wilbur to be careful. You laugh again, bright and loud, and Tommy and Wilbur both frown at you, but at least Tommy follows Wilbur's directions.

With the kid gone, Wilbur turns on his heel, making a beeline for where he knows you've hidden your living area, and you follow him without question.

In your house, his voice turns softly malevolent;

"Who did this to you?" Oh. Your heart catches in your throat, and the surprise must read on your face; despite his furious expression he's gentle when he takes hold of your wrist, leading you to your basin.

"You don't need to worry about me," you tell him softly, though you obligingly sit on the edge of the basin. You lean your axe up behind you.

"You're covered in blood," he points out, gaze flicking for a moment to meet yours as the water runs, filling the basin up. 

"Only some of its mine," you try, endeared by the care he was showing, "I just had to deliver a message, that's all."

"You look like you had to go through hell for it," he muses.

"You don't need to worry about me, Wilbur," and you reach out to take his hand where he's dousing a washcloth in the water. He goes still. 

"What message?" He asks, finally conceding, tone finally soft. He flips your hand, carefully wiping the blood from it. 

"People need to be more careful who they use me against," you say idly, and Wilbur is quiet as he works diligently away, cleaning the blood from your hands, from your arms when you offer them. 

"I kept seeing the moment you saw me die," you tell him softly, voice barely more than a whisper as he's rinsing the blood from the cloth. He gives pause; you continue, "I expect betrayal, but I can't imagine how it must feel to have to watch that and be unable to do anything; I suppose that's why Dream told them to kill me first. If their timing wasn't perfect, I'd see one of you slaughtered - I could have seen you slaughtered," you muse, looking down at your hands, at the blood beneath your nails. Carefully, Wilbur finally lifts your chin so he can gently dab at the wound on your forehead, looking as though he was holding back a fond smile. "But I think what happened was worse; I never want to be the source of your unhappiness, on purpose or not," then finally, you look to his eyes, to how he's focusing, and your heart beats hard against your ribs, "I don't want you to worry about me." It's barely more than a whisper, far more honest than the candid way you'd said as much earlier. 

"What did you do?" It's fond now, much lighter than the situation at hand called for, and for a moment he meets your gaze, smiling ever so slightly, your face still in his hands.

His eyes are so dark, you never want him to stop looking at you like this; these feelings are already becoming dangerous, on the verge of swallowing you whole. You need him closer. It had been a blood sacrifice to atone for that look in his eyes.

You will never have the words to tell him all you’re willing to do for him. 

"The king is dead," you tell him, "long live the king." 

----

"Surprised you weren't optioned as their VP," Quackity's smile was all teeth as he slid into the booth, across from you. 

"Surprised you were," you fired back, glad for his company; the two of you don't talk like you once did, but you'd always held a fondness for him.

"POG2020 here to drown their sorrows at losing?" He asked, tone edging on something almost mean, but stopping just short.

"Those of them that can drink," you'd grinned, gaze turning to the bar where Wilbur was glaring into a half drunk pint, "he promised me a drink half an hour ago," but you're tone was fond. Quackity makes a noise of sudden understanding.

"That's why you weren't his VP," he says, sitting a little lower in his seat, expression smug, but eyes alight like a tiger with his interest piqued. You make a noise like you have no idea what he's talking about, "poor form, really, looks bad if he's sleeping with his VP."

"You dirty fuckin pervert," but your grin gets wider as your tone gets flustered, "we're not fucking!"

"But you want to," his grin gets wider, "late nights at the office, just the two of you, all alone, its stressful, it's a tough job you know-" his tone is low, teasing in a way that means you can't meet his eyes, but his tone shifts as he seems to hear what he's saying, "hey do you wanna come work with me?" It's mostly a joke, smile turning to something genuine with the way it crinkles by his eyes, and the tension from mere moments ago disappears, and you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand with a sly smile.

"Depends on the benefits," you match his earlier tone, teasing and low, and he mirrors your positioning, face now close to yours, close to the middle of the table.

"I'm sure I could talk Schlatt into something reasonable for the other benefits," he's still smiling, still mostly joking, as were you, though you couldn't deny the thought of being Quackity's assistant and part of the Jschlatt Administration was deeply amusing given your recent history.

"You really in the market for an assistant?" Your tone was brighter, far less joking, and for an instant, Quackity flushed an amusing shade of pink.

"I could be- this was meant to be a bit-" 

"You here to rub my nose in it, Quackity?" Wilbur's voice, when it joined the pair of you, was accusatory, and though you don't move from your surprisingly intimate moment, Quackity's eyes slide to the side, to watch Wilbur side effortlessly into the seat beside you. 

"Former President Soot," Quackity grinned, but instead of watching Wilbur's reaction, he looked back at you, raising a single, almost challenging eyebrow. Wilbur, at the very least, ignores the comment.

"You conspiring against me?" He asks, mostly directed at you, and while Quackity tries to snort and play it off, you can feel Wilbur's hand slide down the length of your back coming to rest at your hip, arm now around you, and you lean out of your moment with Quackity and into his touch.

Something in Quackity’s gaze turns cold, like he’s awash with memories long past, like he’s quietly mad at himself for losing himself in the moment with you, for forgetting any part of what you’d put him through. 

"Not in a technical sense, but I also hadn't agreed to anything," you tell him, finally looking at him. As you settle into the space beside him, his arm moves to wrap around your shoulders, fingers resting gently on your upper arm; it's a clearly possessive gesture. Something in your heart bursts with warmth.

Looking to him, you see he's looking back at you, expression burning, question in his eyes; was I interrupting? Your grin turns sharper. If he had been interrupting, you're more than capable of telling him to fuck off, but just having him around reminds you that this is better than any alternative. 

"Oh," Quackity's voice was alight with realisation, breaking the moment, and you turn to him as Wilbur leans into you a little more, "you would have made the worst VP," he practically crows, tone more mocking than it was light, "you wouldn't have made it a week."

"Don't be a prick," Wilbur scowled, "if they'd wanted the job they of course would have been more than welcome to it -"

"Good old fashioned nepotism," Quackity, sounding especially smug, did little to brighten Wilbur's mood, who was set to mumble something else snide before Quackity's eyes fixed on you, "wait, you didn't want to be VP? I was actually right, wasn't I? You knew exactly what would happen, yet somehow he doesn't?! Have you even seen yourselves? How does he not - Ow!" You kick him in the shins under the table. Hard. 

"What the fuck are you on about?" Wilbur asks, as Quackity brings his leg up to rub at his sore shin. He's still fucking grinning. Asshole.

"Keep your dirty little mouth closed, Q," you warned. 

"Don't worry, I know its not my dirty little mouth you're interested in- fucking ow, Y/N!"

"Good," Wilbur's voice in your ear is warm and pleased and he's leaning on you now, solid and tipsy with his forehead against the side of your head, "he's being a dick, you have terrible friends you know."

"You'd be the worst," you murmur back, voice syrupy and full of affection as Wilbur actually giggles, not even bothering to try and contradict you. Quackity, across from you and still rubbing his shins, mimes gagging. 

"Go be Vice President, Quackity," Wilbur sneers.

"Don't be a salty bitch, Mister Former President," Quackity's lip curls. 

"Kick him in the shins again, my love," the nickname alone, Wilbur in your ear, it has your heart in a vice-like grip, and Quackity must see it in your eyes how eager you are to follow through because he draws his knees up to his chest with gusto, flipping you both off. You laugh.

"Love you, Q," you tell him with sincerity, out of habit. When he tells you to shut up, there’s nothing joking in his tone in that moment, gaze avoiding yours as he’s shimmying from the booth.

"You're so generous with your words," Wilbur's voice is a gentle sigh, something wanting, something almost forlorn. For a moment your breath catches in your throat, but before you can respond, before you can even think of a response, he's already talking again, "what was he on about anyways? Talking shit about you like he has any right to, you would have made a great VP, I asked, you know I asked -" he sits up, as if worried that you think he thinks less of you, but his arm is still around you.

"Will your the only one who wanted me to be VP," which isn't a lie, but in your trademark fashion, it also wasn't the whole truth. 

"They don't trust you with a nation," he sounded so bitter, and for a moment your heart stutters in your chest. 

"They shouldn't," you tell him softly. 

"Do you like Quackity more than me?"

"I think I probably like him more than you like him, yes."

"That wasn't what I was asking and you knew that," then his voice drops, something in his eyes as serious as you've ever seen, "do you like Dream more than me?"

"Wilbur…"

"I know- I know you're close, I know, I just… I need to know, you know?"

"Will…" and as you say his name, voice a hesitant murmur, he cups your face.

"You don't have to- to be worried if you do, I just need to know, for me, it's selfish but I need to know for me; I'd understand, of course of course I'd understand, you two have history-" and his gaze is boring into you, eyes wide and dark and you can't find the words for how much you want him to hold you close, hold you tight and never let go. 

You hesitate. You drop his gaze.

"You do," he sounds heartbroken, his grip on you grows slack.

"I have never lied to you, Wilbur," your tone is nervous and hesitant, "but I'm afraid of answering, I'm afraid of what it means."

"You'd… you'd betray me for him?" Drunk and emotional, he sits back, but your hands are shaking. 

"Wilbur, I'm afraid of answering because… you're wrong. It's you. Over Big Q, over Dream, over everyone… Wilbur I-" your voice caught in your throat, words too honest by half, so you swallow them, choose safer ones, "will choose you," you let out a shaky sigh, "you have my loyalty." 

His eyes were wide as saucers, shiny and overwhelmed and emotional and then he's holding you so tight it's like a vice, face pressed into the crook of your neck.

"You've always had my vote," you tell him faintly, and he holds you tighter still. 

"You," he whispers incredulously, not even your name, just, "its you." And your mind hears them said like a mirror, like he himself can't quite believe your honestly. 

----

“They’re exiling you,” you hear Quackity before you see him; they’ve got you locked away, and probably for good reason, but also probably at his insistence.

“It’s better than the death penalty,” you say, huffing a laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” his tone is gentle but reserved, and when you finally look up from your hands, elbows braced on your knees, you see him leaning on the bars of your cage. It’s too dark to read his expression, but you can tell from his voice, “just play nice with Schlatt and you can stay a citizen.”

“Play nice?” You asked with the faintest of smirks, “what does that entail exactly?”

This is where he grows quiet, crouching down and looking at the floor, mouth in a thin line.

“You’re good at playing nice, it shouldn’t be hard,” you can’t mistake the bitterness in his voice, and you give pause, “just say it was an act, your loyalty to that dictator, Wilbur.”

“Lie, so I can swap out one perceived dictator for another?” You asked softly.

“Helping run a campaign for the former president only to admit that you don’t actually give a shit, and stay loyal to the man who won by forming a coalition with the two losing parties, that sounds exactly like something you’d do,” he pointed out, and there’s something in his voice you can’t identify, something akin to faint desperation, though you can’t quite understand why. But still, something catches in your throat. 

“Isn’t it funnier to stay loyal to the former president who lost after the two losing parties formed a secret coalition? To the point of exile?”

“Can’t you just play nice? Can’t you just lie?”

“You wanna keep me around that bad?” You asked, faintly teasing edge to your words, but as soon as he stands, as soon as he speaks, you can hear him growing defensive.

“I’m the Vice President trying to offer an olive branch to a potentially skilled ally,” he sniped, “don’t get it twisted.”

“I’m not going to lie to try and play nice with the dictator who stole the nation from the person I’m loyal to,” you tell him, blunt. Quackity is quiet for a very long moment. 

“Dream ‘ll be heartbroken,” his voice is suddenly strangely rough, “someone’s knocked him out as top fuckin’ dog in your little, black heart -”

“Q,” it’s finally clicked, and you don’t know what else to say. 

----

“I want you to know what I’m capable of,” you say softly, looking up at the stars. Then, slowly, you look at Wilbur, who’s regarding you with interest, “everyone ends up afraid of me,” you tell him, “and it might be self sabotage, but I want you to fear me too. I’m not used to love, I’m not used to understanding.” 

“More honest than usual tonight,” he muses with a gentle smile.

“If I’m not feared I feel like I’m being underestimated.”

“It sounds like self sabotage.”

“I feel violent today,” then, looking up at the stars you take a deep breath, “I love you. I don’t think I’ve said that before; I love you, Wilbur.”

“You love me and you want me to fear you,” he says slowly. His gaze follows the tense set of your shoulders, “not used to loving someone?” You shake your head. 

“I want to cut off your head, just so you know I could,” you tell him, hands behind your back, gaze skyward, “I think I want to fuck you, but I’m not sure, I’m really not used to loving someone, not genuinely. I don’t think I know how to love you in a way that makes sense.” 

Finally, you turn to him, expression neutral, while inside you were alight with nerves. He’s watching you, dark eyes thoughtful. You swallow hard.

“I’m trying to push you away,” you tell him without hesitation, “because I’ve given you too much power over me, and I-” you voice catches, your façade cracking, and finally you drop your gaze, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

Even your honesty was it’s own kind of dishonest mask, and there was nothing more fear inducing than genuinely letting it slip. Your image is a house of cards and you keep handing Wilbur fucking fans. 

“You know at some point I am just going to leave; I don’t want to, but if you keep pushing -” he pauses, as if expecting a rebuttal, but your mouth remains firmly closed, which causes him to frown, “- I’m going to end up leaving. Do you want me to go? I’m just going to ask, because you keep pushing, you keep doing this, I’d rather you were just honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t want you to stay around me out of some sort of moral obligation,” you tell him.

“That’s not an answer.” 

“And I can’t answer because you can’t guarantee you won’t end up fucking fearing me like everyone else! I can’t answer because I am not going to be responsible for someone else’s feelings; if you stop caring about me I don’t want you to feel like you should still be around me, and just go on to resent me!”

Squeezing your eyes closed, face scrunched up, you force the words through your lips, “I would give you the fucking world, Wilbur, but I don’t expect- I don’t want to expect anything in return,” your jaw clenches for a moment, but you relax your face, eyes still closed, “obsession,” you sigh gently, “is safer if I am sure it is not reciprocated. Especially obsession like this...”

“Like this?”

“The things I obsess over... they’re just that; things. And I want to keep them safe, but I don’t... I don’t actually love them like I love you,” your lip curls, and you look at the ground, slowly sinking into a squat as you contemplate, “it’s fucking obscene,” you spit, as if disgusted at yourself. “Love makes me feel fucking filthy; it’s always funnier when I’m the object of desire.”

“You’re still trying to push me away!”

“And yet you’re still here, so who’s the real idiot!?” You snapped, lip curled in a sneer as you shot him a venomous look; the shock of it all was plain as day on his face, but you don’t let the faint guilt you feel show on your face as you look at your hands.

“I love you,” he says faintly, still sounding surprised, like he can’t quite realise what he’s saying, “and I’m just tired to trying to fight you on that, I don’t know how to prove that what I say to you is the truth; you don’t have a patent on honesty, and I just don’t know what to do to get you to believe me.” And then, coming back to himself, anger returning, “it’s not filthy to be in love!”

“It is when it’s obsession,” your answer comes out more like a growl.

“Y/N, my drug empire turned into a nation, I think more people should be obsessed with me,” he says with surprising levity. Something protective, something jealous flares up at that suggestion, but you keep your reaction to yourself, looking up at him as something close to hope flares bright in your chest. “You act like you’re the only one here, like you’re the only one allowed to worry about me, like you’re the only one willing to- to die. You killed the King for me, you have Dream’s respect, if I was going to be afraid of you it would have settled in by now,” then, “the only reason I haven’t killed Eret for what he did to you is because you got there first yourself. Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?”

The question hangs in the air between you both; you think you can almost see it there, catching starlight. You look at your hands instead.

“I believe there’s something wrong with the type of people who fall in love with me,” you admit, barely louder than a whisper, “and part of me believes you’re better than that.” 

“Listen to yourself,” he gives an exasperated chuckle, “there’s something wrong with you.”

“I know that,” you say almost immediately. Silence lapses out between you, and finally Wilbur sighs, stepping in close and wrapping his arms around you.

“I think it might be why I love you.” 

There’s never been a more dangerous feeling in your chest than in this moment, in his arms. You want to tell him you’d kill for him, you’d die for him, but it’s more than that, more than you could explain or do justice with words alone, so you hug him back, and never want this moment to end.

“There’s something wrong with you, too.”

----

He is silent; cold and unmoving and your hands start to shake. 

"You did what you had to," your tone is flat, no distress, nothing, just flat. Phil is quiet. Neither of you move. You can hear your heart beat in your ears. "We should move his body."

"Yeah…" and then, softer, "actually, no, it won't be around for long… but we can set up a gravestone."

"What do you mean?"

"Bodies here don't stay, they move on-" and as Phil speaks, as you step towards the body on the ground, hand outstretched, it begins to fade to ash, to dust. Only his things were left behind. Your fingers curl into a fist and you lower your hand, "are you okay?" His voice has the barest shake, like he still can't believe what just happened.

"It was never meant to be," you tell him instead of answering truthfully, forcing yourself to smile as you finally look up to the father of your best friend, your- "are you okay, Phil? I'm sorry you had to do that, I'm sorry-"

"You're okay." He sounded deeply concerned by what he'd perceived to be your response. Looking out from the room to the crater, you see Withers flying overhead, and hear shouting and confusion.

"I should go," you say softly, "I'm the only one left who could take the fall for that," you muse, jaw tightening for a moment, though noone can see your expression. When you move past Phil, you pause, and tell him quietly, reassuringly, that he did what had to be done, and that you were sorry. 

"Was he just a means to an end for you, just another joke? You'd gotten better, you'd gotten kinder-" his voice finally betrayed his distress; his son was dead by his own hand and you'd just watched, "what happened?"

It takes you a long time to formulate your response, terrified of letting yourself be vulnerable; you'd been the villain too many times to not expect an opportunist to use your vulnerability against you. Phil may not be that opportunist, but you know better than anyone what dangers may lurk behind a kind face and sincere veneer.

"Whatever I may have felt is no longer relevant, to you, me, or anyone; he's gone, as is L'manburg."

"Did you even care about him?" Phil asks gently, "don't talk your way around me, please, Y/N." Your breath catches for a moment; he's giving you an imploring look, holding your wrist carefully; outside, someone, possibly Tommy, is hollering both yours and Wilbur's names with fury. 

"Care is a very weak word for how I may have felt," you tell him softly, holding his gaze. Your tone is flat, but you see it in his eyes when he catches your meaning, how you can't bring yourself to admit out loud that you loved Wilbur, "not that it matters now… not that anyone would believe you if you told them." You said, tone dismissive. Phil lets you go.

----

"Oh hello, Quackity!" You hear Ghostbur cheerfully greeting someone as he peers out the window, leaning far enough out on the sill, pushed up on his toes, that you're half worried he'll fall. You hear violently loud shushing outside your house and your blood runs cold. Why was he trying to sneak up on your house?

You’re intrigued by it all, and don’t try and put up a fight.

"I suppose the kangaroo court is now in session," you mused, peering up at the precarious contraption above you, "can you at least tell me why you're dropping an anvil on my head?"

"Because you're a threat to society," Quackity grumbles, though he can't bring himself to look at you.

"Because you drove my father to madness, helped him blow up half the land, then you killed him once he'd outlived his purpose," Fundy was unflinching as he levelled a glare at you.

“They didn’t kill me,” it’s Ghostbur’s voice that joins the foray, amid the shouting, while you’re hopping from one foot to the other, looking up at the anvil, the gentle reverb that accompanies his soft speech cuts through the din.

And suddenly the madness stops; all eyes on the Ghost.

“Don’t kill her over me, if that’s your reasoning;” he paused, nervous, “or just don’t kill them…” he trailed off.

“Don’t you get that they’ve already made up their mind?” Quackity’s rolling his eyes, standing by the lever that decides your fate, “if they wanted someone to release them, they could have convinced one of us by now-” and he looks to you, eyes dark and cold, and the moment you’d shared back at Wilbur’s grave surfaces in your mind ‘you’re getting better at hearing the truth’.

"Quackity-" you breathed, alight with intrigue at this development, unable to help yourself. There's an old, familiar flicker of misguided desire, for lack of a better word.

"Keep my fucking name out of your mouth," he muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, "and quit it with that tone." He can't look at you; you delicately wrap press your hands to the glass of your cage.

"Q, what tone, I don't-" but even you could hear the giddy notes that bleed through in your words.

"You're about to die; I'm about to kill you, but you're hear acting- talking like you did when you pretended to care about me-"

"I have cared about you from the moment I met you," you fired back defensively, "I have always cared about you, Quackity."

“God I really fuckin’ preferred it when you lied, then I didn’t have to try and figure out what the fuck you mean when you talk like that,” he snapped, before making his way from the podium, “I’m sick of them, someone else pull the lever.” He called out; he’s taking a stand, trying to block you out, keep your words out of his head. This was the Quackity you’d been so captivated by when you’d met him, the man who intrigued you, who you thought could challenge you, whose very nature excited you. Heart beating in your ears, you press your hands to the glass of the cage, looking out past him, to the others.

“I was not responsible for what happened to Wilbur,” you called, looking to Fundy, who you’re pleased to see looked conflicted, “what happened to L’Manberg wasn’t my fault- I fought with you. I fought with you all,” there’s the faintest notes of desperation in your voice. You had already made peace with your fate, now you were simply intrigued as to whose hands your blood would be on.

“Fine, Fundy if you’re conflicted because they didn’t kill your dad, you can stay out of it,” Quackity’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, but you can see the hard, tense line of his shoulders.

“It feels like our actual execution reasons... aren’t there anymore,” Tubbo points out, “and as a leader, I feel bad killing someone for being a nuisance, and not even a nuisance to me or anyone else.”

“This feels kinda personal,” Ranboo adds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “which is fine, but they don’t seem like a threat to the country.”

“Did you fucking forget she became Wilbur Soot’s right hand?!” Quackity demanded from them, stepping forward again, “ she may not have been responsible for pressing the button, but she had ample opportunity to stop him; hell, she had ample opportunity to not be a dick. How can we even believe what she says?!”

“People do some fucked up things for love,” Ranboo gives a simple shrug.

“And Y/N doesn’t lie,” Tubbo pointed out, looking to you. In this moment, time freezes; his words buzz in the back of your mind as you look to Quackity, trying to decipher how he’s reacting when you can’t see his face. Because he can’t give it away, can’t bring himself to admit the power you once had over him, the sliver of power you still have, can’t make himself look weak, and it’s killing him.

They’ve only known you to be honest, and for that you’re glad... but Quackity knew you before.

Perhaps your begging, your desperation, had worked too well.

----

“You gonna give the people a show?” Your heart is beating in your throat as you find yourself waiting in your cell, hands restrained behind your back as Dream himself paces in irate silence outside your cell.

“I gave you the option to come back, to join me to not go down this road,” he’s seething, hands balling into white-knuckled fists and unballing again and again, “I don’t understand you, I don’t fucking understand you, Y/N,” and he stops, pulls off his mask to run his hand through his hair in irritation. Then he looks to you, and you’re looking back, expression thoughtful, or at least, you hopes it comes across as thoughtful, rather than betraying the way you’re heart is hammering against your ribs.

“It’s not your fault it’s more amusing to be on the side of revolution,” you told him, lips quirking into the faintest smile, “they called it L’manberg,” your smile widens, unable to help your own laugh, and his distress becomes more evident. Then, smile slowly fading, you meet Dream’s gaze, giving a slight frown.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you tell him seriously, “you could have picked anyone else to do this, you didn’t have to volunteer.”

“If I had picked anyone else,” he swallows hard, looking at the ground and taking a deep breath, “you would have talked your way out, and it would have made them look weak, but there would be a target still on your head and you’d be hunted.”

“And you?”

“You’ve never done that thing you do with me, talk circles, trying to get me on your side -”

“You’re already on my side,” you say gently, but his expression turns pained.

“They know - everyone knows I’m the only person on the side of Pogtopia you haven’t attempted to talk your way around, but I’m also the only person who could convince you to go into exile, to not fucking let yourself be killed, and have the others not hunt you furiously when they find out.”

“Dream the Great and Powerful,” you smile, tone fond and frankly adoring, he winces again.

“You’re a pain,” he mutters, mostly to himself, before he lowers himself into a squat, as if to centre himself, gaze lifting to you finally, “you can go; join Tommy in exile, you don’t have to… to… you don’t have to die, dude.”

“If I die, in their eyes I’ve atoned for my crimes,” you try to sit back, settling in a little against the wall, “you and Tommy will never see eye to eye, but like you said, that thing I do, the way I talk my way around people, that has affected more than just you,” you took a deep breath, “the only person I really respected apart from you died, Dream, the only person who truly vouched for me apart from you is dead, Dream.” Your smile grows tight, and suddenly you can’t look him in the eyes; respect, it was so much more than that. Your heart grows warm at his memory, the mere thought of his smile, before growing cold and sad as he demanded that Phil kill him. It must show on your face.

“Wilbur protected you,” Dream said, tone knowing, but you couldn’t help but bark a laugh at that.

“Wilbur was my limiter,” you corrected, and Dream’s eyebrows rose, momentarily broken from his distress, “I respected him, I… anyways, so if he asked me not to fuck with one of our allies, I wouldn’t - except to give you Tommy’s discs,” you clarified, and for the barest moment, Dream’s lips twitched into something almost resembling a smile.

“You’re kind of awful,” he says gently, “you’d fuck with your allies? Just change sides, don’t mess with the people who trust you and expect them to keep trusting you as such.”

“My ally was Wilbur, the rest of them were on his side,” you explained, “I’m on my own side before anyone else's,” you reminded, and he nodded seriously, looking to the floor, bouncing on his toes.

----

"I- I mean I'm not sorry," Quackity muses. You don't look up, but you hear him sit on the other side of Wilbur's Tombstone. 

"I don't know why you would be; you're not responsible for what happened to me."

“Oh,” Quackity frowns, giving pause, “no, I meant about him,” and he slaps the side of the tombstone with one hand.

“Not your fault either,” you shrugged.

"He did it to himself," which is right, but not in the way Quackity means it. He thinks Wilbur blew up. He doesn't know what was asked of Phil. You're quiet, and finally Quackity speaks; "did you actually love him or was it another one of your stunts?"

"Love is a strong word," you respond, tone devoid of inflection. He can't hear how badly you want to confirm, you want to holler how fucking wide the sky has gotten in Wilbur's absence. 

"Can you just teach me how to not fucking care? Because how is it so easy for you? How do you wake up and decide you're going to ruin lives and stand by while the world goes up in flames?" 

“I don’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s just a side effect of who you are as a person,” he says derisively. 

"You find what you love and let it kill you," you tell him, voice quiet. 

"You find who you love and let them kill you," he says, knowingly, "you followed Eret into the control room because of Wilbur," he said knowingly, "and we all saw who gave you that mark on your neck," he laughs humourlessly. "But you can't even entertain the idea that I could hurt you, can you?" He asks.

"Find who you love and let them kill you."

"What then?" 

"Hope your love for them dies too; severing attachments takes great personal sacrifice." 

"You sound like Dream."

"I've known him the longest, you know?"

"He's your best friend, I remember," he tells you derisively, "so did your love die?"

"My attachment to him is situational at best." 

“But does it die?” He asked quietly, “you severed the attachment, but does the love die?” His tone is hollow, and you swallowed hard. 

“You’re getting better at hearing the truth.” You give a humourless laugh, and he responds with a non-committal hum

“I liked you better when you lied," he says quietly.

"I almost got you killed," you tell him flatly, and he huffs a faint laugh.

"Correction, I almost died for you."

"What's the difference?"

"Intention," you can hear his faint smile, "find what you love and let it kill you, after all." Then, quieter, "you should finish the job."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Give me that kind of power over you," you tell him flatly. 

"You should finish what you started," he scoffs, the mood shifting more and more with each word, "you're the one who wanted me to die for you; if you're learning to be all honourable and noble and shit, you should learn to take accountability -" he huffed in frustration, "can I be perfectly fucking honest with you for a moment?"

"I'd appreciate it," you tell him. There's a few moments of silence that follow, and finally you shift, peering at him over your shoulder to where he's leaning against the headstone, legs kicked out in front of him. He looks at you, eyes dark and tired.

"I'm so tired of giving a shit about you."

You know there's something selfish in how you miss seeing his smile in this moment. But then again, did you miss his smile, or did you miss what it represented; his love and loyalty. 

----

"You're getting rained on," Ghostbur said quietly, looking at you with his wide, cloudy eyes as you held an umbrella open and aloft above him.

"I'll live," you said pointedly, and at Ghostbur's smile became faintly strained, but he accept the umbrella. You, however, didn't move, sitting beside him on the log that you'd found him on.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, shuffling a little closer, if only to try and shield you too with the little umbrella. Instead of looking to him, you look at the grey, drizzling clouds looming overhead.

"I saw it was clouding over," you told him, "and no-one I spoke to had seen you for a while..." you trailed off, shrugging, as if that was enough.

"You've always been a lovely friend, I remember that, I remember..." but his own voice trails off, dies in his throat; you look at him with interest, and after a beat he looks back at you, "I remember the good times, the happy times, and you, in the beginning you were a wonderful friend, but I don't... they say I blew up a nation, you know, and I don't remember that, but I don't remember a lot leading up to that either. It -" he hesitates before backtracking, choosing his words carefully, "did something bad happen between us?"

Your understanding of the word, of the time you spent with Wilbur, it was all shattering in your mind at once. His eyes were wide and full of concern when you look back at him, and he reaches out gently, wiping away a tear you hadn't realised had fallen; you hear the hiss of the water against his thumb and move out of his touch.

"Sorry," he says softly, genuine apology in his voice, "was it because of what I did to L'Manberg?" He asks gently. Around you, the rain was getting heavier.

"I thought we were happy," it came out barely louder than a whisper, and you quickly wiped your eyes, despite the rain now coming down hard enough to hide your tears, "I should have... I know I should have said something, but I thought we both just knew, you know? I should have..." and you turn, bottom lip trembling, "I'm sorry, Ghostbur, I know you're not him, you keep saying that, but I never got to tell Alive-You that I... you know," you swallowed hard, "that I love him. You? Him? I never actually got to tell him properly, in a way that makes sense. But I did. I do. And I thought... Fuck," the word comes out in a harsh breath, and you find yourself scowling and looking away, "probably for the best that I didn't say anything if he - you, I guess - weren't - wasn't? - happy."

"I know he cared about you, as much as I can remember, he never stopped caring," Ghostbur's voice is quiet, and finally, you look at him. His face is scrunched up with concentration, but there's small trails of steam -

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," you're genuinely apologetic, and he looks shocked when you look up, as if he hadn't even noticed.

"Just because I don't remember doesn't mean... well a lot of things were not good memories towards the end, but that's because of everything going on up here," he was wiping at his eyes quickly to dispel the tears before he taps his temple with two fingers, "and if what you're saying is true, he wasn't unhappy because of you, he was just unhappy, and it... there are months missing for me, and that's no-one's fault."

Oh... well you supposed you could understand that, still, it was difficult to process this whole conversation and all it's implications.

"How is this the most amusing option, if you don't mind me asking?" He suddenly speaks up, and you look up with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You're upset, I don't think I've ever seen you upset -"

"Well it probably wouldn't be a good memory if you had," you reminded, to which he conceded.

"But I remember clear as day when we met, and you told me and Tommy that you simply did whatever amused you the most, this... this doesn't seem particularly amusing."

"I don't operate like that anymore," you told him frankly, staring at your hands.

"Oh," he muttered softly, before asking, voice tentatively, "why did you think to come find me?"

You take a moment to deliberate, to consider your own reasoning and motivations, still looking at your hands, fingers twisting and curling and locking into inconsistent shapes.

"You used to do this near the end," you said softly, "used to run off and sit near the button and think and think and think but never do anything," you paused, "and I never cared about the land like I cared about you, so I was all for blowing it all up, but it... I could see it was doing something to you. The election, everything that was happening, it did something to you; you were spiralling, and I knew if I didn't know where you were, you were by the button. Awful and fucking beautiful, and dude, I'm- I'm so sorry I didn't tell you but, Christ, I was so in love with you, Wilb-" looking sharply at him, your voice died in your throat, and you corrected yourself, "him. Not... you're different. Right. Ghostbur." He blinked at you, a little taken aback by the sudden passion of your outburst, of your explanation. You cleared your throat. "No-one else had the balls to acknowledge that the land no longer functioned by the ideals it was built for, and I loved your passion; I could listen to you talk down there for hours. Sometimes I did. It was like a prison and a safe space all at once, and I don't know if it made things better or worse, but when he couldn't stand to see what the world had become, we'd sit in that room with the button and talk."

Finally, you looked at him, seeing him and not the man he used to be.

"And today I couldn't find you, and I knew it was going to rain, and... I know rain hurts you. There's no button, but you don't spend time in town anymore, so I looked for Friend." You looked at the little, blue sheep who'd been happily munching on some grass during your conversation. Then a faint, cold pressure in your hands, and you look down to see Ghostbur pressing a vial of a thick, blue liquid into your hands.

"Have some blue," he said softly, "it'll make you feel better." And then, much softer, he thanks you for finding him, he takes your free hand and laces your fingers with his, "thank you for talking to me."

"Thank you for talking to me." You mumble, giving his hand a squeeze, feeling a touch guilty for unloading all of this on him. No-one else would listen, or if they would, they didn't care; people had gone from not trusting you because you refused to be completely loyal to any thing but yourself, now they hated you for staying loyal to what they deemed to be the wrong thing. Allies were few and far between, and Ghostbur may see himself as separate to Wilbur, but you weren't going to stop yourself from caring about him too.

----

"You're in here," Tommy's voice is quiet where he's thumbing through a notebook you half recognise. Making a noise of interest, you look a little closer at the notebook - What I Remember. Ghostbur's notes, you feel yourself growing tongue tied.

"I don't- you shouldn't be reading that."

"You suddenly decided to grow a conscience?"

"Shut up," your lip curled, "and I'm not in it."

"Who else would be the Favourite Jester?" He asked, turning the book around, but you covered your eyes. 

"Don't be a sook," he sneered.

"Does Ghostbur know you have it?" You asked, and he grew a little antsy at that, to which you simply growled at him to give it back. But still, you catch a glimpse of it;

“Its you.” - in the notebook, in Ghostbur's neat scrawl - you chose me when no-one else did.

----

"I think Tommy trusts me," you told Dream, frowning at your brewing stand. Dream, for his part, finds the humour in your statement where he's sitting at your table, leaning back, his feet on the table.

"Tommy, I've changed!" Your tone shifts to a mocking imitation of your earlier conversation with the boy, "death has changed me!" And you dropped the act with a snort, "getting a scar doesn't make me a different person," you rolled your eyes. Dream clears his throat.

"Sorry about that, again," he muttered.

"No hard feelings, dude, obviously," you grinned over your shoulder.

"So you- you're okay with my plan; the two of you fought side by side for your nation -"

"I'll be by your side until -"

"Until something better comes along," Dream nods in resignation.

----

“I’m sorr- Ghostbur I’m so sorry,” you sniffled, angrily rubbing at your eyes, frustrated that he had even seen you get so emotional, “I’m not- you shouldn’t have seen that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, crying’s normal,” he said, voice a gentle echo of the one you loved, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Not with you, Ghostbur,” though you’re shooting for light, it doesn’t land, and instead, he looks to the floor, apologising. You wipe the tears that refuse to stop spilling from your eyes.

“You still miss him so much it moves you to tears?”

“You caught me in a moment of weakness.”

“I didn’t think you were capable of those,” he says with a faint laugh, and you look at him, see his quietly fond smile, and for a moment you see the memory of Wilbur himself, and your expression crumples. Immediately as you bury your face in your hands, you feel him by your side, apologising, trying to lay a comforting hand on your arm. The touch is cold but familiar, and you reach out instinctively and grab his hand.

“Ghostbur, my life is a fucking joke and I’m not laughing anym-” he kisses you quick when he gets the chance, his mouth on yours so close to being familiar, but not quite. It knocks the wind from you, and for a moment you let yourself fall into it, grabbing his sweater and pulling him closer. 

“Does that help?” He asks a little breathless when you part, and you can’t look him in the eyes, only at your shaking hands balled up in his perfect, yellow sweater. 

“You’re not him,” your voice is a shaky whisper.

“I...” his words get caught in his throat, “I think right now I’m close enough. Does this,” and he holds your face with one hand like it’s porcelain, like he’s afraid you’re about to shatter, “does this help?”

“Why?” You can feel how weak you are in this moment, unable to let him go, knowing the truth of the whole situation. 

“I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“It’s not your job to make me happy, give me time and I’ll be alright,” but you don’t let him go, then, “tell me you don’t love me, please.”

“It seems dangerous to even entertain the idea; I’m not Wilbur,” he says gently, and finally you look at him, meeting his gaze, leaning into his touch. 

“Do you even want any of this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, “me, or anything like this moment?” Ghostbur visibly hesitated.

“I don’t want you to be sad,” he said with a surprising firmness, “I want to do whatever makes you happy,” then, his voice goes quiet, “even now, I forget sad things, people tell me sad things and the conversation ends, and I just... lose whatever they said,” he gives a faint smile, “but even in time that aren’t... aren’t the happiest, I haven’t forgotten you; something about being around you makes me happy, happy enough to remember you. All I want is for you to be happy too.”

“Did you lie to me?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, and you can’t look him in the eyes, so you watch his lips twist into something thin and unhappy, before stumbling over his words, trying to deny, “did you lie about not remembering me? About not remembering... not remembering how close we were?”

“I thought...” his expression reads apology, his hands coming to cover yours where you can’t bring yourself to let him go, still holding him close by his sweater, “it would be easier for you to let go, to move on, if you didn’t know.” 

“But you don’t care about me like he did.”

“I care about you,” his eyes go wide and concerned, “but I’m not him. You understood him better than anyone and- and- and- he needed you- uh, your company,” he correct, faint blush rising on his cheeks at his own implicit wording, “more than anything else. You’re the one who stayed.” 

You swallowed hard, huffing a humourless laugh.

“And he’s the one who got away.”

“Y/N...”

“This feels...” you look to your hands still holding him close, then to his mouth, then his eyes, taking a shakey breath, “self destructive, for us both,” and his expression reads shock, reads apology, but in that instance you cave to your need for contact, leaning into him, to find what comfort you could in him. A shiver runs down your spine as you make a snap decision, “I know you’re not him, but I still love you,” you lie; he’s not the one you promised to always be honest with, but for now he’s as close as you’ve got, and you can’t let him go, “please don’t go.” 

----

It’s been a long time, relatively since you’d seen Q when you run into him. You’re not looking for him, you’re merely roaming on an overcast day, but he looks like he’s on a mission. He seems surprised to see you, right before his expression turns dark.

“Figures I’d run into you out here sooner or later,” his words genuinely confuse you, which he seems to pick up on, because at least for a moment, he seems confused himself, before clarifying, “Dream’s in prison.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me.” His audible irritation makes your own smile grow just a touch wider, “you know you should be there too.”

“Cruel, Q, they’ve already killed me for my crimes once,” you practically sing, amused smile stretched from ear to ear, “haven’t I suffered enough?” His smile was thin and mean.

“Not even close.”

“You make me miss being a bad person,” you say with a hint of self deprecation.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Quackity snorted, “you’re still terrible.”

“I like you standing up for yourself; self confidence is a good look on you.”

“You like anyone who actually challenges you,” he rolled his eyes, “which makes me feel fucking stupid for ever caring about you like I did. You don’t give a shit about simps, I get it now.”

“You’re better than that,” you tell him, which is a metaphorical slippery-slope, a half truth, since you only half-believe it, but your tone is low, is sincere, and he blinks quickly, surprised. 

“I- yeah, I know,” he scowls, but turns away. 

“Good, it’s good you know your worth,” you tell him seriously, “you have...” and you huff a faint laugh, tone awed and gentle, “so much potential, Q.” And for the barest moment, his expression softens. Carefully, he steps up to you.

“This is how it started last time,” his tone is low as you feel the feather-light way his fingertips ghost up your arm. He’s in your space, gaze locked with yours, searching for something in you that you can’t begin to guess at, right before he grabs your chin hard enough that it hurts, “you try and  build me up so you can tear me down - I’m not doing this again.” 

God damn it, you can feel your heart beat against your ribs at the sight of the fury in his eyes. 

“Q-” you try, soft and a little helpless. For a moment, both his grip and his gaze softens, and you know that look, that faint gentleness, from a time long passed, “I never spoke poorly of you, you just lost faith in me.” 

The look in his eyes before he storms off gives him away; he hates that in a twisted way, it’s still the truth.

----

“I’ve always appreciated your honesty,” Ghostbur muses; night is falling over the snowy biome you’d decided to call home, the house Dream had built for himself that sat abandoned since he was taken prisoner. Ghostbur is sitting on a bench, looking around, ankles crossed wearing a sunny smile.

“It’s the only thing I’m consistent about,” gave a wry smile, not looking up from where you were crouched in front of you brewing stand; everything started because of these brewing stands, just look how far you’ve come. You try not to dwell on that.

“Consistently inconsistent,” his tone was bright and fond, but then he hums, “you’re consistent in a lot of ways; you’re loyal -” he points out, but you’re so quick to respond it doesn’t even register at first. 

“Only because I love you,” then, silence, and you scrunch up your whole face with regret, “him, Wilbur,” you sigh deeply, “don’t get me wrong, Ghostbur, I care about you, probably too much by my standards, but...” and you trail off, a touch apologetic.

“Everyone keeps telling me that I did, or well, he did, all these terrible things; I just... I just want to know why.”

“Why what? Why he did what he did?”

“Why you still loved him when he did all those things,” Ghostbur clarified. You freeze.

“You want me to be honest?” Your voice is soft, and when you look over, you see he’s drawn his legs up to sit cross-legged on the counter, tearing apart a loaf of bread for something to do with his hands. 

“You’re always honest,” his tone is earnest, but he can’t look at you, before you can speak, however, he goes on, tone softer, “I remember bits and pieces, more and more as time goes on. More of you is always coming back; more of us, and I thought not remembering would be the most painful part about being around you, making you sad because I can’t remember what happened to make you feel so close to me before... before I died, but I think remembering’s worse,” he looked up, “because I’m not him. Like I’m borrowing someone else’s memories even though they’re mine, because I don’t think like he did; I don’t think I understood you the way he does. I don’t...”

“Everyone’s so quick to tell me what terrible things I’ve done - my son, Fundy, I spoke to him, he’s- he’s- he’s not happy with me, you know? Nor is Tommy, I mean most people just need me to know how awful I was, but you... you speak his name with love and honey on your lips and I don’t know how or why, you make all the terrible things sound like miracles and I don’t know why.” 

Slowly, you get to your feet, stretching a little, as your words begin to fall from you and you make your way over to Ghostbur, his pale form golden in the candlelight.

“I don’t know how to put it, but I don’t... I never feel quite real, not - for lack of a better word, given the nature of everyone here - human enough, and I look around and I see Tommy and Tubbo and George and Puffy and -” you rest your hands on his knees, gently, as you watch his hands tearing apart the loaf of bread, “and they’re all effortlessly people, they’re good, they’ve got dirt beneath their nails and a sparkle in their eyes, and I tried being good and noble and honest, and the only part I liked was being honest but being too honest somehow made me the villain; no-one understood. Dream came the closest, he felt like another amalgamation of interactions pretending to be human, but he knew his power and his place and his role, and he didn’t understand that I had no interest in playing the same part over and over again; consistently inconsistent, apart from my honesty and my loyalty. He liked my honesty and loyalty, so he did his best to accept the rest of me that came with it.”

Looking him in the eyes, finally, you could see it dawning on Ghostbur. Your fingers tapped a gentle, inconsistent rhythm on his knees. 

“But Wilbur... you - he - he... he...”

“He loved you,” Ghostbur’s voice was gentle, but after all this time, the confirmation from his returning memories, it was enough for your voice to catch in your throat. Then, he nodded again like it was a confirmation,��“he loved you.”

“He loved me,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper, “not despite who I was, but because of it, loved all of me, at least, that’s what it felt like... I’d never felt that before, and I... I never wanted to let it go,” he’s putting the bread to the side, slowly sliding off of the counter and into your space, “he was staying true to himself, and they hated him for it, but I never could, and I never will.” You murmur, as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly in the dimly lit room. 

“It’s you,” you whispered against the fabric of his sweater, echoing your words from what feels like a lifetime ago, “above everyone else, I choose you. You have my loyalty.”

A moment of silence; he swallows hard, presses his face into the crook of your neck.

“It’s you,” he whispers back, just as Wilbur had those months ago; at the time you though they were an incredulous echo of your own thoughts, but now you know it’s an admission, a return of affection, a declaration; you have my loyalty, he’d been trying to tell you. 

You can’t tell Ghostbur you love him, you can’t tell him you love him, you cannot tell him you love him, no matter how much you want to. He’s not Wilbur. He’s not the Wilbur you fell in love with. 

You tell him anyways. Whisper it like it’s a secret. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

His answer comes whispered with a kiss at your temple, a small token of comfort.

“I know.”

----

The world had fallen still in a way you had only felt before natural disasters. There was quiet. There was peace. Something was wrong. Your conversation with Dream played on repeat in your mind, over and over and over.

"You will owe me a life." You can't forget the gravitas with which he'd said it, eyes dark and eerie as he sat cross-legged on the floor of his prison; you will owe me a life.

The phrasing had caught you off guard, because what in the hell did that even mean? It could mean anything, hell he could claim your first child if he wanted to, but you'd been desperate enough to not question, to just accept.

"You really do love him, don't you?" He'd said softly as you'd sat opposite him, when he'd jokingly asked if you'd take his place in the prison in exchange for Wilbur back.

"Of course," had been your serious answer to both questions. Dream had laughed, equal parts fond and weary, his gaze drifting up to the impossibly high ceiling.

"Its a nice thought, though I doubt Sam would simply let you switch with me," he mused, adding, "you know Ghostbur won't be around anymore."

"But Wilbur will be alive," you insisted, and finally he looks at you.

"You trust me," its not a question.

"I've always trusted you," its not a lie. Dream blinks at you, surprised by your honesty. He should be, somehow everyone overlooks your defining trait being brutal honestly. Moments like this remind you why you need Wilbur back so desperately; he understood you in a way no-one else did, not even Dream.

"I killed you," he says, almost to himself, like he's just remembered that fact.

"I know," you nodded, "and I trusted you then, and I trust you now. Everything happens-"

"Don't say for a reason," Dream gritted his teeth with irritation at the phrase, but you gave a faint smile.

"No, I was just going to say that everything happens. We live, we die," you shrugged.

"Then why are you asking me to bring him back?"

"I didn't realise your book of necromancy was purely for decoration," there's a slight edge to your words, lip curling in knee-jerk defensiveness. Dream looked back at you suddenly, eyebrows rising at your tone.

"Is that why you trust me?" There's something betrayed in his voice, and he sits back, away from you, something dangerous in his eyes.

"That's..." you tried to find a way to talk your way out of the situation, but your inability to lie was more of a hindrance now than anything else, "so reductive," you settle on. But you're fidgeting.

"Then complicate it for me," he's practically ordering, and if he weren't the only way to bring back Wilbur, you wouldn't be complying so easily. Then, like a bolt of lighting it hits you; you look up, gaze unwaivering as you meet his.

"Kill me."

"What?"

"Kill me. Don't bring me back," you yourself are almost ordering, tone leaving little room for argument.

"What the fuck; why?" He hissed in confusion, and you knew, in that instance, that your point would be clear.

"Why not?" Something amused and sinister curled at the edge of your lips as you regained the upper hand in the conversation, "if you'd prefer, I could kill myself; walk straight into the lava until my lives run out," and with that, you carefully get to your feet as he frowns at you. Sauntering over to the flowing, molten walls, you stick your hands in your pockets, looking pensively at the liquid rock.

"Wouldn't it kill two birds with one stone? If I'm dead, maybe I'll find my way back to Will, and you won't have to revive him. That's what the kids call a win-win, right? I won't ask you for anything, but, you know, I won't owe you anything either."

When you look to him, you get to watch in real time as it dawns on him. The way his face contorts with bitter anger makes your own, imposing, gloating stance soften, even as he looks away, refusing to look at you.

"I don't..." you sighed deeply, "I don't trust you because I know you can revive me, I trust you because you're a pragmatist, Dream, and as long as I'm useful to you, well..." you trail off, coming back to him.

"I don't understand you," he said, finally, voice terse, "you've fucking commodified your existence and sold your allegiance to the highest bidder; how do you stand it? I get it, you think I'm controlling, fucking news flash, so was Wilbur, so was fucking Techno, so is everyone. We're a bunch of cruel, self-canalising, power-hungry assholes masquerading as heroes and villains trying to make ourselves feel better for the atrocities we commit."

"And what currency am I selling myself for?" You snort, despite his serious tone; when he looks at you, as if he can't believe you're laughing at his rant, you tip your head and regard him thoughtfully, "while I appreciate that that seemed to have been weighing on you for a while, I'd advise you to not project your shit onto me; have I ever cared about having power for myself?"

That's actually a good point, he seems to realise, and finally, his expression softens, and he gets to his feet.

"Do you care about anyone other than yourself?" Surprisingly, it's not judgemental, it's intrigued, like he has a sudden understand of you that makes everything else make sense. Your smile is so soft and unguarded as you gently cup his cheek with one hand, fondly rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

"You know, you might be my best friend," you told him instead of answering, "and I trust you." He takes a deep breath, expression going serious as you can almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

"Despite... fucking everything, and who you are as a person," he said with the faintest smile, "I actually trust you too," but he hesitates, the slightest crease forming above his brow, "but I don't think I can still say that if Wilbur comes back -"

"Dude -" you're surprised by Dream's honesty in turn, but you do respect it as he clarifies himself.

"He's the one you care about, the only one besides yourself, I know, I've seen it," he gives a faint smirk, "we're still friends, of course, there's no doubt about that, but if I asked you to kill someone that Wilbur would rather have alive, or if I asked you to, say, join me on an adventure with a low survival rate, if Wilbur asked, you'd choose him, wouldn't you? You'd do whatever it takes to make him happy."

"Dream... I -"

"Your loyalty is absolute, but selective; you put yourself first, then Wilbur, and maybe I'm overestimating my place in your life, but I think I may be below him, but above most others..."

"What are you saying? What do you want?" You asked carefully.

"I'll bring back Wilbur, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I'll bring him back, but you'll owe me a life," and you can't even begin to properly process what he's saying, "not his," Dream clarifies, "I wouldn't do that to you, but in one way or another, you will owe me a life, and when I ask for it, however that may be, you need to uphold your end of the bargain, or I'll send him right back to where he is now."

I'll bring Wilbur back. I'll bring Wilbur back. I'll bring Wilbur back. That's the four words he'd said that you're fixating on, that're playing through your mind on repeat, and you practically crush Dream in a hug as you agree, breathlessly thanking him. He hugs you back, and you can feel his smile against your shoulder, laughing somewhat fondly at the notes of relief in your voice as you mutter that he's your favourite.

"For now," he snorts when you step back, and you give a sheepish smile, ducking your gaze.

"For now," you agree.

----

"Who let you- does Sam know you're in here?" Quackity's voice is dangerously quiet, a strange smile on his face, like having you here is a boon rather than a terrible mistake.

"Q, what the fuck?" You rubbed at your eyes, forcing the sleep from them. Dream is already scrambling as far as he can from the newcomer, anger and fear in his eyes. He tells Quackity to fuck off.

"What are you doing here? You planning an escape for my favourite little war criminal?" He paused, "have you moved on now that your favourite little war criminal is dead?" Everything about him seems sharp, seems cruel and threatening; something about it is thrilling, like a challenge, and you find yourself standing to your full height, refusing to drop his gaze.

“Big Q,” you take some small pride in the fact that your voice doesn’t shake, “you’re looking markedly more malicious today.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been coming here for a while, looking for one simple thing, and your buddy there really hasn’t exactly been helpful,” there’s a faintly manic gleam in his eye, but your blood is hissing and spitting in your veins, conflicted and delighted in equal measure -

“He was your friend you fucking asshole!” The words burst from you, disgusted as you wear a manic grin. 

“I was your friend, you fucking piece of shit!” He hollers back, “I was more than your fr-” but his mouth snaps shut, expression one of seething rage, “don’t fucking talk like you still trust him, like you care about him;” the curl of Quackity’s lip is cruel, the look in his eyes cold as he shifts his grip on his sword; a humourless laugh escapes him, “except, of course it’s you who still cares; first Dream, then Wilbur, the only people you actually care about are just like you,” and there’s so much derision in his voice that it almost stings, almost, if he wasn’t right. How can he not see the way his cruel tone delight you? How can he not see the irony in his words in this very moment; “now fuck off, you’re in my way.” He sneers.

“I’m not letting you hurt him,” you refused to move, and his eyes widened, disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“Look at that! Did the wizard finally give you a fucking heart?” 

“Look at that!” You mirror his tone, though your own is acidic, pushing, you’re pushing him now, the way you know best, “did you finally get over your pathetic feelings? You finally getting smart enough to see me as a real threat?” And you’re in his space, in his face, refusing to back down, waiting for the moment he snaps.

“I never cared about you, I cared about the fact that you paid me attention; note the difference,” he snarled; it’s a lie, you know it’s a lie, can remember the way he’d looked at you, how he’d almost died for you, and it’s fucking intoxicating.

“You’re so good at hearing the truth, but you’re fucking shit at obfuscating it,” you tell him with a cool confidence, “I hung the stars in your sky, Quackity,” his jaw clenched tightly at your change in tone, the look in your eye, “but tell me again about how it was all an act for you, say it in a way I’ll believe this time.” It’s designed to cut him, and you can see it in his eyes when it does. Fight back, damn it! 

“Maybe I’ll give Dream the day off, kill you instead,” he tries, but you can tell his heart’s not in it. 

“This isn’t fun for him like it is for you,” Dream pipes up, and Quackity shoots him a surprisingly confused look, while your look over your shoulder, faint disappointment in your eyes. Dream, however, exhausted and paranoid with Quackity in his cell, still has enough wherewithal to understand you better than almost anyone else.  

“I wish you would,” you don’t look away from Quackity. Your voice is cold in the wake of Dream’s revelation, and when he looks back at you, Quackity looks... uncertain. A dangerous state to be in considering his opposition.

“You’re down to your last life, don’t fucking test me,” Quackity warned, but his heart’s not in it like before. As you approach him, he raises his weapon, but your confidence strides never falter, “Sam wouldn’t give a shit if I killed you, no-one would.” 

“You would,” you tell him snidely, finding yourself growing sick of the sound of his half-baked cruelty. 

“Are you just here to let what you love kill you?” He gives a mean, humourless smile. 

“Bold to assume I love you, Q.”

“Well, seeing as the only bastard you ever knew how to love was so eager to off himself, I figured I might be all you have left to get back to him,” there’s faint triumph in his eyes when he can see his malicious words touched a nerve, but he wasn’t playing your game right, and you were tired of not having fun.

“It’s not my fucking fault you look for a home in everyone who’s halfway nice to you,” something in you snaps, and your tone is cold and unwaivering, “don’t blame me for your fragile sense of self; you were so ready to believe anything I told you, but when I did what people fucking do - when I let you down - you had to go and let it shatter you,” you sneered.

“You being a shitty person is my fault?” He scoffed, and you stepped up to him, emboldened. You barely even feel his sword at your throat.

“Before breaking your cheap, little heart, I hadn’t been honest a day in my life; everyone had told you as much, you chose to ignore them; did you think you could fix me?” You gave a harsh laugh, stepping forward, crowding him into taking a step back, expression irate, trying to keep up his strong front, “Actually, I guess, wow, you did; since you, I haven’t told a lie,” and you gave him a derisive look, “because fucking you up wasn’t a challenge, making you fall in love with me wasn’t a challenge, getting you to the point where you’d die for me? Not a fucking challenge, Quackity. You offered me your life and it fucking bored me.

Talking to me makes you want to be a worse person? Good luck with that; you will always be better than you fear, better than you fucking hope or wish you were, because you couldn’t fucking stomach killing me once, you couldn’t fucking stomach being a truly terrible person.

You want my blood on your hands? Your hands were mine, and I couldn’t have given less of a shit, so no, if I have any say, you’re not gonna hurt Dream, because you’re hurting him to get the thing that’s going to bring back the person I actually fucking fell in love with. I can’t believe I ever wasted my time on you when he was out there.

I’m tired of trying to be amicable with you when you’re still - fucking still - picking up the pieces and trying to figure out who the fuck you are; God, I fucking hope you kill me, I hope it brings you peace, I hope it brings you clarity, but you better make sure it counts, you better make sure it fucking sticks!” 

----

"You do things that hurt you because you don't know what else to do, even if you don't enjoy them," Ranboo's voice is flat, and your expression twists to something derisive, though you attempt to regain your composure.

"Incredibly presumptuous of you," you respond, still alive, if burned.

----

"How many more?" Ghostbur's touch was light on your forearm, tracing the shiny, healed scar of where you'd thrown your hands up to protect your face as Quackity had shoved you into the lava waterfall that surrounded Dream's cell. It hadn’t killed you; he hadn’t been able to go through with it, and the lava curtain parted as the bridge approached the cell at Sam’s command. But it had still left it’s mark.

"What?" You surfaced from your thoughts as his cool hand stilled against the memory of the burn.

"How many more until you see him again?" He asks, and he doesn't look sad often, but he can't look you in the eyes. Then, gently, his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb brushing against the scar that stands out on your neck, a perfect circle, a perfect reminder of what you’d lost the second time you’d died.  

And you meet his gaze, can see the nerves hidden just behind his eyes - is this why you do this? Am I… not enough? What a dangerous thought, dangerous territories; how cruel you were to let him fall for you, even a little, even when both of you knew it was a terrible idea. 

Dream's voice was in your head - Ghostbur won't be around anymore - and you'd answered without flinching - but Wilbur will be alive. 

"One," your voice came out hoarse, "one life and I'll see him again." You can't look him in the eyes, even as he holds your face; he has no idea what to say to that. It's the truth, but not the one he realises. 

"You don't love me, right?" You asked, clearing your throat, moving carefully out of his reach.

"You shouldn't kill yourself for him," Ghostbur tells you with uncompromising sincerity instead of answering, "you're worth more than that."

"I need you to tell me that you don't have feelings for me, Ghostbur -"

"Seems like a very worrying thing to be asking given the circumstances," again he tries to deflect, but there's something close to guilt eating you up inside, and you stand, moving out of his space, Dream's voice in your head.

"Do you love me or not, Ghost of Wilbur Soot?" You demanded, and his expression turned hard, so unlike his usual self.

"I'm not him," he said carefully, but his gaze dropped; he couldn't look you in the eyes, "and I don't think it should matter either way, because you've made it abundantly clear that he's the one you want; I'm not going to say I don't and let you kill yourself."

"I promise I'm not going to fucking kill myself!"

Ghostbur went very quiet. 

“Any answer is dangerous, really, so it doesn’t matter either way,” he’s pulling his sleeves down to cover his hands, to fiddle with, trying to distract himself, “I love Friend,” his tone was aiming for something light-hearted, an attempt to change the topic, and it did it’s job well enough; your lips twisted into a grin.

“First a Salmon, then a Sheep, your tastes are -” but he looks at you, giving a strangely amused little smile.

“Questionable?” He finishes your sentence, and you find yourself less amused with the situation; he brings up a good point, including you all the same, though you’d been meaning to say bestial, but fuck, what does that make you? For a moment, you find yourself in crisis, wondering if you were technically in a polyamorous relationship with a ghost and an actual sheep. But you push it to the side -

“It’s selfish,” you hear his voice in your head, see him looking at you with wide, shiny eyes in the dim light of a pub, but you can’t help but repeat the words that had been said to you, “but I need to know for me -”

Ghostbur could say anything, and you see the realisation dawning on his face; he knows what you’re asking. He could be silent, he could brush you off, he could say anything else -

“It’s you,” just the way you’d said it to Wilbur, confirming what you feared; Ghostbur drops his gaze when he says those words to you, when he means to say I love you, how can you not see that?

Those two words hang in the air between you, like they always have. You should leave. You should go before you develop a conscience. But you can’t... there’s something familiar, something intoxicating about this moment, his loyalty; you’ve seen this before, you’ve craved this before. 

You step up to him, and as if on instinct, he rests his hands on your hips, leaning into your touch when you hold his cheek gently. 

“I love you,” your murmur, and his eyes fall closed, breathing deeply, “I love you.” It’s easy, it’s too easy, to fall back into this, to let him rest his forehead against yours, your arms around his neck, knowing in your heart that his loyalty, his love, was a means to an end; “I love you.”

He trusts your words, even now. 

“Please don’t go,” he whispers, pulling you close now, moving to press his lips to the crook of your neck. So you stay. Your time with him is limited, though only you know that, so you will enjoy it while you can.

----

"This was your plan," Tommy muttered, horrified, as the realisation dawned on him, "you're the one who pointed out that killing Dream in the prison didn't break any of the prison's rules," he whispered, before turning on you, eyes wide, Friend's leash still looped around his wrist, "you're the one who suggested using Ghostbur as a decoy, because no-one would suspect him."

"You set him up," Ranboo was horrified. One by one they were turning on you.

"You knew Ghostbur didn't- he didn't want to be revived!" Tubbo exclaimed, hurt and betrayed, "I thought - Y/N I thought you loved him, how could you -?!"

"Wilbur and Ghostbur are not the same person! How do you all keep forgetting that?!" You snarled in response, expression contorting to one of rage; that was enough to shock them into silence, taking a step back as they regarded you with a new kind of fear.

"We were happier with Wilbur gone, we liked Ghostbur and he liked us!" Tommy exclaimed, before his voice dropped to something soft and betrayed, hurt in his eyes, "Ghostbur didn't fucking deserve that; you're a terrible person," and your expression dropped to a smirk that didn't reach your eyes.

"I'm sorry about Ghostbur, I am, but the ends justifies the means; do you remember what I told you when L'Manburg was first forming? I told you I'm not on Dream's side, but I'm also not on yours," and you paused for a moment, before looking to the heavy remains of the button room, through which you knew Wilbur himself would finally be returning any moments now, "I'm on Wilbur's."

----

Then you see him, and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck this is real and you owe Dream a life and Wilbur is alive. You're frozen in place. He's talking to Tommy, who sounds frankly horrified that Wilbur is back, but you're frozen. Heart beating in your throat, the sunrise that’s coming brings with it a warmth, though to you it feels closer to vindication. 

And there’s yelling and horror from the others who’ve accompanied you, but you can’t hear them, approaching slowly, with measured, even steps.

Then, his eyes meet yours and something in his expression softens. When he smiles at you, every terrible thing you did was worth it for this moment. Having the others there is too much. You don't want an audience, you don't want anyone there to judge you and your choices, the things you've done to get to this moment.

"This," Tommy turns on you, "this is what you bloody well wanted; now you're acting all shy? " His lip curled, and your expression turned flat and unamused.

“Don’t mistake respect for shyness,” you tell him bluntly, with a cool confidence that was unrecognisable to the blonde, who hadn’t known you well enough before he’d begun starting conflict to know the depths to which you could sink. But he was beginning to learn. 

“She’s part of the reason I’m here at all,” Wilbur reprehends him, while Tommy physically recoils at his tone, "Dream himself said as much." And then he's offering you his hand; nothing else matters.

"I can't be here," there's disgust in Tommy's voice, but its enough that the others leave, giving you and Wilbur peace. Finally.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," you tell him, taking his hand with a sharp smile, which he mirrors.

"Thirteen years I was stuck in that train station, and you're just as stunning as when I last saw you," he muses, and you reaches out to run your fingers gently through the unfamiliar white strands of his hair. His eyes study your face, your expression, drinking you in; you'd missed how dark his eyes could be, and when you look back at him, meet his gaze, you see a hunger there.

"Don't leave me," escapes you, but it comes out as a demand, insistent, “don’t ever fucking leave me again,” and you see him swallow hard, then slowly, he smiles.

"Never again," and he's kissing you desperately, mouth on yours with an intensity you relish. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you - you can taste it on his tongue, sticky sweet and somehow sharp and you dig your nails into him, maybe trying to keep him here, keep you both in this moment. When the kiss breaks and you're breathing hard, you don't let him go, though he doesn't either.

"You lied for me," he muttered, something akin to delight on his face, which shocked you enough that you stepped back, or at least tried to, though he held you tight, "no, not-" he tried to clarify, "I won't leave, I don't plan on it, but- I love you." Your heart is beating in your throat, still not quite sure what he means, "I've loved you for a long time," he added, and reaching out, he cupped your face in his hand, "I remember this," he murmured, "Ghostbur - you're scared I didn't love you because he couldn't remember, but I loved you so much, for so long, I just knew... knew what I was going to do. I knew I was going to leave you, I loved you but I was so doomed, so he couldn't remember."

When had your vision gone cloudy, when had tears started to sting your eyes.

"Don't cry, my love," Wilbur murmured, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours as your breath stuttered from your chest as he soothed the biggest fear that had been plaguing you for months.

"Were you worried that I didn't love you because of him?" He asked, like he enjoyed hearing you bare your soul. Of course he did. You remember kissing Ghostbur, his cold lips and soft apologies when you'd pulled away, and you wonder if Wilbur had those memories too.

"He's not you, no point trying to fret about your feelings based on his actions," you huff a watery laugh, finally letting go of him with one hand to wipe at your tears, “he didn’t understand me like you did, but he...” you swallowed hard, “I’m glad to have had him around in the interim.” Wilbur’s lips twist into an amused smile, and his gaze clouds over for the barest moment; you wonder if he can see your resolve cracking in Ghostbur’s memories, taking comfort in his when he’s the closest thing to Wilbur himself that you can find, the lies you’d told to keep him by your side in your moments of selfish desperation.

“I think he loved you, in his own way,” Wilbur said gently. However, as you made a vaguely guilty noise in the back of your throat, he continues thoughtfully, "though, you know, when Dream came to pick me up on that train, when Ghostbur took my place, Dream made sure we both knew, you know; she's the reason you're here, Ghostbur, he'd said, and said that makes you part of the reason that I'm coming back at all," he muses, strange quality to his voice that you couldn't quite place, though when your eyes were dry, you looked at him definitely, challengingly.

"He's not you," you reiterated, firmer this time, "I cared for him for what he was, but he's not the one I want; I love you." You said without hesitation, before you realise what you've said, and you go still, before taking his face in your hands, making sure he's looking you in the eyes, "I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, Wilbur; I love you, I fucking love you -" and he's endeared by your declaration as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face against the crook of his neck, whispering the words like you're hoping they'll find a place on his skin forever.

"I didn't tell you before and I'm never making that mistake again,” you admitted faintly; “it’s you.”

“Above all others, I choose you,” his smile is warm, and something bright lights up in your chest. Grinning, elated in this moment that you’d worked so hard to finally get to.

“You have my loyalty, my love.”

[kingmagnificoofrosas]

They love you - they would do anything for you!

Words mean nothing if there's no action to prove them true!

The whole statement from the "evil book" - mind you- "bound for all eternity, nothing can break or bind the evil" is a capital B big fat lie!

A dear anon has already mentioned this before here on my blog through an ask. The gullibility of Amaya and the rest of the people of rosas almost hurts. Of course an evil book would tell you there is no way to get out of the dark!

Disney isn't the first and only one who has been spreading the message of "True love breaks evey curse and true love overcomes all. And darkness can never be greater than the light."

From the christian perspective, it's more than clear that everything said by the evil book isn't trustworthy as far as salvation goes! Evil isn't stronger than the good and never will be!

It's also intersting to note that the evil force (green evil magic) is potrayed as this shadow entity 👇🏼

Also, why trust the words of something that literally does nothing but evil and harm?

Even if we look at the whole Magnifico situation purely objectively, like my cousins daughter, not through the lense of faith and leaving the knowledge of trauma aside, the "He's a villain now and can't be saved" is utter nonsense!

The first half of the movie we are told and shown Magnifico's true intentions. His ambitions and desires. We saw him being genuine all the way. He's always been honest and kind. He never lied, played or manipultated anyone and even further explained multiple times how he feels and why he does what he does. And then we are shown "the book" the big bad thing that will defenitly do harm and take posession of Magnifico should he use it!

That's the information! If Magnifico uses the book, he will be "controlled" by the evil from this book! This is what even Amaya said! Plain and clear.

Also, geeky side fact to the orgins of the book : Magnifico didn't get the book himself, nor did he built the evil lair where he later on created his staff. From the art book we know that he found both the book and the evil lair during the renovations. [ He's built his castle on top of an already existing building ] That means, Magnifico didn't even go to pursue such a book. He found it and kept it. Cause we already know why - trauma rooted fear, anxiety, paranoia.

If someone is controlled/posessed by something, it's more than clear that the person isn't at fault for the actions done by the evil in them! Just look at the insane difference!

Oh yeah ... I know a posession by evil if I see one. And in this case, we had the facts served on a silver tray. It's not even a guessing game.

The only thing we can hold Magnifico accountable for is the fact he did reach for the book. But then again, we also need to consider WHY he did. Reason - his trauma! He was terrified!

If the book hadn't been there, believe me, this poor man would have had the worst mental breakdown and we would have probably found him huddled together on the ground suffering out his panic attack.

People don't understand the merry go round of thoughts a traumatized person has. And the emotions that come with it. In a situation as intense as Magnifico's we do have a domino effect. Or a wildfire-effect. One tiny spark on dry grass will eventually lead to a big fire. He was already triggered and highly stressed out, and severly traumatized people oftentimes aren't able to make the best decissions - or decissions at all.

If I think about it - if I had suffered a trauma as intense as Magnifico, already more than burdened with anxiety, fear and paranoia, and then something happens that triggers me immensely, I spend an entire night feverishly searching for an answer or solution, no sleep, no food, immense stress…. on top of that, no one in the entire kingdom that truly understands me ... Boy, I'd probably freak out and snap too.

The most support he's gotten during his spiral of misery was a pat to the shoulder. Not one single hug, no truly comforting words, a gentle stroke over his cheek, a kiss, truly loving words. That poor man got nothing!

Btw this is a quote from my cousins daughter. And she told it to my face randomly before I could even say anything! She said "You know, Magnifico isn't bad. The book is. He only wanted to protect everyone but the book made him evil. Bad book!"

And if that wasn't already enough, her younger brother watched the movie as well and then also randomly told me, "Bad book!" Furthermore - I wheezed and cried of laughter, because 1. I didn't expect this and 2. it was absolutely brilliant! - The daughter sat at the table and was drawing again, and then she told me, "The movie ... the magician and the bad book ..." The title she gave WISH! She made Magnifico the protagonist and the evil book the villain! Exactly right!

Anyway, then it happens, everyone KNOWS Magnifico is "controlled/posessed" and yet all of the sudden he himself is the evil? What??

In the past ten decades, disney had always done a fantastic job in displaying true evil and the - true love always wins - message. Even with quite recent movies such as Tangled, Frozen, Encanto etc. We've been introduced to the trauma topic and that "antagonists" can and should be saved.

I mean, I'm absolutely glad that we got Magnifico the way we got him, but I'm enraged about the toxic stance toward trauma.

If I'm looking at what disney did in the tangled series with Varian and Cassandra, who both had a short time period where they've been pushed down the "villain" road by trauma and by the hurt of not feeling valued, seen, heard or treated right and how this got resolved, I can only shake my head at what disney did in Wish.

Cassandra as much as Varian in fact- especially Cassandra- threatened the whole kingdom and also strived to hurt Rapunzel more than just once.

And she wasn't directly posessed by evil but heavily manipulated and blinded by it. All her "Evil actions" were completelty on her! And Rapunzel stressed that no matter what, she'll never give up on Cassandra. Why? Because she truly loved her! Because she knew that this evil wasn't who she truly is.

Rapunzel said "Even when I look at you now, after all that's happened, no matter what we've done to each other, I still see that look in your eyes. You're my best friend, Cassandra, and I will never give up on you!"

Can you imagine what could have been if Amaya and all the citizens of Rosas would have had that attitude towards Magnifico? Truly loving him for who he is and not only seeing him as a source for favours? They all simply didn't care! If they had, they wouldn't have given up on him as quick as the snap of a finger.

So we've seen antagonists and semi-villains getting redeemed before and we've seen the "True love conquers all" more than enough, and now, especially with Magnifico, disney and some ignorant haters want to tell us that this isn't what could have happened to Magnifico too?

It's ridiculous!

And the citizens of Corona forgave both Cassandra and Varian!

Now, once more, the "book" said - nothing can bind the evil magic! Yet this is exactly what happened after the people of Rosas unified and sang! The lights glowing in their chests is actually symbolic for their hearts unifying! It was immediately stronger than the hold of the evil magic, even though the book said, it's untouchable!

The evil magic was bound, "star" was set free and Magnifico pulled into the curse realm. You cannot tell me if they all had done the same thing with the goal in their hearts to free and save Magnifico, that they wouldn't have succeeded.

[mrsnancywheeler]

I’m back with more thoughts (I’ve been harassing you with the jealous Finnick and first time being intimate asks IM SO SORRY)

Imagine the pain Finnick feels when he has to walk to the reaping, seeing his sweet girl-no not his sweet girl anymore…seeing her at any point hurts him. It hurts his soul. His heart feels like a fresh bruise being pressed on when he sees her. But then, then her name is called, and instead of a bruise his heart is ripped from his body, chewed up and spit out by the capital. He gave her up so she’d be safe, he hasn’t felt her touch in two years so she wouldn’t be touched by the capitol. And yet, here she is. Walking up to the podium, on her way to a death game.

The heartbreak that he feels in the moment is probably unimaginable. The realization that giving her up, breaking her heart, breaking his heart; which she owns, was all for nothing.

Anyway I hope I’m not annoying you with these little thoughts haha! I’ll stop if so😅

Bye!

i love being bombarded with these sm please send me all your thoughts, pookie 💕

again I will probably get into this in the river more but like my poor boy

I swear this man he tells you not to be around, but he needs to see you. he'll make rounds around the market to try and catch a glimpse just to get jealous when you're happily talking with Conway or anyone else (I'm resisting the urge to say thing's I'm saying for the river and it's so hard) he told you not to come to his parties, but they're not fun anymore. now he's just sad when he's drunk, there's no giggly you around. and there's no comfort to his sadness without you. he wants to beg you to come back, to be with him, but he can't. no other girls his age hold a candle to what he felt with you and he feels like he's betraying you by just entertaining them.

and oh my god, of course you notice the way he spends all day, circling around the marketplace. you hate it because of how much I makes you love him, for keeping an eye on you even if he won't have you. how are you supposed to accept your life when he's giving you hope everytime he passes by? and he's such a masochist by continuing to even though it makes him miss you more every time

and I'm not saying that reader was reaped intentionally by snow to teach finnick a lesson, but that is what I'm saying.

and she's going to be sent to her death and then right beside her is the person who was supposed to take his place in your life, conway, and finnick hates that if this was going to happen that he gave you up to a life with conway when he could've been openly loving you all along

and maybe after all this time you've stopped loving him back, loathed what he did to you, but he doesn't care because he's going to spend as long as he can making it up for you and making sure you come home to him. finnick knows you so well that he sees that look on your face when conway is called, just for a brief moment and he knows his sweet girl is also a smart girl, he knows you have a plan to survive even if it breaks you in the end. and he knows it's selfish, but maybe it's worth it if he gets to be yours again and be the one to help put you back together.

no I literally love these sm and talking about them, it makes me think about what I'm gonna write later too, helps me brainstorm

[apopcornkernel]

i dont know if there's even a ppop presence on tumblr but i do also want to promote ALAMAT, a 6-member idol boy group from the Philippines. Its members comprise of Taneo, Mo, Jao, Tomas, R-ji, and Alas. They debuted in 2021, and their creative direction centers on championing the Filipino identity and culture through their music.

sorry that ^ was a copypaste but it's a very useful and concise copypaste LOL but onto my own promo:

(note: also most of these videos have english subs!!)

(extra note bc this issue always pops up whenever locals encounter alamat: mo is always wearing black hairstyes bc he is blasian and not bc he is appropriating from black culture hdfjhdf)

KASMALA, the inverted Tagalog word for "strong" (malakas), is the MV that really did numbers on social media iirc. The video direction focused on the "human zoo" in the St. Louis' World Fair of 1904 (which included Filipinos specifically Igorots), and a general theme of anti-Filipino racism by white people (who are represented as ominous figures literally dressed in all white)

personal opinion: the music video is great but i personally think they have better songs, music-wise. and i'm going to give you an example of that by introducing you to my ALL-TIME FAVORITE ALAMAT SONG!!!

ILY ILY, a transliteration of "Ili-Ili Tulog Anay", incorporates the melody and lyrics of the Ilonggo lullaby it derives its title from. The MV and lyrics both work together to portray the experience of being an OFW/having an OFW parent. OFWs, or overseas Filipino workers, refer to Filipinos who go abroad in search of jobs that have better pay, so that they can remit money back to their families in the Philippines.

personal opinion: this is their best song THIS IS THEIR BEST SONG EVER OF ALL TIME and lyca gairanod is such a perfect singer for this. her ethereal crooning really gave me chills the first time i heard it UGH

DAYANG, the term for the wife of a Datu, is one of their most earworming songs ever. It's a gorgeous love song and what I would recommend to newbies if they want to get into alamat <3

personal opinion: The MV is kinda ass because it's just a super long extended ad for DITO PH (in terms of story and also bc they really missed out on doing a vid that drew more on culture esp bc dayang is a historical noble title and they used tausug words and designs for the graphics an the dance itself already incorporated pangasik dance which is also from the tausug people LIKEEE?? they've always promoted other cultures of the philippines i know they can do it but because of CAPITALISM--). But the song bangs so severely, as a pop enjoyer this is peak pop for me.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT DAGUNDONG

DAGUNDONG, a song basically recounting the colonial history of the Philippines from Spain to America, is just so fucking good you should watch/listen to it rn. There's EN subs don't worry you won't miss out on the context. This is colonial rage it's so satisfying I still remember where I was when they dropped this.

personal opinion: FOREVER OBSESSED WITH HOW THEY SAY "dahil puso mandirigma di papakutsa di papapugon" you guys have no idea how much i sing that line to myself sooo satisfying. Instant earworm this song i swear.

OK ONE LAST one last and i'm done. okay.

MAHARANI, a Sanskrit term for the wife of a Maharaja (translated as "great queen"), heavily features singkil, a Maranao dance which uses bamboo poles like tinikling does. The song also uses SEAsian instruments like kanun, gamelan, and gangsa. Also BINI's Jhoanna plays one of the main characters here!!!

personal opinion: this is their most pop-sounding song, which i think is slightly carried by the video i'm sorryyy. it's catchy though!! and i looove the part somewhere halfway where alas starts his verse, singing it in a more spoken-word way

___

okay 5 songs is. probably enough. this post is already kinda long shdfjskdff but yeah. pls check them out if you can hehe <3

also ppop idols are just really funny. there's no concept of an idol image so they just tweet shit. alamat jao gave out his genshin UID after a fan tweeted about having co-oped with him in genshin, and then after that he started answering questions with the hashtag "#canceljao" making a lot of magiliws (alamat fans) confused, and then he posted a classic iphone notes apology like this 😭

i'll do a bini version after this my girls deserve more international hype. they occupy a more girlcrush pop genre but they're just as chaotic as alamat if not even more 😭 there are entire THREADS on twitter of them just being hilarious jdhfkshgf i love them so much

thanks for reading <3

[dani-says-stuff]

Myrtles Plantation

❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- note the reader is afraid of dolls in this one - also my love for Amanda spills through... a lot... but I think it adds character, spice, and humor, so I'm leaving it in

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Nate Hardy x fem!medium(?)reader

Summary: Based on this request

« could u do a nate x reader (in a relationship) at the haunted plantation?? like she sees something and amanda lets them know it was evil??? »

Thanks to this anon for reminding me this was in my drafts

Thank you for my first request anon!! so so so sorry it took so long!

I hope this is what you were looking for, I kinda went off the deep end with it lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: language, hauntings, evil spirits, creepy stuff, inconsistent capitalization, my disregard for run on sentences and “pRopEr gRammAr”, unedited ramble writings bc i just wanted to finally get it published for y’all, maybe incorrect timeline? technically? bc i can’t remember if Nate was in a video with Amanda before this one…

Dialogue Key:

Y/N

Nate

Sam

Colby

Amanda

Spirit Box

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You and Nate were currently in his car, driving to the plantation for Sam and Colby's video.

Nate was nervous. That much was obvious from the tight, white-knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel. You could practically see the the tense emotions rolling off his skin in waves. You however, were practically buzzing in excitement.

You opened up the camera app on your phone to record a little clip. One you would either post to your instagram story soon, or you'd send it to Colby to put before the video... you hadn't really decided what you were going to say yet.

First, you brought the camera really close to your face, barely anything other than your forehead, eyebrows, and eyes in frame, "Ok so- I don't really know where this clip is going to be shared yet... or if it'll be out at all... but Nate is being boring and having a panic attack and I'm super excited and want to talk to someone about it."

You extended your arm, full face now in view as you smiled widely at the front facing camera, "Guess what!" you yelled, "We're filming with the boys again!" you spoke, flashing the camera to show Nate as he drove, "and that's not even the best part... drumroll please... the love of my freaking life is coming with us!" you squealed.

Nate's eyebrows furrowed, barely sparing a glance in your direction, instead keeping his eyes on the road, "Babe, you already showed me?"

"Oh not you." you scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're just my boyfriend."

"Mhm..." he hummed, blinking a few times trying to figure what exactly it was he was failing to understand, "Yeah no. I don't get it N/N... pretty sure 'love of my life' and 'boyfriend' are the same thing." 

You tilted your head pondering the thought for a moment, ultimately shaking your head innocently, "Nah, it can't be. There are two very different people that take up those positions." 

"Oh really?"

"Oh yeah." you turned your gaze, meeting the side of his face,"You may be my boyfriend, and I love you so, so, so, very much..."

"But?"

"But.." you grinned turning to face the camera, "The love of my life is the wonderful and beautiful Amanda~" you sang, moving your phone forward once more blowing kisses at the screen.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so excited!" you yelled, shaking the screen for emphasis.

The brown haired male next to you laughed at your actions, "Babe, be careful, you're going to make 'em all dizzy." 

"True" you shrugged, focusing your phone once more, "anyways, you've probably guessed it by now, but we're doing another investigation tonight!"

You flipped the camera, showing nothing but trees surrounding the vehicle, "We're currently in the middle of nowhere- but that's because this location is a little different than usual."

"Yeah, instead of like a house with like- other neighbors around it and stuff" Nate spoke up, "were going to a plantation, in the middle of just like- trees" he shivered awkwardly, hissing in discomfort, "so if we get in trouble or something there's nothing for miles."

You scoffed, pulling the view back on yourself, "Yeah I guess, but that's fine because nothing is going to go wrong!" you exclaimed happily 

"Mhm, and how do you know that?"

You winked at the camera, patting the area over your chest, "I have a good feeling about it."

"Yeah ok then- remind me how you feel when we actually get there."

You laughed loudly at you boyfriend, finally getting a small crack of a smile across his lips. "Anyway, that's all for right now. See-you-all-when-we-get-there-bye-bye" you rushed, quickly ending the video.

As soon as he could tell you stopped recording, Nate spoke up, "now what was that for?" 

"Updating the public" you shrugged, starting a quick conversation with Colby over text.

Hey~ might've just filmed a little intro clip for you

You're welcome of course

And you better use it

I put a lot of effort into it

Oh really?

Obviously

Send it over

I'll check it out

About 2 minutes later after your mini vlog went through, he responded 

Oh yeah, thats going in

You're good if I do a little editing over it?

Ofc

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Later, when viewers clicked on the video, they would be greeted to a huge tone shift between the first 2-3 minutes of the video, versus the of it.

First, your little intro, which basically became a fan cam for Amanda. Bright hearts and anime blush- the whole nine yards.

Broken, of course, every once in a while with a freeze framing on your real partner. The video going gray scale, with rain and violin music playing in the background.

Then, hard cut straight to the footage outside the plantation. ━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Soon, the group of five were all stood before Myrtles plantation, waiting for the tour to begin.

Sam turned to Nate, camera pointed to him, "Are you excited?" 

"Dude- I- just-" your boyfriend sighed dramatically, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. You, however, could be seen lurching forward in laughter at his reaction, "It just like everytime you bring me on one of these."

You walked up, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm your breaths, "Yeah, so thats a no." you looked up at him, pouting when he met your gaze, "He's very nervous"

"You look terrified." 

"I can tell by your- genuine face of excitement right now"

Nate forced a sarcastic smile on his face that turned out more of a grimace, "Oh yeah? This face? Right here?"

You struggled to hold back your laughter, "All excitement from him on the way up here"

He turned his head, looking down at you as you were still holding onto his shoulder, "You know, usually you're a bit more cautious about these things."

You shrugged, "But we have Amanda here this time," you gestured to her, "There's finally someone else to help me keep you guys from doing something stupid."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

The five of you entered the house, deciding to take a quick look around before the tour guide arrived.

Almost immediately upon entering the door, something caught your attention- and no it wasn't the smell the boys were busy commenting on.

Hung on the wall of the foyer, there was a mirror. You couldn't quite put a finger on it, but you could tell there was something strange about it.

For now, you just assumed it was how dated the mirror looked. Nothing from today looked like that. 

Soon, the boys called you over to the steps, wanting to take a peek upstairs. Sam and Colby had already made their way up with Nate following behind them, leaving you and Amanda  still on the first floor. 

"Hey" you tapped the blondes shoulder, "Just to- uh, to make sure... you feel that too, right?" you asked, looking up the stairwell. 

She hummed, "Yeah, thats probably because of what happened on the 17th step." 

You simply nodded enthusiastically despite having not clue what the significance of that specific step was, "Oh yeah of course. Just making sure I wasn't the only one feeling that sense of impending doom" you joked

Amanda laughed breathily at your phrasing, "Yeah, after events like that, they tend to leave a heavier, darker feel behind." 

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You didn't find out till later that night, it wasn't just a slip down the stairs, but a death on the 17th step.

Thanks a lot for leaving that out Sam. 

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By the time you made it up the flight of stairs, the group had entered one of the bedrooms. Everyone was inside except for your boyfriend, who stood before the doorframe waiting for you. 

"Hey babe..." he spoke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, grabbing your hand with the other, "so, just like a heads up, there's like... a shit ton of creepy ass dolls in there." 

Your eyes widened looking up at him, "What?"

"Yeah, like the entire mantle?" he gestured with his hands, "Just- completely covered." 

"I don't wanna go in there" you shook your head quickly, eyes still wide as saucers gripping his hand tighter. 

"Just- just don't look to your right when we walk in?"

You squinted you eyes at him, "...why?"

Nate shrugged, "Oh you know, there might be one that is kinda-sorta positioned to look at you when enter." he spoke nonchalantly as he dragged you through the door. 

You glared up at the brunette, "what?"

"By the way, we have to sleep here tonight-" the both of you heard from further in the room, "So someone is getting the room with the creepy doll staring at you."

You knew your friends- so without even thinking you threw your pointer finger up, touching your nose. 

"Woah, woah, woah" you rushed when the other three looked in your direction with shit eating grins, "No I did it- it was Col-"

"Nope, I'm safe" the black haired man cut you off.

You looked up slowly, glare pointed directly at your shocked boyfriend, who hadn't done it in time. "I'm going to kill you."

You looked over his shoulder, seeing the dolls for the first time. You quickly dropped his hand running over past Amanda and out to the next room, "Nope! I just wont be sleeping with you."

Nate quickly followed, arms extended "Wait babe! No please! Don't leave me alone!" Leaving a laughing Sam and Colby behind, filming the entire thing. 

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"Sam" you spoke up once the tour was over, "next time we do one of these things you've got to tell me more than just 'oh were going to a haunted mansion'" you mocked 

"What's up?" he laughed, "What do you mean?"

"Oh you know" you gestured around, speaking with your arms, "yellow fever death child, owner of the house killed on the steps, poison murders, voodoo queen death, ghost mirrors-" you listed propping your hands on your hips, "I could go on and on." 

"It's haunted Y/N, what did you expect?"

"Not this!" you shrieked.

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Soon, the five of you began the investigation in Chloe's room, each wearing a set of clip on earrings. Thanks to your wonderful, amazing boyfriend, you and Amanda were wearing the hoops. 

In addition to the earrings, Amanda came with some gifts with the four of you. she gave Colby a crystal to help amplify his empathic skills, and evil eye bracelets for both Nate and Sam. 

"These are just because I felt bad getting something for Colby and not you two." she spoke handing over the bracelets.

The raven haired man gasped, bringing his hands up to his chest, "She has a favorite!"

Nate placed his hands up on his waist, popping out his hip, "Well that's ok." he shot back sassily, dangly earrings swishing by his neck.

The blonde girl however, hummed in agreeance with Colby reaching back into her bag, "Yep, but it's not you." setting off scandalized gasps from the two men and hysteric laughter from sam. Amanda approached you with a small bag usually used for jewelry.

You took it smugly, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, "Thank you m'love"

"of course darling" she played along, "I heard you also have some abilities, so I picked out three things to help" she spoke as you opened the bag, pouring the items in your hand, "Ok, so this one is Labradorite" she pointed to the darker, slightly iridescent one, "It is one of the best crystals for enhancing abilities, it extends your awareness, helps you connect with the spiritual world and can be very grounding and helpful for mediums." she moved to the brighter crystal, "This one is Angelite, the same as Colby's-" 

"oh." the mentioned male scoffed playfully, crossing his arms, "I see how it is... I feel very special now." 

"-and the last one," Amanda pointed to a pitch black stone that was attached to a corded necklace, "is Black Tourmaline, which is really good at protecting and shielding you from bad energy. It can basically cleanse you from any unwanted energy that comes your way." 

"Ok!" sam exclaimed, "Now that we've handed out the gifts and the pity gifts" he raised his wrist up to the camera, making the rest of you laugh, Lets get on to the investigation!"

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The group decided to move on to the seance room after very little seemed to be happening within Chole's room. 

"I hated this room earlier" Nate shivered next to you, "It just... I don't know, it's just weird."

You nodded as you followed him in, "Yeah? Now imagine feeling heavy when you walk in" 

"Really?" he looked down at you, "What do you mean?"

"It's just like what Amanda said earlier," you shrugged softly, "it's just very heavy in here, it feels tight." 

You let go of Nate's hand, leaving him as he went to look at a painting in the corner, approaching Amanda instead. You stood next to the blonde as she looked up at the mirror that faces the one in the other parlor. 

You shifted you gaze between her and the mirror quickly, "So... whatcha lookin at?"

She gestured you to stand next to her facing the mirror, never once moving her own gaze from the glass, "so look up there," she pointed at a specific area, "and unfocus you eyes- almost like youre trying to look through the mirror" she explained. 

Within a few seconds she could feel you tense beside her, causing the blonde to grin, "you see it?" 

"yeah" you breathed, nodding slowly, "yeah I see it" 

"Yo wait" Nate whipped around, "see what? exactly?" he moved up behind you, placing his head over your shoulder, squinting his eyes to find whatever the two of you seemed to see, "I dont see it"

"I keep seeing things move behind me" Amanda spoke

"I cant see anything specific" you added, "but I can see shapes moving" you explained gesturing up to point in the direction of the areas you spoke of, "like I saw something move like this" you dragged you hand, "and something over there" 

Amanda hummed in affirmation, "yep, where you just pointed, between this wall in the candles, there's someone" she moved her other hand, "and over here, where you saw something move, there was some kids." 

"thats crazy"

"are you feeling anything right now?" Nate questioned, as Colby moved to flip off the lights.

The both of you answered simultaneously, gaving very opposite answers,

"No."

"Yes." 

and for the first time in what felt like hours, you and Amanda broke your gazes from the mirror turning to each other instead.

"You really dont feel that?"

she shook her head, "no, I'm seeing them. I feel that someone is here, like I have full goosebumps"

"N/N" Nate placed a hand on your shoulder, "what are you feeling?"

You looked back to the mirror, looking for anymore blurs, only to see nothing, "It felt like- happy? I guess? Like you know that feeling of when you'd go to the park when you were younger and you were just like- excited? it felt like that."

Amanda nodded slowly in thought, "well, that could be the kids I saw, they did look pretty happy."

"but now" you spoke up once more, causing the boy's eyebrows to furrow, "now it just feels crowded. I cant pull one emotion from another. Its so weird." 

"the energy in here is insane" Amanda agreed, "I feel like if we did a seance at the seance table- we could get some pretty gnarly stuff"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

So, that what the group did. you broke out the spirit box, and immediately you were greeted with several hellos. 

"Is there any sign you could give us of who were talking to?" Sam spoke up, "a name, an occupation?"

Kate

Colby looked up with squinted brows, confused at the sound "what did that say"

"it said Kate" you responded from next to Nate, hand on his arm, "im pretty sure it said Kate"

"yeah" Amanda added, "I wrote Kate right before it said that"

"is it true that this room is a portal?"

you stepped back at the question, making Nate look to you in concern "guys I just got really nautious-" 

Evil

"oh no-no-no- I don't like that" you rush out, placing yourself on the other side of the doorframe, "i'm definitely not a fan of that"

Sam, Colby, Nate and Amanda continued to speak to the spirit box within the room while you stayed in the hallway. Nate moved from the group and closer to you to make sure you were ok.

"Can you tell us how many spirits are in here with us right now?"

three 

from the doorway, you couldve sworn you saw a flash of green reflect in one of the glass window panes. Green, like the head wrap Chloe was said to wear. 

"do you think.." you trailed off moving closer to your boyfriend, "could Chloe be one of them?" you whispered. 

he stepped out of the room upon seeing your expression. You seemed paler than usually and he could almost see you shaking with wide glassy eyes staring back at him. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back to give you some semblance of comfort. 

Nate, his chin resting in your head, repeated your words louder to for the group still inside the room to hear, "Was that Chloe?"

Me

Look 

you whimpered, pressing your face into his chest, "nope. tell Amanda to look at the window-"

"-that candle just got so bright at the far end-"

"-yeah that one." you mumbled, "the window by the candles. I saw something green over there."

the brown hared man nodded, raising his voice to cut off the trio 's conversation on the candle's, "Amanda? N/N said to check around that window. She said she saw something green flash overthere earlier." 

"Yo! What?" sam exclaimed excitedly, moving to you both with the camera while Amanda looked by the window pane, "What happened? what did you-"

 he was cut off by Nate shaking his head quickly above you, "not right now" he whispered to the blonde, "later." 

Sam nodded understandly, moving to film Amanda by the window, "You see anything?"

"no, not anymore." she stated, "its all clear, whatever it was must've moved by now."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

A few rooms and a short reenactment later, it was time for solo investigations. Well, at least it was solo for Sam and Colby, you, Nate, and Amanda were able to go out on the porch together.

The three of you were given the spot where Chloe's picture was taken, and had decided to take turns doing the Estes Method. Amanda was first up in the rocking chair. 

"I've got some information"

"woah" Nate turned to the camera to you, who was laughing softly from shock.

"We didnt even ask anything yet," you looked into the camera lens, "and were already getting answers? this is crazy"  

Nate hummed, "Yeah this is insane- what type of information do you have?"

"lets go"

"Go where?" you questioned, "where do you want to go?"

after a few minutes you received no response. you shrugged, looking over to Nate, "I don't know, you ask a question" you laughed, "it doesn't like me I guess"

He shrugged at your statement, readying his next question "Chloe, did you put yourself at risk to get the information?"

"ready"

you squinted at one another, "are you ready to put yourself at risk?"

"for the information?" Nate added on. 

"yes" 

you shook your head with a smile, " I guess she's ready ti talk"

"yes"

"Chloe was it you that they photographed in this alleyway?"

"Accident"

"You didnt intend to be in the photo?" 

You turned around, looking off the balcony as Amanda shivered, brushing her arms, "something just touched me" 

Nate turned his head, looking your direction as you gazed out onto the dark field, "Babe?" he whispered, "You alright?" 

"yeah" you muttered, scanning the yard, "yeah, I just got that feeling that something was watching me." you shook your head and rolled your shoulders, "it was probably nothing."

Nate nodded slowly, continuing his questioning of Amanda rather than you, glancing at your from the corner of his eye to make sure you were alright. "Chloe, does guilt keep you here?"

"I knew it was wrong"

You and Nate brought Amanda out of the trance to add a trigger object, things for more intense from there. The answers seemed more and more on the nose, and the small inkling you had of being watched quickly increased tenfold.

You soon felt like you spent less time engaged in the investigation, and more time peering over your shoulder.

"it was the family name"

"Woodruff? Did you hear Woodruff?" Nate rushed, "are you trying to tell us about the Woodruff family?"

"It went silent" Amanda exclaimed, "like full complete silence for a full 'Mississippi' and then it started again"

"it was in the house"

"Are you tired" 

"I hope you don't mind" Nate mentioned, gesturing too the plant, "We have oleander in Amanda's hand-"

"I know"

"-was the death an accident or was it an act of revenge?"

"Nate" you whisper, looking out into the yard, "I...I don't think this is a good idea anymore."

his eyebrows furrowed, peering at you while keeping the camera on Amanda, "Why? What's up"

 you sighed, "I just- I think we should stop. something doesn't feel right." you tore your gaze from the dark, looking up to him, "something's wrong-"

"its time to wrap up-"

The blonde spoke removing the blindfold and headphones, "I swear, it said, 'its time to wrap up'"

"See!" you gasped hitting the man's arm, "told you!"

Amanda looked between the two of you, both of your eyes were wide and your posture screamed that you were both worried, "what's going on?" 

Nate set the camera down on the bannister, still filming, as he went to get all the equipment together, "N/N was just talking about how something feels wrong and we should quit." he looked up at the blonde, "she's been feeling weird this whole time"

The two continue talking while you walk further up the porch. The feeling of being watched became stronger and stronger as you surveyed the yard, eventually catching a glimpse of something off to the side. You leaned over the wood and squinted, trying your best to get a better look. 

Soon, you saw it. 

"Guys" you muttered, trying again louder when they didn't respond "Guys!" 

Nate looked up seeing how far down the porch you'd wandered, "N/N? what's going on?" 

you looked at them eyes wide, "There's someone out here." you panicked, "please, please tell me you're almost done because there's someone in the yard and they're getting closer."

Nate straighted his back, looking into the grass too. he didnt see anything at the moment, but you were so far down and it was dar enough that it could simply be that he was too far. He waved his arm gesturing you over to them, "N/N I need you to come down here right now" 

For all he knew, that was some psyco trying to add a new spirit to the home. That spirit, would not be you if he had anything to say about it. 

"oh my god" you yelled, running up beside the two, "its getting closer."

The brown haired man moved to shield the two of you, shoving the equipment you three brought out to you an Amanda, only keeping a flashlight, "Go inside."

"but-"

"Y/N go inside."

"Wait" Amanda spoke up, peeking around the man's shoulder, "to the left?"

you were shaking at this point, "yeah, It followed me down from that side"

The blonde moved forward, pulling the flashlight from Nate's grip, illuminating the patch to see nothing there, "There?" 

you tilted your head in confusion, "well... yeah? it was-"

Amanda turned off the flashlight and the both of you were greeted with the dark figure once more, this time it was only about 10 feet from the railing. 

"oh my god" you breathed, heart hammering in your chest.

The urgency in your boyfriend began to dissipate, believing that while a spirit following his girlfriend wasnt the best- it was better than her being followed by an actual crazy person.

However the seriousness of the blonde nearly doubled once she caught sight of the glowing red eyes. "You are not allowed to be here." she spoke stern, making you stiffen even further, "you do not have permission to follow us or come any closer."

"Amanda, what is happening?" you spoke, eyes trained on the humanoid figure before you. 

"move back to the door" the blonde spoke softly to you and nate, before strengthening her voice once more, "You do not have the right to follow us into the home, you must stay out here." 

Once the door closed, the blonde watched the figure through the window until it dissolved into the air. 

"you see that stuff all the time?" you stuttered, clinging to Nates arms that wrapped around your waist, "like thats what a ghost is? I've never actually seen something like that before" 

"no." the blonde spoke turning to face you, "that... Y/N, that wasnt a spirit. that was a demon."