#theater auditorium au

[fennekinfoxuwu]

This is my first time posting an idea I've been DIEING to show but here goes.

Welcome to [ the theater auditorium au], where Branch and Vicky (oc), the star twins are having there usual teen life with the club members ( ❤ Eddie, 🩷A.J.,💚Noah Conway,💜Vicky Stormwood, 🩶💙Branch [Stormwood]. Just having there usual shinenegines and been totally out of control but fun.

@ohposhers surprise!

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Boyfriend's Best friend | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Like the embers shared between you and your boyfriend's bestie, boundaries are burned away until there's nothing but smoke and ash. Can you come back from being too badly burned by the mistake you two made? Or will the bitter taste remain, ruining everything?

•Pairings: Han Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, heavy use of weed, betrayal, lies, secrets, regret, heartbreak, college au, friends to ?

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

Your boyfriend of one year is cheating on you.

You knew that; he just doesn't know that you know. Even his best friend knows you know, but out of respect for your wishes, he's kept quiet. Why? Because despite Danny and Jisung being inseparable since diapers, Jisung has been a true friend to you since you met Danny at the coffee shop years ago. Jisung isn't just someone you share music theory class with; he's also the vocalist and lead guitarist of the band Respirator, where you play the drums.

So you've got an alliance with Jisung. He was there for you the night you found out. Alone in the campus auditorium, you texted Jisung. Your first instinct was to call your best friend Ana, but interrupting her date with Chris was out of the question. Jisung stayed with you in that cold, creepy theater and let you cry into his chest for hours. He just couldn't understand why you continued to stay, why you continued to let Danny fuck you, knowing he's fucking someone else. He knew where his friend was before he'd come back to their shared apartment and yet he'd hear your moans through the poorly insulated walls.

“I have no excuse for him, Y/N. He's an asshole for playing you like this. I've tried to get him to see the error of his ways, but fuck… he's only thinking with his dick,” Jisung says, shaking his head and glancing at his friend who's fast asleep on the couch.

A night of forgotten textbooks and study notes overtaken by weed, beer, and pizza has knocked your boyfriend out cold. You don't look in the direction of the couch; instead, you inhale the hot smoke from the joint between your fingers, letting your head fall back before blowing the smoke into the air. You lay down on the hard cedarwood floor, your foot lightly bumping one of the many pillows piled up in one corner where Jisung sits.

“Yeah, there's no point in talking to him, Ji. He'll only do what he wants, not what's right,” you say, taking another hit and passing it over to Jisung.

Your fingers brush when he reaches for it, and you feel tempted to crawl over to him so he can hug the numb feeling in your chest away. You could use some genuine affection after watching Danny sneak off earlier with the excuse of needing to speak to his Tech professor. But if Mr. Campbell has turned into a little blonde with pigtails and a short pink skirt, then he most definitely wasn't in a meeting with his professor.

The little blonde… you don't even know who she is or if she even goes to college. The only thing you know is that you are nothing like her. Where her wardrobe is probably ninety percent pink, yours is ninety percent black. Typical style of a girl in a band: your jeans have rips in them and are either too tight or too loose. Your shirts are a bit of the same; sometimes they hug the curves of your breasts and waist, other times they swallow you up. Your thoughts are heavy in your smoky, hazy mind, and the soft strumming from Jisung's guitar sets the ambiance of your momentary self-pity.

“Maybe I should change up my style, Ji. Do you think then he might love me again?”

God, that sounds awful, you think as soon as the words leave your mouth. You cover your face with your hands and then drape them over your stomach. The baggy My Chemical Romance band tee has bunched up, and your midsection feels the occasional breeze from the open window, making you shiver.

“Nah, Y/N, don't think that. Your style is what makes you, you. If he can't see how hot you are no matter what you wear, then that's his problem, not yours,” Jisung says seriously.

You hear him suck in the smoke and exhale slowly. With heavy lids, you turn your head to the side and look at him. He smiles as his fingers glide over the strings of his fiery red guitar, his eyes half-lidded and pink with a lazy smile.

“Thanks, Ji,” you mumble and return the equally lazy smile.

He keeps his eyes on you, his gaze lingering longer than usual, and it unexpectedly makes your pulse race. There's something about his eyes that has always had a hypnotic effect on you. Siren eyes, they lure you in, making it impossible to escape unless he lets his gaze drop. He closes his eyes when the smoke threatens to get in them, breaking the hold you weren’t even aware he had on you.

The joint hangs from his lips, a thin trail of smoke billowing up around the rim of his hat and curling toward the ceiling. He inhales slowly, the smoke filling his lungs before he exhales and opens his eyes, watching the way you look at him. So laid-back with that dreamy expression on your face, his thoughts betray him for the third time tonight. An image created from smoke appears in his mind: you're looking at him exactly the way you are now, only you're on your knees as he cradles your face in his hands, fucking himself into your warm mouth. That’s the tamest fantasy he's had tonight. The others are far more explicit, like scenes pulled straight from a hentai.

Throughout the night, Jisung struggled to focus on any of his study material. It wasn't just because he was mentally drained from studying. Sure, that was part of it, but the sight of you chewing on your lush pink lips while you went over your notes for music theory kept distracting him. They looked so soft and your constant chewing made them red and puffy. He wondered if you dug your teeth into the flesh just like that when Danny was inside you. He couldn't help but picture you whimpering and whining past your trapped bottom lip while he drilled his dick into your sweet pussy. He already knows what you sound like so it's not hard to imagine the faces you would make.

He couldn't shake the image of those same lips of yours being covered in his warm, sticky cum. His imagination was too vivid with you right in front of him and the weed from the gummy he ate before you and Danny showed up. He had been rock hard and throbbing for hours, making studying beyond frustrating. It turned into a battle with his own mind. So he was more than happy to welcome the smoke sesh. Sure, he felt a bit guilty for daydreaming about his buddy's girl, but it's not like he'd ever act on it. It's all just harmless thoughts, he told himself. It's not like he was in love with you or anything… he just found you to be the embodiment of perfection in human form. Seriously, Danny calls you Jisung's twin more times than you're aware, so it's natural for him to think of you as the coolest chick he's ever met. You wouldn't be in the band he created if he didn't think highly of you.

“You want another hit?” he asks, holding the joint out to you with his index finger and thumb.

Your eyes lock onto his hands, noticing the multiple silver rings that decorate each of his long fingers and the veins that crisscross the back of his. More times than you can count you've heard girls talking about how sexy his hands were and you never noticed how right they are until now. Noticing the way his fingers loosely wraps around the neck of the guitar, your brain goes to the gutter and starts wondering if that's how he holds his cock when he's jerking off to the sound of you getting fucked. You know he does it. You could see it in his face one day when you bumped into him on the way to the bathroom. His hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks were flushed and the large swallow he made when your bodies connected told you what he was doing in the next room.

With a slow nod, you sit up and move closer and take it from him, your fingers brushing against his again only this time there's something that passes between you but you ignore it, bringing the joint to your lips and taking a deep drag.

You inhale deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs before you exhale slowly, watching the tendrils curl into the air. You feel the heat, the burn of the smoke and it feels almost euphoric. The room feels warmer, cozier, and everything with your boyfriend is forgotten for now with more thc in you. Jisung watches you, completely captivated by the way you wrap your lips around the filter end gently and suck in the smoke. His eyes darken for just a second before he pats the space in front of him on the floor.

“Come here, I'll teach you the basics,” he says, his voice low and inviting.

“Really?” you ask excitedly after taking another puff and setting the joint into the ashtray. He chuckles, nodding with a large smile your way.

You close the distance, settling between his legs with your back to his front and it feels like the most normal natural thing in the world. He hands you the instrument resting it in your lap, and his arms encircle you as he guides your hands to the strings. The heat of his body seeps into yours, and you can feel his breath against your neck, slow and even. His breath is warm, smelling faintly of the weed you just shared, and sugary soda that's oddly comforting to you.

“What song do you want to play?” he asks, his voice a soft hush against your ear. The sensation to your ear and the deep rumble on your back from when he speaks, makes you shiver involuntarily.

You think for a moment, your mind swimming through the smoky haze and then you smile. "Thinking Out Loud?" you say phrasing it like a question.

He chuckles softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Ah, my man Sheeran. Good choice, y/n. Not gonna lie, I thought you'd pick one of our songs." he murmurs, taking your hand in his and begins to guide your fingers over the strings.

The notes are clumsy at first, your movements unsure but Jisung is patient, his hands steady as he teaches you the chords. You giggle softly as you fumble through the chords, “Good thing I'm a drummer. This is harder than it looks.” You say with a laugh and Jisung’s laughter mingles with yours.

His hands are warm and strong, his touch firm but gentle. He's the perfect guitar teacher, kind and informative. Once you start to get the hang of playing, he lets you play on your own, his arms still loosely around you, elbows resting on his knees. He begins to sing softly, his voice smooth and melodic fills the room and your heart with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"... People fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand,"

His voice is mesmerizing, hypnotic even and you’re impressed. You've heard him sing but nothing as soft as this. Each note wraps around you like a tight embrace. You join in on the last four verses, the thc boosting your confidence and your voices come together sweetly. The song ends with the last note and chord lingering in the air. You’re giggling excitedly, so lost in the music, that you almost don’t notice the hardness pressing against your back until your laughter subsides. Your body feels suddenly hot when you do, a flush spreading across your skin. You turn your head slightly to look at him, intending to say something, but the words catch in your throat.

He knows you can feel it, how can you not? He's rock hard. It's not that he was thinking of anything particularly sexy. It was your singing voice that did it for him. The way your voices mingled together sounded hauntingly beautiful to him. Not to mention the barely noticeable vibration through your body when you sang. He has no control over the effect you had on him. He willed is dick to go down the entire time you two sang but there was nothing he could do but pray you wouldn't notice. That was out of the question once your laughter shook your body. His cock twitched  inside of his shorts, pulsating against your back. He held his breath and hoped you wouldn't say anything but you turned to look at him. You parted your lips prepared to speak but said nothing, only quiet panting made its way out of you. The way you looked at him, the way you felt in his arms and your lips, right there so close to his, made something inside of him crack.

Before you can react, Jisung’s lips are on yours, kissing you with sudden urgency. Your mind goes blank, every thought drowned out by the intensity of the kiss. His hands are on your hips, pulling you back closer to him like you'll drift away like the smoke of the joints from earlier. You can’t help but respond, your fingers tangling in his hair knocking his hat off as you kiss him back desperate for more. Jisung’s grip on you tightens as his tongue explores your mouth with a desperate need. The guitar is forgotten, pushed aside as he shifts, turning you so that you're facing him. He gently lays you down onto the pile of pillows on the floor, his body pressing you down into the pile that feels like clouds. The sensation is overwhelming, every touch, every kiss, it's all amplified by the cannabis coursing through your veins.

"Y/N," Jisung whispers, his voice rough with desire, as he presses his clothed erection against your core. The friction is maddening, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you and you moan in response as your hips come up off the ground, bucking against him.

You're not thinking anymore, your hands just move on their own seeking more of what's making you feel so good. Everything around you is hazy and black around the edges like a dream. All you’re aware of is the incredible sensation that seems to take over your entire body.

"Jisung…" you breathe, your voice trembling.

He looks at you, his eyes dark with desire. He silently pleads for you to tell him to stop but you can't. You don't want him to stop. You want him, need him in a way that you can't describe with words.

"Don't stop." you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “More.”

He growls low in his throat, his hands squeezing your hips as he starts to move faster, the pressure building, driving you both closer to the edge. It feels incredible, each rub, each thrust sending sparks of electricity through you. Jisung’s hips move faster, his breath coming in harsh pants as he grinds against you. You can feel yourself getting close, building to a crescendo and you know he's close too, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He doesn't care that he's about to cum in his pants just from dry humping you. You feel so damn incredible in his arms. But you stop him suddenly, your hands on his chest and he looks at you with wide glassy eyes. 

"I need you inside me." you say, your voice breathy and husky.

He stops his movements, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice thick with lust.

You nod, your hands moving to his shorts, tugging them down. "Yes. Please. Fuck me, Jisung."

In the haze of weed and pleasure, a thought cuts through the fog. This is wrong. Danny is just a few feet away, sleeping peacefully in Jisung’s bed. But the thought is fleeting, quickly drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of Jisung’s body pressing into yours. He fumbles with his shorts, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. You lift your hips, helping him slide your leggings and panties down in one quick move. Back between your legs, he positions himself at your entrance and a bead of precum forms, dripping down and disappearing into one of the pillows. His eyes meet yours as he rubs the head of his cock up and over your folds, collecting your arousal and getting tip nice and wet. You shudder keeping your eyes locked onto his. 

He rubs the length of his cock against you, teasing your clit in a circular motion. Maybe if he doesn't actually fuck you, it's not that big of a betrayal to his friend, he thinks lamely, knowing how idiotic that sounds. Still, Jisung convinces himself that if there's no actual penetration, maybe he won't feel so guilty. If he just gets you both off like this, he could somewhat live with himself.

Your body shakes under him each time he thrusts upward, and he can feel your pussy getting wetter, making things far more slippery. "Yeah, you can cum like this, y/n, I know you can. Just cum like this for me. Fuck, let me cum on your stomach, and we can innocently continue our night," he coaxes you inside his head, his hips moving faster. You're so wet that Jisung slips and slides over your pussy with ease. He misjudges when he goes to push up again, moving far too quickly and slams hard into your cunt, making you both moan louder than intended. Both of you freeze, glancing over at Danny as he shifts in his sleep and rolls over to face the back of the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you and Jisung groan quietly in unison, trying to stay still with your hearts beating fast with fear.

"Fuck, you're so tight, y/n," he groans, his voice quiet and strained. "You feel so fucking good."

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. But it doesn't take long for the need to take over and soon he's fucking you forcefully and fast, his hips slamming into yours with a desperate intensity. Each thrust hits a spot deep inside you, that makes you want to scream. You close your eyes and see spots of lights behind your lids in the same purple hue that glows around the TV in the room. You can barely form coherent thoughts, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. All you can do is moan his name, over and over, as he takes your pleasure higher. The room is filled with the slapping sounds of skin against skin, the wet, obscene noises of your arousal mixing with your moans and his grunts.

He leans down, capturing your lips again in a searing kiss. His tongue explores your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts and you can taste the sweet saltiness of his sweat on his skin. His hands roam your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples through your bra, adding to the onslaught of sensations. You can’t keep your hands off him, your fingers dig into his back as he fucks you hard, gliding down his skin making thin faint red lines. Jisung's thoughts are a mess. He's never felt like this before, never been this out of control. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, that he's betraying his best friend, but he can't stop. Your pussy feels too good to him, too perfect. You're perfect. The way your pussy pulls him in and squeezes his cock. It's heaven to him.

“So wet… oh god. So fucking perfect, y/n. Fuck,” he whispers, looking down at you.

You can only moan in response, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrusts harder, faster. The pleasure is a flame setting you both ablaze. It’s messy and intense, growing bigger and wilder with every touch and movement amplified by the high.

“Say my name,” he demands, his voice rough.

Jisung’s dominance surprises you, the way he takes control, guiding your body with a confidence that leaves you breathless. You open your eyes and gasp at the expression on his face. His face is a contradiction of emotions.

“Jisung!” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit. He rubs it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling toward the edge. “Just like that, baby,” he groans, with a smirk on his lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Ji… Jisung, I’m close.” you gasp, your hands pulling him closer. He speeds up, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. The tension coils tighter and tighter inside you.

"Cum when I tell you to, y/n. Just a little more." he moans, closing his eyes. "Ah! Little more, a little more, baby. Yeah... oh fuck." He whispers, slowing his pace to pull out of you completely and thrust back in quickly.

He can feel himself getting closer and he starts to move faster. His thrusts become more frantic, more crazed, and you can’t hold back any longer. You can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pleasure is too overwhelming. You cry out, arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut tight as your body tenses and the orgasm hits. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure floods through your veins leaving you breathless, shaking.

"Ji, Ji I'm cumming!" you gasp, your hands gripping him hard feeling him batter your cervix with the head of his cock.

Jisung’s grip tightens on your hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Yeah, cum for me," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "Cum all over my cock, baby. Oh fuck!"

Your walls clench around him, milking his cock as he continues to pound into you. With a loud moan, you fall apart. Your orgasm rips through you with an intensity that leaves you feeling utterly and thoroughly fucked and incapacitated.

"Fuck, I'm cumming, y/n! I'm cumming-Ah!" he groans loudly, eyes squeezing shut.

He thrusts a few more times before he cums, spilling into you as he moans your name. The feeling of his warmth filling you is almost too much and it prolongs your orgasm, leaving you trembling and spent beneath him.

For a few seconds you both don't move, panting hard as your breathing slowly returns to its regular pace but as the high of the orgasm fades, reality crashes down like a tidal wave. Jisung pulls out of you quickly, his face full of panic and regret.

"What the fuck did we do?" he mutters, more to himself than to you. His hands shake as he runs them through his hair, over and over, looking like he's on the verge of a breakdown.

“What did I do? I'm dreaming... yeah. I gotta be,” he screams internally. But the warmth of your pussy around him, still lingers, insisting otherwise. He glances down, seeing his cock slick and creamy with your cum, more undeniable evidence of what just happened. This wasn’t a weed-induced wet dream; he’s done the unthinkable— he's fucked his best friend's girlfriend.

You sit up and reach out to comfort him, but he flinches away from your touch, the gesture cutting you like a knife. "I don’t regret it," you whisper, your voice trembling but sincere. But the look on his face is clear; he does.

"We can’t do this again," Jisung says, his voice firm but soft. "No matter how amazing it felt, we can’t. I... I can't betray Danny like that again, jagi. Fuck, y/n. I'm sorry."

Despite knowing you shouldn't, you can't help it; you lean in and your lips meet his. For a sweet, blissful second, Jisung kisses you back. You could blame your actions on the weed but you know you're more aware when you're high than when you're drunk. Jisung breaks the kiss and covers his mouth with his hands, glancing over at his sleeping friend.

“This is wrong, y/n. So, so fucking wrong,” he whispers, his voice filled with pain. “I've known Danny since we were in diapers. What happened... It was a mistake. We can't…”

His face is full of pain and confusion, tears threatening to spill over. You want to reach out, to comfort him, but he doesn't even want you near him let alone touch him now. That realization shatters you. Your own eyes sting with the threat of tears and you turn away, quickly gathering your clothes to hide your face.

You nod, fighting back tears as you get dressed. The lingering taste of weed on your tongue now tastes like ash and guilt gnaws at your insides at seeing Jisung so conflicted. He watches you, his silence heavy with all the words he wishes he could say. He wants to stop you, to pull you into his arms and kiss away the tears that threaten to fall but he knows he can't. You're Danny's girlfriend even if he doesn't deserve you. Jisung's already fucked up once, he can't again no matter what his heart is telling him.

Your hands are trembling while you fumble to pull on your pants, wishing there was something you could say to make things better. The silence is deafening, broken only by your shaky breathing and Danny's soft snoring. You gather your textbooks and notes, desperately trying to hold yourself together, to not break down before you can make out the door. Jisung lets you go, his heart breaking with every step you take. Inside, he's screaming for you to stay, but he doesn’t move. He just lets you go because he knows that it’s for the best.

"I'm sorry, Ji." you say, your voice cracking. "I’m so sorry..."

Your voice sounds broken and It's barely audible, but it feels like a scream in the silence. When your hand turns the knob, the tears finally spill over and you rush through the open door. The door closes behind you with a finality that feels like a knife to the heart.

Jisung stares blankly at the door as it shuts, the lingering scent of sex and weed hanging in the air. The bitter taste of disloyalty and heartache, like poison, is bitter on his tongue. He collapses onto the floor after pulling up his shorts and buries his face in his hands. The room feels emptier than ever and Danny's sleeping presence is a constant reminder of the betrayal, making him want to throw up.

"Y/N... what the fuck have we done?" he whispers to himself, his voice breaking with a choking sob, wondering if you two will ever get through this without being burned even more.

★𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱★

@resi4skz @3rachasninja @moonlightndaydreams @rylea08 @hanjiphile @krayzieestay @oddracha @ldysmfrst @jeonginsbaee @leftovercigarettes @redstayrosie @krayzieestay @c4y27 @shadowqueen26 @jazskz-blog @Seungcheolshole @stephanieeeyang

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[agaypanic]

former theater kid as well !! maybe a story about regina with a gf in theater club ?

My Little Star (Regina George X Theater Kid!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your girlfriend comes to see you in your last high school show.

A/N: depending on which regina you’re envisioning with this, au where everyone has smartphones. post!mean girls regina bc then i wont feel too bad if she seems too ooc. ive been thinking a lot about romeo and juliet lately so the play is romeo and juliet teehee

***

If you had told your younger self that at the end of your senior year, you’d be the leading star in your final show and be dating Regina George, she would’ve thought you were insane.

Yet here you were, getting ready for the opening night of Romeo and Juliet while your girlfriend spam-texted you words of encouragement.

Regina <3

You’re gonna do so good, I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!

I was gonna keep it a surprise until after the show, but I got your favorite 

*Sent 1 Attachment*

Unlocking your phone to respond, you were greeted with a picture of Regina sitting in the auditorium holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. She had a great big smile on her face, her eyes squinting from it. 

Your breath hitched. You knew Regina loved you, but the picture radiated her feelings of pride for you. It made you want to run out and smother her in affection.

Instead, you texted her back.

You

OMG you’re literally the sweetest Regina!!

I’ll be looking for you in the audience lol

Regina <3

I’m sitting in the very center, so hopefully I’m easy to spot

Especially with this giant ass bouquet

You laughed at the message and soon got a tap on your shoulder from one of your friends, telling you places were in five minutes.

You

I have to go, we’re gonna start soon

But I’ll be looking for you :)) 

You waited until you saw a response from Regina before putting your phone in your bag.

Regina <3

YOU’RE GONNA DO AMAZING

BREAK A LEG <3333

DON’T ACTUALLY BREAK A LEG THO

THAT’D BE BAD

I LOVE YOU!!!

Laughing at her stream of messages, you put your phone away and rushed out to your place. As much as you revel in the fact that you had a leading role, you were already waiting for the show to be over so you could see Regina.

***

If you had to choose one, the death scene was probably your favorite. It was dramatic, which was always fun, and you got to stab yourself with a retractable blade.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand?” You took the empty cup out of Romeo’s, whose real name was Jared, stiff hand, inspecting it. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” You dropped the cup in distress, wondering what to do. Then your eyes fell on Jared’s lips, and you had a revelation. “I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.”

You held his face gently in your hands and leaned down to kiss him. Every time you went through a kiss scene with Jared, you pretended it was Regina you were kissing. The passion seemed more authentic that way.

You pulled away, staring down at Jared.

“Thy lips are warm.” You said brokenheartedly. You were just barely too late. If only he had waited a while longer to drink the poison so you’d be awake to stop him.

“Lead, boy: which way?” You heard from offstage. 

“Yea, noise?” You looked toward the direction of the noise’s source in a panic. “Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”

You grabbed Romeo’s dagger and raised it to the audience. And that’s when you caught a glimpse of Regina. Despite the room being dark and her being far away, you could feel her excitement as she watched. You had to stop yourself from smiling.

“This is thy sheath,” You say before shoving the dagger into your heart. You gasp a little and look up. To the audience, you could’ve been looking up to the heavens in your last moments. But you were doing your best to stare into Regina’s eyes that were fixated on you. “There rust, and let me die.”

With that, you fell on top of Jared’s body, doing your best not to crush him as you ‘died.’

The scene continued from there, and you did your best not to move. Your back was killing you from the long show, but eventually, it ended. When you came out for bows, you heard a particularly loud cheer, and you didn’t have to guess who it was. It made you smile even more, so much that your cheeks started getting sore.

When the bows were over, and the cast and crew were finding their friends and family in the audience, you ran to Regina. It was a bit difficult weaving through the crowd, especially in your costume, but eventually, you reached the blonde, who had her arms opened wide and ready to catch you.

“You were amazing!” Regina all but shouted in your ear as she hugged you, squeezing you tightly. “Absolutely showstopping. One day, you’ll be a famous actress.”

“You think too highly of me, Regina.” You said with a giggle, and you were sure that your reddening cheeks were showing through your heavy stage makeup.

You grabbed your girlfriend’s face and kissed her. It was a million times better than pretending you were kissing her instead of Jared when you were on stage. Regina’s hands dropped to your hips, pulling you close against her. When you let out a little moan, you knew you should pull away before you felt like you couldn’t turn back.

“These are for you,” Regina said before biting her slightly swollen lip, giving you the giant bouquet she had gotten for you. One thing about Regina was that she was never cheap.

“I love them.” You smiled, giving her a few pecks.

“Anything for you, my little star.” The nickname made you giddy, made you feel like you were the only ones in this gigantic room. “Now how about you go change, we get some food, and then you sleep over at my house?”

“That sounds perfect.” You kissed Regina again; it was like you were addicted to her lips. “I should go now. If I kiss you anymore, I’ll probably never leave.”

“I definitely wouldn’t complain,” Regina smirked, but agreed that you should go change. She turned you around by the shoulders and gave you a quick pat on the butt to send you on your way, laughing at the way you squealed in surprise.

[meowsgirldrawing]

Obey Me! Brothers as Fathers

Kinda part of that Poly! AU I’ve talked about before. So this can be read as either that or separate. The kids are all original characters, but MC can be read as any gender in this. Remember- this is Devildom so any way of kids happening could go. Either surrogate, magic ways, or natural so literally, anybody can read this. (Male, Female, Gender Neutral, whatever you prefer is all Welcomed <;3)

Not my best work, but I like it enough to post it. So yeah...

Enjoy^^

AOT Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/46350262 

Masterlist- Link

Warnings?- Talks of violence (Satan’s), Use of the word Sl*t and derogatory terms/harrasment (Mammon’s) and that’s mostly it. Asmo calls someone a b*tch but thats basic Asmo at this point.

Lucifer--------------------- 

He feels the urge, the one he’s felt with his brothers for years. To sigh, to pitch his brow, an outward showism of his displeasure of the situation.

But he ignores it because he knows what reaction he’ll get from the little girl at his feet. She’ll curl up tighter, grip the plastic of her glasses tenser in those small hands of hers.

Practically achieve the exact opposite of what he wants.

He manages a silent sigh, joining her level in a kneel.

“Lillie..” The noirette head doesn’t budge much, if only, just to bury further. He doesn’t comment and instead runs a soothing palm across her back. Soothing out the creases along her small uniform. “What’s the matter? Do you no longer want to participate?”

The small crowd of parents in the auditorium is loud. If he were in his demon form, surely it would’ve been louder. Thankfully, this form allows him to hear his little one.

“....mnm…” Well. Barely.

“Darling, I can’t understand when your face is covered.” Gently so, when she picks it up, his fingers trail to cup her cheek. It’s damp. And continues to be so as new tears prick out and smear downward. His thumb rubs in little wipe-aways.

“..I dunno..I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” For a man known for such high power, his voice stays low.

“The stage..I don’t want to go up..” Her eyes dart to the theater doors in front of them then back.

“And why’s that?” A small part of him feels like it’s wavering on powerless and helpless as her bottom lip wobbles.

“Cause…Cause I-I don’t want to..to embarrass you.”

Stab. Twist.

His sigh spooks her but she keeps her chin high at him. She knows lowering it back down won’t help either.

“Darling, you can never embarrass me. At the very least not on stage.”

“I can’t?”

“Of course not.” Lucifer offers a smile, and brings his hand to her head, gently pulling out the tangles in small strokes. “You want to know why?”

Her brow furrows, seeming entirely confused. When she can’t think of anything, the same eyes as his spouse greets him again.

“Cause you’re my daughter. And what’s our family known for?”

“..Pride?”

“Exactly. I have never been un-prideful of you. And I never will be.” He takes her glasses, her grip falling without hesitation. Giving them a good cleanse from tears and dirt of the dangling coat on his shoulder, he pushes her long locks away, mindful of the pins, and slides her glasses slowly back.

Cheezy at best, and his spouse will be surely teasing him about it later, but it brings a smile to her face. One shy but growing.

He helps her up, patting off her patterned skirt and button up. And once she looks composed, his arm finds her violin. It was a few feet away, a hazard that thankfully didn’t come true.

“Now…Lillith..”The face of a suddenly new girl shines back at him as he turns around, violin stretched for her grasp. “Do you no longer want to participate?”

A similar gleam to the one of a certain human flickers as she takes it. “ I do.”

“Good.” He bends slightly, kissing the 7 year old’s forehead, “Then do me even prouder, my dear.”

Mammon--------------

A snort escapes him before he can even want to try and stop it. Why should he? This is comedy gold!

The other demon, one tight in some odd get up, is basically begging to get away from his fiery hellspawn.

A 15 year old girl. He’s pretty sure if she had better control of her power, she’d be using it to make that pale hair of hers turn into fire, really playing into the ‘You fucked up really damn bad” card.

Just like his little human back at home.

What brought this whole thing on?

Simple.

As the father-daughter duo just finished up a nice day of shopping, trying to look for a new outfit for her 16th next Friday, they decided to stroll pass on the lonely street on their laughter-filled walk home. Sweet Varya was just-a bubbling with excitement, her two shaded eyes brimming with possibilities. 16. Sixteen. The big teen! While Mammon was a tad solemn at the idea of her getting bigger, another year gone until the pending day she won’t need her dear old man anymore, he couldn’t help but share the excitement. His sole focus was her and not letting anything make her upset today.

And he was doing a remarkable streak!.....Until someone had to jump in and ruin it.

“Hey sl*t!”

Mammon’s head snapped, finding the demon leering from afar. His daughter rolled her eyes and tugged on his jacket, “C’mon pops.” She already heard enough of this at school. Just ignore ‘em and move on.

“Hey!” They’re quick, making it across the street, following in from several good meters behind them, “I’m talkin’ to ya, b*tch!”

Mammon wraps an arm around her, something he questions why he didn’t before. His glare is searing from under his hood. “She ain’t interested, pal.” He feels a wack on his arm.

The other demon just up and ignores him, “C’mon beautiful, ditch this f*cker already, yeah?”

It went similar to this for a good minute longer, the two trying to ignore their presence, even Mammon moving to stop and wanting to ape on their ass but Varya pulls him away, claiming he’s worth nothin’.

The demon, hearing this loud and clear, starts spitting insult after insult at Mammon.

Varya’s been very calm about this, praying to get home without dealing with a fight she knows her dad will win, up until the demon spats out his last insult.

“Scummy f*ckin’-”

Within mere seconds the demon was forced to the ground.

Aaaaaand here we are now.

“Who gives ya tha damn right to talk ta my father that way?!”

“Nani?!” The demon screeches.

She may not be facing him, but it’s little thought of her appearance.

Gold lacing her irises, maybe the same tipping into her snow hair that dangles past her upper torso, teeth bared and baby fangs out. Varya not fearing a ting of holding back. “My old man is someone yer very lucky thinks more than fights, cause if he were anyone else, you’d be more than sobbin’ on tha ground right now, ya soddin’ sot!”

‘Soddin’ sot?’ “Must’ve gotten it from Satan or Luci.” His mumbles don't reach either pair of ears. Huh..He should’ve  gotten some popcorn if he knew this was gonna happen. Okay, obviously he’s not happy with hearin’ his little girl get called derogatory shit, but her reaction now… by-his-previous-father get him a camera cause this is amazing.

Though all good things must come to an end…

His back pocket vibrates. As his daughter keeps backlashing obscenities in front of him, the demon forever continuing to cower under her wrath, Mammon hums a little tune while plucking the device up.

His arms adjust all the bags he grasps onto one arm, unlocking the screen, a nice photo of his sweet human and their hellraising daughter of course, and dragging up the messages.

My Treasure: Are you guys on the way yet? I got the noodles on the way.

His fingers go fast. He hears some added shuffling upfront.

Mams<3: Ya better believe it. Might take a sec tho. Yer daughter’s dealin’ with some shrub.

My Treasure: Get her to kick their ass later then, otherwise she’ll miss the food.

“Yo, darls. Yer mom’s/pop’s askin’ for ya. We gotta get home quick if we don’t wanna miss dinner.” He calls out, shoving back his phone.

“Yeah yeah..” Just when the mess on the ground thinks she’s finally done, tired of her torment as she spins on heel. She has little to no hesitation in proving him wrong. 

Twisting back around and slamming down a good, and I mean good, few inch heel right into the ground. 

Mere centimeters from their groin.

Mammon lets a low whistle ride at the sight of short cracks in the ground. Guess she does have good control.

The demon is whimpering, shaking from his very core as their pale face is stuck at the sight. Their eyes flick up, meeting that dangerous gold. “Try somethin’ like that again….”

“-And you’ll burn all their favorite toy collections?!” Howls Mammon.

“What?” Varya’s lips pull into a pout, “Not my fault I guessed right.”

“Oh yes! ‘Cause that just made it even fuckin’ better!” His laugh goes echoing down the street.

“What do you mean? ‘Even better’?”

Mammon keeps the voice the same, full of humor, “Just knowin’ how ya think of yer pops.” He says it so nonchalant too. “I’m glad yer startin’ ta think that now. Be a pain if ya didn’t.”

Varya’s smirk wipes away, a frown replacing it. She...wasn’t expecting that. 

“...Dad.”

His hand that was at the gate, ready to just push it and follow in, stills at her palm on his sleeve, “The hell ya talkin’ about?” Her head shakes as if she can’t believe her ears.

“That…that you don’t think I’m some scummy fucker?” He reiterates.

“I’ve never thought that of ya?.. It be stupid if I did.”

Mammon may or may not have cried in his spouse’s arms that night.

Leviathan-----------

He should web search:

Can human/demon hybrid children survive long times in water?

His phone is just casually placed on the sink a few feet behind him, wouldn’t take long.

Like 5…or 10…or 1 minute long.

……………..

How long does it take for a human to pass out again??

He doesn’t have a f-ing clue! Oh..how he wishes MC stayed longer, they’d know exactly what to do.

Pressing the towel against his tank top, bending into his knee, he ruffles up his TSL patterned night pants, dipping a leg into the water.

The tub was big enough to be considered a kiddie pool instead of a usual tub, but still just as deep. His son just had to convince him to use it for bathtime, and he also just had to convince him of how great it would be to add in lots of bubbles.

Yeah.. His hand tries to wats away some out of his path, very great…said no one but his son.

“Rhomb!” His whistle beats into the sizable bathroom, “Come out! Pappa can’t see you!”

You’d think the bubbles would keep out a child of Rhomb’s age from trying to diver under constantly, yeah? Well, thanks to Mc’s grand and lovely mind- seriously it was quite smart at the time-, they were able to get tear-free bath bubbles, as he did keep going under water.

In the few moment’s Levi’s ever had, he once again curses his more aquatic biology.

Keeping a tight grip on his rolled up pants- they may be rolled up, safely out of water, but you never know!- he carefully shuffles around the bath, eyes wide alert for any shifting waters.

He has to go slow, otherwise, he might end up with a snappy toddler and his aching tiny tail.

And that just be- wait..

Woh, there!

At one side of the tub, closer to the one with a mirror, a sliver of light purple slides up then back down again, quick as a whip.

Following the slight wave of the water, it’s suddenly more clear despite the constant bubble brigade, he can see Rhomb’s pattern.

Swim around the ring, stop at the mirror and turn clockwise or counterclockwise. Huh…

In rare moments, here and there, he can see that dark purple mop of hair on his head tease the surface, eyes hidden well. But not enough, Levi can see him watching him. A tilt of his son’s head through the wading waters and he’s off swimming again.

A shiver runs up his back.

It’s like a damn shark.

Oh come on, you stupid otaku! You’ve been the Admiral of Hell’s Navy for millenniums! You’ve fought in the Great Celestial War alongside your siblings, dealt with un-amountable and hellish enemies even after, are you really going to be afraid of a tiny, pipsqueak, guppy-looking-

Yes. Yes he is.

First rule of having a human/demon child, class-Fish-

Avoid the chompers.

But- The water sloshes against a higher part of his leg, the yelp-worthy cold shooting up his nerves, if not, more. He has to get his son out before the cold sets in and a grumpy toddler won’t be the worst of his problems.

With that and an affirming nod to himself, he braces a leg, summons up his tail for extra leverage and gets his game face on.

Funny, he should’ve really been paying more attention….he would’ve been able to see the glimpse of purple riding up behind him.

Time blip---^^^

MC returns home close to an hour later, tugging off their jacket and half-hazardly tossing the keys into the stationed bowl.

Their call echos in their lovely abode, yet goes unanswered.

When pausing at the kitchen doorway, it becomes clear as to why.

Set in one of the dining chairs is Levi, eyes tinged a bit red around the dark look he gives off. Hollow and defeated.

The poor papa flinches as their 3 year old’s teeth sinks further into the dark purple tail coiled around him and his blanket. Golden laced eyes leering up at Levi.

“...Should I ask..?”

Levi only mouths one word, ‘Help.’

Satan-----------

Libbey has kept her head down since being picked up.

The school called up her father, explaining her little incident with another student at lunch, claiming she violently attacked the poor other demon. Satan had no will to believe it until he saw the photos.

Before he made any real assumptions, he turned to her and asked her reasoning for this attack.

Now they’re driving, possibly home. She can handle a phone being taken away, most likely grounded from anything fun for the week suspension that’s been bestowed upon her, but she dreads the impending lecture.

Oh dear, would Lucifer join? Both in the same room? Giving her a lecture that could last her unknowing mortal/immortal life as they know it?

Where’s mamma/papa when you need them?

“We’re here.”

Gnawing her cheek, she bites back a groan as she lolls her eyes up.

She’s fully expecting to see the suspicious opening of their homey gates, maybe the rare glance of Cerberus minding the perimeter in his patrol, a sibling or two out and about making their chaos known to the world.

She doesn’t get that. Instead, she gets a nice and cozy looking cafe shop, a simple yet cottage core vibe sign planted on the front, with a giant, winking cartoon cat next to an equally cartoonish coffee treat. On the outside, there are various sets of outdoor furniture such as tables and chairs sat under colorful and patterned umbrellas.

“...Are we at a cat cafe?” Her lips are close to making her mumble as her eyes stray on the collared cats wandering around the windows.

“Yep” He pops the ‘p’, grabbing his wallet. “Come on.”

Libbey gapes at her father getting out. When her brain catches up, she’s already scrambling out of the car, calling out to him, “D-dad! But-but I got into a fight!”

“Yeah you did.” Satan’s going at a leisurely pace, eyes glimmering at the myriad of cats that await him.

“I fractured his wing!”

“Yep.”

“I gave him lacerations all over, even on his tail! That’s one of the most sensitive spots on a demon’s body!”

“Oh yeah..” His feet falter in their next step, then proceeds with as little as a thrown over the shoulder, “That’s correct.”

Libbey hands twitch for her hair, “He possibly has a concussion for what I did!”

“I would suspect so after getting tossed like a ragdoll at a wall.”

“DAD!” Her hand clings to his jacket, tugging him back, “Why are we here??”

“Why wouldn’t we?” He answers, adding in a suspicious tilt of the head, “You were only defending yourself.”

“But I-”

“Libbey, I need you to understand this.” His sleeve escapes but soon lands a hand on her shoulder, “You may have lost some control of your anger. It happens, but I know you know better too. I will never punish you for defending yourself, alright?”

His hand shifts, now behind her shoulder to start nudging. When she tries to object, still flabbergasted at his response, he’s quick to shut her possible words up with, “Now get inside so we can play with the cats.”

Asmodeus--------

Circle number 1,589

Circle number 1,590

Circle number 1,591

Circle number-

“We get it, Asmo! You’re worried! Now pipe it down and join our show or get out!!” Mammon practically hisses. He’s here to get away from his counting based job, not to do something entirely similar.

Asmo stops steamrolling in his 1,592nd circle behind the couch. Leviathan is too engrossed into the film to comment his own coequal tease. Truthfully, it would fall on deaf ears as Asmo doesn’t hesitate to roughly spin around, seething at the teeth.

“I’m more than worried! I’m fretting!!!” His fangs threaten blindly to a nonchalant Mammon. Said brother’s offer is an uninvolved eye roll, flicking back to the scene playing out on the flat screen.

Asmo’s chest lets out a great huff, marching right over and in front of Mammon, arms crossed.

A resounding moan shows his brother’s discontempt, edging his head left and right to try and see the screen. “Amso! Seriously?!”

“My sweet baby boy is out there with a possible witch-bitch, all alone without me or our darling, MC to back him up! Who knows how his…date..could have been raised?!” Hurriedly, his pacemarking starts right up again, this time doing odd circles around the couch, “They probably didn’t even bring him flowers!”

“Didn’t he do the flower thing?” Levi avoids Mammon’s swats and hisses. He scoots away from their kicking and whining older brother.

“YES! But that’s because I raised him to be the perfect gentleman!”

“And MC.” Mammon relents once.

“Yes- But who knows how that other child thinks??” His feet pause in their momentum for a preferable deride, “My baby must be miserable!”

“Why are you so worried about it anyway?” Mammon’s finger rubs at his ear before flicking, “The kid is 16, almost 17 now.”

“Besides, he’s literally half demon,” Levi swallows down, licking off chocolate, “After passing nearly every single test Lucifer and Satan have thrown at him about self defense, I think Quinn can handle himself.”

That has Asmodeus, the always extravagant diva, screeching to a halt. Ugh! Yes, he knows his son if more than capable to protect himself if need be. But- he’s talking about mentally. Emotionally.

Beel may be the one picked out as the most emotionally in-tuned brother, especially when it comes to the kids, but Asmo….Quinn is his diamond in the rough, one that he prides himself in protecting as his might lets him.

 Especially when it involves his own sin.

These two won’t get it… Asmo scorns a final look over his shoulder, before retreating from the living room.

Time Blipppppp

Quinn lets the door close behind him, locking it up before ringing and tossing his keys into the bowl of many,many personally designed keys plotted abutting the door.

His whistling follows him into the dubbed ‘Kids’ Kitchen. It’s just an extra kitchen made for the kids to keep Beel from raiding all the attendants in the household of food.

He pops open a cold pop, leaning into the island’s top whilst thumbing through his phone.

Quinn lets slip a muffled chuckle at the photos he and the-honest-to-the-all-not-mighty cute witch he’s been able to treat tonight. Such a shy one too, hiding behind his arm in between getting jumpscared by a raunchy horror attraction after the next.

In face of horror, they continued to give him a bright smile in the midst of their excited hopping, so he’s confident they enjoyed it just the same. He’ll make sure to bring them to a more relaxed type of date next time however.

The silence that is 2 AM gets barged open by an Asmodeus sized battering ram.

Frantic footsteps, that are the only ones Quinn can detect but not ready for, fly for the kitchen entrance. Asmo darts around it’s corner, and immediately throws arms around Quinn.

“QUINN!”

The teen stumbles back, smacking his pop down to keep from spilling. His free arm clutches his dad’s robe, begging for steadiness. “ Dad?! ”

Asmodeus pops up and his hands flag to Quinn’s face, “Are you ok? How was the date??”

Although the dramatic behavior from Asmodeus wouldn’t be new to him, it’s late . Asmo’s usually in bed by now, clinging to his routine like a lifeline if no plans are made previously. All for the sake of his precious skin.

Quinn blinks once then twice, “Uh..Great?”

Asmo gasps as if he’s found out the worst news, “That’s a question! I knew it!” He nearly breathes out fire, hands planting at Quinn’s shoulders, “I promise you, you can tell me what happened! I will never judge you, my darling. No matter what it is!”

But..he thought he already told him what happened technically? He and his date had a night all year around Haunted Circus. They never changed plans. Even if they did so, Quinn promised to let them know in case they needed to know location wise.

Resting his own hands on top of Asmo’s, his voice turns odd, “..We went to the Haunted Circus like I told you we would, ate ice cream, and some popcorn. Y’know, the usual?” At his father’s crossed features, he adds, “We never changed location. I would’ve told ya if we did, pops.”

It takes a moment of silence between them. Then silk pink shoulders drop, “That’s it?”

Quinn nods, brow still raised.

Suddenly it’s like he never panicked, never cried. His mood completely flips like a coin, all preppy and piper once again. He releases a long sigh of relief, and shines a smile.

Quinn gets pulled into a hug, arms tight around his shoulders, “Thank goodness!~ I was working up an icky sweat there for a second! I’m glad you had a good time, baby!” He pulls back for a second, eyes flashing in gold mixed with high pinks, “Right?~”

For the sake of everyone, including himself, Quinn just nods. Only for his deadpan face to turn into a soft smirk when getting yanked into a new hug.

Eyes roll with no real meaning as he circles his arms right back, patting his Dad’s upper back. “Pops.”

“Hm?” Asmo hums into his shoulder, fiddling with his jacket.

“They’re ace.”

His body stills, waiting a beat or two, then relaxes, “Oh.”

Quinn can’t help his chuckle, squeezing Asmo once, “I’m good. Promise.”

Asmodeus sighs again, this time it’s heavy and as if he’s just released all his worries at once, “I know…I just-” His body sags, leaning tighter on Quinn.

“I know, pops. I know.”

“I love you.” He whispers. Part of him hasn’t a clue why. Another definitely does.

Quinn copies, grinning into his shoulder, “I love you too, Dad.”

Beelzebub-------

She’s so tiny.

Is tiny ok?

He expected her to be big, considered at least a bit above average for humans. Not only for her demon blood, but for his, the father’s, size. He gets compared to Diavolo himself a lot, and even without those teases, he knows he’s a big guy.

Yet…

She came out so little.

6 pounds, 8.5 ounces. MC said that’s considered a little below average.

Fingers, so frail and so gentle, touch the hand that hovers near her.

Beel gulps, glancing to his side. Belphie leans on his cow pillow, watching the interaction with a soft look, lidded eyes. The same colored eyes match in gaze.

He decided to stick to Beel as MC rested, planting himself down and staying silent besides small sighs of usual sleepiness here and there.

It’s like he could tell his nerves spiked up at the single thought of being alone with the newborn. Like he couldn’t trust himself enough, silently hoping for MC or Belphie, or any of his other brothers who were hanging out in the room next over.

“You’re fine.” Belphie mutters. His hand lays by his coddling arm.

“She’s small.” Beel whispers. The shock hasn’t made an inch of moving yet.

“I know,” His lip quirks, “Ironic, huh?”

“She might have my eating habits.”

A snort comes at the word ‘habits’ before Belphie starts silently chuckling, not wanting to wake the sleepy girl. “The only thing Lucifer might hate.”

“She can stay tiny.”

“Maybe, some of them human kids do turn chunky quick.”

“She might be more human.”

The thought came to mind more after she was born. Before, it was different, if was like ‘Oh, she’s going to have human blood’ and that was it.

No, now .  Now it’s different.

Now it hit- stabbed- slapped him square in the face, just as much as her squishy image did when she was passed over to him so gently-like. All bundled up, curled in a small, whimpering ball of proof of his love for MC. A love that has taken hold of him and molded, no, extended vastly over the same little baby in his arms.

He’s not a poet by any means. Sure, he acknowledges his soft persona towards his loved ones, but never been a poet or writer. But, he could have sworn the moment reminded him so much of those books Satan or Lucifer have read aloud sometimes.

It stunned him just as much as it scared him.

“Yeah.” His twin offers up a shrug, leaning back, “That’s what happens when a human and demon have a kid.”

“She’ll be more vulnerable.” Beel feels a frown come on, staring down at the swaddled infant. He’s seen the other side of vulnerability. It’s scary, suffocating, you feel as if you can’t escape from its clutches no matter how hard you try. It’s even worse if a monster is the one…

He swallows, facing morphing into a faint grimace, if a monster is the one eating you.

Second nature takes over, Belphie’s hand swaying up to touch his blanketed arm. “Beel.”

The ginger doesn’t move his head an inch, but his eyes glance back up. Belphie’s soft look is gone, but it lingers, only just barely. His brother needs to understand.

“She’s not going to get hurt.” Belphie’s finger lifts, pointing at a sleeping MC, “For one, she’s got a kick-ass parent 1 over there, who’s been through hell and back with us, literally, to the point that people would have to kill them to get to her. And even then, gotta deal with their return.” And with a grin like he’s used to this joke by now, “I should know, honestly.”

Before Beel can lecture him, Belphie side swipes his comment and continues, waving a hand to the door, “ 2nd, she’s got a whole squad of demon family members who’d stop at nothing to keep her safe, myself included.”

Beel watches his direction turn to him; he damps down the urge to squeeze his arms barely a centimeter, “3rd, she’s not only got more demons- including the King himself and his lame-ass butler, but a magical weirdo human, an angel and his dog. Plus-” Belphie smirks, a mix between soft and smug, as he waves towards Beel,

“She’s got one of the most soft-hearted, yet most unyieldingly protective Dad in all three realms, who’d I know already will succeed anytime someone so much as dares to breathe wrong in her direction.” With that, he crosses his arms and flops back in the chair. “She’s going to be fine, Beel. Everyone knows it, including you .”

Beel stares at him a second, processing everything. Thoughts swirl in his head, many wanting to disagree with Belphie, new ones ready to snap at those, and others that keep going back and forth between both groups.

Belphie doesn’t comment on his face, but Beel soon notices the eye widening and lip quirking.

He’s staring at his Frankie.

As soon as he joins, he gets why he can’t stop.

She’s looking up at him. Fingers gracing the pink and white blanket edge, gripping just a little in small fists before letting go; her mouth stays slightly open, as if vaguely gaping at the giant infront of her. Her hints of ginger hair peek through the blanket as she tilts her head faintly.

But the thing that has both twins stopping in their tracks,

The purple eyes. Tinged with the classical match of poppy red closer to the edge, they practically beam up, focused solely on him. For eons, the only other person the twin’s have known to have those eyes were each other. It was just about the only thing they had in common beside their brotherly love for each other and the people around them. Everything else had been different one way or another, from colors, to activities, to hobbies, to who they were as people.

Now someone else shared their eyes.

Beel feels his throat tighten for once. MC had been able to make him feel full for the first time when they met, a feeling that could barely ever change even if Beel himself tried to make it so. It seems that has extended too.

They hardly change effect as she suddenly grins, all gummy and squishy cheeks.

When her hand flies up, reaching for him, a shaky hand covers it.

He will protect her , Belphie’s hand pats his shoulder, a half chuckle/half covered sniffle meeting his ears, he promises.

Belphegor--------

“Papa” Patting at his cheek. More patting joins at his arm.

“Popi!” A whine at his right, echos that is the growl of, “Papa!” at his left.

Belphegor mutters a curse in the blessed Devildom tongue, shifting and flopping into a comfortable position. Away from his kids.

Behind him is a huff, Ryder hissing out, “Papa!”

“Papa is sleeping.” Waves off Belphie, tucking his arm back under his classic cow pillow. Too hyper for him. If the two didn’t look like him, both having a relatively noticeable amount of faded indigo hair, he’d think they’d be Mammon’s kids instead.

The noise dies down for a limited moment or two before two small bodies find themselves on him, one tugging at his arm while the other trying to annoy him by being as limp as possible.

“Paaaa!” River whines. Belphie’s eye twitches. His tail lifts, and goes on pushing at them. Shoo shoo. A drastically tinier tail swats back at it. Probably Ryder, he tends to keep his tail out more.

“Whaaaaat?” Belphie mocks dramatically in return.

Ryder, able to get the tail back enough, “We have a question!” the tail flicks and bops forward,  meeting his face. Sputtering, he fights it back, growling about ‘weirdo dad’. A smirk crawls on Belphie’s face. Ryder wacks the limb away again, glaring at his annoyance of a dad the whole time.

“What.”

It’s only now they pause in their annoying ways. The twins have a moment of looking at each other, sharing a silent conversation. Ryder looks insistent, small brows down in a frown. At the same time, River doesn’t glance around, but tilts their head with a pouty lip.

Belphie’s ready to close his eyes and sleep again. A hand pats his face. “Papa”

Lifting his hand, he covers their face right back. “River.”

Ryder does the talking, “ How are babies made?”

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

His blankets dip further down as he rolls away, covering the back of his head with the giant pillow he’s always dragged around with him for major eons. “Go ask Mammon.”

Ryder’s huff flips with crossed arms, “ He said to ask you.”

“Yeah!” River’s tail swishes as he relaxes on the bed, belly flop style.

“Go ask Lucifer then.”

“He’s out with Uncle Diavolo.”

“King Diavolo!” Corrects River. But Ryder’s only response is, “Shut up.”

Belphie lifts the pillow for one second, flapping his tail at Ryder, “Don’t tell your brother to shut up.” A second later, he’s turning to River, “But don’t call him that.”

Again, with the small pout, but they sigh and nod. Although, it’s plainly clear it’s as reluctant as his morning schedule.

They seriously need to stop hanging so much with Lucifer. Loves his older brother, seriously, but he doesn’t need at least one of his kids mimicking him now.

It’s like a nightmare come true.

“Satan.”

“He started going on a lecture that we were too young to hear about it but-”

“Ryder asked him if that made him Lucifer’s kid.” Belphie snorts at River’s pointed finger. Ryder smacks it down without looking at him.

“We were kicked out of his room.”

Belphie’s face says it all. He’s amused. Not surprised. Maybe a tad impressed with their unconcerned attitudes about it. His kids are just as mischievous as him, quote unquote from MC themselves.

Poor Satan though, his co-CEO of Anti-Lucifer club.

Such shame.

Anyway-

“Asmode-” Belphie actually gives a good brain cell a turn there, then backtracks, shaking his head. Horror fills his mind at what Asmo could say, “Actually, don’t ever ask Asmodeus. I will catch you both if you do.”

His oldest twin scrunches his nose, the younger one sticks out his tongue and mocks a gag, “You think we’re stupid?” Ryder gapes.

“You think?” River echoes.

“How about Beel?” As weird as it is, Beel might know how to explain it the right way. And to kids nonetheless? Hell, he’d probably use the most oddly ‘child friendly’ way of explaining ‘it’ to a child.

“Out with Momma/Dad.” Both this time. River plays pattycake with the bed, patting his hands in a rhythmic motion.

Damn it. That means MC is off the list too. Ughhhhhh.

His head flies back under the pillow, “Then no.”

There’s a short growl before sudden weight falls on him. He groans, huffing into his pillow while River giggles out a call of their brother’s name then joins in at Belphie’s side.

“Tell us!” A proud demand from the hybrid on his back. Hands gripped into his hoodie, tugging and yanking with all his might. Belphie’s body did shift slightly, not enough however. “You don’t wanna know, kid.”

River half growls, “Yes we do!”

“Nah, kid. Seriously-” The two lock eyes. Their dad looks almost entirely serious for once. “You don’t.” There's been a handful of times their dad has looked serious, and for him to look close to it. They’re inclined to believe him.

They turn, opening their mouth to stop Ryder when he stumbles, somehow on someone’s back, and starts falling. A yelp escapes his lips, sliding as quick as lightning off their dad’s back and off the side of the bed.

Now the bed isn’t big. He’d probably get the most, a biggish bruise if he fell too hard.

Still, Belphie’s tail flies out, grabbing his son by the waist, and yanking him back to safety, back to him. Flipping back on his side, gently pushing River away a fair amount, he opens his arms and lets his tail drop the kid like an old fashioned airdrop.

Ryder would grunt at impact, if he wasn’t already swaddled by an unexpected hug by Belphie.

Wait,

 did I say hug? 

I meant trap.

 The arms around him are tough to beat, caging him in like a rat in a snake coil. As he squirms and snarls, desperate to get free, Belphie’s head plays with his hair, “Oh my sweet son. Oh my sweet boy.”

“DAAD!!”  

“SOOOO soso beautiful!”

“I’M A BOY!”

“You saying a boy can’t be beautiful?” He tsks, “Asmodeus is gonna be heartbroken.”

At first, River is laughing, been giggling at the sight since they saw Ryder safe. When eyes turn on them however, they’re immediately bolting.

Again the tail. Again the kid falling.

The twins are as different as the ying yang symbol. One is fighting for freedom, growling and hissing kiddie curses at Belphie; the other is giggling away and acting like they’re the same, but they’re really just snuggling in deeper and clutching onto Belphie’s left arm.

Noisy kids.  

Belphie smirks as he lets out another tease, furthering Ryder’s temper, his kids.

Heres the kids if people are interested- I will post more about them soon, so look out!

[franciswasteland]

TECH!LEO VALDEZ X THEATER KID!READER

MASTERLIST

Summary: You land the role of Veronica Sawyer in a musical your high school is putting on, and your tech boyfriend tries to be supportive and reassure you when you need it.

Warnings: Highschool!au, Mortal!au,already dating fic, Beware spelling errors, im lowkey dyslexic. I DONT KNOW HOW TO END FICS….

Authors Notes: HIII GUYS IM ACTUALLY REALLY EXCITED TO WRITE THIS I LOVE LEO SO MUCH. ALSO THIS IS PARTLY FOR SOME DISCORD FRIENDS !! Possibly not canon written Leo 😭🙏

You were in the drama/theater club at your high school, often appearing as the leading or supporting roles in musicals your school would put on in the auditorium. It was amazing, both fun and something you were good at! But what made it even better was one of the tech kids, Leo Valdez—Who was your boyfriend!

A few weeks ago, you scored one of the lead roles—Veronica Sawyer—in a musical your school was putting on called ‘Heathers’. But, there was a rather… intimate scene with another character, Veronica’s love interest, in the show during the song ‘Dead Girl Walking’, and Leo tried to tolerate it and support you the best he could, but it was getting a little unbearable for him.

“Baby…” Leo whined as you ranted to him about your role in the musical, even though you should have been practicing your lines. “Shouldn’t you be, uh, practicing or something?” He didn't want to send you away like that, but he could go on hearing you talk about that scene.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. I’ll go practice my lines. Thanks for the reminder. Love you, bye!” You say apologetically, kissing his cheek quickly (If any teacher or adult at the school saw you do that you’d probably get detention.) and running out from backstage where you were talking to Leo as he worked on… Whatever he does.

It was a few hours from the first showing of the show as your high school was doing a morning and afternoon show. You were backstage getting ready, changing into costume, and makeup, making sure you had your lines completely memorized and you could hit each note in the songs—Which you could. Expect you couldn’t help but be a bit worried about this. Sure, you had played so many roles before throughout the years you’ve been in high school, but you were worried about little things, a lot of little things which slowly added up to become one big thing for you to worry about—Making sure you’d sing the school appropriate version of the lyrics, making sure you wouldn’t blank on stage (How embarrassing would that be?!), making sure you were perfect.

Then you got an idea.

There was one person that you knew for sure thought you were perfect. Your boyfriend, Leo! Of course, you’d be able to get reassurance from him! So naturally you ran—Not too fast though, you couldn’t ruin your costume—off from where you were sat to find him.

It didn’t take you long to find Leo, he was exactly where you had expected him to be after all. “Leo!” You called out as you walked up to him, placing one of your hands on his arm so he would turn around to face you. And he in fact did turn around and face you like you had suspected he would.

“What is it?” He asked, sounding confused. He thought you would be getting ready for the musical, not running up to him for a chat. “Did ya miss me that bad you had to stop getting ready to come find me?” He added with a short chuckle, gaining a smile.

“Nono,—Well yes, but that’s not why I came to find you.” You replied, worry practically seeping through your words the more you spoke. Leo noticed almost immediately.

Your hand was still on his arm, Leo put his hand on top of yours. “Wow, I’m hurt.” He teased. “Well then, what is it? Whatcha need?” That was one of the things you loved about Leo; he always seemed to know when you were worried or upset about something, even if he didn’t know how to comfort you.

“I dunno, I guess I’m just nervous about this. I’m scared of messing up on stage.” You admit to him, and Leo seems to immediately understand what you mean. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You’ll do great, trust me.”

Then, when you were finally getting that reassurance from your boyfriend, it was about roughly 15-to-20 minutes until curtain—Until you would be on stage. Oh, brother.

You were feeling a little more better as you rushed back to the backstage area of the auditorium, Leo’s words ringing in your ears. The backstage was suddenly not as easy to navigate as it was before you ran off to find your boyfriend. People—Either in the show themselves or apart of tech like Leo—Were running around, trying to make sure the preparations were all set and everything was ready for the first showing of the musical.

Then you got told by one of the tech team members to get in your place on stage.

After about 2 and a half hours, the morning show of your high schools performance of ‘Heathers The Musical’ was over. You bowed before the audience, sweating, your throat sore and hurting from singing for almost 2 hours straight. At this point, all you could think of was the bottle of water that was waiting for you by your bag backstage.

As soon as the curtain closed, you ran off stage to where you had set your bag in desire of the bottle of water you had gotten before hand. And there it was waiting for you, along with Leo, your boyfriend.

“See? What did I tell you? You did amazing, just like I said you would.” Leo said, wrapping one of his arms around you, seemingly not minding the fact that you were practically covered in sweat.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” You groan in reply. “Just lemme grab my water before you start praising me.” You let out a dry laugh, —Dry to the fact that your throat was now killing you. You reached out your hand for your bottle of water, but Leo grabbed it before you could. You thought he would hold on to it tightly and reach his hand up high, making you reach even farther for it, but he didn’t. Instead, he opened it for you and handed it to you, seemingly recognizing how tired you were after performances.

“You look tired,” Leo mused, knowing exactly where this was going to go. After most shows and performances, you would be tired and feel miserable. So miserable and tired that you would just crash in his arms. “Come here..” He said, opening his arms for you to fall into. You quickly leaned your whole body against him, leaning into his arms.

“Thank you,”

[a-lilypad]

@jegulus-microfic | april 5: slap | 1.3k words

a little theater rivals to lovers au where reg and james are double casted to the same role and james rips the only costume they have the day of regulus' opening night (cw: slight violence)

big big smooch to @ecstarry for the idea ily <3

A loud ripping sound echoed through the auditorium, causing everyone to immediately stop what they were doing, despite being in the middle of a scene. Even in the shadowed wings, Regulus’ expression was very visible and did not bode well for the rest of the cast. 

Or more specifically, for James Potter. 

Regulus’ jaw had dropped slightly, leaving his mouth agape, and a look of complete disbelief in his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he seemed to come back to himself, shock morphing into an intense red-hot rage. It ran through his veins, replacing his blood, burning through everything in its path and was radiating from him in waves. 

Creating pure destruction and leaving only anger clouding Regulus’ mind, shown by the hardening of his eyes and clenching of his fists. 

He felt his nails dig into the soft flesh of his palm, nearly piercing the skin but instead forming harsh pink dents. Though they’d be nearly impossible to see through the already purpling bruises there.

Maybe Sirius was right and he needed to find better coping mechanisms… he could unpack that at a different time.  

At that moment he had more important things to deal with, such as James Potter, his theatre rival of three years, ripping the only costume they had the morning of their performance opening. 

“I can not fucking believe you, Potter!”

He started towards the horror-struck boy, stomping across the stage, and swung his arm with as much force as he could garner. The sound of the slap masked horrified gaps from the cast members on stage, but couldn’t hide the way Potter’s head flew to the side. 

Huh. Maybe Regulus was stronger than he thought. 

As Potter stared at him with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, (because, while he knew Potter wasn’t the sanest of people, there was no way he was crazy enough to be looking at the person who’d just slapped him hard enough to knock him back a few steps with awe) Regulus shook out his hand with a wince. That had fucking hurt. 

“REGULUS!” his Drama teacher, Mr Slughorn, shouted. He had an annoying nasally voice that went right through him, he genuinely hated the man but he usually loved acting enough to let it slide. This was not one of those moments. 

“Wha-why-you” he rambled, hands frantically waving around “Why on Earth would you slap Mr Potter?” 

“He just ripped my fucking costume! We don’t have another, what was I meant to do? I can’t go on stage naked,” Regulus complained. 

He knew it was a bad idea the minute Slughorn had suggested Potter run through a final dress rehearsal. He was B cast! It was A cast’s night which meant it was Regulus’ night. 

Potter was looking at him strangely, his brows were furrowed slightly, almost as if he too was confused. He was staring at him with both reverence and irritation. Then in a split second, the irritation took over and he came out of his stupor. 

“You could have maybe, I don’t know, not fucking hit me?” he snapped, “it’s not like I did it on purpose!” 

Regulus scoffed, “You definitely did!” and stepped even closer to Potter, pointing his finger at him and pushing it into his chest, “You’ve been praying for my downfall since the second you saw me beat you, just admit it, I am better.” 

“ENOUGH!” bellowed Slughorn, Regulus had completely forgotten he was there, in fact, he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room with them. That was weird. “Both of you are to go to the supply closet and find something else for Mr Black to wear tonight, we’ll have something somewhere.” 

Huffing and sending Potter a death glare, Regulus swiftly turned around and stormed off stage, hearing Potter’s footsteps behind him as confirmation he was being followed. 

Great. This was exactly what he needed. Alone time with James Fucking Potter. He hated him. He had since the first time Regulus auditioned for a school musical in year 8. 

He remembered being so scared, he was shaking and praying he wouldn’t vomit up his organs, then Potter flounced in, all big hair and a cocky smile. He barely even spared Regulus a look before announcing to the other people in the room that Regulus would never get the part and he’d be stuck playing a tree in the background. 

He was right of course, Regulus had been so nervous he’d fucked his audition completely and had ended up not even having a single line. 

Potter got the lead. 

He vowed that day to never let Potter beat him to a role again, and so far he hadn’t, managing to get the male lead in every performance since. 

Ranting under his breath, Regulus continued listening to Potter’s footsteps, praying that he’d trip over something and fall flat on his face. Sadly, that did not happen and they both arrived at the storage closet unharmed.

Well, except for Potter’s face, a bright red mark was blossoming across his cheek. In his room, Regulus had a shelf of little trophies and awards he’d earned, but this was the most valuable. He wanted to take a picture of it and display it like a tapestry. He’d wanted to knock the crooked smile of his face for years now.

“What the fuck are you smiling about, this is your fault” Potter snapped, reaching forward to push the door open, having to bang it a bit, it had been given to the drama department after the lock had broken leaving it so that you can only open it from the outside.

“My fault?!” Regulus seethed, anger rearing up again as he followed Potter into the closet, “I’m sorry, did I rip the costume? Because, now forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that was you!”

“I’ve said already it was an accident, god you’re insane”

“I’m insane? Are you fucking joking? I’ll show you insane” Regulus snapped stepping into Potter’s space.

The door slammed behind them and a loud click told them it had locked. 

Well fuck.

Potter stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. Curling over, wiping away tears, booming laughter, while Regulus wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

“What by locking us in a confined space together? Great plan Reggie” he choked out, still cackling.

Regulus ran a hand through his hair, messing up the precise curls. “Don’t call me that!” then turned to start pulling at the door, desperate to set them free, but no matter how hard he pulled at the handle it wouldn’t budge.

“Stop laughing at me” Regulus mumbled, hitting his head against the door and groaning, the situation was embarrassing enough without Potter taking the piss.

The laughing trailed off suddenly and Regulus cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, not expecting to actually be listened to. Potter was gawking at him, eyes sparkling, his jaw dropped slightly. 

Narrowing his eyes, Regulus met his gaze, “What?” he sneered.

Potter slowly moved towards him and tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear, his face fell from anger to confusion and Regulus was holding his breath. He wasn’t sure why. It felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Their eyes locked and the world around them disappeared.

Then they were kissing, lips meeting bruisingly, and Regulus didn’t know who had moved first. It was desperate and hungry, tongues exploring each other's mouths and breathy gasps being shared between them. Potter’s hands threaded through his hair and pulled, causing his lips to part around a guttural moan.

He grabbed Potter by the shoulders and shoved him slightly, leaving about an inch between their faces, “This means nothing, I still fucking hate you” he mumbled into Potter’s mouth then he grabbed his face and pulled him in again and proceeded to practically eat him alive.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

What about a Dreamwalker AU, where Reader is somehow stuck in dreams, and that is how they interact with the X-Men?

Reader perhaps has an enchanted or cursed item that keeps their body from waking up wherever it is, but they can interact with the X-Men in their own world. And Reader has run into them quite a lot, enough that Reader can anticipate where they'll find certain ones at certain places, and where to go and where to hide, or even a few ways to outwit the younger ones.

Reader isn't sure why they end up in these odd places, or why they always walk alone, or why they frequent certain areas more than others. They aren't aren't sure when they get there, just suddenly coming to, and finding themself in a new place, and have to try and explore where they are...

They narrow where they go down to about five areas:

• The Art and Museum Area, where the outer area is full of tall, well-sparsed trees and several ponds and small hills, then the buildings, with grand marble columns and one area that seems to be a museum with art and and nature exhibits, a workshop and craft area, a place for theater, and large rooms that seem to be full of mirrors and paintings and windows...

• The Old Lodge and Mansion, where there's there's old, large wooden house, varnished and polished, with many aquariums and wooden furniture and plush rugs and stony walkways and inlaid paths, winding steps leading up to it, the various tall pime trees and other conifers that surround it, and the streams and waterfall, trickling with fish, amd somw that that fill built-in aquariums... but it's seemingly cut-off from the world...

• The Odd School and Library, with various buildings, fields, halls, and books, full of art and classrooms and an auditorium and lunchrooms, and even tucked-away rooms and odd halls that seem creepy at best...

• The City and Its Shops, full of all kinds of places and streets and long winding ramps and roadtrips, ranging from a large, hive-like mall full of all sorts of stores, the older worn buildings for groceries and general stores, the fast food and restaurants and bars, the tight streets and the old steep park and the offices and occasional dollar store or thrift place...

• And the Woods, far from the city and the school and the other places, where there are safer trails with calmer paths to take... and then the wilder ones that follow rivers and over look ridges and cliffs, that flood when it rains and where vines and trees dangle within reach, and where you can see the animals and the sand and dirt and the mud amd the water...

Reader doesn't know why they like they end up there, or why they see these odd people, they just know they do, and that sometimes, Reader runs. They'd didn't, not in the beginning. But they do now, after encountering them enough times to know they're trying to make Reader stay, to listen to them, to be with them, and Reader just- they can't. They don't know why... but they can't. (It doesn't help that sometimes those odd people would chase after them, or try to sneak up on them, or try to shoot them with a dart or pin them so they couldn't escape. But Reader always seem.to eacape. They don't know how, but they do.)

(Dreamwalkinh isn't Reader's mutation, that's caused by something else, but what do y'all think Reader's mutation could or should or would be?)

[faruna]

Hello! I’m back with more furifaru!

Modern AU where they are teachers at the same school:

info under the cut:

So Furina used to be this big, French actress who sacrificed every ounce of herself for her career but was caught in some sort of scandal and fell from grace. She finds that teaching is a healthier way to pursue her passion for the stage and that she feels content now that she has more agency over her life. (The one thing I really like about Furina’s story quest is how skillfully she guides the theater troupe, it gives the impression that she’d be a very insightful and caring teacher.) Some people still have mixed feelings about her but the students who take her class are pleasantly surprised by how approachable she is in person. Every musical she directs is so ridiculously over the top for a school production, and yet they pull it off brilliantly every time so the tickets always sell out immediately.

I could see Faruzan teaching Geometry and maybe one Archeology class that she had to fight the school board to have. She used to do fieldwork as an archeologist but at one point she got lost in a system of caves and though she was eventually saved it took a while for her to physically recover. Her lectures are dense sometimes but she has some very exciting stories to tell. She has that same grandmotherly attitude but she’s a young teacher who accomplished a lot and she really just wants to be respected as such. The curriculum is a bit daunting but if you participate in class she’ll give you a candy.

Faruzan’s classroom is close to the auditorium and at first she’s irritated by all the noise down the hall and has definitely marched into Furina’s class to complain but over time she develops a fondness for the theater professor next door. (Furina is immediately smitten and all her students can tell. They joke about it relentlessly and applaud when she finally manages to ask Madam Faruzan out on a date)

Hopefully I’ll have time to draw more of them later.

Thank you for reading!

[akechi-if-he-slayed]

p5 hs au where they’re mostly all musical theater losers except one day transfer delinquent akira decides to try out for the winter musical and gets the lead male role despite having absolutely no vocal and or acting experience at all and akechi—dedicated to his craft nerd, semi-spotlight hoarder—is infuriated at this, even more so that he was chosen to be this delinquent’s understudy despite readily earning all other male leads prior. to make matters worse akira seems to genuinely want his friendship and everyone else in the department adores him so akechi has to be cordial and their relationship slowly progresses from akechi laying in bed at night weighing the merits of poisoning akira right before opening night to him begrudgingly agreeing to help run lines in the goddamn attic of his uncle’s cafe that was supposedly his residence for the whole delinquent-expulsion thing he’d wedged himself into to him kind-of-sort-of-maybe enjoying his company outside of rehearsal more—platonically, obviously, no really, because goro didn’t even swing that way to begin with, just because he was a broadway geek didn’t make him gay, alright—he’d expected (sumire teases him about this relentlessly and it almost makes him want to pull a poisoning stunt on her instead. but then who would be the show’s leading lady?). and of course, the musical opens without a hitch, and goro sneaks into the audience for act I and wonders why he ever doubted kawakami’s casting in the first place, because akira’s voice is strong and melodic and echoes—yes, it fucking echoes throughout the cheap auditorium, mic and all—and there’s the slightest hint of perspiration upon his brow and goro can see the sheen of the makeup he’d applied to the former’s face long before the show had began, and, in any and all ways, he is the perfect prince eric to sumire’s ariel, and if there’s a something in his chest every time akira sings or acts or dances and absolutely enraptures the audience with his stupidly magnetic everything, goro chalks it up to the magic of theater. intermission arrives much too soon, and he sneaks backstage to revitalize the cast for a stellar act II, and suddenly akira is dragging him to a secluded dressing room, eyes wide and frantic and he tells him that he can’t do this, he’s not an actor, he’s not a singer, and he is certainly not a prince eric and at the end of all this rambling he tells goro that he has to go out there in the next act in his stead because god knows that he was more deserving of the role than akira himself ever was and he’s probably just making a huge fool out of himself and their entire department out on stage and sumire deserves a fellow lead who has far more experience and talent that he could ever provide—and then, there are lips on his. it’s quick and chaste because it is intermission after all, and they’re on a time crunch, but goro knocks their foreheads together, not caring in the slightest about tarnishing akira’s makeup, and they breathe in each other’s being, and, well, akira’s been wanting that kiss for far longer—the first time he saw goro—than he’s willing to admit, and when the former tells him to get it the fuck together because he’s killing it out there and also the crowd would probably beat akechi with hammers if he replaced him because, yes, akira’s performance had been so astonishing and riveting even only one act down so far, he laughs softly, helplessly perhaps, and then he nods, trying desperately not to cry because he doesn’t think he has the time to fix his makeup any more extensively than he already will have to in the next few minutes.

so akechi send akira back on stage to finish the musical, and he watches from the audience once more as the chemistry between the two leads, as well as just about everything akira does, enraptures the whole audience, and their performance concludes with deafening applause. they nearly collide with one another, both desperate to reach the other post-performance, and he hugs akira so tightly and laughs and cheers so loudly that it’s drawing slight attention, not that akechi would ever care about what anyone thinks anyways, and he certainly displays his lack of care for passerby-confusion when he’s pulling akira into a kiss so deep, so desperately-desired by both for so long that they’re lost in each other completely, so lost that they don’t hear sumire’s light, amused gasp or the click of ann’s polaroid, because why would they break a moment they both want to stay in forever? and akechi thinks to himself, maybe he could get used to this guy stealing his roles if it meant he gets to occasionally wake up in the attic above a homely little cafe with a cat purring next to him and grey eyes staring forever into his.

[nhularin]

FAVORITE CRIME

PAIRING theater kid! sunoo x theater kid! reader GENRE highschool AU, theater partner to friends to strangers, angst no comfort WARNINGS insecurities, this is probably the worst fic ive ever written im sorry, barely proofread WC 1.3k series masterlist

January 25th, 2008

D-29

"set, action!"

" i am afraid" you whispered loudly enough, face mirroring that of your character.

"it's i am NOT afraid, not im afraid. IN POSITION!" the obnoxious voice of Kim Gyuvin echoed through the empty theater hall

as the bright stage lights illuminated the auditorium, the air buzzed with anticipation and exhaustion. It was the third rehearsal of your schools rendition of "highschool musical," and the leads, sunoo as troy (which was a strange combination if you had to admit) and you, although a complete newbie in acting, as gabriella. it was not long till your work of art was about to take the stage.

you looked at your partner, eyes filled with guilt as you sighed "im sorry, not my day" he only laughed and gave you a sympathetic smile "its okay, gyuvin is just being an ass today because mr Kim didnt like his freestyle presentation of macbeth" sunoo shook his head " he rapped, yn, rapped the damn play out" you both giggled, finding fondness in the silly actions of your director (you honestly dont know why he was chosen"

"Hey! silence! and get into position!" the boy of your talk yelled, looking at them with his best stern face but ended up looking like a butthurt child. gyuvin pointed at sunghoon and heeseung, who both wore a bored expression on their face "rat 01 and rat 02, lighting!"

D-13

throughout the entire rehearsal process, sunno had been nothing short of a perfect scene partner. he was kind, supportive, funny and always there to lend a helping hand to your clumsy self. you couldn't help but feel , call yourself delusional, a deep connection growing between you two that went beyond the boundaries of the childish, superficial relationship of troy and gabriella.

He would leave post-it notes on your locker, filled with kind words and reminders of your talent. yoy would find them every morning, a small burst of positivity to start your day.

but it didn't stop there. the golden boy would often leave juice bottles on your desk, knowing how important it was for yoy to take care of your voice. sunoo would write silly little notes in class as well, reminding you to stay hydrated and take breaks when needed.

D-10

their rehearsals were filled with laughter and shared dreams. sunoos enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself falling foolishly deeper into the role of gabriella with each passing day. you admired his dedication and his ability to bring out the best in the team's performance.

as the days turned into weeks, you began to feel a connection with sunoo that went beyond your characters and your delusions. sparks flew, an unspoken understanding that seemed to blossom between you. your interactions became more personal, your conversations filled with warmth and vulnerability.

one evening, after a particularly exhausting rehearsal, he had walked you home despite his route from school being in the opposite direction, your footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. you talked and talked, about the magic of theater and the scary future after highschool. it was in that moment, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, that you felt your heart skip a beat.

D-5

But as the premiere of the play approached, something changed. Sunoo's smiles became fewer and further between, his once cheerful demeanor replaced with a distant look in his eyes. Confused and hurt, you tried to reach out, to understand what was happening, but he began to withdraw

He would avoid eye contact, brush off your attempts at conversation, and disappear without explanation. your heart ached with every rejection, the pain of his sudden indifference growing with each passing day.

D-1

On the night of the performance, your heart sank as you noticed sunoos cold stare from across the stage. the chemistry you had worked so hard to build was replaced by an icy tension backstage. every line, every touch felt forced, lacking the authenticity you had once shared.

After the final bow, you searched for answers, desperate to understand what had caused this sudden change. But Sunoo continued to ignore you in the hallways, as if you were a mere stranger he had never met. The reader's heart shattered into a million pieces, unable to comprehend the pain of being cast aside so abruptly.

- D-13

days turned into weeks, and your anguish only deepened. sunoos silence was deafening, and the unanswered questions tormented you every waking moment. was it all just an act? had your connection been nothing more than an illusion?

one evening, as you sat alone in your house, your parents nowhere to be seen, contemplating the shattered remnants of what once was, you spotted a note tucked beneath your door. It was a familiar sight - a post it note, just like the ones the boy who unknowingly broke your heart used to send you. with trembling hands, you unfolded the note and read the words that lay before you: "I'm sorry."

confusion mingled with hope as your heart skipped a beat. without hesitation, you rushed outside to your front yard, determined to uncover the truth of his silence. as you rounded the corner to your treehouse, there he stood, anxiously awaiting your arrival. the look in his eyes was something you have never seen before, the cheerful boy from school now looked disheveled and broken and you could see the weight of regret pressing upon his shoulders.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," sunoo exclaimed, his voice filled with remorse and something you couldn't decipher. "I thought it would be easier this way, but I was wrong. at first, i only befriended you in sake of the play, but you kept plaguing my mind at every waking hour. so i tried to distance myself to focus on our performance."

tears welled up in your eyes as the truth washed over you. sunoos actions were not born out of cruelty, but rather out of fear and self preservation. in his attempt to protect his own heart, he unknowingly shattered yours.

with a trembling voice, you spoke up "i get that" your voice cracked "i really do, but you could've talked to me before completely ignoring my presence. you weren't the only main character in this play. and do you know what's the most important thing in theater? communication. please dont push me away, youre important to me"

in that moment, the barriers between you began to crumble. walls of misunderstanding and pain came crashing down, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath. And just like the tragic love story they had once portrayed on stage, Sunoo and you found yourselves in front of each other, heart more broken than the other's

"im sorry, yn"

and he left, with your heart in his hand

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1 @iea-tsand

[secretbossesacrossthemultiverse]

Deltarune Lowlye

Check out WGY_Games' channel as they were the inspiration to make this: https://www.youtube.com/@WGY_Games

~~~ Fun fact: I have been gaslighting my friend into thinking Blembino was a character we made up, He's gonna be shocked when he finally finishes Yellow! ~~~ This Au takes place in Lowlye College... Asriel's college. This story takes place at the same time Deltarune does the days leading up to Asriel coming home. Everybody assumed Kanako had died last Summer, but Clover soon learns she got trapped in a world of Darkness and vowes to save her! Asrile gets dropped in as he is the President of the Student Government and was following Clover to make sure they didn't break any rules. Ceroba is the one opening Darkfountans. She tried to save Kanako herself, but her SOUL became weak from re-sealing fountains after every failed attempt... only a Human SOUL can safely seal a fountain... Clover's SOUL. They hope to find out how Kanako got trapped between worlds, and how to get her out! Chapter 1's Darkworld is the Music Room. Mr. Bash is the leader of this world, and begs the lighteners to save his Theater after is was destroyed in the flood (the above restrooms leaked into the Music Room, getting it closed.) He attacks in the end as he does not want the Lightners to leave him. TheraDeci is the secret boss. They have amnesia after the flood. Once you help get their memories back, they recall how nobody ever wanted them, and how it was not the flood that wiped their memories, but a strange man who did it as a mercy... for they had seen into a Shadow Crystal. They become Deci-EX and attack. FIGHT ITEM: Sonic Bat. SPARE ITEM: Iron Keychain. Chapter 2 has Principal Blembino getting suspicious and falling into the Darkworld. Its leader the high and mighty lord High-Form Eaker just want's his experiments to go off without a hitch. Clover is resentful of this world, as their mother Martlet was the art teacher before being let go for tax reasons and her room being replaced with the Science Lab. Blembino becomes the final boss of this world, as he does not want to lose his new body. (Once out, he's convinced it was a dream.) The secret boss is Cherppy, a goodbye card for Martlet that was left behind. She's an NPC that shows up from time to time and talks about "The old world". If you talk to her every time she shows up and you find her destroyed home from the old world, she will fight you so she can get a SOUL and bring JUSTICE to her fallen friends.

FIGHT ITEM: Feather Bullets. SPARE ITEM: Nest Armor. Chapter 3 has our team use Asriel's dorm for this Darkworld to avoid Blembino. The leader of this world is AXULATOR, and he sees anybody not assigned to this dorm as a threat... Clover and Kanko are separated from Asriel in this chapter as AXULATOR want's to "keep them safe". Halfway through Ceroba jumps in as she can sense something's wrong. She and Kanako cry at seeing one another. As the chapter goes on, the darkness in Ceroba's heart that formed from trying to seal Darkfoutnans herself grows more and more... but she runs off before we can see what happens to her for now... In AXULATOR's prison, you can find a room marked "BAD MEMORIES" where any Darkners that might upset Asriel are locked up. Once you find the key, Clover and Kanako can fight Dark King Azgar... a sad fight... Azgar was the leader of this Darkworld before Asriel could no longer take the feelings of guilt they had over their parents' divorce. AXULATOR took over as Asriel began to bury themselves in more schoolwork. It was not all bad, at least that strange man would come by for a nice chat and some tea from time to time.

FIGHT ITEM: Dark Trident. SPARE ITEM: Father's Tead Cup.

From here the other chapters are but sketches. Martlet and her new boss the head of Security Starlo appear in chapter 4, (The Lunchroom.) Dalv the janitor gets to shine in chapter 5 (The Auditorium.) Chapter 5 would be the end, as we go to Ceroba's home (Where we would see what happens if she stays in a Darkworld too long.) If we beat each Secret Boss, we can use the power of the Shadow Crystals to free Kanako. (The best ending.) If we fail to fight each secret boss but to a pacifist route, Ceroba and Kanako realize they have to move on, and Ceroba gets to say goodbye. (Okay ending.) If you were more violent, Ceroba becomes mad at Clover and Asriel, blaming them for failing to save Kanako and she will get lost in the Darkworld forever. (Bad end.) ... Weaird rout; Asriel gets stronger. (Fire end.)

[fennekinfoxuwu]

I've been DIEING to do this for a long time, I've always thought that branch being the master of disguise would have had an interest in cosplay or acting for a while and I've been excited to draw branch cosplaying for months

Hope u like my Star Foxies

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Twelve

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, threesome, double penetration, poly negotiations, angst

length: 21,009

summary: with the help of renjun, the three of you finally get closer to reconnecting with yuta and ten

<-previous || next–>

The Watcher is still there the following morning. Stationed outside the rooms they put you, Mark, and WinWin up in. He’s sitting casually in one of the seats in the nearby lounge area, but he’s there regardless. Just as he was when you and WinWin went down to the Banquet hall for supper last night. He’d resumed his position when you returned from supper, and now here he sits still.

You’re sneaking out this morning.

WinWin was still asleep when you pulled yourself from the bed. Mark was gone, though you had the vague memory of him telling you before you fell asleep just a few hours ago that he was going out to explore the House again. 

Curiosity was calling out to you, and it wouldn’t wait for either of your companions. You’d manifested a new outfit, one similar to what you’d worn yesterday, and you’d quickly pulled it on, laced up your boots, and walked out the door into the dawn light of the manor. Pleased with yourself for being so sneaky, you were disappointed to find that damn Watcher.

He lifts his hooded head when you step out, but other than that, he doesn’t move.

You close the door quietly, and without another glance in the Watcher’s direction, you take off down the spiral stairs. You all but run down them, hoping to outdistance the Watcher if he chooses to follow you. Maybe he’s not here for you; maybe he’s watching WinWin or Mark. Regardless, you run down the steps, zip around a corner, take a right, and bolt down a hallway. If he’s following you, he’d better be fast to keep up with you, but when you slow down and look over your shoulder, there’s no sign of him.

You slow fully to a walk, your footsteps muffled on the thick carpet of this hallway. Large windows look out over rainy fields of golden wheat; luscious red velvet curtains are pulled to either side of each window, doing nothing to mask the bright flash of lightning shooting across that sky. The thunder never reaches you, though you’re sure that wherever in the world that window is looking out on, the resulting boom must have been quite loud.

Turning away from the windows, you look at the doors that open off of this hallway. Many of them are shut, some are open only slightly, but each of them calls to your curiosity. Yesterday had only been a little taste of what this house holds. WinWin hadn’t let you go poking your nose through too many doors, but today you want to test them all. 

The first door you try is locked, as is the second. The third opens into a completely dark room with furniture draped in dust covers. You continue down every room in that hallway, finding that the closed doors are all locked, and the doors partially opened have nothing of import inside. Disappointing, but you continue on.

You walk along a stretch of hallway that is open on one side with only a handrail keeping you from tumbling down what looks to be seven floors, meaning somehow you’ve gotten from where you were on what had felt like possibly the second floor to now the eighth floor of probably the school wing of this place. A short distance on, you open a door and find an empty auditorium or theater. You find open doors to rooms that are occupied, though you skirt quickly by those, and there are closed doors that you can hear quiet voices behind. And then there are still many, many empty rooms in this place.

You pass no one. The house is silent mostly, and you wander until the sun is rising through the windows that look out onto Purgatory.

Just as you’re considering calling your solo exploration at an end, planning to start the journey back to either the Banquet hall or to your room, you hear the sound of movement behind a closed door to your left. Shuffling footsteps, a thump.

 Normally, you would leave it alone, except that you swear you hear your name. 

Instantly your mind goes to Mark. It goes to the bully Watchers from yesterday. You’re not sure exactly what you can do against them, but you’re not about to stand idly by if it is Mark inside that room. 

 You push open the door and find yourself in a strangely completely empty  room. It looks nothing like any of the other rooms you’ve seen here. The floors are just unfinished planks, and the walls were once apparently covered in plaster, though now the wooden slats show more than anything else. A mirror hangs crooked on one wall, along with an old sun-faded photograph of a handsome man smiling in front of the sea. There is no furniture unless a rug tightly rolled, covered in dust, and shoved against the wall beneath two windows counts. The view from this room looks out to an overgrown lawn, and through a wall of trees, you can barely make out the sight of a city street beyond. But it’s snowing out there, just on the other side of the window. Some of it has piled on the ledge, and it’s beginning to accumulate in the overgrown grass. 

But the room is empty, though you know you just heard someone in here. There’s only one door, the windows firmly shut. 

The silence feels less than still, as if someone had just left. You spin in a circle, but the empty shadows and the dust hide nothing.

“What are you doing?” A voice, right at your ear.

You jump, spinning around in fright.

Renjun stands there, smiling peaceably, his hands folded behind his back. “I always find you in strange places. Is there something I can help you with?”

You feel perfectly within your right to eye him suspiciously. “Where did you come from?” He hadn’t made a sound, though you can see his footprints right beside yours in the thick dust covering the wooden planks. 

“I saw you come in here. Thought I’d see if you were looking for anything in particular or if you’re just wandering about like yesterday morning.” Renjun bounces lightly on his toes, then suddenly he walks towards the window, tracing his finger over the glass. “It’s pretty out there, isn’t it?” He glances back over his shoulder at you. 

You nod. “I miss the snow. It used to be my favorite time of year when I would wake up one morning and the entire neighborhood was covered in untouched snow, just sparkling in the sunlight, waiting to be played in.” 

Renjun looks at you for a moment longer before he faces the window again. “I’ve never played in the snow.”

“Never?” You walk forward to stand with him at the window. “That’s an experience I believe everyone should have at least once.”

“I don’t get out of the House much,” Renjun admits. He suddenly turns his back on the window with a sigh. “Can I show you something?” 

You’re all about the exploration mindset today, so you don’t hesitate to agree, ready to go along wherever Renjun wants to take you. 

He leads you out of the room and down the hallway. You find, as he begins taking twisting turns and stairs and even some of the secret passages hidden behind tapestries and portraits and false walls, you think you have a good idea of the general direction he’s taking you. Even though everything rearranges, you already feel like you’ve got somewhat of an understanding of how this place works. Renjun is slowly leading you down toward the ground floor, somewhere towards where he’d first found you yesterday morning in the unused ballroom. 

Renjun brings you out to a long stretch of corridor where the walls are completely covered in tapestries and murals. At the far end of the hallway is a statue of marble that gleams in the sunlight coming through the windows placed sporadically along the hall. From this distance, you can’t quite tell what the statue is, but you can however see the nearest tapestry. 

It’s not unlike one that you would have seen at Church or in the monastery your mother took you to visit. There is a male figure clearly representing God situated in the middle of the tapestry, and all of creation spreads out around him. Stars and moons, the planets, the Earth with all of its plants and creatures and people. The work is nothing abnormal, though it is very finely done. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” You ask Renjun, moving by this first tapestry to the next. “Watcher artwork?”

“Not just artwork. It’s history. Watcher history.” He keeps pace with you. “Like I said, I don’t get out of this House much, and this tapestry hall has always been one of my favorite places. I like to see the stories that I’ve only heard about.” He lifts a hand to brush his fingers along the fabric of the second tapestry, but he stops just shy of making contact. “Do you want to hear them?”

You watch Renjun’s pretty and fine features — the way that his eyes lift to trace familiar patterns on the fabric, his lips twitching with a gentle smile — and then you see the glint of his silvery blond hair beneath the dark top layer, and the way that his eyes flicker between silvery and hazel when he looks over at you. Renjun cocks his head slightly to the side, as if to repeat his question. 

You nod. “Tell me.”

Renjun smiles, and he points back over at the first panel on the wall. 

“In the beginning was God,” he says.

“I’ve heard this one before,” you bump your shoulder against his. “I was raised religious, so the story of Creation is one that I’ve heard –”

Renjun cuts you off. “You haven’t heard this one.”

He lifts his hand, this time actually tracing the shape of a fox woven into the first panel. His history lesson resumes with, “God created the Universe, filling it with marvels of fire and ice, of gas and rock, of planets and moons and stars that glowed in vivid colors. The Universe was beautiful, but He was lonely. Thus, He begot the Earth. A treasure planet of His for the way that it gleamed in the light of its nearby Sun, warm and damp, ripe to bring forth life. He filled the world with plants, with animals, with people, with experiments and ideas. For a while the Creation entertained Him, but, as any great inventor or creator, He grew bored with His project. Watching the minutiae of life developing no longer interested Him, and therefore He created the Watcher.”

Now Renjun returns to the second panel, and you see the God figure now accompanied by a smaller figure, cloaked and hooded. The taller of the two has his hand held out, as if he’s gesturing towards the woven trees and birds and four-legged creatures.

“First came the High Watcher.” Renjun says, “A companion to God more than anything else. He listened, he learned, he understood his power and his responsibility. All was well. For a time, anyway.” Renjun walks along the wall, and you follow, studying the tapestries that he passes by, but doesn’t linger on. They depict the High Watcher’s study at the right hand of God. Sometimes there are people, just grotesque renditions of humans, and sometimes there are animals or other beings that you can only assume belong to the supernatural realm. You recognize a satyr, a mermaid, a winged woman.

“Pleased with the High Watcher, God took a step back to entertain Himself elsewhere. He left the High Watcher to watch over Creation.” Another few panels showing the cloaked and hooded figure of the High Watcher among God’s creatures on Earth. Slowly, you watch as the images woven into the panels shift. Suddenly there are fires, and then fighting, war and bloodshed. Renjun pauses in front of one that looks particularly brutal. The tapestry consists of a lot of reds, browns, purples, and oranges with minor splashes of other colors.

“The experiments of God and the humans did not get along. They fought each other, destroying each other.” Renjun folds his hands behind his back, gazing up at the wall hanging. 

You look as well, regrettably. There you see some kind of beast that closely resembles a werewolf with its claws speared through a human, dripping gore to water the ground. There are carrion birds mixing with harpies in the sky. Small devilish red demons surround humans. Humans tear apart what at first glance appears to be a large cat until you realize it has the face of a woman. “If the High Watcher was meant to be watching over God’s creation, how could all of this happen?”

You close your eyes, just listening as Renjun explains, “There was only so much that the High Watcher could do. He was powerful, but he was only one Watcher. He couldn’t be everywhere, couldn’t see everything. When he witnessed the destruction the humans and the others were wreaking upon each other, he petitioned God for assistance.” 

Renjun taps your shoulder, and you move forward, looking to the next tapestry. The High Watcher kneels in petition before God, hands held aloft with a tablet being offered to the taller figure. The next shows God and the High Watcher accompanied by several more figures. “First, God created Hell. He took the demons from Earth, and He gave them Hell, a place to reign and to punish. He created Heaven, a place of peace for those deserving. Lastly, God created the high-level Watchers to assist the High Watcher. These He trained as He had the High Watcher before them. They listened, they learned, they understood their power and responsibilities. These high-level Watchers received the freedom of control over their assigned areas of surveillance. They were intelligent and powerful, yet they aspired for more.

“This second generation of Watchers pooled their knowledge, they experimented with their powers, growing and developing until they possessed almost more power than the High Watcher himself. As the Watchers grew, so too did humanity and the experiments of God. They grew in number while the headcount of Watchers remained unchanged. It grew difficult to oversee everything, even with their abilities. The high-level Watchers went to the High Watcher, and once more he petitioned God for help.”

You watch the story playing out on the tapestries as Renjun leads you along, amazed to watch as the world and the people within it develop and expand. You look at depictions of the high-level Watchers descending towards the people on the ground, and they look every bit like an angel might, glowing golden, radiant. You see the high-level Watchers experimenting with their powers to transform shapes, to create things from nothing, they fly and they breathe underwater. To you, it seems that they’re attempting to possess all of the powers that God endowed on his experimental supernatural creatures.

“God created the low-level Watchers now.” Renjun continues without pause, “These He did not train. He passed them into the care of the high-level Watchers to train as they saw fit. The second generation of Watchers did not wish for their juniors to be able to overpower them. They wished for the new Watchers to remain their subordinates, therefore they passed on only as much knowledge as they wished to disclose while they still secretly developed their own knowledge, withholding their discoveries from the High Watcher and from God.

“In time, even the power of all the Watchers that were at that time was not enough to prevent the Wars Between the Races. The High Watcher was already old by this point, blinded by his visions of overlapping time – the past, present, and ever-changing future – and the high-level Watchers were buried in their endless pursuit of knowledge and power.” Renjun points at a painted mural that now takes the place of the row of tapestries. You see black cloaked Watchers on the ground among the warring humans and supernatural others while the high-level Watchers sit above in their glowing halos of gold, and the High Watcher sits shrouded in a dark corner of the image.

“The low-level Watchers were overwhelmed, so they bridged the divide between themselves and God, pleading with Him for aid in this War Between the Races wherein His Earthly creations were destroying each other.” A new mural, and this time a cluster of the black-cloaked Watchers climb the Heavens to lay their appeal before God, the next shows the Watchers in black standing once more on Earth beside Watchers in silver. “The Soldier Watchers were born,” Renjun explains.

You can’t help gasping as your eyes finally come to rest upon the statue here at the end of the corridor. You can’t believe you’ve already reached the end. 

“Terrifying, right?” Renjun comments at the sound of your surprised gasp. “Soldier Watchers, arrayed in their silver, their dazzling crowns, wearing sun rays as weapons.” 

Together you look at the statue that is exactly as Renjun has just described. The statue is carved out of some sort of gray stone, possibly granite, though the cloak is polished to an impossible shade of silvery gray, the folds of the cloak are embellished with actual silver. A jagged crown of obsidian, pearls, and diamonds sits atop the effigy’s head, and rays of sunlight pour through the window just behind this marvelous piece of art, radiating around this Soldier Watcher in a way that visibly mimics blades.

Renjun bows his head slightly, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s not performing the motion out of respect, but rather he’s looking at the base of the statue. A hemispherical base that is artistically and intentionally cracking, fracturing in places. “The Soldier Watchers tore the world apart,” Renjun’s voice is quiet as he says, “They split the natural from the supernatural, or the humans and the experiments. God divided the World, the Life and the Afterlife. Heaven and Hell already existed to some degree, but He created a new realm: Purgatory, the land of the Watchers, to observe safely from a distance, a place in which to decide judgment. He created a city on Earth for His supernatural children to live in peace, apart from His other children.”

Hell City. 

Renjun turns to face you, and he startled, looking beyond your shoulder. Quickly you twist around too. 

A dark figure is skidding around the corner, running along the hall towards you in a blur, and it’s only when he slides to a halt right in front of you, that you recognize Mark. You have only the briefest moment of recognition before his hand is around your wrist, and then you’re flying too. The world blurs around you in an uncomfortable sort of way, and then it resolves into a mass of gray in front of your eyes, which has you confused for a moment until you hear Mark’s breath beside you. You’re crouched right beside him, and when you turn towards him to find that there is a window behind you looking out over a sunny seascape. 

Mark is panting, his hair windswept from his run, and he’s clutching your wrist tight enough that you can’t feel your fingers. 

“Mark, what is—?” 

He releases your wrist just to cover your mouth with his hand instead. “Quiet. I was being chased by a herd of Watchers.” He holds a finger to his lips. 

As you listen to the silence, you do hear the distant thunder of racing footsteps, and then you hear Renjun’s voice just on your other side, a whispered, “Why’re we hiding?”

You spin around fast enough that your neck aches. Renjun crouches there, close enough that you’re shocked you didn’t know he was there before he spoke. You see that his fingers are curled around the edge of a stone plinth, and then you realize that Mark dragged you behind the statue of the soldier Watcher, where Renjun promptly joined you. 

And then Renjun hears it too. 

The footsteps and the voices. 

His eyes go wide and his mouth forms an O of surprise. He scoots just a little bit closer to you, more securely hidden behind the statue. Mark tenses up, pulling you closer, a bit further away from Renjun. 

None of you say anything or move at all as the Watchers come closer. You feel Mark’s cool hand still covering your mouth, his other hand rests at your waist. The Watchers rumble by and you hear their grumbling, rude voices — “What did that leech think he was doing?” and “Free to wander? Vermin like him should be locked up or just exterminated,” and “Next time I see that vampire, no questions asked. I’ve never met a vampire that wasn’t a piece of trouble.” — and it makes your stomach curl with horror to realize that they’re talking about Mark. You cover his hand at your waist, squeezing his fingers lightly. 

Luckily, these Watchers seem to be young ones, and despite the fact that they’re called Watchers, they’re not very observant. They all run right towards the statue, but they take a left where a new hall stretches forward. Not one of them thinks to check if anyone is hiding behind the bulk of the Soldier Watcher’s statue. You, Mark, and Renjun watch in silence as the whole herd of Watchers run down the other hallway, and then they plunge together down a staircase to the floor below. 

Mark lets out a breath, slumping down to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he curses, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his cheek to the floor though he still clutches your hand in his. “Damn, I thought I was a goner when they started chasing me. I couldn’t run fast enough, I felt so sluggish.”

“That would be due to the animal blood,” Renjun says quietly. He’s not looking at either you or Mark; he’s still looking at the spot where the Watcher horde disappeared. “We don’t have human blood, so the blood the kitchen’s been sending up has been animal blood. I’ve read studies on vampires, and all the experimental studies show a decrease in the power of vampire skills is a result of the alternative diet.” 

Mark opens his eyes slowly, red irises peeking out from half-opened lids. “I’ve never heard that before.”

Renjun shrugs. “How many vampires who drink animal blood do you know?”

You can read the answer plainly on Mark’s face. There aren’t many, if there are any at all.

When Renjun moves closer to you again Mark bares his teeth and hisses. Renjun actually rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m not one of them!” He insists. “I promise you, I don’t care that you’re a vampire. I’m not like the Watchers who have such a deep-seated hatred for vampires, hating your kind more than they hate anything other than a demon, maybe. You being a vampire doesn’t make you any less of an actual person, not to me. I don’t think it makes you evil or vile. So stop acting like I’m about to treat you like they do.”

Mark stares at him. “How can we possibly trust you? How are you not one of them? You live here, don’t you? You passively sit by and let them do everything they do, don’t you?”

Renjun’s lips form into a tight line. He stands up, still looking down at you and Mark, and then without another word, he walks away. 

“Way to go, Mark,” you groan, pulling your hand away from him. “I like him! He’s nice, and he was teaching me about the Watchers. You and WinWin need to pull your heads out of your asses, honestly. He’s not a bad guy.”

Mark looks at Renjun’s empty spot, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he blinks. You wish you could know what he was thinking, but mind-reading is yet another skill that Yuta and Ten had failed to teach you before their arrest. Looking at Mark, you try to follow the instructions you’d received in one of the few lessons your demons had given you in mind-reading, but you get nothing more than maybe the slightest hazy vision of yourself from Mark’s perspective on the floor, but that could just be your own imagination’s conjuring. 

After several moments, Mark sits up. “Do you really think we can trust him?” He asks. “Not to sound like WinWin, but you have been known to trust blindly too quickly. Don’t go,” Mark says quickly when you start to stand up. His hand falls on your knee, keeping you hidden behind the statue with him so he can say, “I just mean, I can see why you like him. He’s got a pure, trustworthy face. He does seem nice and friendly. I just… I find it difficult to believe that we can trust someone who lives in the House of the Watchers, who seems so comfortable here?”

But does Renjun really seem all that comfortable here? You feel like every time you’ve seen him he’s trying his best to be quiet. He seems secretive. And he hid when you and Mark hid, he seemed just as surprised and scared of the passing Watchers as you and Mark had. Yes, he knows a lot about the House, the Watchers and their history, but that doesn’t seem something that could make him untrustworthy. He’s been nothing but helpful since you first arrived. 

“Why don’t we just try to find our way back to WinWin?” You say, and you do stand up this time. Peering around the edges of the statue, you see nothing but the empty halls, the murals and tapestries, and your shadow stretching along the floor from the light behind you. 

“What about them?” Mark asks, rising to his feet. “You heard what they were saying. If we cross paths, I’m not at full strength.” 

“Are you scared, Mark? Don’t forget who you are. You’re that badass boss from Hell City. Don’t let a few bully Watchers make you think that you have to cower behind a statue. Even at half strength, I’m sure you could beat them in a fight.” You shake your head. “We’ll be fine.”

The look on Mark’s face tells you that he doesn’t believe your words, but he follows you out from behind the statue regardless. 

Navigating your way through the House isn’t as difficult as you would have thought. You recognize some of the spots you pass by, and while you know that they could have possibly reconfigured since you passed through, you and Mark seem to be making your way back towards the area where you’re fairly certain your spiral staircase up to your rooms is. Mark does make you hesitate at every corner to make sure there aren’t any Watchers lurking, which does slow down your progress a bit. 

You feel like you must be nearly there when the sound of the bell calling the Watchers to breakfast sounds through the place. The gonging echoes along the corridors, vibrating the windows, and Mark grabs you and pulls you back against him. His back is pressed to the wall, and you’re pressed against him, your hands trapped between your chest and his. For a moment, you stay like that, frozen by the heat of his eyes locked on yours, your breath tangling with his as close as you are. It takes several long seconds until you gather your wits and pry yourself away. Mark’s fingers grapple with your shirt to pull you back, but you knock his hands away. 

“It’s fine, Mark. They’re all going to be down in the Banquet Hall eating, not searching for you.” You turn around to look at Mark while you back away. “So let’s go while we can still make it back to the room without any of them seeing you. Once we’re there, you don’t have to leave again until the trial, if that’s what you want. But they’re all down at the Banquet Hall, so let’s move be—”

Your shoulders bump into something. Firmer than the nothing that you were expecting to be there, yet softer than a wall which is what you’re hoping for. And then you feel fingers curl against your arms. A chill creeps up your spine, especially when you see the pale, bloodless look of Mark’s face. 

“We’ve been looking for you,” drawls a low voice. 

You’re ready to put your fighting lessons with Mark and WinWin into effect. Your muscles tense, ready to break free of this man’s hold, to spin around and take him down so you and Mark have time to run. 

Before you can do that, the Watcher forcibly turns you around to face him. 

You see the black robes, the glint of silver at his shoulder. It’s that damn stalker Watcher. You squirm, trying to shove him away, but he doesn’t let go. Behind him, you can see two other black-cloaked Watchers. 

“The High Watcher would like another audience. Please, stop struggling.” He releases you suddenly, and you stumble backwards. You likely would have hit the floor, except that Mark is suddenly there, arms around your waist while your shoulders brace against his chest. The three Watchers just look down at you, their veiled gazes burning against your skin, or maybe that’s just the feel of Mark’s icy fingers where your top has come untucked from your waistband, his cold skin against yours. 

The stalker Watcher extends one hand, gesturing at you and Mark. “He will allow, this time, for your companion to come as well,” he announces. “Especially if it will make you come along more willingly.”

Is this some kind of a trick? You glance up at Mark, and he’s already looking at you. 

“I don’t think WinWin would be too happy with me if I let you go with them alone,” Mark murmurs. “And I don’t see them letting us not go with them.”

He makes some valid points. It’s decided. You’ll go with them. 

The three Watchers form a triangle around you and Mark, and they lead you back to the court room where you’d convened with the High Watcher just the previous morning. 

Mark gasps audibly, a familiar reaction, as the Watchers bring you into the room. 

The seats along the sides of the room, as well as the High Watcher’s throne, are vacant. Now three seats are positioned in the middle of the room where yesterday there had been only one, and you can’t help wondering if they’re dragging WinWin to this, or if the third chair was just an eventuality. You and Mark are herded right to the seats, and wordlessly, you take them. 

Two of the Watchers drift back towards the doors. The stalker Watcher, however, remains. He stands close guard on the two of you, so close that you dare not speak, not that you think Mark would be listening anyway. His head spins on a swivel, eyes wide and mouth agape in awe of the room, of the rose window behind the throne, the dazzling shimmering light. 

He’s still observing the room while you observe him, when the doors of the court room reopen, and the stream of Watchers and the High Watcher enter the room. 

Several of the Watchers look rather annoyed, and you wonder if they got the chance to eat their breakfasts before the High Watcher pulled them away. He looks mild, pacing the length of the room steadily, expressionless. He doesn’t even spare you and Mark a glance until after he’s climbed his throne and seated himself as comfortably as that seat can possibly make him. His strange eyes stare out at you, but his gaze seems distant and distracted, seeing you and possibly seeing more. 

You can’t help thinking of the tapestry hall, of Renjun’s stories. Looking at this wrinkled old Watcher, you can hardly believe that he’s so old, as old as Creation itself essentially. This man has convened with God, has observed humanity since the earliest days. He has lived through every great moment, every tragedy, the highs and the lows of time. 

“You are probably wondering why I have summoned you back here today, aren’t you, my dear?” The High Watcher says in his raspy voice. Mark startles beside you, as if he’d expected to hear a different voice, or perhaps he hadn’t expected the High Watcher to speak at all.  The High Watcher doesn’t even acknowledge Mark’s presence as he says, “We were curious about you. What can you do, dear girl?”

Something in his voice makes you sit up a little straighter. You put your hands on your knees and clear your throat. What does he mean by that: what can you do? 

Your silence fills the room. 

“Surely,” the High Watcher sighs, “Surely you understand your power? We would like to see.”

What do they want from you? A light show? Didn’t some of them already get a show of that yesterday in the library? 

“Why do you want to see that?” Mark asks, and his voice sounds surprisingly croaky. He clears his throat. “I mean, she does what any basic demon can do with fire.”

You want to pinch him to tell him to shut up, but you can’t without making it obvious. The High Watcher’s gaze has gained some clarity. Every single other eye in the room is trained on the two of you. The stalker Watcher is still standing close at hand. 

“I can produce fire, though I’m sure you’re already aware of that.” You lift a hand from your leg, summoning a flame hardly bigger than a spark to dance across your fingertips. It’s barely visible in the bright light of the room. 

The High Watcher at last smiles, though it’s a grim rendition. “Yes, the incident yesterday. A mistake, on all sides.” He waves a hand in the air, as if trying to erase the event from your minds, but you can’t so easily forgive the Watchers that intended harm. “Your fire was quite a surprise, as you might imagine. And while it wasn’t welcome in our library, there isn’t much here to burn, if you wouldn’t mind a demonstration. We haven’t had much of a chance to witness demon fire in quite a long time. Some of the brothers haven’t ever had the opportunity to amaze at it.”

So you’ve been brought here as what? Some kind of circus freak? As an experimental study, like the studies on vampires that Renjun had mentioned earlier? And although there aren’t any books in this room, and not much here might be flammable other than the clothes you all wear and the chairs, there is one particularly flammable thing close at hand. 

Mark sits beside you, staring over at you when you push to your feet. 

Vampires and fire don’t mix. That’s one thing you’ve learned since arriving in Hell City. They’re quite flammable, and fire is the one thing that they can’t come back from. If the High Watcher wants to witness you going all-out with your demon fire, you’re not about to do it when Mark is in any sort of proximity to you. You won’t hurt him, just as you wouldn’t do it if WinWin was beside you, nor anyone else that you’ve met, excluding Ten or Yuta. If the High Watcher would be so kind as to bring the two demons out and have them stand beside you, you would do anything he asks of you, even if it meant turning yourself supernova. 

“You just want me to show off a little demon fire?” You ask as you raise your hand again, this time summoning a ball of fire to roll around in the palm of your hand. It slowly expands until it’s swallowed your fingers, licking wild flames at the edges, like the corona of the sun. The heat of it kisses your cheeks, producing a faint breeze that plays with the loose hairs around your face. 

The High Watcher’s smile twists into one of delight, and you can see your golden flames reflecting in his eyes. The Watchers along the ages of the room murmur in low voices to each other. Behind you, the stalker Watcher twitches, taking a step closer before he falls back again. You don’t know what any of this means, why they’re possibly so delighted by your relatively little light show.

Once the light fades, the heat in your palms all that remains of the small fireball, the High Watcher sits forward. “And what else can you do?”

You wish you could say that you didn’t spend all morning standing there in that long hall, testing the limits of your power for the amusement of the Watchers. You wish that Mark didn’t have to sit there beside you through it all. You wish that they would at least have brought you something to eat since you were feeling drained the longer it went on.

After a while you were exhausted and annoyed, and when new tricks were requested, you began to be openly hostile. You threw darts of fire towards the Watchers, slung around ropes of fire. 

For the most part you kept yourself in check because you didn’t want to show them all of what you can do, so you kept your ability to teleport a secret. Some of the little tricks that Yuta and Ten had taught you, you kept those close to your chest too, but many other things you showed them because the High Watcher kept pressing you for more. He wanted to see it all, and the look on his face read like a child enchanted by a magician’s tricks at a party, enraptured as he watched you succeed in some minor shape-shifting as you stretch yourself taller into an almost ghastly shape, towering and curving forward with a leering grin. 

It’s only when you finally collapse backwards into your seat, heart hammering, and the world growing slightly hazy at the edges that Mark leans over you, his cool hands on your cheeks. 

“That’s enough,” Mark calls, twisting his head around to look over his shoulder. “You push her any further and you could kill her.” 

“Yes, yes,” the High Watcher rasps. “We’re done for the day.”

When he looks back at you, Mark is the only thing you can see. His vibrant eyes are a dark shade of red, closer to brown. His eyebrows are drawn with worry, wrinkling the skin between. His hands push at your hair, touch your heated cheeks. “Don’t pass out, okay? WinWin will kill me if I bring you back unconscious.” He looks up behind you and says, “Can’t you get someone to bring her some food or something? She needs to get her strength back up.” 

You hear the rumble of the court of Watchers getting to their feet, filing from the room, and you suddenly remember something very important. You find the strength to lift your head, and you peer around the room until you see the hazy shape of the High Watcher stepping down from his high seat. 

“High Watcher!” You manage to push the words out. “One thing, please, before you go?”

You hear shuffling footsteps and the gentle thump of his staff on the ground, and then there he stands before you, hunched and ancient. The wrinkles in his face are deep canyons, and this close you can see that his eyes appear so strange because they’re glazed with age. His voice is still a hoarse rasp when he answers, “Yes, child?”

“Some of the Watchers, the student ones, they’re threatening my friend, Mark.” You gesture to the vampire in question, continuing, “Based solely on their prejudices, they are threatening serious harm to him if they cross paths with him. Can’t you do something about that?” 

He nods. “I will make it known, that is not permitted. Guests are to be treated with respect. Causing undue harm has never been permissible for Watchers, nor for anyone.” He nods once more, and then looks behind you to who you can only assume is your shadow — the stalker Watcher. “Find the girl some food, and make sure they return safely. Good day to the two of you.” He bows his head and shuffles away, looking every bit the average old man. 

Although WinWin was a bit pissed when the stalker Watcher silently returns you and Mark to the suite of rooms, he’s more grateful that you’re okay. He spent a good ten minutes or more hugging you, checking you over for injuries as Mark recounted the events of the morning. You felt fine since an elf runner from the kitchen had delivered food to you and a bottle of blood to Mark in the court room. 

Most of the next few hours was just spent in the common room. Mark and WinWin confer in quiet voices while you doze in the window seat, basking in sunlight. You don’t really have any idea what they’re whispering about until you briefly wake from your light sleep, and you overhear WinWin say, “Their scents were strongest around that spot. So surely they must be keeping them somewhere around there, right?”

“Maybe.” Mark sounds deep in though, but you don’t dare to lift an eyelid to take a peek. If either of them notice that you’re awake they’ll get quiet again. “I still think they’ve got to be keeping them somewhere super secret. Like, somewhere that the fucked up rearrangement algorithm of this place would keep totally hidden unless you had, like, a key or the secret password.”

Their voices fall again, and sleep is pulling you back under, the kiss of the sun on your cheeks. You drift in and out for a while, but when you finally fully wake, you find yourself wrapped in warmth, cushioned on the sofa in WinWin’s arms. 

He’s spooning you, face tucked against your hair, arms twined around you. His heart thuds against your back, but you can tell he’s not asleep. Mark sits across the room, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading a book by firelight. The sky outside is caught in the range of twilight, dim with heavy night falling fast. 

As nice as it feels to lie here wrapped in WinWin, there’s a conclusion that you came to while you napped. You need to find Ten and Yuta, and you need to get out of here with them. Leaving sooner rather than later is ideal, especially after how today has gone. The chasing and threatening of Mark. The trial of your abilities by the Watchers. Their obvious dislike for Mark and WinWin both, while being apparently fascinated by you. You don’t like any part of this, and you want to find your demon boyfriends and get the fuck out as soon as you can. 

After overhearing Mark and WinWin while you were supposed to be sleeping, your drowsing mind had done some thinking. 

If you can find the dungeon, if you can locate Yuta and Ten, maybe you can teleport them out of here. You can get all of you out of this House, you can jump back through that pond in the forest, and you can run from it all, run from the Watchers and the trial and everything. 

You don’t really want to just do research anymore. You want to break your boyfriends free. 

So you bring that up right then, while WinWin hugs you a little tighter, while Mark looks up at you from over the edge of his book. “Let’s break them out,” you suggest. “Tonight.”

WinWin snorts. “Good idea, princess. And I’d be fully on board if we had even the slightest idea of where the hell we’re supposed to find them. We don’t know where they’re being held, do we? Mark and I have been theorizing, and we don’t know. And even if we did know, how are we supposed to find it? Everything in this House is confusing and constantly moving. Getting to them feels impossible, but even if we did get to Ten and Yuta, then how do you expect us to be able to get out of here without being caught? Do you think the Watchers don’t have measures in place for eventualities like that?”

He’s right. They probably do. 

“But there must be something we can do?” You slip flat onto your back, staring up at the ceiling in here, which you’ve not yet realized it was so intricate until now. It’s crisscrossed with painted vines and flowers, some birds and butterflies tucked in between. “Don’t you think they’ve probably got a record, somewhere in that massive library, of where they keep their prisoners, and how the place is guarded?”

WinWin sighs, lowering his forehead to rest against the side of your head. “Do you want to go to the library? Do you want to look all night, will that make you feel better?”

“It’s got to be better than doing nothing!” You slide away from him and then sit up. “I don’t want to be here anymore, but we can’t just leave without actually trying to help get Yuta and Ten out of there.”

Mark snaps shut the book in his hands. “So we’re taking a night trip to the library?” He sits the book aside, “What are we waiting for?”

Truly, you’re hardly even surprised when halfway to the library, your stomach begins growling. Your last meal had been hours and hours ago, and you can still feel the effects of exhaustion from using so much power for all those hours this morning. 

“Detour to the kitchen?” WinWin asks, his voice teasing and light. “I’m sure Miss Boa will have something for you.”

Mark, who you’d made sure to tell all about the kitchen adventure after you returned to your rooms the day before, agrees to a kitchen detour. 

It takes a little bit of attempting to navigate and then mostly relying on WinWin’s nose to get you there, but soon enough you’re spit out into the hallway that holds the kitchen. The doors swing open easily enough when you step inside, Mark and WinWin following behind you. Only a few elves are working, kneading bread and working over the large fire. It looks just as cozy and smells just as comforting in here as it had before, and it takes only a few seconds before Boa appears. 

Her face breaks into a smile. “Look who’s back. And you’ve brought your friend now.” She doesn’t hesitate to welcome your trio to the back of the kitchen, fussing somewhat like a mother hen when she hears your stomach loudly grumble. “Take a seat, take a seat,” she says, fanning you through the kitchen towards the dim corner where the tables are. 

The kitchen isn’t nearly as bright as it had been on your first visit. The fire isn’t burning nearly as high and there’s no sunlight to pour through the windows, but even so, you can make out the shape of someone already sitting at the tables. At first glance you assume it’s the ancient elf still, but as you draw closer you realize that you are wrong. It’s not an elderly elf sitting there, but rather a young one.

“Renjun!” You slide down into a seat at his table before anyone can object. He looks up, first at Mark, then WinWin, before his gaze settles on you. A light smile rises to his lips. 

Mark sits beside you, offering Renjun a smile. You suppose maybe he’s decided that Renjun isn’t so bad after all. WinWin, however, harrumphs a little and still shows Renjun a cold shoulder as he takes a seat as well. Boa returns to the table, bringing still-warm bits from dinner, some wine, some pastries. Renjun’s already picking at a plate, which he returns to while you and WinWin serve yourselves from what Boa has brought over. She excuses herself after dropping off enough food to feed you all more than enough, and she returns to her cooking duties, and Mark watches as all of you eat in silence. 

Mark can’t seem to stand the silence, so after a moment he begins talking, and in his talking, he tells Renjun about your plan to visit the library. He doesn’t tell him exactly what you all are looking for, and Renjun doesn’t ask, but he does however agree to help you three find your way to the library. 

“It’s better to go around this hour, or any time through the night. The novices, they don’t visit much after dark. They’ve got other Watcher lessons then, like astronomy and stuff.” He pops a cherry into his mouth, then says, “So there shouldn’t be anyone there to harass you this time.”

WinWin doesn’t seem to like the idea much of Renjun tagging along, but you point out to him that it’ll be much faster to have Renjun guide you through this House that he clearly knows well, than for the three of you to wander the halls aimlessly until you happen upon it. So, after you’ve eaten your fill, Renjun leads the way out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to Boa on the way. 

The library, as well as the hallways on the way there, is dark. Night has fully settled in around the House, and although some of the windows offer you different views, it’s dark in all of them. The library at least has orb-lights at the ends of the rows and at each of the little study tables to provide enough light to see by. The rows of bookshelves appear entirely empty, as if all of the Watchers have disappeared for the night, not that you mind. 

You all divide to look through the shelves, similar to the day before, though this time there’s no stalker Watcher lingering in the aisle with you as you search, and this time WinWin allows you to put at least an aisle between you and him, though you know he’s keeping an eye on Renjun, not trusting him enough to let him out of his sight while you’re freely wandering. You end up with a stack of books once more, and when you bring them to a table to begin flipping through them, Mark and Renjun are already sitting there, poring over the books. 

“They guard their secrets well,” Renjun is telling Mark when you arrive. “But I’m sure there are records of past trials, Watcher laws and mandates, and all that sort of stuff here somewhere. I’ll be back.” He flits away from the table, darting towards a winding, narrow staircase that leads up to the second level. 

WinWin joins the table after a few more minutes with his own stack of books as well as a couple rolls of parchment, all of which he spreads out at one end of the table and begins to quietly peruse. This is how the next couple hours pass, filled with the silent turning of pages, the occasional scribble as one of you finds something interesting to jot down on the bits of note paper that are provided on the table. Renjun returns occasionally to drop off something new, never lingering long, and you’re fairly certain it’s because WinWin glares at him each time. 

You’re not exactly sure how much Renjun knows about what you’re looking for. You don’t know if Mark told him the truth, a partial truth, or if he just drew his own conclusions about what the three of you are trying to find here in the library, but you appreciate his help regardless.

On the few occasions that the doors of the library do open through the night, Renjun makes himself scarce, and you wonder what his personal aversion to the Watchers is. You understand because you hate the way that they look at Mark and WinWin, the things they say, and how they look at you too, especially after the impromptu showcase you’d given the High Watcher this morning. Luckily, no one bothers you three in the library, and you ignore all of them anyway, too intent on your research to care about what’s going on around you. Surely, somewhere in all of this vast repository of knowledge, there’s some record of where you might be able to find where the Watchers keep their prisoners. 

Mark seems to be looking mostly at trials through history, WinWin’s books and scrolls cover a little bit of everything. You’re mainly focusing on the architecture of the House, mixed in with other historical tidbits. None of you seem to be making much progress as the night goes on.

At one point, when both Mark and Renjun are away, WinWin sighs loudly and lays his head down on the book he’d been flipping idly through. He doesn’t lift his head, but he does turn his head so he’s looking at you. His eyes glitter in the low light. 

You lay a hand on his cheek, and WinWin’s eyes flutter shut with an exhale. 

“I’m tired,” he admits. 

“Then sleep. We’ll wake you when we leave,” you tell him, but WinWin shakes his head. “Do you want to go back to our room?”

That makes him crack an eyelid to take a look at you. A small grin starts to form. “Will you come with me?” One of his hands slips down from the table to rest on your knee. “You know, I’ve found I sleep much better when you’re there beside me.” 

It’s a weak attempt, but it makes your belly flutter a bit. “I’m trying to research, Win.”

He sighs and turns his head just enough that he can brush his lips along your wrist. You slide your hand away from his cheek, fingers curving over his neck instead while he smiles softly at you. “Mark and that guy will still be here. We can return in the morning. But I wanna sleep, and I wanna sleep with you.”

“Oh, okay, this was a weird point to come back to,” Mark grumbles as he appears from nowhere to drop into the seat across from you. 

You pull yourself away from WinWin who sits upright, but he keeps his hand on your knee beneath the table. It’s distracting, really. Even once WinWin has turned his attention back to the texts in front of him, once Mark is thumping open a dusty, heavy book, you can’t bring yourself to focus on the words in front of you anymore. It’s some boring diary of a Watcher who studied architecture, and although you’d thought it seemed promising when you pulled it from the shelf earlier, it mostly seemed to be him talking about minor details and how to make new, modern additions — such as a refrigerator in the kitchen. He did, at least, write about the shifting windows, explaining it as some Watcher magic to be able to look out into the human world, to keep an eye on things. 

It’s not long before your eyes are drooping, head bobbing as you dip off to sleep for seconds at a time. Mark notices first, before anyone else at the table, and his foot nudges your leg beneath the table. 

Your head snaps up, and you blink until the world isn’t so hazy anymore. Mark’s eyes are wide, dark in the dim library lighting, just as soft as his affectionate smile. “Why don’t you and WinWin go back to the rooms, go to sleep?” Mark suggests.  “Renjun and I can stay up a bit longer.”

Renjun sits brightly at the end of the table, looking totally refreshed and awake, smiling a bit when he looks up at you. “I’ll make sure that Mark gets safely back to you. We’ll take secret passages and the like so no bully Watchers try anything,” he promises. 

That’s good enough for you. You nod, agreeing to go. You could definitely fall asleep right now if you laid your head down on the table. 

“Let’s go,” WinWin says as he pushes his chair back from the table. His warm hand takes hold of yours, swallowing your hand in his to pull you from your seat before you can change your mind about going. WinWin doesn’t let go of your hand, not once you’re on your feet, not when you’re leaving the library, and not at any point after that. He simply holds your hand and strolls with you through the candlelit or moonlit corridors. You pass by Watcher night classes, by a wood paneled room where it seems several of the black cloaked Watchers are having a meeting, by a disturbingly accurate and life-sized portrait of the High Watcher that looks so realistic in the moonlight that you swear his eyes move, by a room with a closed door that you can hear metallic clashing and thumping sounds that really make you want to take a peek inside, but WinWin pulls you away. 

You find it surprisingly easy for you and WinWin to navigate your way back to your rooms. Soon enough, you’re walking along the hallway that meets the top of the spiral stairs, the door to the common room right there. As soon as you’ve stepped over the threshold, your drowsiness returns in full force. 

“Come to bed,” WinWin singsongs, tugging lightly at your hand to bring you through the door of the yellow bedroom. You follow. You pull your outfit off in pieces until you’re clambering into the bed in nothing more than your underwear. A moment later, WinWin climbs in on the other side, the heat of his bare skin meeting yours. 

He hesitates to touch you more than just a simple brush of limbs beneath the sheets. 

You sigh, reaching over, and you pull his arm around you as you scoot closer. There’s a dip in the mattress that pulls you fully against him, not that you’re complaining. It feels nice to be so skin-to-skin with him, just the barest thinnest layers of clothing preventing every inch of you from being in contact. 

“Tomorrow,” WinWin promises with his lips against your hair. “Tomorrow we’ll find them, I’m sure of it. Then we’ll get the hell out of here and go home, all five of us.”

You press your cheek to WinWin’s chest, over his steadily beating heart which beats a little faster with your breath making condensation against his skin. “I hope you’re right, WinWin.”

He kisses your head, wraps his arms a little tighter around you, and slowly you let your drowsiness overwhelm you at last. 

The windows in the morning fill with bright sunlight. It paints the insides of your eyelids the color of honey and amber, kisses your lips and wraps you in its warmth. You’re reluctant to open your eyes, not wanting to break the cozy spell you’re in, don’t want to ruin the moment. But it’s the sudden sound of a voice outside the yellow bedroom’s door that does it. 

Your eyes snap open. 

WinWin groans. 

His hand presses flat against your belly, dragging you back towards him. His forehead nudges your shoulder. “Don’t move. Let’s stay for a little longer.” His lips touch at your bare skin. “You disappeared on me yesterday morning, don’t you think you should stay with me just a few moments longer?”

You stay, but it’s not because of his persuasive skills. 

You swear you can hear distant birdsong. There’s the closer sound of a voice speaking out in the common room, and it’s Mark’s familiar tone, and although you wonder why he’s out there talking, the subtle heat of the sunrise pairs nicely with the less-subtle heat and press of WinWin’s body at your back. 

 You stay like that until you become aware of the vital need to relieve yourself — just a small nuisance one moment, and then all you can think about the next. WinWin whines when you first try to push his arm away so you can get up. He holds you closer. 

“Stay,” he sleepily pleads. 

“If you don’t let me up, I’m going to piss on you,” you hiss, struggling to push away his iron grip. 

WinWin lets you go, but as you scurry over to the en-suite bathroom, WinWin calls out, “Was that a threat or a promise, princess?”

You only glare at him over your shoulder before closing the bathroom door, his laughter sounding from the bed.

When you re-emerge from the bathroom a few moments later, WinWin is sitting up on the edge of the bed, his arms stretched above his head as he twists from side to side to crack his back and stretch his muscles after sleep. You stand captivated, watching the way his muscles move, the way the sunlight runs along his spine. WinWin tilts his head, and it takes you far too long to realize that he’s watching you watching him. 

He’s on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in long strides to stand in front of you. WinWin cups your cheeks in his hands, tipping your chin up. “You look so pretty this morning,” he says softly, his eyes molten amber in the sunlight, melting against yours. “Cute when you’re flustered.”

You let your gaze drop. “What makes you think I’m flustered?”

His fingers brush over your cheeks, heat rising to meet his touch. He doesn’t answer your question aloud, but he does step away from you and gesture towards the door. “Why don’t we go see if Mark found any answers while we slept?”

You look away from WinWin, pushing down the wave of wanting that fills you right then. You want to hold his hand against your cheek a little longer. You want to lie in bed with him. You miss proximity and intimacy; you miss that warm glow of being in love, the sensation of feeling full in a way that you haven’t felt since Ten sent you away on that Hell City street. With WinWin, you’re starting to feel that cold spot start to warm up again, each day allowing yourself a little closer to him.

WinWin walks ahead of you, swinging open the bedroom door to the common room. 

Mark lifts his head, a smile already on his lips. And beside him, perched on the edge of the window seat, is Renjun. WinWin immediately tenses up, stepping in front of you to block you. A growl rumbles from his chest. 

“What’s he doing here?”

“I let him in,” Mark says plainly. “We’ve been—”

“You let him in?” WinWin interrupts, pulling away from you to stalk toward Renjun sitting in silvery sunlight on the bench seat. “This is meant to be a safe place, Mark, do you not remember what we’ve discussed before?”

You step around WinWin, leaving the doorway behind you. 

Mark shrugs. “I remember. I don’t think it applies to him.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” WinWin is all tense, muscles wound tight. “We’ve been here for days now, and when have any of them shown us even an ounce of respect? We’ve seen a dozen examples of how much all of these damn Watchers hate us. They are rude, violent, watching us and just waiting for the chance to pounce.” His eyes flare as he stares at Renjun. “Even after your High Watcher welcomed us, they’ve all been dicks.”

Renjun stares back with a flinty look in his eye. “He’s not my High Watcher. I’m not a Watcher, not really.” 

WinWin snorts derisively. “You live here, don’t you? That makes you one of them.”

“I think you’ll find it doesn’t.” Renjun’s eyes change colors, pulsing between hazel and silver, flickering back and forth for a moment. “They dislike me just as much as you, but they keep me here to keep a close eye on me.”

Again, WinWin opens his mouth with a retort sharp on his tongue, but Mark interjects. 

“I think he can help us.” Mark lifts himself from his seat, stepping in front of WinWin to stare the werewolf in the eye. “If you would shut the fuck up for a second, maybe hear him out, you might agree with me for once.” Mark pushes at WinWin’s shoulders, propelling him toward an open armchair, which he collapses into the moment the backs of his knees make contact. 

You walk deeper into the room, settling on one end of the cushy sofa Mark is sitting on. Renjun looks at you, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips. His eyes settle, one left silver, one brown to match the two-tone color of his hair. You know that WinWin doesn’t like Renjun, and up until probably last night, you’re pretty sure that Mark didn’t like him either. But you like Renjun, you enjoy his company. He always seems nice enough, if a little odd.

“Tell them what you were telling me,” Mark says to Renjun. 

Renjun nods. “Well, like I said, I’m not really a Watcher. My father was a Watcher, so I was raised here and given an education by the Watchers. But they don’t want me to become one of them, and I don’t want to either. These people are so strict in their thinking, it’s like after thousands and thousands of years of policing the world, they’ve let the power go a little too much to their heads.” 

He takes a breath, and you can tell that he’s about to plunge into a story, like he’d done the previous day for you in the tapestry hall. “The history of the Watchers is vast. They’ve ended civilizations as easily as starting others. They sank Atlantis, relegating the merpeople of Earth to live beneath the sea after their relations with humans were growing too close. They unleashed diseases to wipe out a village of magic-makers a few hundred years ago. They’ve basically forced all supernatural beings to live in just your Hell City, partially out of convenience so it’s easier to keep an eye on you all, but also as a way to suppress your people. Originally, God intended the city to be a safe haven for the supernatural, but He didn’t consider that it could just as easily become a prison with the Watchers as the wardens. They abuse their power. I’ve been a witness to that here, in the way that they force the elves here in Purgatory to do labor for them, imprisoning them for decades if they refuse.”

WinWin silently watches Renjun, his eyes fixed on the elfin man, watching his face closely for any signs of this story all being a lie. 

Renjun continues, ignoring WinWin’s scrutiny. “They’re not all bad. The Watchers. But for every good Watcher that would help you to your feet when you’re down, there are ten more that would knock you back flat on your ass. For every one that sees the value of a life inside of us all, there are a dozen that just sees a monster to be put in its place. My father, was a Watcher, and I like to think he was one of the good ones. In some regards he definitely was, I mean, he fell in love with my mother.”

You’ve been curious about Renjun’s story since that first morning, and you sit up a little straighter, full of anticipation to finally hear it. 

“My mother was an elf from a small village deep in the mountains and far to the north in your world. My father and a few other Watchers were sent to demand labor when God finally created the separation between Earth and Purgatory. You don’t get a place as extravagant, ever-changing, and indefinitely growing as this House without a little indentured servitude, and the elves were being brought in to Purgatory on the belief that they would receive the protection of the Watchers, would be received here in safety from those that would destroy them in your world—the humans hungrily encroaching on their territory, the supernatural creatures that ran to the mountain ranges to hide and thought that slaughtering elven villages was a good idea. So the elves, including my mother, were promised safety here in Purgatory for labor, freedom from the monsters.

“Of course it wasn’t long before many of them grew to understand there are monsters here as well.” Renjun’s hands ball into fists, and he draws his feet up onto the bench seat, making himself appear very small as he wraps his arms around his legs, his knees against his chest. “The Watchers quickly showed their lack of empathy for the plights of the elves. Elves are strong and immortal, but we have our limits. Working endless stretches of hours for days on end, performing manual labor to quarry stone for this house or forging iron railings or imbibing hot glass with magic. The Watchers were demanding, unrelenting. They beat those that attempted to take a break, and it was very quickly apparent that coming here had been a mistake.” 

“Why didn’t they leave?” You ask, finding your voice. 

Mark glances over at you. “How could they? I’m sure the Watchers had a tight hold on them, always working them or watching them.”

Renjun nods. “Some of them had easier jobs than others, some of them were just happy to live in ignorant bliss of how they were being wronged by the Watchers. Millenias passed, and each day the elves grew a little more broken down, a little more crushed beneath the heavy boot of the Watchers. Until finally, a few of them did escape, though. They broke free, slipping away in the night, and running as fast as they could through the forest. Elves are faster than any Watcher. They weren’t even sure they were being pursued, but they ran until they came upon a clearing, a pond perfectly centered in it. Back then, that’s all it was. Just a pond, shallow with a muddy bottom and roots. But elves have magic, powerful magic, and in a great moment of need, they can do amazing things. The four escaped elves pooled their magic, and they opened a portal back into the world they had once known. They emerged in your Hell City, which was a nightmare and a blessing in equal measure. Suddenly they were surrounded by all of the creatures they had fled this world to escape, but also they were in a city full of beings that hated the Watchers. Somehow, this feared place was a safe haven, offering safety in sheer numbers, and the elves went into hiding in the city. 

“My mother was among them, in case you couldn’t figure that out from me having all of these details,” Renjun says, “and my father was one of the Watchers sent out to hunt down the escaped elves and return them. You can’t break an indenture, you know. So my father hunted through your Hell City, high and low for any sign of the elves. He had more reason than the other Watchers to find them. He was looking for her.”

Outside the common room’s door, you hear voices rising up the stairwell, a group of them. Renjun freezes, shrinking even more into himself, staring at the door in clearly-felt fear. A group of Watchers climbs up the spiral stair, approaching this room, and you all sit in quiet, waiting to see if they’re coming here. 

Their voices luckily pass the room, continuing on through the space out there, down along the hallway that curves out of sight. Renjun sighs, resting his forehead on his knees. 

“My mother never told me exactly how or when my father and her fell in love, but it was while she was here in Purgatory, and she insisted that it was love. It wasn’t forced on either end, it wasn’t an arrangement made out of proximity or convenience. They fell in love in the middle of all of that, and she discovered at some point shortly before the escape, that she was pregnant. She had only just told my father the morning before she and the other elves made their escape. So when he came into the world, he wasn’t searching for escaped indentured elves, he was searching for the elven woman he loved and me.”

“Sounds like a fairytale,” WinWin remarks quietly, a tone of bitterness in his voice. “Or a story I’ve heard before. How do we know you’re not making all of this up?”

Renjun’s gaze turns sharp, directed exclusively at WinWin. “Why would I be lying about this?”

WinWin shrugs. “To win our trust.”

“Stop it. Let him finish.” You reach over, knocking your hand against WinWin’s arm. 

Renjun continues after a moment, saying, “When he found us, it was months later. The elves had spent over half a year hiding in Hell City. I had just been born. My father said he found us based off a paternal guidance, a Watcher’s knowledge meeting a father’s intuition. For months afterwards, he misdirected the attentions of the Watchers, steering them far away from us, hinting at rumors that the escaped elves had fled the city to return to their mountain villages. All the while, he would visit as frequently as he could, doting on me, caring for us. 

“But Watchers take a vow of celibacy and a vow of antifraternization. Of course, the celibacy vow is broken semi-regularly by Watchers. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of gods and angels and aliens coming down from the heavens to have relations with human women and men, sometimes even producing offspring? That’s one thing, when it’s only human, when the child produced is only human. The tales of demigods are exaggerated, wishful thinking of the mothers. But a Watcher and an elf? That hadn’t happened before in all the recorded Watchings of history. I was special.”

At that, Renjun grins a little cocky and pleased. Mark laughs, you smile, and WinWin just rolls his eyes. But Renjun continues with his story. 

“Watchers don’t fall in love. They don’t have families, even when they do happen to procreate. They certainly don’t fall in love, have a baby, and want to create a family with an elf of all things in the goddamned world. His absences from Purgatory began to become noticeable. Stretches of time where he couldn’t be accounted for. Half-caught glimpses of him by the other Watchers who oversee Hell City. Eventually, it was all put together. 

“The Watchers came for us when I was three years old. They imprisoned my mother, imprisoned my father, and they took me in as a ward. I was an oddity to the Watchers. Half-elven, half-Watcher. They had to keep a very close eye on me to make sure that I didn’t slip away through a mirror portal or appear as a divine baby to a congregation of humans on earth. Apparently I did slip away quite a few times, always found in the dungeons visiting my parents, somehow slipped inside their cells despite the wardings on the bars. The blend of powers inside me was giving them surprises. The encouragement of both my mother and my father only made it worse for the Watchers. They would find me in the cells early in the mornings, after I’d been in there all night, learning elven magic from my mother or being whispered the secrets of the Watchers by my father. Eventually, one of the Watchers figured out a warding so powerful that it could actually keep me out of the dungeons entirely, cutting off my access to my parents.”

“And where are they now?” You ask. “Still down there?”

The slump of Renjun’s shoulders answers your question first. He shakes his head. “No. To the Watchers, there are only two results in a trial: innocence, which means life, or guilt, which means imminent death and destruction. My parents received their guilt sentences when I was five years old. My father was stripped of his rights as a Watcher, and the expulsion from the order crippled him until he was but a shadow. Literally. I was forced to watch,” Renjun says, his voice taking on a hollow tone, and his eyes fall into shadow. “My mother’s death was quick, my father’s was long. He withered, fading from existence, writhing in pain. That is how a Watcher dies, stripped of immortality.”

Empty silence reigns for a few moments. Even the fire in the fireplace doesn’t make a sound. Raindrops that spray against one of the windows only run silently down the glass. Eventually Renjun sighs and picks up his story again. 

“After that, the Watchers kept me under tight surveillance. They kept me away from the elves in the kitchen for as long as they could. They took on my education, I think in an attempt to brainwash me into blind loyalty. But they had killed my parents. I wasn’t likely to forget that. They hated me for being different, but their curiosity is what has kept me alive. They’ve studied me all these years, like a specimen that they would gladly dissect and tear apart at the first opportunity. They don’t get the chance to study half-breeds like me very often. In all of history, there have only been a handful of people that are half-Watcher and half-supernatural. The human ones hold little interest anymore. I only know a little bit about the halfbreed history, since the Watchers don’t talk about it much, preferring for me to believe I’m alone, just a freak or an oddity. 

“So, all of that whole long story is just to say: you should trust me. I have no loyalty holding me to the Watchers. I’m a prisoner here only slightly less than your friends in the dungeon are. So, do you trust me?”

This last question Renjun directs to WinWin, the pair of them staring each other down. You and Mark exchange a look, both of you wondering what WinWin’s answer will be. The silence stretches, uncomfortable and awkward once it hits the one minute point. Mark fidgets in his seat, opening his mouth after a while to say something, but WinWin beats him to it. 

“Can you show us to the dungeon? Even if you can’t get inside?” WinWin asks. 

Renjun nods quickly. “Yes. That’s something that Mark and I were just talking about. If you’d told me before that the dungeons are what you were looking for, I could’ve taken you there last night instead of wasting time in the library. The warding against me was lifted after my parents were sentenced. But the entrance to the dungeon is tricky. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things tend to move here. Hallways and staircases and all that. The rooms stay constantly in their set hallways, as do the tapestries and statues. But the entrance to the dungeon is a bit different. It’s hidden for good reason, and because it’s hidden so well, it often moves locations around the House.”

Mark nods, then says, “Just like we suspected. Why wouldn’t they hide it in an even more complicated way than the rest of this house hides its secrets?”

Renjun looks at him, then WinWin, and finally at you. “It is hidden, but it’s actually not all that difficult to find. They have the doorway hidden behind a life-sized portrait of the High Watcher.”

Simultaneously, you and WinWin turn to look at each other. He’d just seen that portrait on your way back from the library. You’d both passed right by it, unwittingly missing Ten and Yuta by meters. 

“We saw that. Just last night.” WinWin stands up. “Will it still be there?”

Renjun shakes his head. “No. The house is rearranging constantly. On average things move once a day, but some of the more, um, secure areas move probably every hour or two. Some sections of the house stay more constant, like the entrance hall with the banquet hall and the solarium. Those have only changed once in my time here, just like the staircase outside here. If things changed up too much it would confuse everyone. But there is a pattern to the madness though. Wait long enough, days or weeks maybe, and something will be right back to where you first saw it. Sometimes things will move to the opposite side of this place or just shift one hallway over. The House has many secrets, and I’ve been working hard these last twenty years to uncover all of them.”

“So are you saying we have to wait days or weeks to find the entrance again, or can you show us to it?” WinWin growls, his irritation resurfacing. “We have just two days before they go to trial. We still don’t even know what they’ve done. What damn good are you if all you can do is dangle a little hope in front of us before ripping it away?”

“WinWin,” you keep your voice low. “Go cool off. He’s helping us, so stop jumping down his throat.” 

WinWin turns his hot stare towards you, softening the moment his eyes meet yours. “Don’t you want answers? They’re your boyfriends.”

Of course you want answers, and Renjun is offering the answers to you. You just have to be a little patient. “Go cool off,” you repeat.

WinWin stands, stalking over towards the closed door of the unused blue bedroom. 

“I wouldn’t use that one if I were you,” Renjun calls in warning as WinWin’s hand touches the doorknob. “Mirrors have powers here. Those are Watcher mirrors filling that room, so you never know what’s going to come in through them or get pulled out through them. Or who’s listening or watching on the other side. I would advise keeping that door closed at all times while you’re here.” 

WinWin turns on his heel, crossing the common room back to the yellow room you’d slept in last night, but he freezes in the doorway, turning back to look at the three of you. He hooks his thumb back over his shoulder. “What about the mirror in here?”

Renjun shrugs. “I don’t trust any of the mirrors in this place.”

WinWin steps back, snapping that door shut, and he walks over to the open doorway of the green room. You watch as WinWin looks around cautiously from the doorway, then he takes a step inside, looking around some more, and finally satisfied that the green room has no mirrors, he walks inside and disappears into the tiny en-suite bathroom.

As soon as WinWin is gone, Renjun sighs, unfolding himself from the tight knot that he’s worked himself into while telling his story. “So, to answer his question, it won’t be weeks or days. I do have an approximation of where the entrance probably is right now, where it’ll be tomorrow at various points throughout the day. But, I also know that with the three of you here, they’ve got guards stationed everywhere. There’s one that pretty much follows you lot every time you leave these rooms, and he would definitely stop you before you could reach the dungeon entrance. You wouldn’t stand a chance at getting in to even see or speak to those demons, let alone break them out or whatever you intend to do.”

“I just want to see them! I want to talk to them. I know breaking them out has got to be nearly impossible, but just getting the chance to be with them before their trial? There must be something we can do.” You stand up, unable to sit still right now. Not now that you know what the entrance to the dungeon looks like. You want to leave this common room, to search the entire House for it, and damn the Watchers who would try to stop you. 

Renjun and Mark both watch you pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. 

After a while, Mark finally sighs and looks at Renjun. “You can get her to the dungeon right? Even with that Watcher that follows us everywhere, if he was taken care of, could you get her inside? Down to see Yuta and Ten?”

Taken care of, he says, and those words make your blood run cold. In what way would he take care of them? Sometimes it’s so easy for you to forget who Mark is, that he’s the boss of a whole coven, the operator of a dozen different underground establishments of Hell City. You know he’s probably had to take care of problem-people before, but you’ve never really thought about it. The idea of what he might be thinking of doing to this Watcher admittedly scares you.

Renjun nods, a slow grin growing on his lips. “Yeah, I probably could. What are you thinking?” 

The next day, the plan rolls into motion. 

You, WinWin, Mark, and Renjun have gone over the risks of your plan, such as the potential consequences of getting caught sneaking down to the dungeon cells. The rest of the previous day was spent sequestered in the common room, only once did Mark and Renjun make an excursion to the kitchen to fetch food back to the common room, and then you and WinWin had gone down to supper in the Banquet hall when the bell rang to signal the meal. The stalker Watcher had been sitting out there each time that any of you departed, and he’d followed until you returned to the common room. Every other moment of yesterday had been spent sharing hushed plans and arrangements for today. 

Renjun had everything planned out to the minute. He knew exactly where the portrait of the High Watcher that acts as a hidden entrance to the dungeons will be, and he knows exactly where the dungeon will spit you back out when your time is up and the portrait has moved location. You avoid listening to the detailed parts of the plan that involve WinWin and Mark dispatching the stalker Watcher.

For half the night, you couldn’t sleep. 

In part, the restlessness was due to the whispered sounds carrying into the bedroom from Mark and Renjun out in the common room, running over the plan aloud between themselves, again and again. Also, your mind refused to let you relax, stressed and excited in equal measure about the plan, and the most important part, which was finally getting to see Yuta and Ten again. 

You spend a while envisioning scenarios of the moment you’ll see them again. Your chest aches, your fingers itching to touch them, to smell their fiery brimstone scent, to see the flames burning in Yuta’s eyes, Ten’s wickedly charming grin. You miss the sounds of their voices, their laughter. You miss all of their silly little habits, even ones that had somewhat irritated you before. So, for at least an hour or two, you imagine scenarios of finding them again, before those scenarios start to shrink from bright and happy to the darker side of your worries.

So, instead, you turn to WinWin. You spend a good portion of your sleepless hours lying there in the bed watching him sleep – the soft motion of his eyes beneath his eyelids, his lips parting to breathe out quiet sleepy sounds. 

After Mark falls silent since Renjun has probably left for the night, and after watching WinWin begins to feel more creepy than anything else, you tuck yourself with your back against WinWin’s chest. He makes a little hum, squeezing his arms around you so you feel secure and safe against him. Lying with him like this reminds you of your nights together during his rut, of those few hours when he’d not been overwhelmingly horny, when you’d been locked together by his knot, cuddling and dozing. 

At some point, you fall asleep. 

The sun hasn’t yet risen when you wake up. In the predawn darkness of the green bedroom, you can’t see anything. Even the firelight in the common room is extinguished. All you know is the feeling of WinWin warm all around you. 

Specifically, you feel his lips resting against the side of your neck.

“What are you doing?” You sleepily mumble, lifting a hand to uselessly flutter your fingers over WinWin’s hair, his head bowed over you.

“Just allow me this,” he replies, sponging another kiss a little higher on your throat. “Mark and I are going to war for you today.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“Is it?” His lips touch your jaw. “Who knows what might happen?”

You hate the truth behind his words. None of you really know what might happen. To what lengths will the Watchers go to punish such an infraction if you’re caught sneaking to the dungeon? Or if Mark and WinWin taking care of – or distracting – the stalker Watcher goes badly?

“I need you both to be careful.” You twist around in WinWin’s arms, tugging at his hair lightly so he pulls his lips away from your skin. 

He blinks slowly down at you, his gaze lowering to your lips. “If I promise you we’ll be careful, can I get a kiss?”

You push a hand against his chest, but you don’t pull it away and WinWin doesn’t budge from over you. He smiles, still looking at your lips, waiting. You sigh, “I want both of you to be careful, WinWin, please. Keep an eye on Mark. The Watchers hate him more than anyone else. Don’t let him get carried away with whatever you’re planning, okay?”

WinWin groans playfully, lowering his forehead to your shoulder. “Now you’re just taking all the fun out of it. But, sure, I’ll make sure Mark stays in one whole piece so you can keep playing with him.”

“I’m not playing with Mark.” You roll your eyes, pushing again uselessly at WinWin’s chest. 

“Okay, sure. I’m not blind, I see the way he looks at you, the way you’ve been all moon-eyed over him lately too.” He huffs out a heavy breath, his voice muted as he says, “But I’ll return him in one piece for you.” 

You rake your fingers through WinWin’s hair with a sound of frustration until he lifts his head. “Win,” you say, holding eye contact, imploring him, “You come back in one piece, too.”

WinWin dips his head, kissing your cheek. “I promise.”

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, pressing your fingertips just enough that he gets the message, shifting his lips from your cheek to your mouth.

This kiss is slow, tender with all of the emotions and the need for today to go right. WinWin props himself above you. You stroke your fingers lightly over the side of his face and down his neck, over his bare shoulder. His heart pounds beneath your touch. His full bare body presses against yours, and if you weren’t still wound up with the stress of the coming day, approaching quicker with each rising degree of the sun outside, maybe you would finally give in and take this a little further once again.

But then you think of Ten and Yuta, down in the dungeons. 

You think of Mark probably still out there in the common room. 

WinWin tries to dip back in when you pull away from the kiss. You allow him one more peck, and then you’re sliding out from beneath him, leaving the bed to wrap your arms around yourself as you face the sunrise. 

The old bed frame creaks beneath WinWin. “Everything will be okay. We’ve planned. Renjun knows this place better than anyone else, probably,” he says, lifting himself up after you. His hands are warm when he places them on your hips, drawing your bodies close again. “Can you promise me, too? That you’ll be careful?”

“It’s not the same, WinWin.” 

He rests his chin on top of your head. “Just promise me.”

You tilt your head back, sighing, “I promise. I’ll get myself out of there if anything goes wrong. Teleport or burn my way out.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head, and then he’s gone, walking away towards the bathroom. “You can join me in the shower, if you want. That kiss felt a little… hungry.” He’s teasing, grinning at you. 

“Go away, oh my God,” you groan in embarrassment. You turn back to face the window, feeling your face heat up. 

WinWin just laughs, and you watch him walk away in the reflection. In the rising sunlight, all of his bare skin reflects just fine in the glass. The bathroom door closes behind him, and you focus on the image of the world beyond the reflection. This morning it’s the Parisian garden you’d first seen from the empty ballroom. Your eyes follow the curling paths, the swirls of colorful flowers in full bloom, the arcs of sunlight catching on fountains. 

And then you catch sight of a face in the window’s reflection.  

You spin around, summoning your fire to your fingertips already.

“Hold your fire,” Mark says, lifting his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“Sorry.” You lower your hands, extinguishing your flame. “I’m just on edge.”

Mark comes deeper into the room, slowly approaching you like he’s a little worried that you might snap on him. “That’s reasonable… to be jumpy. Are you ready?” He comes to stand beside you, his arm touching yours. His hand bumps against yours, and you feel a spark jump between your hand and his, a little shock that startles you both. 

That little shock becomes a full pulse of energy when Mark suddenly takes your hand, holding it in both of his. Mark doesn’t say anything, just holding onto your hand, looking into your eyes. You get it, even without him saying anything. He’s worrying for you, worrying for himself, worrying for how this day is going to go. 

“Do you remember what I told you? When we were about to come through the Fountain of the Watchers?” His hands feel warm against yours, as if he’s been holding his palm to the flames out in the common room’s fireplace. “If anything feels too dangerous, like it’s going wrong, you can teleport. You can get yourself out of here. That’s what is most important.”

“Mark, I’ll be fine. You two will be fine.” You smile reassuringly at him. “Today is going to go splendidly. You know the plan. Think a little positive for me.”

He pulls one hand away from holding yours, and when he lifts it to your shoulder, his breath coming out an uncertain sigh, your heart jolts in your chest. Mark’s hand slides over your shoulder, fingertips light against the back of your neck before dipping a little lower. He presses against your back, pulling you forward, and your heart thunders in anticipation. 

You expect a kiss.

Maybe that’s initially what Mark was going for, or maybe it wasn’t his plan at all.

Mark hugs you, his cheek resting against your head. 

You breathe in as your nose is pressed to his shirt. This is the thing about Mark. He might be undead, surviving off of blood, typically cold to the touch, but he always smells so nice and warm. Like clean cotton and orange blossom.  He crushes you against him in this hug, and you wrap your arms around his waist, gripping his shirt at his lower back so you’re both pressed as tightly together as you can be.

Their worries are totally unwarranted, you’re sure. You and Renjun are going to be out of danger, just down visiting the dungeon cells. Your worry for WinWin and Mark makes sense. Renjun has made it glaringly obvious to the three of you that the Watchers, though they are High Holy beings of the supernatural variety, have a deep-seated contempt and sense of superiority over all other supernatural beings. Mark and WinWin are going to be out there providing a distraction so the stalker Watcher stays out of the way for you and Renjun. But what if that Watcher – or any other, for that matter – decides to just attack the vampire and the werewolf like other Watchers have made it clear over the past couple days that they’re willing to do. 

It’s not that you don’t trust the High Watcher, but you don’t believe that the lower-level Watchers are going to necessarily stick to the request you made to the High Watcher that Mark and Winwin be left alone. If you’re not with them, how will you know the Watchers will keep their word? You know that you just told Mark to think positively, but suddenly, you find your mind swirling down a dark path of worry.

“I’ll promise you what I just promised WinWin a few minutes ago.” You lower your head, your mouth brushing the curve of Mark’s shoulder through the thin material of his shirt. “If I feel like anything is going wrong, if I’m in any danger, I’ll get myself out of there. Teleport or burn my way out. But you two keep each other safe, too, okay?”

Mark sighs softly, clutching you a little bit tighter. “I just hope we don’t all end up in cells before the day is over.”

“Think positive,” you remind him. 

Mark just holds you tighter. 

You wish this meant something. You like Mark just as much as you like the others. Like WinWin had pointed out earlier, you are playing with Mark a little bit, but it’s not intentional. You’re inviting him more than just playing with him; he’s the one that’s not accepting the invitation from you to come make this a little more than friendship. Like this hug, for example. He could have kissed you. You would have welcomed a kiss, but Mark went for the hug. 

It’s a comforting hug, for sure. You feel nice with his arms around you, safe and secure. You would happily stay there for a while longer, wrapped up in a hug with Mark, the sunlight warming you as it spreads even brighter through the room, but then there’s a knock on the common room’s door. 

Mark lets go of you, stepping away and turning his back quickly so you can’t see his face as he hurries out to open the door. You linger in the doorway of the green bedroom, watching Mark open the door out into the rest of the House.

Renjun stands outside, smiling brightly when he sees both of you. 

“Are we all ready?”

After WinWin emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, fresh and fully clothed, there’s nothing else left for the plan except for the perfect moment to commence. Due to the portrait of the High Watcher’s location, you have to wait for an exact moment to begin. If you’re too early you’ll draw the Watchers’ attention and this could all be over before it begins. If you’re just a little too late, the portrait will be in an entirely different location on the other side of the House.

Renjun watches an old mantelpiece clock that sits on one of the bookshelves in the common room, the hands ticking slowly around the clock, and the moment that the hands point out to being half past seven o’clock in the morning, the booming sound of the breakfast bell rings through the House. That’s the sign you’ve been waiting for. Renjun gets to his feet. He strides to the door of the common room, looking back at the three of you. You stand to follow.

WinWin grabs your hand. “Are you positive we can trust him?”

On your other side, Mark has stood up as well. He just brushes his hand against the small of your back before continuing around you to join Renjun at the door. You squeeze WinWin’s hand, leaning back in quickly to kiss him. “We can trust him, WinWin. Why do you doubt him so much?”

WinWin stands up, casting a glance over at the other two. “Because you’re going with him. This could all be a trap he’s planning.”

Renjun rolls his eyes as he pulls the door open. “It wouldn’t be a very good trap and an even worse plan. Now, please, if you don’t come along, we’re going to miss our window of opportunity.” He steps out, leading the way. Renjun doesn’t look back even once to check that you and the others are coming. 

You trust him fully, so you follow. 

Mark and WinWin are both right behind you.

Immediately, once you’re outside of the common room, you notice a slight flaw in your plans. The stalker Watcher isn’t outside your room. 

“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” WinWin asks in a hushed voice once you’ve pointed it out. “We don’t have to do anything about him if he’s not here.”

Renjun looks back over his shoulder at WinWin as he starts to climb the spiral stair up to the next floor. “But then we don’t know where he is, and I have a feeling that he’s usually got a pretty good idea of where the three of you are. Watchers do have powers, and some of them are gifted in tracking; usually that’s just the soldier Watchers, but some of the others do as well.” He looks around, keeping an eye out for any Watchers who might be wandering the House instead of down at breakfast with the rest.

“Maybe he’s at breakfast,” WinWin suggests. 

Renjun makes a sound of disagreement.

Unfortunately, according to Renjun, the location of the High Watcher’s portrait is near the entrance hall this morning. That takes you dangerously close to all of the Watchers that you’re trying to avoid, but there’s no other choice. That’s what role Mark and WinWin are serving today: the distraction. In addition to taking care of the stalker Watcher, their responsibility in the plan is to make sure that no other Watchers come towards the dungeon’s hidden entrance while you and Renjun are still inside. 

The path to the entrance hall and the banquet hall is a longer one this morning, and you’re not sure if you’re grateful for the extra time or not. Your bones itch to just be with Yuta and Ten again, to get these preliminary actions out of the way so you can see them once more. 

Already on edge, it’s no surprise that you jump, nearly startled out of your skin when WinWin’s hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you back slightly towards him. 

His eyes are focused ahead, a burning amber color.  

“There he is,” he growls.

You look forward, following his gaze along the hallway Renjun is leading you along. Up ahead, having just rounded the corner, is the stalker Watcher. His familiar black robes and the silver jewelry on his shoulder make him easily distinguishable. His gait as he walks towards you is also familiar.

Renjun hesitates just a few feet in front of you. He looks back at the three of you. “It’s go-time.”

WinWin’s eyes stay hot, flashing dangerously as he angles a grin at Mark, a surprising tone of excitement in his voice when he says, “Our audience awaits.”

“You don’t have to sound so delighted about this, you know.” Mark stands on your other side looking over at WinWin. He presses a fist into the palm of his other hand, cracking his knuckles. “Is the prospect of fighting with me the only thing getting your rocks off these days?”

WinWin rolls his eyes, his lip curling slightly. “Oh, there’s plenty else that gets me off, Mark.” His hand shifts on your shoulder, and you swat him away, putting a little distance between them and you, standing closer to Renjun.  

Mark snarls, and the two of them begin arguing.

Renjun just smiles, all light-hearted and unaffected by the bickering men behind you. “If they can keep that energy up, this should be easy.”

As much as you tried to not listen to the exact details of their plan to get the stalker Watcher out of your way, you had heard some small parts of it. Mostly this: they were planning to get into a brawl in front of him, hoping that he would deem them a bigger threat than whatever you were getting up to, and he would follow them as they took their fight through the halls of the House. You know that they won’t actually hurt each other. Probably.

Unfortunately, they’ve probably got a lot of fuel to keep this fire going for a while. They’ve always been alright with each other's presence, but since WinWin’s rut and then especially since they lost the buffer of Yuta and Ten between them, there’s been a tiny bit more animosity between them. Coming here to Purgatory and the House of the Watchers, it’s only gotten worse, though you’re pretty certain that’s due to the unfamiliar environment, the near-constant surveillance of the Watchers with their clear disdain, and the fate of their friends and your boyfriends that remains up in the air. 

The stalker Watcher approaches from the other end of the corridor, his black cloak fluttering around his legs. 

Mark and WinWin, despite it all, do know the plan. Therefore, as you and Renjun begin taking small steps forward, continuing forward as if the sight of the Watcher isn’t a problem, the other two walk a little faster. Soon, they’re outpacing you and Renjun, drawing ahead of you, putting themselves between you and the Watcher. With each step, their quiet argument grows in volume. Their voices echo around the corridor, off the glass ceiling of a solarium filled with honey-bright sunlight and strange plants that sit along one side of the hallway. 

The echoes distort their words, making it difficult to actually understand much of what they’re saying, but the wild gestures of their hands tend to stray in your direction, so you think you may have an idea. 

As they approach the Watcher, Mark yells something and pushes WinWin. The werewolf stumbles, and he knocks into the Watcher.

WinWin rights himself, a growl ripping through him, ready to throw himself fully into this fight with Mark.

You’re sure that they would begin the violent fight imminently, except for the sharp sound of your gasp.

When Mark pushed WinWin, he left long bloody scrapes from his nails along WinWin’s arm, but it’s not the sight of the blood that’s taken you by surprise. Rather, it’s the way that when WinWin stumbled into the Watcher, he knocked the man back against the wall, and in doing so, his hood fell away from his face. 

Other than during mealtimes in the Banquet hall, you’ve hardly seen the Watchers with their hoods down. Most keep them up all the time, though the novices in white do shirk away the given anonymity of the hood even when they’re in their worst behavior. But the fact remains that the majority of the Watchers, you’ve never really seen their faces, and now you’re faced with this Watcher’s bared features. 

The first thing you notice about him is the ragged curl of his lips, the pink canyon of a scar along his right cheek. His left eyebrow, eyelid, and his nose are all marred by jagged scrapes that can be nothing other than claw marks. The twisted, shiny scar of a burn covers his jaw on the left side, extending across his throat in the shape of a handprint. And under it all, you make out the facial features of someone you know. 

WinWin comes to the realization at the same time as you. 

A deep growl rumbles from his chest as he turns his back on Mark, crouching as he glares at the unhooded Watcher before you. 

Hansol. 

The damage to his handsome face is startling, but without a doubt, it’s him. You see now what vengeance Yuta, Ten, and WinWin had exacted on him that you’d never truly wanted to see. Once, they’d told you that they’d left him and your pastor alive, their memories modified, but they hadn’t mentioned this: how they’d shredded Hansol’s features to nearly the point of being unrecognizable. 

He grimaces as you make eye contact. 

“Hello,” he says, and at once you realize that you’d recognized his voice from the first moment you heard it. You just hadn’t ever considered that he could be here, so you hadn’t made the connection. 

“Don’t talk to her,” WinWin growls. 

Mark, confused, looks between the three of you. Renjun shrinks back against the wall. 

“I’ll talk to her if I damn well please, dog.” Hansol’s lips twist grotesquely, his gaze flicks away from you, over to WinWin. “You don’t have the demons here to protect you now.”

A shiver unfurls along your spine, calling to the eternal fire inside you. Sparks jump on your skin, your hair rising. WinWin’s whole body tenses up, his eyes shifting from a warm amber brown towards a lupine shade of yellow-gold. 

“What the hell is going on?” Mark asks, “Who is this guy?”

All you can say is, “Hansol.” 

No need for the superlatives of ex-lover and exorcist, Mark immediately understands the context just from his name alone. He has heard the stories from your boyfriends, from WinWin. He’s heard the name muttered from your lips on a few rare occasions. Even if he hadn’t you’re sure that the demon handprint burnt to his throat as well as the werewolf claw marks tearing up his once-handsome face should have been indicative that this was no friend. Mark’s stance shifts immediately, eyes blazing bloodred, his fangs emerging along with a hiss. 

“Surprised to see me?” Hansol asks, that demented grin still on his face. 

Of course you’re surprised to see him. For that period of time that you knew him, you’d thought he was only human. Not anything more or less than just human. You stand frozen in your spot, staring at him. Your mind is whirring to compute and catch up, to just comprehend that your ex-lover certainly wasn’t killed by your boyfriends, his memory wasn’t erased like they’d told you they’d done, and he’s just a disfigured version of the man that you’d once known. 

He takes a step towards you, only managing the one step before WinWin’s shoulder collides with Hansol’s chest, slamming the Watcher back against the wall. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” WinWin’s clawed hand presses against the burned handprint on Hansol’s throat. The tips of his claws create indents on the skin, but they don’t break through, just held there as a threat. “You’re not allowed to touch her anymore, bastard.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, and with a flick of his hand, WinWin is flying backwards. He crashes against the opposite wall of the corridor, rattling old framed photographs on the wall. Hansol shakes his sleeves out, brushing a bit of lint off the front of his black cloak. 

Then Mark charges him. 

Having witnessed Mark’s vampire strength and speed before when he and WinWin sparred each other in your apartment in Hell City, you feel confident in his attack. You’ve seen how quickly and easily he’d pinned WinWin, laughing as he’d held his fangs above the werewolf’s neck. But now Hansol matches Mark’s speed; you remember what Renjun said the other day about the animal blood dulling Mark’s abilities, and you see that clearly now as Hansol gets the better of Mark, hurling him down the hallway. 

Mark skids and tumbles over the carpet, coming to a stop several meters away. Closer at hand, WinWin rises to his feet, his limbs shaking with barely contained fury now. 

You take a startled step back, closer to Renjun now where he’s pressed to the wall. You watch as Mark and WinWin both vibrate with the heat of the fight, as Hansol forgets your presence, focused only on the two predators defending you against him. Both of them begin moving towards him at the same time, and Hansol readies himself for the impending attack. 

Their bodies meet violently. 

Mark’s hand goes to Hansol’s throat, and WinWin slashes his claws across Hansol’s chest, cutting ribbons out of his shirt. Hansol leans in against Mark’s hand. From your vantage point a safe distance down the corridor, you can’t clearly see Hansol’s face, but you can see his lips are moving, that he’s forcing some words out even as Mark chokes him. You see the expression on WinWin’s face fall for the briefest moment, his eyes lifting to catch sight of you. Hansol says something else, and WinWin’s focus jolts back around; a sneer curls Mark’s lip. 

Renjun grabs your arm, his hand resting against your forearm, startling you in your tense state. You look over at him, at his eyes flickering back and forth between silver and hazel, which you’re beginning to understand must be related to his level of adrenaline. “We need to move,” he whispers, “If we go now, we’ll be there before the Watcher even realizes we’re gone.”

It’s a yelp and a roar of fury that draws your attention back to the fight just in time to witness WinWin exploding into his wolf form. His fur drips blood from the suddenness of his inner wolf bursting so quickly through his human skin. This transformation is entirely different from the last you witnessed back beside the fountain in Hell City. This one was instant and seemed less painful, though you wonder if the emotions he’s feeling sped up the experience. 

His emotions are certainly high. 

The second that WinWin’s four paws hit the ground, his teeth are bared, body bristling as he shakes off the blood. He glares at Hansol with his yellow eyes. Mark is also utterly  transformed. You can see the vivid red glow of his eyes, the veined shadows that fracture the skin around his eyes, and the vicious length of his fangs and nails that have grown into claws. You can hear Mark hissing, WinWin’s snappy growl, and the low challenge of Hansol foolishly egging them both on. 

You don’t want to watch, not really, but it’s that morbid fascination. You can’t look away even though you know that you’re not going to like what you see when the fighting actually begins. 

Renjun tugs on your arm again, trying to pull you away from the growing tension, but you linger for another moment, watching the three of them as WinWin prowls closer, as Mark sinks into a fighting stance, and Hansol just retains his demented grin, arms held out wide as if to welcome them in. 

“We can’t stay!” Renjun whispers, and with one last tug, he pulls you away, running back along the hallway from the direction you came. 

You hear the sounds behind you as you and Renjun rush down along a side hallway. You hear the smack of bodies against each other behind you, hear the growling and vicious guttural sounds of contact being made. There is crashing, glass breaking, the crunching of a body being thrown into something. You hear the sounds moving, growing more distant as the pair of you and the fight move farther away from each other. Mark and WinWin are on the move, the rough tumbling and rolling thunder of growls  grows distant faster than you and Renjun are moving. 

Renjun throws a door open to a secret passage, a set of stairs that leads upwards, and with his hand still tight on your arm, he hauls you up the stairs behind him. You come crashing through a hidden door at the top into a dark hallway. No windows allow natural light here, and if there are lamps or candles mounted to the wall, they’ve all been extinguished. The only light comes from the open ends of the hallway—one at what appears to be the entrance hall and the other end overlooks a small staircase that leads up to somewhere bright and sunny. There’s only just enough light in the middle of this hallway for you to be able to see the hulking shadows of a few statues, the ornate frames mounted on the walls that appear empty as you pass them in the dark. 

Renjun throws his arm out to stop you as you near the end of the hallway by the stairs. You’re both still fully hidden in the shadow of the hallway, but Renjun pulls you sideways into the recessed doorway. He attempts to pull you fully into the nook, out of sight of anyone who might pass down this hallway, but you peek out, wanting to know what’s just set him on guard. 

A second later, a small group of Watchers passes by the end of the hallway that opens onto the entrance hall. They walk quickly, not even sparing a glance down this hallway, their voices confused murmurs of a language that you don’t understand, but something in their words causes Renjun to tense up beside you. He buzzes with silent energy, staring down towards where they disappeared, waiting for the sounds of their voices to fade away. 

When you can no longer hear the echoes of their voices, when there is nothing but silence, Renjun moves.

“Now!” He whispers, and his hand slips into yours, pulling you out of the nook. 

You both run, moving quickly towards the sunlight at the other end of the hallway, turning the corner, and you find yourself face-to-face with the portrait of the High Watcher. To your delight and relief, there truly is no one standing guard in front of the portrait, just an empty stretch of sunlit hallway. 

Renjun’s palm slides with nervous sweat against yours, as you come to a halt in front of the portrait. He doesn’t let go of you, instead using his free hand to search along the edge of the frame, muttering under his breath in what you believe sounds like a countdown. 

His hand stops. 

“Fuck,” he sighs in relief, pulling his hand back, holding a little tighter to yours. “Okay, here we go.”

There’s a clicking sound from deep behind the portrait. A creak, a pop, a groan, and then the frame swings out from the wall just enough the Renjun can haul it open a few inches further before he’s slipping in through the crack, dragging you with him. 

The air inside tastes dusty and stale on your tongue. The walls and floor and ceiling are all made of the same tightly fit-together gray stone, heading straight in for a few feet before turning sharply down into a steep set of stairs. For the moment, it’s all very well-lit. A series of mirrors are placed along the walls, reflecting the light coming in through the open portrait down along the dungeon’s stairs. 

Before you can take a step towards the stairs to hope for a clear look down, your vision goes black. 

“Shh.” Renjun is right there. His hand is still on yours. He’s just shut the portrait door, closing out all of the natural light. He whispers, “Don’t move. I don’t want you to fall. I need to just find…. where the damn light is.”

You don’t need a light. 

With your hand that’s not clamped on his, you call your flames, settling on a hot white bulb of fire that rests comfortingly in your palm. 

“That works.” Renjun nods beside you, his face even more pale and silvery in the white light of your flame. 

You feel a shift, feel like the walls shiver around you, and a low rumble similar to blood rushing in your ears fills the air. Renjun reaches a hand out to steady you, “It was just the House rearranging.” He had timed everything perfectly so there would only be a minute at the most from the time that you were behind its secret entrance to it moving to its new location elsewhere in the House. “Follow me. Be careful. There’s no handrail and it’s very steep.”

The steps are narrow and uneven, and the way your flame flickers makes the shadows dance, only enhancing the difficulty of descending the stairs. But Renjun moves steadily downward in front of you, so you just follow his shoulders, keeping one hand on the wall and the other hand aloft to light the way. 

You notice unlit candles in sconces along the curved walls, so as you pass them, you lift your hand, briefly touching the wicks to light the candles behind you. The candlelight reflects in the mirrors, making the tunnel even brighter. 

The deeper you descend, the damper the air grows. The walls develop a slick look, a cool feeling to them, like they’re seeping moisture, covered in lichen and moss. 

“Careful,” Renjun whispers when your foot slips on a slick step, and you’re forced to catch yourself with your hands on his shoulders. “We’re nearly there.”

You wonder how things are going up there in the House. Your thoughts linger with WinWin and Mark, and a small part of you wants to leave the dungeons, to go find them and make sure that they’re alright. A bigger part of you is dedicated to what you’re walking towards, toward seeing Yuta and Ten again. That part of you grows with every passing second, every beat of your heart. You’re going to see them again and all of this is going to be worth it. You’re going to talk to them, come up with a plan on how to get them out of here or at least get them out of the trial with a verdict of innocence. 

“Here.” Renjun steps aside, revealing the way that the stairs level out into a smooth tunnel that curves around to the right. An arched doorway opens onto the dungeons. You can see a single pale light glowing, reflecting off the iron bars and a puddle in the first cell. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here,” Renjun whispers. 

Frozen, you remain there for a moment. This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, but you’re scared. The fear bites deep into your bones. What if you walk in there and all the cells are empty? If Yuta and Ten aren’t actually here? What if WinWin was right and this has all been some elaborate fucked-up trap by the Watchers? Or worse, what if you walk in there and you find Yuta and Ten, but not the way that they were when you left them?

After a moment, you take a tentative step forward, then another. You pause again in the doorway, reaching out a steadying hand to the wall. You can’t see anyone, can’t hear any signs of life. Only a distant dripping sound somewhere down the block of cells. There’s a clang deep below you, and you glance back at Renjun. Surely he wouldn’t leave you to venture forward alone if there was anything dangerous lurking down in the cells? 

Renjun nods reassuringly, following a few paces behind you. He looks hesitant, a bit frightened, and you wonder if being down here is just making him think of his parents. Maybe it wasn’t very kind of you to ask him to bring you down here. But he’s here with you, and when he offers you another faint smile, you decide that he wouldn’t have brought you if he truly didn’t want to be down here.

You face forward again. 

“Yuta? Ten?” Your voice wavers, echoing, doubled back at you as you take another step forward. 

There, the tiniest sound from midway down the block of cells. A shuffle, a clink of a chain. There’s the smallest sound of a groan, and your heart leaps in your chest, propelling you forward through the doorway. A small puddle splashes under your foot. 

The first stretch of cells are completely empty.

“Yuta?” Your voice rebounds at you from the darkness.

A few more empty cells, and then your footsteps falter as your flames reflect off something shining in one of the cells only to reveal a broken femur lying disjointedly from the rest of a chained skeleton. 

“Ten?” There’s a tremble in your voice as you continue on.

You pass down the block, all of the cells empty. Your heart thuds in your throat, your flames in your hand pulse in time with your heartbeat. A short flight of stairs leads downwards, and here the walls positively weep. Your self-produced light catches on the rivulets of moisture on the walls, the black puddles on the stone floor. The stairs take a turn, leading farther down, down down. You can lean over the railing and see that the shadows dance into darkness far below.

How far down do these dungeons go? With the ever-increasing amount of liquid drawing out of the walls, are the bottom cells drowned in a black lake? 

You hope you don’t have to find out.

“Ten?” Your voice sounds quieter now, and you can’t tell if that’s your own fear muffling your voice or if it’s the dampness in the air swallowing the sound. “Yuta?”

Nothing.

Renjun sighs quietly, and he collapses to sit on a bench built into the wall beside the stairs. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and sad. Your shoulders slump slightly forward, and so quietly that your voice barely rises above a whisper, you ask, “How deep do you think we’ll have to go? What if they’re not even down here?”

For the first time, a new fear awakens in you. What if the Watchers already gave Yuta and Ten their trial? What if they determined them guilty, and they’re just stringing you, WinWin, and Mark along on a false hope? You squash that idea quickly; what reason would the Watchers have to lie to you about that, just to keep you here?

“No.” You shake your head, speaking more to yourself than to Renjun. “Yuta and Ten are down here somewhere. They’ve got to be.”

You walk away, leaving Renjun on the bench, peering into each cell as you pass.

And then, faintly, from a dark cell, you hear a voice. 

<-previous || next–>

a/n: sorry for the extra long delay! but it’s a long chapter to make up for it! I hope you enjoyed it, and as always please let me know what you thought! Likes, reblogs, comments and tags are always and forever appreciated 

[tatteredtoby]

you x Simon Highschool Theater au.

(DEAR EVAN HANSEN FANS RISE)

The director banned dating in the cast, because it could cause tension and the show would go to shit.

But just look at those eyes. Those beautiful Root Brew (321107) colored eyes that turn pitch black when he looks at you.

The blond hair the color of Saturns Rings.

He’s built like a fucking quarterback, yet he’s in theater. You’d think he’d be bullied for it, but he’s 6’4 and beefy. Everyone’s scared of that fucker.

But as soon as he’s in the auditorium, or backstage, or on stage with his cast members, he just melts into this giddy guy with so much damn husband potential.

That only continues when you are cast as Evan and he’s cast as Connor, where the choreographer most likely sees the chemistry, makes you both hold hands in the show, and him kiss your cheek during “Sincerely, Me.”

———————————————————————————This is based off my own experience omggggggmgmgmgm I’m projecting this is gonna be so fun to write

[lostloveletters]

cant stop thinking about the woody/brady high school au, do you have any more hcs for that? or maybe some with holly, bucky and the rest of the gang included?

You sent this two weeks ago, and I want to apologize for the wait! I promise I wasn’t ignoring you, I got kind of sidetracked😅 High school teachers AU my beloved🖤 Previous HCs for this AU are here!

More headcanons below the cut!

RIP to the like 3 students who have both a music class and a shop class because they’re getting a double dose of “teachers who are so obviously into each other it’s almost painful”

Woody goes to every school concert and musical, even though she doesn’t have to, but Brady’s obviously directing the band (the theater kids can sometimes get on his nerves. The band kids are basically his children though). She and John are almost always the last ones hanging around the auditorium by the end of the night after the performances are over. The two of them, alone in a dimly lit auditorium…anything can happen🤭

Since Holly knows pretty much everyone’s business, Bucky also knows pretty much everyone’s business. Constantly leaning into each other and whispering and snickering in the teacher’s lounge (they’re so annoying about it, god bless)

As the baseball coach and Phys. Ed. teacher, Bucky expects a lot from the guys on the baseball team. Everyone else can walk the mile if they want, he doesn’t care. Most likely to curse around students, like an exasperated “oh shit” every once in a while that endears him to them. Big proponent of the class pizza party

Buck teaches Physics and students of all genders are pulling some Indiana Jones “love you” on the eyelids type of shit even though he mentions Marge regularly because he loves her! She also sends him in with different baked goods for the AP students every week or so (there’s always one or two missing by the time he gets to class because Bucky stole some in the teacher’s lounge)

Much to say about guidance counselor Rosie. Absolutely loves chaperoning the school dances and always ends up showing off his moves that become increasingly outdated with each passing year, but damn if those kids aren’t cheering him on like it’s American Bandstand. He’s mentioned in pretty much every valedictorian speech. Former students still send him cards around the holidays. He’s been invited to a few weddings. Definitely gets the most gifts at the end of the school year

Back to Woody and Brady! They carpool to work. At first it’s just an excuse to spend more time together but then she’s staying over at his place all the time so…

Some of their students start to hatch a plan to get them together but then they see them walking into the building holding hands one day and they’re like “Nevermind.” Kinda annoyed they stole their thunder

There’s definitely a “So do we call you Mrs. Brady now?” discussion in Woody’s shop class after she marries John and her last name is no longer Woodward. She’s like “Uh, just say Mrs. Woody instead of Miss Woody.” (She’s never been Miss Woodward to her students, it’s too formal to her)

[kanerallels]

Kanera, high-school theatre au?

Oh I had a LOT of fun with this one (has never been to a real high school)

“Excuse me? Is this where the line for tryouts for the school musical starts?”

Kanan was pretty well known for his quick wit and ability to come up with smooth responses, especially where girls were concerned. (not that he was actually in a relationship— his grandfather had pretty strict rules where that kind of thing was concerned, the cornerstone of which was “school comes first.”)

But when the girl behind him spoke, he froze. He’d been part of the theater program at Lothal City High for years, and he’d never heard this voice before.

He’d known it if he had. It was melodic and rich, like warm honey and the song of a violin. The tone was calm and matter of factly confident, but none of that took away from the unspeakable beauty of it.

Turning, Kanan saw the girl behind him standing with her arms folded, one eyebrow lifted in a half-amused, half-challenging question. Her hair was twisted back from her face in green dyed braids. Similarly vibrant green eyes studied him, bright against her brown skin. She was wearing a band t-shirt and a leather jacket, and despite only looking to be a year or two younger than him, he’d never seen her before in his life.

And she was also the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.

“Um,” he stammered, trying to recover a little. “Y— yeah.”

“You okay there?”

Kriff, her voice was stunning. He wondered idly if this was what the sirens in myths had sounded like, then realized she’d asked him a question. Luckily, he had an answer for this one.

“Words fail me.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up, and Kanan wanted nothing so much as to see her full smile. “So they do.”

“Are you new here?” he asked, shooting her a charming grin— hopefully it would help make up some lost ground. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yes, I’m new,” the girl said, looking more amused than enamored. 

“I’m Kanan.” He paused, but she didn’t offer any comment. “And you are…”

The girl gave him a sympathetic look. “Not interested, I’m afraid.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped past him and headed into the auditorium. Kanan watched her go.

Huh. This year’s musical is going to be very interesting.