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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere #I am lowkey dissapointed in myself #Both reader and diluc are bad people #My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing

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geminil0vr · 3 years

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food for thought | draco malfoy

summary; after spending the night of the yule ball with renowned slytherin, draco malfoy, you catch his eye at breakfast. the boy seems to be hell-bent on seeing into your thoughts, and so you let him — but now you think he might've seen too much.

tagged; @partr1dge <3

word count; 1k give or take a few words maybe like exactly 23 idk i don't have specifics

content; use of legilimency and occlumency, sexual themes, choking if you use a magnifying glass, i really came for draco's childhood trauma + mental issues... my apologies, mentions of love (gross but also will they, won't they?).

a/n; this is a rewrite of "last night", something shitty i made ages ago !! anyway absolutely brilliant title god my mind is so powerful ugh </3 food ??? breakfast. for ??? thought??? occlumency, legilimency !!! i'm so sorry, i rewrote pretty much every word (including this authors note, is it that obvious?) at 5:30 am, it's not amazing, but i'm sleep deprived and on my period so safe to say i did tear up for absolutely no reason.

you and draco both said that you'd never speak of what ensued in his dormitory the night of the yule ball. and you obliged. and you both swore it would never happen again. and you nodded your head. it was a mutual, meaningful agreement, and post-orgasm, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. no consequences, no ties between you two, being from different houses.

but it was extremely difficult to stick to your word when your legs still ached from the night before.

and his breathy groans, hot air fanning over your ear as he railed into you senselessly, wouldn’t push out of your mind.

and the bruises trailing down from your neck to your waistline were constant reminders of his tongue tracing over them, blowing on them, teasing you to all hell.

every time you blinked, the images flashed beneath your eyelids.

every time you inhaled, you missed his hand squeezing over your throat, restricting air.

and merlin, any slight brush against your own skin made you jump, thinking of his body on yours, skin on skin, sweat, clammy hands, your arched back, the veins in his hands, his jaw, his collarbones.

in the great hall, you made your way to your table for breakfast alone, and gnawed at your bottom lip while playing around with the food on your plate, famished, yet still so full of racing thoughts and fresh memories. his hands on your thighs, the way he sighed your name, your nails digging into his back, leaving little crescent moons over it, and his shoulders, and his hips, too. again and again and again.

looking up from your plate to scan the empty room, your eyes met draco’s ones, his irises a stormy grey, pupils dilated, and you inhaled sharply, looking away. you'd gotten up early, as if it would stop suspicion rising if you seemed like you hadn't had a long night. it seemed as if he'd done that too, sat alone just the same.

merlin, you could feel the burn of his gaze, it made your body freeze and your cheeks heat up. he was looking right at you, right into you. you could feel it, the thumping at your temple that wouldn't cease, the throbbing behind your eyelids. he was attempting to penetrate into your thoughts.

as if he hadn't penetrated enough of you within the twenty-four hours, for fucks sake.

in need of a distraction, you turned your attention to the fork still lazily dancing across your plate, the cold handle twirling beneath your fingertips. it didn't feel fair, what he'd done to you. turning you into a mess, mind hazy. giving you a taste, then taking it away immediately, albeit that being exactly what you'd agreed on. and although he really had given you absolutely everything the night before (or rather, this morning), it still felt like a neverending tease, with all that need careening through your veins.

swallowing harshly, you straightened up in your seat, pulling at the hem of your skirt, playing with a loose, dark thread. christ, he was still trying. the headache never seemed to stop, so persistent, so demanding, a feeling you knew well through conversations with dumbledore. but this headache clouded your mind, unforgiving, begging to be let through. it wasn't asking for permission.

looking up once again, keeping your body still and your breath steady, you stared right back. taught ruthlessly by your grandmother, you'd always kept your mind shut from peering intruders. yet he was so fearlessly determined that you could feel it through his magic, snaking its way right through you, searching for any slight weaknesses in your armour. a strand of white hair fell over his forehead as he tilted his head slightly, jaw clenching. he wasn't giving up.

draco malfoy always had something to prove. he was always so sure of his own success, so much to the point of insecurity, of doubt. it was a troubling mix of brashness, arrogance, and cowardice sprouting from the child rooted deep inside him, desperate for assurance and acceptance.

but it wasn't your pity that led you to allow him to break through.

it was your need for him to know something you weren't so sure you could admit verbally. you were thinking of him. that was all.

so, you stared straight into the silver of his eyes and let him right in.

his hands digging into your hips. the sheen of sweat over his entire body, glistening. the faint bruises he left on your wrists. you begging him to go harder.

him obliging.

his eyes were clouded over, as if in a trance, flitting through your memories.

but using legilimency was as much a curse as it was a blessing. because he could feel everything you felt too. the lust, the want, the pain filtering through the pleasure. and he could feel every little thing you'd noticed about him; the mole above his left knee, and the other on his waist, and the few freckles beneath his eyes, and the scar he had just above his eyebrow that you'd never really noticed until you'd tipsily placed wet kisses over his hairline.

for what felt like hours, you let him in, until he decided he'd had enough.

he was blinking quickly, brows furrowed, pale cheeks now flushed pink. he clumsily stood up from the slytherin table, pushing aside his plate of food, and stormed, flustered, out of the room, much like the boy who'd kissed you the night before. all tongue and teeth, all desperation, all emotion. but it was just for the one night. that was all.

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he'd felt everything.

that in those moments, you thought you might've even loved him.

the boy, all tongue, and teeth, and hands, all pale skin, all desperation. it was certainly something entirely worthy of love.

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cornerstonc · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄

NAME: natori

RESIDENCE: the cat kingdom

TYPE OF BED: u know lord beerus’ bed IN ALL SERIOUSNESS i do like the thought that the cat kingdom beds are not Exactly like human beds and do have a certain eccentricity about their designs and construction, etc. and i must admit the idea of natori sleeping curled on a little round mattress tickles me fjifoea despite that, i do think it otherwise fits the bill of Human Bed, essentially being a cat-sized mattress raised upon a frame of some kind

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: two, generally-- one he sleeps on top of and the other he sleeps underneath. i also like the idea that he has another he doesn’t use outside of decoration (...except for very, very rarely) which is Obviously much older and more worn than the other two. when he’s sleeping, he probably drapes it over one of those clothes horses in the corner of his room somewhere

NUMBER OF PILLOWS: he does not sleep with pillows jfieao

TYPE OF CLOTHING: i’m not sure thinking emoji bc i’ve long headcanoned that he’s easily cold, i’d also assumed he wears some kind of clothing even when sleeping, but i’m not Certain what it might be, or if he might just wear his usual clothes

DO THEY SLEEP WITH COMPANY?: not since he was a child/teen and outside of the extremely rare occasion when lune was very young. i brought this up the other day, but i do imagine that he and his sisters shared a bed all the way up until he literally left to start his studies/career bc the cat kingdom has very cramped quarters outside of the castle. i haven’t yet decided if their grandmother also slept in the same bed, but i am leaning toward Yes. he also slept in his parents’ bed until. well. their deaths (they’re cats ok they like to be snug and warm lies down)

DO THEY SLEEP BETTER WITH COMPANY?: not particularly, especially in light of the fact he’s a persistent sleep-talker, which makes him a little nervous lmao ;; if it happened to be someone he was very comfortable with and trusted, then it’d be a different story, but i can’t really think of anyone who fits that bill in his life as it is

DOES IT MATTER WHERE THEY SLEEP?: no. despite his meticulous and fussy nature, he can and will fall asleep Anywhere. which is a headcanon i’m pretty sure i’ve already brought up, and with that exact phrasing too jffieao ......also i should clarify that’s ‘anywhere in the cat kingdom’ bc it 100% does not hold true for the human world

WHAT DO THEY DO IF THEY CANNOT FALL ASLEEP?: .........idk dude and neither does he bc he can Always fall asleep

FREQUENT DREAMS, NIGHTMARES: i think he probably dreams rather infrequently, and he falls prey to nightmares even more so. given that, as i’m about to point out right below this lmao, he doesn’t sleep very deeply most of the time, i’m not sure how often he’d slip into REM sleep or even if. cats have REM sleep ._. i’m sure they do right i mean dogs definitely dream

DEEP SLUMBER OR NAPS: i. i mean. he’s a cat, so most of his sleep comes in the form of aptly-named catnaps lmao like most cats, he will sleep upwards of like 14 or more hours in any given 24-hour period, and well. considering the fact he also happens to be a Senior Cat, that number goes up to potentially 18 hours or more lm a o (at least from what i’ve read i’ve never had a c AT rip) all that said, tho, it’s also possible the eternal noontime of the cat kingdom might muddle his instincts or Something. in any case, tho, deep slumber is just not really something he Does on a regular basis. i also feel it pertinent to mention that while i could see him occasionally skimping on meals and food, i don’t think he’d do the same with sleep, and despite his rightfully stressed reputation, he’s not usually what you’d call very sleep-deprived

WHEN DO THEY SLEEP: off and on throughout any given time period jfifoa tho, bc i do headcanon that the cat kingdom operates on a very chaotic Clock in which everyone sort of just eats and naps whenever it suits them, for a cat like natori who is trying Very Hard to keep on top of everything that goes on in the castle (and outside), this means his own sleep schedule is sort of at the whims of everyone else’s. he still manages somehow but it’s definitely a balancing act fjfieoa

WHAT COULD WAKE THEM UP: a n y t h i n g....... since. again, he doesn’t do deep slumber on a regular basis when he sleeps, he’s pretty easily woken by a number of different triggers thinking emoji movement tends to wake him much faster than sound, tho-- that is, being touched in his sleep, the mattress or other surface he’s resting on shifting from someone else’s weight, particularly heavy footsteps, etc.

#;dash games

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dreamiehrs · 4 years

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lovin’ on repeat series: dance, baby! ➛ l.dh

genre: some fluff, mainly angst, college!au, jealousy, comedy, gender neutral reader

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

word count: 2,710 words

warning(s): some swearing, drinking

summary: donghyuck was less than happy when his good friend and local hotshot, named na jaemin, dragged him out of his dorm room and to one of his frat parties of his. however, when he catches sight of you, dancing without a worry in the world and laughing with your friends, he realizes that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to go, after all.

note: hi guys!!! hope u enjoy this fic based off of the song dance, baby! by boy pablo. I love that song by him so much, and I feel like it would fit hyuck the best with how upbeat the song is!! I hope you guys are still looking forward to the other member’s fics, and please let me know if you guys enjoyed this fic of mine :-)

tag list: @notaroyal @angeldreamies @amorcita @nicolettalauren @wooqzi @lovelycharm05 @staymoarmyzen @neolights @florence-cvrt @mimika-28 (send me an ask if you wanna be added onto the tag list!)

➫ masterlist

lee donghyuck had no idea what he was doing here. well, that was actually a complete lie, if he was being honest. his hotshot friend, named na jaemin, had dragged him to his frat party after donghyuck had cooped himself up in his dorm room after failing one of his chemistry tests. don’t even get him started on his professor for that class, he honestly hated his professor’s guts (and everything relating to science, too). he may have shed a few tears after failing that test since it was around 20% of his entire grade, and he barely even had a B in that class, so if he ended up failing that class his parents were going to whoop his ass (and no, he wasn’t being dramatic. his parents would kill him if he failed another science class again).

but besides his dramatic retelling of failing his chemistry test, his friend had still somehow convinced him to dress up a little nice and attend his frat party to brighten up his mood. donghyuck had doubted that going to one of jaemin’s disgusting frat parties would remotely do anything to brighten up his already sour mood. failing the test was one thing, but spilling his entire drink of boba on himself and his stylish outfit was another thing that made him just want to scream out at the universe. however, he would definitely get room complaints and his roommate would have a huge fit if he did so, and he, therefore, let out all of his aggravation by playing rounds and rounds of Overwatch until jaemin dragged him out of his despair (and his dorm room).

jaemin even had the nerve to just throw clothes at him and told him to “try them on and see if you can make a decent enough outfit to woo somebody with tonight.” donghyuck loved his friend, he really did, but tonight he just wanted to bodyslam jaemin down until they reach the core of the earth. alright, he admits that that idea is a little too extreme, but who says he can’t make that idea a reality? he can just hear renjun now, saying his idea is ridiculous until he finally gives in and decides to help donghyuck bodyslam jaemin together.

coming back to reality, though, donghyuck was standing in the corner of the living room awkwardly, holding a cup full of coca-cola as he people-watched while occasionally taking a sip of his carbonated drink. he’s been at the party for about an hour and a half now, and even though it was entertaining to eavesdrop into others conversations and learn all the gossip about michael cheating on his girlfriend with another girl named jessica, but after a while, it began to bore him. even worse, he couldn’t locate jaemin after jaemin had walked right into his frat house with donghyuck by his side, and within 15 minutes, his dear best friend was nowhere to be found. this wasn’t unusual, however, because whenever donghyuck attended one of his friend’s frat parties, jaemin would go missing under 20 minutes, probably smooth-talking anyone who showed the least amount of interest in him.

the music playing wasn’t that great either, it was some shitty pop radio that someone had searched up on Spotify. donghyuck didn’t have anything against pop music, by the way, but the songs that were just playing right now were… horrendous, to say the least. they made him want to plug his ears for the rest of the night and just blast his playlist all night.

oh, did he mention that it was night yet? well, it was around midnight already, and he was doing his best to fight back his sleepiness with his soda. staying up wasn’t that rare for him, in fact, he almost did it every night with how much college was kicking his ass and how playing video games would help him just chill out. also, it didn’t help his sleep deprivation when his roommate was a hardcore gamer, too, and the two of them would stay up until 3 am playing Overwatch numerous nights of the week.

although the party almost was boring him to death right now, almost enough to make him just walk out of the front door and head back to his dorm to play more video games, he couldn't find it in himself to do so when he caught sight of you.

you were standing in the middle of the living room, conversing with your friends with a red solo cup in your hand with a dazzling smile shown on your lips. he was starstruck as he watched you from afar, his eyes never leaving your figure as you start to slowly sway your hips to the song playing. he suddenly became self-conscious of what he was wearing, and he looks down at himself to see his black and white plaid flannel, white graphic tee, dark ripped jeans, and dark cherry red Doc Martens. well, he didn't look too shabby, he thought to himself before taking a sip of his drink to find that his cup was empty.

shit, the only way to get to the kitchen was to pass by you and the 50 other people who were dancing like their life depended on it. doing parkour would be easier than this shit, he thought to himself before sighing and making his way towards your direction. he couldn't find it in himself to walk up to you, say at least a greeting or a small "hi" before he finally reaches the kitchen. he frowns and scrunches his nose as the smell of alcohol fills his senses, and he could never understand why people his age liked getting drunk so much until they couldn’t even speak properly.

he shakes his head at the thought and fills his solo cup to the brim with coca-cola, and he takes a big gulp of it to make sure he doesn't end up spilling his drink all over the floor by accident. however, that almost happens when he chokes on his drink when he hears someone whisper in his ear: "woo anybody yet?"

he turns to his left to be met with jaemin, the one who had abandoned him to go make out with someone, which was quite evident from the red lipstick marks on his neck and how his lips look more red than usual. he takes note at how messed up jaemin's pink locks are, and rolls his eyes at his friend's antics. "no, I haven't 'wooed' anybody yet unlike you, jaem."

jaemin chuckles as he clinks his cup with donghyuck before taking a long swig of his drink. donghyuck did not doubt that there was some sort of alcohol in that cup, as jaemin would occasionally stumble a bit over his own 2 feet. "damn right I did. you should've seen her, man. she was all over me, and she was such a great kisser, too, oh my gosh. I just had to come over here and tell you about it." he boasts, and donghyuck can see his cheeks lightly turn pink as he rambles on about his little make out.

"...well? what happened to the girl?"

jaemin’s face slightly falls after donghyuck asks that question. "oh. I said something about exchanging numbers and eventually going on a date and scared her off. once I said that she quickly made an excuse as to why she had to leave and ran off."

donghyuck laughs as he leans against the counter beside jaemin, his eyes wandering back over to where you were to see a guy making his way up to you. his breath hitches as he watches him snake an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer beside him. donghyuck zones in on the both of you, and he hate how he can feeling jealousy pool into his veins the longer he stares down the guy beside you, and if it wasn’t for jaemin waving a hand in donghyuck’s face and saying “earth to donghyuck?” a thousand times, he would’ve been in a trance for hours.

he shakes his head as jaemin furrows his eyebrows at his friend’s suspicious behavior, and takes it upon himself to see what was up. his eyes settle on a tall, dark-haired guy with his arm wrapped around someone, and he lets out a little “oh” and the sight. he swivels around to face donghyuck with a teasing grin on his face, and this is another reason as to why donghyuck just wants to leave this disaster of a party. “well... does little hyuck have a crush on someone? hm~?” he scoots closer next to his friend, whose face resembled a tomato with how flustered he was right now.

he swats away at his friend’s hand that was pinching his cheek, rolling his eyes once again at his friend’s antics and poking his tongue onto the inside of his cheek. “well, thanks for giving me another reason to go back and hibernate in my dorm room for the night, jaem. now if you excuse me, I’m leaving now. see ya.”

he takes a step towards the entrance before jaemin’s arm is latched onto his. “wait! hyuck, I’ll help you get their attention. come here.” he insists and places both of his hands on donghyuck’s shoulders before jaemin leads him in your direction.

donghyuck’s eyes go wide at how persistent jaemin was, and he whispers: “no, jaem, stop it. that guy is still right there beside them.” however, jaemin is too focused on getting donghyuck to woo someone tonight, especially someone who he’s attracted to, and doesn’t process his words until the two of them are standing close by you.

“ahem.” jaemin clears his throat, and donghyuck wants to just disappear right then and there as your head turns towards him and jaemin, and the guy beside you practically glares down at him and donghyuck as his arm slightly tightens around your shoulder. your eyes meet jaemin before glancing over to donghyuck, and you’re temporarily awestruck by how his eyes seemed to glimmer when the two of you met eyes. it takes you a minute to realize that that’s not what you’re here for, to be drawn to any guy that has a fashion sense and is pretty attractive. you didn’t have the time in your busy schedule to fawn over boys who would just steal your heart and run away with it.

“yes?” you question, an eyebrow raised as your eyes gloss over donghyuck’s facial features and the prominent eyebrow piercing that seemed to make him even more attractive than before. you momentarily forget that the guy that you’ve been romantically talking to is standing right by your side, his left arm possessively wrapped around your shoulder. your friends are having their own fun somewhere else, feeling bored after these two random guys came up to you and ruined the party for them. however, you knew that if they gave these two guys a chance, they would fall head over heels for them. both of them were your friends type, and even though that may be the case, it seemed that one of the guys only had eyes for you.

jaemin nudges donghyuck, and you hold back a smile as you see the dark-haired boy roll his eyes at his friend, clearly annoyed at what situation his friend had involved him in right now. “well, my friend over here, named donghyuck, has been eyeing you all night, so I think it’s safe to say that he has the hots for you. I mean, I even caught him in the act earlier! he wouldn’t stop staring at you with hearts in his eyes–”

jaemin is interrupted with a swift jab to the side of his stomach from donghyuck’s elbow, and he doubles over as donghyuck gives you a small smile. “well, if you’ll excuse us two, I will be escorting this pretty boy back to the kitchen so he can sober up.” he gives you and the intimidating guy beside you a nod before wrapping jaemin’s arm around his shoulder and lugging him back to the kitchen. you watch as he does so, your eyes never leaving his figure as some of you hoped that he would actually ask you to dance with him.

“jaem, did you just lose your fucking mind back there?! what the fuck were you planning to happen when you told them that?!” donghyuck whisper-shouts to jaemin when the two of them are back in the kitchen, making sure he’s out of your sight as he turns his back towards you. although he was mildly upset at how jaemin basically exposed his thoughts about you right in front of your face, he was also the tiniest amount of hopeful that you would come barging in here to get to know him more. however, that isn’t likely to happen as donghyuck glances back in your direction, to see you laughing up a storm with the tall guy beside you.

he can feel his heart clench in hurt and disappointment as he turns back to jaemin, just to see that his friend has abandoned him once again this evening. of course, he wasn’t really surprised at the fact that jaemin had disappeared as soon as he had gotten a hold of him, but he just wished that at least one of his other good friends were here. like jeno, who would just joke around for hours and maybe even attempt to try a kegstand. he was always the life of the party, and everyone would seem attracted to him like magnets wherever he would be.

donghyuck yawns as he taps on his phone, checking the time once again to see that an entire hour had gone by. it also didn’t help that he had another reason to leave the party, which was because of his failed interaction with you earlier. he had only spoken one sentence to you during that entire interaction earlier, and he honestly just wanted to slap himself in the face at how awkward he could be around attractive people sometimes. at this rate, all he wanted to do was distract himself and his terrible ability to flirt with people by playing rounds and rounds of Overwatch until he eventually passed out.

before leaving, he makes sure to fill up his blue solo cup up until the brim with coca cola one last time, and also makes the mistake of glancing back over at you to see you all cozied up with the guy from earlier. he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised, honestly, but he can’t help but to hang his head down on his walk all the way back from the frat party back to his dorm room.

that night, although he was busying himself with playing Overwatch and drinking red bulls until his head spun, he still couldn’t help himself from replaying different scenarios in his head if he had actually asked you to dance with him. would you have been cocky? teasing? frivolous, maybe? he can imagine your elated expression as he busts out some terrible dance moves, and he can almost hear what your laugh would sound like in his head. he hated that he actually blushed at the thought of how beautiful your laugh would sound to his ears, and he proceeds to log off of his computer before burying himself underneath his covers.

that was the one and only chance he had to ask you to dance, because every night after that eventful night that he had decided to attend jaemin’s frat parties, you were never to be seen. even when he tried searching for you, walking in and out of every room more than once, he could never find you after that night, and even though donghyuck expected many things, this wasn’t one of them.

every night after he had gotten back underneath his covers after partying until unholy hours of the night, he would always remember how he failed to ask you, the only person who he was remotely interested in, to dance with him and forget all of your worries together. he was really an idiot, he thought to himself every night before he drifted off to sleep.

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idgaf-what-you-call-me · 3 years

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This is the first time, outside of therapy, that I am opening up fully my past, I ask that you remain respectful.

Trigger warnings: Suicide, torture, neglect, alcoholism, … a lot listen you’ve got to be well resourced before you read this.

I know Dean, because I was Dean. I was raised to be “perfect”, I am so much like my dad, I didn’t have a childhood, I was tortured, I have lost time (dissociation not possession by an arc angel), I am fairly closeted, and I’m finally starting to get better.

Ever since a very young child, I was raised to be perfect. To look at a 99 and learn what I got wrong before I brought the grade home, otherwise, I was sent to study. I was raised to not be heard and taught to stay in my room. I was raised to not show emotion because anything more than stoic meant that I was an inconvenience. I had “fend for yourself nights” where I had to sort out what I would eat for dinner, and at inexcusably young ages, 5-6 years old. I learned to shoot at 8, and was taken fishing anytime my dad went. I was brought to the construction sites, learned how to use power tools, and eventually had my own set at home. While I wasn’t trained to hunt demons or other things that go bump in the night, I was molded to be just like my dad. My mom wasn’t around much when I was a kid, so I idolized my father. He was like a god to me. As I got older (legal), I even would drink things that my dad approved of like scotch and I smoked cigars. Often praised, “that’s my girl! Look guys, my daughter drinking scotch and smoking a cigar! Where are your kids?” The validation was like a high to me. I was desperate for his approval. Just like Dean. Talked like his dad, walked like his dad, drank like his dad, I get it.

I was blatantly ignored including being told that I was invisible by siblings. They would hold up a remote to me and say, “you’re invisible” and ignore me. I could leave the house and they would not come look for me. With my mom and dad often gone (usually working or partying we were quite poor), I didn’t have anyone looking after me since I was 4 so when my dad was around, much like Dean, all I wanted to do was make him happy and proud of me.

I was a closeted bisexual, who made so many gay jokes towards my cishet brother that I feel quite a bit of shame as an adult. I repressed every facet of desire I had for the opposite gender because being bisexual really meant that I must be gay. At least that is what Will and Grace told me, and I did not want to be gay. Things were bad enough, I didn’t need to add to my shit pile. By the time I was 12, I had no idea how to feel emotions and I had no idea how to love myself. Most days, now at 29, I still don’t know how to love myself. I am not out to everyone in my family. I don’t feel safe with everyone. All the gay jokes between the brothers, all the Dean is bi subtext, I lived a lot of it.

Torture can take the shape of many different forms but they fall under two umbrellas: physical and psychological. I was subjected to sound torture and sleep deprivation forms of physical torture that have lasting psychological effects. When you live through something like that, you don’t “rebound” in the traditional sense, and I would dissociate. My consciousness would retreat back into itself until it was safe enough to come back.

I dreaded Thursday nights as that is when it would begin. My father would bring home several cases of Michelob Ultra, from the store, and then he would start drinking. My dad didn’t measure his consumption in beers, instead he measured by the case. A form of extreme binge drinking that to this day I still don’t completely understand. While he would drink, his music would get progressively louder and louder until the whole house vibrated with noise.

There are some songs and artists that I cannot listen to anymore. They’re not songs by Metallica or Black Sabbath, instead they’re by Credence Clearwater Revival, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison and the like. Songs that people dance to at their weddings, sing at funerals, and enjoy on a road trip with the entire family. They are generally described as lively yet not heavy, yet this music was the conduit of 5 years of actual torture for me. I used to say that these were my favorite songs, but it was a way to cope with hearing them at home, and then hearing them play in the car on the way to school the next morning. In my house, the music was played so loudly that walls and floors shook and overwhelmed my senses and ability to sleep, think, do anything but have a heartbeat and breathe. It would last all night. I never learned to “fall asleep” I would pass out. To this day, I can be desperately tired, and able to drive for several hours without being a dangerous driver. Like my body learned to ignore fatigue. “I just need like 4 hours every couple of days,” yeah Deano, I’ve been there.

I would freeze mentally. Almost like a zone out but on steroids. Then I’d look around and things wouldn’t feel real to me. I would look in the mirror and see a stranger. Now I understand that I had developed dpdr as a way to cope. I don’t wish it on anyone.

My mother? She would leave the house and go clubbing. My siblings were 8 years older than me and lived on their own a great distance from where I lived. Besides, I had school to go to on Fridays. So I cooked, I monitored myself, I had to become an adult. I didn’t get to be a kid. My catharsis was angsty and fluffy Harry Potter fan fiction. You can find it on FF.net, RandHrFan I no longer post with that handle. Dean’s were movies, movies that my dad, and I’d wager his dad watched. I also love westerns just like my dad and my grandfather, there is something about them.

When Dean cries and opens up to Sam about his hell experiences, I get it. I’m so proud of him for telling Sam. To some it seems like he’s closed off but he’s not. He’s opening up as much as he mentally can. And Sam listens. Just like my sister eventually did. When Dean gets mad and yells at John and Mary, I’m proud of him, because he is fighting for himself. He knew he deserved better and he didn’t let it go. Just like I have done in my not so distant past.

All the while my parent’s marriage was fracturing and I was mentally declining. My mom began sleeping in my room and in my bed, and I was basically left to sleep on the couch. On days when my dad would drink, and my mom would go out, I could get to be in my room again. I could be on the computer (laptops weren’t a thing yet) which lived in my room. I could connect with the two other friends on AIM, but the reality of my situation I couldn’t escape. I was isolated, didn’t trust my family and I didn’t know how to ask for help.

One day I attempted to take my life. I saw no value in it. What was I doing with my life. I was a broken human who didn’t deserve love, who didn’t deserve safety, who didn’t deserve well anything. So I downed a bottle of pills. I had an iron clad stomach, I wasn’t too worried about not being successful. Except, I sent a goodbye message to a friend, and that friend saved my life. He got a hold of my sister who got to me in enough time to make me throw up. (She was a champ at that, having suffered from bulimia and taught to throw up from no other than my dad.)

I didn’t receive help afterwards. I signed a paper saying that I wouldn’t attempt again and was taken home. (I hope this isn’t how hospitals roll anymore.) I left my house, I went to school out of state and found stability, created stability for myself. But my past still haunted me whenever I went home. So when Dean has a death wish, and gets discharged from hospitals before he’s stable, I get it.

My parents eventually divorced, and I came home to a place where I couldn’t live anymore for a solid couple of months, I couch surfed, and again my mental health took a nosedive, but nevertheless, I persisted. I got my head back in the game, and finished my degree. Chemistry. I couldn’t go back home, because if I did I’d be working for my dad. I couldn’t do that, it was too painful. So I went to grad school. I got my Ph.D. I began to chart my own path. But there was a rage in me that I couldn’t escape. I lashed out at anyone and everyone to hide the pain that I felt all the time. People were afraid of me. I was great at what I did but I couldn’t make lasting connections with others.

When I was 27 suicidal ideations became dangerous, and I got about as dark. I tried to harm myself, and wanted my world to burn. It didn’t matter that I was married, with pets, and owned a home. Nothing mattered. I finally had to decide between life and death, I couldn’t continue in that state. I can say confidently that I would be dead if I didn’t get help that day. I wish Dean had this chance. He gets close to this in moments with Cas when he is honest about his feelings and experiences, he cries, he gets angry, lashes out, but Cas is there for him. From someone like Dean, I’ll tell you Cas being present holds more weight than gold for Dean.

I have been in intense therapy for a year. By intense I do mean more than once a week, regular check ins with her, and the occasional group session. She sends me articles to read, homework, and we do EMDR work, emotional integration therapy, mindfulness, etc.

It was then that I began to learn that all the rage that I had built inside me was hiding intense fear, loss, and disappointment. The rage gave way to tears, and the tears gave way to a new anger that I could make peace with. That anger comes from the person I am today. The person who fights for herself. Who doesn’t take shit from anyone. The person who says, humans don’t break, vases break, and I am a human. I see a lot of that in late season Dean. He is a fighter.

But I am still the person who receives a compliment and shuts down, there is still a side of me that doesn’t believe that I deserve nice things, good things to happen to me, but that person is getting smaller. My therapist likes to hit me with compliments when I am vulnerable as I am more likely to believe them. I still react like a dead fish when she says them, and then after the session sob for hours over it. One day my head and my heart will believe the same things about myself. I would have reacted the same way as Dean to that confession.

When the cards fall, I still know that I can depend on myself before anyone else because I had to. My life as an impoverished, unstable, depressed, neglected, and abused kid says I should be dead or amounting to nothing, but hear I am. I’ve now closely mentored about 20 undergraduate students, a handful of graduate students, and have helped them find their paths in life. I have taught nearly 1000 students. I made a difference with the life that I tried to throw away.

I have come to a place where I can love my dad. He is sober again, and yes, my love for him does depend on his sobriety. When he is drinking he is not the same person. I wouldn’t call him an A+ dad by a long shot, and hell I am so much like him that at times it makes me sick, but I do love him. I have been able to forgive him. Forgive in the sense that I can make peace with what happened. It doesn’t change what happened or how much it affected me, and I certainly don’t forget, but that isn’t what forgiveness is. I don’t hold the rage anymore. The fact that Dean is able to is personal for Dean, as it is for me, and it isn’t some “family that is what you do” type reason.

I do experience flashbacks when there are fireworks, I can’t go to a movie theatre because of the volume, when people play really loud music in their cars I typically have to peel off into a parking lot and meditate for 20 minutes to be able to drive again. There are some stores that I don’t shop at because their music triggers me. So when Dean experiences those flashbacks, I get it.

There is a belief in the psychology that monster shows help us become comfortable with our dark sides. My dark side saved me over and over again. My dark side told me to be better than them. My dark side told me to fight for me, to adopt a survivor mindset. (If you can’t tell I am a green veined Slytherin and have never been sorted into any other house even by random house generators.) The things I delight in are a bit off color. I cultivate a poison garden, consume way too much true crime, to gore I say give me s’more and so on. Dean gets to experience his dark side, and he has to make peace with it. He makes inappropriate jokes, laughs at it, but he also does talk about it.

This is the hard part: Just like Dean, I am also light. I love people (vomit), seriously though, they are more precious to me than any earthly possession. Plants bring me serenity. Animals are a comfort and companion in the worst of times. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to protect living things. My motivations come from a place of love and a need to protect others from what I have been through. I know I can survive, but I don’t know if that is true for everyone else.

I know Dean. I was Dean. I see that every episode. Moments when he yells and screams for himself, I cheer him on. Moments where he tries to waste his life away, I understand, and am crying right with him. The purgatory apology guts me, I’ve had to make that apology more than once. The dead fish reaction, hell that is me at the end of a therapy session. I am here to say: Dean is not broken. Dean is strong. Dean is resilient. Dean doesn’t just fight for himself, he fights for the whole of creation. Dean is not a vase. He is a human.

Oh and John’s taste in beer, much like my fathers, is crap. Don’t drink shitty beer. Also, I don’t drink scotch anymore. I'm a gin girl and I drink *okay* beer.

I’m the same blogger who does drunk blogging regarding Supernatural on Saturdays. It is a lovely bit of comfort and joy for me and I won’t be stopping any time soon. We will get back to the lovely and light “Dean is Bi he he” commentary this weekend.

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smarmaladey · 4 years

Text

The Bad Touch - (3/3)

Chapter 3 - “the discovery channel”

Rating: 🇪

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure

Relationships: 🐞♡🚺

Words: 12479 (yikes i know)

Ao3 Link Prev.

(For content warnings and additional notes, click read more)

Our “lovely” heroine finally reaches the truth.

cw: rape/non-con elements, AU (probably), ooc (probably), break-ins(?), unintentional voyeurism, “sci-fi violence”, mind break (sorta), mildly rough sex, blood, yknow the uje

enjoy ♡

♡🐞♡

Tuesday.

12:00 AM.

The third incident.

♡🐞♡

How?

How did it all go wrong?

It all sounded so slick in your head. It sounded foolproof. It sounded...smart.

Your scheme, to you, felt like the best idea you had ever had in your life--at least in terms of your own, organic plans. But, as it always seemed to turn out, being a "thinker" just really wasn't your style.

What a shame it was. Really, to think that your egoism had already conjured up a hypothetical scenario about you solving the mystery of your boss’s behavior, therefore sparing countless others from the humiliation you went through, therefore gaining some kind of respect from people you barely knew.

To your defense, anyone would’ve thought that it was flawless.

...Alright, in retrospect, maybe it wasn’t so great.

The idea was to exploit a brand-new, experimental technique you’d been working on to make yourself utterly invisible, and to stow yourself away in Giorno’s bedroom until you got your answers. What you did was demonstrate Black Hole Sun on the surface of your skin, in such a precise way that the only light absorbed would be “visible light”, therefore making you colorless, i.e, invisible to the human eye.

On paper, that was where it ended. Because to you, and your egoism, it felt untouchable. You had so much confidence, in fact, that you just up and did it! Right away! No further thoughts, no Plan Bs, just as soon as you got out of that sunroom you maneuvered your way to the second floor and swung open a random window.

To your luck, said window was just the one you were looking for. Upon stepping onto the plush carpet of your boss’s bedroom, shivers traveled down your legs at the temperature. It wasn’t as cold as the office, per say, but it was still madly different from the mild early-autumn climate.

At least it smells nice.

The room looked exactly as you had imagined it, a fuchsia-purple-blue-gold color scheme, gaudy flower and ladybug themed decorations, and, of course, a king-size canopy bed. It honestly felt less like the room of a powerful adult man, and more like a clueless American teenager’s idea of what being a rich European was like. Ugh.

But you had no time at all to dwell on pointless things, you had a mystery to unpack! Moving as silently as you could, you began scouring the entire place, starting with the small bookshelf at one edge of the room.

Nothing seemed to be evident, except for perhaps a thick-sleeved copy of Kama Sutra. Needless to say, you pushed that one in as soon as you pulled it out. At this point, you had already used your “technique” when you entered the room, but soon faded it out when you realized it was clear.

It was frustrating, the fact that there was nothing abnormal about his room. Hell, he didn’t even have any condoms or anything in his nightstand! You’d think he’d at least have the audacity to plan on violating you using protection, but no! He didn’t possess anything suspicious aside from a shitty book or two, at least nothing he kept in his bedroom.

Realizing this, you let out a groan, and coincidentally, you heard an unidentifiable noise right after and panicked. Heart racing, you rushed to a corner of the room, right next to a dresser, turning invisible. What you didn’t know was exactly how long you’d be forced to stay in this one spot.

This was the point where the cracks in your plan really began to show.

Consequences of this "technique" of yours wouldn't be apparent at first thought, but you already knew what could happen. During numerous past self-training sessions, you'd discovered how using your Stand in this way affected your body.

By removing all visible light from your form, it basically made you a sponge for ultraviolet. The UV rays previously had, at the least, made your skin extremely irritated, and at worst, gave you a few medical scares.

You thought that you’d be safe from this, since the lights in the room were all off, and the sun was already going down by the time you arrived. Although, when you saw the multiple light fixtures in the room, there was a sense of unease that overtook you.

So, cut to the present, you’ve been standing in this one corner for countless hours, too terrified to move from the fear of getting caught, while dreading the inevitable daylight. Also, additionally, it was midnight at this point, and Giorno hadn’t shown up. Why?

The only people who’d come in were a few housekeepers that soon left upon seeing nothing wrong. Whenever that happened though, it was rough, as the light from the hallways tended to spill into the room and scald your skin a tad when the door was opened.

Needless to say, your current situation kinda sucked. The only stroke of fortune you’d had so far was finding a few stale snacks in your coat pockets that gave you enough sustenance to not go insane. As for hydration, that was a different story. Before you had retreated into the corner, you considered getting some water from the bathroom, but you held off on it until it was too late. This didn’t bode well, combined with your ever fluctuating body temperature, the dehydration set in much sooner than you had hoped.

You cursed the very concept of time, and the fact that there was no clock in the room.

Normally, at these hours, you’d either be asleep, watching television, working, but usually asleep. Currently, you were more sleep deprived yet more awake than you’d ever been, leading to your mind going to places you’d never explored before.

It’s just not fair. You never asked for this. You never wanted to be put in this situation. What would eighteen-year-old you would’ve thought if she knew this was where she’d end up after becoming part of this organization? Crammed in the corner of her boss’s bedroom, because said boss tried to force himself on her (twice!) all of a sudden, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it instead of simply just avoiding him?

At eighteen, during the first months of your “career”, you’d never seen your Don as a man, nor did you really see him as a boy either. Just an untouchable figure that you slowly seemed to get closer to, yet still remained slightly enigmatic. He was ethereal, beautiful, and assumedly powerful--like a god. You had no clue how he got to where he was, and you never planned on learning. Yet, as he got older, and became a little bit more reliant on you, that divine mask of his seemed to chip away. He felt more human, less like a god and more like...a demi-god? Something like that.

Despite all of that, he remained practically unreadable to you. And this persisted to this current situation, being that you still had no real idea what piqued his sudden “interest” in you.

Your mind ended up going back to Sunday, to that first-ever incident. To his constant showcases of unwellness, to his abnormal teeth, to his fascination with that one vein in your chest. These, along with his apparent misunderstanding of temperature physics, were the only points you really had.

Racking your brain, you tried your best to come up with some kind of half-conclusion with these points. Was he sick? It’d seem like he was absolutely impervious to any kind of illness, but he was only human after all. But, you hadn’t ever heard of a flu that makes people inexplicably lustful, so that was probably off the table.

Puberty? No, can’t be. He was too matured and too responsible to be having hormonal “rushes” like that, and succumbing to them, no less. Plus, neither that or the illness excuse explained his teeth.

Did some kind of Stand possess him? The thought of anybody managing to lay even one finger on him seemed out of this world to you, hell, you still couldn’t fully comprehend how you managed to successfully break into his home. Even so, it did seem like it was the most plausible out of your three “theories” so that was probably the farthest you could reach with your current information.

Apparently, getting lost in your thoughts was a great time waster, as when you peered around to the window after settling down a bit, the sky had gone from near pitch black to a greyish blue. You couldn’t help but sigh when you realized this, both in weariness and fear.

It wasn’t long before you sensed some commotion from under you, nothing too alarming, just a few signs of people walking here and there, mostly from the bottom floor. Working in stealth had caused you to greatly hone your senses, which came in useful for situations like these. You had even picked up a habit of memorizing footsteps, and that included the ones of your superiors. For example, one of Giorno’s right hand men (you didn’t know his name, but he was recognizable enough) had heavy, hasty footsteps, not unlike your mother, or a particular now-neutralized leader of a rival group. Giorno, on the other hand, walked slowly and lightly, the precision of his movements reflecting everything else he did.

None of the footsteps downstairs stood out to you. They all blended into each other, all light and fast, the most common category you’d come up with.

As time continued to flow, you slowly kept backing yourself even more into the corner in order to avoid as much light as you could. It revealed to be in vain, though, since you could already feel the UV seeping into your flesh and causing a mild burn.

While uncomfortable, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, since there were no lights on in the room. At one point, you considered moving to close the curtains, but you decided against it.

Is it really too late to leave? Most definitely. Perhaps earlier, you could’ve ditched the plan and left without leaving any evidence, but now you were in too deep. The carpet would’ve definitely had imprints of your shoes, there was probably sweat and other DNA samples scattered around, and you most likely wouldn’t be able to close the window behind you. Shit. You knew, no matter how deluded he seemed, he’d be able to know you had broken in just with those clues.

If only I was like him. If only.

With that thought, a sudden wave of depression hit you.

You were a genuine fool, to think someone like you could’ve pulled off something like this. Truly. You weren’t a thinker, you weren’t a conniving mastermind, you were a pawn, a worker, a soldier. A machine that just knew how to follow orders.

But then again, you were kind of content like that. And besides, becoming a breeding doll for your boss wasn’t exactly your ideal type of promotion.

So you stayed. Stayed in that one place, till something came up again.

♡🐞♡

You weren’t very sure, but you felt that it was around 4:00 PM when your situation truly began to shift.

Leading up to said shift, you’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, as keeping B • H • S up took a lot of your energy. During those moments when you were present, you kept wondering if you’d end up eventually dying here, in this place. Wondering if you’d just end up succumbing to the dehydration and radiation, keeling over like a ragdoll while the light inside you faded.

What would people think of me if that happened? They’d probably see it as some kind of Aesopian tragedy, a cautionary tale to be passed on throughout the organization. A tale of a woman with a once efficient, somewhat important role in the great Passione machine, who threw it all away in the search for unnecessary answers.

You were genuinely starting to feel hopeless. It was most likely showing, too, you could tell some of your color was fading back in, no matter how transparent it was.

How ironic. In all of the many kinds of media you’ve consumed, color was usually a symbol of hope, while darkness and paleness was seen as evil. It seemed like, in your case, that was reversed.

Ignoring your past fears, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh when you thought of this. And that was when you heard it.

Footsteps. Recognizable footsteps, no less, coming from the hallway just outside the room, getting closer and closer.

Slow and light. Perfetto.

And just like that, all of your color faded away once more.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, though, there was something abnormal about those footsteps. They weren’t slow slow, like you were used to, they were a tad quicker, a smidge hastier. Medium slow.

That didn’t matter when they paused, presumably just behind the door. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw the handle of the flower-shaped door knob begin to wiggle and turn.

Time seemed to go slow as the engraved, gold-painted door creaked open, and from the corner came a shiny black brogue. Who else could it have been, but the man of the hour himself?

Giorno stepped in slowly, a neutral, but slightly worried look on his face. He was being a bit cautious, almost reminiscent of how you stepped into his office that fateful Sunday. His outfit looked no different than your past few encounters with him, somehow, some way.

You watched his eyes scan the room as he closed the door behind him. Again, it felt like your heart was stopped, especially as he was glancing towards the exact corner you stood in.

This is it. He can definitely tell where I am. He’s going to find me. He totally is. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. In that quick second, regrets started filling your head for what felt like the thousandth time today. If you had decided not to go through with this, you probably could’ve just moved to California and lived out your dreams, devoid of worry. But no, no no no no, you just had to--

Giorno didn’t notice you.

The confidence that refilled into you felt blazing.

Your boss sighed and started taking off his shoes, and shortly afterwards, his socks. You watched him closely, even as he strode to his closet to put them away, walked back towards your side to grab a random book from his bookshelf, and then promptly tossed said book onto his bed.

When he approached the door again, and his deft fingers neared the light switch, your breathing hitched. Fortunately, he lowered them, deciding against flicking on the lights.

It felt so surreal, watching him like this, in his element. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly normal, as you took note of how dismayed his face looked, and how hasty he was when walking down the hall. Well, it wasn’t surprising, but it felt a little good to know it wasn’t just you he was acting weird around.

He stopped in the middle of the room and stretched his back, grunting very quietly before sitting down at his decorated vanity. A rolling noise echoed through the room as he opened one drawer and took out a bottle of liquid, and then a small crimson handkerchief. Then, he turned a knob on the side of the mirror, and the brim of the vanity mirror lit up.

Despite the sudden flash of excess light, you steeled your resolve and stayed silent. This was your chance, you couldn’t go and ruin it now. Besides, it wasn’t even that much artificial light--it’d take more than a tiny fluorescent bulb to take you down.

You examined him as he dabbled the liquid on the hanky, sighed, and then began to smear it on his face. He started with his cheeks, then his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and ended with his chin. All while the red cloth gathered a stain of pale beige, and the true texture of his face was revealed.

There was a noticeable red tint on his face, like he had a fever or something. It made sense. A lot of sense, actually.

Giorno turned the cloth over, re-applied the remover, and wiped off his mouth. The natural light pink color of his lips was uncovered, pert and shiny.

Cute.

Wait, no.

As soon as those intrusive thoughts entered your head, you shook them out and internally punished yourself for even noticing that.

You still had a good reason for looking at his mouth, you were trying to spot his strange teeth, but they didn't seem to show. Bummer. He then moved on to his eyes, giving the lids a couple half-assed swipes before setting the hanky down altogether.

He stood up, closed his eyes, and started fiddling with the brooches on his coat, while trailing off near your side of the room. Before you knew it, he was standing right next to you, topless, the garment folded in his arms. It all happened so fast and so smoothly, it was almost terrifying.

Now it really felt like you were invading his privacy. Especially after he put the coat away, walked a few meters away from you, and stretched his back again. You could see every inch of his slim, toned figure, every muscle that shifted underneath his flawless flesh. Needless to say there was a bit of heat on your face, and it wasn’t just from the radiation.

After he had enough of giving you an unintended show, he sat back down at his vanity and rested his left leg on top of the other. Leaning back, he lifted his long braid onto his shoulder. You couldn’t remember where from, but you once heard that he hadn’t gotten one haircut in the entire time he’d been Don, allowing it to lengthen down to the small of his back.

How does he manage all of that? You knew it wasn’t the most important thing to worry about, but still, how?

Perhaps the same way he handled everything else in his life; (Well, everything except advancing onto you, and most of his interior decorating) With inexplicable perfection.

He began to meticulously pull his braid apart, after removing all the ties. It was insane, how he managed to make even something as simple as unraveling his hair look so graceful, in a way only he could achieve.

Under the cloak of your Stand, you bit your cheeks.

When he was done, he tossed and shook his hair, a golden cascade that rolled off his shoulders and flowed down to the base of his spine. Soon he grabbed a brush from inside a drawer and started combing it, ever-so-slowly and gently, with zero hitches or knots.

You were, frankly, quite enjoying the view up to this point, but this is where things started to get a bit...mundane. Never did it cross your mind how many times your boss had to brush his hair each night, but it was proving to be quite a few strokes. You were nearly thankful you didn’t decide to count them.

While this was going down, however, you could feel the UV still penetrating your skin. Along with your ever irritated epidermis, there was a growing faint feeling in the back of your skull, and a rather queasy feeling in your gut. Crap.

The only thing you could really hear now was the sound of your own breathing. The more stress put on you, the louder it got, blocking out subtler sounds that you could’ve heard earlier. One said thing you did pick up on was the quiet but notable sound of the brush passing through his locks.

For a second, you considered moving to a more comfortable position, but you knew it would be way too risky. What you did do, however, was look out the window again, checking the sky. While it was darkening, it looked to be a while before you’d feel any true relief from the ultraviolet.

At this point, Giorno seemed to have finished brushing his hair, now just sitting down and watching himself in the mirror. You had expected him to get into bed and start reading the book he had gotten earlier, but no, he just...stayed still.

The sound of your breathing got quieter.

He exhaled. Then grunted. All of a sudden, he began showing visible and audible signs of pain, curling over with his hand on his abdomen. His other hand, steadying himself on the edge of the vanity, twisted into a fist, the knuckles white.

“God…” You heard him breathe out, his voice brittle. Catching a glimpse of his face, you saw how scrunched it was, and how prominent the redness became.

It really looks like he’s suffering.

You almost felt bad for the poor guy. Almost. Keyword, almost.

Your line of sight wandered back to his eyes, which were dropped, looking down. He had leant back in his chair, gazing at his own lap. It didn’t register with you when his hands moved down to his hips. It didn’t register with you when he unbuttoned his paints, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband.

The next time you looked down, you saw it.

He was...exposed. To say the very least. And...erect. Very erect.

It was like staring into the goddamn sun.

You almost immediately averted your gaze, your breathing stopping altogether, as the heat in your cheeks threatened to grow hotter than the radiation racking your body. Oh lord. Mother of god, what the hell?

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him wrap his hand around himself, and soon after you heard him moan. He moaned. Was this really happening?

It shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did, it really shouldn't have.

He gave himself a gentle stroke, and the weight continued to sink in. You frantically looked for something else to gaze at, but you couldn’t resist the urge to stare. Instead, you settled on squinting your eyes so much so that you could barely see anything.

The sound of his breathy voice cut through in the silent room, torturing your own ears with sounds that sent uncomfortable shivers through your torso.

Now you really felt like a pervert. Truly. Never in your life would the thought of a situation like this ever crossed your mind, even at your most hormonal during your teenage years. Secretly watching someone, anyone “gratify” themselves was already a wild idea, and now that said person was your boss, one of the most powerful men in the goddamn country?

It made you want to scream.

Minutes went on, with no sign of him stopping. Although, halfway through, you picked up on something; something a little strange.

His soft, gentle moans had changed into what sounded more like sobs. Not even erotic sobs, just genuine weeps. You bit the bullet, looked at his face, and lo and behold, he was crying. His tears mixed with the leftover eye makeup on his face, and dripped down onto the surface of the vanity and the floor. It was the first time you’d ever seen him like this.

It was the strangest, most disturbingly saddest thing you’d ever seen. And you'd seen plenty of messed up movies. Yet, instead of feeling sympathy, something else clicked inside of you.

The shock, embarrassment, and fear faded away.

He was vulnerable. For the first time you’d ever seen.

I could kill him right now.

You totally could. You could collapse the entire room with just one flick of your wrist, and most likely get away in time as well. All his efforts, over the three years he’d been at the top, could be destroyed in just a matter of seconds. And he wouldn’t even know.

How ironically poetic would that be? After trying to violate his lackey twice, said lackey ends his life while he’s pleasuring himself--like a fucked up modern version of a cautionary Greek fable.

What would happen after that? Would I take over? Could I?

The thought of that was enough to make you hesitant. Would that really be what you wanted?

You moved for the first time in hours, bringing your invisible hand in front of your face. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew it was there, and you knew what it could do.

Would I be hunted? Killed? Assassinated? Or would people...worship me?

While the morals of the organization confused you more than anything, you knew some people had strong, strong feelings about Giorno’s policies. You couldn’t even think of any changes you would make, honestly, you didn’t care or know enough about that kind of stuff.

During your juggle of the pros and cons of that decision, the young man across the room grew all the more intense, bucking into his own soft hand, most likely wishing it was yours. His other hand moved from the vanity to the edge of his chair, his knuckles white and forearm trembling. He shut his stained eyes and tilted his head up towards the ceiling, voice growing higher and breathier.

After a couple more solid pumps, he finally released. He let out one final whine as he climaxed, bringing you out of your thoughts and forcing you to lay eyes on him once again. As his essences surged out, he exhaled gently, his body calming back down.

You watched as he sniveled one last time, before loosening his back and letting go of himself. He put his hands in front of him, seemingly coming to terms with what he just did, before tossing his hair up and sighing one more time.

Giorno sorted himself out a bit, pulling his waistband back up again before slumping over with the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Your window of opportunity was starting to close. You could feel it.

Near panicking, you put your hand out in front of yourself and did a quick rundown of all the consequences of taking action.

This is my chance.

If I don’t do this now, who knows what will happen?

But is it really worth it?

Who else could I hurt by doing this?

Shit.

With the fingers crossed, you raised your hand up higher.

If I’m going to do this, I have to focus…

So you did. Your vision unblurred, and…

wait.

what the hell is that.

Across the room, the ghostly golden form of G • E had been manifested. And its fingers were at the light switch.

no you cant do that

you cant

its not fair

Time seemed to go slow as you watched the switch flip up.

thatd be way too much light please

please dont do that

please

dont

During that microsecond after the switch flipped, you almost came to terms with your downfall.

The instant the ceiling light came on, what felt like a thousand suns bloomed upon your flesh. It was like every single atom in your body was being shaken, and a dozen needles were being shoved into the back of your skull. You gave in near immediately, crossing your forearms over your face in an attempt to protect yourself as your cloak dissipated and you came crumbling down to the floor.

You hit the carpet with a thump, letting out the shrillest, most pained scream of your life. After all this time, you were finally able to see your own two hands again, but this time they looked emaciated and dull as they gripped onto the carpet.

There was most likely something else going down in the room, but you paid it no mind, as you raised yourself up onto all fours. Something swashed through your head and caused you to heave, a concerning amount of liquidy saliva dripping out in place of vomit.

Behind the sound of the loud ringing in your ears, you heard a voice.

“I-I...ah…”

You turned your head towards him, neck cracking, eyes so wide they hurt. He looked absolutely taken aback, his jaw dropped and cold sweat on his forehead.

Once again, a newfound confidence overtook you.

I may still have a chance.

All of your remaining strength was used up trying to get back on your feet, all while you kept glaring at him. With your hand pointed to the sky, you shouted;

"Don't you dare! I can murder you right now, right this second! I won't hesitate, bastard!'

His face looked filled with dread. "H...how long have you--"

"Thirty-two hours! Thirty two fuckin' hours! I've been hiding here, cooking myself alive, waiting for you, for thirty-two...ho...urs…" your breath ran out as you finished your words.

"I...dear lord…" he uttered.

Seconds upon seconds of awkward silence between you two passed, so much that you could feel the lactic acid building up in your arm muscles. Both of you were breathing heavily, you moreso, with your body begging you to stop doing things.

Eventually, Giorno’s expression dropped, and he turned, once again slumped over while pinching the bridge of his nose.

Is...is he not going to attack me? “H...hey...what’s your deal?” You asked, quieter.

He wiped his hands down his face, groaning. “Suppose this is what I get for being brainless...god almighty…” It was infuriating, how easily he brushed off your threats like they were nothing.

Your rage flared. “You’re underestimating me, aren’t you? Don’t doubt me! I already have one of my Stand’s plants on the roof, and if you try to pull anything on me, I’ll destroy everything you’ve built up over the years!” That part about the plant may or may not have been true.

The golden boy looked at you again, completely unamused. “Alright…” he breathed out, dropping his arms to his lap. “I understand why you’re angry. I really do. If--”

“Then why’d you do it?” You quickly spat out, “why are you like this all of a sudden? What’s going on with you?”

A few more seconds of silence passed.

He sighed. Again. “If you really want it so badly...then I suppose you have the right to know. Just...calm down, please?”

You were a little stunned at this sudden turn of events. It felt like just a few minutes ago you thought he was like a heavily-guarded safe full of secrets, but now he’s just offering to open himself up to you, right here, in this very moment.

“Retract your Stand, please,” he made a lowering gesture with both hands. “I don’t want you to strain yourself anymore. Come and sit down, I beg of you.” His arm stretched out and he patted at his soft bedding.

While you did indeed lower your arm, you stayed hesitant, refusing to let your guard down. “Hey, wait. I don’t get it, how come you’re acting so…”

Giorno quirked a brow.

“So...normal?” You gritted your teeth after the last word left your mouth.

“Sit. Please.” It would’ve been rude not to comply.

Now that you both were face-to-face, seemingly both in the right state of mind, he began. “Honestly, as mortifying as it is, I think you came at the best possible time. That’s because…” He cleared his throat.

“It’s something I’ve been experiencing ever since April--perhaps even before then. I’ve been having these...urges, these...desires. And...oh, how do I put this...it started off somewhat normal, but it soon started to cause me...physical ailments.”

The eye contact didn’t last long, as you ended up dropping down onto his bed, resting your dire, dire self. You felt a tiny bit bad for paying less attention to his words and more attention to the lovingly soft mattress, but you still got the gist of what he was saying.

“It’s been especially apparent in my…” again, he cleared his throat. “...abdominal region. There’s this pressure, this pain, and it doesn’t have anything to do with my stomach or my kidneys or what have you--it’s something different entirely. And that’s only where it begins…”

The feelings in your head were mixed. One part of your brain had sympathy, while the other felt a bit of gratitude hearing his ailments. It was a bit fucked, sure, but pretty understandable considering what you’d been through.

"My body's been so hot--"

"--I know. I could tell."

He looked down sheepishly after you interrupted him.

"That's the one thing I've been noticing." You went on, "it's weird, man. Plus, closing the door to 'keep the cool air inside?' That's not how that works at all!"

Silence.

"Y...yes. You're right. But in addition to that, my throat's been so dehydrated, and near nothing will quench it. It's awful, truly…"

"And?"

"Mastur--ah, gratifying myself helps, but only temporarily. Each time that longing, that fire comes back to haunt me and it...it hurts…"

After some more silence, you propped yourself up by your elbows to look at him again. "That sounds...horrible, but I just want to know, why? Are you sick? I don't--"

"I was going to get to that."

He shut you up.

Taking another sigh, he leant back in his chair again, holding his knee. "If you had asked me that, say, four months ago, I wouldn't have had a clue. Yet lately…"

"I'm listening."

He inhaled for a good second. "I've been looking deeper into my origins, ever since I turned eighteen, trying to find out where I came from...and what I discovered was--"

And...out.

Everything your boss said started going in one ear and out the other. And who could blame you? It was a habit.

He just...went on, about his family, parents, his Stand and even his birthmarks for some reason. You truly didn't see the point in 99 percent of what he was talking about.

I just want to know why you're acting like this, you bastard. I don't care about your dad or whatever…

Despite your vexation, you did pick up on one subject that he seemed to bring up a lot during his tangent; Vampirism.

It stuck in your head so much, that when he finally stopped talking you instantly sat up and responded, "woah, woah, what? What are you talking about, about vampires? You're not seriously…"

His deadpan expression told you all you needed to know. It also told you that he could tell you were barely listening to him.

“Well, that’s what I said.” He began, “my current theory, stemming from all the research I’ve done...is that I’m a vampire.” He paused for a second, then adding on, “or, at least an ancestor of mine was.”

More silence.

Wha?

It definitely should’ve shocked you more than it did, but...somehow, it made everything make sense. The teeth, the thirst...still, part of your world was turned upside down. You weren’t even too unfamiliar with the supernatural, with your family being relatively superstitious, but something like this…

"And I'm thinking that this period is some kind of...awakening. A sort of…--"

"Vampire puberty." It wasn’t even a question, the pure disbelief in your voice overshadowed any other nuance.

"Oh, putting it like that makes it sound a bit--" you cut him off before his last word.

“--you...you’re kidding right?” You couldn’t help but stare him down, but he looked 100% serious. “Ho-how? How did you come to that conclusion, of all things? I mean, I get it, sorta, but…”

Giorno put his hands in front of his mouth and took in a deep breath. “Have you ever tried pork blood before, amore?”

Now it was your turn to stare at him with a judgmental look.

“I had some the other day at an Asian restaurant...oh,” he moved his hand to his cheek and looked away from you, “it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. Truly, it was amazing.” His eyes were near sparkling.

You weren’t given a second to respond.

“After I had that, some of the dryness in my throat went away, but it was only for a while. I still found my eyes lingering on people’s veins, at the reddest points of their bodies...and you were no different.” A pang of your heart rang through your nerves. “Somehow, I knew that the only thing that would satiate me would be...the taste of a human, as awful as it sounds.”

Silence continued to prevail.

It was a lot to take in. You ended up getting up and standing in front of him, your back turned and your hands supporting the back of your head.

In spite of the millions of words swirling in your head, one seemed to prevail.

"Me…?"

"Pardon?"

You dropped your hands, but refused to look at him. "You could've chosen anybody to pursue, for these needs, but...you chose me, of all people."

“Well, I…” Giorno stopped talking when he heard you inhale sharply.

Rather slowly, you turned your head to look him in the eye.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

It became uncomfortably quiet, and he looked down at his hands, twiddling his fingers. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with--”

“You are! I fuckin’ knew it!” Your voice came out loud, louder than you intended, but you didn’t bother piping down, “holy shit…” The only thing that felt appropriate was to rub your temples while continuing to take in all you’d learnt.

“What difference does it make?” His brows were slanted, a questioning and slightly furious expression on his face. “I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of it.”

“Be-because...ugh…!” You were having a tough time getting your words out, your voice going up a few more pitches. “That kind of thing...for your first time, you should do it with a person you, uh, really love…"

"But I-"

"An-an-and!" You held a finger level with his face before crossing your arms. "You should do it with someone your own age, too!"

He did some math on his fingers. "Wait, you're not that much older than me at all--"

"We-ell then whatever!" You knew you sounded irrational at this point, but something was still driving you to sputter out words. "The...the point is, someone like you should do this with somebody special...I mean, I’m just a random lackey, right? It’s not like I’m...uhm…”

His expression didn’t drop, it just grew more irritated.

“You truly never listen to me, do you, cara?” Your boss sighed and looked towards the mirror again. “How many times have I told you, already?”

He watched as your once hardened appearance softened with concern.

“I chose you to go after because I love you. Didn’t I tell you this before?"

"I...uh…"

“‘Random lackey…’” He repeated your words with venom on his tongue, shaking his head. “Ever since I met you, knowing all you were capable of, I’ve felt a connection to you. Not to mention you’re one of the most…” a dreamy sigh came out of him, “...interesting people I’ve ever had working under me. I mean...you broke into my house, that's so...bold."

It was too much. All this news, it felt like your brain was an overflowed sponge.

“No...don’t say that…”

In the midst of all your confusion, he stood up.

“What do you mean? Do you not believe me?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

"Amore mio, I’ve loved you for so long, now...I know this is all sudden, but I thought you would be the best one for this situation, I thought you of all people would understand…” His hand came up to brush some of your damp hair away from your forehead.

“Lying...you’re lying, you have to be…” It couldn’t be genuine. It just couldn’t. “You...someone like you...can’t…”

One of his hands came to rest on your shoulder.

“Oh, why do you reject me so much?” He breathed out, “you keep saying ‘someone like you’...what kind of person do you think I am…?”

Your name slipped out his lips at the end of his sentence. His words sent shocks right to your eyes, the liquid threatening to spill out.

“Maybe…” his face became one of sympathy. “Perhaps you don’t think someone like you deserves a person like me?"

That was it. That was when your downfall became cemented in stone. It felt like he had just stuck a key into your heart, but instead of unlocking anything, it just made everything collapse. Your egoism, your confidence, and all of your self-security shattered, and the pieces that fell had cause your tears to overflow.

Although, you did realize one thing.

Giorno Giovanna was far from a super-secretive man, nor was he cold like one might expect from a goddamn mob boss. You had no idea how he got to where he was. But, despite that, you realized how he kept his place at the top. How he managed to control everyone under him, how he got so many people to submit without using force.

He got inside my head. It's over.

The tears felt hot running down your face.

All you could let out was a sob, and a fragment of a word. Without warning, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to yours, taking in the noises while holding your face gently.

His lips taste like roses.

Was there really anything else you could do, besides kissing him back? You gripped at his triceps, still sobbing out your nose as he deepened the kiss, without protest from you. It went on for a few seconds, before you finally couldn’t take it anymore and broke away from him, escaping his embrace and moving away quickly.

Despite you retreating into the bathroom, both you and him knew that he had won.

♡🐞♡

Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack. The imaginary clock in Giorno’s head was the only thing he could currently hear. It felt like it could be fit for a time-bomb, as the longer the uneventful period went on, the closer he felt to exploding.

Five minutes. It had only been five minutes since you had ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, leaving him to contemplate his actions. (“Contemplate” in large quotes, since there was already a lustful smog growing in his brain, clouding up his rational thinking.) Since you had retreated, he had picked up on water occasionally running, a few concerning heavy impacts, and perhaps a cry or two.

He was almost starting to think that he might’ve pushed you a bit too far, what with making you break down in front of him and all that. He would’ve actually begun to feel some regret, if not for him hearing the bathroom door behind him at the perfect time.

Giorno looked behind his shoulder, and there you were. Standing in the doorway, completely bare apart from your underwear, covering your breasts with your forearm. While there was still a shy, cold expression on your face, the three words you uttered told him all he needed to know.

“Do your worst.”

The pure joy inside of him fired up. He finally met with your eyes, giving you a small smile that said a thousand thankful words.

Before you even had a chance to trail a meter away from the doorway, he had stepped over to you and trapped you in his oh-so-warm embrace. He soon kissed the shell of your ear, uttering out a soft "thank you."

Your legs felt weak.

He snaked around behind you, aligning his arm with your raised one. His hand cupped your knuckles, squeezing them.

"Put your arm down...let me see you…" there was an almost desperate twinge in his voice, more apparent when it was so close to your other ear.

Of course, you obeyed him. What else could you do?

The golden boy resisted the primal urge to grope and caress your chest, instead deciding to begin guiding you towards his bed. He still kept his bare torso flush against yours.

When your knees touched the edge of the mattress you instinctively gave in and dropped down onto the comforter, momentarily detaching from him as you crawled up to your knees.

When you blinked, Giorno was in front of you again. He put his hand on your neck and gripped it very gently, getting up-close to your chest-shoulder area. You could feel his lips touching against the very slight hairs on your body, threatening to give you goosebumps.

“Cara…” he still sounded desperate. “I...I don’t know where to bite first…”

It was true. There were just too many places he could go for first; the soft, lovely flesh of your breasts, the accessible, potent croon of your neck and shoulders, or even a part of your face...it was enough to give him analysis paralysis.

He didn’t get any suggestions from you.

Eventually he made his decision by pressing his lips against your chest, right next to where your heart was. For a split second he pulled away, allowing you to invite him by raising up your tits with your forearm.

You watched him, his eyes happy, as he slowly opened his maw, revealing his small fangs. It wasn’t long before he finally bit down onto you, be it mildly.

It didn’t hurt that much the first time around, but it made both of you realize it'd take more force to get you to bleed for him.

He wasn't deterred though, quickly after the first bite he champed down again, his canines poking down into your flesh, drawing a sharp exhale from you.

The harder he bit, the more you whined. You felt a bit of suction on the spot, as he was trying his hardest to get any of your extract out and onto his tongue.

Finally, after gnawing at you for a good half-minute, he broke skin.

To your surprise, he pulled away, wanting to look at your blood before he indulged. The little red splotch bloomed bigger, and started to flow down your breast.

The pure, unadulterated salacity in his eyes made your body feel warm.

His tongue rolled out, his breath so hot it was like steam in the cold room. He swept up all the blood that flowed out, his saliva seeping into your small puncture and stinging slightly.

But that sensation had nothing on what he was feeling.

By God, it was the most sublime thing he'd ever tasted. Coating his tongue, your fluid sent him into a state of absolute ecstasy.

It was as sweet as caramel, yet as intoxicating as absinthe.

After letting out a small, amazed moan, he re-attached to your skin and sucked on it, trying to force out more of the liquid ruby. It was a miniscule wound, so only a small, thin stream was coming out, but he savored every drop of it by mixing it with his own saliva so he could swallow it down better.

His swallows were definitely audible. You tilted your head back, completely bewildered at what was currently happening.

He’s drinking me.

My boss is drinking me.

My perfect, psycho boss is drinking me.

You felt your flesh be released after a short while, Giorno letting out a groan. He moved his hands up to hold the sides of your face, staring deep into your eyes. His once pale-pink lips were stained with red.

“I love you, I love you so much…” The words came out barely as whispers, before he kissed you again. You were instantly met with the coppery taste of your own blood.

When he pulled away, the string of saliva that connected the two of you was dyed a light red. You glanced down and saw that the bite mark had been smudged, so even more of your chest was painted crimson.

There was something...exciting about that. Something you couldn’t put your finger on.

Giorno shifted, his hands on your shoulders, so that he was pressed against your back once again. He tugged you backwards, leaning onto the wall behind the bed. It wasn’t long before he sunk his teeth into your trapezius, again gnawing a few times before getting access to his ambrosia.

It was definitely painful, getting your blood actively sucked out gave you cold chills wherever he bit. You were thankful that he wasn’t drawing litres from you, in movies it always looked so...violent…

You couldn’t help but throw your arms back around his shoulders, squishing your hands between him and the wall.

He continued to drink for a good stretch of time, before sliding one hand down your body. You watched him as he pressed his middle finger against your clothed crux, producing a short yelp from you. His fingertip pressed down until there was an apparent wet spot in your dark grey bottoms.

Hot air brushed by your ear. “You’re wet~♡” He cooed, pushing his fingertip lower down the cleft. You tilted your ear away from him, squeezing your eyes shut.

A cry escaped your lips when he slipped his hand under your bottoms and wasted no time massaging your excited nub.

“I wonder how it got that way?” His inquiry was met by a sob. “Hmm...maybe you like it when I drink you up…♡?”

“I-I...ah…”

“Or…” You could feel him smile against your shoulder. “You did watch me when I was enjoying myself earlier...maybe you get off to that kind of stuff?”

“Wha...no…”

He tittered and kissed the area behind your ear. “Well? Am I correct? Do you get off watching younger men touch themselves?”

An uncontrollable cry came out of you. No...you’re wrong…

“Oh, you’re a pervert, aren’t you~♡ ”

“I’m not...not a pervert…”

You could tell he was toying with you.

Goddamnit…

While you cursed in your head, deep down, your body loved it.

Another stint of him drinking you went by, all while his hand grew more vigorous. You managed to suppress most of your noises, but it grew harder the closer you got to your climax. The thought of cumming while he was still indulging in your blood...it was so…

He pulled away with a satiated sigh.

When his fangs left you, so did his hand. It left your lower area convulsing, feeling abandoned.

“Tesoro…♡” Giorno nuzzled up against you. “That was amazing...you tasted so good, I think I might get addicted...I’m so happy...I love you…”

Despite being on the brink of orgasm, you felt a strong feeling of relief, knowing that this “saga” was over. You couldn’t help but smile, shutting your eyes and dropping your arms down and enjoying the feeling of being held in your boss’s warm arms.

“I...uhm, Giorno...I think I…” The words you wanted to say were hard to get out, but eventually you managed to build up the needed “confidence”.

You felt a bit dazed from getting all that blood taken from you, but it wasn’t too bad.

It was still unbelievable to you, to think that all this time a grandiose man like him had taken such an interest in a lowlife like you...it still felt conflicting. What’s gonna happen now? What comes next? With the intent of asking him that, you opened your eyes, and…

Oh.

Somehow, you had changed positions without even noticing. He had laid you out on the bed, your head on the pillow, and was straddling you. The light from the window bounced off his eyes, and you knew it was far from over.

He was pressing his hard-on right into your crotch, his hands on your waist. “Bella…” he murmured, dragging his hands closer to himself.

You felt your heart thump harder as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down his pants again. Your eyes went from the center of his briefs to his face, trying to signal your distress to him. Too bad he was only focused on “himself”.

Determined to not see his cock again, you shut your eyes tight. Yet something in your head told you that it was inevitable, because honestly, where else could this go?

So you opened your eyes, be it slowly, and laid your sight on him.

This is really happening, isn’t it?

It was utterly stiff, resting on your belly, and tinged with red, just like his face. His pre dripped down near your navel, the heat combatting with the surface of your skin.

You looked up at him again, but couldn’t tell if he was doing the same to you. His eyes were pointed not at your face, but somewhere lower. Not being able to predict what was going to happen next, you swallowed nothing.

Suddenly, the bed rumbled a bit, and you reflexively closed your eyes again. You felt the crown of your head knock against the wall, before you noticed a sudden weight on your torso. When you peeked ahead, you realized Giorno had moved up your body, now straddling your lower thorax.

You were met with the head of his cock, resting comfortably in the valley of your breasts. Immediately your face reached internal levels of warmth you didn’t even know were possible.

“I wanted to try this, with you, for a while now…” he trailed off before putting some saliva in his hand rather solemnly.

How long is a ‘while’?

While he massaged the makeshift lubricant onto himself, you were staring up at him, at a loss for words. “This-this position is...it’s, uhm…” To think that such a presumably perfectly proper person would have such...pornagraphic proposals. Maybe you yourself weren’t as “experienced” as you liked to think you were.

His hands traveled to the sides of your chest, pushing them up so that the soft meat enveloped his shaft. A satisfied sigh came out his mouth, this was just the start and you already felt like heaven.

“Gio-ru-no…~” despite his nails being just barely a quarter-centimeter long, you felt them digging into your flesh. You were glad he wasn’t too heavy, if he was this would probably be even rougher. “Be gentle...please…?”

Your pleas were unfortunately ignored.

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled back a little bit before pushing forward, slightly rocking both the two of you and the bed. There was a bit of a cooldown period before he rammed his hips forward again, and again, and again.

“Amore mio, amore mio~♡” Thoughtless words were spilling from him. “So, good...your body really is the best~♡! I love...everything...about you…” He kept speaking in between pushes, but you could barely pick up on it.

The sight of his cock rhythmically slipping on your chest--it was almost hypnotizing. It was just..so lewd, so much it was by itself stimulating. You were helpless, letting your tits get fucked by your beautiful bastard of a boss, arms limp on the bed.

Under your breasts, you could feel his testes against you--you could tell they were heavy. Lewd noises kept coming out with each shove, and you had a front-row seat to them. That along with his ecstatic moans created a cacophony of smutty noises that assaulted your eardrums. His tip kept inching ever-closer to your face, to the point where you felt you would be able to kiss it if you wanted to.

Giorno kept going, rocking his hips over and over again, and it made you wonder if he was ever going to finish.

This really is happening, isn’t it...not a dream, or a trip, or anything…

He’s using me like some kind of object...

How long has he wanted to do this kind of stuff with me?

Where...did he even get the idea to do this?

Those questions were pointless, and you knew it.

You were jerked out of your thoughts when he pressed his thumbs against your nipples, making you flinch and scrunch up your face. The small amount of tears that had been building up in your eyes were squeezed out, coating your eyelids.

Seeing that subtle change in your face, Giorno sped up his movements. The whines that came from you as a result of his roughness just tempted him more, giving him extra ideas of what he’d do in the future.

Something dripped down and hit your cheek, as well as the pillowcase around your head. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to tell what it was, which was sweat that was dripping from his bare body. It perplexed you how he still managed to smell like fragrant flowers.

His “rhythm” was beginning to feel like it was synchronizing with your heartbeat, and in a weird way, it was relaxing. Maybe it was that, combined with his warmth, his weight, the soft mattress...you wondered that, if you did hypothetically fall asleep in the midst of this, would he continue?

It proved to be another pointless question, as soon enough the golden boy’s moans peaked, before he suddenly stopped.

Is...is he done?

For a split second, you felt his weight lift from your body, but at the same time one of his hands gripped at your jaw roughly. He pulled down, forcing you to open up but a tad, before he quickly moved even higher up your body and stuffed his cock in your mouth.

Your tear-laced eyes went wide immediately. A muffled whimper came out your throat, but he ignored it and dropped himself lower down, stabilizing himself on the wall. Your abused gag reflex caused more tears to flow out, but it also just made your throat tighten around him.

After he let out a few sighs of pleasure, you glanced up at his face. His eyes were glimmering as he kept forcing himself into you, adoring the way all the soft ridges and bumps felt against his ready-to-burst cock.

Tears were completely blurring your sight as he bottomed out in your mouth. A joyous, shuddering groan came out of him before you felt something hot bloom in the middle of your neck.

Realization set in, and so did a slight sense of panic. It wasn’t long before your throat had been filled, agitating your gag reflex even more. Your heart thumped heavily as his essence invaded your mouth, the strange taste a bit too overwhelming.

While one of your hands had fingers shaking and curling, you raised the other one up to batter at his side, trying to tell him he was starting to stifle you.

In response, he reached down and pinched your nose shut.

“This...this is only fair, right~?” There was some kind of sadistic giggle in his voice. "Come on, take it, take all of me…♡" his smile, despite looking filled with nothing but love, made you want to cry even more.

You felt yourself begin to asphyxiate.

“Swallow it.” While his voice was soft, it still managed to be commanding, almost intimidating.

Not having any other options, you obeyed.

Soon as Giorno saw the lump in your neck go down, he removed himself and lifted off of your body. The excess fluid that didn’t go down came gushing out of your uselessly-closed lips, oozing down your chin as you struggled to sit up.

You put your hand to your mouth as you coughed, trying in vain to stop it from getting everywhere. To your dismay, you felt a drop of it land on your chest.

Despite the multiple fluids covering your face, you, once again, felt a strong feeling of relief. It’s over now, right? It’s gotta be. No way is he still…

You were distracted by him wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your temple. “There we go...it wasn’t that hard, right?” No response to that.

“See, I got to drink you…” he chuckled as if he had just told a joke. “And now you got to drink me! We’re equal now~!”

Even if you wanted to talk back to him, you couldn’t, as there was still liquid pooled in your mouth. After spitting out most of it onto your hand, you picked up on something--your bottoms were being lowered.

You jerked to the side. “Wait, wait, wait--what are you doing?” His fingers were still pulling at your waistband, despite you kicking a bit to try and get him to quit.

He looked at you with a rather sudden innocent expression. “Well, we’re moving on now, aren't we?”

“You can’t be serious, ri-right? You...just finished…” without words, you were proven wrong by him straightening his back, revealing that he was still hard.

Lord have mercy.

“That...doesn’t make sense...how…” Giorno interrupted your driveling by pulling you back down the bed, tilting you onto your back. You genuinely didn’t know how much more you could take.

Your leg was lifted up, resting on the inside of his elbow. “Did you actually think we were done…?” He laughed while completely removing your soused underwear. It was humiliating, seeing him with the small garment dangling off of his index, and it got even worse when he carelessly dropped it onto the floor behind him. “You haven’t even finished yet, right? What kind of man would I be to let you--no, the both of us,--go unsatisfied...?”

But I’m already ‘satisfied’... It was true, even if you hadn’t technically climaxed yet, you still felt like this had gone on long enough and--

“A-ah--!” Suddenly, you were ripped out of your thoughts by the feeling of him prodding your crux with the supple head of his cock. The sudden heat made your channel clench around nothing as he pulled away from your entrance. You uncontrollably pushed up your pelvis, most certainly looking oh-so desperate for him.

While pulling even farther away from you, he moved his hand before spreading your vulva with his middle knuckles. He peered down at your drooling pink hole, watching your insides convulse with a voracious look in his eye.

“Ah...I wasn’t expecting it to be like this…” he chuckled, while rotating his hand a bit to get a better look. "It looks like it's...begging for me…"

A gratified smile stretched across his lips. He was right! He knew you wanted this just as much as he did! And when he took a look at your face, your frightened yet tantalized expression, the tear stains on your cheeks and the remnants of his semen covering your chin and jaw, he let out a happy breath, knowing he wouldn't be changing his mind anytime soon.

That sight just made him simply ache.

“Bella~” he crooned out, the edges of his eyes watery. “I can’t hold back anymore…~”

The second after that, he plunged himself inside you all too quickly, giving you absolutely no time to think. You had only a split second to come to terms with what was happening before you were impaled by a certain scalding appendage.

All that built-up stimulation from before came to a crash, your jaw dropping as you humiliatingly climaxed around him. Your fingers curled around the sheets as you pushed your hips against him, only to realize he wasn’t even bottomed out yet.

While you managed to stay mostly quiet, even during your orgasm. That couldn’t be said for the young man above you, though.

For him, it was just too heavenly to resist. You felt so soft and tight, everything he’d hoped it would be and more. A series of strained yet euphoric moans sputtered out of him as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you, closing his eyes and letting his tears fall down onto your face as he leaned over you.

He stayed still for a small while, taking in the rapturous feeling before rising up a bit and looking down at your abdomen. “Look, look...we’re finally connected…~”

Staring up at him with lidded eyes, you silently prayed that he didn’t notice you had--

“Hey,” his voice stayed breathy, as he started to roll his hips against you. “Did...you finish just from me putting it in?”

You covered your face with your hands, crying out in shame quietly.

“Don’t be embarrassed~♡!” Giorno cooed rather loudly, forcibly grabbing your wrists and pushing them back down onto the mattress, and while continuing to ram into you. Drool, tears and sweat still running down your face, you looked down at your pelvis, feeling taunted by the marshy noises being produced. “You feel really good, and so do I--be happy! I love you…!”

He kissed the side of your nose, holding the sides of your head. “I knew you loved me too, that you wanted me just as bad--I’m so happy I’m right, cara…” You couldn’t help but nod slightly in response, anything to make him be a little more gentle.

“Suh-low...please…” it sounded like your brain was melting, which wasn’t exactly inaccurate. But even if your brain wasn’t melting, it definitely felt like your groin was. The combination of his roughness and his body heat was making your upper legs go numb, all feeling focused on the absolute stirring-up of your insides.

To him, despite the fact that your internal heat wasn't low in the slightest, compared to his own it felt like you were almost cooling him down--it wasn't just pleasure he was feeling, it was also relief. And he wanted more.

In order to try and get even deeper inside you, he raised your left leg higher, tilting you onto your side. Tugging you closer, he pressed his lips onto your ankle.

The new angle made you grit your teeth and squeal, feeling his tip reach your fornix. You extended your arms, partly trying to get him to give you a break and partly wanting to hold his hand for some kind of support.

"You're good...so good...your body was really made for me~" he kept singing your praises while churning his hips, the upper base of his cock continuously pressing into your swollen nub.

As embarrassing as it was, you could feel another building twist in your gut.

After a bit, he leant over you again, leering at the beet-purple bite marks on your skin. Those and the smears of blood on your skin looked like art of his own making to him. But something was eating away at the back of his mind, a strange instinct that was telling him to do...something…

You watched as he moved his hand closer to your bust, bending all his fingers except for the index and middle. You felt him poke at the soft flesh of your neck for a second, getting a tad confused before…

Wait, what--

Somehow, in some unexplainable way, he pushed his fingertips and into your neck, bypassing your skin without puncturing it. It wasn’t even exactly painful, but incredibly strange and almost frightening.

Fear in your eyes, you watched the veins in his forearm swell as the chilling feeling that came with getting your blood taken returned. You cried out, tears falling while you put your own hands on the one that was drinking from your throat.

For him, he could feel your blood flowing into his veins directly, even being able to taste the lovely sweet flavor. He picked up a severe pace once again, mercilessly ravaging both halves of your body.

Despite his roughness, there was nothing but love in his glazed green eyes.

I'm...getting my blood taken...while being fucked...♡

A small broken smile appeared on your lips. To think that such an amazing man was indulging in you in this way...it made you wonder why you ever tried to get away in the first place.

"Do you like this?" He asked, dipping his fingertips even deeper into your neck. "That's really perverted...♡"

The second after he said that prodding comment, you felt yourself tremble as the tugging feeling in your belly burst, cumming around him once again. Your legs stiffened and seized up uncontrollably as you moaned out helplessly.

After your second orgasm, the ever-growing exhaustion began to take a toll on you. You hadn't slept in over 32 hours, after all. Foolishly thinking it was finally over, you turned your body onto your stomach, sighing into the soft pillow after you felt him pull out both his digits and his cock.

This really happened, didn't it? Was your seemingly last thought before you were about to drift off, but that was before you felt your backside get lifted off of the sheets.

"You're a selfish woman, aren't you? I'm not even done yet and you already want to go to bed? Hm…" You heard the man behind you say before slowly penetrating your raw cunt. "...but I don't mind. I still love you~" he sighed happily.

"Wow…" he kept talking, even though he knew it was most likely not reaching you. "To think you were really threatening to murder me just a while ago...just look at you now, bella~♡"

You genuinely couldn’t respond to him, you didn’t have the brain power to do so. All you could do was accept him as he began to fuck you once again.

“Ah~” A happy breath left his lips. “You still feel so good…” he rocked his hips and bottomed out easily, pushing your pelvis towards him to keep a sort of rhythm going. “Do you like it from behind, too?”

Before he had entered inside you, you had tried your best to raise your upper body up with your arms, but failed once you felt him inside. Your face dropped onto the pillow, all the sweat and tears surely soaking into the case.

You felt his soft hands on your upper arms before he raised you up, so his chest was against your back. With his lips right near your ear, he started panting in your ear as he bucked up inside you.

"I love you...I love you…" he repeated for what felt like the thousandth time today. "And you love me too, right? Right?"

When he didn't head a response, he grew rougher.

"Say it...say you love me, please, bella…"

"I...I love you, Giorno…!"

You heard him let out a happy sound before kissing your ear. "Yes...yes...I, I love you, I love having sex with you...♡"

It felt like there was static all inside your brain. He let both of you lower back down onto the bed, still ramming his hips in an almost animalistic way.

"We're gonna do this a lot, alright? I wanna do this with you every day...♡" He kissed at your shoulder before suddenly sinking his incisors into it, quickly creating another puncture he could sup from.

You couldn’t help but cry, desperately clutching at the surely sweat-soaked sheets. It was unbelievable, but he had created another twisting feeling in your abdomen.

The broken and sane parts of your brain were having a battle, one in disbelief at how spectacularly your plan had failed and how this even came to be in general, while the other was just simply euphoric at the pleasure he was giving you.

“I’m close, tesoro…” he uttered after pulling his fangs from you. “Are...are you gonna finish again? Even though you’re so tired~? You think we’re gonna cum together…?” you gave him no response, looking at how his hands were now on the bed right by yours.

It went on for a bit more, him continuously drinking your blood while plunging into the deepest part of you. All while your brain was on the very brink of shutting off and traveling into dreamland.

Yet, after a while, he said one more thing.

“I wanna finish inside you, cara…” He moaned out before kissing the new bruise on your shoulder. “Let’s start a family~♡!”

That one proposition was enough to jerk you out of your haze and bring you to action.

No.

“No!”

You balled your hand into a fist and repeatedly pounded at the back of his hand. “No, no~! Take it out, take it out…!”

Even if it was disappointing to hear your refusal, he heeded and slipped himself out just as he started to climax. Your walls clenched around nothing as he whined out, letting his essences spill out and smother the front of your torso.

He held you tighter than ever as he rode out his orgasm, almost suffocating you with how firmly he was pressing against your diaphragm. You had let out all the air in your lungs when you came for the last time today, the dopamine in your brain hitting the absolute max.

In your last moments of consciousness, you picked up on him turning you around and letting the last few surges paint your stomach. He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled, as his own brain was also flooded with serotonin.

A great silence filled the room, apart from the sounds of his breathing. In the quiet, his mind finally came down from the high and he opened his eyes.

Giorno felt great. It was like all of the excess heat had been emptied from his body, and all the pain and smogginess in his head had disappeared like it was never there.

“Ah…thank you, cara, that was amazing--” When he looked down at you, he realized.

“Oh...oh.” It was a little embarrassing, “she’s out cold…” he uttered, putting his fingertips to his lips.

He was caught a little off guard, before seeing how you had been covered in his substances, as well as all the other fluids he had managed to draw from you. The sight was truly wonderful to him.

Oh, how he longed to have a camera on him, as disrespectful as it would’ve been. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long...even more since this whole “vampire” debacle began. And now he had experienced it, and it was better than he could’ve ever had fathomed.

To say he was overjoyed would’ve been an understatement.

Yet, as happy and satisfied as he was, he wanted to let you have your rest. So, after brainstorming a couple “thank-you gifts” and cleaning you up a little bit, he managed to manhandle your sleeping body under the covers.

Seeing your peaceful, sleeping face, he couldn’t help but smile.

“I wonder what you’re going to dream about…?” He breathed out before kissing the tip of your nose one last time.

With nothing else to do, he slipped under the covers as well, holding your gentle, sleeping form. And with you in his arms, in his room, in his home, he finally felt content. It simply couldn’t get better than this.

Thank you, God, for such a wonderful, wonderful day. ♡

#not even putting after notes yall dont deserve them smh #can you tell im sick of this one already lmaooo #oh well #my works #N/S/F/W #jjba #jojo #Vento Aureo #Golden Wind #Giorno Giovanna #fine ill do it #giorno x reader #yumee works #cw dubcon #cw noncon #cw other things too #why is this so long im going to shit myself

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hottestthingalive · 4 years

Text

Bluebells (3)

Chapter 3: Sprouts

Ao3 Link here.

First | Previous

Notes: Ah, chapter three. 19 pages long, the bane of my existence, and going from tooth-rotting fluff to mild angst in one chapter.

Plot: Virgil and Logan sleep together (but not like that), everyone thinks they’re dating, and Prince is confronted.

Relationships: Analogical, background Royality (so far!)

Tw: Cursing (and lots of it), mentions of death, mentions of potential kidnapping, assumed dating, mild objectification.

Logan couldn’t sleep.

He knew he should be able to -- ought to, in fact, have already collapsed from exhaustion a few days ago. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep at this point.

But here he was, staring at the ceiling, looking at the peeling paint and wondering if anyone had noticed he wasn’t in the woods yet.

The odds were slim, of course. Fey, for all their allegiances and deals and petty rivalries, were naturally antisocial creatures. (Or at least Unseelie were. The only two Seelie Logan knew closely, Advice and Prince, were both exhaustingly extroverted, but the others of their court did not seem quite as exuberant, and he suspected they might be anomalies.) So no one would likely come looking for Logan tonight, especially after the spring equinox a few days ago.

Still, he worried.

Sighing, Logan turned on his side, shutting his eyes. What would Advice say right now? he wondered. What would he tell me?

...Well, knowing Advice, he’d make repeated human cartoon references and annoy Logan half to death. But mixed in there, he’d say something about Logan repressing his emotions and ignoring his actual worries in favor of trivial ones, and how he had to talk about his problems.

“Okay,” he said out loud, “What am I actually worried about?”

Anxiety, his brain supplied. He looks like he’s going to drop any moment. And Prince -- if it really is him, the human, then what on earth is he doing fraternizing with humans? Why did he miss the equinox? Why didn’t he tell his brother? What do I tell Duke if it is him, and he refuses to return? Would I have to keep it a secret?

Screw it.

He pulled aside the quilt, feet hitting the soft carpet on the floor with no sound. Logan could see perfectly in the darkness, now that he had taken off those infernal glasses -- adjusting his eyes to see through them meant depriving himself of his normal vision, which was impeccable in all forms of lighting and conditions. It was annoying.

Anxiety had insisted on Logan taking his room, citing some rules of human chivalry, and had gone to sleep on the couch. Logan couldn’t quite understand why he didn’t just take the room at the end of the hall, the one that presumably belonged to his grandmother, but he hadn’t questioned it, instead attempting to convince Anxiety to take the bed by citing his severe exhaustion.

The faerie had forgotten quite how good at arguing Anxiety was.

Logan pulled open the door to the room, adjusting the sweatpants that barely reached his shins. At least the shirt fit well -- it was a band shirt that had always been too big for Anxiety, the human had told him, and although a bit baggy, it was a good length on his lanky frame.

It was easy, creeping down the stairs, and Logan thought he had been perfectly silent until he heard Anxiety’s voice mutter, “You awake too?”

“Apparently,” he nodded, shrugging before he remembered that human eyes did not see nearly as well in the darkness. “Er… I just shrugged.”

“Thanks,” Anxiety laughed, voice gravelly with exhaustion. “Come sit with me. I’ll make us hot chocolate or something. Eventually.” He was wrapped in blankets, sitting upright on the couch with his purple hair going every which way. Logan noted with some concern that without makeup, the shadows under his eyes were far darker than he had thought.

“Sugar would probably be inadvisable at this hour,” he frowned, sitting down anyways. “You very much need rest, Anxiety.”

“Hypocrite,” the other mumbled, leaning his head against Logan’s shoulder. His hair smelled of lavender, from the shower he’d taken a few hours earlier. “When did you last sleep, L?”

“Last night,” Logan told him, honest as he always was, as he had to be. “My unhealthy sleeping habits do not persist into the summer months -- I only employ them during the time of my court, so I can do everything needed of me.”

“Then why’re you ’wake now?” Anxiety pointed out, words slurring slightly.

“Stress, I suppose,” he said. “Why are you awake?”

“I’m Panic! At the Disco, ’cept I’m not at the disco,” grinned Anxiety tiredly, eyes shutting. “Get it?”

“You are not falling asleep against me sitting upright on the couch,” Logan hissed, flicking his forehead lightly. “It’s awful for your back. And if you were having extreme levels of anxiety, you could have alerted me. I would have been happy to help.”

“You’re warm, though,” the human whined. “Aren’t you supposed to be cold? You’re a winter dude! Let me have the warmth, I’ll use it better than you.”

“My body heat is a biological defense against the conditions I work in, being a ‘winter dude’, as you put it,” he deadpanned. “I believe your exhaustion, mixed with your half-asleep state, has served to deduct from your intelligence and lower your inhibitions.”

“L, listen, I’m far too tired to understand your smart talk, okay?” Anxiety yawned, leaning on him again. “Can we just go to bed? I’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Yes, as do I. I’m accompanying you, remember?” pointed out Logan, before sighing. “Listen, you’re going to be all sore in the morning if you fall asleep upright on the couch. If you insist on making use of my body heat, I would advise we relocate to your room.”

“Why, Logic,” grinned Anxiety, obviously attempting a sultry look but only managing to look mildly dead, what with the shadows under his eyes and how he was squinting to see Logan at all. “Are you inviting me to bed with you?”

“Oh, that’s it,” groaned Logan, standing. “Go to sleep, loser. I will see you in the morning”

“How dare you,” Anxiety protested, attempting to stand as well before getting his legs tangled in the blankets and falling face-first onto the rug. “Ow. Get back here, you living heater!”

“C’mon,” he sighed, tugging on Anxiety’s arms to pull him upright. “Grab your blankets, you dumbass. It’s too late for your shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans, he says,” muttered the human as he gathered the blankets and his pillow into his arms. “Cocky bastard. Like you aren’t just as much of an idiot.”

“Sure,” soothed Logan as they made their way up the stairs again. “There is only an infinitesimal gap in our intellect.”

“Don’t be rude,” Anxiety grumbled as he fell into his bed, curling up on one side. “I regret teaching you human slang, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I figured,” he grinned, though he knew Anxiety probably couldn’t see it in the darkness, and got under the quilt beside him. “Good night, Anxiety.”

“Night, L,” he heard in muffled response, before the other let out a huff of a laugh. “No homo, right?”

“Oh, very homo,” Logan snorted, rolling his eyes. “Majorly gay.”

“In a platonic way, though,” sighed Anxiety, eyes already shut as he leaned his head on Logan’s arm.

He nodded, because body language didn’t count as lying, not for fey, and now was really not the time to have that discussion with Anxiety. “Ah -- I just nodded,” he made sure to say, in case the other hadn’t felt the motion.

Turns out Logan hadn’t required it, as the purple-haired male only replied with a tired mumbling, clearly already asleep. He’d really needed the rest, huh?

A few hours later, a shrill sound awakened Logan, and he blinked awake to see Anxiety fumbling with the old clock on the nightstand. It was still dark out. “What time is it?” he asked.

“2:30,” Anxiety replied, hitting a button before returning it to the bedside table. “Sorry -- that’s my normal alarm, forgot to turn it off. I reset it for six.”

“You’ve been getting up every morning at 2:30 AM?” he frowned, sitting up properly. “Anx-”

“Don’t worry about it, L,” he sighed in reply, pulling the patchwork quilt back up over his shoulders and turning to face Logan. “We’re sleeping, okay? We’re lying here quietly with our eyes closed and not arguing about my shitty sleep schedule while it’s still dark out.”

“We’re going to discuss this tomorrow,” Logan warned him, but his eyes were already shutting. He was tired too, as much as he hated to admit it while berating Anxiety on his sleeping habits. The other clearly knew, as he let out a quiet laugh and said, “Sleep tight, Logic.”

He tried to respond, but he couldn’t tell if any sound escaped his mouth before everything slipped away.

The second time he woke up, Anxiety was already gone, the alarm beeping quietly. He winced, staring at it -- the old thing looked metal, but he hated the sound, and he knew Anxiety, ever cautious, probably wouldn’t allow anything iron-based near Logan.

He reached over cautiously, gently touching it -- when no burning sensation occured, he found the button to shut the loud clock off. The silence was blissful.

Walking down the stairs a few minutes later, clothed in the attire Anxiety had given him the day before (which he had found on the dresser, folded neatly, and smelling of the strange clothing-soap that humans used) he found the human sitting at the dining table. He was still in his pajamas, one hand curled into his purple curls as the other scribbled something into a notebook.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked, peering at him through the enchanted glasses, and didn’t miss how Anxiety jumped at his voice. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he shrugged, calming slightly. “Just jumpy. Forgot you were here, for a sec.” He glanced down at the notebook, shutting it and standing. “I was writing. Haven’t had much time for it, lately.”

He didn’t reply to that, even though he felt his lips curl into a pensive frown -- he’d decided not to confront Anxiety about these things, not now. If he wanted to talk, he would. At least, Logan hoped he would.

“I see.”

“If you’re already up and dressed, I should probably get ready too,” the other yawned, moving past Logan towards the stairs. “I’ll be down in a few, okay? How do you feel about eggs?”

“They’re a rather strange shape,” he replied, shrugging. “I do not have particularly strong feelings about them either way, although I do prefer the bird variety to the insect -- they can be far prettier, especially bluebird eggs. They’re a lovely shade of blue.”

“I meant for breakfast, L,” Anxiety laughed, leaning over the banister to flick Logan on the forehead. “Go sit. I’ll be down in a few.”

It turned out that sitting quietly at the table was not entirely advisable -- it gave Logan far too much ability to think about how domestic this all was, how he had spent the night in the same bed as an incredibly pretty boy he very much liked, possibly in more than a platonic way, and how he now had to spend all day with the same person under the guise of being a friend from out of town. Logan wasn’t an idiot, either, so he knew that Anxiety’s friends (especially if one of them was Prince) were probably going to think the two of them were actually romantically involved, something he definitely would not be able to deal with right now.

Prince.

He had to focus on that issue, foremost. If the friend of Anxiety’s turned out to not be the Seelie, he could enjoy the day and return to the forest at nightfall, free to mull over his feelings for Anxiety in peace. If he was the faerie Logan knew…

Well. That would be a whole other story.

The walk to Torbrook’s high school had been peaceful, the two arriving relatively early. “We’ve got to check you in with the office,” Anxiety explained, leading Logan through halls lined with metal lockers. He bit his lip at the sight of them, careful to stay in the middle of the hallway. “I’ll do most of the talking -- do your best to look shy, okay? We don’t want them asking you too many questions.” He pushed open the doors to a large office. A woman sitting at a desk waved them through to the room just off of it. “Mr. Poppy wants to see you,” she said. “He’s got your friend’s schedule.”

“Thanks,” Anxiety nodded, pulling them through the doors to the new, smaller room.

“Anxiety!” exclaimed a balding man sitting at the desk, a cheerful smile across his face. “This must be your new friend, then, huh?”

“Yeah. Mr. Poppy, Logic. Logic -- this is our principal.” Anxiety said, shifting uncomfortably.

“It is nice to meet you,” Logan said, casting his eyes towards the ground and waving shyly. Let it be said that although he could not speak untruths, he had perfected lying through his body language and appearance. He could practically hear the man dismantling him in his head -- introvert, nerd, fairly quiet.

“Nice to meet you too, Logic,” the man replied, his smile never faltering. “So, have you recently moved to Torbrook?”

“I will be staying here for a time, yes,” the faerie nodded, adjusting his sleeves. “I may not be here long, but while I am I hope to attend your school.”

He had to pick his words carefully, cautious not to lie even as he had to trick this man. It was the kind of challenge he loved, whether he’d admit it or not.

“I see you filled out the necessary paperwork,” nodded Mr. Poppy, glancing through a file on his desk. “I have your schedule here -- you and Anxiety will be having all the same classes, don’t worry about that! -- so just take it, and he can show you around. Your teachers already know you’re coming, so don’t worry about a thing! And just one more thing -- says here you use he/him pronouns. That’s correct, right?”

“Yes, it is,” Logan nodded, rather surprised at how strangely easy the process had been. Wouldn’t human schools have more… restrictive practices for admitting new students? “Thank you.”

“My son is awfully excited to meet you,” Mr. Poppy grinned, holding out his hand for Logan to shake it. “He was ranting all last night about Anxiety bringing his boyfriend to town.”

Logan felt his face flame, and was suddenly very glad for the illusion covering his cheeks as Anxiety spluttered “Sleep said what?! We’re not -- he’s not-”

“We’re not dating,” he said, rescuing both of their dignities and struggling to keep his voice even. “Just childhood friends.”

“Ah,” Mr. Poppy nodded, chuckling. “Well, glad to meet you anyways. Have a good day, you two!”

“You too, Mr. Poppy!” Anxiety squeaked out, pulling them both out of the room, his face a very bright shade of red. “Oh god, that was a nightmare,” he sighed once they were in the hallway with the door shut behind them. “Boyfriend! I can’t believe Sleep -- I’m going to strangle him!”

“That is one of your friends, correct?” Logan asked, reading the schedule Mr. Poppy had handed him.

“Not anymore,” he grumbled. “C’mon, my friends and Sleep are all in the library right now, so we can go introduce you to them, and then class will start in-” he checked his phone, “-ten minutes.”

He followed Anxiety, who navigated the twisting halls effortlessly. Logan glanced around him, still careful not to get too close to the lockers -- he’d felt the touch of iron once before, as a child, and he still remembered how it had burned.

The library in town had been larger, but still, Logan didn’t think he’d ever get over the excitement of seeing so many books in one place. Anxiety snickered at him, tugging him towards a table in the back, where a person about Logan’s age was sleeping with his head resting on the table.

“Sleep,” Anxiety said to the sunglasses-wearing individual, shaking him gently. “Hey, rise and shine.”

“Anx?” mumbled the sleeping human, who lifted his head slightly before dropping it back onto the table. “Leave me to die here, girl, thanks. I’ve accepted this.”

“Logic, this is our resident dumbass,” Anxiety deadpanned, indicating Sleep with his hand. “It’s okay -- as far as we can tell, having no brain cells whatsoever hasn’t been detrimental to his health.”

Sleep rolled his head to look at Logan, before bolting upwards. “Holy shit, Anxiety, where’d you pick up that?”

“I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, a cold bolt of fear striking his heart. (Had he seen through the illusion? How? What had he done wrong?)

Sleep grabbed Anxiety’s sleeve, tugging him closer, grinning. With Logan’s heightened hearing, he could clearly hear Sleep’s excited whisper: “Listen, if you’re going to be bringing hot boys to school, you tell me!”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” sighed Anxiety, who must have been as nervous as Logan himself judging from how he relaxed even as his face turned pink. “Logic, Sleep. Sleep, this is my friend Logic, the one I did, in fact, tell you was coming.”

“You told me a friend of yours was coming to school -- I didn’t know he was going to be cute! You mention that shit to your bestie, Anx!” Sleep cried, apparently not caring if Logan heard him any longer.

“Mor’s my bestie” Anxiety rolled his eyes, swatting Sleep. “And stop objectifying Logic! Apologize, you asshole.”

Sleep huffed, turning to Logan. “Sorry, hon. I’m Sleep. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna come on to you -- I’m not a homewrecker, and you two are real cute together.”

“Oh for fucks sake, we’re not dating!” Anxiety exclaimed, saving Logan from having to think his way out of that one. “And for that matter, you can’t tell your dad we are, Sleep!”

“It is nice to meet you,” Logan said to the sunglasses-wearing human, finally spotting his chance to speak. “And Anxiety is correct -- we are not courting.”

“Courting? Oh God, he sounds like Prince,” Sleep muttered, before looking around. “Where are Prince and Mor, anyways?”

A shrill sound echoed through the school, harsh on Logan’s sensitive hearing, and he winced. “There’s the bell,” Anxiety frowned. “I guess they’re late, then.”

And so it was only in English that Logan saw him, slightly late, skidding into the classroom with a sweet smile and a mumbling about traffic.

Prince met his eyes, and something flashed deep within them. They no longer held intricate swirls of gold and red -- instead, they were a dark brown, an utterly human color. Still, Logan would recognize him anywhere.

It was obvious that Prince recognized him too, from how his eyes darted from Logan’s rounded ears to his dulled teeth, his softer features and newly colored eyes.

Sleep sat in front of him, napping already, and Anxiety sat at the desk besides Logan’s. No one else had seen fit to take notice of Logan after his introduction by the teacher as a new transfer student, and Mx. Cee was preoccupied glaring at Prince, tapping their foot as he handed them a note from the office.

So he allowed himself a wink, simultaneous greeting and warning.

I see you, it said. I know you.

Prince took an empty seat beside Sleep, unable to look at Logan without incurring Mx. Cee’s wrath, and Logan glanced over at Anxiety.

Is it him? Anxiety mouthed, glancing at their teacher, who was facing the whiteboard as they wrote something.

Logan only nodded.

“What on earth were you thinking?” he exclaimed, pacing in the empty classroom. Prince stood before him, Anxiety sitting on the teacher’s desk and watching both of them with wide eyes. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? Your brother has been frantic, and the Courts are on the verge of civil war because you’ve been gone! The Wolves have been using your absence to advocate for war, Prince. Deceit has been just barely able to talk them down while Talyn and Joan try to soothe the other fey.”

“Oh, you do not get to be all high and mighty now! I thought you hated the Wolves,” Prince snarled, glaring behind Logan. “Let Anxiety go! I can’t tell what magic you’re using on him, but it’s strong enough that you must have found out his true name. You know control is wrong, Logic!”

“You think I’m controlling Anxiety?” Logan asked, momentarily startled into stopping besides where said human sat, staring at Prince. “...Have you met him? He’s unbelievably stubborn. I doubt I could even if I wanted to!”

“Oh, shut up,” Anxiety grumbled, his eyes remaining on Prince and his knuckles turning white where his hands clenched the edge of the desk. “You know you love me.”

“See, it’s comments like that that make everyone think we’re together,” Logan rolled his eyes. “That is just as much your fault as mine, you… What was it? It was one of the flashcards. Something about a facet of human culture that you identify as?”

“Emo?” suggested the human, and Logan nodded.

“Ah, yes. You emo… disaster! Can disaster be used in that context? Okay, it’s not that funny, stop laughing.”

He didn’t even mind Anxiety’s snickering, really. If Logan’s poor memory for human slang made his friend laugh instead of panicking over Prince, he would utilize that. Even if it was rather demeaning.

“Wait, if you’re not controlling him, how did you convince him to help you?” Prince frowned, staring between them. “Anxiety’s not exactly the friendliest of people.”

“He can also hear you, asshole, and would like it if you didn’t talk about me like I’m not here,” retorted the purple-haired male, amusement forgotten as he glared at Prince. “Is that how you made us be friends with you, despite me being so unfriendly? Were you ‘controlling’ us? Does Mor even like you?”

“Of course not!” Prince exclaimed, looking so aghast that even Anxiety looked remorseful. “I would never stoop to such means, Anxiety! Not with you, or Sleep, and especially not with Morality. I… I could never hurt Mor in any way, nor have I, nor will I, ever. I swear it, both on my true name and my honor as a faerie.”

Logan and Anxiety exchanged looks. Prince couldn’t lie, like all fey, and such a specific statement left no grounds for doubt. The human, at least, seemed temporarily reassured, although he kept his eyes on Prince.

“What are you doing in Torbrook?” he finally asked after a beat of silence, removing his glasses with a sigh and leaning back against the absent instructor’s desk. Prince looked up at him sharply, about to speak, but Logan beat him to the punch, explaining “This room has been warded. All of us currently have break periods, and Anxiety has informed me this room is unused during this time, so I have ensured no one will enter, hear anything from it, or see inside. There is little need for extra caution.”

“You charmed glasses?” Prince asked instead, touching his fingers to his eyes and removing his contacts, his eyes reverting to the deep red and golds Logan knew. Anxiety’s jaw dropped, but both of the fey were kind enough not to mention it. “That’s clever, Microsoft Nerd. How’d you get them?”

Microsoft? he wondered, resolving to ask Anxiety about it afterwards. “They are Anxiety’s,” he said. “My clothes, as well. You’re deflecting the question, though -- why are you here? Is it because of your affection for this Morality, or… something else?”

Prince deflated, fidgeting with the sleeves of his crisp white jacket. “Joan and Talyn ordered me here,” he told them quietly, and Logan’s eyes widened. “It was to be a secret from all, including my family and friends. We could not risk mentions of my mission reaching the Wolves.”

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Anxiety said, leaning forwards from his perch. “Who are the Wolves?”

“They are a group of fey who have grown in power as of late,” Logan explained, not taking his eyes off Prince. “They are notorious for advocating for violence and cruelty against humans, including raiding Torbrook to crib-snatch, despite Joan and Talyn having outlawed such barbaric practices hundreds of years ago. We… We met one of their number, years ago. Remember Lady Belladonna?”

He knew Anxiety did -- for years, despite acting unaffected by the events of that day, the human had had nightmares of his near-kidnapping. He had told Logan one night when they were thirteen, lying together in their field and staring up at the stars, a picnic blanket beneath them.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Anxiety confessed, his body warm against Logan’s own, the cool air ruffling their hair.

“Why?” Logan asked, turning his head from the stars above to look at his friend. “I was under the impression humans require sleep like fey do, as something necessary to function properly. Is something the matter? Is it being out here? You can return to your home if you wish, Anxiety, I would not hold it against you.”

“No, no, I like being outside!” he protested, rolling onto his side to face the Unseelie, their eyes meeting in the darkness. “I usually sleep fine. It’s just that… Last night, I had a really bad dream.”

“Do you wish to speak about it?” inquired the faerie. “It is of course alright if you do not, but Advice is always telling me to speak about my problems or nightmares.” He let out a huff. “It does help, but still -- he is only older than me by four months, he is hardly allowed to act grown-up when we are the same age.”

Anxiety laughed quietly at that, but his smile fell as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Do you remember that time when… When I met Deceit? When the faeries tried to take me?”

Logan tensed at that, but he nodded. “Of course,” he said. How could he forget? The thought of it had kept him up for many a night, irrationally… well, anxious, at the idea.

“I sometimes have nightmares about it. About what could have happened,” Anxiety admitted, curling up on himself involuntarily. “If you hadn’t gotten there on time, if you had and they had hurt you, if you had died or something because of me-”

“But I did get there on time, and they were not able to injure me,” Logan told him, reaching out to hold Anxiety’s hand. “You’re my friend. I will not allow you to be harmed if there is any way I can stop it.”

“Aw, you sap,” Anxiety grinned. “You love me.”

“Of course,” Logan rolled his eyes. “My summers would be quite boring without you, and probably my winters as well.”

“Have you seen her since then?” the human boy asked after a beat, and with Logan’s night vision he could see a tear roll down Anxiety’s cheek. Judging from how quickly it was wiped away, his friend did not want it seen or mentioned -- Logan obliged him in the latter. “The woman, the one who wanted to… to hurt me?”

“Yes,” Logan nodded. Lady Belladonna. He would not speak her name aloud inside the forest, especially in the dark -- names had power, even for Unseelie, even in summer. “She is… politically active, is how I believe you would define it, in our Courts. Not successful, usually -- the rulers of both Seelie and Unseelie fey do not support her ideals.”

“Does she remember me?”

“No. As far as any of the three of them know, she cast a spell which backfired on all three of them. She hates to remember it or have it mentioned -- apparently, it was quite embarrassing.” He snickered at the thought. “I can’t tell whether she’d be more mortified by that or the truth: that a faerie no older than eleven managed to catch her off guard, attack her, change her memories, and frame her for the whole thing.”

“She’s never going to find out, though, L,” said Anxiety, frowning. “Right?”

“I promise,” he nodded, and the moon came out from behind a cloud, making the human’s eyes shine. “I told you I’d always protect you, remember?”

“And I’ll do the same for you, Logic,” smiled the other.

A cold breeze rustled through the trees as Logan asked “How are you supposed to do that? You’re human, remember?”

“Listen, just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m weak or something,” retorted Anxiety, flicking him on the forehead with his free hand. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Logan smirked, baring his sharp teeth, and Anxiety flicked him again, harder this time. “Ow! Weren’t you telling me about your human constellations?”

“You deserved it,” he grumbled, but his eyes returned to the stars, tracing his finger between them. “You see that one there? If you make kind of an X, with one of the sides short -- that’s Cygnus, the swan.”

Logan fell asleep that night to Anxiety’s voice telling him stories of the stars, and when the sun awoke him the next morning the human was asleep too, leaves in his hair and his hand in Logan’s own.

“Wait, how long have you two known each other?” Prince asked, looking between the two of them and snapping Logan out of his memories with the question. “What do you mean you met Belladonna years ago?”

“That’s not super important right now, Princey,” Anxiety rolled his eyes. “Can we focus on the actual issues at hand?”

Prince glared at him, turning to Logan with his arms crossed. “Logic, tell me now, or I won’t tell you anything else.”

“...Anxiety and I have been interacting for the better part of seven years,” he confessed after a beat, ignoring Prince’s offended gasp and Anxiety’s facepalm. “But I have never allowed it to divert me from my duties, and I have only traveled to Torbrook now, after hearing about you from him.”

“You hypocrite,” the Seelie exclaimed, clearly offended. Logan sighed. They did not have time for this. “Seven years? Alright, get off your high horse Mr. ‘Oh, Prince, Why Would You Ever Go Interact With The Humans? It’s So Dangerous!’ Seven years!”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” he asked, but Prince wasn’t done yet.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Deceit, as he was there when Belladonna attempted to take Anxiety, but I erased his memories-”

“Deceit?!” Prince cried, hand to his heart as he cut off Logan. “Before me? Logic, how could you?”

“I just explained his memories were erased-”

“Me, the greatest of your friends-”

“You never have been, and never will be, the greatest of my friends.”

“-not told about your secret boyfriend! How could you?”

“Anxiety and I are not courting, Prince, we have established this repeatedly!”

“And then you have the gall to tell me I’m irresponsible for going off and getting a boyfriend!”

“We thought you were dead,” Logan snapped, and Prince’s rant came to a halt at that. “No, actually, we didn’t know what to think, because you were gone and hadn’t told Duke, or Advice, or Deceit, or me where you were going, you hadn’t told anyone, and Joan and Talyn had clearly been trying to keep the little fact that you were missing under wraps. We’re nearly in at war because of you, Prince, so yes, I’m going to be a bit mad that while we were preventing Duke from tearing apart the realm and navigating unrest from the Wolves, Seelie, and Unseelie, you were off kissing a human and having a grand old time!”

“Logic-” Prince began, subdued, but Logan wasn’t done, and he was sick and tired of being interrupted.

“Yes, I have known Anxiety for seven years. I never let it divert me from my work, I never up and disappeared because of it, and I never risked coming into Torbrook for it. I only did that when I heard you might be here, because again, we thought you were dead!” He felt a hand (belonging to the purple-haired male, no doubt) on his back, tapping a gentle beat into the skin, and he recognized it in the back of his mind -- 4, 7, 8, a technique Anxiety had taught him many years ago, and the same one he had led the human through just a few days past. He calmed, continuing after a beat, “I understand that Talyn and Joan sent you here for a reason, based on your earlier statement. I apologize for snapping at you -- it is not as if you could defy them, after all.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Lo,” Prince said, crestfallen. “I had no idea, I thought -- I assumed they would figure out a way to hide or mask my absence. My quest was so sudden, I had no time to ensure they did.”

“It’s alright,” Logan told him with a sigh, and at the skeptical look on both the Seelie and human’s faces, he rolled his eyes. “Truly, it is. But I would like to know what was so vital that you had to come to the home of the humans to do it.”

“There is something strange going on in this town,” Prince began, rolling his eyes at Anxiety’s mutter of “No shit, Sherlock.” “Not just your sleep schedule, Michael Mell-ancholy.”

“Be more chill, Princey, getting worked up doesn’t suit you,” Anxiety smirked, and Logan sighed.

“What do you mean by strange?” he asked, reaching over to where Anxiety sat beside him and lightly swatting his friend on the leg.

“Do you ever think about how fey have never tried to go anywhere other than Torbrook?” Prince leaned forwards, an unusual seriousness transforming his features. “It’s weird, isn’t it? We never try to make our way into other locales, even though this town knows how to defend against us by now. Even the Wolves don’t try to get further into the human world. Why do we all stay here?”

“The only portal is to the forest here,” Logan responded, but even as he said it, he frowned. There had to be other entrances to the human world -- not all stories of his kind had originated from Torbrook, after all. But then… “What happened to all the others?”

“See, that’s what I asked, too,” Prince nodded. “Turns out, no one knows. Talyn and Joan have been searching for the other entrances to Earth for centuries, but the only active one they’ve ever been able to find is here. They asked Deceit and I to check the records a few years ago, and that’s where it gets even weirder -- all the other doorways vanished at the same time this one became notedly popular for fey to travel though. Torbrook is the last portal from our realm to this one, and no one knows why, or how.”

Logan stared at him, eyes wide. “And we’ve never tried to get past this place,” he said slowly. “We’ve never tried to leave, to see the world. We’ve just… accepted being in this place.”

It went against faerie nature, this idea of stability, of constants. Fey were tricksters, and travellers -- and now that Logan thought about it, in the old stories, they were loners, just like he would normally classify himself to be.

And now they clustered together in a forest, content to lurk in a single place, barely leaving the trees because they feared the iron, being caught, being hunted. They feared humans.

“What has been done to us?” Logan asked quietly, nails digging into his palms.

“We thought… We thought originally it was the humans’ fault,” Prince said, equally low, with a guilty glance at Anxiety, who seemed to have caught on to the truth, judging by the look on his face. He’s always liked stories, especially of fey, Logan thought. It would make sense, him putting the pieces together. “But then we recalled that humans can’t seem to leave Torbrook either, not permanently, and how distressed that seems to make them. How, as much as they hate it here, they all remain.”

Anxiety and Logan exchanged looks, both remembering their conversation of a few days ago, and Anxiety’s own anguish at his inability to leave Torbrook.

“We can’t, no,” Anxiety shook his head, sliding down from his perch on the desk to stand beside Logan. “Are you saying we’re all trapped in this hellhole?”

“It certainly looks that way,” Prince nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Talyn and Joan want me to figure out why. But I… Well, clearly, I haven’t had much luck.” He stared at the table before him, tapping his painted nails on the wood nervously.

Logan and Anxiety had been able to have silent conversations since they were children. Perhaps it was being friends for so long or truly something more, but as they exchanged looks, Logan knew exactly what the other was thinking. He agreed, of course.

“We’re going to help you,” Anxiety said, for the both of them.

“You are?” Prince asked, surprise flashing through his eyes. Logan held back a frown at that -- it made the other faerie seem vulnerable, as if he’d been expecting both of his friends (at least, Logan liked to think he was Prince’s friend, and he could tell Anxiety certainly was) to abandon him, despite his clear distress.

“Of course,” Logan replied. “I believe we are… buddies, as you might say, and you appear to need aid. It is a rather momentous task, especially since the humans have spent years unable to deduce their own inability to leave Torbrook, and we would be happy to help. Although, you will have to inform your brother and the Courts that you are alright, sooner rather than later, to maintain my cooperation.”

“Are we still friends?” He was looking not at Logan, but at Anxiety, bearing an almost desperate expression, and the human’s face softened.

“I hope so,” Anxiety said. “I’m sorry I accused you of controlling Morality and Sleep and I. Even I should have realized that was unfair, especially since I was able to question it in the first place. Besides…” He laughed. “I see how much Mor likes you, and I doubt magic could fake that. I can’t see you using that to make him gush about you in private, either -- that would be incredibly self-centered, even for you.”

“He talks to you about me?” asked Prince, with such a lovestruck look that Logan had to resist the urge to gag. “What does he say?”

“Not the point,” Anxiety rolled his eyes. “Ew, get that look off your face.”

“Ah, yes. Er…” The other had enough grace to be flustered, clearing his throat as he returned his contacts to his eyes, the magic shimmering as the spell on the small items spread to mask their color entirely. “It’s alright, Anxiety. Your fear was not unfounded, after all, given my true nature, and I would not have reacted well in your place. No apology necessary.”

“I still was a dick though,” said Anxiety, before he checked his watch and straightened abruptly. “It’s almost time for theatre,” he gasped. “I promised Mariposa I’d be there early to make sure we’ve got all the props set up before we start. Princey, can you show Logic the way? We’ve got shared schedules, and I can put him to work painting sets or something.”

“Sure,” the Seelie nodded, waving as Anxiety sprinted out of the room, before turning to Logan with a grin. “So. You and Anx?”

“What are you implying?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he put his glasses back on. “I have told you repeatedly we are not in a romantic relationship.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to be, though,” Prince reminded him, resting his cheeks on his fists with an infuriating smile. “Does Tall, Dark, and Serious have a crush on his little human friend?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Logan snapped, moving towards the door. “Come, we must get to class.”

He’d forgotten just how quick Prince was -- the smaller faerie moved to block his path, looking up at Logan. “Just say it,” the faerie whispered gleefully. “Just say, ‘I don’t have a crush on Anxiety,’ and I’ll let you be, Logic.”

Well, shit.

Logan’s silence was all the answer Prince needed, the Seelie letting out a gleeful cheer. “Aw!” he squealed. “I told Anxiety he’d find himself a Romeo, but I didn’t expect him to be so true to the tale!”

“I certainly hope I’m not Romeo,” he sighed. “He was far older than Juliet, firstly, and their story also ended with a double suicide.”

That response only seemed to make Prince more amused, as he was still saying something about him and Anxiety apparently being perfect for each other when Logan grabbed him by the ear and pulled him out of the classroom, dissipating the wards with a wave of his hand. “Ow!”

“You are going to tell me where we are supposed to be headed to,” Logan told him, crouching slightly so he and the short faerie were at eye level in the empty hallways. “And then you will not say a word to Anxiety.”

“But I could set you up or something!” Prince protested, hands on his hips. “C’mon, Lo, you’d be so cute together!”

“He has enough on his plate without dealing with me,” Logan shook his head. “Besides, not only am I quite certain he is not interested in me romantically, he also is hoping to go off to college by next year, provided that he has enough money saved for both himself and his grandmother, and can acquire a scholarship. If we cannot solve this issue before then, I do not want to endanger his dreams.”

“...Why is he saving for his grandmother?” asked Prince with a frown, playful nature lost. “I knew he was saving for college, but she has a job that’s supported them both for years. Mor told me she’s an artist of some sort, and it apparently sells quite well.”

Logan stared at him. “You don’t know?” he said, ice filling his veins.

“Know what? Is Robin okay? I’ve only met her a few times, but she’s absolutely lovely. I haven’t seen her since December, of course, because that’s when Anxiety started his job and we stopped picking him up…” His words trailed off, his eyes full of concern and worry.

Fuck, Logan thought. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Clearly, Anxiety hadn’t told his friends about his grandmother’s sickness, or her indefinite stay in the hospital. It wasn’t Logan’s secret to share, he knew that, and though he and Anxiety would have words about this (He had thought Anxiety would tell his friends, of course he had! But if he hadn’t… Had he told anyone? How long had he been dealing with all of this completely alone?) he wasn’t about to spill the human’s secrets to Prince.

“He’s been worried about her ability to care for herself as of late,” he said, choosing his words very carefully. “She is fine,” (hadn’t Anxiety told him recently she was doing well and past the danger threshold, only being held in the elderly hospital for ease of treatment?) “but he gets quite anxious, you know how he is.”

“Oh.” The Seelie relaxed, his concern now seemingly directed at Logan and oh no, ew, feelings-

“I hardly think you’d be endangering his dreams,” Prince told him, offering Logan a comforting pat on the upper arm, probably because he couldn’t comfortably reach the Unseelie’s shoulder. “He might as well be the posterboy for a gay disaster, he could use a boyfriend for support in these trying times!”

The bell rang, and students began to flood the halls. Logan sighed. “I hardly think that would help his stress,” he said. “Now, show me to this classroom, and do not breathe a word of this to Anxiety, or anyone else.”

“Okay,” Prince smirked, leading Logan through the halls.

“Swear it,” Logan growled.

“Oh, fine,” the Seelie rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone about that conversation we just had, none of it at all. I swear it. Even though I will be trying to set up you two, because honestly you guys will be the cutest thing this town has seen since Morality and I!”

“Don’t you dare!” he hissed, glaring at Prince, who simply laughed in response.

Deep in his mind, Logan let out a sigh of relief. He had been truly worried about Prince -- finding him was truly a relief, even if the news that accompanied it wasn’t.

For a moment, his thoughts darted away from his cautious grasp, pushing forwards wayward dreams. What if he could leave these woods, and Torbrook itself? Could he visit Anxiety, when he was off at college? Would he be able to join the human, if he decided to leave Torbrook permanently?

Could they have something together?

That was when he grabbed the reins again, steering his mind away from that particular train of thought. It was foolish to consider such things now, especially since Anxiety was a human. He would long outlive the other, as a faerie, and he knew such a thing would kill him if he allowed himself to get too close. Imagining a life with Anxiety, idyllic as it was, also came with imagining his death, and the millenia Logan would face without him.

It was better if he didn’t consider it at all, really.

So he followed Prince through the halls, shoving thoughts of his friend out of his mind -- for Logan did not love him. He couldn’t.

They would not be Romeo and Juliet, not now, not ever.

That was how the story would have to be.

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faequeentitania · 5 years

Photo

[[I've been thinking about this fic recently, and honestly I'm still pretty proud of it. So I made a moodboard. And a renewed promise to myself to at least reread the Sparks Nevada comics again soon.]]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Croach the Tracker & Sparks Nevada Characters: Croach the Tracker, Sparks Nevada Additional Tags: Platonic Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cold Weather, Male Friendship, Holding Hands, Huddling For Warmth, Alien Biology Summary: On a cold Mars night, Croach insists on using his superior biology to keep the marshal warm... via cuddling.

AO3

There was a false idea in most people's heads that Mars was hot. Sparks wasn't sure if it was the fire red color of Mars soil, or the mostly-barren landscape that most people associated with hot, Earthen deserts. Either way, even with the terraforming that made Mars's atmosphere livable for humans (and consequently warmed the temperature of the planet), Mars was still pretty far from the sun; one couldn't expect a tropical climate.

Sparks knew all of this, of course, being the marshal on Mars. But knowing it didn't stop him from shivering where he was bundled in his bedroll, pulled as close to the camp fire as he dared.

He was supposed to be sleeping, and every fiber of his body wanted to after a long day of riding the red plains and getting into altercations with robots. For whatever reason, however, the wind felt especially sharp that night; piercing straight through his space sleeping bag like it was nothing but paper.

Sparks shivered rather violently as a burst of wind sent needles of cold down his skin, and he tried to scrunch up tighter against the feeling.

"Sparks Nevada, I can hear your mandible trembling, causing it to impact your top and bottom teeth together in a very distracting way. Is something ailing you?"

Sparks snorted, pulling his sleeping bag a little tighter, "Fine, Croach. Just keep watch."

There was silence for a few moments, and Sparks seriously contemplated grabbing a smoldering ember from the fire to stick under his pillow as another cold gust made his muscles hurt from trembling.

"While I am no expert on human biology, I assess that your body temperature is 2.6 degrees lower than it normally is. Are you suffering from the cold we are experiencing tonight?"

Sparks gave an exasperated sigh at his companion's persistent question, finally opening his eyes to peer at him across the fire.

"I'll be fine, Croach. It's just a little windy," he tried to insist, even as his body shuddered visibly. He grimaced. Sparks hated feeling anything but 100% confident around Croach; the Martian seemed to take far too much pleasure from pointing out human weaknesses. Sparks's, particularly.

"You humans and your thin epidermis," Croach said haughtily, stoking the fire with a smirk. "So prone to external weather conditions."

"Just shut up, Croach. Can I go to sleep here or what?"

Damn Martians and their freakin' exoskeletons.

"I do not know, can you?" Croach shot back easily, and Sparks damned himself for ever teaching his companion human snark.

"GoodNIGHT, Croach."

"Goodnight, Sparks Nevada."

By sheer force of will, Sparks demanded that his body sleep, even as his teeth continued to chatter and his toes and fingers felt tingly and numb. It was by far the worst sleep he had ever fallen into, with consciousness creeping in at the corners constantly and his muscles trembling so much it felt like a full-body workout instead of a rest.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he half-dreamily detected Croach move; he assumed to wake him to take the second watch so the Martian could take his turn to sleep.

Wearily Sparks braced himself to be shaken, and was so focused on willing the unreasonable tears of exhaustion to subside that when he felt Croach lift the corner of his sleeping bag and get inside, it took his sleep-deprived and frozen brain several long moments to catch up.

"What in the royal hell are you DOIN'?" He finally squawked. He tried to push the sleeping bag aside and get away, but Croach was too quick, grabbing the protesting marshal and pulling him back. Sparks ended up with his back pressed against Croach's front, and the Martian was so close that Sparks could feel his antennae twitching against the pillow. So. Gross.

"Sparks Nevada,” Croach’s voice said frighteningly close to his ear, “I detect with four of my senses that your temperature is significantly lower than it normally is, and I further detect that your extremities are being deprived of blood in your body's attempt to maintain your core temperature. It would make fulfilling my onus to you significantly more difficult if you were to die as a result of this, or be forced to give up your marshal position due to loss of extremities. Therefore I have deemed it necessary to use my superior biology to warm you."

"By cuddlin’ me?" Sparks growled uncomfortably, still wiggling to get away. "No way in hell, Croach, get off."

"Sparks Nevada, I have already gone through the effort of heightening my internal body temperature significantly in order that I may assist you. Using my body temperature to restore yours would lower my onus to you, and as such I ask that you please allow me to do so."

Despite Sparks's rather weak attempts to get away, (damn frozen limbs) by the end of Croach's little speech about onus and body temperature the Martian's heat had started to seep through Sparks's clothes. Despite himself, the marshal couldn't help but lean back into that warmth, his cold body overriding all protest his brain could come up with.

"Yeah, but..." he began in a grumble, then stalled as his hands grasped at Croach's arms where they had snaked around his chest and middle. His intention had been to push his companion’s hands away and wiggle to freedom, but he was momentarily startled away from his goal by how hot Croach felt. Due to past experiences he would rather not relive, Sparks knew that the Martian was no where near this temperature normally, and couldn’t stop himself from being concerned that Croach was doing something detrimental to himself all for silly onuses.

“This is weird,” he insisted instead of voicing his concern, resuming his wiggling. “Pals don't just cuddle like this, Croach."

"We are not cuddling, Sparks Nevada," Croach said authoritatively, and Sparks grimaced a little at the sound of Croach's antennae twitching irritability against the pillow. Double gross. "I am providing a necessary aid to you as an act of onal reparation."

"Via cuddling," Sparks groused, and if Croach had human lungs he was certain the Martian would be using them to sigh annoyingly at that moment.

"Fine," Croach said, "if that is what you insist on designating it. Nevertheless it is already proving useful, as I detect better circulation in your extremities as a result of this 'cuddling'."

Sparks huffed irritability, but couldn't argue. It was true, he was feeling better already as Croach's heat permeated the sleeping bag and slowly warmed his shivering body. With an agitated sigh, he stopped wiggling and trying to escape, and instead folded his arms crossly.

"Whatever," he grumbled, trying as subtly as he could to press his feet back against Croach's shins to warm his cold toes. "How’re you doin’ this, anyway? This whole... superheating thing.”

“My anatomy is required to increase its temperature for the proper gestation of-”

“Woah, alright,” Sparks cut in immediately. Any and all things that had even remote relativity to Croach’s egg sacks were topics that he wished to stay far and away from. “Forget I asked about your gross biology.”

“I am not gross,” Croach huffed, “and your blatant disrespect for my biological capabilities- particularly the one that is providing you with protection from the harsh cold of G'loot Praktaw- puts you under onus to me, Sparks Nevada.”

“Yeah, what else is new.”

“Your disrespect for my biology and the resulting onus is not a new concept to you-”

“Nevermind, Croach. Just- nevermind. We're just... not gonna talk about this anymore. Got it?"

"You require sleep, Sparks Nevada," Croach answered instead, and Sparks sighed.

"Fine."

Silence took over. Another gust of wind ripped over the red plains, whistling eerily in the night, and Sparks felt a wave of genuine relief and gratitude when he barely felt it's chill; Croach's body solidly in the way, protecting him from the cold.

Despite how totally weird it was, Sparks couldn’t deny the strange, totally gross thing Croach was doing to elevate his body temperature was working perfectly. His shivering was subsiding, being replaced with the always disconcerting feeling of pins-and-needles that Sparks new all too well to be a sign that warmth was returning to his arms and legs.

Sparks was almost feeling comfortable enough to go to sleep; no longer feeling quite like a marshal popsicle.

Until he felt Croach move carefully, and suddenly the Martian's hands were loosening Spark’s arms from where they were crossed around his chest. Wordlessly Croach rearranged him, allowing more of his ultra-heated arms to be pressed against Spark’s numb ones, and enveloping the marshal’s fingers with his own.

"What are you doing?" Sparks said immediately, going tense and alert in an instant.

"Sparks Nevada, please cease panicking. The circulation has not yet been properly restored to your fingers, I am attempting to speed up the process to help you avoid damage from occurring," Croach informed him with an edge of exasperation in his voice.

"We are not holding hands," Sparks insisted gruffly, though he did nothing to withdraw his tingling fingers from Croach's grasp. He would totally blame it on mammalian instinct of survival in cold conditions. "I draw the weird, alien-cuddling line right here."

"As you wish, Sparks Nevada," Croach replied, doing nothing to initiate letting go either.

A few minutes passed. Croach continued to pour off heat, and Spark’s body slowly continued to thaw. It was... kinda nice, being snuggled up to another living thing to sleep. Cozy, even. Not that Sparks would ever admit to anything as remotely mushy as all that, but it didn’t stop it from being true.

"We are never talking about this again," Sparks mumbled eventually, eyelids drooping heavily with exhaustion.

"As you wish, Sparks Nevada."

***

When next Sparks awoke, the fire was all but out, and the first rays of the sun were beginning to peak over the horizon. He felt comfy and well-rested, despite the early hour, and for a moment or two he forgot last night's events in restful contentment.

Suddenly it came back to him, the whole weird, cuddly thing, and he groaned, turning to press his face into the pillow. The movement jostled Croach, and the Martian stirred with a small noise of protest.

"Croach," Sparks gruffed, his vocal chords thick-feeling with residual sleep. "Croach, you were supposed to wake me for second watch. You fell asleep."

"I am sorry, Sparks Nevada," Croach said sleepily, finally releasing the marshal from his embrace. Sparks rolled onto his back, stretching his stiff muscles carefully, and steadfastly avoiding eye contact with his friend.

They were not going to discuss it. This was being added to the book of things they never spoke of again, right under any and all mention of egg sack stimulating.

"You're just lucky Insanity Jane and her angry posse didn't sneak up on us. We're in their neck of the woods, y'know. They'da strung you up faster than a space deer during hunting season, just for darin' to fall asleep."

"We are not near any woods, Sparks Nevada," Croach said dryly, and Sparks rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean, Croach."

Slowly Sparks sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his boots. It was still cold, but getting ready and hitting the galactic trail would do nicely to keep him warm. "Anyway, get ready. You still gotta track Malware Chip for me today; he's got a warrant out on him three space feet long."

"As you wish, Sparks Nevada," Croach replied, looking steadfastly away from Sparks's exposed feet, as he always did, and got up to pour heavy red Martian dirt onto the dying fire.

And that was that. They could pretend the whole weird, alien cuddling and hand holding thing never happened and go on with their day.

Until they began to pack up their saddles, standing next to each other in the early morning light.

"Thank you, by the way," Sparks mumbled, adjusting Mercury's stirrups as the compulsion to thank Croach pushed words from his throat. "For, you know... making sure I didn't freeze to death an’ all."

There was silence for a moment, and Sparks risked a glance to the side at Croach, who was observing him quietly.

"You are welcome, Sparks Nevada," the Martian finally answered. "I owe you a small onus for your gratitude."

"Don't worry about it," Sparks brushed it off with a wave of his hand, then mounted easily into Mercury's saddle. "Let's ride. Hiyah!"

#sparks nevada marshal on mars #croach the tracker #the thrilling adventure hour #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #moodboard

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lowcarbnutrients · 5 years

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If You Sleep Less Than 8 Hours, This is What`s Happening to Your Body Right Now

According to the docudrama, Sleepless in America, coproduced by the National Geographic Channel, 40 percent of Americans are sleep deprived. Many get much less than five hrs of rest each night. Percentage-wise, teens are among the most rest deprived.

The consequences are dire, not simply for the individual that isn't really getting sufficient rest, yet for those around them. While most individuals do not provide lack of rest much thought, there are in fact lethal consequences.

Notably, "professionals currently believe that sleep deprivation might have played a role in the Exxon Valdez oil spill, the Staten Island ferry crash, and also the Three-Mile Island nuclear meltdown," the film states. Numerous individuals have actually also lost their lives to worn out vehicle drivers who merely fallinged asleep behind the wheel.

It's essential to understand that getting less compared to six hours of rest each evening leaves you cognitively hindered. Rest deprivation has actually additionally been connected to wellness results such as weight problems, diabetes, heart disease, Alzheimer's, 1and cancer. Anxiety as well as anxiousness conditions are likewise adversely influenced by absence of sleep.

The Importance of Staying in Sync with Nature

Maintaining an all-natural rhythm of exposure to sunlight during the day and also darkness in the evening is one critical fundamental element of sleeping well.

This was attended to in a previous interview with researcher Dan Pardi. In it, he clarifies how direct exposure to intense daytime functions as the significant synchronizer of your master clock-- a group of cells in your mind called the suprachiasmatic cores (SCN).

These centers integrate to the light-dark cycle of your atmosphere when light enters your eye. You likewise have other body clocks throughout your body that are integrated to your master clock.

One reason why many individuals get so little sleep, and/or such poor sleep, can be traced back to a master clock disturbance. In other words, a lot of individuals invest their days indoors, protected from intense daytime, then spend their nights in too-bright fabricated light.

As a result, their body clocks obtain out of sync with the all-natural rhythm of daytime and also nighttime darkness, when that happens, corrective rest ends up being elusive.

An approximated 15 million Americans also function the evening change, as well as the damaging health and wellness impacts of functioning evenings are well documented. As just one instance, 3 years of periodical graveyard shift job can raise your threat for diabetes by 20 percent, and also this risk continuouslies climb with time.

What Takes place When You're Rest Deprived?

What makes rest deprivation so detrimental is that it doesn't just impact one aspect of your wellness ... it impacts several. Among them are 5 major dangers to your psychological as well as physical wellness:

1. Reaction time slows: When you're sleep-deprived, you're not going to react as quickly as you normally would, making driving or various other potentially unsafe tasks, like making use of power tools, unsafe. One research even located that sleepiness behind the wheel was virtually as dangerous as drinking and driving.2

2. Your cognition suffers-- both brief- and long-term: A single night of resting just 4 to 6 hours can influence your ability to think clearly the following day. In one animal study, 3 rest deprived mice shed 25 percent of the nerve cells found in their place coeruleus, a nucleus in the brainstem related to cognitive processes.

Hence, if you're sleep-deprived you will certainly have difficulty refining information as well as deciding. This is why it's so vital to get a great evening's sleep before crucial occasions at the workplace or home.

For example, study reviewed in the film located that diagnostic blunders soared by 400 percent among medical professionals that had actually functioned for 24 successive hours.

Sleep denied clinical residents likewise reported a 73 percent rise in self-inflicted needle sticks and scalpel stabs, and also when driving home from work, they had a 170 percent boosted threat of having a significant automobile accident.

Research4 also suggests that individuals with persistent sleep problems might create Alzheimer's illness quicker compared to those who rest well. Among the reasons for this is due to the fact that rest is crucial for brain cleansing-- a procedure throughout which damaging healthy proteins linked to Alzheimer's are removed out.

3. Memory and discovering decreases: The procedure of mind growth, or neuroplasticity, is believed to underlie your mind's capability to manage behavior, including discovering as well as memory. Rest and sleep loss change the expression of a number of genetics and also genetics products that may be important for synaptic plasticity.

Furthermore, specific forms of lasting potentiation, a neural process linked with the laying down of learning and also memory could be evoked in sleep, suggesting synaptic links are strengthened while you slumber.

4. Emotions are heightened: As your reaction time and cognition reduces, your emotions will certainly be kicked into high equipment. This means that debates with colleagues or your partner are most likely, and you're probably reallying going to be at mistake for blowing things out of proportion.

The amygdala controls fundamental feelings like worry and anger. As talked about in the movie, an additional location of your brain called your frontal cortex, plays an essential part in the policy of feelings, and also rest is crucial for its function.

When you're well relaxed, your frontal cortex is well connected to your amygdala-- that deep emotional center-- and also functions virtually like "a break to your emotional gas pedal."

Sleep starvation triggers a detach between these two brain centers, permitting your emotions to run amok. Sleep deprival likewise plays an important role in mental disease, and has the tendency to cause even more negative psychiatric outcomes.

5. Immune function and also health wears away: Sleep deprivation has the same effect on your immune system as physical anxiety or disease, 5 which could aid describe why absence of sleep is linked to an increased threat of countless chronic diseases.

For instance, research study shows that resting much less compared to six hours per evening greater than triples your danger of hypertension, as well as females who get less than 4 hrs of slumber per evening double their chances of dying from heart disease.6

You Need Around Eight Hrs of Rest Every Night

The research studies are rather clear and most experts concur, you are seriously deceiving on your own if you believe you can do great on less compared to eight hours of rest. Eight hours of sleep is not 8 hours in bed. If you go to bed at 10 pm and also rise at 6 am, you might claim you've slept for 8 hrs. Actually, you probably spent a minimum of 15-30 mins going to sleep and also might have woken throughout the night several times.

With the development of fitness-tracking devices nonetheless, we now have accessibility to actual sleep information (as well as much more) from wristband customers. The data is rather beneficial on an individual level as well as they assisted me understand that I have to start obtaining to rest around 9.30 PM if I intend to obtain a full eight hours of sleep, which I currently normally do.

The Glorification of Sleep Deprivation

According to the 2013 International Room Survey by the National Sleep Foundation, 7 25 percent of Americans report having to reduce down on rest due to lengthy workdays. Typically, Americans obtain only 6.5 hours of sleep on weeknights, yet report needing 7.25 hrs in order to operate ideally. As noted in a previous article in The Atlantic: 8

" For some, sleep loss is a badge of honor, an indication that they don't require the eight-hour biological reset that the remainder people softies do. Others feel that maintaining up with peers needs sacrifice at the personal level-- and at least in the short-term, sleep is an undetectable sacrifice."

Modern male's propensity for equating sleep with unproductiveness (if not outright laziness) can be traced back to the heyday of Thomas Edison, that was understood for working around the clock. According to the highlighted post: 9

" Edison spent considerable amounts of his very own and also his team's energy on in publicizing the idea that success depended in no little part in staying awake to remain in advance of the technological and also financial competition." No one ... did even more to frame the problem as a simple choice in between efficient job and also unsuccessful remainder ...

Over time, kids's books as well as journals started to promote this sort of Edisonian asceticism ... Edison encouraged all Americans to follow his lead, asserting that resting 8 hours a night was a waste as well as also hazardous. "There is truly no reason why guys need to go to bed in any way," he stated in 1914."

This society of sleep deprival began with the innovation of the light bulb, and has just worsened with the proliferation of light-emitting electronic devices, which disrupt your all-natural waking-sleeping cycle. The complying with infographic, developed by BigBrandBeds.co.uk, illustrates just how your electronic gadgets damage your sleep when recruited before bedtime.10

The Importance of Attending to Rest Apnea

As gone over in the film, sleep apnea is another usual reason of rest deprival. Rest apnea is the lack of ability to breathe properly, or the restriction of breath or breathing, during sleep. Obstructive sleep apnea consists of the constant collapse of the air passage during rest, making it hard to take a breath for periods lasting as long as 10 seconds. Those with an extreme form of the disorder contend the very least 30 interruptions per hr. Not only do these breathing disruptions conflict with rest, leaving you uncommonly tired the following day, it additionally lowers the amount of oxygen in your blood, which can harm the feature of interior organs and/or intensify other health problems you may have.

The condition is closely connected to metabolic illness such as excessive weight as well as type 2 diabetes mellitus, and also according to research, 11 also a small weight decrease can stop the development of obstructive rest apnea. Shedding excess pounds could also cure it, according to one five-year lengthy study.12 That claimed, you do not have to be obese to suffer from sleep apnea. As discussed by Dr. Arthur Strauss, a dental medical professional and a diplomat of the American Board of Dental Rest Medication, factors such as the sizes and shape of your mouth, and the positioning of your tongue, can additionally play a substantial role.

If your rest apnea is associated to your tongue or jaw placement, specialized qualified dental professionals could design a customized dental appliance to deal with the issue. These include mandibular rearranging devices, developed to change your jaw ahead, while others help hold your tongue onward without relocating your jaw. Relief could likewise be discovered through speech therapy treatment called oral myofunctional therapy, which assists to re-pattern your dental and also facial muscle mass. To learn more about this, please see my previous interview with Joy Moeller, who is a leading professional in this form of treatment in the US.

How to Support Your Circadian Rhythm and Rest Better for Optimum Health

Making little changes to your everyday program as well as sleeping area can go a lengthy method to make sure undisturbed, relaxing sleep and also, therefore, much better health and wellness. I suggest you review my full set of 33 healthy and balanced sleep guidelines for all of the details, however to start, take into consideration implementing the complying with adjustments to make sure even more shut-eye:

Avoid seeing TELEVISION or recruiting your computer system in the evening, at least an hour or so prior to visiting bed.These gadgets give off blue light, which techniques your brain right into assuming it's still daytime. Generally, your mind starts secreting melatonin in between 9 as well as 10 pm, and these gadgets discharge light that could stifle that process. You can likewise download a cost-free application called F.lux13 that automatically lowers your monitor or screens in the night, which can assist decrease the damaging results if you have to recruit them in the evening.

Get some sun in the early morning, and also at the very least HALF AN HOUR of BRIGHT sunlight direct exposure mid-day. Your circadian system needs brilliant light to reset itself. 10 to 15 mins of early morning sunlight will certainly send a solid message to your body clock that day has arrived, making it much less likely to be perplexed by weak light signals during the evening. If you work inside your home, make a point to get outdoors for at the very least an overall of 30-60 minutes throughout the brightest part of the day.

Sleep in a dark room. Also the slightest little light in your room can interrupt your body's clock as well as your pineal gland's melatonin production. I recommend covering your windows with drapes or blackout shades, or using an eye mask.

Install a low-wattage yellow, orange, or red light bulb if you require a source of light for navigating during the night. Light in these transmission capacities does not closed down melatonin production in the means that white as well as blue transmission capacity light does. Salt lights come in handy for this purpose.

Keep the temperature in your bedroom below 70 degrees F. Many individuals maintain their homes too cozy (especially their upstairs bed rooms). Studies reveal that the optimal room temperature for rest is between 60 to 68 degrees F.

Take a hot bathroom 90 to 120 minutes before bedtime. This raises your core body temperature level, and when you obtain out of the bathroom it abruptly goes down, signifying your body that you prepare to sleep.

Avoid magnetic fields (EMFs) in your bedroom. EMFs can interrupt your pineal gland and also its melatonin manufacturing, and also might have various other adverse organic impacts. A gauss meter is called for if you wish to determine EMF degrees in various locations of your residence. Preferably, you must switch off any type of wireless router while you are resting. You don't need the Internet on while you're asleep.

Use a health and fitness tracker to track your sleep. Chances are you're not getting almost as much rest as you think, and using a physical fitness tracker that monitors your sleep can be an useful device to assist inspire you to obtain to bed previously so you can get 8 hrs of sleep. When I initially began making use of a fitness tracker, I was striving to obtain 8 hours of sleep, but my Jawbone UP commonly tape-recorded me at 7.5 to 7.75. Part of the equation too is going to sleep earlier, as the majority of us have to obtain up at a predetermined time.

#diet #health and wellness #lemonade diet #wellness

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