#‘what information could you possibly gather from watching him sleep like a creep?’

[howlsofbloodhounds]

the image of Chara calling killer out on things he’s too unself-aware to notice about himself is hilarious to me

[kujiba]

【Idol! reader ft. Stalker!Genshin male 】

Idol reader who's popular all over the world, your a soloist who just debuted from training but already began to explode with popularity, your songs would always be the most streamed online along with many advertisements, websites, TV shows, revolving around you.

Everything was going well except for one thing... You have a stalker.

It's not at all surprising that celebrities would often get followed by people and invade their privacy, so you did what you could for now and reported the situation to your manager for them to handle.

With a breath of relief you thought it was the end of the stalking, that was until a mountain of gifts piled up on your front door early in the morning again, either containing love letters, with the contents declaring his love for you or some items that you enjoyed.

You felt incredibly concerned by this, every interview or show you appeared in you made sure to be extra careful and not reveal too much of about yourself, only very little people knew about what you liked and disliked, how could he possibly gather this information on you!?

Creeped out by this, you wasted no time and threw away the gifts in the trash incase there was some kind of hidden camera inside to watch you.

The police weren't even a single ounce worth of help, when you addressed the situation to them. They just shrugged it off saying that they couldn't do much with the lack of leads on the stalker.

You felt frustrated but knew it wasn't worth to argue over, and so, with slumped shoulders and a frown on your face you went back home feeling defeated.

As the days passed paranoia engulfed your mind and body, the stalker was becoming bolder by the second as he began coming to your own house directly with no shame.

Every morning you would wake up to the sound of someone throwing pebbles at your window, and whenever you checked the noise out, it was always the same person with his devilish smile which sent shivers down your spine.

It wasn't the end, Pieces of your clothing began to dissapere abruptly inside your wardrobe, although it didn't take a genius to know why.

You covered your mouth looking petrified, he was able to break inside your home so easily. Yet after all the effort to install a security alarm, it was no match for a monster like him

Worst of all, you were getting blackmailed by him! The stalker managed to dig up some past and old information about your family's back story, once these were leaked to the public media, everyone would absolutely crash out.

Your family meant everything for you, so you aren't really given much of a choice here..

'Mark my words I'll be sure to get justice.'

Unbeknownst to you, the stalker enjoyed every single moment of this. Seeing your anxious expression and being forced to quiet down for the sake of your life and family felt like bliss to him.

He then took the opportunity to snap a photo of you from the hidden camera he had installed inside your home after he broke in yesterday, it was so that he could watch your every movement of course.

The security alarm was a pain in the butt, but once he saw your sleeping figure on the bed looking so.. Beautiful, he felt even more excited than he already was.

Maybe he should pay a second visit, but this time take you home with him.

[eyeofthechasm]

points a mic at you. odile realizing renzo is hiding something from her

Lorenzo’s always been one to hold secrets. (Odile looping AU belongs to @tealgoat ) (& spoilers for like. Act 3 technically? Yeah.)

You’ve known that the entirety of your time in this party. He’s…selective, let’s say, on what information he shares with you all. He hasn’t really shared much about his earlier years.

Like Siffrin, in a way.

Except Siffrin, as you learned with your newfound abilities, doesn’t remember a lot of his life. Lorenzo…seems to keep it barred intentionally. All of his answers to the questions you’ve tried to ask are too vague for anything to be gathered from them.

You remember yourself asking, “Where did your last name come from?” a while ago; far before any of this...looping business.

You watched him think. Think long and hard. Far too hard for something as simple as his shattering last name.

Eventually, he settled on, “My mother. Where else?” and essentially refused to say anything else.

It’s…frustrating. You can’t fully trust him when he’s so uncooperative. You had the same situation with Siffrin, though he ended up proving he could be trusted eventually.

Lorenzo hasn't.

You see movement from the corner of your eye, interrupting your thoughts. Looking up, you see Lorenzo, the one and only, turning over in his sleeping bag.

Right. You nearly forgot you're still in the clocktower. How late is it now? Everyone’s still sleeping, so it can't be...

Everyone's still sleeping.

...

You have an idea. A terrible idea, you feel, but an idea that may ease your suspicions.

You climb out of bed as caefully as possible and creep across the cold floor, down the stairs. They creak, though there's a small chance anyone will hear you. If they do, there won't be any consequences anyway.

You feel sick for thinking like that. But it is true.

Reaching the bottom, you go straight for where you all ate. Lorenzo always leaves his bag here. You see it every loop.

You grab the bag, but freeze there. Going through other peoples belongings was never something you saw yourself doing. Were you really doing the right thing? Even if you suspected him of something, it's a low point to stoop to...

You shake your head and yank the frayed handle up. It doesn't matter. It's for a good reason. You're sure everyone else would understand.

Inside the bag is a pleathora of items. Personal, mostly. A sharpener for his knives, various hair ties scattered by the bottom, hygene products...

A journal. Perfect.

You grab it. Its cover is mostly a dark grey, with silvery raised designs: dots connected with lines, comletely nonsensical to you. It's held together with a worn, leather buckle. The text on the front is illegible. Trying to make sense of it hurts your head.

Carefully, you undo the buckle and open the book.

...

...

Oh.

The entire thing is written in the same manner as the front. You can't make heads or tails of any of it. It all hurts your head in the same way the title did. You only recognize faint bits of Vaugardian placed between the pages. Most of the legible text is assortments of letters, like those learning sheets little kids get in school.

One part sticks out to you, though. It's incredibly messy, almost chicken scratch, but you can read it well enough.

"My name is:Lorenzo Silvana Halloran

My dad's name is: Peadar Halloran

I am 10."

Your breath catches. That's his name. And his...father's? He said he didn't have a father. Only a mother.

You hear the floor creak and slam the book shut, returning it to its original place. Someone must be awake. No more snooping.

This only confirmed your suspicions, though. He's hiding something. He's hiding something, and you're more determined than ever to figure out what it is.

You have all the time in the world, now, after all.

[shysneeze]

i solemnly swear i am up to no good (george weasley x reader)

request:  what if one night the golden trio is look at the marauders map that the twins gave Harry and they see the reader and George sneaking around hogwarts and they ask George about it the next day? ~ anon

warnings: yo i don’t even think i swear in this one it’s a miracle, can’t think of anything else but Fred’s dramatics

authors note: this is the best porcastination I have ever tasted (fuck chemistry uno?) anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for anon and thank you for the request <3 

...

It's a carefully constructed routine, one that George has perfected by now. He's worked out that Lee is always the last to fall asleep, and so the coast is always clear when he begins to snore, that he's safe to slip from his covers and creep down the stairs, by which point the common room is always empty and he's free to leave completely undetected.

He knows the corridors to avoid, the ones with the gossiping portraits and regular prefect patrols.  He knows that McGonagall keeps her classroom lit through the night to discourage snooping students and that the ghost will turn a blind eye at most things, unless they're in a particularly bad mood.

He's thought it through perfectly, even if he does say so himself. In fact, he's not had an incident since the first night they met up, when Peeves decided to draw the attention of every sleeping painting in the vicinity, who awoke rather grouchy, and ready to take their complaints straight to Dumbledore until George convinced them he wouldn't let it happen to again.

Now, though, he's sure he's considered everything and he's rather smug with himself when he arrives at the kitchens. (Y/N) smiles at him when he arrives, already perched on one of the counter tops beside two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Still beat ya, Georgie." She grins.

"Right you." He teases. "You have no idea the expedition it is to get here without getting caught."

"Excuses, excus-"

He's kissing her before she can finish, her laughter vibrating against his lips until she recovers from the abruptness of it and is gathering a handful of his jumper and pulling him closer as she does every time.

They've thought of everything to keep it their own, their sacred routine and their special secret. They've eliminated every possible hiccup that could occur, they're sure of it. Everything always goes as plan and their relationship is kept protected in it's own little bubble, the way they like it. 

.

"You're not still obsessing over that map."

The boys by the fireplace jumps at the sound of Hermione's voice, staring wide-eyed as she stands on the bottom of the girl's dorm's staircase with a disappointed frown. Harry clutches the map against his chest, as if it will anyway hide it from her.

"'Mione." Ron exhales. "You gave me a bloody heart attack!"

"What are you doing up?" Harry asks.

"I left my textbook down here." She informs. "You?"

"We're uh, checking to see if Flitwick is still in the hospital wing with the flu." Harry admits shamefully. "So we don't need to the do the homework..."

"Of course you are."

She comes forward with a sigh, dropping into the seat beside them. She can't help but be slightly curious on the matter, even with her already completed homework upstairs. The map is characteristically empty for the time of night, most people's names stationary in their dorms except from the occasional pacing teacher, still up marking, or the prefects on their rounds.

It's what makes the set of footsteps tiptoeing down an empty corridor so noticeable, George Weasley's name so stark on the otherwise empty stretch of enchanted parchment. Hermione frowns at it curiously and points.

"What is George doing?"

"Who knows." Ron shrugs. "Probably just setting up some sort of prank."

 Hermione gives him an unconvinced look and drags her finger up to the Gryffindor tower, halting at the boys dorms, where Fred's name lies still where he is sleeping. Ron takes a minute to catch onto the implication.

"Then why is Fred not there either?"

"Maybe he's gone rogue?" Harry suggests.

"I doubt that."

They return to George as his inky footsteps lead further through the castle, looping through hidden corridors and secret passage ways methodically before arriving at the kitchen, where upon realisation, Hermione lets out a chuckle.

"Oh."

"What?" Ron frowns.

"Look who already in the kitchens." She explains.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)." Ron exhales. "What's he meeting up with her for?"

"Think about it, Ronald." Hermione smiles knowingly.

Ron's brows scrunch in confusion, looking expectantly to Harry, who seems to have already clued himself in and is grinning knowingly. Then his eyes begin to widen with realisation and Hermione nods.

"He can't be- with (Y/N)?" Ron gasps. "No..."

"Seems that way." Harry gives an amused smile.

"That smug git." Ron breathes. "I knew he was hiding something!"

Hermione lets out a soft laugh, soon followed by Harry. Thoughts of Flitwick's whereabouts long forgotten at this new information and it's implications. In the kitchens the pair's names have stilled together, oblivious to the secrets they've spilled.

.

George sips slowly at his coffee, willing it to make up for his late night with a burst of energy. Even through his tiredness, he's grinning to himself at the memories of the night before. His eyes search for (Y/N)'s across the room, finding them quickly, well practiced in the art of doing so. She’s nursing a cup of coffee in a similar way, and gives a knowing smile before dropping her gaze with a slight shake of her head.

Across the table, Ron watches the exchange with insider knowledge and scowls at his elder brother, a mixture of perplexed and impressed. Harry nudges him warningly, but wears a knowing sort of smirk that George catches from the corner of his eyes and causes him to grow slightly uneasy from.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing." Harry assures, coughing out a laugh. "Nothing, George."

"Alright..."

He attempts to return to his breakfast when he hears Ron snigger, rounding back on them with a frown. Hermione lifts her glass to her lips to hide her smile, only adding to George confusion. Fred's picked up on it too now, watching their little brother and his friends curiously.

"What are you lot so smug about?" Fred asks.

"That's what I'd like to know." George agrees with a frown.

George watches as Ron's eyes drift across the room towards same place as his had a moment ago, to (Y/N). George's jaw slackens ever so slightly, alerting Fred to this new development, also glancing over at the girl. (Y/N) isn't blind to this new attention, lifting her eyes to meet theirs and frowning in concern.

"Shut up." George tells Ron sternly. "Don't say anything."

"What?" Fred frowns. "What are you on about, George?"

George fixes Ron with a glare whilst also trying to figure out how he's come to know this information. He's so sure he'd considered everything, yet his brother is grinning at him like he's just won the lottery for best blackmail material possible.

Then, from the corner of Harry's robes, he recognises the aged parchment that he and Fred gave the boy themselves. He finds himself gulping and his cheeks growing warmer by the second as Harry chuckles at him.

"What the hell is going on?" Fred ask sharply, growing agitated at being left out of the loop. "What has (Y/L/N) got to do with it?"

Ron last two seconds before he's blurting it out despite George's pleading look.

"George met up with (Y/N) in the kitchen's last night."

"Merlin..." George groans.

"What!?" Fred bursts loudly. "You what?"

George groans and drops his head into his hands as Fred stares wide-eyed and betrayed. George should have considered the map, the most damning piece of evidence there could be, that no perfect timing and strategic route planning could save them from.

"You absolute git!" Fred exclaims, punching his twins arms. "You've got yourself a girlfriend and didn't tell me!"

"Ah!" George exclaims, sitting up to rub his arm soothingly. "No need for violence!"

"Uh, yeah there is!" Fred argues. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know- a few weeks?" George offers.  

"A few week-" Fred gasps. "And Ron knew before me?"

"I didn't exactly plan that." George defends. "Harry's got the bloody map."

"Wow." Fred folds his arms. "You think you know someone."

"Oh come off it, Fred." George groans. "I would've told you eventually."

"Eventually." Fred scoffs. "I'm your brother- your twin! I should have been told the minute it started!"

George runs his finger through his hair with a sigh and gives Fred a sheepish look, although it does nothing to appease his twin's sour look. He's nice enough to feel somewhat guilty for it, even with his brother's dramatics.

"Are you ashamed of your family George?"

That's when George clocks that he's just being a dramatic git. He rolls his eyes at his brother as he starts up with a rant on loyalty and brotherhood, hand on his heart like he's quoting Shakespeare. 

"You'll get over it soon enough." George decides flippantly. "We just liked sneaking around."

"That's possibly the most goddamn boring excuse you could come up with." Fred announces disappointedly. "You just ruined my whole thing- I was hoping for something like she thought you were me the whole time and this was actually a case of identity theft."

"Sorry to disappoint." George smirks with a shrug. "But she thinks I'm the better looking twin."

"She's clearly blind."

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you all." George sighs. "It started as an accident and then we just kind of got used to it."

"Wow, romantic." Fred jokes.

"Shut up." George scoffs. "It's not everyone's idea of a nice date but it's ours and we like it."

Fred smiles quite genuinely at this, the defensiveness in his brother's tone.

"You really like her." He observes. "Huh?"

George's eyes drift unsubtly towards the girl in question, where his smile widens at seeing her with that smile he's so used to feeling on his lips when they kiss. He chuckles to himself before turning back to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"Then I'm happy for you." Fred decides, clapping his brother's shoulder. "But ever keep anything like this from me again and your twin status is revoked."

"Noted." George grins. "Oh, and Ron?"

Ron gulps at the change in his brother's tone.

"Yeah?"

"I'd be checking your shoes for spiders for a while mate."

[marvelfansince08love]

hi laurennnn. how about soft platonic!wandanat (like wanda and nat are in a relationship, reader isn't) taking care of the reader (who they've kinda taken under their wing) after she did something really stupid on a mission? i hope that makes sense

Happy WandaNat Wednesday!!! 

Title: Breathing Again

Word count: 3k 

Pairing: WandaNat x Platonic!Reader 

Warning: a little sad, some fluff 

A/N: Minimal editing so I do apologise! Mysh (mouse) Myshka (little mouse) 

Gif owner @diegclila <3

For Alexis x @canarypoint

Breathing Again 

The first thing you noticed was the pain, that sore aching pain that reached all over your body as you tried to adjust to the bright light as you awake, groaning at the sensitivity of your eyes that stare back at the white light. Your gaze flickers around the dark room trying to gather your senses, blurry outlines begin to focus as you notice a familiar figure curled up on the chair beside the bed you’re lying on. You swallow and lick at your dried lips. 

“Wanda,” your voice rasped and croaked as you gained the tired witch’s attention watching her rouse to the sound of your voice. She moves quickly from her position once she notices you awake, her hands tentatively brushing your hair from your face as green eyes take in the almost healed bruises and scrapes that scatter across your skin. 

“Shh sweetheart, here drink some water.” she instructs softly, her voice hushed as she moves to grab you a glass of water from the side table. She tilts the glass to your lips slowly allowing you to take in the cold liquid sighing in relief as you quench your dying thirst. Turning your head you watch her frantically move towards the door calling for someone as you frown still unsure of your whereabouts, she rushes back over to you and smiles reassuringly. 

“What happened to me?” you ask, the events still a blur as you try to remember pieces of the mission. It was supposed to be a simple rescue job until an old rival of Tony’s decided to show up and stir up trouble causing the mission to go sideways, a second explosion had gone off close to where you were helping civilians escape out of the wreckage from the first hit unaware of the possibility of a second wave of explosions.

Wanda sits on the edge of the bed, her hand rubbing soothing strokes across your bicep. Watery eyes lock onto your own as you see her struggle to gather her words, before her gaze drops to her lap. 

“You were almost out of the building when the second explosion went off, Nat tried to get to you she was screaming for you to retreat but you were too stubborn for your own good,” she pauses, as she raises a scolding eyebrow at you but her eyes remain soft and full of relief at seeing you awake and breathing; living. “There was a cry for help just south of the building and as you got them out the explosion hit and you- you tried to use your powers to deflect the force but you weren’t prepared for it and-” a sob escapes from her throat as you struggle to sit upright tilting your head to gain her attention again. 

“I’m okay Wanda,” your words make her look up almost instantly, a small sad smile gracing her lips. 

“Barely, we were told that your chances of coming around-” “Y/N!” Tony’s voice cuts off Wanda’s as he races in with a woman dressed in a white lab coat, her badge indicating her profession. She moves swiftly towards you shining a bright light in both of your eyes making you squint at the harshness, your body still coming around from what feels like a million years of slumber. 

“Nice to see that you’ve come around, Y/N. I’m Doctor Jones, I’ve been looking after you while you’ve been here. Do you know where you are?” she asks, as if routine. “I uh- yeah. The hospital right?” you mumble, not overly confident with your answer. She smiles kindly at you as she nods in confirmation. 

“That’s right and while we have been able to keep you stable, you’ve been through some major trauma alright so I need you to take it easy for me while we go through some routine check ups okay? Do you remember what happened to you?” she continues to ask questions as she checks over your vitals, moving with such ease and experience as Tony remains quiet next to her but still hovers close to the good doctor who seems to be irritated by his lack of personal space. From the expression on her face this isn’t the first time Tony’s been pestering her while you’ve been out, you frown at that thought. 

“How long have I been out for?” your question makes them freeze, as Doctor Jones for the first time pauses as she writes on your chart, eyes flicker from one another. Wanda licks her lips as she looks away seeming to struggle with answering your question making you turn your attention to Tony. His shoulders slack as he stands a few inches away biting at his thumb nail.

“Two months and three days,” his words make your eyes widen as the machine next to you begins to bleep loud and fast.

“Two months!” you exclaim, your breathing becoming more erratic as you feel your chest tighten. Wanda seems to finally snap out of her tortured daydream as she focuses on your anxious form, her lips shushing you, her hands cupping your jaw as her thumbs brush across your cheekbones. 

“Y/N. Listen to me, I need you to calm down okay?” she instructs, taking a deep breath in silently asking you to mimic her actions. A familiar routine that you’ve both done ever since your first anxiety attack after your first mission with the team. Her soothing efforts seem to work as Doctor Jones informs you that all your vitals seem to be all stable and that once you have been medically reviewed, you can be discharged home back to Avengers Tower. 

Once the Doctor had left, Tony finally joined you and Wanda by the bedside sitting at the foot of the hospital bed. The pair caught you up on the past two months reassuring you that not a lot had changed, the lack of Natasha’s name didn’t go unnoticed by yourself though. 

“Wait, what happened to Natasha?” the two share a look at the mention of the redhead assassin. Tony pats your leg and smiles softly. 

“She’s fine, Kid.” he reassures, but Wanda’s distant look does nothing to calm your worries.

Since joining the Avengers you have become close to the assassin and the witch that sits beside you. The two had been dating for a while before you joined the team and became somewhat like mother’s to you, your mentors. Peter has Tony and you, well you had the two most badass women on your side. Moving away from your parents to live with the Avenger’s had been difficult at first, still trying to control your powers as well finding a way to fit into an already established team was hard but Natasha had been nice and warm towards you, teaching you the basics in hand to hand combat as well as weapons training while Wanda had taken you under her wing in the power’s department, having some power over certain elements yourself made you bond instantly with the witch. You had never been close to your parents, your abilities instantly labelling you as an outsider to them and the rest of your family but since being with the Avengers and having Natasha and Wanda look out for you, you finally felt a sense of belonging. 

Biting your lip, you nod trying to convince yourself of his words.

***

Walking slowly into the shared common room, you allow Wanda to guide you gently into the living room space where some of the team wait impatiently for you. Peter spots you first, smiling brightly as he takes in your tired form. Jogging over to you, he gently takes you into his arms and squeezes lightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers, you squeeze your eyes shut to hold back on the tears. The realisation of just how close you were to losing your life becoming more prominent as you squeeze him back ignoring the pain that creeps up around your body at the tight pressure. 

“Me too,” you whisper back, before pulling away and greeting the others. Your heart tightens as the emotions from the last two days start to surface as Thor is last to greet you, his gentleness surprising you at the usually strong and mighty God who doesn’t realise his own strength at times. As they step away to give you some room to settle down on the sofa, you can’t help but look around for the certain redhead. Wanda notices your search as she comes to sit next to you, the guys moving towards the kitchen to help prepare for dinner which only heightens your suspicions knowing that Steve is the only one allowed to cook in the kitchen after the last incident that involved the microwave, pop-tarts and Thor. 

“Wanda, is Nat okay with me? Doesn’t she want to see me?” your voice leaving her no room to dodge your questions. She brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear as she searches for the right words. 

“Nat is fine, Mysh. Of course she wants to see you, she just- after the doctor told us that you might not make it through, Nat kinda retreated into herself. She would sit for hours at your bedside, I was the only one besides Clint who could get her to eat and sleep. I only managed to convince her to come back here a few days before you woke to get some proper rest,” she pauses, as tears build in her eyes. “Y/N, you have to understand one thing about Natasha. She has always been taught that love is for children, that in itself closed her off to any kind of personal relationships with others even after leaving the red room. Since meeting Clint and then being here with us, she’s been able to let go of that old notion and genuinely open up to the possible idea of love and friendship, to me, to the team, including you, Little Mouse.” she grins as she calls you the familiar nickname that Nat gave you after you started training with her. 

“Is she here? I’d like to talk to her,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the need to apologize to her for not listening to her during that mission but most of all needing to reassure her and see her for yourself. Wanda nods as she leans forward pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“She’ll be in your room,” she informs you, a knowing look passes through her green eyes as you nod. You stand and head for the elevator that leads to the private quarters before pausing and quickly moving back to Wanda briefly wrapping your arms around her chest from behind leaning your head against hers for a moment. 

“Thank you for looking after me,” you mumble, she pats your arms and smiles. 

“Go and see Nat,” are her only words, making you salute her mockingly as she laughs. 

***

Taking a deep breath in you allow yourself a moment as you take in the familiar hallway to your bedroom, observing the picture frames on the wall. Frames showing yourself with the couple on your birthday, cooking with Wanda and Peter in the kitchen and one from your latest sleepover with the two, face masks in place as you pull silly faces. You notice your bedroom door ajar as you peek through the gap noticing Natasha’s figure curled up on your bed as her shoulders remain rigid and stiff as she faces away from you.

“Wan, I’m not in the mood-” 

“It’s me,” you cut in, watching her become tense at the sound of your voice. She quickly sits up from your bed and faces you, her face stoic as her blue eyes take in your form. Moving further into the room you decide to crouch in front of her placing your hands onto her knees. 

“It’s me Nat, I’m home.” you whisper, fidgeting in place as your nervousness begins to take over. Her hands tentatively reach your cheeks cupping your jaw as her eyes assess the fading bruises. 

“I am so angry with you,” she murmurs, her voice betraying her words as fear remains evident in her voice. Your lips twitch as tears begin to build in your eyes. 

“I know and I’m so sorry I should have listened to you-” 

“Damn straight you should have. Do you know how scared I was when I finally got to you? You were so pale and you wouldn’t wake-,” she trails off, as she continues to take in your face. 

“Natasha I know I scared you-” 

“Scared me?! I have never been so terrified in my life Y/N, do you understand how important you are to this team, to Wanda.. To me! I know how frightened your parents were when we told them, they threatened to have you transferred to the hospital back at home and for us to never see you again.” you try to interrupt to explain that you understood but she continues, the emotions from the last two months finally surfacing. 

“You may not realise this, but we care about you... so much, Y/N. At first I was so angry with you for being so darn stubborn and not listening to me,” she confesses, standing to her feet as she begins to pace. You stand as well stepping back to allow her room to let out her frustrations folding your arms across your stomach. 

“Nat, I understand how reckless I was okay? I’m sorry I don't know what else to say right now,” you murmur, suddenly regretting the decision to do this now as you begin to feel lightheaded. The day’s events slowly creep up on top of you as you close your eyes for a second trying to steady yourself. Natasha seems to notice your swaying state and reaches forward wrapping a protective arm around your waist, guiding you towards the bed.

“Are you okay, Myshka?” she asks, worry evident in her voice. “Lie down,” she instructs softly, making sure the pillows are plumped behind your head. You look up shyly at her feeling the dizzy spell surpass slightly. 

“Will you stay with me? Since I pretty much slept for two months I’m scared that when I close my eyes I’ll-” 

“I know, Kid. Scoot over then,” she bumps her elbow against your shoulder as she comes to lie next to you. Facing each other, you can see the conflict pass through her blue eyes as she brushes a thumb across your cheek, capturing an escaped tear. 

“If you need to sleep, you can. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she promises, watching as your eyes slowly start to close on command. Natasha continues to watch as your lashes flutter, a small smile spreading across her lips. 

“How is she?” Wanda’s voice whispers from the doorway, Nat turns her head towards her girlfriend, her eyes softening. 

“She was feeling a little woozy but I think she just needed some rest,” she explains, Wanda moves forwards and kisses Natasha briefly keeping her head close to the redhead for a moment. 

“And how are you, my darling?” Natasha shrugs, turning to face you again as Wanda moves to lie on your other side smiling warmly as you seek her out even in your sleep, cuddling into her side. 

“I’m doing okay, just knowing she’s here and safe it’s like I can suddenly breath again you know.” Wanda nods understanding her brief sense of loss and grief for you, the uncertainty of whether you would wake again still lingering. Natasha’s eyes rest upon your sleeping form as she continues to open up to the witch. 

“I may not have the privilege of carrying a child but she gives me hope, that I can be that mother figure and not screw it up with my own past traumas,” Wanda smiles, as she glances down at you. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“Just so you know she is grounded for the next three years,” Natasha’s vows, although the teasing glint in her eyes shows she only half means it, making Wanda chuckle. 

“I think you’ll have to get in line because her parents are on their way here,” Wanda informs, squealing as you suddenly sit upright, eyes wide at the mention of your parents.

“Shit! My parents!” you exclaims, groaning as you hold the side of your head feeling a sudden headache coming on, Wanda pats your back in sympathy.

 “Don’t worry, Mysh. We’ve got your back,” 

“Speak for yourself,” Nat mutters, grumpily. You turn your head to face her, a pout in place knowing it’s never a good sign when Natasha sides with your parents. 

“Have already told you how sorry I am?” you ask, innocently making Nat grin mischievously. 

Two weeks later

“One large pizza for the still grounded teenager,” Wanda teases, as she enters her shared living room with Natasha holding two boxes of pizza.

You turn your head from your sitting position on the floor as the smell hits your nose, wiggling your fingers towards them as you reach out for the top box. Sticking your tongue out at the avenger for her comment, you open up the lid and take a big sniff humming in delight at the greasy goodness. 

“I’m going to forgive you for that comment. The pizza saved you this time, Maximoff,” you warn jokingly at the brunette as Natasha comes to sit next to you on the floor, her back leaning against the sofa. Wanda places a few slices onto her plate before curling up onto the single seat, her eyes full of fondness as she takes you both in, watching as you slap Nat’s hand away from your pizza slices. 

“You guys know we have a couch you can sit on, right?” she teases, as you and Nat shrug stuffing the slice into your mouths eyes focused on the television. 

“Come on, babe. Don’t be boring and join us,” Natasha entices, her eyes full of mischief as Wanda scoffs shaking her head. 

“You both eat like animals. I’ll stay over here with my half of the pizza thank you very much,” she huffs but the glint in her eyes shows her amusement. 

You all continue to munch happily on the cheesy slices as you and Natasha make ridiculous comments about the reality TV show that plays on the flat screen making you both laugh. Wanda smiles fondly enjoying the peace and the very normal atmosphere;  being a well known superhero with many enemies makes moments like this rare so she remains quiet, that small smile playing on her lips as she observes her two favourite people in this rare domestic bliss knowing there’s no other place she’d rather be. 

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[omegaobeyme]

I've been obsessed with Lady Gaga's, "Judas" Song...and it gave me an idea for a short Fic. A Devil's Angel Tags: PG13+, scene of violence/death, Angel/Human!MC, DiavoloxMc, Spoilers for lesson 16 Part 1/?

Diavolo was a glorified demon, rivaling strength to only 2 other realm leaders. Of course, if you asked any obedient servant of the throne, he was naturally the obvious winner. So what happens when you have all of the strength a being could dream of and more? You "make friends" apparently. There was no way this all-powerful man could be up to such a light-hearted task. Perhaps it was his butler, Barbatos, with such knowledge and time who guided Diavolo to urge such a conclusion. Had the green-haired demon known a war was to commence? Was Diavolo truly unfit to win such a battle, and therefore needed another way out? These questions filled your head as you stepped into your new dormitory. You were a human, just not too human entirely. Angels essence filled your being thanks to your ancestor, Lilith. You had even met Michael himself years back when her memories flooded yours as the angel essence was supposed to take you to heaven. Long story short, you were in a temporary coma after a car accident. Simeon shook you out of your head with a hand on your shoulder, "remember why you're here." He said, with the same smile he always gave. It was too suspicious for a soon-to-be demon lord to be asking for unity, and god wanted answers. This is where you came in: a seemingly innocent human whose in an extremely unique position to gain an advantage; and more importantly, knowledge. Solomon joined you for your first tea with Barbatos and Diavolo, time allowing. Knocking on the door, you were met with the tired eyes of the butler. "Welcome, over this way." Barbatos guided the pair of humans and you couldn't help but notice how unnervingly perfect this man was. It was as if a board has been placed against his back, perfectly aligning his spine starting at his hips, threaded through his neck. Finally, he motioned towards a satin couch placed within an openly lit common area, decorated with lavish antiques, artwork, and instruments. Solomon broke the silence, "Ah, Auguste Allaire?" "Indeed." The green-haired demon replied, understanding his question without having to look at the painting Solomon was referencing. "I would like to clarify this meeting is to get to know our human exchange students," He began lifting a tray off his serving cart, finished with matching teacups and plates for the both of us, "As humans, it's of upmost importan-" Doors burst open, featuring a particularly muscled demon prince. "Barbatos!" Diavolo smiled so wide his eyes managed to shut. Not only was his personality loud, his laugh was louder. "Sorry, sorry! I'm late, aren't I?" If you were embarrassed, you can imagine Barbatos' reaction in his own mind. He simply sat down and motioned for his Lord to follow suit. It was at this moment you thought it was a horrible prank you somehow got involved in. Months would pass, much like the meetings you had with the royals. During these moments you were allowed questions pre-approved by Simeon. "Why do you want to unite the realms?" and "What happened to the king?" All of which never satisfied any angels curiosity. It seemed for that you'd continue this way forever, until the day you knew of him. The sun gently glazed over your skin, sending shivers at the unexpected warmth of the devildom morning. Of course, it was Lucifer. "I know you better than to sleep in, MC." His gaze shifts to your own, as his back turns to face the now opened curtain of your room. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in unless I'm sick." You weren't lying, it was unusual. "Oh? Perhaps it would be best for you to stay home. I'll have Satan take notes in your stead." Lucifer retorted, sparing you no opportunity to argue back. Then again...this would give you an opportunity to explore the house, especially to find anything Diavolo's "right hand man" might be keeping. Simply nodding, you rolled the covers over your head and set the alarm for another hour, knowing well a mostly human like yourself couldn't escape their well-trained eyes to watch them walk away. At 8 a.m, you awoke to find breakfast in a tightly-sealed container. However, hunger

could barely invade the anxiety creeping upon you. First in priority was making sure everyone was gone, no one in the kitchen, bedrooms, studies, or observatories. Now it was finally time...you took the steps towards Lucifer's room, each slower than the last. Lifting the back of your hand, you knock only to realize the door opening upon contact. The air was noticeably cooler, and his record player opened, as if suddenly stopped. You draw your attention towards his desk, the obvious choice. As you go through paperwork, you realize you can't find any, despite the mountains on his desk every night. Of course. They must've been brought to RAD along with his briefcase he brings every day. But there had to be something. Anything. Go through his bookshelves: nothing. Flip through his records: nothing. The closest lead you've got is a sticky-note in his book with a quote. You take off, looking for any other places he could possibly be storing such sensitive information, then it hit you: the upstairs. Lucifer had made it such a point to not venture upstairs, could he have been more oblivious of such a hint? Honestly, it was still scary to think about going up to an unknown part of the house, but you had no other choice. After checking the time, you begin making the climb only to find a hallway with one door. A loud bang comes from an unknown direction, and you flinch, thinking someone had come home. Then a low chuckle comes from the room in front of you, nearly taunting. Once you gather your emotions, you continue onward to face whatever lay in front of you, only to find a normal-looking human. "who-" "oh, are you the new playtoy?" he responds, "excuse me?" You step backwards, out of reach from his hands, "I don't know what you're talking about." His smile fades, "oh, you must be another human.." He's human, too? "I know what it looks like, but you're not safe here. Ask about Belphegor. Meet me again when it's safe. He's coming back." the blue-white haired male shrinks back into the darker area of the room, and before you can process, your feet run down to your room. Not too long after, a knock fills the empty air. The handle turns, and Satan makes his appearance visible. "Wow. You do look bad. Maybe you should get back to bed." you shake your head, attempting to mask the heartbeat in your chest. "No! No, I'm fine, I swear. What's in your hand?" attempting to avert his attention, you point to the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that. Well I came here to study with you since I heard you missed the day." Satan moved in towards your bed, laying the notebook on your bedstand and flipping to the nearest filled-in page. "Here's the theories we went over, and the elixir's following. I've already taken geography so I brought my old textbook to help, and then there's realm science." You hold your hand up for him to pause as you look over each notes. "Wait, Griffins horn? I thought it was powdered unicorn hoof." He smiles, "Nice catch. We go over it next semester, some things can be substituted for higher-grade materials depending on the molecular structure. If you take a look at..." Satan proceeds to take your mind off the previous situation for the next two hours. That is, until you get lost in thought. "MC? MC, snap out of-" "Who is Belphegor?" you interrupt, leaving him speechless. He clicks his tongue, hand on temple. Everytime he attempts to talk he groans in frustration. Panic settles upon your face unsure of what you had just asked. Had he just set you up? Was he another demon out to steal your soul? What will they do when they find out. "What do you know?" Satan manages to find words, "I-" you begin to lose yours. What does Belphegor mean? It seems like a name but what if- "You know what? I don't want to know. Keep it to yourself." He gets off from the edge of your bed and slams the door behind him. This wouldn't be the last time you heard of him, nor the last you saw. The next morning was eerie. You weren't dead, but..it somehow felt like it. No one came to let you know of breakfast, even after a few minutes of waiting. It

wasn't like you wanted to show your face either, you felt naked. When you did arrive, everyone at the table remained silent besides minimal conversations. Beelzebub no longer tried to steal your food, and Asmodeus wasn't trying to flirt with you. When Lucifer announced it was time to head to RAD, a weight had been lifted from the silence. After opening the door, you noticed another figure beside him. "Good morning, Mc. May I trouble you in taking you out of classes for another day?" Barbatos lightly tilted his head as his eyes looked upon your soul. "O-Of course." You took the hand provided, as he lead you to the castle. When you arrived, Barbatos told you to make yourself comfortable in the first living room. Before long, Diavolo appeared alongside him. "Mc! It's good to see you!" he beamed, arms opened for a hug. "And you as well, Diavolo." Quick to your feet, you met his courtesy. He brightened further when you returned his affection. "Do you by chance enjoy flowers?" Thinking back to the celestial realm, you nod. Taking your hand, he shows you to the garden out back. "Out of everything I was not expecting a garden.." "Really? What did you expect?" His arms crossed and he moved closer towards you, watching your expressions as you gathered your thoughts. "Well, for a demon, maybe stone statues or torture devices." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that what humans think now? Are we that cruel?" Diavolo jokes, until Barbatos chimes in, "Times have changed since young masters reign." as he finishes, you notice the plate of gourmet sandwiches prepared for the two of you, placed on a garden table not too far off. Together, you shared the next two hours together chatting alone. Without distractions clouding the brain, things seemed to appear as usual. The brothers began talking to you as normal, including Satan. Simeon hadn't brought up any information or lack thereof since the last meeting with Diavolo and Solomon. In fact, Diavolo seemed to be taking more time out of his schedule to spend with you alone, rather than the two human exchange students. It was nice, for a change; until you remembered what occurred with the Belphegor situation. "So, why did you ask me here in the first place?" Diavolo noticed your body language shifting for a few minutes now, but he knew something was coming at this point. "Today? Well, I enjoy the company of-" "No, Dia. When you first brought me to this garden." It couldn't be helped, you had now formed a friendship with Diavolo. He knew too much about you and how you truly acted when you were yourself, rather than the puppet an angel could use. Emotions conflicted, parts of you yearned to let loose, yet at the same time, what if it was all just an act? What if you had fallen right into his trap, and he knew all along? Just like the dictator Michael had expected. Putting his cup aside, he took a brief pause before answering. "Satan told me that day what had occurred. I thought it best to ensure my exchange student's --" Diavolo stopped as you stood up, allowing your exit. "Tired. So fucking tired." You thought to yourself as you made your way home to the house of Lamentation. Of course, not only did the oh-so-friendly prince take you out of classes once a week, he adjusted your course schedule to reflect such changes. All you could think was how pathetic you are for allowing this to happen under your watch. You never felt fit for this job, but never more so in this moment. Hesitation couldn't be found as you made your way up the stairs into the room. "You're back. Angry. Cat got your tongue?" He was obviously trying to rile you up and it was working. "So who is Belphegor? Are you trying to get me killed?" At this point, he bursts out laughing, "you think this is funny?!" you scream out. "Very." He stops, looking directly into your eyes. "And you're only helping me escape. How about I tell you a secret? I'm not even a human. I know you understand that by now, but I'm Belphegor, the last brother. And you just helped me escape." Before you knew it, hands wrapped around your neck. It was

gentle enough to find release, running downstairs and towards the front door. It was always apparent there was risks, but that's why you had the angels blessing! So why are you so close to death?? Before you could turn the handle, it moves itself. Belphie takes the chance to knock you off your feet, immobilizing you and landing you upon your back. The door opens as Belphegor protrudes claws into your most vital organ, and cold rushes over you, processing the last visuals of Lucifer's shock with Diavolo behind him. "Open your eyes." You wince. He's on top of you, how could you look? There's no way a human could escape the wrath of a demon. "Did you forget about me?" the voice echoes. What? Opening your eyes, you find nothing but white space. Suddenly, a door appears in front of your body. "Don't waste it. And don't forget where you came from." Lilith? There's no way...but then, this couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. On the other side of the doorframe was your last visual before you died, from another perspective. Glimpses flash from her own memories as it floods into your own.. in a flash, your perspective of yourself and the brothers around you changes. You could see the door Lucifer held opening in mere seconds. He froze, in shock of seeing Belphegor out. What's more, the man behind him couldn't see. The red haired demon pushed through, to find the worst fate. Immediately transforming, he flies to your dead body's side. Anger wouldn't be enough to describe what you witnessed in his eyes, nor the grief he was going through. This wasn't normal. Nothing in your body felt that what you were watching was normal. A king's priority should be on subduing Belphegor, and here he was at your deceased version's side. Suddenly, Belphegor's words filled the air. "DON'T FUCKING DARE, FOR THEM? HAHAHA!" You've never heard such a deranged laugh before. Lucifer's eyes opened even further upon processing what Diavolo was accomplishing. Tears couldn't be found in Diavolo's face, he was far beyond it. Whatever was happening, Belphegor didn't dare interrupt. "L-Lord Diavolo, you can't sacrifice yourself for-" Diavolo paid no mind to his right hand mans attempt at stopping him, taking a deep inhale, hands at his horns. "I apologize mother, but I can assure you I won't be wasting your gift." time slows further as Diavolo begins to pull away at his horns. "STOP." Every head turns to look at you, including Diavolo. It wasn't until you died that it hit you. The moments before anyone realized you came back you saw his selfless actions for yourself.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Sophrosyne

This is a challenge fic for myself along the lines of "make a fic with not a single dialogue for the chattiest man in Teyvat" under the guidance of mama @archonistic's character analysis for Zhongles. Is this fanservice for her? Maybe...

Pairings -> Zhongles x Reader

Word Count -> 1635

Themes -> Established relationship, Zhongli does not SPEAK, Fluff?, Ambiguous Ending, Short Fic?

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event)

Warnings -> Literally no dialogue whatsoever. If you can read a fic without dialogue, you are godly.

Despite a man verbose and lengthy in dialogue, Zhongli always have designated moments of silence in all his days. This comes during his awakening and before the moment he slumbers.

Anything in between that was filled with his chatters that seemingly never end, whether it be among the citizens in the harbour or as required in his work at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor as its acting consultant for adeptal rights.

Among scholars and among commonfolks, no one has seen the dignified man keep himself in silence. No one besides you.

When dawn settles in exactly 6:04 AM, his day would start as he creeps out of your shared bed the quietest he can so as not to disturb your rest. And while he succeeds in not being a nuisance, your carcadian rhythm has long been accustomed to waking up automatically in that hour.

Still, he smiles, and leans over to kiss your forehead good morning. If you wish him to stay for cuddles he will gladly indulge, but otherwise he leaves the room to prepare tea and the light breakfast available for company. Morning was sacred for many reasons, and he refuses to break it not just because of his own grogginess but also his adamant placement on making your mornings as pleasant as possible before you head to your own busy lives.

Some small chatter passes over tea and bread but it is otherwise as serene as it could be. And you bid farewell at the fork of the road where you have to part with your lover.

You remember a time when you were only acquainted and he was much more... verbal with his words, you find yourself falling in love with just his voice as he seems to never stop conversing with you about everything he knows and he can say. From the statue to the simplest flower, all day when you are in his presence he would indulge you with a literature that's his voice until you had to go.

And then one day, he stops. Zhongli's voice already became white noise to you (in a good way) that the change was so abrupt and striking. The silence passes a minute, then an hour, and it permeates until you finally break it yourself and he will then converse in normal lengths.

It took you a while to recognize but his expressions had then turned lax, as if content, of finally ending his speeches.

The day after that day of silence was the very moment where your life together started, and the continued era of silence also lingers. But it never bothered you. The comfort between you two never once gave rise to discomfort amidst the voiceless, and the memory of his voice had always stayed in your mind.

When you look at a silk flower, Zhongli's voice would echo in your mind about its use. When you watch the harbour, his speech would once again come about its busy schedule, how workers gather at 4 AM and how the streets would be bustling during 5 PM. On the dot. It was weird at first until you laughed about the idea that your lover had marked you with his lustrous voice.

Ever since then it was you who mostly have to coax the words out of him, and while this is effective, you are also the reason he reverts back into muteness.

This is apparent not just for you but for all the people that surrounds you and Zhongli.

The most common occurrence or example of this was also reflective of the first time you had noticed. Likewise, you usually never see him in his usual demeanor at work simply because you were running your own tasks throughout the day. However this day was different as you had less things to work on and you were nearing the Parlor before finishing the last of your tasks.

While it isn't busy, it was still bustling with the workers moving to and fro rooms you had never seen used before, and you slightly wave at them to inform the sudden intrusion. You were no frequent customer (who would be at a funeral parlor...) but by the way they immediately understood your person, your lover was probably the cause of their awareness.

Hu Tao's toothy grin was not of mischief and you appreciate her time to take you to his office herself. And the moment Zhongli was made aware of your presence, his parted lips didn't move anymore, eyes trailed at you before he mouths a greeting. Seeing the customer in front of him who dons confusion at the sudden silence you quickly apologized for the distraction, but Zhongli only shakes his head with a ghost of a smile, suddenly making his way over to you.

You fluster not only at stealing his attention but his whole presence, about to scold him for leaving his duty when his strong and built arms suddenly engulfs you in a firm yet not suffocating hug. He presses a kiss to your forehead, humming to himself as you felt his muscles ease as you reciprocate the hug.

This continues until the customer awkwardly breaks your pink world with a cough.

He was like a magnet, attracted to your pole the moment you come into view, and he follows the pull with no resistance at all! It would have been bad for the business, but Hu Tao his boss, simply laughs it off in amusement.

You never once thought of asking Zhongli about it, and if it ever pass your mind, you'd easily push the idea away. If he was comfortable in the silence as you were then there's no need to question it. He was already forced to run his mouth at work and with other people, giving him the chance of resting his throat and beautiful mind would probably be the best decision. What you didn't know was that if you were to ask, your lover would easily just give the answer in a straightforward yet confusing manner.

The day of his silence was the day of epiphany for the once-Geo archon. Epiphany of many different things.

He has spoken all that he can say about the world that is Liyue for him, and he regarded this with a slight widening of his eyes as you both looked over Dihua Marsh by Wangshu Inn's balcony. How long has he known you, how long had he started speaking in your presence about the knowledge he wanted to inform? Zhongli ended up pouring his heart and soul to you about his craft that it had been drained immediately.

And when you two stood in silence, he had found it without a speck of tension, only silent pleasantries with no need for words. Time seem to slow and he finally felt himself take a step back and enjoy this moment in life. An opportunity he didn't realize he needed.

Without the need and want to fill the silence, Zhongli takes notice of the warmth you radiate, of the natural scent you emit together with the perfume you wore daily, it was flowery but not strong enough to be pungent. He takes notice of a lot more things, and he realized he had been admiring such presence he didn't know had such an impact on him until he finally looked better.

Without the need for words, he had realized it is time to organize his thoughts and being. He is a retired man, not the God that lived for 6000 years, not the one who was only there to see mortals come and go, replaced with another. It was time to slow down.

And that is why here he demonstrates another moment of silence, when the day is about to come to its end. Tonight was simply indulging in between his arms.

Warm and strong you always felt very secured when you settle within the confines of his comfort. And behind you Zhongli muses to himself in a distraction you had yet to know.

During the evening is where you unpack all the troubles and tales of the afternoon on both sides, leaving them all aside so you can rest with nothing left to say, all worries left on the table as you focus on letting the consciousness fade away in the company of each other.

You've never thought you can sleep this easy, peacefully, until you started living under the same roof. And he may not say it, but your analysis of Zhongli tells you he feels all the same.

A kiss on the back of your head urges your eyes to close and as if he knows of the action, he pulls you closer under the blanket up against his chest. Your lover is especially cuddly tonight and you had no energy to fight, to tease.

You stay silent as he indulges himself in the scent of your shampoo, a tired giggle leaving your lips everytime he nuzzles your hair deeper to catch a stronger whiff. In silence too you feel the desperation of a man who seeks the comfort of the simplest things, of a person that only wish to focus on the good things in life before facing the harsh reality once again.

If you were to speak your thoughts, Zhongli would applaud you for the accuracy. But you do not. You stay silent, and to slumber you slip into.

Soon after he follows suit, latching on to the bits of warmth you give.

When he wakes, silence would once again invade his day. But it would be silence followed by the coldness that finally comes after the years he had taken to indulge in your warmth. Zhongli is glad to have taken his time to slow down and stay quiet and take in the mortality of humans.

Haha, you died again.

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.1

Author’s Note:  As for the next few or possibly several chapters, give me some time to write them.  I want to write the Lantern Rite chapter perfectly and in order to do that I need 1. for us all to experience the in-game event so I can capture it accurately and 2. to catch up on my schoolwork because my college goes by the 10-week quarter system and we are smack in the middle of it.  Apologies for the inconvenience, but I refuse to give a sub-par Lantern Rite chapter as I believe it will be the most important in this story!!  The next one or two chapters should be released by the end of next week.

......

Only on the eve of the Lantern Rite, several days before the celebration, did Xiao come to appreciate the hours of hard work you were putting into practicing music.

He had slaughtered a band of mitachurls, hilichurls, and lawachurls near Lihua Pool when he fell into darkness.  He collapsed to his knees, struggling for breath, spots filling his vision beneath the mask.  While he had dealt with karmic debt for two thousand years, this time had to be one of the worst falters.  He knelt beneath the somber moon that bore witness to his shortcoming.

The waves of pain drove him mad and the voices drowned out the singing of the crickets and frogs.  Xiao clutched at his chest in an effort to rid himself of the agony as he wondered if it was finally his time to die and join the fallen yakshas.  His mask disintegrated as he fell to all fours.  It's fine, just breathe, he reminded himself.

It was then when he heard the tune.  

"B-Barbatos?"  The yaksha groaned despairingly as he forced himself to raise his head toward the sound.  He was being saved by the wind god for a second time--No.  That's her, he realized when he recognized the all-too familiar tune.  But the way you were playing this time...had he only heard a fraction of your practice sessions? You carried the notes so well compared to last time--

Xiao rolled over so he lie on his back, eyes meeting the glints of the stars that shone down upon him.  It was like the pain had knocked the wind out of him.  No matter.  At least he would die listening to you.  The idea was peaceful to think about.

...miss...love you...

Your faint prayers that accompanied the moonsong somehow broke through the crowded shouting of the damned and eased the heavy knot in his stomach while he gasped for air.  The tune continued to build until Xiao could only compare your talent to that of the wind archon.  It was beautiful, soft, and it fit you perfectly despite your stubborn personality that was accentuated by the harbinger's shenanigans.

The image brought a faint smile to his lips, the expression slowly widening as you played on.  Your selfless nature; the need to protect a yaksha from harm's way...Your daring eyes when you butt heads with Childe...The honey-sweet grin you reserved only for Xiao and Xiao alone.  It was  the way you carried yourself in battle, the way you interacted with strangers.  How and when you prayed to him.  Your light humming accompanied your music.

Archons, you were remarkably stunning in every way imaginable.  The yaksha failed to notice how big his smile was as a few of his tears slid down the sides of his face.  It was his own longing for you that manifested and whirled around in his chest.  Beautiful, he thought as the music continued.  So, so beautiful.  It was as if the music described yourself.  For how could he give up and die now, after falling for you?  Maybe...just maybe...Xiao allowed himself to sit in the fluffy cloud of human 'compassion' as he listened to you play.  He wouldn't dare call the emotion for what it truly was.  Not now.  Not yet.  You had to understand something before he could allow himself to love you.  Er, to care for you.  Y-yes.  That's it.  Xiao refocused his attention on your music to avoid thinking any deeper on the subject.

Yet though his mind listened to your moonsong, his heart entertained the possibility of finally admitting his lo--er, compassion for you.

He didn't notice that the pain had long faded, that the spots in his vision had cleared and that the voices of the vanquished silenced themselves.  He drifted to sleep right there in the middle of the dirt road as you played into the night, and for the first time in a long time, he slept with mind and body in peace.

................................

"Morning, Mezzetin," Childe greeted you with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands.  He gave one to you before indulging in his while he leaned against your door.  "Sleep well?"

"I did, surprisingly.  The pain was pretty bad until I started practicing."  You rubbed your bleary eyes and let out a long yawn.  "Why do you ask?"

"You didn't call for him."

"Hm?"

"You've yelled for the yaksha every night you've been here.  You were quiet last night."

"How would you know that? Are you just constantly sitting outside my room like a creep?"  Your quip brought a smile to Childe's lips as he sipped at his mug.  

"Well then, since you're feeling well enough to banter with me, I guess I have no need to reward you for your cooperation..."

"Huh?  What do you mean, 'reward?'"  You perked up when he faked reaching for the door handle.  "Tartaglia?"  In your effort to get him to explain, you jumped out of bed and subsequently spilled your drink all over the sheets.  A jarring pain shot through your bones, but you ignored it.

"The Tsaritsa has requested I return to my post in Liyue Harbor to...discipline a few underperforming officers during the Lantern Rite.  Since I am in charge of you, I requested that you accompany me.  Her Majesty agreed."

"W-what?!"  Your sudden shout made him jump slightly.  "You...she...you're letting me return?"

"Temporarily, yes, and it is for business reasons.  We figured it would aid in your...dilemma."

"I..."  Your gaze fell to the half-empty mug in your hands.  

"You don't want to go?" The harbinger raised a brow in surprise.  "Why, I thought you'd jump at this opportunity."

"It's not that..." you trailed, your finger absently circling the rim of your cup.  "Would I...be able to roam around by myself?"

"Depends on where you want to go."  His eyes narrowed slightly and he set his cup atop your bedside table.  "You won't be able to visit Qingce Village, nor the Wanshu Inn."  He watched your shoulders drop in disappointment before continuing.  "But I will allow you to enjoy the festival."

"...Am I allowed to talk to them?  My adventure team?"

Childe let out a small sigh before nodding.  "I think it would be good for your health to see them."

"Why are you allowing me?"  It was your turn to narrow your eyes in suspicion against the harbinger.  "Wouldn't this be, you know, a risk for you guys to let me see them?  Aren't you worried about that?"

"There will be several Fatui agents in Liyue during the festival; even if you're 'alone,' one of us will always be nearby.  I don't take you as a complete idiot," he admonished.  "Besides, Mr. Zhongli knows more about adeptal blood than we do at this point.  If you manage to gather more information, that would be a plus."

"I'm not gathering information for the likes of you," you retorted, crossing your arms much like Xiao does.

"I'm not asking you as your superior, nor your captor.  I'm suggesting it as your comrade in arms."

"Ha!"  You couldn't help but let out a full laugh at the set of statements.  "You really expect me to believe that?  All you guys do is manipulate and deceive.  I don't trust a word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Even if you learn something and keep it to yourself, do it for yourself, Mezzetin.  I've realized something after you joined us."

"Oh? What could you have possibly realized?"  You rolled your eyes and returned your gaze to the window, not particularly caring about his side of the conversation and instead wishing he would just leave already.

"I realized some of my actions were not for your wellbeing, but for mine."

........................................

It was sprinkling when Childe, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, finally tracked your rescue team down in Fontaine.  It really didn't take much of an effort, which was highly disappointing considering the harbinger loved to play cat-and-mouse with his foes.  Oh well.  At least Mr. Zhongli was here; the plan wouldn't work if he hadn't accompanied Aether and the yaksha.

The harbinger stood in the shadow of a nearby tree and scouted the sheltered camp.  Besides Aether, Zhongli, and an apparently-unconscious yaksha, there were two more opponents.  Childe recognized one of them to be the wine master Diluc, but couldn't name the other one.  Maybe he was one of Mondstat's knights, judging by the way he carried himself?  Then again, he seemed to be drinking pretty heavily...

Childe glanced back a ways where a few Fatui agents were waiting for his return.  This wouldn't take long; he knew two of the adventurer's tricks, and the knight didn't look like he'd pose much of a challenge.  All he needed was to speak with Zhongli.

"I have to admit I'm disappointed for finding you so quickly," the harbinger made his presence known and stepped out of the shadows.  A chill ran down everyone's spines.

"I still can't believe you were naïve enough to get involved with the Fatui," Diluc sent an admonishing look Aether's way before summoning his broadsword.  "And hid it from me, no less."

"We're sorry!"  Paimon squeaked with her hands in the air.  "We didn't trust him completely!"

"It was my fault for allowing this to continue without your knowledge, Aether."  Zhongli rose from his seat and manifested his polearm.  "Allow me to make amends."

"I assume you're the one we're after?"  Kaeya unsheathed his sword and stood side-by-side with Diluc, much to his bro's dismay.  Despite all the wine he had consumed, he remained unusually composed.

"I've come to speak with Mr. Zhongli," Childe answered, both hands raised semi-defensively while the expression on his face was no less than that of a sly fox.  "And to retrieve the yaksha."

"We don't think so!"  Aether charged first and swung his blade through the air.  It collided against the well-known hydro blades of the harbinger before parrying off.  

Next was Diluc, whose flaming weapon created steam as it sliced through Childe's blades.  His attacks were slower than Aether's, but the amount of power coming from them nearly made the harbinger flinch both in hesitation and in excitement.  It was then that Xiao's eyes had opened slightly before he lost consciousness again.  Kaeya lunged forth and used his skill to send a burst of ice at the harbinger in an effort to freeze him in place.

Childe barely dodged, one blade freezing over.  "Tch."  The last thing he needed was to deal with a cryo user in this weather.  He was already at a disadvantage by wielding a hydro vision in normal circumstances.  His hydro burst threw everyone backwards, and he switched to his delusion.  

Electricity surged through the camp as everyone got to their feet and readied themselves for an onslaught of electro attacks.  None came; instead, the harbinger stared straight at Zhongli, who remained reserved and unbothered as he pointed the tip of his lance at him.  "This is your only warning, Childe," the archon spoke in an especially deep voice.  "Return her to us, or suffer the consequences."

"I only came to speak with you, Mr. Zhongli," Childe's eyes narrowed beneath his mask.  "As much as I'd love to indulge in a fight, I came here with a proposition.  Would you hear me out?"

Everyone's eyes turned expectantly to the archon, and he returned their gazes before allowing his polearm to disintegrate.  "Lower your weapons," he ordered much to everyone's dismay.

"But Zhongli!  He could trick you!" Paimon reappeared before the consultant.  "You can't--"

"Relax, Paimon," Zhongli quietly assured.  "I may not have a gnosis, but a harbinger is still by no-means what I perceive to be troublesome in battle."  He followed Childe a few meters away so the group was unable to hear them.

Childe shifted his mask to its resting place on the side of his head.  "There may be a way to retrieve her," he started in a quiet voice.  "But it would only be possible if you declare war against the Tsaritsa."

"Tell me, Childe, why should I trust you after you breached our trust?"

"You can't, but I trust that we all have our comrade's best interests in mind, no?   If you're able to rally the people of Teyvat, the Tsaritsa may yield.  Her Majesty has no interest in declaring war against the mortals as you are already aware."

It was a fitting task for the God of War; declare a world war against the Tsaritsa, and she'd yield without calling his bluff.  Even so, the former archon was not convinced.  Childe would need to up his charming façade.  He was only lying for your own safety after all; he'd back you into joining the harbingers, and you'd be free of the Fatui's grasp in the outside world.  You wouldn't be hunted for the rest of your life; you could live freely in your captors' backyard.  The suffering you were being thrown into now would last a lifetime if you continued to resist.

Some part of the harbinger knew it was a twisted form of compassion--dare he call it love--for you.  He needed you to free yourself both of the Fatui's and Xiao's grasps.  The only way to do that would be to recruit you, but you weren't so easy to convince.  You wouldn't be in danger of getting hurt by his subordinates his way.  You wouldn't hurt yourself by chasing after Xiao if Childe stepped in either.  He didn't care that it was selfish of him to step between your struggling romance.

What better way to keep you safe, mentally and physically, than to break you into submission?

The two opposing forces continued their hushed discussion for twenty more minutes before Zhongli broke away from Childe.  He was about to fill the group in on the details when Childe attacked him from behind.

[movedtopassione-parfait]

maybe soft yandere ghiaccio with a super touch starved s/o 👁👁

I SAW YOU LIKE MY RULES AND I KNEW YOU'D GO FOR IT- i will happily oblige you in your ice man brainrot! reader works as an information gatherer at la squadra base. maybe ill do a second part if you like?

Icy Hands.

(WARNINGS: soft yandere behavior, GN!s/o, clingy ghiaccio, touch starved!s/o, slightly suggestive at the end)

The red glow of the illuminated numbers on the analog clock read '2:45 am', it was late and Ghiaccio had just returned from a mission, most of the others already sleeping in their rooms. Except for you of course. You had a bad habit of working late in your office, collecting various files on potential targets, Passione's newest possible enemies, and clicking away at your keyboard. He could always tell exactly when you were still working in your office after nights of watching the light from your monitor through the crack under the door and nights of observing your schedule. You were so dedicated to your work, you were perfect for him. Someone independant and passionate... But aren't you lonely? Crammed into your small room all day and late into hours of the night until eventually retiring to your empty room. Doesn't it get boring repeating everything everyday? He'd make you realize it, you needed someone like him in your life to give you the attention you deserve. And once you do, he'll be the only one you need.

Creeping through the dark, silent hallway, making his way to your office like he'd planned in his head many times. The time to do this was now, he couldn't wait any longer, he was going to make you his. Standing in front of the wooden door, he waited a moment before giving 3 light yet firm knocks on the door. The sound of his presence jolted you up from your work, moving your chair back slightly to get up from your crammed desk. You were careful enough not to knock any files over while approaching the door, having made your way through the maze of stacked high books and papers.

"Coming!"

Your voice was quiet but still was loud enough to be heard through the thick wood. You opened the door with a quick turn of the metal handle, and looked up to face your late night visitor. It was.. Ghiaccio? Oh, right he probably just got back from a hit. Why is he here though?

"Hi, Ghiaccio? What are you doing here this late? Shouldn't you be heading to bed-"

Your spew of questions was cut off by Ghiaccio grabbing your wrist firmly, pulling you out of your office, the rough treatment making you squeak in suprise. Before you could ask what he was doing, the blue haired man picked you up and quickly stepped down the hall, bringing you into his bedroom. Shutting and locking the door behind him, he places you onto the soft bed, pushing your wrists down with his icy hands and caging you onto the mattress with his body.

"W-what are you doing, Ghiaccio??"

"Shhh, be good for me tesoro.. I know you're lonely, working all day and barely seeing anyone. I won't let you be alone anymore, let me be there for you, [Name.]"

His husky voice whispering loving words into your ear was driving you crazy inside, where did this come from?? I shouldn't be letting this happen, I should push him off-- Your panicked train of thoughts was silenced by his lips meeting yours in a firey passionate kiss. Despite your brain yelling at you to stop him, you leaned further into his kiss. When was the last time someone touched you like this? Maybe never. It's not like you didn't like him, maybe it'd be nice to accept his touch for once. You could feel warm tears welling up in your eyes, going so long with nobody to love you physically like this had taken a toll on you that you tried to ignore, but truly you felt like you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Let me show you how much I love you, [Name.]"

I DEFINATELY HAVE A SECOND PART PLANNED FOR THIS!! I hope it was decent, this is my first time writing yandere! Interpret the ending here how you like 😏

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello there, I really liked your writing and especially the prompt with enemy forces attack and lack of oxygen! May I ask you to write it with Perceptor and Drift? (Separately, just in case). Thank you in advance!)

Got a ninja boy and a science boy here for you anon!

Got some links to the previous posts for this prompt!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: You're Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight! Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Perceptor

·Your arrival on the ship required him to work with the medics to ensure you could survive on it, and that obviously included working with you quite frequently to gather data, which eventually evolved into you assisting directly as the upgrades were put into place. Though he was initially hesitant to admit your presence was nice and he briefly stalled on finishing the upgrades just to spend more time together, you wore him down enough that he eventually relented and confessed to wanting you around. In the short time since things have come very far, enough so that he freely requests your aid in projects, chatting idly as he makes use of your tiny size and encouraging demeanor.

·This is exactly what you're up to today, though you're in the shooting range as opposed to your usual set up in the lab. While he's more than confident in his ability to handle this experimental weapon, he needs it here for when it's finally tested, and your small hands are ideal for a final stability check. A barely observable feeling in his spark registers as excited pride for you to see the weapon in action, but he keeps that to himself... It's bad enough someone walked in on the two of you holding hands as much as your differing sizes allowed the other day, and he doesn't need any more embarrassment.

·There's still a tiny smile on his face as he takes the first few shots, and the accuracy combined with the little cheer from you makes it impossible to keep it from growing. He's about to remark that this is only the first trial of the adjustable blaster, and thus not inductive of its real potential, when he's interrupted by a garbled communication. As you watch him answer, it's hard to hold back reasurance at the hint of frustration on his face, because you know him well enough to understand he doesn't appreciate the disturbance while trying to show off to you. Perhaps one day you'd let him know how easy he was for you to read.

·Well accustomed to frantic requests for his assistance, Perceptor finds himself unexpectedly surprised when the transmission is nearly inaudible, and the message from the bridge proves to be nothing more than a few broken sentences mentioning crashes and security systems before going dead. Not certain what could possibly be causing the ship he personally inspects to suffer malfunctions but knowing it must be corrected, he immediately plans to set off and get to the bottom of things. Securing the weapon into its holster on his back, he offers his hand to transport you with him, surmising you'll be safest with him at least until they have a better idea of what's going on. Of course he already has some theories, but he never acts without evidence.

·Glad to come along, even if only to help him run through some ideas, you happily take your place in his palm. Being without a vehicular mode means he pretty much had to get accustomed to carrying you everywhere he wanted to take you, as it takes quite a few steps for you to match one of his. Now he rather likes being able to hold you in a way that enables easy conversation, especially because as he walks and looks down to you in his palm and you look up at him with those genuinely fascinated eyes... It's nice. Currently he's listing the usual suspects for spacefaring trouble; solar flares, electric storms, debris collisions, and how none of them seem the likely culprit here for various reasons. You've seen him enter this state of unparalleled focus many times, and can't help but wish the circumstances could be better, because you love seeing him in his element.

·Both of you have a rather unfortunate awakening when a series of tremors pass through the ship and nearly knock him to the floor, something he prevents with quick reflexes that momentarily turn your world dark, a phenomenon you realize in an instant was caused by both of his hands cupping protectively around you. When they part you're left peaking upwards through digits at a somewhat concerned and bashful bot. Affirming you're alright, you watch as he gets moving again in an instant, now in full crisis mode after your little tumble. You know enough to be equally concerned by this turn of events, particularly because spaceships aren't known for their tremors.

·Talking as he walks, he has every one of his sharp senses on full alert for the trouble he knows will be coming, including his sense of touch to keep tabs on your small body in his hands. Being aware of every single potential problem means he knows quite well you could be in danger already. It worries him, to a level of concern he's not accustomed to feeling after experiencing so much combat. You can see the anxiety he's trying so hard to work through. There's a crackle in his spark that bots only have when very on edge, and you're close enough to hear it through his armored chest, spurring you to reach out and lay a hand against the warm metal. For a moment his optics meet your eyes, and at your reassuring smile he seems to regain some measure of calm control. His mind quickly uses that to put together a plan.

·While that tremor very likely came from an anchoring weapon on an enemy vessel, none of that explains the system shutdowns precluding it, and he needs to know the full extent of the threat before he can launch a counterattack. Most bots would need a well established access point to get diagnostics for the whole ship, but thankfully he's a bit more skilled than that. Explaining that he merely needs a workstation with any kind of physical connection to the main network, he begins what he is certain will be a quick search, and while you're delighted by the boost he obviously feels thanks to feeling in control you're a bit too tired to celebrate. Not wanting him to know the stress of the situation is wearing you down, your smile remains steadfast to give him the strength he needs.

·As he predicted, finding something suitable for his needs is a breeze, and he's so distracted by the impending answers he doesn't notice you growing drowsy in his palms. Though the small room is little more than a relay station for routine power inspection, it's perfect for what he has planned, and he places you on a nearby table as he gets to work. Even if your head were clear the flurry of activity he follows with wouldn't make sense. Somehow a motley collection of dust covered components becomes rewired into a humming piece of... something in what feels like minutes, and you absolutely beam with pride to see your partner pulling up the information he needs on a monitor, heavy eyelids lifted by your desire to watch him work more wonders.

·Data starts flowing through his makeshift diagnostic scanner in moments, and Perceptor watches intently as the ship's systems flash their readouts in order, though even he can't keep his expression calm as he all too rapidly puts together the horrifying pieces. They haven't just been boarded; they've been sabotaged. Most of the damage is meant to neuter their defenses and hinder any attempt at an organized counterattack, but one key readout tells him that you in particular are in the most dire need of assistance. The atmospheric generators and oxygen stabilizers he personally optimized for your benefit are going haywire, and the air you need to survive is rapidly being drained from the ship. The sheer size of the vessel, and the ability of its crew to keep the attackers at bay for this long, is the only reason you're still alive. In an instant he's on the move.

·You're cupped in oversized palms just as you realize you were laying down for a nap you didn't know had snuck up on you. Bleary in your head as well as your eyes, you hear him speak in the flat, rapid manner that he only uses when something critical is on the line. While his inflection is clear enough for you to catch his basic meaning, for the life of you it's just not possible to panic as much as you should, and his explanation of a plan doesn't register in the slightest. You know it should, and you feel awful for being so calm while he needs you, but the strength for you to be what he needs just isn't there. There is enough clarity for you to register one thing though, namely how closely he's cradling you to his chest. Such an open display of caring and concern is usually not something you see from him. A part of you rather likes it.

·Cold fear that he's come quite unaccustomed to creeps through him as he takes off through the ship. The medical bay is his ideal destination, as he helped create the human catered medical equipment already there, but he knows that time being of the essence means he has to plan for every possible situation, including those far from ideal. What matters is getting you oxygen, fast. The data on human biology made it impossibly clear; every minute without adequate oxygen is critical. Horrifying possibilities run through his mind, the diagrams of cell death he memorized almost taunting him as you appear to grow weaker with every passing breath. Feelings he'd long since forgotten, powerlessness and grief, eat away at him as he internally bemoans his lack of an altmode.

·You feel incredibly guilty as he grows more panicked, but sleep beckons far too strongly for you to resist it long. There's a part of you that knows his incredibly brilliant mind struggles when he doesn't feel in control, to the point he breaks reality at times to regain that handle on the world around him. So seeing you like this and being unable to do much in the moment... no doubt it's tearing him apart. Words don't come easy at the moment, and in fact you realize there's no way to form them at all, but still you try to reassure him. There's so much panic in the spark he holds you beside, and you do everything you can to convey that none of this is his fault. Gently splaying your fingers over the warm metal, you feel the world around you become little more than a blur.

·For a moment the path before him is filled with enemies. He nearly barrels into them rounding a corner, but not a moment is wasted once he has a full count of their number. One hand cradling you protectively, his other grabs the weapon he'd been testing with you before, and the still recovering alien soldiers become nothing more than an impromptu accuracy test. Even for him the precise carnage that follows is unimaginable. A series of heads jerk backwards before hulking bodies go limp, and in mere moments the threat is little more than a pile of confused looking corpses, but there's no time to celebrate. He's off with the weapon in hand for any future attacks.

·You hear him speaking to you as the last vestiges of your strength finally give way. He's trying to sound calm as he urges you to retain consciousness, but for once it's a losing effort, as you can hear the crack in his performance. It makes you sadder than anything else thus far. Particularly because you simply can't stay awake a moment longer. There's just too much weight in your limbs, and the warm darkness promises you a break, so you simply have to give in. All you can hope is that he'll understand neither one of you is to blame, and that you'll be able to wake up and tell him that yourself, but you're not especially worried about the latter half.

·He feels you go completely limp just as the medical bay and laboratory signs come into view. Now in a blind desperation, he makes a split second decision to head for his lab, reasoning that the medical bay will certainly be crowded due to current circumstances. Everything he'll need can be found in his various tools, and he can't waste a moment waiting on anyone else, even the medics. He can recall so clearly the human texts now, how the phenomenon of suffocation was described, and the resulting smothering of irreplaceable cells... Your tiny body is still breathing, but how much damage has already been inflicted? What parts of you has he failed to save? Not knowing is tearing him apart.

·Brainstorm is the only one in the lab, and he looks momentarily relieved to see Perceptor enter, saying something about restoring communication before catching sight of the little body in his hands. A frantic recommendation to bring them to the medical bay is met with curt dismissal as he lays you on an open work slab. There's no time to entrust this to anyone else, and in his mind the supplies he needs are already listed clear as day, including where to find them and what order he needs them in to maximize efficiency. Conscious thought is almost nonexistent as he works with record speed. The only times he stops are when his traitorous optics glance to your tiny body, and each glimpse is like an icy dagger to his spark. This isn't it. It can't be it. He won't lose the one he cares about more than anything.

·The tank of oxygen and the human sized ventilation system are hooked up to your frightfully still face with the care of a diamondsetter. He's able to get the readings of your improvement quickly, as the oxygen levels in the ship were apparently not yet low enough to do real damage, but he feels no comfort. All of his mind is still in chaos from the helplessness he can't yet shake. The fog is so deep that he barely notices Brainstorm return with a glowering Ratchet, and he only replies in curt affirmations or negations when the medic begins questioning your condition, doing so somewhat gruffly due to the inconvenience of having to move you later. With only a confirmation from the other mech you'll be in his care, he heads back out into the ship, weapon in hand and optics cold as he sets about securing Autobot victory one shot at a time.

·By the time you awaken the battle is over and the Lost Light is back to near total functionality. A calm voice instructs you to keep your oxygen mask on just a little longer to be safe, and you see Perceptor sitting beside you in the small recovery room. Having the basic pieces of everything more or less clear in your head, your immediate concern is him, which is only made worse by the scratches and scuffs on his usually well maintained armor. Barely able to stay where you are, the questions begin to pour forth as you reach a hand out to him. There's an uncharacteristically exhausted smile on his face as he reaches out a servo for you to hold. The expression is an obvious mask, made only more strained by the fake flatness of his assurance that he's fine, and that he only endured minor damage while cleaning out the last of the enemy. You know he's lying about that and more.

·Despite your ability to read him, you're still surprised when he cracks in a heartbreaking moment. His shoulders shake, his helm falls forward, and he leans heavily against the berth as your gentle prompt forces it all to the surface. By his standards he's a wreck, though his sobs are barely audible and could easily be mistaken for rough ventilations, and he makes it clear he's aware of how pathetic he looks. But how can he be okay? You needed him, and it was his own system that had failed you, with a second rate cyber attack no less. He should have seen that coming from the onset! He should have prepared! He can't seem to find the ground beneath him as he shakes, and in that instant you find strength far beyond your tiny body, and you use it to claw your way towards him. Seeing this makes him panic, and when he tries to gently stop your efforts you grab him tight, looking deep into those optics as you remind him he doesn't have to know everything. There will be times he's up against the unknown and unexpected, but his determination and strength have always driven him forward, and that's what you fell in love with. As you speak he seems to regain himself, and you hold him as tight as you can while emphasizing that even if everything feels out of control, you'll always be here to figure it out beside him. There's a sigh of relief he doesn't bother to hide as his world stabilizes, and once again you and he are right where you belong, hand in hand at the center.

Drift

·Having spent time on earth made him rather familiar with humans, and that combined with his first hand experience being an outsider in a group made him determined to ensure you were welcome on the ship. Needless to say, his efforts were more than a little successful. Now he's trying to teach you self defense in your shared quarters, which requires some creative thinking to ensure your safety. He's still got you using lightweight staffs in the place of anything sharp, and being a beginner, you can't complain too much. Though it's hard not to laugh when something occasionally gets bonked, yourself included, and even he chuckles despite all attempts to appear the dedicated teacher. Even with these distractions you learn a lot, but it's hard not to just enjoy how gentle he is when adjusting your stance, his proportionally massive hands holding you as if you might shatter in an instant.

·Thankfully he has full control of his reactions when the ship unexpectedly spasms, and his cupped palm prevents you from tumbling to the floor as the tremors settle back to absolute stillness, allowing you to look up at Drift just as he opens his communication line to Rodimus. The captain is able to give a brief rant about an ambush and systems crashing all over before the line begins to break, and you see your steadfast partner visibly distress as he loses contact with his friend, getting only a few garbled bits of information before the line goes entirely silent. An attempt by you to establish contact on your own communicator finds no success either. For all of his usual calm, the mech still supporting you looks ready to fight as he acknowledges trouble is inbound.

·To your surprise, he lifts you clear off the floor in a single move, talking fast as he secures his weapons and prepares for what he says will be a run for the most secure parts of the ship. Even if he's one of the key bots for defense in the event of something just like this, he has to get you to safety, or at least somewhere relatively well protected. There's a few key locations he can think of; the headquarters for security, the laboratories, the medical bay, and a few others he's memorized for... well, this exact purpose. The moment a tiny human changed his world he had drafted countless protective measures to ensure their safety, because he knew the dangers they would face all too well. Unfortunately he's having a hard time keeping them all in track now, especially with creeping fear tainting his reason and ability to plan ahead.

·Catching the worry he never admits to having, and admittedly plenty afraid yourself, you help him focus by calmly asking for the closest place he knows of that's secure. Mask of calm returning in an instant, he smiles and decides to go for the main laboratory. Perceptor is likely there, getting whatever experimental defense apparatus he's currently testing up and running to expel incoming threats. There likely won't be a safer place in the universe once he's prepared. Drift keeps to himself that there's an unspoken understanding between them regarding you, namely that the reserved scientist will protect you with the same level of veracity he would his former battle partner. Unfortunately that vow may be getting tested very shortly... Yet he keeps smiling, refusing to let his fear dampen your energy as he decides it's time to make his move. Somehow you feel just as heavy in his hand as the sword on his back as he makes sure you're secure.

·Accustomed to being carried by him in a number of ways, you notice his grip is different the instant he steps into the hallway, his digits curled in a way that screams protection just as much as his narrowed optics radiate apprehension despite trying to appear calm. You know he's protective by nature, but this is different. Every part of him is working in unison to move with as little noise as possible, his senses alert and scanning for threats as he hurries through the ship far more silently than you would have ever expected for a bot his size. In all your time together he's never been so outwardly on edge. Through his shameful confessions you know of his past, and you know of his skill in eliminating threats, so to see him nervous is actually a touch alarming in itself.

·There's a quick whisper from him that he believes enemies may be unavoidable no matter what path he takes. Should there be combat, he warns, he wants you to remain hidden or at least in cover until he's eliminated the threat. Should they overpower him however, your goal will be escape through whatever means necessary. The idea of dying to protect his partner doesn't give him any pause. Instead, his only focus is on ensuring you know every tool at your disposal to get to safety. Thoughts of sending you through the vents give him little comfort, but his feelings are hardly a priority, as nothing matters beyond you. You who saw past his sins, who'd given him a home in your boundless heart, and who had brought nothing but joy and light into his life. If he could guarantee anything by sheer force of will, it was your survival.

·You want to remind him that you're not the only one who matters here. Though you don't have any of his great strength or speed, you're certainly not going to let him be taken from you, as surviving without him would hardly be a victory. But holding on to that conversation is all you can do for now. The danger is real if you draw unwanted attention through speech, and so you keep the thoughts to yourself, saving them for the time you both would have to talk when this was over. Stress is oddly nonexistent as the air crackles around you from tension, perhaps signaling you've become so anxious it's all come full circle and turned you calm. Still, you keep a firm hold on him from your position of cover. Spectralism has encouraged him to be incredibly sensitive to the world around him, so you hope your tiny self focusing on calm will help give him some comfort.

·Unfortunately your efforts are given no time to pay off. Without making so much as a sound, he pushes himself flat against a wall and shushez you as he does so, allowing you to catch the faintest hint of what alarmed him; the sound of very alien movement. Trained audials lock in on the most likely direction of the source, which gives him the information he needs to come to an important decision; there's no getting around this particular group. As time to wait them out simply doesn't exist, he's left to confirm that fighting is his only choice, and with that lays you down on the floor beside a vent opening. Having known this might happen does nothing to quell your panic when you realize you're being left on the sidelines. This mech leaves you no time to argue before silently slipping around the corner to end things quickly.

·There's a team of Cybertronian sized lifeforms so surprised by his arrival they only have time to clumsily draw their weapons before the first one is neatly cut to pieces. Double blades make short work of the next few, and the mess of alien blood barely registers as he moves in a kind of trance, unwilling to let himself waste a moment of time unleashing the frustration and anger he so desperately wants to take out on these intruders. There's no doubt in his mind they'd hurt you if given the chance, but his logic keeps him in check to ensure he doesn't lose himself to the rage such a thought tempts him with. Cold precision is what he needs to most effectively end this quickly, and the method is proven effective when the last enemy falls in pieces, all without a single mark on his own armor. Save for the few spatters of alien blood, but he hardly notices such a minor detail.

·You're a little more concerned when he returns dripping with the mess of battle, but a quick reasurance and a noting of the lack of energon's distinctive pink glow puts most of your worries to rest. Still, you cling tightly to him as he picks you back up, whispering your thanks despite the loud clamor of the recent battle. It's a small victory when your gratitude makes him smile once again. Reminding you that he took a vow to protect you, he holds you close again and sets back off, assuming the same strategy of silent travel as before. It's oddly less tense this time, as if seeing what he's up against gave him the confidence to overcome his own worries for your sake. Whatever the case, you gladly take the result, already worn out from all the excitement of his recent battle.

·A brief burst of communication gives him pause, and you're equally baffled by the sudden transmission until he takes cover and answers. The commanding bots make something clear for the short message they've been able to transmit; Drift needs to get you to the medical bay. A rapid explanation of how the shipwide errors includes the atmospheric generators puts it all together in horrifying detail. Oxygen levels are dropping on all the sensors, they explain before the line cuts out, and while it's happening slowly there's still precious little time. He doesn't need any further instructions when silence descends over you both once more. You, however, can barely grasp the full extent of what you've just been told. After all, you feel fine! Well... mostly fine, perhaps things are a bit more wobbly than they should be.

·You're embraced as his expression briefly cracks into full worry. There's a whispered promise to get you to safety before he's once again on the move, all the on edge energy from before filling his coiled body as it hurries through the ship at impressive speeds. Strategy doesn't come easily as you try to think of the best way to save your breath. Keeping calm is hardly an option with everything going on, but you give it your best shot. You just need to stay awake and as relaxed as possible until he reaches the medical bay. It's harder than it should be already, but you persevere, lying down in his hand to keep the world from spinning all around you. Being close to him helps just a little bit. It helps you believe that the two of you will be fine, that he'll get to where he needs to be without trouble, and that everything is going to be smooth sailing from here.

·But of course, his luck allows for no such fortune. In the next moment he's being forced to tuck you away without a word of warning, the sound of an even more aggressive group of attackers forcing him to act before you can be hurt. He tries to dominate the battle like he did the last one, using his anger for fuel but never allowing it to take control, and his blades respond well to the strategy at first. However, this group is larger than the last, and thus his ambush simply doesn't buy him enough time to defeat them all. Soon blaster shots are flying and counterattacks are being hurled in his direction. All he can think about is you lying just out of sight, and how little time he has for this, and that these beings are all perfectly fine ending your life with such a cowardly tactic... It's an emotional powder keg, and the spark is finally lit when a not so lucky alien manages to cut a shallow gash across his side. The harsh burn of the injury sets him off just as you manage to glance down the hallway.

·Calm and calculated combat becomes a brutal beat down of anything he can get his swords through. A snarl reveals his shamefully concealed canines as he turns his blades into instruments of revenge instead of mere tools to victory. Even as your vision spins you can see him carving the increasingly fewer number of enemies without any of his usual grace, his expression one of blind fury as he eviscerates his enemies and something like a smile pulling up on his lips through their snarl. Some part of him is enjoying this, you realize. Even though he doesn't linger or draw out his moves, you can see he's going for absolute brutality in his kills. He wants these aliens to hurt for what they've done, and while you can't feel any pity for them, you know he's going to agonize over this later. He's often confided a fear of his own mind, citing moments like these where he just wants the enemy to hurt, and you know he firmly believes goodness is beyond him because of this.

·There's a thrill as he clears the last enemy, despite a few additional injuries of his own to show for it. No one was going to harm his beloved human and keep their limbs intact. He's still flashing the artificially sharpened canines that usually bring him such shame when he turns to see you watching. Pride vaporizes to horror in an instant, both from the realization that he gave in to temptation and that you saw him partake in such senseless brutality, and only the continued need to move lets him approach and lift you once more. Apologies pour out of his voicebox as he returns to running, begging your forgiveness for having exposed you to the worst parts of himself and failing to control them at your most vulnerable. Guilt tears him apart as he sees you've begun to lose clarity in the growing absence of oxygen.

·Unconsciousness pulls at you despite your resistance, and you force yourself to stay alert enough to keep him reassured. Had you the words your emphasis would have been on comforting him in the wake of his loss of control, particularly in regards to how you weren't afraid and never would be, as that piece was just a small part of the actual him you knew. Did he reject you for your failings? No, you wished you could say, and that you would never leave him for the same reason. As it was, you could only suck in deep breaths and hope he might read the conviction in your eyes. You want so badly for him to see you're not even upset with him, but your more coherent thoughts on the subject are starting to fade as well. Assurances that you will always support him fade into the fog overtaking your mind.

·He feels you slip into unconsciousness and it's like another stab to his already aching spark. Time is running out, and he can certainly take some of the blame for that, can't he? How many precious seconds could have been saved if he just stayed in control and finished the battle without savoring the violence? It's enough guilt that he becomes blind to anything else, charging forward on the most direct path and straight into an ongoing battle between bots and the still invading forces. You're held to his spark with a level of protection a bot would usually reserve for the Matrix, your safety being the only one that matters as he quite literally cuts a path through the enemies, focusing only on getting to the other side as he does so. Without any kind of defense he's quickly suffering a number of injuries, but he either doesn't notice or care as he keeps you free of the danger. The desire for retribution burning in his spark is smothered by a cold refusal to indulge unless he loses what's most worth fighting for.

·Only a lack of operability in his leg slows him down, and by then he's thankfully surrounded more by Autobots than enemies. His heroic charge is credited with turning the fight, but he's heedless to praise and concern as he finds support to stand from an unexpected arrival; Ratchet. Stopping the medic before his own wounds can be addressed, he holds you out wordlessly as his sword clatters to the floor from his other hand. Energon loss he only just now notices makes him wobble, but he insists on waiting until you've been helped, refusing to be treated until he knows you're going to be okay. The medics sort of compromise by tending to him whilst setting you up on the prepared medical slab, and as his considerable injuries are patched up he feels relief plagued by uncertainty. Will you remember what you saw? Will the firsthand experience with his inner demons drive you away? It eats at him in ways no medic can make feel better.

·When you awaken he's also on mandatory rest, and he's moved your tiny self onto a medical slab beside him to keep you close, making his familiar colors the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. You can't bring yourself to care about the oxygen mask on your face when the recently welded scars on his armor shock you into a mild panic. Seeing you awake, he gently shushes your concerns and encourages you to be still, and his position on his side thankfully makes conversing quite simple. At a single, anxious prompt about your memory the moments leading up to your loss of consciousness become clear. Drift quickly assures you that everything is fine, but you catch his look of worry when you confirm your recollection, and a gentle request for more information strikes him hard.

·His apologies are as helpless as they are hopeless. The disgust with himself is nearly tangible as he begs your forgiveness for having exposed you to the worst parts of himself, and it takes far longer than usual to get him to listen to you, perhaps due to the mask muffling your voice. Reiterating that you already accepted his past, you recall the way he held you in the heat of everything just today, and emphasise the sheer volume of injuries he endured to save you. That's the bot you've chosen to love, at the peak of his strength and selflessness and determination... That's who he is, and who he will always be to you. Your reminder soothes the pain in his body and spark. Moving as close as he can on the berth, he takes the moment to appreciate being together once again, his faith in himself given new strength thanks to your boundless love.

[aph-honk-kong]

Sylfiden - Akt I

Alastair should be grateful that his future is secure - he has a large house, bountiful crops and will soon be married to the prettiest girl in the village. But on the morning of his wedding day, a sylph appears in his living room and dismantles every aspect of his perfectly-planned life.

[Written for day three of @aphrarepairweek2021​ with the prompt “culture” - granted, this is kind of inaccurate since the source this was based on was produced by a Dane in 1836, but I guess it still kind of shows Scottish culture]

This fic was based on the Romantic ballet Sylfiden, choreographed by August Bournonville of the Royal Danish Ballet. 

Here’s what Alastair should look like:

(This is Jon Axel Fransson, photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

And here is the sylph, though you can always imagine them wearing something else:

(This is Ida Praetorius, also photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

...

  Alastair awoke to whiteness.

  At first he thought it was another of Dillon’s pranks, and there was cotton over his face again, but he looked longer and found the tint before his eyes resembling fabric a little more. Had he somehow fallen asleep over Marianne’s wedding dress? No, that couldn’t be, for was it not bad luck to see the bride’s gown before the ceremony? Then Alastair looked up and saw a face.

  He was as regal as he was pale, snowy cheeks dusted with the faintest pink that mirrored the shade of his lips. He was not smiling, at least not with his mouth, but his eyes — blue eyes, Alastair noticed — held laughter. And he was so close that his white-gold hair was tickling his cheek.

  He jolted to his feet. The man moved backwards, too, and stopped by the living room window with his arms poised delicately. “Good morning.”

  “I — ” Alastair looked him up and down again. The white he saw turned out to not be from a gown, but a thin white blouse that floated whenever he moved. “What are you doing here?”

  “To visit you,” he replied. Then he turned around, and he saw on his back a pair of small, translucent wings. A sylph, he realised. A wind spirit was in his house. “I hear you are getting married today, and I wanted to wish you luck.” 

  “Oh.” The sylph moved away when he tried to get close; well, “moved” was hardly the right word for it. He glided across the floor, it seemed, wings fluttering softly each time he evaded Alastair’s grasp. “Thank you, er…?”

  “Stellan.” The sylph leapt away once more. “That is my name.”

  And a peculiar one too, Alastair was tempted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and merely watched, entranced, as Stellan drifted past the chair he had fallen asleep on. He did not seem entirely real. 

  “I wanted to look at you, I suppose,” he sing-songed, “before you got married. Some say that the hours before a wedding are a man’s last moments of freedom. Do you agree?”

  For some reason, the question made his ears prickle with heat. Was he implying that he did not want to get married? Indignantly, Alastair opened his mouth to reply when Stellan elegantly hopped away from the chair. “I must go now. I will see you again soon.”

  He stepped backwards into the fireplace, and the flames rose higher. When they faded, Stellan was gone.

  Not a minute after Stellan disappeared, Dillon stamped into the room with a grin. “My, you’re already awake!” He exclaimed. “After all the planning last night I expected you to be out ‘til noon.” He lowered his voice. “Best look presentable, now. Marianne will be here to get ready soon.”

  “Wait, really?” His hands flew to his head and began trying to flatten his hair, which was probably a rat’s nest after just waking up. “Goodness, I’m still in my clothes from yesterday.” Something white flashed in his vision, and he started. Had Stellan returned?

  “You alright there?”

  “Just thought I saw something,” Alastair said tiredly. “Did you see a sylph last night? I swore one came to visit me when I first awoke.”

  Dillon stared at him as though he had grown another head. “Have you been drinking already?”

  “No?”

  “Of course I haven’t seen a sylph!” With a bark of laughter, he clapped Alastair on the back. “And neither should you. It’s probably just cold feet. Have some breakfast and warm yourself up, and you ought to be alright.”

  He glanced at the window once more. Nothing. “Yes,” he settled, “I was probably just a bit delirious.”

  His cottage door opened again and in flowed distant giggles. Breaking away from her mother, Marianne swept into the living room and into his arms. “Good morning, dear.”

  “Good morning.” Alastair kissed her forehead. She smelled like heather. “How did you sleep?”

  “Very well.” Marianne rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly. “Dreamt of you all night long.”

  He leant down, ready to kiss her, when a shadow moved near the fireplace. He broke away and ran towards it, ignoring his bride-to-be’s indignant huff, and bent down. Had Stellan returned to offer more blessings? Would he wish him luck again with his soft, sweet voice? Alastair searched the figure, ready to look into blue eyes —

  They were green.

  “What the Hell are you doing here?”

  Dressed slightly less odiously, scowling as usual, Arthur glared back at him. “Ah, it’s the inattentive groom. Are you leaving lovely Marianne for me?”

  Dillon snorted behind him.

  “I am not, and I find it insulting that you would even think I would,” he replied furiously. “And you are not attending my wedding. I don’t need somebody to perform magic tricks.”

  Arthur scowled even deeper in response. He was constantly trying to convince the village that he was, in fact, a witch with the ability to do magic, but everyone had come to the conclusion that he was probably a raving fool who had been exiled from England for some reason, hence his name. “I wouldn’t disrespect my craft, if I were you.”

  “It isn’t disrespectful if it’s true.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As if you can really cast spells. Will you leave, please?”

  Now he looked positively murderous. “Don’t you dare talk to — ”

  Marianne reached the fireplace before Arthur could finish his sentence. “Why don’t you predict our fortunes?” She asked with a pacifying smile. “If your predictions are good enough, we’ll let you stay.“

  Arthur stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “All right. Gather your ladies.”

  The first of Marianne’s friends came forward, and the witch took her hand roughly. After peering at her palm for a moment, he proclaimed, “you will find love soon.”

  “You will lose something dear to you,” he informed another. 

  The third fortune he whispered in the girl’s ear, and when she turned away she had tears in her eyes. Arthur watched her leave with a smug smile forming.

  “Hey!” A little boy Alastair recognised as Dillon’s nephew ran forward. “Look at mine next!”

  He had barely touched the boy’s hand when Dillon reached them, scooping him cleanly off his feet and carrying him away. “Don’t you talk to him, Peter! You will take part in none of this nonsense!”

  Marianne went to Arthur next. He took one look at her palm, and his smile grew. “There is love in your future.”

  She stretched her other hand to hold Alastair’s, and he leant down to kiss her once more. “I already know that.”

  “But!” And now he looked positively gleeful. “That love will have nought to do with your dear fiancé. He will leave you for someone else!”

  He frowned. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

  “Say, look at my palm.” Dillon strode forward, having deposited Peter as far away from Arthur as possible. He winked at Alastair. “Maybe I’ll turn into a frog tomorrow.”

  Arthur took one look at his hand and gave a short laugh. “You will find love very soon, too,” he cackled. “In fact, you will marry lovely Marianne!”

  Irritation flickered deep within him, only growing as Dillon stared at Marianne in shock, pink creeping across his cheeks. “I will what?”

  “You will not fall for Marianne, that’s what you’ll do.” Alastair pulled her into his arms, glowering first at Arthur then at Dillon. “I’m the one getting married to her.”

  “Or so it is now,” Arthur mused. “Who knows what will happen at the end of today?”

  The tiny sparks of annoyance turned into mild anger and he left Marianne’s side, leaning down to grab Arthur by the arm. “You are going to get out,” he retorted, voice growing in volume, “and you are going to stay out. First for slandering me by implying that I am — that I am attracted to men, and more so for accusing my best friend of stealing my bride!” He ignored his yelp of pain, dragged him out of the living room, opened the door and quite literally threw him out of the house. 

  He slammed the door before he could get back in, and stamped back into the living room. “Well then.” He announced, trying to sound cheerful, “shall we continue preparing?”

…

  Once Marianne had left to get dressed and her bridesmaids had finished preparing, Alastair was once again left alone. He stared at his wedding suit, which he had yet to change into, and sighed. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, the day he had been poised for since childhood, and that wretched witch had to try and ruin it.

  The whole village had known that he and Marianne would be wed for practically a decade. She was one of his closest, dearest friends, and he couldn’t imagine himself getting married to anyone else. Alastair ran his thumb over his engagement ring. This was his duty, and he would stick to it, no matter what Arthur’s idiotic palm-reading had predicted.

  The window creaked open.

  Feather-light, Stellan hopped from his perch on the windowsill onto the floor. He was smiling now, if one could call that tiny curve of his lips a smile. “Nervous?”

  “A little bit.”

  “I hope you considered my question.”

  He sighed; why were these strange magical fellows so determined to aggravate him on his wedding day? “I find it rather insulting that you think I’m being forcibly chained to Marianne.”

  Soft eyelashes fluttered. Stellan leapt again; he seemed incapable of staying in one place for long. “That was not what I meant. I simply want you to consider this question: are you getting married because you truly love the lady, or because you feel obligated to?”

  “Are you accusing me of not loving her?”

  His eyes flashed; his wings fluttered. Something about him, ethereal and soft, made Alastair feel warm. “No, not at all. I can see that Marianne is very dear to you, as a friend. But is she really somebody you wish to be wed to?”

  “Y-Yes,” he said instinctively.

  Stellan raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine yourself kissing her in the years to come? Waking up every morning next to her? Raising children with her? With her?”

  With her?

  And suddenly Alastair was six years old again, playing family with Dillon. “I’m going to marry you when we grow up,” he’d declared. “I’ll put a ring on your finger and we’ll have lots of children!”

  He had not understood why his mother had run to shush him, informing him with a tight smile that he ought to marry a lady instead.

  Then he was fourteen, learning to dance for a festival. His friend had laughed, watching him blunder, and grabbed his hands to place them in the right positions. His skin had tingled, and his heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his performance.

  And then he was nineteen, running to the market to sell the week’s produce when he bowled into somebody — a newcomer to the village, supposedly an Englishman. He’d looked into grass-green eyes and pouting lips and pushed him away with a shout, but his gaze burned into him forevermore.

  “No!” Alastair said aloud, a strange heat pricking at his eyes. “That is not the man I am anymore. This marriage is proof of that.”

  Stellan was quiet for a while, and he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

  His heart sank. “Why are you crying?”

  He breathed out shakily; a delicate white hand moved to wipe the tear away. “I am reminded, once again, how little freedom humans have,” he whispered. “How can you live knowing that you cannot truly be yourself?”

  “I am myself,” Alastair insisted. “I know who I want to be, and it is not —” He could not even say that word — “Not whatever you think I am.”

  Those lovely blue eyes glimmered, as though there were more tears to shed. Stellan blinked hard, approaching a chair and scooping up a scarf that was resting upon it. “Will you be truly happy hiding who you are for the rest of your life?” He unfolded the scarf and draped it over himself, blue tartan over ghostly pale tulle. Alastair realised that it was Marianne’s scarf, which made it a strange sight indeed — here was a beautiful, knowing man who had fluttered his way into his life just this morning dressed in his betrothed’s clothing.

  “Today’s marriage is my duty.” He could not tear his eyes away from Stellan, who was pacing around the room, snuggling into the scarf. “I have known this would happen for many years now.”

  Those beguiling eyes caught him then; triumph shimmered in them. “So it is something you must do, but not something you want to do.”

  “Why do you care?” Alastair questioned brusquely. “It is not as though you are jealous of Marianne, and would marry her instead.”

  Stellan glided towards him once more. His cheeks were slightly more flushed now, making him look more like an actual human being rather than a fleeting spirit. “Because, as the winds blow past the fields you work in, I have watched you. Day in, day out, you live as dictated.” Stellan’s blush deepened more so, and he pursed his lips. “And I came to grow fond of you.” He gently twisted the scarf. “Very fond.

  “How could I bear to see somebody I am fond of so caged in?”

  Suddenly, Alastair’s ears felt rather warm. So that was why Stellan was so against all of this. “So you have that sort of feeling for me. What makes you so sure that I am like you?”

  Stellan neared Alastair, though he dodged playfully when he reached out to try and touch him. “Because,” he said, voice much lighter now, “I saw your face when you first laid eyes on me. I doubt you have ever looked at Marianne that way. At the very least, I have never seen you do so.”

  His breath caught. “Did I really look… lovestruck, or something-or-other?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Now the heat had spread from his ears to his entire face, and Alastair prayed that his cheeks were not as red as his hair. “I don’t think I meant it.” Then Stellan neared, and he leant forward to try and catch him once more, suddenly wondering what his touch felt like. 

  The door creaked open, and from the doorway came, “Alastair?”

  The shock cut through the rest of his battling thoughts, and he ran towards Stellan. “You have to go.”

  He tugged the scarf off himself, glancing at the door. “What is happening?”

  “They cannot see you!” Alastair nudged him to the window. “Go now, please, I will meet you again soon.”

  Dillon burst into the room, seeing Stellan in all his beauty by the window, and froze. 

  Before he could stop him, he rushed out of the room, and Alastair whirled to Stellan. “Please. I don’t know what they will do to you, I don’t want you to get hurt — ”

  “There!”

  He spun to see Dillon back in the room, alongside Marianne and her mother. “I saw him there, with a man in white.”

  “Don’t be silly now.” Marianne sailed to the window. “All I see is my scarf. I think you’re just taking Arthur’s fortunes a bit too seriously.”

  Alastair���s shoulders sagged in relief, realising that Stellan had flown away just in time. “I do hope you do not actually believe that lunatic’s words.”

  Marianne’s mother laughed. “I think he’s just jealous that his best friend got the loveliest girl in the village.”

  “Mother!” She laughed, high and sweet, though it did not warm Alastair’s heart the way he thought it would. “Dillon will find a wife of his own soon, I just know it. There is no need to fight over me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Dillon said gruffly.

  Marianne wrapped her scarf around her neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come on, now. Let Alastair get changed. Go outside and wait for everyone else to show up.”

  Bride-to-be and mother-in-law watched him like a hawk as he changed into his wedding suit, then led him outside where the many wedding guests were assembled. Standing aside was a cluster of bards, bagpipes at the ready. Dillon came up to him, all shock and envy from before gone, and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s your last hour as an unmarried man. We ought to celebrate!”

  The bards began their playing, Marianne pulled him into the crowd and he began to dance.

  It was freeing, for a while, to lose himself in the wild blur of limbs and laughter and simply move without thinking. Alastair had danced this way before, and it would never stop being exciting to him. He laughed, hooking an arm around Marianne’s waist and spinning her ‘round. Little Peter danced in front of him and nearly tripped over his uncle’s shoes.

  They danced, carefree and jolly, and Alastair nearly felt ready for the wedding. But then he saw white again.

  Once more he released her, searching the crowd of people for the one man he knew would stand out. He saw nothing. She took hold of him again, and they continued dancing.

  The next time he slipped away, it was a pair of gossamer wings he saw. Stellan glanced back at him, cheeks pink once more as he sailed elegantly past the partygoers. Unthinking, Alastair reached a hand out, a part of him perhaps hoping to touch his soft hair, but Marianne grabbed his wrist and he was tugged back.

  Throughout the song they played their silent, musical game of cat-and-mouse. Stellan wove in between the dancers, somehow evading notice, while Alastair tried to catch glimpses of him without arousing any more suspicion. Occasionally, when he got bored of spinning and gliding, Stellan flapped his wings a few times to make his jumps higher. His slender arms stretched out in front of him, flowing like a scarf in the wind. In his white clothes, dancing something entirely different, Alastair had never seen someone so graceful.

  When the dancing ended, and Stellan had vanished once more, he was given the ring that would adorn Marianne’s fingers during the ceremony and left alone once more. Alastair ran his fingers over the bronze band, watching it glint in the faint sunlight. Less than an hour later, he would slip this ring on her fourth finger, and she would do the same to him, and that would be it. They would be bound to each other for as long as they lived, and what was left of his nameless, forbidden love would be stamped out for good. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For his desire to finally be suppressed? In that case, the rings would be less like rings and more like shackles.

  Dillon and Marianne’s mother were keeping an eye on him from his spot by the hedges, though they didn’t know he could see them. With his parents no longer with him and her father gone too, her mother was the one who had held fast to the arranged marriage. She wanted security for her daughter, and how better to achieve that than marrying a young, well-off farmer? Alastair clenched his fist around the ring, Stellan’s words were really getting to him.

  A white-clothed figure was lingering behind a tree, peering out at him.

  Speak of the devil.

  Stellan poked his head out, looking so sweet and curious that Alastair nearly laughed. He had woven himself a circlet of white heather, as though fancying himself the one to marry him. He nodded at his hand and tilted his head.

  Oh. Alastair pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and lifted it up. The sylph raised an eyebrow and pointed at his ring finger in question.

  He nodded.

  Quicker than he had ever seen him before, Stellan leapt out from behind his tree towards him, wings spurring him forward so he was nearly a blur. He grabbed the ring, admired it for a moment, then swiftly fled before he could catch him. “Hey!”

  He slipped the ring on his own finger, glanced back at him and smiled teasingly. Hopping lithely onto his garden fence, he perched on top of it for a moment, winked, then tumbled off and made his escape. Alastair could hear someone yelling at him from behind, but did not turn back. Before he could stop himself, he raced after Stellan into the forest beyond.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 9

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,720ish

Summary: You start to question Steve.

I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.

Something at been bother you about Steve, as of late. When you two would spend the night together, it was always at your place. And you were starting to realize that he knew more about you than you did him. (Though he still didn’t know about your parents.) You sat on your bed and watched as Steve got ready for the day. He was brushing his teeth when you finally spoke up.

“Let’s sleep at your place tonight,” you said.

“What?” Steve questioned. His brow furrowed as he faced you, tooth brush still in his mouth.

“I mean, why are we always sleeping at my house? Do you even have one?”

He spit into the sink. “One what?”

“A house. Or an apartment. With a closet and your stuff in it. Your personal stuff. Do you even have on of those.”

“Mmm,” he hummed with a nod, wiping his face. “You hungry?” He gathered his things as he headed towards the door. 

“Steve, do you even—“ 

But he was gone, leaving you on the bed, sighing. After freshening up for the day, you went down to the kitchen. Steve was sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of him, with your roommates scattered around the kitchen.

“You know, I like it here,” Steve told you when he noticed you. “You sad so yourself, you like having your things around, sleeping in your own bed.”

“You’re like a health nut, aren’t you?” Clint questioned Steve as he examined his cereal. “You eat muesli every morning.”

“No,” Steve argued, mouth full, “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Val said. “Well, at least for the last seven days.”

“Oh, come on. I haven’t been here for a whole week… have I?”

“Sadly, you have,” Scott said.

“See?” You pointed to your roommates. “Even they think it’s weird.”

~~~

Eventually, your work day started and you were going through the motions of everything. Steve met up with you as you walked through the halls. And you couldn’t help but continue what you were talking about this morning.

“It’s just that I hardly know anything about you,” you said.

“You know that I just moved here. You know that I like ferry boats.”

“Yes, but where exactly did you move here from? And what about your friends? Or family? Do you have any?”

“I’m a surgeon. I don’t have friends. And I don’t have family anymore either.”

“See, I didn’t know that. And everybody has friends. What do you do on your days off? These are all important questions.”

“Ah, important for who?”

“Me. We’re having sex every night. I think I deserve details.”

“You have more details than most,” he smirked.

“See, this is going somewhere weird. I want facts, and until I get them, my pants are staying on.”

“Or you could just roll with it. Be flexible. See what happens.”

“I’m not flexible.”

Steve laughed. “There is where I disagree.” He winked, before getting paged. He looked down at it. “I've got to go. We'll find these things out.” He slowly started walking away. “That's the fun part. You know? That's the gravy.”

“That is what I'm talking about. I don't want to be your gravy.”

“Gravy?” Tony questioned, walking up from behind. “What about gravy? And why are you two flirting in public?”

“We weren’t flirting. We were—“

“Flirting. Stop lying to me and yourself.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Mhmm. I know lying, and flirting, when I see it. And you, my dear, are doing both.”

“Shut up.”

~~~

An equally fortunate and unfortunate thing, you were assigned to Steve’s service today. You were currently looking at a patient’s scans. The patient was slowly becoming paralyzed, and you were trying to figure out why.

“See, this,” you pointed to the scans. “The guy's films are clear. There's no reason I can see for his creeping paralysis.”

“It's just so surprising,” Steve responded, still studying the scans. “I expected an intrusion into the spinal space or bony spur in the nucleus pulposus.”

“Well, you were wrong. You don't always get what you expect, do you?”

With furrowed brows, he turned to face you. “What is your problem?”

“Give me something to go on. Anything. What are your grandparents' names?”

“I don't have grandparents.”

“Where'd you grow up? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Where'd you spend your summer vacations?”

“Lighten up. It'll be good for your blood pressure.” 

Steve walked out of the room. You followed him, but stopped at the doorway.

“Oh, don’t you tell me to lighten up!” You called after him. “I’ll lighten up when I… feel light.” You huffed and shook your head. “That man.”

~~~

Steve was speaking to your patient, Mr. Wells, and his wife when you went to check on Mr. Wells.

“Any changes, Mr. Wells?” Steve wondered.

“I can’t move my legs at all now,” Mr. Wells replied.

“He said he was moving his legs when he came in,” Mrs. Wells said. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Have you been under any stress lately, Mr. Wells?” You questioned.

“You know what’s making me stressed? Is being in here and not being able to move,” he responded.

“Dr. L/N,” Steve called, waiting you to clarify.

“Emotional trauma can be converted into something physical, right?” You asked.

“Yes, it’s possible.”

“Like hysterical numbness or paralysis. Maybe there is no physiological reason, and he's just having a conversion reaction.”

“You think it's psychosomatic?”

The curtain behind you and Steve flew open, revealing another patient and Val.

“It’s not in your head, man,” the patient said. “I believe you.”

“Mr. Duff, please,” Val said, closing the curtain.

“Who was that?” Steve asked.

“Psych sent him down,” you explained, having heard Val complain earlier. “He has visions.”

“Is that it?” Mr. Wells wondered. “Am I cray?”

“No. No,” Steve quickly said. “I'm gonna order a higher-level MRI. We're gonna figure this out.”

~~~

At lunch time, Peter, Natasha, Scott, Clint, Val, and yourself found a small room to eat in, away from everyone else. Natasha was sitting down at a desk. She lifted up her sandwich, smelling it, before quickly dropping it.

“If that’s turkey, can I have some?” Clint asked.

“It’s soggy,” Natasha responded.

“If it’ll kill you,” Peter commented. “Solve everything.”

“I coulda gotten that intubation,” Clint murmured. “I am good at intubations.”

You took a bite of your food, cringing at the smell. “Why does everything in a hospital smell like a hospital?” You questioned.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Clint,” Scott said. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

“You know, I’m good at a lot of things,” Clint continued.

“You know what, I'm gonna tell you something,” Natasha began, “Hey, Clint. You need to get laid. See that nurse over there.” Natasha pointed to the nurse at the station out the window. “She’s single. She's got brown hair. Go ask her out.”

“In case you forgot, I intubated an esophagus.”

“Dude, you're tweaking,” Peter said. “Maybe you should go see that psychic.”

“Mr. Duff is not a psychic!” Val exclaimed as Peter left the room.

“I am trying to help you,” Natasha told Clint, standing up. “Go buy her a latte and freshen up your gonads, please.” Then she left.

“What’s with her?” Val asked, looking at you for an answer.

You shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

~~~

After lunch, you headed back to check on Mr. Wells. Steve was already in there again, looking extremely concerned. 

“First my legs, then my stomach,” Mr. Wells complained before looking scared. “Doc! Doc, my hands can’t move.”

“Squeeze my fingers,” Steve ordered, placing his fingers in Mr. Wells’ hand. 

“I can’t.”

“Right here.” Steve tried the other hand. “No? Let me know if you feel this.” He poked the patient with a needle. “How about that?” 

“No,” Mr. Wells responded.

Steve tried several different places before giving up. “Alright. I’ll be right back.” He headed to the nurses station, motioning for you to follow him. “Nurse, cancel the second MRI. Call down and prep an OR stat.”

“You’re operating?” You questioned. “On what? If there was something to fix, wouldn't we have seen it?”

“I think the MRI missed a clot somewhere in his upper spine. I'm gonna cut him open. I'm going in.”

“What if you're wrong? Couldn't unnecessary spinal surgery do more damage?”

“If we wait any longer and this expands into his brain stem, we have a paralyzed man who can't breathe. I'm trusting my instincts. Sometimes you've got to take a chance to save a life.”

~~~

The OR was stressful, even before Steve cut Mr. Wells open.

“We've got to save this cord,” Steve stated, grabbing a scalpel. “This guy's built like the Rock of Gibraltar.”

“You want me to start?” You wondered.

“No, I'm gonna to cut here from the base of the neck to the rib cage.” Steve pointed, showing you exactly what he meant. “I want you to hit the bleeders.”

“I still don't think we should be doing this,” you expressed your concerns as Steve cut open. You immediately started going for the bleeders.

“This guy has a spinal hematoma.”

“We don't know that.”

“Which left untreated are almost always fatal.”

“You're cutting blind. Whatever happened to being practical?”

“I need to see more here. Retractor.” A nurse handed Steve a retractor.

“Wow,” you gasped, staring at Mr. Wells’ spine. 

“There’s no ‘wow’ in practical’.” You could practically hear Steve’s smirk.

After everything was clear, you and Steve began looking at the spine closely.

“Third thoracic laminae. Nothing,” you said. “I think I see the dura pulsating here.”

“No, it's not,” Steve responded. “Keep looking.”

“We have been at this for four hours. Maybe he just injured his spinal cord and there's nothing to fix.”

“L/N, when you read your books, make sure you reference them correctly. Progressive paralysis implies a pressure lesion.”

“My books got me here—“ You were interrupted by the monitors beeping.

“Pressure’s up to 180/111,” a nurse informed. “The pulse is in the 40s.”

“What is it?”

“I’m pushing 70 milligrams diazoxide.”

“Okay. Autonomic dysreflexia,” Steve said.

“Damage to the sympathetic nervous system?” You asked.

“BP and the heart rate are unstable.”

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“We’ve got to find the clot.”

“I can see the cord below the dura. Is he gonna stroke out?”

“Focus, L/N. We're gonna find the clot. It's there. Clean up, please.”

“BP's still up,” the nurse reminded. “Heart rate's at 44.”

“Get on those bleeders,” Steve ordered. “Keep looking, Dr. L/N.”

After a few long minutes later, Steve let out a happy sigh.

“What is it?” You asked.

“See for yourself,” he replied, moving his hand. “The second thoracic vertebrae.”

You leaned in, seeing the clot clearly. “Oh, my gosh. I see it. It’s really there.”

“Of course it is. Let's suction and pack this baby, shall we?”

The rest of the surgery was finished quickly and without any more problems. Soon, you and Steve were in the scrub room outside the OR.

“You were right,” you admitted. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“I think so,” Steve responded.

“But you don’t know that.”

“I know we stopped the paralysis from advancing.”

“But, you don't know if the paralysis he already has will be permanent.”

“No.”

“You know, you keep taking everything on faith. How do you know what's real and what's not?”

“You just do. You know some people would call this a relationship. The kind where you exchange keys, leave your toothbrush over.”

“Who? Who would call it that?”

“Me. I would.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then show me something. Give me a reason to believe.”

With a small, teasing smile, Steve left the room.

~~~

Your group of interns had once again found yourselves in the deserted hallway.

“I tried to talk Rogers out of that clot surgery,” you said quietly. “What is wrong with me?”

“So, basically, you tried to kill the guy,” Peter stated.

“Basically, you’re an ass,” Natasha retorted.

“Come on. You know you want it.”

Clint came walking in. “This, uh, is Clint,” he said, pointing to his name tag. “And Clint has a hot date.”

“Oh, that’s great, Clint,” you responded with a smile.

“Yeah.”

“Left pocket of my lab coat, Clint,” Peter said, going to leave. “No glove, no love.” 

Clint grabbed Peter’s arm before he could fully leave. He took a condom from his pocket.

“My psychic had his surgery,” Val stated.

“Yeah?” Clint wondered.

“I wonder what happened with his… gift.”

“Come on,” Natasha scoffed. “We all know he’s crazy.”

“Thought you said you didn’t believe in that stuff,” you added.

"I grew up in a trailer park,” Val explained. “I waited tables, which was supposed to put me through college, but my mother was always calling these psychics all the time. And the bills started piling up, so I had to use my money to pay them. When I turned 18, I left and never went back. But this guy has been saying things to me, things he couldn't possibly know anything about. So I just wonder.”

~~~

“Do you have sensation anywhere else?” You asked Mr. Wells as you examined him.

“Some feeling in my stomach and feet, I guess,” he responded.

“Bladder and bowels?”

“Not so good still.”

“He said the pressure stockings help relieve clots and bed sores?” Mrs. Wells wondered.

“They do,” you agreed.

“I wanted to thank you for everything,” Mr. Wells said. “Believing in me, that I wasn't making it up.”

“Well, I'll come back tomorrow, then.”

“Hey, I wanted to show you something. I wasn't sure it would last but now look.” He barely moved one of his fingers. “I know it's hardly anything, but…”

“No, it’s something,” you smiled. “It's something really big. I’ll make sure Dr. Rogers knows and I’ll see you both in the morning.”

~~~

Steve met you in the lobby and led you to his car. He opened the door for you before hurrying over to the other side, getting in, and starting the car. Driving, you quickly noticed that Steve wasn’t taking you to your house.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“Trust me,” he replied, glancing at you.

You bit your lip and nodded, turning to look out the window as the city flew by. Before you knew it, you guys had crossed into New Jersey and heading into the more suburban area of it. Steve stopped in front of a piece of land with no house on it. The whole piece of empty land had to be at least 20 acres, with groups of trees scattered around it. Helping you out of the car, Steve began leading you towards the trees.

“Are you going to murder me and bury my body here?” You asked.

“No,” Steve chuckled. “Of course not.”

“Where are we?”

“Shh, shh. I’m going to tell you.”

Steve led you around the corner, revealing an airstream trailer with a small porch. It was almost magical, sitting in the midst of all those trees.

“Alright,” Steve breathed out, nervously. 

He let go of your hand and moved to sit on the edge of the porch. You stayed where you were at, taking everything in.

“My mother’s name was Sarah, my dad’s was Joseph,” Steve stated. “They both died before I graduated high school. I don’t have any siblings. I like Neapolitan ice cream and just a plain beer. I like to work out and I’ve recently started fly fishing. I also cheat when I do the crossword puzzle on Sundays. I never dance in public, even at dances. But only cause I don’t know how. My favorite type of music from the early decades of the 1900’s. My favorite color is blue, like from the American flag. And I live in this trailer. All this land is mine. I have no idea what I’m gonna do with it. So… well, that’s it. That’s all you’ve earned for now. The rest you’re just… just gonna have to take on faith.”

Not revealing an emotions, you walked to the trailer, studying it. Steve stood up, carefully watching you. Walking towards the door, you turned back around with a small smile and reached your hand out to him.

“Show me how this faith thing works,” you whispered. “Please.”

next chapter >

Sorry if it’s all over the place. I owed it to you guys to get this out there.

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

General Hux x Female Reader

A/N: Continuation of my fic and I am 👀 in love with this! I want to write about Hux’s speech for reasons so enjoy the build up 😅

Warnings: Hux is annoyed, Ren is annoyed. Poe is in pain, mentions of torture and mind manipulation. Hux geeks out over Starkiller Base. Also follows a bit of TFA.

Word Count: 4842

Read part 4 on AO3 here.

He was in the office early, not being able to sleep had some perks. He stared at his datapad, he’d written out the order for a shuttle to take you back to Arkanis once they’d reached Coruscant, his finger hovered over the confirm button but he just couldn’t seem to do it. He knew how soul crushing being trapped on Arkanis could be, although your upbringing had been completely different to his it didn’t mean you were any less trapped. Men had so much more freedom in the society of Arkanis and he knew exactly what he’d be sending you back to. Why was he bothered? He trailed a finger over his lips, his eyes never leaving the datapad as he sat back in his chair. He couldn’t ignore the feeling that arose in his chest every time he thought of you, the warmth that spread down to his toes when you looked at him. There was no denying Hux was conflicted when it came to you, he had never been in this situation before and he hated how he’d been caught up in the ridiculous romanticised notion that it could work with you here. His little daydream bubble had firmly burst. He knew he wanted you to stay in your quarters but then how was that any different to sending you home to be imprisoned again just in different chains. He leaned back in his chair, his bare hands rubbing his face when the door to his office flew open.

“Sir!”

“What is it Dopheld?”

“We are approaching Coruscant, Sir.” He needed to make this decision and quickly. Ren, with his band of not so merry men were about to rejoin the fleet and Hux knew you had already pulled the man child's attention. He was running out of time and he hated the feeling of losing control. Get it together! You witless worm….

“I assume Ren is ready?”

“He is being rather impatient.” Hux hummed in acknowledgement. It would be useful to have Ren shadowing him on the planet, he could make use of his talents.

“Tell him I need him to meet on the landing pad, only him. I don’t need the cretins.”

“Yes Sir!” Hux stood, he could make the decision about you later. He straightened his tunic and maneuvered his hands into his tight fitting gloves. He carefully ran a hand over his hair before stepping out onto the bridge to oversee the approach to Coruscant. This he could do, this is what he found relaxing.

Of course it all went smoothly and he marched to his shuttle with purposeful strides. He had a meeting to attend to with some of the other Generals from other ships, he hated the socialising but having Ren there meant he might be privy to some information he normally wouldn’t be. He was so caught up in his thoughts, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he steeled himself for what was about to happen he didn’t see you until it was too late. He had to do a double take, you were walking towards his ship flanked by a pair of troopers and followed by Phasma. Hux’s heart rate increased as he noted the dress you were wearing, although similar in colour to the one on Arkanis it was a different style. The material flowed around your legs with each step, your shoes ringing out loudly on the polished floor. You walked with purpose, and a confidence that he could only admire.

“What is the meaning of this?” He questioned, his eyes flicking between you and Phasma.

“I am to accompany you, I know a few of the Generals you are meeting today. No doubt news of our nuptials have spread and my father would want me to make it known, especially in the Core worlds.” His mouth opened to reply but no words came out and you cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Come on Phasma.” You sauntered up the ramp, Phasma dutifully following and Hux had no doubt she was smirking behind that shiny helmet. He nodded before following, not enjoying this flustered feeling he had.

He desperately tried to ignore you, forcing himself to stare straight ahead so hard he could feel the warm blush in his cheeks. Thankfully the ride down to the surface was short and Hux exited first, his heart dropping slightly when he saw Ren waiting for him at the bottom of the ramp.

“Walk with me.” He snapped at the force user, but Kylo had seen you already. His mask looked at you for a moment before complying with Hux’s demand.

“You brought her.” He stated coolly from the mask.

“Not my choice I assure you.”

“She could prove useful.” Hux stopped abruptly, his gaze swinging to look at Kylo and he hoped the fury he felt right now was coming through in his expression.

“Whatever you want with her, it's not going to happen. She is my wife, not some spy or plaything for you to torment.” He started walking again when he heard your heels come up behind him, Kylo following silently along. “You know what to do,” mumurmed Hux just as the doors opened.

You held the smooth glass in your hand listening to General Pryde drone on about some new possible class of ship. He was an old friend of your fathers and it was the only reason you were still talking to him. Your gaze frequently swept the room, always falling on the stiff posture of General Hux. He looked so uncomfortable here and it became more apparent that socialising was not his strongest attribute.

“Please excuse me General,” you murmured with a smile, gently resting a hand on his arm.

“Yes of course,” he replied as you feathered your lashes at him before cutting across the room to Hux. There were a few other women here but none of them seemed interested in talking to you and that suited you fine, though maybe it had something to do with your silver shadow. Only the slight clank of her armour told you she was following you wherever you went. As you approached the small group Kylo’s helmet turned to your direction and you felt that sensation you’d experienced in your quarters. You lifted your chin feeling the tendrils withdraw when he felt the barriers now surrounding your mind. You had taken to the training and surpassed everything that had been asked of you in record time, purely through determination. Whether it was to protect yourself or please Hux you weren’t so sure.

You wanted to touch Hux, to place a hand on his arm but from what you’d managed to get out of Phasma touch was not something the General tolerated. You had accepted the information, realising that the few times you had been alone with your new husband there had been some sort of physical touch between you and it created a warm feeling in your heart. It’s what made you not want to give up on him.

The conversation ground to a halt at your arrival to the group, the men shifting slightly in your presence and you realised you’d interrupted something rather important.

“Forgive me gentlemen, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nonsense! Join us! Maybe you could tell us some gossip about the General here,” a laugh went round the group as one of the other Generals nudged Hux with his elbow. You could see the embarrassment written all over his face and his ears flared with the blush that was creeping across his skin.

“Actually, I came to steal my husband for a moment if that’s alright?” Kylo tilted his head slightly as all the others nodded enthusiastically.

“Not too long mind, we have things to discuss.” You smiled brightly, leading Hux away to a quiet corner. Phasma stayed next to Kylo, the pair of them surveying the room, drawing glances and whispers from many people in the room.

“What do you want?” You tried not to act offended at his tone, you’d noticed when Hux felt uncomfortable he couldn’t control the way he came across. There was no denying you were apprehensive after what had transpired in his quarters with his anger and the threat of you being sent home.

“I thought you could use a moment to gather yourself,” you murmured. If you could get him through this maybe he’d let you stay on the Finalizer, if it meant you staying in your quarters then so be it. You’d take anything over going back to Arkanis and residing in that house alone. He didn’t reply, his eyes still not doing the honour of alighting on you but now wasn’t the time for an argument. “What has got them all in such a state?” You asked. “Such a gathering would only happen if something momentous was happening?”

“It’s about Starkiller.” You frowned. You’d never heard of such a project but then why would you? Hux looked around making sure no one was nearby before leaning slightly towards you. “I’ll explain more when we’re back on the ship. Now if you’ll excuse me…” you watched him walk back to the group, the man hadn’t relaxed at all and you debated spending the rest of the evening at his side. But that meant being near Kylo and you would rather not, the man may have a helmet on but you could feel his gaze on you and it made your skin crawl. You nodded at Phasma and she came over to take vigil at your side.

“Can you tell me anything I need to know?”

“I’m sure the General will fill you in when he’s ready,” she replied in her crisp voice.

“Damn it Phasma. He’s going to send me home if I don’t do something.”

“The request was never confirmed.” You turned to look at her shiny silver helmet, seeing your own expression of surprise reflected back at you. “He has been in his office all morning. He had plenty of time to put in the request for a ship to take you home.” This gave you hope, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze fell on him once more. How you wished you could get him to open up to you, he claimed he had. Telling you things he had never told anyone before but he was still encased in those barriers he surrounded himself with. You’d been told he doesn’t like being touched and yet your mind replayed his hands on your shoulders, his hands on your face as he kissed you. Your General was conflicted when it came to you it seemed. You took a sip of the bubbly drink in your glass, all you needed was time.

Hux was tired, being around so many people for so long, having to talk, not to mention coming face to face with a few who he had no good memories with. Seeing you talking to Pryde had made his blood run cold, the way you batted your eyelashes and touched his arm made Hux want to curl into a ball. He knew what Pryde was capable of, he had scars from that man, physical and mental. He closed his eyes for a moment to take a breath, he concentrated on you, the soft way you looked at him. The fall of your hair, the cut of your dress and how you just seemed to look radiant in whatever you wore. He felt some of the tension leave his shoulders and neck before looking back at his reflection. He hated the stubble that grew across his cheeks and chin, shaving was such a chore but he did appreciate the motions, the precise control he had over the blade as it slid over his skin. He splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a towel and drying his face and chest off. He ignored his reflection as he got dressed in his bedroom, he disliked his body very much. He hated seeing the scars that littered his pale skin, the worst were on his back and sides, long stripes of raised skin, the handiwork of his father and Pryde. They used to get drunk together, taking out their bad moods on him whenever they felt like it, although his father certainly didn’t need the help of alcohol to abuse his son.

Hux fastened up his uniform, finally turning to look in the mirror now he was covered, his hair flopped over his brow and he realised it needed cutting soon. The very idea made his heart race that someone else had to put their hands on him, someone holding a blade. He slicked it back but noticed the front raised slightly and he pursed his lips in displeasure, it was misbehaving already he was going to have it cut in the next couple of days. He did toy with the idea of Phasma doing it but she’d probably slice it all off with the announcement she’d done him a favour. He turned to grab his coat, he really did like this piece of his uniform, it made him stand out from the rest, and marked him as The General of his own organisation. As he exited his quarters his thoughts went to Starkiller, it was coming together and the reports said it would be ready in literally days. He couldn’t wait, this is what he’d been waiting for, the opportunity to do something noteworthy. What he had in mind would change the Galaxy forever and such a task would hopefully grant him the title of Grand Marshal. He would finally be able to exercise control over the Navy and the Army, he was already the youngest General seen in generations, why shouldn’t he set his sights higher. Ambition, determination, the sense of glory, these were the few things his father had bestowed upon him and he had used them fully to his advantage.

“Good Morning General.”

“Lieutenant,” he murmured in greeting as he walked onto the bridge, adjusting his gloves.

“Not much to report aside from Commander Ren has left on a personal mission.” Hux raised an eyebrow still adjusting his gloves to how he liked them.

“Pertaining to…?”

“The map.” Ah. Of course. Ren, letting his personal feelings get in the way yet again. The man really needed to learn to control himself, so hot headed and that is when mistakes were made. Hux clasped his hands behind his back, his ship was hanging in orbit above the planet Jakku and he already hated it. The pale surface hinted at heat and sand all the things Hux disliked. To be perfectly honest he hated being on the surface of any planet, he preferred to view them from above from the safety and cleanliness of his ship.

“Is he down there now?”

“He is. The Commander took Captain Phasma and a division to the surface.” Hux refrained from sighing, of course he’d take Phasma, she never missed the opportunity for a scuffle.

“Let me know when they have retrieved the intel.”

“Yes, General.” He turned, satisfied that everything was running smoothly but he had no doubt Ren would bring some trouble back with him. For now, he had to see you, he hadn’t forgotten he promised to tell you about Starkiller and it gave him a slight thrill to share this with you.

He knocked gently on your door, trying not to remember the previous time he was in here but he couldn’t stop the ghost-like feel of your lips against his and he subconsciously raised the tips of his fingers to trace his mouth. His hand snatched away as the light of your room spilled over him, his heart rate almost seemed to triple at the sight of you. The smile you bestowed upon him was not one he deserved and he couldn’t bring himself to return it as he stepped inside.

“Good Morning General,” you said softly. “Care to join me for breakfast?”

“Just some caf will do.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You asked, pouring him a cup. You gestured to the cream and sugar but he shook his head, preferring it black and bitter.

“I hadn’t forgotten to tell you about Starkiller.” He pulled the coat off his shoulders in one movement, hanging it carefully over the back of a chair. “I realised I had some time while…Ren does what he does.” You went to sit down and automatically his hands were on your chair. He wasn’t sure why but his upbringing always surfaced while he was around you, the pleasant and not so pleasant. He had watched the men around him and how they treated the women, his father had not been a good role model in that regard but his step mother hadn’t exactly been the nicest and he could see why Brendol had treated her the way he did. They had deserved each other.

He sat opposite you, the cup warm in his gloved hands, the rich aroma permeated the air around him as he lifted the cup and took the first sip, he almost sighed with relief at the bitter tones bringing his tongue to life and hitting the back of his throat. One of the few pleasures he allowed himself was a decent cup of caf.

“I’m assuming Starkiller has been a closely guarded secret?” You asked before nibbling on a piece of cooked bread.

“It has, the plans were found buried among the Empire archives under the name Project Celestial Power. The idea was to contain quintessence. A dark matter, very volatile and the Empire never succeeded. They chose to focus their attention on Project Stardust which we knew inevitably led to their downfall.” His eyes rose to find you staring intently at him hanging on his every word. He was used to his Officers paying attention, they had to, it was their job but he never expected someone wanted to hear him speak.

“Stardust, was that the Death Star?” He nodded trying not to be surprised that you knew anything about it, of course you did. You had been brought up among the Imperials as much he had, of course you’d know snippets of information that other people would not be privy to.

“Well we managed it, with the technological advancements over the years we were able to find a way to harness the power quintessence and turn it into phantom energy. It’s a limitless power source and this will provide the First Order with the power it needs to bring all the star systems into line and fall under our rule. It’s nearly ready….” He looked deep into his cup, still shocked that this was finally coming to fruition. He’d been waiting so long, biding his time before bringing the might of the First Order down onto the rebels, criminals and scumbags that made up the New Republic. He was going to make himself even more invaluable to Leader Snoke.

“Where do you get the power from? Surely no power source is limitless?” Hux allowed himself a smirk, that was the beauty of this machine.

“Clues in the name,” he offered smugly. “It drains the power of the very stars themselves, it gathers the energy in stages, directing it straight into the planet's core where we use the natural magnetic field to store the energy as well as a fail safe containment field we have applied to the crust of the planet…”

“It’s a planet? You’ve made a planet into a weapon?” Hux’s gaze met yours across the table, seeing the wonder flowing from your eyes and he felt his pulse feather in his neck as he swallowed.

“We have. Would you like to see it?” He asked softly.

“Yes, yes I would.” He got up, a sense of excitement coursing through him as he headed for the small holotable in your room. He entered his personal access code and began to swipe through the files until he found what he was looking for. He barely noticed you come up beside him, the round blue holo image appeared before you both and he enlarged it with a flex of his fingers. He straightened, his shoulder gently bumping yours as you leaned in to look at the slowly spinning image.

“What’s this?” You asked, pointing at the large round opening on the side of the planet.

“That’s where the energy is released,” he leaned and pointed out the thermal oscillator, explaining how the energy was gathered in stages and then when the containment fields were dropped the phantom energy would be freed. “Lots of calculations have to be done before it can fire, but once it does nothing can stop the energy on its path except something with the mass of a planet.”

“But what if you fire it and something is in the way?” Hux spun the image and tilted it to show you the rocket ports. “We can move it, turn it to whatever angle we want to create the trajectory we need to hit the target.”

“Oh, Armitage….” You whispered, your eyes wide as you regarded the picture before you. In the awe filled silence he suddenly became aware of how close you were, your body was slightly turned to him, the warmth of you already beginning to seep through his uniform. Your scent clouded the air around him and he couldn’t help but breathe you in, although he hated Arkanis he could only describe you as smelling like home. His eyes tracked over your face, studying every little motion, the flicker of your lashes, the way your lips parted slightly, the pull of your brows as you pondered over everything he’d said. He could get thoroughly lost in you and again his mind flew to the kiss, until your gaze magnetised to his. He felt frozen, his feet were glued to the floor and as much as he body screamed at him to look away he couldn’t. “It’s glorious, this could really cement the First Order as the new power in the Galaxy,” you breathed.

“That’s the intention.” He murmured back. He jumped slightly as his commlink sounded loudly and he knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“General, Commander Ren has returned. With a prisoner.”

“I have to go,” he exclaimed, swiping the image down and erasing his code. He grabbed his coat, pausing when you came into his line of vision.

“Here,” you said, offering him a new cup of caf. “I think you’re going to need it.”

“Yes, I believe I am.” He reached, his fingers covering yours momentarily as you passed the cup over, the burn of your skin coming through his gloves more than the heat of the cup and he found himself wanting to stay. You were a calming influence on him, he relaxed with you and he really didn’t want to deal with whatever awfulness Ren had brought aboard his ship.

“I hope I can see you later?” You asked, stepping after him as he moved away. The door opened and he turned to look at you one last time.

“I will try.”

Hux straightened his shoulders as he walked, Ren and Snoke were so desperate for this map, but where Ren wanted to collect it Snoke had made it perfectly clear that destruction of the map was an option. He could see the troopers outside of the interrogation room and Kylo striding down the corridor.

“Who have you brought on board?” Asked Hux curtly over the screams that were coming from behind the closed door.

“A resistance member who was given the piece of the map we are looking for. The old man gave it to him, I know he did but it wasn’t on him.” Hux tensed as Kylo’s hand flexed over his saber.

“Try not to kill him before we’ve had a chance to extract all the information out of him.” Kylo tipped his head to the side.

“By all means General Hux,” he said in mock politeness. “You can go first.” The door opened and Hux stepped into the room leaving the force user outside. He grabbed the datapad and looked at the information on the screen.

“Prisoner 8910542….”

“That’s a mouthful isn’t it?” The man gasped from his position in the chair. Hux refused to acknowledge he’d said anything and continued.

“Known as Poe Dameron, a star fighter squadron commander for the scum of the Galaxy known as the Resistance.” He smirked. “Where is your precious Princess now? You know there is no way they can rescue you from here.” Hux stepped forward, noticing the blood already oozing from wounds on the man's face, his dark curly hair matted and damp from sweating. The way his brown eyes slid to the floor Hux could tell the pilot already knew he would die here. “We could come to an arrangement if you tell us what you did with the map.” Hux eyed him, not expecting a reply but waiting for one anyway. “Alright, XZ 1594…” a droid zoomed to the General’s side. “Continue the interrogation, use all available techniques.” The pilot's eyes widened, his mouth clamping shut as the droid ominously advanced. Hux carried the datapad out of the cell and watched the vital signs of the prisoner in the corridor.

He had no idea how long he had to put up with Ren pacing up and down the corridor like a caged tooka, it just highlighted his lack of control, of discipline and Hux found it highly amusing that a force user of Ren’s calibre lacked discipline. Hux swiped through the information that was being logged from the droid, the question had been asked 300 times already, techniques 2265 and 6304 had already been used. He couldn’t help but admire the man’s resistance to the torture he was enduring. Ren paused before Hux who didn’t even look up.

“Not yet,” he stated calmly, enjoying the huff of annoyance that fell from the mask before he resumed his pacing. Another hour passed and the question had been asked nearly 800 times with no answer, technique 3333 had been implemented and still nothing. Hux remotely commanded the droid to conduct procedure K8-A4. The reaction was instant, the prisoner’s vitals went off the charts, red lights flickered and his heart rate rocketed, the oxygen levels dropped dangerously and Hux gestured for a trooper to go and investigate. Poe was convulsing violently in his bindings, blood smeared across his face mixed with a thick sheen of sweat, the trooper had to act quickly, flipping the pilot's tongue out of his throat and freeing his airway. Hux sighed loudly, disappointed his methods didn’t work and he told the droid to stand down. He checked over the vitals of the passed out prisoner before turning to Ren. “When he wakes, see what you can get out of him.”

“He won’t be asleep for long,” the threat slithered from his mask and Hux refrained from shivering. The door closed firmly behind the Commander and Hux settled in for another wait. He wasn’t going to let Ren do this without supervision.

The prisoners heart rate picked up and Hux was pulled from his relaxed state, the droid was still activated and it was recording the interrogation, Hux could see Ren was crouched before the pilot. Words were exchanged, nothing of consequence until Ren rose.

“Where is the map to Luke Skywalker?” Hux watched with interest as the pilot's face changed from confusion to one of pain. He twisted, fighting an unseen force as Kylo exercised his hidden talents on the mind of the prisoner, a scream so loud tore from his chest and suddenly everything went silent, Hux tapped the screen but the droid had undergone some substantial damage. The door opened and Ren emerged, his fists clenched tightly against his sides.

“It’s in a droid. A BB unit.” Hux nodded at the new information.

“Well then, if it’s on Jakku we’ll soon have it.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Ren said dismissively as he began to stride off to god knows where. Hux bristled but in all honesty he’d rather be in charge of this and succeed where Kylo had failed. He handed the datapad to a trooper and headed to the bridge without a word.

“Lieutenant!”

“Yes, General?” Answered Mitaka.

“Send a squad down to Niima outpost, the droid is used to being around people and it will seek help, tell them to look out for a ball droid, a BB unit. I want this droid found or destroyed.” He demanded before heading to his office.

He dropped into his chair with a sigh, removing his gloves he ran his hands over his face. This is not how he thought this day would go but having a Resistance member on board could prove useful. He just needed the pilot to recover and stabilise before he interrogated him again, this time for the location of their hidden base so he could be rid of the Resistance once and for all.

[fbfh]

light up the dark [V] - leo x reader

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 2.4k

au: none

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: yes teehee

warnings: spoilers for HOO but like what’s new, at least one fuck, mentions of breakfast foods and burger king, one “cranberry fucknut”, brief visit to a historical memorial site, I think that’s it????

summary: you have a very weird dream that leads you to realize you’re actually on some kind of quest! very fun! you, Leo, and Jason follow a lead, find out Chiron’s sending you guys some backup, and realize you’re going to need a very large airbnb

listen to: making mirrors - gotye aka the best dream sequence music

                also we’re the rats. it’s not relevant just living in my brain.

a/n: honest to god it tookme so long to write this i forget what happens in the first half rip

also requests r open uwu

Your dream is unnerving, and not just because you had spent years in a dreamless sleep and forgot what dreaming was like. Okay, partially because of that, but also because of the atmosphere. 

You’re standing in a dark room. It’s pitch black, but you can make out the shape of the room, which is unusual to say the least. It’s long and rectangular, and the ceiling has cylindrical indents, almost as if giant logs were supposed to fit there. The indents go across the short side, with another in front of it, like a rope bridge across a river. Giant curved metallic discs like flat mushrooms are embedded in the ground at regular intervals. 

You get the feeling something’s missing. You stare up at the ceiling trying to get more information, when something hot and glowing presses against the roof. It shines through, casting everything in a strange pink light. You can’t see it, but you know what it is. A translucent sundial that gave off a glowing orange cast.

Sunstone. 

You look back down not wanting to hurt your eyes, and they fall on someone else in the room. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He’s blonde, and looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the blinding light. 

“He has it,” he says, wistfully, almost regretfully. 

"Who?" You question. 

"I can't pronounce his name, no one can."

"How can we get it back if we can't find him?" He smiles, liking how you know what he needs you to do before he even tells you. 

"I can't tell you his name, but he's very old… some may even say archaic…" He looks at you with intention, searching for a spark of understanding. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, and continues, “and not far from here. Which is good, since I need you to get it back for me.” 

“How do we find it?” He tosses you a small, clear container filled with what looks like yellow slime. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“It’s a drop of sunshine,” he explains, “don’t touch it or you’ll burn up. It’ll glow when you get closer to what you’re looking for.” You tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Can-”

Before you can get out the rest of the sentence, you feel like you’re being pulled out of deep water. Your eyes shoot open, and you take in a quick breath through your nose. You open and close your eyes a few times, and push yourself into a sitting position. There’s a weight on your stomach and you trace the hand back to Jason, who had gently nudged you awake moments ago. His mouth is open and there’s a stale smile, like he was about to tell you to rise and shine. Your stare is unwavering, and he retracts his hand. 

“Uh… breakfast is ready,” he says, turning back and heading over to the couch. 

“Kay,” you mutter, still groggy and disoriented. Maybe sleep just isn’t for you. Jason hesitates about half way across the room, noticing the lack of cat-like vengefulness in your tone of voice.

“...You okay?” he asks softly. 

“Fine, just a weird dream,” you roll your shoulders, back sore and stiff, to try and loosen the two stubborn knots just below your shoulder blades. His eyebrows furrow at your words and you continue, “I’m starting to think I should add a little chloroform to my sleepy time tea.” 

“What happened?” he asks, sounding way more serious than you’d expected.

“I dunno, I-” he cut you off, calling for Leo. Jason encourages you to tell them what you’d dreamed about as in depth as possible once Leo comes in from the sitting area, so you don’t have time to gauge how he seems after last night. You feel a little silly trying to describe a surreal dream to them, especially since they seem to be paying such rapt attention. After recalling as many details as you could, they sat in silence for a minute. They share a look, then sigh in unison. Jason pushes up his glasses and squeezes the bride of his nose as Leo lets out a soft ‘fuck’. 

“I’ll go iris message Chiron, Leo, do you want to get some food and offerings to burn?” Jason says. Leo agrees, and Jason’s already in the sitting area, misting water in the air with a squirt bottle. Leo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you get dressed, I already made some coffee,” he says, the spike of hesitance that shot through his stomach at his instigated physical contact dissolving when you nod sleepily. An unusually warm feeling clouds through you, less distant and detached than normal. You realize while digging through your bag that for whatever reason, you didn’t hate the feeling of Leo’s hand on your shoulder. You grab your clothes from your bag, and feel a weight in your jacket. You reach into the pocket, and pull out the “slime” from your dream. It glows briefly, fading as you walk towards the bathroom. Huh, you think, at least now we know what to look for. You’re grateful for the example as you get dressed and freshen up, wondering what the hell happens next. 

Burning the food doesn’t take long. Leo throws the extra breakfast they’d ordered onto the metal table on the patio, except for a piece of toast he held in his hands. He summons fire until the toast is engulfed in flames, and drops it with the rest. He fans the smoke and asks for guidance, protection, typical pre quest stuff. After a minute or two, he pours out a pitcher of water to extinguish the flames, and heads back into the sitting area with Jason. On his way, he watches you through the open bathroom door for a second as you put on your makeup. You sure are different from girls he’d liked in the past. A strong twinge of pain from the previous night makes him flinch. He shoves it away, and takes a seat, greeting Chiron through iris message. Jason had just finished filling him in on the dream and the sundial, and he looks worried.

“I was afraid this might be the case. I'd gotten word that something like this might have happened, but I hoped it was just hearsay… I'm sorry boys, but you're most definitely on a mission from the gods. The story behind that sundial is long and complicated; in summary, if Apollo does not have his sundial by june, summer cannot happen."

"Wh- like, time will stop?" Leo says. 

"Will it just skip to autumn?" Jason adds. 

"What about Persephone?"

"Can Demeter do anything?" 

Chiron holds up his hands to quiet them. 

"I wish I could say, but no one really knows what will happen, only that we do not wish to find out."

"So, what do we do?" Jason asks. 

"Who can I send?" Chiron says to himself, "Dear gods, this is… unfortunate."

"Chiron," Jason says again, getting his attention. 

"Right, I'm sorry my boy, this whole situation is… preoccupying." Jason agrees, and asks what they should do next. 

"Get as much information as you can from what Apollo has told you. I'll gather some people to send over at once, they'll be on their way shortly. This is most distressing…" he trails off, lost in thought again, and the iris message cuts out. Jason's stomach is in knots. 

After freshening up, you get dressed, having chosen your clothes deliberately before. If shit’s about to hit the fan, which it looks like it is, you’re going to need a strong balance of comfortable and kick ass. Plus, it’s still the cold part of spring, and New England weather is no joke. 

You assess yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your choice; half black half gray cargo pants with chain belts, a long sleeved fishnet top with a black crop top over it, and one of your favorite pairs of platform boots. You topped it off with a layered choker studded with black jewels and delicate chains, asymmetrical earrings - one attached to an ear cuff, the other dangling - and a ring that looks like a snake wrapped around your finger. Last but not least, a dark olive green bomber jacket with ‘god save the queen’ written on the back in paint. 

Your mind wanders as you lean closer to the mirror, laser focused on perfecting your eyeliner. The memory of Leo’s hand on your shoulder creeps back up, and your brow furrows at the panicked flush to your cheeks, wondering why you didn’t push him off. 

‘Some cranberry fucknut broke his heart last night, I didn’t want him to feel worse’, you think deliberately, refusing room for any objections or alternative solutions your brain keeps offering up. You finish your makeup relatively quickly, pleased at how much better it looks when you don’t sleep in it for years. Your hair is… hanging in there, but you can’t drop everything and redye it now. At least you know what color you want next - a nice, coral tinted red. You’ll have to keep an eye out the next time you go shopping. 

Finally, you’re ready. You put away your makeup and pajamas, and make your way over to the boys. You grab some coffee and pick at a muffin, the strategy session beginning. 

Jason takes a sip of his own coffee, scowling at the slightly burnt taste.

“Where should we start looking? Do we have any decent leads?”

You sip your coffee, your face mirroring Jason’s moments before.

“The guy from my dream-”

“Apollo,” Jason interjects.

“Right,” you continue, “he said whoever has what we’re looking for has a really hard to pronounce name or something. Maybe we can start there.”

After some back and forth, and consulting of travel guides, you find a memorial for some historical figure with a name that definitely would have gotten him bullied. 

“Wasn’t that guy a demigod?” Leo asks, and Jason confirms. You’re already checking the maps scattered around for a route.

“It looks like it’s pretty much just further west from where we are, we can probably get there pretty easily,” you remark. Jason and Leo look at you, then each other. No one has any better ideas, and at least it’s some kind of lead. 

~

Four and a half hours later, you sat in the car in stumped silence. It took almost three hours to get up to the memorial site, an hour to look around and realize there is absolutely nothing there that can help you at all, ten minutes to debate what to do next, and twenty minutes to get burger king, since no one had eaten since breakfast. 

“Well, that sucked.” 

Leo and Jason give you a look, knowing you’re right.

“Yeah, it did.” Jason agrees matter of factly, earning a small chuckle from you and Leo. 

“So what do we do now?” Leo asks. 

“Well, no one’s around, we could probably iris message Chiron-” before he could finish his sentence, a shimmery image of a tan girl with choppy dark hair appears in front of him. 

Jason and the girl - Piper, apparently - greet each other enthusiastically, then Leo follows suit. It looks like she’s in a cab, holding something at arm's length. You make it out to be a phone, probably to trick her cab driver into thinking she’s on a facetime call or something. Two other people lean over, one blonde and smiling, the other dark haired and irritable, and more greetings are exchanged. You lean slightly to the side so you’ll be out of site and hopefully won’t have to make any introductions. Leo seems to catch onto this, and when Piper’s eyes land on the edge of your shoulder.

“So did Chiron send anyone else?” he asks before she can say anything. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “Frank and Hazel are coming from camp Jupiter; Frank’s flying, and Hazel’s getting a ride from Arion,” Leo and Jason nod in understanding, picking up instantly on her deliberate word choice. Christ, you’re going to have to get a bigger place than that hotel room.  

“Uh… Percy and Annabeth just started spring break, so they’ll be coming soon. Hazel should get there first, for…” she glances at the cab driver, “obvious reasons, and me, Nico, and Will are on our way now, we should be there in a few hours.” 

Your skin is already feeling prickly from the idea of being around that many people. They talk for a few more minutes, and Jason says he’ll tell them the specific address as soon as possible before ending the call.

Thankfully, you all had repacked the car with your bags from the hotel room before you left, just in case you needed anything, so there’s no need to make the two and a half hour trip back to the hotel. You sigh and turn to the boys.

“Why don’t we go get some groceries and stuff, and I can get us an air bnb.” 

They agree, pleasantly surprised and grateful for the normalcy of something like grocery shopping,  and you ask how many people there are going to be.

“Uh, should be te-”

“Eleven.” Leo says firmly. Jason looks like he’s going to say something, but he bites back whatever it is. Leo’s hands normally dance around like swirling snow, light and natural with subtle patterns if you can figure them out. But right now, his normal subconscious movements seem to be heavier, more intentional. His relaxed expression is set in stone, a silent plea to move on, act like everything’s normal, and you know he’s covering up the depth of the wound that girl left on his heart. A twinge of concern flares in your gut, and you blink, looking away. 

“Okay,” you say, pulling out a pen and notepad from your bag to write out a grocery list, “Let’s go. What do we need?”

Jason pulls out of the parking lot, and begins to head to the nearest box store. Your eyes dart over to Leo involuntarily a few times, and by the time you’re almost there, he seems to be almost back to himself. Subconsciously relieved, your mind starts to wander back to the list, skimming it one more time to make sure you don’t forget anything. 

Maybe you can pick up some hair dye while you’re here.

[sbtlns]

Advice

Warnings: jealousy (?) slight hannah bashing so sorry to all her fans

A/N: this is set in season 9 when Cas had his army of angels. sorry this is a bit short, my classes start tomorrow so i’ve been prepping for school! also i feel like this isn’t great so, sorry about that lol

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief when he saw your car pull into the lot and he moved to greet you. “Y/N, I cannot thank you enough,” he said as you hopped out of your truck. It had been a long drive out to Cas’ new office and you’d been feeling weary from the road, but seeing your favorite angel brought a smile to your face and a sudden rush of energy from the butterflies in your stomach. “It’s no problem Cas. Besides, I’ve called you way more for less,” you shrugged, pulling him in for a hug. Cas stiffened for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. It had been too damn long since you’d seen him and the feeling of him in your arms set your heart into a frenzy. You quickly pulled away, hoping he didn’t notice your elevated heart rate or the blush slowly creeping up your cheeks. 

“So,” you cleared your throat. “What can I do for ya?” you asked, grabbing your duffel from the truck. Castiel sighed and ran a hand over his face before answering. You couldn’t help but laugh. “That bad, huh?” you asked amused. He gave you a small smile. “It’s been....stressful. I have angels tracking sightings of Metatron, trying to place his next move. Others are gathering information on Gadreel and his whereabouts. I have a few insiders.” Cas continued to fill you in as he led you to the office building. He opened the door for you and you stepped in, immediately stopping in shock. “Cas,” you said breathlessly, a mixture of awe and anxiety suddenly filling you. You could not believe the amount of angels in the building. There must have been over a hundred, each buzzing about with their own purpose, hard at work.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked with furrowed brows, voice thick with concern. It took a moment to get your thoughts together. “I...I didn’t realize there’d be this many angels. I mean, Jesus Cas. It’s like you have an army in here,” you said, looking around the expanse of the building. Castiel chuckled. “Well,” he said, looking around proudly. “They all want the same thing, Metatron imprisoned. They can be very...eager,” he said hesitantly. Right on cue, an angel walked past the two of you, stopping in front of Castiel and bowing his head. “Commander,” they said. You bit your cheek to stifle a laugh and turned to Cas with an amused look. Cas’ cheeks flushed slightly and he gave a stiff nod to the angel in front of him. You waited until the angel was out of ear shot to tease Castiel. “Commander?” you asked incredulously. He sighed before answering, “They insist on calling me that. I’ve tried to discourage it but, to no avail.” 

Cas took you on a tour of the building, despite your protests. You knew that you were safe with Cas but you couldn’t shake the uneasiness that came with being the only human in the building. You relaxed when you finally got to Cas’ office but were soon put on edge again when there was a sharp knock on the door. Castiel hung his head and sighed before straightening his trenchcoat and opening the door.  “Hannah,” he greeted, looking relieved. A little too relieved, you noted, and you felt a pang of jealousy hit you. “Commander,” she smiled, stepping into the office. Her smile was replaced with a pointed look as she spotted you sitting on the couch. “Hannah this is Y/N, I-” Hannah cut him off, narrowing her eyes at you. “Y/N, the Winchesters’ pet. I am familiar,” she responded coldly, before turning back to Castiel. You felt heat creep up your cheeks, caught off guard by her rude comment. Castiel shot you an apologetic  look and hesitated before responding. “Y..yes well.. I asked Y/N to stay for a few days to help me sort through possible leads,” he said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. 

Hannah briefed him on the next meeting’s agenda, as well as his schedule for the next couple of days, occasionally touching his shoulder and smiling. You tried to distract yourself from the jealousy bubbling up and decided to pull out your phone to check in with Dean. Eventually Hannah was called away to something else, but you didn’t miss the look she and Cas shared before she left the office. Cas seemed to notice your jaw clench subconsciously, and he began profusely apologizing. “Hannah has always been apprehensive around humans it isn’t personal,” he said, attempting to soothe your nerves, but doing the opposite. “It’s fine.” you said sharply, cutting off another apology. You took a deep breath in, ignoring the concerned look on Cas’ face. “Let’s get to work, yeah?” you asked and he nodded, leading you to his desk where he had dozens of papers scattered about. 

The two of you worked for hours, trying to put together previous Metatron sightings with a rationale behind them. At some point, Hannah came by the office again, this time to deliver news of a recent sighting. She made an effort to push you out of the conversation, ignoring your input and physically wedging herself in between you and Cas. He of course didn’t seem to notice this, he was too busy listening intently to what she was saying. As she was showing him a new photo, she brushed her hand against his and the look they shared could’ve killed you right then and there. After what seemed like eternity, Hannah finally left, but not before giving Castiel one more look from under her lashes, saying, “Goodnight, commander,” in a honeyed voice. You could feel your heart twisting, but you refused to dwell on it, knowing it would lead to tears if you thought about it too hard, so you picked up the files she had brought Castiel and started looking through them. 

After a few moments, Castiel sat back in his chair and sighed. “Y/N, I need some advice...regarding Hannah,” he said cautiously. Welp. There goes the last shred of hope you had subconsciously been holding on to. You’ve had feelings for Castiel practically since you met him in the barn that night with Dean and Bobby, but you kept them buried away, telling yourself that Cas couldn’t possibly have feelings for a human, let alone a hunter. You put on a fake smile and turned to him. “Sure Cas, what’s up?” He sighed again and scrubbed a hand over his face before answering. “I...I don’t know how to turn down her advances,” he started. Wait, what? The wheels started turning in your head and a wave of relief instantly washed over you. He continued, “I’m afraid I do not share her..feelings..and it’s becoming unprofessional.” You had to stop yourself from grinning ear to ear with this revelation. 

“Well,” you started, trying not to sound too happy. “I think you just need to have a conversation with her and be totally honest and upfront,” you offered nonchalantly. Cas chewed on that, nodding his head slightly. “Alright,” he said, as if a weight had been lifted off of him. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said with a small smile, turning back to the files. 

After a while, the letters on the page began to blur and you felt yourself falling asleep. You had to fight to keep your head from bobbing, letting out a yawn in the process. Castiel heard the yawn and turned to you with furrowed brows. As if a lightbulb went off in his brain, his eyes suddenly widened and he shot his hand up to look at his watch. “Y/N,” he said softly, voice leadened with guilt. He looked up at you with apologetic eyes. “It’s three in the morning, you should’ve gone to sleep hours ago. I’m so sorry to have kept you up with all of this,” he apologized, gathering the papers into a neat stack. You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Nothin’ new, Cas. Staying up late researching with Sam in the bunker is my favorite pass time,” you joked. He seemed to lighten up at this, smiling softly. 

“You still need sleep, we will stop here for the night,” he said, tapping the papers on his desk. He searched the room quickly, guilt returning to his eyes. “I..I only have the couch. I’m sorry. No one else here requires sleep,” he said apologetically. You snorted, gaining a confused look from your angel. “Cas,” you laughed, “I’d pick a couch over a motel bed any day of the week.” He smiled at this, but still carried the guilty look in his eyes. You walked over to the couch, stretching out before laying down and getting comfortable. Castiel watched you for a moment before standing suddenly from his desk. You cocked an eyebrow at him as he crossed the room to where you laid. As he got closer, he shrugged out of his trenchcoat, laying it overtop of you when he reached the couch. “A makeshift blanket,” he explained sheepishly. “ ‘S perfect. Thanks Cas,” you murmured, snuggling the trenchcoat closer to you. Your heart fluttered, feeling his residual warmth and breathing in his scent. It was so...him. 

Castiel returned to his desk, turning off the office lights on the way, and flicking on his small desk lamp. “I’ll watch over you, Y/N. Pleasant dreams,” he said with a soft smile. You squeezed the trenchcoat even closer, letting yourself drift off into a blissful sleep knowing your guardian angel was watching over you.

[damnedparker]

sunburnt

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: none i think! some tension and some fluff

summary: turns out obi-wan is susceptible to sunburns... among other things.

also posted on ao3

this started out as a simple blurb for an established relationship but i decided to spice things up with a bit of yearning. i love flirty obi-wan. let's pretend sunblock exists in star wars (i couldn't find evidence that it doesn't). enjoy.

Tattooine was hot.

That was the main information you had gathered from your short stint to the desolate, sandy planet alongside Obi-Wan. He’d been there before, back when his padawan was just a boy, but this was your first time visiting the planet, and you hoped it’d be the last. Sweltering heat from two suns was not your cup of tea, especially in thick Jedi robes.

Now back on your ship, and thanking the Maker for the coldness of space, you took time to relax, soaking all the events of the day. You had been sent to collect information on a bounty hunter the Council had taken interest in, and unfortunately came back with little that would help in their search. You had done all you could, though, and that was enough to set your mind at ease for now. The exhaustion had begun to set into your bones, and all you really wanted to do was crawl into bed for a good night of sleep. You had seven hours of the trip back to Coruscant, so you supposed you’d only get a few hours for a nap at most.

As you settled into the co-pilot seat for the trip back, your eyes wandered over to your partner’s, which was currently focused on making the jump into hyperspace. Obi-Wan wasn’t fond of flying, no, but he could feel your weariness beginning to creep in and took over the job without mentioning it. Always so thoughtful. You smiled as your gaze traveled over his form, affection radiating from you.

“See something you like?” Your partner commented, throwing a playful smirk your way.

“Perhaps,” you paused, holding back a snicker once you realized how red his skin had become. “Although I must say, I prefer my men medium rare rather than well-done.” Obi-Wan scoffed at your joke, clearly not amused at all, probably because of his burnt state.

“How is it that you’re completely fine?” He tossed you an accusatory glance, crossing his arms, bringing a smile to your lips. A strand of hair fell in front of his face, something which he was far too annoyed to fix immediately, refusing his hands to fall back into their common tick of running through his golden, shaggy locks. Despite it all, he looked so effortlessly handsome in his grumpy state.

“I did offer sunblock, but somebody was too stubborn to take it,” you shrugged. “And you’re quite gingery. Comes with the genes I suppose.” Obi-Wan grumbled under his breath and slid back into his seat, tossing his head away from you. The ship went quiet, the rumble of the engine the only thing breaking the silence until you spoke again.

“Oh, Obi, don’t be like that,” you cooed, rising from your seat to stand by him. You placed a gentle hand against his cheek, some of the tension melting off him at your touch. Your self-control was slipping, and you were slowly falling off that cliff, beginning to drown in all the affections you held deep in your heart for the Jedi. Basking in his returned warmth, you could feel it radiating off of his aura. His Force reaching out to just brush yours. It made you shiver, pulling away. “Some bacta cream should ease the pain, I’ll grab the med kit.”

As you busied yourself, trying to push down all the feelings threatening to swallow you up, you fumbled and dropped the med kit on the floor. You sighed, screwing your eyes shut in a futile attempt to center yourself. Harmless, light-hearted flirting? You could handle it. It was some of your favorite banter with Obi-Wan, the closest you'd get to what you really wanted. However, battling internally with this deep-set attachment to your dear friend was not any easier when he gave off little emotions like just before, only confirming he felt the same as you. So badly you wanted to give in, confess all the little things swimming in your brain that had to do with Obi-Wan, but there was the fear attached to it. The little pocket of fear that held on for dear life to all your fantasies, wondering what if what if what if. Although over your training and knightship you had found several qualms with the strict Jedi code, you had simply pushed it all down, because that’s what Jedi were meant to do. Even if you didn’t like it. That’s the sacrifice you were sworn to make.

It felt like ten years had passed after you packed the med-kit back up, having retrieved the cream and returning to the cockpit. You found that Obi-Wan had set the ship to autopilot for the long trip back, leaning back in the pilot chair, his eyebrows drawn together, surely at the perpetual heat on his face. As you made your way in front of him, he simply spread his legs to make room for you in front of him. It was your turn to have heat settle on your cheeks. One of his eyes popped open, a cheeky smile overtaking his face. You could've passed out.

No words were shared between the two of you, his annoyingly charming grin saying enough. You bit your lip and took his chin between your thumb and forefinger to tilt his face up to yours. He relaxed his features again and allowed your fingers to peruse his skin, gently massaging the cold cream in. The smallest of groans rumbled in his chest, and you involuntary squeezed his chin just a bit tighter in response.

“You are a life-saver, my darling.” He hummed, eyes opening from his relaxed state to watch you. Only a few seconds passed before you finished, his gaze inevitably meeting yours. You could’ve melted right then, and, in fact, it seemed as though your thoughts did, and came pouring out of your mouth.

“You get all freckly in the sun,” your voice was soft. “It’s cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” He tilted his head ever so slightly, chin now escaping your fingers. You didn’t reply, instead focusing very intently on wiping your fingers on the thigh of your pant-leg. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s hand caught yours as it moved to screw on the cap lid. “My lips are feeling a bit dry, sweet one, if you don’t mind.” Words couldn’t make themselves known if you tried, utter putty in your Jedi’s hands as he took your thumb, pressing the smallest of dollops onto it, and bringing it to his lips. You took over, almost as a reflex, gently pressing the cream into his only slightly dry lips, not nearly suffering enough to need treatment. His eyes held your attention ever-so purposefully as he still held your hand, warm within his gentle grip. He pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb, then kissing your knuckles, curling your fingers through the spaces between his. “I should make you blush more often, it’s beautiful on you.”

The tension between the two of you in the few moments of quiet that followed next was palpable, your auras so close to touching that the only possible reaction was to fully envelop each other in that warmth, in each other’s affections. Whatever bravery that was stored away for battles and enemies possessed you suddenly as you leaned forward and captured Obi-Wan’s lips with your own. He made a surprised, but clearly content noise, reciprocating the act almost immediately. His gentle touch travelled from your hand to both of his arms sliding around your waist, pulling you now onto his lap. Your own hands found themselves in his hair, tangled up in the golden locks you adored from only afar for so long.

Neither of you could tell how long it took until you had to come up for air, breathing heavily and looking at each other as you processed what had just occurred. The crinkles around Obi-Wan’s eyes appeared as he smiled, just taking you in and taking in the warmth of finally letting all the bottled-up feelings escape. It was cathartic. Comforting. How could attachment be so forbidden when it felt like this? Trying so hard to constrain your emotions was so stressful, responsible for quite the amount of tension that locked up your shoulders and racked your brain when you were trying to sleep. To be able to let the positive ones flow so freely released you of some of this, gave you some sort of relief and the most clarity you had felt in a while. Obi-Wan had already been your rock, your best friend for years, but this intimacy you had craved for so long felt like it could heal every aching bone in your body. Every aching hole in your heart after seeing years of war.

“What are you thinking about, angel?” The words coming from his mouth were sweet saccharine, swirling deep into your soul and soothing any nerves that may have been left over from moments before.

“You,” you paused reaching up to toy with the ends of his hair. “What this means for us now.”

“This,” he mused, tapping his fingers against your hip. “This means everything to me. And I will risk everything I have just to be able to have a taste of this once again.” He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, lasting just for a second before he chuckled softly against your skin. “If I had known that it took a sunburn for this to happen, I would have flung myself into the nearest sun a long time ago."