#“You don't miss the way his eyes flit to one of your scars–you know it was left behind during surgery–but it can't be more than coincidence

[sidesteppostinghours]

I raise you to: Chen knows where they came from and could have stopped it but made a mistake resulting in said scars

hey what if i start shaking you Right Now

[druidwolf21]

Leman russ x f reader

Return

Ugh I had to, I love him so much

I need this man carnally

Everyone Please lemme know your thoughts!!

Warning for LEWD NSFW

I tried to include some (what Google says) Norse words but they could be wrong please don't yell!

Drottning-queen

Feilan-little wolf

Ástin min-my love

@moodymisty @beckyninja @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @lemon-russ

I'm tagging you guys because I love you from afar and need your opinion 🥺

You carried yourself high, head raised and back straight as you walked along the halls of the Hrafnkel. The iron walls of the battleship were sporadically peppered with tapestries of great battles, wolves and glory, but they were of little interest to you as you strode onward, your hand gently gripping the dense fur of the fenrisian wolf who prowled beside you.

Astartes nodded to you as you walked, some muttering "Feilan" as you passed.

You shook your head slightly and slowed. "little wolf" you muttered to yourself "A fitting name I suppose, don't you agree, Frenki?"

You looked to the large wolf and cocked your head. It's large amber eyes stared back at you as you as you scratched its shoulder before setting off again.

No time to dawdle

"let us go to our Lord then, shall we?" You smile picking up the pace as you draw closer to the ebony doors. You reach out a hand to grasp the silvered handle when the wood swings open and you are faced with the fur and steel armour of a marine.

"Dróttning" he greeted, slamming a ceremite fist to his chest in greeting, the noise ringing down the hall.

"chapter master Grimnar, it does me well to see you" you smiled in return at the man towering over you "I assume your business with my lord is concluded? I have urgent matters to discuss"

The grizzled warrior raised a brow before speaking "indeed my lady, I now have other duties to attend" He dippes his chin and passed by, roughly scratching Frenki's head as he did so. "I shall advise our brothers Lord Russ will be indisposed until further notice"

"my thanks, chapter master" you flitted through the gap in the door and closed it softly behind you.

Frenki lapped a long wet tongue against your arm before bolting past you to leap at his brother, rolling in the pile of furs as he rejoice at the reunion.

Your eye however, was drawn somewhere much different.

You watched as leman slugged off his heavy furs and dropped his leather tunic to the floor, the muscles under his skin working as he stretched, running a callused hand through his hair, stood only in his woolen trousers, he knelt to remove a boot.

Walking over you ran a hand over his back, following the line of his muscle and scars up his back until your hand found his hair.

You gently began untwisting one of the braids in his hair as your lips met his ear.

"my wolf" you whispered, gently biting at his lobe.

You gasp as you are suddenly lifted into the air, feet dangling as lips meet yours, arms wrapped around your waist holding you close. You feel a tongue run across your lips, tasting you. You moan into the touch and pull away, panting slightly as eyes the colour of ice stare into you before dropping you onto a bed of soft sheets and furs.

"I have missed you, my lord" you sigh, pulling gently at his hair. Leman grins at you, large canines bared as he looks down at you. Heat rises up your neck and into your cheeks, feeling like a hare caught by the wolf, you sigh again as he presses his face into your neck, biting and sucking at your skin.

A hand snakes it's way up your dress, following the soft skin of your thigh before stopping at your core and you moan at the contact, pressing yourself into his hand.

"I can tell" he smirks "so wet for me, before I have even touched you" He presses a finger slowly inside you and you moan, arching into him as he slowly moves in and out. "So eager to please, such a good girl"

His other hand find the front of you dress and pulls the fabric down, your skin prickles as the sudden chill, until he brings his mouth down and drags his tongue across a sensitive nipple.

"p.please" you gasp, reaching for him, only to have both of your wrists grasped and pressed down to the mattress above your head

"please what?"

Again with that throne damned smirk

You feel a familiar sensation rising as he continues to finger in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit as your heart beat is like a hammer in your ears and you cry out as pleasure washes over you

"you sing so sweetly when you cum" he sighed, releasing your wrists and stripping his trousers, before leaning over you again

"russ please" you beg, breathless "I need you.."

Your begging is silenced as He bites into your shoulder, easing himself between your wet folds. You gasp, feeling yourself being filled to your limit as he slides inside you.

"such a good girl, your pretty little cunt takes every inch" he growls, fully sheathing himself in you. You moan and arch into him again, hands clawing at his back before falling back to grasp the sheets as he begins pumping into you.

His arms are either side of your head as he gazes down at you, his thighs hitting your ass as he drives himself deep inside you, you turn your head to the side, only for him to grasp your chin and turn you back to him.

"look at me" he panted "I want to see your pretty little face as you cum"

You feel the heat rising in your core again and whimper, trying to keep your head unclouded, but God's, he's so big, and the way he looks at you, the moans as he fuck you...

Leman spits a curse as feels you tighten around him, cumming.

"already?" he grumbled, thrusting into you more erratically " you must've been so lonely if you cum for me so easily" he grunted as he leans closer, lifting your thighs up and grabbing your ass roughly to hit deeper, if that was even possible.

"only for you my wolf" you cry, feeling as though all sense is being fucked from your brain "I am only yours"

Leman snarled and pounded into you harder, fucking you into the mattress, his eyes wild and he tangled a hand in your hair, pulling your head up so he could run his tongue along your throat.

"mine, all mine, little wolf" he moaned as you felt him cum inside you, his breath erratic and his hips thrust to drive it as deep inside you as he could before he finally stopped, resting in his forearms above your flushed body, his blonde hair tickling your skin as he slowly raised himself off you, pulling himself out of your warmth and you sighed at the suddenly empty feeling, wishing already to be filled again. You sit up and feel a heavy fur being pulled across your shoulders to shield you from any chill.

"I have missed you, my sweet" you smile tiredly, staring up at the Primark as he adjusted the pelt.

"Ástin min" he smiled sweetly, sweeping a hand across your face " would that I never have to leave your side" he winked at you "or your bed"

You rolled your eyes and laughed, before standing and reaching for him

"come my lord, let me finish your braids"

[littlest-w01f]

Home

Cassian x Reader

For @cassianappreciationweek

Cassian week 2024 Masterlist

Day 5: Scars

Summary: Seeing Reader thrown out of her home opens up Cassian's emotional wounds he thought had healed

Cw: None, used a trippy gif for fun ig

Cassian was on his way flying to Windhaven to check if the males were training their females, a part of him knew they weren't but that's why he went, to make them train them.

As he dived down to pull up, his wings spread wide, he caught a figure of a female in the mountains, curiously he landed on a thick tree bark to watch you. You wore a white gown, parts of it were covered in mud, torn in some places, and your wings were ruined, but he noted not fully, your wings could be saved.

Cassian couldn't believe his eyes as he watched you struggle through the dense forest. You looked like you had been running for hours, your clothes were tattered and stained with dirt and sweat. Your wings hung limply at your sides clearly damaged. His heart ached seeing your state, you were too young, he would guess barely a young adult, someone 18.

His eyes grew darker as a protective instinct roared in him, the urge to keep you safe, to give you shelter knawed at him, as if he's seen his own wounds in you. He saw in your eyes the female he wished he had known. Someone abandoned, too young, too voulnarable.

He stepped closer, careful not to startle you. His own wings, still strong and vibrant, flitted slightly behind him. He was tall and muscular, his skin a warm bronze colour under the sunlight filtering through the trees.

"Hello?" He called out softly, hoping to gain your attention without scaring you away. He spoke slowly, trying to keep his voice soothing and calm. "Are you alright? It looks like you've been through quite an ordeal."

His hazel eyes studied you carefully, there was a sign of fear in your gaze when you turned towards him.

You jerked back in surprise when you looked at him, a small whimper escaping your lips. The fear in your eyes was clear, but there was also a hint of relief that someone had found you. You didn't know who this man was or how he'd come across you, but right now, you needed help.

"You're… safe," he assured gently, holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner. "I won't hurt you." He took another step forward, doing his best to appear approachable.

He kept his distance, giving you space while also making sure you didn't try to flee into the dangerous wilderness again. There was something about you that resonated within him, a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Your wings fluttered weakly behind you, and he noticed how you instinctively tried to cover yourself with your arms. Clearly, you were used to being vulnerable and exposed, but Cassian wanted to change that.

"I can fix those wings of yours," He offered, nodding towards your injured wings. "And we can get you cleaned up too. You must have been through hell to end up like this."

"Yes," You managed to choke out between gasps for heavy breathing to keep yourself in check. "I… I was attacked and kicked out by... By this group of males…"

Your wings fluttered weakly as you tried to lift yourself off the ground, but it was clear that they needed serious repair before they would be usable again. "I have nowhere to go," you said, struggling to stand on shaky legs.

Cassian approached you with worry when your legs shookhe would've missed it if he didn't have your complete attention, "Y-you were thrown out?" His eyes held anger in them as he asked, "Why?"

"I…" You fumbled over your words, "I…"

Cassian sighed, feeling stupid for asking, he moved closer, extending one hand toward you reassuringly. "Shhh, you don't have to tell me." he murmured, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. The gesture was meant to comfort but also served another purpose, giving you strength and energy as his Siphons glowed.

You looked at the red Siphons, then back up at him, "You're the General? Cassian?"

"Yes, I am, and you're safe now," He assured you softly. "What's your name, sweets?"

"y/n..." You offer, still marvelling at his Siphons.

"No one is going to harm you while I'm here. Come with me, I'll fly you to Velaris, alright? Rhys will understand your plight and give you a place to stay." Cassian offers

The offer seemed too good to be true and yet there was something about this stranger that made you trust him. With shaky steps, you followed Cassian into the clearing. The wind ruffled his dark hair and he picked you up, holding you close to his chest, ensuring that you were secure against him.

Once ready, Cassian launched himself skyward effortlessly, every flap of his powerful wings propelling them higher and faster until they disappeared into the clouds above.

You hold onto him, arms around his shoulders as you bury your face in his chest.

The feeling of safety and warmth enveloping you as you clung tightly to Cassian. His muscles rippled beneath your fingers with each powerful beat of his wings. The wind whipped around you both, tugging at your disheveled hair and clothing.

Cassian kept glancing back at you occasionally, making sure that you were okay. There was genuine concern etched across his features, his hazel eyes never leaving yours even though they were high above the ground below.

"You're doing great," He encouraged softly over the rush of wind in your ears. "We'll be there soon."

You give a nod as you look back at the mountains that seemed to have gotten smaller with how fast he was flying, you on your own had never flown that fast.

As the sun began its descent, casting an orange glow over the landscape far below, Cassian finally started to descend. He landed gracefully on a hilltop overlooking the city of Velaris, a beautiful sight bathed in twilight hues.

"We're here," He announced, setting you back on your feet. "Welcome to Velaris, y/n." He smiled warmly at you before taking your hand in his own, leading the way down into the heart of the city, outside the townhouse.

"This place..." You trailed off as you looked up from his chest, causing him to laugh.

"Yeah, I know," Cassian smiled, pulling you in, "Come now, let's introduce you to the High Lord and get you healed and settled." He knew Rhysand would let you stay, because something about you, reminded him of how his mother had been in your shoes, abandoned by her people and left to fend for herself. He'd never let another female live like that for even a second

You subconsciously lean into him, clearly nervous about meeting the High Lord face to face, "O-ok..."

Cassian paused, making you stop too, "Hey, look at me," He tilted your chin up, making you look at him, "I swear to you, I would never do anything to harm you, or take you somewhere you felt unsafe."

His words were comforting, but the anxiety was evident on your face. Cassian leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss across your forehead. The touch was fleeting yet filled with promise.

"Trust me," he urged softly. "Everything will be fine. I swear it." on my mother. He thought to himself, holding onto you hands.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 3: Roses and Gold

"Minthe? What are you doing here?" You repeat as you take a seat at your breakfast bar.

"I came to see you, silly!" She sing-songs as she flits about your kitchen.

"What's wrong? What bad news have you brought me?" You huff, hoping to get straight to the point. "Why do you assume it's bad news? Can't I just come to check on you. It's been a while since you've been home and Hecate, and I are worried about you. Now, where do you keep your wine glasses?" She pivots.

It's always bad news

"Second cabinet to the left from the stove." You instruct her. She claps her hands before bringing down two of them and pouring both of you a glass. "I know that mortal stuff doesn't do it for you, so I brought a bottle of Dinoysus' special blend." Minthe chirps as she sets the glass down in front of you.

You thank her and take a long drink of the maroon liquid.

"So, spill, I want to hear all about this Rooster you're crushing on." She presses you.

You almost choke on your wine when she says his name. "Bradley is a coworker of mine. A colleague. A friend." You tell her.

"A friend—huh. So, I guess you were just being friendly when you saved him today." Minthe chuckles. You glare at her.

Just a friend

"Come on, Hay. I'm your best friend, you can tell me." Minthe takes a seat beside you and hits you with her pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, maybe I have a few feelings for him." You relent.

"Yes! I knew it!" She whoops.

"It's just—" you trial off. "It's just what? Hades you, more than anyone deserves to be happy, especially after what Persephone did to you." Minths grumbles.

"Minthe, I know you never liked her, but I'm the one who hurt here. You saw the burn marks yourself." You remind her.

"Yes, but I don't think Little Miss Spring is as innocent as she claims. She did something, I just know it." Minthe huffs out.

Minthe was nothing if not loyal. She'd been wary of Persephone since the first day she'd met her. Never fully trusting her. And after what happened between the two of you, Minthe was one of the few still in your corner. She and Hecate had been your support group, and they were currently watching over the Underworld in your absence.

"Minthe, do you really think Persephone had me burn her on purpose? Do you think she chose to be scarred for life? " You counter.

"I don't know. All I do know is you were so in love with her, and you had never lost control of your powers like that before, and you would never hurt someone you love." Minthe finishes before downing the rest of her drink.

"But, that's in the past. Tell me about Bradley." Minthe shifts the topic.

"He's kind, smart, and funny. He's genuinely a good person. He reminds me a lot of Persephone, in the best way. But at the same time, he's different. He doesn't shy away from the pain he's felt in life, he over comes it. He doesn't let his scars, mental or physical ones keep him from being his true self. Bradley is just—he's different." You sigh. It's been so long since you've let yourself feel like this.

"I think he sounds wonderful. Maybe he is your soulmate." Minthe takes your hands and squeezes them. The smile drops from your face and you pull away from her.

Soulmate, ugh, you hated that word

"Minth, he's not my soulmate." You tell her. "You know I don't even believe in those. Not after Seph." You sigh.

"Persephone isn't your soulmate. She wouldn't have said those things about you if she was." Minthe defends.

"Even if she wasn't, I've been wandering Earth for three thousand years. If I had a soulmate, surely I would have met them before now. 'Soulmate' is a stupid word made up by the Gods and mortals to give them hope that there is someone for everyone, when their really isn't." You almost shout at her. You sigh and take another drink. The wine warms you from within and calms you.

Good job, Hades, push away one of the only friends you have left

"Sorry. I just—" you shake your head.

"It's fine. You have strong feelings about it. You're allowed to have them." Minthe reassurances you.

There is a long pause. "Hades, I know you think that you don't deserve to be happy or have someone in your life who cares about you, but you do. If you like Bradley, you should pursue him." Minthe tells you.

"How would I even begin to explain to him what I am?" You ask her. "I don't know. But I'm sure you'd figure it out." Minthe offers.

"He's just so good. Too good for me. I'd never be able to live with myself if I hurt him. I mean, what if he saw my true form and it terrified him. I don't think I could live with him calling me a monster or being afraid of me." You sigh.

That would be a fate worse than death

"Hades, you can't let fear hold you back." Minthe takes your face in her hands and kisses your forehead before hugging you. You lean into the hug. It really is good to see her.

"Now for the bad news." Minthe says as she takes a step back.

Of course

"Ah ha! I knew it!" You proclaim as you jump up from your chair. "I knew you were coming with bad news. What is it this time? What's got Zeus' lightening bolts in a twist?" You ask her.

"It's not about Zeus or the other Olympians, Hades. It's about you." Minthe settles into a seat across from you with a serious look on her face. You sit back down. You've never seen her look like this. She almost looks afraid.

"You know how we have assumed that you were still immortal after being cast off of Olympus because you reincarnate every time you die?" Minthe began.

"Yes." You nod your head.

"Well—Hecate and I were visited by the Fates a few days ago, and they took us to the lifeline temple." She continues. "And the Fates showed us your lifelines."

"Lifelines? That's impossible. I only have one. Everyone only has one." You tell her.

"That's what we said. But apparently, when all the Gods were cast off, their lifeline split into thousands of pieces. Each time they died before completing their quest, a line would snap. But they would reincarnate because another line was there. When the Gods completed their worthiness quest, the lines fused back into one unbreakable line." Minthe tells you. The gears start turning in your head.

"And because I haven't completed my quest, I never got the unbreakable line of immortality. I've just been burning through the lifelines." You say.

"Exactly. And for the others, it wasn't an issue, but because you've been on Earth so long, you've used several of them. But that's not the bad news." Minthe cringes and takes a long drink of her wine.

"Well, what's the bad news?" You press her. She hesitates.

"You only have one lifeline left. Hades, if you die again, you become a permanent resident of the Underworld, and not as it's queen. Your death would be the end of the line for you with no chance of reincarnation." Minthe drops the news on you. You suck in a breath as the realization hits you.

You aren't immortal, like you thought. You'd been so careless for so long, and now you only had one life left.

"Okay. I guess I'll have to be careful then, won't I?" You say.

Careful, sure

"Extremely careful. Hades, the next time you're home, I want it to be because you're taking back your rightful place as queen. I know you said you were done trying to complete your quest, but you need to. Please." Minthe begs you.

You promise her that you will. She gives you a smile and hugs you once more before she leaves. After she's gone, the scent of mint still lingers.

"Well, you two, it looks like Mommy is going to have to tone it down." You say as you look at Cerberus and Hydra, who are curled up together on the ridiculous large pet bed you bought for them. Cerby cocks his head to the side, while Hydra holds eye contact with you. You throw your head back and laugh.

"Who are we kidding? We all know that I don't know how to tone it down." You shake your head laughing before going to grab them some food for the evening.

Maybe dying wouldn't be the worst fate

It might be freeing

You get Hydra squared away with her dinner before opening the pantry to get Cerberus his. That's when you see it. "Oh no, Cerby, it looks like you've got just enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. I'll have to head to the store across town to get you a refill tomorrow." You tell him after giving him a head scratch. Even though he didn't have three heads, Cerberus ate like he did. While your fur babies ate dinner, you decided on a quick bite yourself.

After all of you had your bellies full, you showered before tucking into bed. Hydra and Cerberus curled up at the foot of your bed and the three of you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up early for a quick run. Cerberus came with you while Hyrda preferred to stay home. After a quick shower and breakfast for the three of you, you opted to slip on a simple blue sundress and tie your hair in a ponytail. You weren't in the mood to match pants and a shirt today. You slipped your feet into some sandals, grabbed your keys and headed out.

You made a day of your pet food run, stopping to get your nails done and to pick up some groceries. You were missing home a little extra today, so you decided to pick up everything you needed to make moussaka for dinner when you got home.

When you arrived back at the parking garage for your apartment complex, you knew you didn't want to make two trips to bring everything in, so, using all your strength you gathered all of your groceries and pet food and headed to the elevator. Someone had just gotten on, and the doors were about to close when you shouted, "Hold the elevator, please!"

You had a hard time seeing over the giant bag of dog food, but you could just make out a hand holding the doors open. You dashed through the doors and let out a sigh of relief as you leaned the bag against the wall. "Thank you so much." You breathed out.

"No problem, Hades." You froze when you heard his familiar voice. You dropped the dog food and turned around slowly.

"Bradley? What are you doing here?" You asked him. He chuckled and leaned against the wall. You gave him the once over. He was in gym shorts and an old UVA shirt.

"I could as you the same thing." He fires back. "I live here." You tell him matter of factly.

He nods approvingly.

"So I ask you again. Why are you here?" You asked, praying that his answer wasn't along the lines of him visiting his significant other.

"I live here too." He shrugs.

"Wait—what?" You look at him with wide eyes.

"So we've lived in the same apartment complex for almost two months and didn't know?" You're shocked.

"Looks like it. I live in 1113." He tells you. "No shit? I live in 1013. You're my upstairs neighbor." You both laugh.

Oh, good grief

"What are the odds. Hey, do you need some help with that?" He gestures to your things. "If you don't mind, that would be great." You say just as the bell to your floor dings. Bradley picked up the massive bag of food and follows you down the hall.

"So you have a dog." He says as more of a statement than a question. "And a cat." You tell him.

You pause outside your apartment door and unlock it. You're just about to tell Bradley to set the food by the door, but he marches inside right past you.

"Careful!" You warn him, but it's too late, Cerberus is bounding towards Bradley. You're waiting for him to start barking, but instead, you hear the sweet sounds of Bradley talking to him.

"Oh, who's a good boy, you are. Is that your food? No wonder it's such a big bag because you're such a cute, big boy, aren't you!" Bradley scratches Cerby's ears and pats his head.

Never one to be left out, Hydra weaves through his legs and begins to purr. "Oh, aren't you a pretty thing!" Bradley praises her.

Obviously, your animals like him, why wouldn't they?

You drop your keys on the table and chuckle at the sight.

"What are their names?" Bradley asks you as he moves to sit on your couch, and they both join him.

"Cerberus and Hydra." You tell him.

"You're kidding? Your call sign is Hades, and you have a dog and a cat named Cerberus and Hydra?" He laughs.

"Well, if you didn't notice, Cerby, my Rottweiler is a tripod, and Hydra is a six-toed cat. So, they fit." You laugh as you start putting up groceries.

"How long have you had them?" Bradley asks you.

"About three years. I was in South Korea on a detachment. One night, we went into the city and stumbled upon an animal fighting ring. We called the cops and helped get the animals safe and relocated. Cerberus and Hydra wouldn't leave each other, and no one wanted to take both of them, so I did. It cost me a fortune to get them here, but it was worth it," you say.

"Wow, that's amazing." Bradley says. He thinks that he likes you even more now. You shake your head and roll your eyes as you unpack your groceries.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him. "I could always eat." He responds truthfully. "Well, I'm making dinner. Would you like to stay? It's the least I could do after you helped me." You tell him.

"I'd love to." He smiles as he takes a seat at your kitchen island.

You begin to flit around the kitchen, chopping, mixing, and sautéing. Bradley watches you with wrapped attention. You grab a bottle of wine and pour a glass for each of you. Even if you can't get a buzz from it, you enjoy letting the fruity notes dance across your taste buds.

"So what are you making? It smells amazing." Bradley asks you as you're layer the dish into a pan to bake.

"Moussaka." You tell him. "It's Greek comfort food."

"Greek?" He quirks an eyebrow at you. "Yeah, I'm Greek. First-generation American. My whole family is from Greece." You tell him. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. "Kolasi is Greek for inferno." You continue.

"That's amazing. Is that part of the reason why your call sign is Hades?" Bradley asks. "That and I used to have a pretty fiery temper back in day." You reply.

Bradley nods his head and takes a sip of his drink. "So your whole family is from Greece. That's pretty cool. Do your parents live around here, or are they back home? Do you have any family around here, or is it just you?" He continues trying to make conversation. You stand in front of the oven and freeze. He sees your shoulders tense up and knows that this is a touchy subject for you.

Your voice drops. It's barely above a whisper when you say, "I—I don't have any parents, and I don't have any family around here. It's just me."

"Oh." Bradley breathes out. There's a pregnant pause. "I get it. It's just me, too. I lost my dad at three, and my mom when I was nineteen." He tells you. You sigh. Bradley thinks you're an orphan like he is. Maybe that's for the best. Honestly, he isn't totally wrong. You stay with your back to him for a long moment.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to. You're just—an enigma, Hades. I feel like I only know you on a surface level. I want to know more about you. Especially if we are going to be working together." Bradley tells you.

No, you don't

"Well, there isn't much to know about me. I joined the Navy at eighteen, graduated at the top of my class in the academy, and in Top Gun. Thirteen confirmed kills, but I've never been in one squadron for too long." You sigh. "That's about it."

"If I wanted to know your Naval career, I could have read your file. Tell me something deep about you." Rooster prods.

"Deep? Hmm. I have a lot of tattoos. Does that count as deep?" You chuckle.

"I mean, it's not ocean deep, but it isn't as shallow as a puddle." You both laugh at Bradley's comment. "What tattos do you have?" He continues.

"I have the rose and dagger on my arm. Kardiá tis fotiás on my ribs. It means 'heart of fire' in Greek. I have a poppy behind my ear, and then I've got a thigh sleeve of every place I've been stationed." You explain to him. You decided to leave out the details about your last tattoo. You didn't need him asking questions about it.

"Is that deep?" You ask him as you take your moussaka out of the oven and grab a few plates.

"Yeah, and now I feel like mine is stupid." Bradley snorts. "You have ink?" Now it's your turn to quirk a brow at him.

"Yeah." He slides the sleeve of his UVA shirt up and flexes his bicep to show you the Roman numerals etched into his right arm.

You gingerly reach out and trace the black numbering. "Thirty-two?" You question him.

"My mom was into tarrot cards and fortune telling. Thirty-two is the number for strength. I got it for her after she passed. The last thing she told me before she died was that she loved me and to be strong for her." There's a thick tension between the two of you as his words settle around you. "I don't think that's stupid at all, Bradley. It's sweet." You smile at him as you rub a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks. I've shown you mine. Does that mean I get to see yours now?" And just like that, his somber tone is gone, and his happy personality it back.

"Rooster, are you trying to get me naked?" You joke with him.

"Only if you're offering." You smirks. You shake your head and shove a plate at him before you can do or say something stupid.

He digs in a groans when the food hits his tastebuds.

"This—this is one of the best things I've ever eaten." He tells you appreciatively.

"I'm glad, I think I do a pretty good job with it." You smile at him and revel in his praise as he scarfs down his first plate before sheepishly asking for seconds, which you happily give him. Gods know you cooked more than you could ever eat.

After both of you finish dinner and polish off the rest of the wine, you pack up some leftovers for Bradley. He insisted on helping you with the dishes, so the two of you found yourself side by side working on them. Well, if you were being honest, the two of you were goofing around and playing more than you were cleaning. You were blowing bubbles and splashing each other and giggling like children.

"I hope you know that you're not going to be able to get rid of me now." Bradley tells you. "What do you mean?" You ask him.

"I'm like the neighborhood stray. You've fed me twice. You're stuck with me now." He tells you with a goofy grin. You throw your head back laughing, and Bradley swears it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He loves the way your wide smile curls over your face and how your nose scrunches up and how the tips of your ears turn pink. You look so at ease.

He could get used to seeing you like this. Happy and carefree. It's a stark contrast to the rigid pilot he sees at work.

Soon, the two of you finish up, and you dry the last plate off before handing it to him to put in your cabinet. You turn to toss the dish towel on the counter, but slip on some soapy water the two of you had splashed on the floor and lose your footing. Bradley immediately reaches out for you and grabs your waist to steady you. Your hands attach to his biceps as you regain your balance.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and when your brain catches up with the rest of your body, you realize what an intimate position the two of you are in. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and his plush, pink lips are right there.

It would take hardly any effort on either of your parts to close the distance between the two of you. Your heart is screaming for you to do it, but before you can, Bradley clears his throat and drops his hands.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "I'm fine." You say in a deflated tone.

"Well, it's getting late, I should probably get going. Thanks again for dinner." He says as you walk him to you door.

"No problem. See you at work on Monday." You call as he walks into the hallway.

"See you Monday." He chimes back as you shut the door and lock it. You press your back again the cool wood and sink to the floor. Cerberus and Hydra both walk over and look at you with knowing eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, you two. It's not going to happen." You tell them.

"It's not going to happen." You repeat, this time as a reminder to yourself. You could let yourself be friends with Bradley. You could even let yourself have a crush on him. But you could never let yourself cross that line.

It's better that way

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[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 39: In Which The Daylight Is Fading Pt. 2

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

Jesus fucking Christ.

Alcina was about to become suddenly un-internally screaming.

You. You! What was she going to do with you? Yes, you had figured it out. Yes, you were changing. Yes, you were not just a human. Yes, were rightfully demanding answers and Alcina was on the verge of losing it. How in the goddamn hell was she supposed to juggle all of this?! It was her own fucking fault. Still, through it all her greatest fear and determination was to keep you safe. But you had to listen, you had to understand, you had to blindly trust, and fuck, she knew how hard that was. She was nearly ready to cross the threshold and tell you everything just to get the weight off her shoulders. But it would only burden you more, wouldn't it? One loss to another gain?

And Malka. Who was this Malka. An old Jewish Mystic? Really? Were they still around? She scoffed.

You were right. Yet again. It should be her guiding you through this, not some old woman she didn't even know or trust with you! In her absence and lack of ability or will to address what was happening to you she had inadvertently sent you off to another for answers. 

God - fucking damn it all!

She flitted her way back to the church as fast a she could. Her mind could duke it out with her heart later.

Donna was there now with a slew of vampires. Father Archer had disappeared and Alcina was eternally grateful. Father Sullivan was still present as was the shaking, pale as a ghost deacon from before. Poor child. He should be put out of his misery for the pure act of mercy. Seeing his comrade in such a state would scar him for life.

All eyes turned to her as she came in through the same side door and shut it behind her.

Alcina chiseled her features to a stern, stoic facade and joined the group.

"Excuse us, please," Donna enunciated as Alcina approached, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her through to a neighboring room, out of sight and hearing range, "where have you been?"

Her inquiry wasn't sharp nor rude, but dripping with disbelief and genuine curiosity as to why she'd leave this scene.

"She saw it. I had to go after her."

Donna's eyes went wide at Alcina's admission.

"W-what? Who? Your human?"

"She has a name!" Alcina spat, quickly reclaimed her control and took a deep breath, "Just - I'm sorry... I don't know how or why she was here but she walked into it, and I had to follow her and make sure she was alright."

Donna blinked, "Is she?"

"Of course not. But she is fine for the time being. I'm here now. What have I missed?" she asked placing a hand mindfully on her hip.

There was a confused pause but Donna threw it out the window, "I radioed Karl to order mobilization of our troops outside of the underground. If a mutant is here we have to locate it before it gets any farther in the human world and creates who knows what kind of havoc. We can only contain and minimize so much before it becomes a conspiracy theory on TickedTocked, or whatever the fuck humans use for news now."

Alcina sighed, "what about the boys family?"

"That's something you'll need to discuss with Father Sullivan. He's been pretty quiet since we arrived. You'll need to do some serious damage control here."

"I want updates as soon as anything comes in," she mused, taking off your gloves.

"I figured you would."

Donna held out a small radio comm for Alcina.

She took it with a short smile and nodded, "always on top of it. Go, get back underground. I'll take care of what needs done up here."

~

Malka sat perched on her sofa. Eyes wide, but facial expressions otherwise void of much else.

"I..." you mumbled, "I don't know what to do."

Clearing her throat, Malka nodded very slowly, her vision cast down to the floor now as her lips pursed while she chewed on all of this information.

"I don't know much else, but the feeling in my old gut says Alcina is right; you should be mindful of your safety. You are a novice, though a quick learning and talented one, it seems as though whatever devil has escaped in this world is not to be trifled with, no? Even I, as old and wise as I might be, wouldn't even know where to begin concerning this."

"It's not like I'm going to go out looking for a fight, I just, I just want to be able to help myself, and god forbid Alcina if something goes really wrong."

Malka narrowed her eyes at you, "staying out of sight and out of harms way is the likeliest option right now, ketzeleh. What you described to me, what the foe did to your very powerful Alcina, if that's any indication as to this things power... invisibility would be your best bet for safety. We still don't know the extent of your powers. Perhaps we can try illusion magic, it would be a good additive to aid your mind EMP trick."

"Mind EMP magick?"

She smirked, "yes, that's what I've deemed it. What you did to those boys was clearly a nervous system attack, much like an EMP pulse would do to electronics; it seemed to cause them great pain and shut down their function until they scrambled away from you. So, mind EMP - voila!"

You couldn't help but chuckle a little. You liked that. 

Getting back to present matters, you leaned on your knees and sighed, "ok, so... tell me about this illusions magick. Is it really invisibility?"

Malka grinned, "almost. It's the manipulation of perception; you alter your energy field to match your surroundings in a way that hides you in plain sight. Someone, or something, can be looking directly at you and see you but not comprehend you're standing there. You cease to exist as a singular entity and become one with what is around you. You're there, but cannot be perceived."

"Can you show me?" you asked excitedly.

"Oh heavens, I am not as strong as I used to be and I don't practice my abilities the way I used to so I highly doubt it, but I can try to walk you through it. Go stand in front of the book case."

Doing as instructed, you did so and watched as the little old woman came towards you with her eyes glittering with that mischievous light she held.

She grasped your left arm and made you hold it out in front of you, flattening your palm outwards and stood in front of you.

"Now... close your eyes, find your energy source, and focus on wanting to not be seen. Repeat this silently to yourself: I am my surroundings, I am part of the picture."

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and let yourself feel your body and the energy pulsing through you. After a few moments you instinctively pushed your intention through your arm to your palm and slowly chanted in your mind; I am my surroundings. I am part of the picture. I am my surroundings. I am part of the picture. I... am my surroundings... I am part of the picture.

Like a flickering television screen trying to load the picture from a spotty antenna connection, Malka watched as your body began to blend into the bookcase and a large smile took her lips.

"Yes, good ketzeleh! Keep going!"

You tried to focus harder but it seemed the harder you tried the more your memory kept throwing images of Alcina and the scene from the church to your forefront, the argument, the way she looked at you, the fear you could feel from her, and everything else that transpired just a few hours prior. Before long you dropped your shield and huffed, angry you couldn't keep control.

Malka, and the ever nurturing woman she was, came to grasp your arm and brought you back to the couch.

"Come. It has been a traumatic night for you. Don't be discouraged, you managed to flicker a little which is quite a feat! You're very powerful, but you must learn to hone your control better, that's all."

Leo came and jumped in your lap as you slumped back, feeling quite defeated, and not just by failing at your attempt to vanish. 

Your mind and heart was heavy. You knew things were not right. Anywhere.

-

"Do you really think it wise to disappear at a time like this?" Donna asked sharply.

Alcina did her best not to react, turning her eyes over her shoulder as she was putting a few things away in the shelf behind her desk, "I promised her yesterday I would see her tonight. It will be a short visit."

"It's not safe!"

"I'm aware!" she snapped, "But I intend to keep my promise and we have this place on lock down. Like it or don't, I'm going."

Donna was about to have a fit but knew it would get her nowhere. She bit her bottom lip and felt the tension in her jaw grow tighter, finally accepting the Matriarch's decision and turning to leave. She had too much shit to do.

"Be careful." Was all she offered before she took her leave.

She loved Alcina with all of her heart, but Christ that woman drove her absolutely mad at times!

~

Donna damn near slammed her door shut when she entered the house. 

She headed straight to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of blood-wine and leaned her hip on the counter, tapping her free hand on the granite top as she had a stare-down with the floor.   "You know, maybe I'll take up smoking," she muttered to herself, "take this edge off otherwise I may just snap one of these days. Just maybe."

Taking another large gulp she shook her head and made her way with purpose to her own study to make a call to Karl, but she didn't get far until a very strange chiming came ringing from the bookshelf in the living room.

Donna stepped slowly into the room and listened, her keen sense of hearing drawing her eyes to an ornately carved jade box she'd been given by an admirer long, long ago. 

The shrillness of the sound was relieved when she removed the lid to find an old small black cell phone ringing off the hook.

She was hesitant to answer it. How did this even get in here? She'd never had a cell phone and knew no one who did.

But her instincts shoved their way passed her apprehension and she pressed the worn out green phone icon on the front.

"... Hello?"

"UH-BOUT FUCKING TIME!"

"Angie!" Donna shot, "oh my god where have you been, where are you, are you ok?!"

Her little cretin sister had been missing in action for nearly over a month, and while she knew she was up to something and likely on a hot trail, she hated not knowing where she was or what she was doing. Angie drove her just about as nuts as Alcina did these days.

"I'm fine, I've been in a wall."

"What?"

"I'm in a wall, ok? For like, fuckin' weeks - but that's really really really not what's important right now and I need you to -"

"Jesus, Angie, slow down!"

"No! I ain't got time to slow down - you gotta speed up! Shit is going down and it's going down fast and there's not a lotta time to explain because my battery is hella fuckin' low but they're coming - "

"W-what, who?"

"Shut up and let me finish! FIND ALCINA NOW! Get the military! They're coming! They're coming THROUGH the underground! I'm on my way but -"

Silence.

"A-Angie?" Donna sputtered, "Angie?!"

She pulled the phone away from her ear to see the small screen had disconnected the call. Trying desperately to remember how to operate these fucking things, Donna hit a few buttons and found the call list, highlighting the only one on the screen and redialing.

Barely a ring sounded in the earpiece before an annoying woman's voice told her the voicemail box had not been set up. She hung up quickly and sped through the house to find her comm.

~

Alcina's mind was unnervingly quiet as she made her way up to the church and through it. It was as eerily silent and she heard every single one of her footsteps as if she'd never heard them before. Father Sullivan was at the alter up front, staring up to the stained glass with his rosary wrapped around his hands that were in a praying formation. 

"The boys mother has demanded to speak with you, Lady Dimitrescu."

His voice halted her in her tracks.

Great.

"Was it wise to tell and outsider of our existence, Father?" she countered, eying him thoroughly as he turned and slowly began to walk up the aisle.

"You left me with a very unfortunate circumstance. There's very few lies I could tell to comfort this woman. The truth was my only option."

Alcina's perfectly arched brow matched the frown in her crimson red lips, "sometimes lies are necessary."

Father Sullivan stopped in front of her, gazing up at her intimidating stature as he secured his hands behind his back, "to you, perhaps. When can I tell her you're free?"

She wanted to scoff but did not, instead her other eyebrow joined in similar fashion, "I am quite busy, finding the one responsible for her sons death and all, you know -"

"Please make time for this. You must make this right!"

"And what am I suppose to tell her, Father?! Yes, dear lady, there's an underground legion of vampires that live beneath your feet - so sorry your poor boy got caught up in a problem that escaped from there, please, tell me what I can do to make this better for your pitiful human existence?! You should have lied to her and saved us more mess! Humans outside of the church should know nothing about us!"

"She has sworn an oath to secrecy."

"Ugh, please. Her word means nothing to me, you have nothing to stand on she will keep it."

"As if you all are so much better?"

Alcina's spine tensed and she inched closer to the man below her, her face riddled with her distaste.

"Your insinuation displeases me greatly, Father Sullivan. Awfully bold for you to throw that at me when you and yours have no defense against whatever is running loose aside from the ones your insulting."

He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, "you're here to stop things like this from happening at all, aren't you?"

"The best laid plans of mice and men, Father. We cannot see all ends. I've lost more of my men to this problem than you have any idea about," her voice took a dark turn as she stepped in even closer, "if you think I'm not doing everything I can, you are sorely mistaken. You've had one casualty, to which I'm exercising all in my power to make sure doesn't happen again... I have lost over fifty... mind your accusations."

Father Sullivan nodded curtly and backed away from the towering vampire, swallowing once more and straightening his posture, "forgive me, Lady Dimitrescu. As you must understand this has been heavily shocking for us. I'm struggling with... well, many things. As one leader to another, you know the pressure I'm under."

Considering his words with a softening of her face, Alcina relaxed slightly and took a deep breath, "that I do. And as one leader to another, and while you've never faced the terrors I have, know this; when the true struggles set in with vengeance, making enemies of your true allies is the worst move you can make. And we are your allies, Father. Though you cannot see the work taking place behind the scenes, you must trust us the way you always have."

He nodded slowly, "you're right. I will. We will. Forgive my words."

"I'll let you in on a little secret; if I took true displeasure or offense in what you said, you'd not be here looking me in the face. I do kind of like you, Father, but please stay on my good side," she winked.

The smallest of smiles appeared and he nodded once more, "noted."

Without another word she was gone.

Your lit up apartment was a sight for her weary eyes and Alcina scaled your building with ease, allowed herself in your balcony door after sensing her surroundings thoroughly.

The pending conversation was giving her pause but more than anything she just wanted to see you, hold you in her arms, and keep you close and know you were safe as long as you were there.

But where were you?

Alcina scoured the living room until a flickering caught her eye and within a split second there you appeared, eyes wide and your palm held out in front of you. You looked almost as bewildered as her.

"Draga..." she uttered, feeling her heart lurch in her chest at the sight of you, her worries almost melting away as she stepped towards you.

She had almost expected you to be hesitant at her very presence, but you were no where near that as you nearly bolted for her. 

Alcina met you halfway through the living room and you were within each others arms not quickly enough. You buried your face in her chest and she in your hair, staying in silence and comfort that the two of you were safe and unharmed and together amidst the chaos outside.

Before you knew what was happening Alcina had relocated her arms and scooped you up and brought you to the couch, wrapping you up in her strong encompassing embrace like you'd slip away like liquid.

"I've missed you. I've been really worried about you," you uttered in her neck, keeping your arms secure around her.

"Oh draga," she replied softly, "I'm fine. Are you?"

You simply nodded mutely against her and closed your eyes.

"I don't have long," Alcina admitted solemnly, "but I promised to see you and listen to what you needed to tell me."

Damn her, you couldn't stop your smile.

Finally pulling away you looked at those stunning slate colored eyes and leaned in to kiss those plush red lips, "you're a woman of your word, and I love you for that."

Alcina hummed through a soft smile and kissed you back, "for my girl, I am anything you wish of me."

Oh. Oh wow.

"If you're trying to get back into my good graces you don't have to pull out all the stops, you know," you jested trying to shove your tears back in your eyelids.

She cupped your face with her leather glove clad hand and made you look at her, "I mean it, draga mea. I love you. Now... tell me everything."

Alcina was still chewing and swallowing on everything you had told her, but still the hardest to force down was this Malka woman. Was it just her jealousy, which she would never admit out loud, or was it something worth buying into? You'd never spoke of having many friends, and this was the first she'd heard of this woman, and while she was clearly no threat to you and your affections for her, Alcina didn't like the idea of someone else being so close to you. Silly, perhaps. Petty, perhaps. You were her hearts treasure and she was not taking you for granted. Not again.

"And that is why you materialized out of thin air when I arrived?" she asked stroking her hand mindlessly up and down your thigh.

You were leaned back on the arm of the couch with your legs draped over her lap while you had spilled all of your beans to her, making it easy to stay close and intimate but still able to see all of each other.

"I've been working at it tirelessly, I'm really pretty drained right now, but... yeah. It's nice to know I finally got it."

To say she was doing her best to hide her overwhelm was being nice about it. You really were coming into your own and there was no stopping it. Alcina only wished this wasn't happening at the same time everything else was. More than anything she wanted to be here for you on this journey, be part of it, help you discover and uncover and train and work your magick the way she should be. But this was also so very dangerous. Not just for you, but for her. If Mother Miranda were to ever - 

A ruckus from your bedroom startled you both and before either of you could move from the couch, a tiny brunette appeared from the hallway.

"Donna!" Alcina gasped, unceremoniously dropping your legs from her lap and standing with a jolt.

She was a little out of breath as she straightened her black button down, high-collared shirt while approaching the two of you.

Oh, ok, so this was Donna. What the hell was she doing in your apartment?

You stood next to Alcina quite confused and unsure of your own footing.

"I really don't have time for pleasantries," Donna stated, addressing you with a short nod, "though it is nice to finally put a face with a name," her attention immediately went back to Alcina with haste, "we need to go now, this is not up for debate."

Alcina was almost taken aback. Firstly, for Donna to find her, let alone be here, was concerning all on it's own. Secondly, for her to be in such a state, which was hidden immaculately for the situation, made Alcina's stomach twist. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Goddammit.

You barely had time to register anything before Alcina took your face in her palms once more and looked at you like you would fade away within the second.

"Do not leave this apartment until the sun is up. And do not be outside of this apartment when the sun begins to set, do you understand me?"

Her tone made your face contort into worry, but you nodded, "yes."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Lock your doors and your windows. Do not open the door to anyone outside of daylight hours."

Alcina watched your nod of agreement and pulled you to her once more, holding onto you for as long as she could, "I love you, I love you, and I will return to you as soon as I can."

"I - I love you too - "

You were cut off as she kissed you with haste and with one more blink she and Donna were gone.

You stood there in your silent apartment trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

Things were taking a turn. You could feel it.

It felt awful.

Now all you could think about was Alcina.

~

"I can see why you're so smitten with the woman, she's beautiful."

Alcina could have run into a wall, that comment struck her so out of left field.

"What the entire fuck, Donna," she spat as they hurried through the city streets, "that's the first thing you say to me after showing up like that? What the fuck is going on?!"

"I know, I'm sorry! I'm panicked!"

"Clearly!"

"Angie called me - "

"Wh - from where?"

"I'll get there, I'll get there - just let me explain, we have very little time! She hid a cell phone in our house - it rang - it was her - she told me she's been hiding in a wall for weeks and that they, whoever they are, were moving and moving fast and we didn't have time, that I need to find you and get our military moving, that they were moving through the underground - I radioed Karl and basically everyone is running around like headless chickens trying to make heads or tails of what she told me - I had no choice but to alert everyone in the city and all the council - she must mean the mutants because I cannot fathom what else she could possibly mean!"

Alcina's head was fitfully spinning as they rushed through the church like a blur and to the tunnels to the underground.

And then they heard it.

Rumbling.

[collidescopeeyes]

super specific but any HCs for High Noon Viktor with his anti-villain good doctor tragedy and an f!reader angel seeking to help him escape Morde's clutches? 🫣 if you just wanna be fluffy or smutty that is A-OKAY. cowboy love...

I know you said headcanons but something about the high noon universe just Gets me. Like. Mankind brings down heaven by his own greed and picks over its corpse for profit, the Devil's are all here because Hell is too crowded these days, there's a TRAIN to HELL called the SULFUR RAIL, how insanely metal is that?? AND there's cowboys as well!!

High Noon!Viktor with an Angel!S/O

(Suggestive)

It's always warm in the depths of the engine room, the infernal heat of the Sulfur Rail blistering the very air. Still, it's your only way in without attracting the Mechanical Devil's attention, so you bear with the heat. There's few ways onto the Rail without a ticket–likely, the Mechanical Devil didn't think there was any angel left with the kind of grace left in them to bear the heat of hell itself. This service hatch is designed for Viktor’s automatons, clockwork stuffed with the soul of a sinner to make it tick, but you tuck your wings down and squeeze through. The worker's don't pay you any mind–the dead rarely do, even ones denied their rest such as them.

Viktor's study in the tail end of the engine car, all gilded silver and glamor, as if shining the bars of a cage can make it feel like home. You slide open the door, and he's where he always is–hunched over his desk, careful hands busy forging cogs and springs to hold a human soul. He doesn't look up as you slide the door closed behind you. “I don't appreciate interruptions,” he says tersely. “You may tell Mordekaiser that it will be ready when it is ready, and if he sends another messenger he should also provide a bag for me to send their heads back in.”

You lean over his shoulder. “Sounds like you could use a break.”

He fumbles the clockwork in surprise, eyes wide as he looks at you. “Angel,” he breathes, reaching out to cup your face. You press your cheek into his gloved palm, smiling.

“I missed you,” you say softly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his. His eyes flit over your face as if he's not truly sure you're there, bright eyes and pale lashes, before his eyes narrow.

“You know it's dangerous for you to be here,” he says, swiftly standing, his work forgotten on the desk. He grips your shoulders and if you didn't know him, he might even look ominous with how he looms over you, the intent look in his brass-bright eyes.

“No, it's dangerous for me to get here,” you correct easily. “But since I didn't get blasted out of the sky on the way, I figure I'm in the clear. Nobody ever comes to visit you, I hear, though if that's the attitude you take I ain't surprised.”

For a long moment, you simply lock eyes, your determination to his increasing exasperation. Then he sighs, sits back down, strips his gloves off and offers you his hands, scarred palms up. His skin is silvery with burns from the infernal metal and rough with the callous of machinery work, and the story of his life in the tips of his fingers. “Do as you will, Angel.”

You place your hands in his, wings flaring bright behind you as you gather your grace–thin and fading compared to ages past, but probably the closest thing this world still has to divinity since Heaven fell. At once, the shackles of his deal appear, burning red with infernal iron around his wrists. If it were any other devil, you might be able to find some loophole, some chink in the binding you could exploit–but this is Mordekaiser, and the runes burnt into his manacles are airtight. His very soul is bound to this train, to this work, by the contract he agreed to, for the last piece of a life's work he didn't realize he'd never get to use for anything but the Devil's bidding. No, the only way free for your love is by the might of Heaven–or as much as you can muster from scavenging its bones.

“What did you find this time, my love?” Viktor asks, watching your light sear into the shackles.

“Bars from the gate, bought on auction. Wings from a fallen angel, not-so-willingly given. Grace on tap from the distillery, and feathers from the fall,” you list. The grandest parts of heaven were already spoken for, shipped east to the cities or south to Hell–or warped into the infernal machine you stand upon. The shackles burn bright as the sun, humming with energy that rises in pitch and brightness until–the runes crackle with red light, and the glow fades as your grace subsides, finding no traction in his deal with which to stay. Your shoulders slump–disappointment is a familiar taste in your mouth, but that doesn't make it any less bitter.

Viktor turns his hands upwards to catch yours, clasping your hands. “It’s alright,” he says, voice soft. “I'm alright.”

“I'll get it,” you swear, voice low and full of promise. “I swear. I'll get you out of here.”

He pulls you in, and you go willingly, settling into his lap and letting him wrap you in his arms. “It is enough that I get to spend this time with you,” he murmurs into your hair. You lean back, wings flaring for balance, and reach for the clasps that hold his mask in place. He kisses you as soon as the gilded covering is put aside, and you never much felt at home in Heaven but you think this is what it was supposed to feel like. Like warmth and hope and love, like there isn't anywhere in all of creation you'd rather be. You card your hands through his hair, and he leaves burning kisses down your throat. His hands drift to your thighs, and you yelp as he stands suddenly, your wings flaring for balance as you cling to him. He doesn't go far, depositing you on bed in the corner.

“Vik–” you begin to say, only to pause as he sinks to his knees before you, hands warm on your thighs. Your skirts are rucked up and the picture he makes is a pretty enough one to make you flush, what feels like down to your wingtips.

“I have divinity in my bed, Angel,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses your thigh right above where your stockings end, gazing up at you from under those pretty eyelashes of his. “It's only right I worship, hm?”

[ghoulseason]

terzo has been haunting copia (literally)

Copia knows what it is to overthink. He knows the sound of his own internal monologue mocking him. The little ways it changes to sound like Papa Nihil or Sister Imperator. The shape and nature of its cruelty.

This isn't like that.

This is ringing that echoes in his ears like church bells until it eventually turns into the tenor of his brother in full clarity.

"So, how does it feel? The papacy."

The voice causes Copia to jump and drop the letters he'd been gathering. Terzo is an apparition lounging against the bookcase, a ghastly scar wrapping around his neck.

Copia's eyes dart to the door and then to the window, looking for any other sign that his office had been tampered with. Terzo follows his gaze and raises a manicured eyebrow.

"Afraid she might have done something to mess with you?"

"You-" Copia starts. His mouth is suddenly very dry. How many times had he rehearsed the exact apology he would give his predecessor if he had only gotten the chance?

I'm so sorry, I didn't ask for it to happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.

What comes out is less eloquent, if not insensitive. But it's a well-rehearsed reflex and he's still in shock: "So, how are you doing?"

At least it gets a laugh.

"How am I doing? I'm dead, you ass, I'm doing terribly."

"Oh, right. Er..." Copia nods. The words are still stuck in his throat and suddenly Terzo's ghost is moving towards him. He feels a chill as two hands hold his face.

"Watch your back, Papa." Terzo spits out the title in a stark contrast to the the gentleness of his hands. "Trust no one."

Then he's gone, and Copia is frozen in place.

-

The visits become more regular, most often in those quiet moments between one responsibility and another.

Terzo tells him that he seems more confident. He tells him that his ghouls seem dedicated to him. He tells him that he's accomplished an impressive amount for little Cardinal Copia.

Copia tells Terzo about the tours and the places he's seen. The audiences that still adore the legacy left behind by the previous Papas. How it's been a challenge to fill such large shoes.

It seems unnatural. The two of them never spoke this openly when Terzo was alive. Every conversation had always been professional, going back to their respective roles in the ministry.

One day, Copia tells Terzo that he misses the sound of his singing when he would rehearse with the ghouls in the courtyard. He still can't bring himself to say he's sorry.

-

Sister Imperator calls Copia to her office. She offers him a seat, a toffee, and, "a piece of friendly advice."

Copia stops unwrapping the candy as she says this, which she takes as an invitation to continue.

"The walls of the ministry have ears, C. There are no secrets within it." She leans in. "Everything eventually finds its way to me."

"That must make surprise parties difficult."

She slaps the candy out of his hands. "Don't get smart with me. The next time you think you think about invoking certain dead traitors, I want you to remember how they got there."

Her eyes flit to the toffee on the ground. She sighs. "You didn't need that anyway."

-

It's not that Terzo doesn't try to talk to Copia anymore. It's just that Copia doesn't respond to him.

After a week of being ignored, Terzo appears in his bedroom in the middle of the night. He knocks a stack of prayer books off of the nightstand. "Don't ignore me, asshole."

Copia startles awake. Terzo's lip quivers with the tension of his frown. Silence fills the room as both of them try to compose themselves.

Terzo is the first to speak again, softly. "Why haven't we been talking?"

Copia stares at him, taken aback by the genuine hurt on Terzo's face. "I'm sorry."

And then the floodgate is open, and out pours every apology he's held onto for the last five years.

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - daydreamt ashes 5/?, 9.5k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

Xisuma felt like his head had been used to demolish a brick wall, his temple throbbing in time with the heartbeat in his ears. He peeled open his eyes, only for them to be assaulted by the blinding fluorescent of end rods, quickly closing them again. Nausea bubbled in his stomach as he shifted, his migraine tripling in pain.

"Oh jeez, alright," he groaned. Someone gasped next to him, and the back of a hand laid over his forehead.

"No fever, good, good," they hummed. "'ere, love, drink this." The bitter taste of potions spread across his tongue as X blinked to some form of wakefulness.

"Good to see you up and at 'em, X. Found you in a pretty bad state," she chirped, but the shadows under her eyes gave away her optimistic charade. "I'm sorry about your helmet being gone— it was easier to treat you with it off, and it's all cracked and whatnot from the skulk." Stress plucked his empty potion bottle from his hands. "What were you doing? I hope Cub hasn't been messing around with that stuff on animals again."

"How… where did you find me?" X croaked. Stress signalled for him to stop speaking, and produced a bottle of water. While he was drinking, she answered, "Oh, the shopping district. The Wolves of Wool Street, actually. It was strange, considering it's quite a ways from spawn." Once he had finished the bottle, she took it from his hands and tucked it away with the other one.

"I didn't realise you went out. What were you doing?" Stress inquired.

Xisuma opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. What was he doing? There were no off world events. Maybe it was Cub.

"I don't know. Maybe we should talk to Cub?"

Stress shrugged."Sure, I'll call him in. Rest up for now, yeah?" He nodded, pulling up the blanket. She got up and closed the door behind her, blanketing him in twilight. He rolled onto his side, wincing as a hard shape dug into his hip.

"What—" he muttered, pulling it out of his pocket. A journal, neatly bound with leather and twine. He flipped it open, squinting at it in the dim light. Spiralling handwriting filled the page, and he placed it as Scott's, despite never seeing any of his writing before. And, it was a research journal about Reapers and revenants, powers and abilities, history and lore. A letter fell out halfway through, signed from Scott. At least now, he could confirm that the journal was Scott's. But why would he have it? Where had he been?

☆

Lizzie's cheek stung with the force of Grian's hand. Shock kept her pinned in place as Scar approached Xisuma. X stepped between her and Grian, hands held up between them. As if she needed protecting— she could burn the flesh from Grian's bones with a touch. At least, she used to be able to. This new Grian, this changed Grian, was one she'd never fought before. Lizzie was no stranger to betrayal, but only in the games— she had always been secure in the knowledge that they were friends despite it all.

And, Grian was a blumming Reaper, or something close to it. It had all gone horribly wrong.

"Sleep," Scar had hissed, splaying his palm flat against the back of Xisuma's neck, and skulk bubbled up the back of his suit, searching for skin. Glass fractured, then shattered, forming a semi circle in front of Xisuma, before he proceeded to fall to his knees, and sleep.

"What have you done? Oh my gosh, what are you doing? What's going on?" Lizzie spat, feeling her blood heat beneath her skin. Her fingertips lit with flames, sparks flitting from one to the next.

"Time to go, Revenant," Grian ordered. Scar stood up, lifting Xisuma with him. Lizzie didn't miss how he cradled his head and whispered something over and over. She didn't move.

"Where are you taking me? Where is Joel? What in the bloody blazes are you?" Lizzie asked, holding up her hands to attack.

"You already know what I am. Mortals made our names, and I do not abide by your laws," Grian (the Reaper?) said. Flames swallowed her palms, trailing to her elbows. "You should have known better, than to think a mere Revenant of Destruction could stand a chance." It laughed, moving forward. God, her reaper would be so pissed if it heard that.

Grian's arm moved forward and clasped around her elbow. She bent his arm away in a twist, ducking out underneath. Grian didn't move, or make a sound, yet his arm blistered and bubbled in the shape of her palm. A handprint for a handprint, she thought, bitter and victorious. Her fingers rekindled.

Suddenly, a pair of hands landed on each of her shoulders, trapping some of her hair with it uncomfortably. Scar held her in place as the cold slime of skulk veins spread down her arms. She thrashed, ripping a of chunk of flesh from Scar's wrist with her teeth, but Grian seized her wrists and pinned them to her sides, stopping her from burning the bastard.

The world fell away, and she saw the void and new worlds flickering beneath her as the oxygen was ripped from her lungs and her flames flickered out.

When she awoke, she was on a very hard mattress. Awareness brought her the observation that rather than a bed, she was lying on a thin blanket on top of a flat rock. God, her back was going to hate her for that. She moved to sit up, before two sets of hands pushed her back down.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Scott warned. Lizzie blinked, the torch above her swimming.

"You're fluffier than usual," she giggled, batting at the shadowy ears that sat in his hair. He leaned away from her hand, snorting.

"Yeah, and you're stupider than usual."

"Hey! That's not very nice, man," Skizz chided.

Lizzie squinted at the angel. "When did you get here? Also, where is here?"

"A life series, we think," answered Scott. "I can explain, but I don't know much and it's probably a good idea to save it for when you don't have a massive headache."

The torch's light seems to grow warmer, soaking into her bones. Ever since she had been reaped, warmth hadn't been an issue with the nature of her revenance. Lizzie missed being warm.

"I think… that's a good idea," she said. "I think, it would be so fabulous to sleep. And be warm. Warm and sleep." Skizz chuckled as her sentences slurred together into one and she lay back down. Scott mentioned something about moving her to the base to Skizz, but she paid it no mind. It was irrelevant; she was warm, and let unconsciousness take her.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Steph's Crew - Bonus Snippet

Kind of a continuation of this:

This may give a little extra insight into what exactly has been going on between these two... but I don't think it's ever outright said lol. Oh well. Either way it's a nice lil moment that brings back a lot of fave characters. Enjoy!

_

I startled at my phone's sudden ringing, the sharp sound slicing through the quiet like a knife. Bret's photo appeared on the screen along with his name, his familiar smile a cruel reminder of countless wounds. Just seeing his name was enough to make my blood start to boil again, a surge of anger rushing through me as I felt old scars reopened.

My first instinct was to decline the call. God, why was he calling me now? I could just let it go to voicemail, let his voice echo unanswered into the digital void. After all the bad he's done, it's not like he doesn't deserve it, right? But something made me hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. I don't know what that "something" was exactly… maybe that something has always been there, buried deeply within me for as long as I've known him. Maybe I've always held onto this "something" despite all the times he's let me down or caused pain with his thoughtlessness. Despite everything I've ever been through with him, I still hang on to this... feeling. A feeling that was inextricably tied to him, no matter the hurt he'd caused.

I don't know whether that's even a good thing or not. Frankly, I don't want to care anymore. Even though I know I still do.

Taking a deep breath, I answered him. "Hello?"

"Look to your left."

Confused, I turned, my mouth falling open slightly as I spotted Bret standing across the mall corridor with Rachel and her fiancé, Andy—I think that's his name. The sight of him sent a jolt through me, my chest tightening with a whirlwind of emotions: shock, anger, annoyance, and… that same unsettling feeling, stronger than ever.

Why is he even here?!

"Are you serious right now? Have you been following me around like some creep?" I hissed into the phone, trying to keep my voice steady, probably failing miserably.

"No," he sighed, shaking his head, a familiar smirk quirking his lips. "Relax, El. I'm here with my family. We're shopping for Josie's first communion outfits. It's not all about you, you know."

His words admittedly took some of the wind from my defensive sails, leaving me feeling deflated. I watched as Josie ran up, her pigtails bouncing up and down as she went, and with endless energy befitting a kid her age. Despite myself, I couldn't help but smile. First Holy Communion... that means she's like eight now. She's grown up so much.

"Wow..." I exhaled, memories of my own communion day flitting by like ghosts. It had been a good day. "She's gotten so big."

"I know, right?" Bret's voice softened, and a pensive silence settled between us. "We did that same routine, you remember?"

"Yeah," I couldn't help but chuckle at the recollection. "You made me super mad when you told me I looked like a drunk bride because my veil wouldn't stay on my head."

"So?!" Bret retorted with a laugh. "You whacked my arm several times with a candle!"

"You weren't paying attention!" I laughed too, the sound easing the lingering tensions ever so slightly. "Plus, you deserved it. You were being mean."

Our shared laughter felt like a balm soothing the old wounds, if only for a moment. Bret gestured me over, a hopeful glint in his eye.

"Come shop with us for a bit? Aunt Rach would love it - she's missed you a lot."

Aw. I've missed her, too. And B. Not that I'll ever admit that to him straight up.

I opened my mouth to protest, but at this point, Rachel had already spotted me and was waving exuberantly. Oh well. I've made it this far into a conversation, right? I suppose spending more time with these folks couldn't hurt. And besides, Bret and I have a lot to talk about. And I guess he made a good point - I can't just avoid speaking to him forever. What he did was terrible, but it would be wrong not to hear his side of things.

Suppressing an eye roll, I crossed the expanse to join them, saying, "Fine. I'm coming."

"R-really?" Bret asked. His surprise was palpable, a crack in his usually confident (or apathetic) demeanour. It was rare to see him so unsure like this, and it gave me a weird, fleeting sense of power in this strange situation.

"Yep," I replied, my tone firm despite the uncertainty swirling inside me. "Just this once. Hang on, I'll be right over."

"Wow. I-Thanks, Elise," he stammered, the words catching in his throat.

"Whatever," I said, trying to maintain my guarded stance. I was still mad, after all. I needed to make it clear to him that things weren't magically fixed just like that. "Don't thank me yet."

I ended the call.

[risustravelogue]

the air in the country of eternal lighting felt like it was charged with electricity. the port city of ritou bustled with merchants and tourists alike, busily walking about just like the countless maple leaves drifting about in the air.

amidst the crowd, two people stood against the stone wall of a certain establishment, waiting.

“apologies. i’m the one who asked for your help, and yet—”

“hey, it’s fine. it’s understandable, since that gauntlet of yours has been going without maintenance for more than two months. i wouldn’t let anyone else other than my husband evaluate the tea leaves we stock in the teahouse, either. sometimes it’s not just about the end result, but also the sentiment,” meirin said with a sympathetic tone towards the duke, her eyes momentarily flitting to her own beloved who was negotiating about traveling options with the nearby international trade association president.

hmph. i’ve got nothing against the man, but i wish he had used his actual fontainian name. i nearly flipped out when we asked around about ‘kurisu’ and people said they knew of someone named just that.

… but i suppose i’ll forgive him since he has a cute cat.

“in any case, once you’ve gotten them fixed, given no further updates from us, you’ll go straight to inazuma city to catch up with us, just as planned, yes?”

“yes. let me know if you find anything on your way. meanwhile, i’ll look around ritou to see if there’s any information. if she had taken a boat from here, there should be a record of it. it might give us a new lead.”

“good idea. there are many people who comes and goes through the port, so you should be able to ask around...,” meirin watched the anxious tapping of the man’s foot and the way his finger dug onto the scars on his arms, barely concealed by the black boxing tapes, “… hey. listen. she’ll be fine. try not to worry too much.”

“how can you be so sure?”

“call it a woman’s intuition,” she shrugged, smiling, “you’d be surprised at how accurate it is sometimes. plus, there's no point poisoning your mind with negative what-ifs when we don't know anything at the moment. heck, who knows? maybe she’s happily playing those onikabuto fights with a friend right now, like those children we saw back in the docks...”

wriothesley sighed and allowed a soft chuckle, the taut muscles loosening, “quite a steadfast one, aren’t you?”

“it's the characteristics of those who wields the geo element,” she nodded proudly, patting the vision hanging from her belt, “…. we’ll find her. and in the meantime — you know what they say about those with hydro visions.”

“even the gentlest waters could drown anyone who thought paltry of it.”

@i23kazu - one more ebg entry! :3

323 words.

02. something missing

The morning was cheerful with the sounds of chirping birds in the air.

Breakfast was very good. Which was a given, considering it was Shinobu’s cooking.

And yet, Kurisu’s gaze always turned downwards.

Itto, sensing her melancholy, decided to cheer her up.

“Are you sad because you can’t go home yet, Risu?” he asked. Kurisu nodded.

“I miss home. I miss my parents and my friends… It feels like forever since I’ve seen them,” she said.

“Still worried about getting expelled?” Shinobu asked. Kurisu nodded again.

“Yeah… especially since this is already my second chance at the Akademiya,” she fidgeted. “I used to study medicine in the Amurta Darshan, but I transferred to Kshahrewar because I couldn’t… I couldn’t continue studying it for some reason. I still don’t know what caused it.”

A pause of hesitation broke her voice.

“I… I ran away like a coward.”

Shinobu looked at her in sympathy.

“Hey… running away is a valid tactic, you know,” the green-haired woman smiled. “Sometimes you just need to know when to stop fighting.”

Kurisu offered Shinobu a small smile. “Thanks, Kuki. I needed that, I think.”

All of a sudden, Itto stood up from his chair.

“Aaaah! I’ve had enough of these sad talks!” he exclaimed. Turning to Kurisu, he offered his hand to her. “Let’s go sightseeing instead! It’ll certainly cheer you up!”

Kurisu nodded. Once she stood up, Itto snatched her right hand and whisked her away. Shinobu followed them from a distance, leaving an amused Granny Oni behind.

It must’ve been a sight—a big, boisterous red oni walking side by side with a dark blue-haired girl in the beautiful Inazuman wilderness, rambling all the while, his hand never letting go of hers. The girl felt warmth she had never felt before…

… until her left hand subconsciously moved to her hip, reaching for something that wasn’t there.

She couldn’t help but feel like there’s something important she’s missing.

[glazelilyy]

subtle

request from anon - "ngl that dendro archon x scara post is the reason I like scaramouche now lolol I adore ur writing <3 would it be ok if you wrote how scara would react to the harbingers pointing out his earring? I think it’d be cute seeing him get all defensive (｡･ω･｡) if not that’s totes ok, I hope you’re having a good day today!!"

a/n - aww really?? :D i'm glad i've managed to convince you how sweet our boy is, scaramouche is a bit rough around the edges but he's very very lovable <3 i'd be happy to write this!! it's been on my mind for ages and i'm so glad to finally be able to come around to it >:)

S/O IS THE DENDRO ARCHON VOL 2 (KAEYA, SCARAMOUCHE, AND DAINSLEIF) (would help for context if you've read this before reading this drabble!)

pairing - scaramouche x DENDRO ARCHON!gender neutral reader

word count - 2497

genre - fluff, crack (courtesy of the lovely duo of childe and signora)

format - drabble

warnings - one (1) your mom joke (except it's scaramouche-ified)

summary - upon noticing his new earring, the other harbingers begin to cause a fuss (much to scaramouche's dismay)

a bond, a promise to you spoken with no words. that was what embodied the weighted jewel that hung from his earlobe. it never left his side, even if the metal tugged raw at his earlobe till the skin was red and fleshy. the memory of your kind face illuminated by gentle embers of a crackling fire was imbued within this gem, along with the countless other memories he had crafted of fine, golden dust in your embrace.

his fingers flit up to the dangling crystal in your absence, hoping with bated breath to extract the warmth of your love from the shining jewel. it remained his only source of solace amidst wintery plagues of icy winds.

for a god of love, her palace was little more than an icy, empty reservoir devoid of the warmth he had come to know as love. no flowers bloomed within the tsaritsa's walls, and though he had grown accustomed to the chilling bite of zapolyarny palace, he longed for the gentle, warm touch of the flowers you'd craft from glowing, green hands.

continued under the cut!

it'd only been a day since scaramouche had reluctantly returned to the tsaritsa's land of ice and frost at her demand for a meeting of the harbingers and yet here he was, red in the face and fiddling with the earring on his ear in an attempt to ground himself. how low of him: the mighty balladeer, sixth of the harbingers, reduced to a bumbling loverboy with no sense of composure. it infuriated him to no end: just how much he longed to feel your tender hands within his own and fill in his many scars and gashes with your love.

alas, here he was: leaning against the conference room wall with a faraway look in his eyes, fingers absentmindedly fumbling with the mauve jewel that hung from his earlobe. the broad brim of his hat covered the distant look in his eyes and masked the way his finger gently padded against the earring, trying for just even a moment to feel even the slightest familiar sensation of your warmth. his thoughts had absorbed him, so much so that if not for the friendly clap of a hand on his shoulder, he'd have missed the familiar stupid face that popped into his field of vision from beyond the brim of his hat.

"hey comrade! what're you doing brooding in the corner like that?"

scaramouche scoffed, another nuisance was not what he needed right now.

"get your filthy hands off of me, eleventh." he hissed, removing his hand from the earring to shove childe's hand off his shoulder.

childe merely laughed—fairly acquainted with scaramouche's demeanor—and placed his hands on his hips with a cheeky smile to compliment the look.

"come now, is that really how you greet a fellow harbinger? looks like someone is in need of some tickles!" childe's hands rose, fingers waggling maniacally, a childishly devious glint in his eyes that glowed like plumes of blue fire.

"don't you dare come closer-!" scaramouche barked, head rising and eyes ablaze with a defensive wall of electricity. the earring he'd been fussing with dangled against his ear and moved in tandem with his jagged backpedal away from the snezhnayan native and his ridiculous tickles.

childe's eyes zeroed in on the mauve gem, recognition glimmering across his face for the briefest moment. if possible, scaramouche felt his heart stutter in the cavity of his chest.

"what a lovely earring! though, i didn't take you as a lover of jewelry, scara." childe tucked his threat of tickles into his back pocket, more curious about the unfamiliar earring that hung from scaramouche's ear.

"i'm not." he dismissed with a huff and folded his arms against his chest in a prayer that perhaps childe would simply drop the subject.

but, childe being childe, scaramouche should've known better.

"oooh really? then what's compelled you to dress up today?" childe prodded further and tried to catch a further glimpse of the earring.

scaramouche opened his mouth to retort with a rather annoyed sneer on his face when the click of the mahogany door interrupted his comeback.

"goodness, not even a day back and you two are already quarreling. get your acts together before her majesty makes her appearance." signora sauntered inwards, brushing past the duo with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. a momentary pause had her looking over her shoulder with a taunting smirk on her face, "though, for you lot, that task might just be impossible."

not only did scaramouche have to tackle his annoying yearn for you, but he now found himself face to face with some of his most annoying coworkers.

"i'll go ahead and look past that slight if you'll come here for a moment, signora! come look at what scaramouche is wearing!" scaramouche let out a hefty sigh and turned away from childe's inquisitive eyes.

signora's ears perked up with interest, curiosity gleaming in her visible eye. "wearing, you say? my, he's not the type to dress up."

"that's what i said!"

"...do you mongrels realize that i'm standing right here?! stop speaking as if i'm not!" scaramouche fumed, fists balling at his side while he desperately tried to mask the earring.

he chastised himself for being so careless: of course the other harbingers would notice the new accessory on his ear. they were right: dressing up wasn't like him in the slightest, and yet here he was absentmindedly fiddling with an earring that hadn't been on his ear the last time he'd entered the doors of the tsaritsa's domain. in his lovesick trance, he'd forgot to take care to preserve his image and conceal your existence.

signora had moved as if gliding across ice on boiling skates towards him and grabbed the fine crystal between her forefinger and thumb, examining the gem with careful precision.

"i must say, the cut of this gem is absolutely exquisite. i take it you snatched it off a sumeran noble as a trophy?" she mused, tilting the earring back and forth so its iridescent reflections glittered off the walls of the conference room.

signora had practically dropped an excuse into his lap: the perfect opportunity to conceal you away from existence and hide his one weakness. yet, he couldn't bring himself to lie, not with the familiar and welcome feeling of so many memories that were imbued within the earring itself. to lie upon his most treasured material possession would bring him great shame, and he was no less than a man of ever-gleaming pride. his silence was enough of an answer for signora.

"hmmm, i don't think that's it. let's give him the benefit of the doubt; perhaps he decided he liked earrings while in sumeru?" childe hummed and peered over signora's shoulder just as she let go of the gem from his ear.

"i'd rather die than affirm to that idiotic statement, you lowlife." scaramouche sneered.

though lying through his teeth came easy, when it came to you, his most beloved dendro archon, he could never bear the weight of slighting your name in any of his poisonous lies. even just a single thought of you had his mind spiraling, bathed in amour and the gentle scent of roses that always doused your tender hands. you'd sent him off with a kiss that left him breathless and his lips tasting of sugar all throughout the boatride to snezhnaya. if only for a moment longer, he'd love to hold you in his arms and relish in your embrace...

"scaramouche...are you blushing?!"

his head whipped upwards, on his face laid a furious, gnarly snarl. though he couldn't see it, he just knew his cheeks were ablaze with a romantic tint of ruby red.

"don't be ridiculous!" he sneered, turning away from signora and childe's awestruck faces in an attempt to will away the thoughts of you and the blush on his cheeks. his hands hooked around the brim of his hat to conceal the vivid blush that overwhelmed his face.

signora turned to childe with a knowing smile on her face, amused glimmer of a smirk hidden behind the back of her palm, whereas childe's metaphorical tail eagerly wagged back and forth.

"is it a matching set?! scara, you didn't tell us you had a sweetheart~!" childe gushed, head flickering back and forth between signora's knowing grin and scaramouche's embarrassed sneer.

"oh for archon's sake- do you smooth-brained fools have nothing better to do than harass me?!" scaramouche fumed, fed up and embarrassed beyond all possible means.

"awww don't be like that 'mouchey! c'mon tell us who the lucky person is!" childe cooed in an attempt to draw out a sensible response from the ever-growing furious man.

"it'll be your mother if you keep asking me these ridiculous questions!"

signora stifled a choked, surprised chuckle from beneath her knuckles at childe's gawk. where scaramouche would normally relish in his psychological victory, he wanted nothing more than to run from the conversation entirely.

"gods, if being here means dealing with you two then i'd rather freeze to death outside!" he scowled once more and whirled his body to the looming wooden doors, which slammed shut with his exit.

"five million mora says the dendro archon has the other earring." signora hummed, side-eyeing childe with her usual narrowly amused smile etched onto her lips.

"tch, you always make the better bets first." childe grumbled and crossed him arms, joining signora in listening to the thundering footsteps of the sixth harbinger echo further and further away from the meeting room.

in all his romantic fever, he really did forget to be subtle.

BONUS:

only hours later, a gentle knock on his office door stirred him from the depths of his thoughts, earring nestled in the warmth of his palm as he studied it. just before he could return the gesture with a brash "go away!", the familiar lilt of your voice permeated beyond his guarded exterior.

"scara? it's me-" you barely got a chance to finish your sentence before the door flung open and your lover had yanked you against his body.

strong arms locked tight around your waist, and his frost-covered nose delved deep into the warmth of your neck.

"my, you're quite affectionate today." you hummed with a gentle smile on your face and returned the gestured by snaking your arms around his neck.

"you...how are you here?" he mumbled, pulling away to stare at your face.

it was then he noticed the two loitering figures behind you: childe whose blushy cheeks and idiotic grin couldn't be hidden, and signora who had an unusually admirable expression on her face for once.

"and what are these clowns doing here?!" he snarled and drew your body closer to his, shifting so his body acted as a visible shield from the other two harbingers.

"did they harm you? are you hurt? i'll kill them if they so much as laid a hand on yo-"

"scaramouche! i'm fine! i came with them willingly, darling." you soothed his worries with mere strokes of your hands against his cheeks.

"came with them?" he asked, before his complexion grew dark and misty, aimed directly towards the pair of harbingers in front of him. "you lot have better not compromised their safety." he growled, guard still raised much like a stray kitten.

"nonsense, comrade! we merely contacted some staff at your estate and hand them deliver a message to your lover via carrier pigeon. honest truth!" childe raised his hands in defense before nodding to you with a sheepish grin, "ask your sweetheart over there, they'll confirm."

"it's true, scara. really, they're quite harmless. in fact, they warmed up to me as soon as they saw my earring." you giggled and tucked wisps of his stormy locks behind the shell of his ear with an affectionate smile on your face.

a smile that quickly fell upon noticing the empty puncture in his ear. your thumb ran over the swollen bump of the earring puncture, and scaramouche, not missing the gesture, produced the earring he'd been gripping in his fist. your heart thrummed inside your chest as you took the piece of jewelry from his hand and slid it into place in his earlobe just where it was meant to be.

"say...(y/n), just how did someone as sweet as you manage to meet someone as disagreeable as this one?" childe joked, jabbing a thumb at scaramouche with a cheeky grin on his face.

"why you-" scaramouche sneered and glared bullets in childe's direction.

"oh my! that's quite easy to answer: he was sent to take my gnosis after all!" you chirped and clasped your hands together.

scaramouche's blood pressure might've shot through the roof if not for your gentle hold on his hand.

"cough up that mora, pretty boy." signora chuckled and waggled her hand forwards, which managed to elicit a groan from the redhead.

"argh, i should've known you'd seduce an archon." childe grumbled, gut twisting at the thought of his precious mora gone.

"former archon," you corrected, "and seduce is hardly the word, mister childe. though he did charm me in his own way, i must admit." you hummed and looked to scaramouche with fond eyes.

"are you two satisfied? you've brought my...you've brought (y/n) out from the comfort of our home and wasted their time just to satiate your childish curiosities-!"

"yes, yes, we know, balladeer, we were merely curious about your sweetheart," signora chimed in and yanked childe in the direction opposite from scaramouche's office, "but don't worry," she started with a wink, "we'll leave you two lovebirds alone, won't we, tartaglia?"

"yes ma'am! wait- hey! stop exerting control over me!"

a visible vein throbbed near his temple as the bickers of the two harbingers echoed down the hallways, before ceasing once they'd exited through the doors. his tense body relaxed as your thumb came to rub over the frown lines that had begun to permeate the skin of his forehead.

"i've missed you, even if only for a day." your gentle murmurs hummed against the juncture of his shoulder, finding solace with his arms wrapped tight around your body.

his fingers gently grasped the dangling jewel from your ear, admiring the care you'd taken into it before tenderly pressing his lips against the cool crystal.

"i'm always with you, near or far. but don't expect me to repeat such frilly words." only just for you did he let his lips curl ever so slightly upwards and his cheeks blossom with the color of roses on a dewy, spring day, even with the tinge of sarcasm at the end.

"and i, you, my love, and i'll say it enough for the both of us." you cooed, heart full and bursting with all the love you could manage to give this uncouth, hardened man whose face laid cradled in your hands.

a flower had begun to bloom within the desolate lands of snezhnaya.

dendro archon!reader taglist [OPEN!; strikethru = can't tag!]: @bookuya @sawamono @genshingirlsgobrr @soggyramennoods @gludgenbell @zenobiagrace @luluiamsimpforyou @chichikoi @the-gayest-sky-kid @mooonluv @royahllty @metta-crybaby @applejuiceistired @stupefried @almondoufu @yleriasvoid @x-madeline-x @lizakiyo @normalisthenewnorm

date published: november 17th, 2021

[geminil0vr]

food for thought | draco malfoy

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

tagged; @partr1dge <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

him obliging.

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

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

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

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

and you felt foolish.

because you realised, he'd felt everything.

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

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

[simping-i-guess]

Scars of the Stampede

Characters with scars being self concious about them is a trope I really like so... whatever.

——————————

          Not once in your months of travel with the legendary Vash the Stampede had you ever seen him unclothed. You had begun thinking his flirtatious nature towards you was simply all talk, as any time you made an attempt to push further than just a few kisses or fooling around, he'd quickly change focus to something else. You hardly questioned it, knowing he didn't owe you any form of physical intimacy, despite your craving for him.

It soon became apparent as to why he had never pursued something farther.

"Ah, (y/n)..." Vash looked over his shoulder, meeting your eyes with a sheepish gaze.

"I... just came to make sure you were doing okay." You mumbled on your words as your eyes slowly trailed down Vash's scarred body. All he had on was a pair of pants, allowing his full upper body to be on display. Your eyes flit from the scars on his shoulders down to the large one placed on his right pectoral. Your eyes continued to roam, trailing down his abdomen, looking to have been stitched up rather carelessly, as if the person doing it didn't care how it'd scar. Finally, your eyes landed on the scar wrapping around his side, looking jagged and pink even now that it was fully healed.

You didn't mean to stare or gawk, and perhaps you should have expected this from the Humanoid Typhoon- but you somehow still found yourself awed by the sheer amount of battery Vash's body had clearly sustained over the years. Finally, your eyes met his again, and you felt guilty seeing the somber expression placed on Vash's features.

"...may I come in? Or would you prefer me to leave?" Your question hung heavily in the air for a moment, before Vash gave a single, small nod.

"You can come in."

You stepped through the room's threshold, quietly pushing the door closed behind you. Vash sat himself down on the edge of the mattress, his elbows resting against his knees as he slightly hunched over. With a slow approach, you took a seat beside him, eyes staying locked on Vash's face. The silence permeated, only being broken by a soft chuckle from the man in front of you.

"I didn't want you to see all this." He told you, a familiar goofy smile being plastered on his features. But you knew him well enough to know that his smile was only hiding his true feelings... Shame? Embarrassment? Perhaps it was a mixture of both.

"Why?" You asked, your voice leaving your throat in a reluctant whisper. Vash laughed again, though no humor was present in it.

"Pretty girls shouldn't see beat up bodies like mine." Vash vaguely gestured down at his torso. "It's unsightly."

"I don't think so." You argued, though your voice still came out in a meek tone. Your eyes again dared to wander, and you examined the expansive scars decorating the Stampede's back. Not thinking much, you reached out, your fingers slowly tracing around one of the large, jagged scars. "It's proof of what you've managed to survive. There's nothing unsightly about that."

"Hm..." Vash hummed thoughtfully, his eyes coming to close. "You don't have to lie. I've been told how gross they are before."

"Tsh. By who?" You questioned, aggravation apparent in your tone.

"A few passerby here and there, maybe a woman or two... I've come to expect it."

Vash's answer frustrated you, and you were frustrated on his behalf. How dare they? You thought, brows pinching as you bit your inner cheek. How could they be so harsh to someone so kind?

You shifted, sitting on your knees to be a bit higher. With the delicate touch of a mother cradling a child, you pressed a kiss against Vash's shoulder. You were keenly aware of the rough texture brushing against your lips, but you weren't repulsed. No, not by any stretch of the word. You could only feel the swell of affection within your chest, heart fluttering against your ribs.

Vash didn't miss your action either- he watched you with a surprised expression, eyes staying trained on you as you pressed yet another kiss to his scarred shoulder.

"It's not unsightly, Vash." You repeated, now allowing your fingers to trace the scars on Vash's bicep. "At least, I don't think so, for whatever that's worth."

Vash's expression slowly settled into a very soft smile. With his free hand, he carefully stroked it down the side of your head, being careful not to press to hard with his metal digits. "Your opinion is worth a lot to me, (y/n)."

Despite his more accepting words, you could see behind his expression. He wasn't convinced. He still felt that his body was ugly, and you hated knowing that. You frowned, visible enough for Vash to comment.

"What's wrong?" He asked. You didn't respond verbally, only placing a hand on his chest and giving him an encouraging nudge. Vash slowly settled himself onto his elbows, his eyes staring up at you through his lashes. "Wh-"

"All the way down, Vash." You commanded, though your tone never hardened. You caught the way Vash's cheeks flushed as his back hit the mattress, the soft thud giving way to silence yet again.

Wordlessly, you straddled Vash's hips, keeping yourself above his sensitive areas. This wasn't the first time you had straddled the man, though the way his face flushed could lead you to believe otherwise.

With slow, delicate touches, you pressed the tips of your fingers against Vash's jaw, and slowly began working your way down. Your dragged your fingers against his skin, stopping at each scar along the way. You payed them extra attention, carefully stroking down them with the pads of your fingers. You felt Vash shudder beneath you, and you paused your actions.

"Are you okay?" You asked, trying to find the answer within Vash's complicated expression. "Is it hurting you?"

"N-... No, it's not..." Vash's response was stuttered.

"Does it feel good? Bad?" You allowed your head to tilt slightly with your question.

"Ah, good... definitely good..." Vash paused, his brows knitting slightly. "It's just-"

"No one has ever touched you like this before?" You interrupted him, letting out a disgruntled sound when he confirmed with a nod. "Figures." Your thumbs carefully swiped across one of the scars on Vash's chest. "I'm sure if someone ever had given you this kind of attention, you'd think a lot differently about these." You softly stroked your finger down a long, raised scar on Vash's ribcage.

Vash didn't speak. From his expression, he didn't seem to know what to say, but it was obvious that he didn't want you to stop. He relaxed more and more under your tender touch, his eyes carefully fluttering closed as your hands danced across the scars etched into his hips.

While your hands had come to their destination, you would carry on. Pulling any stray hair away from your face, you leaned down to press a chaste kiss on Vash's chest. You heard his breath hitch, but the way his hand gently rested against your shoulder seemed to invite you to continue.

One by one, you planted soft kisses on each of his accessible scars, peppering multiple little kisses on the larger ones. Down the straight scar sliced down his abdomen you kissed, covering every inch of it with affection. The hand on your shoulder slowly moved up to caress your cheek, and you softly laid your hand against the back of his, turned your head and placed a kiss on his weathered palm. Then, remembering the scar that wrapped around his wrist, you pulled his hand away just enough to get a firm idea on where to plant your next kiss- right against the inside of his wrist, and against the scar that had been put there.

Vash squirmed a bit, letting a soft breath escape from between his previously closed lips. He cracked an eye open to peer at you, only to meet your hooded gaze. Maintaining full eye contact, you pulled his arm up just a few inches, placing an especially long, tender kiss against the scar lining his extensor. Again, Vash shuddered, and a soft noise escaped his throat. He still didn't look away, no- he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"You're in no way unsightly, Vash." You  allowed your voice to come out a rough whisper, and you offered Vash a quaint smile. "Truly, I think you're very beautiful."

Vash offered you but a single nod. He didn't question you or assert otherwise, nor did he seem embarrassed anymore. If anything, he looked rather sultry, looking up at you with a half lidded gaze and his lips slightly parted.

With a final kiss to his knuckles, you were ready to get off of Vash, not wanting to push him farther. "Are you ready to sleep?" You asked.

"Ah..." Vash seemed... hesitant. His free hand hovered over your hip, but didn't make contact. Your brows raised,  and you wondered... "I... If you'd be up for..." Vash couldn't seem to find the words he wanted.

You let yourself chuckle a little- Vash acted so smooth and flirty when you first met, but now you could plainly see that it was mostly all talk. Still, you wouldn't pass up the chance to show Vash more intimately just how beautiful and wonderful you thought he was.

"I thought you'd never ask."

——————

Full version with smut available here~!

[snackhobi]

Yoongi's soft cheeks in the latest run episode!! Don't you just wanna bite them so bad?? I know I do 🤧 definitely wanna vore cuddle him 😔 anyway here's a short prompt to celebrate the start of Yarch: Yoongi reacts to YN kissing him on the cheek when he actually thought YN was going for a kiss on the mouth ☺️ feel free to skip this if it's too boring!!

pairing: yoongi x reader / word count: 1.1k / genre/rating: fluff, sfw / warnings: none!

author’s note: a few things: 1) yes I do wanna bite yoongi’s cheeks so bad 🤧 2) YARCH MADE ME LAUGH... I love yarch (yoongi march) 3) boring? this is literally me all over it’s perfect 🥰 4) I hope it’s okay that I referenced yoongi’s hair from this week’s run too because I am... so in love... anyway 5) this is the first thing I’ve written in over a month and it’s unbeta’ed so forgive any mistakes 💖 

It’s funny. When you’d first met Yoongi, you’d thought of him as unapproachable: all sharp edges, prickly, intimidating from his choppy bleached hair to his keen eyes, from his dark clothes to his shining jewellery. Even when you’d seen him smile—a small, reticent thing that had softened all those edges—he’d still seemed a step removed from you. Reserved and cool. Distant.

How wrong you’d been. 

It’s hot today. Bright sun, heat haze; the perfect day for dipping in the water, lounging by the poolside, bursts of energy mellowed by moments of laziness. You’ve slipped away from the current hubbub, Taehyung’s encouraging whoops for Jimin’s cannonball into the water, stepped from bright light into quiet cool, the tiles under your feet a welcome refrain from the sun-hot paving stones outside. 

You can still hear the sounds of the merriment, splashing and laughter from your friends, but it’s muted through the shut French doors. Leaving you in a little bubble of your own, for this moment—leaving you in peace to grab something cold and refreshing from Namjoon’s bustling fridge, to crack open a drink you so desperately need on a day like this.

There’s a brief burst of noise. The door swings open and in cuts through the sound of Hoseok’s laughter, before the door is pushed shut and once again you’re plunged into muted quiet. You glance over your shoulder to see who it is—to see who’s followed you inside—and a smile lights your face.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

If anyone’s the antithesis of a summer person, it’s Yoongi. He’d skulked under the parasols, refused to get in the pool—only to be hoisted in by a merciless Jungkook. Yoongi bears the battle scars now by way of his damp hair, gone curly as it’s dried, dark spirals. 

The you of the past would have thought that Jungkook had invited a swift death upon his head. That wrestling Yoongi into the cool water would have been repaid with a vicious retaliation from this sharp-eyed boy—but instead you’d just laughed as Yoongi had surfaced, drenched and dripping but fond, weak for his friends and loved ones. No retaliation at all, unless you include the raised eyebrows that don’t faze Jungkook one bit, Yoongi’s attempt at feigned annoyance crumbling almost instantly into rippling waters.

You’ve known Yoongi for a long time now. Grown from strangers to acquaintances to friends, learned that Yoongi isn’t cold or sharp or distant, not really. He’s quiet and open, in the same way that a flower blooms under the sun, unfurling in the right light. (And you’d become one of those rays, something warm that lets him blossom just so.) 

He smiles back at you and it lifts his whole face, that little curl of his lips. 

It’s a smile you’ve only just started to see, something secretive and sweet, something new. Just for you. 

“Hey yourself.” 

His voice is low and languid. You’ve grown from strangers to acquaintances to friends to this—whatever this is. It’s the feeling of potential, of something more, a nascent sunrise. Like each touch you exchange means more, somehow, that each word and look holds something heavier behind it.

You’ve perched yourself at the breakfast bar, high on one of the fancy stools, glass bottle forgotten in front of you. Yoongi joins you and you can’t help but notice that he allows himself the luxury of closeness, doesn’t pull away or push back from it.

From this close, he smells like chlorine and sun cream. Like summer. All those sharp edges you’d thought he’d had are familiar, now, replaced with the lilting edges of his softer parts; his gentle eyes, the pink of his mouth, the round of his cheeks. 

(You think his mother had been right when she said he looked like a dumpling. Not just round cheeks but warm inside, too, warm and yielding and filling and lovely.)

He catches you staring. Turns into your gaze with a little cock in his brow, a terribly affectionate quirk to the corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t say anything, just watches and waits, notices the way you lean towards him, pulled towards him by something inexorable, undeniable. He finds his breath stilling as he braces for this moment that’s been building slowly from the second you’d first met, the slow rise of a firework into the sky before it bursts into sound and light and beauty, lets his eyes flit to the sweet curve of your lips—

Which press lightly against the apple of his cheek before you pull back.

You’re smiling so wide, just like a cat who got the cream. You see how he blinks, before you see the way his eyes crinkle so fondly as he smiles back, surprised but still pleased.

“I think you missed?” He says, voice soft. And you can’t help it, can’t help but keep smiling at this, his calmness even when you’ve thrown him for a loop. Can’t help but smile at that implication, unspoken but obvious—that his cheek was the false target and instead his mouth was the bullseye. That he wants it.

(That he wants to kiss you, too.)

“Did I miss? Oops. Hold on.”

You lean in, careful and considerate, lining up the shot—

and turn your head to press a kiss to his other cheek. 

You see the way he tries not to laugh, shoulders shaking in that way you like (love) so much. You’ve wanted to do that for a while now, to kiss those soft cheeks, but you’ve never felt so bold. Not until now, in this moment of cool reprieve as the sun beats hot outside, spills over your laughing friends, only a door away: maybe you should have waited for a different moment but it feels right, somehow. To give into that warm desire in this beat of stillness, to have Yoongi’s eyes slide back down to your mouth, to lean back in to finally take that next step in this thing that you have—

An unholy yelling. You both turn at the sound, watch the blurs of movement through the glass of the doors as a grinning Jungkook sprints past, chased by an indignant, irate Jin.

A beat of silence passes. Then:

“Do we want to know?”

“Probably not,” Yoongi replies. You can hear the smile in his voice. The moment’s been broken, but the way he looks at you lets you know that there’ll be plenty of other moments past this one, and that’s okay. You’re happy to wait a little while longer.

(In the coolness of this room he reaches for your hand, and you follow him back into the warm light of the sun.)

[rolandtowen]

three times Zuko comes into the Jasmine Dragon coffee shop, and one time Sokka leaves with him. Set in the Neurodiverse Zukka AU, but can read as a standalone.

*banging pots and pans together* "Come over here and get yall Neurodiverse Zukka!"

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut!

TW: discussions of skin picking and implied child abuse

i.

When Sokka pulls into the parking lot of the Jasmine Dragon, he is unsurprisingly the first car there. Being a freshman in town means getting the worst pick of shifts at local businesses. Sokka was hired on to work the opening shift, which means he wakes up at the ungodly hour of 5am to open the shop before the first round of sleep-deprived college students comes in. The pay isn't bad, Mr. Iroh is an incredibly fair man,

The bell on the door jingles on his way in, and he flips several light switches on, watching as the coffee shop slowly comes to life. He busies himself with getting the beans for the day grinding, pulling his first shot and dialing in the expresso. When he takes a sip, the espresso is spot on for the day, which is a relief. Having to make adjustments as customers start filing in is a nightmare.

Today's brew is floral and citrusy, so he decides to make himself and iced lavender latte - with oat milk, of course, because he's gotta do it for the gays - and he spends the next 20 minutes setting out pastries and fiddling with the display cases, making everything look perfect.

At 6am sharp, Sokka unlocks the front door and flips their sign to open, before retreating behind the bar to nurse his latte. Not even five minutes later, the door bell jingles, and Sokka sees a flash of dark hair, face obscured by a pile of textbooks and binders. The figure runs into one table, and then another, and Sokka is rushing out from behind the counter. He gets there just before textbooks go toppling everywhere, his hands taking a firm hold of the top bundle. As he pulls the books into his arms, he sees the face behind them.

Breathtaking golden eyes.

And.. a massive burn scar.

"Hi!" Sokka says, "I'm the barista on shift today - my name's Sokka." He would reach his hand for the other man to shake, but for the stack of textbooks in them.

Golden Eyes smiles.

"I'm Zuko, Zuko Sozin," he says, setting his remaining textbooks on the table by his side. Sokka follows suit.

"Hey, I think I've seen you before - are you taking Piandao's Intro to Biology class?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah! You sit a few rows in front of me." Zuko laughs. "Your doodles are uh, something alright."

Sokka knocks him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I gotta keep my hands busy for my brain to focus." He looks down at the stack of books on the table. "What on earth are you studying, to have that many books?"

"Uh, Biology and Chemistry double-major, Pre-Med track." Sokka's eyes widen. "It's really not that much! I got a bunch of stuff out of the way with AP credits."

Sokka raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it is a lot - but I'm really passionate about it. I want to be a doctor."

"Well, Dr. Sozin, what can I get started for you today?"

"Can I get a iced matcha, with a lot of honey?"

Sokka raises his other eyebrow. "A doctor with a sweet tooth?"

"Kind of?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to your dentist. An iced matcha with extra honey?" Zuko nods and Sokka smiles. "You got it, doc."

ii.

Sokka falls into a routine at the Jasmine Dragon. He opens the shop every morning, and every morning of the fall semester so far, Zuko Sozin comes in at precisely 6:05am. Zuko will order an iced matcha with honey, and sits at a table by the window with his laptop and at least two textbooks open at all times. Then, at 11:50am - Sokka guess he has a class that starts at noon - Zuko leaves the shop, always making sure to throw his spare change into Sokka's tip jar.

He's so beautiful.

On a slow day, Sokka comes out from behind the safety of the counter and works up the courage to ask Zuko if he can study with him. Zuko looks shocked at first, but his lips quirk up in a smile as he gestures for Sokka to sit in the chair across from him, moving his textbooks to make room for Sokka's one book and laptop.

"What are you studying, Sokka?" Zuko appears to be genuinely interested.

"Oh, uh, social work, with a concentration in mental health." Sokka waits for Zuko to laugh at him. It never comes. He looks up at him over their laptops.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, some pre-med majors can be really pretentious, really dismissive of mental illness, but um - not me. I don't really have that luxury." Zuko laughs, as though at a joke with himself. "What's the Intro to Biology for, then?"

"Not all of us got our common core out of the way with AP credits, like some nerd I know." Zuko smiles at that, and looks back down at his laptop screen.

Sokka pulls his keys from his pocket and starts fidgeting with the stim toy he keeps on his keychain as he reads through his latest assignment for his Mental Illness and Society class. He bought it on Etsy, relieved to find a neurodivergent-owned shop after scrolling through a lot of stores that just seemed to be hopping on the 'trend' of selling fidget toys. He flips to the next page in his textbook, popping the buttons back and forth in a steady rhythm. He remembers Zuko's sitting across from him and stops abruptly.

"Is this annoying? Do you want me to stop?"

Zuko just cocks his head. "Why would I get a say in what you do? It's kind of your shop, right?"

"Um, to be polite?" Sokka laughs. "And you would be surprised how many customers I get who think they get to tell me what to do." His eyes settle on the half drunk latte in front of him. "It's not really my shop either, I just work the early morning shifts so Mr. Iroh can sleep in. If you ever get to stay past noon sometime, you'll see him come in. You can't miss him, short guy, talks in riddles. He's older, a war vet I think - I just get that impression from some of the stories he tells me. But anyway, did you want me to stop fidgeting?" Sokka looks back up to meet those golden eyes.

Zuko glitches for a second. "Oh! No, no, go for it - if it helps you to study, I'm all for it."

Sokka smiles, and looking at the way Zuko keeps picking at his cuticles gives him an idea. He digs into his backpack and pulls out another stim toy, an acupressure ring. ""Do you want to try this instead of maiming your hands?"

Zuko hesitantly holds out a hand and Sokka drops it into his palm. "You don't have to."

Sokka scoffs. "I know I don't have to - I want to. Come on, I wear it on my thumb sometimes -" and suddenly he's taking Zuko's hands into his and getting very close to Zuko's face. Zuko can smell espresso on his clothes and Sokka's hands are so warm against his. Calloused, sure, but warm. He holds Zuko's right hand gently, pressing the spiky ring onto his thumb. "And you can rub it back and forth with your pointer finger and it gives you that kind of prickly sensation that you get from skin picking, just without the skin picking." Sokka pulls his hands away and Zuko immediately misses them. "Give it a shot, tell me what you think."

Zuko tentatively rolls the ring over his thumb. Huh. The cute barista's right, the acupressure gives him that same prickly, scratchy feeling that picking at his nails and cuticles does. "Wow," he says, "I think you've converted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it, I've got a thousand more where that came from, ADHD perks."

Zuko instinctively opens his mouth to protest but the words die in his throat.

"You, you have ADHD?" He stops rolling the ring across his thumb.

"Yup." Sokka's lips popped on the 'p', and he turned to the next page in his textbook. "And I'm pretty sure you've got some spicy stuff happening your brain, too. But you don't have to tell me."

"How are you so open about it?"

Sokka's hand stills around the fidget. "My parents never treated me like I was deficient in any way - my brain just works differently, which means I have trouble with some 'normal' stuff. But I also strengths in areas that others don't have naturally. Accommodations aren't anything to be ashamed of."

"Sounds nice." All of the levity drops out of Zuko's voice.

Sokka levels a look at Zuko. He lets his eyes flit to the right side of Zuko's face and the scar there. He's seen it so many times, and the burns look so concentrated, almost... intentional. His stomach churns at the thought. The scar's old... and Zuko's at college now, he has to be safe - he has to be.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me." Sokka's hand starts to fidget with the buttons again. "But I have it on good authority that I am a good listener."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind." Zuko looks down at his hands, fingers rolling the ring back and forth against his thumb. "Thank you."

"Anytime, doc."

iii.

Somehow, fumbling through their collective social awkwardness, they manage to swap numbers.

At the end of the fall semester, Sokka texts Zuko for the first time.

S: hey, im gonna be a few minutes later. don't worry, im still coming.

Z: okay. thank you.

When Sokka finally pulls into the parking lot fifteen minutes late, he sees Zuko waiting outside the door, sitting on a bench, head buried in one of his chemistry textbooks.

"Hey," he puts his keys in the door. "You can just come in while I open, it won't take too long."

Zuko follows him inside, and he closes the door against the chill.

"You didn't have to text me," Zuko says, like it's a question.

"I wanted to," Sokka starts flipping on light switches. "I know you've got your routine, and I didn't want to stress you out when it got messed up."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Um, I don't want you to be stressed? I kind of care about you."

"You... you care about me?" Zuko stands in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving.

Sokka smiles. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Why?"

"I think we could be friends?"

"Oh." Zuko's face falls for a second - what Sokka has come to understand is his 'processing' face - and he looks back up a second later. "I think we could be friends too."

"Friendship with a barista has great perks, you know." Sokka laughs as he starts up the grinder. "Although the perks of a social worker friend aren't too bad either."

"How's that going? With your first semester ending?" Zuko sits on a stool at the bar and watches Sokka putter around behind it.

"Well, I'm going to pass Intro to Biology, not for lack of trying on Piandao's part - I swear he's trying to weed out all the humanities kids. It isn't even a weed out course!" He polishes an espresso glass furiously. "How are you doing?"

Zuko chokes. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine, you know it's a hard class and all -"

"You're getting an A, aren't you?" Sokka squints at him from behind a bag of coffee beans. "Curve breaker," he scoffs.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm, what did you call it? A 'burnt-out gifted kid with people pleasing tendencies'." Zuko crosses his arms and huffs at the memory of that conversation. Sokka had read him like a picture book. And it was not fair for one person to be that good at emotions.

"You are correct, I did indeed call you that." Sokka pulls the first shot of the morning. "And it looks like I was right."

"You know what you said the other week, about being a good listener?"

"Sure do," Sokka takes a sip of the espresso, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, if we're going to be... friends, I just think you'd want to know that - I'm autistic." Zuko stares at Sokka searching his face for any cues about what the next words out of his mouth will be, waiting for the facade of friendship to drop. He furiously rolls the acupressure ring up and down his thumb.

"Okay, that's great!"

"...what."

Zuko's hands freeze and he squeezes the ring against his skin, feeling the pressure increase.

"That's great, I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. I kind of guessed your parents weren't as accommodating as mine?"

Zuko laughs something sour. "No, no they were not." He looks up in surprise as Sokka puts an iced matcha, extra honey, in front of him. "You're right though, I do feel safe here. I feel safe with you." Zuko looks down at the acupressure ring on his thumb, softening his grip. "You could have totally ignored me, but you didn't. Or you could've been mean about my quirks - but you weren't. Why?"

"Well, for starters, you tip well." Sokka smiles and leans across the counter, bracketing Zuko's elbows in with his own. "But you're also a really great guy - you're passionate, you want to make people's lives better, and you're also like, really beautiful."

Zuko feels his cheeks flush. "You really think that?" His fingers still against the fidget again, but he doesn't feel the need to press it into his skin. He's captivated by Sokka's words. Surely, Sokka couldn't actually mean -

"Oh, yeah. Every bit." Sokka brushes his hand against one of Zuko's, the one with the fidget ring. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yes, please, yes." After weeks, Sokka's hand is back in his, and Zuko thinks he's going to implode. "Can, can you hold both of my hands? With both of your hands?"

"Of course," Sokka's positively beaming, grabbing Zuko's hands and running his thumbs across his knuckles. "Now you're absolutely allowed to say no to my next question, and there are no hard feelings."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck yes."

The iced matcha is forgotten.

+ i

Sokka's feet hurt like hell. Mr. Iroh had called in him to work a double on Friday, and since he doesn't have any classes on Fridays, he foolishly agreed.

It won't seem so foolish once you see the paycheck, he reminds himself. He and Zuko have a deal. Zuko pays for his medical school with his job shelving books at the University library, and Sokka pays for their tiny apartment by caffeinating all of the other broke college kids in town. By some miracle, they seem to be able to make it work. Zuko graduated into the medical college a year early, which helps with tuition costs, and of course his brilliant boyfriend got all kinds of scholarships.

Sokka is indescribably proud of him.

The door bell jangles just as Sokka is wiping the crumbs off the last cafe table. "Hey, we're starting to close up for the night, so it'd better be a to-go order," he calls over his shoulder.

"Even for me?"

"Zuko!" Sokka drops his cloth immediately and spins around, pulling Zuko into a hug. Zuko taps the small of his back when he's ready to let go, and Sokka lets him go, beaming. "You came to visit me at work?"

"More like I picked up your favorite soup dumplings from Haru's across the street and thought we could walk home together?" Zuko shrugs, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his arms. "How's that sound to you?"

"Baby, that's just what I needed today." Sokka picks up his cleaning supplies. "Okay, I just need to put all of this away and then we can lock up and go home, how's that?"

"Great," Zuko smiles at him. "I may have also picked up some more Doctor Who DVDs from the library," he smirks.

"Oh, you trickster!" Sokka yells from the kitchen, before appearing again. "You used my one weakness, pork soup dumplings, against me in order to get your nerdy way."

"Oh, big talk coming from the guy who watches astronomy documentaries for fun," Zuko laughs as Sokka leads him out of the shop, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. "If it were up to you, we'd be watching Cosmos all weekend, and I can only take so much of Neil deGrasse Tyson explaining the peculiarities of the moon."

"Hey, the moon is cool!"

"You are correct, the moon is very cool. It's freezing, because it's a rock. In space. With no atmosphere. Or life." Zuko deadpans, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Sokka.

"Fine, you get Doctor Who tonight, but Saturday is going to be all PBS Nova, baby. Brace yourself." Sokka takes Zuko's free hand into his as they start the walk home.

"Well, as long as you're there, I'm happy."

Notes:

fidgets in this work were inspired by those from shop StimBox

[prettyandsarcastic]

when you have to be both.

herald/sidestep

1,997 words

"Can I ask you something?" 

Herald's question is whispered into the darkness of his bedroom, so quietly that January almost misses it. It's asked gently, softly, the way someone would speak to a spooked animal - and if that isn't just an apt description of January she doesn't know what else would be more fitting. 

His mind is a nervous, curious hum, almost vibrating against the walls of her mental shields. But there's a fear there as well, pawing plaintively behind the anxiety. 

She wants to tell him no. Because that's what got her into this situation, into Herald's bed, in the first place. A simple favor asked with too endearing, nerve-flushed cheeks and a bright, hopeful smile. 

She wants to tell him not right now. Because she wants to forget, just for a moment longer, about the world beyond the edges of this bed. Wants to curl up into the solid warmth of him and pretend they're just Daniel and January. 

Instead, January takes a breath and replies in the same way she doomed herself those months ago: "Asking's free."

The inhaling breath that Daniel takes is as much for courage as it is for time. His mind is now a flurry as possible reactionary scenarios to his question flit across his thoughts like a flip-comic. His best case scenario is that she'll have a similar breakdown to when January revealed her tattoos to him. His worst case is that she will leave and he'll never see her again. 

"Please," Daniel begins and January hears him lick his lips in the dark. "Don't… don't feel like you have to answer, but… how are you different… from the — others?" 

The others. 

She knows without clarification that he means the other ReGenes. The ones who could not possibly be mistaken for anything near human with their blue-grey skin and full bodied sickly orange tattoos. Meant to stand out, be seen and feared, used and recycled or discarded when they outlived their usefulness.

Not like you. 

The blanket pools at January's waist as she sits up. And the room begins to spin as she drops her head in her hand, tries to keep the panic from crumpling her lungs like tin foil. Sweat starts to dampen her hairline, is beading on her upper lip and she's terrifyingly aware of how heavily she's suddenly breathing. Her throat is achingly dry when she tries to swallow and desperately wishes she had a drink. Whiskey, bourbon, scotch, anything to burn out the bile she can already taste at the back of her tongue. 

January is desperately trying not to feel the chill of an exam table against her back. The sharp, biting pinprick of a needle at the bend of her elbow. White noise static loss of feeling in her fingers and toes from too tight restraints. The weight of sensors and their cords attached to her skin, itching with adhesive. The too clean scent of disinfectant, antiseptic overpowering the metallic tang of blood, the sour smell of sweat. Whirs and beeps and the humming of machinery drowning out the cacophony of detached, methodical thoughts — 

Daniel's hand is suddenly warm and real against her back, splayed across her shoulder blade, the tips of his fingers fitting between the notches of her spine. "Hey," he breathes. "It's okay. January, come back to me." 

She focuses on the weight of his hand on her, the navy tinted, apologetic concern of his thoughts. The ridges of certain scars beneath the pads of his fingers as he soothes his hand across her shoulders before he cups the back of her neck. If he can feel her trembling and the sweat slick on her skin, he doesn't acknowledge it. 

"I'm sorry," he says when she seems to, finally, calm. "I shouldn't have asked." 

January shakes her head, takes a deep fortifying breath. "Don't be, it's alright," she replies, and if her voice is a little wrecked, a little brittle, well...

And maybe she says it's alright because there's no malice in his thoughts. No disgust - no, never that and never because of her or anything she would ever tell him (and if that thought doesn't just make her want to laugh out loud because he has no idea). There's a definitive divide in Daniel's mind between her and the others even without January answering his question. Just as he had made the divide between Sidestep and January. 

ReGene. January. Sidestep. 

Three faces. Three masks. Three divides. She's not sure how much more Daniel can separate the pieces of her identity before the person he says he loves isn't even her. Before that person in his head becomes something he wants her to be rather than the person she is… 

Before he starts to look at you like Ortega does. With the weight of too many expectations.

She can’t even make the distinction between her masks that Daniel can. Not anymore. There are too many threads that she has to keep separate and they keep getting tangled and twisted into knots. And one day she’s going to get caught in her own spider’s web of lies and deception. ReGene. January. Sidestep. Jane. Enyo. She is all of those and more. And yet, perhaps, maybe none of them at all because she’s never had the true freedom to discover who or what she might really be.

January can't fault him for his curiosity even though she knows that she should. After all, it's not everyday the person you're in love with tells you that they're not even human. She also knows it would be better in the long run for them both if she shoved him away with all the violence trapped behind the prison of her ribcage. 

But you tried that already. 

"I'm… valuable," January finally says on an exhale. 

She sees Daniel shake his head out of the corner of her eye. "January, it’s okay you don't -"

Her fingers, gentle against the plush of his lips, cut him off. Her hand is a ruined mess compared to beauty of him. Long fingers that would be elegant were they not crooked from fractures that healed wrong or the scars on her knuckles and the jagged, chipped polish of her nails. 

"It's okay," she assures him. 

Daniel nods, his mind going soft and golden like sunrise so overwhelmingly relieved that she hasn’t run, hasn’t tried yet again to push him away. His expression remains neutral as he takes her hand, kisses the scar on her palm that itches when she’s stressed, then lightly over the pulse fluttering beneath her wrist and the haggard scar there as well. He’s not certain he could bear to be parted from her now. 

“Okay,” he replies. “Tell me.” 

So she does, haltingly at first, then with more confidence if not with more detail. It’s more a bullet point summary because truthfully she can’t bring herself to give more details. There’s things Daniel doesn’t need to know, things January doesn’t want him to know. She doesn’t want to add even more fuel to the raging wildfire of anger his thoughts have become. 

Daniel never moves to comfort her, or try to reach out and touch her again as January speaks; just sits quietly, holding his rage softly inside himself even if she can see it hardening his eyes and tightening his jaw. And even though there’s a whirlwind of questions in his mind, he never asks them, never pushes her for more than she’s willing to give. 

Not like Ortega who asks and pushes and insists because he doesn’t know how to give up without a fight and everything he’s ever let go of has bruises from how hard he holds on. Because he wants everything to fit into the image he has in his head, wants to fix everything, fix her. And it doesn’t matter to Ortega how much he cuts himself on all her sharp edges trying to piece her back together. 

“And… that’s it,” January finishes rather inelegantly. 

“So I take it that January isn’t your real name?” 

The absurdness of the question startles a laugh out of her. All the things she had just told him and that was his first question. Relief trickles down her spine, something warm and comforting curls in the pit of her stomach like a content cat. And Daniel smiles, laughs with her, beautiful and so full of adoration for her that for just a moment she hates him. Why should he still love her even now? 

“No, it’s not. They never gave us names. It was January the first time I escaped.”

“And Moreno?” 

She shrugs. “Saw it on a highway sign.” 

“This is why you never officially joined the Rangers.” It’s not really a question. 

With a sigh, January lays back against the pillows, but turns to look at Daniel. “I wouldn’t submit myself to the background check because I knew I wouldn’t pass it.” Idly, she lifts her hand, contemplates the freckles and the scars, and her crooked fingers. “There are so many things that bear my fingerprints, things I don’t remember.”

And then there are things she does remember, like shattering Herald’s knee. 

“Not to mention,” she continues, “if I had done the background check they would have found me that much faster. If they catch me this time... I don’t think I’ll be able to escape again.”

And when it comes down to it, isn’t that why she’s doing this? Why she let Sidestep rot at the bottom of the grave they dug and rose up again as Enyo? Because January won’t let The Farm get a hold of her again and there are no limitations or rules to hold her back anymore. She’ll drag their dirty secrets through the streets with bloodied hands for everyone to see… 

And what are you willing to sacrifice to see it happen? 

Daniel’s hand finds hers, strong, warm fingers threading through hers. “They’ll have to go through me first,” he insists. 

“They will,” January answers, her voice flat. “They can and they will.” 

The bed shifts suddenly as Daniel moves and then he’s over her and January shifts until her knees bracket his hips. There’s that brief flash of instinct she has, the points on Daniel’s body she needs to hit to escape, but she forces it away and blinks up at him. His eyes are intense and so, so blue and his thoughts are all the metallic steel color of stubborn determination. 

“You don’t get it. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Daniel says. And he has that look on his face again, the hard set one that he sometimes gets when they spar. He means every single word. “I won’t let anyone or anything take you from me, January.” 

“Daniel -” 

This time it’s his fingers, soft against her lips that stop her. “No,” he tells her as his hand moves, fingertips caressing the angle of her cheekbone, brushing against the bruised circles under her eyes. “I love you.” 

January sighs, if only to keep herself from giving in to the stinging at the corners of her eyes. He’s ridiculous, but he loves her and he would do anything to keep her safe and in his arms. He won’t hear her tell him how he can’t protect her, can’t keep her safe, that he won’t have a choice when The Farm finally comes for her again. 

She rises up on an elbow, catches Daniel in a kiss that he eagerly returns with a soft sound. She’s not sure if she loves him, and if she does, how would she know what love feels like? Perhaps they made her incapable of it for all she knows. But she does know that her heart hurts, feels fit to burst when Daniel presses her back into the mattress and his hands start to roam. 

You are going to ruin him. 

… Maybe. Lover or enemy. Hero or villain. Human or monster. She has to be both.

what is more unfair than having to choose  between being a monster or being a hero?

(- when you have to be both.)

when you learn that the road to hell is paved with more than just good intentions. - you are not heads or tails; you are the coin

m.a.w