#･ †▐░▒ time for the humans to converse ╱ ooc replies･

[dixonsbugaboo]

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.

ꜱᴀᴊᴀ ʙᴏʏꜱ🎵

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1 - 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Fem!Reader x Saja Boys

Summary: Reincarnated in the body of a demon from the last film you saw before you died, you have decided to change the script of the story in your favour. But you didn't count on your presence in the story changing everything.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, Jinu being an asshole, ooc (probably), kinda self-disdain too, no proofread (oops)

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Hey there! First of all, please remember that English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes (sorry about that), and this is the first time I've written for this fandom, but the hype is very real and I wanted to join in on the Saja fanfic craze. I hope you like it :)

Ch. 0

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From your perspective, being the producer of the Saja Boys was a wonderful idea. But in reality, it was a disaster and a task that would drain your will to live... if you were alive.

The Saja Boys were demons, in the most literal sense of the word, and they drove you crazy. They tested your patience, trampled on your pride, and were incapable of listening to your advice. You should have realised how difficult it would be to carry out your plan from the moment you first met Jinu... and you almost pulled each other's hair out, literally.

In the movie, Jinu was handsome, but in reality... he was simply breathtaking. Even in his demonic form, he was the most attractive man you had ever seen, with patterns crossing his sharp face like tattoos and radiant eyes that seemed to see right through you. Your demonic form, on the other hand, was a far cry from what a normal human would look like: with horns sticking out of your forehead, sharp teeth and eyes that were too big and outstanding. You were sure that if you could look at yourself in a mirror, your own reflection would be depressed.

Jinu walked confidently, heading in an unknown direction, not caring in the slightest that another creature from the underworld was literally drooling and staring at him. Or so you thought...

"Is this a staring contest?"

You tensed immediately when he stopped walking and spoke, his back still facing you, clearly addressing you.

"... Excuse me?"

"I asked you if this is a staring contest. Can you stop gawking at me? You're going to wear out my face...."

Damn conceited demon. There's nothing worse in the world than an attractive man who is aware of his good looks. Lesson learned.

You decided to continue on your way because you had a feeling that if the conversation continued, you would end up trying to scratch his eyes out with your claws.

"... he's not THAT handsome," you muttered as you walked away.

Silly you, Jinu heard you and teleported right in front of you, so you ended up bumping into his chest. Which, by the way, was pretty hard... considering you hit your nose bad, and now it hurted like hell.

"Pardon me?" he asked, hands on his hips and an arrogant look on his face. "I think you just lied to yourself." That smirk was driving you crazy.

"Lie? HA! All I see in front of me is a smug demon tortured by his past who tries to improve his days by bothering others because he has nothing better to do." You replied, rubbing your sore nose. You would never admit that, before you died, you were sure that if he were real, you would give him your soul without hesitating.

Apparently, your comment bothered him much more than you expected, and when he grabbed you by the shoulders, digging his claws into your skin, you were about to scream. The only thing that stopped you was your pride and the sheer terror that gripped your throat.

"You don't know anything about me. You don't know me."

Oops. That's right. You weren't supposed to have seen him before and didn't know anything about him. First mistake. But... what if you took advantage of the situation to speed things up? All you had to do was try to get along with him... and plant the seed of an idea...

"You know what?" you managed to say as you pulled his hands away from your shoulders, which were sore from his strong grip.

You had just dodged a possible death (if that was even possible, giving you were already dead) at the hands of your number one platonic crush. "You're right." You pretended to brush dust off your shoulders. "I don't know you. But I've heard of a demon who sounds a lot like you... and who was supposedly a musician in his human life."

Jinu raised his eyebrows, surprised and apparently calmer, letting his arms fall to his sides. Damn, he was tall. Next to him, you looked like a mushroom. A mushroom with horns and popping eyes.

"You know, before I died, I used to write music," you said, trying to plant the seed of the idea.

It wasn't entirely a lie... you did write music, although the demon whose body you occupied, through his memories, you learned that he had absolutely no knowledge of it, since they were a painter.

Jinu's gaze made it clear, however, that he had no idea what you were talking about. In fact, he thought you were crazy and waited respectfully for you to finish your ramblings so he could walk away and never come back.

"The thing is..." you continued. The poor guy wasn't very bright. "In the end, isn't it music that keeps us down here? Besides Gwi-ma, of course." You paused, looking for some response in his eyes. "Because of the hunters... because they sing... because their music keeps the Honmoon alive..." You continued, speaking slowly, trying to make him think it was his idea... but he didn't seem very interested. In fact, he looked at you as if he wanted to leave as soon as possible to get back to his miserable life in the underworld.

You snorted, bit your lower lip and decided to give up. What was the point of trying to get a demon with a brain the size of a peanut to understand the plan that, according to the script, would (temporarily) destroy the Honmoon? Because Jinu was clearly incapable of coming to that conclusion on his own.

You took a deep breath and decided to plant the seed deep in his mind, by force, to see if he would water it. As a gift.

"... Sometimes I think, oh, how awful it must be to live down here, hungry for souls, because of those tacky singers! And I realise that the problem has always been the same: the source of their power, which turns out to be the people who listen to their music... you know, right? their fans?"

Jinu nodded slowly, finally understanding where you were going with this.

"Guess we manage to steal their fans and... Ta-da! We're free!" You finish with a dramatic pose, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. At no point do you mention that this plan, if executed well, could be a feast for Gwi-ma, because that's not part of your scheme... although you'll figure out a way to deal with that in the future, when necessary.

Jinu remained silent, scrutinizing you.

Playing dumb didn't work for him, because even though his plan was to play bonkers so you would leave him alone, your intentions were apparently far from stopping talking anytime soon. Furthermore, he had been mulling over that idea long before you mentioned it... but he found it striking that you had thought of it. Did you say you wrote music?

You could even be useful for his plan...

Was that a sign to get started?

"You know what? I think it's a good idea," he finally said, after seriously considering disappearing so he would never have to see you again. "It might even work."

"Of course it would work, you idiot!" you shouted in exasperation, tired of the back and forth of the conversation.

Clearly, Jinu didn't like being called an idiot very much, and he stared at you with one eyebrow raised, weighing up whether it was worth slapping one of your eyebrows off. After all, even though you were a little rude and extremely irritating, with that brain of yours, you could be useful to him. And Jinu never let potential tools get away.

You cleared your throat, looking semi-serious again, before continuing: "The thing is... who knows? If someone who could sing found... I don't know... four other people who could sing... and a successful producer in her previous life... they could negotiate with Gwi-ma to form a band... and, you know, succeed?

You were tired of Jinu.

Jinu was tired of you.

But you needed Jinu to find the rest of the Saja Boys, and Jinu didn't mind a producer (not as successful as she claimed to be) with similar ideals to his... even though you were both sure that the other was the stupidest person in the underworld.

In the end, you decided that the best thing for both of you was to work together... even if that meant exchanging ideas again.

But if you thought that encounter had been disastrous, it was because you couldn't even imagine what it would be like to meet the others. Or to have them all together in one room. Or to explain to them how the roles and ‘personalities’ of a modern boy band work... or to get them to stop flirting with you just for fun. Or, quite simply, to get them to pay you the slightest bit of attention.

"I refuse to play the baby, even if Jinu asks me to. Nuh-huh. Not happening."

You put your hands over your face in frustration. Everything was more difficult because you already knew the roles played by each of Jinu's friends. And the hardest part was that they listened to Jinu and Jinu only, not to you, a grumpy, bossy stranger.

"But to satisfy the fans' absurd need to infantilise idols, there has to be one member of the group who behaves a little more like a youngster, Byeol." you said through your hands, tired of arguing.

It was a surprise (though it made sense) to discover that Jinu's friends had real names and not literal descriptions of their roles in the group. It was also a surprise to discover that Sang, whom you knew as Abby by his stage name, was the only one who really liked his role in the band: the himbo, muscular gym rat.

Byeol flatly refused to play the adorable maknae. Even though he was the youngest... and whose physique was more like that of a young boy.

Dasom wanted to be the leader, not the flirtatious Don Juan. Even though it had already been made clear that Jinu would be the leader.

And Minjun wanted to be the team mascot. Even though you had explained to him hundreds of times that boy bands didn't have mascots.

Jinu, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy your frustration. He knew your idea was good, especially after studying current music trends and fan preferences himself, but he would rather die (again) than confess that you were right.

You just wanted to pull your eyelashes out from the stress they were causing you. Because when they weren't complaining about your ideas, they were playing games to make you agitated and blush. Which was difficult when your lack of self-esteem and patience couldn't properly process the flirting and romantic jokes that Dasom, in particular, tried on you.

In the end, at the expense of your mental health, you reached an agreement: you would be strictly partners, and you would work as a team for the common good (making Gwi-ma happy so he would give you some space) and at the same time, for personal reasons: Jinu wanted Gwi-ma to erase his memories, Dasom and Minjun wanted to leave the underworld, even if only temporarily, Sang wanted to improve his quality of life in hell once they had destroyed the Honmoon... and no one knew exactly what Byeol wanted.

Thanks to Jinu, they accepted their roles and decided on their stage names (which, thank goodness, you didn't have to argue with them about, because they were able to come up with them on their own) and ended up accepting you as their producer and something like a secretary or manager or something in between... a helping hand to make their plan succeed.

In return, you only asked for three things: no flirting with you, even as a joke (or seriously), no asking what exactly you would get in return, and never, ever, telling Gwi-ma about yourself, since he didn't know you existed... and if he found out that a demon from his kingdom had a soul and wasn't under his control... you'd be dead.

You would think of something to prevent the death of the humans, Rumi's very avoidable misunderstanding with the others, Jinu's death and all that...in time.

For now, all your attention would have to go into producing their debut and making it a resounding success... and also convincing the boys that pastel pink was sexy.

They clearly had talent. Without using their powers, they were good singers, and you were surprised by Dasom's, now known as Romance, skills as a dancer and choreographer. Baby rapped effortlessly and was able to help you write, Abby had an incredible memory and physical resistance, Mystery had a heavenly voice, and then there was Jinu... who had all of the above, bathed in sarcasm. From that first encounter, your friendship never quite clicked. But you didn't care, because he would clearly end up with Rumi and they would live happily ever after, right?

Before you pitched the idea to Gwi-ma, you wanted them to be ready. You wanted their debut to be perfect. At first, simply because it was your plan, and because it was necessary for the story to move forward. But as time went by, it was also for their sake. Because even though they constantly drove you crazy and tested your patience, you learned to care for them. After all, part of your plan was to give them back their souls, and to do that, you had to understand them as best you could.

You learned that Baby was the most mature of them all despite being the youngest, even though he never talked about his past as a human beyond admitting that he had been a writer. You had the best conversations with him. He knew how to listen, he knew how to debate, and he was intelligent. Attractive, if you were asked for your honest opinion. One day, after rehearsal, you found him deep in thought, writing notes in a notebook. Although he found it difficult to open up to you, he finally admitted that even in the underworld he still liked to write, especially fantasy, and you convinced him to let you read something. After giving him your honest opinion in the form of constructive criticism and silly jokes, you two became closer. You found Baby to be a very interesting, attractive person with a great talent for storytelling. And to Baby, you were a reliable critic, smart (even if Jinu said otherwise), and although a bit grumpy, very funny. He learned to enjoy his time with you and to miss you when you weren't around. You were the one who could offer him the best conversation... and the best company.

Abby was much sweeter, and sometimes a bit childish. He was competitive and affectionate, hungry for physical contact. Apparently, he had been the eldest son in a military family, and from a very young age he had been raised to be the head of the family. That meant he was the only one of his siblings who couldn't have time for his mother's affection, because he had to be the strongest, and feelings only weakened men. Behind his confident gaze was a child who had never received a hug from his mother. The day you dyed his hair, he discovered how much he liked having his hair stroked, and since then, every now and then he asks you to do it, pretending it's good for his muscles, ignoring the fact that you both know it's the worst lie ever told. But after learning his story, you decided not to say a word about it and let him rest his head on your lap so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. What you didn't know was that, over time, it became Abby's favourite place, and that sometimes, when you hummed without realising while caressing him, he felt like he had finally left the underworld and came home. Because that's what you were starting to be to him.

At first, Mystery was the hardest to deal with, as he was the least vocal of the five. And not being able to see his expression made it even harder to understand his emotions. Was he happy? Sad? Angry? Maybe it was because he had gotten too into his role, but he was a complete mystery. Little by little, you learned to read between the lines, to interpret his silences. When he tilted his head to one side because he was curious, when he lowered his chin because he was angry... He was a bit like a kitten. And you understood why he insisted in been a mascot... without the need to talk, but kinda expressive. You learned that he was an orphan and had lived most of his life alone. As time went by and you learned to understand him, he opened up to you, little by little. He talked to you more, trusted you more. Until he explained that he had once been in love, that his heart had been broken, and that since then he had found it difficult to express himself with words and to open up to people. But for some reason, with you it was different. You never judged him, even though he went along with the others to tease and joke with you, and you were always patient with him. You wanted to understand him... and now he wanted to learn from you and try again to open up to people.

Romance hid a genuinely cheerful and funny boy behind a facade of smiles and empty flirting. Apparently, he had been a dancer in his human life, hence his talent, and he had had four older sisters, which made him the most patient with you. At first he was cold towards you, apparently because you reminded him of a life he couldn't return to, but little by little he came to understand that you had nothing to do with his sisters, hius past and his decisions, and that being distant towards you didn't benefit him at all. Gradually you talked more and more, understanding each other's tastes, and coming to enjoy each other's company. When Romance wasn't trying to embarrass you just for fun, his company could even be enjoyable. And although he didn't want to admit it, he liked spending time with you more and more, and he was beginning to enjoy getting on your nerves in a different way.

Jinu, on the other hand, was the one who had remained the most distant from you. You couldn't say why, but that's how it was. Maybe he was disgusted by your appearance, or maybe he was bothered by the smell of your breath, but he always stayed several steps away from you. He tried to look unbothered, calm, and composed, as long as he wasn't picking on you. How considerate. In fact, he practically only spoke to you directly to annoy you. It was frustrating because you knew he was sweet and kind to Rumi, but for some reason, with you, he was... like that. You wanted to strangle him every time he contradicted you or when he clearly pretended to be fine when his memories were torturing him. You couldn't see that he always turned to look at you when you turned away, that he was the one who cared most about you getting some rest, and that he was actually cold to you to try to prove to himself that you weren't important. That you were expendable. That you were stupid, no fun, not attractive at all, and in no way interesting. Because if he got closer to you, it could mean moving away from his goal.

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Ch. 2

A/N: Well! Finally, a real chapter. I hope it was interesting enough to make you want to keep reading… My intention is to let the relationships develop slowly, and as the story progresses, and finally let you choose who will win your heart (wink). For now, everyone deserves a chance, right? Even Jinu, who acts all tough. Or should Jinu end up with Rumi, because they didn't give us that satisfaction in the movie?

Anyway, I hope you liked it and that you want to keep reading :)

See you soon,

Nun🐇​

[hazbinhotei]

running away.

happy ending. — bad ending.

warnings: disgusting yearning and pining, alastor is bad at feelings

word count: 4043 (yeesh)

summary: Alastor finds himself torn apart by his feelings for you—caught between the instinct to flee, as he always has, and the unbearable need to stay by your side.

alastor x gn!reader. ooooh boy. this one's gonna be a doozy, folks. if you like yearning, this one's for you. can you tell i was heavily inspired by mr. darcy's confession? (i honestly can’t tell if he's ooc in this because canon alastor has never shown a single ounce of yearning for someone in his 8-episode-plus-a-pilot lifespan—so feel free to let me know if he feels too ooc!) note: there will be a part two to this story, but it will be split up into two different endings—a happy ending, and a terrible, angst-ridden ending. buckle up motherfuckers.

Alastor was a creature of habit. Order. A strict, unshakable routine built over decades of meticulous control.

Mornings began with coffee (black, no sugar, piping hot). Then, a careful selection of the day’s amusements—perhaps meddling in Husk’s card games, spinning nonsensical riddles at Niffty, or casually terrorizing poor unsuspecting souls. If not that, then there was always his beloved radio broadcast, an extension of his own theatricality, his voice slipping into the airwaves with a whispered promise of chaos. He had his weekly tea with Rosie in Cannibal Town, the two of them exchanging pleasantries steeped in the unspoken understanding of what lay beneath their grins. And, of course, there was assisting Charlie with whatever new, doomed-to-fail project she had set her heart upon—whether it was trying to rehabilitate a particularly stubborn sinner or attempting to redecorate the lobby with decor so disgustingly cheery it made his teeth itch.

It was simple. It was structured. It was comfortable.

Then you arrived.

And now, nothing was comfortable anymore.

You weren’t supposed to fit in so easily. You weren’t supposed to slip into the rhythm of the hotel as if you had always belonged, as if Hell itself had been waiting for you. You weren’t supposed to make conversation feel like a game he wanted to play, something effortless, something that left him wanting to hear your voice just once more before you left the room. You weren’t supposed to light up a space in a way that made his carefully cultivated shadows feel... lesser. Weaker.

And under no circumstances should he have felt—what was the word?—relief whenever you entered. As if an invisible weight had been pressing on his chest all day and only when he caught sight of you did it lift, just slightly. That wasn't how it worked. Not for him. Not for what he was. He wasn’t meant to miss something he had never needed before. He wasn’t meant to ache for something so simple, so insignificant as your presence.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers when you sat beside him on the couch. An uncharacteristic pause before he replied to one of your jokes. A nagging awareness of how close you stood whenever you did your unspoken daily routine of passing him his morning coffee, your fingertips brushing his just barely—

Pathetic.

He was the Radio Demon. The very concept of intimacy was laughable—an absurd little mortal relic that he had shed alongside his humanity long ago. What purpose did it serve, this feeble notion of longing? Affection had never been anything more than a tool, a game, a means to an end. He had wielded it, manipulated it, destroyed those who mistook it for kindness.

Love, devotion, tenderness—these were things for weaker creatures, for those still clinging to the fragile remnants of their mortal selves. He had observed it time and time again, how it turned even the strongest into fools, left them raw and bleeding, desperate to be seen, to be wanted. He had laughed at it, mocked it, torn it apart with his own hands just to watch how easily it crumbled. Love was a trick, a trap, a cruel joke played by the universe on those too naive to see the inevitable decay waiting at the end of it all.

And yet.

And yet, you gnawed at the edges of that certainty. You, with your warm eyes and your easy laughter, your maddening persistence. You, who had never once cowered before him, who spoke to him not as a monster, not as a demon, but simply as he was. The idea of being wanted by you made his skin crawl, not because it was unpleasant, but because it was tempting. Because the very thought of reaching back, of grasping onto something that could slip through his fingers, made an unspoken and ugly emotion coil deep in his chest.

No. He would not succumb to it. He refused to.

But somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about how your hands looked when they smoothed down a tablecloth. How your voice dipped just slightly when you spoke to him in a quiet room. How the simple act of sitting beside you made his chest tighten like an ill-fitting suit. How your presence, once nothing more than a fleeting amusement, had begun to linger in the back of his mind long after you had left the room.

He was losing his grip.

So naturally, he pulled away.

At first, it was subtle. Declining your invitations with a breezy excuse. Avoiding the library at the hours he knew you’d be there. Letting the space between you on the couch grow wider, until one day, he simply stopped sitting there at all. It should have been easy. He had abandoned attachments before. He had crushed them when necessary.

Then why did this feel different? Why did the absence of your voice press against his ribs like something suffocating? Why did the distance feel less like control and more like punishment? Why did that confused expression you gave him every time he avoided you make his dead heart shatter, his hands itching to cup your face and ease that look away?

He convinced himself it was working. He convinced himself it had to work.

Then you handed him his morning coffee.

"Here you go, Al," you chirped, the usual warmth in your voice melodic to his ears. Your fingers brushed his as you passed him the mug—his favorite 'Oh Deer!' mug, the one you had bought for him during one of your outings into the city—and the sensation burned. Not from the heat of the coffee, but from the sheer wrongness of how much he had missed that fleeting contact.

He didn’t mean to snap.

But it was all too much—your touch, your voice, your mere existence gnawing at the brittle edges of his carefully constructed distance. The words came before he could stop them, sharp and cutting, a desperate attempt to shove you back to the safe distance he needed you to be.

"You made this wrong."

A moment passed, your long lashes fluttering as you blinked at him.

"...What?" Your smile faltered, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat from the look of it.

His grip on the mug tightened, nodding curtly as he tried his best to turn a sinister smile onto you. "It’s dreadful," he exhaled, tone venomous and cold. "I would have preferred if you hadn’t wasted my time with such an amateur attempt."

The hurt in your eyes was immediate. A flicker of pain, confusion knitting your brows together, the brightness in your gaze dimming as if he had reached in and plucked the light from them himself. Your fingers twitched around the empty space where the mug had just been, and Alastor could hear the soft, uneven hitch of your breath—small, nearly imperceptible, but to him, it was deafening.

His stomach twisted violently, the pool of regret forming instantly, like a faucet turned on full blast. The sensation was foreign, unwelcome. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his throat suddenly too tight. He should have felt triumphant, victorious in successfully pushing you away. Instead, all he felt was cold.

Before he could fully comprehend the wreckage he had caused, you took a step back, your face twisting with shock, wounded in a way that made his chest snap.

"I—I’m sorry," you stammered, voice smaller than he had ever heard it. Then, without another word, you turned and walked away.

He stood there, coffee steaming in his grip, staring at the place you had been just moments ago. And that's when the guilt slammed into him at full force, sharp and immediate, like a knife twisted in his gut. It was unlike any other regret he had ever felt—this wasn’t the satisfaction of a well-executed deception, nor the detached amusement of watching someone fall apart at his hands. No, this was different. This was wrong.

His fingers flexed around the mug, but the warmth no longer registered. He could call you back. Apologize. Lie and say it had been a simple mistake, that he was having an off day, that his temper had flared for reasons beyond your control. He could spin some ridiculous excuse, charm you with a quip, erase the damage with a well-placed grin and an empty promise that it wouldn’t happen again. You might even believe him.

But that would mean admitting the truth to himself.

That he wanted to reach for you. That he missed you already. That the very act of hurting you made him feel more like a monster than anything else he had done in both life and Hell combined. He had destroyed people, laughed in the face of suffering, relished in the chaos of agony—and yet, somehow, this was what made his stomach churn. This tiny, insignificant moment of cruelty.

His free hand clenched at his side. Was this for the best? Hadn't he convinced himself it was? Keeping you at arm’s length was necessary, wasn’t it? If he let you in, if he let you matter, what then? He couldn't afford to want something. He couldn't afford to lose something. He would lose you—if not by his own doing, then by Hell’s inevitable cruelty. And yet, in this moment, staring at the empty space you had left behind, he barely knew what to believe anymore.

But Alastor continued on with what he knew best: forced nonchalance. He went about his day as if his entire world (you) wasn’t being ripped apart from his very hands, ignoring the way his heart ached to see your figure roaming the halls of the hotel. You hadn’t shown your face the entire day, but Alastor simply understood that you were merely hiding from him.

Really, the idea of you avoiding him should have been amusing—should have been nothing more than an inevitable reaction to his own actions. But the reality of it? It gnawed at him. He had practically bared his teeth at you like a rabid beast, and now, the sight of your absence in the halls felt more damning than any glare or scorned remark you could have thrown his way.

He let your absence continue, let the days tick by, convinced that if he just waited long enough, this ache in his chest would fade into nothingness. But then came the third day, and you were nowhere to be seen.

By then, the irritation had settled in deep, poisoning his mood like rot spreading beneath the surface. His patience had thinned, his normally sharp composure fraying at the edges. Conversations that he once found amusing became tiresome. Charlie had noticed his snappiness, her ever-sunny demeanor tinged with concern. Angel had made an offhand comment about how he seemed to be 'on the fritz' before skipping off without waiting for a response. Even Husk, Husk, had the audacity to offer him a drink—as if he were some pathetic wreck in need of drowning his sorrows.

That was when Alastor realized, with no small amount of irritation, that your absence had begun to sink its claws into him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. And that? That was unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable! He should have been able to brush it off, should have been able to let the days pass without so much as a second thought. And yet, here he was, pacing his room like some restless specter, unable to drown out the gnawing sense that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

And then, there was the matter of worry. A most bothersome emotion, one he was neither accustomed to nor particularly fond of. You had never been one to isolate yourself—always eager to assist, to busy your hands, to play your part in Charlie’s grandiose little dream. If redemption were possible, he had no doubt that you would be the prime candidate, the shining example of doing better.

And yet, for all your goodness, for all your damnable persistence, you had vanished. No sharp retorts, no stubborn frowns in the hallway, no stiff exchanges over breakfast. Just… nothing. And Alastor—who had spent decades mastering the art of detachment—ached in a way that made his very being itch at the absence of you.

And so, after enduring three whole days of this insufferable torment, he found himself standing outside your door at the ungodly hour of 2AM, posture far from its usual effortless grace. He could have just appeared inside—after all, formalities were often wasted on him—but some part of him hesitated, some fraying, fragile thing inside him insisting that this moment required the courtesy of a knock.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, and for once, he felt the weight of his own heartbeat in his ears, his stomach twisting in ways that defied every carefully crafted illusion of control he had spent years perfecting.

Would you open the door? Or would you leave him standing in the dark, drowning in the mess he had made?

He barely had time to dwell on it before the door cracked open, revealing you standing in the dim light of your room. His mind went utterly blank. There you were—eyes still heavy with sleep, hair slightly disheveled, but unmistakably you. And despite everything, despite the coolness in your expression, despite the guarded way you held yourself, you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Your brows furrowed. "Alastor?" Your voice was groggy, confused, and laced with a wary edge that made his gut twist. "What are you doing here?"

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because in that moment, every single wall, every flimsy excuse he had built to keep you at a distance collapsed. He was moving before he could think, hands grasping your shoulders before pulling you into him, burying his face into the crook of your neck to hide his expression. The moment he felt the warmth of you against him, something inside him broke. His arms tightened, his breath shuddering as he clung to you with the desperation of a man grasping onto the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"You’ve got me completely strung up, darling," he murmured against your skin, voice shaking, uncharacteristically human. "My soul—it belongs to you. Somehow, in ways I never thought possible, you’ve infected every inch of me. My mind is shattered, torn apart at the very idea of needing someone so much, needing you so much. Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi."

You stood frozen, his words washing over you like a tide, overwhelming and impossible to process all at once. This was Alastor—the Radio Demon—collapsing against you, breath uneven, body taut with something that felt too much like fear. He spoke like a man unraveling, like a creature who had spent his entire existence untouched by love and was now drowning in it. You didn't even understand the words he said in French, but by the way his velveteen fingers held you like you were the most sacred thing in this realm, you only assumed it was an extension of his profession.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, the words were tumbling out faster, as though if he didn’t say them now, he never would. "I’m worried," he admitted, voice raw, cracking at the edges. "Worried that my entire existence before this was a sham. That every moment, every act of amusement, every indulgence, was just a hollow distraction to bide my time while I waited for your arrival in my life. Because all I want now—all I ever want—is to spend my eternity loving you. And that terrifies me."

"Je ne sais pas quoi en faire," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what to do with you. But I—"

His fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves, shaking ever so slightly. "I know I don’t want to let go."

Your heart pounded, but the moment you wrapped your arms around him, he melted. His ears flattened against his head as he exhaled, sinking into you with a shudder, as if the weight of his own emotions had finally exhausted him. He was so tired. You could feel it in the way he leaned against you, in the tension slowly unwinding from his frame, in the way his breath steadied the longer you held him.

You glanced up at the ceiling of the hotel hallway, simply listening to his breathing mixing with yours as your thoughts ran wild. You'd be lying if you said your heart wasn’t hammering, your face burning from Alastor’s confession, from the rawness in his voice that still lingered in the air between you. You had always found Alastor appealing—too appealing. But you had banished those thoughts to the farthest, dustiest corners of your heart, convincing yourself that he was above feeling emotions such as yearning, that he was incapable of it.

So instead, you had settled. Settled for the little moments he allowed you. Settled for the quiet mornings where you made his coffee, a simple act that meant more to you than it ever should have. It had been your small way of being close to him, a selfish indulgence wrapped in routine. He never needed you to make it for him, but you had done it anyway, convincing yourself it was nothing more than habit. If you could not have his love, at least you could be something to him—another piece of his structured, predictable world.

Yet here you were, rubbing slow, soothing circles into his spine as he clung to you like you were his lifeline, as if letting you go would devastate him completely.

"This is new for you, isn’t it?" you murmured after a moment, a gentle tease laced with understanding. He only nodded, his grip on you tightening just slightly, as if the thought of you slipping away was unbearable.

You sighed, your fingers weaving through his bobbed hair as you whispered, "Then rest, Alastor. Come, let's get you some shut eye."

He barely had the energy to protest as you guided him inside your suite, leading him to your bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world. You pretended like this was natural, hoped this was natural for him as much as it was for you. You simply believed it was, because the moment he collapsed against you, his head resting against your chest as you cradled him, his body finally, finally relaxed.

He mumbled incoherently—his confession still spilling past his lips, but now softer, sleepier. Then, in a hushed murmur, barely audible against the quiet hum of the room, he rasped, "I didn’t mean it... about the coffee. It was perfect. It’s always perfect. I just... I just needed to push you away. And that was—" he swallowed, voice heavy with regret, "—an idiotic move, wasn't it?"

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the red and black strands of his hair, marveling at how uncharacteristically vulnerable he was in your arms. "Yes, it was."

A deep sigh left him, the weight of his own foolishness pressing down on him like an anchor. But as your fingers continued their soothing motion against his scalp, he let himself melt into your touch, his body going lax against yours.

You bit your lip, staring down at him as the last of his tension seeped away. Butterflies stirred in your stomach. His face had softened in sleep, the sharpness of his usual smile now gentle, almost innocent. You had never seen him sleep before. You wondered if he always looked this peaceful, or if it was just you that made him feel safe enough to rest.

A quiet hope bloomed inside you, cautious yet warm, as you tightened your hold on him. Maybe this would lead to something more. Maybe, just maybe, the Radio Demon had found something worth holding onto.

And as you watched him sleep, his face unguarded, peaceful in a way you had never seen before, you found yourself fighting the urge to sleep. But the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers unconsciously curled around the fabric of your pajamas as if anchoring himself to you—it was enough to lull you into a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing falling in sync with his. You didn’t fight it. The past few days had been exhausting—a whirlwind of emotions, too heavy to bear. As sleep crept in, everything else melted away. The last thing you registered was the feeling of Alastor shifting slightly, nuzzling ever so subtly into you, his body seeking yours even in slumber. His breath was warm against your collarbone, steady now, quiet—so different from the ever-broadcasting hum of his usual presence. For the first time, he felt real, tangible. Yours.

And just like that, the two of you stayed tangled together the entire night, wrapped in each other’s arms, as if the universe itself had been waiting for this moment all along.

The morning was peaceful.

You stirred awake with a soft hum, stretching slightly as the red glow of dawn spilled through the curtains. The warmth surrounding you was comforting, familiar—until you realized it was gone. Your brows furrowed as a cold chill seeped in where Alastor had been. The sheets beside you were rumpled but empty, the lingering warmth already fading. Your eyes snapped open.

He was gone.

Confusion rushed through you as you sat up, scanning the room as if expecting him to be lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing—no trace of him, no sign that he had ever been here at all.

Had you imagined it? Had the past night been nothing more than some fever dream conjured by your longing heart?

Then, your gaze landed on your bedside table.

A single note sat there, the paper slightly crumpled, like the writer had hesitated before leaving it behind. Dread pooled in your stomach as you reached for it, fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded the page. The cursive was rushed, messy—so unlike the usual pristine elegance of his writing. But you knew, without a doubt, who it belonged to.

Let’s not dwell on last night’s theatrics, dear. A lapse in judgment, nothing more. Best forgotten.

Your hands trembled as you read the words, once, twice, three times over, as if the ink might rearrange itself, as if the meaning might shift into something softer, something less cruel. But it never did. The more you stared, the more final it became, each elegant loop of his handwriting twisting the knife deeper into your chest.

Your throat constricted, a hollow ache settling in your stomach as the events of the night before played on repeat in your mind. His voice, raw and desperate. His hands gripping onto you like you were the only thing keeping him from vanishing. The way he had melted in your arms, safe, vulnerable—and now he was gone, pretending it had never happened.

A shaky breath escaped you, your fingers clutching the note so tightly the edges crumpled beneath your grip. You should have been angry. You should have cursed his name, torn the paper apart, stormed through the hotel to find him and demand an explanation. But all you could do was sit there, the weight of his absence crushing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

Had it really meant so little to him? Had it been nothing more than a moment of weakness, something he could cast aside come morning? And yet… the way he had clung to you, the way he had whispered his devotion into your skin—how could that have been a lie?

Your vision blurred as you pressed the note to your chest, curling forward as if the pressure could somehow hold you together. You wanted to believe this wasn’t the end. That this was fear, not indifference. That he was running not because last night was meaningless, but because it meant too much. But no matter how much you clung to that hope… the silence left in his wake felt an awful lot like goodbye.

But what if he never stopped running?

"Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi." = It hurts even to be separated from you. "Je ne sais pas quoi en faire" = I don't know what to do with it i am no where near even slightly fluent in french so please take these google translates with a grain of salt. stay tuned for part 2!

[phantomwithbreakfast]

DANNYMAY DAY 10: Family

Day 09 • Day 11

⟢ Did I know what to do with this prompt? Absolutely not. Thankfully, some amazing friends helped spark the idea—so huge thanks to them for the rescue! This was also the very first time I’ve ever drawn Maddie—so… that was a whole experience on its own, geeeez—(more under the cut)

Genre: Angst / Drama • TW/CW: Graphic Content — Violence — PTSD — Emotional Distress • Maddie’s POV • A moment after Scarred For Half A Life (my phic) • AU — OOC

The house was quiet again.

Too quiet.

No Jazz stomping up the stairs with textbooks cradled to her chest. No Danny thudding through the door with muddy sneakers and excuses. No laughter. No shouting. No heartbeat.

Just the whispers of a silent home that used to be full of life.

Jazz was away at college—pursuing her own future, a future Maddie once envisioned proudly for both of her children. And Danny… Danny was gone. Not gone as in missing. No. She knew where he was—out there, somewhere. Wandering. Existing. A ghost of the boy she once held in her arms.

The boy she cradled. The boy she once watched the stars with, his tiny hand wrapped in hers. The boy she whispered a future to—soft dreams beneath blanket forts and starlit ceilings. A life full of promise. Of hope. The boy she tried so desperately to save.

But it was no use.

She hadn’t saved him.

Now all that remained was silence. And the echo of everything she’d lost.

Maddie sat on the edge of the couch, back straight, hands folded politely in her lap. In her palms, she held the photograph frame that always sat on the coffee table. It was old now—edges chipped, the silver rim dulled. But the image was still crystal clear.

Her boy. Her Danny.

She studied his face, her gloved thumb brushing over the glass in a delicate motion. A mother’s caress—sterile, careful, as if even through the photo, he might vanish at her touch.

How had it come to this?

How had the sweet, smiling child in the frame become the thing that stood in front of her in the lab that day—wild-eyed, screaming, burning with ectoplasmic rage?

How had Phantom infected him so deeply? So thoroughly that Danny couldn’t see the truth anymore?

No… that wasn’t fair. She knew the truth. Knew what had to be done. All her research, all her testing, the sleepless nights… they were for him. Only for him. For his safety. For humanity’s safety.

That’s what she‘d told herself. But buried under all the logic and justifications was something far less noble.

She just wanted her little boy back.

Her Danny. Her son. Hers.

Not some half-dead, ectoplasm-saturated anomaly with Phantom’s reverberating vocal frequency and those irradiated, bio-luminescent green eyes—unnaturally aged beyond the developmental stage of an eighteen-year-old.

Maddie exhaled sharply, the breath rattling through clenched teeth. Her hand trembled as it traced the curve of her little Danny’s cheek in the photo—just for a moment—but she forced it still. Composure was key. Logic was essential. Emotions clouded judgment. Still… the memory came unbidden.

That last conversation—if it could be called that. A confrontation. A breakdown. A rupture.

“Everything I’ve ever done for you! Every time I was there for you—it was all for nothing!” she’d screamed. She remembered the pitch of her own voice cracking.

And its reply—so calculated, so… cold, laced with a dangerously elevated cortisol spike in its tone. It wasn’t the neural cadence of her son. It was something else entirely. Something Phantom.

“You’re a fucking sick, narcissistic psycho! I wish you were dead! DEAD!” it had screamed, its voice reverberating with raw ectoplasmic resonance, each word slamming into her like a shockwave. Phantom—pinning her down, overpowering on the cold lab’s floor. There was no way out. No escape. Just its fury—heavy, suffocating and absolute.

The ghostly, green ectoplasmic blade had materialized before her cortex could fully register his words—a volatile construct forged from grief, rage, and betrayal. Ectoplasm manipulated at a molecular level, shaped not for defense, but as a precise instrument of hatred.

“I tried… to be your son. I tried… to be what you wanted. I tried to be enough for you,” it said—its voice trembling, brittle with long-suppressed emotion. She watched its hands shake, still gripping the ectoplasmic blade suspended above her body. The energy shimmered, unstable, reacting to his elevated stress levels and unstable core.

Ghosts don’t feel emotions. Ghosts don’t feel pain.

She repeated it like a mantra—over and over and over again, forcing the belief into every corner of her mind until it sounded like truth. Until it had to be the truth.

But… was it?

All those years of study. All those sleepless nights in the lab, dissecting ectoplasmic signatures, charting neural echoes, cataloging behaviors and anomalies. Mapping the so-called biology of something that shouldn’t exist. She’d convinced herself—convinced the world—that ghosts were nothing more than sentient patterns. Echoes. Constructs obsessed with an idea, not real people. No real emotion. No true pain. Just manipulation coded into their being. Just psychopathic mimicry—strategic, rehearsed. They didn’t feel, they performed. They adapted to get what they wanted.

And yet…

That voice. That blade. Those dispicable eyes.

That boy.

Was it all just Phantom’s performance?

Or… had she miscalculated the truth all along?

She should’ve felt fear. But all she could process in that moment was the devastating truth—

It—he still wanted to be loved. And she had failed him. She’d failed herself. Not as a scientist. Not as protector of humanity. But as a mother. She’d failed her son. And in doing so—she had failed herself. Completely. Irrevocably.

Before her neurons could even fire in response, before cognition caught up with reality—the blade dropped, piercing straight through her sternum. A precise, calculated strike. Not reckless. Not wild. Just deliberate. Cold. Controlled. As if it—he had been holding it in for years.

She could still feel it sometimes—phantom pain in the space just beside her heart.

“And it was… it was never enough. So fine. If I’m nothing to you, then you’re nothing to me,” it—he had said—his voice flat, final. Not shouted. Not screamed. Just spoken like a verdict.

The blade stayed lodged between her ribs, pulsing faintly with unstable ectoplasmic energy. Her lungs stuttered against the pressure—sharp, shallow gasps cathing in her throat. The tissue around her sturnum burned, the spreading cold, the biological confusion as her nervous system began to misfire. Each inhale felt tighter, narrower—like the air itself was rejecting her.

She was suffocating.

Everything blurred. And for a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was looking at her son… or the thing… she’d created.

His hand had trembled when he twisted the blade—but not from regret. From fury.

“You’re not even worth killing,” he whispered—spat through clenched teeth, each word dripping with contempt.

The blade was drawn from her chest in one clean pull. Not with hesitation. Not with mercy. With disdain.

The withdrawal burned worse than the strike.

Before she could fully register the movement, his hand hovered inches above her chest—right over the open wound. A chilling cold bloomed from his palm, not the comforting kind—but the clinical, detached kind. Ice spread over her sternum, seeping into the torn tissue. The wound began to close—not fully, no. Just enough to stop the bleeding. Enough to keep her alive.

“You’re worth it to fucking suffer,” he finished, his voice low, final, echoing in the sterile silence like a death sentence.

It wasn’t kindness. It was all about control.

Maddie’s hands trembled around the photo frame now. Not from fear. No—never fear.

This piece is—a kind of aftermath of what is going to happen in my phic. I don’t even know if people are reading it lol.

Just… the aftershocks of loss. The lingering tremors of something she refused to name.

She set the frame down carefully, like it was a specimen too fragile to fracture—too sacred to break. Her expression remained composed, perfectly arranged, every muscle calculated into stillness.

But inside?

Inside was a mother’s graveyard. Unmarked. Silent. And filled with everything she’d buried just to survive.

⟢ I’ll be honest—I’ve developed a real hate for headcanon Maddie. Not just because of all the existing phics out there where she vivisects Phantom—her own son—whether she realizes it or not. But because of my own phic. I created that version of her, and now I can’t look at her without cringing. Drawing her was… uncomfortable, to say the least. And yeah, I know—it sounds weird. But it is what it is, and there’s no undoing it now.

⟢ I don’t enjoy writing Danny as a villain either. But sometimes, to really understand a story, you have to look at it through someone else’s eyes. Right?

⟢ This piece is a kind of aftermath of what’s coming in my phic. Honestly? I’m not even sure if anyone’s reading it, lol.

[juniperstale]

think i like you, best when you're just with me — ashlyn, aiden, taylor

⋆ jealousy they feel even though you're not dating [ . . . gn!reader, sfw, lowercase intended little angsty but fluff at the end, jealousy, aiden calls reader a bbg as a joke but im still considering this gn, reader is described as attractive (ashlyn), reader is described as pretty (aiden), cursing, taylor is very ooc . . . ]

ASHLYN is someone who is very in tune with her emotions. she's very well connected with herself and knows immediately when she likes you. that doesn't mean she'll tell you though. as the leader, she believes it to be her job to keep the entire group safe and that means not getting into a relationship with you as to focus on the major problem at hand. unfortunately, that doesn't stop her from getting dejected at the sight of you being flirted with.

you are attractive, everyone can agree on that. and you are not hers, that is a plain fact. yes, you two flirt sometimes, but that doesn't matter because she immediately stops and walks away when she feels things are getting too real. it's only to protect you, after all. maybe, after this was all done and over with, you two could be happy, together, in a relationship, as a couple.

her eyebrows furrow as she watches the scene in front of her unfold. she was clearly disgusted, her already mean rbf becoming ten times worse.

"okay well your shirt just looks really nice!" the stranger complimented as you looked down at her, a warm smile resting on your face. ashlyn was beside you the entire time, her arms crossed as she glared at the stranger. "thank you, thank you! well, it was nice to meet you-" you were tryng to end the conversation as quickly as you could so you could get back to hanging out with ashlyn who you could tell was frustrated. "ah! wait before you go could i have your instagram? number even?" the question caught you off guard but before you could respond ashlyn did so for you. her heart burned at such a question, even though you weren't hers, she was used to people just assuming you two were in a relationship when you were together and backing off of you. she was frustrated, no furious, that someone dared to make a move on you, her face contorting from her rbf to a scowl. "no." she replied for you, coldly, grabbing your hand and turning around as she sped off with you.

once you were at a far enough location, you were quick to question her. "what was that about ash?" you asked sincerely as you sat next to her on the bench, watching passerby's go about their lives. "you know what it was about." she responded quickly, avoiding eye contact as you let out a sigh. "i don't get it, if you like me you'd ask me out like the others, no?" you questioned again as she turned to look at you. "if you want to be in a relationship just say yes to 'the others,' no?" she questioned back as it became your turn to avoid her gaze. you stayed quiet for a few seconds before letting out a small, "i only want you though." with her super human hearing, she obviously heard you clearly, the tips of her ears turning a pretty shade of pink as she looks down at her feet, than back up at you, a sudden boost of confidence taking over her as her hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

"trust me, the moment i can, i will."

if there is one word to describe AIDEN, it would not be quitter. from the moment he laid his eyes on you, you were his; to him and everyone around the two of you. he courted you relentlessly, flirting with you, buying you expensive gifts, dropping you off to your classes, picking you up. honestly people at your school eventually just assumed that it was no longer courting but that you were actually in an official relationship. and aiden was happy with that assumption, it only bothered him that strangers didn't also think so.

going to the nearest gas station, you and aiden decided to pick up snacks for yourselves and the rest of the group as an apology for being late. while at the cash register, you couldn't help but notice the nervous worker looking at you up at down as you took the items out your basket for him to scan. "is something the matter?" you ask him, to which he only blushes and shakes his head, avoiding eye contact with you while scanning all the snacks you were purchasing. you look down to grab your wallet which aiden stops you from doing by grabbing your arm, giving you a wink while whispering a joking "i gotchu, don't worry my baby girl." you only hit him back, a small laugh escaping you lips as you shake your head no before making eye contact with the cashier once more.

"you're so pretty." your eyes widen as aidens head practically shoots up to glare at the poor cahier whose thoughts accidently fell out of his mouth as words. "excuse you?" aiden questions as he swipes his card. "oh im so sorry! i didn't mean to say that!" he fumbles nervously, confirming aidens payment and grabbing bags as he clumsily places the snacks in. "it's totally fine! don't worry about it," you can't help but giggle at his behavior, watching the cashiers eyes grow even wider and blush get darker as he hands aiden the bags, wishing you a good rest of your day. you (and aiden) feel his eyes on you, watching you exit the store as you turn slightly, raising your hand to send him a goodbye wave but aiden grabs your hand before you can, effectively dragging you out of the store and to ashlyns place.

the walk was quiet and the atmosphere between the two of you were thick once you were reunited with the rest of the group. you all worked on your project a bit and argued over what the best next move to make would be before deciding to go to sleep. to your surprise, aiden still took his spot next to you as the entire group fell into a short slumber. unfortunately for you, the events of the day were still playing in your mind, causing you to fall in and out of a state of drowsiness. it didn't help that you could also feel aiden shifting next to you as well before he finally gave up on trying to avoid holding you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his neck.

"once we survive this night, we're gonna have to talk about making us official because if one more person tries to flirt with you, im going to lose my mind."

TAYLOR is not one to be jealous. no matter what you're relationship with her may be, she is calm and collected and knows how to express her feeling in a healthy way. that's why it was so shocking for her to walk in on you kissing a girl she'd never seen before, someone you'd never told her about. she felt her heart shatter into a billion pieces as her eyes welled with tears. she didn't know why, the two of you weren't even in a relationship so she had no right to feel this way, right? right.

she made her way into an empty classroom, sitting down at one of the desks and laying her head into her arms as she sighed, remembering the moment once again. it was weird, her heart stung at the thought of it, it almost made her nauseous.

she only lifted her head when she heard the door open, prepared to apologize to some teacher about being in their classroom without permission. to her surprise it was you.

"hey can we talk?" you ask as you make your way over to taylor who shakily nods her head with a quiet yes. you sit yourself on top of the table her head was previously laying on, "im so sorry taylor, i didn't mean for you to see tha-" shes quick to interrupt you, placing her hands on yours. "no! its totally fine, we're teens of course your going to be kissing people." she states before looking down at the table once again. "it's just a little confusing." she says. "what is?" you ask, not understanding what she was getting it. "well, when i saw you kissing that girl it kind of hurt. like my stomach started churning and i got dizzy. then there was this feeling in my heart- hey why are you laughing!" she asks, genuienly confused at your sudden burst of laughter. "im sorry, sorry! it just seems like you got jealous because you have a little crush on me." you're quick to apologize and respond, bringing your face close to hers as she blushes, subconsciously leaning in before your lips finally touched. when you finally pulled away, out of breath, she continued tug your shirt wanting more, something that seemed very out of her character for her.

"im gonna keep kissing you until the lipstick from her lips is replaced with mine."

4.14.24 ⋆ NOT PROOFREAD! bro taylors is so out of character towards the end wtf happened omg. anyways part 2 with tyler, logan and ben will be out soon. also its my first time writing for something that isn't bsd so lets see how this goes!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. spread the self-love!

thank you for tagging me @suguwu sorry this took me a sec to get to!! i have been cooking it up in my mind though !! hehe

Threefold | Honkai Star Rail — Mydei

When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

notes: this is my most recent project ergo i am the happiest with it atm HAHA i think my prose is at its strongest here!! honestly the idea for the plot really came to me in a vision…the image of mydeimos as the reluctant prisoner appeared so clearly to me that i had no choice but to build entire world to make it a reality!! (although in terms of world building i have done the bare minimum i feel LMAO very fast and loose fs) even though i haven’t met him in-game yet hehe he’s just very handsome yk haunts my waking hours and whatnot

Seabird | Blue Lock — Sae Itoshi

Thanks to a chance encounter on the beach, you spend your vacation trying to apologize to the famous soccer player you inadvertently offended. Unfortunately, Sae Itoshi has other plans.

notes: i feel like i would be remiss if i didn’t mention seabird!! this one was so much fun to write if only because reader and sae had the funniest dynamic i think i’ve ever written. they are so hater4hater and all of their conversations (plus the little brother’s snarky asides) had me giggling as i came up with them. i think in terms of prose it’s definitely a lot more functional compared to like threefold but that kind of lends it that silliness and charm?? so i still love it HAHA

Hierophant | Honkai Star Rail — Sunday

Sunday is your mirror, as you are his — or, how meeting him spells your doom, just like losing you spells his.

notes: did i know anything about sunday when i wrote this?? debatable (it was a birthday gift). forget about robin LMAOO this is definitely THE most ooc oak siblings you will ever see but i enjoyed it making it regardless!! it’s a 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓭𝓪𝔂 fic more than anything and very speculative/open to interpretation in its entirety which is what i was hoping to get across hehe like i have my ideas for what i think happened but truly it’s not clear at all and it was fun withholding everything LFKDJD if that makes sense…coming up with the differences between halovians and humans as well as writing sunday’s slow deterioration and eventual breakdown was very fun for me!! i also loved switching between past tense and present tense for the different povs hehe it was a fun exercise writing-wise as well!!

The Instrument | Blue Lock — Michael Kaiser

Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

notes: yes my opp michael kaiser is making an appearance here because unfortunately i actually do really love this piece LMAO i am not as much a fan of the part two because i only wrote it upon popular demand (i prefer leaving things open-ended) but part one i do by and large enjoy!! this was my first time ever writing in the present tense and i loveddd it HAHA it really unlocks a different style and vibe of writing for me so although i don’t always use it i def do like pulling it out every now and again which i wouldn’t have learned i can do without the instrument!!

Polar | Blue Lock — Nagi-Centric Genfic

This time, when Seishiro Nagi’s talent at soccer is discovered, it’s by a boy named Oliver Aiku — which goes about as well as you’d expect it to.

notes: this one is definitely a crazy one to put on here given that this is a genfic and i am a reader insert author but. i LOVE polar LMAOAOAO it was born of a silly conversation i had with one of my friends (jei if you’re seeing this hi) but it ended up being over 20k words of nagi character study in an au where he’s found by oliver instead of reo!! i love writing it hehe i think this is the proof nagi is my fav because like writing a genfic from a character’s pov is smth i’ve never done before and probs never will do again. but it was a blast at the time!!

no-pressure tagging: @luvether @loverducky @mewnbuns @kazucee @veraties (if any of you were tagged already i am sorry 🥹 i tried switching up who i tag too so i hope you all are okay with it please lmk if not so ik for next time 💖)

[kazekagevi]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: dark themes, mention of suicide attempt, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam, reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, Jake Sully appearance, random Human!OC's, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You settle into your new home at High Camp. You have a conversation with the Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully.

A/N and Disclaimer: If anyone would like to be notified/tagged in future updates, please comment on this post! Forgive any present tense inconsistencies.

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

Your adrenaline plummets. You rest for hours without interruption. 

The room Max has put you up in is nice, but you know it’s too spacious to be permanent. You lie comfortably on a lumpy couch. Sometimes the dim lights flicker, there’s a constant mechanical hum, and the blankets are scratchy, but you nap peacefully for the first time since cryosleep. It’s homely. You need this moment of respite. 

Hours later, you wake to the smell of something fragrant cooking. You’re so hungry that you feel nauseous. 

As badly as you want to leap from the couch and venture into the kitchen, you lie still. You continue to cherish this time to yourself—you’re unsure when you’ll get such an opportunity again. 

You let the events of the past week wash over you like a tidal wave. Tears come and go, just like mental flashes of the faces of the many women and allied wardens long gone. As demoralizing and dehumanizing the experience was, you became a tight-knit family because of it. Your pain is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before—as much as you miss them, you know they’re better off dead than being torn apart and transformed into the RDA’s breeding machines. It leaves a tart feeling in your mouth: it’s upsettingly bittersweet. 

Wading through the water of your thoughts and emotions is treacherous. If you swim too long, you know you’ll drown. 

You push away the blankets, then fold them neatly. You swipe beneath your tear ducts. After standing by the door for ten minutes, you gain the courage to place your palm over the entryway censor. You make it two steps out before you’re stopped. 

You’re startled by a woman’s whistle—it’s reminiscent of a catcall. She leans against a doorframe with a toothpick between her canines. She’s human. She’s stocky and muscular. The woman wears a navy-blue jumpsuit and combat boots. You can tell her hair was once jet black, but it’s starting to grow in gray. “Welcome, new girl,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply sheepishly. You introduce yourself—first name only. 

She does the same: “I’m Mia.” 

You shake hands—you note that her palms are very calloused. Mia must be involved with hands-on labor. 

“Listen, I don’t like to beat around the bush,” says Mia. She leans in closer, like she has a secret to tell you. “You need to shower,” she confesses, this time much quieter. There isn’t a lick of malice in her tone. “Like, immediately.” 

You appreciate her honesty, but your cheeks flush. Mia pulls a chuckle from your chest. “I know,” you reply feebly. 

And so, Mia takes this moment as an opportunity to give you a proper tour of the human’s facility at High Camp. You’re going to be living there, after all. 

Admittedly, there isn’t much to see. Together, you stroll through the science shacks and a few vacant laboratories. You meet a few more scientists. You return to the two flex rooms, like the one you napped in; Mia shows you the barracks and bunk beds, the link units, and the kitchenette. Norm is cooking what he describes to be his very own fusion recipe: a soup that combines both human and Pandoran ingredients. In passing, you apologize to Norm for spitting on him, again—you’ve already apologized four times, but once more couldn’t hurt. He makes it abundantly clear that everything is well between you both. 

“I would do the same if they captured me,” Norm confesses. “Much worse, in fact.” 

Your tour ends at the showers. Mia leaves briefly, then returns with a towel, a new bar of soap, a plastic hairbrush, a few garments of clothing, and a toothbrush and paste. “This is all we have right now,” Mia explains. 

It’s more than enough, you think. 

Tears well in your eyes at the sight of these items; although necessary for most humans, to you, these things feel like a luxury. 

“There’s hot and cold water knobs. The hot water alone won’t last long. Try to maneuver the knobs to use hot and cold at the same time,” she says with a short demonstration. Warm water spits out of the shower head onto the tiled wall in front of it. You hold out your palm—it’s bliss. 

You’re solaced. You thank Mia one last time. She takes her cue to leave and gives you some privacy. 

---

Despite the lukewarm water diminishing to icy-cold after only a few minutes, you spend a long time in the shower. You wash your hair. You scrub everything, at least twice. Your pruned fingertips feel foreign angst the metal knob—you haven’t been allowed a long enough shower since your past life on Earth. 

The clothes Mia left for you don’t fit quite right. The pants drag on the floor and aren’t secure around the waist; you take a step, and your trousers pool at your knees. You have no choice but to create a makeshift belt with spare twine and an aptly-sized piece of elastic from Mia’s sewing kit. As you weave the components together, you realize her sewing kit doubles as her first-aid box. She must use the same thread to stitch seams on fabric and cuts on skin. You take this opportunity to gently reapply scar ointment and new dressing to the stitched slash beneath your collarbone. 

The tanktop she gave you, on the other hand, was made for someone with slightly smaller anatomy. In comparison to the pants, it fits skin-tight snug. Luckily, the undergarments are trouble-free. 

When you re-enter the common area, everyone is there. It’s down-to-Earth, you note—the thought makes your lips curl into a smile.

You spend a few moments observing. Most of the scientists look like regular people. They’re plain. Modest, simple. There’s nothing particularly special about any of them, barring their bright smiles. People involved with the RDA don’t smile like that. 

It isn’t long before the “plain scientist” exception enters via the airlock entrance. 

At first, you think he’s naked. You instinctively cover your eyes with your palms to give the guy some privacy. You faintly hear him yell something out the door through the glass—you can’t discern any of it, so it must be in Na’vi. You peek through your fingertips. 

Once the front airlock closes, the human male removes his oxygen mask, hangs it on a hook by the entrance, and presses his hand to the entryway scanner. He strolls in casually, like he owns the place. The young man wears nothing but a loincloth and carries an old leather satchel. Painted, blue streaks mark his body in horizontal stripes. 

It clicks for you quickly—he sees himself as one of them. He wears his loyalty to the Na’vi. It’s… admirable. 

When he speaks again, he greets Max in English and makes an inside joke with Norm that flies over your head. He chucks his bag onto a nearby stool and smoothes his hands over his ash-blonde dreads. 

Inevitably, you’re curious to know more. Your thoughts buzz with questions—instinctively, you’d like to interview him. 

“Food’s ready!” Norm calls. 

That’ll have to wait. 

The room descends to orderly chaos. A scientist you’ve already forgotten the name of is gathering silverware. Another gives everyone a bowl or mug. Metal chairs scrape across the floor as people line up in front of the kitchenette. Mia is adamant about having her mug, which is bright pink with a broken handle. Norm serves stew with a metal ladle. Someone else passes out dethawed bread rolls from the walk-in freezer. 

They make jokes in passing. They ask each other questions. Occasionally, they bicker, like when one of the scientists scolds Norm for giving him too big a portion. They’re a family. It’s lovely, you think. 

Then Mia calls your name. “Please,” she says, “join us!”

The room quiets down. You briefly make eye contact with the semi-nude young male. He’s around your age—maybe a year or two younger. 

Entering the common area takes only a sliver of bravery in comparison to the courage you had to collect in order to survive thus far; it’s still scary, nonetheless. You gulp. 

You’re provided a bowl. Norm serves you a heaping portion of soup. Max pours you a glass of water from a large pitcher at the end of the table. You’re offered two dinner rolls—just this once, Mia says. People move their chairs to make room for you. Your heart swells. 

“This is-” Mia begins. 

Your interruption is far from rude—you introduce yourself instead. First and last name. 

---

Dinner runs its course. It began with juvenile questions; the community simply wanted to know more about you as a person. They never banked on someone taking one of the empty bunks. They were all being used as precious storage. What’s your name? Where did you come from?

The spotlight is uncomfortable—blinding, even—but you squint through it. You want to interview these people, but it’s your turn instead. 

When some of the scientists begin asking about the RDA, however, the group rears towards an unsettling interrogation. What was it like? they ask. How many were there? Could you spare any details on the escape plan?

With every intrusive question, you intake another mouthful of the fusion stew. It tastes funny, like a bad pun or cringey joke; but you’re too hungry to care. 

“Did you ever see the General?” The human male whom you now know as Spider asks. “She was short. Blonde lady, resting bitch-face. General Ardmore?” 

Mia snorts. Norm clasps his hands together. “Alright, everyone. I think that’s enough,” he states. "Let's not overwhelm the newcomer."

The scientists look at each other, humbled and slightly ashamed. They give you apologetic stares and quiet redresses. 

Max offers to do the dishes. He knows he’ll regret this act of selflessness, but he does it for you. The rest of the scientists leave their empty bowls at the table and retreat to the barracks. Mia pats your shoulder before exiting with the others. 

You turn to Norm once everyone’s left. You hold out your bowl. “Can I have some more?”

---

You’re on your third helping of soup and fourth glass of water when there’s a series of raps at the door outside the airlock. For a split second, you’re back in your cell. You’re reminded of your least favorite warden’s early-morning roll calls. 

You flinch—your body instinctively jerks. But you don’t realize this until you’re swiftly saving your water glass from falling off the table. You rub your brow with the back of your head; you can’t break two things on your first day. 

“Is it him?” Max asks Norm. Max is elbows deep in soap suds and dirty dishes. He starts scrubbing faster. 

“Think so,” Norm replies. 

Who’s him? You’re left to wonder as you scrape the bottom of your soup bowl and take your final bite; there’s no more stew left. 

Norm stands from the table and strides over to the airlock. “Come in!”

You nearly twist your neck trying to turn around before the door opens. 

A tall, blue humanoid enters. He has to crouch when breaching the threshold—the door frame is just too short. It’s the first Na’vi you’ve seen since your interaction with the Na’vi in the forest; spare for Grace, the one in a glass tube full of liquid in the common area. 

For a moment, you think this Na’vi is the one who saved you. But as they grab a respirator mask and enter once the airlock is closed, your assumption is proved to be false. 

The Na’vi nods to Norm. “Good to see ya, Max,” the male Na’vi says, peering into the kitchen. Notably, his English is fluent; but above that, his accent is strangely commonplace among humans. Nothing like the Na’vi from the forest. 

Max peers at him over his shoulder. “You too, Jake,” Max calls back. 

Your eye twitches. You face forward. Your visage pales. 

“Let’s talk about all of this for a moment,” Norm tells Jake Sully. He agrees. Their footsteps get quieter as they walk away from the common room and round the corner. Max dries his hands with a dish towel and follows them. 

You hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation while you chug another glass of water. 

“You’re sure?” Jake Sully asks. “Completely positive?”

“There’s no way,” one of the humans responds. “When she thought she’d been recaptured by the RDA, she tried to slit her wrists. A spy wouldn’t do that.”

Someone adds something to that point, but it’s indiscernible. 

“You’re right,” replies Jake. 

There are footsteps again. You keep your head forward. 

Max clears his throat. “You have a visitor,” Norm says. 

You push away the empty glass and bowl, then rise from your seat at the table. Your eyes meet pale yellow—the same shade as the other forest Na’vi’s irises. 

Jake opens his mouth to speak. “I’m-”

“You’re Jake Sully,” you interrupt. He’s like a myth come to life. During your imprisonment, the girls and wardens talked about him nonstop. He’s a Pandoran celebrity. 

Your face turns crimson. It’s one thing to interrupt Mia, but it’s another to interrupt the goddamn Olo'eyktan, the leader of his people. Not just any, but Jake Sully in particular. You’re mortified. 

You’re unsure how to greet him properly. Should you kneel? Your body scrambles to do the right thing—you bow, curtsey, and offer your hand to shake all at once. 

Jake Sully breathes into the respirator around his neck, veiling a small chuckle. He takes your hand and shakes it gently; due to his size, his engulfs yours. 

“Have a seat,” he says. You do.

Jake Sully can’t possibly fit in any of the chairs, so he defaults to sitting on the floor. “I may be asking for a lot,” he says. “But in order to grant you asylum here, I need to know everything.”

He is asking for a lot. You’ve been through nothing but hell. Your face heats up just thinking about the things you’ve witnessed. You don’t want to relive it. Maybe Norm stopped the others earlier because he knew this was coming. 

As you look into Jake Sully’s eyes, you know malignity isn’t his intention. It quite literally has nothing to do with you, actually. You know that the Olo'eyktan’s job is to keep his people safe. That’s Jake Sully’s motive. He has to know you’re safe. It’s a two-way street—in order to grant you safety, he must be able to ensure his own. 

---

You relay your history on Pandora thus far. It takes over an hour to get through everything. It doesn’t help when Jake asks a dozen questions, and tangents branch off into more tangents. Half-way through the conversation, however, you already know you’re earning his trust. You pinpoint the exact moment, in which Jake admits the reason he joined the RDA and decided to come to Pandora when he lived in a human body. 

It’s just the two of you now—Max finished the dishes a while ago and Norm left because he needed rest. 

Jake avoids your eyes every time you mention something particularly harrowing about your imprisonment. You’re as precise as you are descriptive. Towards the end of your testimony, he looks at his feet for ten minutes straight, while you reiterate the prison break. He can’t say much in response. He acknowledges that the ordeal must have been horrific. 

“Sounds like something out of this old dystopian novel,” Jake mutters. “I think it was called The Handmaid’s Tale.” 

Lastly, you tell him about the Na’vi in the forest who saved you. 

“Do you know him?” you inquire. 

Jake nods. “I do. His name is Neteyam.” He chooses not to elaborate. He omits the fact that Neteyam is his first-born son, next in line for his title. 

“Neteyam,” you echo. 

Jake nods again when you mimic his pronunciation. It’s not bad, he thinks. Not as bad as Neteyam said, when his son was harping on your horrible accent after bringing you, a human, to High Camp on his ikran. Something Jake never thought he’d see. 

“I’d like to thank him,” you say. “He saved my life. How do you say thank you or show gratitude?”

Jake rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should spend a week or two or three here. Take some time to yourself before you consider leaving the science shack and interacting with my people,” he says awkwardly albeit bluntly.

Your brows furrow. His tone of voice suggests there’s no room for protest. 

“Spider, Norm, Max, and everyone else will teach you the ways of the Na’vi,” Jake says. “They all speak the language fluently. And if you want to interact with and live amongst my people, then so will you.”

You nod. You consider telling him the very reason the RDA chose you and your talents—that that was exactly what you came to Pandora to do. “So I will,” you reply simply. 

“If you see us, then we will see you,” Jake says in Na’vi. 

You catch none of it, but nod confidently anyway. He scoffs. 

“Good talk,” Jake says lastly. He takes another breath through his respirator, then leaves through the airlock, just as he came. 

---

A/N: Feel free to leave any and all comments on this chapter! The exposition is almost done, just hold on a little longer! The exposition continues in the next part, but Neteyam will make an appearance, I pinky promise!

Next part is projected to come out a week from today, Tuesday. I will try to keep a consistent posting schedule.

Thank you all so much for the kind comments and notes thus far! <3

[passionateseadruid]

when he walks in…

A few things… there is some Lucifer slander but that should be expected as he is the devil from da bible.

Also a few references to Paradise Lost. How can you write bible fanfics (or anything about Luci) without referencing the OG bible fanfic.

Sera is also a big part of this but I want to think that she was kind before the exterminations.

Also my interpretation of eve.

And Adam is so Ooc but there is still bits and pieces. I definitely headcanon that he wasn’t always a misogynistic prick but was spoiled because he never ate the apple.

And finally (Y/n) is used to refer to reader but it’s completely gender neutral.

Your purpose was to keep Lucifer busy so that he wouldn’t go out seeking Lilith.

The first memory you had was blurry and the conversation you overheard was fuzzy but you’re sure it was about you.

“I don’t want an angel I want the human woman.” A man shouted.

“You don’t want an angel, fine!” A woman replied as if trying to calm a toddler throwing a tantrum. A slight sting came from your back, feathers flew around you.

“Oh really? How’re they going to get around without wigs, Sera?” There was a triumphant tone in the man’s voice. “Face it, they can’t live here if they’re human but they can’t be down there because it’s supposed to be just a single man and a single woman, and if they have wings they’re an angel so I don’t want THEM!!”

“Fine!! You know what!! They’ll bleed red like the humans do but I’ll give them the wings of an insect. They’ll be like nothing or no one else. Will that make you happy. A being not quite human but most definitely not an angel.” You felt your skin contort and mutate as Sera molded and shifted your flesh.

“You want me to be with some hideous monster? No. Sera, no! I love Lilith. She’s just the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Lucifer stop! She is Adam’s wife. You can have my new creation.” Sera pushed you forward and the first thing that properly came into your vision was the short man with blond hair and rosy cheeks.

“Get that freak away from me!” He shouted and ran off.

“Did I come out wrong?” Sera’s heart almost broke as you said those words.

“No Darling. You’re perfect. Just give him time.”

He never came back after that. News that he had taken Lilith away swept the city behind the pearly gates.

“Did I do something wrong Sera?”

“No darling. He never gave you a chance. Come on now. We should get back to work.”

“is that all I’m good for? Work work work! I have to run around maintaining balance for people who don’t even care about me, and all because Lucifer didn’t choose me. Where’s my choice?”

“What do you want to do then?” She groaned.

“I heard that a new bride was made for Adam. He named her Eve. I also heard that Raphael was going to visit them, can I go with? Please?” Sera smiled at you.

Sera nodded. “If you want to oversee the garden you may.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank You!!”

“Go get ready, it’s quite muddy down there so you should probably change out of your white clothes!”

It was so green down there. “Hi! I’m (Y/n). Sera made me.”

“Who’s Sera?” A beautiful girl with dark brown hair and tan skin asked. She had big brown eyes and was of shorter stature.

“Doesn’t matter right now. Who are you?” You said with curiosity. A taller man wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Back off! I already had one angel steal my first wife. I’m not letting Eve slip away so easily.”

“Yes that’s actually what we came to talk about.” Raphael had said.

////////////////////////////////////////

After explaining what had happened with Lucifer to the humans Raphael had left. Eve wandered off halfway through the story leaving you with Adam.

“So…” he started, leaning back on his hands.

“I have so many things I want to ask you! First off, what was Lilith like?” You sat next to him, your knees against your chest.

“Prideful and lazy. I told her over and over again that we needed to grow food for keep the lions from killing the lambs but all she wanted to do was lounge on the beach.”

“Next question. What’s life like down here?”

“It’s… great actually. Other than the slight of having Lilith taken. Eve’s just fantastic though, she listens to everything I ask of her. I always got the feeling that Lilith hated being made for me and she wanted to be her own person. So her leaving is whatever. I wouldn’t want to be told that my only purpose was to be made for someone else’s sake.”

“I was made for someone else and I was fine with it.”

“I feel like Eve’s like that. She was made from my rib ya know. I let her do whatever she wants when she feels like it so she doesn’t get suffocated and leave me too. I love her so fucking much. Trust me, when she gets back I’ll ask her to tell you about all her favorite fruits. You’ll love her as much as I do.”

“What is freedom like? What is it like to live for yourself? You and Eve get to don’t you?”

“Yeah. We still have our duties in the garden but she’s always so excited to help. Do you not have freedom?”

“Not particularly. Sera keeps me pretty busy. I live her her rules, her will alone.”

“Was she the one who you were made for?”

You look away bashfully. “No, I was made for Lucifer so he could stop obsessing over Lilith.”

“Well, thanks for failing. I wouldn’t have Eve if he gave up on Lilith.”

“That actually makes me feel a little better.”

“Hey are you always so obedient to that Sera chick?”

“I have to be. She created me and I must honor her rules and orders above all else.”

“You seem tense. How many rules do you have?”

“Too many to count.”

“We only have one rule here.”

“Don’t eat the apple from the forbidden tree.” You and him say in unison.

“I know.” You look away. “Adam. Promise me one thing.” You look back at him with a desperate look in your eyes. “No matter what you do you have to follow that one rule okay? No matter if you’re starving, no matter if Eve is being threatened. You can never break that rule. Not even if Eve does. Tell her too, okay. Not if she’s starving. Not if you’re being threatened. I already lost my purpose in life because the man I was made for broke the rules and got kicked out. Promise me that you will never break this one simple rule.”

“Okay! Geez, you’re kinda dramatic. I’ll go tell Eve.” He stood up and walked away.

“You’re purpose in life huh? Don’t be so dramatic!” A voice from behind you called out.

“You can’t be here! HE forbid it.”

“HE can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

“HE still loves you. Just apologize for what you did and we can go home.”

“I’m never going back. And I’m never going to be with you! So just take your disgusting SELF AND GO AWAY!!”

“Am I not good enough?”

“NO!!”

“Adam!?” You called out to him surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Eve!” Lucifer shouted worriedly as you both rushed to where the cry came from.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!! (Y/N)!! HELP!! We can fix this… WE CAN FIX THIS RIGHT??!!”

“What happened?” You asked trying to calm Adam down.

“I’m sorry. They said I didn’t know what I was doing. They said I was ignorant. I was. I was so stupid.”

“…What did you do Lucifer?”

“I showed her the truth. The truth that all of you were trying to hide.” He smirked triumphantly. However his smile faded as lightning struck behind him. The winds picked up. The sky darkened with rain clouds rolling in.

“Eve just apologize. Just say you made a mistake. HE is very forgiving. Please.”

“But it’s their fault! They tricked me! I’m not the one to blame! It was them! It was him!” She tried to reason.

“No no no! Just apologize! Eve just apologize! You won’t be in trouble. Just own up to your mistakes and ask for forgiveness!” You tried to persuade.

“Eve just do it!” Adam demanded.

“You eat it. We can do this together.” She pleaded.

“I… I can’t.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a stupid apple. Now she can be more informed about her own life.” Lucifer shouted.

“it was their one rule! Why couldn’t you just mind your own FUCKING business!” You shouted at him. “I wasn’t good enough so you had to have Lilith! I thought maybe, just maybe, now that he’s happy I could move on! I was ecstatic when I saw them! I thought overseeing them would bring me a sense of purpose! But no! You had to mess that up for me too!”

“Do you honestly think that I give a shit about you?! That for one moment I thought about YOU!?” Lucifer laughed in your face. “That’s utterly pathetic!! YOU’RE pathetic!!”

“You shut up! They’re great! They’re kind and they actually want to protect us!!” Adam yelled as he held Eve.

No matter what kind word he said, Lucifer’s words stung like nothing else. Tears flowed from your eyes.

“You know what? Fuck you Lucifer!” You shouted and ran away.

////////////////////////////////////////

You hadn’t thought about that for nearly 5 decades. Then a certain brunette walked up behind Sera. He was rounder and dressed in white and gold robes. “Little darling. I’d like you to meet Adam, the first man.”

“We’ve met. Hi!” You waved.

“Hey teeny.” He smiled.

“Hey! I’m not short! You grew since the last time I saw you! I wasn’t this small when I-” You cut yourself off.

“When we first met, I know.” He smiled softly. But his smile drop as he spoke next. “She’s gone. He succeeded in taking her away from me. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Adam, I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

“Hey. I’m here because of you. You saved me. You tried to save her.” He cut you off and wrapped you in a hug. “Sorry. I just need this.”

“Take as long as you need.” You hugged him back.

////////////////////////////////////////

“Ugh! Those dumb fucking whores!” Adam shouted.

“What’s wrong now?” You groaned. Adam had gotten an attitude after he made it into Heaven.

“It’s that short fucking clown and the whore he left you for! Those skanks had a baby! She was such a lazy prude when she was with me but apparently she couldn’t keep her fucking legs closed and put out for that ugly little shit!”

“Hypocrite. You‘ve been having sex with pretty much anything that moves.”

“Okay but the difference is that I actually populated the earth like I was suppose to. She was created to be the mother of all humans yet she goes off and makes hell-spawn instead.”

“Are you feeling insecure?” You teased.

“No! Fuck you, bitch!” You giggled as he pouted.

“Hey! I just had an idea how we can get back at them.”

“How?”

“We get married.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He blushed. “We can’t do that!”

“Why not? If you’re not into me or you don’t want to give up sleeping around then you can just say so. But it would say to the brat downstairs that he isn’t the only one who can swoop in and steal away someone else’s lady. And it would prove to our Ex that we aren’t still thinking about each other.”

“But we are.”

“They don’t have to know that.”

“If we do this you’re taking my awesome dick every night.”

“Deal, you big horny crybaby.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

The news of the spur wedding rocked the pearly gates and all seven rings of Hell. All except the palace of the pride ring. They all couldn’t care less.

////////////////////////////////////////

It’s been a few months since you two got married. You sat brushing your husbands wings.

“Hey babe?” He turned to you slightly.

“Yes?”

“…do you think that I’m a good person?”

“Why do you ask?”

“…I feel like everyone always pities me because of my exes. They always say how I’m so good for listening. Does that make me a good person?”

“Sometimes you can be a bit misogynistic.”

“You get paid more than me! Why do I always have to pay for supper!?”

“Because you barely ever let me choose where we eat.” You tease.

“Spicy food makes me sick! I don’t want to be stuck on the toilet for three hours just because of your freakishly high tolerance.” He pouts.

“It’s also gentlemanly to pay. Besides you insist on getting burritos from that one place twice a month. …why do you ask anyway?”

“Sera’s got this dumb idea. It’s got me thinking about what makes a good person.”

“I wouldn’t know, I was created to follow rules. If I didn’t, I’d fall like Lucifer.”

“We had one rule. Then everything changed when Kane killed Able. I don’t even know if I’m a good person.”

“I think killing is back, harming children is also bad, sexual abuse is also bad. All these things are very purposeful though. People like that don’t change, but you changed. You used to sleep around and now you’re committed to me and you seem much happier.

“Can sinners change?”

“Not all obviously, but if they wanted to maybe.”

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too baby.” When he walks in I am loved… I am loved.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy (Part II)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: Ben being a misogynist, talks about masturbation and porn, killing threats, Ben's POV in general is a red flag, death.

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get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

tags: @k-slla

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part II: Silence is Peace

The next day arrived fast, and again, you found yourself walking ready to have a conversation with the supe locked in the facility. A part of you was surprised he didn't try to escape yet, but Ben, on the other hand, was just letting things flow at the moment.

The heavy, metal door opened to let you in. The supe caught by surprise seeing you coming inside full of confidence at this time in the morning. A couple of armed men in black uniforms followed behind as they settled down some furniture in the empty area of the room: two small sofas and a coffee table.

His arrogant self knew those guns wouldn't tear a single hair off of him, but hey, he understood you needed to feel safe. So meanwhile, he decided to play along. He remained still by the bathroom door as you came closer.

"I didn't request that," he said once you stood face to face.

"Oh, I know. I did, it's for your therapy," you smiled, tugging the bag on your shoulder. The armed men finished decorating the cell, and they left with a loud thud of the door being closed behind their backs. "There's been a small change of plans. I will come by every day for one hour. Anything you want you will ask me first and if I approve, then I will bring it to you."

He smirked. Like if he needed to be bossed around by a fucking woman, he thought. "You sure have the balls to stand up on me like that."

"Like I said, I want to help you," you replied, making your way and sitting down on a sofa. "Please," you requested him with a hand to do the same and he followed with curiosity. You put the bag on the coffee table, taking out a notebook, pens, a folder, and a small zip bag containing the only thing he asked from you the day before. You left his reefer on the coffee table, putting the folder in your lap as you waited for him with a smile on your face he found unsettling.

Ben still didn't buy you or your intentions, but he sat down on the opposite sofa nonetheless. You had brought him something he asked from you, something he wanted and would calm him down for a little. Hopefully it wasn't going to be that bad. He only had to put up with the game of doctor-patient. In the back of his mind, he was also grateful you dropped the stupid white coat at the same time he found your attempt to fix him ridiculous. He didn't need to get fixed.

"Your guards ain't hurting me with those guns, you know that," Ben started.

"We have to try," you shrugged. "And you're still here, that has to mean something."

He rolled his eyes. Of fucking course he had to stay. There were a lot of questions in his head. He had to settle down for a moment. Things were different in the world, he needed to learn about today's tech and get a fucking good plan to get away with his shit. Who would he get to kill first? Still thinking about it. How would he escape? Probably could use some help to keep a low profile. Could you be that help, being the only human contact he figured would have from now on? Maybe.

"So how are you feeling? Did you have some sleep?" you asked.

"I slept enough, spent the whole fucking night jerking off," he spat. "That TV of yours now does have good porn some hours in the day."

With wide eyes, you wrote down after his answer.

"Alright. But tell me, how are you feeling?" you pushed, your smile long gone and replaced with a serious face locking your gaze to his own.

"Great, never been fucking better" he smirked and you shifted on your seat.

His green eyes started checking you all over for a second. The pencil skirt hugged your legs perfectly and the blouse was tight enough to show off the size of your breasts. The clothes yelling that you were expensive and valuable for the CIA, and most important, to Mallory. Soon he sensed the discomfort emanating from you as his gaze returned to your face. God, he loved doing that, but you sure were daring to get locked inside a room with him alone.

"You can tell me the truth, you know," you said.

"I can easily break your neck and explode this shithole if I want to," he spat back.

"You won't do that. You had the chance yesterday, today even, and yet here you are."

He thought you sounded so sure about that. Ben held your gaze. Neither of you dare to break eye contact. It was like you were challenging him to something he wasn't aware of just yet. He didn't like that, but he remained there, breathing deeply with a strong look on his face. You were right though, and he realised could find you a good usage besides the obvious fucking use for pretty girls like you. He might have missed a good fuck for 40 years but the little common sense on the back of his mind told him the porn channel was enough for now.

"Listen, I know you're not a bad guy," the words fell softly from your lips. "I know you didn't mean to harm those people in Midtown... And in order to help you I could use some information on how you feel every time the blast comes-"

He stood up abruptly, strong enough to move the sofa he was sitting some feet away behind his back and yelled aggressively.

"Fuck off, bitch. What the fuck do you know about me? I don't trust your kind and you're making my threat sound like a great plan now.

You held his gaze as he made his way towards you. You were a prey in his cage, but even if you were scared, he didn't sense any sign of it. Ben's big frame towered you, standing just inches away from the couch you sat on. The space was enough for him to kill you with only one hand but you never moved or flinched a second.

"If you touch me, just a single hair on my scalp, you're fucked."

"C'mon sweetheart, you're no match for me," he mocked with a smirk on his face.

"Novichok definitely is."

He tightened his fists with his lips on a straight line, and his heartbeat increased at the mention of that fucking poison. Meanwhile, you just sat down looking at him with a blank face and innocent eyes. For a moment, he was tempted to just kill you but he forced himself to calm the fuck down. He didn't want to black out again, he certainly did not want to become a fugitive. If he was going to do something, it had to be done well.

"Soldier Boy, it's okay," you got on your feet. His eyes followed your moves. "It's fine if you don't want to talk to me. I can't force you to."

He saw a strange sparkle in your eyes. Were you pitying him? He didn't need that. And when he said nothing, then you continued.

"You accepted the deal, and that includes therapy to help you get out of your trauma. And sooner or later, you have to talk to me," you explained, he felt like a fucking child being scolded.

"You want to fucking help me and spray me with Novichok at the same time," he groaned.

"We have to take our precautions. But trust me. I’d rather not use that on you, I prefer other ways."

"This is fucking crap," he mumbled through his teeth.

He watched you making your way towards the book shelf, leaning down to grab a couple of books. He took in the curve of your ass as you knelt, and he wondered if you were doing all that little show on purpose to test him. His jaw clenched once again at the thought of being played with false promises and a cure to his memories.

"I can leave, but I will come tomorrow," you tossed two books on the coffee table: one about PTSD, the other one about new technology for him to start educating himself on that. "Start reading those and write down in the notebook anything you have to say. It can be about the books, your thoughts, your feelings... Anything you want. I don't have to know unless you want me to."

If looks could kill, you were already dead. He still didn't trust you. He didn't understand completely why a stupid psychiatrist of the CIA wanted him to go through rehab. You were a woman, for fucks sake. Psychiatrists were old, wise, rich men back in his days, not expensive sluts.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm trying hard not to crush your bones right now, pretty thing."

"At least you're trying, that's improvement," you smiled cockily, pointing at his chest with a finger and you took your bag and belongings together, as if he didn't threaten to kill you like three times in the same conversation. "I will leave you now. Have a good lunch, Soldier Boy."

"Time of death 9:41 a.m."

The sound of the monitor disturbed your senses as the voice announced all over the place the death of yet another supe. You watched through the windows as two lab assistants ran inside the chamber to take out the lifeless body of the woman who had given her life to volunteer and assist the program. Anything for the cure, you remember her voice saying, even after she was warned about the possible effects. The worst of them being death. The contract stipulated it clearly and you told her to think twice before agreeing to take the third version of the Anti-V, although she hesitated a lot before joining.

You breathed out. The formula needed improvement, quickly. How many corpses had they taken out of there? You lost count already. You ordered Bianca, your young assistant, to note down all the details one day after the second death of a supe you witnessed, and for her to count them as necessary and at all cost. Arms folded on your chest, your jaw clenched, losing hope and feeling despair running through your spine. The discomfort of what had to be done to find a cure sometimes was too much of a burden. But sacrifices had to be done.

And speaking about sacrifices, you knew you had to get into Soldier Boy's head as soon as possible. The few other sessions you tried to talk to him were useless. The sixth one being today before lunch. A part of you was growing tired of faking it and pretending to be a psychiatrist, it really wasn't your field but you knew how to be one after many sessions, research, and medication on your own. Grace had taken care of your training years ago and this was just another mission with a huge impact and objective in mind: destroy Vought and Homelander, and then provide the cure to supes who didn't want their powers and give them the chance to live a normal life. People like you needed the cure, but first things first.

"Doc, the analysis of Blaze is updated," Bianca said, giving you the tablet to check the information on the supe that was collected.

"Thanks."

Blaze, or Electra Richards was her real name, was a low-profile supe for some time, and you had a secret track of those like her with some help. These kinds of supes didn't really represent a threat to Vought, so it was kind of easy to contact them and give them a possible solution with a warning written all over the place. When Electra was contacted, she had to think about it but eventually said yes. She was young and brave, but she never wanted powers. She had superhuman strength and healed in minutes, seconds even, her bones were indestructible, and when your people ran the proper tests on her she was healthy as hell. Pity that her body wasn't enough to take in the injection of the new Anti-V prototype.

You read the last notes your assistant typed on the supe's profile.

Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest caused by ventricular fibrillation; failure in electrical signaling within the heart.

You couldn't continue like this, not anymore. Nine months and nothing seemed to work out. Some supes died, some of them quit the program, and you didn't really blame them for it. The failures were growing bigger than the small steps close to creating the final antidote. The process was becoming an endless trial and error. With a tired face and a sigh, you left the tablet on a desk and walked out making your way to your office.

You took out your cell phone and dialed Grace, walking around the room worriedly. You needed to vent or talk. Anything. And gladly, she picked up by the third ring.

"Is everything okay?" she asked on the other line. She knew you too well.

"I- No, it isn't. But you already know that," you breathed. "Another supe died on trial today. I don't know how many we have-" your voice cut off abruptly and you sighed, composing yourself after a moment. "We keep losing a lot of people..."

Grace exhaled. "It's part of the job. It's your project, you know it was coming when I approved to do this."

"That makes it even worse, you're not helping me," you replied with a playful tone. "I've been thinking- I would like to try the cure."

"No. We need you to focus on this."

"And when I get him, when I get Soldier Boy's blood? He already takes powers of supes with the blast. Should be easier."

"He's your safest option for now. You'll find a way to get it, I trust you. But don't make stupid and hurried decisions, just wait for the right moment," the lady scolded. You smiled a little, like if she was watching you. "About that, how's he doing? Is he cooperating?"

"Not at all, that's my other problem," you fell back on your chair ungracefully, your back hurting at the thought of seeing him again that day. "I am trying to get him to talk, even using my cards of dressing up like I'm a fucking slut with tight skirts and all, but he's really backing up. Besides he's a fucking dick," your words made Grace chuckle for a bit.

"All supes we have dealt with are dicks, especially Vought. But Y/N, you got this," her words attempted to make you feel better. "This is one of our best options to take them down for once. I know you've been working on this way long before you talked to me, and that's the reason I know it's gonna work, doing whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Grace," you mumbled from your heart. Disappointing her was not on your list, and you hoped it won't happen anytime soon. So you switched the topic of the conversation. "And how have you been?"

[pumpkinhcad]

my url?

HAMMY RAMBLES ABOUT OTHERS (Always accepting).

MY OPINION ON;

Character in general: Honestly, I've never played a Persona game. At best I have played Shin Megami Tensei V and all of the Trauma Center games. So, to put it bluntly, for the longest time I've only known Ryuji as The "FOR REAL?!" Guy. But he reminds me a lot of Ichiro Dazai from SMTV, and I really like that guy (before the writers did him super dirty) so Ryuji also tickles my fancy. To me, he comes off as the ride-or-die platonic brother figure, and from having watched P5's cutscenes UP to the first palace?? He's perfect! Like it made sense for the narrative to make him one of the protag's first friends, because he does have that childhood best friend energy, y'know? If I had to describe him, based on how I see him, I'd word it like this: the childhood best friend who is forced to act like he's part of the delinquent archetype. Because that's how he is at the start of the game?? Because of that Kamoshida guy?? But he's so cool, man, like he's a genuinely cool guy. Wears his heart on his sleeve, very earnest, very transparent about the kind of person he is-- AND he looks cool. I like his design, again, reminds me a lot of Dazai with their blond hair and the way they wear their uniforms so differently from everyone else. I guess the similarities make sense tho', considering both are Atlus games. Anyways, I'd love to have a friend just like Ryuji, he's best bro material!!

How they play them: So, because I'm not THAT well-versed into the game, I cannot 100% give an opinion on this... BUT!! I honestly like how Rudie writes him! We haven't interacted IC a lot yet, but Rudie's Ryuji is very down-to-Earth, all things considered. Like sometimes I'll skim their posts and it's usually daily life stuff-- not that that is a bad thing! I believe the characters' daily lives and their daily interactions are a big part of Persona games! And it means that most of Rudie's writing involves Ryuji being... well, as human as a muse can be. He's an energetic and sometimes hot-headed teenager that is down-on-his-luck, with a reputation that has been shoved on him and who strives to be better at all times. Whether he does that by being a supportive friend, socializing with strangers, or even entertaining my son is secondary. He's just a cool guy, y'know?

The Mun: Rudie is, single-handedly, the most socially-active mun in my Dash!! They're always conversing with somebody, or posting about games being announced, or stuff they're nostalgic about, or adding stuff on the tags of the promos they reblog, and I love the transparency! And most of our conversations have happened this way, actually! I've commented on her OOC posts here and there (not to mention tags in our IC interactions), and they're very very easily approachable! Also I like how they will reblog fanart, or moments from the game that relate to Ryuji, and will then make a post to talk in detail about their muse. It's that level of dedication that keeps me coming back to read them! Actually, I can definitely highlight that about Rudie, that they write very long and detailed posts in general. Unironically worth the read!

DO I:

RP with them: Yup!! I'm pretty slow, especially with long replies, but we have two threads going and I'm enjoying our interactions together!

Want to RP with them: Of course! I'm always down to interact and come up with new stuff! I still think the whole "Pump cannot beat the Jack-O'-Lantern allegations" bit could be a funny running gag.

WHAT IS MY;

Overall Opinion: Even if you don't know anything about Persona games (like me), Rudie's is one of the most active and open blogs out there!! I honestly cannot recommend them enough, they're a very open and welcoming person to practically everyone and is always open to help you out if you wanna know anything about their muse or source material. Hell, both the muse and mun are literal rays of sunshine! Always supporting other blogs, always posting positive stuff, you're legit missing out if you ain't following them already!!

[melkor-did-nothing-wrong]

hi!! i read your tags on your latest rb (the one about the angbang child) and idk if you posted about it in the past but i would love to hear more!! i also have my own hcs and im always interested in hearing other peoples ideas <3

(from what i read in your tags, if you dont feel comfortable talking about this, i understand, or if youd prefer, my dms are always open if you dont wanna reply publicly to this)

Ok I am going to start by apologizing for taking a long time to answer, as well as thanking you for sending the ask in the first place. I still don't know if I should answer this publicly, but after years of either being told off for it being "boring" or "not canon" or "ooc" or even seeing people leaving the conversations on read every time I mention angbang with a baby of their own, I really really do want to yap while having the opportunity of saying: "well, as you can see, someone asked, so I'm just answering! clearly that's for the asker!". So thanks for the opportunity and the encouragement. I'm going to put these events/developments in a numbered list, so you'll have an easier time asking me to elaborate on anything specific later on if you so choose. They're not perfectly coherent but it is what it is, you know?

(Also: People who think the whole concept is bad or cringe, don't interact with this post. I've been hearing this for years but if y'all are allowed to make your own fankids for literally every other ship ever, then so am I!)

First of all, I'm gonna be using terms like "having a baby" but I want to clarify it's actually weirder (and arguably sillier, depending on who you ask) than that. I am not talking about developing another person's body to birth here. I am talking about developing another spirit or soul, which will only get a body when the whole process is done. I am just using terms that will be familiar to us as people even if the process isn't identical (the same way people would sometimes talk about birds or reptiles being "born" even when everyone collectively knows they just hatch from an egg).

So obviously at the end of the WoW, the army of valinor comes over to arrest Melkor and drag him through the doors of night

Melkor immediately throws his hands up like "Nope, you guys really shouldn't kill me. I'm going to have a baby and it'd be incredibly rude of you to kill me given the circumstance"

Exhausted collective sighs. Obviously that's typical Melkor BS so we're not gonna believe that, but I suppose disproving it publicly back at home and putting an end to the bs will not be a huge amount of time wasted. whatever.

Yeah sure ok Melkor whatever you say. we can drag you back west to officially call the bluff and get rid of you there.

Drag Melkor back. Whatever. just end this farce please.

Wait. Wait what the fuck. What the fuck do you mean there actually IS a baby??? HUH???????? How come???? WHY?????

Ok fine whatever UGH you are SO annoying. Fine. you can stay in jail until you have it and we'll kill you AFTER. Whatever.

Manwe is just. Trying to ask Melkor wtf is going on. Melkor, who is having a very very bad time in prison, predictably tells his brother to flock off.

Meanwhile, Mairon, who has just learned of that development, sighs and makes an effort to get to Valinor to drag his annoying (but beloved) hubby out of there.

Shortly after Melkor has the baby and manages to configure a physical form for him, Mairon commits a few acts of terrorism around as a distraction, then shows up in front of Melkor in dragon form like "Get on, we're leaving".

They make it east, and have to start living on the run from place to place out of fear of being pursued, as well as trying to find any remaining allies.

Eventually when they realize there are most likely no immediate plans of attack or attempts to retrieve them, Melkor and Mairon decide to temporarily settle near a settlement of humans who were on Melkor's side in the war, partially because they won't be kicked out by allies and partially in hopes of discouraging Manwe from ordering any attacks due to the fear of human casualties.

What follows is a lot of trial and error in raising what is essentially an immortal Ainu who is both completely new to this world but is simultaneously technically an ancient spirit who has partial knowledge of all things but can't make sense of them.

Another part of the life they build raising a kid is Melkor having to deal with the personal trauma of basically everything and everyone else being gone- it's a significant struggle for him to go from doing whatever he wanted pretty much consequence free, while having the support of his entire court, to just sitting here with Mairon and the baby, just the three of them. He genuinely thought it would happen sooner, that their son would grow up a prince, safe as can be, surrounded by friends and be as adored by all as he himself was. Unfortunately that was not the case, and now he has to raise him very differently while knowing he'll never meet any of the people Melkor had called friends or had any sort of fondness for. You know. Because they're all dead and it's mostly his own fault.

Mairon on the other hand is less affected by it all that much. He always liked being alone just fine, he isn't exactly a huge fan of big crowds. It's difficult for him too, starting over somewhere new and knowing all the people he knew are dead, and also having to keep in mind that he might have to hop around every so often to evade his weird immortal ex-employers, but if there's anything that mf can do is dodge taxes. You're never gonna Al-Capone him. Ever. Can't put him in jail if you can't find him etc. And he's very good at not being found. He's also mostly okay with not being bothered as much. He has his own thoughts on the matter but he doesn't have the time to be an angstlord because now he's got to watch out for double the troublemaking chaotic Ainur and has to make an effort to prevent them from getting into too much trouble. Honestly it's not that different from runing a fortress, in terms of how busy he gets, if you ask him. Anyway he is very fascinated by the baby because unlike Valar (Melkor and Manwe, Yavanna and Vana, Nienna Namo and Irmo, Nessa and Orome…) Maiar are not created in sets of siblings, so Mairon is familiar in theory, but not familiar in practice, with the idea of a family unit. He doesn't entirely understand what it's like to have a connection with someone that runs this deep but he's absolutely fascinated by this little family of his.

Considering how Melkor is "No longer counted among the Valar" specifically, and considering the original plan was 15 Valar, I like to think of the kid as the Vala who will eventually gain the role of replacing Melkor. To that end, I needed an aspect for him to embody that is at least slightly similar to how I view Melkor (as an aspect of change and transformation), as something that can be associated with the creative process like Mairon, and as a bonus, something that Tolkien himself would consider at least a little bit negative. In the end I have decided to settle on that thing being Technology. It can be used creatively to innovate and streamline tedious or difficult processes, but can also be used for evil/selfish ends (especially these days…)

Last but not least, because I can't stress this enough - just because I prefer Melkor and Mairon to be loving partners to eachother and loving parents to their son, that does NOT mean they're suddenly "good" or "kind" or "redeemed" or any of the thousand other words used to describe either post first age Mairon or post fourth/whichever age Melkor. I am not opposed to the idea in general, in fact not only do I get the appeal, I even love it because I love reading about these evil little feral creatures being happy together. but to me personally just because they love their own boy and are cordial to allies who were dying for their cause during the recent war in this specific AU, it doesn't mean they're suddenly going to be good and nice and friendly towards any and every person they come across in the rest of it. In other AUs, sure, in other projects written by other people, absolutely, in other nonsense written by me, even, yeah absolutely I'll allow them to be nice. But here specifically they're still annoying evil disaster creatures who might kill any mortal for the heck of it just to see what happens. They just do it less often because they don't have a thousand Umaiar, ten thousand Orcs and a hundred dragons to back them up this time. So if they do the killing they'll have to face consequences this time, and they really wouldn't like that, so they play nice for the sake of, you know, not being murdered in their outnumbered, outmatched current state lmao.

[onyxino]

Break Me Down

Lieutenant!Muken!Aizen x Captain!Reader

WC: 3.8k

CW: Creampie, riding, soft sex, Oral (M&F receiving), Virginity loss (M). Slight Dom and Sub dynamic. Touched Starved Aizen. lil OOC/soft Aizen. If there is anything else lemme know &lt;3

I'm always of two minds on Aizen's sexual experience, on one hand he gives off the aura of 'THIS GUY FUCKS' but on the other hand I really don't think he would have the time or desire due to being more concentrated on his plans. So today I decided to play with the idea of Aizen having little to no sexual experience. Hope you enjoy! Prolly grammar and spelling mistakes but idc I'm human and yall just read for the fucking so .

this is just a conjuring of my delulu mind

You couldn’t believe it when they exonerated him.

You couldn’t believe it when Kisuke found a way to remove the Hougyoku from his chest without killing him.

You couldn’t believe it when they simply just placed him in your squad. With the head captain's only statement on the matter being “Captain (Name) can handle him if he gets out of control.”

Then you really really couldn’t believe it when you appointed him to be your lieutenant.

He had really proven himself to you, he seemed remorseful for his actions. He no longer wished for the fall of the soul society he wanted quite the opposite actually, he seemed to have been changing right before your very eyes.

At first even though you treated him with the same respect as you did your other subordinates but you limited your contact with him to just bare minimum, the stigma around him was just too strong.

Then one day you caught him sitting on his own underneath a shady tree and decided to join him, he looked so lonely and in a weird way you felt sadness for him.

The way his face twisted up in shock at your presence sealed in all of your assumptions. He wasn’t used to someone just willingly being in his company, he wasn’t used to human interaction at all.

As time passed you joined him under that tree any chance you could. You took your time and actually had meaningful conversations with him. You learned that you two enjoyed a lot of the same things. That’s when you decided that he would make a splendid lieutenant for you.

Aizen declined the offer at first stating that he hadn't had a real chance to earn your trust yet but you insisted and he relented.

That led you to now both of you sitting in your personal quarters on the floor looking and digging through old files looking for a specific report that would aid squad 12 in some research they were conducting.

You sighed and pinched your bridge. It was near midnight at this point and your eyes were starting to betray you, lids becoming heavier each time you blinked.

Aizen also felt the fatigue setting in, since returning to his shinigami state he realized how easily it was to become exhausted.

“Welp Lieutenant of mine, I really don't know if we have a shot at finding this report for them!” You said a yawn forming as you stretched your arms into the air.

“Agreed, my head is starting to hurt.” Aizen replied, running a hand over his partially covered face. It's true the headaches that have been coming and going since returning to his shinigami state had been killer. One of the many, many side effects his body had been enduring over the course of the last year or so.

“Oh damn, another headache again, Sosuke?” You ask worry etching its way to your face.

“Yes, unfortunately. Urahara said that they will lessen in time though.” You nod your head at his reply before slowly standing up.

“Would you like some tea then? I have chamomile, which works wonderfully for headaches.” You offer walking over to your kitchenette 

“Yes captain, please.” Sosuke had taken this moment to let his composure falter while your back was turned. Slouching forward he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

Having put the electric kettle on to heat making note that the timer would go off in 10 minutes and the kettle would shut off. Swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t forget about it this time you turn and you catch your eyepatched subordinate in this state. 

You felt your heart lurch a little for him “Do you want me to try something that my mom always did for me when I got bad headaches?” you asked, retaking your seat in front of him.

He opened his eye a little and nodded, “I’m willing to try just about anything at this point.” 

You nodded back at him and scooted a little bit closer just within arms length, you took note of how he flinched slightly at your movement “It involves me touching your head, if that's okay?”

All he did was a nod and you slowly reached your arms forward, slotting your digits into the brunette’s hair. He shuddered slightly at the contact, you massage his scalp digging your nails in ever so slightly.

Sosuke seemed to be enjoying it and it seemed to be alleviating some of the discomfort. You frowned slightly at the strap of the eyepatch getting in the way, your nimble fingers went for its buckle at the back of his head.

“Wait!” Sosuke almost yelped as his hands wrapped around your wrists stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes widened at the sudden action, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” panic ran through you. You have never been able to get this close to him, the thought of crossing a boundary and having him regress on you made you feel ill.

“N-No, it’s just some parts of me are still- My eye it’s still discolored.” He explained quietly, still having your wrists in his hold.

“Sosuke.” The way his name slipped off your tongue in such a sweet fashion had him slightly shivering “It’s okay, I just wanna be able to message your head better, can I please take it off? I won’t judge you, I’m your captain, this is a safe space.”

He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding “Very well.”

You smiled at him and he swore the heart he insisted he never had stopped.

You slowly remove the eyepatch from his head and let it fall to the ground, you then return to lightly massaging his scalp.

You were right, he thought, this does feel a whole lot better.

Keeping his eyes closed he leaned into your touch more and let himself get lost in the feeling of your hands combing through his hair.

Then he whimpered,

You paused and his eyes shot open in disbelief. 

It was a small one but it was unmistakable, Sosuke Aizen just whimpered and you were the one who pulled it from him.

“I-”

“Wow, you really are touch starved aren’t you?” You ask a sympathetic look gracing your features, you dug your nails in just slightly harder. Testing the waters.

This had him inhaling a sharp breath “N-Never been touched like this.”

“I can tell, do you want me to keep going?” You ask cocking your head to the side.

“Yes, keep going but I need you closer.” Before even registering what he had said you felt a soft but strong grip on your hips pulling you into his lap. He lifted you like you were made of nothing.

You found yourself straddling his lap, chests smooshed together and faces dangerously close, It was your turn to take in a sharp breath. A hot feeling coursing its way throughout your body.

You can’t remember who did it first but in a fraction of a second your lips were connected, Aizen’s hands running up and down your sides. He was already a whimpering whiny mess in your arms, just from kissing you. He felt like he was going to explode when you took the opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth.

It was sloppy, but it was passionate. He craved more, he never experienced wanting like this. Wanting another person. His hands further their exploration sliding their way up to your chest squeezing breasts roughly, you moaned into his mouth and it only fueled the fire, sending blood straight to his hardening cock.

You both parted from the intense makeout session with a string of saliva connecting your mouths. Heavy breathing just staring into each others eyes, taking this time to admire his slightly fucked out features.

Man, if this has him fucked out just imagine what sex would do to him you thought. 

Thinking of having him in such a state had heat pooling in your core, without thinking you slowly grind your hips into his. 

He yelped at the friction “(name)” he pleaded, and you did it again.

“D-do you wanna keep going?” You sheepishly ask burying your face into his neck placing soft kisses along the sensitive flesh leading up to his jaw line.

“I’ve never-”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence, you understood completely. You pulled away from his neck and gave him a soft smile. “I can lead. I want you, Sosuke.” your hands rubbed up and down his shoulders in a comforting motion.

He sucked in a jagged breath “Please.”

“Please what, Sosuke? Use your words.” 

“Please, fuck me.” He panted, gripping your hips and pulling your clothed cores closer to each other in a desperate attempt to gain friction.

You placed a soft kiss to his lips before standing from him, he looked confused and almost sad at the loss of contact you couldn’t help but giggle at him. Sticking your hand out, he grabbed it and you led him over to the futon before gently pushing him down on it.

His breathing picked up once again as you kneeled over him. “Relax, at any time you wanna stop, just tell me and we will.”

He nodded in understanding at this and licked his lips as he watched you go for the knot tied in front of your shinigami uniform. Suddenly a surge of urgency ran through his body as he shot up and stopped your hands from continuing their action.

Your eyes shot up to him, worry spread throughout your body, had he changed his mind all of a sudden? Was something wrong?

“I want to undress you.” This statement sent a rush of liquid into your already damp panties.

You pulled your hands away from the semi untied knot of your uniform and allowed his hands to take their place. He was slow and gentle with it as you pulled the knot loose and went to work on your top. The way his face gained a new shade of red as he exposed your bare chest to himself had you breathing heavily.

He wasted no time exploring the new territory, the way your breasts fit perfectly into his hands had him in awe. He was a fast learner too, as to be expected he picked up quickly on what made those little noises he’d come to like so much fall from your mouth.

He noticed how sensitive your nipples were and little flicks and taps turned into rough pinches and pulls. “F-fuck, Sosuke. That’s so good.” You mewled as his lips attached to your right nipple and his hand continued to assault the left one.

Slotting your hands into his hair you slowly pulled him away from your chest, “I need you here though.” guiding his hands down to your bottoms, he picked up on exactly what you needed and he was quick to remove the rest of your clothing.

The sight before him was like no other, you laid out legs spread open for him. He may have been a virgin but he knew exactly where women liked to be touched. It took him no time to locate your bundle of nerves rubbing slow and soft circles against it.

“Can I taste you?” The request sent shivers down your spine.

“Only if I get to return the favor.” You said cheekily as you combed your fingers through his dark brown hair.

He swiftly lowered himself between your legs and applied a rough suck to your clit, the action caused a guttural moan to leave your lips. The hand in his hair tugging lightly was now gripping it aggressively pulling his face into your heat. Your other arm laid itself across your eyes unable to contain your embarrassment at your noises and sounds.

This did not go unnoticed by Aizen who detached his mouth from your heat and leaned up to remove your arm from your eyes “Don’t, I want you to look at me, if you look away or close your eyes I will stop.”  

You took in a sharp breath at this, this was the first showing of his dominance you have seen through this entire ordeal. You said you would lead but it was short lived once Aizen got the hang of this particular task. He needed your eye contact, he needed you to see him making you feel this good. You needed to know it was him and only him who could do this to you.

You maintained eye contact as he lapped and sucked at your clit, you gasped lightly as the intrusion of a long slender finger into your walls “Sosuke!” You cried as his finger curled up and he began to softly move it in and out of you.

“More a-and faster, please.” You pleaded, these pleas did not fall on deaf ears.

Aizen then added another finger and increased his speed, drinking up your arousal while listening to the sweet noises that tumbled from your shaky lips. It was a new form of heaven for him.

“S-sosuke- I’m really, really close.” You mewl pulling his face into your cunt, he increased his speed just a little bit more and sucked just a little bit harder on your clit but it was enough to send you falling over the edge. The sound of his name broken and falling from your lips had him grind into the futon below it was a high he knew he’d soon be addicted to.

Your breaths soon steadied as Aizen lifted himself over top of you taking in your form, your eyes met his and you gave him the sweetest smile he thought he’d ever seen, it filled his chest with warmth. “Thank you, that was so good, but now it's your turn.”

The warmth in his chest rose to his cheeks as you flipped your bodies in an instant demonstrating your strength just as he had earlier. Now you were sat on top of him grinding your naked core against his clothed one, the repeated action provided some friction but not enough and it was frustrating to him but not as frustrating as the moment you ceased all movement and removed yourself from his body.

His mouth hung open and he looked at you in disbelief “Don’t look at me like that, lieutenant. I have to undress you too don’t I?”

The realization hit him and had him slightly embarrassed, the pink dusting his cheeks turning a darker shade. Your hands went to the knot in the front of his uniform and with a simple tug it came undone, you decided to tease him with this and keep your movements slow. Aizen felt as if he was burning from the inside out.

He sat up slightly so that you could pull the top portion of his shinigami uniform off. You gasped slightly at the sight before you, he was absolutely gorgeous, like the gods chiseled his body by hand. 

Too Aizen, though your gasp was one of disgust, adorned on his chest was not only the scars from the seals piercing him but also the scar left from the Hougyoku’s removal procedure. He turned his head away from your gaze fearing the worst from your silence.

“Sosuke, your body is gorgeous.” You said in awe as the tips of your fingers grazed the scars upon his chest, he shuddered at the contact.

He returned his gaze to you eyes widened slightly at the compliment. You? Find him? Gorgeous? He was pulled from his thoughts by you applying just a little bit more pressure to the center of his chest with the tips of your fingers causing him to wince slightly. This did not go unnoticed by you “Did it hurt?”

He gazed at you trying to understand the context of your question. Did what hurt? The seals piercing my chest for what felt like ions? Or the surgery that I was mostly awake for that had me feeling as if my soul was being sucked from my body? He pondered.

“Yes, it hurt. All of it hurt.” He muttered quietly.

A somber look etched its way to your features “I’m sorry, love.” leaning down you pressed your cool lips touched the scar in the center of his chest and it felt like fire had begun to run its way through his veins once more.

Lastly you began working on his bottoms, once ridding him of the garment he was fully bare in front of you. Hungry cock springing free, your eyes widened at the impressive length of his manhood. Your mouth began to salivate at the thought of trying to take all of him down your throat.

Softly wrapping your fingers around the shaft you gave him a few strokes as you settled in between his legs. A strangled groan escaped Aizen’s lips, he thought he would cum from just the contact alone. You giggled at his reaction, the noises he made had your clit throbbing and your hole clenching around nothing.

Licking from the base to the tip you wrap your lips around his head and slid him into your mouth as far as you could take him. Your hands stroked what you couldn’t reach and you began to bob your head up and down hollowing your cheeks.

The pleasure was almost unbearable for Aizen, his hands found purchase in your hair swooping it back into a makeshift ponytail. He was finding it very hard to control himself, he eagerly wanted to thrust into your mouth and face fuck you until you were gagging, the thought of that had him on the brink of orgasm.

He was getting close, way too close. “Captain (Name), if you keep going like that I’m not gonna last.” the words left his mouth broken moans in between each word and you could have sworn you heard his voice crack.

You lifted your mouth from him with a obscene ‘pop’, “Fuck.” the curse fell out of his mouth as a hiss. 

Wiping your mouth on your arm you settled on top of him, running your folds against his shaft, fingers digging into his shoulders every time his tip bumped into your clit. Aizen’s grip was ironclad on your hips helping you drag them back and forth on his member.

“I need to be inside you.” He pleaded his nails leaving crescent shaped marks into your skin that will no doubt be bruised come morning.

Listening to his pleas, you lifted yourself up and aligned him with your entrance, sinking yourself down just enough to have his tip buried in you. A throaty gasp left Aizen’s lips, silently praising and cursing you in the same thought. 

“You’re gonna drag this out aren’t you, little minx.” He accused, head thrown back in pleasure.

You couldn’t hide the smirk playing on your lips, you had to tease him just a little “You can take it.”

In one swift motion you let yourself completely sink down on to his cock. You knocked your head back, eyes rolling ever so slightly at the delicious stretch of his girth. You couldn’t help but clamp down around him as you adjusted to his size.

“You’re so tight.” He hissed, eyes glued shut focused on not coming to an end just from being sheathed inside you.

You rolled your hips just a little and the moan that fell from his lips was obscene. You slowly bounced yourself on his cock it was like torture for the man below you, he was getting very impatient. He bucked his hips rough up into you cause your rhythm to falter “Faster, please- I”

You silenced his pleas by giving him exactly what he wanted. You picked up the pace and he met you halfway as he thrusted up into you, cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

He couldn’t contain the whimpers and pants rolling off his tongue. He looks so fucked out and on the edge. A particularly hard thrust from Aizen brought you out of your thoughts back into reality.

His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, groping them and gripping them hard, those will also undoubtedly become bruises come sunrise.

 “F-fuck, Sosuke. You’re doing so good, fucking me so good.” you whine tossing your head back and raking your nails down his chest leaving little red lines behind.

All he could muster in response was obscene moans and whiny breaths. You take a moment to drink in his image, he is beyond fucked out. His hair everywhere, his mouth a gape and there is a little bit of drool that slid from the corner of his mouth to the pillow below

You make note of this to tease him about later.  

You bite your lip hard at the sight, feeling that knot in your lower abdomen tighten up. You were getting close, really close and he was too. You walls clench around him when he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing slow circles.

“Tell me- Tell me where-” you already knew what he was getting at and you took no time with your answer.

“Inside please- need to feel it.” The thought of him cumming in you made your head spin and sent you flying off the edge. Walls squeezing against him repeatedly and the way his name fell off your tongue was pure sin.

His name sounding so debauched coming from your lips sent him over the edge with you, a rush of warmth spread through your core. You slowly rocked your hips against his working him through his orgasm, and milking his cock dry.

Taking note of each breathy whine that left his lips when your hips rocked forward.

Unable to hold yourself up any longer you laid atop his chest trying to regain your breath. His hands rub gently up and down your sides. You tilt your head upwards hoping to lock eyes with him but you are met with his eyes shut, a peaceful look etched into his features,

You admired him for a minute and a smile slowly curled on your lips as you drank him in.

“What are you smiling at?” He quipped, opening an eye to stare down at you, you would be lying if you said you didn’t jump a little bit slightly embarrassed. Just how long had he known you’d been staring?

“Oh nothing, nothing at all.” You say lifting yourself up and off him.

The sudden movement and disconnection of your conjoined bodies made a small barely audible whimper leave his lips. This did not go unnoticed by you, again you make a mental note of this to tease him about later.

“Stay here tonight, we can talk more in the morning.” You suggested as you snuggled yourself into his side.

He only nodded at the statement silently agreeing with you. He watched as your features slowly relaxed and your breathing mellowed out as sleep took you into its grasp. A sense of peace washed over him as his eyes wandered over your sleeping form.

What in the hell are you doing to me, woman.

[cro0kedme]

jealousy, jealousy

Summary: If you asked Scaramouche if he ever felt jealous, he'd say that he doesn't waste his time on human emotions. Although if that's the case, then what is it he's feeling when he sees you with Tartaglia?

Pairing: Scaramouche x female reader

Tags: Scaramouche being bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, possibly ooc Scara, not proofread so sorry for any mistakes,

A/n: Hi @yureismellslikefanfic I got you for the @2023gisecretsanta event! Sorry about it being a bit late, I had to go through like eight trials just to start writing it but I eventually did it! I hope you enjoy it!

Scaramouche was absolutely, in no way shape or form, jealous.

That's what he'd tell himself, anyways. Denying that he'd ever care for a lowly human in any capacity; much less seek their attention.

So why did he feel an irresistible urge to suddenly dispose of the eleventh fatui harbinger whenever he was around you?

He saw how you smiled at the ginger more than him, and it wasn't your teasing smiles you'd give when he was around, it was a genuine one that he rarely saw on you.

Childe was chatting away with you by his side, unaware, or perhaps simply ignoring Scaramouche's glare.

Scaramouche debated going over there and simply dragging you away, but then what? And why did he even have the urge to do so in the first place?

As Scaramouche was internally seething and questioning why he was doing so in the first place, he noticed the ginger lean down into your ear to whisper something, and whatever it was he could only imagine was flirtatious in nature since you blushed.

Oh that did it. 

Disregarding any previous notion to ignore it he made his way over to you and Childe, speaking before he could even really process it.

“What are you doing? Don’t you have anything more important to be done then converse with others?” Scaramouche asked, glaring at you.

“What’s wrong with her talking to me? Are you opposed to friendly conversation?” Childe replied, which only turned Scaramouche’s glare towards him.

Scaramouche scoffed, “It’s hardly ‘friendly’ from what I’ve heard. You’re both getting too personal for a work environment.” And oh no, that came out more bitter than intended. He could already see a smirk start to cover your face.

“Oho? My lord, are you, mayhaps, jealous in any way?” You ask with an annoyingly satisfied grin. 

His next words don't come as easily as they should have, “You're so full of yourself. Of course I'm not.” 

Before either you or Childe can respond, Scaramouche turns away from the both of you, walking away as he tells you both, “Do as you please, it's not as if I care.” 

Despite the ugly feelings bubbling up that Scaramouche would never admit even existed, he left you and Childe alone. 

He all but stormed into his office, but he hardly got a moment before you stepped in. 

“Wait, Scaramouche. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.” You told him, and he scoffed.

“As if a lowly human such as yourself could evoke such feelings from me.” He replied.

“Right… So if you weren't upset, what was all that about?” You ask, clearly not buying his story.

“It's none of your business.” Scaramouche very much avoided answering your question.

You cross your arms, “I just want to help, is all.” You say. 

“I don't need help from a being such as you.” Scaramouche said, and he knew he was pushing your buttons. 

It seems, however, you had quite enough of him today so you turned around and walked towards the door. “Fine, be that way, then. At least I know Childe actually likes me.” You say and it's such a childish remark and yet it still spurred him into action.

He grabbed your arm before you could leave, “What do you mean, ‘he actually likes you’?” Scaramouche basically demands. 

You turn back to him with a glare, “Exactly what I said. At least Childe pretends to care about me, unlike you.” 

“Do you think I don't care about you?” Scaramouche asks, speaking before thinking. 

It seems you both realize what he said and Scaramouche quickly let's go of your arm. 

“Forget I said anything, just go back to-”

“You care about me?” You interrupted him, and you looked so full of hope as you said that, like you'd fully believed Scaramouche to hate you as he does everyone.

For once, Scaramouche didn't have a response. It was an odd feeling. 

“Scaramouche?” You ask again after his prolonged silence, “Do you care for me?”

And isn't that the question of the hour? Scaramouche had been fully convinced he'd scrubbed away all human emotions, but then you had to enter the picture. Making him feel things he thought he never could again.

Despite his lingering silence, you simply smiled. “It's okay,” You said, “You don't have to answer now.” 

Scaramouche only scoffed, “Whatever, just go. I'm sure you're forgetting something by prolonging your visit here.” 

By the way you immediately startled and hurried out the door, Scaramouche can only guess that he was correct.

“Shoot, right!” You exclaimed, “I gotta go, see you later, bye!” You said in quick succession before leaving and closing the door behind you.

Scaramouche stood still after you left, simply staring at the spot you were in moments prior.

Maybe, against all odds, that wasn't just a slip of the tongue. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, Scaramouche did truly care for you. Maybe he even loved you.

But that was a tough pill to swallow. Scaramouche didn't even know if he was capable of feeling love. 

Although, if it was with you, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

[d1pp-3r-29-82]

” Ah… Hello? “

Mabel said I should socialise more. Or, in her words, ‘You need more friends, bro-bro!!!’

The problem is, I don’t really get along with people. They just don’t make sense to me! Very….. Irrational?

… But I guess she’s right. Everyone needs friends! .. I think.

[OOC]

SAY IT WITH ME ANDROID DIPPER ANDROID DIPPER ANDROID DIPPER!!!!

I’ve wanted to make this blog for a while, but I’m in a bit of a rush right now, so this is likely a temporary pinned! You can call me, the mod of this blog, Seren! Or Astral. My main is @astralphobia, and my other RP blogs are- @aburningpinetree @abandonthestage @theheadspacebubble @billthesoupwizard

Who. Or what. Is Android!Dipper may you ask - It’s an au idea I got a while ago, where Dipper was an android created by Fiddleford to be an assistant to Ford when out on expeditions/adventures while Fiddleford worked on the portal in the lab. (Fiddleford based Dipper’s appearance off of Ford’s DNA) - When the inevitable happened, and Fiddleford left, and Stan pushed Ford into the portal, Dipper and Stan teamed up to repair it and get Ford home! So, they put up a cover of Dipper being Stan’s son. (Ford did the same thing if they ever got caught while out researching. Don’t want the government to take Dipper away after all….) - However, this doesn’t last long, as since Dipper’s a machine, he can’t age with Stan. So, Stan and Dipper agree to lock away his memories of Ford and the whole being an android thing, and every so often Stan resets his memories, when it becomes too obvious or deletes a small chunk of time when Dipper needs maintenance. - Mabel is still human, but she was an only child. She’s always wanted a sibling, and so when she came to Gravity Falls for the summer and met Dipper, she assumed they were long lost twins. - This blog is currently taking place before the events of season 2. I THINK THATS IT FOR NOW!!

Dipper is very convincing. Almost the only way you can know if he’s a machine is if you open him up. McGucket was very thorough- Dipper can even eat by processing the food and turning it into fuel!!!

anyways!!!

Rules. Don’t be a jerk. No nsfw, obviously. This is a child. I loveeee manipulation and psychological horror and shit. Feel free to torment him. But if I tell you to stop, stop. Please don’t nag me about answering/replying, it’ll just make me more antsy. Have fun!!!!

Tags ; #RP #Ask #OOC #defConversation #defDipper(conversation) #defMabel(conversation) #defStan(conversation) #defFord(conversation) #defTriangle(conversation) #defCreator(conversation)

Since you were sooooo patient, have a treat!!!

[purrpleowl]

Hi! I'm looking for a Hazbin Hotel role play partner!

Looking for someone 18+, literate or semiliterate writer, active (at least one reply a day), with good communication and open to ooc conversation (let's be friends!), comfortable with darker themes and nsfw. We would be using a discord server to the rp.

I'm mainly interested in the following shipps, and their respective types of plot:

Staticmoth: Angsty, toxic, obsessive, already stablished or still in a situationship, I would love to role play something that dives in the type of relationship they have. But it can vary, it can be in the past, during or after season 1, we can try demon canon or human au... Lots of ideas and plots. I would prefer to play Vox, but it can be discussed.

Travis x Vox's Assistant: Yes, a rare pair, but I've kinda been obsessed with them lately. It would be more of a slice of life, getting to know each other, hornyness and feelings slowly increasing over time, these kinds of stuff. I would prefer to play as Vox's Assistant, but again, that can be discussed.

Fankid x Fankid (they obviously have to be 18+): does not need to be romantic, I have a staticmoth fankid oc that I wanted to try to write about and I thought role playing would be a good way to develop her. So if you have a fankid too we can workshop something together!

Feel free to reach out to me if you're interested!

[abbynx]

Call me

Gavril from the Bubo Series Fanfic

Riddled with thoughts you've kept suppressed come spilling out in the middle of the night.

Gender neutral.

The Bubo Series is by partuulla, go support them! 💝✨ Also. I fear that Gav might be OOC and for that, I am so sorry.

That night, you maybe would have died if you slept like a log throughout a break-in even after a tiring day. Painless death, with no trace of your body, perhaps not even a sign of struggle. Police investigation may come to conclusions that you might have ran away but then again, that would be a questionable disappearance as you really showed no signs of of such. Your belongings intact (except for maybe the foods in your fridge), through texts you never really showed any hints. Neighbors and co-workers wouldn't even know where you went, nor would your loved ones.

You'd be plastered in thumbnails of exploitative True Crime shows. If you hadn't crept down the stairs and swung your bat at the first thing you saw, then yes, you would have died too. There was just about plenty ways for you to die that night and thankfully you had taken the right steps to keep your life. Gavril could kill you but for some reason, he didn't.

Reason in which you can only assume to attaching himself to the first person who shows the barely barest minimum of human kindness. You have no recollection by which you had expressed hints of being interested with him, you were just trying to survive and live another day.

"You really are lonely"

Back then, you mentally scoffed at the statement. 'Projection much?' you thought. You don't even know where he pulled that from, aside from the man himself... Only to have that confirmation upon conversing with him further.

Suddenly, you were in a relationship that would put your middle school relationship to shame. Neck-break pace of getting in a relationship, that's a new record, Disney Princesses could never. It felt like being a hostage for fuck's sake, what would have happened if you rejected him? Knowing nothing about him but his first name (not even his full name), favourite food, some of his hobbies that isn't larceny, has a friend rat, and he travels a lot. Well, you came to know more about him when you reached out to him via texts, which he was quick and particularly eager to reply.

There was this lingering thought of calling the police on him after he had given his number to you. Give his contact detail to the authorities and let them have him. But you didn't. You had the choice not to talk to him, but you did and in fact, they were highlights of your days. The Pavlovian effect it had instilled within you was just pathetically laughable in your eyes, how you'd perk up at the notification coming from your phone. Not to be a stupid romantic cliché nut, but he brings a warm tug on your cheeks when you can't help but smile with every texts. Cringe, but true. You were starting to wonder whether he saw through you when he said you were lonely or it was sheer projection and you were just being a crazy defensive bitch.

But in all this, there's this nagging voice at the back of your head. What the fuck is this relationship?What does 'not roomates' even mean? He calls you darling, but what if that is just him being friendly and referring to friends with terms of endearment? Like you've thought before, you have barely expressed something remotely close to romantic that night but at the same time, he seems to be the type to get attached so fast with the show of the minute show of the bare minimum of being a decent fucking person. What if it is just friendship he wants? You want nothing more but the clarity of the boundaries of your relationship in fear of overstepping or making him uncomfortable. It is why you have been holding back no matter how playful he is with flirtations.

You've had previous relationship experiences that had made you this... Wary. Out of defense, you always kept that annoying nagging paranoia on your mental bedside table to protect yourself or the other person from the inevitable heartbreak. This is unabashedly so middle school relationship-coded, you have no idea why you continue to indulge this at this age, were you really trying to achieve a new low? You have nothing against Gavril... Okay, maybe you do, the man did try to eat you, it is justified, but water under the bridge (sort of), but other than that, he is just a bit of a recluse and withdrawn from certain topics.

Whenever you'd ask for clarifications of what your relationship is, he would often swerve the topic away. It was painfully obvious how he doesn't want to address it. In one month you knew him, maybe he does not know either or maybe there is nothing at all in this relationship but he is afraid to answer. You learned not to further upset him by allowing him to change the subject and it has always been that way. You are well-aware that it's a red flag, his refusal to communicate but did that sway you away from him? Barely.

We need to talk.

I need you to be serious.

You are well-aware how much these words can be anxiety-inducing and would immediately hold his attention with no cutesy emojis indicated. At first you didn't exactly know why you wanted to know until you texted him. It wasn't to confirm any of your paranoia and hurt yourself in the process, you genuinely want to fix it... Keep him longer. At least there's some growth, the old Y/N would have done this with the intent being the former. Old Y/N would set up the trap, and if they didn't like what they heard, they're pushing the person away before they could feel hurt.

Yes?

Eager as ever, he was always quick to reply.

What are we exactly?

To him, it was unprompted for the day, to be fair, it had always been a question which lingered every time you talked with him. You just wanted an answer, why can't he answer it? It's not like you were asking for too much, you just wanted to know. How serious does he want this to be?

Not roommates 😅

It took him longer to reply, considering his icon had been bouncing for a few moment that you'd assume he already has at least a paragraph ready. This would have made you smile, but today was different.

I'm serious Gavril.

For a moment you were struck with guilt. Were you selfish to put him in such an uncomfortable position right now? Maybe there is a reason he does not want to answer— no... Communication is key, and you need to know at least an inkling of how he feels to know how to proceed.

Here's another one, why do you always avoid this question? I just want to know so we know how to talk about this.

I honestly don't know

Can I call?

Go ahead

Almost immediately his contact appeared on your notification tab, ringing incessantly. Upon answering, you can hear all sorts of background noises on his end, most of them being the motors of vehicles.

"I hope it's not an inconvenience that I called, but I don't think I can text what's on my mind." His voice was clear despite the city noises you can hear from his end.

"All good."

For a moment he stumbles, pausing momentarily in search for words and gather his thoughts. "I don't know what are we honestly. I always thought that we're... Ya know... A thing," again with the vagueness, but you let him continue. "But then you started asking 'what are we', I also started to question that and I can't really return the question around since you're also confused... I... I just don't know how to, y'know, start a conversation about it. I always thought that if we don't talk about it, it would be fine." Uncertainty was in his voice as he rambled, sighing by the end of it. "Why are you asking?"

"I didn't want to assume what our relationship is. I want to avoid overstepping some boundaries. Been there, done that." A bitter laugh originates from your throat, memories of past relationships flooding in your mind. "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable... I... I'm sorry, I overthink a lot of things that sometimes I just make problems in my head and--"

"No, you didn't make it up. I think this has been keeping you up a lot and you just wanted to talk about it properly. I'm sorry for not clarifying sooner," His tone was light and pleasant, there he was again being the warm tug on your cheeks. The anxiety in your chest subsides with his words and honestly, you have no idea how much you can hold on to it before abandoning him all together. "Well then, what do you want us to be?"

There was that question again, this time it came from him. He already thought you guys are a thing, whatever that means, but perhaps now it bears a certain connotation that have just been confirmed and you can't help but to smile.

"I like what we have..." Except now you're now aware of it. Perhaps in time you'd be more comfortable expressing yourself as well. "I guess we are a thing"

"A bit vague but I guess we don't really have a word for it yet," He chuckled on the other side of the line. To be frank, he isn't quite comfortable labelling it as a 'couple' yet. Emphasis on yet. "I'm glad you brought this up."

"You are?" You sheepishly ask, fumbling with your sleeve. "I was always told that I'm just paranoid. Er, everyone says that I am. That everything that I overthink only becomes a problem when I bring them up... So sometimes I just try to shut up because I don't want any trouble and then every problem I 'created' in my mind just plays out and comes apart at the seams and ruins everything."

"Sounds like they're the problem. You're just pointing it out and they're not listening. Let me guess, they blamed you to some degree?"

"Bullseye. No wonder I thought being alone was better," You bitterly chuckled, before sighing. "This is... Stupidly depressing. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. And it's depressingly relatable. But at least we have each other."

That's reassuring, you'll take it. A yawn creeps from your mouth as you responded, "Right."

"Go to bed. It's late already."

"Only if you do the same." Knowing him, he'd skip sleep yet again.

"Fine." He relents with a defeated sigh. "Next time, just address the problems okay? I promise you're not paranoid."

The old you would be in deep doubt. The current you is just relieved at the reassurances sent your way. Heart strings were strummed and you smiled through the haze of sleepiness.

"Promise."

"Alright. Good night, darling."

Half-lidded eyes flew for a moment when you hear the term of endearment, the word rolling off his tongue, pass his lips suddenly envelopes you with warmth in the late, cold night.

"Goodnight, Gavril."

[gentaro-kinniecom]

hihi! may i rq kaoru x fem reader where the reader is a mermaid? :3 thank you! <3

Destiny was made for us

Characters: Kaoru Hakaze/fem!reader

C/w: none! 2k+ words, fluff, mermaid!reader, a bit of fighting and angst but it has a happy ending. Kaoru might be ooc but he’s still a flirty mf 😞 HELP tooth-rotting fluff ew (AWEEUSNSNXND) slightly suggestive in some parts?? (Up to the readers pov i guess)

A/n: Hii !! This post is super long so I apologize for the extensive paragraphs LMAO also I just started my senior year so I might be more busy in school, but I’ll try to post and update as much as I can, thank you all for your follows, likes and the many support you’ve given me, it means a lot!! I hope you enjoy this <33

The sea calls out for him. It was a weird feeling, walking towards the sea during such a late hour. His friends adviced Kaoru to not even dare go so late out, he didn't listen nor believed in what his friends said about mermaids. Kaoru thought it was something out of a fairy tail, that wasn't real and that his friends were pranking him about the matter. It wasn't until he went that day, that he realized his friends were more than right.

But it was too late, Kaoru felt mesmerized by the ocean, noticing a faint glow peaking out from the dephs of the sea. He suddenly saw what he thought was a tail, from a mermaid? His body pulling itself towards the current, eyes locked on the now strong glow. Kaoru locked eyes with the person (?) in front of him, the thing is, it wasn't a human, but a mermaid who's eyes reflected the ocean.

"ah so you're a human?" the mermaid asked as kaoru smiled, feeling his body sit on the ocean floor, the mermaid's hands on his cheeks as she suddendly gasped

"oh right! you can't breathe.." she spoke, taking the new man she had met to the shore as he coughed up water, looking around as he saw the tail from earlier and turning towards her. In a moment of shock, Kaoru got aback, looking at her as she laughed, returning to the ocean as Kaoru stared in shock, leaving the beach and silently promising himself to come back some other day.

Undead had a photoshoot a few days after the encounter Kaoru had in the same beach as before. He wondered around, looking to see if the mysterious mermaid would appear before him once more. The photoshoot ended within a few hours, Kaoru had stayed back, waiting for the right moment as he saw her again. She laid in the sand, smiling at Kaoru who was admiring her beautiful features.

"i believe i have yet to know your name" the mermaid spoke, her tail shimmering under the afternoon sun as he sat beside her, looking at the sea as he replied

"Kaoru. Kaoru Hakaze, what's yours?" He asked, short and simple but it made her smile. It has been a long time since she's ever had an interaction with a human once more.

"Y/n, I'm sorry for nearly drowning you yesterday, I didn't think you would be that curious to follow me into the depths of the ocean" She replied, joining Kaoru who was still admiring the ocean view, Y/n suddenly joined the waves, noticing that Kaoru had stood up briefly to watch as she swam happily, coming back to shore and waiting for Kaoru to bring up the conversation again.

"Well..I just felt like I had to do it. Something was telling me to follow you, weird isn't it?" Kaoru joined her in the seashore, staring at her e/c orbs, she was just so pretty, almost like a siren in disguise, waiting for the right moment to drown him in the ocean to her heart's content. But it wasn't that way, she was just as in awe as him. His light brown eyes complementing his dark blonde mullet styled hair that flowed with the wind.

"no I get that, how long are you staying at the resort?" y/n inquired, sitting in the seashore, feeling the waves pull at her body as Kaoru did the same, he smiled shorty before replying to her.

"about a month or so? I haven't spoken to my managers about that" He sheepishly spoke, scratching the back of his neck slightly as she pondered, then speaking

"your..manager? Do you sing? I've seen many idols come by sometimes and seen their performances from up close..when i have the chance every few moons or so" He frowned, not understanding the words that she had just spoken, y/n smiled before explaining what she meant by that

"I can turn into a human, it happens during some change the sun and moon form together, I cannot control it and which is why..I have a small house from here, it truly is my second home" Y/n spoke, truthfully, noticing Kaoru had been attently listening to her. It seemed what she spoke of, was happening right in front of him.

"Is it such a coincidence how you changed after you said that?" He asked, looking at her and the new form she adquired after leaving the ocean, her tail had 'magically' changed into legs like his. Y/n still had a rough time getting herself used to her new form, nearly tripping as she felt Kaoru's hands holding her to prevent that from happening again.

"apperantly it is, my father had warned that it could happen again and this time it may be permanent" Kaoru's face expressed worry for her, they began walking together in the beach, their footprints dissapearing once the waves met the sandy shore as they talked about their lives, and how different both of them were, but of course, the sea and land are two completely different worlds.

"So your father is a legend in your hometown?" Y/n nodded, she crouched down to look at the sea shells and pretty rocks as Kaoru picked some up, offering them to her as she smiled.

"Somewhat, I just had the bad luck of getting this curse that I can't even control, there's a sea witch that offered me help but I can't give her what she's asking for in exchange"

"What could she probably ask in exchange?" Kaoru questioned, sitting on a nearby bench that was a bit far from the beach itself and in the park that was right beside it. He offered her a seat beside him, noticing how she fidgeted with her hands, looking a bit nervous as she answered him.

"My soul. Strange, isn't it? It would be useless to give up something as precious and life giving as that to be able to control what I can't in the first place." His eyes slightly widened at the reveal, Kaoru wasn't expecting that, he didn't know if to comfort her or just straight up do nothing.

"That..really is something, I'm sorry"

"Don't be, it's not your fault, I don't need any pity as well. Its just, things that happen you know?" Kaoru disagreed, expressing his thoughts later on.

"But those things aren't common, anywhere! I know we come from different areas, but you shouldn't have to do something so extreme like that" She wasn't expecting that, looking at Kaoru who was already glancing at her, eyes with a faint sparkle that she noticed, he wondered if it was really destiny that brought them together

"I know, maybe its a good thing we met then. When's your next concert?" She asked as Kaoru accompanied Y/n to the small beach house around the corner, it was beautifully decorated on the outside, the inside had little to not much furniture, it seemed the amount of times she would visit here weren't so frequent as he thought it would be.

"Nice house, I'm asuming you rarely come by right?" Kaoru asked, she slightly smiled and laughed as he did the same.

"Yeah, my apologies for not being able to offer you anything at the moment, I wasn't expecting this to happen so soon." He digressed, sitting on one of the stools from the kitchen, soon answering Y/n

"Its in about a week from here, why? You're planning on going?" She smiled, nodding as they later on, stood out on the front porch.

"Its getting late, your friends might get worried, I'll go see you in a week, I promise" With those final words, Kaoru bid her a goodnight and left towards the nearby resort, thinking about tonight’s events as he soon fell into a deep slumber.

The week went by so fast, Kaoru couldn't believe it as he stood in front of the big mirror in his dressing room. Looking at the clock and silently wishing Y/n would keep her promise of being there to see him perform. As Undead began their performance, Kaoru spotted Y/n in a (f/c) summer dress as she waved at him softly. During the entire concert, he couldn’t help but stare at her, smiling every once in a while in her direction as she reciprocated her own. After it had ended, Kaoru requested for her presence in his dressing room.

“You called?” She asked, closing the door behind her as Kaoru smiled, noticing that she was cold from the air conditioning in the room, he quickly grabbed one of his favorite coats, placing it on her arms as she thanked him

“Well yeah, I wanted to know if you liked the concert” Kaoru replied, allowing her to sit on his couch as she smiled, noticing how Kaoru looked..different from all those days ago, his aura was radient, it almost seemed as if he felt at peace with her, and she felt at home with him.

“Of course I did, I didn’t pin you to be the flirting type” Y/n laughed, seeing how Kaoru suddenly leaned closer towards her, slowly making her back hit the couch while Kaoru chuckled, caressing her face as she laid there for a moment, realizing the compromising position

“Why? Are you into flirty guys?” She pushed him back, feeling a bit embarrassed as he smiled, softly ruffling her hair while Kaoru stood up, Y/n following as they walked outside towards the beach like usual

“I guess it’s things I rarely see in my hometown, there’s no one I’m really interested in. They’re all after the same thing, to become the next heir to a great fortune my ancestors left behind” His eyes widen slightly, pouting a bit as he enjoyed the night breeze at the beach alongside who he knew was his soulmate, two souls destined to meet each other and spend the rest of their lives together. His hand intertwined with hers, kissing the top of hers as she smiled, listening to his words with awe

“I know we barely met about two weeks ago, but I can promise you, those guys are jerks, they don’t deserve anything that you have” Kaoru’s words touched her heart, which was beating at about a hundred miles, she had never felt this way before, perhaps this curse..wasn’t that terrible at all

“You’re right, they were, and still are. Tell me Kaoru, do you believe in true love, or are you just flirting with any woman you come across?” The question snapped him out of the daydream he had while gazing at the moon that reflected on the ocean. Kaoru turned towards Y/n, smiling as he moved a bit closer to her, not letting go of her hand as he answered her question

“I’ve flirted with many girls-“ he paused, taking in Y/n’s face for a moment and continuing “-but I do believe in true love, I think I found the one” He smiled, glancing at her again, his grip on her hand tightened.

“Really? I think so too” They smiled and looked away as teenagers feel when they’re in love with each other. She quickly dragged Kaoru towards a nearby cave that revealed a beautiful waterfall at the very end of it

“It’s..absolutely breathtaking Y/n, how did you find this place?” He looked around in awe as she let go of his hand, walking towards the waterfall as she sat down in one of the rocks inside the big pond that accompanied it.

“When I turned into a human for the first time, I came across it, and just knew I had to bring whom I think would be my true love” He felt his heart burst, sitting beside her, not believing the words that she had just spoken

“..me? You really think so?” Y/n nodded, leaning closer towards Kaoru as he held her hands, now stumbling together in the pond, getting their clothes wet as they laughed, hugging each other for a while

After a while, Kaoru took her back to her small beach house, standing in the doorway. It was a bit of an awkward moment even though they technically confessed to one another.

“Have you ever kissed someone Kaoru?” Y/n wondered, observing how he stood closer, his eyes scanning her face before pulling Y/n into his embrace

“I..haven’t. Why? Do you want to kiss?” She averted her gaze to the floor, he smiled, placing his hand on her chin, making her look up as he leaned forward, close enough for her to hold her breath

“Yeah, I guess you could say that” And with that, their lips met, his hands on her waist softly as they kissed under the moonlight. As they parted away, she couldn’t believe he would just kiss her like that at her request

“Just so you know, I wouldn’t kiss anyone else even if they asked, I want to be yours Y/n, even if you eventually turn back into your normal state, I’ll keep loving you” She smiled, tear-eyed as he kissed her forehead lovingly. Her hands holding him tightly, not wanting to let go.

“I think I’m in love with you Kaoru” Y/n confessed, feeling as Kaoru kissed her again, this time she was pinned against her front door, his hands remained on her waist, parting away while panting heavily.

“Me too, I can’t live without you. It’s like I’ve known you for a long time” Her eyes widen a bit, noticing the necklace he wore as she touched it.

“Wait, Kaoru have we met before? This necklace..you were the guy I met three years ago! I gave you this necklace, it has my hometown’s most precious gem.” His brain clicked the pieces together, that one summer where he went on vacation with his family and met a girl his age, making necklaces on the shore as he sat beside her…it was Y/n this entire time

“I’ve always knew I’d find you some day, I haven’t forgotten about it ever since I began wearing the necklace” She hugged him, sobbing in his arms, not believing that destiny was real and how it favored them so.

Years later, they got engaged, getting married at the same beach they met for the first time, Y/n’s family heard of the news, and now that her life finally found a balance, the curse was no more. She could easily change between human and mermaid form, her family already knowing how to do so and being able to assist their wedding. It was the best day ever for them. Wearing beautiful outfits and crying during their vows, their love was unmatched for any circumstance that occurred in their lifes, and now as Husband and Wife, Kaoru was more than happy to settle down together, taking a small hiatus from his group to tend to his loving wife.

“I don’t regret ever marrying you my love, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me” He smiled, kissing Y/n dearly as they laid in their new bed, taking in how exhausting yet fun the wedding was.

“Me neither, I’m glad its you, even my family approves of you, trust me when they said they are visiting frequently from now on” They laughed, now sitting up and looking from their bedroom window the sunset and the ocean. Two different worlds, colliding to achieve peace between them. In perfect harmony, holding hands as they felt their connection towards one another stronger, this was the beginning of something truly beautiful.