#I spent a long time making a broken halo for him

[yellobb]

Fallen Angel

[space-cowgirllll]

Crush

a/n: soft jackson ellie ily.

not proofread, if you see any mistakes look away lol.

She couldn't stop staring. Sitting on a cold bench in front of Jackson's little schoolhouse, she hides behind the astronomy book she'd recently found while out on patrol. Frozen fingers flip to the next page every couple of seconds, far too fast to actually retain any information. She watches you lead Joel to a particular part of the fence that has clearly seen better days. The wood is rotting and splitting apart in certain spots. No longer safe for the children who play nearby. You nudge the post with the toe of your boot, eyes widening when it topples over. 

Her eyes follow the curve of your neck as you throw your head back, laughing at something Tommy said. Your smile lights up your entire face, sending a flutter of giddiness through her body, almost as if it had been directed at her. She bites her lip, averting her eyes when you crouch down to inspect the damage. Where you found jeans that fit you like that in times like these she'd like to know. One more quick glance and she contemplates walking away, leaving Joel to get dinner by himself.

"What are we looking at?" A familiar voice whispers behind her, causing her to almost drop her book. She clutches it to her chest.

"Nothing!" She whips her head around to find Jesse and Dina behind her. The pair plop down on either side of her watching while the two men try to make the broken piece work until Joel can come back and replace it later. You stand off to the side chatting, not wanting to get in their way. Ellie marvels at how pretty you look under the street lights. Your hair a messy halo of waves, making you look angelic. 

"So," Jesse knocks his knee against hers "Are you ever gonna actually talk to her?"

"I talk to her!" Ellie scowls. "She comes over to Joel's for dinner once a week."

"Oh, we know." He interrupts "We've been invited."

"It was brutal."  Dina winces. 

The couple quietly tease Ellie, reminiscing over that night a few months ago. She had begged them to come and serve as a buffer between you and her. They spent the whole night watching Ellie try and fail to not make a complete fool of herself. Stumbling over her words and cracking lame jokes that left her screaming into her pillow later that night in embarrassment. Jesse's foot kicking her under the table when she stared for too long. Ellie listens with a pout on her face. 

"You guys are the worst." She groans. Her eyes travel back to where you stand, widening a little when she sees you already staring. There's a tiny smile playing on the edge of your lips. Heat rises to her cheeks when you send her a little wave. Sorry, you mouth, gesturing to Joel and Tommy.

Dina's giggle seems to catch your attention. You shift from Ellie's flushed face to the brunette beside her. The two of you share a look, seemingly having a conversation with just your eyes. There's a sly smirk on your face when you finally look away. Her brows furrow in confusion. In that moment, Ellie wishes she spoke girl better. 

"You know what? Surprisingly, I think she might like you too." Her best friend pats her thigh as she stands. "Do something about it before she finds someone else who will actually make a move." 

She grabs a confused Jesse by the hand, leading him in the direction of her house. The two whispering as they go. 

Ellie digs the heel of her sneaker into the ground, the thin layer of snow crunching underneath her foot. Most of the people in her life knew about her little crush. The way she offers to take your patrol shifts if it was too cold. Always on the lookout for things that would brighten up your small classroom. Volunteering when you ask for help with random little tasks during town meetings. She isn't as subtle as she thought. There's no way you don't know she's spent the past year and a half pining after you and haven't said anything. 

Not only is she ridiculously awkward, Ellie speculates your disinterest also comes from the three year age gap between you two. At twenty four, you probably see her as a little girl with a crush. 

She can see how much you enjoy spending time with Joel, especially after your grandfather's passing. She would hate to ruin that for you. It's better for everyone if she keeps her mouth shut.

____

It isn't until a week later that Ellie sees you again. She's shirtless in the middle of her makeshift home in the garage just feet behind Joel's house. There's a small pile of discarded tops sitting at the foot of her bed. She huffs, trying to find one that nice enough, but doesn't make it look like she tried too hard.

You stopped by the stables in the morning, making plans with Joel for dinner and a game of poker. Ellie hid behind Shimmer, trying to think of a way to get out of tonight when a look from Joel told her she had no choice. She fumbles with the last couple of buttons on the flannel, too lost in thought to hear the sound of the door opening. 

"Ellie, food's read- oh!" 

"Shit!" She spins around to find you standing in the doorway, eyes fixed on her panicked face as she pops the last button open. Ellie shoves her arms into the sleeves of the maroon flannel she'd borrowed from Dina, knowing it probably matched the color of her flushed cheeks. At least she'd thought to put on a bra.

"In my defense, I knocked twice." You state as you slowly make your way around the room, pausing to inspect the posters hung on her walls. She watches you pick up the comic she'd thrown on the coffee table earlier. Your eyes light up in recognition. "Oh hey! My grandpa used to read these to me. I think I have some you're missing if you ever wanna see them." 

Her breath catches in her throat at the prospect of spending more time with you. "Really?" She grins. "I'd like that."

You nod, walking slowly towards her. Your footsteps loud in the quiet room. Ellie watches the way your piercing gaze roams her face, slipping to her exposed torso for just a second before locking eyes with her. She hopes you didn't hear the embarrassing way her breath hitches when you replace her clumsy fingers with yours. Ellie basks in the warmth radiating from your body as you button up her shirt, your warm breath hitting her temple. 

"Cute." You smirk looking down at her. "Really makes your eyes pop." Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, you step back towards the door. "Don't make us wait too long."

Ellie stands frozen, heart pounding in her chest, listening to your retreating footsteps wondering what the hell just happened.  ——

After another slightly awkward dinner, she was shocked when you showed up at her doorstep again that night, this time waiting until she opened the door. Giving her a shy smile, you'd held out a box full of old comics, letting her know there was no rush on returning them. Ellie still remembers the grin that bloomed on your face when she'd invited you in. 

The two of you rarely left each other's side after that. Your friendship blossoming in the months that followed. It helped that you liked to talk and Ellie liked to listen to you talk. Most nights were spent together, either at your place or hers. She loved it when you read to her while she drew in her sketchbook. Some nights she would attempt to teach you how to play some of her favorite video games, enjoying how cute you looked when you were pouting after losing to her. The two of you had even started growing a dvd collection, always fighting over what movie to watch (she let you win almost every time.) 

She couldn't believe how quickly you'd become such a big part of her life. Ellie still had the urge to pinch herself on the mornings when she'd wake up to you sleeping soundly next to her. And on the nights where she'd stay awake, late into the early hours of the morning, memorizing every inch of your face, the magnitude of her feelings for you scared her. She'd do anything for you. 

Which is how she finds herself standing in the corner of the room nursing a drink, doing what she does best - watching you. You've been looking forward to the winter dance for weeks, begging Ellie to come with. The sweet look on your face when she walked through the door sent a rush of excitement through her.

You stay by her side all night until one of your friends pulls  you to the makeshift dance floor, managing to get Ellie out for one song before she quickly retreats back to where she was despite your protests. You're glowing under the twinkling lights, dancing and singing your way around the room. The navy blue sweater she'd gifted you for Christmas last month fits you like a glove.

"So where's your girl?" She looks up to find Jesse standing there, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat from dancing. Dina's laugh sounds off from somewhere behind him.

Ellie chokes on her drink "She's not my girl." She says through a nervous chuckle. 

"You mean to tell me you follow her around like a lost puppy and you'll sleep in her bed but you won't tell her how you feel?" 

She shifts nervously from one foot to the other. "We're just friends. I sleep over at Dina's all the time."

"You don't look at Dina the way you look at her." He sighs looking out at the crowd of dancing people. "All I'm saying is it's only gonna get worse the longer you ignore it. Are you prepared to be her friend while she dates someone else?"

Ellie's eyes follow to where he's currently staring. Bile rises in her throat as she watches you dance with someone else. Twirling around with another woman, her hands where Ellie's had been just minutes before. Her hand grows clammy around the glass. The blonde kisses you. Her lips far too close to your mouth for it to be friendly. Before she knows it, she's pushing past her friend and rushing out the door. 

The chilly January wind bites at her face as soon as she steps outside. Blood rushes in her ears as she quickly walks back towards her house. She's mad. Mad at Jesse for being right. You for leaving her standing there alone. But mostly she's mad at herself. What had she been thinking? That she would just get to know you more and not fall even further? Her cold palms press into her eyes, trying to alleviate the stinging sensation. This crush was going to ruin her. 

She stops just feet from her door, digging into her pocket for her key. Footsteps that are not her own pound on the snowy pavement behind her. "Ellie!" 

Her eyes squeeze shut, regretting not walking faster. She wants nothing more than to freak out while buried underneath her covers. For the first time ever she doesn't want to see you. 

Your hand grips her bicep, spinning her around to face you. "Els what's wrong?" 

"Nothing 'm jus tired." She mumbles shrugging you off and taking a step back. Your lips pull down into a frown at her actions. 

"Why didn't you tell me? We could have come back together."

She scoffs. "You seemed a little busy. Didn't wanna bother you." 

"Ellie-"

"Caroline's great." She interrupts. "Word around town is she has quite the crush on you. If you wanna go back don't let me stop you."

"Oh my god shut up." In the blink of an eye she find herself up against the wall, your body caging her in. Your hands fly to the back of her head, fingers tangling in the short strands of her newly cut hair. You tug gently, forcing her to look up at you.

"She kissed you." Ellie whispers looking like a kicked puppy. 

"And if you had stayed long enough you would have seen me brush her off." You cup her face, slowly dragging your thumbs across her cheeks in a soothing manner. The tenderness in your eyes will forever be ingrained in her mind. "There's only one person I want to spend my night with and she's right here."

"Really?" You nod, brushing the tips of your noses together.

"I don't want to be just your friend Ellie," You whisper against her lips, your breaths mingling together. Her ears ring at your confession, and she hopes you can't hear the way her heart is pounding. "and I know you don't either. I've been waiting for you to make the first move, but I'm real tired of being patient baby." 

Your lips press against hers in a soft kiss. It's hesitant at first, giving her the option to pull away. You see her eyes flutter shut, shaky hands wrapping around your neck. She whines quietly, wanting more. Her fingers slip down and hook onto your belt loops, pulling you in and deepening the kiss. Your tongue is soft and warm in her mouth, sliding against hers as you press her further into the wall. She shivers when your cold hands caress the warm skin of her lower back. 

Ellie's head goes fuzzy at the feeling of your thigh slotting in between her legs. Her hips seem to have a mind of their own as she slowly rocks back and forth on it, the seam of her jeans giving just enough friction to provide some relief. 

Her soft mewls and the wet sounds of your mouths fill the air. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realizes you two are still outside, where anyone walking by can see. You need to go inside. She just can't find it in her to care at the moment. 

Hands slide from their place on your hips to cup your ass, squeezing harshly, drawing a groan from you. "Hmm. Do you wanna know how many times I've caught you staring at it?" You ask as your mouth pulls back to kiss down the column of her throat. Teeth nipping the soft skin there. Ellie laughs breathlessly in response, somewhat lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. The dazed look in her eyes sends a jolt of heat through you. 

"Ellie?"

The two of you rip apart at the sound of Joel's voice. He stands just outside of his back door, the concerned look on his face vanishes when he spots you and Ellie off to the side of the garage. 

"You two alright out there?" 

You want to laugh at the clear discomfort and amusement in his voice. "Fine Joel, just walking her home."

"Uh huh." He doesn't sound convinced. "Well, best get inside before the snow picks up."

"Right. Good night!" 

Ellie rushes to unlock the door, pulling you in and slamming the door shut. 

"How did you know?" She asks, playing nervously with her fingers. Her freckled face deliciously flushed. A love bite peeking through the collar of her hoodie. 

"You weren't good at hiding it. I had my suspicions." you giggle, intertwining your fingers with hers. "Dina also might have put in a good word. Said I would love you if I just got to know you better."

"And?"

"She was right."

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Birthday Blues✨

Jackson! Joel Miller x bartender fem! reader

A/N: This is a little one-shot I did for @justagalwhowrites Joel Miller’s birthday celebration writing challenge! I had so much fun with this one and love it so much. I hope you enjoy! This one is all in Joel’s POV 🩵

Summary: Joel spends his birthday sulking on the porch, regretting the mistakes of his past. Just when he thinks he’ll spend his birthday alone, you come around and turn his cloudy skies into sunshine.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: Lots of angst, Joel’s POV, Jackson! Joel, losing Ellie, regrets, no use y/n, fluff, yearning, angst/comfort, lots of feelings, Joel’s birthday, age gap (Joel is 54, reader is 30)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  The wooden rocking chair creaks like a rundown, abandoned building, making the old floorboards of the porch groan beneath him with every shaky breath he takes. The acoustic guitar feels like a heavy anchor in his arms as he thinks about those long afternoons when he’d teach Ellie how to play songs of his past. Now, it feels like sawdust under his calloused fingertips. Brittle and old. Just like he is.

   September twenty-sixth. The day he can’t fucking stand anymore. The day he was brought into this unapologetic world, not realizing he’d lose himself along the way.

   Birthdays were supposed to be spent with loved ones. A celebration of life. But what does he have to celebrate anymore? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t have anyone anymore. He’s just… alone. 

   Sarah is gone, dead. And Ellie… she wasn’t coming back. Not to his house, his doorstep. No. She’d just stay away like the plague. 

   Fifty-four-years-old. Just one step closer to being six feet underground. He wishes he was already dead because that’s how he feels. Hollow, broken, lonely. 

   God, he’s so fucking lonely. Ever since Ellie found out about the fireflies. About what he did…

   She hates his guts, hates the way he lied straight to her face for months, hates the reason he did it. She thinks he’s selfish and feels like she was used. But really, he only looks at it one way. 

   He saved her… And he’d do it a thousand times over if he had the choice. To lose another daughter. Well… he just couldn’t. So, he did the selfish thing and got her out of that hospital. Because if he lost her, he’d surely lose himself.

   But he already lost her. Lost himself, too. So why does any of this even matter? It’s useless. He’s useless. 

   He strums along to the melancholy tune, the frail strings sliding along calloused skin, echoing the quiet melody back into the cool autumn breeze of Jackson. Maybe Ellie would hear it, come running back with tears staining her hazel eyes, apologize for moving out and screaming at him to stay away. But she was the one that stayed away. He never wanted to…

   He just strums along and keeps playing. The song that he had written just for her. A song she probably hears in her nightmares now. Maybe it’d bring her back…

   He gets lost in the music, greying curls tousled by the wind, his green flannel clinging to his flexed biceps, broken military watch glistening in the dying orange sky. Just when he starts to get drowned out by the screaming voices in his head, a soft, lilty voice pulls him from the darkness.

   “Hey.”

   His head snaps up and his calloused fingers still from the sudden intrusion. When he sees who it is, he freezes in place. His jaw locked, eyes wide, teeth clenched together. It’s you. The pretty bartender who caught his eye the moment he stepped into Tipsy Bison that first he arrived in Jackson.

   There you are. Hair blowing gently in the brisk breeze, doe eyes locked on his, a half-smile curled against your glossy red lips. Jesus. You’re even more beautiful with the orange sun shining down on you, casting halos over the crown of your head. 

   You’re absolutely breathtaking.

   “Haven’t seen you around Tipsy Bison lately. Was wondering where you’ve been.” You look at him intently, questions spiraling in those pretty shades of moonlit eyes. 

   “Been a little busy, I guess,” he mumbles, keeping his fingers locked tight around the neck of the guitar. 

   “Got your whiskey waiting for you behind the bar. Been saving it just for you,” you smile sweetly, nearly making him drop to his knees at the sight.

   “Thanks, darlin’. You don’t gotta do that, though. Might as well jus’ give it to someone else,” he sighs, eyes dropping to his denim-clad lap. It’s been a while since he went and drowned his sorrows at the bar. He’d rather just do it in the comfort of his own home. A home that was empty now except for him.

   “You okay?” you ask, voice leery as your eyebrows thread together in worry. 

   “’m fine,” he states lowly, eyes hollow and weathered from the pain he wears like weights under his eyes day after day. He’s not fine. He’s far from fine. 

   When’s the last time someone asked if he was fine? He can’t even remember.

   “You don’t sound fine. You look… sad.” Your voice is quiet, subdued, and your eyes look like clouded skies with hurricanes and thunderstorms brewing ominously. You look just as sad as he feels. 

   You’re so empathetic and tuned into other people’s feelings. He wishes you’d stop that. Stop looking at him like he deserves to not feel like that. But again, It’s hard to look away when a beautiful girl who’s kind, caring, and all around good is standing right in front of him, asking him if he’s alright.

   “Reckon I am sad,” he finally mutters, eyes cast down to the fading paint of the wooden boards on the porch. But then he looks up again, and there you are. Beautiful eyes swallowing him whole.

   “You want to talk about it?” You lean against the stairwell on the porch, eyes boring into his, arms crossed over your soft blue jacket.

   He shakes his head and sighs. “Darlin’, I really don’t think you wanna sit here and listen to an old man talk ‘bout how he’s feelin’.”

   You shift your weight and flex your jaw, like he just punched you right in the gut. Fuck. He’s already ruining everything, but what you say next surprises him. “I’ve got time.”

   He stares at you a moment, feeling like he just got struck by lightning. You want to stay and listen? You’ve got time?

   “Why don’t you take a seat then? I don’t wanna bore you with my problems. And God forbid I waste more of your time,” he murmurs.

   You shuffle your way up the steps and sit slowly into the wooden rocking chair next to him. The one he crafted by hand. “Like I said, I’ve got time. I’m listening.” You smile softly at him, and he can’t help but to memorize the outline of your pretty face. Your deep dimples that appear whenever you’re grinning, your light freckles scattered across your nose. The ones you get from sitting out in the sun for too long. You always did love the sunlight. That’s something he picked up on quickly.

   He’s watched you for so long from a distance. Only really saying hi if he was stopping by the Tipsy Bison for a drink, maybe waving at you when you walked past him on the street, the casual back and forth glances the two of you would exchange every once in a while. 

   He’s shy, reserved, an introverted man that likes his space. But he’d have no problem sharing his space with you. Especially when you wear that flowery lavender scent that magnetizes him to you.

   After a moment of comfortable silence, he huffs out a heavy breath and begins. “Look, I’m not the best at talkin’. Especially ‘bout how I’m feelin’. But let’s make this short ‘n sweet. I know you got better places to be.”

   You lean back into the slant of the chair and rest your arm on the smooth armrest, smiling over at him with your sweet demeanor. “I don’t have anywhere to be, Joel. So take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” 

   He sets his guitar down and leans it against the edge of the porch, carefully scooting back into the worn chair. His thumb taps nervously against the armrest, but you just stay quiet and keep your eyes on him. It helps him breathe a little easier, he thinks. 

   Taking his time chewing over the words, he finally spills them. “I’ve made some stupid mistakes in the past that I can’t fix. No matter what I do, nothin’ is gonna change what happened.”

   You knit your eyebrows together like you’re mulling it over, guessing what he could be talking about. The way you bite your bottom lip and flick your eyes between the open mailbox that says Miller’s and back his way says you do know. “Are you talking about Ellie?” you ask hesitantly.

   “How did you know…”

   You shrug and push a piece of fallen hair behind the slope of your ear. He wishes he could be the one doing that. “This town is small, Joel. I notice things. It’s not a secret Ellie moved in with Dina.”

   He sighs deeply and pushes his fingers back through his slick hair, letting the tousled curls fall back into place. “Guess gossip gets ‘round fast here. Shit.” He lets his head hang low, cursing under his breath when he thinks about the way Ellie stormed off that day. She said she never wanted to speak to him again, and it hurt just as much as Sarah’s death.

   Your voice jolts him out of those dark thoughts. “Have you talked to her lately?”

   He clenches his jaw and shakes his head defeatedly, tears lining the back of his eyes as pain radiates down his spine. “It’s been over two months. She can’t even stand to look me in the eyes. Fuckin’ hates me, and it’s all my fault.”

   And there you go again. Looking at him like a lost puppy with those big doe eyes of yours. You make him so soft. Nobody else can do that. Not since Tess.

   “I don’t think she hates you.” 

   You place your dainty hand on the back of his for a few seconds. Warmth shoots through his skin, races down his bloodstream, nearly chokes him up when you retrieve it and place it back in your lap. In just those few seconds, he felt what it would be like if you were his. But that couldn’t happen. You’re far too young for him, a twenty-four year age gap, fresh out of your twenties. Just now thirty. You’re too pretty, too out of his league, too good. 

   You’re just too good for him. He’d never deserve a woman like you. Not after everything he’s done. 

   I don’t think she hates you. The words permeate and sizzle deep in his brain.

   “No? Well, sweetheart, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that jus’ ain’t the case,” he scoffs, kicking the heel of his worn boot into the porch to get his point across. 

   You twist your fingers together nervously and look up at him, sparkling eyes shining like starlight. “You know she asks about you, right?”

   His mouth gawks open, and he stares wonderstruck at you. “What?” He can’t believe his ears. “She… asks ‘bout me?”

   A faint smile lifts over your red lips. “Yeah. She sometimes comes up to me at the bar and asks if you’ve been in recently or if I’ve talked to you lately. She wonders about you, Joel.”

   His mouth feels like sandpaper, throat dry and closed up. Maybe the dry air will suffocate him before he gets his hopes up. “Why would she do that…”

   You shrug and give him a tight-lipped smile. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two. And it’s not my business to ask, but I don’t think she’ll stay away forever, Joel. No matter what you did or how bad you think it is, she’ll come around. I know she will.”

   His grip tightens against the armrest, nails digging like claws into the rustic wood. “I dunno. She really stuck it to me to leave her alone. Don’t think she wants me ‘round anymore. S’why I stayed away. She’ll never forgive me…” His voice is strained, sad, choked up like he forgot how to breathe. He wishes she’d forgive him. Just one word from her. That’s all he wants.

   “Give her time, Joel. I know she will,” you say encouragingly as the wind laces through your silky hair, blowing it just enough for him to see the pretty blush painting your cheeks pink.

   You’re so fucking beautiful.

   His deep bravado voice drops an octave as he looks up through glassy eyes at the sunshine of a woman sitting before him. “How do you know?” he asks quietly.

   You just shrug and smile. “I just know, okay?”

   “Mmm.” Sitting back in his rocking chair, he thinks and thinks over your encouraging words, analyzing them like tiny jigsaw pieces. A puzzle that just can’t be put together. You never were the type to linger on sadness. Never seemed to let a rainy day cloud your joy. You were always so carefree, always bringing rainbows after destructive thunderstorms. Always just there.

   Slowly, steadily, your fingers curl around his dark green flannel, hooking underneath his bicep. And your eyes, like a warm summer’s day, shine brighter than he’s ever seen them shine before. Just like shimmering sparkles under a starlit sky. Embers and all. “Hope is like a migrating butterfly. It spreads its long wings and takes off in the morning sky. The butterfly may not return to the same place for quite some time, but it always seems to come back to the place it came from. Eventually, it returns home. She’ll come back, Joel. Ellie will come home.”

   His eyes cloud over, foggy from the tears building in his dark brown irises. And when one slips free and slides down his cheek, falling like a raindrop and landing on top of your hand, you don’t pull away. You stay. No one else had stayed. But here you are, smiling up at him like he’s the center of your gravity. Like he’s worth something to you. 

   And then something happens. Something he hasn’t done in so long. He smiles. He smiles at the pretty girl that turned his entire birthday upside down. He smiles because you stayed when no one else did.

   You stayed.

   “Think you jus’ might’ve struck some hope inside me after that speech, darlin’,” he drawls, brown eyes sparkling into yours.

   “Glad I could be of service,” you giggle, your hand brushing over the fabric of his soft flannel. And there you go. Giving him that breathtaking smile. He wishes you’d never leave.

   “Look at you. Ruinin’ my plans of sulkin’ for the rest of the evenin’.”

   You tilt your head and give him that look. A look like you want to drown out all his sorrows. “Why are you sulking in the first place?”

   Sighing loudly, he rakes a hand slowly down his patchy beard and stares out into the void of the green and yellow leaves littering the ground. “‘Cause it’s my birthday. And I got nothin’ to celebrate.”

   You sit forward in your seat, drawing your hand back to your lap and staring all wide-eyed at him like you just can’t believe he’d be alone. “It’s your birthday?”

   “Mhm,” he hums, feeling the excruciating pain of losing Ellie all over again. 

   “What are you doing spending it alone, then?” you whisper, heartbreaking eyes tearing his soul in two.

   He pushes a hand painfully slow through his windblown curls and takes a deep breath as he thinks of that stupid fight he and Tommy got in. “Me and Tommy had a fight the other day. Reckon he doesn't wanna see me for a few more days after that. Maria’s on Tommy’s side. And Ellie… well. You know. Needless to say, I got no one to celebrate with.”

   Silence permeates through the cool air, a deafening noise that rings through his ears. He wishes you’d say something, anything. Break the lull that hangs like a thick, impenetrable wall in the sky. Maybe you too are having second thoughts of being here alone with him in his suffering.

   “Can you just… wait here for a few minutes?” you ask, pushing yourself up and hanging over the thresholds of his rickety porch.

   He takes a minute to digest your words, thinking you won’t come back. “I suppose. Not goin’ anywhere. Why?” he asks hesitantly, his voice hoarse from the thought of you disappearing too.

   “Just wait here. There’s something I forgot,” you plea, your pretty smile telling him you’ll be back.

   Before you take a step off the porch, he stops you. “You don’t have to, you know. Come back, I mean.”

   You give him a small smile, your hair blowing softly in the wind, tangling around your beautiful face. An angel cast in shadows from the purple and pink painted sunlit skies. “Nobody deserves to be alone on their birthday, Joel. Not even you,” you say in a soft, lilty voice. 

   You hang there a second, just watching each other. Waiting for something, but he doesn’t know what. And eventually, you take that step off the porch. “Be right back! Just wait here,” you shout, running off into the sunset.

   “Alright,” he whispers, watching you go. And then you disappear down the street, practically sprinting back to your house or back to the bar. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he hopes you come back. 

   Please, come back. 

   He fidgets in his chair, trying his best not to pull out the greys from his tousled curls. His chest feels tight, like his button-up shirt is stifling the chilly air all around him. He feels choked up, like something is lodged deep in his throat. Feels like he drank too much whiskey, palms sweating against his jeans. 

   Lord knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t act like this means anything. But what if it does? What if this is everything he’s waited for? He shouldn’t yearn for you, shouldn’t pine mindlessly for the pretty bartender that’s way too young for him to be falling for. But he fell head over heels the first moment you said hi to him in the bar. Your smooth fingertips brushing against his when you passed him a glass of whiskey. It felt like fire smothering his insides, igniting dangerous feelings that he should’ve never developed in the first place. 

   He shouldn’t have fallen for you, but he did. And now, he was wrecked. 

   You come walking back just minutes later, your hands behind your back, something hidden behind your jacket. And when you make your way back up to the porch, you hold out a single muffin with a blue birthday candle placed right in the center.

   “What’s this?” he asks, eyes wide as you place it in the palm of his hand.

   “A blueberry muffin. I just made them this morning. I hope you like blueberries. It’s not much, but it was made with love and care. So here, something sweet that I hope will brighten up your day.” 

   He stares in awe at the fluffy muffin, blueberries scattered around the pastry. His eyes mist over, tears licking at the edges, threatening to spill at any moment. He’s not used to this kind of treatment. Someone being nice, thoughtful, acting like he’s special. 

   He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you.

   “Th—thank you…” he chokes out, holding back tears.

   “Happy birthday, Joel,” you smile, lighting the candle and making shadows cast over his palm from the flame. “Make a wish.”

   “Think it already came true…” he whispers. 

   Your eyes meet, tension thick in the air, smiles bouncing off each other's mouths. And when he blows out the flame, you give him a quick, fleeting kiss to the cheek. A kiss that’ll surely never wash off his skin. It’ll stick like permanent ink until his mouth hangs over yours.

   “You’re a sweet little thing, ain’t ya?” he asks, his skin tinged red from the blush you’ve painted over his tanned skin. 

   “Sweeter than a shaker of sugar?” you giggle out. A laugh that sounds like music to his ears.

   “Sweeter than sugar, darlin’,” he confirms with a wide grin.

   His hand finds yours, lacing his fingers through until your warmth is mixing with his. And as the sun goes down, stars igniting the sky in glitter, you lean your head on his shoulder while you tell him stories of your past. He could listen to you all night. He thinks he could listen to you forever. 

   You stay there until midnight, fingers entwined together, his hand pushing a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, memorizing your perfect smile and dazzling eyes. And just before you go, he pulls you in for a kiss. A kiss that could make the entire world stop. Because in that moment, on your soft lips, he thinks he found heaven. 

   Just as you turn to go, a figure emerges from the dark shadows, leaving him breathless and dumbstruck from the sight. He rubs his eyes, figuring he’s seeing things. Maybe the sleepless nights have finally got to him. But your encouraging smile says it’s real.

   “Joel, look. She came back,” you smile, eyes glossy just like his are now. 

   She hesitates out in the road, jaw locked and eyes watery. Those big hazel eyes haven’t changed a bit. 

   Ellie. She came back. She’s here…

   And just like a butterfly, she spreads her wings and waves, mouthing happy birthday as she lingers by the open mailbox. But that’s enough. That’s one step to fixing a promise he broke. 

   “Ellie,” he calls, voice cracking as tears drop down his face. 

   “Joel,” she nods, giving him a half-smile. “Can I… can I come in?” she asks hesitantly.

   “‘Course you can, kiddo.”

   And it’s then, right at that moment, where everything fell back into place. Right when she stepped back into his life. He has a feeling you had something to do with it, but he’ll thank you for that later. Maybe tomorrow when he stops by your house and asks for some more blueberry muffins. 

   Today will go down in history as one of his favorites because he got the girl, and Ellie came back home. He got his birthday wish after all. 

[hockybish]

will mas talk to luke soon about them getting back together ?

I Can't Do It Like This Anymore

l the cute photographer au l luke x maisie l masterlist l

This girl had really been laying on the charm with Luke at the concert. She was trying to get him to come back to her hotel room with her, but he didn't want to.

"You know my hotel isn't to far from here. Whatdaya say we ditch and and go back?" The girl -Mallory as Luke had learned- flashed him a glimpse of her smile and a hotel key.

"Oh no thank you. I'm can't. I'm here with my brothers and friends. And you know it's kind of rude to um leave them?" Luke started off strong in his attempt to get Mallory to leave him alone.

He looked around at the group he had been with hoping one of them would come over and save him from this interaction, but no one was coming.

He felt Mallory slip the key card into the pocket of his pants and lightly pat the area. Letting him know he can have it, just in case her door is always open.

"I said no. I'm taken." Luke tried giving the key back, but she was already gone by the time he had gotten it out of his pocket.

Sighing he shoved it back into his pocket instead of throwing it away, an action he might regret later, and returned to enjoying the rest of the concert. But he couldn't, he couldn't get the interaction with Mallory out of his head.

During Fire Away, he walked out without saying anything. There were still so many people walking around, but Luke managed to find a quiet corner. He dialed the number of the person on his Lock Screen, the only person for him.

Maisie flopped on the couch, Roger the cat was making his way over to sit on her chest. It was the end of the day for her she was ready to climb into some comfy pajamas and continue her rewatch of grey's anatomy.

That was going to have to wait when her phone rang. She sat up and scrambled to answer before it went to voicemail.

"Hey Lukey! How's the concert? Wait you're still at the concert aren't you? Why are you calling? Is something wrong with you or Jack or Quinn? Or?" Maisie's happiness at the fact he called quickly turned into worry that something was happening and she wasn't there.

"Everything's fine Maize. I just miss you, that's all." Luke sighed. He slid down the wall he had been leaning against. There was another purpose to this call, but he'd get to that later. "How was your day?"

"My day" She paused for a second "was a day. Spent most of it with your mom trying to get her to like me and I just got back to the house when you called. And aside from talking to you, I'm heating up dinner." She grabbed the left overs from the fridge to heat up.

"What are you having?" Luke asked to keep her talking, building up his own courage to ask her something else.

"Fried rice from that one restaurant we like in town. I have a tiny bit leftover from when I got take out the other night."

"Is that it? You should really have more than that. I think there's some dino nuggies left in the freezer, eat those too, and a banana."

Maisie appreciated Luke taking care of her by reminding her of what she should be doing. Sometimes she forgot.

"What song is he singing now?" She could still hear the music in the background. Luke held the phone back to he identify it.

"Broken Halos"

"Oh I like that one! You're missing it, I should let you go, so you can listen." He knew that but he didn't care. He'd rather talk with her. He'd rather be with her than that Mallory chick.

"Luke? Are you okay?"

"No" He whispered

"What's wrong?" Maisie became alarm, and was ready to message Jack or Quinn while still talking with him.

"It's nothing bad. Please don't freak, but I can't do it like this anymore Maisie. I want us to be us again. Because I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I know, I know I promised I said I would wait for you for forever long it took you to be okay with us again. But I can't. I want you. I want to love you now."

"Luke .." Maisie knew this was going to be coming soon. She was going to have this talk as soon as he got back to Michigan. She believe's she is ready again.

"I got hit on tonight. Well I get hit on all the time, but it was different this time Maize. She openly told me she wanted to sleep with me and gave me her room key. I tried to give it back, but she was all like just in case and walked away. I didn't want to and I couldn't stop thinking about you and those nights when you snuck into my room at the house. And you're the only one I want"

Luke laid it all out on the line, hoping, wishing, praying that she would say what he had been dreaming she would.

"Are you done? I was hoping to have this talk in person, not over the phone." Luke's began to race, this was it. "I want us again too. I think I'm ready. If we go slow. Because I love you too. And I'm becoming too emotionally attached again for us just to be friends again."

"Really?" The biggest smile etched on Luke's face. He needed someone to pinch him, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Really Lukey"

"God I love you Maisie. But I gotta go now. Concert's over. I'll talk to you later, mkay?" The couple bid their adieus. Luke already had plans to look at rearranging his flight plans, but right now he needed to find his brothers.

"What's got you smiling?" Quinn cocked an eyebrow when Luke returned.

"Oh nothing." Luke tried but failed at hiding his smile which the guys teased him about on the ride home.

[doonarose]

CW/TW: Explicit sexual content.

Summary: They meet on a miserable, stormy night, after a deer runs in front of Crowley’s car and Aziraphale narrowly avoids crashing into the back of the Bentley. They rescue the fawn and fall into bed together to enjoy an adrenaline-fuelled one-night stand. The morning after, they need to recognise that they've got little in common and real lives to return to. Or, at least, that's what they should do.

A/N: Chapter six is up and it is my own brand of unhinged and tropey as heck. Very indulgent if I do say so myself. Thanks as always to u/harlotofupdog and u/Paperclip_ninja for ongoing betaing and cheerleading! Thanks to u/FuzzyGoblinoid for the lovely header art! Thanks to everyone who is reading!!!

@goodomensafterdark

Chapter six excerpt

Crowley wakes with a start and the discomfort of cold, tacky sweat coating his spine. It’s not anything new, the nightmare seeping back into his consciousness. The screams of shearing metal and blindingly white spotlights, Crowley at the centre of it all except this time, instead of flames, he was being drowned in relentless, pelting rain. His car was there, the axle snapped in two and the engine hissing out angry steam. And there was a broken little deer that wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, intercut with flashes of untrusting, terrified blue eyes haloed by blood-streaked white-blonde hair. Crowley couldn’t do anything about it — he could never do anything about any of it — because he was always falling, perpetually down. It was always too late and he was never allowed to land.

Awake, Crowley recognises the mostly recurring motifs and grimaces at the debut of several new, unhelpful elements. He scrubs his hands over his face and works the sore tightness from his jaw. He stretches all the long lengths of his body before he freezes, remembering more details from the night before, spreading his fingers apart to look around the unfamiliar room.

The peculiar man that Crowley had accidentally driven off the road the night before — and then very deliberately seduced into bed — seems to have disappeared. Crowley resumes his stretching, noting that the throb in his thigh which had started up just after the accident is worse now. The sharp pain in his ribs is still not convincingly serious, but it’s enough to make him grunt. He really shouldn’t have spent so long on his knees, being pulled and pushed by a fist in his hair, after a wreck like that. But then he’s not at all convinced he’d do anything differently given the night again.

A faint smile passes over his lips before he shakes the distracting memories away.

Read the rest on AO3

[bogartchive]

in sickness and in health [gepard x oc]

i haven't written anything in maybe two years but yeah. no beta we die like cocolia.

warnings: oc x canon. maybe ooc gepard and a lot of self-indulgence

side story

-

the first thing gepard feels is softness. something is gently patting his skin, starting from his forehead and making its way to his arm. there's a throbbing pain everywhere on his body, but it's especially worse on his arm. he struggles to open his eyes— and he finds that he is only able to open one for now.

"you're awake." his vision is blurry, but there's only one person who could have that familiar voice and black hair. they stare at him with lifeless eyes, a contrast to the gentle smile on their face.

maria. he wants to say their name, but his throat is dry and his voice won't cooperate. gepard's eyes finally adjust to the light, which bounces on their hair from above. it seems like a halo from his position below, mesmerized at the sight.

"do you know me?" they put the towel in their hands down on the table beside them. "if you can't move your head, blink twice if yes. blink once if no."

gepard weakly nods once, and the medic in front of him visibly relaxes.

"you're in natasha's clinic." maria's voice is steady as their eyes inspect him from head to toe. "we brought you here for urgent medical care after that skirmish, and you've been unconscious for two days. as for your injuries..." they shift in their seat, and for a split second, their smile seemed to falter. "a broken arm, multiple bruises and scratches, and an injured eye. don't worry, it's not enough to cause vision loss, but it'll leave a pretty nasty scar."

"and... the others?" his voice comes out raspy after being unused for a while.

"no casualties." they shake their head, "you can rest easy now."

a sigh escapes his lips in relief. "thank you." his gaze lingers a little too long on the dark circles under maria's eyes. a dull and suffocating feeling creeps up in his chest at the realization that it had been a busy day for them with the influx of injured patients. "you should get some rest, too." 

he only realizes that they were leaning close to him when they pull away, sitting up straight. "i'm fine, really." even their voice sounds more distant, as if putting a wall to shield themselves. "there's more work to do, i can't just sit idly by when people need my help." 

part of him wants to argue with them, that rest should be just as important as work, but the smile on maria's face tells him that they'll take no opinions on their decision and it is final. still, he wants to do it. but before he could find the proper words to do so, the medic stands up, makes an excuse says something about checking on the others, and leaves with hurried steps.

-

there's not much to do while recovering from injury. it's one of gepard's least favorite things about being injured— the time he spends staring at the ceiling or sleeping could have been spent on maybe catching up with paperwork or checking up on the guards' training. he couldn't sneak off and work this time, though. he'll never forget how the smile from maria's face faded when he suggested the idea of bringing some of his pending documents to the clinic.

"you'll be discharged soon enough, captain. but as long as you're here, your focus should be on rest and recovery only."

their cold use of his title will forever be engrained in his mind. he truly could not find it in himself to argue with them. if his older sister were here, she would probably laugh at the scene in front of her. teasing him about how they had him wrapped around their finger, much like when they were still children. he wonders if maria knows about this, too. or if they've ever noticed the way he softens up around them—

typing with one hand on such a tiny device (and cracked screen) is hard, but it's the only thing he can do to distract himself for now. gepard's messages were filled with 'get well soon's' and even a moving picture from the supreme guardian with glitter and flowers, accompanied by a notification that he should take all the time off that he needs to recover. it was a struggle thanking everyone, with the frequent occasional typo here and there, but he managed to do it. and now he was scrolling mindlessly through short videos on his phone.

his browsing was interrupted when a voice called out to him. "how are you feeling, captain gepard?" it was none other than the only other doctor in the clinic, natasha.

"i'm feeling better than yesterday, thank you." he nods, but he wonders if he should ask...

"i sent maria home."

"ah." well, his question must have been written on his face in all capital letters for natasha to have noticed it.

the senior doctor gives him an amused look, "they haven't slept in two days. even so, they tried to stay, but only became convinced when i told them that lack of sleep is dangerous for this job, leading to life-threatening accidents." she sighs, sitting beside him. "i hope you don't mind that i'll be the one changing your bandages this time."

"i don't mind." gepard shifts slightly to give her better access to his bandages. this time, she says. he tries to fight down the embarrassment at the thought of maria stripping him down and patching him up themselves. even if it was done for medical purposes... it's unsettling that they have seen his bare skin, which was littered with scars and healed wounds from previous battles.

natasha seems to sense his discomfort, and starts talking as she worked around him. "doctors aren't supposed to have preferential treatment towards their patients. each one should be treated equally." 

he stays silent, not knowing where she was going with this conversation.

"but if it gives you any comfort," she starts wrapping a fresh roll of bandages onto his skin, "after treating everyone else, maria stayed by your side most of the time. constantly looking after you, waiting for you to wake up. i believe they may have shed some tears once you did— but keep that between us, alright?"

gepard feels the heat creeping up his neck, a tinge of pink dusting his pale skin all over. "they did that." his words don't come out as a question, more like a statement. in awe that someone other than his family would cry for him. cared for him enough to lose sleep just to make sure that he was okay.

"indeed." natasha nodded. she's almost finished patching him up, "from what i can see, you definitely have a chance. it's just a matter of who makes a move first."

his neck almost breaks at the speed of him turning his head to look at her, "i— i don't—" he stammers, and he internally curses the overwhelming heat on his cheeks and the heart that was threatening to leap out of his chest.

she simply smiles at him as she stands up, and that's when he remembers that this doctor might have been spending too much time with his sister. or maybe he was just that obvious from the beginning. his phone buzzes on the table beside the bed, and through the cracked screen, there was a single notification.

maria: got sent home but couldn't sleep. how are you?

gepard tells himself to reply later when he's calmed down. right now, his phone was at risk for being crushed to death under his nervous iron grip.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Fallen Angel Part 6

—————–

Words- 6.2K

Pairings: Izuku Midoriya x Takami!Reader, Hawks x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Violence/Battle, TARTARUS ESCAPEES ARC SPOILERS, murder, gang affiliation, mass injuries (stab wounds, gunshots, broken bones), later chapters will have more triggering content. TW: MASSIVE GORE WARNING, assault on a minor (fighting)

—————–

First Name: Y/n 

Last Name: Takami; L/n (Formerly)

Age: 16 

Quirk: Quirkless (Currently); Angel Wings (Formerly) (With wings that resemble an angel, she can use them to fly and fight, she can fly up to 200 mph the fastest she has ever gone is about 300 when racing Hawks. She can also use her wings as a shield against attack by slightly hardening the feathers, but if enough damage can fail on her. Unlike Hawks she can’t remove her feathers to fight so has incorporated a staff in her fight style; melee combat) 

Hero Name: Halo (Formerly) 

Affiliation: Student at U.A. (Formerly); Hero-in-Training (Under Commission) (Formerly)

Family: Brother: Keigo Takami aka Hawks, Father: Shinyo Takami, Mother: Unknown

BY CLICKING KEEP READING YOU UNDERSTAND THE TRIGGERING CONTENT THAT MIGHT BE AHEAD

The whole class is distraught by both you and Midoriya’s disappearance, neither of you knowing the other is gone. Todoroki stands to the side unease in his gut knowing his friend is gone but also worried because he knows why you left. You say you were going to do it before he and his father could stop him. You were going to kill Touya Todoroki. 

And in April both you and Midoriya had left U.A. off to fight your monsters. 

Your first week you spent alone was long and sleepless. Hosu was not the same city it was before though slightly better in the day there were still villains but at night were worse. You hardly got sleep finding shelter in abandoned homes only getting a few hours in before continuing to figure out where Shinyo Takami was. They lost sight of him only a few months ago and with all the destruction he wouldn’t try to leave but instead start to create an army. It took some time but you hear of a man they call the Devil’s Advocate around the dark streets of Hosu. Once the sun came down the crime and danger came out. In the few months he spent hiding a small empire of surrounding bars and underground clubs was under his control and the only way to get close to him was to fight. 

The loud sound of chains and screaming fill your senses as you walk down the steps with others, your hood and a mask covering your face from people around you. The chanting and yells got louder in the middle of the large underground club was a huge cage lined with large plexiglass, there were two levels for viewing and the huge cage had large industrial lights lighting it up as people yell at the two people fighting inside. Standing towards the back that still gives you a decent view of the fight, you watch as the two fight it out, one of them was built like a tank as he threw the other guy across the cage, blood coming out of his mouth as hit the ground dead on impact. The sight of death before should have made you sick but you just seem numbed to it. The crowd roars as the winner lift his arms in the air, his arms coated in blood. 

“And the Undertaker continues his winning streak, our next fight will be happening in a bit. Those who wish to fight are more than welcomed.” A man says in a mic and the crowd goes wild before settling down slightly. You head towards where that man by large chalkboards with bettings some up to millions of dollars. 

“I wish to fight.” You say to him and he looks down at you not seeing much before nodding, “You’ll join the next one, you got a name.” He says his breath smelt of weed and alcohol making you cringe slightly. 

You shake your head and he laughs, “You win, you'll be given one.” You nod, stepping away from the booth the crowd is getting slightly agitated until a bell goes over. 

“Ladies and Gents, our next fight is going to begin. We have a new contender stepping into the ring.” The man yells out and someone grabs your arm and brings you inside the cage, the lights blinding you slightly as people scream around you. The door on the other side of the cage opens up and a lanky man enters, wearing all leather holding two long blades in his hands. 

“Let's have a good fight everyone!” He yells and the bell dings and everyone is cheering. 

You pull out your staff and the guy in front of you laughs, “Really how’s a staff gonna hurt me, you must be stupid.” He rushes towards holding the blades up. You pull your arm back chucking the staff towards his chest pressing the button right before letting go and the blade flies out. The staff spears through his chest out his back digging into the floor, his body staying up by it. He chokes on blood, his eyes wide before he goes limp the fight is over in seconds. 

The crowd is silent if you blink the fight would be over, then the crowd goes wild cheering you as you go over grabbing the staff pulling it out his body pulling the blade back in. 

“Would you believe it! The fight is over before it even begins. Who is this person!” He calls and the doors open and two people come to take the body away, throwing another person in. No bell goes off signaling the fight and the man comes rushing to you his hands covered in frost, he sends a blast your way which you dodge turning to face him as he sends another blast at you and you block it with your braced arm, frost grows on it but the material heats up and it melts away. Running towards you, kicking him in the chest and sending him flying back he gets up sprinting towards you. You dodge, spinning around him grabbing the smaller knife from your waist, you slice it across his neck and he falls to the ground bleeding out. 

The crowd is insane by this new contender that is insanely good, “Would you look at that another down.” You see in the corner of your eye a figure appearing from the second level in a more restricted level and you see it was one of Takami's associates, Tadashi Kase. He was a large crime boss in Hosu known for drug dealing and arms dealers in the black market. Your best shot at getting to Takami was through him. 

“Give me your best!” You yell out and the crowd goes wild cheering you on. 

“Seems our new spitfire has challenged the Undertaker. Your choice but be ready to say your goodbyes to this world.” The announcer calls out and you feel the floor shake as someone comes heading your way. The cage doors open and the Undertaker in front of you is much bigger towering over you, he could be almost as tall as All Might. He smirks at you and you see his sharp teeth that are stained red. 

“Our reigning champion faces our new challenger!” He yells out and the bell dings starting the fight. The Undertaker comes rushing towards you like a battering ram and you dodge before he can swipe at you, he slams into the wall turning to look at you. 

“Trying to run is pointless!” He yells running towards you again, he swipes his hand out to hit you but you slide under it bringing your staff up both blades out, the blade slicing his arm. 

His arm has a large gash on it and his other hand grabs your leg tossing you across the cage, you hit the fence and your staff flies out of your hand. You land on the ground feeling the wind knocked out of you, the floors slippery with blood, you hear footsteps rushing towards you and you dodge right before a foot stops on your face. His hand wraps around your leg again throwing you and your face hits the ground and you feel something crack in your nose. Rolling and getting up you pull the knife from your waistband and swing it at the fist heading towards you cutting his hand, and making him pull away. 

“Your puny knife isn’t going to kill the Undertaker!” He yells he blocks you from getting your staff. Throwing your knife, it digs into his shoulder and while he’s distracted slightly you run towards him sliding between his legs, running towards your staff you slide on your knees grabbing it and spinning around on your knees thrusting the blade in his stomach before he can reach you. 

Pulling away you get up creating distance between you two, he growls bloodlust in his eyes and he charges at you. You run away heading towards the wall with him following behind you. Running up the chain fence you flip over his head splitting the staff in two you slide down his back the blades digging into his back cutting it up in ribbons. Once you touch the ground you bring one of the blades across both of the back of his ankles cutting the ligaments and nerves helping him stand. As he falls over his hand hits you in the chest sending you back, you don’t feel any bones break thank god for this vest. Standing up you walk over to him he is trying to pull himself over to you trying to stand up but from the multiple cuts targeting arteries and nerves, he was stuck on his back. You stand above him, you put your staff back together raising it above your head. His hands shoot up to cover his face but you bring it down the blade piercing his neck and his arms still before falling, you hear him choke on the blood for a bit before it gets silent. 

The crowd goes wild seeing you defeat a champion only after fighting two other people. You pull the staff out closing the blades, you pull down your mask feeling blood pooling down the back of your throat and you spit the blood out wiping the excess blood from your face. Leaning your head back you take in the air as your lungs burn from the fight.  These were the first ones since getting out of the hospital. You feel the hood fall off your head and people are shocked at your appearance. 

“It’s a girl.” “Look at how small she is compared to the Undertaker.” “Look how young they are, she’s practically a child.” The comments continue before they are silenced by one man. 

“Quiet!” The room quiets down in an instant. You look up to see Kase looking down at you scanning your face. “What is your name?” He asks and you shake your head, you weren’t about to tell him your real name. Hey, I’m just your boss’s long-lost daughter whom he abandoned. “What are you here for?” He calls out, 

“I come here seeking revenge on those who wronged me!” You yell out and some people cheer. 

You were here for revenge and the man above you was one of them. Kase raises his hand and silences them, “Then your name shall be Nemesis, you will seek those of retribution and enact your revenge!” He says and everyone begins chanting your name. 

“Your new champion Nemesis!” The announcer yells and the crowd is cheering, chanting your name but your gaze is stuck on the man that would lead you to your father. Nemesis, the goddess of divine retribution, seeks out evil and punishes them for their deeds. You would be getting your revenge starting with him. 

You didn’t know after the fight you were going to be pulled away from the fight club, they said you were going to meet the Advocate. You end up back on the surface now in a large compound that had much traditional architecture but a more modern look. You were brought into a large office and there he was…Shinyo Takami, your father. He was older, his hair similar to Keigo’s but brown and longer pulled back, a large scar runs on the side of his jaw, his blood-red wings against his back as looks at you across the desk. Kase goes over to Takami, leaning over and whispering something in his ear and you see his eyes widen with surprise written on his face. 

“You’re the one to kill my champion?” He says his voice was deep as his gaze tracked over you, he was surprised a girl your age was able to take someone twice your size and strength. You nod, keeping your face straight and he smirks. He grabs a cigar from a drawer lighting it up before inhaling the smoke, he looks at you as the smoke leaves out his nose. 

“What quarrel do you have with us to go after my strongest man?” He says and you shrug. 

“I have no problem with you or your fighters. I only wish for a place I can stay while I finish my work.” He nods, snapping his fingers, and the doors open. Two men drag in a man who was covered in bruises and cuts and he’s thrown in front of you. 

“This man has betrayed me, I will allow you shelter here if you prove your loyalty.” 

You pull your staff from behind you unsheathing one blade, the man before you cries out and begs for mercy, “Please I have a family, have mercy.” You felt yourself freeze slightly. You wouldn’t be able to turn back from this, the people before were bad. Blood was already on their hands and this was the only way to enact your revenge. His cries are silenced as you whip the blade across his throat spraying some onto your face. He makes a gasping noise before collapsing onto the ground, blood pooling around him. 

“What were his crimes?” You say look at the body lying in front of you. 

You hear your father laugh, “Nothing..” The air feels ice cold hearing that single word, you killed an innocent man just for your gain. You look up, staring at him with cold eyes, you have lost the innocent light and morals with this death. 

“Welcome Nemesis…” 

The door behind you closes as you look around the new room you would be living in, it was quite simple and traditional. There was a futon against the wall in the middle of it, a small closet against the wall across the bed, and a door to the left of the closest led to a full bathroom including a washer and dryer for you to use, there were also two large sliding doors parallel with the main door that when you open them up it led to the outside area and other ways around the compound. Walking to the bathroom you strip, take a shower cleaning off the sweat and blood on you for the past week. You hiss in pain having to crack your broken nose back into place. 

After you get out you're dressed in a bathrobe. You fill up the tub with water and detergent that was under the sink. You throw your shirt, pants, socks, the left glove, cloak, and undergarments in the washer letting that go while in the tub you hand clean your boots, the belts, the vest, and your brace. You took the time scrubbing the dirt and grime off it. Being on the constant move in Hosu to avoid villains and find information didn’t give you the time to clean up. Leaving the items to air dry, you move the clothes into the drying, throwing in your boots as well. You then took the cleaning the staff and knife, you didn’t have a kit to clean your gun but you should be fine since you didn’t use it at all. Draining the brownish-red water you head back into the main room it was late from the fight club to you meeting your father. You lay down feeling sleep call to you and you sleep for the full night for the first time in a while. 

When you woke up you could hear people walking around outside and voices getting louder as they got closer to your room and then left. You get up out of bed, get dressed, grab your staff, and put it in the back holster before leaving your room. 

As you exit your room you hear someone call out your name, “Nemesis!” You turn to see Kase walking over to you. “You have work to do.” 

When joining the Devil’s Advocate you weren’t just going to be able to live here and leave when you want so you were given work as a payment to stay. You would accompany workers during drug deals and weapon dealings as a form of protection but also in case they need to clean up loose ends. Your ledger of kills racks up quickly with how large group gangs work. You were given time by yourself and you use that to find whatever information on finding the League more specifically Dabi, though they haven’t gotten you any closer. Your connection to Takami however was starting to make you known to both villains and heroes as well. Villains knew of Shinyo Takami, the Devil’s Advocate for his work before creating this empire and now. Heroes knew of Shinyo Takami by relation to both Hawks and you and the name was getting too popular for heroes to ignore. 

You had just got back from trying to find anything more on a location for the League but it only ends with another dead-end and a dead villain that lacked information. You were ready to go into your room and take a long nap, but your plans were ruined by Kase calling you out. 

“The Advocate wants you.” You haven’t seen Takami since you first met, you would catch glimpses of him passing through the compound or nights at the fight club where you got the cash you would see him. He would be up in that private area with other people as they talked about who knows what or it would just be him as he watched you tear through your opponents. Both you and Kase walk into Takami's office, Kase going over to stand to the side of Takami while you stand in the middle of the room. 

“You know you don’t have to wear that mask, I already know what you look like.” You hesitate, you rarely took it off once you left the comforts of your room only really pulling down the mask to eat or drink when you were completely alone. The only people who have seen you without a mask were Takami, Kase, and the random crowd for the fight club but that was a while ago so they probably didn’t remember all of them drunk or high off their minds. 

You pull the mask down and he smiles, “Much better, now I have some business that I need to attend to and I need to make sure nothing goes wrong.” He pours himself a drink taking a swig of the liquor, “You’ll make sure nothing goes wrong hm?” He says his stare is piercing and you wonder if he forgot you and can’t see it was his child in front of him. 

“I won’t disappoint you.” He smirks standing up and finishing his drink. 

“I expect nothing below perfect from my champion.” 

Night falls when you arrive at the old warehouse and it was what you usually expect in movies where the gangs meet up to exchange drugs, weapons, and money. You slip away from Takami and the group he comes with going around the building scaling up it and entering through one of the windows. You land on a catwalk that surrounds the entire floor giving you a vantage point from anywhere. It had begun to rain and it pounds against the roof. You hear the doors opening up and enter Takami and Kase along with a large group of men. 

“And here he is the Devil’s Advocate. You are quite a powerful man Takami and in only a few months.” You hear a voice call out clapping his hands. 

“You wished to make business with me so it would be better to hear whatever ass-kissing you’re gonna do personally.” You hear Takami say, from your viewpoint you could Takami talking to another man whose back was to you at the moment. 

“I just hope all my business partners feel quite proud of their work and I must say you have quite a long list, though I wonder how you must deal with those children of yours.” The man says and you tense slightly and you could see Takami’s wings flexing slightly and getting annoyed. 

“I mean one of them is the number two hero and your other is in U.A. very good hero school. You must have messed up parenting them to become villains.” He laughs and you see that Takami is silent. “I never care about those two and they wear the Takami name with shame.” He says. 

“Now what do you want, Giran? Don’t you have your League children to go give them goodies?” He hisses. Wait, Giran knew the League. This was your first piece of good news that would get you closer. 

“They're a bit busy at the moment but we keep in touch, though the League is always looking for people to join the fight. What happened to that one they call Nemesis, they're just what the League is looking for.” Giran says. 

“They're occupied at the moment, they already have a place here anyway. Are you here to actually do business or just waste my time.” Takami says knowing you weren’t going to leave. You were somewhere in this building. 

“Definitely business, probably in a more formal location.” You see him walk over to Takami and hold out a business card and Takami takes it. “Call and we’ll be sure to make a more serious arrangement.” The whole interaction was less than 15 minutes which was different from other meetings and dealings you went to some taking up to an hour or two. 

“Why leave so soon, have clients lined up down the block?” Takami calls out as you see Giran walking backward away from him. 

“Well, a huge load of police cars and heroes heading your way wouldn’t want to be in the way of that.” None of you have time to react as the large warehouse doors are broken down and police and some heroes rush in and its beings an all-out gun and quirk fight. 

You jump down from the catwalk stopping a bullet from hitting Takami with your arm brace. Grabbing Takami’s arm you lead away from the fight Kase follows after protecting your back while you move. You kick down the metal door, the three of you heading outside with a few of Takami’s men. You rush towards the car, opening the door, and Takami and Kase get in one of the men running around to the driver’s side. You go to close the door when you feel a bullet hit you in the chest sending you down onto the ground, the wind getting knocked out of you. The car speeds off assuming you were killed. 

You hear the cop coming up, “Takami got away but I was able to stop one member requesting medical assis-” You swing your staff out, thrusting the blade into his chest going right through his bulletproof vest into his heart. Blood spills down onto your face and you stand up quickly as the cop falls down the rain drenching you as well. You press a hand to your chest feeling a slight dent in the vest, thank god it was bulletproof. 

“Hey, you!” A voice yells and you sprint through the street, you run up the wall pulling yourself up on the rooftop. 

You can hear sirens going off and yells as you jump over gaps in buildings trying to put distance. With the rain becoming heavier and the darkness it was getting difficult to remain fast and safe. As you go to jump over another gap between buildings you feel a body collide with yours and you both go falling. You hit some railings and ducts as you crash down towards the ground, you hit the ground and don’t feel anything break but you can tell you’re gonna bruise. You groan, pushing yourself up to see the other person who grabbed you getting up as well. 

You pull your staff out chucking it at them but they dodge it which surprises you with their fast reflexes. They rush at you throwing punches and kicks at you which you dodge and counter with your own and it becomes a back and forth. You rush at them to go get your staff when they twist around now behind you grabbing you by the neck flipping you over them and you hear something rip. You flip over rolling on the floor before standing up not realizing your mask is ripped and your hood has fallen off. Looking at the person before you you’re in shock not expecting him in front of you and you almost killed him without hesitation. His hair was cut short and he had a long scar running up the side of his face, making him quite similar to your father, just the different hair color. He was in complete shock seeing you in front of him, your eyes were cold, and calculated the scars going through your right eye and under your left hardened your expression. He almost didn’t recognize you with your hair change and the costume you wore but he did now. His sister was with their father working under him as the villain heroes heard and villains feared, Nemesis. 

“What are you doing here?” You call out the rain pouring down on the two of you and you pick up your staff holstering it. The blood on your face getting cleaned off by the rain but not getting it all off. 

“We heard the news that Devil’s Advocate was getting in contact with the League and that another villain was getting popular, and surprisingly both my father and sister were working together. Are you insane Y/n!” He yells out and you look away from him. “You're becoming more wanted with the murders you committed.” 

“They were villains; they were going to die in prison or some other way.” You say and he looks disgusted. 

“Do you hear yourself, why even join our father? Do you think he wouldn’t recognize you?!” He says throwing his hands in the air. 

“If he did I would have been dead a while ago, he’s my link.” 

“To the League, you think we haven’t figured out what you were doing when you left.” He says they knew that you were going after the League to kill Dabi. “You don’t have to do this, just stop and we can help you...I can help you.” He says and you whip your head to look at him. 

“The heroes are going to help me? What have they done to help us at all, they only made our lives worse. Thought you would have figured it out in the file I left. The Commission. Every single thing they did was to hide the corruption and evil in the hero society. They drugged us to become better heroes, never telling us and never sharing it with the public. I see the truth in this world, heroes...villains it’s all bullshit! I intend to finish what you heroes fail to stop.” Hawks can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, he couldn’t see a glimpse of the old you, only this new version of you that was cold-hearted and cruel. 

“You’re different. The old you wouldn’t want this.” He says tears were streaming down his face but were masked by the rain. 

“That’s what the truth does to a person.” You hear sirens coming your way and you could hear heroes calling out Hawks’ name. You turn your back away from him getting ready to run, “Don’t try following me again Keigo, I won’t hesitate next time to hurt you.” You rush out disappearing quickly in the rain and darkness. Hawks feeling the heat from flames come to him knowing it was Endeavor. 

“Hawks you alright did Nemesis get away?” Endeavor is concerned by Hawks’ expressionless face, “Nemesis...Nemesis is Y/n.” 

The cold rain pelts down on your face as you run through the dark city, the sound of sirens fades but you keep running. Keigo knew your goal, probably telling the heroes which limit your time frame you had to strike for the Devil’s Advocate now. You had to go after your father. You rush out darting into the street when bright lights flash and you feel the car hit you. You roll over the windshield right over the car hitting the ground rolling a bit and you feel pain in your knee. After you fell from the building and now this, you definitely heard something crack. 

You can hear the car screech to a halt and someone rushing out of their car, “Oh my goodness are you okay?” The voice sounds familiar. You roll onto your stomach pushing yourself up to get on your knees right as the person is helping you up. “Are you alright?” You turn to see who hit you and you're staring at All Might whose jaw was open seeing one of his students staring back at him. “Young Takami?” 

You push yourself away from your former teacher, clutching your ribs. He froze in shock. The moment of paralysis leaves him and he calls out your name about to go after you but you already ran off. You run for who knows how long until you end up in an abandoned store your lungs are burning your legs feel weak, and your knee is on fire. You find what used to be an office closing the door and locking yourself in. You see the room was used as a quick shelter for someone, you see there is a small fridge and you open it and find a small bottle of water. Grabbing it you chug it before falling back against the wall and taking in deep breaths. You thought tonight was going to be easy but here you were locked in an old store hiding from the heroes and also from yourself. Everything was different now. 

What would you be able to go back to after you kill Dabi, you’re already a wanted criminal and your rap sheet is only going to get longer. You saw the way Keigo was looking at you, disgusted and afraid of what you became. What would your classmates think, you were a monster, a murderer, a villain. You would be able to look at them telling them it was what you had to do, you can’t picture what Midoriya would say to you. He would probably hate you, and your dreams of becoming a great hero side by side wouldn’t happen. You both were on opposite sides destined to be enemies. You feel tears fill your eyes sliding down your face though you do nothing to stop them, you don’t deserve to cry. Your friends and family should be crying ashamed of you, not you crying. You decided to do this and you couldn’t go back on it now. Exhaustion calls you and pulls you under and you sleep. 

In an abandoned shipping yard, the heroes talked about the events that occurred, “We may have escaped that explosion by the skin of our teeth… but that blast erased any trace of the League.” Edgeshot says after the events in the past few days had been long and stressful for those heroes that remained. “Have we extracted anything more from Nagant?” he asks Endeavor. 

“Not happening. She’s in such bad shape, the folks at Central hospital say they don’t even know she’s alive.” Endeavor says remembering how Lady Nagant was practically a corpse when she exploded. 

“A woman afflicted by powerful despair still clinging desperately to life.” Kamui Woods says. “Endeavor. Is it time to stake everything on turning this around?” Edgeshot questions the Number One, “Maybe we should expand this beyond us and bring in every last remaining hero informing the others about Midoriya and One For All and throwing an all-encompassing net at this investigation.” 

“That business with Lady Nagant made it clear that the brunt of hunting down the League will be left to Midoriya. The cops are up to their eyeballs with other problems, and there’ve been no eyewitness accounts of the League for a while. We should put together a task force before the pool of colleagues we can count on has dried up…” Mt. Lady says thinking about her old colleague Death Arms when he retired. 

“Right. Desutegoro quit two days ago.” Endeavor mutters. 

“In the big battle, he led the charge to round up the spy heroes working for the Paranormal Liberation Front. He seemed like a hero with some backbone to him. Any given hero’s thread could snap tomorrow, and it wouldn’t come as a shock. We hear about more heroes hanging up their costumes everyday.” Best Jeanist says. A lot of heroes resigned after Jaku and the Villa seeing many of their co-workers and friends die was too much for some. 

“Plus the media’s closing in on Deku since heroes who do quit end up leaking details.” Endeavor adds, “With law and order all but gone, power runs unchecked in the streets, so we can’t let the world learn the truths behind One For All. If that were to happen, Deku will be the one caught in a vicious cycle of negativity.” 

“I’ve been thinking,” Mt. Lady sighs, “Is All For One planning to go public? About Midoriya, I mean. And One For All… why not make that his opening move?” 

“That would force us heroes to mobilize and lock Deku away somewhere safe. So his silence tells us he doesn’t want that still… unless Deku and the rest of us are out there taking action, we’ll never get any leads.” Endeavor says it’s silent between them all as the weight of hero work piles on them. 

A phone buzz and Best Jeanist take his phone out, his eyes widening seeing the message, “All Might ran into Nemesis.” The heroes perk up hearing the villain’s name. 

“Did she do anything?” Edgeshot asks and Best Jeanist shakes his head. 

“No quite the opposite, after All Might accidentally hit her with his car she just ran off.” 

“I still can’t believe that Nemesis is Hawks’ sister. Is he sure that’s her?” Mt. Lady says while they were worrying about Midoriya, another villain, an organization was rising in popularity that contained both Hawks’ father and sister. 

“Hawks said that it was her and I trust his judgment.” Endeavor says though Hawks and him had their differences he could understand what he is going through to find out his own family has turned to a side of evil. 

“This can’t be the same girl though her files for quirk registry she should only have the mutant quirk that’s it. She was shot at, fell off a building, and got hit with a car, and she is still able to continue.” Kamui points out. Any normal hero would have been down from just the gunshot. 

“We know that she lacks her quirk but since she had removed the implant, we have a brief idea of what has happened to her, but we still don’t know what else the drugs could have done to her or the equipment she’s using.” Best Jeanist points out, “And since the closing of the Commission and the no other hero involved in the commission got their implants removed, we don’t know what else that formula could be hiding.” 

Mt. Lady sighs, frustrated with everything going on, “So we have to keep an eye on Midoriya and try finding Takami at the same time, this will definitely be something.” 

“Well we know she is working alongside the Devil’s Advocate and finding their headquarters won’t be long; it's just keeping up with her if she tries to flee,” Edgeshot says, looking at his colleagues. Endeavor is silent while they all discuss he had been the one to get to Hawks first, and within that interaction, something had changed and he was no longer the same smiling hero as before. 

Keigo just stares out on the water outside the loading room the others were in, he didn’t know what to feel. Should he feel happy knowing she is alive and somewhat safe even though she is with their father, or betrayed that she abandoned them all to finish this stupid wish of hers? He didn’t sleep for days when you first left thinking that you were killed your first night or maybe the League had found you and killed you off. He had frequent nightmares of Dabi getting his clutches on you again and doing horrible, horrendous things to you. He couldn’t do anything but watch and hear your screams of pain and torment as you beg for mercy or even begged for death, to remove you from this cruel world and end your suffering. 

He pulls something out of an inner pocket from his jacket holding the small Hawks toy in his hands. The plush is light in his hands and his grip would tighten on it. He leans his head back looking up at the sky trying to blink away tears. He hoped you were okay, even though his hatred for his father still stood he knew you would be safer there than out in the city by yourself when you're vulnerable and weak after fighting. Come back kid...please.

[drawsdenfiles]

I don't use tumblr a lot, but i check your blog all the time now and I wanted to ask what your process is for desiging Butcher's characters?

Aw, thank you for your question! I have way too much to say about this, here we go.

I started drawing them just based on how I imagined them while listening to the audio series, but lately I've tried putting more effort into actually reading Butcher's descriptions. It's his series, man, it's important to me that the characters look like the characters. ♥ Also, putting in that extra effort gives you a better chance at achieving a design other readers might've imagined too. ♥

After reading the descriptions, I'll try to incorporate more personal stuff into each character based on their personality, actions, and/or whatever, like, team they're associated with. For example, Lasciel's a Fallen Angel, right, so I've been giving her a pretty, albeit shattered, halo lately. Namshiel, too, has a broken halo in the form of some curved horns and floaty, magical gemstones. This part's really, really fun and an awesome creative exercise.

Next thing is to not settle on a design until it feels right. It's an amazing feeling and you'll know it when it hits you. I can't tell you how long I thought about Kincaid's design and how hard it was for me to see him as a blonde. I don't know why! Kincaid took a super long time and I also ended up looking for outside inspiration- I've been playing the Witcher 3 a lot lately and you can totally see that guy in the Kincaid drawings I made recently. Always keep playing around with stuff. It's so fun. Dresden Files is the first book series I've actually gotten really into- seriously, I'm not much of a reader at all, but Butcher's descriptions of characters and scenes give you so much to work with. Aaaand, while I have you... If you're looking for some art-related advice-- studying anatomy/photo books and redrawing the pictures in them have helped me out a whole bunch. I spent hours and hours studying/sketching the shape of the collar bone back when I was in middle school. Really look into proportions too. An oil painting class I took in community college has REALLY helped me appreciate colors and shapes- I've never oil painted before and maybe the supplies can be expensive, but God, it's so worth it, man. My teacher was, and continues to be, a master. OH- and a color theory class too! It was kind of tedious, but I can see color in a totally different way than I used to before. These classes are your tools, man, whether you do traditional or digital art. Did any of that make any sense?? Thank you for your question! I love talking about art- I think it may be difficult for a lot of people, especially nowadays with the introduction of AI, but nothing beats creating something all by yourself, whether it's writing or drawing, etc. Putting in the work and getting that good feeling- it's super cool.

[purpleglitch]

I ramble for too long about my art (The post)

(Drawings here)

Thanks again to Nunki and Nov so much for pulling me out of art block 😭💕 I had so much fun drawing all of this and experimenting with poses and colors, etc. that I wouldn't have tried before this!! i'm so sorry this took like 2 months to finish there was lots of stuff going on but I finally finished it and i'm very happy how it all turned out. I made this post just to go through my thought process LMAO

DAY 1: Early SMP Days

This one was inspired by the "he asked for no pickles" meme and how in an early dsmp stream c!dream (in full enchanted netherite armor) asks c!george (half iron/diamond armor) to protect him with a crossbow while they go to l'manburg

At first this one was gonna be a quick drawing but then i got too invested into drawing the armor that it got out of hand and suddenly i had spent 2 days on that 💀

Also all the other drawings were gonna be like this one, a bit simple than what i usually do, but i got too invested x2 and ended up rendering(?) more the rest of drawings

C!dream is c!george's baby, like the cc's dynamic 👍

DAY 2: Objects of Affection

THE SHIELD DEMONS GOT ME 👹👹👹👹 also c!gnf keeps the mask even though it's a bit broken :3

C!gnf is a bit dirty because he doesn't shower, also he sleeps on the grass sometimes, he doesn't get sunburnt because XD protects him from that, also c!sapnap is the one that finds him like that and brings him back to kinoko

I think this is the drawing with most layers only because it was for setting the lighting

This one set the bar of how many details can i put on the next drawings haha got too silly and flew too close to the sun

DAY 3: Worship/Devotion

Inspired by religious imagery in renaissance paintings, they're very pretty and detailed and ohgggg i thought that aesthetic fit XDNF's dynamic ^_^

When I finished the drawing i added a canvas texture so it looked like the mentioned paintings' texture

The pose was so complicated but thankfully i hid all the weird anatomy under capes and hair(?) 🤭 and I have a mirror right next to my computer so i used myself as reference for the hands

The halo around c!gnf's head could be a reference to the headcanon of georgeeeHD existing and being another dsmp deity or also hinting at george's "destroying the smp" stream and how powerful and crazy insane he is!!! also the reflection of XD's halos on his eyes, they worship each other i think, xdnf makes my tummy hurt /pos

DAY 4: Visions/Dreams

Inspired by my weirdcore demons :3 i love that aesthetic so much

I did the error pop up on this custom generator!!

Saved a lot of time by making c!dream faceless since it would be covered by the pop up anyway, but it can also be symbolism for c!gnf not remembering his face or something crazy

I again used myself as reference for the hands i'm so cool and epic

Also I used a tutorial on how to make the vhs effect/chromatic aberration on paint tool sai and added grainy texture on the background for more spice :3

DAY 5: Reunion/Post-Nuke

I reused an old sketch of c!dnf side profile for this one, hashtag work smart not hard 😎 except i polished it and changed some stuff and now it looks way better than the old version

The concept was happy reunion, they're happy to see each other!! c!dnf good ending, i say in tears.

c!gnf touching the c!dritties :3 jk he's feeling his heartbeat, he can't believe he's real!!!

I had so much fun drawing the blood on the bandages and c!dream's scars, please zoom and admire them, it took so long,,,,

DAY 6: Roleswap

My demons..... my beloved rs au..... the posts i made some while ago were based on this drawing, i have a tag on my blog now for that au

RS!dnf wear matching chains!! also the concept for this drawing was that someone interrupted their make out session :3

Symbolism moment!! I like to draw characters with nail polish of the color it represents them, in this case green for dream and blue for george, but for this au, their colors are swapped: green for george and blue for dream, it symbolizes how their roles (king/knight) on that story are different and don't match with the canon. storywise, they're so in love they wanted to keep each other on themselves somehow so they exchanged nail polish colors

DAY 7: CC Roleplay/Cosplay

Sisyphus would be proud of me (<- almost gave up before drawing this), unironically i got demotivated when i finished day 6 so i took a break and then i went insane with this one

The concept was c!dnfies wearing cc!dnf outfits, dream specifically has so many outfit options but I ended up choosing the famous "dteam in madrid" outfit plus a cat beanie, and I couldn't find a fortnite jesus poster for george's shirt so i just found a silly cat pic and yeah ^_^

Thank you random twt user for the idea 👍

And that's it! I probably forgot to say some stuff more but i started to get anxious this post would be too long. Again thank you so much guys for being supportive over the wips i showed you and also being insane about c!dnf too 😭 <3

[thebindingofpillo]

Belial

Despite looking like a run of the mill demon (and a pretty weak one at that!) Belial is actually a fallen angel.In his angel days, he was very peculiar, being some sort of double angel, like a weird French playing card. They had four wings, two halos and four arms, and were, by all intents and purposes, considered a single entity by everyone else. While types of angels and choirs are pretty standard, outliers are still possible! Like humans, angels come in all shapes and sizes, so even very unusual angels like Belial can exist. They’re not treated any differently (as long as they stay true to their purpose and continue to serve God). Some angels might be born without body parts, or with extra body parts. I might need to update the angel lore post aaaah oh no what have I done.

Before falling, Belial was a Dominion, and as such was tasked to watch over human civilisation, and aid where necessary to help humans evolve towards the best version of themselves (civilisation-wise, biological evolution was another thing entirely) BUT while helping humans was permitted, directly interfering with their lives (even to make them better!) was strictly prohibited. Belial could, for example, inspire a human to do the right thing (with a prophetic dream, or a vision), but he couldn’t outright push them in that direction. And, not being an archangel, he couldn’t directly speak to humans either. This displeased him to no end, but while one half of him understood that humans were creature of free will, and he couldn’t force them to follow the path of God, the other half was not having it. If humans didn’t have free will, then they wouldn’t engage in wars, or made eachother’s life worse! There would be no hate, no cheating, just good little sheep, following God as they should.

The two halves fought constantly, and this caused them to split in a pretty gruesome way. This is also what caused Belial to fall: his insistence of steering humans in the right direction and interfering with their free will caused him to lose his status as a Dominion but he didn’t fall like a normal angel! His wings were given to his other half, as well as his halo. While his halo wasn’t broken into horns, this still severed his connection to God and limited his powers. In the fight that preceded the split, he also lost an arm, that was later given to his other half as well.

What once was one, now was two: Belial is now both the shadow that roams Hell, longing for the power he once held, and the weird half angel with two halos and three arms, still watching over humanity.

More lore under the cut and his connection to Judas.

Once fallen, Belial found himself extremely weak, even more than an average demon. Most of his time was spent trying to survive in Hell, and trying to find a way to get to the human world. Belial still felt a twisted love for humanity, and if those stupid angels were so hellbent on stopping him, he would find his own way to get those stupid humans on the right path. He just needed people. A whole army of them, to spread his message and push humanity on the right path. And who knows, even change those angels and God’s stubborn ways. ANYWAY since he’s basically half a fallen angel, he’s too weak to do basically anything. He can manipulate shadows, but it’s more an illusion thing, he can’t really fight with them, and even his brimstone is weak as shit. To acquire power he needs a host to possess - and that’s where Judas comes in (and others too, but Judas is important and we’ll talk about him at length later). Finding a host is usually easy - he targets vulnerable people, outcasts, people in desperate situations etc. so he can get close to them and possess them at once in a moment of weakness. While Belial is a fallen angel, a possession works differently for him, he can actually bind himself to a human (like a demon does) and physically get inside their body to control it (this is also because he doesn’t have a traditional physical form like all the other fallen do). Anyway why would Belial need to possess humans? Even a possessed human is no match for a powerful enough demon. The only way for Belial to acquire any sort of power is to have a big enough army of followers, and this is where the Children of Belial come in (I swear I’m not gonna make this weird, bear with me).

The phrase “sons of Belial” (beni beliyaal) is used in Hebrew to mean “worthless people” such as idolaters or the people from certain cities or groups. Just know, that whenever I’ll refer to the “children of Belial” it’s actually a metaphor for the people who follow him, and not his actual children. The Children are basically a massive cult of brainwashed people. Belial is not powerful enough to actually take away a human’s free will, so he just resorts to indoctrinate people the old fashioned way. The indoctrinated humans are then sent on their way to recruit more and more people into Belial’s army, and by using the powers of their human souls combined, one day he’ll be able to take down both Heaven and Hell and establish a new way of life. In his eyes, he’s already doing something good by bringing people to his side. His followers do not fight with one another and he’s convinced they’re living in perfect harmony, without crime and violence. And while harvesting their souls will mean killing all his followers, that’s a necessary sacrifice to make. The first army of Children of Belial was wiped out (I don’t know if I should attach a biblical event to it, but maybe maybe Jericho) so now he needs a new one and THAT’S WHERE Judas actually comes in!

Judas was already on Belial’s radar since he was Jesus’s best friend, and Belial still held a huge grudge against God because he killed all his children and set his plan back by centuries SO getting closer to Judas was a no-brainer. He first tried to entice him with promises of knowledge and riches, but what Judas really wanted was to get together with Magdalene (HAHA sappy), since he was jealous of all the time she spent with Jesus, which was even better for Belial! He could get Jesus’s two best friends, getting back at God in the best way possible. So Belial struck a deal with Judas, and bound himself to Judas’s soul. Now he just had to get the girl and get to work. Betraying Jesus was just the icing on the cake. Only that Judas hung himself, mad with grief for having caused his best friend’s death, so Belial’s grand plan to rebuild his army went to shit real fast.

BUT while Belial needs Judas’s soul to gain his powers, he can’t really harvest it yet, since his plan is far from being over. Judas’s soul doesn’t belong to Belial yet, and this is why Judas can still get to Heaven! (that, and being God’s best friend. We will also get to that). Sadly Judas is a little bitch, and still feels unworthy of heaven after all these years, so he keeps coming back to life (I need to elaborate on that too, and actually explain why the cast keeps getting reincarnated but I’ll do it in a later post). Anyway, God keeps giving Judas new chances at life because He loves him very much and wants to see his friend happy for fucking once, and Belial is caught in the middle, always trying to get his way in the meantime. He wouldn’t even need Maggy to get his plan in motion, but over the millennia he’s become slightly obsessed with her, as a point of pride. What better way to get back at God than using His two dearest friends for his plan? She’s THE Mary Magdalene, like come on. He needs her to be the first follower of his new army, as a last fuck you to God. Only then he’ll move onto other people, she has to be the first. And it’s gonna work this time, for sure! He’s been preparing for this moment for millennia, nothing is gonna stop- Wait, Judas killed himself before he could even start thinking about his plan? GODDAMN-

Note: as being said, Judas can still get to heaven because his soul doesn’t belong to Belial just yet. This could change if he were to harvest Belial’s powers, even to do good (or maybe not, I still need to think about that). This also puts Judas’s suicides over all his lifetimes in a new perspective, since now he doesn’t kill himself over and over again to escape Belial, but also to protect Maggy.

Very small tangent on the Book of Belial The BoB is basically the sacred text of Belial’s new religion, but also a collection of magic formulas, spells and dark, forbidden knowledge. He put it together himself the first time he possessed a human, and since it’s all blood magic (the same kind monster use!) it taps directly into a human’s life force, and can be therefore used by humans too. Belial usually entices his prey with promises of infinite knowledge, and then works his way into their minds. Now that Judas has made a deal with him, the book is his property, and Belial always finds a way to make him find the book, in every single life. The book itself is incredibly old, and has been copied over and over again to preserve its knowledge. Only the first 100 pages or so are actually written by Belial tho, the rest of the tome is actually written by Judas, like some sort of fucked up diary. Judas is a nosy little shit, so he kept taking notes and writing down any weird supernatural occurrence he’s seen and occult creature he’s come across. Kinda like the three diaries from Gravity Falls, Judas is Stanford.

[brummiereader]

Beautiful Red, stunningly beautiful ❤️.

😩...Red!! This was one of the most heartbreaking yet beautiful stories I have ever read. As you know, this is the only movie of his I haven't seen. I'm gonna be thinking this is canon when I do eventually get around to watching it, and if it's not it should be!

Pining, pining and more pining. My absolute favourite of all story arcs. And this pining was top tier👌! Once again, you have spoilt us readers with your exquisite talent for stunning descriptions. Time always ran different here, beneath the blanket of shattered stars and hollow black sky. First line in, and I was like damn it, she's so bloody good at this 😍.

I really enjoyed the fact you wrote this wonderful story between the past and present as she remembers her time with him and the unspoken things they wished to say eachother. The mutual longing is killing me 😩! I’ll be up there, and you’ll be down here, and I’ll bring you back one of those stars.” I think I would have killed over right then and there if he said that to me 😭.

My heart was breaking for her as she recalls the night they had spent under the stars. And the worst part is, there were moments when you had the impression they both wanted to say exactly how they felt about eachother. But it was like they were always waiting for the other to admit it first...arghhh 😩. What a fool you were, to fall in love with nothing but stardust. 😭 Stoppp...my heart's already broken enough for these two 😭.

"You reached a hand up to the stars as if you could pull them down from the sky, let them spill over you in thousands of glittering lights, make a halo of them until they burned away the snow and brought forth a blue-eyed angel from the white fire" Bloody hell Red 😯...what an incredible line! I'm in awe at this beautiful description of her desperation to bring him back to her.

Arghhhhh! I just can't with the transmission 💔. Just stomp on my heart and be done with it 😭. Just so you're aware, my stomach hurt after this part, and I wanted to cry. Cheers 😩😂.

For one moment, you thought that you might’ve kissed him. I really loved this little line. She was completely lost in the moment, it was so beautiful. If only they had kissed, pretty sure he would have welcomed it 😩. "I always promised I’d bring you a star.” this line and the following scene was phenomenally written Red. You should be so incredibly proud of this beautiful story hun, you've left me in a mess of emotions. Job well done 👍😂. Definitely a story I won't forget ❤️. Right, now I'm off to read your jazz Tommy story, there better be some fluff 😂!

Made For You

"I've been loved before, but right now in this moment, I feel more and more like I was made for you."

A oneshot based off the song Halley's Comet by Billie Eillish. Was inspired to write this back in February of 2023 thanks to @cillmequick's House Party Event. This has been stewing in my brain for nearly a YEAR and I'm finally writing it! Thank you for the muse and for introducing me to this song, Alex! <3

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Fandom: Sunshine (2007)

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, some fluff?, childhood friends to lovers trope

WC: ~2620

Time always ran different here, beneath the blanket of shattered stars and hollow black sky.

You’d lost track of the hours you’d spent, lost in them, eyes tracing each constellation but mostly lingering in the gaps between them, the blackness that stretched endlessly into the sky. That spanned between you and the other half of your soul, the boy you’d loved and the man you’d lost.

Sixteen months ago, you’d said goodbye as he boarded his plane. Sixteen months ago, you’d watched the shuttle launch on national television, feeling as though a piece of you had been stripped, raw and bleeding, from your chest.

“Someday…” he’d said, when you were barely old enough to understand the concepts of space and time. “… I’ll be up there, and you’ll be down here, and I’ll bring you back one of those stars.”

You’d scoffed, and playfully hit him on the arm. “And just how are you gonna do that?” you’d said.

“I don’t know.” He’d smiled. “But I’ll find a way.”

Sixteen months ago, he’d been sent on a mission to renew the dying sun that plunged the world into a winter so cold, the green of summer turned to a white death, and the waters of the Caribbean nearly froze over.

Shards of ice prickled at the back of your hair, the slight gaps of flushed skin where your scarf and toque left you bare, crystals of snow kissing your cheeks and the cold seeping in past the dampness of your scalp and the down of your parka, but as you shut your eyes, you imagined the snow to be blades of grass. And your fingers, to be digging into the earth instead of the fleece of your mittens.

“You see that star, right next to the Big Dipper?” he said, pointing up at the diamonds in the sky. Propped up on one elbow, the warmth of his arm brushed yours in the cool air of the spring night, the sleeve of his shirt tickling your shoulder, his lashes limned like chalk outlines by the soft sheen of the moon.

You opened your eyes, the low rumble of his voice having practically lulled you to sleep. You didn’t get much sleep in those days, when he was in university obtaining his astrophysics degree and you were working early shifts at your dead-end job, when the innocence of childhood was lost to the bitter realities of the world but you had no idea just how empty you’d one day find yourself to be. You still saw glimpses of this innocence on his face, in the grin that stretched his lips across freckled cheeks and the glint of awe in bright blue eyes. You had no idea how lucky you were just to be able to reach out and touch him, to bear witness to these traces of happiness that were tangible and not hidden behind a screen.

You spent almost every night with him beneath the stars. Dreaming of greater things, of the day when you’d both break free of your cages and return to your innocence, when you’d become greater than your past and he’d change the world. When he’d bring you your star and you’d display it in your glass heart.

“Mhm.” Your eyes followed the tip of his finger to a star that gleamed particularly bright.

“That star died seven-thousand years ago,” he told you. “It’s so far away, we just can’t see it yet.”

You scrunched your face and narrowed your eyes, a smile quirking your lip. “Then how come it’s so bright?” you asked.

His grin softened into an almost sad smile, his hand lowering to the earth and his head turning on his shoulder to lock bright eyes with yours. Your breath hitched in your chest, and for one moment so fleeting you could’ve imagined it, you thought his gaze darted to the parting of your lips.

“Light does not always equate to life,” he told you. And each day onward, you would ponder the mysterious woe laced in a silk tone.

Your warm palm cupped your face, mitten cast aside, the brush of your cold fingers laying a kiss to your tear-streaked lips. Muffling the choked sobs that rose from a chest void of hope and full of shattered dreams and shattered glass.

Here you lay, in your cage, your tomb. Not knowing if you’d ever see him again, not knowing if you’d have the chance to tell him that you’d broken your promise.

“What is it?” His soft voice was laden with worry as you buried your face in the warmth of his chest, and his arms wrapped tentatively around your back.

“It was all a lie,” you sobbed weakly, his shirt damp with your tears. “He broke up with me.”

“Oh,” he said, his thumb tracing small circles along your spine.

You sank into his chest, weighing heavy against him, knees shaking beneath you. He kept you standing, allowing your tired body some respite. Thinking that when you were done crying, he might be able to tell you a story that would tempt you to sleep and you wouldn’t feel the crash of pain against your ribs anymore.

“I’m worthless,” you whispered. “He said so himself, he never wanted me…”

“What?” His reaction was so sudden, so sharp, you nearly flinched, sobs stilling as they rose to your chest. Damp threads of hair clung to his shirt, splintering the blurry visage of his freckled cheeks and dark, messy hair as he pushed you softly back to look him in bright, blue eyes. His palm cupped your jaw, thumbing at your cheekbone as he said,

“You’re not worthless. You’re – “

“No. No.” Shaking your head, your eyes gleamed with pain as you began to plead with your friend. “Promise me, Robbie, that you’ll never fall in love with me, and I promise the same. I hate this… this feeling in my chest, like I can’t breathe, like…” You chuffed out a nervous laugh. “… I don’t know. I just don’t wanna feel this again. I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

Robert had stared back at you, silent for a while, the bright of his eyes fading ever-so-slightly. You wondered, for a moment, what he’d been about to say before you'd cut him off, until he pulled you to his chest and murmured in your ear,

“I promise.”

And each day onward, he would keep his promise, watching through high school as you would try to date dumb boys and lend a shoulder to cry on when you’d denounce each one, and after graduation came and went and he’d break up with his own sweetheart, he’d tell you it was because he wanted to focus on his studies.    

How had you been so blind, you thought to yourself. How had you not realised that each relationship you’d sabotaged hadn’t been because of your trust issues, or your self-esteem. It had been because the only guy you’d ever wanted had been right there, letting you sob into his shirt and stare up at the stars with you and tell you about all the things you’d both achieve when you were older.

And now that you were older and wiser, you cursed your foolish heart that bled like the stars across the hollowness of the black sky. Blinking away tears that clung, cold, to your flushed cheeks, you tried to chase away the sobs that echoed through the abyss that stretched from one rib to another.

What a fool you were, to fall in love with nothing but stardust. 

You reached a hand up to the stars as if you could pull them down from the sky, let them spill over you in thousands of glittering lights, make a halo of them until they burned away the snow and brought forth a blue-eyed angel from the white fire.

His transmission came to you when the darkness was just beginning to peel away from the dying light over the horizon, when what was left of the sun began to usurp the night, snaking its tendrils of rose-gold through the black canvas sky.

You swore that his hair had grown longer since the last time he’d sent a message, darkly framing the sides of his pale neck. Those blue eyes stared back at you from the artificial light of your phone, stirring something within the hollowness of your chest. Something warm, like hope.

“I… don’t think there’s really any easy way to say this,” he said. Your hope seemed to sink to your stomach.

Robert cupped his hands over his mouth, as if in prayer, and those piercing blue eyes stared back at you for what must have been an eternity, something cruel and malignant weaving tightly in your gut. You longed for that gaze to rest on you again, to be able to reach out and run your fingers through his messy brown locks, to wipe away the tear that beaded on his lower lash. He scarcely cried, always so stoic. That was how you knew that something was truly, dreadfully wrong.

That you’d realised too little, too late, that you were made for him, and him for you.

“There are only a few of us left,” he said, clearing his throat as his hands came down from his chapped lips. “Some miscalculations were made, and at this point, we only have enough oxygen to deliver the payload. It takes exactly eight minutes for light to travel from the sun to the earth, and so… if one day you’re watching the stars and you see the sun rise with a little extra brightness, you’ll know we made it.” He swallowed again, Adam’s apple bobbing along his throat. “But you’ll know that I’m…” His words were breaking now, just like the sobs that wracked your chest.

“…  I wish there was an easier way to say this, dear God…” his voice tapered into a mere whisper, and he ran a hand over his face. Blue irises were rimmed by red, fatigue and sadness showing through the cracks. “There’s no easy way to say this to you, of all people.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. You sucked in a breath of frozen air, tickling your burning lungs.

“You know that I’ll be gone,” he said at last. “Only stardust.” His lip quirked into a sad, almost ironic smile, and he said, “I did this for you, Y/N. So that someday, those things we talked about under the stars… someday you’d be able to achieve those things, in a world that isn’t dying.”

He paused again, his emotion clawing its way thick into his throat with the way his words came out so strangulated. “I wanted you to know, I’m sorry for breaking our promise… I’m sorry for falling in love with you, Y/N. But up here… with the stars and the blackness and this… impossibly bleak dread, this knowing for once that anything I do or say won’t matter because everything will be gone, including you… ” He shook his head, inhaling sharply, and your breath caught in your chest. “… I loved you since we were kids, and I never told you and I wish I had. Believe me, I wish I had.”

You wanted to reach out and comfort him, run a finger along his freckled cheek, to pull him into your arms as he had you countless times. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that you’d broken your promise, too, and it was all your fault, really, for not realising sooner that you were made for him. That he shouldn’t blame himself for any of it because it was you who should’ve said something, you who should’ve kissed him that night he boarded his plane.

“So, I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few years,” he said, swallowing hard against his throat as baby blue eyes looked at you with some unexplainable emptiness that you were unable to identify. It was the same look he’d given you so many times before, and yet, despite knowing him better than you knew yourself, you still couldn’t quite put your finger on what the mysterious emotion or reason behind it was.

“Soon,” you corrected him, fighting back tears. Sniffling, from the cold or your own emotions you could tell not. “I’ll be seeing you soon, okay?” You squeezed his arm, if only to ground yourself, to remind yourself in the years to come that he was tangible, that he existed not only in your mind.

He nodded, smile playing sadly at his mouth. “Soon,” he repeated.

You had drawn so close to him that his familiar scent engulfed you, took you away from the bustle of the airport and drowned out all the noise. Your tongue darted to wet your lips as you glanced down at his, a few threads of some strange yearning tugging at the empty of your chest in that moment. You were so close, yet, not enough. This feeling, of needing to be closer, of needing to express your affection in more than words and friendly touch, was foreign to you, and you weren’t sure what to do with it.

For one moment, you thought that you might’ve kissed him.

Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you chastised yourself. The last thing he needed was for you to complicate things on the last day you’d see each other for so long, and so you pushed the childish notion from your brain and you smiled past your anguish and you bid him farewell.

And each day onward, you felt as though you had left things incomplete, this emptiness spanning wider between each rib, like a black hole that swept away all joy and feeling and semblance of being human.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered into your balled fist, fingers trembling from the cold. You blinked away your tears so you could see him better for the last time, capture his image in your mind before your angel burned his wings for flying too close to the sun.

That sad, ironic smile tugged at the corner of his lip again, and he said, “I always promised I’d bring you a star.”

Your shaking hand tucked your phone back in your pocket as the video ended, and you didn’t even silence your cries as you wept to the heavens, wanting them to hear of your anguish and your loss.

And slowly, after what must have been hours or perhaps minutes, in this plane of altered reality where time ran differently beneath your blanket of stars, your sobs came weaker from your chest, and a warm glow painted the backs of your dark eyelids. The harsh cold had frozen your lashes together, and you blinked, pulling them back to witness the sun’s conquest over the night, the tendrils of pink and orange turning to a fierce gold that you hadn’t seen in years.

You stood, slipping your mitten back over your damp, shaking hand, and trudged, weary and sleepless, through the snow. Your eyes burned, squinting against the swell of the sun, unaccustomed to the brilliance of its lost light. Your heart still clenched, bleeding, shatters of glass falling to the vacuous pit between your ribs, but you couldn’t help but stop for a moment and just look.

Warmth caressed your face, chasing away the bite of the cold, reminding you of spring, of slushy snowball fights with Robert and picking flowers by the local stream.

“Light does not always equate to life,” he'd told you, all those years ago as you'd laid beneath the stars.

And with this pain searing white-hot in your soul and your chest torn empty, and the burning warmth of his confessed love shattering your heart to cold glass, you finally understood.

But despite your pain, it was beautiful.

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[jcniper-backup]

the things we lost. Chapter Two

Summary:

Ellie and Joel meet in a chaotic way.

Chapter One

The enforcer limped across the Old Quarry, and behind him walked his killer. Bleach white bones adorned his head, the crooked ram’s horns making a broken halo above his head. “Please, I have a wife and children.” He whimpered. 

The video doesn’t show his killer’s face. The audio barely captured his words. “And yet you killed my daughter.” 

It ends with a shot. 

The rest of the video was destroyed before retrieval. 

*

The fence outside of Joel’s cabin is carved from bone and oak wood. It’s quiet. He remembered when he used to hate that. 

The woods had originally been a place of refuge. 

Now it was a home. 

A home away from noise. 

A home away from memories. 

The routine of it has stayed the same for too long. He woke up. He tended to the land. He hunted. He made a cairn near the riverbank. He marked another tree with the symbol he and Tess used to use when they were lost. He came back home and ate. He slept. At the beginning of each month, he took his truck out into the city and did some jobs for extra food and fuel for his generators. 

Every once and a while, he’d find a bottle of liquor. If he had one, he’d drink before bed. That was the most change he was used to. 

Joel forgot the last time he’d spoken with someone. Maybe a year? 

Thinking about it brought up bad memories. 

Joel woke with the rise of the sun. He started the same routine he always had. Tending to the land was broken into four parts. Fence repair. Tending his sheep. Tending his garden. Cleaning his irrigation system. 

He got it done earlier that day. 

That was good. More time for the hunt. He started to chart new paths through the woods. They’d been changing lately. 

*

Rushing water was the most melodic sound Ellie had ever heard. She stumbled through the woodland path, avoiding knotted tree limbs and rocks, for what felt like an eternity before she heard it. When she did: she stopped in her tracks and did a one eighty, veering violently to the right and crashing through bramble bushes and tree branches until she fell face first into dark cool mud. 

For a second, she just laid there. The thought of dying in that moment felt oddly funny to her. Her chest felt just as light as her head and a giggle bubbled up in her throat. At least it's cool here, Ellie thought. 

A second later, her brain kicked itself into gear. She was lying face down in the mud. There was mud under her fingertips! Ellie forced herself up from the ground with all of her might and looked up. There was water right in front of her, about two feet away. She scrambled there and dipped a cupped hand in, almost bringing to her lips before she remembered that she had a canteen in her backpack. 

She plunged it deep into the water and let it fill to the top before she took it out. Before Ellie could stop herself she downed it in one go, only taking time afterward to think of the dirt and grit that came along with not boiling the water before hand. She coughed and spluttered as a grain of soil went down the wrong way. It felt good though, it reminded her what she had almost forgotten. 

Ellie didn’t want to die. 

At least for now, she wasn’t going to. Ellie grabbed more water, screwing the canteen closed and moving to the drier part of the riverbank where she was going to start a fire. She spent about four hours trying to start one, wishing that she’d stolen a lighter when she started running from Child Services and the enforcers, and then rubbing sticks together to start one because that’s what she’d seen in a cartoon one time. 

It was harder than it looked. After a few splinters and muttered curse words under her breath, she finally got it. The small flame reared up in the small bundle of sticks and dry grass she’d created. “Holy shit!” 

It licked up the bunch of the twigs and up into the air hungrily; she fed it until it was big enough to boil her water and sterilize it. The water was still warm when she guzzled it down. Smoke wafted up into her eyes, stinging them and her cheeks. Ellie threw some mud on it to suffocate the fire and kept going. At this point, she didn’t know where she was headed. 

Ellie was hoping to get back to the road, and then civilization after that. Or somewhere with food and a safe place for her to hide out. That would be the best scenario. Clumsily stepping over more tree roots and fungi, she picked her way through the woods and created her own path similar to the one that she’d taken before. Every once and a while she would look down at the ground and hope that she would find some sort of animal tracks. She never did, just found her own. 

Hunger was killing her.

The dull pangs that she had gotten used to when she had first run away were so intense now that she couldn’t feel anything else. At least now you aren’t dying of thirst. When the sun started to go down, she decided that she couldn’t stave off her hunger any longer. She rummaged through her backpack and ate the rest of the granola bar and then popped some of the coffee grounds into her mouth, the bitter taste putting her off so entirely that the pain went away. 

“You can do this, you can do this.” She started chanting under her breath. It was getting darker, and getting stuck out in the woods without a flashlight or much of a means to defend herself wasn’t ideal. Ellie knew she could run from people, but she wasn’t so sure that she’d be able to run from animals. Getting back to the road felt like climbing a mountain. Her muscles were sore, her nerves were a mess, and the more she sweat the more she was afraid that she was going to dehydrate herself all over again. 

Keep moving. 

The alternative? 

Ellie couldn’t think about that. 

*

The day Joel’s routine broke started out normal. The same checklist. The same numbness that came with waking up each day alone. 

He tended his land. 

He grabbed his rifle and a hunting knife to set out into the woods. Joel noticed the temperature hike as soon as he got outside. The sun was out in full force today.

It reminded him of home. That was enough to make him want to turn back in to his cabin and sleep for the rest of the day. Joel pressed on. 

He took a new path today. 

That was the first thing he did differently. 

Charting out a map distracted him. That and the tracking animal tracks. He found them almost immediately. Deer hooves, deep in the ground. They looked fresh. 

He was about to follow the tracks when something else caught his eye. A scrap of fabric. It was green and a rough canvas material. It had gotten snagged on a tree branch at about waist level. 

Shortly after, a more rubbery and black one. The type of fabric that enforcers usually wore with their uniforms. Joel’s stomach sank. They hadn’t ever gone this far out before. 

Joel thought about turning around. He didn’t engage with that anymore, he hadn’t in a long time. But the proximity of where this one had been sent him deeper into the woods than before, not sure what he would find. 

*

Running for her life was getting more and more frustrating. Ellie finally found the road again, walking along it with a slightly renewed motivation for about an hour before she was attacked from behind. She couldn’t help feeling stupid. She didn’t hear anything at all and then all of the sudden something hard lashed across her back and she fell to the ground, all of the wind had been knocked out of her. Her vision dotted white and black, her lips parted like a fish gasping for air. 

Her ears began to ring, and she couldn’t tell if there were sirens blaring in the background or if that was just her imagination. Get up, now! She scrambled to her feet, gravel digging into her palms as she got up. 

She launched herself back into the woods. Muffled shouts and pleas to stop followed her as she crashed through the trees. “Get back here!” Someone yelled. Her head felt light and airy. Ellie felt a giggle build up in her throat when she thought about dying here. Getting all of this way out of here for some idea of freedom just to get killed when she was so close to it was funny in a sort of hopeless type of way. 

Once again, she was crashing through tree branches with reckless abandon. The sting and tear of the branches and brambles on her skin made her feel like she was experiencing some sort of fucked up deja vu. 

She veered to the left after she felt something whistle over her shoulder, only to look up and see something dark and big looming above her, watching her. Ellie turned, going back the other way. She was going back to the road again. The red and blue lights that dappled the treeline told her that she needed another place to go, but it was dark outside now and she couldn’t figure out which way she was supposed to go. 

Ellie froze. She had no place to go. Nothing to fight with. This was where the end of the line was headed. She ran straight back to the road and got surrounded. 

Maybe if she lunged at someone she'd get shot. That way they wouldn’t put her with him…. She couldn’t go with him. Someone was saying something to her. Ellie was pretty sure someone was telling her that she needed to surrender and that everything was going to be okay. She was too busy trying to pick out the most trigger happy looking enforcer when a shot rang out through the darkness. A body fell to the ground. 

Ellie stood there, her eyes wide. Attention fell away from her, enforcers looking to the opposite side of the road where the shot had come from. She took a few steps back, hoping to make a break for it when a pair of solid hands grabbed her. “Not so fast.” She yelped and jerked an elbow backwards, connecting with the man's stomach. He grunted but didn’t let go of her. “We’re doing you a favor, bringing you back without pressing charges for leaving. You know the conse–”

A metal crunch and squeal of tires cut his speech short, bright lights cut through the haze of the road, getting closer and closer by the second. The wet crunch and thud of bodies made nausea roil in her stomach. Ellie fell on her back, still in the grasp of the man who'd grabbed her when the truck  came to a stop. 

The door popped open. Someone jumped out. It was a man, he was older with tan skin and dark salt and pepper hair. Confusion clouded Ellie’s mind as she tried to figure out who this guy was and how he looked completely unfazed by everything that had just happened. He was staring at the man holding Ellie, “Let 'er go,”

He spoke like what she thought a cowboy might be. 

“Now–” He shot him. His hands fell away from Ellie. The older man offered her a hand and Ellie took it, her ears ringing. 

“Get in the truck,”He told her. “I’ll get you away from here.”

“How can I trust you?”Ellie asked. 

He glared at her like it was obvious. “Just killed these people. Turnin' you in wouldn’t do me any good. Plus you don’t really have a choice.” 

He was right. 

Ellie got in the truck. 

[obeythebutler]

Have you written about an MC that is scared of the brothers at the beginning of their stay but as time goes by they open up to the brothers more? Would you like to?

Fluffy ending please 🥺

MC Slowly Opens Up To The Brothers

Lucifer

When you told Lucifer about knowing Belpheghor's existence, it felt as if reality—which he'd built himself came crashing down.

The reality of lies that he'd built, and you came and ruined everything.

Trust was a fickle thing, built entirely on belief and reliance. Lucifer didn't have that faith in you, at first. He'd put down rules and watch from the shadows, and held your hand tightly and warned you not to bring harm to his brothers—that he'd spare no mercy and act like a true demon if you attempted to.

There was distrust and caution exercised every moment.

For one was a demon and other a human, for one was someone who could kill easily and the other was someone who could ruin the brothers with the power of the pacts they held.

Fear, was essential.

And Lucifer Morningstar could evolve fear in anyone he came across. So when you shrink under his gaze it's expected.

He'd seen you wander the halls at night, and so Lucifer would send a text as to not stay up late, for then you would be late for R.A.D. and you simply couldn't afford that.

But then the whole body switch thing happened, and now everything is tangled.

You come along and gently untie the threads and make relations between the blonde and the black-haired demon better than they'd ever been, and now Lucifer finds a smile on his lips at your name.

Maybe he would go and lead you back to your room after hours spent pacing in the house. But for now, the routine of visiting his room for tea sated him.

But then you're both in the library and now there's a rage brewing in him.

He was angry, he was furious and he's still the same—only diminished.

You'd come and hurt his family, and now Beel's lying on the floor in pain as he had attacked his brother in his rage and Belphegor was standing there. With those same eyes and that same look, with those same hands that he'd clenched in a fist and asked if Lucifer didn't care about Lilith and it's his little brother who he locked up and left alone and alone and alone—

It was to protect. Even if Lucifer couldn't trust Belpheghor in that matter, he could trust himself and his methods, right?

You come and prove him wrong.

You've done that a lot of times. Like when you couldn't even look him in the eyes to sending a goodnight text to him and visiting him for tea. Helping with the paperwork and keeping his unruly brothers in line.

The human exchange student who was required to survive a year, now sitting with the Avatar of Pride in his room while joking around.

You'd never done that before.

But never did Lucifer had someone humor him since a long, long time back. When there were six instead of four and there was a halo. When his sister was alive and his brothers were happy.

But he's happy in your presence.

It took time, Lucifer admits that. The delicate normalcy built was broken and things wouldn't mend so easily.

He's no saint, the demon knows that. He can he cruel, he can be kind, he can be cold and warm, and yet, you, a human, come and open yourself to him, even—even making his own walls crumble that he built with his own hands eons ago.

And slowly, two guarded souls let down their walls and relish in being vulnerable and open with each other.

“Is the drink to your liking?" The demon questions, blood-red eyes scrutinizing your face for any signs.

He receives a smile.

“I—You've made it perfectly, Lu!”

Your lips turned upwards in a smile. The vinyl in the background. Your hands clasped around the cup. The sound of your laughter.

Lucifer revels in it all, knowing that it's been caused by him. The Morningstar smiles.

He's happy.

Mammon

When Mammon first met the human, they cowered under his gaze.

He didn't pay attention to it much; after all they were a human he had to babysit, and if MC didn't obey him they might as well have died on the first day itself.

Mammon felt powerful, at first.

For there were not many who feared him. Subjected to ridicule and teasing, it was a breath of fresh air to have switched roles.

But then he goes and develops those 'feelings', and now all he wants is for you to look at him without slowly creeping away. Wants you to look at him without fearing for your life. Wants to know you better.

Mammon is an open book when it comes to his emotions, but you've build walls in your own.

The demon pursues his lips into a frown.

When he saved you from the ruffians that roam the darker corners of the Devildom, Mammon smiled when he saw you had held his hand.

That night, he invited you for a movie.

You're the first one to hold his hand with such security, and with the trust you place in him, Mammon swears he will protect you until his dying breath.

When Belpheghor threw your body over the railing, Mammon was the first one to cradle your head in his heads and whimper.

Shouts and sobs from the others, but in that moment your world only consisted of the demon who weeped when you were dying.

When you come back, the first thing that Mammon feels is your body around his own—a hug so tight and warm and loving that the demon fears another garbled sob will spill out of his mouth.

So he says nothing and holds you tighter.

One night, with half-eaten snacks and a movie in the background, a statement pops out of nowhere.

“You're the best, Mammonie."

The demon nearly falls off the bed at that, his face flustered.

“Y-You can't go around saying things like that out of nowhere!" He quips, eyes darting between you and the room. “And besides, where is that coming from?”

"You have always protected me, protected your brothers, and that little crow that came in with a broken wing," You say, and your eyes instinctively fall on the windowsill where the little bird was lying, and the demon calming the bird down before healing it.

Mammon remains quiet.

“And you took blame for that vase which Belphegor broke, and even brought him and Beel clothes because—”

“Because I'm the Great M-Mammon!" The demon yells, flustered and bewildered at your words. He's used to getting brutally honest texts from Lucifer once every hundred years, but this is totally different!

“Did I say you could stop?” He mumbles, settling closer to you until you can feel the warmth of his cheeks on your palm.

When you look down, his face is smooshed in your hand.

Leviathan

When Levi threatened you over TSL, you had shrunk in fear.

He must have been a sight to behold, then. Of Envy raging in his eyes and his fangs poking through his lips. How dare they—a mere human beat him over something he's known for more millennias as compared to the pathetic decades a mortal has lived? How dare they take away the one thing he's proud of?

The utter insolence.

But then you were saved and Levi slinked back into his room, to dive deep and escape reality.

But then you come and enter his room with his nosy brothers, and with that air of normie you have with you the demon is sure he'll shrink away.

But his heart begs to differ.

Envy comes in the way—it always does, and Levi's lips won't open to form words when you arrive in his room.

He sees the wandering eyes, the meek glances and the way you shrink back into your chair whenever he rejoices over a level won.

Levi assumes you're disgusted with him.

Leviathan has seen shows where the protagonist slowly opens up to someone after letting down the walls they've built. And after a night spent awake, he comes to the conclusion.

You're afraid.

But, why would you be afraid of someone as weak and pathetic as him? He's a shut-in who can't do anything except play games. He was a worthless angel who was only fit for wars.

And now, with his hands empty, you still choose his heart?

Picking up a controller, you sit besides him as Henry 2.0. supervises the match. Levi wins, of course, but when he cheers in joy you don't flinch, this time.

He still doesn't understand.

The days pass by, with your spot changing from the chair next to the tub to besides the demon, in the tub where your shoulders brush against each other to the part where when you laugh Levi feels as if he can hold you close.

But then you hold his hand while smiling.

“Levi,” You say, placing a hand on the demon's wrist. “Thank you for letting me watch this with you.”

The demon in question is bluescreening.

Y-You, you liked the show he recommended?! You're thanking him? Someone as worthless as him shouldn't be—

“I knew you would love it!” Levi says with glee. “You told me about how the protagonist in that anime we watched five months ago had excellent character development and so I thought—”

When he looks down, he sees that he's intertwined his hand with yours, unknowingly.

And you've let him.

Satan

Every weekend, without fail, Satan sits down with you in the library and revises with you the lessons covered over the week.

It's a practice established after he saw you struggling with homework. Devildom is very different from the human realm, and you must find it hard to adjust.

He does it out of politeness.

You sit across him, with textbooks in between and an atmosphere of silence. You're a fairly good student, but too polite to even ask for help.

After prodding and poking on the topic in his mind, Satan comes to the conclusion that you're afraid of him.

And why shouldn't you be? He threatened you and spat out in a fit of anger, and one surely would not want their biggest fear to be their tutor.

Ironic, isn't it?

But Satan doesn't want you to be afraid of him. It fed his ego in the beginning, but he's not Lucifer and he certainly doesn't want you to be afraid, not after how you've helped him.

Helped him navigate through the storm within, and better his relations. Gently untied his stiffened legs.

But the blonde demon doesn't know what to say or do, for there's no book as such with scenes or lines he can gain clarity from.

Time has a way with things, though.

A pen gliding across paper, Satan smiles when he sees the cat you've doodled in the corner of your notes meant for him to check.

A text on his phone, you asking if he's free to visit a cat cafe which has opened recently.

You beat the blonde demon to the offer first.

“Satan,” You speak, gazing at the demon with a hand occupied with the task of petting a cat. The demon in question arches his brow.

“You're cute.”

Such a simple sentence, and yet the heat rises to his cheeks.

“You're certainly bold, aren't you?” He teases, his teeth showing through his smile. “If it were any other person, I would have not reacted this way.”

“I know. Avatar of Wrath isn't so wrathful when petting a cat, isn't he?”

You quip, looking down at the purring feline in his arms, happily enjoying the pets bestowed upon it. Satan's expression reveals nothing.

“What's wrong? Did I say something I shouldn't have?”

He shakes his head. “It's not that,” Satan hesitates, his finger having stopped in their movement.

The cat meows in annoyance.

“Aren't you afraid of me? After all that I've said and done...” He trails off, eyes faraway to where you can't reach.

“I was scared before.”

Satan remains quiet.

“But that was expected. Human shows up and now they're going to live with you,” You chuckle, “It was normal.”

“My wrath is unpredictable.”

You nod. “I know. But you try so hard to control it, and I've seen how you take care of your brothers and pet a cat.”

As if on clue, Satan resumes his movements.

“You're more than your wrath.”

In the night, in an alleyway a demon nearly chokes on his words before hugging you, arms clasped around your frame with a cat squashed in between.

Asmodeus

He doesn't understand.

Asmodeus isn't intimidating nor a fool like a certain white-haired demon. He's absolutely fabulous and demons flock to him! He can make anyone bare their soul to him with just his charm alone.

But you're immune, for some reason.

Honeyed words and offers don't work, and so Asmodeus stops trying to get you into his bed and focused on living with you.

Emotional connection is something Asmodeus isn't keen on having. But there's something different with you, that the demon finds himself wanting to bare his soul to you and know you better.

But you always seem to flinch away. And Asmodeus is left in the hallway wondering why his offer of painting your nails failed.

He tries and tries and tries, but the demon isn't successful in making you less fearful of him.

It takes him time to notice, and when he does, Asmodeus nearly laughs in joy.

He had just finished painting everyone's nail in the house when you came from behind a door and asked if he would paint yours too.

An offer you had declined many times before.

You comb his hair for him when he's applying a face mask. Gently, as to not tug on the locks he deems precious, your hands work with utmost care.

“Why are you smiling?” He teases, silent footsteps inching towards you. “What are you planning, love?”

“You're beautiful.”

The demon chuckles. “I always am—aren't I?”

“No—I mean, from the inside too.”

And now Asmo can't comprehend as to why there's a lump in his throat that prevents him from speaking.

Slowly, as to not wake up Mammon, the demon adjusts the corners of the blanket and secured them over his elder brother's frame, and adjusts the pillow on his head.

A yelp nearly escapes when you jump on the demon with your arms outstretched for a hug.

Beelzebub

His sheer size and height is intimidating, and his strength has often led to things breaking.

He had sworn to protect and attack, if it meant that those he loved were safe. That includes you.

But you're afraid, and have got every reason to be.

Beelzebub knows he's tall, knows that many find him intimidating, but he can't bring himself to care when the pangs in his stomach divert his attention. When he can focus, though, he tries his best.

When he tore down the wall of your room after you ate his custard, Lucifer said that you would share a room with Beelzebub.

He could feel your heart rate increase, and nearly took Mammon's side when he said that you should have stayed in his room instead. But Lucifer's glare can make even the most ferocious of beasts run with their tails in between their legs, and so Beel led you to his room.

When he wakes up in the morning, there's a blanket on his frame that wasn't there before, and it smells of your scent.

He holds your hand in the streets, where it is easy to get lost, and it's a dangerous place for humans. Beel can't lose you too, and so he says nothing but holds your hand tighter.

This time, before he can hold your hand you beat him to it.

Change is slow, but Beel himself is learning to open up his heart with the one he cares for dearly.

When he returns back from the gym with arms full of gear and food, you emerge from the kitchen with cookies.

“Thank you,” He says when you present the tray to him, but Beel can't put down the items in his hands. His stomach is grumbling, but he can't reach.

But then you promptly pick up one and mention for him to open his mouth, and so Beelzebub eats the cookie with a blush.

The smile you give him sates him—something his gluttony wouldn't normally let him experience.

Belphegor

He should be used to it, by now.

He played you like a fiddle, tempted you with words and a cunning tongue, mocked and threw you down the stairs, and tried attacking you again.

He said he hated humans.

So why is it now that he wants you to himself?

Utterly selfish, a voice in the back of his mind nags him. You murdered them and now want to sleep on their lap? Should have been locked up in the attic where you belonged—

But he can't bring himself to protest, for you do not say anything. You don't speak, but Belpheghor sees it in the way you flinched when he fell asleep on you in the middle of a movie, and how an accidental brush near your neck had you trembling.

So Belpheghor backs away, and doesn't come out of the attic for the remainder of the day.

It's a fitting punishment, but not enough.

When you laugh at a sassy comment of his, Belpheghor finds a smile upon his lips. It's the first time you've laughed at a joke of his since....and now he doesn't want to ruin everything again.

He fears himself.

One day, Belpheghor wakes up with a pillow under his head, and he's certain that he was passed out in a hidden part of the library, with books as a pillow.

When he moves, an items rustles on the floor.

It's a blanket, and when furrowed eyebrows gaze around, they fall on your sleeping figure on the table.

It's your blanket, and your pillow.

Chuckling softly, he places it around you.

Now that's a lot of R.A.D. homework for a weekend, but maybe he can complete a portion to return the favor.

[pariahsparadise]

joy

nav. | masterlist

requested - Could I request an angsty, fluff Fred and the reader and dating and she brakes up with him and she is pregnant and he doesn’t know after a year she go’s to visit her parents and she decides to go to the W’ W W. And she says hi to Fred and the baby is touching everything and he is like is this you baby and the reader says yes and he says how old is she and the reader says 8 months and that how many months they have been broken up and he does the math and he says is that my baby and the reader says nothing and Fred says Y/N!! IS THAT MY BABY and … and you can do the rest if you want to. And the baby has red hair just like Fred. Ans it’s up to you if you want to right in. Love u <3

word count- 1.1k

pairings- fred weasley x fem!reader

author’s note- i’m very much against the pregnancy trope, which is why it took me so long to get to this request, but hopefully i did it okay? idk, it's not proofread (as usual). leave me any feedback you might have in the comments :)

warnings- none really, a bit of angst and fluff?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Fred Weasley had always been a light in your life, red hair always glowing around his head like a devilish halo, the twinkle in his eyes a constant in your memories. The brave Gryffindor had a stake on your heart since the day you met, and the two of you fell hard and fast.

However, you two were now in the middle of a war. And Fred wanted to fight.

It broke your heart. Just the mere thought of losing Fred Weasley was enough to send you into a fit, enough to trigger a panic attack, to make it feel like oblivion was crashing down on you. In a desperate play, you broke up with him, hoping maybe he would realise what he was risking, maybe he would decide not to fight. Maybe he’d send you an owl admitting his foolishness, maybe he’d choose to be safe, maybe he’d stay alive for you.

Errol never arrived.

You left for Romania at your parents’ insistence, you found lodging in their safe house there. You spent your time dealing with the aftermath of Fred Weasley and occasionally your studies, as you were practicing to become an Alchemist. However, all that soon came to a halt with the startling discovery of your pregnancy- and even less of your time was spent productively after the arrival of your daughter.

Joy, you named her, after everything that her father gave you.

It was 8 months after her birth, and your parents decided that they simply could not wait any longer to meet their granddaughter. Having been influential pawns in the war, it was far too risky for them to travel outside the safety of their home, and so they summoned you back, insistent on seeing their flesh and blood once more. You laughed at their piling letters on your mantelpiece, and finally made arrangements for a trip back home.

Jubilant yells filled the hall as you pushed open the door and made your way through, a barricade of warmth and comfort forming around you as your family embraced you.

“Y/N/N!” exclaimed your father, hand affectionately ruffling your hair as your mother practically (but carefully) snatched your child up into her arms, “It’s been far too long, dear, you look so mature!”

You laughed at your father’s awestruck expression as he looked down at you, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek. “It really has, Dad, I’m sorry I couldn’t visit earlier. Harry warned me about lingering Death Eaters on the border, and-”

Your father cut you off with a curt wave, hand stretching out to pull you into yet another hug, “Nonsense. You did the right thing for you and your child, which was to wait till it was safe. Besides, you’re here now! And that’s what matters!”

Your watery smile was hidden by his soft sweater, but you knew he understood how you felt. Pulling away from the hug, your father gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze before shouting to your mother, who was already across the room, “Oi! That kid isn’t yours, stop trying to kidnap my granddaughter!”

She replied with a gesture that definitely would not have made a good impression on Joy, and you were glad that your daughter was already fast asleep.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It had been your idea to head to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tall redhead who had stolen your heart. Out of this trip, the very least that you wanted was closure, and you were set on earning it. Taking a deep breath at the door, you gathered your courage and pushed it open, the jingling bells announcing your presence in the store.

And nearly crashed into a child. Resisting the urge to yeet the wailing toddler, you carefully hefted your own kid from one arm to the other, hand gently supporting her back and covering her ears, in case the noise was too much for her. If it was, she certainly didn’t show it, her voice a happy babble as she pinched your thumb with her two tiny hands. You giggled, tickling her under her chin. You were so distracted, you didn’t even notice the tall man approaching you until he was standing right in front of you, handsomer than he had been.

You nearly crashed into yet another child, but this time it was because of the shock that came with the sight of Fred Weasley. He had grown more muscular, and a new scar dotted his eyebrow. He was the first to speak, as you found that your voice had decided now would be a great time to head out. “Y/N?” he asked, doubt laced in his words, as if he couldn’t trust his eyes. When you nodded in response, a face-splitting grin took over his features, transforming his features completely. You stumbled a little at the sight, and even more so when Fred grabbed your arms to steady you. It was then that he noticed Joy.

“Oh!” he said, recovering quickly, “Who’s this?”

“She’s my daughter,” you answered, holding her out to Fred, who took her from you wordlessly. “Joy.”

“Oh,” Fred says again, a lump visible in his throat as he swallows, “Congratulations. How old is she?”

You hesitate slightly, the silence filled by Joy’s babbles and squeals, her hands reaching up to try and grab hold of his hair, the same hue as hers. If Fred hasn’t been able to figure it out by now, he certainly will soon, the likeness between the two of them is uncanny.

“8 months.”

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head, and his mouth comically drops open, only to quickly snap shut when your daughter tries to stick her hand inside it. His eyes hold thousands of questions, and a simple nod from you is all it takes to answer them. He looks down at Joy with all the childlike wonder and bafflement of a 5 year old on Christmas, and you force yourself to take a mental photograph of this moment, not wanting to forget it anytime soon.

“How- what- you didn’t tell-,” he sputters, his gaze travelling from you to Joy and back rapidly, trying to process. Shutting his eyes, he takes a deep breath and opens them, letting out a startled laugh when he finds your daughter trying to mimic his expression. He looks at you like you’ve given him the world, like you are his world, the same way he used to look at you back in your Hogwarts days. You finally allow yourself to acknowledge the truth you’ve hidden from yourself for so long-

You were never going to get over Fred Weasley. And that was fine, because you would never have to.

[nonhumen]

he had always been different with chuuya. dazai had spent little time with children around his own age growing up and when he did, he felt so far removed from them that it felt like he was on an alien planet. or rather, like he was the alien all along. everything had seemed so far away in his childhood, so out of reach that making the effort never really seemed worth it. and when mori had picked him up, bound and broken from his first failure, dazai had been thrust into a very harsh and violent adult world. even then, the mafia made more sense to him than parks and playgrounds.

and then, seven years ago, he a met a kid who didn't seem so very far away. he had refused to acknowledge it at the time, but mori had been right in saying that they got along rather quickly. dazai had never shown interest in anything but his own death until he came back to the mafia with the leader of the sheep in tow. a light had sparked in him that day without dazai even knowing it. nothing got a rise out of him like chuuya did. he started to yell, to talk back, to express emotions long thought lost to him all in the name of annoying this one person dazai thought he hated. but it wasn't hate at all, was it?

breath is ragged when they pull apart the second time. he feels more starved for air in this moment than the times he's tried to drown himself. chuuya's weight against him leaves dazai nothing but the pounding of his own heart in his ears. they've been like this before; chuuya has passed out many a time against dazai after he's nullified corruption. but everything seems enhanced tenfold. chuuya has never felt so heavy as he buries his face in the detective's neck like some sort of crushing weight ripping away everything dazai has tried to craft himself into for the last four years.

he thinks it's over when chuuya pulls away. dazai manages to take in a breath as he watches the boss's frame in the growing darkness. violet light halos black gloves as they slip off chuuya's fingers. how many nights had dazai thought about those hands wrapped around his throat, choking the life out of him because that's what chuuya deserved to do? his phone had never disconnected, he had only removed the gps to keep himself hidden. i wanted you to be the one. on that night, dazai had tried to hang himself imagining a much more intimate way of dying.

as those hands draw closer, he thinks that maybe that long lost wish will come true. but then they curl into unruly hair and pull him down again. this time, dazai has the wherewithal to react. lips part to kiss chuuya once again. night has settled over yokohama completely as dazai gives in to desires just as dark as the sky above. hand reaches up to grasp one of chuuya's wrists, feeling the faded scars from his own life of pain. touch travels upward to pry the hand from his hair in favor of intertwining their fingers. they feel different now -- longer and more fleshed out. these hands have toppled empires together.

dazai shudders against chuuya's request, mouth still open and wanting until his gaze is brought up to the other's. he looks into the eyes of the person he once trusted so utterly and completely. in the end, against the backdrop of yokohama's night life, dazai realizes he still trusts him. stay with me. he makes it sound so easy. a breathless laugh escapes his lips as his eyes close in acceptance. " it took you long enough to ask. "

~ DAZAI / @ofpowr​ ~

it’s been four years since he’s seen yokohama from this view. a sickening sense of deja vu hits the detective as the reds and oranges of sunset paint the office in a garish light. he remembers mori sitting upon his throne as he disposes of the one pawn dazai decided he did not want to live without. now it’s chuuya’s throne, shaped as a byproduct of dazai’s defection. everything worth holding onto always slips from his fingers in this office under these lights.

he had gotten a fairly good sense of the mafia’s changes from the time he had been captured up until this point. it is no longer run like the enterprise mori had created, but more like a large, family business. chuuya commands respect instead of fear, that big heart of his doing what mori’s mind could never accomplish.

“ it’s unfortunate that i had to leave for the port mafia to change like this. ” but not at all surprising. without dazai to carry on his legacy, mori’s mafia was as good as doomed. he thinks mori knew that and tried to shape chuuya to succeed him. idiot. all the plans in the world cannot change the human heart, something dazai only learned when he joined the detective agency. the ex-executive looks out the window at the city below. “ i think i would have liked working here if it was run by you, chuuya. ”

of course, he wouldn’t have known it at the time. he thrived in mori’s mafia. he longed for the struggle of life and death, longed to watch the carnage laid before him in hopes that he will find the same will to fight and survive. his life had never felt more fulfilling when faced with the root of humanity’s struggle. he had been willing to accept his lot in life until his very fears had been spoken true by his dying friend. you will wander the darkness forever. maybe he still does, but at least at the agency, he witnesses the triumph of the human spirit every day and it is bright and beautiful.

but that is why he cannot go back, cannot accept chuuya’s offer to return to the mafia. because that triumph, that beauty will never be his. dazai is a product of mori’s teachings and he will smear that darkness upon everything he touches.

he turns to leave, still needing to find the information he came for before returning to the agency. “ goodbye, chuuya. good luck. ” at the very least, he can give him this. dazai ignores the boss’s desperate outburst, having already steeled himself for chuuya to beg him not to leave again. he has to. he cannot go back. he will turn into that man again, the man mori made. he’s almost at the door.

what do we have to lose now, dazai? he freezes at the hand that grabs his wrist. even with the bandages wrapped securely around him it is like fire up his arms. he whirls around, eyes wide as chuuya yanks him down. mouth opens to speak but it only invites the redhead in as his senses are crowded. gasp catches in his throat as he’s kissed. mind goes blank as all those nights alone and off the grid rise to the surface. when had he realized that he had wanted chuuya? was it the hallucinations as he suffered withdrawals from pavinal? was it when he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t hear his partner’s quiet snores at the other end of the room? was it after his first time when he felt something had been missing? all the thoughts buried oh so deep now pull him apart against chuuya’s bottomless desperation.

a noise sounds in his throat and hand grips the shorter man’s shoulder to push him away. except he doesn’t. dazai finds himself unwilling to leave. as his mind so cruelly reminds him, he wants this. he thinks he has wanted it longer than he even realized. how awful to have something he can once again hold in his grasp. what do we have to lose?

fingers curl to grasp the signature black jacket of the port mafia boss. what do we have to lose? a breath shudders out as chuuya breaks the kiss. what do we have to l o s e ? dazai pulls him back in, lips crashing into his more fervently than what he hoped. stupid chuuya. stupid desires. for his entire life, dazai has been a slave to his despair. he has yearned for death and when death would not claim him, then he yearned for a reason to live. and when he found no reason, he yearned for death again. is it really so simple to find a reason for living in a person? a person who will one day slip through his fingers? what do we have to lose? that’s right, he already wishes to die. maybe, with chuuya, he won’t anymore. at least, not for a while.

               The sun was burning on the horizon, & the vibrant colours seemed to set all of Yokohama ablaze in its wake, the slanting rays of lingering sunlight made the sky glow with reds, pinks, oranges. It was a remarkable thing, really, how such BEAUTY could exist in a city so wrought with darkness & the bitter tang of blood. Yet, for all of the evil that resides in it — both then & now — there was no changing the truth of the matter: Yokohama was his home.

               Chuuya had only invited Dazai to the office to show him what he’d done, the official changes he’d carved into the flesh of the Port Mafia’s official policy almost years ago upon first lowering himself into the seat that had caused so much pain & misery. He wasn’t sure WHY he felt the need to do so. Dazai wasn’t going to stay — he knew that before he even asked, there was no need to try to reassure him that he had things under control, the fact that he was still alive to see him against despite his own best efforts should have been a testament to that fact. It wouldn’t have mattered if the redhead had chosen to burn the entire organization to the ground & start over with something a bit more honest, he knew Dazai would sooner live for a thousand years than don the black of the Port Mafia again, no matter who ruled it. The young Boss had accepted it already that Dazai wasn’t his, he never had been, it was merely the small, silent part of his heart clinging to something foolishly close to something he hadn’t dared to have in years. Hope.

               So why did the sight of the brunet turning his back on Chuuya cause the older man to LURCH to his feet with outstretched fingers, knowing there was nothing he could do? There was so much he’d left unspoken still. Maybe you really are just a dog… He thought, ignoring the way it made him feel like he was being cut to pieces. Loyally sitting, waiting at the side of the road for the return of a master that forgot about you the moment you disappeared from the rear view mirror. If he was smart, he would have taken Dazai’s words for what they were. A goodbye. An acknowledgment that their time as partners had ended a long time ago, & their paths had since diverged into two incompatible directions.

               Yet he kissed him anyways.

               You’re a damned fool, Nakahara, & your bleeding heart is wrapped in razor wire, yet you still continue to let it beat for other people no matter how much it shreds you. Arahabaki had told him during one late night filled with too much alcohol, anger & regret.

               How long had he WANTED to kiss Dazai for?

               Chuuya would have liked to say that any childish feelings he’d had died when he came home from an overseas mission to the charred remains of his car, an empty apartment & Mori waiting to break him apart in his search for something the redhead could never be. Or maybe after that, when he was still in denial about how he was being manipulated, when he texted the younger man’s disconnected cellphone in a futile search for an escape from his pain & gave his own goodbye along with all the things he’d never get the chance to tell him. I miss you. I thought you would be the one... I really wanted you to be the one. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I love you. But when he closed his eyes at night he could still see the dark, intelligent eyes of a boy of only fifteen staring up at Chuuya with an expression he couldn’t read. Those feelings had always existed, buried just below the surface… he’d just been too angry & stubborn to see it. Until it was too late… wasn’t it?

               A week ago, Chuuya would have said yes. Now, as Dazai pulled him into another frenzied kiss, the answer didn’t seem so CLEAR.

When they finally pull apart a second time, Chuuya was breathless, his face burying against the bandages wrapped around the brunet’s throat, the long fiery hair he now wore in a French braid over his shoulder had started to come loose, but he found himself unable to really care about it now, too occupied with the fact he could feel Dazai’s heart beating frantically against him, could smell the scent of his shampoo in those dark curls. His hand twitched at the realization, & before he knew it, Chuuya found himself pulling away to rip off his gloves, dropping them at his feet with no care for once of the ugly, ragged yet long healed SCARS that wrapped around his wrists like grotesque bracelets, courtesy of that fucker, N. He sank his fingers in Dazai’s hair & dragged his head back down to meet his lips once more. 

               Through the long glass windows that lined his office, the lingering glow of the sunset had been obliterated by the sky rapidly falling into a dark, moonless night; salmon pink & purple skies dipping into a twilight blue before plunging into a vast expanse of jet black that engulfed the city, the brilliant luminosity of the stars nearly drowned out by the light pollution of Yokohama’s thriving businesses.

            ❝ Stay. ❞  He breathed against Dazai’s lips, just barely a whisper, fingernails running over the taller man’s scalp before one hand lowered to cradle his jaw, lifting his face just enough to look into the dark brown eyes of his former partner, his own eyes almost violet in the barely lit office.  ❝ With me… in my room, I mean. Just for the night. If you still want to say goodbye to me by the morning, I won’t stop you. ❞  To me, he said, not to the Port Mafia. They were enemies now, or… they should be. But maybe things didn’t have to be quite so simple as that.

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Hi! Uh, I’m generally new to your Tumblr blog but I’m a big fan of your Sent From Above story 👉👈 and I was wondering if you could maybe do something with Devil and a fallen Angel turned Demon reader if you have the time.

A/N: So remember that post I made regarding how I'm going to try out a crisper, shorter style? Ngl, I had this request in mind because. gotdamn. The drabble I had written out exploded in length with only a dash of Devil in there. So I made sure to include a bunch of hcs to hopefully make up for it __φ(．．;)

If you're unhappy with this, be sure to shoot me a message so I can redo 'em!

(Read more placed due to lengthiness! CW: Minor descriptions of gore/blood in the drabble portion)

The Devil w/ a Fallen Angel s/o Hcs:

When his imps had first discovered your crumpled, broken form, you earned the intrigue of Hell’s king. It had been a long time since an angel had fallen– rebelled– from Heaven. Centuries, even.

Yet, as he took in the state of you– halo shattered and wings completely stripped away from you– remnants of a phantom pain he had tried so hard to bury ghosted over his spine.

He had spent a long time silently staring at you that night, slowly taking in each and every feature your smaller form had to offer; ignoring any and all concerned prodding from the imps at his side.

You stared up at him with wide, glass-like eyes filled with a kaleidoscope of emotions, your face bearing them all as you’re struggling to stomach the hysterical cocktail you’re experiencing. Fear, misery, bitterness– all of them shined within unshed tears as you fought to keep a stiff upper lip.

A pang of pity tightens his chest. The Devil moves his gaze away from you towards the bright lights of the casino in the distance; avoiding you as he clicks his tongue.

That night, you’re taken by the larger demon and put to work as one of the casino staff as a cocktail/cigarette server. It’s not glamorous by any means, but it allows the Devil to watch over you closely from the indoor balcony.

Your relationship, at first, is distant. You had regarded the demon as the man who had so graciously taken you in after your banishment from Heaven. While a part of you is grateful for a chance to start anew, you couldn’t deny feeling unnerved in his presence. Still, you fell into your new role with ease; dutifully taking orders and avoiding the wandering hands of drunken patrons.

Every now and then, you are tasked with bringing the Devil a carton of thick, luxury-brand cigars to his office. He’d quietly take one from the tray you brought him, motioning for you to light it for him, before waving you away.

The demon doesn’t say so much as a word to you, but you can feel his eyes follow after you as you leave the room.

For a while, this was the most interaction you’ve had with him. That is until the pain in your back– where your wings once sat– began to flare up intensely.

You had tried to hide the pain as best you could, and, for the most part, it worked. Most of your coworkers figured you had slept on your back wrong. However, most of the demons you crossed paths with during the day knew better. Though, it’s not like they ever did anything to help other than a shrug.

So when you had entered the Devil’s office to hand him a tray of scotch, he took one look at your knitted brows and strained smile, and it didn’t take him very long to connect the dots. The moment you placed down the alcohol, without a word, he poured two glasses.

You had looked at him, brows and nose scrunched and strained smile falling open into a small “o”. The demon merely rolled his eyes and pushed a glass towards you.

“Don’t give me that doe-eyed look. It’s not a cure for your little ailment, but at least you’re numb and drunk instead of miserable.”

After that encounter, you’ll find yourself called up to the Devil’s quarters much more frequently– with or without his usual cigar or hooch. It’s… awkward, at first. You still couldn’t get a good read on the demon’s intentions, and the Devil seems to have a bit of a staring problem when it comes to you.

Though rare, he’ll offer you a puff at the cigar he’s been smoking in the middle of his paperwork. The moment you do accept and wrap your lips around the thick tobacco, the demon purrs in approval— earning him a flustered look and a small puff of smoke for his efforts.

A romantic relationship just kinda… happened. There was never any date or spoken interest on either one of your ends. And though the Devil is far from the warmest of souls or the most romantic, it doesn’t mean he’s completely devoid of love.

When the two of you embrace, he’s gentle when nearing the puckered scars on your back. The demon is mindful of his talons as he idly traces a finger up and down the old marks, silently relishing in the way you shiver each time.

Though the Devil is a lot more refined compared to his lackeys, he’s still quite ferocious from spending centuries in Hell. In other words, he’ll try to make you feel more welcome to your new lifestyle with him by “grooming” you. Which is really just him attempting to lick you while you try batting him away like an angry cat. Don’t be rude, he’s trying to clean you >:(

While it’s not always an absolute outcome, many of the angels that did fall from grace ended up transforming to the demons they were now. And though he doesn’t mind you’re still human-looking in appearance, the Devil would think you’d look quite nice with a pair of horns and tail…

You two share a silent agreement to avoid mentioning Heaven as much as possible. It brings up too many painful memories and it just makes him angry.

—------------------------------ (Bonus Drabble: “The First Fall”)--------------------------------------

It had all happened so quickly.

One moment, you were wrapped in the soft, mellow glow of Heaven’s light, the cool mist of clouds lapping at your bare ankles; surrounded by the downcast stares of your fellow angels as you’re forced onto your knees. The next, an agonizing pain– white-hot like molten silver flowing through your veins– fills your being.

A shrill scream pierces the air. A few of the other angels around you– former friends, some coworkers– look away. Some closed their eyes, their faces twisted into ugly grimaces.

One of the spectators began to sob. They’re quick to be shushed, though that does little to deter the offender. The anguished cries are stopped with a harsh slap that rang out through the air, and sobs die down to muffled whimpers.

No one moved to shush them, nor did anyone move to offer comfort.

The screaming doesn’t stop. It only grew louder with each passing second; the flames under your skin burning fiercer, threatening to burn you alive. The salty, coppery taste of blood fills your mouth, and the wails— your wails— grow wet with coughs.

Fat, heavy tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the cold, impassive sea of faces as you fought back violent hacks and wheezes.

You tried to raise your hands to your mouth, desperate to hide your agony to your unmoved voyeurs, but a metallic clank filled your ear. The jagged metal bit into your wrist, and you looked down to see rusted shackles.

Dread filled your breast, and you pulled at your chains. You pulled and pulled, filling the air with harsh, desperate clanks as you clawed and yanked; eyes wide and teeth bared as sweat and tears flowed down your cheeks.

Rust tore and scraped away the raw, red flesh of your wrists, and a yowl was torn from your lips as jagged metal shaved off a strip of skin. Blood dripped down towards the clouds beneath your battered knees, tainting the pure white ground with a bright red.

In a moment of instinct– a knee-jerk reaction, every sense screaming at you to flee– you threw yourself forward. The crowd starts with a collective gasp as you unfurl your wings, casting a looming shade over your former peers as you flapped with all your might. You felt your feet rise from the ground, wrist wet with boiling blood, and hope sings in your chest–

Only for you to come crashing down.

You slammed into the ground with a scream. A flurry of feathers followed in your wake, and you watched on in horror as they slowly came falling. Pure white plumage shifted into a burnt, ashen black before they crumbled into dust. Soon after, burning pain consumed your back, and you felt a force grab onto your wings.

Like the resounding echoes of a church bell, the loud, jutting snaps of bones breaking filled the air. A furious painful flame lapped at every sinew in your back as the force pulled and pulled until flesh tore like wet paper. Severed wings thumped in front of you, the limbs broken and bare; bone and membrane resembling your father’s failed doll creations more than something that was once a part of you.

Before you could look back towards the crowd, your world was enshrouded in darkness. A gag forced itself inside your mouth, muffling your panicked shrieks. The shackles around your wrists were roughly tugged off, replaced by a rough, gloved hand. Leather-clad fingers press themselves onto your open wounds, your captor silently forcing you up onto shaky legs. Another hand clapped itself onto the small of your back, no doubt growing wet with your blood, and the hand around your wrist migrated towards your neck.

“Please…” you choked out through your gag, your voice falling into another muffled sob.

The angel beside you remained silent, their hand clenching tighter around your neck. Without a word, they pushed you forward, forcing you into a blind walk. The cold wetness of the clouds beneath bit into your bare feet as the two of you silently trudged along; the low whistling of the wind serving as your sole companion.

Moments passed before your captor abruptly stopped, leaving you to fumble with a dampened squeak. The wind’s low whistles whipped itself into a howling frenzy as the hand on your back moved to your shoulder. You felt the side of your face grow hot as the angel lowered their lips to your ear.

“Fall.”

………….

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Days? Whatever the case was, it no longer mattered. The realm of consciousness soon allows you back in your sorry state, and the first thing you do is groan. You felt like utter shit.

Both your wrists and back ached fiercely. You shift for a moment and quickly come to regret it. Dirt and sharp rock dug their foul edges into your back, burrowing themselves like ticks.

Reflexively, you try to flex your wings. A pit forms in your stomach when you feel nothing, and you softly utter a curse under your breath. A tiny, delusional part of you had hoped that this was all a horrible nightmare. The phantom pains and the rocks lodged in your still open wounds shut that part up instantly.

Gingerly, you move to sit up; your eyes tightly shut as your head throbs.

The first thing you note is how unbearingly warm the air was. It was thankfully nowhere near the burning you felt back home- Heaven. Back up in Heaven, but it was enough to coax a thin sweat along your brow. Tentatively, you ease your eyes open, your chest heavy and hands faintly shaking.

A haze of oranges, reds, and blacks fills your eyes as a thin, gray haze hangs before you like a smoggy curtain. The smell of soot and coal fire fills your nose, and the bitter and smoky taste of ash floods your mouth; practically punching a coughing fit from your lungs. You frantically bat away falling cinder, unease tightening inside your chest.

You’re met with the sight of great, towering pillars of flames that held up a bloody sky. Burgundy and rust-red fill the horizon with jagged rocks, building up to mountains that scrape at the skyline; streams of lava flowing like wine from a barrel keg. Shrieks and howls can be heard faintly in the distance— Who they belonged to, you didn’t know. Nor did you want to know.

A gaggle of imps suddenly crow nearby, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You whip your head behind you to the sight of the tiny demons flying overhead. One of them glances down for a moment, coal-black eyes meeting yours.

Before you could even blink, they sharply whistle, immediately grabbing the attention of their companions. They point a clawed finger towards you. Three pairs of slitted pupils lock onto you. You gulp, nervous sweat breaking out against your brow.

Neither one of you move for a moment. The air grows thick with anticipation, your heart pounding against your chest as you tightly clench your hands. Your eyes flit from them towards your surroundings. You need to act fast. Look for a weapon, an exit, anything-

“Don’t just gawk like a couple o’ mooks! Get ‘em!”

They dived down in a blur of movement. Their claws outstretched and teeth bared like wild dogs. You move to dive away, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process. One demonic body slams onto the ground beside you, eyes brimming with unbridled annoyance. You freeze for a moment, giving another imp just enough time to slam into you.

Rocks and ash are sent flying as your bodies hit the ground. Pain violently explodes along the back of your skull, ripping a yowl from your lips as you reflexively push at the body on top of you. Another body slams into the dirt beside you, sending pebble and dirt into your eyes.

You hiss, tears filling your vision, and a spindly hand pins down your arm before you could try to swipe again. Almost immediately, another pair of hands pin your other arm. Hot, rancid breath– rich with the scent of spirits and tobacco– fans against your nose. They stare down at you with slitted pupils, mouth opened wide to show off a beartrap-like maw. Warm ribbons of saliva drip down onto your cheek, coating your face in a slimy film.

They inch towards you, razor-sharp teeth ready to rip and tear. Just as you can feel a forked tongue ghost over your neck, one of the imps suddenly intervenes. They roughly slap your aggressor upside the head, their yellow eyes wide with panic.

“Stop that, ya numbskull! Now ain’t the time to blow your wig! That’s the one the boss is lookin’ for!” the other imp grabs their companion by the scruff of their neck, dragging the offender off you.

Their lips pull back into a tense grimace, bearing their crooked teeth at the smaller imp in their hands as their eyes bulge out. Slitted pupils dart from the demon in their hands towards you, and their grimace morphs into a desperate smile.

“The boss was gettin’ antsy about this. We gotta skedaddle now before he-”

“Before I do what, boy?”

A deep, rich voice– smooth like velvet and hot like the burn of a gulp of whiskey– interrupts. The imp speaking releases a yelp, eyes practically flying from their skull as they drop their companion. Tiny hands instantly release you, throwing themselves off like you had burned them. Quick as you can blink, the demons rush to form a neat line, backs ramrod straight and tails between their legs. You follow their gaze– towards the voice- and your breath catches in your throat.

Towering above you and the imps stood a man– a beast– with skin as black as midnight. Tall horns with tips sharp enough to poke your eyes out sat at the crown of his skull, his body cloaked in a thick coat of wild fur. You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat as blood-red eyes practically stare into your soul.

Thin lips spread into a wolf’s grin, though the smile doesn’t reach the man’s eyes.

“Another reject joins the flock,” he grouses, his smile twitching faintly.