#and he's been deprived of caffeine for a WHILE

[lookwhatyoudidithasanxiety]

Harves, Bud, you know Lunar and his candy?

Or Sun and working?

Addicts they are.

You also fall into this category.

Sun: Um, excuse me??

Harvest: No, it is not an addiction. Once again, as I said before, coffee is to me as blood is to humans.

Moon: And that is?

Harvest: A vital aspect of my survival. Without it, I'd die.

Moon: That sounds a lot like an addiction to me.

Harvest: Says the one with My Little Pony in their daily watch history. *sips*

Sun: What?!

Lunar: WHAT?!!

Solar: ...Huh. Me too.

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[ssahotchnerr]

you see when you did a fic abt reader getting a lil clingy when she’s tired , can we pls have it w aaron instead. like they’re all on the jet and he just puts a hand on her knee or keeps on giving her forehead kisses every second, or even he gets so tired to the point he falls asleep w his head on her shoulder

sleep deprived

clingy aaron my beloved cw; bau!reader, fluff <3

After many years of practice, Aaron's rather proud of his resilience to remain awake and alert despite extreme fatigue.

Some cases called for either little or no sleep at all. Was it his favorite thing to do? No - it knocked his body completely off schedule, worsened with time spent on the West Coast. Had he been exhausted? Absolutely. But he could ignore the feeling well, working just as diligently as if he had gotten a full night's rest.

Frequent helpings of caffeine also assisted.

But when a case resolved and the urgency was dismissed - it was like a switch flipped in his brain. His mind and body knew before he could fully process it, and he felt it. Sleep deprived brain fog, a newly significant heaviness to his body, more irritable if certain buttons were pushed.

He couldn't wait to be home. He couldn't wait to be in the comfort of bed. He couldn't wait for you to be at his side, secure and close in sleep.

Each one of those thoughts correlated to each heavy step as he trudged up the jet's stairs, his eyes latching onto you immediately upon entry.

You were stationed at the kitchenette, head down as you prepared your favorite soothing, nighttime tea.

A wave of affection rippled through him; simply seeing you made him long for you desperately, although you were near and already his. The love he felt for you was unfathomable already, but in a sleep deprived state, it was enhanced greatly. He wanted - no, had to be as close as possible, to be entirely consumed by you.

After storing his go-bag, he swiftly (and slightly clumsily) moved behind you, hands finding your waist easily.

"Hey," you greeted, steeping your tea. Your voice was soft, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice.

"Hey," Aaron echoed in a mumble, his hands sliding forward from your hips to your abdomen. "How are you."

You hummed gently, leaning back to lightly touch your head to his, closing the tiny gap that separated the two of you. "Better now that we're going home."

With your back to his chest, you felt his agreeable chuckle shake through him.

"You want a cup?"

"No, I'm okay." Truthfully, he was certain he would fall asleep before the rim of the mug touched his lips. His head turned, pressing a long kiss to your temple, speaking into it, "Thank you though."

His lips lingered while you finished prepping your tea, adding light honey and lemon. With you in his arms, matching your evenly distributed breaths, Aaron's hold wasn't only to hold you, but to keep him standing upright. The lights on the jet had already been dimmed, as everyone settled down for the red eye flight, so that wasn't helping his tiredness either. He was just as comfortable as if he were in his bed at home.

You felt him nodding off. His arms - unknown to him, as he thought otherwise - were loosening, his figure even swaying the smallest amount. You hurried, knowing he probably wouldn't claim his seat without you at his side. And when you made your way over, Aaron followed like a lost puppy, his fingers grasping onto the back of your shirt.

Your blanket was already at your seat; after setting your tea aside, you draped it over your lap, offering half to Aaron. You even managed to pry him out of his suit jacket and tie.

His hand started out in yours, before finding home on your thigh - enjoying the comfort of contact. His fingers were splayed across the width, keeping you as close as the seats could awkwardly offer. Part of him considered persuading Reid from his usual spot, allowing the two of you a turn to lie down.

But it was Spencer's favorite spot, the rest of the team would never let him live down visibly 'cuddling', and he was too tired to move, so the regular seats would have to do.

His thumb began brushing against the fabric of your pants, the lull bringing him closer to sleep. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your jaw, before nestling his head on your shoulder.

A faint blush trickled onto your face, feeling warm from both the tea and the open tenderness. "Aaron?"

A very drowsy, "Hm?" came from below your ear.

You simply leaned your head against his, a contentful sigh leaving you. Under the blanket, your hand rest atop his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Aaron's eyes remained closed, but a sleepy smile made its way onto his face. In the smallest of whispers, "I love you too."

[dahliakbs]

Overprotective Batfam making sure you get home safely in their patrol route! (Part 2)

Includes: Jason Todd and Tim Drake

Part 1

Masterlist

Jason Todd

Unlike the others Jason wouldn't walk alongside you or keep to the shadows, instead when he first saw you on his route he slowed down his motorcycle and offered you a quick ride home.

But what you thought would be a quick ride home was instead turned into a wild night you'd never forget.

You could feel the wind hit your face like a bag bricks as Jason continuously revved the engine.

The goons you'd been chasing had mistakenly crossed your path on your ride home, coming out of nowhere with a bag of money strapped to the back of the vehicle and a goon stood to the left of it. Probably protecting what you assumed to be stolen money.

"Um Mr.Redhoid you can put me off here" you'd taoped his shoulder to let him know but he simply ignored your statement and handed you a bloody crowbar.

"Since your here you might as well help me" he said and as soon as you heard those words you felt your soul attempt to leave your body.

Not out of fear of course, was this vigilante really allowing you to attack someone without receiving any repercussions?

You were starting to like this.

"Get the tires" he instructed to which you gladly got in position for.

When you noticed the distance between you and the vehicle closing in you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and lowered yourself towards the the concrete of the road.

Anchoring yourself to his waist before swinging the crowbar above your head and striking the back tire of the vehicle, causing the vehicle to violently swerve off the road and crash into a nearby street light.

You could hear yourself let out a loud scream before an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back onto the seat of the motorcycle.

"Was that a scream of joy or fear?" He quickly came to a stop before turning to face you.

When his eyes landed in your face it was safe to say that he was quite amused. Your pupils were blown wide while your hair was shifted wildly all over you face.

You'd seemed to be in some sort of daze which lasted for the rest of the night. Not even noticing when he dropped you off to your house and left you dazed on your doorstep.

Tim Drake

Honestly he didn't mean to follow you around like that. For some reason he'd found himself getting into the habit of walking you home every evening.

Even when there was something else he was supposed to be doing he still found a way to walk you home every evening and after a while it seems like you found out about his sleep deprivation.

You weren't blind, you could see how the large eyecbags that peeked out from underneath the vigilantes mask. You noticed how he slurred his words when talking or how he'd trip over his own feet when walking beside you.

He was very good at hiding it but after while you started noticing how tired he truly was and even though you wanted to help out in some way you just knew there wasn't anything you could really do.

You tried thinking of ways to help but they'd always lead you back to square one.

You of course picked up on the strong hint of caffeine that always stuck to him like white on rice but you weren't gonna gift him coffee. That would just feed into his problem do instead you came up with a better idea.

You'd start taking short breaks on your way home.

You'd take a seat on any bench you'd see in your way home, the vigilante following closely behind you and seating himself next to you.

Then you'd try and coax him into using your shoulder as a little pillow to try to get some sleep and without much resistance he'd give in and rest his head onto your shoulder.

And even though Tim never actually fell asleep during your little breaks he'd still sit still and allow himself to relax.

At least during those few seconds of peace he could finally relax for the first time in a while.

[shares-a-vest]

Wayne shuffles to the door, desperate to answer the incessant knocking that sounds like whoever is on the other side is going to beat the exterior fly screen straight off its hinges. He is greeted by Claudia Henderson, clutching her handbag strap tight across her chest and looking very serious.

Although it might just be his sleep-deprived inability to gauge the emotions of chipper 9-to-5 receptionists who wear cosy sweaters. He checks his watch. He’s only been asleep for about an hour after getting home from night shift - what with waiting for Hurricane Eddie to finally head off for the garage.

“Hello, Wayne,” Claudia nods and purses her lips.

He scrubs a hand over his face but steps back nonetheless to let her in. Claudia is one step in the doorway anyhow.

“Coffee,” he not-so-much asks as he moves to the kitchen.

“No, thank you,” Claudia says politely, “I usually wait for my morning tea break.”

He looks over to find her pulling out his assigned chair at the breakfast table. She looks nervous, if a little pissed off as she gathers her handbag up on her lap. He blinks harshly and pinches his nose enough to press his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. He really needs to wake the hell up a little more, it appears.

“What did Eddie do?” he sighs, looking over the drying rack on the sink for one of the mugs he has in his rotation at the present time.

“Oh, Eddie hasn’t done a thing!” she insists, a smile evident in her voice, “I’m here about Steve.”

Cubs mug it is then...

He frowns again and turns back to Claudia, confused. And the woman looks like she was expecting such a reaction because she huffs and straightens up, looking like she is readying herself to give a sermon on the kid.

“I need you to help me convince that boy to move in with Dustin and me,” she explains, promptly holding up a defensive hand, “Now, I know he stays here, mostly This isn’t about anything to do with you… Or Eddie…”

She tacks that last mention of his nephew on with a tone and a knowing look.

Wayne clears his throat. It’s certainly far too early in the morning for the ins and outs of that conversation. He flicks the kettle on to drown out the awkward silence between them.

“Have you uh...” he hums and scratches the back of his neck as he searches for words, “Have you talked with him about this, at all?”

Claudia squeaks out a noise he assumes is a negative as he quickly spoons coffee into his mug. He’ll settle for black coffee for now - he really cannot be assed to stand up for much longer, even if he did have the sense to quickly step into his comfy slippers when Claudia came a-pounding on the door.

“And you want my help specifically?” he says, raising his voice above the steaming kettle that is whistling away in boiling readiness.

“Yes!”

He waves a hand in the air, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Oh, gosh, no! I can’t talk to that girl,” he barks a laugh that makes Claudia startle in her seat, forcing her to clarify, “I mean she is a steel trap about that boy!”

Wayne smirks and nods as he heads for the table with his piping hot - and hopefully, heavily caffeinated - beverage, “He’s not the biggest talker when it comes to himself.”

“I’m not one to speak ill of other mothers,” Claudia says in a hushed tone, “God knows, I am not perfect. But where are his parents?”

She rocks a little with each word like she has needed to ask that question for a good long while. Of course, Wayne thinks about Steve’s parents. A lot. Because the boy almost never mentions them.

He shrugs, “He says they stayed away on business.”

“After everything that has happened in this town?” she argues, voice growing shrill with worry, “Did he tell you what actually happened with the mall fire? It was more of that other dimension nonsense!”

He almost chokes on his coffee. He knows a little - there was no way around it with Eddie in the hospital surrounded by all those secret nurses and doctors. But he didn’t know Claudia Henderson knew about some of it too. Still, he decides to remain cautious and gestures for her to continue.

“And he’s been concussed more times than he can remember!”

She slumps back in her seat with a look of such horror, Wayne thinks the sweet woman sitting opposite him considers it her closing argument.

Wayne taps on the rim of his coffee cup. They would have to tread carefully, not ambush the kid.

“He does get a lot of migraines - ” is all he can think to say.

“ - And he has dizzy spells,” Claudia cuts in, leaning forward. He can see tears starting to well up, “I just want him to be looked after. I know he’s a young man with his own life and everything, but he still needs a parent to care for him, to support him.”

“Yeah,” Wayne nods firmly, “Yes, he does.”

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Good Turn

I rushed to catch up, as I saw the party leaving. Advisor Leukippos was a hopelessly busy man after all. Seeming to drift, with elegant unhurried steps, from appointment to appointment at a somehow impossible speed. It was near impossible to actually catch him NOT in the middle of something. And believe me, I'd been TRYING!

"Advisor! Respected One! Please wait!" I did not so much... shout (as that would be RUDE. One must NEVER be RUDE around the Yanderians. They take GREAT exception. I've looked them up. Have even started taking classes on the subject.) as sorta? Pitched my voice to carry? Kinda the verbal equivalent of that awkward half jog, not run, people do.

My Yanderian pronunciation is god awful. Probably butchering the words, since I can't, you know, actually HEAR any of the nuanced under or over tones. The slight inflections. Yanderian is a language of SONG. Poetry. Composing some of the most beautiful audible art in the known universe. Some of the pieces I've heard? Are like whale song made of starlight. Birdsong made of thunder.

And that's the RECORDINGS! Which are said to miss SO MUCH of the in person nuances, due to technological limitations!

I, being a human, literally don't have the philosophy to even speak the language properly. Never will.

Not the voice box, not the HEARING, and certainly not the lung capacity. But I wanted to at least try, you know? If nothing else, maybe learn the language. There WERE after all, auditory aids for Yanderians with ear injuries. And! I theoretically? Could contact the company? To see if they would be willing to design a set of nuance readers for a human sized head! Adjusted for human hearing and visual ranges!

To be honest? I just was waiting to be able to send my message in Yanderian first. To prove that it wouldn't be a waste of time. Nuance readers were a time consuming project after all! Had to be customized to the life form wearing them.

Leukippos and his entourage had stopped, turned. Some fully, some only half way, to glance in bemused and startled confusion at the (no doubt strange) little creature trying to hacksaw her way through a sentence in their language. None the less, they DID stop for me, for which I was grateful. Their people were fuckin TALL, man. Long legs. Holy SHIT long legs. G-gimme a second! Gotta...! Breathe...!

I could practically feel their amusement from behind the assorted fans. Eyes curving up to match hidden grins.

"No drink to spill upon me, little one? How shall I recognize you now?" Comes teasing song speech from the man I've been trying, for DAYS, to catch outside of any one of his many responsibilities. I think? That particular rumbling quality? Means "playfully said, not insulting you?"

His body language certainly suggests it.

The laugh that forces its way out of my body? Is the sort that you make, while contemplating throwing yourself into the fucking SEA or a bottomless pit, after dumping your breakfast on like... a world leader.

Because I Basically DID.

Which? Ha ha... oh god, kill me. They wear FUCKING WHITE. The higher the rank? The MORE WHITE! (It's the color of Divinity and Honor! Which DOESNT FUCKING HELP! Oh GOD, does this mean what I did was SACRILEGIOUS TOO?!) Nothing but pale, easily and irreversibly stain-able colors, as far as the eye can see! And I accidentally? Dumped my shitty break room "whatever has caffeine and is still in stock" on him!

FIVE TIMES.

I've literally GIVEN UP open air caffeinated drinks because of this! They are the devil! Evil! Trying to ruin both my sanity AND my life! I don't CARE if canned coffee is more expensive! At least I can't DUMP IT ON A DIGNITARY.

The worst part? The ABSOLUTE WORST? Was how understanding and calm Leukippos was, while I lost my shit. It wasn't even MY outfit. He was the one covered in probably still burning coffee! As I hyperventilated and blubbered apologies and cried at him. Hair a mess! Sleep deprived as FUCK because my boss is an asshole. Well... WAS an asshole.

He came over to yell at me.

Did not go well for him. What with that being Rude™ and me having already spilled the beans that the whole incident was CAUSED by me being overworked. Sleep deprivation slows reaction times, you know?

But then... but THEN! It? Kept?? HAPPENING!!!

Turn a corner? Bump! Right down his front. Leaving a lift? Bump! Splash! There goes my cup! Oh but what about a SAFETY cup? I, like FOOL, naively think! Ha ha...

I nearly concuss him! Somehow! Right over the edge of some railing! Slams into the ground at his feet. Nearly hitting him from THREE STORIES UP, right on the head! Pretty sure the sound I made? Was just as painful to HEAR as it was to rip out of my own throat in panic.

No More Cups! Cups are BAD. This? Anti-cup having household.

We'll drink from fucking SPOONS if we have too! Bowls!

NO CUPS!

And every? Single?? Time??? Leukippos not only stops, in the middle of his unspeakably busy schedule, to calm down and reassure this random ass low ranking alien, who's dumped potentially toxic or dangerous unknown alien foodstuffs, just ALL over his incredibly expensive clothes? He's KIND about it! Polite! Makes light hearted little jokes and says not to worry!

It would be one thing, if he was an asshole about it? But!? He's so politely understanding instead? You just end up standing there. Staring in HORROR. At the slowly spreading stains, on that beautiful, delicate, lovely embroidered white fabric. Clothes that are HAND CRAFTED. Take months if not YEARS to make!!! And you just? Feel your soul... die inside.

Kill me. Fucking END me. I deserve it.

Oh my god.... What Have I Done?

But, hey! If he wants to turn my Horrifying Drink Based Trauma Crimes into a cute friendship meet cute? I'm so unbelievably down for that. Literally ANYTHING so I stop feeling like I'm constantly setting this man's ceremonial robes on fire in front of him, then having him ask if I'M okay or need anything.

Speaking of which? Excitedly I reach into my messages bag, asking if he remembers the over robe he lent me. Another victim to our coffee attacks, the over robe was of a style that traditionally hung open, so it only slightly got hit. His main robe suffering the worst of it. Most importantly, though? The over robe is the main decorative one! Heavy on the subtle off white on white embroidery.

It creates a kind of magical looking effect as the light hits it, it's hard to explain.

But! I got coffee'd too, right? Right down my front! So what does he do? Leukippos slides off his over robe and puts it on me. So I won't be walking around in state that would get me socially embarrassed. Cause a scandal. Still not sure if it's a Yanderian or a "their region of the galaxy" thing.

However, that? Left me with a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL and quickly staining white over robe. Not Today, Satan! So I looked up how to save it. Rushed it to a professional cleaners. They kept it from getting worse but couldn't help me, due to the unique fibers the robe was made off, but knew who COULD and sent me on my way.

I ended up in a breathing mask in little Kkbrixxtttishky. And I know, okay? It's mostly oxygen in that dome. Yeah, it IS, but there are enough fatally toxic trace elements in the atmosphere that unless you have a REALLY good filter mask? It's just safer to go full breathing mask. It's not fucking "paranoid" or "racist" or whatever garbage they'll tell you.

Half those fuckers saying that? Wouldn't even TRAVEL there if their LIVES depended on it! For ALL sorts of VERY reasonable excuses, I'm SURE. Bastards. One breathing mask and an uncomfortable decontamination shower between domes is all it takes! It's barely a few minutes delay between domes. Then you're in!

And? The whole area is beautiful. Everyone is super nice, deeply kind (especially when you get lost... like... A LOT). And oh my god? Do you know how badly I wish I could eat the food without, you know, dying? (God those little pie thingies looked so fucking GOOD...)

Anyway! Long and short of it? The Kkbrixxtttishky cleaner knew how to clean the robe! Even stored it in an air tight container so it could be decontaminated for my safe handling. They? Were so sympathetic? Shared my absolute horror at the situation. We're and ARE an absolute gem. Swear to God I plan to recommend them to anyone who can breathe that grade of atmosphere.

It was worth every unit.

Pulling out a clean, neatly folded robe to return? Feels like a triumph.

"The robe of which I gave you, clean once more." He says, recognizing it on sight. The smile behind his fan seems to grow, from what charmed expression I can see of his face, as he steps closer. "Such care, in trusted hands, this robe has found. Little one, you have gone to great lengths. No easy thing, the cleansing of such cloth. And to return it? None would think you less, should you have kept a gift..."

The songspeech has a distinctly warm tone to it, more then the already fond tone that had been there before. Heck yeah~ Knew it! I KNEW I did the right thing! And besides, it WAS the right thing. I tell him as much. He didn't really GIVE me his robe, he leant me it to help me save face.

The Galactic Senate is unspeakably vast. He was running the risk of never seeing it again but did it ANYWAY. Just so I wouldn't be seen walking around covered in a mess. I was just sorry I couldn't fix the OTHER robes my clumsiness had ruined.

"Virtuous little one~" Leukippos says sings, the nuanced tones, which I could only barely hear, suggesting his words were meant to be both teasing and praise. He driftes closer. His other hand elegantly raising to join the first. Both gripping his fan in an... almost coy sort of way? Ah, I'm probably reading that one wrong. Still learning, after all...

"Won't you join me? A walk with good company, is a pleasant one indeed. I have not had chance to speech casually with you before. We would have sent you correspondence; In accordance with tradition and regard, however..."

Leukippos trailed off. Politely not saying the obvious. Which was that it was fuckin impossible to find me in the G.S. directory, since I was effectively a Nobody, and you'd have to know Going IN which Embassy I worked for. Even then, it'd be rough as hell, dragging me name out of that thing. I was the afterthought of an afterthought, that the forgettable once might of had.

But hey, it pays the bills.

I grin. Of course, I'd love to join him. If I'm not getting in the way! The robe is handed off to one of the smiling members of the entourage. Tucked away somewhere. And I am swallowed into the center of the group. Holy SHIT, they are tall. Like? I knew that. On average? Yanderians were about a foot and a half taller then humans... but STILL? I think these guys might be tall for Yanderians? I feel dainty. Wild.

Leukippos helps with my pronunciation, as we walk. Recommends a few new up and coming artists who's works sound fascinating. Distracted by it all, I don't notice our path meandering away from what I know is his next appointment, and towards his office. At least, I don't until we're alone.

His fan lower gently from his face, revealing handsome features.

I startle, don't know where to look. Uuuuuuuh?! No, wait, what!? No. See, I REMEMBER my basics of Yanderian etiquette block, from the sociology lessons I'm taking. He's not allowed to DO that! He can't DO THAT! Illegal! Naked! Why is he FACE NAKED!? That's like taking your SHIRT OFF! Fine around close friends and family. But JUST around them! ONLY them.

Going 0 to 150 REAL FAST, my guy!

Sputtering, I spin around. I saw NOTHING. Sexy lil fangs WHOMS'T? Ha ha! Jawline whaaaat? No, no! I'm actually BLIND. As of just a bit ago! Terrible, really. Should probably see a doctor! Now actually! Yeah. Now sounds good. I'm just gonna-!!

Softly, elegantly, like a dancer's pose, an arm in billowing white reaches over my should to delicately press against the door. It's the old fashioned kind. Swinging, not slide, made of wood. Must of cost more then I make in a year. The hand presses one finger at a time, a precise little sequence of tap tap tap.

Each finger accompanied by the softest sound of sharp nail tips.

I am suddenly hyperaware. H..How did he move that-?

The friendly atmosphere, the comfort, seems to have been sucked out of the room as thoroughly as an open airlock straight to the void. I am alone with a man I do not... now that I think about it... actually know. I FELT like I knew him. We keep meeting. I've been learning about his people. But do I know HIM? Personally? The nature of HIS character?

I... I do not.

And he is a very, VERY powerful man.

My eyes are locked on the hand, gently holding the door shut. I haven't tried my strength against his. Yet. But the numbers are in my head. The odds. Cold sweat prickles and beads along my skin, my breathe shallow, as I stand utterly frozen. It's a beautifully manicured hand, I note. Strong wrist, there a hint of true muscle, under all those robes.

He smells of trees and musk, spices and flowers not native to earth. The sleeve flowing over my shoulder is dangerously soft. His existence a pillar of heat, right behind me, not touching... but close enough. He seems perfectly content to wait me out. My mind is static.

"We fall in love quite easily, did you know? Oh little one..." His words are sighed confession, sung like falling leaves. Another hand comes up, on the other side of me. "My people greatest folly. Our weakness, our despair. Oh little one, we love too much. It frightens people. How quickly and deeply we fall..."

Why was he telling me that? I... I know the most obvious reason why he MIGHT be. B-but surely not! Ha ha. No way. C-can't be! So Why Is He TELLING ME THAT?!

"Courtship requires planning of course. Research. 'Meet-Cutes' I believe they are titled? Did you enjoy them? Were they proper? I'm to take you on outings next, yes? Flowers and material goods. To prove I can provide and know you well, and ah~"

There was mouth pressed to the nape of my neck, breathing deep against my skin. I could feel the almost lazy hunter's grin, splitting those lips into a smirk. Sharp teeth and hot breathe, dangerously close and already lusting to leave behind marks.

"And I DO know you so well. I have made certain of that, my little one. Dearest little one. Jewel of my heart, soon to be keeper of my name. I will court you in your ways, then I will court you in mine. Our wedding will be beautiful."

My heart was racing. I had to get out of here. Go and never, EVER come back. Oh god, at this distance? There was no WAY he couldn't hear everything. I had to lie! Do something! Anything! Just get out of this room. Back to Earth's embassy!

I... I couldn't move. Afraid. I was afraid.

He's so big. So much stronger then me. I have to get out.

"You shall such peace and love on Yanderia, darling. The other partners will rejoice for a new friend and you will be welcomed. Isn't that lovely? There is so much we do not show outsiders. But you, little one?"

"You will have the rest of your life to learn it ALL~"

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: coffee date with ford ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

stanford pines x reader fluff // based off of this headcanon post.

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

you could tell that something was off as soon as you walked into the house.

the mystery (s)hack has officially run out of coffee beans ... and there's a grumpy grunkle to show for it.

"uuugh..."

six rough fingers moved to wearily rub the forehead of their owner: a sleep-deprived scientist who'd stayed up late last night working on a project. of course, whether the project was actually worth losing sleep over or not wasn't entirely relevant ... ford just didn't want to go to bed and deal with his thought-filled brain. despite his troubles with bill being behind him, there often are nights where he just can't fight the paranoia.

trudging out into the kitchen, the broad-built man leaned against a countertop with one arm, heaving a low and rumbling sigh.

"well, well. good morning, sunshine." a gruff voice called out from across the room, accompanied by the sound of cereal pouring into a bowl. stanley was ' making breakfast ' for dipper and mabel, who waited eagerly at the table. "didja get enough beauty sleep?"

"i'll answer that question after i have my coffee." ford huffed, eyes still half-shut and darkened with exhaustion. upon hearing those words, stan trailed out an 'uhhhh' and glanced towards the coffee machine.

"about that, sixer ... it's all gone. i was gonna grab another bag the last time i was out, but i got distracted."

if, by being distracted, he meant attempting to shoplift a twelve-pack of pitt cola and getting caught, he was technically telling the truth.

"what."

the corner of ford's left eye twitched. no coffee? how could he have overlooked such a possibility? great ... just great.

after a moment longer of taking in the unfolding scene from the open front door, you decided to speak up.

"uh, everything okay?"

everyone's attention shifted to you. you'd only been staying with the pines family for a few days as a temporary fix for your living situation, but somehow, it was beginning to feel like home. mabel grinned brightly upon seeing you, waving her small hands in the air.

"hiya, cutie !! back from your morning walk? how'd it go?"

you met her honey brown eyes, and a smile crept onto your expression.

"it was lovely, thanks." you made your way into the house, closing the front door behind you and promptly taking a seat beside the smaller twins at the table. the grunkles observed you, following suit and each coming over to fill the remaining empty seats.

"i hope ya like cereal, cause i can't cook for my life!" stan grinned, gave everyone a bowl of cereal, and the feasting began.

mabel scarfed down her bowl, akin to how waddles might eat his own breakfast. dipper and stan both ate slowly, while you were somewhere in the middle. the only odd one out was ford, who hadn't touched his spoon at all. his head was rested against one hand, and his eyes were shut, as if he were deep in thought or (more likely) dozing off. still, he looked like he should at least eat something ...

"ford?" you called from across the table, spoon in hand.

"i- wh- ... huh?"

he stammered, a faint shade of crimson tinting his cheeks as he snapped awake and stared at you like a deer in headlights. stan snickered.

"what's wrong?" your voice was concerned, with an undertone of amusement. it seemed unnatural for him to act so disheveled, considering how your first impression of him was extremely put-together and educated. although, you couldn't say you disliked this side of him.

he cleared his throat. "well, you see, we've ... run out of coffee. during days like these, i rely on the caffeine to keep me awake."

"i see." you crunched on another mouthful of cereal, swallowing with a thoughtful hum. "isn't there a good café somewhere near here?"

at that, ford raised his bushy brows. a café? that's a good point.

"it must be relatively new, because i can't say that i've ever been to such an establishment in town." he mused, stroking his chin stubble as he attempted to recall the various changes that had occurred in gravity falls since he'd returned after being gone for thirty years.

"i could take you, if you like."

"...what?"

and now, all eyes were on you.

blinking innocently, you restated your offer.

"i said, i could take you, if you like. i've been there a few times myself, and they've got a lot of good options."

"gasp !! like a date ??" mabel squealed, only to be elbowed by her twin brother. her comment earned a darker blush from ford and a choke from stan.

"u-um ... i wouldn't necessarily say a da-"

"ahem! i accept your offer. it would be good for me to get out of the house, anyway." ford hurriedly interrupted you, averting his gaze as he straightened his trench coat and adjusted his turtleneck. a stifled squeal of joy could be heard from the kids' end of the table.

and just like that, you found yourself strolling down the sidewalk, side by side with the tired scientist. he had freshened up somewhat, having taken the time to tame his bedhead hair and clean his dusty glasses. even while sleep deprived, he looked handsome in the warmth of the sunlight. catching yourself staring, you quickly averted your gaze to in front of you, focusing on where you were walking. ford had most definitely seen you looking, but chose not to say anything about it.

the silence wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but it certainly was not commonplace for either of you. you've been living on your own for a while now, so you're acquainted with silence, but not the kind shared with another person. on the flip side, ford has slowly been learning to cherish peace and quiet again after getting rid of bill's voice in his head.

upon arriving at the café, the two of you took in the inviting atmosphere, inhaling the scent of brewing coffee and sweet pastries as the little bell hanging from the door jingled to signal your appearance. ford visibly relaxed, already pleased.

"you know what you want?" you questioned with a smile, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"mm, i think i'll have the cold brew with vanilla cream." he replied, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a somewhat shy grin. you swore you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

"alright." making your way up to the cashier, you put in your order for two drinks, pulling out your wallet and selecting the appropriate bills to pay for the both of you. ford was somewhat shocked that you had made the move to pay for his drink, and his bashful smile grew as you found a table to sit down at.

"thank you, that was very generous of you." he adjusted his glasses, sitting across from you and giving you a brief once-over. "i could have covered it, you know."

"ah, don't worry about it." now that you thought about it, this was the first time that you were spending one-on-one time with him, apart from the rest of the family ... was this really a date, like mabel had said? your face began to heat up at the notion, but you quickly distracted yourself by looking down to fidget with the edge of your sleeve.

feeling the need to break the silence, the silver-streaked man shifted in his seat. "so ... tell me about yourself."

he was clearly showing interest in getting to know you, which was flattering, and somewhat endearing. given his quiet demeanor, it was obvious that socialization was not his strong suit. still, you couldn't deny that he had a certain rugged charm about him.

staring out the window, you thought for a moment, then spoke. "for starters, you know that i'm working on moving into a house." there was another pause as you mulled over your next words. "i'm interested in the strange phenomenons here in gravity falls. i was raised in another state, but my family relocated here while i was in high school. that's what got me curious about certain ... abnormalities." you smiled softly, fixing your gaze onto him. "i think unusual things are wonderful."

stanford was practically slack-jawed, his dark brown eyes shining with the wonder of a child in love. any previous hesitation was completely abandoned.

"why, that's what i've dedicated my life purpose to for years!" his wide shoulders leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to your own. "i've been keeping journals-"

he was interrupted by a barista calling out your name across the café. regretfully, you had to tear your attention from his enthusiasm, standing to go collect your drinks from the counter. for some reason, the thudding of your heart was very loud.

returning to your seat, you put ford's cold brew in front of him before taking a swig of your own drink. he carefully picked up the cup, observing it from a few different angles before raising it to his lips. he took a long sip, then made a low, content hum. "yes ... this is exactly what i needed." you could already see the caffeine revitalizing him. "now, where was i? ah, yes! the journals."

the next hour and a half consisted of him infodumping about the journals and all of the wonderful things he's seen and done. he earned quite a few reactions from you, each of which inflated his ego even further. by the end of his rant, he was on an energetic and emotional high.

the two of you were laughing at some corny one-liner he'd thrown in, and ford leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his broad chest as it heaved with deep chuckles.

"you know, i haven't talked with anyone like this in a while, besides stanley and the kids, of course." a warm smile graced his features. "i'm glad that you invited me here. and ..." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "... i think you're an interesting person. clearly, we share the same passion."

oh, crap. why was he looking at you like that? why was it hot? you could feel yourself slowly losing your composure. why did your type have to be nerds?

"t-thanks. i think you're interesting, too." you blushed, smiling and feeling giddy.

"we should do this again, yes?"

"i would love to."

end (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

author's note:

expect more ford content from me (he's literally my pookie)

also if you give me feedback i love you

if you have any fic ideas, shoot me a request!

[cuubism]

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

--

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

[gentrychild]

An anon who was rereading Anyone asked me what would have happened if Izuku didn't like eggs and how you tell a supervillain you don't like what he made and that you want something. I have bravely tried to answer said ask but Tumblr laughed at my pain, so here is it, on a new post.

------------------------

When confronted with the super villain Izuku had accidentally broken out of the most secured prison in the country, a man who had basically walked out of said prison as soon as he hadn’t been restrained anymore, Izuku did the only thing any rational person would do.

He ran like hell. No shoes, no plan, nothing except Full Cowl roaring in his veins and he fled.

At least, he tried to.

Strong tendrils stopped him dead, then hands picked him up by his shoulders and suddenly, his feet weren't touching the ground and he was forcibly brought to the kitchen table.

''No, no, no,'' All for One said with the tone one would employ with a disobedient pet or a very young child. ''Your breakfast is going to get cold and we have so much to talk about. Sit. Enjoy the eggs. If you don't like them, I can make something else.''

And he dropped him on his chair, before putting the plate in front of him. Then, he sat at the other end of the table, facing Izuku, his own plate in front of him and he started to eat. Slowly, his manners perfect, while Izuku was dying of sheer stress over there.

Then, he looked at Izuku. Then at Izuku's plate.

''You're not eating?''

Izuku looked at the man who had literally reduced people to paste last night and then at his plate of eggs and bacon, then back at the lunatic who was probably going to skin him alive soon enough. He needed to do something, to get the time to find a way out of this mess.

Now, any reasonable human being would have eaten a bit of eggs and bacon – well, eaten the bacon in Izuku’s case – but he had just woken up, was in a pre-caffeinated state and truly, Izuku had never claimed to have the slightest working relationship with sanity.

“I don’t like eggs,” he blurted out.

The supervillain, the very same man who had literally gone through a prison riot of fellow villains like he was running through wet paper, was startled so badly by those four words that he dropped his fork.

“What do you mean, you don’t like eggs???” he asked like this was a ludicrous notion, like everyone’s favorite breakfast should be eggs and bacon.

“Never liked them,” Izuku lied, by pure spirit of contradiction, far more developed than for most people, for it had been left with quite the amount of room after the disappearance of all his survival instinct.

And it was indeed a lie because, once upon a time, it had been his favorite comfort food, but when he had been a kid, during one of those weeks where his mom was gone and the neighbor supposed to watch over him was busy forgetting his existence, he had gorged himself on it at every meal until he had gotten so sick of it that he had been unable to eat them ever again.

All for One watched him with something that went beyond annoyance, it was the patented look of someone who knew one was messing with him and the words “You’re a goddamn liar” were probably fighting to be left out but he had no proof that Izuku was bullshitting him and if even if he somehow had a lie-detecting-quirk, Izuku would keep denying it because he probably wasn’t making it out alive anyway so why deprive himself of the chance of annoying his would-be-killer?

And actually, why wait?

“I prefer waffles,” Izuku informed him because, after all, All for One had offered him to make him something else.

All for One stared at him without saying anything, probably thinking about all the ways he could have killed Izuku back when they were in Tartarus. Meanwhile, Izuku gave the illusion to be staring back at him when he was actually thinking about the fact the window made a faster exit but All for One would have the time to catch him before he landed seven floors lower while the door offered him more options.

All for One eventually abandoned his plate and started to rummage through the cupboards, going straight to the place where Izuku and his mom usually put the baking ingredients. Either everyone organized their kitchen the same way, or All for One had broken in so many homes that he was just a pro at using any kitchen he found himself into.

“Do you have flour?” the lunatic called out. “I can’t find it.”

Izuku had already flowed out of his chair and was making his way to the door by walking backwards, trying to radiate nonchalance and not the need to RUN AWAY WITHOUT LOOKING BACK.

“Try the highest shelves,” Izuku helpfully suggested, his hand on the doorknob.

It was where his mom put the heaviest pots and pans they usually didn’t use, since everyone in this household needed to climb a chair to access it. With a little luck, they would all fall on All for One.

Izuku left the apartment, not even bothering to fully close the door behind him, and he ran. He was in his pajamas, had found his sneakers by the door and they were still in his hands as he booked it out of his neighborhood as fast as Full Cowl could carry him and he didn’t stop until his building wasn’t in sight anymore. Then, he stopped on a bench, the couple flirting on it deciding they could do that somewhere else when they saw him approaching, and he put his sneakers on, took a deep breath, and decided to run some more, still in the opposite direction of where Todoroki was living, and then, he would figure out a plan.

Unfortunately, liquid shadows chose this moment to appear right in front of him, revealing All for One, who was holding a bag from Waffle Palace in one of his hands.

“I didn’t find any flour or sugar so I just ordered in.”

Some people would have screamed or been startled but Izuku had already ripped the bench from the ground and thrown it at All for One. The villain batted it away with his empty hand but it didn’t matter because Izuku was already half way through the park, or at least until black tendrils grabbed him and yanked him back.

 “Your waffles are going to get cold,” All for One sternly informed him before grabbing him by the back of his shirt and he warped again, this time with Izuku under his arm.

[smolvenger]

Reunion (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: The sacred timeline is destroyed. And your missing, mischievous lover has returned. A confrontation and a fear of abandonment and betrayal with his return still bring about the passion you have for each other.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut! Smut! 18+ (P in V sex, dirty talk, doing it in an office). Discussions of the fear of death, abandonment, and being cheated on- but don’t worry Loki is faithful to reader and would never. The Loki and Sylvie relationship is made platonic as it should have been all along for the sake of the fic. Not as super revised as usual but it's not a rough draft, I just wanted this out quickly while we had the first episode as our main focus.

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (smut starts at the line "Too long- Too long" and ends at "At once, he pulled himself up" for your comfort, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @meowmeow-motherfucker @marvel-fanfic-lover @animnerd @twhiddlestufftuff

@goddessgirl143 @lunarnights95

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: With all the gifs out, I got the inspiration from the first episode. Wanted it out before the rest of the series makes me disappointed so I can go to delulu land again here. I hope you like it!

“OB! Better hurry up before your latte gets cold!” you called out. In your hand was a paper bag with the warm food and the other was a cup holder with the big cup of coffee. It’s a sweet smell just under your nostrils. 

It was a messy room with clutter on the floors and tables. They were all broken gadgets- more than you could name. All for that circular little room like OB’s circular little glasses. Well- it was understaffed. Only dear Ouroboros, or OB as everyone called him, fixed all that technology for the TVA. He was on the other end of the room piecing together a broken tempad. He then jumped around, grinned, and began to prance over to you from his main desk. The man was as happy as a squirrel it never occurred to him that he was lonely, overworked, and sleep-deprived. He insisted on working constantly without breaks- so you always thought he could use some caffeine and a bite to eat. 

“Oh! Y/N! Hello! Let me hurry over!” he chirruped.

 You set the bag and the cup on the desk before him, glad to see him so happy over your delivery.

“Here- it’s a large vanilla latte but I added two shots of espresso. I know you always pull all-nighters. And here- here’s your breakfast. I added a pastry in as well too. You could use the sugar rush.”

He peeked into the bag. He pulled out the food and began to unwrap it, his smile going up to his ears.

“Oh my gosh! A ham and egg on toast and a chocolate croissant!? My favorites! Oh- thank you, Y/N!” he said.

You smiled up at him, placing your hands on the desk.

“No problem- anything for the hardest worker here!” you responded.

He took a first sip, his eyes always bright. He let out a satisfied exhale from the delicious taste. Then he peeked over up at you, both hands on the warm cup.

“How are you, Y/N!? I don’t mean to pry but there’s this rumor I heard from B-15! Is it true? I heard you have a boyfriend! You never told me a word about thim-how is he?!”

It hit you like a kick in the ribs. You paused. Letting out a deep breath-suddenly the mood darkened. But, you could not pretend, even with OB, that you were worried about your lover. Your mischievous, divine lover. 

“OB, I know you’re not going to believe me. I know it’s kind of frowned upon- but it’s allowed. But my boyfriend he’s…he’s a Loki.”

“A Loki?” he repeated.

“Yes- The Loki. The one who tried to invade Loki- the one we all caught. I mean- he’s been here a while. I got to know him and…well, we fell for each other,” you explained. 

“Oh! Wow! Well-how does it work, an agent and a Loki?” he questioned.

“We- we find a way. I’ve just been-been worried about him. He had to go- go take care of something. You know the whole thing about timelines being messed with and the other Loki running around causing trouble? Something is up- something serious. He’s been gone for a bit- it’s been a few days. I haven’t heard anything directly from him. He could be dead by now. And there’s something else. The other thing is…is…”

You put a hand over your mouth, the gripping, biting urge to cry hitting you. But it was too strong. Your anxieties were a dam long contained and here they were out. OB set down his coffee to listen to you. Then you continued, the most private fear of yours confessed. 

“The Loki is a woman Loki. He’s with her to take care of this issue. That’s all I know. But it’s been a while- he’s still with her. And she’s powerful and strong and pretty and good at everything and perfect…. and how could I ever compete with her- and he’s-he’s already tossed me aside by now and left me for her by now and-”

Your voice cut off. You felt yourself about to cry. You squinted your eyes shut and looked down, putting your hand to your face-hot and tight. Finally, you lowered your head to the desk and began to cry.

“Oh- Y/N! It’s okay! There-there! You know even that kind of betrayal is low for a Loki! I don’t think most would even think of doing that- their trust is hard to earn! It will work out- shh, shh” he consoled, patting a hand on your back.

You returned up from the desk, tears streaming down your face.

“Oh- Y/N! Here- have some tissues!” OB offered. 

He got out a little plastic box from the corner of the desk. You pulled out one of the white tissues and wiped your eyes.

“Oh, Y/N. No wonder you’re worried. If you ever get sad about him or scared- you can visit me!” he offered.

“Even with all your work?” you asked, sniffling. 

“Oh, even with all my work! It’s nice to have company sometime!” he answered, nodding his head.

“Okay, I will…”

“Worst Case Scenario- I can fix a taser and just do it on him!” he offered. 

“Thanks, I’ll aim for the balls,” you replied.

Both of you broke into a bit of laughter. Then you said your goodbyes, and OB went back to work on the tempad with the sandwich in his free hand. 

You went about. Wiping tears off your hand. Maybe it was good to do just some office work. Focus on that- yes. It was comforting- to have something to consume your thoughts, your worries. If there was still a heart beating in his lover’s chest or if it stopped. Or if he abandoned your bed for the embrace of someone else. 

But then you heard- Kang was killed. The sacred timeline destroyed. It was an emergency, yet every single agent was running like a chicken with their head chopped off. 

Everything was going into chaos. The sacred timeline was destroyed. Everything was now free and open. Every timeline was shattered and now anything and everything could happen. Ravonna shoved paperwork into your chest.

“Here- Y/N! Take these and get them to HR! Now!” she requested. 

You clasped a file full of paperwork. Then you set off, clutching it to your chest. The view of the tall buildings, statues, and everything always makes your chest soften with its beauty. The bright lights. The sheer size of the place. You let in a deep breath to admire the sight. 

There was a noise. Footsteps. Intuitively, you turned your head for the sound. And the source ran before you.

Loki.

His shirt was a little torn in his rolled-up sleeves and his eyes wide, but it was him. His shirt was sweaty and tight. Buttons askew. His curls wild and free. He was more beautiful than you had ever seen him before. 

He paused, screeching his steps to a halt. You let out a small scream in spite of yourself, dropping the papers to your feet. Down they came in a cascade to the floor. You covered your mouth.

“...Y/N…” he panted out.

“Loki…is it…is it you…”

From the back, there was a voice crying. “There he is! Get him!”’

He looked in a panic and then turned around.

“Y/N- I’m-I’m-I missed you. I love you-but-but-but-”

More charging footsteps. He looked over at the balcony.

“Meet me down there!”

In a heartbeat, he threw himself over the balcony. You ran over.

“Loki- no!” you cried.

You looked down and saw him fall down through the air- but you knew the air would land him. It would be soft. Mobius ran by you- eyes wide. The agents, armed and ready. You peeked as he fell down, down, down. 

Not after- no- not after this time! To lose him again!

You ran. You chased him until you were breathless. Things were falling. TVA agents went after him. But you were steadfast- your heart racing in your ears. What mattered more was him. Timeline be damned- it was already. There was nothing else to do now, that mattered- but him!

You sprinted down the steps. Ran harder and faster. Tears threatening to come out.

He’s back- he’s back- he’s back!

“Loki! Loki I’m here! Don’t you-don’t you dare you fucker- you bastard, I’ll-” you cursed, breathless as you reached the last steps and got out to the floor. 

You looked around the place- searching, searching everywhere. Technology was malfunctioning- sparks flew from computers and screens. Agents everywhere still scattering. Alarms still went on, blasting into your ears. Agents were running all over the place. You looked around-seeing everything. Checking every room as people ran about. As a group gathered to watch the timeline break into pieces on a screen- you didn’t hear him behind you.

You felt two strong arms grab around you and pull you to a corner- a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream. Someone got you! But you could smell his sweat, his scent. Your eyes turned over-it was none other than your beloved Loki. 

“Y/N- here- we have to hide!” he said.

He practically dragged you over to the next room, shutting the door and locking it. It was a smaller, private space. A TVA office room was abandoned. Nothing but desks full of papers and computers but not a soul. Only the giant screen above detailing the sacred timeline’s downfall. Though you still heard alarms. The bustle of people from just outside. So much going on. But it was background noise to you now. You stood your ground, your hands gripping the skirt you wore for work. 

Loki went over and hugged you, your hands went up to embrace him back but were frozen mid-air.

“I needed to help the timeline!” he cried, releasing the hug. 

“You are needed here!” you insisted.

“Kang is at the loose- he has variants! I’ve been betrayed-”

“You think you’re the one betrayed!? What’s this I hear about a woman Loki you’ve been with?!”

“Wait- you mean Sl-”

In a heartbeat, you raised your hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. His head switched to the side, and the click of your hand hitting hard against his face echoed in the empty office. He caught it and nursed it with his hand. Tears fell down you again.

Then he quickly leaned over and grabbed yours. He pulled you to him, forcing you to look him in the eye. The red light of the alarms all over the office- turning red, then the familiar wan yellow of work. It glowed against his white skin, making him seem even more beautiful. 

“Y/N, I swear to you on my mother’s grave-she is no more than a sister to me! We worked together. No more than that. She kept telling me to shut up about you. Because-because I missed you so much and kept telling her how wonderful you were! I thought we could work together- but she didn’t. She did the one thing I begged her not to do- she broke the timeline- And now- now everything’s fallen apart-”

“I waited all this time and not a word from you!” you shouted. You didn’t care if it was petty. If it was being a helicopter girlfriend. You had stuffed your worries inside you for too long, and now it was out in the open. “Loki- I Was scared for you! You could have died and I would have never known!”

He put both his large hands on your face. Looking right at you.

“Y/N- with all of my heart- I am so sorry I vanished.” 

You had no words. He kept speaking to you, soft despite the chaos. Your mouth opened a little, but you had no words. You saw Loki was crying a little too as he continued. 

“If I could write to you- teleport to you- drag myself to your feet and beg for you I would! If I could even teleport to look at you- one tiny glance at you. To say one word to you- I would. It was impossible. But the stakes were high. I had to hurry. I did this because I feared for the safety of every person here- and most of all for you! Do you understand how scared I was when I saw how powerful Kang is!? That his variants could hurt you?! Norns- thank norns. I’m alive to see you again. To see you, hear your voice, touch you- Y/N, you’re safe-that is all I want. For you to be safe. Can you forgive me?”

You raised a hand to touch his.

“Loki, I…I…I’m so sorry I yelled-I…I forgive y-”

You never finished. His lips cracked onto yours.

 He groaned and you settled into it. He was needy- desperate. Too long, too long. You had forgotten how much his lips, his touch made you weak and craving more every time. His hands all over you. He turned you around, so you felt his erection against your covered ass. So he could kiss you, touch his hands over your breasts. He was kissing every bit of your neck he could, almost like biting into you- devouring and savoring you all over again like the first night you joined. He pressed his hips a little further so you could feel his hardening and you let out a gasp.

“Hel, do you feel what you do to me-even now-they’re all out to prune me again, to catch me, and all I want is your sweet warmth inside me-”

There was a slight explosion upstairs. The building shuddered. He kissed you further. Grinding a little into your hips. You felt your own panties suddenly dampen as if you stepped in a lake. You let out a gasp. He kept kissing you- his hands all over your nice, professional blouse and dress. Fingers wide to touch you, memorize you again. You turned around tugging at him-kissing him so much. Feeling his holster on his back-running a hand through his soft, beautiful curls you loved so much.

“Y/N-Y/N please-please-take me inside you- now-It’s been too long-”

“Yes- Yes, I will,” you voiced.  

The floor was shaking a little, there was a rumble like a small earthquake. People’s desk decorations, plants, and photos, were beginning to wobble if not fall over. He gathered your skirt up.

“Quick- be quick darling-they’re looking for me. We don’t have time,” Loki rasped.

He pulled you down. Holding you so that he laid down and you were on top. You clutched at his buttons. Hands shaking, ripping them apart- displaying his body, so pale, muscled, beautiful. His large hands went up to your hems, your tights. He grabbed your legs so hard- so close to him. Never to leave. Fingers digging into your skin. 

“Gods- my beautiful, desperate goddess- come on, dear- just spread your legs-now- hurry-”

You could hardly breathe as he took your skirt and bunched it to your hips. Exposing you to him. You began to grind on him- keeping yourself in the heat of your desire for him. And his for you, nearly ripping it further. He then took his hands over your breasts, your shirt-ripping buttons that came off-they splattered on the floor. Your chest exposed like his.  He kissed and touched your breast. Then in a split second, his hands went to your soaking panties.

“Nrgh- this- now this is what I need-no-no time- forgive me-again-”

 He then moved his hands up and his strong arms flexed as he ripped your panties in half.t- ripping so that your pussy was out and exposed. With trembling fingers, you went down to his pants. Quickly unbuttoning it. He adjusted his hips so that he was out.  He adjusted himself quickly, so his cock came free- so large and hard.

“Darling-just-just let me- let me-here-” he breathed out. In a second, he pushed your hips down so he sheathed inside you. You let out a gasp- he fit well- already all of him in. 

You spread your legs and got on him. Immediately setting at a pace. Fast, desperate. There was another shudder and papers flew. He began to thrust. Your breasts bounced in turn- it was hitting the right spot, a deep spot. So quick and deep, you were letting out moans. But with the alarms and cacophony of sounds you blended in. 

“L-L-Loki-I-I-” you breathed out.

He thrust thrust thrust so fast in you- it was so out of control. You were losing your breath. Another sound of electric and you let out a moan. You took a trembling hand. You found one of his daggers, despite the pounding into your bouncing body. You took it out-holding the blade to his throat, still thrusting. 

“If-If you ever- ever cheat on me I will-I’ll kill the both of you!” you hissed. 

He only smiled as he felt the blade.

“Yes- Y/N- to be killed by-by-fuck- you. Even- Even a god would want to die like that.”

He then gripped your arm and tipped it around so that it was thrown out of your hands onto the floor. Then he gripped your hips, thrusting still at that pace. Keeping you there. His hands move to feel your skin, memorize you.

“Yes-yes-Yes there-there, sweet girl- you’ve missed this cock- I’ve missed this sweet pussy of yours-wet and desperate-”

He groaned as he thrust into you. Your breasts in your bra bouncing, almost coming out. You reached a hand down- feeling his shoulders- his exposed chest with the little hairs. His hand reached down. Your clit was swollen and ready. He began to play with it- meeting the wild, desperate pace of his thrusting. Papers flew from the desk over the floor. 

“Lo-Loki I- ah! Yes, I- ah- fuck-just-just keep…keep going yes-”

He groaned, his neck straining-

“Yes- little goddess here- I-do -I-I I- fuck-what about you and those men at the TVA-shit-leering at you- can they-nrgh- give you pleasure- no other agent- no other person- can- can dare-dare touch you-you’re mine, all mine-none can fuck you here-yes- keep-dammit-dammit- just cum, cum, my dear-just-”

He pounded you into a fury- you bounced around, so much it was getting too much, your pleasure going up, you could feel it building- you gripped onto his shoulders, feeling everything about to clench. Rising up, up, as wild as the alarms blaring around you. 

‘Yes-Yes-Loki- I’m-I’m goingtocumI’mgoingto-”

Your voice kept hitching up high, then higher. Like little gasps, almost small screams- the near release. He kept at his pace.

“Yes- yes, my dear- go-go I’m about to-yes-go with me darling- cum now, cum sweet gril-Cum, dammit-CUM!”

With a high gasp, it broke on you. Everything in your muscles released. You got dizzy. You felt his own cum shoot out inside you. Your breath was held and you felt him relax beneath you. He pulled out of you.

 At once he pulled himself up, touching your forehead. All the noise had gone- there was just the two of you now. Not wanting one bit of you apart.  

“Y/N- I promise. Nothing is going to keep my little pet away from me. Whatever happens now- we face it together.”

You nodded, nuzzling into him. It seemed the panic had settled. The alarms and lights went back to silent normalcy. Even with the chatter and footsteps, here in the little office, things seemed peaceful.

“Loki- I understand. You have great, important things. You’re doing the right thing- but…if I can be with you- if there is anything I can do to help- I’ll do it.”

“I love you so much- and I’ve missed you so much, my Y/N.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied. 

Getting up, you helped each other readjust your clothes. Button back each other’s shirts. He kissed you again and you both hurried out clutching hands. You didn’t know what would happen next, but his hand was in yours. That was all you needed for now. 

[aza-writes]

Morning Affirmations

Lip Gallagher x female!reader

Requested: no

Summary: Lip walks in on his girlfriend singing to the younger kids while she gets them ready for the day. Takes place in season 4 after Liam gets home from the hospital

Warnings: few curse words, mentions of drug use (Fiona in jail) but overall, it’s just tons of FLUFF

A/N: inspired by “I love my body” by @mothermoon on TikTok. Might rewrite something similar for dad!lip, lmk what you think. Got bored before lab and wrote this

The floorboards creaked under every step Lip took to get down to the kitchen. He wasn’t too concerned with anything too wrapped up in his mind until two sweet voices pull him out.

“I love my body from my…” 

“Head to my toes.” 

Liam’s voice was hard to hear, even in the quietness of the unusually empty Gallagher house. Everyone was already at school or wherever they ran off to today—leaving Lip home alone to take care of some things. 

Liam has only been home from the hospital for two days, leaving Lip and the rest of the family still scrambling without Fiona running the show. Lip had school off today, some random college holiday that didn’t make sense for a lot of people, but they took it anyway. 

Lip had been out of bed since 5 that morning, unsure if it was considered a late night or an early morning due to the fact he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours the night before. His mind was going a million miles an hour, mixed with him worrying himself sick about Liam and going to check on him every thirty minutes. Every time he would get up from his bed, y/n would sit up, too. Her concerned look was always dismissed with a quick “go back to sleep” or “I’ll be back soon” from Lip. The “soon” in question was around five to ten minutes of Lip just sitting in front of Liam’s bed, watching his chest rise and fall. 

Y/n stayed up and waited for Lip the first few times, but soon enough her eyes got too heavy for her to ignore. Even with the extra sleep, caffeine would be her best friend today. 

Lip’s mind was still groggy as he trudged down the stairs, stress and sleep deprivation felt like chains were strapped to the back of his ankles. He barely made out the words y/n and Liam were exchanging. 

“I love my face…” She lingered for a second, allowing Liam to think about the next verse. She smiles and continued on. “My-” 

“Eyes, my mouth my nose.” Lip could help but smile at the sight of Liam touching every body part mentioned. He clearly knew this song, yet Lip couldn’t think of any of the words. When ever you would sing it to one of his younger siblings, all he could do was hear your voice. The kindergarten-teacher-like tone was enough for him to abandon all of his thoughts and focus on you. 

“I like the way I look when I look in the mirror.” Liam didn’t have to wait for y/n this time, he sang it with her. Their voices both were quiet, almost scared to wake anyone up, but the house stayed quiet. It was just those three in that house, the outside world didn’t matter. 

“I stand a little closer just to see a little clearer.” Both of their smiles were beaming. Liam giggling at y/n’s little tickles all over his belly and neck. Lip’s grew too. Y/n was so amazing with the kids, Lip could’ve sworn it as always been this way. Y/n and Lip, Lip and y/n. They belonged together. 

Everyone in his family loved her. Carl made her a gift out of melted spoons and forks, Debbie demands they have a girls day at least once a month. Shit, even Frank called her “one of the good ones.” Technically it was after she downed a shot of vodka without even wincing, but he still liked her non the less. 

Y/n turns around smiling, it only growing when she finally sees Lip. 

“Good morning babe.” 

“Morning babe!” Liam repeats immediatly, causing Lip and y/n to giggle with him. 

Lip pours two cups of coffe before heading to the kitchen table. “Good morning to you.” He sets the coffe right in front of y/n while kissing her cheek. He carefully set his down too and kissed Liams cheek. “Good morning little man.” 

[wadewnstonwilson]

pumpkin spice & profanity;

summary: in a cozy coffee shop filled with the warmth of autumn, Logan Howlett’s quiet coffee run takes an unexpected turn when he meets Wade Wilson, a loud, crass, and endearing stranger sporting a "Spooky Season" hoodie. despite Wade’s relentless swearing and over-the-top flirting, Logan finds himself charmed by his energy.

word count: 1.1k

suggestion by @creativijay!

The smell of pumpkin spice and roasted coffee beans mingled in the air as Logan Howlett pushed open the door to a small coffee shop, a bell tinkling above his head as he stepped inside. Outside, fall was in full swing: golden leaves scattered across the sidewalks, a crisp chill hung in the air, and pumpkins were propped in various places, creating a warm, festive atmosphere. Logan had never been one for pumpkin spice or seasonal hype, but he couldn’t deny he liked the smell. Besides, it wasn’t like he was here for the décor; he just wanted his coffee—black, strong, and preferably scalding.

As he moved up the line, he tugged his jacket closer, catching a glance of his reflection in the glass display case. He looked scruffy as always, his stubble a little rougher than usual, his hair sticking up in wild tufts he hadn’t bothered to smooth down. But if anything, it added to the intimidating air he carried, which was probably why he usually didn’t have to worry about anyone striking up a conversation.

“Large black coffee,” he grumbled when it was his turn. The barista nodded, looking slightly intimidated as she keyed in his order.

Just as he was paying, Logan’s ears picked up a familiar sound: swearing. A constant stream of it, in fact, laced with occasional snorts and chuckles, coming from a guy at the end of the counter.

Logan turned, trying not to look obvious, and his gaze landed on the man causing the racket. He had on a beanie that read *Spooky Season* in a horribly ironic Comic Sans font. The beanie matched a hoodie emblazoned with the same words and font, and as the guy shifted, Logan noted that he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as if he had too much energy and nowhere to put it.

“Oh, come on! I swear if this machine screws up my order one more time, I’m gonna come back here with a chainsaw and reenact Texas Chainsaw Massacre in the name of every caffeine-deprived citizen out there!” The guy’s voice was loud enough for most of the shop to hear, and several customers shot him dirty looks. He, however, was oblivious—or just didn’t care.

Logan found himself smirking, even as he tried to keep his expression impassive. It wasn’t every day he saw someone go off on a coffee machine, and there was something oddly endearing about the guy’s sheer volume and lack of shame.

Just then, the barista handed Logan his coffee, and as he turned to find a seat, he realized the guy had caught him looking. With a quick, almost mischievous grin, the stranger sidled up to him, coffee in hand.

“Hey there, tough guy. Didn’t peg you for the seasonal coffee type,” he said with a lopsided smile that revealed a glimpse of his teeth. His voice was smooth but laced with a wicked edge, like he knew he was about to say something offensive and couldn’t wait.

Logan grunted. “I’m not. Just here for a black coffee.” He gestured with his cup, arching an eyebrow as if to dare the guy to say something about it.

“Oh, look at you, all rugged and classic. Black coffee, huh?” The stranger snorted. “Sounds like my high school gym teacher. Guy was a real hardass—smelled like wet dog, too. Hopefully, you don’t have the same cologne.”

Logan couldn’t help it; he chuckled. The guy’s energy was contagious, and it had been a while since he’d met someone so… vibrant. And, frankly, ridiculous.

“Yeah? Didn’t realize my coffee order was up for public scrutiny,” Logan replied, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

“Oh, everything’s up for public scrutiny,” the stranger said with a grin. “You look like you walked out of a lumberjack calendar—seriously, how do you even get your hair like that? Do you roll around on a carpet first thing in the morning, or is it natural?”

Logan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “What’s it to you?”

The stranger shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, just appreciating the view. Don’t get your plaid in a twist.”

“Didn’t catch your name,” Logan said, leaning back against the counter, intrigued despite himself.

“Oh, I didn’t throw it,” the stranger said, extending a hand. “But since you asked so nicely, the name’s Wade. Wade Wilson, professional caffeine addict and part-time lover of all things spooky.” He gestured to his hoodie with a flourish, giving Logan an exaggerated wink.

Logan blinked, taken aback by the guy’s brashness but unable to suppress a smirk. “Logan.”

Wade’s eyes lit up as he clasped Logan’s hand, giving it a shake that was a little too enthusiastic. “Logan, huh? Like the Wolverine? Badass name.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Logan muttered, feeling an odd warmth under Wade’s intense gaze. The guy was practically buzzing with energy, and it was both exasperating and oddly charming.

“So, Logan,” Wade continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “what do you say we skip the awkward part where we pretend like we’re not totally into each other and just grab dinner sometime?”

Logan froze, not expecting Wade to be so forward. A faint flush crept up his cheeks as he stammered, “Are you… are you asking me out?”

“Damn right I am!” Wade said, utterly unfazed. “And trust me, you’d be lucky to have a date with me. I come with terrible jokes, relentless flirting, and, if you’re lucky, I might even buy you a coffee.”

Logan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “A little forward, don’t you think?”

Wade shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, life’s short, Peanut. You don’t think I came out of the womb this charming, do you? Had to work at it. And I’m not one to waste time.”

Logan’s lips twitched. There was something about Wade’s cocky grin, the way his face lit up when he talked, that was infectious. For the first time in a long time, Logan felt his guard slipping. He glanced down at his coffee, debating. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

“All right, Wade,” he said, surprising himself. “You got yourself a dinner.”

Wade’s grin widened, if that was even possible, and he pumped a fist in the air like he’d just won the lottery. “Hell yeah! All right, so here’s the plan. I pick you up at six, we go somewhere semi-classy, and I promise I’ll only make, like, five inappropriate jokes. Sound good?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Better make it three.”

“Oh, you’re killing me, Logan! Three? That’s like… child’s play!” Wade groaned dramatically, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“See you at six,” Logan said, turning toward the door before he could change his mind. As he walked out, he heard Wade shouting after him.

“Wear something cozy! I’m thinking plaid. Gotta stay on-brand!”

Logan chuckled as he stepped into the crisp autumn air, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe he’d finally met his match in Wade Wilson.

[waldau-archived]

can i please request a drabble with vernon + prompt 29 ? i love ur writing SO much

“Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.” + vernon

thank you anon 💞!!! i need a vernon so bad it's not funny. also this is set in a library, which i realized wasn't clear from the blurb except for the “other people” line.

leaving your work till the night before the test is never a good idea. maybe it won’t be that bad if you fail. you could just retake the test afterwards if it meant you could get some sleep now.

a flick to your forehead pulls you out of your thoughts. “ow,” you say, even though it didn’t hurt much. vernon rolls his eyes and leans forward to kiss it better.

“i’m staying up to help you study, and that’s how you repay me?”

“what?”

“you just said you’d consider failing in this test if it meant you’d sleep better.”

oh. you didn’t realize you’d said it out loud. “um. sorry?”

vernon gives you an unimpressed look. “if it’s that bad we could just take a break for a while before getting back to it.”

one thing you love about being with vernon is that ever since you started dating, everything includes the two of you. it’s always we, always us.

we could go check out that cafe when you’re free. that’s our inside joke, why would they understand? it’s our problem, so don’t be stressed, okay?

even now. vernon could have been sleeping, and here he is, staying up with you to help you study a subject that’s not even his.

“sorry,” you mumble trying to make sense of the words in the book in front of you.

“shh. i know it’s not easy, but you got this. i wouldn’t be here with you if i didn’t think you could finish it.” he always says the nicest things, and he always means them. you sit up a bit straighter.

“tell me why we’re not having coffee right now?”

“because there’s no place on our campus selling caffeine at this hour.”

“that’s a lie. what about the cafe halfway between here and your dorm?”

“do you really want to go out this late at night? in the cold?”

you sigh and slump against vernon. he throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “look, if you really need it to stay awake, i can go get it for you. or we could call it a night, and i’ll wake you up tomorrow morning so you can cram whatever you need before the test. your call.”

maybe you’re sleep deprived, but the way he lays out your options in front of you is so hot. a snort escapes you at that thought; you know what choice you’re going to make. after you thank your boyfriend with a kiss.

you lean forward on the table, head resting on a hand, and look at him. he’s wearing his beanie, and if you take it off and mess with his hair, he won’t say anything. even if you’re surrounded by other people. and his eyes are brown. so brown. he’s…

“so pretty,” you murmur, leaning forward to give him a kiss. he does the same, and you can see his eyes trained on your lips, but before you can actually kiss him, your hand slips and your head falls against the table with a thunk.

“ow,” you mumble, in genuine pain this time. vernon laughs softly and rubs your head.

“i’ll kiss you after you get some sleep, okay? like a good luck charm.”

“that’s a hard bargain.”

“you love me.”

“so do you.”

“of course i do. let me walk you back to your dorm now?”

[constantcrisis19]

Vow Renewal

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I changed the titles around because it seemed to fit better this way, so this is a new story in the married series. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,026

Main Page

You woke up to the sound of Ghost’s alarm, a groan of protest bubbling up and out of your mouth as you reluctantly rolled off of Ghost in order to blindly throw an arm out, smacking your hand against the buttons on the top of the alarm clock at random until the annoying beeping abruptly cut off. 

With the horrid noise silenced, you took the opportunity to unceremoniously face-plant into the nearest pillow with a low grumble of complaint since you had never been much of a morning person.

Ghost usually had far less trouble getting up at the ass crack of dawn, the bastard.

While you were more or less wallowing in your misery, Ghost’s bottomless brown eyes had half-opened when you’d moved away from him, the man looking just as exhausted and worn out as he had the day before. 

Although that was only to be expected considering that the two of you had finally arrived back at base late in the evening after a particularly stressful and dangerous mission that had taken a week and a half to successfully complete.

“I know, love.” Ghost mumbled groggily as he rolled over to look at you with creased brows, reaching out to gently but firmly lay a warm, calloused hand on your lower back as he shifted across the bed in order to lazily rub his cheek against your shoulder in a affectionate nuzzle that reminded you of something a cat would do.

“Ugh… I need no less than an entire pot of coffee before I even think about being functional today.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow that your face was buried in. It was a half-hearted attempt to smother yourself at best, but the notion of eternal slumber was starting to seem pretty damn tempting to your sleep-deprived self the longer that you laid there and stewed in your woe.

“Can’t understand you.” Ghost grunted, sounding a bit more awake but no less tired, and the gravel in his voice gave you the surge of motivation you needed to turn your head and squint at him from over your shoulder. Ghost was hovering above you like an omen of death, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes that were somehow still razor sharp despite how utterly fatigued he looked.

“Coffee.” You said simply because you figured that pretty much summed up your earlier statement, especially since your blunt bid for caffeine in the form of delicious coffee was punctuated by the fact that you could hardly keep your eyes open.

“Fine.” Ghost said with a heavy, long-suffering sigh that was normally only reserved for you and a certain energetic Scotsman before his hand slid off of your back and he sat up, stretching attractively with a low grunt of satisfaction when his spine cracked and popped in several places. 

He looked horribly stiff and achy, but he still threw the covers back in preparation to leave the bed since you had made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning that you could use a cup of coffee to help you find the energy to drag yourself into a modicum of order.

The fact of the matter was, in Ghost’s fractured mind, your needs and wants would always come before his own because his first priority in any and all given situations the two of you might find yourselves in was to make sure you were safe and that you wanted for nothing. Which was not exactly a stellar example of a healthy mindset, but you were working on teaching Ghost that he was allowed to let you take care of him too, which was an ongoing battle.

“Simon.” You called, your hand sliding over the bed to catch his wrist before he could get up, the man obediently pausing even though his thighs were tensed in an aborted attempt to stand and holding that position had to be hell on his sore muscles. He stiffly turned to look at you, his brows furrowed in a wordless question as his gaze searched your face.

“Don’t go.” You said quietly as you gently tugged on him, silently beckoning him closer, and Ghost seemed to soften at your plea for him to stay. He went along with your guiding touch easily, twisting around and dropping onto all fours in order to prowl over to you like some great beast. 

Ghost even laid down on his back without resistance when you directed him to do so, the man wrapping one of his arms around you and running his thumb across your shoulder absentmindedly after you bonelessly sprawled out on top of him.

“Better?” Ghost asked dryly, although there was an undeniable undercurrent of warmth in his otherwise bland tone.

“Yeah.” You mumbled as your eyes fluttered shut, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to breathe him in. His familiar and soothing scent of gunpowder, cardamom, strong English breakfast tea, and tobacco made you melt into him, as if you and Ghost could somehow fuse into a singular entity instead of remaining two halves of a whole, forever cursed to walk in separate bodies.

“You know, you make a great mattress.” You mused with the beginnings of a smile curling onto your lips, adjusting your head so you could prop your chin up on Ghost’s chest. “But you’re an even better pillow with these glorious man-titties of yours providing all this cushioning.” You snorted, planting a kiss that was equal parts playful and teasing in the valley between his pecs with a wolfish grin.

“You’re a fuckin’ slag.” Ghost muttered without any heat, the lackluster attempt to insult you completely ruined when the corner of his scarred lips quirked into a hint of a smile for a split second before his expression smoothed back into his typical stoic detachment.

“Don't try anything, I'm not in the mood.” Ghost added in a decidedly disinterested tone, though his hand moved from your shoulder to your back in order to start running his palm up and down the length of your spine in a repetitive motion that was so tender that you swore that your heart actually skipped a beat.

"You better make it up to me later then, seeing as I'm exercising self-control and all.” You said slyly as you braced your hands against the bed on either side of his torso, leaning forward to kiss Ghost with tongue. 

The wet and messy kiss drew a low sound of pleasure out of him as he responded by matching your enthusiasm and passion, his own tongue twisting and pushing against yours in a half-hearted battle for dominance.

And, when Ghost’s lips finally broke away from yours, his breathing was heavier. Although, he didn’t go all that far from you considering that your noses were still touching. His hooded gaze darted from your spit-slick mouth to your eyes a few times before he surged up to kiss you again like he just couldn’t help himself, though this particular snog came across as far less lewd and more worshipful.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't." Ghost murmured with a barely there smirk when he eventually separated his mouth from yours for a second time, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment for your scrambled brain to make the connection between what he had just said to your earlier comment about getting intimate.

“You’re stone cold, Simon.” You lamented dramatically, flopping back down onto his chest with a huff. Ghost grunted when you landed, probably knocking the wind out of him with the sudden and unexpected addition of your full weight dropping onto him without warning. “Worst husband ever. I want a refund.” You muttered as you tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, mostly to hide your smile because you were trying to be miffed about his smug reply to your blatant flirting.

“Good luck returning me when there’s no receipt, love.” Ghost deadpanned, though there was a thread of amusement in his tone.

“My ring is my receipt.” You retorted without missing a beat, tilting your head to the side in order to brave a peek at him, fighting a smile when you witnessed the moment that his jaw clenched in a telling manner. You didn’t even have to see his face to know that he wasn’t happy about your casual remark.

“I won’t be responsible for what happens if you ever try to give that ring back to me.” Ghost’s voice was a low, guttural rumble that reverberated through his chest and directly into your body seeing as you were all but plastered to his front. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end in an instinctive response to the threatening sound, though you weren’t actually all that intimidated despite what your hindbrain had to say about hearing such a menacing sound so close to your person.

“Oh, how ominous.” You hummed, amused despite yourself because Ghost was such a possessive guard dog, circling you with raised hackles as he gnashed his teeth at anyone who showed so much as a modicum of sexual or romantic interest in you. “Reminds me of when you hacked a terrorist's limbs off because she took your ring and threatened to melt it down before pouring the molten metal down your throat.”

“No one touches my things.” Ghost said darkly, and the protective way that his hand traveled up your back in order to cup the nape of your neck while his other arm curled tightly around your waist indicated that he wasn’t just referring to his ring.

“Like a dog with a bone.” You chuckled with a hopelessly fond smile, trailing your knuckles over his thigh to soothe him.

“More than a dog, love.” Ghost spoke in a severe voice that would make you uneasy had it been anyone else using such an unsettling tone in your vicinity. “I’m a beast hiding in the shadows, waiting to tear apart anything that might threaten you. I’m the darkness to your light, the sentinel that watches your back, the strength that holds you up when you buckle. I’m a shapeshifter, I become whatever you need me to be.”

It was probably the most you had heard him say in one go for as long as you had known him, he was a man of few words after all. He only spoke when there was something constructive or important that needed to be said, when he felt that a devil’s advocate was needed.

But what he had just said to you was nothing but a blatant declaration of his love, of his unwavering devotion.

"Fucking hell, Simon. If I hadn't already married you, I'd get down on one knee right now." You said breathlessly, rearing up onto your arms in order to stare down at Ghost with wide eyes, one of your hands raising up off the bed to gently cup his cheek. You took pleasure in the way that Ghost’s unfairly blond lashes fluttered as he leaned into your touch like a man starved, openly basking in your warmth.

"Be my beast, be my darkness, be my sentinel, be my strength. But let me be the only one who can bring you to heel, let me be the light you need when the darkness you lurk in threatens to swallow you, let me be the voice that tells your demons to back the fuck off before I declare war. Let me be your safe place." You whispered, soft and reverent.

“Till death do us part.” Ghost stated with a steadfast conviction, spoken with such unwavering certainty that a lump of emotion formed in your throat. There were no words in your vocabulary that could possibly convey how not even death would keep you from him, how you would come back to him again and again in any and all lifetimes that you shared.

Fortunately, it seemed that you didn’t have to say anything at all because Ghost had heard it, he had heard all that you couldn’t manage to say and returned the sentiment in the form of leaning up to rest his forehead against yours.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Art of Failing [1]

Werewolf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, Vampire!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Warnings: violence and mild gore, mentions of blood and injures, reader is described as active and able to fight, eventual smut, loss of a child, angst to fluff, more warnings to come based on individual chapters

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, self doubt, mentions of blood

Word Count: 10,360

Summary: The Division of Mythological Affairs was created to protect and serve the supernatural community while keeping the knowledge of their existence a secret. You hoped to become an Agent of the DMA like your mother before you. Just as your dream begins to fall apart at the seams, you stumble across a missing persons report that could change everything. You are desperate to solve the case, to prove your ability, and you find yourself with unlikely allies⏤ a werewolf running from his pack and a vampire shunned from his coven. The stakes are high, lives are at risk, and success hinges on the three of you learning to work together.

[a/n: it's here!! i'm so excited to officially share this because it was so much fun to write and i'm even more excited to show y'all the rest]

MIDDAY MADNESS

"failure does not mean your life is over."

Every workplace had that one employee who was deemed irreplaceable. 

The employee who showed up early, went the extra mile, and made the lives of those around them easier. The one who had a passion for their work⏤ who was born to do what they do with a smile on their face. You were that employee. Without you, everything would collapse into chaos and madness. Mayhem would fill your 8-storied workplace to the brim until it was spilling out into the unsuspecting streets of Austin, Texas. Riots would break out. Fire would engulf the city. The world would never know peace. Without you⏤

“Hey, coffee girl!” The sharp, angry voice startled you and the precariously stacked drinks in your hands nearly toppled over. You readjusted your hold on the carriers with a breathy sigh. “Where the hell is my cappuccino?” 

Perhaps calling yourself the most irreplaceable employee here was a bit of a stretch. You were important though. Your job was vital. If it weren’t for you then your co-workers would be caffeine deprived which would lead to headaches which would then lead to mistakes and errors in paperwork which would, eventually and inevitably, lead to worldwide destruction somewhere down the line. You were needed here. You were vital and a necessity. At least, that’s what you told yourself over and over in the form of a mental mantra. It was either that or get caught in the abysmal, black hole your life seemed to be right now.

“Here you go, sir.” You angled the carrier so he could scoop up the cup on the far left. The man yanked his cup away hastily, nearly knocking over the other drinks again, and rushed away without even so much as a ‘thank you’. You pressed your lips together in annoyance.

You were vital. You were vital. You were vital.

With a brief pause to piece your patience back together, you pasted on a broad smile and began to continue your morning deliveries. For two years, you had been taking coffee and lunch orders, scheduling meetings, running errands, and doing basically every other busy work task put on your plate. It was exhausting, both mentally and emotionally, but it was the price to pay. You wouldn't take this kind of treatment anywhere else and the only reason you still put up with it was because it was just a stepping stone.

Today you were a glorified assistant.

Tomorrow you would be an Agent.

An Agent of the Division of Mythological Affairs.

It was a title not many held and was exclusive for a number of reasons. The DMA was established decades ago to police and protect the supernatural community. It was the responsibility and duty of the DMA to keep the peace amongst the community while also keeping said community secret from the rest of humanity. Knowing that the monsters of myth and legend were real was privileged information. The only reason you were clued in was because of your mother. She had been an Agent herself years ago and you grew up surrounded by supernatural forces. Hell, your childhood best friend was a forest nymph. 

As you grew older, you grew more passionate about the world you were blessed to know and the dream to walk in your mother’s footsteps took root. You trained and you studied, desperate to make the world a better place, and thus far all you had succeeded in was mastering the skill of carrying four drink carriers without dropping them.

After delivering the final cup of coffee, you made your way up to the eighth floor. There was about fifteen minutes before you had to get down to the lobby for your next task of the day, and you planned to spend it begging. You greeted familiar faces as you passed them. The separation of labor could be seen in the change of clothes as you got to the higher floors. Everyone you passed now were dressed in nice and expensive suits. It was the upper levels that housed the policy makers⏤ more politician than soldier. 

The eighth floor was the nicest of them all with open windows that let in natural light. There were no ugly cubicles littering the bulk of it. Instead, modern and sleek furniture sat around the space and private offices were housed here. 

“Hey, have you seen Captain Roberts?” You asked Stacey, one of the secretaries you saw in meetings every once in a while, and she didn’t even lift her eyes up from the magazine she was flipping through. She just pointed to the right towards a hall of offices. You mumbled a thanks and continued on. There were a few different Captains who worked in this sector of the DMA, but Captain Roberts was in charge of the Agents and Analysts you worked with most often.

You were halfway down the hall when an unfamiliar, armored figure stepped out of the conference room to leave. Mandalorian. Your pace stuttered in shock as you stared wide eyed at the intimidating man stalking toward you. There were too many vampire covens to count, but a few were infamous enough to merit memorizing.

The Mandalorians were one of them.

Their signature being the impenetrable armor they wore at all times⏤ faces they never revealed to anyone. It wasn’t unusual to see a Mandalorian or two wandering around the building. They occasionally worked contracts with the DMA picking up on bounties. Not all DMA sanctioned bounty hunters were Mandalorian, but the best undoubtedly were. You didn’t recognize this one though.

His all silver armor was haunting and his gait spoke to strength and skill. He was close enough now that you could see your wide, staring eyes in the reflection of his visor, and you forced yourself to snap your gaze to the floor as you passed. The air was tense around him, it followed him like a dark cloud, and his heavy boots stormed past you without pause. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder to watch him a second more. His worn out cloak whipped around him at the pace he marched out with and a few suited men practically leapt out of his way to avoid being in his path. 

You let out a low whistle and turned back towards the conference room he had just left. Being on the radar of a Mandalorian had to be a fate worse than death, and you pitied whoever had pissed off that one. Outside the conference room door, you adjusted your work blazer and took a steadying breath. You were vital, this organization was lucky to have you, and you would be an Agent if it were the last thing you did. You rapped your knuckles against the door and waited until a deep voice called out for you to enter. 

Inside the room were three others. They sat at an elongated conference table centered in the room with their backs to Austin street views out the floor to ceiling windows. On the wall across from the windows were large screens designed for calls and it looked like one had just ended. Of the three people in the room, you only recognized one. Captain Roberts, a gruff man in his late sixties, stood at the head of the table with a few folders and papers spread out in front of him. He was built like a grizzly bear and had the temperament of one as well. The red of his beard was graying and you still hadn’t gotten used to his bald head quite yet.  He used to have hair thick and long enough to braid, but when his hair started to recede he chose instead to just lose it all.

“If that’s all, I have other matters to attend to.” Captain Roberts cleared his throat and motioned toward you. It was a dismissal on his part, and you stepped closer while the two other suited individuals packed up their belongings to leave. The second they were out of sight, Roberts groaned. “Perfect timing, kid. I hate dealing with Olympus representatives.”

Your jaw fell open and you pointed to the door, “Those were…” You had never met the souls responsible for carrying the messages and words of the gods and goddesses back down to Earth. “Really?”

“Try not to look so excited. The gods are dicks and they live to make my job more difficult.”

“You say that about everybody.” You replied and wandered over to stand by him. Your eyes darted down to the papers scattered on the table. It looked like a missing person report. “I saw a Mandalorian in here earlier.” The report looked like it was talking about a child. You narrowed your eyes and pulled it closer. The Mandalorian was reporting his own missing child. A young boy who had disappeared overnight. “Why were you meeting with a Mandalorian and Olympus representatives over a missing kid?”

Roberts snatched away the reports to tuck them into a folder with a chastising glare. “I didn’t. I was meeting with the representatives when the Mandalorian burst in. Kind of like you did.”

“You were happy with my interruption a few seconds ago.” You argued. Roberts gave you a tired glare, and you nodded toward the folders in his hands. “You know I was talking to Hannah downstairs a few days ago and she was telling me that the number of missing kids has skyrocketed this last month in comparison to previous months.”

Roberts grunted, “What have I told you about being nosy?”

“Maybe I could help.” You offered. “I could⏤” Roberts scoffed out your name with a shake of his head and made a beeline for the door. You scrambled after him. “Roberts, come on. Please.” 

“You came all this way up to beg me about a missing persons case?”

“Well, I actually came to beg you about applying for the Agent qualifications exam, but I’m not picky about what I beg for. I’ll take what I can get.”

“No.”

“Roberts⏤”

“I said, no.”

You locked your jaw in annoyance as you both climbed into the elevator. In order to sign up for the qualifications exam you needed the approval of a Captain. It seemed no matter how many times you begged Roberts to write you the letter of recommendation allowing you to sit for the test, he always had some excuse to say no. Any Captain’s letter would do the job and you could technically find another to badger about this, but you were the stubborn kind. Captain Roberts had been the one to qualify your mother, and you wanted him to be the one to qualify you too. 

“If you just gave me a chance,” You snapped, “I could do it.”

“We’re not getting into this again.”

“Give me a real reason then!”

Roberts glared at you with a look that would have anyone else cowering or running for the hills. You could see beyond the anger and frustration. Beyond the huff and glowering. Underneath all the rough Captain bravado was someone who cared, but right now it was infuriating. Roberts rubbed his bald head and shook it with disdain, “Your mother wouldn’t want you risking your life like she did.” It felt like your heart had stopped in your chest. Of all the excuses he had plied you with in the past this was the first time he used your mother as one. “She would want better for you.”

“Don’t.” You whispered.

“You’re a bright girl. You say the word and I can get you a job in research. You would be a hell of an Analyst⏤”

“I don’t want to be an Analyst! I want to be⏤” 

The elevator doors dinged open and you both grew silent. A small group shuffled onto the elevator making small talk. You stood stiff and straight, arms crossed over your chest, while Roberts pouted on his side of the elevator as well. Three floors down and the group dispersed leaving you alone with the Captain once more.

“You can do better than this, kid.” Roberts said firmly. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“This. This is what I want for my life.” You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze again. You just stared at the numbers at the top of the elevator door, each lighting up as you got closer and closer to the ground floor. “I just wanna help people like mom did.”

“There are other ways to do that.”

The elevator reached the bottom floor and you finally turned to Roberts, “Are you going to approve me for the exam or not?”

Roberts held your gaze for a moment, sadness seeping into his blue eyes, and he sighed, “No. No, I’m not.”

You bobbed your head once, biting back the burning threat of tears prickling at your eyes, and you hurried out of the elevator. Roberts called out after you, making others near the elevator doors glance in your direction, but you didn’t pause in your stride. 

There was a small cubicle, amongst a sea of others, down a hall connected from the lobby that you called your own. It was tiny, just big enough to house a computer and a bit of desk space for you to stack busy work all over, but it was yours. The cubicle wall was decorated with pictures of friends, family, and a spattering of Halloween decorations you had put up for the upcoming holiday.

You dropped into the seat, Roberts’ denial ringing in your ears, and your eyes landed on one photo in particular. It was your high school graduation and your mother had her arms wrapped around you proudly as you both beamed at the camera. The sight of it made your stomach turn and without thought you tugged it off the wall where it hung to stick in a drawer. Your mother was a hero who changed so many lives, and you could only wonder what she would think if you now⏤ sitting at a cubicle buried in busy work and covered in coffee stains.

You had buried yourself in errands and paperwork to distract from the bitter rejection of Captain Roberts. The small voice at the back of your mind whispered that all you had to do was seek out a separate Captain for your letter of recommendation. You knew for a fact that the Captain who worked the neighboring district handed out letters like candy. They had the mindset that the test would weed out the ones who didn’t deserve to be there, and you were confident you could pass. It was a quick and easy solution, but it felt too much like cheating in your eyes. 

A part of you wished you could kick your pride to the curb. A dream was a dream, right? It didn’t matter how you got there as long as you got there. You blew out an irritated breath of air and leaned back in your seat to stretch your spine. No matter how many times you repeated those words in your head they didn’t seem to stick. 

“Hey, pumpkin.” A voice drawled from behind you, and the condescending tone of it immediately made your blood pressure rise. Slowly, you turned in your seat to face the bane of your existence. Agent Miles Jackson was average in height but constantly acted as if he were compensating for something or another. You assumed it was his lack of a bearable personality. The weight of his stare gave his brown eyes a beady quality and his thin lipped smile could only be described as smarmy. He winked at you and the urge to gouge his eyes out washed over you. “What’re you doing here?”

You furrowed your brow, “Working. I know that’s an unfamiliar concept to you.”

“Ha ha. Funny.” Miles snorted. “I meant, why the hell are you still here and not picking up my lunch?” You opened your mouth to complain, but he cut in. “I want my usual from that sandwich place right down the road. The faster the better.”

“Miles⏤”

The man turned on his heel and began to march away before letting you say another word. You glared at his back where his light blue, wrinkled button up shirt was untucked from his one size too small dress pants. You just wanted to throw something at the back of his head. With a huff, you pushed to stand and grabbed your purse from the drawer under your desk. Between the morning you had and dealing with Miles, you were seriously going to need a drink tonight.

It took no time at all to pick up the food. You called ahead on your walk, and the workers there knew you fairly well as a regular. When you got back to the building there was a commotion in the lobby. More people than normal were milling about and a steady flow of people were streaming out of the first floor bullpen⏤ the exact place you were heading. You slipped through the crowd and as you got closer and closer to where Miles’ desk was the noise began to increase.

“⏤'nd you’re not fuckin’ listenin’ to me!” 

The words reverberated into the hall stopping you dead in your tracks. Calling it a yell would be underselling the wall of sound that slammed into you. It was a roar⏤ earth shattering, enraged, and excruciating. You rushed into the bullpen, hand clutched tight to the to-go bag of food, and gazed over a sea of desks. The bullpen was where most Agents worked day to day. Usually, the routine tasks involved speaking to concerned citizens or interviewing suspects. A good bulk of the work involved filing reports when not out on the streets working on a case. However, the room was nearly empty and continued to get even emptier as people rushed past you. At the center, with the agent you were looking for, was a man you didn’t recognize. 

He was gruff with broad shoulders covered in a worn out flannel. A peppering of gray littered the thick, dark hair atop his head and even spilled into the scruff on his face. The clear details that could be seen from a mile away was the redness in his face, the vein protruding along his neck as he yelled, and the rage simmering in his dark eyes. His anger was volatile and palpable. Your focus seemed to zoom in on the flash of pain, and once you saw it… it was all you could see. This was a man suffering. Amongst all that rage was heart wrenching fear and agony.

“Sir⏤”

“Don’ you fuckin’ ‘sir’ me.” The man snapped and shoved at Agent Jackson. “You son of a bitch, listen⏤”

Miles pointed in his face and the man snarled in response. “Don’t you take a tone with me. Do you know who I am?!” You got closer and you could see the man’s canines lengthen and his brown eyes flickered in shades of a burning gold. Wolf. He was a werewolf. Genetically speaking, there were hundreds of lineages from the initial werewolf. Unlike vampires, who were similar regardless of the coven, wolves differed. Based on what you could see here, this guy was probably from a local pack. The ones around here didn’t necessarily need the full moon and their emotions controlled a lot of their abilities. Miles ran a hand through his hair with a huff, “Now, Mr. Miller, we have your statement. If you’ll be patient with us⏤”

“Are you fuckin' kiddin' me right now with this bullshit!?”

You weren’t sure how this guy got stuck talking to the least empathetic and least helpful Agent in the entire building, but your heart went out to him. While Miles rattled off a long winded excuse, you crept forward to set the food on his desk and your eyes landed on an open report. The wolf’s name was Joel Miller, and as your eyes scanned the page you understood his rage.

“Your daughter is missing?” You gasped. Both men snapped their gazes at you. Miles glared at your intrusion, but Joel’s narrowed eyes held more questioning than rage toward you. You picked up the report to read the details, but all you could think of were the other missing children cases⏤ the Mandalorian this morning and his missing child. The report in your hand was poorly written which you expected of Miles. “When did you last see⏤”

“I already took his statement.” Miles snapped at you.

Joel, on the other hand, pointed his finger at the file with a glare, “Does it not say it in there??” Sensing the tension, you were hesitant to nod your head. Joel filled in the blanks though and snarled at Miles. “You fuckin' bastard. Are you not takin' this seriously!? She's a kid! She's only fourteen! I swear to the Gods, I’ll⏤”

“I assure you that we have what we need.” Miles snatched the report from your hands. “You’ll have to excuse my assistant. She isn’t trained." You sucked in a sharp breath, your own rage beginning to bubble up, at his words. As if you needed extensive training to read a piece of paper. “Pumpkin, you’re excused.”

“I’m not your assistant.” You spat at him. “Have you considered the other missing kids?”

Joel’s eyes widened, “'Scuse me?”

Miles scoffed and shook his head to glare at you, “That has nothing to do with⏤”

“And there was a Mandalorian here this morning whose kid disappeared overnight.”

Miles chuckled and the sound pissed you off further. It had the same effect on Joel Miller who looked close to shifting into his wolf form to leap across the desk and maul the man. Miles motioned toward you, “Well, that’s it then. Mandalorian.” You furrowed your brow. “I would bet my money on this being a blood feud. Wolves vs fangs.”

You shook your head, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“The wolves took the vampire kid, and in retaliation the vampires took the wolf’s kid.” Miles argued confidently. He turned to Joel and gave a slight shrug while scooping up the bag of food you had brought for him. “We will look into the matters, and we will call you with further information.”

“That’s it? You’ll call me?” Joel yelled. The wolf slapped the bag of food out of Miles’ hand and to the ground. “My daughter is fuckin' missin' 'nd that’s all you’re gonna give me right now!?”

Miles slammed his hand against his desk while staring at his lost meal. His glare toward the wolf deepened, a move you found to be hilarious considering Miles was far from intimidating, but you watched as his hand went to his hip where his service weapon rested. Your eyes widened and you set a hand on Miles’ chest to draw his attention to you.

“Stop.” You warned. “That’s a bad idea.” Miles locked his jaw and you tried to defuse the situation. “This isn’t right. Your theory is wrong. A wolf pack would never use a kid as a bargaining token in some rivalry.” You scoffed. “And the Mandalorians are the only vampire coven to allow children in their ranks. They literally adopt kids off the street to raise and care for. But you think they kidnapped a wolf’s child?”

Miles suddenly grabbed you by the arm roughly and squeezed hard enough to make you wince. The sound of a low warning growl filled the air, but all your attention was focused on the loathing rage in Miles’ eyes. He seemed… unhinged, somehow. With his other hand, Miles pointed a finger in your face. “Listen to me, pumpkin.” He snapped. “You need to stop playing ‘Agent’. You’re a bookish errand girl who has no idea what she’s talking about or trying to get involved in.” His words stung even more with Captain’s Roberts’ rejection still ringing fresh in your mind. “It’s pathetic how desperate you are to be an agent like your mommy. Especially considering, you’ll never be what she was. You’ll never be more than the useless, desperate⏤” 

Your hand curled into a fist and lashed out before you had even a second to think. Miles’ nose crunched under your now throbbing knuckles and blood splattered down his blue shirt. He cried out in pain and you stiffened in realization at what you had done. “You bitch! I’ll get you fired for this!”

Angry, embarrassed, and frustrated, you spun on your heel to rush away. Miles was still hollering behind you in a rage and before leaving the room you gave one last glance over your shoulder. The goal was to glare at Miles or admire the new shape of his nose, but as if pulled by an unseen force your gaze landed directly on Joel. Once you made eye contact with the wolf, there was no looking away. There was a haunting power in the way he stared back and it seemed to singe a hole through your very being, and you could feel his agony⏤ his devastation and desperation. The embarrassment you felt grew as you realized you were useless to him. Just like Miles said. You mouthed a quick apology and left in a hurry.

Downtown Austin had a district for the supernatural. Not that any human knew that it was for the supernatural specifically. With the right words, a person could find themselves in underground Austin where a market and community lay hidden. As you saw no reason to sit around and wait for the consequences of your actions to find you, you climbed into your car to drive across the city to see a friend. Once parked, it took no time at all to find your favorite bar. It was one owned by a witch and open to any and all who were interested.

Despite being underground, ‘Lucille's’ did not feel closed off or stuffy. The ceiling was high, a spell cast to mimic the natural lighting for the time of day, and the walls and furniture were decorated in greenery making the room feel like a clearing in a forest. Usually when you were here it was late evening or night time so the bar would be lit accordingly, but as it was literally 2 in the afternoon it was pure midday sunlight that shone down on you.

The bar wasn’t empty. A number of patrons sat around enjoying a casual lunch or drink, but you weaved through the tables to make your way to the actual bar. It was made of thick mahogany wood and glass. Behind the bar, the shelf was lined with liquors and raw materials. Jars filled with dragon scales, phoenix feathers, wormwood, and any other ingredient that could be used for spells or drinks. There was a glow from behind the shelf itself that shifted in a swirling of soft colors. 

As you sat down on a cushioned bar stool, you saw a familiar forest nymph walking out of the back carrying a box. Her pale green skin was accented by a darker, vine like pattern that encircled her limbs and torso⏤ made even more clear to see due to the loose, white tank top she wore. Her vibrant pink hair was pulled back into two buns atop her head and littered with yellow and blue flowers. She dropped the box with a grunt and her brown eyes landed on you in shock.

“Whoa! What’re you doing here??” 

“Hey, Nima.” 

“You here for lunch?”

“Not exactly.” You gave her a tight lipped smile as she bounced over with a bright grin. She stood close enough that you could see the slight movements of the vine-like pattern on her skin and it must have been close enough for her to see the misery in your features. Before she could begin her interrogation, you lifted your dominant hand to nod toward your bruised knuckles. “Can I have an ice pack?”

Nima wrapped a handful of ice in a rag for you to set on your hand and listened quietly as you told her about your day from start to finish.

“First off, I’m making you a stiff drink.” Nima grabbed a glass and she knew your preferences enough that you didn’t need to say a word. “Secondly, after you down this we’re getting in my car and we’re gonna go kill Agent ‘Shit for Brains’.” Your lips twitched up in amusement. “Thirdly⏤”

“How many bullet points are in this pep talk?” You asked. “Just so I can keep track.”

“You would make a gods damn brilliant Agent.” Nima paused in drink making to point at you. “I don’t care what anyone else says.” She shook the metal tumbler three times before pouring the drink in the martini glass. The light pink liquid bubbled and fizzed. She set it in front of you and you raised an eyebrow at the glittering light that shimmered from the bubbles that popped in it. Nima shrugged, “So, I added a joy charm to your drink. Sue me.”

The corner of your lip twitched up and you didn’t hesitate to bring the drink to your lips. The fizzing bubbles of the joy charm tickled your mouth and it reminded you of eating pop rocks as a kid. Unlike the pop rocks, it left an immediate light hearted buzz in your brain that made the glow of the lights around you seem a little bit brighter. Coming here had been the right decision. Between the drinks and Nima’s threats against Miles’ life you were feeling a bit better.

Nima stayed with you chatting for a while longer, but when a group of elves noisily wandered in she had to veer away to serve them. You finished the last of your drink, pushed the glass aside, and then folded your arms to lean on the bar with a hum. The joy charm left your brain with the happy buzz, but your heart still felt heavy. All you wanted to do in life was help others, like your mom had, and now you were going to get fired. You couldn’t even provide support for the people who were helping others.

So much for being vital.

You absentmindedly began to count the bottles on the expansive shelf in hopes to keep your mind occupied until Nima could come back and distract you. It was around 116 that you felt somebody sit on the stool right beside you. Any annoyance you felt at a stranger picking a seat so close to you when there were so many other open stools was muted by the effects of the joy charm. You continued to count and at 200 the stranger said your name.

Eyes wide, you turn your head and the sight of Joel Miller’s glare you jumped in surprise, “Gods!” You were sitting up now, half hanging off your stool, while gripping the edge of the bartop. “What are you… How do you know my name??”

“I asked 'round.” Joel replied gruffly. Unsure of what to say, you bobbed your head awkwardly. He had his arm resting on the bar as he faced you, and his hand was balled up in a tight fist. The wolf was wound up tight⏤ ready to snap at the slightest provocation. “Now tell me more 'bout the Mandalorian.”

You scrunched your nose, still in disbelief that this wolf followed you in the first place, “Um, DMA restricts me from giving out the information of someone else. I’m not really supposed to do it without going through the proper channels.”

“Yeah, well, you don’ really got a job anymore, far as I can tell.”

“I still have a job. I haven’t been fired.” You countered with a nod then mumbled. “Yet.”

Joel leaned in closer and you stiffened at his growl, “You think my Ellie missin' has somethin' to do with the Mandalorian?”

You assumed that was the name of his daughter. “I can’t say anything for certain. I mean, I don’t know anything⏤”

“You knew more than that bonehead Agent.”

“That’s not hard.” You mumbled with a quiet snort. Joel did not seem amused and continued to burn through you with his gaze. You cleared your throat and nodded. “All I know is the number of missing persons cases involving children has been higher this last month than usual, and some Mandalorian is missing his own kid.” Joel gave a slight nod and you could see the wheels turning in his head. You shrugged, “But I don’t think it’s the feud between wolves and vampires doing this. I know that’s what Miles assumed but… I just have this weird feeling that⏤ that something else is going on.”

Joel clenched his jaw before speaking, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, defeated. “I don’t have evidence or a good reason. It’s just a... gut instinct.”

You squirmed under Joel’s continued gaze until he finally looked away. He turned in his seat to face forward and now you were the one staring. With how tense the wolf was, he looked to be made of stone. A handsome statue wearing a scowl that could fill even the gods with a chill. 

Nima bounced back over and gave Joel a skeptical glance. She raised an eyebrow at you in question and you waved your hand in front of your neck to signal her to leave him alone. Nima scooped up your empty glass and carried it away. 

“Where is he?”

Your head snapped back to Joel, eyes wide, “Sorry?”

“Where is the Mandalorian?” Joel demanded slowly. “I wanna talk to 'im.”

“I⏤I have no idea, man.” A laugh of disbelief left your lips. “The local Mandalorian coven is a mystery. They’re more tight lipped than any other coven I’ve heard about. Only a few people even know where they hide.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s all you got for me?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry. If I had known you were going to stalk me out of the building⏤” Joel rolled his eyes with a huff. “⏤then I would’ve prepared accordingly. My bad.” 

Joel hissed a curse under his breath. His eyes closed and a hand rubbed his jawline before resting over his mouth⏤ attempting to settle himself, you assumed. You glanced over at Nima who was staring at you in concern and you gave her a quick nod and pointed to the wolf beside you. A few moments later, Nima came over and placed a glass of dark liquor in front of you. She mouthed the words, ‘You good?’, and you gave her a tight lipped smile. She shot Joel another wary glance before moving over to her other customers. 

You cleared your throat and pushed the drink in Joel’s direction. He opened his eyes and stared down at the drink. Joel sniffed the air then furrowed his brow, “That’s Lavagulin.” You shrugged. That sounded right, but you didn’t know the dark liquor types well enough to confirm it. His gaze turned skeptical and paranoid, “How do you know my drink of choice?”

“Oh, I don’t.” You held your hands in surrender. “Nima does.” You pointed to the forest nymph who was flipped a tumbler with a broad grin. “I don’t know how she does it, but she can guess anybody’s drink of choice. I’ve never seen her fail.” Joel stared for a second more before picking up the drink and taking a long sip of it. You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “Listen, I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. I wish I could help.”

Joel didn’t respond to your comfort and just continued to drink. You briefly considered calling Captain Roberts. Miles had probably already gone to the man to snitch on you for breaking his nose. There was no way you wouldn’t get canned for the attack, even the Captain couldn’t protect you from that, but somebody should know that Miles was out of line with a citizen. Joel Miller needed real help to find his daughter, and gods knew that Agent Miles Jackson wasn’t going to be of any use. As the thought crossed your mind, you tilted your head. Help. Joel needed help.

“I could help.” You blurted out loud.

“What?” Joel was nearly finished with his drink.

“I could help!” You repeated. Why hadn’t you thought about this before? Joel needed help, and you needed to prove that this was a job you were more than capable of. “My mom was an Agent⏤ one of the best. She had all these connections and…” Joel was now facing you entirely as he had turned in his seat. For the first time since you met him, you saw more than just anger, panic, and pain in his eyes. There was a flicker of hope. You shot him a smile. “I think I can find out where the Mandalorian coven is.”

Joel leaned forward on his seat, “Where?”

“We need to go to my apartment. There’s a journal with a map.” You jumped up and began to root through your bag for your wallet. 

“What’s going on?” Nima came back over. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s a⏤ it’s a long story.” 

“Everything alright though?”

You huffed when you couldn’t find your wallet, “What? Yeah, no. It’s fine. Just give me a second. I think my wallet is buried under here somewhere.”

Nima shook her head with a frown, “I’m not taking your money.”

“What’re you talking about?” You demanded.

“You don’t have a job. I’m not taking your money, babe.” You winced at her half true comment. The DMA didn’t pay you all that great anyways considering your position wasn’t super high on the career ladder. But then again, if you solved this case and proved your worth then you could be the Agent you knew you were capable of being. Suddenly, Joel held out a few folded bills. Your eyes widened, but Nima snatched the money from his hands with a smirk. “You on the other hand, I can very much take money from.”

Joel ushered you out of the bar as Nima waved after you and demanded you call her later. The wolf said he’d follow behind you in his own truck which you figured he wouldn’t have a problem with considering he had done it once before. You just prayed the plan you had in mind was actually going to pan out.

If you had known you’d have a near feral werewolf sitting in your living room this afternoon, you would’ve cleaned up a little better before leaving in the morning. You scrambled through your room searching for the journal that you knew was somewhere around here.

“You got it, yet?” Joel barked from the other room.

“Almost! Just⏤ Just hang on!”

Finally, you found the journal buried under a stack of papers on your desk. You mumbled your relief and immediately began to flip through the journal pages searching for something that could point you in the direction of the Mandalorians. You knew for a fact that your mother had a connection⏤ either directly or indirectly. You managed to find the vague map scribbled out midway through the journal. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had ten minutes ago. You took a quick picture of it with your phone and began to leave your room only to pause. Frozen in place, your eyes darted over to your bedside drawer. After a second of contemplation, you hurried over and pulled out the handgun tucked away for safekeeping. The only ammunition you had was regular bullets and silver ones. Neither would help against a vampire, especially a Mandalorian vampire decked out in ceremonial armor, but the idea of having it on you brought some semblance of comfort. You tugged on your shoulder holster and triple checked the weapon before safely tucking it in place. The last two things you grabbed before leaving your room was a jacket to wear over the holster, keeping it mostly hidden, and your mother’s old badge.

When you stepped out into the living room, Joel was standing and staring at a few pictures on your wall. His eyebrows were drawn together, deep in thought, as his attention was focused in on a picture of you and your mother from when you were a child.

You cleared your throat and his eyes snapped back to you. You opened your mouth to explain the picture, but Joel closed the space between the two of you back on target, “Where is it? The coven?”

“Here.” You opened your phone to point to the picture you had taken.

Joel narrowed his eyes, “That’s all you got? You don’ got an address or somethin'?”

“An address?” You scoffed. “They live underground in the middle of nowhere. Sorry I don’t have a PO box to type into google for you. We can find it with this. Let’s go⏤”

“We??”

You set your hands on your hips with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, we.”

“You’re not goin'.”

“I’m not letting you and your pack stampede into a vampire coven!”

“I don’ have a pack.” Joel shook his head, and you tried to hide your surprise. “I work better alone. Now give me the map.”

“Fine,” You corrected, “I’m not letting a lone werewolf storm a vampire coven.”

“And how is addin' a human to the mix gonna tip the odds in my favor, sweetheart?” Joel scoffed and motioned to you.

“For one, they won’t kill me on sight for being a werewolf.” You argued. “And two,” You pulled the badge out of your pocket and flashed it to him, “I’m an impartial party. A peacekeeper.”

Joel snarled, “If they do have my kid for some reason, I don’ plan on keepin' the peace.”

“Yeah, see, that sentence proved my point. You need me.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue more, and you were fully prepared to counter anything he threw your way, but then he surprised you by locking his jaw and giving you a stiff nod. You hadn’t actually expected that to work. Joel turned to leave your apartment with a grunt and you hurried after him.

“Also, we’re taking my car.”

After another short lived argument, you managed to wrestle Joel into your vehicle. According to the map, the coven was just outside Austin city limits, truly in the middle of nowhere, and it would take at least an hour to get in the vicinity. Then you’d have to search for it further. The drive was just as awkward as you would’ve guessed it to be. Joel didn't seem like the type of man who enjoyed small talk even on a good day let alone right now. Unfortunately, the more nervous you got the more you seemed to want to talk.

“So, can I ask you something?” You blurted.

“No.”

“Oh.”

An even more tense silence filled the air between the two of you as you focused on the road ahead. Joel sighed and shook his head, “What?”

“You said you don’t have a pack.” You continued on with your line of questioning despite the lackluster permission he gave.

“Is there a question somewhere in there?”

“Is it true?” You asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a werewolf without a pack.”

“Well, now you have. Congrats.” Joel replied dryly. 

Your cellphone began to vibrate and the name ‘Captain Roberts’ flashed on the screen. You ignored the call, “So, it’s just you and your family then?”

“It’s me 'nd Ellie. That’s it.” Joel grunted. He shrugged after a beat, “Got a brother too but he’s still in the pack. Tried to leave when I did, but I convinced him not to.”

“Oh, so you left on your own.” You voiced the thought aloud. Your phone began to vibrate again. ‘Captain Roberts’. Ignore. “Why…” You were very, very curious as to why a werewolf would willingly leave his pack to be on his own⏤ or on his own with his daughter, you should say. But, it seemed too personal for you to pry into. “What’s Ellie like?”

Joel paused in thought. “She’s smart, but she’s also trouble. Bit of a little shit.” There was a small smile on his face as he said the words. “Obsessed with these stupid jokes 'nd puns.”

“She sounds fun.” You chuckled. “You said she was fourteen?” Joel nodded once. For the third time, your phone began to vibrate and you hit the ignore button with more force than needed. “What⏤”

“You ain't gonna answer that?” Joel questioned.

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s just gonna be a long conversation about disappointment and it’ll probably end in my termination. Roberts, the Captain, likes me, but Miles⏤ the Agent whose nose I broke⏤ he’s kind of a big deal.”

Joel scoffed, “He’s a big deal?”

“Not in a ‘good at his job’ way. More in a ‘my daddy owns you’ kind of way.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, when he said he was gonna get me fired he meant it.” You sighed. “It’s all about knowing the right people, and he’s related to the right people so it’s even worse.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“You’re telling me.” You mumbled with a sigh. This time there was a notification about a voicemail being left along with the missed calls. That was not a message you were eager to listen to. The rest of the drive passed in silence, but it wasn’t as tense as the start of the trip. You drove your car off road where the map suggested. The map had a shaded portion where the coven supposedly was, and you prayed they hadn’t recently moved. You drove, scanning for some kind of the symbol drawn on the map, and when Joel spotted it carved into a tree you parked the car. “So, you’re not going to like what I’m going to say…”

“Then don’ say it.”

“I think you should stay with the car.” You said it anyways.

Joel stared at you as if you had grown a second head, “Are you outta your gods damned mind? I’m not sittin' here 'nd waitin'⏤”

“If it’s me alone I can talk to them as an Agent of the DMA and question⏤”

“You’re not an Agent.”

“I’m also not a werewolf.” You snapped. Joel had his jaw locked so tight that you could hear him grinding his teeth against one another. You held a hand out towards him to plead your case. “I’m not gonna say that I get it because I don’t have a kid. I could never fully understand how you feel right now, but… Joel, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you find Ellie. If we go in together it’ll stir them up, but maybe if I’m alone they’ll stay calm enough to answer some questions. I’m not a threat to them. I’m just a dumb human, after all.”

Joel turned away and rubbed his face. The exhaustion and frustration were clear to see. He sighed, “Fine. You have twenty minutes. Twenty minutes 'nd then I’m goin' after you whether you like it or not.”

“Deal.” You agreed.

You reached over him, he stiffened at the closeness, but you mumbled an apology and rooted through your glove compartment. There was a small, travel bottle of perfume that Nima had tucked away for you. It was one you never used, a bit too strong for your liking, but she was adamant about keeping it around in case of emergent night outs when you needed to get ready on the go. There was a collection of hair products and makeup tucked somewhere in your back seat too.

After finding it, you opened the car door and began to spray it all over yourself. It took only two squirts of the bottle when Joel began to cough. He rubbed his nose with a deep frown, “What the fuck are you doin'?”

“I’m trying to get the smell of wolf off of me.”

“You’re ruinin' your scent.” Joel grumbled with no further elaboration. You sprayed yourself three more times just to be sure, and ended up hacking up a long yourself as the strong floral scent hit you like a truck. Joel chuckled, “See?”

“Here’s to hoping the Mandalorians hate how I smell too. I’ll be right back.”

You closed the driver’s side door and marched out to walk past the tree with the carving. Joel called out after you, and when you glanced over your shoulder you saw he had rolled the window down. Joel nodded once, “Careful, sweetheart.”

With a reassuring smile, you gave him a thumbs up that he shook his head at before rolling the window back up. Your reassuring smile falter once you faced away from him and you steeled your nerves as you pressed into the thick of the trees. You could do this. You could handle this. You were vital.

The goal was to follow the trail of carved symbols in the trees. It drove you deeper into the forest and after finding four more you noticed that the path had looped you into a circle so you were back in front of symbol three. Worry briefly flooded your senses as you thought you may have taken a wrong turn and time was ticking down. Joel would be kicking down your car door to come find you and gods knew with the amount of perfume you wore it wouldn’t be hard. 

You blew out an annoyed breath and kept on, but you only got a few feet further when a figure suddenly loomed in front of you. 

“Gods!” You cried and scrambled back a few steps. The Mandalorian in front of you was towering in height and immensely broad. He wore navy pieces of armor, and you couldn’t fathom how someone so large and dressed in so much metal could be so loud. He stood still, like a statue, and his blank helmet stared down at you. Quickly, you readjusted your stance and cleared your throat. With as much confidence as you could muster, you pulled out the badge and flashed it at him⏤ introducing yourself as an Agent with your last name. “I’m with the DMA, and I’d like you to take me to your leader.” You winced as the words came out awkward. “I mean, I’d like to speak with someone on a missing persons case. I believe it would be in the benefit of your coven. Is there someone in charge I can speak to?”

The Mandalorian said nothing and you tucked your badge back into your pocket. You weighed the pros and cons of opening your mouth again, but before you could come to a conclusion he held his hand out toward you. Hesitantly, you reached out and the second your fingers brushed against his the Mandalorian tugged you toward himself and threw you over his shoulder. A cry of disdain left your lips but the world became a sudden blur of color and sound as wind whipped past you and with a few blinks you were no longer in the forest. He dropped you with no announcement and you grunted as you hit the cold, stone floor. 

“Thanks for the warning.” You scoffed and tried to get your bearings. Nausea rolled through you and the room felt like it was spinning. When your brain finally caught up to what had happened, you glanced around to see he had carried you into a cavern. Light spilled from overhead, like a spotlight, and with a glance up you realized he had dropped down into this cave system.

“Come.” The Mandalorian grunted and you struggled to your feet to follow him.

As he led you deeper into the cave, the walls were lit with torches. Doorways into other halls and rooms were carved into the wall, but this Mandalorian led you straight down the center. Other Mandalorians like him began to gather and peer out of the spaces to stare at you and it took all of your might to keep your shoulders straight and your chin held high.

At the end of the cavern, was a circular room that was taller than it was wide. A stone structure was built in the center of the room and the shape and fire burning at it’s center reminded you of an old timey forge where weapons used to be made. The navy Mandalorian you had been following barked out in a different language⏤ Mando’a if you remembered correctly⏤ and a different Mandalorian with a helmet of gold stepped out from a back doorway into the room. The shape of her armor seemed more feminine and around her waist hung a thick metal hammer.

“You are not the Agent described to me.” She said in a smooth and calm voice.

“Sorry?” You replied confused.

She repeated your last name. “You are not her.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh. Oh! Right, no. Um, you’re thinking of my mother. You knew her?”

“Very well.” The Mandalorian confirmed. Two other Mandalorians stepped into the circular room just to stand against the wall with the large navy one, and it made your skin crawl nervously. It seemed like overkill. Just one Mandalorian could demolish you. You didn’t understand why they needed a total of four with you. “Why are you here, young one?”

You nodded, back to business, “This morning I saw a Mandalorian at the DMA headquarters. He was filing a report on a missing child. He was⏤ His armor was all silver. Like a shiny silver, and his under suit looked brown?” You tried to recall any details you remembered of him, but it was really the bright shine to his armor that stayed in your mind. “Anyways, we’ve had a string of missing children and I wanted to speak to this Mandalorian⏤”

The three Mandalorians behind you barked out a word you didn’t recognize and you jumped in place. The leader hummed, “He is no Mandalorian.”

“Uh,” You squinted with a twist of your lips, “He looked very Mandalorian⏤”

They barked the same word again. She spoke once more, “Din Djarin.”

“What?”

“That is the man you seek.” She said. “He has broken his creed. He is Mandalorian no longer. We do not associate with him.” You scrunched your nose in disbelief. Of all the rotten luck. You manage to actually find the mysterious Mandalorian coven only to find out that the one Mandalorian you sought out was excommunicated from his coven. Great. “Is that all you have come for?”

“Technically, yes.” You replied slowly. “Unless, do you know anything about his kid? Or where I can find him?”

“No.” She answered simply and bluntly. Fantastic. Outside the room, you could hear hissed whispers and low growls. Two sounds you never considered good news. “Are you prepared to pay your price?”

You focused back on her, “The price for what?”

“For your life.”

At those three words, you felt your blood run cold. Nowhere in your mom’s journal did it mention any sort of price. The noises outside grew louder and one of the angry growls was unfortunately familiar. You cursed under your breath and turned just in time for two Mandalorians to drag in a thrashing Joel. They forced him to his knees with a hiss. One gloved hand clamped around the back of his neck and you saw Joel’s teeth lengthen as the color of his eyes began to flicker in shade.

“Joel.” You blurted and his eyes lifted to meet yours. You gave a discreet shake of your head, and the burning gold of his eyes returned to a warm brown.

“Your twenty minutes was up.” He grunted.

“Young one.” You spun in place and the leader of the Mandalorians was dangerously close. You tried to take a step back, but her hand wrapped around your throat. Joel snarled for her to let you go, and you held up a hand behind you in hopes to reassure him. Her hand wasn’t restricting your air. It just rested there. A vague threat. “Will you pay your price?”

You swallowed, unable to see a situation where denying her ended well for either of you, “Yes?”

The leader used the hand around your throat to tilt your head up and to the side, exposing your neck, and then she moved quicker than you could see. Her other arm was a blur and you felt a sting of pain against your neck. The room’s air seemed to thicken with tension as she held up a blade smeared with your blood. She released you and began to stalk toward the forge. You rubbed at your neck nervously. You weren’t bleeding out, but it shook you to your core all the same. The leader whispered in Mando’a before flicking beads of your bright red blood into the fire at the forge’s center. The blue flames flashed white before returning to their natural state.

She turned and tucked the knife away. “You have paid your price. Paz will take you above ground.” She nodded to the navy Mandalorian that had brought you in. “The wolf stays.”

“Wait, no⏤” You began.

“He will die for trespassing.”

“Hang on!” You scooted away from Paz. “Can’t he pay the price? Or can I pay for him?” Somehow, through a helmet, the leader managed to shoot you a dry look. That’s how you interpreted it, at least. Paz was stalking toward you as Joel thrashed in the arms of the Mandalorians and your mind raced for a plan. Just as he reached out to grab you, you blurted, “Riddur!”

The room froze and even Joel paused in his rage to stare at you. The leader titled her head. You pointed back to Joel, “He is my riddur.”

“You know what that word means?” She questioned.

“Yes.” You nodded. The Mandalorians were the most family oriented of the vampire covens. The bond between lovers was sacred. ‘Riddur’ was translated to spouse, but it carried a heavier weight than the english word. They may have hated wolves, but you prayed to the gods that they respected the bond enough to let it carry over outside the coven. “Please. Don’t do this.”

There was an agonizing pause where you could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest. The leader gave a curt nod and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You may take your riddur and leave.” The Mandalorians released Joel and stepped back. You hurried over to his side to loop an arm through his. “But, young one?” You stared at the leader and the gaze she cast your way was nerve wracking. “Do not come here again. The price to pay next time will be steep.”

You nodded and mumbled a thanks before dragging Joel out the way you had come in. All the Mandalorians in the cave continued to stare. Joel kept pace with you and whispered, “Ellie? Did you find the Mandalorian we were lookin' for?”

“No. He’s not here. He was kicked out of his coven.” You replied. “We have to look elsewhere.”

Joel spat a curse out under his breath, but thankfully he continued to rush out with you rather than turn back. As you reached the spot where you entered you suddenly remembered that it hadn’t been you who came in. You stared up at the hole in the ground and sighed, “Joel⏤”

“Hold on.” Joel scooped you up and jumped. You yelped in surprise at the height he managed. It cleared the hold and he landed on the ground by the edge. At the landing, you heard his knees crack and Joel grumbled in annoyance before setting you down. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You replied.

The two of you sped through the forest and didn’t slow your pace until your car was in sight. Joel glanced your way, “Riddur.” He repeated the word. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, uh, it means spouse?” You offered. “In the werewolf setting I suppose the closer term would be ‘mate’? It’s a bond between lovers.” Joel raised an eyebrow and you felt your cheeks grow warm. “I just knew that Mandalorians took that kind of thing seriously. It was the only idea I had to get us out of there.”

He stared for a long moment, long enough to make you nervously rub the back of your neck, and then he nodded, “Thanks for that. I… I appreciate your help.” Joel grunted uncomfortably. Your lips twitched up into a smile. The two of you reached the car and climbed in. Before you could start it up, Joel cleared his throat. “It was 'cause of Ellie.”

“What?”

“Earlier. I know you wanted to ask why I left my pack. It was for Ellie.” Joel responded. “She… We’re not related by blood. She’s actually… Ellie is only half wolf.” Your eyes widened in surprise, but you stayed silent so he could continue. “My pack didn’ want half breeds. That’s where they drew the line.” Joel sunk in his seat and rubbed his jaw⏤ a nervous tick of his you were realizing. “But she’s my daughter. They didn’ get that so I left.”

You pressed your lips together and started to reach out to touch his shoulder, but at last minute you dropped your hand and shot him a smile. “Thank you for telling me. We are going to find her.” You shrugged. “We need some other way to find the ex-Mandalorian, but we have a name now and I… I‘ll think of something. I swear it, Joel. I’m not gonna rest until we find her, okay?”

“Yeah, alright, sweetheart.” He replied. You started the car and began to turn it around when Joel let out a cough. “You smell awful, by the way.”

“Thank you for that. Appreciate it very much.” 

Come hell or high water, you were going to find Din Djarin. As you drove, a few ideas came to mind. Terrible, terrible ideas, but beggars can’t be choosers at the end of the day. You shot Joel another glance out of the corner of your eye and your resolve steeled. This was more than just about redeeming yourself and getting your job back. You were going to find Ellie for Joel even if it killed you.

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[cuubism]

I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

--

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.