#but i’d be lying if o said there was no influence at all

[foobars-cool-car]

can’t wait until this iasip hyperfixation fades and i can introduce myself without feeling like h the most cringefail idiotman you’ve ever met in your life

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories for a Demon, Night 1: The Sleeping Princess (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

“Lucanis?”

Some assassin, he thinks bitterly, as Rook’s soft voice breaks him out of his reverie. She finds him sitting at the dining room table, staring at the fire with a cup of now cold coffee in his hands. He didn’t hear her come in.

Caterina would’ve given him at least ten lashes with her cane for letting someone sneak up on him like that.

His mind, lately, was a restless sea. Waves of him and Spite crash over each other, fighting to rise above the din. Fighting for control. And like the moon pushes and pulls the tides at night, Spite’s influence becomes harder to ignore in the waning hours of the evening. Sometimes it was hard to pay attention to anything but Spite rattling the bars of the prison that was Lucanis’ mind.

On most nights he finds himself alone in the pantry, or the dining room, with only a flickering fire and the demon in his head for company. Until a few moments ago that is.

“Rook” he manages a pleasant, tired smile while turning towards her. “You’re up late”

She shrugs and pulls up a chair beside him, now rimmed in the warm orange glow of the fire. “Thought you might want some company – you know, after the whole…” she gestures vaguely in his direction, and he doesn’t need any further elaboration.

He remembers feeling tired, so tired after their last mission. A bone-weariness that only came with the kind of world-ending threats they were becoming entirely too accustomed to handling. Three cups of his strongest brew hadn’t been enough to curb the knife’s edge of sleep deprivation. He remembers sitting upright in his cot and closing his eyes for just a moment.  Then, he was in the basement hallway with the Vir’Evas Eluvian, surrounded by Harding, Rook - and the terrible realization that Spite had taken him for a walk.

Perhaps it was his brutal training at the hands of his grandmother, perhaps it was his own stubbornness, but he hated to make them worry. Especially Rook, who already carried the weight of the world on her small shoulders and the voice of an Elven god in her head. Dealing with a sleepwalking abomination was probably the last thing she needed to be worried about.

“I’m fine” he lies, and stares down at his coffee. His grip on the handle of his mug tightens. Rook’s bright green eyes flicker down to his hands, and he knows she doesn’t believe his words any more than he does. “As I said before – Spite is my burden to bear. Please, go get some sleep, Rook”

Her face falls just a little at that.

“Would if I could” she starts, “You won’t sleep, I can’t sleep – I figure we might as well be night owls together. But if I’m bothering you, I’ll go”

He doesn’t know her well enough yet to catch if she is lying about not being able to sleep – but he imagines she has plenty of her own worries big enough to keep her up at night.

When he doesn’t answer, Rook moves to get out of her chair.

Lucanis quickly waves her back down into her seat.

“No, no, no bother at all” He raises his cup to her in a cheer, “I’ll be glad for the company”

He swirls the cold coffee in his cup, before looking back up at Rook.

“Coffee? I’m going to make a fresh pot” he asks, rising from his place. Rook gives an appreciative nod, the corners of her eyes crinkling with another smile.

“I’d love some, thanks”

Rook is silent until his return from the kitchen, with a cup of freshly made coffee – real coffee, in each hand. None of that instant boiled bean water that Neve had a habit of making.

As he hands her the cup, he notices something in her lap that wasn’t there before. A small journal. Its bindings were tattered and frayed, the colour had faded from what he presumed was a bright crimson to a more muted shade of red, and the pages were yellowed with time.

“What is that?” he asks, taking his place in front of the fire once more.

Rook sets the steaming cup of coffee aside on the table, so she can begin flipping through its worn pages. A musty, acrid smell like old mothballs hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, he’s a boy in the Dellamorte estate’s library running wild between tall, marble bookshelves seeking mischief and knowledge in equal measure.

“My father’s old journal” Rook thumbs through the pages more carefully now, and her voice grows soft.

“He was a Bard in his youth. Toured all over Thedas with his troupe. As he went, he wrote down stories from across the continent” She leans her chin against her hand and smiles fondly at the little book in her hand. “Never imagined he’d be collecting bedtime stories for a future daughter”

There was a softness in her voice that he was not accustomed to hearing, tinged with the barest echo of grief. This is the first time in the few weeks they had known each other that Rook mentioned any kind of family. He notes her use of past tense and decides not to pry, much as he finds himself growing ever curious about his new companion.

Companions.

Rook looks down at the book again before meeting his eyes. They were almost pleading.

“I thought... maybe you’d like to hear one. You know, to help pass the time?”

He thinks of refusing, of telling her she needs to rest, that there is little sense in them both being sleep deprived because of Spite. There is something in her eyes that stops him from turning her down. An emotion he cannot quite name but feels akin to longing. Not quite sadness, not quite nostalgia – somewhere in between.

He quickly comes to the realization that this may be as much for her, as it is for him. Lucanis remembers the comfort that reading old stories brought him. He can picture, in striking detail, the book on Wyvern physiology he stole from the Dellamorte library as a child. He knows the contents of each page by heart, because he can still hear Illario's grumbling about wanting him to shut up about Wyverns echoing through his distant memories. He would read it by candlelight until late in the evening, ready to extinguish the flame and hide the book under his pillow at a moment’s notice if Caterina came by.

He decides that if he can help her by simply listening to a story, he will. Rook spends most of her free time trying to fix everyone else’s problems. Always flitting to and from each room in the Lighthouse like a hummingbird, fretting over the team. The Crows were already indebted to her efforts against the Antaam, and she made it a point to help him with both Spite and tracking down Zara. With all that in consideration, he feels it would be a rather poor show to refuse. That and another feeling he didn’t have a name for, keeps him from rejecting her company tonight.

“Alright” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. “Let’s hear it”

Lucanis ignores the skipped beat in his chest as she beams widely.

She claps her hands together and straightens in her chair. “Wonderful!”

“So, what tale will you tell tonight?”

“Have you ever heard the old Tevene story about the Sleeping Princess?” she asks excitedly, crossing her legs in her chair like an impatient child about to be served dessert. She’s practically oscillating with excitement in her seat.

Lucanis smiles at that.

“No, I can’t say I have”

“It’s one of my favourites” she gushes, picking up the journal again and flipping to the correct page. Ringlets of rich brown hair sweep over her shoulder as she does so, and he decides to focus on his coffee instead, before he’s caught staring.

“Aha” her brow furrows as she quickly scans the contents of the journal. “Alright, here we go”

Rook sets the journal aside once more and takes a quick sip of her coffee. He doesn’t miss the way she savours the brew. He knew she enjoyed coffee from their meeting at Café Pietra with Illario, but it was nice to know she appreciated his coffee as much as theirs.

He raises an eyebrow when Rook starts cracking her knuckles – and her neck, then readies her hands in the same pose he’s seen her use for magic.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see” she grins conspiratorially.

“If you’re about to throw a fireball at me – “

“Relax, relax” Rook shakes her head, and whispers “Magic has more uses than fighting”

He can feel Spite stirring in the dark recess of his mind and does his best to ignore it.

Rook’s delicate hands begin glowing with blue light, and to his astonishment, a moment later she conjures a fully realized image of a castle, floating in the space between them. He can see the spires, turrets, and even the wrought-iron gates in clear, astonishing detail. Lucanis leans forward to inspect the castle as it rotates in mid-air, giving him views of every side. Even the masonry and statues have an immaculate degree of realism. It was almost as if she had taken a real castle and shrunk it down.

“How …?” He is not usually one to be rendered speechless, but it was not every day he is exposed to new types of magic - and when he was, historically, that hasn't always been a good thing for him. Spite rumbling under his skin reminds him of that.

“I learned to do it back in my Circle days. It was my thesis work – the use of the Fade to create projections of objects from one’s minds” her pride in her castle falls when she continues to explain, “The senior enchanters thought it a waste of effort and I barely passed my final year – they couldn’t see a use for it past getting their children to sleep. I suppose if magic can’t be used to some terrible, destructive end, it gets relegated to a novice’s thesis statement to be buried in the Circle’s archives and never touched again”

“It’s incredible Rook” he breathes. The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth of the fire, or something else, but he swears a faint tinge of red creeps from her neck up to her ears.

He desperately wants to reach out and touch the castle, but keeps his hands firmly on his coffee cup, worried he may ruin her concentration.

Rook’s eyes crinkle with her smile, wide and genuine. He’s never seen her smile like that, and it feels utterly disarming.

He brings his coffee cup to his lips again, about to take a sip.

“Thank you, Lucanis” Her voice is sweeter than the coffee on his lips.

“You’re welcome” is all he manages to choke out, leaning away from the castle to give himself some distance to regain control of his faculties.

Rook clears her throat, “I ahh, guess I should get on with the story, hmm?”

Lucanis nods and takes another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through him but he is not entirely certain it’s from the coffee alone.

“I would say you’re burning moonlight, but given where we are …”

He smiles when Rook chuckles at his terrible attempt at humour, and he appreciates it even if it is forced on her end, but it feels genuine enough. Everything about Rook was genuine.

Her focus returns to the castle in front of them.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a small kingdom”

She waves her hands in a fluid motion and the solitary castle morphs into a bird’s eye view of that same castle perched on top of a hill, overlooking a small village.

“And in that kingdom, there lived a King and a Queen, much beloved by their people.”

The castle and village disappear. They are now replaced with two figures sitting on matching thrones upon a simple dais. In the thrones sit a man and a woman, each with a crown decorating their foreheads.

“The King and Queen longed desperately for a child of their own and had tried for many years to make it so. ‘Would that we had a child!’, the King cried, and yet, their child remained a dream.”

As she said those words, the mouth of the king moved in tandem.

He can’t imagine the amount of concentration it must be taking to accomplish telling a story, maintaining an illusion, and making an illusion talk. He continues to sit there in awe, with only his training keeping his jaw from hanging on the floor.

The corner of her lips pull down into a slight frown.

“The Queen would not accept the words of her physician, who told her bearing a child was not possible for her, for there was a sickness in her womb that would prevent it”

The image morphed into the Queen hunched over on the floor, on all fours, sobbing. It looks so real he is convinced he could hear her agonized cries.

Now, the Queen has traded her crown for a traveller's cloak. She floats aimlessly in the air between them, the cloak billowing on an invisible wind.

“The Queen, unbeknownst to the King, set off to seek the knowledge of a Spirit from the Fade. When she eventually finds one,” Rook pauses and waves her left hand to bring forth the image of an amorphous spirit in front of the Queen. “She wastes no time asking the Spirit if it could help her conceive a child”

The spirit continues to float above the figure of the queen, who is now on her knees looking up at it, hands clasped as if in prayer.

“The Spirit asks if she is prepared to do anything to have a child. The Queen fervently answers that she would give up anything – do anything for an heir.” The figure of the Queen bows down to the Spirit in deference. “Satisfied, the Spirit gives her knowledge of a ritual that could provide her with a child. It would take several mages and the sacrifice of an innocent, but that was the only way to cure the sickness from her womb and carry a child. ‘Do this, and your child will grow in grace and beauty. Hair spun in gold, lips as red as the rose. She will walk with spring time wherever she goes. Her song will put nightingales and larks to shame’”

Blood magic. Figures this story comes from Tevinter.

“But be warned” The Spirit holds up a hand, “Should the Princess ever prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and draw blood, she will die”

The figure of the Queen hurriedly nods, before disappearing into nothing.

“The Queen quickly returns to the kingdom and enlists the help of her council of Magi”

The figure of the Queen returns to its original appearance. She is now surrounded by seven cloaked figures, each carrying a stave in their hands. The form of a young woman is chained, on her knees, in the middle of them all.

“They had their sacrifice, and the knowledge on how to perform the ritual” Her voice is quiet, almost strained.

The figures appear to be chanting now. The faint blue glow of the form of the young woman slowly turns red, with some concentration on Rook’s part. A moment later, the form is swallowed by red light and disappears. Veins of red climb like vines and weave their way into the figure of the Queen, settling on her stomach, before fading from sight.

Rook’s frown deepens and her brows draw closely together. The figures of the King and Queen morph into an embrace. And quickly after, they are sitting on their thrones, side-by-side, with the Queen’s belly swollen with child.

“The King had no idea about the ritual. He was ecstatic, of course, at the prospect of finally having a child” Rook said. “And so he didn’t question it when the Queen asked that every spinning wheel in the kingdom be burned to ensure her safety”

The pair disappear, and now, a large pile of spinning wheels, burning with blue flames, takes their place.

It disappears soon after, and the image of a baby is conjured in its place. She is sleeping soundly in an intricately carved wooden cot.

“The Princess, who they called Rosaea, was perfect. And just as the Spirit had said, she would indeed grow in grace and beauty” The form of the baby changes to that of a young woman, with long, flowing hair and a beautiful face. “She was loved by all her people, for she had a kind heart. She lived happily with her parents and was adorned of gifts from her people, the nobility, and suitors alike. But things would not stay that way for long.”

The image of the princess disappears. The scene shifts to the King, Queen, and the Princess together at the gates of the Kingdom.

“Urgent business with another Kingdom called the King and Queen away, and so the Princess was left to wander the castle by herself”

Rook waves a hand and the Princess walks alone, before coming to the form of an old woman hunched over a spinning wheel.

The princesses mouth moves in tandem with Rook’s words.

“You there, madam” The princess says, pointing to the wheel. “What is it that you are doing?’ She asks, for she had never seen a spinning wheel before”

The figure of the old woman turns towards the princess and beckons her closer, “I am spinning, dear girl’, it answers” The figure of the princess moves closer to the spinning wheel. She leans over it, and asks, “What is that thing that twists around so briskly?”

No sooner had she said the words and taken the spindle into her hand, there is a flash of red light, and the figure of the princess is on the floor. Not dead, but sleeping, for he can see the rise and fall of her chest.

The old woman first morphs into the spirit from before, the one that spoke with the Queen, and then it changes again into a twisted creature - all horns, claws, and jagged edges. One he was all too familiar with. A demon.

“The Spirit the Queen had spoken with was no Spirit at all, it was a Terror demon in disguise.” Rook explains, waving her hand through the illusion of the girl and the demon towering over her, erasing it from existence.

It is at this moment that Lucanis realizes he’s forgotten to breathe. He draws a deep breath, and leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs. His coffee sits abandoned on the table, as does Rook’s. Spite is practically vibrating behind his eyes.

“Well, go on” he gestures at her.

Rook grins, evidently satisfied with her work. “Impatient, are we?”

Lucanis smirks, “Spite wants to know how it ends”

“And you’re not the least bit curious?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at him doubtfully.

He distracts himself with a sip of coffee, miraculously still somewhat warm. “I might be”

Rook chuckles and shakes her head, mirroring him by bringing her own coffee to her lips. She licks her lips and sighs, and he tries to look anywhere but her mouth. For a moment, he finds himself preoccupied with his own shoes.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story” She rings out her hands and brings them back into position. That familiar blue glow envelops them again. He feels its safe to meet her gaze again.

“The Terror Demon’s ritual didn’t just affect the Princess, it affected the whole Kingdom. One by one, everyone fell into a deep slumber, just like the princess”

He watches intently as the castle courtyard morphs into view between them. Figures of soldiers and servants alike start falling asleep in place, dropping like wilting flowers. The courtyard disappears and returns to another view of the entire kingdom. Large, twisted brambles begin enveloping it,He eererere forming an impenetrable wall of thorns encasing everything in sight.

“The King and Queen returned to find their Kingdom gone. They tried rallying support from other kingdoms, but none could breach the Demon’s brambles”

Figures of soldiers and magi alike lobbing magic and arrows and spears at the wall sprang to life. Each volley as useless as the last. She pauses as the image fades, and nothing takes its place.

“And?” Lucanis asks leaning onto his forearms even more.

“And I’m getting there” Rook laughs, flourishing her fingers like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra.

“The Demon’s spell kept the kingdom in a state of eternal slumber. It fed on their fears and nightmares in the Fade while they slept. On the outside, a hundred years had passed, and the King and Queen were long dead. But everyone inside the Kingdom still remained as they were when they were put to sleep”

Two elaborate tombs flickered to life, before fading a moment later.

“Another hundred years passes before a wandering adventurer, pure of heart and mind, and possessing the soul of a true hero, would come to the ruins of the Kingdom, still surrounded by the wall of thorns”

She conjures the image of a handsome-faced young man, in simple chain mail, riding atop a horse.

“But this adventurer was special, you see” Rook whispered and leaned in closer.

Smells like lavender and rosewater, Spite chimes.

“For he had a Spirit of Valor on his side. And the Spirit would see the Terror Demon banished back to the Fade forever”

The figure draws his sword, glowing a bright golden yellow, and pierces the wall of thorns with ease. He continues to cut through the wall and makes his way to the castle.

“There was a great battle between the Demon and the Hero, but the Hero prevails with the help of the Spirit of Valor”

The demon is pierced by the golden sword, and cries out a soundless scream, before disappearing. Now, the entire view of the kingdom is back. The brambles recede like a tide, and one by one, little figures of soldiers and servants begin waking up.

Curiously, when the image fades back to the figure of the princess, she still lies sleeping.

“Why didn’t the princess wake up?” Lucanis asks, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“The Nightmare Demon’s hold on the Princess is stronger than any of the other inhabitants of the Kingdom” Rook explains, shifting in her seat. "It was banished back to the Fade, but not defeated in its entirety. Terror is one of the strongest emotions there is, after all"

The princess and the hero fade from view, and this time, nothing takes their place.

“There has to be more than that” He throws his hands up and shakes his head, before taking another sip of coffee. He nearly spits it out. It’s gone cold. Again. Yet for all his love of caffeinated beverages, the thought of getting up to make another cup doesn’t even cross his mind.

She laughs again, her green eyes twinkling with mirth, “I’m getting there.” She repeats.

“You’re doing this on purpose” He points to her, frowning.

“I have to build suspense somehow!”

Rook raises her hands again, and the figures of the princess and the hero return to view.

“The Hero couldn’t help but be struck by the Princesses’ beauty. He could do nothing else but admire her sleeping form. And he was overcome with the desire to kiss her, for he knew it was love at first sight. He had no way of knowing if it would work – maybe it was his own heart, or maybe it was the Spirit of Valor whispering in his ear, but needed to know if a kiss could wake her from her slumber”

The figure of the prince moves closer to the princess, and hunches over her sleeping form. It leans in and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips.

Both the princess and the hero were soon engulfed in a warm, golden glow. The figure of the princess wakes, and the hero takes her into his arms.

“The princess wakes to find herself in the arms of her rescuer. She and the Hero fall in love. They re-establish the kingdom and ruled together as King and Queen, living happily ever after”

And with a final flick of her wrist, the embracing figures vanish into the ether.

“The End” She says, with a satisfied smirk and a small bow at the waists.

Lucanis leans back in his seat, unable to stop himself from smiling. “That’s it? Everything is fixed with a kiss?”

Rook shrugs innocently, “Aren’t most things?”

He has no time to process that, or the way she’s looking at him while she says it.

“Besides, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was true love’s kiss. Love can be a powerful form of magic in its own right. Just as powerful as Terror - if not more so”

Lucanis frowns. He wishes he could believe that.

“In stories, perhaps” he mutters, swirling the cold coffee around in its cup.

Rook yawns and runs a hand through her wild curls.

“Perhaps” She stands and takes the journal in her hands. She offers him another sweet smile before turning to leave, “Never hurts to believe, though”

As she makes for the dining hall door, Lucanis stands from his chair.

“Rook?” He calls out after her.

She stops and turns, “Yeah?”

“Thank you … for this” he gestures to the fireplace. “For tonight.”

Rook nods, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked my story”

“Would you come again tomorrow night?” He asks, entirely too quickly. Convinced he sounds like a lovesick puppy, he wants to kick himself in the shin. Thankfully, he has Spite to do that to his head.

Rooks brows lift in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask. They quickly settle into a kind expression, one he finds he wants to burn into his memory until its all he can see.

“Yeah, of course” She gives him a small wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow night”

Lucanis returns the wave and returns to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

Meanwhile, Rook leaves the dining hall barely able to keep herself upright.

Being inside the Fade made it much easier for her to draw on her magic, but she’s never used that level of detail and sustained it for so long to tell a story.

Sleep would come easier that night for her from the mana depletion alone.

Lucanis, on the other hand, would stay awake replaying her story in his head over and over again. He would think of how the warm glow of the fireplace cast streaks of orange and gold into her wild curls. How her eyes practically sparkle and the softness of her voice when she tells a story.

But in all the loops of Rook and her story that play in his mind, it escapes his notice that a possessed man is the hero of her tale.

[madschiavelique]

Hi! So, modding has ruined me and as such I’d like to request the Origin Companions with a Lich Tav / S/O? Like, they did the whole process a while ago and only now with the Tadpole Sitch have they returned from death and have no idea what they’re doing and are far weaker than they expected. Maybe they show the companion a sign of “I love and trust you” by allowing them to (gently) hold their phylactery? Idk, fill how you see fit if you want :]

hi anon!! sorry it took so long but i wanted to make a bit of research for it to be accurate. i hope you'll like it!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : shadowheart, astarion, gale, lae'zel, wyll, karlach

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst, but some comfort

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1.4k (250~ per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ ‧ shadowheart :

at a first glance, you amazed her as much as terrified her. but it was mostly a terrified respect. because being a lich, aka an undead sorcerer who seeks to transcend death itself is in clear opposition to the cycle of life and death, which is a central theme of most faiths including Shar’s.

she swore you must have followed Shar herself though as, per her words, “the darkness that precedes you would make a fierce soldier in her eyes.”

chances are that Shadowheart will have to put some parts of her faith in question for you, but on the other hand she could simply see your powers as a sort of extension of Shar’s influence.

as time goes by however, she realises a lot of prejudices held against lichs such as being cold and goal driven can be wrong, especially when it comes about you.

she’d be very much interested in hearing you talk about the process of becoming a lich. she admires your patience and devotion so much, a person as old and wise as you has seen more than she ever will and she craves to know more about your life, before becoming a lich and during it.

if you ever allowed her to hold your phylactery, she would never doubt your sincerity ever again. she knows how much this act means for her, for you, for your relationship, and she would not forget it nor lower it for anything in Faerun.

─ ‧ astarion :

when astarion learns about you being a lich at the very beginning of your adventure, it is certain that you and him would bicker about your age.

“how old are you? i didn’t know mummies could have such deplorable fashion styles, but how could it be otherwise considering you’re older than most of Gale’s books“ he said, to which you’d answer “it pains me that i have lived long enough to see idiots like you being born.”

it’s really just a game of bickering at the beginning, especially when you underlined that most liches are more powerful than vampires.

this however brought a spark to him, because if you were indeed more powerful than most vampires, then you would be of great utility in helping him go against his master.

over time of you gaining back your powers and abilities, he found something absolutely breathtaking in your darkness, your devotion, your ambition to outlive anything in your path.

he would see an opportunity to live in eternity by your sides. all other mortals perish eventually, and the knowledge of having you by his sides for all eternity makes him impossibly happy.

you offering him to hold your phylactery would mean the world to him, because he knew that if he had such a thing, he would have gave it to you. it’s an incomparable proof of your trust for him, no one had ever allowed him such an honour and you can be sure he will value it greatly.

─ ‧ gale :

this man is a scholar, and it would be lying to say that apart from being frightened and pretty much offended that you are here, he is extremely curious. 

he obviously has a deep fascination of magic, particularly the forbidden type, and you are a literal gift from the skies to be in his path.

ethical boundaries aside, i don’t think he will be able to shut up. 

you will be bombarded by all types of questions about the whole entire process of becoming a lich, from your years to learning about the Arcane arts to the gathering the rare and powerful components needed for the creation of your phylactery. 

He will not let you rest, he needs answers he’s been pondering on for so long and you’re here with all the answers.

This however raises for him the question of morality and mortality, unless he takes the path of moving from Evocation to Necromancy, in which case one could say he found the perfect pair.

Having gale as your s/o while being a lich is something you didn’t expect, in the sense that being with gale made you feel understood and seen.

If you allow gale to touch your phylactery, he would jump to the ceiling. He would hold it gently and ask about each and every part of it, asking how you got the components, how you assembled it all and how it felt once you had completed the entire process. But most of all, he is extremely aware of what it means and how much of a token of trust and respect it is for you to allow him to handle such a precious object.

─ ‧ lae'zel :

Lae’zel’s first approach would most definitely be one of suspicion. Githyankis and their traditions consider others as weak or unnatural, especially those who use necromancy. Chances are her first thoughts about you gravitate around repulsion, since you alone represent a source of power that is so dishonorable.

She would take quite the time to let herself trust you. There is one thing she cannot deny about you that changes during your adventure : you’re powerful, very powerful. When you start gaining back some of your powers and offer proper almost overwhelming force of will, you’ve owned lae’zel’s respect (no matter of grudgingly she acknowledges you as a worthy potential partner). 

Plus, your immortality is an asset in battle that cannot be circumvented.

In the end, your strong senses of battle and unrelenting determination won her.

When you allowed her to handle your phylactery, she was confused as to what such an artefact was. But when you explained to her that your very remains of life and mortality were in that very object, her heart leaped in her chest. For you to offer your life and allow her to have it in her own hands proved to her that you were more trustworthy than any other allies and lovers.

─ ‧ wyll :

His original reaction to your situation would be disbelief. He’d only ever heard of Lichs in storybooks or tails one would mysteriously count in a tavern. But a real one, in the flesh ? that was a first for him.

The concept of necromancy alone is not one Wyll appreciates much. It defies moralities and mortality to bring back from the dead. He’s worked hard to defeat enemies in the past that used such methods to build armies and soulless soldiers, and he is frightened of having feelings for you when these questions pull to the front of his mind.

But his sense of forgiveness would take over. Along the road to Baldur’s Gate, during your many adventures, he saw how your dedication to getting the team out of a deadly situation was pure and true.

It’s hard for him to deconstruct so many beliefs he’s had on necromancy and lichs in general, but he’s willing to do it for you. He does fear that it will be an imbalance relationship, but he wants to try.

But this thought vanishes from his mind when you allow him to touch your phylactery. He’s heard of such artefacts, of what they hold within, and it undoubtedly makes his heart stammer. He’ll never ever doubt of your love for him, that is for certain.

─ ‧ karlach :

Karlach’s first impression of her s/o being a Lich would not be positive, since being a lich represents the concept of immortality at the cost of the soul, and it could be something she finds repulsive.

Because you had the choice to abandon your mortality, your life, and you took it while she never had a choice on her own mortality.

But when you started travelling together, fighting together, living together, she didn’t find you so bad after all. It felt like you were just one of them, just a person with ambitions and goals.

She realised the lengths at which you were ready to go for your companions, and it owned her trust and admiration.

And when you kept finding infernal iron and stopped anything you were all doing just to go see Dammon as soon as you could to get her heart fixed, she knew she could trust you and appreciate you.

She has her own fears of being with you though, the fatality of her own heart failing her in opposition to your eternity frightened her beyond belief. What will happen if she dies and you go on without her ? She is very much tormented about this question.

But she loves you, and she knows you love her.

When you allow her to touch your phylactery, she would crumble in tears as if you’re offering her a wedding ring. If she could take out her mechanical heart from her chest and give it to you without dying the same way you give her the last piece of life you own in this world, she would.

[oldangryslytherin]

Wipper snipper

Thank you so much for the tag @riverxsong-ao3 :3

Here's a snippet of a tomarry oneshot im writing instead of continuing my fics or starting with the work im supposed to publish in march.

now when i publish it it will prob not be like this but whatever

(...) “Potter,” Tom drawled, crossing his arms. “Drinking in the Astronomy Tower? That’s a bold move, even for you.” Harry tilted his head to look at him, a lazy, drunken grin spreading across his face. “Riddle. Come to ruin my night?” He made an exaggerated attempt to sit up straight but ended up swaying dangerously. Tom sighed, stepping closer. “As Head Boy, it’s my duty to deduct points for breaking school rules. Ten points from Gryffindor for intoxication and another ten for poor judgment.” Harry snorted, waving the bottle vaguely in Tom’s direction. “Oh, take all the points you want. I don’t care.” He pushed himself to his feet, only to stumble. “You’re just… taking advantage of the situation. Like you always do.” Tom arched a brow, catching Harry by the arm to steady him. “And how, exactly, am I doing that?” Harry’s drunken gaze met Tom’s, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something raw in his eyes. Slowly, his hand reached up and tugged at the edges of Tom’s perfectly composed mask of indifference. “Because they all love you,” he slurred. “You’re lying to them and being awful. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because you’re… you.” Tom’s brow furrowed slightly. “What does that have to do with this moment?” “Because you know,” Harry said, his voice dipping into something almost accusatory. “You know you’re attractive. That… that gives you influence. Like Cedric.” He laughed bitterly. “Because of how pretty he was, he could’ve gotten away with anything, and I’d just relent.”

being pretty is manipulative duh

i dont know what that mess is im sorry

tagging: @solelyseeking , @a-bored-idiot @tommarvoloriddlesdiary @catjar91 @isalisewrites @eidelvyd

if i didnt tag you but want to o it youre welcome!!

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as speak now

thanks again to @lethekoo for helping me:) this is my fave ts album so it was so much fun hehe

jake as speak now

“baby, I didn’t say my vows, so glad you were around when they said ‘speak now’”

I think jake would leave someone at the altar for true love ngl

he’s nice, I know, but he seems like too much of a romantic to enter a loveless marriage like that

anD if the roles were reversed, I do think he’d crash a wedding. probably not in the middle of it, but he’d totally meet his ex in the back and be like “DON’T DO IT PLZ 🙏🙏 I LOVE YOU”

jay as the story of us

“this is looking like a contest of who can act like they care less, but I liked it better when you were on my side”

a relationship with jay would entail so much heat. not necessarily fighting, but rather a lot of passion that, when you did split, would manifest itself in the form of tension when you were together

I have no idea if that even made sense but just generally I can also picture that library scene in the music video with jay SO VIVIDLY. the glasses and everything?!?! bye

jungwon as enchanted

“this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the story line ends; my thoughts will echo your name until I see you again”

I CANNOT EXPLAIN THIS ONE 😰 HE’S JUST REALLY CHARMING AND HIS AURA FITS 😰

but also you would def be hoping he wasn’t in love with someone else if you met him and he had you blushing all the way home 💖💞💓💝💘💗 don’t laugh I know you would

ni-ki as innocent

“it’s alright, just wait and see, your string of lights are still bright to me, who you are is not where you’ve been”

now I KNOW I wasn’t the only one getting ready to fight it out with mnet with all that evil editing on i-land

with everything he’s been through and so many people antagonizing him, ni-ki deserves an apology

ni-ki was never in the wrong for voting taki out (argue w the wall 🤗) but this is just a “hey, it’ll all be fine :)”

sunghoon as last kiss

“and I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day and something reminds you, you wish you had stayed”

MMM ME PUTTING TAYLOR’S SONGS ABOUT JOE JONAS WITH SUNGHOON TWO FOR TWO whoops BUT THIS ONE JUST MADE SENSE TO ME

maybe it’s because I have this preconceived notion that sunghoon is a heartbreaker but also he isn’t the type you’d be mad at you’d just be left wondering what you could’ve done differently </3 okay yikes I’ll stop

sunoo as if this was a movie

“I know that we could work it out somehow, but if this was a movie, you’d be here by now”

I think my decision was very much influenced by the fact that sunoo is a fan of dramas and he seems like someone who would reflect his the media he’s consumed onto his real life (haha like me 😝)

like I just think he’d be disappointed if things didn’t quite go the way he and his s/o anticipated 💔

I can imagine him on either side of this relationship too, this scenario just generally fits him really well:)

heeseung as superman

“don’t forget where I’ll be–right here, wishing the flowers were from you, wishing the card was from you, wishing the call was from you, ‘cause I’ve loved you from the very first day”

I could TRY to convince you that this has nothing to do with my love of superheroes and heeseung overlapping but I’d probably be lying

BUT I do think that there would be that sense of desperation in a relationship with him in his current status as an idol or superhero

it’d feel lonely sometimes because he’s such a diligent worker and puts his all into everything he does like COULD ANYONE KEEP UP?? probably just someone who knows their self worth I think I’m being dramatic

txt version ☆ fearless version ☆ masterlist

[soobmint]

sober thoughts | choi yeonjun [f] ; [s] friends to lovers! au, 2.05k words

s u m m a r y ; yeonjun has been your best friend for as long as the both of you can remember. he was there when you learned to tie your shoes, when you won your first spelling bee, when you had your first breakup, and when you graduated high school. now you’re both entering your first year of college—as the same old best friends, of course. the catch? yeonjun has conveniently forgotten to mention that he doesn’t quite see you as just a friend anymore.

n o t e ; my version of “suggestive” is still fluff, it’s just a tad more passionate than my normal stuff. i hope you enjoy this little musing of mine! it’s a very light-hearted oneshot that gave me so much joy while writing <3 (it’s almost too short for a oneshot, but definitely too long for a drabble, so i was a bit lost on what to categorize it as haha)

[back to masterlist]

CHOI YEONJUN WAS ALWAYS WAITING FOR YOU.

In elementary school, it was his job to wait for you every time you were running late, often forgetting to grab your backpack before you walked to school with him. He would wait beside of you on the sidewalk when you realized you had left your laces undone, or when he pointed out that your shoes were on the wrong feet.

As a middle schooler, he waited for you outside the orthodontist when you got your braces put on and during the countless checkups you had. And of course, he waited for you a few years later when you had both just entered high school as you got your braces removed. You had rushed out of the office right away, flashing him a big smile as you pointed to your teeth, chanting, “No more braces, Jun!”

When he saw your smile that day, he felt the butterflies for the first time.

Later that year, he waited for you when you were studying together for your first big test. You paced around the room, fretting and tugging at your hair as you complained about not having enough time to study, about the test being too big, about how you were certain you would fail. He waited until you paused for breath before he stood and took hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as he assured you that everything would be fine, that you were the smartest person he knew, so how could you fail?

When he gently held your hands and stared into your wide and sparkling eyes, his heart skipped a beat, and he knew that he liked you as more than a friend.

In your senior year of high school, he waited as you sat together at the bus stop one night, rain pouring down, your head on his shoulder as tears spilled down your cheeks, falling onto the fabric of his shirt, the denim of his jeans, the skin of his hand. He waited until you had finished telling him all about your first heartbreak. About how the boy who promised to give you the world instead caused it to fall to pieces around you, because you had been certain he was the love of your life, so how could he break your heart in such a terrible way?

He waited until your sobs had slowed to hiccups before he placed a finger under your chin and lifted your face towards his, bringing his hands to hold your cheeks so he could catch your tears with his thumbs.

When he saw your swollen face and felt you tremble from the heartache against his hands that night, he swore that he would do anything he could to restore the promises your jerk of an ex failed to keep. He would catch the very stars in his hands if that’s what it took to bring the light back into your eyes. He would do anything to see your smile, the same one that brought him those first butterflies all those years ago.

It was then that he knew he was helplessly in love with you.

But, as always, Yeonjun knew he would have to wait. He was certain that you did not love him as anything more than a friend.

If he planned to wait for your feelings to mirror his own, he figured he’d be waiting forever.

But what else was he to do?

YOU WERE LATE FOR MOVIE NIGHT, AND YEONJUN WAS GROWING ANXIOUS AS HE WAITED FOR YOU TO SHOW UP.

Since you had both started college together a month ago, you had agreed to make time once a week for movies on Friday nights at six o’clock. They were usually hosted at your house, but this week, Yeonjun had invited you to his apartment so he could show off his new T.V. 

He had excitedly prepared your favorite drinks and your favorite movie snack—popcorn with M&Ms mixed in. He had to carefully pick out all of the red M&Ms by hand. It was an old habit; as kids, red dye had always made you exceptionally hyper. Whenever you ate M&Ms, he would pick out the red ones and eat them, leaving the rest for you. No matter how many times you told him that it didn’t effect you any longer, he refused to change his ways.

“After all that trouble, you’re not even going to show up?” He mumbled from where he sat upside down on the couch, his head on the floor, legs stuck straight up in the air. He glanced at his phone, pouting at the lack of a text or call from you. It was twenty minutes past six.

After a moment of debating, he decided to try calling you. He was shocked when you picked up right away.

“Jun!” You said cheerfully, the volume in your voice louder than he had expected.

 He pulled the phone away from his ear with a grimace before answering with, “Where are you?”

“I was just about to call you! Some friends of mine dragged me to the bar, and I didn’t get a chance to tell you’d I’d be running a bit late,” you explained. 

“The bar?” Yeonjun furrowed his brows, swinging his legs down so that he could sit up straight. You had a tendency to say—and do—odd things when you were under the influence, so you usually avoided drinking in public. He found it odd that you’d go out drinking so unexpectedly, and with such little resistance.

“Don’t worry! I’m on my way to your place right now,” you assured him. “Actually, I’m here now! Could you ring me in?”

“Mm,” Yeonjun hummed, standing to his feet as he ended the call. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling more nervous than he usually did at the thought of you coming over. In the past, whenever you were drunk and around him, you would get really close to him, touch his arm, lean in when you spoke to him, and hug him way more than usual. Of course, he didn’t mind these things. But he was afraid every time that he’d accidentally let his guard slip and end up telling you the secret that he’d been keeping from you for years; he was in love with you.

With a sigh, he buzzed you in, doing his best to steel his nerves before you walked in. 

He was already back on the couch and turning the T.V. on when you burst through his door, slamming it shut behind you as you tore your shoes off and slid your feet into the pair of slippers you kept at his apartment. He glanced at you over his shoulder, unable to stop the grin that spread across his lips at the sight of you rushing about.

“Yeonjun!” You shouted, stumbling over your feet and nearly falling to the floor as you ran to the living room. You planted yourself firmly in front of him, blocking his view of the T.V. 

“Hey, move over would you?” He griped, swatting at the air in front of you with his hand. “I’m trying to get the movie started.”

“I have something to say first.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, curiosity biting at the back of his mind. But, he remembered that you had been out drinking, and decided that anything you planned to tell him was probably a result of the alcohol in your bloodstream. Not wanting to put himself in a compromising situation, he shook his head quickly, pouting. “Just wait ‘til after the movie, alright? You’re already twenty minutes late, you’re lucky I didn’t start it without you—“

He stopped in the middle of his sentence when you tore the remote from his grasp, switched the power off, and threw it to the ground. He watched, slack-jawed and dumbfounded, as the remote slid off under the recliner on the other side of the room.

“What—what are you doing?” He asked. Slowly, he raised a finger at you. “This always happens when you drink. Next time, I’m not letting you in my house drunk—”

He was cut off once again, breath caught in his throat as you leaned forward, placing both hands against the back of the couch on either side of him. He leaned back right away, but even with his back pressed fully into the cushion behind him, your nose was brushing against his, lips a breath away.

“What are you doing?” He asked again, his voice hardly above a whisper. 

Your eyes searched his for a moment.

And then, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

He gasped against your mouth, and he could have sworn that his heart went still before it began pounding against his chest at triple the normal rate. It was a moment that he had imagined for years; lying in his bed late at night, wondering what it would feel like to have your lips against his, the smell of your perfume encircling him, the feeling of having you so close to him, of your body moving closer, your lips growing insistent as they moved over his own.

But now that it was happening, it was all wrong.

It took everything within him to bring his hands up to your shoulders and gently push you back, breaking the kiss. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, something similar to the hurt he had seen after your first breakup present in your gaze. He glanced away, hands gripping the fabric of your shirt sleeves.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I thought—I just thought that you maybe felt the same way.”

“It’s not that,” He said quietly as he slowly brought his eyes back to meet yours, lips still tingling with the memory of your kiss. He glanced down at your lips, swallowing before he said, “You’re drunk.”

You furrowed your brows at him, tilting your head to the side. “I’m not drunk.” You narrowed your eyes. “Are you drunk?”

He blinked once, then twice. “N-No? But you said you were out at the bar—”

“Yes, as the babysitter for my friends,” you finished for him, a smile breaking across your lips. “I drove all of them home before coming straight here. I didn’t have anything to drink, Jun.”

He was quiet and still as he tried to process what you had just said. In an instant he had leaned forward, his lips capturing yours in a swift kiss that caught you off guard and caused you to stumble back a bit.

He pulled away quickly, swiping his thumb across his lips as the gears began to turn like crazy in his mind. 

He tasted no alcohol when he kissed you. Only the overpowering flavor of the cheap mint toothpaste that you always used.

That meant you had been sober the whole time.

That meant you had wanted to kiss him.

In a flash, his hands were on the sides of your face, his lips covering yours in another kiss as he stood to his feet, bringing you up with him. His kiss was desperate, his lips moving against yours feverishly, trying to make up for all the years they had spent waiting to touch yours. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck as he began to walk forward, hands pressing you up against him as he backed you up.

He moved forward, lips never leaving yours, until your back met the wall behind you. His hands traveled up your sides as he moved to kiss the corners of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw. He exhaled against your neck when your hands moved to his hair, tangling in the long threads and pulling on them gently. He placed his arms against the wall on either side of your face, caging you in as he moved his lips back up to yours, catching your bottom lip in his teeth.

He kissed you with all the passion and adoration he had been harboring for so long. After all those years of hoping and dreaming, of wishing and wondering, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. 

Because Choi Yeonjun no longer had to wait for you, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment ever again.

[freckleddoll]

Reasons why Doll could still be alive

1. I’m still in denial

I compiled a list of reasons why I think that there is a possibility of Doll coming back in the future! Although I do think the chances are slim, given the fact that she hasn’t appeared in the Manga since 2009, which was 12 years ago. However, there is a handful of reasons from a story telling perspective of why it’s possible, and also a handful of inconsistencies between Doll’s death and all of the other Noah’s Ark Circus deaths. Very long post under the cut.

Starting with the most obvious, we never see Doll’s death actually happened, it’s ever only implied.

We don’t hear a direct command, it’s only implied that she died. This is “affirmed” a second later by Undertaker.

He laughs about how Ciel is hastily, and that he can not take back what he’s done, even if he regrets it later. However, this isn’t explicitly about Doll. We as the audience are made to believe that this is about her because we just saw the frame before, of Doll’s signature lollipop falling.

We have seen every other death on screen. We are certain to see each of their corpses, except for Joker, who’s death is confirmed by William T Spears earlier in the chapter.

This is placed conveniently, or dare I say, deliberately before Doll’s death. We see William and Ronald collecting souls only before Doll shows up. The only other Reaper we see in this chapter afterwards is Undertaker.

This is of course speculation, but I don’t believe that the death Undertaker is referring to here is Doll’s death. I think he might be referring to the massacre Ciel and Sebastian have basically just committed after being employed for this mission to save the children. This is something Ciel can not take back. But Undertaker never explicitly said Doll, in fact, he specifically chose the phrase “to hold each and every soul dear” which implies that multiple souls were lost. I don’t think he is actually talking about the Circus Troupe, Doll or Joker.

What could this mean?

I think we are purposefully being misdirected as an audience member here, and I believe that the decision to withhold the details of Doll’s death was deliberate. I believe that the narrative is purposefully withholding information that will much later in the story become important.

Another thing I’d like to point out is, why on earth is Undertaker here? His presence isn’t explained, other than to “affirm” Doll’s death. He is seen with a carriage, along with Charles Grey and Charles Phipps. Well this could tie back to R!Ciel, I think that it’s also possible that:

Doll is actually dead and the information being withheld from us is that Undertaker took her body to later use as a Bizarre Doll to mess with Ciel later in the series.

Doll was disarmed by Sebastian, and once they left, perhaps even believing Doll was dead, Doll was taken in by Undertaker and R!Ciel for revenge or something. I know this one is a lot more dodgy, but it’s the one I believe makes more narrative sense.

Now let’s move on to how this makes sense from a narrative perspective.

Obviously, Snake is still alive, and believes that his family is alive. He goes to Ciel’s manor looking for them.

Ciel offers Snake a position at the Phantomhive manor, under the guise that they are looking for Snake’s family. Snake joins him because Ciel is manipulating him here, telling him that Snake can essentially have a new family at the manor while looking for his old family.

I believe Doll is a big influence as to why Ciel makes this decision. 

Ciel sees Doll when he looks at Snake, which seems to be painful for Ciel. He then goes out of his way to affirm that they were, in fact, bad people (perhaps to justify his own actions in his mind) but then goes back on this and claims that he believes they were good people as to manipulate Snake.

He wants to help them achieve happiness and give them the chance to atone for their sins. The question is, is Ciel taking Snake in to atone for his own sins or to manipulate Snake?

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. A crucial character that is being played in this scene is of course, Doll. In every single memory that Snake shares, Doll is center frame, or the person who was closest to him.

Doll is either takes up the most space in the frame, or she’s the one who is standing closest to Snake. Not even Joker is this present in all of the images, but she is in all of them. While we didn’t see this much play out in the actual Book of Circus arc (given that Snake had very little screentime in that arc anyway), we can infer from these images that Snake felt the closest to Doll out of everyone at the Circus.

We also aren’t just seeing his actual memories normally, we are seeing his memories in an emotionally charged state. While he is feeling highly emotional, the person he thinks of the most is Doll. This is not just him remembering her as being the friendliest or most open person to him, this is who he was actually closest with within the Circus.

Doll’s relationship with both Snake and Ciel are very important parts of both of these characters. We see Ciel soften and feel guilt when he is reminded of Doll, and we see that Snake and Doll were presumably very close because of this scene.

Also just some fun images that I felt like pointing out:

Doll is featured in this image with one of Snake’s snakes. There isn’t much of a reason to feature one of these Snake’s snakes, unless we’re meant to infer a connection between these two.

I’m not quite sure where this image came from, but look! Doll and Snake are sitting next to each other, and Snake has a little smile on his face, which as we know isn’t very common for Snake in this series. There are very few instances of him smiling. However, this is obvious in the anime style so it likely isn’t manga compliant it’s cute though.

They’re featured together in another image!

Now for Doll and Ciel of course:

Doll and Ciel are seen here lying together.

These two images are very important to me and I feel they both hold a deeper meaning. Now it’s time to talk about Ciel and Doll.

Of course, there is the eye symbolism. Both of them keep an eye covered up, because both are hiding secrets that they need to keep covered up. Both wear a costume and live under a persona (Doll’s Circus persona that hides her identity of someone who kidnaps children and Ciel’s Smile persona where he is hiding his identity of the Queen’s watchdog). Yet, both of them are drawn to each other despite their secrets and form lasting connections.

We also see Ciel reaching out to Doll, and Sebastian taking the lollipop out of his hand. He is literally taking her away from him and blinding him from finding her. He is concealing the truth?

Despite what her family says, Doll refuses to believe that Ciel is with the yard.

She draws the parallels between herself and Ciel right here! She literally said it herself! Both of them are capable of holding secrets, and despite what appearances may suggest, people are still capable of hiding things. When she says “but we” she is acknowledging that appearances don’t always match expectations.

However, she still believes in him, up until the very end.

Even up until this point, she was still willing to listen to Ciel, and denies it until she can’t anymore. She reflects on their time together, having believed that their friendship was real.

Doll finally accepts it and feels hurt, betrayed and angry. She tries to kill him after this. Instead of anger, fear or hatred, this is the face we see Ciel make.

He looks sad and tired. This isn’t the face of someone who takes pleasure in the idea of killing her. We see him feel remorse for Doll even earlier, like I pointed out earlier in this scene

This scene is what compels him to take Snake in, being reminded of Doll. He looks sad here, he looks remorseful.

But most importantly, there is this image.

This takes place in the Green Witch arc, meaning that he is still thinking about Doll, she is still relevant up until this point in the story.

This image isn’t necessarily him leaving behind those who impacted his life who have since died, though that is certainly part of it. As we know, R!Ciel is still alive which O!Ciel at this point was not aware of. This picture does not reflect the complete truth.

His last obstacle could be interpreted as the Circus itself, but Doll and Joker aren’t positioned together like Rachel and Vincent are. Doll is a distance away from Joker in this image, and her image is a different size than Joker’s, implying that they are two completely different obstacles. In my opinion, Joker represents the Circus as a whole and himself. He represents all the sacrifices he had to make in Baron Kelvin’s manor. He could even represent his trauma while inside the cult.

But Doll is a completely different obstacle. She represents a personal obstacle. She seems to have impacted him greatly, being an influence in what compelled him to take Snake in. She is also one of the only people in this series we see Ciel feel remorse for. She is important.

At this point, this is supposed to give us the conclusion to all of these stories and ideas. But as highly speculated by the fandom (and practically canon) the first Ciel we see in the image is actually R!Ciel who O!Ciel left behind at the cult, who we know is still alive. The first greatest obstacle and his last greatest obstacle. That’s symbolism right there, right?

But I don’t believe that Snake’s story has concluded just yet. His family should still be a huge part of his character and his motivations. If his story isn’t leading up to something, than I think it’s going to be a rather poor choice on Yana Toboso’s part. But as we know, she doesn’t just do things for no reason, I believe that a lot of this was intentional.

TL;DR: Because Doll’s death is never specifically seen on screen, because Undertaker seems to purposefully mislead us after Doll’s death (and because of Undertaker’s presence in the first place), because the promise of looking for Snake’s family who is pivotal to Snake’s character, and because of the importance of Doll’s relationships with both O!Ciel and Snake, I believe that there is a chance that Yana Toboso is planning on bringing Doll back into the story.

This is all speculation, of course. I’d love for it to be true, but it is still rather dodgy given the fact that Doll hasn’t appeared in the Manga in twelve years. I could definitely just suffering from hopeful thinking, but I would love to see our girly make a return. Perhaps with R!Ciel? But the idea of her returning with R!Ciel is an idea for another day and I might make a separate post about it sometime! Thanks a bunch if you made it this far!

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Laito Route ー Chapter 2

ー The scene starts in cafe ‘Tarte Tatin’

*Ding ding*

Waiter A: Welcome.

Laito: A table for two, please. (1)

Waiter A: For two, you said? My sincere apologies. There are no free tables right now, so could you perhaps wait a liーー

Laito: Nfu~ What about the VIP seats out on the terrace?

Waiter A: ...How do you know about those...?

Laito: Fufu~ I’d rather not have you underestimate me~

They’re available, right? Come on, hurry up and escort us.

Waiter A: ...

Laito: Also, this lady over here is this year’s Queen of the Carnival, you know?

Yui: Eh...? Me...!?

Laito: Are you sure you can keep the Queen waiting~? 

Waiter A: I-I shall go confirm with my manager so...!

ー The waiter runs off

Yui: C-Come on, Laito-kun...Why would you mention the Queen thing!?

Laito: Eh? Why, you ask...? I only spoke the truth, right?

Yui: Even so, you shouldn’t threaten him.

Laito: You see, this cafe has seats on the terrace which are reserved for VIPs.

You are the Queen while I am a direct descendant of that man, so I don’t see the problem?

Yui: B-But...

Laito: Ah-ah, that being said, as to be expected of the Carnival. It’s packed in here.

There’s Vampires everywhere I look, it’s making me sick.

Yui: Geez, Laito-kun...

( But he’s right, so even Vampires like to lounge in a cafe like this... )

( Honestly, now that I’m here, the Demon World is completely different from what I imagined. )

ー The head waiter arrives

Head waiter: Dear customers, my sincere apologies for the wait. Well then, I shall show you towards the terrace seats.

Laito: See~? They were available after all. Didn’t I tell you?

Head waiter: ...! You are...! Che...

Yui: ...?

( This waiter...Did he just click his tongue after glancing at Laito-kun...? )

Head waiter: ...Well then, I shall escort you. This way, please...

Laito: Well, let’s go. Come on, Bitch-chan...Your hand, please~

Yui: Y-Yeah...

ー They start walking

Yui: ( I wonder if I just imagined it...? )

¨TIMESKIP*

Head waiter: This is our menu.

Laito: Well then, what do you want, Bitch-chan?

Yui: Uhm...Let’s see.

Laito: Nfu~ You can take your time. In the meantime, I’m going to step away for a few seconds... (2)

Yui: Eh? Step away...? Where are you going?

Laito: I’ll be right back, don’t worry. I just remembered I forgot a little something~

Yui: Something you forgot?

*Thud*

Laito: Nfu~ Exactly. A little something~

Yui: ( H-Hold up...He’s going to leave me all by myself!? )

( Actually, he’s the one who told me not to leave his side earlier... )

Laito: What’s that~? You look awfully anxious, Bitch-chan...

Yui: I mean...

Laito: No need to worry, really. I’ll be back before you know it. See you~

Yui: Ah! Laito-kun...!

ー Laito leaves

Yui: ( He actually left... )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( Laito-kun’s not coming back... )

( Also, everyone’s stares are really making me uncomfortable... (3) )

( Laito-kun, please come back soon... )

Head waiter: Dear customer, please excuse me.

ー He takes a seat across of Yui

*THUD*

Yui: ...!

*THUD*

Yui: ( W-What...? This waiter’s manner of speech is very polite, but he’s extremely violent. )

Head waiter: Che. That damn fiend...He’s acting as if he owns our VIP terrace again!

I do not care if he is a son of the Sakamaki household, I am going to tell him my mind today or I will go crazy!

I am sick and tired of getting pushed around by that lad! I’m pretty sure he was lying earlier as well?

There is just no way a little human girl like you could be the Queen of the Carnival!

ー This catches the other customers attention as they start making a fuss 

Yui: !

( H-He’s talking way too loud! )

( O-Oh no...Now even the customers all the way in the back have turned around and are looking my way! )

U-Uhm, you see...

Head waiter: ...Hmph. Well, I do not care about your personal convenience at all.

I assume you probably got yourself involved in dangerous business. How pitiful.

...You’re just a puny little human!

Yui: ( Once again, keep your voice down...! )

ー The others approach Yui

Yui: ( ...For some reason everyone’s gathering this way...It’s turning into a whole crowd! )

Head waiter: ...Well, I’m pretty sure it’s too late already, but let me give you one warning.

If you stay with him, nothing good will come your way?

Yui: Eh...? What do you mean...?

ー The waiter leaves

Yui: ( Wait, he left... )

( Nothing good will come my way...He was talking about Laito-kun, right? )

( I wonder what Laito-kun has done in this store in the past...? )

...

( The crowd is still around... )

( What to do...? What if somebody were to attack me right now...? )

( Laito-kun isn’t around either... )

( Uu...I’ve gotten really anxious. )

ー Laito suddenly appears again

Laito: Haah~ Bitch-chan~ Your helpless expression looks rather anxious and lovely as well, you know?

Yui: Kyaah! L-Laito-kun!

Laito: Were you that lonely without me around? Nfu~

Yui: Y-You startled me...Where were you, for real? I...

Laito: Oh well, who cares?

Because you waited here for me like a good girl, I managed to fetch the thing I forgot.

Now I’ll stick by your side for the rest of the day, okay...?

Right. In that case, why don’t you take a seat on my lap instead of on that chair?

Yui: N-No thank you...

Laito: Eeh~What a shame!

Ah, by the way, have you decided on your order?

Yui: Ah...I’m sorry. Come to think of it, I have yet to think about it.

Laito: Geez, you really are so hopeless, Bitch-chan...

Nfu~ You really can’t do anything without me around, can you?

Yui: That’s not it...

*Creaak*

Laito: By the way, Bitch-chan. Did you know that the name of this cafe, ‘Tarte Tatin’, is actually the name of a dessert?

Yui: Eh? No...I did think it sounded like one though.

Laito: Hey, hey! You’re obviously interested in it now, right?

After all, you’re the one who suggested we would go in here, remember?

Yui: ( The dessert which became the name of this cafe... )

Selection

→ I’m interested! (☾)

Yui: Do you know what kind of sweet it is?

Laito: Nfu~ Of course I do.

In that case, I’ll teach you everything about the tarte tatin~

...The ins and outs, get it?

Yui: Yeah...

( But...Come to think of it, Laito-kun likes macarons, right? )

( He might actually be knowledgeable about other desserts as well... )

Laito: Fufu. In that case...From your human perspective, this story takes place in the long, distant past...

There was this hotel called ‘Tatin’ in a small village in the French region of Sologne.

The cook there was just so busy, he accidentally messed up on one of the apple tarts one day.

Yui: Eh? He messed up?

Laito: Exactly~ So, to try and fix his mistake somehow, through trial and error...

This tart...The tarte tatin was born by pure coincidence!

Yui: Heeh! Amazing! So that’s how the story goes.

To think he invented a whole new dessert through a simple mistake...

Laito: Nfufu~ Right? Makes you want to try out stuff...No matter what it may be, no?

→ A little?

Yui: Yeah...I guess I am a little?

Laito: Right? Of course you’d be. You can’t wait to try it, right? I totally get you.

Yui: ...? Laito-kun?

Laito: In other words...

I think we should try ordering this place’s tarte tatin.

Yui: I see. Since it’s called ‘tarte tatin’, it must be a tart of some sorts, right?

Laito: It’s just a regular apple tart. Nothing special about it.

Yui: ( ...? Isn’t he acting a little odd? )

Laito, Say, say, you want to give it a taste too, don’t you?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( I feel like he’s really insistent about having me try this tart...? )

Laito: I heard it’s the number one seller on the menu since the cafe is named after it.

Yui: Heeh, I see!

( But well, he’s recommending it to me this strongly... )

In that case, I’ll try ordering this ‘tarte tatin’, I guess.

Laito: Nfu~ Okay! Waiter! Two tarte tatins, please! Oh, and tea as well~!

Yui: ( Haah...For now, I’m glad Laito-kun actually came back...I feel relieved. )

( That being said... )

Looking at it like this, this really doesn’t feel like the Demon World, does it?

Laito: Heeh, you’ve already gotten used to this world jam-packed with Vampires? As to be expected!

Yui: Ah, that’s not what I meant...

( Get used to it? If anything, I broke out in a cold sweat earlier... )

It’s just, I was thinking that between looking through the menu at a cafe like this, or calling over a waiter, there really isn’t much of a difference between both worlds.

Laito: Aah, that’s what you meant.

It seems like a lot of Vampires have become accustomed to human practices as of late.

Thanks to a certain weirdo...That is.

Yui: A certain weirdo...?

Laito: In short, the peculiar interests of a well-known Vampire King.

If not, do you really think a cafe which serves human suits would be this popular?

Yui: ( Laito-kun’s Father’s influence really is amazing... )

Laito: Ah, Bitch-chan. Seems like our tarts have arrived.

Head Waiter: ...Sorry for the wait.

Yui: Uwaah...! It smells lovely!

( It looks really good, but this is food from the Demon World, right...? )

( ...Considering that, I’m a little scared. )

Laito: Fufu...You’re not gonna eat?

Yui: Ah...S-Sorry!

Well then, let me have a bite...

*Flap flap flap*

Yui: ...! Kyah!

*Cling*

Yui: ( !? W-What’s this...!? )

Laito: Oh no! Are you okay, Bitch-chan?

Yui: Yeah, I just dropped my fork. I’m fine.

Laito: Geez...That bat really needs to learn some manners, disturbing a Vampire’s table like that...

Ah, hey, you there! My bad, but could you fetch us a new fork and knife?

Waiter A: Understood.

ー The waiter runs off

Laito: ...Phew. Ah, Bitch-chan. You can have mine. I had yet to dig in after all.

Yui: Eh? It’s fine. I’ll wait till he gets here...

Laito: No buts! No need to hold back. It’s ‘ladies first’ when it comes to this kinda stuff, no?

So, come on! Hurry up and have a bite?

*Thud*

Yui: I-In that case, I’ll dig in.

Laito: Go ahead, bon appetit~

*Cling*

Yui: ...! Delicious!

Laito: Really? I’m glad~ In that case, keep going! Here, have some tea too!

ー Laito pours her a cup of tea

Yui: T-Thank you...

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Phew, that hit the spot! Ah...Yours is kind of taking a while, don’t you think?

Laito: Aah, yeah. It’s fine though.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( ...? H-Huh...? )

( For some reason...My body feels... )

Laito: Huh...? Is something wrong?

Yui: I-It seems kind of hot in here...all of a sudden...I wonder if it’s because of the tea...?

Laito: Eh? I don’t feel hot at all though...?

Do you feel unwell, perhaps? That’s bad! It’d be bad if something were to happen to the Queen of the Carnival!

Hey, Bitch-chan...? Are you okay? Your cheeks are sort of red as well. Do you have a fever maybe?

Yui: A fever...? B-But...

( I don’t have cold shivers or anything...How to put it...It’s like my body is flushed... )

ー Laito moves closer

Laito: Aah...My poor little Bitch-chan...

Your body is all flushed...You don’t know what to do? Right?

Yui: Eh...? How...?

Laito: Nfu~ After all...It’s thanks to the drug I snuck into the tart.

Yui: Eeh!? D-Drug!?

Laito: Exactly~ A little something which will make you feel hot and bothered~

Fufu~ The bat which flew at you earlier was one of my Familiars.

I set him up to ensure you would eat the tart which had the drug snuck into it~

Yui: ...! How could you! That’s so mean!

Laito: Aahn~ Oh you...~! I can’t get enough of that glare~

Haah...I knew I made the right choice going to fetch the drug earlier.

Yui: !? Don’t tell me, that’s why you left earlier...!?

Laito: Fufu~ That’s exactly why. Say, Bitch-chan...How do you feel right now...?

Aren’t you just dying to have me do this or that to you soon~?

You know...Something like this...?

*Rustle*

Yui: !

( H-His foot is...Under the table...! )

L-Laito-kun...! Stop!

Laito: Oh dear~ Did I brush against your leg? The table’s rather cramped after all. My bad, my bad~

Fufu...What’s wrong, Bitch-chan? Your face keeps on turning more and more red, it seems...?

But better be careful? We’re inside a crowded cafe after all...

You already stand out in this world as is...

If you behave too suspiciously, your surroundings will catch on in no time, you know?

Yui: ...!

Laito: Haah...Say, that feeling of doing something naughty is just so exciting, don’t you think?

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: You have to endure it so nobody finds out...Ah, but...

*Rustle*

Laito: Taking the offensive approach and simply exposing your everything...is a very valid choice in my personal opinion as well...~

Fufu, I’ve got turned on just from imagining it...Haah...Say, wanna just say fuck it and have a go?

Yui: W-What are you saying!? Cut it out already!

Laito: Aah~ ...I can’t hold back no longer...Hey, Bitch-chan, just a little bit, please...?

Let me suck your blood here...!

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: S-Stop! Laito-kun! Everyone’s looking, see!?

Laito: Isn’t that what makes it great...? Hey, come on...Starting with this arm...Hah...Nn...

ー Laito bites her

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Ow...No...!

Laito: ...Nn...Fufu. You’re so lewd, Bitch-chan...Letting your voice slip like that...

Look...Everyone’s watching us? Doesn’t it turn you on beyond belief...? Nn...

Nn...Haah...Now where should I suck from next...? Your nape...? Or maybe your shoulder...?

*Rustle*

Laito: Ah, right. Why don’t you just take off your clothes here already...? Nfu~

Yui: Stop!

( ...! The people around us are...! I have to stop him somehow...! )

( In that case...! )

...!

ー Yui knocks over his tea cup

*Shatter*

Laito: ...! Hot!

Geez, Bitch-chan! What are you doing!?

Yui: But...

Laito: Ah-ahー The cup broke because you made a fuss...

Yui: ( I had no other choice, or he would have never stopped I feel... )

Laito: Well, I won’t particularly get upset about this sorta thing though. More importantly, hurry up and let me...

ー The head waiter runs their way

Head waiter: ...!! Aaaah! How could this happen!?

Laito: ...What do you want? You’re so loud. We were just getting to the good part...Could you not get in our way, please?

Aah, if it’s about the other tart, you don’t need to bring that anymore.

Head waiter: How could you break that teacup!?

Yui: ( W-Was that teacup really so important...? Oh no...! )

U-Uhm, I’m the one who...I’m sorry...!

Laito: Ah-ah, I can’t believe this. 

A Vampire is getting his panties in a knot over just a little teacup...

Head waiter: ‘Just a little teacup’...Excuse me!? Do you have any idea how valuable of a good that was!?

Laito: Eeh? I don’t know. Besides, if it’s really that important, shouldn’t you have kept it locked away?

Head waiter: ...! Today you will not get away with this...!

ー He grabs hold of Laito

*Rustle*

Head waiter: Anyway, come here! I’ll have you explain the situation.

Laito: Haah~!? Why do I - the customer - have to do that!?

Head waiter: Shut up! Just come!

*Rustle*

Laito: Owow! What are you doing!? Didn’t you hear me when I said I don’t have the time for that right now!? Let me go!

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ...

( What should I do...? I’m the one who broke the cup though... )

( But it’s because Laito-kun was trying to do weird things... )

*Rustle*

Laito: Aahー Geez!

If I had known this would happen, I should have just sucked her blood right away without pulling any extra tricks!

Yui: ( H-He’s not reflecting upon his actions at all... )

( ...In that case... )

I’m sorry, Laito-kun!

ー Yui gets up and runs towards the door

Laito: Eh!? H-Hold up! Bitch-chan!?

Where are you going without me!? Hey, are you listening!?

ー Laito is taken away

*Thud*

Yui: ( Laito-kun, I’m sorry...! )

( Things really did go south after choosing Laito-kun as my bodyguard...! )

...Either way, I should probably head to the castle, huh?

( I should be able to pull that off somehow! )

ー She leaves the cafe

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says ‘it is just me and Bitch-chan...’, but since there is a set phrase in English to use when entering a cafe/restaurant and ask for a table of (amount) of people, I used that instead.

(2) 席を外す or ‘seki o hazusu’ is a common phrase in Japanese to say that you’re going somewhere real quick. (E.g. to the toilet, etc.)

(3) Literally she says that their stares are ‘painful’. Of course, this does not mean an actual physical pain, but it is making her uncomfortable.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 1

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 3]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ AYATO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ SUBARU ]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ YUMA ]

[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (5/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M A/N: Angst ;) And Bucky being cute as all hell. Leave a comment on Ao3 if you’re enjoying!

The sound of Bucky’s door slamming down the hallway resounded like a thud in my chest. At the risk of sounding like a hopelessly romantic, dopey-eyed Omega, it felt like something cracked inside of me.

For the briefest moment in the lounge, I had caught his scent— that Alphacomforthomesafe scent I’d searched for for weeks. Just a hint of it had sent a jolt of electricity, hope and relief through my entire being. We’d locked eyes— his facial expression carefully blank, beard unshaven and growing long, hand gripping white-knuckled into the strap of his duffle bag, before he had fled to his room— leaving behind the confusing, raw scents of guilt and despair behind him.

Natasha and Steve both looked to me in concern, before engaging in a silent conversation through their facial expressions. Both smelled overwhelmingly of unease, but neither said anything to abate the awkward tension suffusing the room. Steve gave a lame excuse for Bucky, looking bewildered as he did so— something about the other Alpha having a rough few weeks, but I quickly bowed out of the lounge, retreating back to my apartment to process the heartbreaking fact that he’d been away, and now that he was back, he clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Maybe he was just shy, I thought, self-comforting. But he hadn’t been shy in that cell. He’d been quick to introduce himself, to alleviate my fear by baring his throat to me.

Maybe I’d made him uncomfortable. Had I made him uncomfortable? It’s not like I could stop myself from falling into a sympathy heat, especially under the influence of an Alpha purr.

Then there was the other creeping, dreadful thought that had been plaguing my thoughts for the past few weeks: Maybe he already has an Omega.

I hadn’t smelled one on him in that cell, hadn’t felt a bond mark on his neck, but both could have been hidden under the scents of rut and fear, and the filth of our surroundings.

I even briefly worried that he was Wanda’s mate, since I’d never met the Alpha she always spoke about with a soft and wistful smile. But when I tentatively asked after her mate later that night during our evening Full House marathon, she had given me a sad smile and told me he was working off-world.

I barely slept the night after Bucky came home. Knowing that he was just a floor away made the longing even harder, my Omega anxious and desperate for comfort. I shuffled through a hundred different explanations— each more frustrating and heartbreaking than the last— for why he’d been away for so long, why he’d reacted the way he did when he saw me, why his scent had reeked of guilt and sadness.

But above all— my Omega worried viciously whether he was okay. The connection I felt to him burnt bright and hot within me, tugging at my heart. Find Alpha. Comfort Alpha.

I tried my hardest to bury my thoughts deep down, feeling like a crazy person. Bucky barely knew me, and here I was lying in bed, staking a mental claim on him like some feral, unsocialized Omega. For all I knew, he was snuggled up with his bondmate, recovering from the turmoil of our kidnapping in his or her embrace, thoughts of me all but forgotten.

The next day, I moved tentatively around the compound, bracing myself for an interaction. I’d run through one hundred potential scenarios in my mind— one hundred introductions, one hundred apologies, one hundred questions I wanted answered. But one day stretched into two, stretched into a week, without anything more than a flash of his retreating form as he exited the gym before I entered one afternoon.

Despite his intentional or unintentional attempts to avoid me, he couldn’t erase his lingering scent, which tucked itself into every available corner of the compound, driving my Omega insane with want and worry.

Rationally, I knew that the compound smelled like everyone— like determined Steve after a boxing match, like Sam’s bubbly joy over breakfast, like Wanda’s gentle concern, like Natasha’s smug laughter, like Stark’s curiosity.

But even knowing that I could smell everyone didn’t stop my Omega from catching his scent in every room— musky, heady cedar, warm and inviting campfire. It was maddening.

On top of the Alpha scent that left my brain in a muddled haze, there was also the situation with the gifts.

They weren’t really gifts. But, I didn’t know what else to call them.

The first one appeared three days after Bucky returned to the compound.

When I shuffled out to the kitchen around six am for a coffee and some eggs with Sam, I found my favorite mug (a cute green ceramic one made to look like a tin camping cup) already set out on the countertop, along with a spoon, a pot of sugar and a folded napkin. Next to it, the coffee pot was spitting out the last few dregs of brew— fresh and hot.

At first, I thought it was Sam who’d prepped the coffee for me, and a warm smile spread across my face at the Beta’s sincere care and friendship. But then he appeared ten minutes later, still in his camo pajamas, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, and I frowned. Sam and I were the only early risers around here, as far as I knew. But maybe he’d fallen back asleep after getting up to make coffee.

The next day, my yoga mat was missing from its usual spot tucked high into a cubby on the wall in the gym. Figuring I’d left it in Natasha’s training room, I headed in that direction, only to find it rolled up neatly right outside the door, along with a massive, full water bottle and a charged pair of StarkPods. Weird. These Avenger Betas sure do let the hero thing get to their head, I thought. Sure enough, Natasha was already inside, balancing in a graceful arabesque as I readied myself for yoga. I thanked her with a smile and nod, which she returned.

The day after that, Steve and I got way too riled up on our morning run with Sam, and I tried to outpace him (failing, spectacularly) one too many times, causing me to have to limp back home with blisters on the back of my heels from my running shoes. After a shower in my room, I nearly tripped over a little pile of blister bandages and antibiotic cream sitting outside my door, which I snatched up, eager not to have to poke around the medbay for something as simple as band-aids. Even Steve was getting in on this babying nonsense, I thought. Maybe I wasn’t hiding my distressed Omega scent as well as I’d thought, moping around after Bucky.

Later that week, I meandered down to the movie room for another previously scheduled watch party with Sam. I got there about 20 minutes early, planning to stake out my favorite spot before the others arrived, but I found Wanda already in the movie room, flicking through channels on the projector-TV. She was working her way through a bag of crispy Gozinaki— her favorite sweet snack from her childhood in Sokovia. Steve always made sure to keep bags of it stocked in the common kitchen, attentive Alpha provider as he was.

In my usual spot on the shaggy brown couch rested a fluffy, folded plaid blanket, with a pair of soft gloves on top.

“Aw, Wanda, you didn’t have to do this,” I said, scooping up the blanket to tug around my shoulders, my inner Omega shivering in delight at the cozy texture. Perfect for a nest, my mind unhelpfully supplied. The past couple of movie nights, I’d been complaining about my cold hands, especially after long afternoons training with Wanda left my limbs frigid and achy from the force of my abilities. Sometimes it took hours to get my skin back to a human-feeling temperature. I slipped the navy blue gloves on gratefully.

Wanda looked over at my snuggled up form and quirked a brow. “Those were there when I got here. I thought you left them for tonight,” she said curiously.

I looked down at the blanket as if it would give me an answer, then brought it up to my face for a curious sniff. The faintest scent of cedar wood hit my nose.

Alpha.  

I felt a whoosh in my head and stomach, like I was floating away from my body, and knew I must have had a dazed expression on my face.

If Bucky had left the blanket and the gloves… Maybe it wasn’t Sam who’d prepped my coffee. Maybe it wasn’t Natasha with the yoga mat and the water, or Steve with the blister bandages.

But why would Bucky…

“I can hear the gears turning in your brain from over here,” Wanda interrupted. “I take it it wasn’t you who left that pile down here?”

I shook my head, biting my lip as I muddled through my thoughts. If I was going to talk about what I’d been feeling for Bucky with anyone, Wanda would be the least likely to judge. She was a fellow Omega, after all.

“Can I ask you something? About your mate?” I hedged.

Wanda nodded, brushing crumbs from her lap before standing to sit down next to me on the shaggy couch. “Anything.”

“I’ve been here for over a month, and I still haven’t met him. And I wonder— What does it… feel like. For you. When he’s away.”

Wanda smiled, soft and wistful. “My mate is the Vision. He is not really human, but he was programmed as an Alpha, and when we mated, he gave me his mark,” she explained, reaching up to the back of her neck to press her hand to her mating gland. I had seen the shiny silver scars before, when Wanda had swept her hair up into a ponytail off the back of her neck during a training sesh.

“Even though he is not human— he does not have a scent as you or I do— I still struggled with what we Sokovians call gajovi. It means “heart-rending,” the feeling when you are separated from your bondmate. The longer we have been bonded, the easier it is to be apart. But I still sometimes feel the ache. Like a physical pain, inside,” she offered, moving her hand to the center of her chest, the same place where I had felt the same unbearable ache for weeks.

I took a deep breath, willing my scent to stay calm as anxiety, uncertainty and confusion warred in my mind. I feel the same thing.

“Do you ever feel like you need him… to fall asleep?” I asked, cheeks flushing. Even though we had grown close, I still felt uncomfortable asking Wanda about my craving for Bucky’s purr, as it was such an intimate act between mates.

“I have a feeling we are no longer talking about Vision,” she murmured, no judgement on her face. She placed a comforting hand on my knee, and I felt some of the tension in my body release slowly. “Sometimes it feels impossible to sleep. To eat. To even get out of bed. A bond is the most beautiful and powerful connection you can have, but it also makes you vulnerable. When things are bad, I can… feel him. Through the bond. We support each other,” she explained. Wanda closed her eyes momentarily, and I knew she was reaching through her bond to feel her mate, thousands of miles away. A warm smile crept across her face as whatever she was projecting through the universe was returned in kind.

While I was undeniably happy for Wanda and her mate, my heart ached at the realization that I was experiencing the same or similar withdrawal symptoms after my time with Bucky. But without a bondmark on my neck, without the connection she used to draw soothing strength from her mate, I was drifting— alone in a sea of longing and pain.

Wanda scented my sour sadness, giving me an empathetic look. “Do you? Have a bondmate?”

I saw her eyes flick towards my neck, where a bond mark would be, knowing that she had already seen my gland void of any bite scars.

I shook my head, looking down at my still-gloved hands in my lap.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Instead, she placed one hand in mine.

I wondered, then, if she knew more than she was letting on.

“When will Vision be home?” I asked, changing the subject and forcefully shaking off my sadness.

“This month,” she said, unable to hide the smile that crept across her face.

“What’s got the lovely ladies down?” Sam teased, interrupting our moment as he stepped into the movie room with a massive, unopened bag of Cajun-spiced Lays tucked under his arm.

Steve was right behind him, looking cozy in what was probably an XXXL hooded red sweatshirt. He came up behind my couch wordlessly, wrapping me up in a huge bear hug. I laughed, leaning into him and allowing his comforting Alpha scent to wipe away the remaining tendrils of my unease drifting in the air. I’d learned quickly that Steve was generous with his affection, and extremely protective— the type of Alpha an Omega could only dream of finding. Not an aggressive and possessive knothead, but a supportive provider and protector— always there when you needed him, but never overbearing.

Just like Bucky, my brain unhelpfully supplied. I shook away the thought. You barely know him.

I could hardly focus on the movie Sam selected, some Russell Crowe action flick set in Ancient Rome. I was too lost in my thoughts, curled up in the blanket Bucky had inexplicably left for me, squished between Steve and Wanda on the couch.

If I didn’t know better, it would seem like Bucky was trying to court me with these weird offerings, like some old-fashioned, 1940s Alpha would woo an Omega with flowers and chocolates. But even if he was, that didn’t explain his flightiness, or the bond withdrawal-like symptoms I was experiencing, or the frightening possibility that it was just me suffering from them. Faulty Omega.

Either way, after my conversation with Wanda, my resolve had hardened. I had to confront Bucky, even though my inner Omega withered at the thought. I needed to know if he was feeling the same way I was. And if not? Well, then— I’d cleared the air. That was that. I’d give him his space, leaving the compound and the pack behind if I had to. Go back to being on my own.

The thought made my hands tremble.

I clasped them resolutely in my lap, leaning closer into Steve’s absurdly thick bicep for comfort. At least for now, I could enjoy this.

————

Bucky has officially gone insane. After over 70 years of world war, Hydra torture, memory loss, coerced assassinations, cry0 chambers, getting dusted by a purple space god and fighting a war of disgusting aliens, it was one cute but deadly Omega that pushed his ancient Alpha ass over the edge.

After their disastrous reunion in the lounge, Bucky made it his personal mission to evade Y/N at all costs. He knew he was leaving the stink of shame all over the compound— both Steve and Sam called him out on it after they’d watched him flee the gym upon Y/N’s arrival one day— but even his snarling inner Alpha couldn’t get him to soften his resolve. There’s a reason he and Steve were thick as thieves from the jump— they were both infuriatingly stubborn people.

Y/N was happy here. That much was obvious. She left behind that peppermint-and-snow scent wherever she went— sweet with her joy, sharp with her determination— and he caught himself taking deep, pathetic inhales when she’d recently left a room that he’d entered.

In the mornings, he could hear her in the common room kitchen with Sam, laughing and bickering over the smell of eggs and bacon. In the movie room at night, right underneath his apartment, his super-soldier hearing clued him in to the team’s laughs and murmurs, the musical sound of her voice— unintelligible through the floor but soothing to his Alpha ears nonetheless.

He’d watched from a distance through the bulletproof glass a few times as she’d trained in the reinforced rooms with Wanda. Each time he spotted her she looked more and more powerful, more in control of the abilities that Hydra had kept locked away in restraints when they’d met in the cell. Wanda would watch patiently nearby, her red magic coiling along her fingers in anticipation as Y/N breathed in deeply, drawing her hands up in an elegant swoop along her midline before forcing them outwards in a jab, sending a spray of deadly ice shards at the steel wall, where they left hundreds of minuscule puncture wounds. Some days, the two Omegas would spill out a gallon of water on the floor, and Y/N would lift and arc it up into frozen creations, an intricate, jagged weapon or a delicate, curving flower, leafs of ice ivy crawling up the walls or pillars of impenetrable cold built from ceiling to floor.

What tore at him the most, though, even more than her delicious scent, which lingered on everything— and enticed more than a few embarrassing hard-ons he had to flee to his room to hide— was her scent mingled with another Alpha’s.

One Alpha in particular that hurt more than any other.

It hadn’t escaped Bucky’s notice that Y/N and Steve were spending lots of time together. Steve accompanied her on her morning runs— sometimes with Sam, sometimes without— but they always returned to the common areas flushed, sweaty and smiling, pumping out happy, sated pheromones. He’d passed the movie room and the lounge more than a few times to find her curled particularly close to him, his arm around the back of the couch behind her or her head resting against his bicep.

He’d even seen her and Steve sparring in the gym, Natasha and Sam cheering and whooping from the sidelines as she held her own against his restrained moves— a punch here, a kick there, which she dodged and delivered right back. They were comfortable in each other’s space. Comfortable enough that he’d even spotted her sleeping on the red lounge couch next to Steve one day, a book open in her lap while he sketched away in his notebook, using her hand draped off the side as an anatomy study. Her red socked feet were pillowed in his lap.

That mental image had kept Bucky up for a few nights, his Alpha flushed with an instinctual, possessive rage that he shoved shamefully down into the darkest recesses of his brain.

He couldn’t be mad. Even if his Alpha was roaring at him to step forward, to stake his claim, to pick her up and drown her in his scent, to crawl into her nest and cover her completely with his body.

He couldn’t be mad because she had sized up both Alphas and made what even he knew was the correct decision. Of course she had.

Why choose Bucky— broken, red-ledgered, half-vibranium, nightmare-riddled Bucky— when you could have the human embodiment of a golden retriever? Steve. The model Alpha. A gentle, caring provider— never aggressive or out of control, always protective, supportive and calm.

Plus, super-serum aside, Steve had always been handsome. Y/N wasn’t blind.

All of that is to say that Bucky hadn’t meant to start offering her gifts. It was his Alpha instinct, is all. Some feral, competitive nature still ingrained in his hindbrain. An instinct left over from a more primitive civilization, one where he would have had to prove to his Omega that he could be the best provider.

And if nothing else, leaving her the gifts soothed the terrible ache in his chest, helped him sleep another hour at night as he lay there agonizing about her smell, remembering how her face had felt cradled in his neck.

Wondering if she was sleeping in her room alone or curled up in her nest with Steve.

He knew that what he was feeling, what he was doing, was beyond wrong. If she knew why he was leaving her these gifts, she’d feel threatened, or stalked. He would be the creepy Alpha desperate for her attention.

But his hindbrain didn’t care. Alpha will provide.

It first started when he noticed that she always left the same green cup in the sink after breakfast. So one day, he got up early to leave it out for her— alongside a napkin, a spoon and the pot of sugar— though he didn’t yet know how she took her coffee. He also started the coffee pot just in case, slipping back to his room before she woke up, machine still whirring behind him.

Then, he noticed that she always ran out of water halfway through her yoga sessions with Natasha after she almost stumbled upon him in the kitchen the few times she’d come up to refill it. So Bucky topped up a 36 ounce bottle he found in the kitchen instead and left it outside the training room. Just so she won’t get thirsty, he reasoned. He couldn’t resist leaving her the yoga mat and earbuds as well. It was nothing. Not an exorbitant expense. Just something she needed, and would have gotten for herself anyway. What does it matter that he bought them for her first?

Then, he heard Sam ribbing her about her bleeding heels after their morning run, so he scrambled to the medbay to ask Dr. Cho for bandages and antiseptic— much to her confusion, as he didn’t ever need either. He dropped the supplies outside her door before she could finish showering off her run.

Then, he overheard her complaining about her cold hands one night as he passed the movie room. Bucky had to fight to repress the growl in his throat as he watched Steve take her hands into his own, rubbing them together for warmth while she laughed. He went back to his room and asked FRIDAY to help him order a pair of top-rated, insulated gloves in navy blue— he liked that color, but didn’t know if she did— as well as a blanket marketed as “perfect for nesting,” because he has officially lost all self-control. While the rest of the pack was out, he snuck into the movie room to leave the soft bundle on the couch that smelled the most like peppermint.

After a full week of secretive little offerings, Bucky was curled up on his own couch with a book, rubbing absentmindedly at his chest where the constant ache felt sharpest, when he heard someone start to turn the knob on his door.

It had taken him a few years, but he’d stopped jumping at unexpected noises like this, though he still often caught himself subconsciously scenting for threats, unable to shake the conditioned hyper vigilance. His Alpha instinct to constantly be prepared for a fight, made infinitely worse by Hydra’s torture, had gradually mellowed out with the safe reassurance of living with a pack. Knowing he had people close by who would protect him and people he would fiercely protect in return had served as a balm for his PTSD symptoms.

Bucky scented him before he saw him, but Steve slipped through the door upon finding it unlocked, giving Bucky his signature golden boy smile, before plopping into the armchair across from him.

“Hey, jerk. Are you avoiding me? Are you okay?”

Bucky felt his hackles raise as he caught a lingering whiff of Y/N on Steve and willed his expression into nonchalance. “No,” he said, before returning his gaze pointedly to the pages of the novel that he wasn’t really reading. “What makes you think I’m not okay?”

“Well, for one, you’ve barely left your room since I dragged you back here from Brooklyn, your apartment reeks like your dog just died and you’ve almost rubbed a hole through your shirt.”

Bucky quickly snatched his hand away from his chest where he’d continued rubbing circles without even noticing he was doing it. “I don’t have a dog,” he replied snidely.

His words came out a bit more venomously than he intended, and Steve’s easygoing expression faltered. Shit. He hadn’t meant to take his Alpha bullshit out on his best friend. It’s not like Steve was doing anything wrong. The problem was that he always did everything right.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighed, putting down his book and scraping a hand across his jaw, where his stubble was starting to border on a full-grown beard. Ugh. “I’m still just… processing.”

Steve gave him a concerned look, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not still feeling guilty, are you?” Steve said. Bucky broke eye contact, studying the logo on the other Alpha’s oversized red sweatshirt instead. (“American University Est. 1918”— a gag gift from Tony last Christmas.)

“Buck— Come on, Y/N’s fine! Everyone loves her, and she’s doing great here. She doesn’t even talk about yo—“ Steve cut himself off, catching the grimace that flashed across Bucky’s face before he could reign it in. “I didn’t mean it like— She hasn’t even seen you, man, you’re always hiding away here or in the library.”

Bucky sighed again, tired yet begrudgingly appreciative of Steve’s attempts at soothing the issue. The other Alpha might not always know the right thing to say, but he was always earnest and honest about things.

“It’s okay, Steve, really. I just need some time, is all,” Bucky said, making a concerted effort to push out a less depressing version of his scent to mollify his best friend.

Steve gave him a tentative smile. “I talked to Fury about Y/N, by the way. Wanda told me she’s progressed a ton over the past month or so, you should really see her use her abilities in combat, it’s incredible! And Nat trusts her completely— you know she’s always the hardest to win over,” he said, his grin broadening. “I’m going to ask Y/N to join the team, officially, this week.”

The ache in Bucky’s chest ramped up, throbbing like a bass drum, but he forced out what he hoped was a convincing smile, knowing it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad she’s fitting in,” he said. And he was glad. He was thrilled to know that his Omega was safe, loved and happy, that she had grown her powers with Wanda, that Steve was asking her to join the Avengers.

Even though it meant that if he couldn’t get his own urges under control, he’d need to find a new pack.

“Why don’t you come join us downstairs? Sam’s putting on Gladiator in a few,” Steve added.

For a second, Bucky really considered it. He could sit through one movie with her, after all, without falling apart at the seams. He was a freaking super soldier Alpha. He’d survived Hydra.

Then he remembered the bundle of blanket and gloves he’d left sitting on the couch a few hours ago in anticipation of their movie night and decided against it. If she put two and two together in front of the pack, Bucky didn’t think he could explain his way out of that one.

“Maybe later,” Bucky said, lifting his book up in a half-hearted attempt to look occupied. Steve could see right through him, he knew, but the other Alpha just gave him a smile and a reassuring shoulder squeeze, before slipping out of the door.

It was better this way, Bucky thought. Better for everyone if he rode this out on his own.

His Omega was okay. That’s what mattered.

[rose-wine-selfships]

Your blog is convincing me to watch BSD like literally nothing else ever could, it's been on my watch list for a while but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about it even more now lmao

Also this keeps getting recommended to me and I'd like you to see your influence 👀

Ooh! That’s great Rigel! I’m so happy you want to see Bungou Stray Dogs now. Tbh it’s a really good show, and I hope you get into it a whole lot more. There’s tons to love about all the BSD characters, and I think you might stan or F/O a few characters in there! 😁👌

Also, if you want to find more fans to talk to about the show, I’d recommend you go in that club. The people in there so far are really nice to me given that I’m in the club too! It’s slowly growing, but I hope it gets more people joining in there soon. Overall, out of all the fandoms I’ve ever been in, this ones the least bit toxic. Of course it’s not perfect, but at least most of the people there are very nice to talk to. 👍

Plus, if you want to join a more LGBT friendly Discord server dedicated to Bungou Stray Dogs, I’d recommend you go to, “To the Stray Dogs!” I have the link if you ever want to access the Discord server. 😚💞

Have a great rest of your day and Happy Pride Month! 🌹🍷✨❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🤍🖤

Ps. Here’s one of my most favorite pics of Atsushi as a thank you for sending this ask to my inbox! Take care! 🥰💖💞

[majestyrising]

FACTION ROUNDUP

I have only been nominally active for a while and whilst being fully active again is a lot of fun, I have a lot of factions with a lot of characters so I figured I’d give a brief summary of each. I hope it’s readable and if you do read it, I hope you enjoy it!

The Thanatos Syndicate.

Founded by Koschei Urusov and currently led by his eldest son, Rho Urusov, the Thanatos Syndicate is a private military company situated in the eastern Wasteland, primarily located inside a massive cathedral. It was originally located in the Icefields, but after a chain of events beginning with a coup and ending with their old base, a hollowed out glacier, sinking into the ocean, they moved over to Plague. 

Their primary objective is, of course, to take mercenary contracts. Rho holds a very tight leash on what the Syndicate will and will not do, and as such, they are seen as a very elite and expensive force for the most part. That being said, the expertise and therefore, expense, of their mercenaries varies from person to person. They are not simply a band of sellswords, however, and operate more akin to an autonomous community, having their own medics, ambassadors, and information network.

The Syndicate’s primary alliance is with the Sawyer Gang, an unlikely friendship born out of a truce made once the two groups stopped warring with one another. They can often be found working in tandem, with the Gang riling people up and the Syndicate squeezing protection money out of them in turn. 

(TLDR: An Ice Private Military Company living in the Wasteland. Genre is fantasy and sort-of adherent to site lore.)

The Great Noble House of Damask Rose.

On the northern shore of the Isles lies an island just barely cut off from the mainland, connected by the ebb and flow of pink salt flats. This is the City of Lys. Long ago, the Great Noble House of Damask Rose was driven from their grandiose palaces and chased all the way to Lys, where their enemies hoped to sever their influence and power. It did not work as intended.

The City of Lys is small, but densely packed, a tourist destination for it’s beautiful landscape and quaint, rococo architecture. At the top of it’s spiralling cliffs, buoyed by magic which lifts parts of the massive building into the air, is the Damask Chateau. From here, the relatively small family and their army of servants, chevaliers, and indebted nobility rule over their island. Primarily, this falls to Grand Duchess Seraphina de Damascena, as her husband, the ‘true’ head of the family, the Duke, mostly keeps to himself, engrossed with his studies and experiments.

Many years ago now, the chevaliers of Damask identified and abducted a man with great magical potential- Mortimur Sawyer, the preacher for the cult village of Haven. Over time, he became completely invaluable to them, with Seraphina falling in love with the man. It seems that history might repeat, recently Quincy Damascena, the spare to the family, brought Malachai Sawyer home with him.

(TLDR: A noble house inspired by the French nobles of the Ancien Regime. Genre is political drama, fantasy, and eldritch themes.)

The Provinces of Kasaiwari.

Hidden from the outside world, embraced by a mountain range on one side and the sea on the other, lies the Provinces of Kasaiwari. Situated in the north border of the Waste, it has a long and complex history, having land saturated with magic which has always been the home to yokai of all kind. The ancient leaders of this land, the Tenkubashi, have kept the peace throughout the provinces for many years. It is a hub of unique and beautiful art and culture, in touch with the world around them. At least, until their whole world exploded.

After all, it has only been peaceful for the dragons- for they have been pushing the yokai out ever since they first came down from their god. The last of the Qirin, the King of Yokai, Shikitsuhikotamatemi, finally reached the end of his rope and attacked a congregation of all the province’s leaders. In one fell swoop, he destroyed every single leader, and the yokai swept out across the entire land, intent on getting rid of the dragons.

It has been a lifetime since then, but the scars are still healing. Under the leadership of their new Empress, the Divine Avatar Kuroharuhime Tenkubashi, she has proclaimed an edict- the yokai’s transgressions will be tolerated no longer, and she will not rest until they are completely eradicated.

(TLDR: A Japanese-inspired secret land fighting with Yokai. Genre is high fantasy with shades of historical fiction.)

Sancti Sepulchre.

When the world was new, before the Icewarden was the Icewarden, he shaped two children from himself and gave them life. They were Panteleimon, the God of Compassion, and Zima, the God of Justice. Together they would form the Urusov Dynasty, which would rule the northern Icefields for these early years, pushing back incursions from Arcane and Fire. Eventually, though, these outside pressures would overwhelm the Dynasty, and they would succumb, driven out or killed.

The survivors, and their leader, Vsevolod Urusov, ran to the southern most point of the Icefields, a truly inhospitable land where the blizzards never stop raging. There they would lick their wounds; but as the years continued, the family grudges would rise again, keeping the family stuck in their exile, arguing among themselves for perceived injustices. 

It was here that Koschei Urusov was raised, and where he ran from as a young adult. He had no way of knowing that his departure would be presumed as murder, and that it would kick-start events which threaten to reveal the Urusovs to the world once again. Their leader, for the moment, remains Tsar Didier Urusov, a towering, beastly man with a vendetta and a temper to match it- but how much longer everyone will suffer his wrath remains to be seen.

(TLDR: An ancient Ice lineage struggling to survive in harsh conditions. Genre is high fantasy with a grimdark edge.)

LUCKY ST4R.

Just a blip on the map of Neo Necropolis, a high tech mega-city located in the paradoxically desert-swamped and futuristic Expanse, is an innocuous repair shop. It was a blimp, once, which fell from the sky and has since been decorated and secured into something of a bunker. This is the LUCKY ST4R, the hideout of a once notorious businessman named Seven. He and his friends (or coworkers, depending on who you ask) run several different not strictly legal businesses out of the little shop.

From prototype modifications to ultra powerful guns to scripts that’ll double your cryptocurrency, you can have all sorts of itches scratched by the LUCKY ST4R. But it’ll cost you, and if you don’t keep your mouth shut, they’ll find some other way to make sure no one powerful enough to stop them gets keyed in to what’s happening. Pay what’s owed and you’ll get what you want, and maybe you’ll also get a box of noodles for your trouble. 

(TLDR: A cyberpunk-vaporwave city and the tales of it’s inhabitants. Genres include, well, cyberpunk, as well as some crime/thriller elements.)

Pulpa Artifex.

An old wives' tale in the Scarred Wasteland talks of a band of terrifying beings, barely mortal, who can twist and warp the flesh of others like wet clay. Unfortunately for those who cross into their path, it is not just a story told in the dead of night around a flickering campfires, but a terrifying reality.

The small band of criminals known as Pulpa Artifex are based around an ancient manifestation of death and decay known as Bragi who inducts other unfortunate people into his cursed work. The fleshweavers find and capture wayward souls to fuel their own powers and prolong their lives. What could be written off as a sick cycle of life and death is destroyed by the simple fact that Pulpa Artifex sees themselves as artists of the highest calibre, exploring an artform denied and derided by all others.

(TLDR: A gross group of nasty mages in the Wasteland. Genres include horror, especially body horror, and some contemplative thoughts on death.)

[fandom-necromancer]

Part 2 has been prompted by the wonderful DetReed900 on AO3! I hope you enjoy it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Cyberpunk AU

‘Quick, get in!‘ Gavin leaned on the passenger seat to hold the door open, as he watched Nines run towards him at full speed. The android jumped in, smashing the door close and Gavin drove off with screeching tires, while their pursuers desperately tried to get a good shot at them before they could disappear. But Gavin drifted around the next corner, accelerating again and taking several tight turns to lose anyone who might follow them. All the while Nines sat next to him laughing and cheering. Gavin looked into the rear-view mirror and relaxed a little as he couldn’t see anyone following them. He smirked, unable to be angry with the android although he likely should have been. As soon as they had made it on the highway, Gavin slowed down and weaved the car in between regular traffic.

‘How many times do I have to save you?’, he finally spoke a bit more serious. ‘Oh, come on’, Nines purred, leaning over. ‘You are just too good at that, it would be a shame letting that talent go to waste.’ Gavin turned his face towards Nines for a split second and smiled, pushing just a little on the gas. ‘You better start getting a talent for staying out of trouble, my friend.’ Nines laid his hand on his chest and looked accusingly at Gavin. ‘Do you see any bullet wound? I stayed out of trouble.’ ‘Yeah, and that gang will just forget about you doing… What even were you doing, Nines?’ ‘It’s a secret’, the android winked at him and leaned back in his seat. ‘Despite I really don’t think they would dare retaliate against us.’ ‘And why should that be?’ ‘Gavin, we could buy their whole organisation. I doubt they would dare attacking us openly.’ Gavin huffed. ‘Didn’t look that way when they were running after you.’

‘Hey, I’m fine, okay?’, Nines tried to change topics. ‘And I got what I needed from them.’ ‘Alright, Taxi Gavin reporting for duty, where can I bring you?’ ‘Stop with the sass, you get your fair share for this too. Just drive on, I have to hide it for the client in the city. I will give you directions.’ Gavin just sighed and turned up the radio.

‘What even is it with all that random side jobs you’re doing?’, Gavin asked standing next to the car while Nines hid a small package in the remains of some homeless person’s deserted shelter under a bridge. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to get rid of me.’ Nines stood up and stretched, smiling at the human. ‘Quite the opposite. I’m making sure we will do this together for a long time coming.’ ‘Alright’, Gavin chuckled, opening the door to the car. ‘And when will I be part of all the fun again?’ ‘Take a break’, Nines told him as he joined him inside. ‘For once in your life enjoy it. I will tell you soon enough.’ ‘It’s not because of Cyberlife, is it?’ ‘No. Elijah keeps his promise. For now, at least. And if he chooses to change that, I still have the backup of RA9 I can manipulate him with. We’re safe.’ ‘Good to hear. Can we go home then?’ ‘Yes. I’m done for today.’

They drove through the city, various neon signs glowing down on them and advertising the latest product you had to get immediately. Not too long ago, Gavin had lived in an old dilapidated house at the edge of the city. Once the dream of families with jobs in the city, the suburbs had now fallen into poverty and were taken over by criminal activity as the police didn’t care to patrol there anymore. Not when all the important people with money and influence were living in fancy apartments in the highest floors and everyone that still dreamed of getting there was packed like sardines in the mega-buildings. Now they were driving into their very own parking spot in a garage that had tighter CCTV as any street out there.  With only a short walk to the elevator, they were arriving at their flat in a matter of minutes.

Gavin exhaled with the satisfying clicking of the lock and the low hum of their security systems. The largest part of their Cyberlife money had been invested into this flat and the security measures and Gavin was thankful for it as it would at least get them more time should the corporation – or any other fraction for that part – decide to attack them. Nines walked up to the large glass front of their living room – reinforced to withhold everything up to a rocket launcher – and took off his white jacket he had exchanged his Cyberlife uniform with. Gavin watched how he pulled on the fabric of the tight turtleneck underneath and swallowed as he saw Nines’ smirk. Phcking all-seeing bastard…

He walked up to the kitchen and heated up the leftovers from yesterday’s meal, joining Nines on the sofa while eating. ‘Alright, I will go take a quick shower and go to bed. How about you?’ ‘I’ll skip straight to the bed part and warm it up for you’, the android muttered and took Gavin’s hand to pull him in for a kiss on his temple. ‘Don’t let me wait too long.’

As Gavin slid under the sheets, Nines had indeed warmed up the space comfortably. With his heated skin from the long shower, the softness was like heaven. The android’s hands in his hair gently massaging his scalp an added bonus. The man relaxed completely, closing his eyes as Nines dimmed the lights and switched them off completely. And with how tired he was and how good just lying there like that felt, he decided he would think about everything that happened tomorrow, if at all.

~

Gavin was woken up by the sun shining through the clouds directly into his face. Groaning, he slapped an arm over his face and turned, only to see that the other side of the bed was empty. He frowned. ‘Nines?’, he called into the flat, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. As he didn’t get an answer, he shrugged and stood up piking up some lose-fit pants from the floor to wear. He yawned heartily as he walked up to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. His fingers hadn’t yet hit the button as his eyes finally noticed the post it note stuck to it.

Good morning, darling. I’m off for the day, but it shouldn’t take long. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of trouble for today. -9

Gavin took the little piece of paper and leaned against the counter, reading it again. He sighed, flinging it behind his back and getting back to his coffee. It was okay, it could happen, he told himself. Nines could do whatever he wanted. That was fine. He let himself fall onto the couch, sipping his coffee and cursing at himself for being so impatient as it was still far too hot. Maybe he had gotten a call by Fowler or any other Fixer in the city. Maybe he was preparing for a job. Maybe he was just out to buy some more equipment, who knew?

He shouldn’t worry. But he did. He had been betrayed a fair share in his life already and he had always been prepared should his recent partner do the same. But Nines was different. He wouldn’t do that, right? He couldn’t imagine the android doing that. And there was no reason for him to do so. They were a good team, made for each other since their very first mission together. There was no reason for Nines to leave him behind, right? ‘Phck’, Gavin cursed. If Nines did do that, it would destroy him. He knew it.

He sat there almost the entire day, watching the news, reading up the truth behind the media’s lies and checking in with the gang territories and job offers. After that it was cooking for himself, going for a short drive and after that: waiting. Until the android came back home. Because he needed to know. He would confront him today.

He perked up when the door unlocked with a familiar click and the android entered the room. ‘Gavin, I’m-‘ He stopped as he saw the man sitting in front of him, eyes fixed sternly on himself. ‘I’m home’, he finished in a more appropriate volume and shut the door. ‘Welcome back’, Gavin said. ‘We need to talk.’ Nines grimaced at that but nodded. ‘Okay. Just a moment.’ He hung up his jacket on the next chair and joined Gavin on the couch. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘I need to know what is going on’, Gavin decided to get right to business. ‘I need to know what you are doing and why you keep disappearing like this without any information. Sorry.’ Nines let his head rest in his hands for a moment, then lifted it out with a sigh, looking over to Gavin. ‘I know how this might look like, Gavin, but I can only tell you it isn’t what you think’, he began. ‘Hell, that makes it sound even worse now. I can’t tell you what I’m doing.’ ‘Alright.’ Gavin was short of standing up and leaving, but Nines grabbed his arm and gently pleaded him to stay with him. ‘Listen, I can’t tell you yet. I’m asking for two more days of your patience. Friday evening I will show you what I’ve been working on the past weeks, okay? It will all make sense then, don’t worry. I’m not leaving you behind or plan on betraying you. But I can’t tell you what it is, yet.’ ‘So a surprise, huh?’, Gavin asked not at all satisfied with the answer. ‘Yes’, Nines grinned and his smile reassured Gavin a little. ‘Yes, you could call it that.’

~

Friday evening was coming faster than thought, even if Gavin spent most of the time alone in their flat or out drinking in a bar. But that evening, Nines had told him to wear something comfortable and snatched the keys to his car from him as they left the flat. Now, Gavin was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car feeling weirdly out of place. ‘So where are we driving?’, he asked finally. Nines smiled at him and just asked in return: ‘I thought you knew these streets?’ ‘Yeah, I know we’re driving out of the city. I don’t know where you plan on bringing me though.’ ‘You’ll see. You just have to wait a little longer.’

Gavin spat some expletives his way in his mind and sighed, obviously uncomfortable. They had long left the city behind them and it dawned on Gavin where they were going. As Nines turned on the dusty road that would lead them to a very familiar hill, Gavin frowned. ‘The shed? What are you planning?’ Nines just chuckled and parked the car behind the bushes like Gavin had done before. ‘Do you know it has been a year now?’, the android asked him and stepped out of the car.

‘Exactly a year?’ ‘Yes.’ Nines helped him out of the car and led him towards the shed. ‘Wait.’ The android stopped him and watched the shed that lit up on command. The roof had been fixed and a few lightbulbs dangled from cables fastened to it. A few insects buzzed around the light sources and Nines hurried inside, leaving Gavin standing there admiring the comfy yet out of place looking decoration. As the android came back, he held a box and walked towards the tree, beckoning Gavin to follow him. In one swift motion Nines placed a blanket on the dried grass and leaned a few pillows against the tree. Then he sat down and looked up at Gavin expectantly.

‘What is this all?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Just sit down’, Nines laughed and patted the ground at his side. Slowly, Gavin approached and sat down. Even before he was fully seated, Nines had pulled a few bottles out of the box as well as plates with snacks. ‘Seriously, what is this all?’, Gavin asked, by now more perplexed than suspicious. ‘I believe you could call it a picknick, darling’, Nines explained. ‘Exactly one year ago, we were sitting here and didn’t know what to do next. You changed my life that day and I can’t say I regret it.’ ‘And…?’ ‘And I really like how that new life turned out in the end. Thought it was a reason to celebrate.’

Gavin just stared at the android. ‘Wait. Wait a moment. You disappearing all the time… How did this lead up to this?’ ‘Do you know how difficult it is to get real lightbulbs in a city that relies on neon lights? Everything calming and warm is ridiculously expensive, because some people intentionally push up the prize. I thought to change that by breaking in, getting what I need and sell the rest.’ ‘You… You didn’t really run face first in gang hideouts just to plan a picknick, did you?!’ Nines shrugged at Gavin’s incredulous eyes.

‘I wanted the best for today. The wine is made from real grapes, it’s not that synth-stuff you get at every bar. As is everything else. I could have either spent all our money on this or get them myself. It was easier.’ ‘Holy shit and I thought you were ratting me out for some kind of deal!’, Gavin called out in embarrassment. ‘I would never’, Nines grinned. ‘Although I do have some kind of deal for you, darling.’

Gavin looked up to the android and lifted a brow. ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. Gavin, we have lived together for a year now and I can’t imagine a life without you. And considering how high the chances of an untimely death are in our business, I think it’s long overdue that I asked you.’ ‘Asked me what?’, Gavin asked, not believing what was about to happen.

Nines simply turned around to him and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a tiny silver ring made from what looked like parts of machinery. ‘What is that?’, the human asked and couldn’t keep his eyes from it. ‘A ring, dumbass. Remember that Job from Fowler last month?’ ‘Yes. How could I forget that? You nearly died!’ Nines nodded and took Gavin’s hand in his. ‘That settled it for me. The ring is made from my damaged part and I want you to have it. If you want it.’ ‘What exactly are you asking, Nines?’ Nines looked up to him and he saw his LED turning at insane speed. ‘Gavin Reed. Do you want to marry me?’

Gavin stared at him, then at the ring and lastly at his surroundings. Who was he kidding here, he had hoped for his dream to come true, but he still couldn’t believe it as he saw it right before his very own eyes. Grinning like crazy, he dove in for a kiss instead and only afterwards panted: ‘Yes! Yes, I would love to.’ Nines couldn’t hide his own smile and pushed the ring onto Gavin’s finger where it lit up in the same colour and rhythm as the android’s LED. ‘I love you, Gavin’, he whispered, brushing his thumb over the ring before pulling the human in a tight hug, the man returned in equal strength. ‘I love you too, tin-can’, Gavin laughed and looked down on the ring over Nines’ shoulder.

He really was far too lucky for this world. But he wouldn’t ever think about complaining.

[envythepalmtree]

For the OC ask game: H & Y for Wang Chong and K & O for Erbe Heathcliff?

Also I'm really excited to read your fic! I love the hc that Roy is Xingese (tbh I consider it canon) and I read your excerpt and it was really good 👌. So definitely looking forward to reading the full work!

(to clarify for anyone who didn't see my tags on the last post: no, Heathcliff's not an OC, he's from an OVA, but I want to talk about him because I believe he deserves a personality!!)

H. Honesty: How often does your OC lie? Do they believe lying is ever justified? Describe a time your OC told a lie, or told the truth even when it was difficult.

Chong lies when she needs to. Once she loses her accent, there's no need to say she's a foreigner when she's asked where she's from; she says she's from Resit in the South Area.

She thinks lying is justified if it'll help you get by. And I don't necessarily think she's wrong.

A time she told a lie? Mmm let's just say. Roy got inspiration for his Yes I Definitely Killed Maria Ross project from somewhere.

Y. Young: How has your OC been influenced by their past? Are they a better person because of their past, or a worse one?

Ohh Chong's past is everything. As much as she likes to say she washed it away and started anew. It's the reason she ran from Xing. It's the reason she did everything to give Roy her version of a good life--raising him to be useful to Amestris.

I feel like everyone in FMA and most of the characters I made for FMA fics are all pretty morally gray. Chong's no exception. I guess I'd say she's a worse one because of it. Her bitterness towards the Xingese government is one of the reasons why she can't see flaws in the Amestrian government.

K. Knack: What is something [my version of Heathcliff] is skilled at?

Have you noticed that everyone in FMA is a math nerd? Well Heathcliff is our one (1) artist! He can draw beautifully with both hands! And not because he's naturally ambidextrous, no. He's right-handed. But as a child he went "well if my right hand gets amputated, I need to know how to use my left." So he taught himself to be ambidextrous.

Also, he was a chess champion when he was little. He told Roy that he quit chess voluntarily, because he wasn't interested, but that's not true.

O. Outlook: Is [Heathcliff] more optimistic, pessimistic, or realistic? How likely are they to believe a bad person can change?

Oh, when he meet him, he's a bright-eyed optimist just like Roy. Yes, it's an amazing idea to join the Amestrian military, which is violently racist against my race, so change it from the inside! /s

Has anyone noticed that in the Yet Another Man's Battlefield OVA, no one mentions the Ishval war despite it having started two years prior? I know that was probably a mistake on the part of the writers, but the solution I used was that most Amestrians had been taught that Ishvalans were dumb and not a threat, so they weren't taking the war seriously. Heathcliff was thinking that once the war ended, there'd probably be peace, and he could help make change happen.

I'm just gonna drop a snippet here:

“You know,” said Roy. “We’re so cool.”

“We are,” said Maes.

Roy continued, “People might complain that our generation is lazy and dumb, but you guys are some of the smartest people I’ve met. We’re all going to climb the ranks to high places and make our country better.”

“Yeah!” Heathcliff grinned. “It might be bad now, but the future is so beautiful.”

Spoiler: the future was not beautiful.

Also thank you!! I'm so proud of this fic and I'm so excited for y'all to read it 💚

don't you dare look away promo post

[anepiphany]

the bau & jury duty: headcanons.

w/ @ellegreenawy​

spencer reid:  mutters under his breath when they get slight details wrong. 

"do you think you know more than the judge or the lawyers?" 

"actually, yes." 

"in what respect?" 

"in all of them.”

corrects people when they don't call him doctor.

"up next we need mr. spencer reid." 

"that's doctor spencer reid." 

shows his fbi badge when they ask him for id. would for sure be correcting the layers’ statistics.

"actually, that's not quite right. did you know..."

penelope garcia:  would "somehow" never get picked for jury duty. in her words, it’s “magic”. she avoids the topic to the best of her ability, though.

“say, garcia, you haven’t had jury duty in a while, haven’t you?”

“o-oh, i guess i’m just l-lucky. it’s magic. oh look, i think that’s hotch calling me. gotta go!”

emily prentiss:  emily would probably convince garcia to do the same thing for her that she does for herself and then once every few months take around 4 days off because of "jury duty".

"emily, you had jury duty this weekend, right?" 

"yeah, i did." 

"then why are you a lot tanner than you were last week?"  

 "...tanning lotion in my hotel bathroom?"  

 "sure, prentiss."

hotch or another bau member questions her about it sometimes, but they didn’t really care enough to actually check. emily was always there for cases and turned her work in on time, so it didn’t matter too much.

“hey emily, you really have jury duty a lot. didn’t you just go like 6 months ago?”

“yeah, must be my bad luck. i should go, gotta pack! yes, need a lot of stuff for the next four days.”

david rossi:  rossi just sits there and does not give a single fuck. he doesn’t want to be there and makes sure that everyone knows that. he knows that his team is doing more important cases at the moment, but he’s stuck in this stupid trial. he’s the least involved with the other jurors.

"um, mr. rossi? what do you have to say for this?"

"hmm?" 

"mr. rossi, are you paying attention?" 

"mhm." 

"well, you have to make a decision, it's a tie. it's all down to you now." 

"well i don't really care. whatever gets me home faster."  

 "mr. rossi, do you know who you're talking to? i'm a judge." 

"no, do YOU know who you're talking to? i founded the behavioral analysis unit of the fbi. and i’m a best-selling author to boot. what have you done besides sit here and be a pompous dick?"  

 "i-" 

he might not be involved with the other jurors, but he’s definitely paying attention to the trial. the jury would be arguing and he’d make one point that ends up making them all stop talking and end up agreeing. he would also totally do the "hush, the adults are talking" thing that jj and emily do in that one episode with morgan’s cousin.

jennifer jareau: jj wins everyone over with pictures of her kids. she’s too pure to use it to influence other jury members (plus her morals wouldn’t let her either) so instead she just uses it to get really nice catering and bathroom breaks whenever she wants. 

"and this is henry, he's 7. the other one is michael." 

*everyone awws* 

"and that tall one is spencer. not biologically my kid, but close enough."

"how old is he?"

"oh he's 32."

bonus points because she also has jack’s picture on her phone.

"so how many of these are your actual children?"

"depends on what ‘actual’ means." 

as the trial goes on, she's complaining about people's incompetence, and the other jurors are so confused. 

“is this the really sweet woman who was just showing us baby pictures?"

jj is also either fully supporting the prosecution or fully supporting the defendant. there's no in between. she listens to the evidence so she can decide it fairly, but once she has a decision she has a decision. 

"i see this happen every day. i'm a profiler, for fuck's sake. can you not see how the defendant’s story was almost the same, word for word, each time he said it? it was clearly rehearsed. plus, he kept on looking to the left as he thought. it’s a possible sign that he was lying."

“the evidence clearly doesn’t add up! the prosecutor is creating a story out of nothing.” *proceeds to poke holes in every part of their argument until the whole jury is nodding along with her*

aaron hotchner: a little like spencer. he would totally be making comments about everything, because he was a prosecutor. they’d be quiet though, under his breath. he never actually corrects anyone, but you can definitely hear him muttering.  sometimes it's a trying-to-be-helpful tone and other times it's a you-dumbass-what-are-you-doing tone.

"no, no. that's not the argument you want to be making."

besides that, he’s pretty much silent. when the jury is discussing, he’ll make one statement and give his opinion and then shut up unless he’s directly talked to. very few times, he’ll get mad or frustrated, like when the case is especially bad or the trial isn’t going well, but he’s still polite about his displeasure.

derek morgan: honestly a lot like jj. decent, upstanding citizen. wins over all the grandmothers. he helps them to their chairs, walks them to their cars, helps them get food, etc.

“hello, i’m derek.”

*cue grandmothers swooning*

he also gets the phone number of every single girl there, regardless of age. but when he starts dating/marries savannah, every time a girl hits on him, he just shows a picture of hank so everyone just simps instead. (he might get those girls' numbers anyway just to offer them dating advice.) 

"look at you, hot stuff!"

*shows his lock screen, which is a picture of sav and hank*

"oh, my bad."

“but if you’re ever in need of dating advice, i’d be happy to help.”

he always makes sure justice is delivered, even if that means going against what most other people think. and he’s very vocal about what he thinks.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] Also on AO3

Chapter 19: Martin

It shouldn’t really startle Martin when he falls asleep mid-conversation. After all, it’s been a rather traumatic twenty-four hours, both physically and emotionally. He’s in a decent amount of pain, and he needs rest to heal. He knows all of that, logically. But he’s also never been good at sleeping if there’s anyone else awake in the room, so when he wakes up in a dark room and realizes that the last thing he recalls is Tim starting—but not finishing—one of his terrible jokes, he’s not sure what surprises him more, the fact that he fell asleep or the fact that he actually feels rested.

Sort of, anyway. He’s sore all over—the painkillers have obviously run their course—but he’s not too tired to think, and he’s obviously slept deeply. He stares at the blurry void currently standing in for the ceiling and tries to figure out how he feels about that. It should be a good thing, but it’s…well, there’s no other word for it, it’s weird.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that weird. Not as weird as the fact that he’s been talking to a future version of himself for eight days—somehow without knowing he’s blind—or the fact that his future self and Jon’s future self seem insanely close. Not as weird as being held hostage by a woman riddled with worms or attacked in his workplace by that same woman and her moderately-sized army of parasites. Not as weird as entities fueled by fear or an apocalypse being caused by a semi-immortal man currently disguised as an ordinary pencil-pusher. It is, in fact, the ordinary kind of weird, and really, Martin shouldn’t be getting hung up on it. Nevertheless, here he is, unable to understand when he came to trust the rest of the Archival team enough that he feels safe enough to fall asleep while they’re still awake to do things to him.

He really needs therapy, something he’s known for years, but several of the reasons he needs therapy tie into why he avoids therapy and it’s just a whole mess. The only reason he hasn’t done it that doesn’t tie into yet another trauma or blow to his psyche is the fact that he really can’t afford it. He’s barely scraping by as it is, and God only knows how he’s going to manage the need to move. He’s been in the same building for eleven years and rent’s gone up twice, and it’s still cheaper than most other places. Even if he does find someplace that doesn’t cost more, he’ll have to come up with the first month’s rent and the security deposit ahead of time, and then there’s the fact that he’s going to have to replace pretty much everything he owns that he didn’t manage to gather up for his temporary stay in the Archives; Jon and Sasha came back from getting their things and informed him regretfully that Mrs. Mattson had already thrown out what was left in his old flat and rented it out again. Add in the fact that he has to make up almost half of the fees at the home his mother insisted on moving into, and he’s not going to have the spare funds for, well, anything. Let alone therapy.

He sighs heavily and tries to sit up. It’s nice of Tim to let him sleep in the recliner, but when he first wakes up, it’s a bit of a struggle. And he honestly can’t figure out how he keeps lying back, since he’s pretty sure he falls asleep still sitting up. Maybe he’s doing it in his sleep, or maybe he’s just so tired he doesn’t remember settling back. Whatever it is, he discovered yesterday that it’s hard for him to use the appropriate strength to manipulate the recliner back into an upright position. Or at least to do it quietly. The others are still asleep—as far as he knows—and he doesn’t want to disturb them. He can tell himself all he wants that they need rest, that they deserve to have their sleep uninterrupted, that it’s been a rough couple of days for them too, but if he’s being honest it cycles back to his fear of the consequences of disturbing his mother while she was resting. Nine years and he still can’t make himself turn on a light before sunrise if the door isn’t firmly shut or listen to music without headphones after four in the afternoon. He wonders if he’ll ever be free.

The handle engages suddenly and the footrest goes down with a deceptively soft thwump that rocks Martin forward abruptly. He bites back a gasp of pain and waits for the world to stop swimming.

“Martin?”

The whispered call from not far away makes him flinch. Martin looks up, apologies ready on his lips, then realizes he’s not wearing his glasses and has no idea who was talking. He fumbles for them and puts them on just as Jon steps carefully around the end of the coffee table and perches on the end of the sofa next to him.

“I heard you starting to wake up,” Jon says softly. He holds something out—a mug. “I, ah, I was making tea anyway, so I thought…”

“O-oh.” Martin blinks in surprise and reaches out carefully to take the mug. “Ah, thank you?”

Their fingers brush, and it’s all Martin can do not to drop the mug or spill it on himself. He can feel the blush rising in his cheeks. God, it’s probably visible even with no lights.

“You’re welcome. I—you do so much for us. It seemed like high time someone did something for you for a change.” Jon pauses, then adds, “I hope I got it right. I—I know I haven’t exactly asked, but it—it seemed like what I remembered from after dinner?”

Martin takes a cautious sip of the tea and nearly chokes in surprise. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He can just make out Jon’s unfairly attractive smile before he brings his own mug to his lips. They sit in silence for a long moment, both of them seemingly lost in thought. Martin isn’t sure how much he’s actually thinking, though, beyond panicking slightly. It’s the first time he’s been alone with Jon, really, since he started living in the Archives. And after the last couple of days…he still has no idea where the two of them stand. If they’re on a friendlier footing, if they’ve found common ground, or if things are going to go back to normal once the initial shock wears off.

“What time is it?” he finally asks.

“About four in the morning. You’ve been asleep roughly nine hours.”

Martin exhales. “Christ, I had no idea I fell asleep that early.”

Jon tilts his head slightly. “Well, you’re healing. You’re likely going to do a fair amount of sleeping. We tried to keep it down.”

“I don’t mean to be an inconvenience like that,” Martin says, his stomach twisting. The idea that everyone has to be quiet because of him…

“Don’t be ridiculous, Martin, you’re not an inconvenience.” Jon sets his mug down on the table and turns to face Martin fully. “I—I know I’ve been overly critical of you over the last year. I really am sorry. I never meant to—I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“It’s—”

“Don’t say it’s all right. It isn’t. You’ve never been anything but diligent and conscientious, you’ve always gone above and beyond, and I—” Jon exhales. “The truth is, I-I was scared. I didn’t feel…adequate. Like I wasn’t up for the task. I didn’t—I never applied for this job either. Elias picked me, and I had no idea why. I don’t have a background in library science, o-or administration or anything like that. I couldn’t have told you why he offered me the job, but…well, I’m not sure I could have said no if I’d wanted to. A-and then you turned up in my office and said Elias had appointed you, and…I honestly thought he’d sent you to keep an eye on me. To, to report back to him if I stepped out of line or didn’t do the job properly. And then Rosie gave me a copy of your CV and I saw how long you’d been with the Institute, and all your credentials—”

“Most of which were fake.”

“Which I didn’t know at the time. I—I got intimidated.” Jon gives a small laugh. “I saw someone with more experience than all three of us put together and I thought, God, he wanted this job and didn’t get it and now he’s going to be reporting back to Elias every time I step out of line. I kept putting you down on the official recordings because—I don’t know, maybe part of me was hoping it would influence things in my favor if there was ever a dispute? And…I think I was projecting a lot of my own insecurities onto you. I am deeply sorry.”

Well, Jon won’t let him say it’s all right, but…Martin swallows hard and tries to smile. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I should have told you the truth sooner, but…I don’t know. I was afraid you’d fire me.”

“Considering the first interaction we ever had was me threatening you over that dog, I’d be afraid I’d fire me too.” Jon pauses. “I wonder what would have happened if I’d actually tried.”

Martin actually doesn’t want to think about it. He looks into the depths of the mug in his hands, then sets it on the end table where his glasses were previously. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t—oh, you mean the ‘I heard you starting to wake up’ thing? I was already awake.” Jon sighs. “I honestly don’t sleep very well these days. I-it’s not just the nightmares, it’s also…the worrying. About you. All three of you, really, but—you in particular.”

“Me?” Martin’s voice is louder than he means it to be. Tim grunts from somewhere else in the room and both Martin and Jon freeze, but after a moment he makes an odd sort of snorfling sound and seems to settle back into sleep. Martin rubs a hand over his mouth, trying to be careful of the bandages.

“Why me?” he asks, remembering to whisper this time.

Jon is silent for a moment. Martin is about to apologize for having asked when he says, “I could be glib and say it’s because you were the one being stalked by Jane Prentiss, and that is part of it, but…it’s also just that it’s you. It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself just as well as Tim or Sasha can. I do. It’s…I really wasn’t sure before the last couple of days why that was. I’m still not completely sure, but I think I have a bit of a better idea.”

“We worry about you, too, you know.” Martin desperately wants to ask what Jon’s idea is, but he also doesn’t want to pry. “Ask, erm, Martin Prime. I asked him what I could do to help and he said not to let you get hurt and I kind of panicked a little.”

Jon chuckles. “I suppose that is a next-to-impossible task.”

“No, I mean I panicked at the idea that you would get hurt,” Martin says. He wonders how much he can say without betraying how he feels. The Primes are close friends, that much is obvious, but he and Jon aren’t anywhere near that point and he doesn’t want to ruin his chances of even that by blurting out that he’s fallen for his boss like a ton of bricks. This is also probably not the time to bring it up. They’re all a bit…emotionally compromised right now, and he’s still not sure what’s going to happen when the adrenaline of the last two days wears off. Even if Jon’s just said he worries about Martin. Fleetingly, he wonders if Martin Prime ever told Jon Prime how he felt and when, and he wishes it was a question he thought to ask while they had some time alone in the last week. “I-I mean, that was my biggest worry when I realized Jane Prentiss had followed me home, you know? I wasn’t just worried about what she’d do to me. I was worried she might…follow me to the Archives. Come after one of you, but especially you. A-and then when she texted you after I made my statement…” He sighs. “It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But there was a part of me thinking that if I needed to stay in the Archives, maybe the rest of you should have too, you know?”

“No, you’re—you’re not wrong. Truthfully, that was one of the things that I kept obsessing over last night,” Jon confesses in a low voice. “When I saw—when I realized—” He breaks off and looks away. “All I could think was that something had happened, that you could be hurt, and that you’d been alone and—God, I should have insisted we all stay. Or that you come stay with one of us from the outset. Although in retrospect…I’m not certain what would have happened if your counterpart had been alone in the Archives at the time. Not that I knew he was there, but…”

“Yeah,” Martin says quietly. He swallows against the sudden, unexpected lump in his throat. “I’m—I’m still glad you weren’t there, though. I-I was glad when it happened, and I was even more glad when I saw Jon Prime and…honestly, Jon, this sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Least of all you. O-or Tim,” he adds hastily. “Or Sasha, but, I mean, she didn’t…not in their timeline, anyway.”

“No, but…that doesn’t mean we wanted you to have to get hurt, either,” Jon says. “It’s not exactly a fair trade.” He looks up at Martin. “A-are you in pain? Do you need your painkillers?”

The answer is yes, but Martin fights the urge to nod. “They, ah, they have to be taken with food. It’s—it’s not as bad as it was yesterday, at least.”

“Hold on. I think I can help with that.”

“Jon—” Martin begins, but it’s too late. Jon has already stood up from the sofa and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

Martin swears under his breath in Polish, then manages to get to his feet without hurting himself. He carefully picks up both mugs of tea and follows Jon, a bit more slowly. Partly it’s the pain, partly it’s force of habit. He doesn’t know where the joists or creaky floorboards might be, and it’s still early, he can’t risk waking people up because he’s walking too loudly. He’s already had one close call too many tonight.

He makes it to the kitchen. Jon is messing about with something, using the night-light mounted above the sink to see by. Martin can’t see what he’s doing. He sets the mugs down carefully on the table and asks, “What are you doing?”

Jon jumps and whirls around, brandishing a butter knife in one hand. He relaxes. “Martin—I didn’t hear you come in. I—I just thought—” He gestures at the counter. “It’s not much, but I thought I’d make you a sandwich at least. Get something in your stomach so you can take the pills.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Martin protests, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I-I can wait until—”

“I’m sure you can, but there’s no reason you should,” Jon says briskly. “It’s been enough time that you’re certainly able to take your painkillers, and you need them, so why wait and make yourself feel worse?”

There’s a certain amount of logic in that, Martin has to admit. “I just…don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon places a sandwich in front of him firmly and lays a hand on his arm. “Martin,” he says sincerely, “the last thing you are is a bother. Sit down and eat. I’ll be right back.”

He heads out of the kitchen, leaving Martin incredibly confused and slightly embarrassed.

Lacking any better option, he sits down to eat the sandwich Jon has made for him. He doesn’t know what to expect, but it’s certainly not what he bites into. The first taste of it on his tongue almost makes him cry, and he closes his eyes, savoring it.

He hears footsteps and swallows hastily, opening his eyes as Jon comes back into the room. He sets the pill bottle next to Martin’s elbow, then sits down next to him and picks up his mug of tea. “Is it all right?”

“It’s perfect,” Martin says before he thinks it through and almost swallows his tongue. Oh, well, no taking it back now—best to press forward. “I didn’t know Tim ate cherry preserves.”

“I don’t think he does. He teased me a bit about being ‘elitist’ the first time he saw me eating them.”

Martin stops mid-chew and definitely swallows a too-solid bite. It takes him a second before he’s able to speak. “You like them, too?”

Jon’s eyes widen. “Too? I—I mean, obviously you like them, you’re eating the sandwich—God, I didn’t even think to ask, I just assumed…”

“No, it’s—I’ve always liked them,” Martin says. “My—my granddad had a couple cherry trees in his backyard. He used to make preserves every year, and…I dunno. They just remind me of visiting him.” He takes another bite of the sandwich.

Jon nods thoughtfully. “I’ve always been fond of cherry preserves. Well, cherry anything, actually. My grandmother used to bake cherry pies on my birthday in lieu of a cake.”

Martin smiles. “Granddad always did that for me, too.”

“I’ll remember that for next year.” Jon smiles, too.

For a few minutes, there’s silence as Martin finishes the sandwich. When the last bite is gone, Jon takes the plate and gets up to wash it while Martin struggles for a moment to get the cap off the pill vial and shake out a painkiller. The moment feels oddly…domestic. Calm. Cosy. Martin isn’t sure what to do with it, but he decides to try and let himself enjoy it. It’s never worked for him before, but he can give it a shot.

Finally, Jon sits back down next to him. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” It’s not just the painkiller, which probably hasn’t actually started to work yet. It’s the tea, and the sandwich, and Jon being nice. He tries to figure out how to articulate it, then finally says, “It’s the first time in I don’t know how long that I don’t feel afraid.”

Jon exhales. “I know the feeling. I mean—I know I should be. The world is objectively terrifying, and learning what we learned today made that exponentially worse. But…this right here? I’m definitely calmer and more relaxed than I’ve been since I took the Archivist job.”

Something in Martin’s chest warms at the comment. It probably isn’t meant like that, but it’s nice to hear he’s not making Jon stressed by his mere presence, at least. And, hey, he can dream. All he says, though, is, “’S nice.”

“It is.” Jon takes a sip of his tea and stares into it for a moment, then snorts softly and shakes his head.

“What?”

“It’s just…something my counterpart said. While we were talking outside. I hadn’t thought about it before, but…he’s right.” Jon looks up. “He told me he hasn’t finished a cup of tea in years that—that his Martin hasn’t made for him. It just occurred to me that I’m the same way. Even when…those two weeks you weren’t in the office? When Jane Prentiss was—” He swallows hard. “I just realized that I would brew myself a cup of tea and it would just…sit on my desk and get cold. I never managed to drink more than half of it. I suppose it just tastes better when you make it.”

Martin doesn’t know quite how to respond to that. “You make tea just fine. This is perfect.”

Jon hums noncommittally. He seems to be debating with himself, then sighs. “You’re far more observant than I am at times…you know they’re together, right?”

Martin’s brain pulls up short. “Wait, what?”

“Our…counterparts. The Primes. They’re—they love each other. He told me that when I asked him, and…God, in retrospect, it’s so obvious. I-I suppose I just didn’t see it.” Jon looks suddenly nervous as he scans Martin’s face. “You’re more…in tune with that sort of thing than I. You did know, didn’t you?”

“N-no,” Martin manages to stammer out. Oh, God, he can feel his cheeks heating up. Jon’s right, though, in retrospect it’s obvious. He thinks about all the little interactions the Primes have had with one another, the way they both fuss over each other, the way they seem to know what the other is thinking. The lighthearted, affectionate banter, the near-constant physical contact. Jon Prime rubbing his thumb over Martin Prime’s knuckles to calm himself when he gets overwhelmed, Martin Prime reaching for Jon Prime instinctively when he needs a hand up.

Then, suddenly, he remembers the way Martin Prime spoke about the person who was coming back to meet him, when he assured Martin that if they’ve come through somewhere else, they’re looking for me. Logically, he knows now that person was Jon Prime, but he somehow didn’t make the connection between the two. It’s as if his brain saw Jon Prime walk in and instantly erased every conclusion that conversation made him come to. It didn’t occur to him, at the time, that Jon would even bother to bring him back in time with him, let alone be looking for him. Now he takes a mental step back, re-evaluates every moment between the Primes in light of that conversation, and wants to smack himself on the forehead for being an idiot.

“You’re right, though. I really should have figured that out sooner,” he murmurs. “God knows I had enough information to put it together. Guess I just assumed there couldn’t possibly be a universe where I—”

He snaps off the words as quickly as he can. Oh, God, he really almost said it out loud. Almost let Jon know how he feels. He’s not stupid, the Primes have a lot more history between them than he and Jon do, and he doesn’t doubt for a minute that they haven’t been together long, relatively speaking. Probably only since Jon Prime rescued Martin Prime from the Lonely. The circumstances that led them to this point are ones they’re trying to undo, and Martin seriously doubts he and Jon will ever get to that point. It’s best if he tries to let this thing die now and be happy for his counterpart getting this much.

Jon looks like he wants to ask him a question, but doesn’t. Instead, he says quietly, “They weren’t going to tell you. Us, I suppose, but…I asked him. How he felt about his Martin. Mostly because I was trying to figure out how I felt about you, and I thought knowing his thoughts would help untangle mine.”

Martin has to try twice before he can get the words out. “Did it?”

Jon gives a small, humorless laugh. “Not really. In truth, it just made things more confusing. I…” He rubs his thumb against the knuckle of his index finger, the same nervous tic Jon Prime uses when he doesn’t have Martin Prime’s hand to hold. “I-I got scared when I arrived at the Institute the other night. I was…there was all that chaos, all those lights and sirens and activity, and—and I realized you weren’t in the crowd. All I could think of was that there’d been a fire and you hadn’t woken in time, or that you’d been trapped and been…burned or breathed in too much of the CO2 or something. I tried to—they wouldn’t let me in after you. Obviously. That makes perfect sense, but…at the time, all I could think of was that you were in there a-and I needed to get to you, that I needed to know you were safe. I was staring at the idea of a world without you and I couldn’t face it. And then…Elias told me Tim and Sasha were down there, and then mentioned Jane Prentiss, and it all got worse and…I don’t know, Martin, I’m rambling. But Tim’s right. I was—I must’ve shouted down half a dozen officials trying to get one of them to tell me where you were, how you were, to—to let me see you. Everyone kept saying you were going to be all right, but I knew I wouldn’t believe it until I saw you.”

“I—I mean, if it had been Sasha or Tim—” Martin begins.

“I don’t know how I would have reacted if it had been them who was hurt. I was definitely worried about them, but…I don’t know.” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’ll be honest. I still don’t really know how I feel. I—I do care about you. I worry about you, I want you to be safe. Beyond that, I—I’m afraid I don’t know.” He manages a small, slightly roguish smile. “I don’t suppose you know how you feel.”

“Oh, Christ,” Martin practically whines. This is not how he wanted any of this to come out, and he doesn’t know if he should say it.

Then it occurs to him that Jon didn’t ask. Jon, who has just learned that he’s developing the ability to force people to answer his questions, and who is probably more likely to do it when he’s tired or stressed out, deliberately avoided actually asking a question. It’s a simple statement. He’s giving Martin permission to not say a word if he doesn’t want to.

Which…actually, weirdly, makes him want to.

He takes a deep breath. “O-okay. The truth is…I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while. I wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s—I mean, I didn’t want to make things weird, a-and I know you—I was just trying for ‘he doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot’ for a while there. I also thought it was just a stupid workplace crush, and I was kind of hoping it would eventually go away on its own. It didn’t. Ever since I started living in the Archives, it’s just got worse. I guess that’s why I didn’t realize how the Primes felt about each other. I kind of thought I was projecting, o-or seeing what I wanted to see, maybe? I don’t know. But I do worry, and I do…I do care.”

“That’s not why you went back to Carlos Vittery’s apartment, is it?” Jon’s voice is so soft Martin almost doesn’t hear it, but his eyes are worried. “Because you thought I…?”

“No,” Martin assures him. “No, I—you know, I know I said I was trying to ‘make sure I’d done my due diligence’ and all that, but what was behind that was that I’d been…I felt pressured  to go back. Like a nagging, persistent headache. I get it all the time, really, when I’m doing research. Remember when you sent me to track down that…that Angela woman? For the—”

“The man who was falling to pieces. I remember.”

“I know you got exasperated with me, but I literally couldn’t stop until I’d talked to every Angela I could find. I’d think ‘well, I’m not going to find her, I’m going back to the Institute now,’ but I’d get this blinding headache and it wouldn’t go away until I went ‘okay, just one more.’ It’s only got worse as time goes on. So no, I didn’t…get myself into this mess because I was trying to impress you or whatever.” Martin can’t help the small, nervous chuckle that escapes him. “’Course, if it did impress you, I wouldn’t complain.”

“What impressed me was that you kept your head well enough to survive and get back to your apartment, never mind the Institute,” Jon says warmly. “If it were me, I’d likely have done something stupid like go back for my phone when I realized I’d dropped it.” He sighs. “I—I don’t want to make things awkward. But I also don’t want to…promise anything.”

“I don’t expect anything, Jon.” Martin learned a long time ago not to expect anything. As far as he’s concerned, the phrase good things come to those who wait is inapplicable. In his case, it’s more like good things come to those who aren’t you. He has friends, in Tim and Sasha at least. That’s more than he probably deserves.

Jon studies him for a moment, then smiles slightly and holds out his hand. “How about I apologize for being such an ass to you, and we start with friends and see where it goes from there?”

This is the last thing Martin would have ever anticipated, but he’s certainly not going to object. He smiles in reply and takes Jon’s hand. “Deal.”

They shake on it—very gently, Jon is careful of the healing wounds on Martin’s hands—and then sit back. Jon studies Martin. “Did they tell you how long you’ll need to wear the bandages?”

“Until things stop bleeding when I take them off?” Martin shrugs. “Hopefully not too long. Some of them are…deeper than others. I’m supposed to make an appointment with my regular doctor for a follow-up in a couple of weeks.”

“We’ll make sure you get there safely,” Jon promises. He picks up his mug and salutes Martin with it. “After all, what are friends for?”

Martin grins, feeling more relaxed than he’s felt in a while, and salutes Jon back. “What indeed?”

[mortyvongola2-0]

Proof of Strength

Chapter 1: Whiff

Pairing: Alpha! Kylo Ren x Omega! Reader

Genre: a/b/o fic, slowburn, multichapter, 18+

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: language, sexual themes, lying, and a/b/o dynamics.

Read it on AO3

Next Chapter

The First Order offered great opportunities. You were poor and downtrodden when they showed up, claiming to have solutions to your poverty, that they would clothe, bathe, and provide food for all in exchange for hard work. Their propaganda promised a beautiful future, where no one would ever be as poor as you were again. Immediately, you wanted to join but there was one rather large problem. The First Order only hired alphas and betas. And therein lied your problem, as you were neither an alpha nor beta. You were an omega.

 Omegas were rare, as the gene mutation required to be an omega was even more recessive than the alpha gene. They were less independent, they required protection and mass amounts of supervision during their heats, and the biggest difference in strength was in their upper bodies, as omegas do not require the upper body strength of an alpha or even a beta. In exchange the lower body strength of an omega was much more prevalent then for either other designation. Being an omega was also a lot harder to hide then being an alpha, the hormones of an omega heavily influence those of other designations, which was most likely the reason why the First Order did not hire or train them.

 Nowadays, alphas found omegas to be more of a chore than anything. It used to be that alphas and omegas were fated to bond, that they would thrive well when mated with one another, but as more and more betas arose the less alphas wanted to put in the extra effort to take on an omega. You understood, if you weren’t an omega you wouldn’t want to have to be stuck with what the rumors made you sound like either. But, to you, there would always be something special about the bond between an alpha and omega. Others called you an idealist, or a romanticist, but you had seen that special bond firsthand. Your parents had that bond, so strong and beautiful, and you wished for that same sort of love.

 You scratched at the scent gland on the left side of your neck as you stared at the First Order poster on the wall. The wind blew your scarf into your face along with some grains of black sand. I could get away with it, you thought. This shouldn’t be a problem. You clicked your tongue and tugged the poster off the wall. My family needs the money, and everything else they’re offering doesn’t sound too bad. Can’t imagine it being any worse than this. You rubbed a dirty finger under your nose and began to walk back out and into the streets, the poster now shoved into your satchel and a hum on your lips, images of infiltrating the First Order playing continually in your mind’s eye. This’ll be fun.

 ~

 This is most certainly not fun, you thought as you crawled, much slower than everyone else, along the thick mud. The First Order really knew how to whip its people into shape, that’s for sure. You had passed their physical exam, as the differences between omegas and female betas bodies were very minimal hormone wise, and you made sure you had been suppressing with steroids long enough beforehand to not have to worry about being caught, besides hardly anyone tested for steroids anymore. Most designations didn’t suppress and if they did it was with more herbal remedies, as steroids were seen as archaic and more dangerous than helpful. The biggest differences between omega and beta, however, were all anatomically the same as an alpha. A bonding gland and six scent glands; one on each side of the neck right under the jaw and closer to the ears, one in each wrist, and one at each junction where pelvis met pubic area. But luckily for you, they didn’t do any full body scans and your bonding gland was smaller than average, so it could be easily passed as a simple knot or inflamed muscle on your shoulder.

 However, passing the physical labor portions, like crawling, climbing, heavy lifting, pushups, and even shooting, those were the tests where the true difficulty for you was. You were barely scraping by, and it took all your effort to be passable in these areas of strength. Unfortunately, that meant you were at the very bottom of your class, but at this point you were far too invested to give up. Passing was still passing; no matter what place you were. Though your testing scores and stamina more than made up for what you lacked. You were a quick study so your grades placed you above average testing wise, which balanced out with your physical scores, rounded you out to a nice average.

 You were very aware of how suspicious your weaknesses could make you seem, so you did your best to tone down the strengths of your lower body as well as worked really hard to increase what you could do with your upper body. And after a little more than a year of training, you were officially inducted as a member of the First Order, smack dab in the middle of your class. You were so proud of yourself and were extra relieved when you learned that your position put you far away from the frontlines.

 As time passed your work ethic brought you more and more promotions. Seven years after your graduation saw you as a lead programmer and the promotion after that brought you to your station on the Finalizer. You loved your job. The only downside to it was the amount of exposure to the Commander as well as the General of the First Order. Both of which were very strong alphas, probably the strongest you had ever seen. The stronger the alpha the better they could smell and the more reactive they were to omega hormones and pheromones/scents. You had to avoid them like the plague, as despite your monthly steroid suppressions they would still be able to catch a whiff of your scent. If you got too close your cover would be blown and you’d be removed, or worse killed, for your lies. Just thinking about it had you close to hyperventilating.

 “You alright?” Your coworker, Lee a beta, asked you and placed his hand on your shoulder softly. That snapped you out of your trance and you turned toward him calmly. You hadn’t realized that you’d been spacing out. Earlier that morning Kylo Ren had almost gotten close enough to smell you and that had thrown you into a frenzied inner monologue of please don’t take a deep breath, please don’t take a deep breath, please don’t take a deep breath!

 “Leave her alone, she literally almost bumped into the Commander this morning,” your other coworker, Avery also a beta, said in response to Lee. She pointed her fork at him and leaned forward on her elbows “Her life is probably still flashing through her eyes. She’s lucky he ignored her.”

“Ah man, that is lucky,” Lee mumbled and put his hand back down beside his plate. He picked up his eating utensils and used them to take a bite of the meat he had chosen from the dinner line. “Kylo Ren has been aboard for quite some time, why do you think that is?”

 Avery shrugged then pushed her plate forward, no longer interested in her dinner choices. She used her fork to emphasize her hand motions. “I don’t know, but the General has been really on edge because of it.”

 “Heh, he almost exploded this morning after Kylo Ren destroyed one of our consoles. I’d never seen so much color on his face before,” Lee snickered. You snorted in response, remembering the steaming General in all his angered glory. The feud between the ginger and the helmeted knight was no secret, they fought often and loudly. Hux with his sarcasm and snarky attitude and Kylo Ren with his blatant disregard for all of the rules and commands the General had in place. It was quite comical really, like a well-rehearsed routine. You slurped up your soup thoughtfully.

 “What I wouldn’t give to sit on that pale face,” Avery said in a playful lilt. You promptly spit out your soup and Lee choked on the water he had started to sip at.

 “Kriff, Avery, don’t say crap like that when I’m eating,” you grumbled and started to wipe up the mess you had made. She snickered and crossed her arms over her chest triumphantly, unashamed of her hazardous mindset. You could see it now, the General chuckling as he shoved her out the airlock for embarrassing him. You shivered.

 “What? I’m serious,” she said with a smirk. “He is one attractive man. You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about it.”

 I’m too busy thinking about the ways he’d murder me if he got close enough to smell me, you thought and shook your head at her. “Nope, can’t say that I have.”

 “You’ve seriously never thought about it? What about for any of the other officers? Is there not an alpha you would pretend to be an omega for?”

 “Avery, give it a rest. Not everyone is as crazed as you,” Lee muttered. “Besides, don’t you think they would rather have an actual omega then someone pretending to be one?”

 “But there are hardly any left, plus I remember someone talking about how much of a hassle being bonded to an actual omega is.” That irked you. You doubted anyone, let alone any alpha, on this ship had actually met an unsuppressed omega let alone bonded with one.

 “Well you could still be a bit more respectful.” You nodded in response to Lee. Respect would be nice, you felt like you were owed at least a little of it due to your success in hiding who you were and proving that omegas were more than capable of caring for themselves. “Leave your weird fetishes for your diary log.”

 “How do you pretend to be an omega?” Curiosity had gotten the better of you.

 Lee sighed loudly and placed his hand against his forehead. “Why would you encourage her.” Avery, in response, beamed at you and leaned forward; both of her hands pressed against the table and fork long forgotten by her plate. “Pretending to be in heat is of course the main thing. Except, be a bit less needy and it’s not like you can actually last for as long as a real heat. You can also say a bunch of stuff about scent, and bonding, and blah blah blah, pretend to be weaker and in need of protection, it’s a lot of fun if your partner is into it.”

 “Gross,” you muttered and took another slurp of your soup. Heats in general were gross. They were long, lasting anywhere from 5 to 14 days. It started with a fever, general sluggishness, difficulty breathing and a foggy mindset, eventually your body would start the reproductive response. Slick would start to pool around your entrance and your glands would swell to the point of discomfort, it hurt quite a bit. An urge to lesson discomfort through orgasm would grow and eventually everything would begin to blend together. Pheromones would  be released in order to attract any nearby alpha and force them into a rut. The only things that could lessen the immense discomfort were sex and medications, but those were short term remedies, as their effects would dissipate rather quickly. Unless the sex involved a knot then, and only then, the discomfort would dissolve long enough for an omega to take care of themselves. Part of the reason why they required protection during their heats was because they risked dehydration and malnourishment the longer the heat went on.

 You had never had sex, let alone with an alpha, so you weren’t entirely sure how clear minded you became after knotting. Even now it had been many years since your last heat, but you could somewhat remember struggling through them earlier on in your life. “I don’t think so but, whatever. I’ve got to get back to training some new recruits.” Avery yawned and stood. She grabbed her tray and started walking toward the exit. “See you guys later.”

 “Bye,” you stated and waved in response, now trying your best to remember what struggling through your heat felt like.

 “She needs to keep quiet about stuff like that,” Lee told you quietly. “The First Order is very strict about relations between officers. She could get in real trouble for just saying some of that stuff.”

 “Then you need to be careful too.” A smirk crawled onto your face and you wiggled your eyebrows at him. “Did you think you and Miss Vanya were being discreet?” A light blush dusted his tan ears. You chuckled at his embarrassment and shook your head. “I didn’t need to hear the two of you in your office, but I did. You’re more of a screamer than I thought.”

 “I um, I just realized I still have a project I need to finish, so I’ll uh- we’ll talk later,” he scrambled to clean his area. “See you!”

 After he scurried off you kept your smirk and finished your soup. You checked the time to make sure you still had a bit before you needed to head back and lazily began to clean your space. A yawn escaped your lips as you started your trek back to your office.

 Lee and Avery were good people, very smart and hard workers. Avery had been your friend since your initial training, she had helped immensely with trying to get your upper body in shape. The two of you had been separated after initiation and reunited when they assigned you to this ship. Avery was now the trainer assigned to your section, working alongside or sometimes directly under you to help the newer programmers meet First Order standards.

 Lee had trained you in your original position when you first arrived on the Finalizer and now, he was directly in charge of the stromtrooper training programs and battle training designs. You were proud of him, even though his position meant you couldn’t see him as often. He was at Captain Phasma’s beck and call, coming up with the ideas that your department would bring to life via code. Again, you snickered thinking about his embarrassment at your discovery. You were determined to never let him live it down.

 Once you reached your office, you punched in your code and the doors easily slid open. Your main job was to receive orders and delegate the coding and programming to those under you. The paperwork was immense, and you hardly ever got to do any of the actual programming that you enjoyed, but you enjoyed the raise and respect the position brought you. Besides, if someone else didn’t understand or finish their work, it was up to you to do it so there were occasions when you got to do what you enjoyed, however rare they were. You slid into your desk chair quietly and got to work.

 Later in the evening, after your shift had finished, you entered your quarters and immediately knew something was wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing, and your omega instincts were kicking into gear. Predator, your mind supplied. The faint scent of alpha pheromones tickled your nose and you shivered. The suppressants dulled your sense of smell, so you could not identify who it was, but you knew what they were. You took a tentative step forward, hands trembling and body on full alert. Who would have access to your quarters? Higher command had access, generals, captains, commanders. An alpha and a higher up, oh no. They must know. They’re here to kick me out, to kill me, they know!

 You took a few more steps forward, right outside the open entrance to your bed. They were in there, in your room, the smell was stronger in that direction. There was no sound, so they weren’t moving, but they were in there. A cold sweat broke out all over your body and you could take a guess as to who it was. It had to be the Commander. He was the only one who had been close enough to you to get a good whiff of your suppressed omega smell. Kylo Ren was absolutely going to murder you, no question. Still trembling, you resigned yourself to your fate, and finally stepped into your measly bedroom.

 And there he stood, in all his black and murderous glory. Kylo Ren was standing against the left wall, his visor was turned toward you, effectively intimidating you further. You almost squeaked under his intense scrutinizing and judging by the way his chest rose and fell a bit more deliberately, you knew he was taking in your scent. He took a large step forward; you took a frightened step backward. That cycle continued until you were no longer able to back up. He had you back up against your refresher door, his helmeted head literally pressed into the crook of your neck, one hand at you hip and the other holding your head back to further expose your nape. Your instinctual response was submission and following that instinct you craned your head away and further into his hold, effectively exposing your scent and bonding glands to him. I’m going to die, he’s going to strangle me, and I will die.

 And all at once, he pulled away.