#contemplating if I should link the confessions here

[atherflame-theconcubus]

All hail the god of death (you)

For a moment, I thought you were referencing the AU I thought I wasn’t gonna build on over on the AU confession blog.

But yeah, after talking about that AU it fits

[fanaticsnail]

Kind And Gentle

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,100+

Synopsis: Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, Friends to lovers, confessions of love, suggestive dialogue, massaging - reader receiving, pain, aching, yearning, small kiss, Shanks is a meanie, swearing, teasing, Beckman is a softie, Beckman is a gentleman, term of endearment "Darlin'" used - it's just what I associate him saying.

Notes: Pure self-indulgence fic, procrastinating while I should be going through my WIPs. My shoulder hurts, guys. Needed this to get out of my system and get through the pain. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @missbeckman @tiredemomama

Pain. White and hot, swelling and encumbering. This was what you were experiencing in the middle of your spine; just a little to the right side of your body.

The ache never eased, no matter what position you slept in, nor adjusting your posture throughout the day. It was unending, the torment which knit your muscles together and cemented them in place. 

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, bracing yourself against the wooden hallway wall as you rotate your neck in a circle atop your shoulders slowly. Arching your back, you winced as the knot continued to integrate itself in a woven entanglement of painful muscle beneath your skin. 

Biting back a whimper, you tried as you might to reach the cursed divot beneath your flesh, whining quietly as your fingertips barely brushed against the surface of the painful coil. The ache called to you, the burden causing a small tremor in your lips from the electric heat of the hidden wound. 

Shaking your head, you huffed out a breath as you attempted to soldier on about your daily chores. Ignoring the tight ache beneath your skin with a deep grimace written on your lips, you finally gave into your pain and balanced your hands against the wooden beam atop the deck of the Red-Force. 

The sea breeze hit your nose, relaxing you briefly before the pain eclipsed all your senses. Brain foggy with anguish, lips parted and panting, eyes frantic and wife: you could bear it no longer. You muted a cry, muffling it within your mouth while you tried to release the elastic coil in your back by twisting your torso. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you curse in a soft whisper, your brows rising in a pain-riddled peak in your forehead. You moaned out in a soft whimper, praying nobody could hear your weakness as you tried to reach for the spot a second time.

The band was bordering on excruciating, your mind contemplating whether or not to seek out Hongo for medical attention due to the intensity of the pain. Just as you began to turn on your way, two strong hands clapped over your shoulders: thumbs moving in rough circles against your skin. 

“I got you, Darlin’,” the gruff voice Shanks’ first mate whispered in a calming rumble, “Just tell me when I'm gettin’ close to it.” 

Benn Beckman. It was always Benn Beckman. Any time any of the crew needed anything, no task too small, no feat too great: Beckman was the champion you had all grown accustomed to rely on. Leaning back into his touch, you hung your neck low to grant him greater access

“Oh-... mmmf-... -‘kay,'' you whimpered, curving your back down to expose more of your spine to him, “It's not-... Hhah-... It's not normally this-...fucking, shit-... -this bad.” A small click of his tongue snapped at you in empathy as his thumbs brushed against the coil of pain. 

Although your friendship with Beckman ran deep, you had never engaged with him physically before. You respected one another, adored one another, and were as close as two crewmates could be. Two sides of a coin, twin edges of a blade, the gunpowder and the spark that lit the fuse - this was how you were described by your red-headed captain. 

But as his thumbs sought out your deepest pain, all your thoughts escaped you. There was nothing else, just: Beckman, his focus and his expert touch. 

“Just a touch to the right-... ahh, Becks!” you cried out as his digits flicked over the painful swell beneath your flesh. Huffing out pants of breath, you sobbed in strained relief as he continued massaging your body. 

“Oh, fuck. It's there, isn't it?” he whispered, the thumb of his right hand pressed firmly against the tight knot as his left hand braced you against the side-beam of the boat, “There it is, Darlin’. I found it. There's the spot.” You arched your back within his broad hands, your arms stiffening in firm pillars against the deck as he prodded the painful peak in your back. 

“Oh, that's it! Right there, that's the spot,” you mewled out, crying and gasping for him as he untangled your muscles with his rough, practiced hands. Just as he pressed his strength further against you, you winced out a strangled, “Fuck, not so rough! Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” 

“Darlin’, this is me being kind and gentle,” he bullied his thumb into your skin, stapling you to the wall of the ship by his hips and holding you steady with his hand perched on your left shoulder, “You need a bit of rough treatment. Hold still, let me coax it out of you.”

“Becks,” you whispered out his name, lulling your head back on your shoulders as he continued to pry, paw and claw the knot apart with his right hand, “Becks it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” his gruff voice reassured you, the gentle hold of his left hand against your shoulder contradicted the right hand that bruised your muscles, “It'll all be over soon. I'm nearly there, I can feel your body moving it with me. Just hold on.”

His thumb pressed an intentional swipe up, directing the pain up your back and into the peaked corner of your shoulder. His brows knit low in deep concentration, prompting him to suck in an empathetic breath in anticipation. 

“Ohh… You're gonna hate me,” he whispered in your ear, kicking your feet apart with his heavy boots before anchoring his pelvis against your glutes to hold you firmer against the ship's wooden railing, “You need an elbow.”

“No, no, no! Not an elbow!” you cried, just as his right elbow drew itself against your spongy flesh, “Becks! It's-... nnmfph-... too much! Ahh! Too much!”

Attempting to break from his grip, you shook yourself away from his hands, only for your body to immediately betray you. Bent over the railing, your back immediately became unraveled by a firm grip and a strong elbow to the point that ailed you. 

“Oh hush, you need it,” he barked in a soft tone, eclipsing your concern with an intentional rotation of his elbow against your shoulder, “Be a good little thing and take it.” He was moving the vines of the entanglement away from the source point, breaking it down beneath his body and flushing it out with heavy swipes. 

Benn Beckman was experiencing the toughest battle he had ever had the displeasure in engaging with. He was trying to tune out how good you sounded calling out his name in pants and whines, his own empathetic huffs and groans mixing harmoniously with yours as he gripped your flesh.

“Benn Beck-...fuck-... It's right there. Right there, Becks! Don't stop!” you whimpered, your voice high and your desperation showcased in the soft pants of your breath. The release of your entangled flesh was just within Beckman's grasp, prompting him to switch back to using his fingers to expel the pressure beneath your skin. 

“I got you. There ya’ go,” he confirmed again, expanding the heel of his palm against the binding presence of the last of the entanglement, “Breathe through it with me, I'm not gonna stop ‘til you're done.” 

“Oh, fuck Beckman,” your eyes glazed over, your lips parting and crying out in bliss as his skillful ministrations cast out the pressure in your shoulder as a priest would cleanse unholy ground to make their sanctuary.

“Th-That’s it. Oh m-my fuck-,” you whined back into his hands, “You're so good. Your hands feel so good.” As the last of the knot fled your shoulder, a warm chuckle rumbled from behind you. Beckman's laugh brought you comfort, his softness depicted in this small moment as he held you in his arms. 

His firm hands turned soft, caressing your shoulders in tender, gentle touches. He molded both of your shoulders within his palms, your body becoming jelly beneath his rough and calloused hands. You moaned softly as he maneuvered your body in a perfect arch against his chest, the rumble of his chuckle reverberating within your back to vibrate within your chest. 

“Better?” he whispered in the shell of your ear, easing his body back to enable you to escape his broad cage. Instead of breaking away from his body, you relaxed into his arms, sighing out a warm breath of contentment. 

“Thank you, Becks. You're bloody amazing at that,” you praised him, feeling light and free of the bonds that confined you, “Why did you offer to help me with it?” 

“There was something in your face that told me you needed it,” he shrugged, huffing a small chuckle out of his nose and leant down to rumble out a whisper in your ear, “Always wanna help you, Darlin’.”

“Oh Becks, I could kiss you,” you turned in his arms, gazing through half-hooded eyelids up at him, “Can I?”

He smirked down at you, a small pink due flushing his cheeks with a subtle dust, bobbing his head in a soft nod to grant you permission. As you circled your arms over his neck and began to draw him closer to your lips, a chorus of barked laughter and an uproar of cheers echoed along the hull of the ship. Clapping hands, whistles and hoots erupted from your crew now surrounding the two of you. 

“Oh, Beckman,” your captain cackled at you, his right hand clapping over his heart, “In public, big guy? And you,” he pointed his index finger at you, his wolfy grin painted in a drawn-out taunting smirk, “You sly little fox. Gettin’ the big man to take you right on the deck?”

“What?” you questioned your captain in a warning tone, floating your eyes between the rest of the crew gathered on the deck beside him. Shanks’ playful twinkle fluttered beneath his weighty eyelashes. 

“Be gentle with me, Becks,” he mocked in a needy moan not too dissimilar from your own, before hardening his features and deepening his voice in a grunted, “You need a bit of rough treatment,” he commented gruffly. The color drained from your face, eyes widening and lips parting once again in bashful horrification. 

“Oh right there, Becks, don't stop,” Shanks continued his performance, a small warning began to rise within Beckman's throat in a rumbled growl. Breaking out of your embrace, he grimaced at the red-head in front of him. 

“Enough, Cap’n,” Beckman snarled, reaching within his pocket and pulling out his lighter with his left hand, fishing out a cigarette to follow, “Got out a knot, s’all. You know how shit they are.” Beckman ignited the end, taking a lengthy drag and exhaling a puff away from your face. 

“Really? That's all?” Shanks cried out a laugh, the crew echoing his unashamed and carefree joy at the notion, “I thought I saw some hips moving together, Becks. You were letting some of your own groans out too, mewling like a wh-.”

“-Or should I relay half of the bullshit you curse out when Hongo releases the knots in your own shoulder?” Beckman smirked, his eyes daring his captain to say another embarrassing quip. After a pregnant pause, silent tension only momentary before another uproar of laughter barked out amongst the Red-Hair pirates. 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm done,” Shanks waved his hand in the air, shooting you a small wink before turning to face his crew, “What say we make port, huh? Resupply with some fresh drinks, a hot meal, some good company, and a comfortable sleep on dry land?”

“Aye, sir!” the crew echoed in unison, your own confirmation falling from your lips as you began maneuvering around the first-mate to resume your duties. Just as you passed Beckman's shoulder, a firm hand shot out and gripped your forearm to hold you in place. 

“Beckman?” you asked, turning to meet his eyes. You floated your own between his, hovering your attention to fixate on him completely, “Everything alright, Sir?” 

“Goin’ back to ‘Sir’ again, after all that,” he murmured, barely above comprehension. Your quizzical feeling never left you, still hovering between the lenses of his glassy orbs. 

“How you feeling?” he asked as he pressed down the filter end of the cigarette beneath the pad of his thumb, placing the butt-end in the small drawer attached to the hull of the ship, “I get it all out, or the ache still hangin’ in there?”

Humming in thought, you rotated your right arm and felt the ghost of your prior pain simmer down and flee from your form. The small pinch only remained behind in memory, but the small remnants of the ache threatened to return. 

“It's gone for now, I think,” you uttered with a small shrug, “It'll likely begin the slow journey back up my spine in a pinch.” Beckman hummed in thought, nodding along as he checked over your body for any changes. 

After a small lull, you held your ground as the atmosphere once again fell into awkwardness. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, sucking in a breath to elevate your courage. 

“Can I buy you a drink or two when we get to port?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground and hands laced behind you, “An expression of my gratitude for you helping me out?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Beckman disguised his growing smile by arching himself away from you, loosening the tie in his hair and beginning to restyle it.

“And if I am?” you ask, still avoiding his gaze by holding your eyes firmly against the floor, “What then?”

“What then, Darlin’,'' he smirked, his eyes softening as his hands found your hips, “Is that I'd accept.” He pulled you flush with him, prompting your eyes to widen and search his gray orbs in your shock, “I wouldn't mind spending an evening with you, havin’ drinks in a quiet corner for a change.”

“It would be a nice change,” you confessed, eyes again falling soft for the first mate. He leant his hips back on the wooden railing, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. His index finger lingered on your chin, holding your eyes against his. 

“What was it for you? To have you finally make a move after all this time?” he asked, his eyes turning playful as he looked down at you through half-hooded eyes, “The hands or the elbow?”

“I think it was the words,” you confessed with a small laugh, ��Not used to having the Great Benn Beckman whisper: ‘be a good little thing and take it.’ Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm being honest,” a small choked pause fell from Beckman's lips, your own question now posed to him.

“What made you accept a drink with me?” you searched his eyes quizzically, pursing your lips as you continued, “We've served together for so long, what made you consider it now?”

“Oh Darlin', I've always considered it. More than considered it,” he huffed out a chuckle, bringing your face closer to his with the curl of his index finger, “Just didn't know how much I wanted it ‘til you started sayin' my name like that.” He hovered his lips over yours, his breath still scented with the sour, smoky tang of his last cigarette as he beckoned you in. 

“Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm bein' honest,” he parroted your words back at you before finally claiming your lips beneath his own in a chaste kiss. The attention he gave your lips was brief, ending contact almost as soon as they touched. 

He pulled away from your lips, noticing your pout and slight agitation at the hastiness the kiss ended. Chuckling, he leant over your ear and confessed his intentions further. 

“Cap’n’s watchin’,” he nodded over to where Shanks’ taunting eyes and winning smile wordlessly teased you both, “Don't wanna give him more ammunition to tease you with, Darlin'. No matter how much I really wanna kiss you.”

“I owe you more,” you hummed up at him with a soft smile, tucking the loose strand of hair away from his forehead and behind his ear, “Anything I can do to repay my growing debt to you? More than a couple drinks later, a little kiss, or taking care of your duties for you today?”

“Just the promise of your company later will do for now,” he chuckled, leaning into the heel of your palm with his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Aye, Sir,” you smirked at him, giving his cheek two gentle taps before returning back to duty with a newfound rejuvenation. Your limbs felt lighter, your body felt freer and your head felt less foggy with the prior pain you felt. 

Shanks sauntered over towards his first-mate, smirking and kicking up his feet all along the way in a playful dance. Beckman shook his head, reaching for another cigarette and lit the end. Shanks leaned his head against Beck’s shoulders, uttering not a single word as he fluttered his eyelashes, wiggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue at the broody, larger man. 

“Don’t even start,” Beckman growled under his breath. Shanks smiled wider, jolting his right index finger into Beckman’s side as he hummed up a playful mock at him. 

“But you finally made a move, big man,” Shanks chuckled, nudging him with his left shoulder, “How long’s it been now? Two, maybe three years of longing, yearning and lusting from afar, hm?”

“Four,” Beckman commented gruffly, inhaling a deep breath of smoke in his mouth and holding it still behind his lips, “And I remember saying: ‘don’t even start’.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going, I’m going,” Shanks held his right hand up in defence, an extra buzz in his step at the knowledge that Beckman and you had finally allowed a small crack in the door open to engage with one another this way. A small chuckle erupted in Shanks’ voice, his own amusement adamant over his features.

“Right there Becks, don’t stop,” Shanks’ voice whined again in a needy moan, before growling out a rumbled mock of, “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’re done,” he laughed, turning back over his shoulder, “Honestly, Beckman. Show a bit of composure, man.” 

Beckman’s blush scorched scarlet on his features, prompting him to thrust the butt of his cigarette into the drawer and begin to charge at his Captain. Shanks shrieked out a giddy cry of amusement at his first-mate.

“Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” Shanks laughed, turning tail and began running away in glee from successfully taunting his first mate. The barrelling boot heels of the first mate almost managed to catch up to the Captain immediately, but Shanks continued successfully darting away from Beckman’s disciplinary grasp.

[lucasandlily]

Rui x Reader who is really affectionate, but can't touch him because of The Curse.

A/N: I'm alive!! Rui my beautiful beautiful tragic boy. I've actually been having a lot of brainrot for this game, particularly an isekai AU that made me contemplate making RP blog (I love you guys btw. This is probably my first fandom where they're so active, I've been really well connected with this fandom somehow and it's so fun!!), so I figured I might as well be writing it down now. This is an idea I've had spinning in my head for a while, so it's VERY self-indulgent/insert, but enjoy!! AO3 link here

Rui's POV. Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Angst! But also fluff!! (825 words)

You’ve always been an affectionate little thing. It’s something Rui finds adorable about you, staying optimistic despite all that looms over you, not letting any of the ghouls he KNOWS can be more than a little much sometimes destroy your positive attitude. It’s as if you decided to be the light in a place that literally has dark in its name, and he lov admires you for that.

He can’t help but feel the bitter green of envy though, when he watches you ruffle Lyca’s hair after he whines at you for treating him like a dog. 

He pointedly turns away from the look Ed gives him over your head when you relax into his chest after he leans over your shoulder.  

He just laughs along at your drunken antics when you nuzzle into Haru’s hand, somehow even more touchy when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol. 

He tries not to remember the flash of hurt, confusion, the first time he’d backed away from your hand when all you wanted to do was give him a pat for a job well done. He doesn’t know if it hurt more when your face morphed into regretful understanding, or when you apologised and told him you’d try not to do it again. 

Rui tells himself it’s for the better when he notices you’ve been avoiding him for the past week. He’d have done the same to you anyway, if he realised his feelings were starting to fester. He tries to not let it get to him when he hears you enter the Obscuary mansion, only to quickly patter up the stairs without stopping by the bar first, as you would have done previously. 

Maybe before, he would have made it a little competition to see who could mess up the other’s hair more. He’d watched you run your fingers through Lyca’s after you’d tousled it out of place, anyway. Maybe in another life, you’d gently hold his face as you showered him with kisses. He’d do the same to you anyway, if he wasn’t forced to keep his hands to himself. 

If he didn’t notice you hold your hand back every time you saw his mask slip. If he didn’t see your hand stop short before pulling it back to tell him he had a bit of hair out of place. 

It’s all just part of the cursed life, he tells himself. He should be getting used to it by now, he sighs as he walks down the hall over to his room. 

Behind him, he hears the jingle of the bell you like to wear on your keychain. He turns at the sound of your quick steps approaching. 

“Rui! Ruiruiruiii!!” You call.

“Ah, there you are! Haha, I’m not going anywhere you know~ though I guess I don’t mind being chased?” He teases as you approach. 

You smile up at him brightly, “I have something to show you!” You tell him, he notices now that you have a hand behind your back. 

“Hm? Aw, did you get me a gift? And here I was thinking you were hiding from me!” He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Your smile falters a bit as you blink at his confession. 

But before he can backtrack with a “Just kidding!” your smile lightens again, eyes filling with some sort of resolve as you pull out… a glove on a stick? in your other hand.

He doesn’t pull away when he feels the simulation of a hand on his head. He can’t, when you look into his eyes with such unmistakable fondness. The awkward, stilted movements as you try to run the imitation hand through his hair communicates how long you’ve wanted to do this, and the tears that well up in his eyes betray how much he’s needed it. 

He feels the cloth soak up the tears when you move the glove down to hold his face. It feels soft under his skin, and he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How long did it take you to make this?” He asks as you let him lace his fingers with your hand extension. He squeezes the plush hand, feeling the soft give before it reaches the stick inside, inspecting where the glove and stick are attached. 

“Um! A week? It took a bit of experimenting to get it to stay on… And they don’t really sell gloves on campus either.” 

Your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the corners of your lips pull up triumphantly when he lets go of the hand to let you pat his head again. 

“You deserve at least this much,” you tell him. “I know it’s not really the same or anything, but I don’t wanna leave you out, y’know?” 

“It was worth it though, if it made you happy.” You look into his eyes as you say this, and he can’t help but believe you.

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is not a remorseful man. Everything he's done, he's done for a reason. But he finds himself in an internal struggle as he tears through the galaxy for traces of you.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, use of narcotics, use of drugs, reader gets drugged, reader gets kidnapped, reader gets tied up, kidnapping, controlling parent, toxic parent / child relationship, toxic parent / child dynamic, din has a lot of feelings, din reflects on his time spent with reader, death, minor character death, infectious thoughts, negative feelings, feelings of inadequacy, issues with intimacy, religious guilt, feelings of religious obligation, religious contemplation, so much guilt for our tin man, violence, derogative language, insinuations of sexual favors, a few instances of shouting, din loses his hold on reality (1) time, references to past instances of self-harm, references to past instances of suicidal ideations, let me know if i missed anything please!

A/N: an all din pov chapter, baby! who's ready for ten thousand words on how this man feels? this was a fun different way to approach the story and i rather liked it even if i am afraid to post it. there are so many different interpretations of din that are all so great, and while this is my personal one for the character in my fic, i'm still worried about how it'll be received

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Mother, please.” You begged, voice absolutely wrecked. Desperation settled in your gut, making you dizzy and nauseous. The illness of it was debilitating even through the hum of drugs waning in your system. Sobs were wracking your body, exploding from your ribcage in painful bursts. You struggled against the cuffs on your wrists, the cuffs around your ankles, rotating them in hopes of finding weakness but they were strong. But they were made of beskar, strong and programmed to shock you should you jostle them too much. Using the culture of the very people who had meant salvation now for damnation. She had made sure they would hold you this time.

She just sat there, watching you from the chair by the door. Long hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, blue tunic and black trousers flowing and clean. Her hands clasped in front of her, resting her chin against them as her eyes took in the slump of your form across the small room. You were on the ground, legs numb from the hard, unforgiving stone underneath you. Boots removed and down to nothing but your simple clothing. She had taken the pendant from you, the one Din had gifted you in the wake of your confession to losing the one from Akiz. It glinted over her own chest, visible where she allowed it to drape over the front of her collar.

“Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the ship. I want to go home.”

“Oh no, my darling, you won’t be going anywhere near that disgusting ship again. That Mandalorian has caused enough damage, stealing you away after taking your fob. I still had to pay the Guild fee for your bounty. Credits you know we didn’t have in the first place.” She paused, her hands clasped together, elbows on her knees, and she leaned forward to rest her hand atop them. A wicked smile overtook her as she eyed you across the room.

“Luckily, I found someone who was willing to cover the cost and offer to take you as their wife. They’ve put a lot of energy and credits into helping locate you. They will be here in two days’ time to collect you.”

She looked almost mournful at the idea of you leaving so soon after reuniting. Of sharing you with another after claiming to do everything she had ever done to you out of protection.

“But he swore to protect you from any threats, from the Mandalorians that seem to be obsessed with owning you, harnessing your power to help them crawl from the cracks of the universe they ran to hide in when their planet was destroyed. This man, he’s from a very important royal line that is deeply rooted in the New Republic.”

“The New Republic is a joke, they can’t even keep their own soldiers happy, let alone protect anyone.”

“Hush now, darling.” She got up and the black tin she kept in her pocket flashed in her hand. You began thrashing even more so, tears cascading down your cheeks as she approached you. The click of the tin opening sent you back to every other time you had heard that sound in your life, eyes going wide and your breath left you as if you had been hit square in the chest. “The time will fly by with this dose and then we’ll be off to our new home.”

He’d been searching the city for days.

Despite the thrumming of pain through his head, his vision blurring, and the helmet resting too heavy on the now soft, new skin that was his injury. Tender fingers carefully spraying bacta and skin itching as the tissue tried to heal with its aid. He wished for your smaller hands to be the one caring for him, but he was alone. Alone with a fussing child that was beginning to use his powers to get his feelings across since he was still learning how to talk and use his little voice.

Not taking any time to rest, instincts telling him something was wrong, that something had happened. You wouldn’t just run off, even with what had occurred. At least…not for this long. He hoped. He…hoped.

Stalking through the various casinos and cantina’s, searching for any traces of you to be found. Even in the hectic atmospheres of the racetracks and brothels, of seedier bars and establishments you may have ducked into or been taken to by the force of whoever had stolen you away. Snatched you from whatever you had sought out to calm yourself.

He sat in front of the tracking fob given to him when he first took the job to return you to your mother for hours. Set it atop the control panels in the cockpit, helmet removed and head in his hands as he contemplated turning the device back on. He had scoured the hotels and seedier hostels with it in his grip, to no avail.

It was as if you had simply vanished.

Your smiles and laughter, soft sighs and teasing quips a figment of his imagination.

Made up in the loneliness that accompanied the type of life he led. Missions, jobs, hunting, tracking, trading in criminals and runaways for next to nothing, refueling the ship and hitting the ground running again, taking to the air and space again. And again, and again. He didn’t realize how tired and monotonous it had all become, despite the thrill of his skills proofing to be elite time and time again. He didn’t realize how much he had been missing out on until you threw it all off track. Deliver the goods and credits to the covert, ensure they were safe and protected, collect another job, hunt, track, kill, injure, collect. Broke the routine he had been so accustomed to with an utterance of his dying language.  Rolling off your tongue with precision.

It had been striking. You had been striking and he had torn you down in a way he never wanted to, unintentionally with a fumbling lack of words. It was maddening, to search for days to find no trace of you anywhere.

There was no indication you ever existed aside from those left behind on his ship. The mug of caf sweetened with sugar and powdered milk at the table, the pack of your cigarras you always insisted on smoking outside while it was docked, the crate with your tools and materials used to make armor, the neat and organized labels you had applied to everything within the panels. The room he had set up for you….though you often split your time between his own and the hammock still hung up in the hold space.

He had left it all untouched, too afraid to erase the pieces of evidence that you were real. That you had been aboard his ship. That you had been trying to connect with him and he stumbled over his words so badly he made you feel unwanted on such a level that made you run.

Like the acts between you two had just been him seeking out pleasure with no real intent other than that behind them. The thought that you must’ve felt like he was just like every other person who had ever used you made his stomach turn and bile burn in his throat. Only his ploys had been steeped in honey and saccharine promises. He had frozen, the words he wanted to whisper to you lost in the panic of the moment, of wanting exactly what you were asking for. It had all been so overwhelming. It had been so real, felt so real, and it had been a jarring realization.

That he had wanted to remove his helmet and give into your request.

Despite the Creed he swore his life to. Despite the commitment he had made to you that would allow for him to do so in time.

But now it was too little too late.

After the third day, he was beginning to think you weren’t merely taking some time to yourself…

Maybe he was foolish to think he hadn’t messed up so monumentally that you had found a way off world and run even further from him. But he knew you weren’t the type of person to do that. To him, to ad’ika.

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

You wouldn’t have run from him to that degree, loyal and devoted. Loving and caring, kind hearted at the very core of who you were. Even despite the tragedies and ill-natured things you had been subjected to in your life. Good. Too good, for someone like him.

He was beginning to think something had happened.

But without the aid of your communication, vambraces still set atop the makeshift table along with your main bag and armor, he had no way of knowing for sure. Just the niggling feeling in his gut that was burrowing deeper by the second.

He sent a transmission to Karga, asking if there was any news of your arrest before deeming the planet a lost cause and raising the ramp. He took the Crest up up up and into the air, helmet scouring the shrinking planet all the while, feeling an ache in his heart that he didn’t think he would ever get used to.

He had to push through, he had to focus. You needed someone to help you, wherever you had gone or been taken. You needed him to find you. He needed to find you.

Ad’ika had been in a constant flux from eerily silent to wailing as loud as his little lungs would allow, wide eyes brimming with tears the longer you were gone. Din had taken to wrapping the child up in the cloak he had bought you, securing it with the metallic flower latches and laying him down in the cot alongside him. Never sleeping, only laying down intermittently to pass the time. Rest evading him as his mind began to think of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Tatooine was his first stop, no response from Karga when he docked and secured the ship in Pelli’s hangar. Much to his disappointment, the travel through hyperspace hadn’t been too long, so a response was wishful thinking on his part. Spurred on by the endless possibilities of what happened consuming him.

He was silent as he handed her the credits from your bag, loathing that he needed to use them as he lacked his own. Even now, gone from him and hurt, you were still offering him help. Providing for him the way he should be for you, the way that he wanted to. The reality of having asked you to travel with him weighing heavily on his mind. Once ad’ika is settled with those who could train him, Din would need to take up working with the Guild full time again to provide for the covert. A life steeped in danger and endless threats, a life you already had far too much experience with. Perhaps…perhaps he could secure a tract of land somewhere, a place to return to after jobs. A nice cabin surrounded by trees and an endless supply of anything you may need. Or perhaps a shop front on Nevarro, for you to sell you wares. He would take extra jobs to provide that for you, work his hands to the bone and until he could barely move for how exhausted he was.

Because you deserved it. You deserved to be happy and he was beginning to think that may not be with him. Not if he was constantly away or you were left on the ship for days, weeks, months at a time while he tracked down his quarries. Constantly traveling through space and left to handle the ship alone.

Would…would you even want that type of life?

Wouldn’t it be another type of imprisonment, no reward but a tired and aching man in the bed beside you only a handful of nights? Half of him given to you, half devoted to his Creed.

I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.

Thoughts consuming him, there was no argument from him as he left ad’ika with her to look through the city.

The lack of your figure emerging from the ship didn’t prompt any questions from her, though he could sense them on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

He set out, looking for the woman who you made friends with the last time he had landed the Crest on the sandy planet.

He found her, in the middle of a scuffle in the marketplace over a stolen loaf of bread. A child whose stomach was caved in and bruises over their arms visible when the sleeves of their tunic rose up. The vendor wanted the child to be taken in, punished for the attempted theft. But he could see how conflicted Sioban was with following that heated demand.

Diffusing the situation, seeing the form he had first encountered you in mirrored in the small child, he stepped forward and offered a handful of credits to the vendor.

“To cover the bread for the child, two loaves and that chunk of cured meat.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to put yourself out for that ungrateful litte-“

“Take it.” Din’s head throbbed, exhausted and anxious, just trying to do something good. Something you would do. They were your credits, and he wanted to do this. At the fixed stare of his visor, the vendor released the child from her tight grip, nearly throwing the small frame to the ground as she did. Roughly, she gathered the loaf that had started the whole ordeal, a second one, and the wrapped meat. Holding it out for him to take.

Sioban ushered everyone who had stopped in their tracks to go about their business. Once the small crowd cleared and attention was diverted, Din turned to the child and crouched down.

“Here, for you.” He kept his voice a hush, not wanting the modulator to manipulate his voice into a threatening or menacing tone it tended to do, taking the emotion from his words more often than not.

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

An enthusiastic nod and they were running off, disappearing down the street.

“Well, well, well. Mando is a softie afterall.” Sioban’s voice lightly teased. “Where’s Sarad and the baby? Or is this a solo trip this time around?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

“Something happened.” The woman’s features hardened, a slant to her brow as her eyes looked him over before settling on the visor. She didn’t look or feel like a threat, something proven further by your willingness to share a table with the woman. But Din was fighting his instincts, the ones telling him to chase chase chase, even with no actual leads as to where you had gone. And this woman might hold some clues or at least be able to offer Din a higher chance if he had someone on the ground of the planet you had run to once already.

“Yes.”

The conversation with Sioban hadn’t yielded any answers. If anything, it solidified that Din had absolutely no idea what to do. With no other leads, he fell back on his tracking tactics, searching for your last place of known residence.

Once back to the ship, he silently takes ad’ika from Pelli. Not responding to the looks or faint questioning he knew was on the woman’s mind. A nod, a formal shaking of the woman’s hand and he was guiding the Crest back into the air to comb over the planet as best he could. You had said you thought you were here when he took you from that compound, a home you had hidden away on this world after running from your mother years ago.

It took him nearly a week’s worth of days of flying low to the land before he caught sight of a structure.

Mind working overdrive as he strained his eyes through the visor with aided mechanics for any sign of life amid the vast stretch of the desert landscape. Sectors outlined and crossed out when they didn’t yield anything. Errant skeletons of a bantha, the Jawa’s traveling across the land, and Tusken settlements the only markers of time passing and the ship moving moderately along.

And then, suddenly.

There were two tall spires beside a moderate looking abode. Moisture farming equipment, the same you had told him about replacing shortly before your capture. Was all he had to go off of, a small conversation that you hadn’t expanded on in your time with him.

The structure was like most far out into the desert, mostly underground with a rounded and smooth stone roof, a door with a protected entrance to prevent sand from building up right up against it. It was modest, big enough for one person to have plenty of room. Abandoned, by his guess, the stone of the building chipped in places from sand and the spare storm weathering it down.

It had to be yours, it had to be, please let it be yours were his thoughts as he broke the lock still activated, ensuring the structure was protected even out in the middle of nowhere. Mos Eisley was an entire day’s travel away. Even more so in any other direction to another of the planets handful of moderate settlements. A good place to hide. Visibility on your side. A lonely place to hide.

I’ve always loved the forest.

The memory how your tired and injured features had lit up at the sight of Sorgan visible through the glass of the cockpit, the breathy gasp that had fallen from your lips sprung to his mind. You had been so calm, despite the precarious circumstances, stealing away moments to brush your bare fingers along the leaves reaching out from low branches.

You must’ve been miserable here. The land so dry and empty, the closest mountain ridges barely visible on the horizon. Even those were spotty with tangled roots that held little to no greenery. Sentencing yourself to the wasteland to live out your life in fear and comfortability, hoping the environment you weren’t fond of would throw those searching for you off your trail.

Glancing behind him, Din watched as ad’ika slowly made his way down the ramp. Little sounds falling from his lips as he took in the sight of his guardian in front of a new place he didn’t recognize. Raising his hands as he got to the bottom of it, Din retreated to it and lifted up the small child, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow as he descended down the few steps and through the open door.

It was dark inside, no lights on or power source even charged, no doubt. But definitely abandoned. Sparingly decorated, though he could feel that it was once your space. The kitchen equipped with a fancy caf maker, ample kitchen wares, potted plants and herbs that had long died and dried in the sunlight coming in through the windows. There was an impressively organized wall of shelving right above a desk in the large main room, presumably where you would work on crafting armor. The only way to support yourself in such an environment. Most likely making trips into town in order to sell or trade.

There were three interior doors at the back of the structure. A heavy duty one off to the side of the kitchen. That one contained a greenhouse set up, or as close to one as you could imitate underground and on so hot a planet. There was a large panel of controls beside the door on the inside, telling Din of the way you controlled the pressure and moisture of the room One to a storage room, more evidence of your time spent here. Full of large bins and crates, evidence of grains and dried food. Of the pieces of armor you lovingly and intricately crafted.

One to a fresher, the last to what was once your bedroom.

Underneath the bed is where he found it, with the aid of his helmet. The massive rug that took up most of the bedroom floor hiding it in plain sight. The trap door exposed when he moved the bed and folded the rug up.

It wasn’t secured with anything that he could see, even with the aid of his helmet. It looked just like score marks dug into the stone ground. And he recalled the way you could effortlessly wield the Force, the power you shared with the child. Perhaps you hadn’t wanted a way for anyone else to access what lay hidden beneath, using it to manipulate the hideaway you felt you needed even this deep in the desert alone. Forever paranoid and fearful of being tracked down and found out.

Sighing, Din tried to think of a way to break the barrier, knowing he needed to search the entire home.

“Ad’ika,” He called, turning to see the child had situated himself on the couch in the main room. Eyes wide as he toyed with a broken collar. He wondered if it had belonged to a creature you had cared for, run away or long since passed now. “Ad’ika, can you help me?”

Leaning down to pick up the occupied child, Din pointed a gloved finger to the marks in the stone ground.

“Ad’ika, see these lines?” A gurgle of acknowledgement, the tilting of his head. “There’s a door here, that leads underground. Mesh’la put it there, do you think you can open it?”

Din set him down in front of it, crouching down to hold his hand out in front of them both and mimic the way you would twist your hand in concentration to harness your powers.

“Just like Mesh’la, like how you take the handle from the lever in the control room?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, curiosity in them at the man’s words.

If this didn’t work…he could always resort to using the charges fastened to his belt. Force a way through the entrance, but he didn’t want to damage the space or the room below.

But the crackling of stone was sharp as it sounded in the air. The child’s small face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes clenched shut as he harnessed his powers. Quiet grunts falling from his mouth as he struggled to move the stone.

But it was working. It was opening, the telltale sounds of stone grinding on stone as the thick slab that acted as an entrance was pried open.

“Good job, ad’ika! It’s working!” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice nor the rapid beating of his heart. Positive that any answers he was in search of would dwell below. He moved forward to help lift the heavy slab, shoving it along the floor and revealing a dark space into the lower level of the house.

Turning on the flashlight of his helmet, Din descended into the bowels of your hideaway. Dust enveloped him as he waved at ad’ika to stay put on the higher level until he cleared the space.

It was a large room, the same size as the whole top floor of the structure. Though it was only two rooms, a living room and a bedroom with a second fresher. The living room held floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to the brim with physical books. A holo net in front of the couch, signs that you spent just as much time down here as you did in the rest of the structure if not more.  He hated the realization that you felt the need to hide away even this far out in the desert, this far out in the galaxy. Forever paranoid and holding the fear that you would be tracked down. And he had been a part of that fear, he had been one of the many who had sought you out.

The crate in the bedroom caught his eye, beckoning him forward. Not only because of the hefty locks sealing it shut but because there was energy around it that made the tips of his fingers tingle. Much like his blood when he felt your body pressed up to his own, the sacrament of your trust in him personified.

Walking toward it, the small baby curls of his recently trimmed hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Snapping the thick locks, he kneeled on the ground in front of it and slowly lifted the lid.

His breath left him as the visor set into a midnight blue, almost black Mandalorian helmet peered back up at him. It was in pristine condition, as if it had merely been taken off for the man who he suspected wore it to partake in a quick meal and not the reality that it had been stored here for who knows how many years untouched. He hadn’t asked if you had kept it, after the man’s death, but he was felt the question bubble on his tongue more than once. But the answer was sitting obvious and blaring right in front of him.

Lifting it revealed the very same pendant he had gifted to you, attached to a thinly crafted beskar chain.

The one you had said you intended to show him in order to garner his help, to let him know of your connection to his way of life. Lost in the scuffle of being taken off guard and whisked away, but it was here, awaiting your return. He wondered why you hadn’t worn it that day, the day that set your paths up to cross. With slow movements, he began to remove the cowl about his neck, laying it down beside him.

With a held breath, he reached for the pendant and fastened it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt and layers of protective ware fronted by his cuirass. The cowl going back in place.

Beside the helmet…beside it was a neatly arranged line of metal hilts similar to the one you carried with you at all times. Similar to the one you had tried to buy your freedom from him with when first meeting.

Similar but not identical.

There were four of them. Lightsabers, you had told him they were called. That he now knew were an integral part of the creed you had been trained in. But the fact remained that he didn’t know the why of how many you had in your possession.

You had said each person similar in skill and training crafted their own, each unique and personal to an individual much like the helmets and armor Mandalorian’s adorned. Carefully picking one up, tingling traveling further up his arms and settling down his back, he tilted it to see that it did indeed house a crystal like your own. Each one had a different hue.

He decided to stay in the place that you once called home that night, locking up the ship after checking to see if he had received word from Karga. But when there were transmissions waiting to be heard, he secured the ship. His head hurting and his mind overwhelmed at finding pieces of you, proof that you existed outside of his memories.

Settling into the bed, he knew it was a lost cause as he tried to feel close to you. Reality reminding him you hadn’t slept in either of the cots aboard the ship in nearly two weeks now, years for the bed he now lay atop, cover bunched underneath his arms as he curled on his side and regarded the journal you left behind in your haste to run. Ad’ika resting atop the pillow beside his own, wrapped in your cloak as if it was the softest blanket in the universe. The child trying to feel close to you as well, missing you and growing more concerned each day.

Sleep evaded him, your voice loud in his head, the way you had sounded so devoid of emotion when he had failed to communicate with you. Tipping into different memories, the most prominent of the events back on Nevarro.

It rang in his ears, over and over, layering itself until it was a buzz he couldn’t rid himself of.

Ner kar’ta.

The desperation in your voice, the tears in your eyes, the way your hands shook as they reached out for him, how gentle they were when they cradled his helmet. The soft press of your forehead to his chest, to his helmet, to his hands grasped in your own as he lay bloodied and injured, barely conscious and so tired. So ready for death after a life that had only allowed him a glimpse of you. To ensure you could escape and continue to live, to be safe.

You had told him, as well as you could, what you meant to him.

Had shown him, with trusting him to press his skin to yours, body tangled with his own. Nervous giggles sounding into the air and seizing his heart as he wanted for more of them. Of the breathy sighs and sounds that fell from your lips as you let him caress your skin, the soft give of your chest, the plush give of your thighs, the velvet smooth apex between them.

Trusted him with the most intimate parts of you, parts of human connection. Even in the face of all that you had endured.

And then you has whispered it, half asleep and safe underneath him.

I love you. Future husband.

And he shattered it. With a foolish blunder of words he hadn’t been able to reign in, to explain himself and his own desires in a more coherent way. That he wanted you just as you wanted him.

Jatne vod.

Contradicted with the emotion bleeding from your expressive eyes, the firm line of your lips as you closed your mouth, resigned to a notion that you gathered from his stupid, ill thought-out words. From his lack of words. The way your hands shook for an entirely different reason, the way you shrunk into yourself, away from him.

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

He left ad’ika in the room, fast asleep atop the pillows.

Removing his helmet and hanging his head in his hands, he settled on the couch. For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian known for being so ruthless, for being so focused and emotionless behind his helmet, cried.  

“Mando, I’ve received word. But it is best relayed in person. I will be awaiting your arrival.”

Ad’ika was not having a good day, he didn’t want to leave the house he could feel your presence in. He had already wailed and shook his tiny fists as Din tried to pick up him. Causing the migraine addled man to lose his grip at the sharp pierce of his cries to his head. That had only resulted in the thump of ad’ika’s bottom on the stone floor and more crying.

Din already felt bad enough, but he felt like the worst guardian in the galaxy for dropping his foundling, for not being able to manage his own pain and discomfort to care for another’s. A pang of fear floods him, igniting his instincts in a way it rarely did. And he froze in his crouched position, having been about to scoop ad’ika up.

The child must’ve shared in his foreboding, a shriek sprouting from him and causing Din to cradle his head as best he could with the helmet, knees kissing the floor harshly as he fell to them.

Something was wrong. Low in his gut, unease bubbled and stuck to his insides.

He felt like he was going to be sick, his head throbbing, pain prickling from the healing scar at the back.

And then his body felt numb, like all sense of command was not his to control and his vision blacked out.

Nevarro loomed in the distance, approaching fast. The ship rattled at the harsh landing, Din’s steps hard and fast as he disembarked, the ramp closing behind him as he crossed the new archway that had been erected in the time he had been away. Months had gone by, one with you and one without. Having to spend another week resting in the place you once called home. He had fallen ill, though of what he didn’t have an answer. Only that his head felt like he had been electrocuted and his limbs had been hard to control. Adi’ka too, had been lethargic, crying out long into the night every time the suns had set and darkness took over the planet. The search for you stretching far too long, anxiety thrumming over his skin.

Karga was in the reconstructed city hall, reading over something laid out on the table when the door boomed open, revealing the determined figure of Din, a secretary behind him frantically trying to warn the man in charge of his arrival.

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

“It’s alright, he’s got clearance.” With a nod the woman was closing the door behind her, knowing it was serious if all protocol was being ignored.

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

“Well, I wish these were better circumstances.” The man stood up, coming around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the still form of Din across the room. The wide eyes of the child peeking out from the bag at his hip, small hands allowing him to climb from within it and jump from the moderate height. He cooed, walking the distance to Karga and lifting his hands toward the man.

“I’m still trying to get intel on that. But I do know that it was her mother, who struck a deal with someone of the Guild. He…was here still when we took back the city. He had taken the transaction separate from the Guild, not wanting word of it to get back to me. To you.” He relayed the information as he bent down to pick up the small being.

“I’ve got him locked up, but he’s not speaking.”

“He will.”

“Mando-“

He was gone in a blink, stalking out the door and toward the prison cells kept on the lowest floor of the building.

The stone steps opened up to a line of cells on both sides of the long room, Din stopped in front of the only occupied one. Body buzzing with anger that the inhabitant had not only hunted you down and captured you but did so on the orders of someone who’s voice triggered you through a transmission. He couldn’t begin to imagine the visceral reaction you’d have upon seeing her for the first time in years, having entertained the thought of killing yourself in order to not have to deal with her again.

And he feared, heat catching in his throat as he felt the prickle of tears.

I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!

You…you wouldn’t, right? Now that you had him to return to, someone to rescue you from being stolen away from the life you had carved out for yourself. It had been so long since you had been taken, days, weeks, and entire month. And he still had no clue as to where you had been crated off to. It would be more days, more weeks, maybe another month before he could figure it out. Did you already seize an unknown opportunity, try to escape? Or had you given up, too loaded up with whatever drugs your mother and intended pumped into your system to make you compliant? Would you have taken the endless out of harming yourself, seeing it as the only option as he failed to come to your aid thus far?

Would you be able to sense the desperation and endless efforts he was putting forth to find you? That he was trying, despite the way he was still healing, despite the sense of dread that he would be too late?

Would you be able to sense his worry and fear over you having to deal with something you never wished for? A forced reunion with your mother, back in her clutches and control. A forced marriage to a man you didn’t know, the obligations that came along with that notion…the very same acts that had caused you to turn to self-harm in the past, the scars of which were displayed on the skin of your thighs, the same ones that he had run his fingers over not too long ago…

A man bound in cuffs was slumped against the floor, back leaning on the wall behind him. He appeared to be alive, though if his answers didn’t aid Din in his search for you he wouldn’t be for long. Giving into the urge to startle the unaware man, Din banged a fist on the bars of the cell. Jerking awake, the man’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved.

The second he recognized the armor, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“It was just a job, nothing personal, Mando.”

“Is that why you went out of your way to hide it from the Guild records?”

“You’re too self-righteous, knew you’d come after me for hunting the girl.”

The snapping of metal was loud, sickening as Din’s shoulders forced the control panel to bend and spark.

The whine of the door swinging open deafening as the man pressed himself back into the wall, trying to get up on his feet. But he was too slow, Din’s hands hauling the man up by the front of his jumpsuit and slamming him into the wall. A crack sounded as the back of the man’s head connected with the stone of the wall. A wail punched from his chest as he lost the air in his lungs.

“It’s too late, her mother married her off to some high lord. She’s probably already knocked up with his heir by now. Living a cush life in some nice palace far away from here.” He spoke unprompted by a direct question. Knowing that it was useless to try and lie to the Mandalorian.

The mere thought of someone touching you had anger swirling in his chest and stomach, igniting him in a dangerous way. You didn’t like people touching you, you didn’t like anyone who wasn’t him touching you in any way let alone intimately. His voice was low when he breathed out his next question, an edge to it that commanded the truth.

“Where?”

“Don’t know, I told her mother you were probably going to find out, track me down and kill me for the information. Don’t know why.” The man flipped the stray hairs flopping over his forehead away, teeth clenching as he recalled the way you had slammed him harshly into the side of the alley.  “The bitch has a pretty face, sure, but she was a handful. Took a lot to take her out, but once I did, she begged so sweet for me to let her go.”

“Drugging someone isn’t something to boast about, it’s a last-ditch effort for those who don’t have the skill for the job.” Din’s words were a guttural sound, echoing across the floor. Blood dripped from the man’s nose, a vambrace knocked into it the longer the man talked. He didn’t know anything, but that wouldn’t stop Din from beating what he could out of the man.

“So what? It took her down and that’s what mattered. I saw her take down those Storm Troopers that overran the city, there was no way I was going to be able to without the hint from her mother. You’ll find another body to warm your bed. No need to fret over-“

Din’s hand was around the man’s throat in a flash, knuckles popping with the force. An ugly gurgle deep in his chest, body desperate for air, but he would never take another breath again. Windpipe crushing under his palm, Din took some comfort in the final, choked sound the man made before his body went limp.

Before it could even crumple to the ground, Din was walking out of the room and going straight toward the stairs.  

“Mando, I sent communication to Cara, she’s-“

“I’ve got what I need.” Din was careful as he lifted the child from atop the desk where Karga had set him with a snack. Exchanging adoring coos with the tired little being. Making sure to offer the rest of the pack of dried fruit to the claws reaching out for it, a whine falling from his mouth at the idea of leaving it behind.

“Not so fast-“

“I don’t have time. I need to find her.” Din snapped, fists clenching and ad’ika ducking down into the bag at the boom of his voice. “She’s been sold like a slave by her mother.”

“I’m going with you,” Cara was firm in her decision, not wanting to take any chances of your distance becoming permanent. Of it leading to the demise of the person who you had begun to develop into that she had glimpsed.

“No, I have to handle this myself. I was the one who failed to protect her.” He moved to continue through the room, toward the door. But Cara was suddenly in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips a firm line.

“Mando, you’re gonna need help. And she’s important to me too.”

It was a quiet trek back to the entrance of the city, more ships having landed around his own. He was about to engage the ramp when two of the attending guards approached him. But they spoke with Cara at the sharp gaze of the visor on them. Another ship was offered for them to use, curtesy of the city and of Karga. Something a little smaller, a little faster, nondescript and wouldn’t give away the presence of an enraged and desperate Mandalorian searching for his partner.

When the argument for a different ship didn’t take, Karga approached through the archway.

Cara was hesitant to point out that the ship was as obvious as Din’s armor. A sign to tip off those keeping an eye out for threats. She had been quiet, sitting in the office with the magistrate and the child while the body of the now deceased Guild member who had hunted you down was taken care of. Waiting for Din to emerge from the containment level. But now she stood beside him, urging him to see the benefits to changing ships, just for the time being.

“Do we risk docking the ship in a hangar?”

“Yes, we lie about the model.” Din insisted, not wanting to leave the Crest behind.

“What if someone knows?”

“It’s an old ship, pre-Empire, no one will know.”

“They’ll run it through the system.” Karga spoke up, wanting to be a voice of reason for his friend determined to rush, to not take a beat and think things through. “Mando, you owe it to her to be as stealthy as possible. If they know you’re coming, once you track down where, they may hurt her. Take it out on her.”

Din closed his eyes, hand coming to the front of his helmet and over the visor. He didn’t want to part ways with his ship, even temporarily. It would mean he wasn’t surrounded by the things you left behind, the proof that you were real, had been with him, shared in a life with him even for a moment.

With his words more of a grunt than anything, he conceded, knowing the two beside him were just trying to help.

“What did you do Mando?” She asked quietly, the book from your crate in her hands and pages flipping as she looked through it. Hoping to find some light on how to connect with you. Din had gathered supplies from the Crest, things you may want once he managed to find you and rescue you.Your armor and more of your clothing, the first things he packed into your bag. An insistence for you to never leave the ship without the pauldrons again that he would plead with you until you conceded. People would be less likely to confront you with the tell-tale signet of a clan and the Mandalorian armor. But then again, he never planned to stray far from you outside of the ship. He knew you were capable, more than capable, but he…he wouldn’t be able to handle loosing you again if he was able to get you back.

When he got you back, he argued against the self-depreciating and negative thoughts that were attempting to consume him.

The ship was in hyperspace, a three-day trip ahead of them to make it to the mid rim coordinates of your home world. Neither had been there but knew of the inhabitants being an uneven mix of humans and a reptilian race. Oceans and sprawling fields of tall grass making up most of the environment. It was a moderately size planet, had seen bases for both the Resistance and the Empire in it’s time. Though the more recent had been the former. Most likely spurred on by your suspected return to what you knew in the wake of the Temple’s attack. An event in your life that you had yet to open up completely about, allowing him small glimpses before it became to much to talk about. But it was easy to connect the fall of Mandalore and the fall of your Temple being equally devastating, an attempt to take out entire cultures.

“I…I made a mistake.”

“…how big of a mistake?” Cara didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, not wanting to make the armored man feel cornered. Allowing him the privacy and space to turn away from the question should he want to, feel the need to.

“She fled the ship, to get some space. She must’ve been distracted, too worked up to keep her head up and on alert. It…I’m the reason she was taken.”

“Mando, you know that’s not true.” Cara tried to placate him, knowing he carried a lot of guilt over what had happened, whatever it had been to cause all of this. “She didn’t have her saber?”

“She does- did. She.. they drugged her. Like you said, it’s the only way to take her down.”

“Wait, this looks like Basic. They’re the only characters written differently…”

Din was hovering, making out the words on his own.

“Betrothed.”

He recalled the same words falling from your lips, the reason that prompted you to make an escape. You hadn’t wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s property. The name was in Basic as well, something you didn’t want to forget lest they come after you themselves. A shadow of your past hovering over you and hidden in the back of your mind as you set out on your own, determined to hide yourself away to prevent anyone from having power over you. Of belonging to someone, anyone ever again.

And yet…you had so readily agreed in his commitment to you, knowing that was the only way Din would be able to share in your affections and wants. Mandalorian religion and culture strictly forbade the removal of one’s helmet unless it was with family, with a spouse, with children of the same clan. To do so outside of those conditions would result in the label of an apostate. Striped of their involvement in the lifestyle and Creed. It was a serious thing you should hold reservations about, with your past.

And while he hadn’t pushed the parameters of it….he had wanted to. For you, for himself, to share himself with you in the way that you had felt safe enough to voice. The realization that you had agreed to such an all-encompassing thing, being with him made him reflect. Why were you willing to do so with him, for him? He was just a bounty hunter, one who had actively sought you out and intended to turn you into the very person who had stolen you away. Sold you like an object to someone for their wants and needs, to fill a space in their life whichever way they commanded it. He had been of the same mind when first encountering you, seeking you out for a trade of currency.

Din was not a good man, though he tried to be for his people. But being a good man to his people, being the sole provider for his covert allowed him to be fast and loose with what it meant to be good in order to do so. What did it matter if the person whose puck he had was truly guilty of the accusations calling for their surrender if it allowed him to delivery credits and supplies to his people? What did it matter if the job warranted for the person he was tracking to be delivered dead or alive and he chose to kill them based on the simple notion of them running and it allowed him to bring a ration of meals to his people?

What had he ever done to deserve someone such as yourself willing to let down your walls and allow him entrance? He had been at internal war, whether or not to turn you in the second you spoke Mando’a to him, healed him, saved him from that second raging Mudhorn even when you had to reason to do so. You easily could’ve let the cut on his arm fester, let the rampaging creature take out his already spent form.

But…it wouldn’t have been easy, he knows now. How you cared for those around you: from friendly vendors to women you seemed to see yourself in, to children who are simply hungry and have no choice but to steal, to ad’ika in bounds and waves, to him. The constant swivel of your head while out in crowds and among people, sousing out threats and people who may be on the lookout for you. The swiftness with which you turn into a fighter when threatened and your freedom is at stake.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Din’s mind as the ship traveled toward your home world. The last known location of your mother and potentially holding clues as to who she struck a deal with. The now dead bounty hunter not having gotten a name, only concerned with the exchange of credits for your capture. No questions, no concerns. The quarry’s capture the only thing that mattered. The man had taken the job and completed it. Had died as a result of it.

Din had been like that too, not that long ago.

Could have easily been the one being imprisoned while someone who cared about a quarry sought answers and revenge. But he was the one realizing how fragile things where, had been since taking two fobs from Karga and altering the very meaning of his life.

Something about the wide, beseeching eyes of the child had activated his heart. Opened it up and made room for the small being to fit into. The uncertainty he had sensed from the child once its eyes had looked into his own, spurring a sense of concern from the armored man over its life well beyond the need to deliver it to the client healthy and alive.

“She asked for something, for a…kiss.”

“But…your helmet.” Cara weakly argued, knowing how strongly he adhered to his Creed. Not even removing it in the face of grave injury and offered aid. Not even removing it in the threat of death.

“I know,” His words were carried on a heavy sigh. He sat heavily in the seat beside her, the hull holding a small set up for longer travels. Ad’ika crawled from her lap and over the table, situating himself in Din’s arms, claws reaching for the helmet to try and sooth the man. “She- she called me ‘jatne vod’ before she fled from the ship.”

The cracking of his voice was not lost through the modulator.

“She must’ve felt so rejected, so unwanted. And I- I just stumbled over my words so badly she ran.”

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

The sound of his name from her lips, so different from when you spoke it, whispered it, breathed it, was too much for him.

“I really messed up, Cara.” He admitted with shaky words.

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

K’ath was a beautiful planet. All endlessly sprawling ocean, sandy beaches, and small clustered villages.

Simple. Life here was simple. Crops being tended to, the oceans being fished in, no signs of the war other than an abandoned base on the edge of the largest cluster.

Din hadn’t ever wanted to enter the planet’s atmosphere, to step foot on the sandy land. It was a place that held painful memories for you, the crumbling of a life you had been hopeful to return to in the wake of losing everything that ever meant anything to you. A hopeful refuge after a life of hardships, but it had only provided you with more. The stripping of your freedom and the control over your own body.

It was simple enough to find your home, your mother’s home. Asking after the armorer, claiming he was in need of repairs. A Kath woman had been kind enough to try and use her broken Basic to tell them where he could find the store front, but that no one had been tended to it for some time now. That the woman who was known to run it could be approached at her personal residence. That she was kind and could be persuaded to help even though she’d long retired from working.

It was empty, signs of disuse obvious from the outside. Tall reeds of grass sprouting up at the foundation, the windows thick with grime. It was humble, despite the ways in which Din had seen you return from a shop front, a bag heavy with credits in your possession. A skill that you learned from your mother lending you a way to support yourself and indulge in all the things you had to go without for so long.

There was only one transmission on the communication radio set up in the corner that Cara had rushed to once the door had creaked open. Sand was collected in the corners, another sign that no one had occupied the residence for some time now.

“She’s on Maldovan.” Cara shuffled into the bedroom from the main one, aware that the man was focused on something she couldn’t see. He was as still as a statue, peering into the darkness of the doorway in front of him.

The visor allowing him to take in the room you had been held captive in. There was bedding on the ground, no frame for it to sit upon. A chair on the opposite side, close to the door. No windows, no other entrance or exit. A small room that was bathed in darkness lest someone bring a lantern into the room with them.

“I don’t know that planet.” Din admitted, shifting from where he was standing at the doorway of what had been the locked room hidden behind a large wardrobe to look over his shoulder at her. The shifting of it had popped a drawer open, revealing needles and syringes, vials that had been long emptied. All signs that this was truly the home you had been kept in.

“Is that-?”

“Where San was kept locked up, yeah.” He was surging forward, hands reaching for the chains secured to the walls above the bedding and he pulled. Using all the strength he had to rip them from where they were bolted, the wall cracking and splintering as he did so. The heavy chains fell to the floor with a clang, metal that sounded eerily familiar as it collapsed on itself. Kneeling down, Din reached for one of them, the cuff in his hand heavy and he sucked in a breath as he realized why such a simple contraption had been able to hold you: the chains were made of pure beskar.

Far too heavy for your drug addled body to fight against.

Programmed to shock you should you move too much, the sensors lining the inside of the cuffs telling him as much. With a shout he tore the second, lower set of chains from the wall, throwing them across the room in his rage.

The image of you shackled to the wall of this dark room, consumed with thoughts of ending your life kept him on his knees, forced his arms to support him as he crumpled to the ground completely. His modulator crackling with the heavy breaths.

Surging up, he activated bright flames to flow from his vambrace. Intent on tearing down the entire house to the last stud and beam. Cara was quick to retreat back outside, letting the man do what he felt was necessary. She stood behind him as he made his way outside, the structure entirely lit up and beginning to collapse in on itself.

Dark smoke whipped around in the breeze coming off of the nearby shoreline, doing nothing to quell the licking flames. Cara was doing her best to sooth an equally agitated child in the bad slung across her shoulders. Though she knew it would take time for them both to come back from seeing the evidence of your heavy past.

They watched as it turned from burning wood, the outer stone walls crumbling from the heat that had been trapped inside, to a pile of rubble and ash.

He knew it was against the Creed, that it was a sin to leave behind something of his people. But the beskar that had contained you glowed hot amongst the ash, left behind as he walked away from the plot of land and back to the ship.

“The holonet has little information on Maldovan. Citing that it’s a desert planet with white sands, crystalline oceans that bring in a lot of visitors.” Din announced as he exited the control room, the ship constructed of only that and one other room off the hold space. One level, but enough for them to be comfortable traveling. Cara had tried to get Din to retire to the room once they returned to the ship and left K’ath behind, but he had insisted he was fine. Though the door to the cockpit had been closed and locked for hours now, well into the trip since the ship had been jumped into hyperspace.

“And their walled city.” Cara added, as she brought up a hologram of the planet to life from her cuff. She had reached out to Karga, asking him for any aid he had to provide them on the place they were traveling to.

“Yes… and if her mother knows about you then it will be hard to make a plan. Your armor isn’t exactly common and I’m sure she’s told the royal guard to keep an eye out for you.”

“Haran.” He cursed, knowing Cara’s words were true.

Shit.

It was entirely possible, and he wouldn’t put it past the woman he personally knew nothing about, going off of the words of her that you had shared with him. But surely the only city on the planet wouldn’t go out of their way to screen the many tourists that sought out the picturesque world.

Time seemed to be moving slowly and far too fast all at the same time. Thoughts continued to consume Din, all the possibilities of what could occur, what had already occurred making him feel like he was a child once again who knew nothing of the world or how it worked. The ship’s system beeping before it shifted smoothly from traveling through hyperspace and back to sublight settings.

The planet in view was covered in vast expanses of white sand and bright blue. An ocean planet as much as a desert one. It was small, a moon to a larger planet visible in the sky even within the atmosphere as the ship descended. The only city was surrounded by a large wall, protection from the two outcroppings that looked to be a racetrack and the well-established tourist destination on either side.

Maldovan was known as a resort destination, an entire smaller sector off set from the main city. The sector looked to be abundant with hotels, spas, shopping, anything and everything to keep individuals occupied and a steady supply of credits flowing into the local economy.

Cara had suggested she be the one to guide the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, handle the communication with the intake group, and land the smaller ship into the hangar. She suggested he stay behind on the ship while she registered the ship, paying the station fee for several days. And when she returned, there was a frown on her face and a worried furrow to her brow.

The woman was frustrated, that much was obvious. Din merely watched her as she closed the ramp, turning to him and explaining what information she had gathered during the short interaction.

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

Everyone wore light, flowing coverings and outfits in order to gain access into the main part of the city.

And there were wanted posters depicting Din’s armored form.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

[i-heart-hxh]

Hi, me again! I wanted to read the last chapter of your hxhbb24 fic before I commented on it, because I really wanted to soak it all in before I gushed! Anyways, I ofc expected a satisfying and cozy ending, and you didn't disappoint! I think not including Alluka, here, was definitely the way to go, it encases both Gon and Killua in their world and their relationship/history, which is the focus and keeps it on them! As a matter of fact, you keep other characters to a minimum in the whole thing, and I definitely think it was the right move for the kind of fic you were writing! I was surprised at how quickly the boys move into talking about their hurt right after Killua gets off the boat, but the flow of it all felt so natural, and really showcased how both of them have grown to a place where they're not scared to say how they feel/what they hope for moving on. Loved that!

And I was holding my breath waiting for the confession, and I absolutely love how it was framed from Gon's perspective and his feelings!? That's so underutilized in fic, really excellent stuff here! My favorite line tho: "almost like they should have been doing this all along, like they were meant to kiss from the moment they met" stooooooop my heart!!! And finally, adore the little epilogue of them waking up together as adults, without any nightmares, and ultimately happy, that really made me tear up a little. Excellent work, as always! I'm excited to read anything you choose to write in the future!

Awww, thank you so much for reading it and sharing your thoughts--it means a lot to me that you took the time!! I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter!! Yes, I wanted to let them be in their own little world mostly, because I think the fewer the distractions, the more likely they'd be able to face their feelings directly. Plus, a lot of the 'fic's focus is around them being being alone together and the vulnerability that comes with that, so it felt like the right thing to do. I'm glad it didn't feel too unnatural to you even though it ramped up fairly quickly. I want to believe that they'll emotionally mature and contemplate a lot in their time apart, and that under the right circumstances that might mean they can work through things without it taking too long.

I love thinking and writing about Gon's feelings and perspective in the relationship, and I also love thinking about what their future might hold eventually. I'm just really happy all around that you were so moved by it and enjoyed it so much, thank you again!! I'm definitely going to do my best to write and post more in time. 😄✨

Also, here's a link to the 'fic for people reading this post who may want to check it out!

[avenin7]

In what ways do Revali's insecurities about Link leaving him for someone else and Link's existential crisis over his feelings for Revali contribute to the complexity of their relationship, and how do they navigate these challenges within the context of their unique cultural backgrounds?

Revali’s fear of abandonment/not being good enough vs Link’s internalized miscegenation-phobia spells a recipe for disaster for them both. Link realizing he has feelings for someone outside of what would be considered ‘appropriate’ for his culture on top of the crushing weight he feels to portray himself as a perfect tool for the Kingdom leads to cracks forming in his mask. The stress compounding because this isn’t just some easy crush he can ignore. This is his coworker. The two of them have already shown they miscommunicate over the fact that Revali thinks Link doesn’t believe he should be a champion or that he’s second fiddle. Link having no idea about that and now Revali is crushing insecurely on him; he is so wrapped up in his own feelings and trying not to let anyone see that he’s wrapped up in his feelings, it would make him push Revali away further (in a way). Revali of course would come to his own conclusions about why Link is acting the way he is. I think in all honesty the only way I could see them getting past it is either Link opening up to someone else about his crush on Revali and hylian’s mixed-race-phobia OR it would be Revali coming in like a wrecking ball of emotions and spewing vitriol at him so hard it knocks him out of his own issues because he has no idea what Revali is talking about. (Revali seems the type to also accidentally confess his insecurities in the heat of the moment). So now Link is sat there like, “wait? you thought I hated you this whole time? You think you don’t deserve to be here??” and realizing that Revali is scared of losing not only the champions {I’m realizing I’m contemplating this as more pre-slash but oh well} but also losing his rival/crush/what are we?? In the context of an established relationship, Link would feel awful that he’s got the internalized mix-race thing going on, because he *knows* it’s not an issue of not liking Revali, but others will judge him and he’s scared. I think it’d cause him to not want to outwardly show their affection for one another. Making Revali feel like Link doesn’t like him (because rito are so physical with their affection). But after finding out that Revali thinks he’s disposable, Link pushes past and tries to be more outwardly expressive. Even if it’s only with the champions. I don’t think Link would be able to fully grasp Revali’s fear of being left pre-calamity. I think he wouldn’t have it in him to grasp it because he has so much else going on in his head that he can’t dedicate himself to reassuring Revali the way he needs. I think its a relationship waiting to end pre-calamity. Neither can get over themselves and be there for the other.

Post-calamity though? I think Revali’s 100 year stasis/ghost time would give him such time to think. I don’t think it would fix his fear of abandonment but his need to prove himself would diminish (and I think in many ways his ego as well). I think if they’re relationship rekindled (or came into existence), Revali would be able to express himself a bit better. Express his need for help and reassurance more. and Link having lost his memories and his internal shame, I think he’d get more caught up in not being what Revali wants vs being weirded out by liking a rito.

pre-calamity I do like to think that Link would still reassure him when they’re alone. Combing his fingers through his feathers and telling him how he’s so lucky to love someone like him. I think that even if Link can’t do the loud courting displays, he tries so hard to learn the finer details of rito body language. just so he can communicate how much he cares for Revali.

[mihai-florescu]

Do you agree with me that we should get rid of "death of the author" and that we should introduce "death of the audience" instead?

"Oooh but how will other people interpret this-" I don't know! I don't care! I wanna know what goes on inside the brain of the person who actually put their time and effort and soul into this. Not five million other people who Did Not Create the Thing.

(Sorry if this is weird but you feel like the most qualified person i know to have an opinion on this)

Disclaimer, im big on believing 2 things coexist at the same time about everything. My mood swings put me in black and white thinking often, but when i can think clearly from both perspectives im still a contrarian and have counter points for my counter points. Im gonna word vomit an answer, im not good at ordering my thoughts but i hope its fine still.

Oh brother i used to go on rants about this (authorial intent, media consumption, fandom culture etc) all of last semester and it's what ultimately led to me giving up on my degree and serious art altogether... i'll attach a few i found in my archive i think are relevant if youre curious beep meep meow. I was writing these posts at the same time as my thesis paper which was more hopeful and aiming to reframe what we consider escapism, but in the end by the finale (last assessment) the hatred won in my heart and i couldnt make a visual project with an audience in mind. I made something, but it was more like a rant with visuals and absolutely failed the "whats the future of this project?" question. Must it have a future for an audience? Its job was to be a confession and a respite, for my own expression. I dont want an audience, im too much of a misanthropic hater and possessive mother to let others see or interpret my ideas. I know it's selfish and counterproductive but i cant help it. You sending this ask made me laugh since it was so relevant to my struggles this year. Id love to break out of this cycle and mindset but i always go back here to these beliefs.

Anyway... i do think the sensible truth is somewhere in the middle. Reader's interpretation is essential for works to gain life in the world and to outlive their authors, and i revere stories for the ability to touch people's hearts and make them learn things about themselves as well as other's way of thinking (reading is a process of interpretation and contemplation afterall isnt it? Well, active reading at least. Citation to my written thesis). But im not a fan of fandom lens interpretations that so often flatten stories.

I think for our shared stories of interest authorial intent is particularly fun to think about. Commercial works made to sell gacha games but which do have heart and profound messages theyre trying to convey. But also made with an audience in mind. I havent been able to formulate any particularly riveting conclusions, but i would love to know if anyone has focused on such topics. Everything deserves analysis and attempts at understanding... and i find authorial intent an invaluable insight that can never be cast aside. Works gain lives of their own after theyre set free into the world, but they dont spawn fully formed from thin air ready for "consumption"...

Uuu im trying to decide if i should link to you a story about storytelling i wrote and illustrated in a day, and a video about humanity and the power of imagination as salvation and damnation... if i say "i'll share them, but only if you erase from your mind that i wrote them" it'd be hypocritical after everything i just spilled out. But too much knowledge about the author is scary too... not for the audience as much as the author himself. It's the audience who has the final laugh of judgement and interpretation... but it's scary to let others into your mind, to see things you spent time and energy on? I wish i could channel my death of the audience defiance into proudly sharing works without caring who sees them rather than deciding nothing is worth making anymore since im so mistrustful. Alas! Maybe one day i'll stop being a self absorbed, self sabotaging prey animal

[rosenongrata]

A Year in Time — Chapter I: January

⋯☆ Summary: A chapter for every month in the year featuring Zhongli x my dearly beloved OC (Hauteclaire).

⋯☆ A/N: I know I should be working on my other 2 longfics, but this came to my mind and I just. couldn't help myself. at all. LMAO

enjoy!

Prompts from HERE

Prompts used for January: 💖 New Year's Kiss 💖 Resolutions 💖 Midnight 💖 Drinks 💖 Games

⋯☆ AO3 Link.

⋯☆ W.C: ~700

⋯☆ CW: Alcohol consumption, drunkenness but it's all very wholesome, fluff, some...minor flirting ig. lol.

"Soooo," A woman with a head of thick brown hair slurs, "Any new year's resolutions, Lili?" Her pale golden hues stare down into her cup of amber liquid, its peachy taste still sweet on her tongue.

Her legs are thrown over the open window, ankles propped on the wooden sill as a spine-chilling draft wafts over the pair. Neither seems to mind all that much, though. The excessive alcohol in their systems keeps them warm and cozy even through this cold as-stone wintry night.

Even the popping fireworks that crackle at midnight share a semblance of its warmth with the couple. The colorful lights flash across the antique game board and glow along the rims of the white porcelain cups.

The man sitting across from her—hair as dark as her own, but its tips dipped in gold—hums in thought. His mouth opens to confess his only resolution, but instead of being truthful, he says,

"No plans as of yet." He slurs lightly; the alcohol begins to bite him in the rear as well. "…And you, dear Claire? What are your plans, hmm?" He throws the question back at the sharply-dressed woman, his eyes darting up from the game of Xiangqi to latch onto her own gaze.

"Ha! As if I would commit to something like that!" She scoffs with a roll of her eyes, her gaze breaking away from him to stare out the window, watching the grandiose dance of colors in the dark sky. "I think many, many people on the street would say, 'Why don't you make a resolution to be kinder?' But, enough is never enough for humans…" She lets out a long, pained sigh.

"You sound quite bothered by the gossip." He shrugs, hardly bothered by her embittered attitude toward others. With that final word of his, he makes a move on the Xiangqi board, "Your turn." He informs quietly.

"I am not bothered by it." She throws an unfocused glare his way, but all he gives back is an innocent glance. "Don't give me those big dumb doe eyes of yours… You'll make me feel bad." She laughs, shaking her head as she uses her unoccupied hand to move her piece along the board.

If he were any soberer right now, he'd scrutinize and criticize her poor moves on the game board. But, now that he's utterly inebriated, he couldn't care less. We all make mistakes, after all; he concludes (in the drowning depths of his tiny bit of remaining sobriety.)

"Therefore… I should do it more often?" He smirks at her, taking the final sip of his wine.

"No. Bad. Naughty Zhongli!" She snerks before downing the rest of her own cup.

"I will take that in stride, dear Claire." He chuckles as he glances down at the board to contemplate his next move.

Before he can even pick up his piece, she grabs his pearly white tie—tugging him over the board by only a little bit. His eyes shoot straight up to stare at her, a dumbfounded expression painting his fair features. His eyes wide, lips barely parting as a silent gasp leaves his lungs.

"Zhongli…" Her eyes grow hazy, her lids coating half of her gaze. Yet, it's not enough to deter her from staring at his thin yet unchapped lips.

"Hauteclaire…?" He echoes, anticipating her next move amidst his drunken daze.

Leaning in, she plants a faint rusty red kiss on the side of his mouth—immediately causing the pink tint on his cheeks to grow red. And by the time he registers what just occurred, she's already halfway out the door.

"C-Claire..?!" He spins around to watch her with a face that looks like he just got struck by lightning.

"Goodnight, Zhongli, take care. And, uh…thanks for the drinks." She smiles lopsidedly at him, her body threatening to collapse as she shuts the door in a hurry.

"Wait—!" He sighs, only managing to stand up the moment she slams the door hastily, "Ah, there she goes…" He sighs.

He touches the spot where she kissed him, his heart overcome with a fuzzy warmth—akin to a kitten resting on his lap. Pulling his hand down from his mouth, his eyes lock onto the faint reddish stain on the tip of his black gloves.

And he can only hope he doesn't forget this night when the morrow rises.

[silkendandelion]

Million Dollar Baby (completed), A One Piece fanfiction

Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 40.8k Genre: Comedy, drama, smut, fluff

Summary: Doflamingo makes his play.

Rated Explicit for violence, mild blood and strong language, threats of human trafficking and death. The Doflamingo warning is for this one right here. Rating changes published per chapter.

Chapter 14

He must be at the office by now.

At first, River contemplated leaving with just the clothes on his back, the pettiest show of a tantrum he could think of. But as he piled the bags in the foyer in inconvenient stacks, a velvet box rolled out of his luggage to clatter at the ground beside his feet. Crocodile had said he should keep the cuff-links if he liked them, after all. What kind of greedy businessman likes Das Rheingold?

A warm blush rose to his cheeks, compared to the cool red-violet rubies beneath his thumb.

“What kind of man turns down a job offer like that?” He sighed to the empty suite, and slipped the box inside the suit jacket he intended to wear for the day.

Rather than spend the morning crying, or worse—disappear while Crocodile was at the office and cry all day in his tiny, water-damaged apartment—he settled on a nap. Haphazardly stripped down and bundled in the duvet, he didn’t know how long it took him to fall asleep, long enough he exhausted himself counting sheep in all the ways he could say goodbye without “I love you” or “Make me believe you love me too”.

The fact that we met now is proof it won’t work. I’m sorry.

Morning turned to afternoon in sunbeams moving across the bedroom floor. Among soft, golden light and sleep-warm covers, the door swinging open broke the silence of the suite. Believing he had overslept, River shot up to greet him with apologies, pleas, confessions of his foolishness and love already on his lips when—

“Who are you?”

Rather than Crocodile, a hulking blonde man—taller than his lover by an impressive margin—in a white suit and cashmere-pink overcoat stood hunched over the table in the foyer. His gloved finger, black leather like Crocodile’s, creaked as it flicked through the packages piled there with seeking intent.

“I asked you a question,” he tried again, louder.

When the strange man finally turned to acknowledge him, the roving of invisible eyes behind pink sunglasses reminded River that only his large, commandeered shirt retained his modesty. His cheeks burned as he stood his ground, but humiliation under the ogling of a stranger was less dangerous than turning his back to get dressed, or worse—rescinding his question.

“You know, we actually almost met at the picnic earlier this week. Call me Doffy… Has he returned yet, my old friend?”

“I think you know he’s not here,” River said, his stare hard and level. Having not been blatantly told to get out, Doflamingo wandered further into the suite, unable to stop himself from smirking when his sharp eyes spied River maintaining the distance between them.

“You’re so suspicious.” He chuckled, and set himself down on the couch. “I’m not surprised Crocodile never mentioned me. For all the decades I’ve known him, he is so… removed from the man he once was. Why, we’ve been in business together as long as there has been money to be made.”

His long body stretched across the couch, legs spread wide as he patted the cushion. “Come. Sit, so we can talk properly.”

“I’ll stand, thanks. Why are you here?”

“Your predicament doesn’t bother me; I understand I interrupted your afternoon and barged in here before you had time to put on panties.” The malign rumble of his laugh burned on the back of River’s neck.

“It’s also probably not the first time you’ve had your bare ass on this couch anyway so, I’ll ask one more time: sit down.”

Even pretending to be harmless, his presence rose the hairs on River’s arms, exciting prickles of static shock in his legs, warnings sent from his instincts, urging him to flee—while he still could. Bolting from the suite did cross his mind, but just a fraction of a second spent waiting for the elevator would mean defeat.

So, he sat.

“Is this the first time Crocodile has purchased your services?”

“Why would you ask—” His mouth clamped shut. Where he wanted to protest, demand respect and be heard, hopefully by someone who could help, the predatory eyes—eye—he found behind those sunglasses promised to offer leniency only once. And then the pain would come. He would not ask again.

“… Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Sunday.”

Doflamingo briefly pinched the wrinkle between his eyes. “This fucking guy.”

“What… what does that m—”

“Hush,” he snapped. “This was an entire year’s worth of work. More than a year.”

“I still don’t understand—”

“Whores like you wouldn’t. It’s not your fault.”

Wiping his palms dry on the throw pillow, River jumped to his feet, pillow in hand as if it might protect him from the raptor bird perched on his couch, dancing around the point. Or playing with his food.

“Well, I’m not sure when Crocodile’s going to get back, so you’ll have to leave. Maybe you can return after he’s arrived.”

“How old were you when you came to this country?”

River’s hand fell where it had been outstretched to gesture to the door. Too irritated to be harmless anymore, the cold, biding intent rolling off this stranger, “Doffy”, loosed a shiver up his spine. River refrained from averting his eyes, not so unlike that night. Smoker had appeared back then, though after the violence was over, but now…

No one was coming.

“I’m not answering that,” said River, taking a step back when Doflamingo rose from the couch.

“You were just beginning to bloom, surely too young to sign for yourself?” One step forward, two steps back.

“I was—!” His teeth clicked on his almost-blunder. “At least 20, that’s not true.” It wasn’t.

“Oh, but the photo of you from the immigration office is just precious.” Two steps forward, and River’s back hit the wall. Quick as a snake’s strike, he grasped him by the chin, long, steeled fingers holding him still.

“That’s it. Pretty eyes, beautiful face. Barely a wrinkle to be found, who wouldn’t believe that you crawled off the boat when you weren’t even old enough to drive? Or with a handful of cash, how easy is it for those documents to be lost? Carried out with the trash?”

“You fucking prick, what do you want?” River gritted out, short nails rucking the fibers of the fine coat as his squirming feet bumped black and white shoes.

“Your greedy, selfish pussy has cost me a lot of money. You’ve fucked too close to the sun, little one, you’ve gone and stuck—”

The bruising grip jerked him to thump his head against the wall, causing River to yelp then flick his gaze back to Doflamingo’s oppressive lenses.

“Stuck your nose in business that wasn’t yours to meddle. Millions of dollars, do you understand that? And I’m so… angry that I just want to tear you into smaller, pathetic pieces.”

Labored puffs from River’s nose, frightened and pained, filled the quiet as Doflamingo’s other hand ghosted his fingertip across his scrunched brow, around his temple to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

“But I have to calm down, if I’m going to see any of that money back. Damaged goods only go for half price.”

His eyes widened, but his screech for help went smothered behind the crush of Doflamingo’s glove, a scarce second before he slapped him hard enough his brain rattled and body thudded to the floor. River’s vision hadn’t cleared before the glove snatched him again, one thumb crammed into the joint of his jaw while the other fisted into his shirt to haul him up.

“If I have to crush you into a suitcase to get you out of here quietly, I’ll do it. You’re going to make me every cent you’ve cost me, with whatever interest I decide—”

Doflamingo’s large hand brought their faces so close the scent of pink pepper cologne and tomatoes filled his nose. The wetness on his upper lip spoke of bleeding. “And when your debt is clear finally, you won’t even feel it when I throw you back onto the boat myself.”

“What money? I haven’t stolen anything, I don’t know anything about—”

Another slap, more growled threats he couldn’t hear beyond the blood rushing in his ears. The suite fell silent, any ruckus swallowed by the thumping in his head as he wrenched away—sprinting for the door just to be snatched again. He shouted for someone, anyone, until he twisted in his arms enough to rear his leg back and cram it into his groin as hard as he could.

They crumpled into a heap, grappling, River kicking, winding his fist back to hit him in those awful glasses—

Pink shards popped in his face. But his fist didn’t hurt. Doflamingo flew off him, thrown by a fist to his cheek yet all he felt—

He just tried to breathe.

“Are you all right?” Crocodile’s face filled his vision, gently pressing his hankerchief beneath his nose as River felt himself nod.

Ah, so it had been blood.

“How many years, Crocodile?” Doflamingo cradled his jaw, assessing the bone-bruised ache in his stricken face. “You want to throw all of it away? For what—HE wasn’t there for you when our backs were against the wall, when you were bleeding out on a moldy basement floor. Or does none of that matter anymore? You’ve got your toy and your money, is that all you want? I’ve killed weaker men for stupider shit.”

“Get out. And make no mistake, the fact that we have such a history is not the reason I’m letting you leave this room alive.”

“Really?” He scoffed, taking two tries to get to his feet.

“Don’t be pathetic. I enjoy life outside far too much to go back to prison for a parasite like you.”

The quiet scrape of stone on glass caught his attention, and Crocodile glanced back a double-take to see River standing with a granite paperweight in his hand and the handkerchief still pressed to his nose.

“My record’s clean. Call it self defense.”

“No,” Crocodile sighed, like they were debating on where to go for lunch. “It will jeopardize your immigration status. Let him slink away to some hole where we will never. See him. Again.”

Despite the bruise swelling on his chin and his glasses destroyed, his eye glittered with mischief and a black, sadistic chuckle that matched the angry, bisecting scar across the other.

“You two stay safe out there, yeah?”

Neither of them moved, dared to breathe until the door clicked closed. Finally alone, River’s legs quivered on their amble to the couch, and he fell into the cushions with a rush of the air from his sore lungs.

“Ow.” He flinched when a few ice chips in another handkerchief pressed to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I’m truly sorry about all this,” Crocodile said, nearly a whisper. “I left the office early to come see you. It was only when I realized my key card was missing that I knew it might have been stolen.”

“It’s not your fault.” River’s palm pressed to the back of Crocodile’s hand, chilled by the ice.

“It feels like it.”

“What was he talking about, a lot of money I cost him? What happened at the meeting?”

The crumple of Crocodile’s brow smoothed into fondness, and he gave him a slow smile so affectionate it turned them both pink. “It was decided that more profit could be gleamed from allowing Nefertari to maintain control, now that they have support.”

He grinned too fast, taken by relief until his cheek twinged. “Ow—that’s wonderful.”

Crocodile smothered his fondness beneath a smirk. No, he wouldn’t tell him he had almost pulled the plug himself, that River was responsible for that too. “You won. How does it feel?”

“A little sore. Fantastic.”

Leaning down, slowly to test the suddenly fragile boundary, Crocodile placed a gentle kiss on his uninjured, smiling cheek. He also wouldn’t tell him what Vivi and Koza had asked of him at the end of the meeting. He couldn’t. Instead, they breathed each other’s air for a long moment, and River’s leaning in for a proper kiss went interrupted by his final, hushed request:

“Stay with me. One more night.”

Yearning flickered between the plea and his lips, then a smile that didn’t couldn’t quite reach River’s eyes. “I can’t.”

And Crocodile would not argue. No, he just helped to him to his feet, wiping his face before he helped him into his suit one leg at a time, one button after the next. He smoothed the lapels of his jacket, ensuring not a single hair was out of place before he double and triple-checked the bellhop had all of his bags.

Looking back, he couldn’t actually remember what River said to him. His attention had been taken by the aching sheen in his eyes, how he licked his reddening lips, suddenly off and out the door before Crocodile could question the way he scrubbed at his lashes.

And he did not follow.

Chapter 15

[fanaticsnail]

Last One Laughing

Masterlist here

Word count: 970+

Synopsis: The Heart-Pirate crew were bent on getting their Captain to smile, no matter the cost. Swapping jokes after mealtime, you all continued to check over your shoulder to see if you managed to break the upturned curve into Law's face.

Themes: platonic heart pirates x reader, non-romance fic, eating, drinking, gambling, making each other laugh, comfort fic.

Notes: @indydonuts said she was having a bad day. Wrote this in the hopes of bringing her some joy 🖤. I hope you like bad jokes, love! Art link.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff

“Okay, okay, okay,” Penguin ushered his hands in a swatting motion downwards, his lips curling into a broad smile, “Me next, me next.”

All sat at the dining bench, food trays laying scattered and emptied at the edge of the lengthy metal table, the Heart-Pirates gathered on the pews and sat swapping ridiculous jokes all in the hopes of getting a rise out of their Captain: Trafalgar D Water-Law.

It was no easy feat: gaining one of Law's very rare smiles. The entirety of the crew were dedicated to making the dark-haired man crack a small smirk, but the sought after grin would take more than a simple joke to break it into his lips.

“What did the Fishman say when he swam into a wall?” Penguin’s snicker made it all the more difficult for him to conclude the joke, but he teetered it off by clutching at his collar.

“What?” you asked in return, eyebrow arched and grin beginning to crack over your lips.

“Dam,” he squawked, his outrageous and overemphatic laugh was more contagious than the hilarity his joke managed to produce. Penguin snuck a glance over to his captain, noticing his frown and subtle click of his tongue was all Penguin's joke managed to invoke.

Shachi clapped a hand over Penguin’s shoulder, leaning forward and smiling over at you and Ikkaku across the table.

“What's red and bad for your teeth?” he did his best to stifle his growing smile by sucking in his bottom lip. The room shrugged, Ikkaku’s shoulder bumping your own from your position beside her.

“Candy?” Bepo offered with a single, fuzzy, pointed digit, his voice contemplative and reflective.

“A brick,” Shachi concluded, Penguin’s squawked laughter only growing in volume, much to the delight of your crewmates around you. Shachi snuck a subtle glance to his captain, Law's back now turned to face away as he rose to his feet - returning his tray to the kitchen bench.

“Oof, he's tough to crack today,” Ikkaku whispered through gritted teeth into your shoulder, “You reckon we should up the anti?”

“I don't see why not,” you confessed, lip down turned and eyes wide, “What have you got?” She cleared her throat, prompting the crew to bring her their undivided attention.

“Two guys walk into a bar,” she states in a loud and booming voice, prompting Law to halt in his tracks as his ears pricked up.

Ikkaku smirked, crossing her arms and sucking in her bottom lip, her delivery concluded with, “The third guy ducks.”

Shachi and Penguin roared with their laughter, Bepo offering a polite chuckle as your giggle and shake of your head joined in with their chorus.

“Okay, that was bad,” you reached for her forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze, “But I am so glad you're actually participating this time.”

“Hey, you all involved Berry,” she clapped her hand over your own and braced herself against you, “Like I was gonna turn that offer down.” Law reached an inked finger over the counter, collecting a steel canister of water and returning to his space away from you all.

“What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the closet?” Bepo asked the crew, each member turning over to meet his beady, dark eyes with anticipation. Bepo held his paws beside his face, giving them a gentle shake as his brows upturned.

“Supplies!” he shrieked in glee. Shachi clapped his hand over Penguin's chest as Penguin threw his head back against Shachi’s shoulder: both laughs far more entertaining than the delivery of the Bepo’s joke. You snuck a glance at your captain, his cup raised to his lips and eyes remaining serious and unmoving.

“Fine,” you utter to yourself in a quiet whisper, cracking your neck within your palms and fingertips, “Have it your way.”

“Heart-Pirates,” you shot through the air, your manner scolding and serious, “You all know it is inappropriate to be making ‘dad jokes’ when none of us are actually fathers. We all know better than this.”

“What do you mean?” Bepo’s pale, bear face was knit with concern.

“Yeah, what's the big idea?” Penguin asked, his brows furrowed and defensive, “I thought we were all enjoying the dad humor. Why can't we make 'dad-jokes'?”

You remained serious, glaring at your crewmen as your eyes sparkled with delight and mischief.

“It’s a faux pa.”

The silence was broken by a sound none were anticipating. The hummed chuckle cut through the air like a slash of a blade, prompting all of you to snap your heads over to seek out the source.

Trafalgar D Water-Law and a smile painted on his lips, his eyes closed and his cup clutched firmly within his inked fingers. At that small chuckle, the crew laughed in glee: each of their melodical ulations harmonizing in unison.

“Hah! I got him!” You exclaimed, your joy evident in your eyes as you pointed your index finger at the crew around you, “Pay up, you lot.”

Slaps of Berry were scattered on the table in front of you, your subtle bounce on the balls of your feet and squeak of joy responding only had Law's smile rise further up his face.

You shot your captain a winning smile, offering him half of the Berry you collected from the crew. His palm upturned before him, a shake of his head was the refusal you needed to keep the hoard of wafer papers all to yourself.

“Alright, crew,” you offered to the Heart-Pirates around the table, “Next time we make port, drinks are on me!”

Cheers scattered amongst the crew, new joy found at the promise of fresh ales frothing at the brim. Law's eyes searched his crewmen, halting over each of them individually before his eyes settled on your form.

While his crew always managed to bring him support and had his back no matter what; the memory of his own ‘faux pa’ prompted Law to chuckle.

Donquixote Rosinante, Corazon, would be proud of the crew Law had surrounded himself with: his spectral laugh echoing in his mind as Law's smile only stretched wider.

[veephoenix]

Laura, I'm a messsss 🫣🫠

“I don’t know how well you slept last night, but this hotel really has to work on soundproofing their walls,” We all saw this coming, didn't we? 🤭

“That was you! Oh you dirty, dirty kids,” he laughed. At first I thought he wouldn't mind, but then I read the rest of the paragraph and I felt bad for him :(

The whole alcohol issue going on with Noah is really keeping me on my toes. I even hated him a couple of times in previous chapters, but reading this one and seeing how he chose to be better felt like a wave of relief crashing over me, and it was definitely so welcome.

Oliver feeling left out had me crying for him! I wanted to hug him and keep him wrapped in my arms forever. Poor baby! I love how you portrayed his vulnerability at this time. And I'm glad he was brave enough to be honest with Aubrey and not keep it to himself, which led me to check this fic's masterpost, and I realized there're only 6 chapters left 😫

"I have so much love for both of you, in such different and such similar ways all at once." Aubrey is here making confessions as such and I hope they don't break her heart, because if they do I'll get my guns ready! (I don't have any real gun, but you know, the emoji gun, I meant lol)

"Tall men, indeed," 🤤

Oh, I feel Aubrey so much with her worries about the long-distance relationship. I was going to mention it in your comment on my epilogue, but I was in a two-year long-distance relationship, and that shit is indeed hard af and emotionally draining.

“So, it’s all about love, isn’t it,” I said, trying hard not to sniffle. “As long as you love them enough, you make it happen.” That's a yes from me, from experience 😇

“Sometimes you have to realise just how in love you are first. Or allow yourself to admit it.” Oli and Noah should have been there because that last sentence was definitely aimed to them.

Noah in the turtleneck, please! I used to hate turtlenecks until I saw him.

(Just dropping this picture here for no other purpose than drooling).

“I figured it should be one, you know,” Oli mused in fake contemplation. “Only seems fair to take you two out for dinner before I fuck you.” His bluntness will kill me. I was NOT ready for that statement.

I like that both our Noah's are so unexperienced in terms of being with another man 😇 cute

"though neither of us were thinking very much about eating right about now." Wrong, Aubrey. I'm pretty sure Oli is thinking about eating. Just not that dessert.

I also want to go to Oli's house. I volunteer! I've seen some picture before and the place actually looks very nice.

This man doesn't waste any time, does he?

Not both of them sucking and licking and getting Oli off 😮‍💨 The clashing of heads was so real and so honest of you to write because as I started reading that part that was all I could think of lol 🤭

They're so nasty with this impulses to clean each other's cum from each other's lips, i love it 🫣 Oh okay, Oliver just agreed with me in the next sentence haha

Okay, I'm leaving this link to this artist's work here (nsfw) because I've been following him for a while now, and the moment I read about Aubrey sitting on Oliver's face, this picture came to mind, and now nobody can't tell me it's not them (ok, the tattoos are not there and the hands were on his chest, but it's still them in my head 🫣)

“Aubrey, what the fuck are you doing,” Oli mumbled from underneath me, making me halt in my movements. “I just-” “It’s called sitting on someone’s face, not hovering.”

L, this entire scene was so real, every line, every description, their dialogues... I've been living in it since I read the chapter. Not in a perverted way, but as in admiration at how wonderful this scene was between the three, how they finally had this intimate time the three together and how they were learning to maneuver themselves in a trio.

“And you be a good girl too and prepare yourself for me, yeah? I’m going to fuck you when he’s finished and I’m not going to put any fingers in you first.” He's such a demon, i'm in love with him.

“Did you do it missionary, like an old couple?" Dude, never underestimate the power of missionary and eye contact and forehead to forehead fucking. 👆🏽 Aubrey will teach you about it at some point, I'm sure.

“Let’s see who can do it better, doll.” Oh no, not a competition! It's not a competition!

"I ended up making grabby hands at him like a little child as the sweat on my body slowly turned cold, leaving an entirely different type of goosebumps to wreak havoc on my skin. Noah saw, pulling the plush blanket up with him as he got into bed next to me, making sure to tuck both me and Oli in before hugging close to me." bUT BUT this whole thing is so cuteeeeee i'm sobbinggg

“So, who fucked you better, doll, me or Noah?” I hope this doesn't lead to some serious competition, unless it's just for fun 😏

“Guess you’ll both have to fuck me during the same evening for optimal comparisons.” During the same evening, at the same time, perhaps?

in love with the mess - day ten

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she’s decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and… well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (p in v, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), hints at anal play), angst, fluff

length : 10k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess@shilohrosechicken@justeli6@starvingarsyn@floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3@kageyasma@spikeisdaddy@broken0mens

a/n : Hope you enjoy this one!! Comments and reblogs keep the writer writing 💕

•••

day ten

I was getting tired of unexpected knocks on my hotel room door. Especially when it was much too early and I was already rushing to get ready after something had prevented me from properly packing my suitcase last night. Now I had mere minutes until I needed to be downstairs with the rest of the crew and the band because Bring Me had an awfully early bus call to get to Sheffield. I couldn’t blame them for that - it was home, after all. Most of them were using the day off to visit friends and family, but Oli and, as far as I knew Matt too, were heading for the store for the day.

I ripped the door open as much as I could under the weight to find none other than Oli himself standing in the hallway, an amused smirk on his face.

“I don’t know how well you slept last night, but this hotel really has to work on soundproofing their walls,” he chuckled, letting himself in just past the doorway as I stood frozen. “‘Cause I was definitely wide awake hearing two people have the fuck of their lives. Like, holy shit, staying quiet definitely wasn’t part of their vocabulary at all. Did you hear them at all?”

Keep reading

[dream-meister-translations]

THE TALE OF FOOD

MOONLIT CONFESSIONS - PART 9

━

Guided by TGII, we dismantle the component that controls the direction in which Guanghan Palace rotates and remove the device that impedes the growth of the lunar Osmanthus.

The small robo-bunny is sitting a long distance from us, as though it is repairing its own spiritual force sensor.

MASTER : Reporting! The rotation components within a ten-meter radius have already been dismantled by me!

ROBO BUNNY : Rotation components within half a mile's radius of this spot have also been removed.

TGII : All rotation components within a three-mile radius have been removed and possible replacements for the component have been scanned for and removed.

TGII : Whatever direction the good-looking suspect chooses to direct it, Guanghan Palace won't budge.

MASTER : !!!

MASTER : Is this...Robotic efficiency?

ROBO BUNNY : This is the efficient work rate of a machine.

ROBO BUNNY : TGII, do you understand the implications? The significance of choosing to be human or a robot?

ROBO BUNNY : It means you've chosen whose side you're on.

TGII stares unblinkingly at the robo-bunny. Their expressionless faces make them seem very distant from their human companions at that very moment.

(Yipin pot appears as a hologram)

YIPIN POT : Thank you, for creating such an efficient robot.

YIPIN POT : In order to execute the plan even more smoothly, please allow me the pleasure of hosting you in the core control zone as my guests.

MASTER : Watch out, Yipin Pot's back!

*FIGHT*

But our attacks feel like a fist rammed into a bed of cotton as they go right through his body.

MASTER : How did he do this...Looks like a full-body hologram...

TGII : He actually imbued the projector of the control zone with his soul power...We should not underestimate this suspect.

YIPIN POT : Ha, no need to be in such a rush. We'll meet again soon enough.

He vanishes once more, as a gigantic robotic arm bursts from the ground. It vice grips around us as it speeds toward the core zone to prevent us from even trying to escape. The core control zone is...Too big. It's deep underground beneath Guanghan Palace and practically linked to the heart of the very planet itself.

Who was it and what was his purpose in trying to replace a whole moon with machines? The materials and manpower required for this undertaking give me a bad feeling about the odds of our success.

-

OSMANTHUS WINE : So you were just the Micians' lapdog, Yipin Pot.

YIPIN POT : Such uncouth words from an immortal.

OSMANTHUS WINE : ...

We are lashed to the rock wall with rope. In contrast to our obvious panic, Yipin Pot seems supremely self-assured.

YIPIN POT : I'm rather curious why an immortal like you would hate the Micians so much.

OSMANTHUS WINE : Because I know exactly what you are planning.

OSMANTHUS WINE : How dare a mere mortal covet and scheme to enter the immortal realms against the justice of the mortal realms.

OSMANTHUS WINE : I've also heard that you tried to move the Palace to the mortal realms to try and facilitate the sect's move...Hahaha, what you'll come up with next truly tickles me!

Yipin Pot remains silent, deep in contemplation. With some concentration, he summons a tiny Universal Formation!

YIPIN POT : Your formation has been shattered by the gale winds so I can only settle for moving a part of it here.

YIPIN POT : Be that as it may, it will be enough to send all of you away.

MASTER : What do you mean? Why are you sending us away?

YIPIN POT : Because I'm going to destroy this place.

OSMANTHUS WINE : What?!

YIPIN POT : Deity 0s, sorry to disappoint you. I won't be at the beck and call of the Realm of Melanya, nor will I execute the plan to move Guanghan Palace at the behest of the Micians.

YIPIN POT : Even if they have promised me my freedom.

Yipin Pot retrieves the rock from within his sleeve and gently puts it into the control panel. The empty dent is a perfect match for the rock. The moment they meet, blinding light fills the place and I hear a familiar heartbeat.

YIPIN POT : I've finally come to understand. That when one entrusts hope in freedom to someone else, that is the beginning of losing one's freedom.

TGII : Ugh...!

The same cry of pain comes from Osmanthus Wine on the other side of the room. He appears to have gathered his soul power for a life-and-death struggle against Yipin Pot.

YIPIN POT : Is Guanghan Palace that important to you? Even if...It's only a pale imitation of the real Guanghan Palace?

MOON CAKE : Ha...Hahaha! I've finally uncovered the truth. So the Guanghan Palace I've been protecting has already...Been...

We are all stunned by that strange peal of laughter. Looking up, we realize that it's Moon Cake. The dazed look on his face gives the impression that his soul has left his body.

Moon Cake holds an opened letter as he stands before TGII distractedly. The robot's lopsided shirt collar and Moon Cake, who is staggering about, form an eerie tableau.

MOON CAKE : Everything Yipin Pot says...is true.

[fleetingvow]

‘ BITTER SOLITUDE .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday has always loved being alone. she enjoyed the company of solitude and the opportunity for something haunted in the eerie silence, but somehow your presence was missing. did she do something wrong? ( 4.33k words )

WARNINGS. angst, usage of profanities, this is unproofread. spoiler to those who haven’t watched it yet. english is not the author’s first language. the timeline is a bit off. confession under the rain.

NOTE. written in third person’s omniscient point of view.

TABLE OF CONTENTS. you can find my masterlist by clicking this link. my requests are open, so feel free to send in anything you want me to write.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗦 𝗢𝗙 the typewriter halted. Enid had gone somewhere Wednesday didn’t care enough to acknowledge, resulting in the silence of the room that only whispered words of insanity inside her head — silent insanity. She turned her head to spot Thing settled on her dark bed, reading a travelogue magazine he found from Enid’s drawer, turning its pages tediously.

“Are you sure you gave her the note?” Wednesday monotonously questioned as Thing only answered a ‘yes’ with a tap of his finger on the sheets. Her eyes darted on the typewriter again, contemplating whether to use it or leave it alone for a while in order to wait for y/n with full concentration.

But she knew y/n’s presence won’t grace the room no matter how much anyone — most especially, Thing, would pine for it. She narrowed her dark eyes and tightened her jaw as she settled in her train of thoughts.

She used to like this state of living. She was alone or with Thing, but there was silence. The only thing that would bounce back to her ears was the sound of the typewriter clicking and Thing’s magazine pages turning. She loved solitude — lived for it, or perhaps the young Addams would even die for it, because of how much it was a rare luxury for her in Nevermore, but ever since she laid her eyes on a specific girl and her foot set in the divided room, she had grown used to the constant whines of invites to go outside and do some extracurricular activities that Wednesday either found too easy, boring, or stupid.

Y/N often complained about the homeworks they would get stacked with. She would normally curse at the teacher who gave it without a care in the world whether Wednesday heard or not. She felt comfortable enough to express her unnecessary emotions, as Addams would describe it, in the room with the half colourful and half devoid of hues window. She would wreak havoc and play games with Thing, gossip with him, and have a therapy session with him.

Wednesday was used to it, but she never wanted to admit it. Of course she didn’t. Because somehow, y/n had become part of the solitude that Wednesday found convenient even though she wouldn’t admit it aloud or even at all.

She argued that her presence was unlike any other that she found aggravating. That Wednesday didn’t have to put any effort in order to satisfy y/n’s needs in the established — friendship? Were they friends?

“Thing, why isn’t she here?” She asked again through gritted teeth, only gaining an ‘I don’t know’ from her companion.

No, she wasn’t her friend.

But if she wasn’t, why did her absence affect her so? Wednesday found it unsettling, and so unlike her dark cold self. Her eyes peeking through her eyelashes only narrowed even more, and much to her disgust, she wanted to do something about it.

Thing interrupted and made a few gestures, tapping, swinging, and folding his fingers to the girl who got more and more upset as she followed through with what he said.

“I sometimes wish that I don’t understand what you’re telling me,” she replied. “And it’s impossible that she would get upset over my silence. I’m always cold and silent. She should know that she signed up for it before being my . . . acquaintance.” Even without a certain tone in her statement, Thing could sense the venom in her voice. Y/N’s absence did tick Wednesday off.

He gestured, but before he could finish, she spoke again, “Finish that sentence, and I will pull out your nails and skin your fingers alive one at a time.”

Thing knew he crossed a line there. Why else would she threaten his nails?

The wooden floor suddenly creaked as Wednesday stood up from her chair, the typewriter long-forgotten in her wake to venture outside the room with a plan to confront her missing acquaintance.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀༉‧₊˚.

Wednesday knew where to usually find y/n, but much to her dismay, she wasn’t in Weathervane. Tyler hadn’t seen her either. The young Addams found him quite stubborn yet persuasive, but she had to decline his offer of coffee. She had pressing matters to tend to.

Y/N wasn’t with Enid. She wasn’t with Yoko and Divina either, nor Bianca. She wasn’t seen by Xavier the whole day, and her roommate mentioned her rush to go out of the room earlier in the fine Saturday morning.

This was suspicious to Wednesday. Y/N was always with either of them in Weathervane, the library, the field, or Xavier’s haven for his art. Where could she be? She shouldn’t be out and about when there’s a monster on the loose, ready to cut someone’s throat.

“You really don’t want her to see you?” Xavier questioned.

“No. I’m surprised she’s even out there looking for me,” Y/N replied, stroking the hued brush on the canvas. “But then again, it’s Wednesday. She’s probably only looking for me because she needs something.”

“She still thinks I’m the monster, honestly.”

“Well, you do have a lot of drawings of the monster for someone who isn’t it, but I guess I should trust you. Maybe more than I should trust Wednesday from now on.”

Xavier turned to her, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. He took the towel near his latest work and wiped his fingers, “I’m curious.”

“What?”

“What did Wednesday do to you? Why did you say all those things you said earlier?”

She shrugged and continued to smudge the blank paint on the canvas. She hated that the colour reminded her of the certain goth girl that made her feel things she shouldn’t be, but could she ever help it? Wednesday was a friend, but the circumstances now said otherwise.

“I won’t tell her.”

“Even if you did, would she care?” She asked bitterly without turning to Xavier, only paying attention to the work she was aimlessly doing.

“Y/N.”

“She didn’t do anything bad. It’s just — ”

“She didn’t do anything, did she?”

Y/N scoffed and stopped her work, looking up at the canvas with a sigh of defeat, “That’s exactly what she did.” She turned to him and set the brush aside, sardonically letting out a chuckle, “Ironic, yes?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Was she not that obvious enough? Y/N thought she’d done her best to make anyone notice her actions when she was around Wednesday. She wanted them to know so that they could help her with her because she knew she didn’t have the guts to ask them directly, ‘Hey, can you help me with Wednesday?’ Because she found it pathetic. Wednesday obviously wanted someone who could speak their mind and have similarities with her interests, and if she found y/n to be so pathetic enough to ask, what was the chance that the young Addams would even look at her in a different light?

“Y/N, I really can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s going on. Wednesday’s already a puzzle. I’m not sure if I can solve her and you at the same time. She’s not doing anything which is upsetting you because? Maybe my brain’s just a little rusty, but could you elabor — ”

Taking deep breaths in and out weren’t enough. She had to be straightforward with saying what she truly meant with her careful words, “God, Xavier! I want her to notice me!”

“But she does notice you, y/n.”

“You don’t get it.”

“I do. Trust me, I do.”

She shook her head, took the cobbler apron off and hung it on the frame of the canvas, not caring whether the paint had dried off or not. “Thank you for letting me in here and rant to you, Xavier.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“I think I just need a little moment to be alone now,” she mumbled and smiled. Xavier thought y/n had always been good at smiling at everything. If witchcraft was told to be her greatest gift, it was not. Smiling was.

But now he wasn’t sure.

Y/N thought her smiling at everything was a curse. It made her bottle what was truly in her chest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀༉‧₊˚.

It was as if the day wanted to make everything harder for her as she found herself on Enid’s bed, lying quietly on her stomach with Thing on her side, turning the pages of the lotion options on the brochure y/n gave and promised to buy for him if he ever chose one. It seemed hard to be away from Wednesday, but she was about to accomplish her task of ignoring her completely when Enid decided it was nice to invite her to her room only to ditch her as a part of an elaborate plan.

Jokes on her, y/n knew what she was doing. When she said she wanted help, she didn’t mean now. She was too clouded with anger and teenage angst that she wasn’t in the mood to confront the busy as ever Wednesday Addams.

“Where were you?” Wednesday suddenly asked, not stopping from typing words into the typewriter.

“Xavier’s.”

“He said he did not see you the whole day.”

“And what does that make him?” The girl next to Thing inquired, her voice ice and cold. If Wednesday’s cold shoulder existed, y/n’s was much colder than an atlantic iceberg: She tried to shake it off, but she knew her well. She knew something was wrong, and it had to do with her.

“A liar, no less.”

“A friend.”

Wednesday didn’t respond any longer. It was futile to try to ease the tension in the room, and she had to not care or she would let her get in the way of her clear thinking. She was nearing the edge of the monster mystery in the woods, and she was sure it was Xavier, but there was no specific evidence. Her fingers typed aggressively again on the metal contraption, thinking about what they must have been discussing in his shed, what image they painted on the canvas, what disgusting expression on their faces they used while being near each other.

“Something’s on your mind,” Y/N suddenly stated. “Thing, could you go and ask Enid to come here?” She whispered to the pale hand as it crawled outside the room, leaving her and Wednesday alone.

There was no answer from the raven-haired girl. Now she was giving her the cold shoulder. Y/N has had enough thinking it was her fault. She sighed and stood up from the colourful bed, putting on the pair of black loafers she owned for when she went to class. Turning to the door to leave, Wednesday suddenly spoke.

“Everyone was worried.”

Y/N turned her head to her direction. She was still writing. She didn’t know exactly how to feel after the sudden statement. Should she be happy? Why did she feel slightly relieved? Could it mean that Wednesday cared for her? Maybe Xavier was right. Maybe she did get noticed by the certain girl. She wanted to smile, she wanted to ask, she wanted to keep asking more and more. This was her now. Living off a three worded sentence that came out of the Addams’ black painted lips.

“Were you?” Y/N questioned.

She did not respond again. It became a habit of Wednesday, but this one took a little longer than usual. Y/N did not budge from the door, though. She wanted an answer from her. At this point, she was desperate for a sign of anything, giving meanings to simple things only to confuse herself again.

Could Wednesday be holding herself back from giving her a transparent response?

“No.”

Y/N’s hopeful thoughts suddenly shut down as a bad flip on her heart created a shattering pound, dropping the beating chamber on the knots of her tied stomach. Her eyes slightly blinked in disappointment, licking her dry lips to provide moisture as she defeatedly glanced at the girl who had her back facing her.

“Wednesday, did you ever see me as a friend or anything more than just someone you’d talk to on certain occasions just because you needed something at all?”

The clicks stopped just as the door slammed shut behind Y/N, leaving Wednesday to sit on a conundrum of what she’d done wrong and what mistakes she’s been making.

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SUNDAY. Wednesday didn’t like the Sunday activities that Nevermore had planned for its students. She hated it more when she didn’t spot y/n amongst the crowd in the field. She wanted to say she didn’t notice her absence, but she deemed herself too busy to worry about the little things.

She did catch a glimpse of her on the clear afternoon in the path of Xavier’s shade. She wanted to gauge out her own eyes and vomit acid on them.

After her question the previous night, she hasn’t been able to get a clear grip of her mind to write her novel.

Y/N was an absolute distraction that she was glad to finally get rid of.

MONDAY. Wednesday thought she was over it, but the temporary absence of the girl in her mind was cut short when her sharp eyes spotted her in the corridor, her signature extras on her style standing out as she walked alongside her roommate who rambled things y/n found funny enough to laugh at.

Much to her dismay, her shoulder brushed past hers, causing both of them to stop and look back at each other.

The young Addams didn’t know which was the twist of a curved knife: Was it the fact that she was wearing pastel nail polish or her? Was it the fact that y/n looked at where she was going again and recovered too quickly? She didn’t know anymore whether the question referred to the encounter or some other things, but it was making her blood boil.

TUESDAY. That night, Wednesday enjoyed the midnight breeze and performed one of her cello solos in front of the silver moon and the mist in the sky accompanied by the over-observant stars. She wanted to scream, but she never screamed. She didn’t like shouting or being vocally loud. So, the only outlet? Music. She wanted it to be more grim, angrier, louder, and better. She didn’t care who or what heard. She was getting sick of the thoughts inside her head that she wanted to drown it all out by focusing on one thing.

However, no matter what she did, nothing seemed to cure it. Every twist of the tunes on the cello only reminded her of y/n's laughter from the distance, her eyes crinkling as she listened to the stories of someone else, meddling in their business. Y/N shouldn’t care about the peanut butter that her roommate got on her shirt — she shouldn’t even care about anyone at all. Why should she? How could she? The tune got more aggressive, making the hairs of her body stand, feeling the rhythm of her disdain.

Her face wouldn’t get out of her head. The more she wanted it out, the more it became vibrant and clearer, more stubborn to push away. Just like Y/N in the span of days and weeks that she knew her. She had always been there, not leaving her side. Wednesday never acknowledged her or anyone so much, and she knew it put people off, but not her. Not until —

Wednesday frowned.

Not until that day y/n asked — no, practically begged her to come to Weathervane because she said she had something important to say.

The music ended. Thing sat on the stand and made a gesture. The girl knew what he was asking about. Now it was clear for Wednesday. She had never been oblivious, but the fact that she never acknowledged anything that had to do with y/n when she was constantly pining for her already made her much of a fool than she thought. That’s why she asked her the question a few nights before.

Y/N was under the impression that Wednesday never cared, or that she failed to see her.

Which, if she was frankly speaking, she did fail yet foolishly at that. Wednesday wanted her own space, her own time, her own pace. Y/N wanted an action, and she knew she couldn’t give her that. Their differences were setting each of them aside, away from each other, but now that it was clear, Wednesday knew exactly what to do.

Even if she found it most humanly pathetic.

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WEDNESDAY. Surely the afternoon rain was not the right weather for archery, but y/n needed the comfort of the serrated edges of the arrows whipping past the air. The rain was just a bonus. Her thumb brushed past her ear as she blinked, concentrating on the dead centre of the target. Before she let the nock go, she felt a presence almost as dead as her grandmother on her side.

“I didn’t know rain and violence enticed you.”

Startled, y/n turned her head to look at the origin of the voice, letting go of her shot as it hit the centre with a sound. She sighed and gave her a warning look before she spoke, “It’s about to get more violent if you don’t step aside, Wednesday.”

“You’re getting better at your threats.” Wednesday plainly stated, earning a scoff from the girl who held the arrow on her side. “Hello, Y/N. Your archery is impressive.”

Did she do it right? Did she give a nice compliment? Will she take it well? Wednesday would owe Thing if it worked, but she’ll decapitate a piece of his finger if it didn’t. She didn’t know if she was in the right mind or was y/n looking more goddess-like under the stormy clouds.

Her hair was wet with rain falling down on her face. Still, her eyes sparked a feeling in Wednesday’s chest, something that got right up her throat that she swallowed immediately to refrain. She looked at her up and down, noticing how the lustrous shine of the weather made her seem like she was the weather.

“Get to the point, Addams. If you’re kissing my ass for a favour, it’s not going to work.”

Y/N wasn’t making it easy for her. She was going off what Thing told her she would say, and it was making the whole situation difficult to surpass. What should she say now? If she went out with the truth, how pathetic would she look?

Wednesday defied feelings.

But could she now? Especially when it was the truth, and Y/N was staring right at her face, flushing a certain disgusting colour on her cheeks that she hated and swore never to let on her skin. The deathly cold temperature of her body was running hot from the look she was giving her. Her Uncle Fester was surely away, but she felt electric sensations stabbing her insides. As much as she loved stabbing, she would like it better if she was the one holding the knife.

“You’re wasting my time — ”

“I did notice you, even from the very beginning that the page of my life in Nevermore turned. That was until I got preoccupied by what was hiding in the forest, seeking its next victim. I feared that I will destroy this school to ruins, hurt the people I do not care about, and the people I tolerate.” Wednesday suddenly started. She walked closer to the girl who ruled the archery grounds and continued, “I admit I lost sight of you since then. Hence why I’m here. To apologise to you for my irresponsibility.”

The lack of emotion in her voice would have ruined the whole speech, but for y/n, it was the lack of something else. She was expecting her to tell her more, rather than just a simple sentiment that left her hanging whether Wednesday reciprocated her feelings or not. However, she understood completely that no matter how many days, weeks, months, and years that she planned to ignore the certain Addams, she would never manage to have her see her in the way she wanted. A ‘no’ is a ‘no’ after all, even if it was delivered indirectly and unpolished.

Y/N nodded and turned to the target halfway when Wednesday spoke again, noticing the deprivation of enlightenment in the speech she gave. The girl in the darker uniform sighed and looked down, unable to meet the eyes of the girl before her as she questioned, “The day you told me you had something important to say, what was it?”

“Does it matter? You didn’t care enough to show up and know.”

That caused a slight intoxicating heartache that made her come to her senses and feel the searing gaze of the girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join you, but now that I realise the gravity of the matter, I wish to know what you wanted to say.”

“You have an idea as to what it was.” Y/N was tougher to crack this time around.

“But I want your enlightenment, y/n.” But Wednesday was more stubborn than she ought to be.

“You really won’t leave me alone for shit, won’t you?”

“Not unless you tell me.”

Y/N’s furrowed eyebrows only met again closely. She threw the bow down to the ground and marched past Wednesday, not wanting to tell her what it was or it will make her look pathetic again. If she told her, she wouldn’t be able to help herself. How would it look when a deep-feeling person cried in front of someone who didn’t give a fuck about anything?

“Y/N.”

“Wednesday, you’ve done enough damage and I’m trying to stay the fuck away from you and steer clear out of your way but you keep appearing with your stupid braids!” She exclaimed exasperatedly. “You just see me when you need me for something. You don’t notice me like you said you have. You never looked at me in the perspective that could show more of what I could be! You never see more than someone to satisfy your convenience, and if I’m just that, just a speck of dust on your shoe, just leave me be, okay?”

That was it. Wednesday never saw her this angry before, but the displeasure of emotion it brought felt well-deserved to herself. After all, she was the reason for it.

“Because I’m tired of throwing myself to someone— you, and not see it being given an answer to. If you wanted me to stop, you could have said so, but no. You never truly noticed, did you?” Y/N’s voice cracked, and there she knew, she had to keep it brief before she started embarrassing herself before Wednesday. The girl who never cried ever since she reaised it never did anything. “That day I invited you to Weathervane, I intended it to be something more than friends would do. I wanted to tell you how I felt around you, because you were a part of everything I did ever since I started showing up in your dorm every single day and saw so much of you from afar. The mood I get from you affects the whole day ahead. I was fascinated about how you knew so much yet also knew so little. You never truly realised how perfect you are in every single aspect, and even the tainted side, I embraced it all, because that was how willing I was to devote myself to you. I knew I wouldn’t have a shot because even if I knew how you’d take a three-minute break from writing or which type of drink you’d usually order, I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know if you liked people like me. Fuck, do you even like girls at all? I don’t know, because do you even want me to know y—”

Wednesday has had enough of her angry outburst slash teenage angst confession under the rain slash rant, because now that the letters of each words have reached her ears and processed in her head, and her heart pounded in sync with the cello solo constantly playing in the back of her mind, she felt impatient with waiting for the end of Y/N’s dramatic confession.

Impatient that she couldn’t wait another second to march forward, aggressively pull her by the collar and crash her lips against hers, taking the girl by surprise as Wednesday pulled away shortly after before mumbling, “You always talked too much.”

“Wait, does that mean—?”

Wednesday wanted to roll her eyes, but her emotionless stare at Y/N’s face already gave the answer the girl was looking for, as well as another surprising kiss that warmed their bodies in the cold misty weather, hearing one another’s hearts go wild inside their chests like birds begging to be freed into the wild.

Wednesday hated teenage angst, but now maybe there was a part of it she tolerated.

Suddenly, a squawk from the distance was heard, followed by a crow falling right next to them, causing the two to pull away and look.

Y/N could have sworn Wednesday smiled, but she was quick to recover from the plague of crescent lips.

“In case you were wondering, that was a sign of approval from my dead ancestors.” The young Addams informed.

She wasn’t sure why y/n didn’t scream or take what she said before back and say she regretted it all, but Wednesday liked the circumstance as it was.

It was just her and y/n, the dead crow on the archery field, and the peculiar teenage outcast angst under the cliché rain.

“If you tell the others any vivid details about this, I will kill you, calcify your heart and keep it in my drawer.”

“I’d like to see you try, Mary Shelley.”

[sixosix]

suna rintarou: forehead kisses [2/2]

gn!reader, fluff, confessions, part one link, wc 1.4k

ft. atsumu the useless wingman and suna the jealous bff-possible-bf-question-mark

maybe telling miya atsumu, of all people, about your little routine with suna is not the brightest idea you’ve had. but in your defense! you truly didn’t think it was anything worth babbling about.

“you’re sayin’ that he does that to ya every day,” atsumu deadpans. “do ya hear yourself right now?”

“i don’t understand the problem!” you admit, cheeks burning with something akin to embarrassment -- though you’re not sure why. “is it really that surprising that best friends kiss each other on the forehead?”

“it’s suna.”

“is it really that surprising that said best friend suna rintarou gives me forehead kisses?”

“yeah,” atsumu doesn’t waste a second replying, firm with conviction. “it’s suna, y/n. i don’t know if i’m the one bein’ tricked or--”

“you’re not being anything! especially being helpful,” you cry out in exasperation, hands thrown into the air. “listen, how about you just forget i let it slip that rintarou is the doting type of best friend--” atsumu scoffs at that, but doesn’t say anything, “--and we can go back to the gym with free minds and spirits.”

“that sounds stupid,” atsumu says. “you will never be free from this.”

“shut up.”

atsumu hums. “are you okay with it, though?”

the mirth from his tone disappeared, then came seriousness that atsumu rarely used. “what do you… mean?” you ask hesitantly.

“i know yer fat fuckin’ crush on that guy, dummy.”

startled at his statement, you whip your head around, worried that someone would hear stupid atsumu and his stupid claim. no one is, but that doesn’t make it any less okay for him to just blurt it out in public like that -- much less blurt it out at all.

“ohmygod atsumu!” you hiss. you feel rage bubble up in your stomach even more when he snickers at your outburst. “shut up, it’s not-- i don’t-- you’re so dumb--”

“but i’m not wrong,” atsumu offers. you haven’t noticed that he started walking back to the gym, with you trailing behind him instinctively. “just ‘cause he’s unaware doesn’t mean you hafta suffer for it.”

you frown. he’s right. it’s not as pleasant to have suna unknowingly mess with your feelings, yet it wasn’t like it’s his fault, nor yours.

“but it’s just a kiss on the forehead,” you argue. “friends would do that to each other all the time! it doesn’t mean anything to him.”

“it does to you, though, right? and who’s to say it doesn’t mean anythin’ to him?”

“i hate you sometimes, miya.”

“i’ll relay that message to ‘samu,” he says, yelping when you whack him on the head. “what? resorting to violence ‘cause ya can’t wrap your head ‘round the fact that he has the saddest crush on ya too?”

“stop saying that!!!!”

before you even know it, you’re back at the doors of the volleyball gym and suna is walking towards the both of you. there’s a split second where he glances at atsumu, a flicker of a glare, before he looks back at you.

“where did you go?” he asks. there’s a slight pout on his lips; you’re positive he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, which makes it cuter. dammit.

“refilling water bottles,” you say. which is true, and would’ve been a faster process if some dumbass didn’t give you a crisis over your hopeless crush. “here you go.”

suna takes the bottle, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you, contemplative. you blink back at him, confused. suna narrows his eyes at atsumu, eyes silently accusing him of things you can’t understand.

atsumu scoffs. “i wasn’t botherin’ y/n, promise.”

both of them stare at each other for a moment, before atsumu groans and starts to walk away. “fine, fine! so damn overprotective. i was just tryna be a good wingman, damn…” the rest of his words are no longer decipherable now that he’s out of earshot.

huh, you think. “i didn’t know it was that easy to get rid of him.”

“you should try it sometimes,” suna says, mirth in his eyes, though his face is carefully placid. “but i don’t mind scaring him off of you either.”

“my knight in shining armor, really,” you mock, earning a small smile from him. “well, you better drink up before you pass out cold and the miya twins start flocking around.”

“it’d take more than dehydration to take me down,” suna drawls, moving closer. you don’t flinch. or at least, you try not to -- you don’t want to scare him away by giving him the wrong idea. 

“didn’t you pass out and drooled all over my shoulder without hesitation when kita suggested you cool off?” you tease, hoping it hides the way your eyes widen in alarm when he takes hold of your wrist.

he stares at your hands for a second -- maybe a second too long -- before he stares back up at you. “not my fault you were comfortable,” he says easily, like how everything is to him most of the time, as if you’re not losing your mind.

“t-that’s. that’s-- thanks?”

suna grins.

usually, you’d be more composed than this. stupid atsumu making you look at his totally-platonic actions in a different light.

“let’s go outside?” he offers.

you nod, relieved for the change in topic. “yeah! you got all your stuff in there right?” he nods; you pat his head the way one does with a cat. he doesn’t recoil but his face says he’s not pleased. “good good! i want some ice cream, therefore we should get some ice cream.”

suna lets you lead him away from the gym after waving your goodbyes to everyone, though he’s acting stranger than usual.

“y/n,” he says.

you come to a halt, turning around to see him with an expression that’s hard to read. “yes? do you not want ice cream…?”

he smiles, rolling his eyes playfully. “come here,” he says.

your eyes brighten, knowing exactly what it means. carefully, and slowly, you stand right in front of him, expectant.

he kisses your forehead.

you explode.

or at least, you think you did. you feel as if your senses are on overdrive, pathetic stammers spilling out as you clutch your forehead -- as if you’re protecting yourself from another slam of a truck to your heart.

it’s not the first time he’s done this, obviously. he knows how much it calms you down. but the way he did it out of nowhere, much less with loitering students around to see, gives the opposite effect.

and suna laughs. laughs, deep in his chest, but quiet enough where it almost sounds like a snicker.

you attack him with a series of light punches on his arm as he continues to chuckle at you. “you’re so-- evil! so evil, i tell you. spawn of satan-- no, that’s an understatement!”

without hesitation, he responds, “and you’re cute.”

that’s it. you give up.

with a defeated whine, you drop to the floor, balancing on your feet, hiding your face on your hands with it pressed on your knees. you look pathetic, hunched up like this, but at this point, suna might as well have reduced you into a pathetic puddle.

“too much?” suna asks, bending down to match your height. you don’t bother looking at him, only grunting in response. he laughs quietly again.

“you suck, rintarou.”

“you love it.”

you pause, letting his words sink in. so he does know? after about two seconds, you peel your hands from your face, feeling warm all over when he takes one of your hands and laces it with his.

the patient smile on his face is cruel. “you shy again?” he teases, but not unkindly.

“i like you,” you tell him instead of replying. “i like you, you know that?”

he nods; it’s not mocking. but… happy. the smile on his face is genuine. “i know that. i like you, too, you know that?”

“i…” you feel your heart burst. “i don’t-- didn’t. i didn’t.”

suna hums thoughtfully. “that’s not good. can i kiss you?”

“that’s--” you search for something in his eyes; any trace of mockery, insincerity, anything, but he’s open with the way you see how soft his expression has become. “...yeah. you can-- or, may. you may.”

he inches closer. you close your eyes instinctively, a bit terrified because you have no experience whatsoever in the art of kissing. anything under lip-to-lip action.

he kisses your forehead.

and then he laughs at your offended expression.

[taleasnewastime]

Hello again hehe LOL I thought that little button lead to a very complicated link that would require me to probably code Tumblr all over again LOL don't know why I was so afraid of sending an ask hahaha anyways:

Hello lovely! Hope you're having an amazing day. I love your writing and I feel in love with your 'What if I love you too much' story, I think I relate to OC's overthinking a little bit too much haha (did you took a sneak pick at my mind? Please confess now hehe) so is love to request a drabble of maybe that first date/dinner of them with gorgeous little Zack and maybe Zack is so shy at first and oc is in her head about the whole thing but JK sort of ease them both down with his unlimited chill that he poses in this story, some fluff and all sweetness to heal my broken heart please. If possible? Thank you so much! Lots of love from this over thinking Londoner

Hello!! I hope I'm not too scary, I try not to be anyway. But thanks for asking for WIILYTM requests, and thanks for sending this in! I struggled to start with but in the end I think it's cute so I hope you like it :) Thanks for loving my fic, hope you're doing ok!!

Genre: FLUFF!

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Reader is frustrated at Zac, worries, insecurities, same old with this story really

“Zac, I asked you to go brush your teeth.”

You’re being too snappy, taking your nerves out on your son, but Jungkook will be here any minute and you still have one hundred things left to do. The house is a mess, toys everywhere, you haven’t even started thinking about cooking. Though Jungkook said he’d do it all you wanted to at least lay everything out for him so it would be easier. And Zac sat in the middle of the floor playing with his toy’s isn’t helping.

He should have been in bed an hour ago. But your stress coupled with his sixth sense for anything to do with Jungkook has meant he’s still wide awake. At least he’s in his pyjamas.

You manage to ignore him as you head into the kitchen, hoping that by the time you go back out he’ll be upstairs doing what you’ve asked. At this point you’re not even getting much done. The house in a state beyond recovery so soon to Jungkook turning up. It was his suggestion to have your date at home so that you didn’t need to worry about childcare, and though he’d offered to have it at his place, you’d said it would be easier here. Now you wish you’d never said that.

“Zac,” you stop dead in the doorway when you see him still sat playing on the floor. His eyes are wide as he looks up at you, a look that’s trying to show he’s innocent even when you both know he’s not. “What did we agree earlier?”

He looks to be contemplating the question and in this moment you fail to recognise his age and naivety. Frustration takes over. More frustration at yourself for not being more organised and nerves building for your first date with Jungkook.

“You promised that you would go to bed by 7 if I bought you that truck.”

He continues to stare at you with butter wouldn’t melt eyes. But you know you have him.

“Go brush your teeth and I’ll come and read you a story.” He stands, truck still in hand and you add, “Leave the truck here. We can play with it tomorrow.”

It’s the same moment Jungkook decides to turn up. Unaware of the current struggle going on, he does as you asked, knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence and then walks in. In theory it would have been enough to make sure Zac didn’t wake up. But with Zac not even in bed and you attempting to get him to go up, Jungkook’s arrival doesn’t help.

“Jungkook!” The name is screamed in much the same way it always is when coming out of Zac’s mouth.

While you give up, collapsing on the sofa, Jungkook only looks over at you in surprise before looking at the little boy charging towards him with a truck in his hands. He’s better at managing his emotions. You watch as he sets down a bag, bends and easily lifts the little boy who’s not so little anymore. While you always let out a little huff of effort when picking him up, Jungkook lifts him in a way that looks like he weighs nothing.

“Hey Zaccy,” he says, stepping further into the room. “I thought you’d be in bed.”

There’s a beat of silence, Zac’s attention going to his truck which he runs up and down Jungkook’s chest. He’s trying to supress a smile and when Jungkook’s eyes go from your son to you, you can see a similar smile on his own lips. At least someone’s amused by this situation.

“We were just discussing the importance of brushing our teeth, weren’t we?”

Zac’s head snuggles deeper into Jungkook’s chest, continuing to run his toy across Jungkook’s shirt while Jungkook lets out a small chuckle. You shoot him an annoyed look, but he just smiles down at your son.

“I thought something smelt,” he pegs his nose in mock offense. “Is that your breath, Zac?”

Zac giggles, looking up at Jungkook. “No!”

“Phwoar,” Jungkook waves a hand in front of his face, scrunching his face up, getting another giggle from Zac. “It is, isn’t it!” He sets him down on the floor and whilst bent whispers. “Go brush your teeth before your mum gets too upset,” Zac glances at you before looking back at Jungkook, “she’ll come read you a story in a minute.”

“And you?”

“If you go fix your stinky breath I will.”

Satisfied Zac goes running upstairs, truck and all. Jungkook watches him until he’s out of sight and then standing to his full height, turns to look at you.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you admit because that looked way too easy.

He rolls his eyes, walking towards you. “Let’s not pretend it’s not you who’s the hero here.”

“Which reminds me,” you ignore him. “Don’t look at the house. It’s a mess.”

He smiles. “Are you sure?”

He closes his eyes and then carries on walking towards you, stumbling as he goes. His arms go out in front of him as his knees hit the sofa, he falls slowly, his body hovering over you. By the time he opens his eyes you have a smile on your face.

“I meant to clean the house before you got here and at least get some food out, if not start –”

He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. Light, but you can still taste like the chocolate he told you he’s obsessed with. He pulls far enough away to look at you.

“I said I’d cook.”

“But I wanted to –”

“And the house isn’t a mess.”

“It’s always a mess.”

“Well, then it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He smiles as you softly hit his side. He leans down to peck your lips one last time before fully pulling away. Standing above you, he offers you a hand to help you stand up. You want to tell him that this isn’t how you imagined your first date, that you wanted it to be perfect, to have candles lit and Zac tucked away. That you wanted the house clean and something delicious cooking on the hob. But that’s not your life, it’s never been perfect and it’s not about to start now. All your insecurities manifesting and all your worries about what Jungkook might start second guessing about all of this, that he might start to realise this isn’t something he wants.

All of it silenced with another small kiss, a small push towards the stairs and some reassuring words, as if he can read every thought and wants you to know that’s not what he’s thinking at all.

“Go read Zac a story,” Jungkook says. “I’ll get the food on and there’ll be a glass of wine waiting for when you’re back.”

It doesn’t alleviate your worries, but it calms them for the time being. It makes you remember that Jungkook knows what he’s getting into, that he’s here for the whole package.

You smile wider at him, are quick to lean in for one last kiss before you’re heading up the stairs to make sure that Zac is definitely cleaning his teeth.

It may not be the perfect first date for some people, but for you, you can’t think of anything better.

[m-jelly]

Chapter 4

Pairing: Demon priest! Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: Modern AU, fluff, romance, falling in love, teasing, flirting, cute, plot building, confessions, relationship development.

Concept: You and Levi push Dean towards a long-time crush, Daisy. You go on a double date with them and they sus you out. Happy about being two couples, you enjoy yourselves. As you go home, you find your home has been defaced. You face off against masked attackers and Levi unleashes a bit of his demon. Unsure of how to progress with things, Levi contemplates a lot before and after he confronts the townspeople during a sermon.

Important notice: Due to comments made to me as I planned this story, I have chosen to create a brand new religion to avoid causing any offence to those reading this fic. Some terminology is similar to other religions and inspired by them too.

AO3 Link

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 The end

Loralee battered her lashes at Levi. “How are you feeling, father Levi? You’ve been back for two weeks.”

Levi lit a candle carefully before answering Loralee. “Well, Miss Primrose.”

She leaned closer to show her top was very low. “Loralee, please.”

He turned to her. “I am very well, but you all have been smothering me.”

“Oh, I am sorry.” She ran her hand up his arm. “I was thinking, maybe I give you a bit of comfort?”

Levi felt rotten being touched by her. He held her wrist and pulled her hand away. “That’s kind of you, but I will decline your offer.”

She blushed at being rejected. “If it’s about Dean, you don’t need to worry about a thing. Dean and I are over.” She glared at Dean as he talked to you. “Besides, he wants to be with the town whore.”

Levi slammed his arm against the temple wall above Loralee’s head making her jump. “Don’t you ever speak down about her, understand?”

Loralee felt something burn within her at seeing Levi be dominating. “Y-Yes.”

He pulled back from her. “You people don’t know her. You call her name, but she’s a talented and kind person and you all judge her because she doesn’t come to a service and she talks to me.” He looked at her in disgust. “You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

You giggled at Dean. “Well, I can’t thank you enough for fixing my scaffolding. I feel a lot better now.”

Dean knocked against it with his knuckles. “So do I, this stuff was not happy.” He shook his head. “It’s all upgraded and it’ll be a lot easier for you to finish the ceiling off.”

“Finally.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Must be rough on you and your fella, being apart for so long.” He blushed a little. “I assume you have someone.”

You glanced over at Levi and smiled softly. “Oh, I do. We’re deeply in love and we miss each other, but we have the evenings.” You sighed. “Plus, he has a job that involves being around people and keeps him busy. So, he’s kind of okay.” You giggled. “Oh, how are you and Loralee?”

He groaned. “That is dead and buried.”

You walked with him to the pews and sat. “So, you two are not good?”

“We never were.” He sighed. “I thought she was sweet when I was little, ‘cause we grew up together.” He shook his head. “She ain’t nice at all. Edith forced us together with threats. She views me as a stallion and her daughter as another purebred mare. I ain’t some breeding machine. I want love.”

You rubbed his back. “You’ll get it.” You looked over at Daisy as she looked at your books, she had come in and wanted to be taken under your wing. You loved Daisy and just clicked with her. “Why not Daisy?”

Dean blushed hard. “Oh, oh, Daisy is so sweet and smart.” He smirked. “I ain’t that smart.”

You hugged his arm. “You are smarter than you think.” You waved Daisy over. “Come here.”

Daisy walked over with a little blush. “What can I do?”

You smiled at her. “You like cars?”

“Oh, I love them.”

Dean smiled. “She helps me at my garage sometimes.”

You hummed a laugh. “That’s cute.” You stood up. “So, you both already do a lot together.”

“We do.”

You sat Daisy down next to Dean. “Look at you two, so cute.”

Daisy smiled at Dean. “I’ve always had a crush on you. Part of the reason why I want to leave town is that you are always with Loralee. I know I have a better future out there with my skills, but it was hard to see the man I love be with someone so wicked.” Her cheeks burned. “Ah! I mean.”

Dean chuckled. “I never knew you liked me. I always thought you were too good for me.” He took her hand and moved closer. “I would love nothing more than to take you on a date.”

Daisy nodded. “I would love to.”

Levi put his arm around you. “What are you scheming over here?”

You smiled up at Levi. “Dean and Daisy are going on a date.”

“Really? About damn time. You two have made lots of confessions about each other.”

Daisy laughed. “Guilty. Hey, so you two should join us. We’ll make it a double date!”

Levi moved his hand to your bum and gripped hard. “I think that’d be great.” He looked at you. “Don’t you?”

You nodded. “Yeah, It’ll be fun! We can go to the diner, right? I love the pies there.”

“How about tonight?”

Dean nodded. “Let’s go for it.”

Daisy giggled as she thought about how romantic the date was going to be. “I should get ready.” She stood up. “I’m excited.”

Dean shot up to his feet. “Mind if I escort you home?”

“I’d like that.”

Levi watched the two leave before he spoke to you. “Want to make out?”

You gasped. “Father Levi! I am a sweet and innocent woman.” You walked towards his office. “I would never, ever do such a sinful thing.”

Levi smiled as you slipped into his office. “That so?”

You closed the door behind you, leaned against it and grabbed Levi’s shirt. You yanked him close and kissed him with a delighted moan. You mewled as Levi ran his hands up the outside of your thighs. He lifted you and pressed you against the door. You wrapped your legs around Levi and shivered as he grinded against you. You shoved your fingers into his hair and tugged a little as your other hand gripped at his back.

Levi pulled from your lips a little and panted. “I fucking love you.”

You gasped. “Father Levi, such naughty language.”

He kissed along your jawline to your ear. “I can be naughtier.”

You shivered in his arms. “I thought you said no sex.”

He nudged his nose against yours and smiled. “I’m just going to worship at the best altar in the world.”

You blushed hard. “Father Levi.” You smiled. “You little devil.”

“You have no idea.” He carried you to his desk and purred at you. “You are incredible.” Levi ran his hands up your back and pressed his face against your breasts. “Paradise.”

You giggled and played with his hair. “Wait, what time is it?”

He looked at the clock. “Four, why?”

You shoved Levi off you. “We need to get ready for dinner!”

Levi gripped the desk as his demon nails grew and his fingers went black. He clenched his jaw a little. He craved to taste you so badly that he felt saliva build up in his mouth. He glanced over at you and saw how excited you were. He smiled softly and relaxed. “Let’s head home and get changed.”

You ran up to Levi and kissed him. “I would love to fool around, I really would, but we did promise we’d go on a double date.” You ran your hand down his chest. “Besides, I will need someone to walk me home.” You grabbed his belt as he grunted. “I might need that someone to check my house for anyone scary inside.”

Levi moaned. “I can do that.” He pulled you against him. “I’m very good at scaring away bad things and protecting beautiful women.”

You raised a brow and knew you could tease him. “Oh, so you do this often, huh?”

He stared at you. “I’m not falling for it. I know you’re teasing.”

You pulled from his arms and walked to the door. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You winked at him before leaving. “See you later!”

You hurried home and thought about all the pretty dresses you had. You wanted Levi to go weak in the knees, but you didn’t want to be overdressed for the diner. You really didn’t want to take any attention away from Daisy. You grabbed a nice long sleeve dress and pulled it on. You put on a cute burette and did a light bit of makeup. You smiled at yourself in the mirror as your heart fluttered in delight.

You slipped on some nice boots before grabbing your coat and bag. You hurried out of your place and ran right into a muscular chest. “Oof.” You looked up and blushed. “Levi.”

He blushed a little. “I thought I would collect you.”

You giggled as you took him in. His black coat was beautiful and thick. His black leather gloves just needed to be touching your naked body. He’d slicked back his hair making you shiver in pleasure. You nibbled your lip a little. “Levi.”

He played with a bit of your hair. “Dropping the father bit in public? You are naughty.”

You fanned yourself. “It’s warm tonight.”

Levi smiled a little as he walked with you. “Sure.” He hummed a laugh knowing very well he was making you hot and bothered. “Just to warn you, I’m not in uniform.”

You held your breath. “You’re n-not?”

“No.” He linked his pinkie with yours and walked with you. He gave your finger a little squeeze. “I love you.”

Your cheeks burned. “Me too.”

He led you to the diner and released your finger. He pushed the door open for you making it ding. He looked around to see Dean and Daisy chatting away with each other. “Looks like they’re in love already. I feel bad for interrupting.”

You gripped your coat. “I’m overdressed.”

“Do you want to leave?”

You whined a little. “No, I said I’d be here for her.”

He hummed. “Well, we can always leave early so they can be alone.” He led you to the booth. “Evening both of you.” He helped you take your coat off and was a little breathless at your outfit. He thought you were adorable. He softly said your name. “You…”

Daisy gasped as she said your name. “You look so pretty!”

You took your coat from Levi. “Thank you.” You climbed into the booth and put your coat on the side Levi was going to sit on. “You sure I’m not overdressed?”

“No! No. You are stunning.”

Levi took his coat off and tugged his gloves from his hands. “You look lovely.”

You looked up at Levi to see he was in a tight turtleneck. “Wow.”

He sat down and put the coat between you and him. “Thank you.”

Dean laughed. “Damn, father Levi, you are a fine man. It’s a shame you are the man of Gods.”

Levi pushed his hand under the coats and entwined his fingers with yours. “I suppose. So, we are treating these lovely ladies.”

Dean looked between you and Levi, then smirked a little. “Sure thing.” He glanced at Daisy and the two shared a knowing look. He moved the menu between him and her. “All right, little missy, what you having?”

Levi played with your hand a little before holding it and running his thumb over your hand. “What would you like?”

You nibbled your lip. “A nice slice of pie with some ice cream.”

“You don’t want a main meal?”

You started at him. “That is a main meal.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “I suppose you’re right.” He hummed in thought. “I will join you.” He gave the orders for you and him, two pies and two milkshakes. Levi turned to you and leaned closer, but caught himself before he kissed you. He blushed and pretended you had an eyelash. “Got it.”

Daisy giggled. “Cute.”

Dean leaned across the table and whispered. “How long have you two been a couple?”

You gulped hard. “Sorry?”

Daisy smiled. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. You deserve each other, you really do.”

Levi squeezed your hand. “Three weeks. We started in the week I was sick.”

You blushed a little and gazed at Levi. “Levi.”

“We can trust them.” He looked back at Dean and Daisy. “I know it.”

Dean frowned a little. “Ain’t you celibate?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh, what a dog!” Dean laughed. “He wants it.”

You put your head in your hands. “Oh Gods.”

Dean chuckled. “Sorry for teasing.”

Levi glanced over at you. “I’m just being honest.”

Daisy nibbled her lip for a moment. “May I ask something?”

Levi nodded. “Sure.”

“You a virgin?”

Levi felt all eyes on him, yours was the sweetest because you looked but then tried to pretend you weren’t looking. “I am not. I wasn’t always a priest. I know very well how to pleasure a woman.”

Dean waited for the food and drink to be put down before he spoke. “Wait, so if you’re not a virgin…why did you give all that up to be a priest?”

Levi didn’t wanna admit it was because he wanted an easy life to feed on sins, so he kind of told part of the truth. “I gave up on love and turned to the gods. I worked hard and helped others to distract myself from being unlucky in love. Which makes it ironic that I find love at work.”

You blushed a little as you ate your pie. You gulped hard and looked at Levi. “Have you been in love before?”

“No, I haven’t.” He turned to you. “I’ve only been in love once. I’ve only told one person I love them.”

You locked eyes with Levi and felt your heart flutter. You smiled a little before turning to your drink. “That poor woman.”

Dean laughed. “You two wind each other up a lot, huh?”

Daisy giggled. “It’s cute.”

Levi gazed at you and smiled softly as you played with his hand under the coat. “Don’t worry,” he softly said your name as his voice got deep “I’ll show her just how much I love her. I’m excellent at prayer and worship.” He rubbed your hand with two fingers.

You nibbled your lip. “Huh…well, I’ve never been to one of your sermons so I wouldn’t know.”

“Maybe you should come to one.”

You stared at him. “Maybe I should. Be interesting to see you in action.”

Daisy sighed. “The love between you two is so magnetic. It’s beautiful to see.”

Levi turned to Daisy and Dean. “Mind if we get out of here?”

Dean chuckled. “I’m fine with that. It’ll be nice to have alone time with Daisy.”

Levi stood up and put his coat and gloves on. “You two are good together. I can see a strong future.” He eyed their aura. “You soothe each other. Do not throw that away.” He helped you with your coat. “Come on trouble.”

You hummed a laugh. “Trust me, Daisy and Dean, I’m not the one who causes trouble.”

Levi pushed you along. “Move it.”

You laughed and jogged out of the diner. You put your hands in your pockets and smiled. You noticed the street was a bit busy. You gulped hard and distanced yourself from Levi. “I hope those two feel more at ease, don’t you father?”

Levi saw what you were doing and played along. “They’ll find the guidance of the gods, I know it.”

You spotted Edith with her husband, daughter and a few friends. You stopped and smiled at Levi. “I will see you in the temple tomorrow.”

“Be safe and uh, let me know…”

You nodded. “I will don’t worry.” You both shared a pained look before walking away from each other in opposite directions. “I hate this.” You let out a long sigh and missed Levi.

You walked closer to your home and stopped when you saw your garden and garden fence had been destroyed. You looked up to the front of your little house and noticed the spray point saying whore, bitch, hussy and slut. You stood there and welled up a little. You didn’t want Edith and her gang to win. You held back your sobs and decided it was best to call Levi to pick you up because your windows were broken.

You pulled your mobile out and dialled Levi right away. You hugged yourself with one arm as you waited. “Levi?” You smiled when he said your name. “Hey, so can you come over? It’s not what you think. My home has been trashed.”

“What!?” He turned on his heels and ran. “I’m coming now!”

You bit your lip. “I’m trying so hard not to cry.”

“It’ll be okay! I’m running to you!”

Someone called your name from behind you. You turned to see a small group of people, all wearing things to disguise them. One approached you with a male voice. “You’re a slut and a whore. You don’t belong in this town.”

You gulped hard. “I’m not going to be bullied. I will kick your ass!” You heard Levi shouting on your phone, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying to you. You gripped your phone. “I am here to work! I’m making your temple look pretty again! You’re only doing this because you’re afraid of Edith! You’re weak! You’re all so weak!”

Your head whipped to the side as you were punched hard. You stumbled a bit and growled. You saw him throw his fist again, but you dodged it this time. You kicked him hard in the nuts sending him to the floor, but your victory was short-lived. You were shoved to the floor by another in the group. You skidded on the cold damp road causing your hand to graze on the floor. You rolled out of the way and charged at the other attacker. You got up and turned to the group. You punched another away from you.

You backed up and panted as your body hurt. Your hand and eyebrow were bleeding, but your adrenaline was pumping through you. You were angry and you wanted to fight back. You got ready and moved into a defensive stance. “Come on! I’m not afraid!”

Levi shouted your name as he ran down to you. “Get away from her!” He read their auras and knew they were Edith’s lackeys. He growled as they ran. “HEY!”

You hugged yourself and panted. “Levi?”

Levi grabbed one with his demon hand and slammed them against the floor with a growl. He said your name in a stern tone. “Grab what you can from your house and then go to mine.” He threw you his keys. “Go. Now.” Levi waited for you to run off before he turned to the man he stopped. He turned part demon and whispered in the man’s ear. “Tell me who was involved in this.”

The man’s eyes went black as Levi’s ability worked. He said multiple names. “Edith paid us all.”

Levi wanted to burn Edith in all his deadly fire, but he needed to be smart about breaking her. He sighed. “You will tell the sheriff everything.”

“Yes.”

Levi stood up and yanked the man up to his feet. “Move it.” He shoved the man along until he reached the station. He shoved the man in and got him to talk to the sheriff. Levi sighed. “Sheriff, please fix this. This is a terrible thing to happen in our community. I am ashamed of them. I fear that maybe I’ve been teaching everyone wrong. I have failed you all as a priest.” He clenched his jaw. “Maybe I should ask for a transfer.”

The sheriff gasped in horror. “Oh! No. No, please don’t leave us. We love you here.” He took his hate off. “Father Levi, we have failed you. I will crack down on this. I swear to you.”

Levi bowed his head. “Thank you. I’m supposed to keep things secret, but there have been some confessions about money you should investigate.”

“I will.”

Levi smiled a little. “Thank you. I must leave, I have an injured person to tend to. I will bring her in tomorrow to give a statement.”

“Thank you, father.”

Levi left the station and ran home to his place. He stumbled into his house and locked the door. He shouted your name and searched his home. He climbed the stairs and searched his room before finally finding you in his bath hugging your legs. He stared at you as you sniffed a little meaning you’d been in the bath crying.

He knelt at your side and leaned on the bath. He gazed at your face and smiled softly. “Hey.”

You smiled back. “Hey.”

He grabbed a sponge and started cleaning you. “You okay?”

You sniffed. “Yeah.”

He said your name sternly. “Look me in the eyes.” He waited for you to comply. “Are you okay?”

You welled up making Levi’s wonderful face become blurry. “I’m fine.”

Levi grabbed a towel and drained the bath. He wrapped the towel around you when the water was low enough and lifted you out of the bath as you sobbed hard. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

He held you on the floor as you sobbed your heart out. He rubbed your back and felt his heart breaking at your sad cries. He knew you’d had a hard time with Joseph, so to have a religious group of people throw hate towards you was like rubbing salt into a wound. He was furious that it had happened and he wanted so badly to fix it all for you. He wanted to whisk you away and make you smile and laugh as often as possible.

You stopped crying hard for a moment. “Did I do something? Were my jokes that bad? Did my banter fail me?”

“You did nothing wrong.”

You huddled against Levi’s chest more. “I have to be the problem. None of this happened before me.”

He lifted your head. “Hush, don’t say that, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong. The problem is them.”

“Levi.”

He kissed you and gave you a bit of his healing energy. “Trust me. These people are selfish pricks, they’ve always been. They idolise me, which is terrible. They should be looking to their gods, not me. I’m like a walking prophet or god to them. Their obsession is the cause of this. I show slight interest and happiness with someone that’s not part of their little click and it’s a problem.” He sighed and shook his head. “They’re scared that they’ll lose me to you. What they don’t know is I wanted you. I chased you. I started this. I’m the sinner.”

You blushed at his words as your heart raced. “Levi, don’t take all the blame.”

“It’s all me.”

You shook your head. “Edith is the worst.”

He laughed. “I thought you were going to blame yourself, but you are right to point at Edith.”

You rubbed your tears away. “I don’t think I can go to work for a bit with my hand. Plus, I’m…well.”

He wiped the fresh tears from your cheeks. “It’s okay. You can stay here with me. I’ll take good care of you, I promise. I will also rip into my followers.”

You laughed. “Don’t.”

“I’m going to.” He stood up and pulled you with him. “I’m going to get the first aid kit. Go change into some of my things.”

You nodded and shuffled to Levi’s bedroom. You raided his closet and pulled on a shirt and joggers of his. “Levi?”

He hummed as he looked into the first aid kit. “What’s up?”

You blushed. “They’re not baggy on me.”

Levi stared at how your ass filled his bottoms out and your breasts pulled at the shirt. His pupils became slits as he felt his body tingle with desire. “Wow.”

You hugged yourself. “I brought some of my own things, maybe I’ll-.”

“No! Don’t change!” He circled you like a beast in heat. He locked eyes with your bum to see them stretching the fabric. “By the Gods, this is paradise.”

You placed your hands on your bum. “Levi.”

He stopped in front of you. “You really have no fucking clue how delicious you are.”

Your cheeks heated up. “Th-thank you.”

He purred at you. “So beautiful.”

You smiled a little at how transfixed Levi was with you. “Um, Levi?”

“Mm?”

You raised your right hand and showed him the big nasty graze on your hand and wrist. “My wound?”

He blushed as he snapped out of his horny daze. “Right!” He moved you to the bed and sat you down. He seated himself next to you and began cleaning the wound. “I’ll sort your eyebrow next, but that one seems okay.”

You hummed. “Been a while since I’ve been in a fight, so I probably sucked.”

“You were impressive.”

You grinned as your felt proud of yourself. “I’m just sick of being made the victim. I’m stronger than people think.”

He lightly moved some healing ointment on your wound. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

He wrapped up your hand and sighed. “I’m taking you to see the sheriff first thing in the morning and then you’re coming right back here to rest, okay?”

You nodded and knew it was best to let Levi take control of this mess. “Got it.”

He leaned closer and kissed you. “Thank you.”

“I trust in you, Levi. You know what you’re doing and saying.” You let out a long sigh. “It’s frustrating, a lot of it.”

“There is an option I’m thinking about.”

You wiggled your fingers to check the bandage was good before you looked at Levi. “What are you thinking?”

He locked eyes with you. “Once you finish your job here, I want to leave the temple, leave my position and just the two of us go off and be happy. No more religious rules or people telling us who we should and shouldn’t be with, what do you think?”

Your eyes lit up at the idea. “Really?”

“Really.”

You grinned, but then it hit you. Levi would be giving up the only life he knew and worked hard for, just for you. “Oh, but it’s not fair for you. You’re giving up this job and all your hard work. For what?”

He kissed you and hummed. “For the most wonderful woman in the world. For happiness. For love.”

You wrapped your arms around Levi’s neck. “Levi.”

Levi clung to you and knew that when you both run, he’d tell you what he really was. The reason Levi was saying he needed to be celibate was not because of the temple rule, but mainly because he was a demon. Levi could not maintain a human form if he was making love to the woman he was deeply in love with. As soon as things moved to sexual in your relationship his demon side would appear. So, he was enforcing the temple rule until he was ready to show you he was a demon and see how you would react.

He released you and tended to your eyebrow as his thoughts returned to the present. “There, all done. You should get some rest, okay? It’s really late.”

You hummed. “Okay, but you better join me.”

Levi chuckled. “I will, just give me a moment.” He packed up the medical things, cleaned up and then put on his PJ bottoms. He usually slept nude in his own bed, but he thought that it was best to wear something. He returned to you to see you’d passed out. “Bless her.”

He held you as you both slept. When morning came, he dressed you and moved you to the station. He gave his statement after you and returned you to his bed. He gave you a little kiss and left snacks and drinks on the bedside table for you. He changed into his temple things as his mind raced at what to say to the townspeople in his sermon today. He was beyond mad with them and knew he needed to control his anger or he’d end up going full demon on them.

He unlocked the temple and stormed into his office. He grabbed what he needed and waited by the altar as people filtered in. He cast his gaze on Edith in her best 50s dress with a smug smile on her face because there was no sign of you. He held back his anger and thought about your bright smile, your laugh and how cute you looked in the mornings.

Levi inhaled deeply before releasing a long sigh and maintaining control. He looked at Dean and Daisy to see the end of their date must have gone well because there were holding onto each other. He was happy for them, but it only made him long to be with you and be able to do the same things with you.

Levi clenched his book. “Today won’t be a normal sermon. It’ll be short because I have a few things to say.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I remember coming to this town all those years ago and getting a beautiful welcome.” He opened his eyes. “I was informed of your wonderful hospitality. You have continued to be that way and yet last night I discovered it was all a lie.” He walked up to the altar and looked at the large tree with stained glass behind it. “I had a wonderful friendly dinner last night with three friends, only for that happiness to be broken.” He looked down at the altar as he said your name and remembered your home, your tears and your blood. “was attacked last night.”

The crowd gasped and whispered.

He turned to them. “Her home and garden were defiled. A small group waited for her to be alone and beat her. She was wrongfully hunted like she was a criminal and for what?” He slammed his book down. “Ever since she came here to restore the art in the temple you all cherish so much, you have cast her out and treated her like dirt. She has been called names and ridiculed. Why? Why has this happened? I cannot answer that.”

Daisy sobbed a little in Dean’s arms as both of them worried for you.

Levi opened his arms. “Please, tell me. One of you tell me why in the name of our Gods were all your actions justified!? Where in our teachings does it say to do all of this!? You go against the four pillars and the two core truths! You make a mockery of your faith in this witch hunt for a woman who just wants to help!”

His eyes scanned the crowd, but it was full of shame. He didn’t feed from them, not a sing drop of their sin was fed upon. He didn’t want your pain to be the source of his meal.

He clenched his jaw. “I am lost for words. Is this my fault? Have I failed as your teacher?”

They began to disagree with his statement.

“If I haven’t failed, then someone is leading you down a sinful path! I do not and have never condoned these actions and neither has your religion.” He gulped hard. “I was so upset last night as I talked to the sheriff about it that I have debated transferring.”

He held his hand up at people protesting.

He winced. “Quiet.” He sighed a little and closed his eyes for a moment as he waited. He opened his eyes and looked at them. “Show me. If I am wrong about failing you and that you are not being led astray, I want you to show me. I want proof. Remember the four pillars and the two core truths.” He shook his head. “There is something or someone dark in this town and for your own sake, you need to stop them.” He walked forwards a little. “That is all for today. I am too upset for a normal sermon. I leave this in your hands now.”

The crowd began to murmur as panic spread. None of them wanted Levi gone.

Levi bowed his head and left the temple. He raised his hand to those chasing him. “Do not chase me. I have a sick friend to tend to.” He turned to them. “I am too upset with you all to deal with you right now. So go.” He turned back and walked home with no one following. He tread upstairs to see you sat up watching tv. He smiled softly as he said your name. “How are you?”

You waved to him. “I’m okay. How was your sermon?”

He changed into his bottoms and climbed into bed. “I have spoken to them all about how disappointed I am in them.”

You paused the tv and turned to Levi. “Damn, that must have been…wow.”

He nodded. “Safe to say, my speech worked and something will change.” He opened his arms. “For now” he smiled when you cuddled him “I just want to be with you.”