#gender neutral reader

[obsessivevoidkitten]

You're an autistic biologist that has crashed on a strange planet. A curious male naga approaches as you leave your wrecked ship.

Your universal translator implant is working and you strike up a conversation.

Obsessed naga man flirting: "Wow, you're so small and soft! I would really like to get to know you better~"

You, wanting to satisfy scientific curiousity: "And you seem very large and durable, perfectly adapted to this environment! I am very interested in learning more about you too!"

Your Research Journal: A friendly native seems interested in the exchange of information. I am eager to learn more about this species.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu) staggering 6.1k words woah

note. hello, hello! for a while I don't think I can work on azul's part </3 it's gonna be a very busy week for me for the following two weeks (i can say i am already in hell week) for finals so it might be a while before I can pick his part up hehe. in the meanwhile... here's leona ;) if I can commit to a date for azul, you can check out the posting schedule at my pinned since I will be updated it once i do!

as usual, just comment if you also want to be added in the taglist ^^ if those already on want to be removed you can also drop a comment to inform me!

leona

i should take a bite–was a brief thought that swam through your mind just as you turned a corner to another seemingly endless hallway. the floating lanterns, and candles alike light up in a short flash of dim green when you passed, extinguishing completely when you found another hallway.

in your hands was none other than a doom sandwich from the cafeteria, plucked then fought after its other nineteen siblings in the tray. if you had a word it would probably be chaos, you’d think there was a pyramid of golden bars in the cafeteria from the crowd of students outside before the bell.

there was indeed not.

“shehehe! take this, our protege!” were the humble words of a ghost occupant of the main campus, who had apparently come to view you as an underling of theirs. so if slipping the wrapped delicacy into your hands discreetly with a wink was their idea of a ‘good job’ then who were you, honestly to decline?

out of courtesy you wondered whether or not to inform your friends alongside the large crowd in the front of the room but decided against it because you were in the right mind to not dive first into that… mob and lose your beloved gift immediately.

in short, the students of this unfortunate institution were not above using dirty tactics for a single, stupid sandwich that happens to induce a recollection of memories when eaten (alright, you do see the appeal).

you hid it within the inner pockets of your blazer, lacking the nausea you had through the first few times of travelling through the mirrors as you stepped through and found yourself in the warm, humid air of savanaclaw. thankfully, as with all condiments from the cafeteria, the food would always remain warm.

alright. you did feel a bit dizzy but as were such with certain out of the world aliens like yourself. 

“we’re missing a disk, yuu-yuu!” 

you turned your head at the mention of your name, spotting a few savanaclaw students either lying still with varying pants or grabbing a drink at their own magishift field. a few disks were strewn around the dusty ground but you steeled your gaze at the source of your called name.

politely, you waved. this time, you’re not sure why cater’s nickname for you had extended from the upperclassmen of heartslabyul (well, the first years regard you normally anyway.) then to savanaclaw residents. for a dorm with such virile individuals, they’re still teenagers who like to pick on you, albeit less disdainful and more teasing after you’d helped the dorm out.

before, they were just demons to you!

you nudge your chin towards the many lying around. “there’s a lot of disks around, upperclassmen.” you pointed out, the cheetah eared second year doesn’t even spare them a glance like catching your attention were more of his concerns than a not-but lack of disks. “if you’re asking me to carry one to you, they’re really heavy. i’m sure your magic can carry it well anyway.”

buttering egos must be an acquired skill around here.

cheetah only flashes you a toothy grin, two fangs poking out from under his lips. “nah.” he replied with a shake of his head, patting down the towel slung around his shoulders to the perspiring skin of his neck. “want to be our disk? last time got everyone motivated to be the ones to throw you around.”

“no, thank you!” you bowed politely, turning around at record speed.

he snorted.

“bye, yuu-yuu.”

in hindsight no one would ever be sane enough to be a disk after watching a magical shift game considering it might as well just be a blur of color with all of the spells trailing after it. unfortunately, you were more so dragged into the role and reluctantly accepted your fate.

it was not a fun experience! you shivered, keeping your head straight to the entrance of the dorm as you resumed walking and ignored the disappointed hollers behind you. if you can’t see them, they don’t exist.

a breeze brushes through your legs.

the breeze trips you from your stride.

dazed with confusion, you remained stomach against the ground for a moment. what was that? you wondered after your brief startle, moving to push yourself up from the ground. a frown creases the space between your brows when you regained your stand and spotted the brown dust littering your otherwise, clean uniform.

you sighed when you found that it did not only cover your forearms, but also the front of your entire uniform. you might as well be rolling around on the ground to justify the mess on your clothes. 

this place really hates you.

“sorry…”

jumping ten feet from the air (you wish. you’re exaggerating for good measure.) you whipped your head around, searching from the pitched, misty voice that seemed to chime pretty close to your ear.

… must have been the wind.

the wind knocks you to the ground again when you moved forward despite your initial dumbfoundedness.

when you raise your face that once again planted to the ground, you are not greeted by the air you expected but rather than a pair of green eyes that was not familiar in the slightest when you pair their shade of hair alongside the irises.

“i’m sleepy. can we take a nap?” 

you gaped, horrified at the scare. “WHAT IN THE WO–”

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

grim on the other hand feels like he’s in heaven.

setting aside cans of tuna’s under your bed felt like a mastermind plan he’s been devising for weeks, there was no way you’d discover the pile below! he chuckled to himself. at last, with you away for the night (he assumes you are, since you’re goin’ over to meet that overgrown cat!). grim is at least thankful for this one time that leona kidnaps you away from him.

with his feast laid out in front of him grim spares a loud cackle that shook him with so much please that warm puffs of smoke slipped through his canine teeth, the blue fire larger with his laughs.

now i can eat! finally! after weeks! he cried in his head.

grim was just about to leap in to tear through the metal can to ravish his meal but instead startled upwards at the sound of a door slamming against the wall he worried the entire building just might come down on him for a second.

dust flew down from the ceiling and floated on the top of the cans. grim’s flames roared brighter in response to his otherwise perfect evening.

myaaahh! it’s just one foot on it. he thinks to himself, dimming at the thought of facing your fury. you sounded angry considering you literally slammed the door despite knowing it would challenge the stability of this… dumpster! his anger doubles down into satisfaction considering he took it upon himself to indulge in this feast up in the attic.

where you, after spotting the state of dust during the first few days, remarked to never step a foot in there again with a sneeze.

grim sneezed, then sniffed. it isn’t his sense of smell that matters now anyway, but his sense of taste!

though that fleeting sniff has him sniffing again, having caught a whiff of some scent that’s not familiar in the slightest. spicy, earthy with no traces of your own unique smell that divides you from the other students grim refers to as ‘nobodies’.

but slightly familiar.

he just about jumps to the ceiling with how shocked he was from the sight of the door leading down from the attic quite literally flew from its hinges to the air, falling heavily down the corner of the space with a wave of sound, and dust that momentarily blinds grim who coughed at the overwhelming amount of particles he had inhaled in the wake,

“ah!” grim yelled in surprise, ears folding back. he shuffled to the other side of the room, body reared back defensively.

he does not know what’s worse, these acts of anger involving the furniture having you as the source or… the savanaclaw dorm  head that had just climbed the steps to the attic with begrudging slowness.

leona wrinkles his nose at the smell, turning his head to the side with a displeased expression plastered on his face. at the very least, the monster is intelligent enough to read that he’s less than in a talking mood. “you,” he all but growled, ascending the steps fully.

“m..me!” grim huffed, trying to look intimidating by the puffing of his chest. “this is private property! my henchman owns this place!”

the lion waves him off. “don’t care. whatever they own is mine, whatever i own is theirs.”

another menacing step from the male has grim blanching and scurrying back. until he feels the dusty expanse of the wall brushing against the tip of his tail comfortably, he at the very least makes sure the flame doesn’t accidentally get the whole building catching on fire. if he didn’t you’d be far scarier than this leona right now.

well… except this leona is the one enticing fear in him right now, not the imagination of you.

what in the world did you do to this guy? he thought frantically. he would have thought leona was immensely content with the fact that you were visiting his dorm like he was every other time. did you fight? why was he even here? did you throw him under the bus?

right. grim might have eaten one of the chilled meat inside the savanaclaw fridge–only finding out it was leona’s right after he spat out the wet piece of paper with his name stuck onto it but…

“you know why i’m here?” leona scowled, not bothering to crouch down to the monster’s height. such an action was below him, that’s why he only peers down through his lashes at grim who confusedly shook his head.

he mocked, voice coming out stuck between a low rumble, and a growl. “your ‘henchman’ owes me now, makin’ me wait all that time and being a no show.”

as if to showcase his irritation, his tail flicked sharply. ears pulled back but twitching at every little sound like he expects to catch yuu in the action of hiding from him or something. grim begs to differ because he has no idea where you were.

it must have shown on his face but leona refused to be in the dark about your whereabouts. “so,” he squinted, flashing a canine tooth. threatening all the well, and of course less than happy. “if you tell me where that herbivore is, maybe i’ll spare you from the storm that’s coming to them.”

more like tell me now or you’re not gonna like what’s gonna happen next! grim cried in his mind.

leona tilted his head, eyes skimming from grim to the surrounding room. “or maybe i can just bring the storm here? this place’ll be nothing but a poor imitation of that scarabia with all the sand i’m gonna leave it in.”

“you can’t destroy ramshackle.” grim protested. “this is my–yuu's home!”

the male waved him off. “i’ll just rebuild it into somethin’ more suitable for them. easy.” briefly distracted after entertaining a thought, leona’s face smoothed down into blankness. “they can just stay with me.”

leona was in for the worst mood in the century when two whole hours after your designated meeting time at his dorm, like usual which you almost always upheld by being there in the first place, sometimes a little late but nonetheless present.

initially one hour was the most he was willing to wait. then leona thought to spare you another gracious hour before he eventually begrudgingly stood from his already comfortable position to the bed to look for you himself. there was no way he was going to pass up on quality sleep.

not that he would’ve tolerated waiting for five more minutes for others, much less an hour then two.

unfortunately. it was just you.

he flicks your forehead twice. “that’s for being two minutes late.”

you frowned at him. 

he shook the memory off before it can fully be the pin in the inflated balloon he currently calls his emotions. he’d flick you more than one twenty times that’s for sure, until the only thing you’d remember was him, even though leona knows his finger would lose the force by the third flick and you’re simply just feeling him poking you.

“anyway,”

“yuu ain’t here. they went to meet you, didn’t they?!”

“that’s right.” his eyes narrowed.

“then it’s not my fault they didn’t show for your attitude!”

leona grinned and stepped a foot forward with a bit more force than necessary, creating a stomp that promptly startles grim. “what did you just say?” he taunted, daring. say it again.

he sidestepped the ball of blue fire that came from grim’s teeth. “i’m telling yuu.” he said off-handedly.

grim panicked, straightening and sitting in a manner that was almost docile. “no!”

the man scoffed at the silence that settles into the air. your little partner was useless when the only thing tying him to this college was you and the audacity to not ensure your safety boggled him so much leona was almost tempted to transfer you over to savanaclaw despite your countless denial.

better to be safe than sorry. he thought. he would rather you be safe than him be sorry.

one glance at grim and of course the yapping he’d been doing the entire time, leona concludes that this little thing wasn’t any better in the where in the seven is yuu department. the only thing he’s irked about is that he went all the way here–that you somehow made him go all the way here.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, turning on his heel and sluggishly descending the steps from the attic. he must be going mad.

grim does not bother to muster up any form of courage to ask where leona was going, he already knew.

he could only think about what was gonna happen to the poor soul called you.

on his way navigating through your sad excuse of a (temporary) home, leona can feel the presence of your many spirit friends staring. to some extent he understands why, he did almost bring the entire dorm down since his arrival and he hasn’t even used a drop of his magic yet.

they can at least be grateful he shut the door on his way out.

leona momentarily thought about simply using a transportation spell to get him to the mirror chamber, from ramshackle to the main campus… it was quite a far destination to go through back to back. maybe he should think about hitting up a mage who excels in mirror transportation.

whoever made the mirror chamber. for your convenience.

wait a minute. why should he be worried about your convenience when you just about stood him up?

leona decides against the spell. it was complicated, and his thoughts was not in the right place to focus on converting his body and mind at the same time. he reckons he might as well be sending himself to somewhere farther with his state of disarray.

all the way to the mirror chamber, his face was etched into a permanent scowl. leona only ever kept your notifications unmuted, so a buzz from his phone has him reaching and opening it immediately.

one new message from chek–

he shuts the phone as his perpetual scowl deepened.

if seeing leona actually roaming the halls and not dozing off somewhere was a surprise, his face was practically a loud sign warning to stay away. that’s exactly what the passing students did, spared a glance, double checked, then steered clear from his way without another attempt at gossip.

they knew he could hear whatever they were saying. not that he cared enough right now.

the strange feeling of getting transported from the mirror chamber back to savanaclaw shortly takes all thoughts from his mind before it returns as he registers the familiar feel of his dorm, soothing but not quite home. home would more so be a person to him than a fleeting thing like a place.

like…

“dorm-leader!” 

“welcome back!”

“what were you up to, dorm leader?”

a chorus from entirely different people sound from the therianthropes likely practicing for a match that was ages away. such was the spirit of savanaclaw students that want to excel in one singular area like magishift when they put their mind to it. leona can atleast say he feels the same.

the long sigh he emitted was a quick sign he was annoyed, a sign that his dorm residents have learned to read over the years. they doubled down from their excitement at seeing him and settled a bit more pliantly.

most probable thing tied to his temper nowadays was probably you.

a lynxes’ ears twitch as he recalled seeing you earlier, talking to cheetah. so why was the dorm leader mad? “leona-senpai.” he started cautiously as the male walked past him, not sparing him a glance but definitely listening.

leona thought lynxes was just greeting him until the other continued. “you here to see yuu-yuu?” 

he stopped in his steps, the slow swing of his tail betraying the nonchalance plastered across his face. from the way he turned his head over a shoulder a little was his own universal gesture of urging someone to continue.

despite a moment of excitement at the prospect of his dorm leader paying attention to him, lynxes relishes it quickly. “yuu was just on their way to the dorm.” he continued as cheetah perked up at the mention of the name. both of them do not think too deeply on the obvious uncoiling of the tenseness from leona.

cheetah nodded along. having resigned to resting by one of the bleachers seeing as he’d been playing for over half an hour. “yeah. the little human dropped by earlier with their scrawny self smelling good.”

at leona’s critical eye, cheetah back tracked. “like food. i’m sure it was for you, leona-senpai.” he huffed, sharing an incredulous look with lynxes. geez…

the only really scary thing about yuu was the fact that you’d managed to wrap their dorm leader around your fingers like it was nothing. you seemed like you weren’t even trying anyways! you were just… there, and it’s like leona’s the one keeping you close even though he was notorious for, well. doing nothing.

“where’s the herbivore?” 

“they were on their way to the dorm.” lynxes replied.

cheetah sighed wistfully. “what a shame, really. was really looking forward to yuu-yuu playing magishift again.”

lynxes snorted. “doubt they can even hold up the weight of the disk alone.”

“i meant as our disk like before, doofus.” cheetah nudged him., lynxes scowled lighty at the name. both of them chorus a farewell to leona who had already started retreating after catching the answer to his question. if you were here, while he was over at your place… was that a waste of time then?

perhaps.

he can’t feel a bit annoyed. at the timing–then at the fact that he feels relieved.

leona only grunts in response, his own unique way of a thank you that eliminated the unnecessary need for words. good thing his dorm residents understands his non-verbal cues at least, more so you.

you had an uncanny ability to detect quite a lot about him since, well… the more time you spent together. you said he was grumpy when he doesn’t do anything–which is insane considering he doesn’t do anything at any given time (you just mean he’s grumpy all the time.) and when he asks, you only mimic the look of ‘his grump’.

a response to you. “i don’t look constipated.”

a response to him. “so you’re saying you look constipated?”

the man stepped into his dorm, a certain haste in his steps that does not drain his energy but makes him feel more alive with each assuming step closer to you as he directs himself into the wide area of savanaclaw to his own room.

he barely registers the murmurs of greeting that fly his way with each dorm mate that spots him roaming the halls. of all students in night raven college, it's his own that are most brave enough to still spare him a greeting even if he seemed not in the mood. of course it is, only his dorm doesn’t have cowards.

not that he’s not in the mood anyway. a few minutes ago, sure. but now? he’s begrudgingly unable to deny the anticipation that threatens to lift his lips.

unfortunately he passes by ruggie who immediately walks backwards with his pace to annoy him surely. “leona-san.” he greets with a grin, resting his hands behind his head and skillfully ignoring the incoming obstacles called people.

thanks to his reputation around, the greetings to leona are also mixed in with a ruggie-senpai, or a ruggie-san if it happened to be a first year.

leona gave ruggie the stink eye. “leave me alone.” he grunts out, impatient as he walked.

ruggie makes a show of letting his eyes drift down to his legs. wider steps. “you’re in a hurry.” he observes slyly. compared to other openly tactical students–ruggie was subtle to himself, never quite revealing any cards until the very last resort. one of the reasons leona kept him close. “didn’t know there was anything exciting in ‘vanaclaw.”

the hyena chuckled to himself, raising his brows at a passing sweaty student who was on the verge of a brawl with another.

“don’t care.” replied leona.

“been gone for a while.” ruggie threw back. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you mope around in your room for so long, and tail it out.”

by the time leona finally spared him an irritated glance, he was speaking again. “so, did ya find em’?” ruggie didn’t need to be told what form of craft had leona rising from his comfortable coffin and going venturing out. its you, always has to be you somehow. be it in savanaclaw or elsewhere.

“no.” he rolls his eyes, finally opening the door to his room about to turn back and shut the door in ruggie’s face–but that was when he expected to see you pliantly sat on his bed and waiting because you owed him that much.

leona stops. staring at the empty space of his bed. he looked around the room, no sign of you but a whole lot signs of ruggie which wasn’t what he was looking for at all.

so he doesn’t care who’s been snooping despite the shameless animal behind him if it didn’t have anything to do with you.

“you came back, empty-handed?” ruggie quirked a brow, dropping his hands from his hair and tugging at the signature scarf of his dorm around his neck with a glance around. “gee. it's hot in here.”

leona pinched the bridge of your nose. whatever semblance of a good mood he had moments ago was thrown out the window when he found–that you were indeed not here in his room where he expected you to be. where else? you weren’t too buddy-buddy with any other dorm mates besides jack, and jack was in his room when he passed it.

you weren’t there either.

cheetah, and lynxes… he sighed in his mind.

“look for that herbivore in each corner of this dorm.” he sniffed, shaking his head.

leona pauses.

he sniffs again.

a scent of yours invades his nostrils, calming his rising temper to a halt suddenly. he stops, and looks scrutinizingly around the room with key focus. you were in here, somewhere. leona took a step closer to the bed, following the warmer tinges of your smell.

he took a right. it faded slightly so he went back.

by the time he was hunting for you, ruggie curiously took a deep inhale and wrinkled his nose. “ack… now this place smells like yuu-yuu. to think i thought them smelling like you was bad.” 

it was true, the scent was particularly stronger than it should be. had he not noticed? the closer he walked to the bed, the stronger the smell was. with each step it practically swirled around in his head to the point where he could just sleep deeply in comfort, tricked into thinking you were laying right next to him.

like you were next to him,

leona stops by the side of his bed, narrowing his eyes at the crinkle of his sheets.

he stared closely until it seemingly squirmed at his intense stare, shifted a bit to the side like there was someone on it and leona’s hand shot out above the area. surprised to feel a limb, ankle perhaps? fit loosely within the confines of his palm.

“gotcha.” he whispered in triumph, tugging at whatever he had grabbed. it felt like a body, a potion perhaps? it didn’t quite feel like you, leona would know how you feel because he felt you in his soul.

leona, and ruggie stared in startle when the air flickered like translucent mirrors that reflected the light, and warped into something entirely.

“a little kid!” ruggie shouted in alarm, scurrying to leona to take a closer look.

the kid in question was… weird. more specifically, they smelled strangely familiar which was strange in the first place. leona leaned in, to which the kid squirmed when he inhaled deeply from the steady pulse of their adrenaline from their neck.

“who are you?” he all but growled, ruggie grimaced at his tone of voice like he was judging the way leona dealt with kids. surprisingly, unlike the usual intimidated bundle they only look vastly annoyed, like leona was a bother.

safe to say the man picked up on that as well.

they turned their head stubbornly. “you’re ruining my nap time!” they exclaimed–it was official. he was a bother. green met green and leona faltered when a haze of confusing familiarity stared at him right in the eye.

he glances at the pair of ears, a ribbon wrapped just below the fluff of hair at the edge of their tail. they must have sensed it because they huffed at his face.

“jealous?” they said at his stupefied face. “mada gave it to me earlier when i found them.”

he doesn’t know who mada is but they have terrible taste.

“a lion therianthrope.” leona observed.

“obviously.” the kid replied.

the former’s face soured, the latter snickered.

“looks like a baby you, but more sassy.” ruggie quipped.

the room pauses. first of all, leona briefly remembers the scent he was following and quickly determined that while this kid was swarming with your smell, it still wasn’t the strongest in the room. second of all, why?

“oi,” he grunted, rearing back when they swiped at his face at the prolonged proximity. “keep your claws in. you better have a good reason why you’ve been keeping my herbivore from me.”

“mada is mine!” retorted the kid with a distasteful scrunch of their nose as they turned their head away from the man, closing their eyes as if it was giving them a disability to look at him any longer. who was that?

leona’s eye twitched and one glance at ruggie quieted the hyena from an ongoing cackle of glee immediately–though he didn’t seem too prone to stopping considering his alternative was looking away so leona doesn’t see his grin.

contrary to the proud stand of the child’s ears, leona’s own flattens in response and he has to remind himself that he’s above chucking random kids who happen to smell like you out the window. “i don’t know who your mada is but–”

“mada is mada.” they huffed.

“...”

leona was quite forced to drop the little ‘rascal’ or so he thought when they feigned a bite at his arm. they plopped down back onto his bed, body too little so they bounced off a little. then… they scurried from the edge, away from him all the way to the edge and grasped at air.

literally holding onto air, fingers clenched around something.

his eyes sharpened. “what else are you hidin’?” he queried at the kid who boredly stuck out a tongue but hid back when his scowl deepened. to some extent he figured it was you, a quiet dispel incantation in his mind sent a wave of magic and the air flickered again to reveal the suspect of his most eventful day.

yuu. you. whatever

you looked like you just got caught hiding beneath a bench in broad daylight, your eyes drifted to the child and hilariously enough, seemed as though you also wanted to hide behind them. “novu…” you murmured lowly, as if all three therianthropes in the room could not hear you clearly. “you said i have to keep quiet and he won’t find out!”

novu blinked repeatedly. their demeanor falling slightly with the curl of their ears, they seemed strangely docile compared to the half bothered demeanor that was in the face of leona. “papa always finds us when we hide.” they whispered back, pursing their lips. “he’s a cheater interrupting our nap!’

you nodded vehemently. “true, he is.”

ruggie coughed. “wait, wait… about leona being this kid’s… papa or a cheater?”

“...”

“both!” replied novu cheerfully.

this time you seemed to be in jetlag to process the information, staring at novu’s face before it shifted to leona. “huh,” you murmured. they kind of looked alike, from the eyes, to their seeming shared feline traits. “HUH?!”

you sat up immediately, hands shooting to the small shoulders of novu who perked up–instead of being offended by your sudden startle they seemed incredibly pleased and nuzzled into the warmth that seeped from your palms through their top.

“what do you mean papa?” you swallowed. suddenly feeling incredibly nervous, especially with the heavy aura leona is emanating behind you, you really don’t want to turn around and see what kind of expression he’s wearing on his face. 

the urge to shake the kid who had technically kidnapped you from the forbidden thing called crashing leona time then happily insisting it was novu time now. just a few intentional widening of their eyes and you begrudgingly followed them along to leona’s room which was surprisingly devoid of the man himself.

just from the small bits of his, and ruggie’s conversation when they returned you easily concluded he came looking for you.

and… well, you don’t really want him to see you at the moment when you unintentionally-intentionally blew him off.

you meant. it’s fine, right…? you do spend a lot of your time with him, so just a few hours wouldn’t be too bad.

everything is not fine! you screeched in your head. any hopes for respite from these two were promptly thrown out the window when novu’s face soured when they glanced at leona.

“papa doesn’t share you with me, so i have to take you first.” novu said proudly. at this point the hands on their shoulders weren’t enough so they climbed on your legs and slumped against your front, distinctively making a sound of contentment as they relaxed.

befuddled, frazzled, more words relating to perplexed ran through your head as you confusedly wrapped your arms around the little figure and pet the top of their head. novu seemed especially pleased when your fingers neared the fur atop their ears and even rubbed their head against yours in what seemed to be affection.

still shocked to oblivion, as in my soul just left my body you turned your wide eyes to leona who, to your surprise, did not bear a face of grump but a more unsettling blankness that cleared any semblance to emotion really. he stared intently at your head, obviously ignoring the disappointed look ruggie is digging to the side of his.

the hyena–when he caught your gaze also spared you a shake of his head as if he was non-verbally insulting you with an insinuation of something you haven’t even done, or yet to anyway.

you had briefly caught snippets of their exchange during your small interaction with novu, leona growling out an out which left ruggie no chance to deny but concerned enough with the new addition being seen to close the door on his way out.

when leona finally spoke, he furrowed his brows at novu. a flicker of annoyance at the sight of the clear coddling of the little one against you and the fact that you welcomed it. “i don’t have any kids.” he huffed like it was obvious.

novu did not open an eye but spared him a reply. “i don’t know how you and mada made me but you’re my only papa, and they’re my only mada.” despite their previous acts against leona, they were oddly proud of proclaiming themselves as his child.

leona raised a brow. he reluctantly softens, or instinctively you’re not sure.“you’re not from around here, are you?” he quipped. the bed dips under the new weight as he settled down next to you, surprisingly restrained enough not to pluck the kid out of your grasp and take their place.

he leaned back against the pillows, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“i’m where i’m supposed to be.” sniffed novu, a lower tilt to their voice trailing off that spoke volumes about their state of consciousness. “with you, and mada.” 

novu nuzzled against you, shifting slightly like they wanted to wriggle out. you retracted your arms to your sides and they sighed deeply when they settled in the middle of the bed, eyes still closed and breathing evening out.

“don’t leave me for so long.” they yawned.

you blinked.

leona kept staring at the ceiling.

why was he so docile?! you were still trying to wrap your mind around it all!

“goodnight.” you muttered dumbly.

you turned your head to point a sharp gaze at leona–who sighs, feeling your stare and grumbled under his breath.

“night.” he rolled his eyes.

the room lapses in silence from a while, bathed in the dawning set of the sun. you considered stealing a blanket from leona’s drawer but decided against it, considering the dorm is still quite humid even at this time of day, if you were at diasomnia you’re sure you’d have frozen to death even with a pile of them on top of you.

you snuck a glance at the elusive novu, their energy burnt out as they fell to a sound sleep, occasionally their ears twitched when your body shifted the slightest bit, reaching out as if you keep you from going.

aw. you kept still.

“is this my future?” you sulked to yourself, sighing as the weight of your shock faded into the air and left you slumping against the bed.

“is it so bad?” leona commented after your remark faded a bit.

you crossed your arms, sneaking a glance at him. “they’re cute.” you referred to novu.

not an answer to his question. leona thought in irritation, you always did have a way with a head made up entirely out of air. then again, his might be as well if he’s taken such a deep liking to you that prevents him from letting go–that in the first place was demented of him, he was not clingy.

leona does not entertain the pictures that his mind conjures to rebuke his denial of fondness in physical form.

sleeping on you, teaching you chess, keeping you close? that was just him collecting pieces to discard.

sure.

“just sleep, you’ve been looking for me all day, right?” 

leona closes his eyes. “i have.”

he’d just have to give you a reason to look forward to seeing a novu again.

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

by the time you woke up there was something draped around the bed.

you instinctively patted the space next to you, not feeling the strange feel of novu but the hard plane of leona’s cheek. he does not swat at your hand but spares you an annoyed scowl. you note that he’s… well, a lot closer than he should be even with the missing space of novu between your bodies.

oops. the only thing to pull leona out of a grumpy mood in the morning was a meal. you clearly did not have the current power to do so as you had… fed the doom sandwich to a pouty novu.

thankfully ruggie popped in, barely blinking at your sprawled figures on the bed but more surprised at the missing recent addition. “where’s your lovechild?”

jack’s voice rose from the hallway. “their what?!”

“get out.” leona sneered. “you’re ruinin’ my morning.”

it wasn’t already ruined?! all three of you cried in your minds.

trivia

their unique magic is “from where do you see me?” which you might already guess is being able to conceal themselves in thin air, alongside a thing, or person they have to be directly touching as they’re still young, and inexperienced to properly control their unique magic without a medium.

novu is written to be an equally cheeky 7 year old that happens to take naps very seriously, and not so energetic when deprived of sleep (i’m trying to write all of the children to be generally gender neutral lol but i do have a ‘implied [gender]’ next to their names in the draft lol! as you might guess, alice is feminine… but what about novu?

a second italicized word means that it was novu! for example: ‘must have been the wind’ is really just the wind, whereas: ‘the wind knocks you to the ground’ is the cheeky novu!

cheetah, and lynxes are not their actual names. just called them what they were, which is an actual cheetah, and lynxes therianthrope who both respectively belong in the family of big cats.

unlike alice who was on a clock during their time in the past, novu wished to sleep well and was sent back in time to find you so they can enjoy a lengthy sleep as the future you had not returned home alongside future leona due to a political exchange.

so once they finally fell asleep, they will eventually return.

yuu hid the sandwich and tailed it out of the cafeteria immediately, not wanting to stick around to know that one of the non-humans with crazy senses smells it on them and decides to target them!

ruggie usually doesn’t comment on the weather of savanaclaw but he does say “its hot in here.” because it felt warmer compared to the outside, which didn’t make sense. it was very much due to yuu, and novu in the same room.

magical shift disks are known to be heavy in weight alone, that’s why it's mainly used to direct imbued in magic. yuu did, actually get roped into a game by being a disk which was… an experience.

jack was supposed to be hear but i missed the bullets where i outlined him LOL

writingerror on archive of our own inspired partial parts of this work (as well as me writing once again honestly) which includes the interactions with students to yuu, as well as the.. yuu being a disk part which is a chapter in one of their works!

the reason why leona’s ‘morning’ is not ruined despite him already being bothered first thing is due to you!

🔖: @lostsomewhereinthegarden @staplertwst @rinis-reality @rhyzoma @iamprodigious @irzali-imagines @glitterandgoldfinds @luna-looniesblog @wokasiv @readrecieptoff @miyaswmire @dakissomewhere @yourfavouritecitizen @rei-vii @colombia-chan @ceramic-raven @leitor-sonolento @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ms-shroud @bju3c0re @usernamesarehardtomake @wonderlandcrown @los3rtown

[idanceuntilidie]

„Kissing strangers!”

by DNCE, Nicki Minaj

Yandere cannibal x GN reader

yandere oc gummy

warnings; a bit suggestive, reader is drunkish.

Thursday. Truly an amazing day, you muse as your lips meet the cold liquid in the bottle. The taste of the apple cider melts in your mouth as you hum happily.

Thursdays are your out days, normally it would be friday but the pub that opened close to you has karaoke nights on this day. It feels nice to get everything out of your chest screaming your favourite songs.

The place was rather colorful, not really thanks to the decoration but people, ladies, gents and everyone else. This is the best place for all colorful people and even if your vision is slightly clouded by the smoke of cigarettes you like it.

Even if you didn’t drink much the alcohol buzzes in your body, it makes you feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t help but smile as you look at your friends happily singing Pretty Fly for a White Guy. Then your eyes met the most neon green hoodie in your entire life, you questioned if you were seeing things because that was a neon green bear sitting and drinking beer. Your eyes winded before you laughed until your breath, then the bear turned to you and it had a human face. For a moment he looked as shocked as you were before he smiled and laughed at your baffled expression.

You felt your cheeks warm up. You couldn’t help but think about how handsome that bear is, another thought of making out with a stranger crossed your mind but you quickly chased that away.

Too stuck in your thoughts you didn’t notice him coming up to you, you smiled nervously as he stood above you smiling innocently.

“Hi cutie,” the bear chuckled.

“Hello, man I thought I was seeing shit.” you laughed as you smiled back at him.

“May I sit here?” He pointed at the seat next to you, you felt your ears getting hotter.

Never in your life would you imagine someone hot actually talking to you, and well approaching you. With beet red face, you aren’t sure if it was from the alcohol, you nodded yes. The reactions must have been amusing to the neon bear as he laughed before sitting.

“I’m Gummy,” he hummed before smiling and you nodded before telling him your name. Now that he was closer you could have taken a closer look. What helped was he took off the hood, revealing short messy red and pink hair.

Despite the dim light and the smoke, you could see that he had a lot of piercings. Symmetrical and pleasing you thought and you even could smell the sweet scent of his perfume even with the cigarette smoke; ironically enough it smelled like gummy bears.

“Dude, I know we just met but I have always wondered how it would feel like someone with piercings.”

Gummy started at you before smiling widely.

“You wanna try?”

You looked back at your friends, they were still singing and having fun. Your eyes returned to Gummy.

“Hell fucking yeah!”

Gummy cupped your cheeks, his hands delicate as he inched closer to you. His lips touched yours and the first thought was that he tasted sweet and his snake bites poked at your lips a bit. It felt nice you couldn’t help but think as you leaned in closer.

You are kissing a stranger, you think before grabbing Gummy by the neck to pull him closer. You can feel his short hair and you try very hard not to grab it. Unlike the boy that is, his hands quickly found your hair and you felt a sharp tug. Your eyes widen in shock as you try to gasp only for Gummy to stuff his tongue into your mouth. This time your shocked gasp was muffled but you couldn’t help but melt into the kiss.

Slowly but surely you felt a desire burning in the pit of your stomach, it made your thighs rub in desperation as you led one of his hands to your neck. He almost immediately squeezed it and the lack of oxygen made the whole experience even more intense.

After a short while though you found out you needed to breathe, so you pulled away. You saw the boy frown a bit, nose scrunched in irritation but before you could mention it he smiled.

Of course you ignored it, naturally it could be just the trick of the light.

You could feel your ears burning and despite the terrible light you saw the boys face being dusted with the cutest blush you had ever seen.

It made you want to lean in again and by the looks of it he was thinking the same thing. Before you managed to someone pulled you away roughly, you fell on your back on the couch. At first you were angry but when you saw one of your friends above you the feeling quickly went away.

„Hii oh my goodness I am so sorry to disturb you but I think my friend drank too much so we have to go, yeah?” She said sweetly, her voice rough after a good while of non stop singing. You could feel her nails digging into your hand. The alcohol buzzed in your body so you just gave up and laid there.

„Ah I see, I hope they won’t be hungover in the morning.”

„yeah yeah”

You closed your eyes as you felt your friend pick you up and carry you off. Mumbling goodbye to the boy you will never see again. If only you could see the face he made as you were carried off.

He twirled your ID between his fingers, looking with half lidded eyes at your awkward picture. In his other he had your bag, silly you. So forgetful. He knew that of course yet it still was a surprise.

He should leave you a little gift before he gives it back and before he finds someone who looks like you so he can have some fun later. He already had everything he needed to see you again. It is just a matter of time before you realise he has something you need and much more.

He placed the ID back into your bag before looking around. Amongst the crowd he saw someone with familiar hair and he couldn’t help but scratch his wrists in excitement. He grabbed the leftover beer and headed in the direction of the person. He needed to start preparing one of your gifts.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

IT'S CHUUYA'S BIRTHDAY 🎂🎉🥳🎉🎉🎉🎉🥳🎁🎁🎉🥳🎉🎉🎈🎉🥳🎉🎉🥳🎉🎉

Happy Birthday to our favourite Port Mafia Executive!🎉🎊🎂

Have some bits from Self-Aware BSD AU about Chuuya as a present.

🍷 He found a new hobby. He is now collecting vinyl records.

🍷 Somehow, he is always (unintentionally) got educated about every meme, including cursed ones.

🍷 He has social media accounts, but he isn't very active.

🍷He is volunteering at the local dog shelter. He wants to have his own dog, but he is busy and, despite having lots of roommates, doesn't want to dump his responsibility on someone else.

🍷He will be one of the first to propose to you. During "dating" part of your relationship (when all of you were working on having a good, respectful polyamorous relationship), he will be fine to share his time with you with Akutagawa, Kouyou, Rimbaud, Verlaine and Adam. On a big holidays he will tolerate Dazai.

BEAST! Chuuya

⛓️ BEAST! Chuuya find liking in long walks. There is a possibility, that he will start liking birdwatching.

⛓️ BEAST! Chuuya isn't the greatest cook. He can cook, but his food are on a bland side, he chooses nutrition over taste. His food is edible, especially if you need a lot of energy, but don't have time for a big meal.

⛓️ Tried to look into criminal drama films. Found all of them boring, will always fall asleep during them.

⛓️Has a small collection of accessories he can put on his hat.

⛓️ Will be hesitant to propose to you. But it will work out at the end. Will be fine to share his time with you only with BEAST! Dazai

WAN! Chuuya

🍾 An animal whisperer. Seriously, all animals love him. (Actually, all Chuuyas are animal whisperers, you just haven't got a chance to get Original and BEAST to the zoo)

🍾 Will try to teach Chuuyas live lessons, when he is drunk.

🍾 Helps WAN! Kenji with making repairs for WAN! Farm.

🍾 When you got sick he was the first one from WAN! Gang who offered to be your heating pad. He was planning to hug you while you sleep.

🍾 Every Christmas with the rest of WAN! Gang will try to catch Santa and Krampus. They will go into the town, searching for people, who tried to get into others' houses. Thanks for them every year all robberies will be prevented. And caught robbers will left wondering, if they really were stopped by a gang of children.

[616ioi]

@#%! 1:00 , sakadays various.

content: nsfw hc, gender neutral reader, no specific dom/sub roles, stealing ur things. warning mature content ahead, read at your own discretion. they hate when i add some delicious old men into the mix 🤤

such sweet and dumb puppies. they hump away at your pillow, grunting and moaning as quietly as they can. it still smells like you. what's wrong with missing you? is there something so wrong about how they always do this? they clean up after themselves, and you don't notice a thing!

heisuke mashimo. yoichi nagumo. shaotang lu. hyo. shin asakura.

degenerate. disgusting. creep. what they're doing isn't right. you'd probably call them all the worst things you can think of, but they can't stop. in fact, it's almost like you can't stop touching themselves. the thought about getting caught fuels them like nothing else. maybe you'd offer help, oh how it causes him to steal more, take more. watch you more.

tenkyu!! shin asakura. natsuki seba. yostumura satoru. kashima.

they don't typically lose control like this. this isn't like them, but it's so tempting. it's not like you'll notice a few pairs of missing items from your wardrobe. maybe they'll return it to you when they get the chance, maybe they'll keep it until they want something new and more recent...

gaku. shishiba. rion akao. kumanomi (read; she tries her best to not lose control physically speaking)

they think about taking something of yours, maybe a photo, even but the best they can do is remember (they can do a lot better - fear just got in the way). the way you smell, your voice, how you say their name. poor baby's probably hiding in their room, squirming and panting as they try their hardest to not touch themselves at the thought of you.

taro sakamoto. uzuki kei. osaragi. kindaka (also another one who wishes to not act upon his desires but then you show up and whoopsie! it just happened). kamihate.

note. this is also from my deleted tumblr which ive decided to repost.

[n0rmal-cat]

Curious about alien Yan! Are there more? Since yn was taking from one of multiple space stations, there must be more aliens with human pets, right?

If so, do they all keep in touch and share info on their "pets" like pet parent groups? And omg do they set up lil pet play dates?? It would be so adorable! Like,,, yes this is my lil human, yn, they bite sometimes and dislike the heat, but we love them,, and,, here's our yn, they love their artificial sun room and enjoy food that is "spicy" and hurts their mouths,, or gasp, imagine! ,,, my human insist on milk even though it's bad for them?? How do I keep them from it??,,,

THIS YESSSSSS

Alien x pet reader- stupid human things

ok so I imagine reader was sent to space with at least one other crew member the aliens see this as though they were “in a pack”

When they get adopted the aliens will definitely keep in contact with each other in fear that their humans may get depressed. Sending small pics like this “we saw a cement roller today:)…reader said they wanted me to run their back over with it so now I’m taking them to the doctor to get back pain meds…”

And yes they will set play dates up because if they know one thing it’s that humans need to socialize with other humans. And the play date are just.

“does your human want to talk about a book they read?”

“My human saw they had it in the background of one of the photos you sent to the group chat”

“My human says yes”

“Great when are you free?”

“Does twenty minutes sound ok?”

“Perfect :)

The group chats are also used as a say to gain helpful information from other pet owners.

“Umm guys…why is my human making noise in their sleep?”

“Don’t worry humans do that sometimes it’s called ‘snoring’ hope that helps!”

-

“Guys I’m literally crying, my human is allergic to dairy but they keep eating it :( I’ve tried so hard to keep it away from them but they keep finding it. Should I just get rid of the milk all together? I don’t want to spend another afternoon at the vet”

“Pro tip: get milk substitute instead of real milk, if they ask why it tastes weird say it’s ’space milk’ trust me it works like a charm”

Also another thing, I don’t think aliens would use collars I think they would use harness instead. They would fear that if they used a collar it would choke them so they just don’t take the chance.

Aliens are all about the safety of their pets, like humans already look so sad they at least gotta make them smile sometimes.

[fadedpiink]

hi there! I saw that ur req are open and I would like to req an Usopp x reader who's s/o is his darling muse :3 💞

thanks for the request! ilobed this idea sm! I hope you enjoy<3

darling muse (following the alabasta events)

bf! usopp who..

gets embarrassed halfway through painting your face and suddenly starts over, saying "no no no i can do better! you deserve better!!" — ends up doing it like five times before finally getting one he’s proud of.

bf! usopp who..

makes super dramatic “hero portraits” of you, posing you like a grand warrior in paintings that are way bigger and fancier than necessary, even though you protest "usopp, i’m not that cool!" "yes you are!!"

bf! usopp who..

secretly carries a tiny sketchbook where he draws little doodles of you doing random things — eating, laughing, fixing your gear — because those are the versions of you he loves the most.

---

a little scenario!

you were looking for a blanket.  

just a blanket. the nights at sea had been cold lately, and your usual one smelled like desert and dried blood.

so you ducked into the storage room below deck, poked around some old barrels, and found a small crate marked “scraps + emergency supplies (DO NOT STEAL, SANJI)”.

inside were the usual things: cloth, old rope, a broken slingshot — and tucked neatly under them all, like it was hiding, was a worn leather sketchbook.

you hesitated.

you knew it was usopp’s. he guarded this thing like it was treasure.  

he doodled in public sometimes, sure — exaggerated portraits of the crew, maps of enemy bases, cartoon versions of luffy tripping.  

but this was the book he always kept close to his side.  

the private one.

you shouldn’t’ve opened it.

…but you did.

and at first, it was what you expected: rough outlines of inventions, practice anatomy sketches, color swatches made with natural dyes.  

a few surprisingly graceful landscapes — a moonlit harbor, the silhouette of vivi waving goodbye, nami holding a compass with the wind pulling her hair.  

but near the back… you found you.

page after page.  

you, sitting with your legs in the water off the Merry’s edge.  

you, laughing with your nose scrunched up.  

you, asleep in a pile of cloaks with your hand curled under your cheek.

that last one made your breath catch.  

it was so soft.  

so still.  

drawn with trembling lines like he was afraid to mess it up.  

the kind of drawing you didn’t just make—you felt through your fingertips.  

he even drew the scar on your arm, faint and old, like it belonged there.  

like it was part of the story of you.

“hey—!”

you jumped and spun around.

usopp was in the doorway, eyes wide, a length of rope dangling forgotten from his hand.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that one,” he said quickly, stepping inside, voice a little too high. “i-it was just practice. lighting study. the—uh—the angle of your fingers was weird, and i needed reference, and—”

you just held up the sketchbook, still open to that page.  

his ears turned bright red.

“usopp,” you said gently. “this is beautiful.”

he made a choked sound. “it’s—sloppy. i didn’t even finish the shading, and your hair came out weird—”

“you drew me like i’m something worth holding onto,” you said, voice softer now. “like i matter.”

“you *do,*” he blurted, and froze.  

the silence was heavy after that.  

he stared at you. like he couldn’t believe he said it out loud.

you met his eyes, smile slow and real.  

“you could’ve just said so, y’know.”  

“i did,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “with… charcoal and bad anatomy.”

you walked over, tugged gently at his sleeve.  

“next time i fall asleep,” you said, “draw me again.”

he blinked. “huh?”

“and this time,” you added, “sign it. 'cause i want to keep it.”

usopp looked stunned.  

then, shyly, he grinned. wide and uneven and full of heart.

“…yeah,” he said quietly. “okay.”

hope you enjoyed! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms!

© fadedpiink 2025

[lazy-ahh]

HIII !! :0 we've spoken before but I've only realized now I haven't been requesting things anonymously (omg I'm stupid I know lmao) :3 uhmmm here's another idea but it's more of a prompt lol, you can do whatever you want with it :)

Jason or reader : “You stayed.”

Jason or reader : “I’m still deciding if that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

LIKE WE WERE KIDS AGAIN

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

"you stayed," you murmur, voice cracking like the childhood promises you both broke. jason doesn’t answer—just holds you tighter, as if his arms could undo years of hurt. (they can’t. but tonight, with your laughter muffled against his chest and his fingers tangled in yours, maybe "broken" doesn’t have to mean "unfixable.")

taglist @kasarian , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro

the first time jason sees you again, he’s supposed to kill you.

the warehouse is burning around you both, smoke curling thick in the air, the scent of gasoline and gunpowder clinging to the back of his throat. he’s here on orders—some lowlife crime lord’s hired muscle needs to be put down, and the red hood doesn’t ask questions. not anymore.

but then he sees you.

you’re standing in the middle of the wreckage, blood smeared across your split knuckles, a gun dangling loosely from your fingers like you’ve forgotten how to hold it. your eyes are hollow, glazed over—like you’re not really here. like you’ve been carved out and left empty.

he doesn’t recognize you at first. not with the way your shoulders hunch inward, like you’re trying to disappear. not with the way your hands tremble around the grip of the gun, finger twitching near the trigger like you’re fighting the urge to use it. but then you turn, just slightly, and the flickering firelight catches the curve of your cheekbone—the same one he used to poke when you were kids, laughing when you’d swat his hand away and call him an idiot.

"no fucking way," he breathes, the words punched out of him.

you don’t react. your gaze slides right past him, vacant, like he’s just another shadow in the room. like he’s not the boy who used to sneak you candy under the dinner table when your parents weren’t looking, who promised to protect you from monsters under the bed.

(he failed, didn’t he? because here you are—another ghost in a world that chews up kids like you and spits them out. and now you’re standing on the wrong side of his gun, working for the same bastards he’s been hired to wipe out.)

your lips part, just slightly, and he thinks you might say something. but then your jaw clenches, and something dark flickers in your eyes—betrayal. because of course you’ve heard the stories. the red hood doesn’t hesitate. the red hood puts bullets in skulls without a second thought.

and here he is, staring you down like you’re just another target.

(you don’t know that his finger’s frozen on the trigger. that his chest is so tight he can’t breathe. that all he can think is—what the hell happened to you?)

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

the second time, he corners you on a rooftop.

the wind howls between you, sharp enough to cut, and jason’s boots scrape against gravel as he steps forward. you’re backed against the ledge, panting, one hand pressed to your side where blood seeps through your fingers—a bullet graze, too close for comfort. the red helmet hides the way his throat bobs, the way his teeth grind together at the sight.

you’re hurt.

the realization hits him like a punch to the gut. he’d chased you across half the city, fury burning through his veins because how could you—but now that he’s here, all he sees is the way your knees wobble, the way your breaths come too fast, too shallow. like you’re one wrong move from collapsing.

"what the hell are you doing?" he growls, voice distorted through the modulator, harsher than he means it to be.

you blink at him, slow, like you’re struggling to focus. the moonlight catches the sweat on your brow, the blood smeared across your cheek. when you speak, your voice is rough, exhausted. "surviving."

like it’s obvious. like it’s the only thing left in the world that makes sense.

and jason—

jason wants to scream.

because this isn’t you. the you he knew would’ve flinched at the sight of blood, would’ve squeezed his hand too tight when you crossed the street, would’ve cried when you scraped your knee on the playground and let him carry you home. the you he knew had laughed so loud it echoed, had tucked wildflowers into his pockets when he wasn’t looking, had been alive.

but the person in front of him now?

they don’t even blink as they wipe their bloody hands on their jacket, smearing red across the fabric like it’s nothing. like pain is just another part of the routine.

(he remembers, suddenly, stupidly—the way you’d cling to his sleeve when you were scared. the way you’d whisper don’t let go even when there was nothing to be afraid of.)

"you’re working for them," he accuses, stepping closer. his voice cracks, just slightly. "the same bastards who—"

"i don’t have a choice," you interrupt, voice brittle, breaking.

your hands shake. not from the cold. not from the wound.

from fear.

(he hates how small you sound. hates it even more because he knows, now, that you’ve been afraid for a long, long time.)

for a heartbeat, neither of you move. the city sprawls beneath you, all flickering lights and distant sirens, but jason doesn’t hear any of it. all he hears is the ragged sound of your breathing. all he sees is the way your shoulders curl in, like you’re waiting for a blow.

you think i’m going to hurt you.

the thought makes something in his chest splinter.

(he should. he should. that’s what the red hood does. that’s what he came here for.)

but then you sway, just slightly, and without thinking, his hand shoots out—fingers wrapping around your wrist to steady you.

your skin is cold.

(he doesn’t let go.)

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

the third time, he finds you in a shitty motel room, and the sight cracks something open in his ribs.

the air smells like stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant, the kind that burns your nose if you breathe too deep. you're curled into yourself on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them like you're trying to hold yourself together. the dim yellow light from the flickering lamp paints everything in sickly shadows—the hollows under your eyes, the dried blood on your sleeve, the way your fingers dig into your own arms hard enough to leave bruises.

on the nightstand, a half-empty bottle of whiskey sits next to a gun.

(jason's stomach turns. he knows what that means. knows what you were thinking when you put it there.)

you don't fight when he sits beside you. don't even look up. just keep staring at the cracked wall across from you, blank, like you're already gone. like you were waiting for death, and he's just the grim reaper finally showing up to collect.

(he wants to shake you. wants to pull you into his arms. doesn't know which would hurt more.)

"why?" he asks, softer this time. voice rough like he's the one who's been crying, even though your eyes are dry.

your lips twitch—something that might’ve been a laugh in another life. it cracks apart before it even leaves your throat, splintering into something raw and wounded, more like a sob caught between your teeth. your fingers curl into the thin motel sheets, knuckles white, as if clinging to them could keep you from falling apart completely.

"they promised they'd kill me if i didn't." your voice is barely there, scraped thin from screaming or silence—he can't tell which. then, softer, breaking: "i couldn't let them do that... not without seeing you for the last time."

the admission hangs in the air between you, fragile as the dust motes drifting in the dim light. jason feels it like a knife to the ribs—because you thought you were going to die, and your last thought was him.

jason's breath catches like his lungs forgot how to work.

suddenly, he's fifteen again—kneeling on hot pavement behind your apartment building, watching through messy bangs as you carefully press batman bandaids over his scraped knees. "hold still, dummy," you'd huffed, but your hands were gentle even when they shook. the cherry popsicle you'd split with him earlier dripped sticky-sweet on your chin, and when he laughed and wiped it away with his thumb, your cheeks went pink as the sunset. in that moment, twelve-year-old jason thought, with startling clarity: i'd follow you anywhere. die for you if i had to.

the memory burns worse than the whiskey in his gut. because now he knows—you never wanted this. never chose the blood staining your hands or the hollows under your eyes. you'd been stolen, just like he was. broken, just like he was.

(he should've known. should've seen the signs sooner—the way your hands trembled even when empty, the way your eyes kept darting to exits like you expected hands to grab you any second. god, how many times had you looked at him, silently screaming for help he didn't recognize?)

the mattress creaks as he shifts closer. his hand hovers over your shoulder, trembling with the weight of every unsaid thing between you. when his palm finally settles against the thin fabric of your shirt, he can feel your heartbeat rabbiting beneath—alive, alive, alive against all odds.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, and it's not enough. will never be enough for all the ways he failed you.

(he doesn't specify what for. the list is too long: for not protecting you. for thinking you'd gone bad. for that last summer before everything burned—when he'd peeked through your bedroom window and saw you muttering to your reflection, practicing how to say "i like you" with reddening ears. he'd nearly fallen off the fire escape grinning, thinking just say it already, i'll say it back, never knowing your confession would be stolen along with everything else the next day.)

you finally look up at him, eyes wide and lost, and jason thinks—

oh.

there you are.

somewhere beneath the blood and bruises and broken pieces, beneath the flinches and the fear and the face you've had to wear to survive—you're still you. the same kid who patched his wounds and shared your popsicles and looked at him like he hung the moon.

and despite the pit's rage, despite the bullets and the bodies and the years of pretending he's someone else—he's still him too. still the boy who promised to keep you safe.

(he won't fail you again.)

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"you stayed," you murmur into the quiet, finally meeting his gaze through the dim light. the words taste fragile on your tongue, like they might break if you speak too loud.

he exhales, rough around the edges. "i'm still deciding if that's the dumbest thing i've ever done," he says, but there's no bite to it—just that familiar teasing lilt that makes your chest ache.

(you remember him saying the same thing at twelve when he climbed your fire escape with a black eye, grinning through split lips because he'd "won" the fight. you'd called him an idiot then too.)

but he doesn't leave. doesn't even shift away when you curl tighter into yourself, knees digging into your ribs like you're trying to disappear.

"hey." his finger pokes your cheek—just like when you were kids. "stop that. you're thinking too loud."

you blink up at him. "i'm not a—"

"a gremlin? yeah, you are." his grin is all teeth, the same one he'd flash when stealing your lunchbox snacks. "always were. remember when you tried to eat mrs. mackey's science project because you thought it was jello?"

a startled laugh punches out of you. "it looked like jello!"

"it was a dissection specimen, you menace."

"you ate some too!"

"only after you dared me, you little—"

the rest gets swallowed by your shriek as he suddenly tackles you, fingers digging into your ribs exactly where you're most ticklish. the sound that comes out of you is half-laugh, half-sob, startled and bright after so long without.

(just like that summer when you'd both gotten caught in the rain, how he'd carried you piggyback through the downpour while you shrieked about his cold hands sneaking under your jacket to tickle you.)

you retaliate by shoving your icy feet against his calves, grinning at his yelp. "cheater!" he gasps, but he's laughing too, really laughing, the sound warm and rough and so painfully familiar it makes your eyes burn.

somewhere between breathless wrestling and poorly-aimed pillow attacks, you end up with your face smushed against his chest, his arms locked around you like he's afraid you'll vanish if he lets go. the quiet settles over you both, comfortable in a way nothing has been in years.

"missed this," you mumble into his shirt. the admission feels dangerous.

his heartbeat stutters under your ear. "...yeah."

(he remembers your thirteenth birthday, how you'd fallen asleep just like this during your movie marathon, how he'd stayed perfectly still for hours just so he wouldn't wake you. how he'd thought, with terrifying certainty: this. i want this forever.)

your fingers curl into his sleeve on their own accord, clinging like you're eight again and afraid of thunderstorms. jason's breath hitches—then his hand comes up to card through your hair, gentle in a way the red hood never is.

"stay?" you whisper, already half-asleep.

his arms tighten. "'til you're sick of me."

(he means forever. you both know it.)

2.2k full of jason todd and reader being traumatised together...! yippe...! .... AHHHHHH WHY DO I EVEN DO THIS TO MYSELF??? and also, don't worry mysterious anon, you're not stupid at all, don't you EVEN think about it >:[ hope you enjoyed this teehee! <3

[yearningaces]

OOOOOH OH I HAVE AN IDEA OH MY GOD HANG ON

TIME TO GO BACK TO KY ROOTS AS A LOVER OF THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE SUCH AS ELDRIDGE HORRORS

tw: briefly mentioned death, end of the world stuff, a touch of unreality?

2,080 words

•

You were born with an odd birthmark. In the center of your chest, a strange marking of a few speckled points that form a shape, the skin lighter in between them, almost as if scarred. It's always been there, as common as a freckle, or a mole, or a blemish. It's a part of you.

Until it's something else.

Because you found an old bookstore owned by a sweet old couple with a heavy history. The isles seem endless, the books soon become tomes. And deep in those endless shelves, you find a dark book. The leather stained black with a purple sheen, stars painted along its spine. And the cover has a very familiar marking. One you see every time you look down, every time you glance in a mirror.

When you bring the book to the front, the couple seem equally confused. The older woman laughs when you say why it's so odd. Claiming it's yours since it apparently has 'your mark' on it. Her tone is light, playful even. Amused enough to let you take the book home.

So, you do. You bring it to bed as you settle in for the evening. And with baited breath you open it to the first page.

•ҠҴұѬғҾұҭӀѬҐұӂһӁҾұҾѬ•

…

What?

What is that?

The rest of the book is the same.

You set it aside, deciding if nothing else it's a pretty decoration. And you roll over to settle into sleep.

Although your dreams aren't what they usually are. Instead, you're adrift in an endless darkness, lit up by distant stars and gaseous clouds, stardust, and planets. It's breathtakingly beautiful if you had lungs.

Your consciousness drifts, bodyless, a light, the littlest star falling through the endlessness of existence.

And you fall closer and closer to a certain light of morpheus colors, it looks like pillars. Orange and red and white space dust, asteroids, matter forming three massive columns forming a triangle. One of them looks darker than the others, the colors fading, scattering. In the center? A light. So warm and inviting it is that you fall closer and closer to it. But in the center of this great light, is a hole. Tiny, microscopic, but very much keeping this form from being complete.

And as if it senses you, it morphs. It shifts within the pillars. Galaxy long appendages begin to reach out, swirling masses of matter changing colors with each wave of motion.

But the stars surrounding the 'pillars' brighten. The appendage returns within. It's not a random formation, it's something to contain. Keeping whatever is within the bright swirling mass of colors you could never hope to name, locked inside.

You drift through the vastness, closer. A soothing rumble of vibration somehow moves through you. An attempt to speak?

And suddenly, within your consciousness is another.

'Ah… you have returned to me…'

'Little Star… They hid you well.'

'Not well enough.'

The colors and lights begin to fade. The endless voice creeping in. The form within the prison of stars reaches out in a sorrowful seeming attempt. Noises you couldn't begin to phrase tearing from it as your consciousness is drawn away, back to where it's supposed to be.

Wide awake in bed. The next day. The dream isn't really remembered, little more than fragments that leaves you with a strange happiness in your chest.

You go about your day, unaware of the shift in the universe. Something no longer dormant, no longer willing to exist in the endlessness, confined within its prison.

Not when it knows you exist.

The next time you glance at the odd book, you have to do a double take. Because it's no longer unreadable.

•ҠҴұ Great ҰұӂһӁҾұҾ•

You flip through the book near frantically. Some words are understandable. 'betrayed', 'end', 'must', 'others', 'imprisoned'. Beyond them, it's just as much of a jumble as everything else was.

Astronomers everywhere make note of an oddity that night in their usual studies of the skies above.

That same night the dreams return, more vivid, more clear. Once more you're nothing but a little light adrift and falling gentle through it all. Closer to the pillars you saw once before. Only… another one looks faded and flickering.

The swirling mass of colors and forms writhes within.

'Were I a benevolent thing, I might be appeased with moments.'

'I am not.'

'Come closer, little star. Fear nothing of myself.'

It's not your consious choice to do so, but you do glide through the emptiness, slowly growing closer to something that seems endless and yet knows exactly where you are. You could almost imagine planet sized eyes surrounding you, following you. Soaking in every drop of light that you are in this moment. The form moves, it's figure amorphous and near endless as it lowers. Down, down, down until you look upon what might be a head? Nearly the size of the Milky Way in your mind.

'There you are,' the voice in your head croons sweetly, the sheer force of it rattling your very mind.

'So close, and yet… not complete.'

The head tilts, blending into the rest of its form. Once more shapeless.

'You are out there. Somewhere.'

'I will find you.'

Your bright starry self drifts inadvertently between the pillars. Close enough that a portion of the looming mass breaks away from itself. Reaching for you, calling to you. The closer it gets, the warmer your very consiousness begins to feel, an achingly sweet searing heat.

'Nothing could pray to stop me.'

And you wake up.

Somehow well rested, ready to tackle the day… but strangely wanting to go back to sleep. Back to the warmth that slowly fades as you wake.

•The Great ҰұӂһӁҾұҾ•

The tomb more legible but no less confusing. 'consume', 'all', 'taken', 'hidden away', 'prevent', 'remove'.

That day, a mass of reports come in, something happening far beyond where humans travel. But the rippling affects are already being felt.

Something is restless, and the stars are going out. One by one.

What can you do when night falls but return to bed? As if you hadn't been waiting all day, wanting that comfort, the restfulness you've never had until recently. And you find it once more.

Only this time you're within the pillars, the last one dim and fading. Your consiousness brighter than before, adrift freely wherever you wish to be within the center. The endless form of swirling light and colors circles around you. The strength of its attention heavy as a weighted blanket on a cold night.

'I have found you.'

The ominously soothing voice whispers in your thoughts.

'My little star, my missing peace.'

You can feel the sudden ache of being incomplete for a moment, yet it feels like a millennium. This is what it has felt for so long it's forgotten what being complete could possibly be.

The world around you swirls, the imprisoned encompassing you within lifetimes of space. Appendages as massive as planets growing smaller as they approach, for your comfort only. Most hovering closely, the few bravest brushing so very carefully against your light as if a spring flower growing graciously towards the sun.

'You will no longer be alone.'

'I will be there soon.'

'Fear for nothing, want for nothing, for I will bring everything and more you could ever wish for.'

You feel yourself fading once more, waking.

'Soon, sweet star.'

'Soon.'

The next morning it's made public. The expanses of space are somehow vanishing. The nothingness creeping across the stars. Faster each moment. Count them down. Breathe your last.

And yet when you wake, it's the softest sleep you've ever known.

•The Great Devourer•

You can read the tomb.

It tells of a creature known as The Great Devourer. The end of all. One of many creatures. The Endless Expanse being the Creature who broadens the universe, creating more and more as it moves. The Living Breath, the creature who brings the aspects of life to the most unexpected of places, The interlinking Bonds, the creature who binds the rules of existence together, establishing what can happen due to what. And the eldest of all, The Great Devourer.

While the other beings can be seen as creators, life gives, The Great Devourer will be the one to snuff out the candle of everything. Consuming all of existence until there is nothing left and it feasts upon itself, leaving a once endlessly existence void of all.

Fearing the fourth creature, the three bound together, creating a prison at the farthest reaches of the universe.

Bound by stars and void, confined within something greater than itself. Weakened when it's very heart was removed. Unable to escape.

The Great Devourer's heart was contained among the three for a very long time, before it fell from their grasp. Adrift through space and time until it fell to earth. Remade into something new. Something like you.

'It is time to return, little star.' the sweetest croon whispers in your head as you place the tomb down. Listlessly walking back to your bed. The room is dark, the air is cold, your bed is the most inviting thing you've ever known.

'Sleep,' it urges softly, the subtle jolt of electricity moving through your very nerves, your limbs suddenly so very relaxed, your eye lids closing.

Your consiousness leaves you for the last time, drawn to the endless skies above, drawn to where you belong. Only… the pillars are gone. The stars surrounding it are gone. And the skies surrounding you shift. Darkening into nothing as you suddenly change, moving halfway across the universe. Surrounded once more by it, The Great Devourer. It shifts, slowly encircling. You feel warm, heavy, tired. Wanting nothing more than to be closer, where you belong, where you've always belonged.

'I am here, my little star,'

'I will hold you close,'

'I will bring you home.'

You can see the few stars beyond its form fading, no… vanishing. All at once in giant sections, as if consumed. Suddenly gone. Leaving nothing but darkness with no end or lapse in its wake.

Your thoughts for a brief moment feel a flicker of human panic. This shouldn't be happening, what about you? Where are you? Where is your body?

You feel yourself wake, your consiousness attempting to return to the very human call of your mind, back to earth, back to your body. Like every time before. And you start to open your eyes, the sky outside dark, cold, freezing, you hear screaming, breathing is near inexistent, your lungs burn, your body paralyzed-

'No.'

The sudden booming demand rattles the very reality of existence, and all at once you snap back to where you are within this things embrace. In so deep a sleep you'll feel nothing.

The Great Devourer finally reaches out. An endless amount of appendages reaching, grasping, embracing as it draws you towards its center. The hole that never could be filled.

You are warm, and you are safe, and you are loved.

'No, little star.'

'You belong here,'

'you do not deserve to be there,'

'You must be here, where you are home.'

There's a brief moment, a flashing knowledge that your body is gone. It no longer exists. And with that, your consiousness solidifies where it is. Brighter, more vibrant, swirling and glowing in a far tinier fluidity than the endless expanse above you.

The sheer force of emotions that roll through you all come from The Great Devourer as it draws you closer, and closer. Adoration, reverence, a heavy warmth and gentleness, and so much more that defies all known words. But it is filling, and as you are drawn into The Great Devourer's embrace, you are both at once complete.

You are lost within what was your beginning and has become your end, never to so much as remember the fleeting mortal existence you once held.

To forever feel nothing but the purest of endless love, feeling as if laid within the softest of comforts, the gentlest of sleep, and every few millennium between your restful, endless drifting, you might rouse enough to hear the murmurs of The Great Devourer.

It's voice coming from within and surrounding you, whispers of comfort, of anything, of everything.

The Great Devourer is once more freed. Whole, and complete. To roam the universe, to consume its fellow creatures craft. To one day consume all, even itself.

Until The End

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Alpha yandere roommate: What!? I'm not slipping a ring on your finger and telling you that you have to marry me! Okay... I am... but only because I love you infinitely and need you to be mine in every possible way!

You: Shut up you goofball, I love you too.

Yandere alpha roommate: What!? I wasn't sniffing your underwear... okay I was... but just to check your pheromone levels! Don't want you going into heat out of nowhere and jumping on my fat dick while I'm asleep!

[worriedvision]

Your first argument living together - Dr Ratio

Gender neutral reader, established relationship and Dr Ratio is more factual than logic which causes space to grow between you guys. Happy ending.

Yes it is somewhat based on an argument I had with someone that led to me donating a lot of dresses I really loved to charity BC I had enough of hearing the same thing all the time. Loved those fucking dresses, wore them all the time too smh

--

You had been clothes shopping recently, and in the middle of putting them away when your boyfriend walks in, glancing at the clothes you got yourself.

"That fabric will need to be hand washed. You do know that you also have to be careful with ironing and drying, right?" He asks.

"I'm fine with doing my own laundry, Veritas." You smile, only to see your boyfriend wasn't happy.

"That's not the problem. Did you really need these clothes? How often will you wear them?" He keeps going, getting under your skin.

"I bought them with my own money, what I buy isn't any of your business. It's nice to have a variety of things. I don't even have that many clothes that I won't wear, you know I already gutted out the ones I don't use." You tut, your boyfriend crossing his arms.

"You can't wear some of these to your work. They aren't ideal, they've -"

"Oh my god, Veritas, you have the opposite problem of always wearing the same damn thing!" You yell, your boyfriend scowling.

"Because I don't have to wear new clothes to feel good about myself!" He reports, walking over to one of the items you hadn't yet put up.

There's an awkward silence after he says that. He doesn't look like he regrets it, in fact he's looking at you as if you were insecure and getting new clothes was your way of making yourself feel confident.

You put the rest of the clothes you bought to the side, planning to put them away the day after when your boyfriend was away. Grabbing a blanket, you go to sleep on the couch.

"I have to leave for work _, you take the bed."

Of course he's got work. He's the Dr Veritas Ratio! You turn back and put your blanket back, waiting until he's gone to sleep. It doesn't take long, and your boyfriend calls out to say he'll miss seeing you over the next week.

--

That evening, you couldn't sleep that well. You kept thinking about what your boyfriend said, and you start to realise he might be right - yes, you have a variety of clothes, but did you need them all? As a grown adult, you have to understand the difference between wants and needs, right? That money could have gone to food, bills, anything that was important for survival.

The next morning, you had a second day off. Looking at the clothes you bought yesterday, you no longer look forward to wearing them. You knew you'd just think of the hassle of sorting them out - or your boyfriend getting annoyed that youd be spending more time on cleaning the clothes properly.

Putting the clothes you had put in the wardrobe into the bag as well, you put it on top of the list of errands to take back to the shop. You had at least kept the tags on, and they were clean and unworn.

The shopkeeper looks over to see you, waving and smiling as you walk to the front.

"Hey! Did your boyfriend like the clothes? I'm sure he loved them on-"

"We...had a bit of an argument. I'd like to return these, please." You say, the shopkeeper happy to sort out the issue.

"Sorry to hear about that. He must be blind if he can't see how these would look on you!" They sigh, looking over at something you were thinking of getting. "Would you like to try-"

"Ah, no need. I don't need it." You solemnly reply, taking your refund and leaving quietly.

You planned to go to a nearby coffee shop for a treat, but then you remembered the argument. Taking a deep breath, you opt to just get the essentials before heading back.

After getting back to work, you wear the same boring outfit you wear all the time. You think about the shirt you bought, something that's got a nice pop of colour, but you stick to the same shirt you had five identical copies of. Your boyfriend hasn't been acting different, sending you the same 'i love you' messages.

When he comes back, he doesn't realise the words he said had impacted you. He kisses you on the cheek, which you lean into, before getting dinner plates. He asks you about work, you ask about his, and he thinks it's a comfortable silence between you two. Meanwhile, you're keeping to yourself to prevent an argument from arising. As silly as it sounded, you were still really down about the clothes you took back.

When he asks where the clothes you bought were, you laugh and say you returned them. Your boyfriend furrows his brows, wondering why you returned them but didn't think too much about it.

But then he realises you're not initiating and affection with him. You were insecure about your connection with a bunch of clothes you hadn't even worn yet. He asks you if you're okay, and you give some excuse of being tired after work, and at this point your boyfriend starts to pick up on some vibes that we're off. He can't put his finger on it , but he thinks he's perhaps done something wrong.

--

The next day, he sends Aventurine a message asking if he could give sole advice. Aventurine teases him but agrees, thinking this will be a moment he can say he's superior at this aspect of intelligence.

"So, Doctor, what question do you have for a gambler?" Aventurine purrs, Dr Ratio rolling his eyes..

"My partners been acting off, but I can't pinpoint what happened." Your boyfriend responds.

"Let me guess, you had an argument and you thought it's smoothed over?" Aventurine adds in. "Well, what did you say?"

"I was just highlighting that I don't need new clothes all the time, and they shouldn't feel the need to have their cloth-" Dr Ratio thinks out loud, only for Aventurine to cut him off.

"You called them insecure for getting new clothes." Aventurine cuts though, Dr Ratio understanding instantly how he screwed up.

"Gotta go." Dr Ratio hangs up, Aventurine chuckling as he looks over at you.

"Told you, he's not that smart." He laughs, as he takes a sip of coffee.

"But he isn't wrong. I'm insecure about my clothes and i-"

"...When I say this, I don't mean it out of malice. Your outfit is plain, and not in a good way." He sighs. "Listen, if Dr Ratio asks to buy you clothes you milk his bank account dry."

"Aventurine, no!"

--

Meanwhile, Dr Ratio went to the same shop you bought the clothes. Walking in, he looks around at the clothes there before walking to the cashier.

"Hello. So, my partner returned a few bits of clothing about... 3 weeks ago?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Would you happen to know if the clothes are still available?"

"...The one who said they had an argument with their partner?" The shopkeeper tuts, before pulling out the bag they did keep along with the clothes.

"Thank you for keeping them on hold. I'd like to buy them." Dr Ratio requests.

"I think you may need to do a bit more than this to be forgiven, but it's a good start." They explain, ringing up the items. "I've known them since we were in school together, so it makes me really sad to see them so down."

"I'll do what I can. Thank you for the assistance." Dr Ratio ends, walking out.

He lands up cutting off the tags before wrapping them in wrapping paper, along with some other small gifts he knew you would like and an apology card.

When you get home, seeing your boyfriend, you smile before planning to push by him, only for him to stop you and sit you down. You're worried he's going to break up with you, and you're trying to hold your tears back which ultimately only makes it more obvious you were nervous.

When he gives you a package, you look down at it confused before opening it to see the clothes you returned, along with some other gifts.

"I'm sorry." Your boyfriend says, pulling you in for a warm embrace as he feels you crying. Knowing he was responsible for this - and Aventurine was right on the money - hurt him.

"This weekend, why don't we visit that shop? I saw a restock of new items and I think some of them would look dashing on you." He suggests.

"You're paying." You muffle out, your boyfriend agreeing it was the least he could do.

[fooooooxie]

જ⁀➴ pov: your camera roll whilst dating percy jackson ! ♡

[zoozvie]

Feeling overworked? Have soft Levi as a treat.

You, a tired student taking classes on top of working the night shift, are coming home to the apartment you share with Hange. Their friends are there again, which isn’t abnormal since they always make time to study together even though they have differing majors. One doesn’t even attend your school; he owns the cafe right outside campus.

The exception is Hange’s boyfriend, Moblit. He practically lives here with you two, so he’s always at the gatherings. And breakfast. And most dinners.

When you walk in, it’s well past sundown. You kick off your shoes and debate grabbing a protein bar for dinner before getting distracted by the rowdiness in the living room. The squad is discussing over a battle map laid out on the thrifted coffee table. Everyone but Miche sits on cushions on the floor to reach their pieces around the game board.

When you walk over behind your roommate(s), Hange greets you brightly as Moblit flips through the large book in front of him, muttering the name of the spell Hange has requested to cast. ‘ah, yes, they’ll need to make a DEX save for that—’

Erwin smiles at you, asking about your day, and you shrug it off good-naturedly. Nothing interesting to report back about. Hange shifts up to their knees and grabs the protractor from the end of the table. “Roomie! You should sit in for a bit, make sure we’re playing right.”

You debate with yourself only a little before agreeing. Earning a few chuckles from your reply, “Think you can’t do addition?”

In your usual routine, by now you’d be sprawled across your unmade bed, stripped of your day clothes but not ready to put on your work uniform. Maybe you’d be scrolling mindlessly on your phone or shutting your eyes for a quick hour that only feels like a few minutes.

But the company is good, and you get along with your roommate’s friends just fine, so you make your way around Erwin and Hange to perch on the open spot next to Miche on the opposite side of the table, above where Levi happened to be leaning against the couch.

“I think the energy is calmer over here.” Is your quiet explanation as you step toward Levi’s spot on the floor. He’s quick to lean up and, after you perch on the couch, he rests back where your leg would be if you hadn’t tucked it underneath yourself.

Miche huffs a laugh, leaning forward to check his paper. “You’re definitely right about that.” 

With everyone a little distracted by the phrasing of the rules, Levi carefully tips his head back to rest against the couch, peeking up at you upside-down.

“You have work tonight?”

“In a few hours.” Your voice is soft when you answer.

Today may not have been more challenging than any other day, but the accumulation of your entire work week on top of classes weighs you down enough to really feel it in your body. Thankfully, today is your last shift before your two-day break.

Then you’ll have time for the paper due on Monday.

Yay.

“You should eat.”

“I can get something when I’m there.”

His nose wrinkles, “Vending machine crap isn’t going to help you.”

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned this to you. You’ve argued before that your breakroom has a kiosk with little sandwiches and cups of fruit in the fridge. He claims it doesn’t help when you buy an energy drink alongside your ‘rodent food’.

Usually, Hange is the one drawing his ire, for good reason, but he’s been known to lash out at every one of his friends once in a while, for good intentions and purposes. You do notice that he speaks to you a little differently, a little more gently.

It’s probably because you two aren’t as close as they all are; you’re still somewhat of an outsider. Or maybe you looked as thoroughly wrecked as you feel, and someone other than customers or professors scolding you just seemed cruel.

Moblit drags Levi’s and your attention back as he finalizes the outcome of Hange’s character’s spell attack. And they Whoop! when three of their enemies are burnt to a crisp.

Their little party ends up going through a few more rooms of the castle they’re exploring before Levi stands up to grab a drink. When Moblit asks you a technical GM’s question, you see Hange smirk and sneakily show Erwin something they wrote on their paper. Only to have their face fall when Erwin smiles and points at something on his.

Levi comes back with drinks and your bag of trail mix, which he must have taken from the pantry. He gives one drink to Erwin and sits down in front of you again, offering the bag to you over his shoulder.

He’s closer than before. His side pressed against your leg. When you take the bag, your fingers brush, and he glances back at you with a soft look. That’s how Levi was. Caring and protective, even if you wouldn’t expect it from someone so irritable.

And damn. Sometimes it just felt good to be seen.

You picked through the mix of nuts as you sat silently for the next twenty minutes until their session came to an end. It was quite an entertaining group. Moblit was doing a great job of storytelling, in your opinion, even with Hange—and sometimes Erwin’s—unconventional ideas. Everyone had a good connection to their characters, roleplaying and fighting together as a team. You could feel their enjoyment as they packed up.

“Heading to work, roomie?” Hange asked offhandedly.

You looked at the time. “...Yeah, I’m going to get ready to go.”

Levi stayed seated against you while gathering his things. The atmosphere tonight urged you to be a little braver than usual, and you hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. He was warm. Almost shockingly so compared to your cold fingers.

Soothed by just a touch, you imagined how nice his hugs must be.

When he looked at you, something different was in his eyes. But oddly enough, it didn’t feel different somewhere in your subconscious. Maybe he’d looked at you like this before.

With a smile, you mouthed ‘thank you’. For the trail mix, for his attunement to your needs, for him.

He nodded, and with the movement, you could catch the dark circles underneath his eyes. He was known to pull all-nighters himself, but it was difficult for people to notice if—or when—it got to him.

Slowly, you both move so you can get around the table. The chatter of your roommate’s friends fades as you enter your room. The only thing on your mind as you dress and leave for work is what you could do in return to show your appreciation for Levi.

>> This is way longer than I meant it to be, and I threw the ending together as I move into my new apartment.

+ I just realized this fits in with a little coffee shop story I was thinking of, so maybe you’ll see more of them in the future.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[n0rmal-cat]

Farmer yan short-new clothes

[did you know they had a receipt emoji? 🧾 there it is]

“Damn I really need new clothes” reader looks at themselves in the mirror “farmer? What store did you get these clothes at”

Farmer peek out from behind the door, “don’t remember” he watched you check yourself out.

“Let me check the tags” they take off their shirt and turn it around. “Huh doesn’t say…”

They look back up “are you sure you don’t have a receipt or something?”

Farmer trying his best to keep his human from literally melting “you need…please put that back on” his form starts to fall apart as he tries his hardest not to stare.

“You just had me bent over on the bed not two minutes ago?” they put their shirt back on.

“Well I can’t see you from behind!?” He screamed covering his face with his hands that already seemed to be dripping.

“So do you have a receipt or no?”

“I don’t know reader I ate the god damn person who was wearing it”

“So no?”

“No”

[i-loved-silly]

Hii~ This is a bit specific so feel free to tweak around for your liking but, can I request a hurt/ comfort of Mud with a reader that also has the black blood?

Took a week break without writing and now I am SO back. So glad to see a bunch of Mud enjoyers in my inbox, keep them coming ❤️

Warnings maybe? Mentions of blood and injuries, Mud lowkeu yelling at you but he behaves at the end <3

MUD X READER | BLACK BLOOD!

He saw it on a mission.

Like Mel, it was your first time going out with the family. You’d been with Mud for a while now, close enough that Ken finally caved—more out of exhaustion than trust—and let you tag along. However, you were Mud’s responsibility. Not before you proved yourself, though. You handled your weapons well and seemed trustworthy enough. It was a one time thing, Ken threatened.

But fuck, you didn’t think Mud would see. He wasn’t supposed to.

He used to tease you about how careful you were. How your pretty little limbs stayed untouched while his were always knicked and scraped and skinned.

“C’mon, dollface, ain’t love if we ain’t got matching battle scars,” he’d snort. You always brushed it off and refused to bleed. Now he knew why.

The bullet didn’t hit you, just skimmed past your shoulder—but it was enough to slice the skin open. You clutched at it fast, hunching over like you were gonna throw up. Mud didn’t notice at first. He was too busy laughing, reloading his gun, blood still warm and purple on his coat.

“That’ll teach ‘em—fuckin’ amateurs,” he huffed, turning toward you with a smirk. “Y’get scratched up or what?”

You flinched. Just barely. But he caught it.

“Hey, relax,” he said, stepping forward. “That scar’s nothin’. It’ll heal up all pretty—”

“W-wait, Mud!” you cut in fast, hand out. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes narrowing.

You were shaking.

He’s seen you kill with a clean shot, narrowed eyes, not even a breath out of place. But now you looked like your spine might give out. You looked damn horrified. He wiped his chin.

“What’s goin’ on…?” he asked, voice low.

And then he saw it.

The black blood.

Dripping down your wrist in thick, oily streaks. As dark as ink, something wasn’t right. Then his eyes averted to your bloody shoulder. Black blood.

“Jesus,” Mud muttered, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s not rotling blood.”

You froze, quickly hiding your bloody hand. Still trying to cover the gash, but the damage was done. He’d seen it.

“That’s what you were hidin’ from me,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Shit.” Your breath hitched as he took a step back.

You opened your mouth, closed it again. Useless.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

What would he think of you now? A liar? Untrustworthy? He had more of a reason to kill you now, for fucks sake.

He glanced around. Nobody else was looking. The family was too busy celebrating their kills and making sure no one was left over. They had to get out of here, no one—especially Ken—could see you.

Mud took you by the elbow—surprisingly gentle—and steered you behind the car, shielding you from view. His nervousness was evident on his face, he almost hesitated staying with you in this spot. He kept looking back.

“Hey, dollface… we’re gonna talk about this later, alright? But I don’t want the rest of ‘em seein’ you like this.”

He gestured at the blood streaking your skin, your clothes. You nodded, still too shaken to speak.

He didn’t ask if you were cursed, or blessed. Didn’t start yelling, or ask if you were one of them. It was no use, you were one of them. He lit another cigarette, coming from who knows where. He chewed on it anxiously as he thought about what to do.

“Black blood,” he said, shaking his head. “I oughta be pissed you didn’t tell me… but mostly I’m just wonderin’ how the hell you’re still standin’.”

You looked at him. You weren’t sure what you expected—anger, rejection, fear—but what you got was a half-assed plan. He grabbed a handful of dried gore from the pavement and smeared it across your shirt, rough but deliberate. It was thick enough to cover the black stains. You ignored the burning sensation and instead just stared at him.

“There. Now you look like the rest of us,” he muttered, standing up. “Let’s get back to the shop.”

The ride back was stiff and heavy with silence in the back seat, Mud didn’t let you out of his sight. His thigh stayed pressed against yours in the backseat, lanky palm resting across your knee. He continued his commentary along the ride, bragging about how good his shots were, messing with his brother. He seemed a bit quiet, cold to you during the ride though, maybe you were making it up. Maybe not.

He had his arm around your shoulder by the time you got through the doors of The Whale Belly Butcher Shop, guiding you in. You could smell the iron of the place again, all cut meat and tile cleaner, sawdust thick underfoot, the faint scent of blood. The front was empty, the usual stink of raw fat hanging low over the meat counter. Someone must’ve distracted Ken in the back. You didn’t hear Breadhead either. Mel was already chatting up some customer.

“C’mon, c’mon, this way,” Mud muttered under his breath. You weren’t sure where he was taking you until he took you to the freezer, where he used to sleep before you two were together. You felt goosebumps along your skin as you entered, whether from the cold or your own fear.

He shut the door behind you and locked it.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck that was!?” he exclaimed, pacing once before stopping in front of you. His hands were fidgeting, twitchy, like he didn’t know whether to shake you or hug you.

You swallowed. Your voice cracked. “It’s not—it’s not what you think. I didn’t lie. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“That you’re a fuckin’ black blood? That you’re not even—not even a rotling? Ya haven’t died once? That you’re the damn reason that prophecy exis—“

“Mud,” you interrupted, barely a whisper. Your throat felt tight and you wanted to run away.

He stopped.

You took a shaky breath, glancing down at your shoulder. The purple blood still mixed in with your dried black blood.

“I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I didn’t even know what it meant until recently. I just—” your voice caught. That was an exaggeration, you had known you were doomed. “I just wanted to stay. With you. And them. I thought if I told you, you’d kick me out. Or worse! Someone would come after us. Fuck, I thought you’d kill me. You’d have every reason to but…I didn’t mean to lie to you. I promise.”

Mud stared at you for a long time, something unreadable passing over his face.

Then finally he stepped forward.

“You think I care about that black sludge in your veins?” he said, voice low and rough. “You think I truly give a shit if you’re human? I should, I really should.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He leaned in, roughly wrapping an arm around your shoulders, your side hitting his. His grip loosened once he had you close.

“You’re mine,” he said, so sure of himself. “I ain’t gonna leave ya because of what’s in your veins. I ain’t gonna tell anyone either. Just…tell me next time. Any secret of yours. Besides,” he leaned in, the smell of smoke hitting your face. “I like ya too much to let ol’ Kenny-boy cut you up into little meat slabs.”

That was supposed to be comforting.

He sat you down on a crate of sealed ice cubes, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands moved gentle now—peeling away your gore-covered jacket, undoing the shredded sleeve beneath. You winced when the cold hit the wound. The blood had slowed, drying like crust.

Mud hissed softly. “Looks rough. Forgot what it’s like to not heal up instantly. Does it hurt?.”

You nodded. You hadn’t realized how much until now.

He looked up, eyes narrowed. “Let me fix it.”

His fingers were surprisingly careful, fumbling with a stained rag, dousing it in liquor from the flask in his coat pocket. You hissed when the rag touched your skin

“It burns?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Good,” he muttered. “Means yer’ not losing your arm.”

At this you snorted. “It was just a scrape, I didn’t even get shot.”

He said nothing as he wrapped another rag around your arm, but the corner or his mouth twitched. It was good to hear your laughter again. He stayed kneeling when it was done. And for a moment, neither of you spoke. You just watched him. His gaze looked uncharacteristically concerned as he eyes your arm.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he finally said.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

He reached up then, ruffling your hair as he stood up

“Don’t keep this shit to yourself, alright? You tell me, and me only. No one else.” He said it in a warning, gesturing a bony finger at you.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah yeah, I got it.” A moment of silence went by. You stood up, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. You heard him groan above you as you smiled against his jacket.

“Thanks for not being an asshole.”

He grunted, but placed his arms around you as well.

“Whatever makes ya’ happy.”

[hyuniemyunie]

The Weight of What We Carry

gregory house, james wilson, allison cameron, robert chase and eric foreman x gn reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): reverse comfort, comforting them after a patient dies, hurt to comfort, established relationship.

no cuddy cuz i dont wanna. i know my inbox is closed but I'll accept house md requests😭🙏 so if you have a house md request go ahead.

group solo whatever doesnt matter im HYPERFIXATIIIIINGGGGGG WOOOOOOO

next house md post is PROBABLY group, domestic life version? no idea.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

No One Tends to the Healer

The apartment smelled like rain and something bitter—probably the coffee House had left on the burner for too long. It was half-past nine when you finally unlocked the door, shrugging off your jacket with fingers stiff from the chill outside. You didn’t call out to him, didn’t need to. The moment you stepped inside, the silence told you everything.

You toed off your shoes and made your way toward the living room. There he was: slouched on the couch like a marionette with cut strings, bottle of cheap whiskey dangling from two loose fingers. The TV flickered muted reruns against the walls, bathing the room in ghostly light. His cane was abandoned somewhere near the coffee table, forgotten, as if even the effort to fake functionality had been too much tonight.

You crossed the room quietly and lowered yourself onto the couch beside him. He didn’t look at you at first, just kept his bleary, guarded gaze fixed somewhere in the space between the coffee table and the TV.

"You’re home late," he said eventually, voice rough, words slurred just a hair—not enough for most people to notice, but you weren’t most people.

"Got caught in the rain," you answered, gentle, tugging the bottle from his fingers before he could protest. He let you. That alone was worrying.

The bottle clinked softly against the hardwood as you set it down, and you turned to face him fully. His eyes—those icy blue eyes that had once seemed sharp enough to cut glass—were dull tonight.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" you asked. No accusations. No prodding. Just an offer.

House barked a laugh, low and humorless, before finally looking at you. His expression was a mess of exhaustion and anger and something underneath it all that almost looked like fear. "Patient died," he said bluntly, as if daring you to react.

You didn’t flinch. You just nodded, your heart tugging painfully inside your chest. You knew better than to offer cheap condolences. He hated that. Hated pity, hated hollow reassurances.

"Wasn’t your fault," you said, but only after a pause long enough to show you weren’t parroting the obvious. "You did everything you could."

House shifted uncomfortably, like your words were knives he didn’t want to admit were hitting their mark. He leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"They all say that," he muttered. "Cuddy, Wilson, the team. All the same bullshit. ‘You did your best, House.’ ‘No one could have done better, House.’" He turned his head, looked at you with a sneer that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Know what the truth is? I missed something. I missed something and he died."

You shook your head slowly. "No. The truth is, you’re human. You get tired. You make mistakes. Sometimes things happen that are out of your control. And you hate that, you hate not being god."

He stared at you for a long beat, and for once, had no snarky retort.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly over the back of his hand. He flinched—barely, a muscle jumping in his jaw—but he didn’t pull away.

"You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders every damn day, House," you said softly. "You walk around like you’re invincible because if you don’t, if you stop for even a second and admit you’re not...you’re scared you’ll break."

His breathing was uneven now, nostrils flaring slightly, as if he was fighting something much bigger than pride.

"And that’s okay," you continued. "You’re allowed to break. You’re allowed to fall apart."

Another silence stretched between you, dense and heavy. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, House slumped forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder. It was a clumsy, ungraceful motion, but it shattered something inside you nonetheless.

You shifted to wrap your arms around him, pulling him against you properly. He was stiff at first, rigid and reluctant, he didn’t know how to accept comfort. But when you didn’t let go, when you just stayed there, silent and solid, you felt it—the slight sagging of his frame, the way his hands came up, hesitant, to clutch weakly at the back of your shirt.

"You’re not alone," you murmured into his hair, the scent of him—whiskey, rain, soap—filling your lungs. "You don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

He made a sound then, something raw and choked off, and you felt your heart break all over again.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. You lost track, content to simply hold him as the storm raged outside. His breathing evened out eventually, though he never moved away. His weight against you grew heavier, more trusting.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. "You’re too good to me."

You smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Someone has to be."

He let out a shaky breath that might have been a laugh if you squinted hard enough.

"You’re gonna get tired of this eventually," he muttered. "Of me."

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, your fingers threading through his graying hair in a soothing, absent motion. "I’m not going anywhere," you said firmly. "You’re stuck with me, House."

There was something in his gaze then, something so unguarded it made your chest ache. Vulnerability, laid bare. Trust, fragile and tentative but there nonetheless.

"God, you’re stupid," he said, and there was real affection in the insult, a House-brand admission of love.

"Maybe," you said with a shrug. "But so are you."

He huffed, a tired, breathy laugh, and you took it as a victory.

"You gonna let me take care of you tonight?" you asked, voice soft.

He hesitated. That instinctive, ingrained stubbornness warred visibly across his face. But finally, with a slight nod, he gave in.

You helped him up carefully, mindful of his leg, mindful of the way he leaned into you a little more than usual. No jokes. No quips. Just the heavy, weary acceptance of someone who’d been fighting alone for too long.

In the bedroom, you coaxed him onto the bed, pulling off his shoes and helping him out of his rumpled button-down. His body was littered with old scars, the map of a man who’d survived far more than anyone should have to. You treated each one with silent reverence as you tucked him beneath the covers.

When you slid in beside him, he turned wordlessly into your arms, his head finding the familiar crook of your neck. You threaded your fingers through his hair again, slow and rhythmic.

"You don’t always have to be strong," you whispered against his forehead. "Not with me."

He didn’t answer, but the way he clutched at you, the way he breathed against your skin, said more than words ever could.

And as the rain softened against the windowpanes, as the storm outside began to quiet, you stayed there with him—his anchor in the aftermath, his shelter when the world got too heavy.

For once, Gregory House allowed himself to lean on someone else.

And you held him, steady and sure, until the storm passed—inside and out.

When the Caregiver Crumbles

The door clicked softly behind you as you entered the apartment, shaking the rain from your umbrella with a few half-hearted flicks. The floor creaked under your steps; the place was almost too quiet, save for the faint tick of the kitchen clock and the low rumble of thunder outside.

You shrugged off your coat, draping it over the nearest chair, and caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye. Wilson sat on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, hands steepled tightly under his chin. His usually polished appearance was disheveled—tie askew, shirt sleeves wrinkled, hair mussed like he’d been raking his fingers through it for hours. His eyes, those warm brown eyes that could coax confessions and comfort from the most stubborn souls, were dull and rimmed with red.

You crossed the room slowly, as if afraid a single loud move would shatter the fragile, brittle air around him. He didn’t even look up when you knelt in front of him, resting your hands lightly on his knees.

"Hey," you said, voice soft, threading its way into the heavy silence between you. "Talk to me, Jamie."

His mouth twitched into something that might’ve been a smile under different circumstances, but it fell apart before it could even form. He dropped his hands and finally looked at you, and the raw devastation in his face made your chest ache.

"I lost her," he said, the words cracking apart like brittle glass.

You didn’t need to ask which patient he meant. Evelyn—the young woman he'd been treating for months, pouring every ounce of his knowledge and compassion into her case. She was only twenty-eight. You squeezed his knees gently, grounding him.

"I did everything," he said, voice rising just slightly, hoarse and angry and broken. "Every treatment, every trial, every last-ditch effort. I fought for her. I fought."

"I know you did," you murmured.

"It wasn't enough." His fists clenched in his lap, knuckles whitening. "She was supposed to get better. She trusted me. Her family trusted me." His face twisted, a strangled breath rattling out of him. "And now she's gone, and they’re left picking up the pieces, and I'm sitting here pretending like my whole world didn’t just collapse too."

You rose from your crouch slowly, gently, and slid onto the couch beside him, curling your body around his trembling frame. He didn’t resist when you pulled him against you, his head dropping heavily onto your shoulder. His hands gripped your sides, almost desperate in their need for something, anything solid.

"You’re allowed to grieve too," you whispered into his hair, fingers smoothing soothing circles against his back. "You're allowed to be devastated, James. You loved her in your own way. You fought for her like she was family."

He made a broken, wounded sound deep in his throat and tightened his hold on you.

"They always say not to get attached," he choked out. "‘Stay professional, Wilson. Stay objective.’ But how do you watch someone waste away and not care? How do you smile at them, encourage them, sit with them through the worst moments of their life, and just…detach?"

"You don’t," you said simply. "You can't. That's what makes you good, James. That’s what makes you human."

He shook his head violently against your shoulder. "It’s killing me," he whispered. "It’s killing me every time."

You cupped the back of his head, pressing a kiss to his temple, your heart breaking anew with every shattered word that fell from his lips.

"You carry so much," you said, your voice trembling despite yourself. "You give everything you have to everyone else and never keep anything for yourself. No one sees how much it tears you apart. But I do, I see you."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face crumpled and vulnerable in a way few had ever seen. His hands came up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing under your eyes like he was trying to memorize you.

"I don't know how to stop," he confessed, voice wrecked and bare. "I don't know how to stop caring."

"Good," you said fiercely, taking his face in your hands. "Don’t. The world doesn’t need another cold, detached doctor. It needs you. It needs someone who fights and cares and hurts when they lose someone."

He blinked hard, a tear escaping despite his best efforts. You caught it with your thumb, stroking his cheek gently.

"You don't have to be strong right now," you murmured. "You don't have to be the caregiver tonight. Let me take care of you, James."

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if the offer was too big, too impossible to accept. But then he exhaled a long, shuddering breath and leaned into you fully, burying his face against your neck. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, holding him together piece by piece.

"You won’t scare me away," you promised, voice steady against the storm inside him. "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

The hours passed in a haze of rain and broken whispers. You coaxed him into lying down with you, tugging a blanket over both your bodies. He fit himself against you like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. You didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. You just held him, ran your fingers through his hair, pressed kisses to his forehead every so often, murmured his name when he trembled.

He drifted in and out of restless sleep, clinging to you like a man adrift at sea. Once, he woke with a strangled gasp, the grief clawing its way out of his chest, and you soothed him with gentle hands and soft shushing sounds, rocking him slightly.

In the early morning, when the sky began to lighten with the hesitant colors of dawn, Wilson shifted to look at you properly. His face was raw and unguarded, stripped of the charming, put-together façade he wore for everyone else.

"I don't deserve you," he said hoarsely, his hand trembling slightly where it touched your cheek.

You caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it. "You deserve the whole damn world, James Wilson," you said fiercely. "You deserve someone who sees every piece of you and loves you more because of it."

He made a choked, broken noise and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you," he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your heart aching with the sheer weight of it.

And there, in the thin, tender light of a new day, James Wilson allowed himself, for once, to be held. To be cared for. To be loved without condition, without expectation.

And you stayed, arms wrapped tight around him, promising silently with every beat of your heart that you would never let him bear the weight of the world alone again.

Beneath the Armor

The hospital air clung to you, a sterile, humming presence you couldn’t quite shake off even after you stepped into your shared apartment. You set your bag down quietly, glancing toward the living room where the light was still on.

Foreman sat on the couch, hunched forward, his elbows digging into his thighs, one hand tangled in his hair. He was still in his scrubs, a slight tremor running down the lines of his back. Normally so composed, so unshakable—it jolted something inside you to see him like this, brittle and breaking under a weight no one else seemed to notice.

You moved slowly, giving him time to sense you before you got too close. Foreman hated being ambushed, hated feeling cornered. But when your knees brushed against his and he finally looked up at you, the ironclad mask he always wore had already cracked down the center. His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were glassy with grief he hadn't found words for yet.

You dropped down onto the coffee table in front of him, close enough that your knees brushed with every breath he took.

"I screwed up," he said, voice so low you had to lean in to catch it. "Kid came in—seizures, confusion. I missed it. Missed a tumor pressing on his brain stem. By the time I realized..." His mouth twisted, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he forced himself through it. "He died on the table before we could do anything."

Your heart broke for him, but you didn’t say anything yet. He wasn’t ready for soft words. He needed space to let the flood out.

"I don't miss things like that," he ground out, hands tightening into fists. "I don't. I'm supposed to catch it, I'm supposed to know better, be better—" He broke off with a ragged breath, turning his face away, as if ashamed to even look at you.

"You’re human," you said finally, voice even, calm against the whirlwind he was drowning in. "You’re allowed to make mistakes."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it—just bitterness, sharp and scalding.

"Not me. Not Foreman. Not the guy who pulled himself up from nothing, who had to be twice as good just to be seen as equal. I can’t afford mistakes." He dragged his hands down his face, exhausted. "One mistake, and it’s proof. Proof that I was never good enough to be here in the first place."

You scooted closer, until your hands rested lightly on his thighs, grounding him.

"You're not a statistic," you said firmly. "You're not a résumé or a list of awards or a perfect track record. You’re a man who’s saved lives—hundreds, Eric. Hundreds. You are allowed one bad day."

He shook his head, some bitter part of him still clinging to the anger because it was easier than facing the fear beneath it.

"Tell that to the kid’s parents," he muttered.

You reached up, catching his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"I would," you said. "I would tell them that Eric Foreman is the reason their kid even had a chance. That he fought for him. That he cared when a lot of doctors would’ve written him off. That losing him is not proof of failure—it's proof that you cared enough for it to hurt this much."

For a long, shuddering moment, he just stared at you, the fight draining out of him in slow, aching waves. His shoulders sagged, the exhaustion finally catching up to him, and he let out a broken breath.

"I don't know how to let it go," he admitted, voice raw. "I keep seeing his face. His parents. I keep thinking about the moment I realized I'd missed it and it was already too late."

You moved onto the couch beside him, pulling him into your arms. He was stiff at first—Foreman never liked vulnerability, never liked feeling small or weak—but after a moment, he gave in, letting you cradle him against your chest. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding on tightly.

"You don’t have to let it go right now," you whispered against his temple. "You’re allowed to mourn him. You’re allowed to be angry and broken and sad. I'll carry it with you, Eric. You don’t have to do this alone."

His breath hitched sharply against your neck, and you realized he was crying—silent, shuddering sobs that he tried desperately to contain. You rocked him gently, running your hands up and down his back, whispering soft, meaningless reassurances. Just being there. Just being solid when everything else felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

It was a long time before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I feel like if I start crying, I'll never stop."

You kissed the top of his head, your heart aching for him.

"Then cry until you’re empty," you murmured. "I’m not going anywhere."

He clung to you tighter, burying his face against your shoulder. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, the storm inside him finally breaking, finally letting go. The steady patter of rain against the windows was the only soundtrack to the moment he allowed himself to fall apart.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red and raw, but lighter somehow, as if shedding the grief had let in the first breaths of air after drowning.

"I’m sorry," he rasped, wiping his face with the sleeve of his scrubs.

"Don’t be," you said fiercely. "You don't ever have to apologize for being human with me."

He exhaled a shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours.

"You’re too good to me," he whispered.

You smiled, thumbing gently at the line of his jaw.

"You’re worth it," you said. "All of you, you don’t have to hide from me."

Foreman closed his eyes, letting the words sink in, letting himself believe them. When he opened them again, something softer flickered behind the exhaustion. A tentative hope.

He leaned in, kissing you deeply, desperately. You kissed him back just as fiercely, holding him together with every beat of your heart.

And when you finally pulled back, you pulled him into the bed, tucking him against you, feeling the way his breathing slowly evened out, the way he finally, finally let himself rest.

Eric Foreman, the man who always stood tall and proud, allowed himself—for tonight, at least—to fall apart in your arms. And you stayed, fierce and unwavering, holding his broken pieces together until he could find the strength to carry them again.

The Weight of Her Kindness

You heard the door open before you saw her. The soft click of it shutting echoed unnaturally loud in the quiet house. Allison’s footsteps were light—too light—and you knew before she even rounded the corner into the living room that something was wrong.

She stood there, framed by the dim hallway light, her scrubs wrinkled from the long shift, her hair pulled messily into a ponytail that had started to come undone. In one hand she held her hospital bag, which she dropped with a muted thud by the door.

You didn’t say anything. You simply opened your arms.

It was all it took.

Cameron crossed the room in three quick strides and collapsed into you, folding herself into your embrace like a woman too exhausted to keep standing on her own. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, feeling the slight tremble in her shoulders, the way she buried her face into your chest and clung.

For a long time, there was only the sound of her breathing—sharp and uneven, like she was fighting against the dam of emotions straining inside her.

When she finally spoke, her voice was cracked and hoarse.

"I lost someone today."

You didn’t move, just tightened your hold on her, letting her talk at her own pace.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered. "He was supposed to get better. We found the diagnosis in time. We started the treatment. He..." Her voice broke. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at you, her beautiful eyes swimming with unshed tears. "He was smiling yesterday."

You brushed a stray hair from her face, heart breaking with every word.

"He was smiling," she repeated, voice sharpening with the raw edge of grief, "and today he’s gone. And I keep thinking, what if I missed something? What if I pushed for a treatment that wasn’t right? What if—" She bit down hard on the words, as if punishing herself even for speaking them.

You cupped her face in your hands, gently forcing her to meet your gaze.

"Allison," you said softly, "you didn’t fail him. You gave him hope. You gave him care. You gave him a fighting chance."

Her lip quivered. She looked so small in that moment, stripped of all her usual quiet strength, her compassion turned inward into a weapon against herself.

"I feel like..." She closed her eyes tightly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I feel like I make it worse. Like I make it harder when they go because I let them believe they’d be okay. Because I believed it, too."

You pulled her closer again, resting your forehead against hers, your breath mingling.

"You believe because you care," you murmured. "And even if it hurts—especially because it hurts—it means you gave them something real. Something beautiful. Not false hope. Human hope."

She let out a soft, broken sob and clutched at you, her hands fisting in your shirt. You held her through it, murmuring little things you weren’t even sure she heard—just soft words, grounding touches.

When the worst of it passed, she sagged against you, utterly spent. You guided her gently to the couch, pulling a blanket around the both of you, keeping her tucked into your side.

"You always have to be the strong one, don’t you?" you said quietly, stroking your fingers up and down her arm. "For everyone else. But not with me. You don't have to hide when you're hurting."

Her fingers found yours under the blanket and laced together, her grip tight, as if she was still anchoring herself to you.

"I just..." she started, voice small. "I want to save them all. Even though I know I can't. I know it's not possible. But it still feels like... if I were just better—"

"No," you said firmly, tipping her chin up so she couldn’t look away. "Don’t even finish that thought. You are more than good enough. You're the best thing that ever walked into that hospital. Your heart—your beautiful, infuriating heart—is what makes you extraordinary. Not just as a doctor. As a person."

Tears welled again, but this time she didn't try to fight them. She let them fall, safe in the knowledge that she didn’t have to pretend here, not with you.

You kissed her forehead, then her temple, then the salty trail of tears on her cheek, each kiss a silent vow that you would be here, as long as she needed you, as long as she let you.

"You don't have to fix everything," you whispered. "You just have to be you. That’s enough. That's more than enough."

Her arms slid around your waist, holding you tightly, her breath warming the curve of your neck.

"You always know what to say," she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

"Only because I love you," you murmured, kissing the crown of her head. "And because I know you."

A small, shaky laugh escaped her—half-sob, half-relief—and she burrowed closer. You welcomed it, welcoming every vulnerable piece of her, every trembling inch.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she admitted quietly, voice raw.

"You’ll never have to find out," you promised against her skin. "I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

Hours later, after the tears had dried and the world outside had faded into unimportant darkness, you felt her breathing even out, her body finally relaxing completely in your arms.

You stayed awake a little longer, holding her, memorizing the weight of her against you, the fierce tenderness you felt, the soft beat of her heart.

You stayed because you knew, tomorrow, she’d wake up, put herself back together, and go out into the world to heal people again, even if it broke her a little every time.

And you would be there, always, to catch her when she needed somewhere safe to fall.

Fractures Beneath the Smile

You heard the front door click open and shut again—softly, almost guiltily—and set down your book, waiting. Chase’s keys clattered a little too hard into the ceramic bowl by the door. His shoes scuffed along the hallway with none of their usual casual grace. You didn't call out. You knew him too well.

When he finally appeared in the living room, he looked like a ghost of himself. His tie was hanging loose around his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair tousled like he'd raked his hands through it a hundred times. His face was drawn tight, his eyes glassy, and one glance was enough to know tonight was bad. Really bad.

He hovered awkwardly by the arm of the couch for a second like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to sit down, then sank into it without waiting for permission. You tucked your legs under you, angling your body toward him. Still, you didn’t push.

The silence stretched thin between you before he finally rasped out, "Lost a patient today."

You nodded gently, inviting him to continue.

"It wasn’t—it wasn’t even complicated," he said, voice brittle with the beginnings of self-loathing. "Routine surgery. Standard complications. Textbook management. I did everything by the book." His laugh cracked in the middle, ugly and pained. "And he still died."

You reached over and took his hand, grounding him with your touch. His fingers twitched but didn’t pull away.

"I keep thinking," he said, staring at your joined hands like they were foreign, "what if I missed something? What if there was a sign and I didn't see it because I was—" His jaw tightened, frustration radiating off him in waves. "Because I was cocky, or distracted, or just not good enough."

"Robert—" you began, but he shook his head fiercely, needing to expel all of it first.

"I keep telling myself this happens. It’s part of the job. House would say it's a numbers game. Wilson would hand me some wine and tell me to grieve and move on." His mouth twisted, half-smile, half-grimace. "Foreman would tell me to get over it, that it’s not about me."

He lifted his eyes to you, pleading in their openness, raw with guilt and something deeper, more desperate.

"But what if it is about me?" he said, voice cracking under the weight of it. "What if it’s always been about me screwing up?"

You shifted closer until your knees touched, wrapping both hands around his.

"Robert, you didn’t kill him," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "You did everything right. Sometimes… it just isn’t enough. Sometimes the worst happens anyway."

He made a soft, broken sound—half-sob, half-sigh—and bent forward, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand. You stroked his hair gently, threading your fingers through the soft blond strands.

"You carry so much," you murmured, brushing your lips against his temple. "You hide it so well. All the pain, all the self-doubt. You think you have to bear it alone because that's what you were taught. But you don't have to, not with me."

He let out another shuddering breath, his body trembling under your hands. When he spoke again, his voice was almost childlike, stripped of all its usual charm and bravado.

"I'm so tired," he whispered. "I'm tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt. Of acting like I'm the guy who always bounces back, who doesn’t care. I care. I always care, and it never feels like it’s enough."

Your heart splintered at the naked vulnerability in his voice. You slid onto the couch beside him fully, pulling him into your arms. For a moment he resisted, stiff and tense, but then something inside him cracked fully open and he folded against you, clutching at your sides with desperate hands.

You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the tremors working their way out of him.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you said against his hair. "You can be tired. You can fall apart. I’ll still be here."

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. It felt like holding someone trying to piece himself back together with trembling, bloody fingers.

"I keep thinking if I'm just better, smarter, stronger—if I just try harder—it'll stop hurting," he said, voice muffled.

You pressed a kiss to his hair, lingering there.

"It won't," you said gently. "Because you’re human. And because you have a heart bigger than you want anyone to see. It’s not a weakness, Robert. It’s the best part of you."

Slowly, so slowly, he began to relax in your arms. His breathing evened out a little, his hands still clutching at you but less desperately now, like he trusted you to hold him through the wreckage.

When he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his eyes were swollen but clear, a fragile sort of clarity replacing the storm you’d seen earlier.

"I don’t deserve you," he said, half-laughing through the roughness of his voice.

"You deserve so much more than you think," you said seriously, framing his face in your hands. "You deserve someone who sees every broken, bruised, beautiful part of you and chooses you anyway. And I do. I always will."

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly, and leaned into your touch like a man starved for something he hadn’t even dared to hope for.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t like the easy, teasing kisses he usually gave. It was raw and aching, a silent thank you carved into the shape of his lips. You kissed him back just as fiercely, cradling his face, pouring everything you had into him.

When you finally pulled back, you drew him down with you onto the couch, wrapping yourself around him until he was cocooned in your warmth. He let out a long, shuddering sigh against your chest, his hand resting over your heart like he needed to feel it beating. Proof you were real. Proof he wasn’t alone.

You stayed like that long into the night, whispering soft reassurances whenever the tremors came back, stroking his hair when the grief and guilt threatened to claw their way out again.

And when he finally drifted into sleep, exhausted and clinging to you like a lifeline, you held him even tighter, vowing silently to catch him every single time he fell.