#go fuck yourself that's how. so sick of seeing this sentiment.

[sharkgirldick]

If you think trans people who don't want surgery and/or hormones aren't actually trans then you need to leave me alone forever. Possibly throw yourself into a volcano.

[stawberrypimpsimp]

Alastor x Reader: The Radio Demon Enjoys a Treat

Word Count: 2,321

You were sick of working for Valentino. He was an asshole, a terrible demon. He has you working non stop but at least you aren't his favorite toy like Angel. You didn't have it as rough as him, he had it bad, but you two formed a quick bond. The mutual hate and restraints Valentino had brought you closer. Angel was able to escape Vals grasp just a bit. He moved out to a hotel, called the Happy Hotel, he said. You envied him. How you wish to escape the clutches of that monster.

Angle cared for you deeply. You wanted to ask him if there was room for you in this hotel. If you could have the temporary escape he gets. You decided to meet up with him at Consent, a sex club.

“Hey there sweet tits!” Said Angle walking up to you at the bar.

“Angle! How’s being a dick sucking slave going for you?” You said laughing

”Oh its great.. Vals got me doing gang bangs back to back. Fuck Im tired!!” Angle said, waving the bartender over for a drink.

“Two twink cosmos”

Next thing you know your 8 shots in and grinding on some random ass sinner. You forgot to talk to Angle about the hotel, to drunk to even remember what the night was about. Out of the corner of your eye you see Val. What the absolute fuck?! Can’t I get away from this sex fiend pimp. You dance your way over to Angel nudging him and slyly pointing out towards Val.

”Ugh.. I don't want to deal with this right now.. Let’s fucking go.” Angel says

You nod in agreement following his lead out, luckily you both sneak past without being seen.

“See ya tomorrow Angel!” You say walking away waving you hand and stumbling into a pole.

”Look youre way too drunk to get home and I'm pretty drunk as well. The hotel is right around the corner. You can stay the night there! I mean Charlie would be happy to meet ya.” Angel says grabbing your hand.

“Thanks Angel I owe ya one.” You say stumbling along his side.

He wasn’t nearly as drunk as you but hey at least you were able to let go for a bit and enjoy yourself.

You both walked up to the hotel, and oh boy was it a bad stay. Extremely disheveled and musty. Angel opened the doors for you and you both walked in. Inside wasn’t as bad as outside you guess but absolutely not what you were expecting when Angel talked about residing in a hotel.

A blonde girl in a red suit comes up to you grabbing your hand and shaking it profusely.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, welcome to the Happy Hotel!” She gets all sentimental and teary all of a sudden. “Angel, I can't believe you brought someone here!”

She was loud, a lot to take in but hey it helped you sober the fuck up but obviously still head ache inducing.

“Uhhhh Hello?” You said with confusion.

“Okay Okay let me show you around! Here we work on rehabilitation and bettering yourself. Let me Introduce you to everyone!!” Charlie said, overly excited.

”Okay sooo you already know Angel! So that introduction is off the list.. Hmm.. OH OH THIS THIS RIGHT HERE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN ALL OF HELL! VAGGIE! She is my girlfriend and here to help” The blonde demon said with pure excitement and love. She grabbed the hands of a girl with gray skin and hair that resembles moth wings.

”Hi.. Uh yes I’m Vaggie nice to meet you.” She says with an awkward smile.

Once Charlie stops looking and admiring Vaggie for a little longer she takes my hand dragging me over to what you can describe as a bar. It most certainly does not fit in with the color and decor of the place but you kept you mouth closed.

“This is Husker he is the bartender! He comes off all grumbly and grumpy but I swear he has a soft spot!!”

Husk who appears to be a cat like creature with a theme of playing cards to him. He looks up from the glass he is pouring then looks back down grumbling to himself. Oh well guess grumbly was the perfect word to describe him.

“Hello…?” You say hesitantly. He only gives you a look up again and a nod taking a swig of the glass of booze he just poured.

You look over and see a small little creature running with a knife stabbing bugs. You cant take your eyes off her as she takes the knife and impales a bug. Ew but at least keeping the place.. clean..?

”That over there is Nifty. She is the maid and in charge of keeping the place tip top shape.” Charlie says smiling avoiding watching her stab a few more bugs.

”Do you know any bad boys? You're just a girl.” The short girl said, wide eyed in excitement.

“Sadly yeah, work with a whole bunch of them but thats a topic for another time..” You say looking down trailing off your sentence.

Thankfully that stopped the conversation between you and her and she went back to stabbing bugs. Out of nowhere a black shadow witha green smile appears next to you forming into the shape of a demon. A handsome one at that. Tall and lanky in a striped red suit, a cane resembling a microphone right at his side.

“Well hello dear, I am Alastor the host of the hotel, an absolute pleasure to meet you!.” The demon says charmingly with a grin so wide it almost reaches his eyes, but his voice was off. It sounded like his voice was being broadcasted over a radio.

“Oh, hello?” You say a bit nervously as this man just came out of nowhere.

He grabs your hand bending down giving it a soft kiss. Everyone stopped and looked mouth open and shocked.

”What the fuck freaky face?! You ain’t never done that before.” Said Angel with a surprised look and then a laugh.

Charlie clasped her hands together and gave a long aweeee. You had no idea what was going on why everyone was acting so weird.

“Heh?” You say loudly looking confused and into Alastor glowing red eyes as you try to study what the schlock is about over him.

”Well I've never seen him be so… so gentle?” Charlie said still in awe with hearts in her eyes.

“Charlie my dear, I am simply just being a good host!” Alastor says keeping his smile wide and letting out a chuckle.

“Suuuureeeeee…!” Charlie says teasingly as if she could convince Alastor that she believed him.

“Now let me show our new guest around the hotel. Shall we?” He says in his static voice putting his arm out for you to hold onto.

You look at Angel and he gives you a wink and big grin. Looking at Alastors arm you grab it and begin to walk with him. Using his other hand holding his cane he starts to point out where everything is giving you a tour.

“..and hear darling we have my room!” Alastor says with a smirk.

You feel your face go a bit red. Why is he showing me HIS room?! You deal with horny men all day but this demon is getting you flustered. He opens the door letting you walk in first. There was a dark forest at the hall way point leading to who knows how far. Although it was beautiful. You stand here admiring it till you feel something behind you.

Alastor has his hand on your waist the other on your thigh. Slowly he slides his hand to your upper thigh, leaning into the crook of your neck.

”Well yes it's quite true I put everyone in awe over my affection, but I just simply couldn't stop myself. You are quite a cat my dear. Let me show you how a lady like you should be treated.” Alastor said with his radio voice but in a cooing tone.

Your face goes absolutely red. Shivers go up your spine all the way to the tip of your head. You could melt in his arms with how gently he is touching you. Shaking your head slowly you give a soft nod not even able to get out a word.

He glides his hand up your thigh to your crotch, he takes his hand and slowly starts rubbing it back and forth applying just enough pressure to have a decent amount of friction. The hand on your waist turns into him gliding his finger tips up your stomach making you do a soft gasp. He then reaches your chest and cups your breast. He slowly massages it in the same pace that his hand is going at. His face now buried in your neck kissing it softly. Then you feel a sharp pain letting out a small yelp. He lifts up his head slightly and whispers in your ear with a low radio tone.

”My apologies dear, I couldn’t help myself with how tender your skin is.”

He goes back to your neck licking it softly tending to the wound he left you. You didnt mind, it felt good and exciting. He moved his hand now to the rim of your pants.

“May I show you a good time darling?” He says in a static coo well running his fingers around the rim of your pants playing with them.

You give a simple nod. How does he have you in his clutches so easily? He takes his hand and slips it in your pants.

“Oh my, look how soaked you’ve become.”

He takes his hand and begins to feel your pussy. Running his fingers around your lips then pressing a finger on your slit going up and down slowly well his thumb rubs your clit.

God damn what the hell. You could hardly think, just focusing on all the sensations Alastor is causing you to feel. Your body entranced by the places he’s touching.

“Bed..?” Is all you managed to get out with a moan. You've been holding the moans in your throat as if they were trapped and couldn’t escape but that wasn’t because you weren’t feeling good it was because you were feeling so good. He raises his head to your ear once again.

”As you please my dear.” He says in a deep tone that broadcasted through your ears.

He removes his hands and swoops you off your feet. Holding you in his arms bridal style then setting you gently on his bed. You keep your eye on him, staring into his deep glowing stare.

“Let’s get these off of you shall we?” He says witch a chuckle.

Taking his finger he rips the seem of your pants making them fall off, now on to your panties. You look at him with lust as he returns the same look.

“Now be quite we dont want the other curious of the noise my sweet doe.” He says in his charming radio voice.

He gets on his knees and sets your legs on his shoulders. Alastor begins to kiss your inner thighs. Softly sucking on your skin then gliding his tongue up a bit to the next piece of flesh he is going to tend to. Unspoiled another sharp pain is felt. You knew what it was of course, but oh did it feel good. Between the bites, kisses, and licks he makes his wary up to your pussy. Extremely wet all ready for him to dine on. He wrapped his arms around your thighs digging his hands into them and leans his face in your aching wet crotch, not licking it just yet. He lets out a few heavy breaths causing you to shiver in delight, finally he takes a lick of your slit. His nose nuzzling your clit. He takes his tongue from the back of your pussy gliding it between your lips then finishing it off with a flick of his tongue on your clit. Quickly you took your hands covering your mouth choking back a moan you so desperately want to let out.

“Oh dear.. it appears you may need some help staying silent.”

Next to you a black hole appears on the bed and a tentacle slithers its way out. Black and slick it wraps around your mouth muffling the sounds you cant help but let out.

“Back to business..”

He thrust his head back between your legs licking your increasingly wet slit. Moans attempt to leave your lips but they cant. Arching your back indicating your about to cum he pulls away just barely enough to where you can only feel the tip of his lips.

”Not yet dear” He says smirking.

Damn that smile never leaving his face, that old times radio voice, he is driving you crazy.

Once he knows you won’t reach your peak just yet he wraps his lips around your clit. He starts sucking on it softly, nibbling on it unlike his hard bites, using his tongue sliding back and forth providing flicks. As he does so he slips two fingers inside of you. Dear god. Yes god, this is pure bliss. Alastor begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, now adding a curl to his fingers touching your sweet spot. He continues to pull them in and out. You arch your back and feel sweet realese. You cum on his fingers, him still sucking your clit and slowing down his pumps letting you ride out your orgasm. He pulls out his fingers and licks them clean.

”Im not usually one for sweets but this was a dessert I deeply enjoyed.” Alastor said standing back up looking over you taking in what he will now claim as his darling doe.

[charlottecutepie]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

[exhausted-exho]

Sick

I sniffle, curling into a tighter ball under the covers. My laptop in front of me is the only source of light in the room, as well as my entertainment while I'm coughing my lungs out.

"Yeah, X is still sick. That's why she's not streaming. She's in here as a mod, though, I think. Are you, X?" I reach out, typing with one hand. 'im here'

"They're still sick?" Puffer's voice joins the mix. "It's been a week now."

"Yeah," Max says, "she's feeling pretty shitty."

'tell puff boy not to worry about me' I type 'im fine'

"You're not fine," he argues. "Puffer, she says not to worry too much."

"X, take better care of yourself." The worried tone in his voice shines through the monotonous drawl. With another cough, I roll out of bed and wander down the hall to Max's office and walk in. He turns around as I do so, frowning.

"You should be resting right now, what are you doing?" 

Rather than answer, I pull his headset off and put it on my own ears and get close to his mic, half leaning on his desk.

"Shut up, Puffer, I'm fine."

"Woah, you sound like a smoker. Are you okay?" Chat fills with similar sentiment, making me scowl. "Is it just a cold?"

"I think mild laryngitis. I had no voice at all yesterday," I rasp. "I'm fine, though, don't worry."

"X-"

"'Kay, that's all. Later, I'm sitting down." I hand Max his headset and do exactly that, plopping down on the floor next to him, leaning my head against his leg. From my vantage, I can see parts of his monitors and notice that his cam can see the top part of my head.

"No she's sitting on the floor next to me. X, Puffer says go back to bed. So do I." I hum in disagreement and stay where I am, closing my eyes. "Alright, hang on, I'm muting for a second."

There's a few clicks and the sound of him placing his headset on the desk and then his hand is on my head, lightly musing my hair.

"X, come on, you gotta get back to bed. You can stay in as a mod but you need to be resting."

"I am resting," I argue.

"You know what I mean." I tilt my head to look at him, frowning. His brow is creased as he looks down at me, worry pulling at his face.

"I feel lonely," I admit. "You know how I am when I don't feel good."

"I know." His voice is gentle, as is his hand as it slides down to cup my cheek. "I won't be streaming for too much longer, okay? For now go back to bed."

I go to say something but end up in a coughing fit that has me doubled over, hacking into my crossed legs. His hand presses gently into the top of my spine to comfort me until I can breathe normally again. 

"X, please, go back to bed. I'll only be live for another half hour or so, okay?"

"Okay." He helps me to my feet and walks me down the hall to the bedroom, laying me down on the bed and covering me with the blankets again. "I'll be back soon."

He kisses my forehead before walking back to his office. As he's settling back in, I read chat. A lot of them are calling us cute while others are wishing me well. There's a couple who want to be trolls and are making fun of me for being sick but I give them warning mutes. Max sees one that I miss, though, and gets mad fast.

"Hey, if you wanna make fun of me do it. I know X doesn't really care if you make fun of her either, but don't be a shit about us being together. You're fucking banned and I'm doing it myself." I haven't heard him this pissed at someone in chat since a few months ago when a couple people wanted to make creepy comments on my body when I was wearing a cropped sweater and sweats. "I know some of you think you know what's best for us but you don't so shut the fuck up and leave us alone."

His protectiveness over me always makes me smile, even if I don't like what triggers it. 

Suddenly, chat is a lot faster. Most of what I can read is people telling Max to pop off and telling others to leave us alone or defending our happiness. I ban a few trolls myself, not even bothering to give warnings. 

"Puffer, I'm getting off in 30," he says.

"Aw, do you need to take care of the baby?" Immediately, I open a different Twitch tab, albeit muted, and get into Puffer's chat. Where I'm also a mod. 'shut the fuck up puff boy'

"She's not a-"

"Hey! Get outta my chat you fuckin' rat!" I giggle a little before typing again. 

'make me. im a mod bitch'

"X, you better not be bullying Puffer in his chat."

"She is. I'm gonna ban her."

"Don't ban her."

"She's being annoying. Maybe I should."

"You'll be down a mod." There's a moment of silent deliberation before Max jumps back in. "And she's on cold meds right now. You know how she gets when she's on cold meds."

Puffer lets out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. You're safe for now, X. But get out of my chat and go sleep."

I close his stream and go back to Max's, watching people celebrate my non-ban in Puffer's chat. Soon, I see spam of a clip link. I click it, filled with curiosity.

It's the moment of Max playing with my hair and cupping my face as I sat on the floor beside him. You can just see it with my positioning and the tilt of my head. Heat rushes my face as I click back on the stream. 

Chat flies by in a flurry, a lot of hearts and coos and calling us cute. Some of them even label it as "relationship goals." Max is too absorbed in the game and his conversation with Puffer to notice. I'm silently thankful for that, especially as the clip fades away and the conversation switches to the game again.

For the next twenty minutes all is calm. Max gets off the call with Puffer to do his ending, talking to chat for a little. I'm half asleep as I monitor chat until I see the link again.

"Oh, new clips?" Before I can say anything, Max clicks it and shows his whole stream. Chat explodes into their fawning again while Max just stares at it, letting it play a couple times. 

One would take the reaction as shock, but I see the small smile on his face. I don't blame him. It's a rare clip of me I actually truly enjoy.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.8k (at last, a normal chapter length)

summary : din is so in love it's obscene at this point, keep it in your chest man (it being his heart.)

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, this chapter is a sappy nightmare,,, like i've got one last chance to be sappy before i need to do my action packed finale so this is just me being sappy, din djarins so in love it makes me sick, fingering, p in v, clit stim, reverse cowgirl, creampie, cockwarming, massages, just general happiness like why are these idiots so happy what is their problem

a/n : WOOF this took a fucking WHILE to get out, and for those who waited, prepare to be UNDERWHELMED lmao. this is the last chapter before the final arc of the story and i was feeling rather sentimental while I wrote it. anyhow,,, i have a million excuses for why this took so long but like who cares cause it's here now yippee!!! as for every chapter i've ever posted i have no idea if i like this or not so there's that, i kind of hate this one the way i hate every lunar interlude, like i've never written a din pov and felt good about it lmao so i guess we'll see. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. 

He’s going to ask you to marry him.

Is that something he can do? 

Technically of course you don’t really consider yourself married as far as he can tell. Sure you have a husband but that’s all he is, a husband. 

An obstacle. 

The two of you could still be married. 

And you wanted to leave this place. So he was going to give you exactly that. 

A home, far away from here. 

He pulls you into the cabin, wanting nothing more than for you to see the smile on his face. Of course you won’t let him do that much to his confusion. 

Maybe if you’re married to him you’ll look. 

The longer you wait the more nervous he gets about it. 

A lot can go wrong with this kind of thing. 

Very specifically, you could just not find him attractive in the slightest, which wouldn’t be great all things considered. If that happened maybe he could just live with the helmet on and you’d be okay with that. 

“Do you want to sleep here tonight or go back to the castle?” You look exhausted as he asks, he practically carries you towards the bed. 

“Here’s fine.” You look too tired to walk back anyway. 

He drags the mattress off of the busted frame, setting it on the floor. You seem surprised that he didn’t have a bigger reaction to your love confession. 

He did the first time you’d said it a few days ago. 

After the first day stuck in your room, you had said it that night. All you had wanted to do that day was fight and he hadn’t been able to give you even that. He knew you were right. It was stupid to stay. 

Even if things are okay now. 

You had said his name so clearly with such urgency that he believed you might be about to start another argument in the middle of the night.

“Din?” You had grabbed the front of his shirt and it wasn’t until he’d tried to talk to you that he’d realized you were still asleep. 

“Are you okay, sarad?” He sat up and cradled your head in his hands but you’d only held on tighter as you mumbled in your sleep.

“I love you.” And just like that you were collapsing back in his arms, still asleep as if nothing had happened. 

He hadn’t cried like he did that night since the kid left. 

And it didn’t matter when you didn’t say it back in the morning. (Despite the fact that he had said it quite a bit.) You loved him and he knew it. And he had made sure to show you just how much he loved you on that second day. 

He grins as you sit down on the bed with a yawn. He takes it upon himself to kneel beside you, unlacing the back of your gown. You have no resistance as he helps peel the rain soaked fabric from your skin. 

“Let me get you a change of clothes.” He leaves you to get out of the rest as he finds you a simple set of sleep wear. You let him redress you until he finally lays you down and stands, going to change out of his own wet clothes. 

When he steps out of the fresher you’ve turned the lights off he's in a clean flight suit with his helmet on as he slides under the blankets with you. 

“Warm enough?” The cabin feels colder than the castle as he pulls you closer. 

“I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Your voice is heavy with sleep as he rests his chin on the top of your head, beskar bumping against your hair. 

“Get some sleep.” He mumbles, not bothering to close his own eyes. 

“You promised you’d eat the candy.” You whisper into the darkness, you sound  barely conscious. 

“I did not.” At least he’s pretty sure he didn’t, he’s realized at this point that if he says anything with enough confidence you usually believe it. 

“You alluded to it.” You’re right, he probably did. 

“Do you really want to see the damage I would do after eating that thing?” He’ll never do it. In all honesty he’s a little nervous he’ll accidentally hurt you.

“A little.” You flip over in his arms so you’re facing him now, when you look at him he finds himself falling victim to the pleading look in your eyes. Damn nightvision. 

“Go to sleep.” He has to close his eyes, if he stares at you too long he’ll give in despite his own worries. “I love you.” He murmurs. He needs you to know it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You laugh softly before going silent. 

It only takes a few more minutes before your breathing gets quiet and steady against him. 

When he’s certain you’re asleep he reaches over to turn the lamp back on. You’d think with how often he does this that you’d have seen his face on accident at some point but maybe he’s just really lucky. 

He likes to look at you without the helmet on.

It’s fine with it, but nothing compares to seeing you without the barrier. Sometimes, if he’s still wearing the helmet and he takes it off you smile in your sleep when the airlock hisses. But since you’re insistent on not looking he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to really look at you. So he does it on nights like these. 

You get so sleepy after sex. 

So he gets to hold you, and watch how your eyes flutter open the tiniest bit when he can’t help himself and kisses your cheeks until he can bring himself to sleep. Or how you mumble back to him when he whispers things to you in Mando’a. 

Most importantly you look less worried when you sleep. You always look so worried but not when you’re like this. There is plenty to be worried about so he can’t hold it against you. 

He’s going to build you a house someday. And he’s going to give you a garden. 

So you can go outside and look at the flowers whenever you want. 

And you won’t ever have to worry again. 

With a soft hiss of air he removes his helmet, setting it somewhere in the sheets as he looks at you, unburdened. He likes the way your lips part just a little bit as the corners of your mouth lift. 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek before rolling over to rest his head on your chest so he can feel you breathe until he falls asleep, it helps him to match your breathing. Your hands hold him, even in your sleep you run your hands across his back and shoulders. One time you had a nightmare and you pulled his hair so hard you’d woke yourself up. But he’d never complain, it’s one of his favorite things about you. You love him even when you’re sleeping. Like right now, your nails lighty scratch at the nape of his neck. 

It helps him sleep.

☆

When he wakes up he’s got a blanket thrown over his head and you’re already up, sitting at the table.

“You fell asleep without your helmet on.” He hears you grumble. 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as he searches for it in the mess of sheets only to find you’d set it on the floor beside him. Once it’s properly in place he finds you reading. He stands behind you, looking over your shoulder. 

“How did you find that?” He tries to grab the translation book but you swat his hand away. 

“You said we had no secrets.” Your eyes are scanning the pages. “Ner means mine.” You grin up at him as you say it. 

“Yes, it does.” He stares right back down at you. 

You lean backwards, grabbing the front of his shirt. 

“Ner.” 

Would you think less of him if you knew how often his face turned red when you spoke to him like that? A few weeks ago that kind of worry would drive him mad, but now? He knows you wouldn’t mind, knowing you'd probably feel accomplished to get such a reaction from him. 

“Gar serim.” You’re right. He murmurs back before getting your things together, listening to the sound of the pages frantically flipping behind him as you look for the words.

When you find the page you give him a dopey smile 

He suddenly remembers something, going to the fresher and searching through last night's wet clothes he finds the vial, bringing it to you, you don’t need any instruction from him as you pop the cap off, drinking the contents before setting it aside. 

“What do you want to do today?” He holds up the scraps of your dress, trying to decide if it’s even worth putting back on. 

“I’m a little tired, maybe we could read today.” You turn just in time to watch him toss it back on the ground. 

“Sounds perfect.” This will give him some much needed time to think.

He has a plan for today. There are a few things that he needs to get done before he leaves.

Like tell you that he has to leave. 

Of course he doesn’t want to leave you, even if it’s only going to be for a few days, but he wants to do this the right way and to do that he needs to leave. 

Just a few days. And then he doesn’t have to leave you ever again. 

And he needs to get away from you long enough to make the failsafe he knows you don’t want. You’re always together at this point, (not that he would have it any other way.) so it won’t be easy to find time away to do it but he’ll figure it out. 

“We should get going.” He’s pretty sure he has everything he needs and you need to be back in your room before any staff might notice you’re gone. 

“But  I wanna keep doing this.” You give him your sad eyes as you gesture to the book and he’s already ready to give in. 

“You can bring that to the library.” He groans and that’s all the convincing needed to get you on your feet. He manages to get you back to your room just before the girls arrive. He stands where he’s expected to stand out in the hall. It’s the only time he really spends away from you. 

When the door opens he instinctively stands up a little straighter.

They put you in a white dress. 

A pretty white dress. 

Did you know what this would do to him? 

You can’t possibly know the effect this kind of thing has on him, if you did you wouldn’t put him through this. 

“Ready?” He says as he peers at the translation book still happily tucked under your arm.

“Of course.” He’s mesmerized by your gown, it’s simpler than the ones they normally do you up in, white fabric flowing off your shoulders down to the floor, as you walk it trails behind you a bit. It’s a familiar quiet as he walks you to those large wooden doors, opening them as you rush inside. 

“What do you want to read today?” You’re searching around the shelves, you’ve already set your own reading in the nook. 

“Surprise me.” He won’t be reading today anyway, he needs to plan. 

“Here.” You hand him a book on speeder maintenance, normally he’d be thrilled to spend the day reading the sort of thing but he really should just take today to think. 

He sits first. Leaving space between his legs for you to sit which you happily do. Once you’re settled he opens his book, pretending to read as he lets his mind focus on what's important. 

Starting with the part where he tells you he’s leaving.

Or that he’s decided rather recently that he needs to leave.   

He should just do it now, get it out of the way so it stops bothering him, especially because he’d like to leave as soon as possible, but you seem so relaxed right now and he’d hate to ruin that. 

So he’ll focus more on the trip itself than the telling you part. 

It should only take a few days. A quick trip to the forge and back. 

He’s pretty sure he’s found out where the convert currently is. He doesn't have as much free time as he used to so it took a little outside help, seeking out old colleagues until finally hearing word of an outer rim planet where they might be located. He’ll catch a transport ship there, take care of what needs to be taken care of, and be back to you before he knows it. 

Then you can plan your life together. 

He would love to just bring you to the forge with him, go from there and never look back. That would be ideal. To get you out of here as quickly as possible. But that’s not possible, if he’s gonna go this he’s gonna do it right, so he’ll plan everything down to the last detail to make sure that it’s as safe as possible. If he’s being realistic he knows you’ll have to do something drastic, probably along the lines of faking your death. 

Will he have to kill Kodo? 

He’d like to. 

He’s wanted to kill Kodo for some time now, he’s just a little worried you’d be mad, you were so mad when he hit him. 

He never wanted you to be that mad at him ever again. 

So maybe he won’t. 

That would be the easiest way to get you out though, to be fair. Kill Kodo and run, and deal with the consequences after. He’ll hide you away somewhere until things die down and then he’ll build you something permanent. A home for the both of you. 

He could also just whisk you away into the night one of these days. 

He honestly isn’t sure how long they’d look for you, the last thing he’d want is for you to have to live a life on the run, he wants for the both of you to be able to settle. If it was clear he had taken you it would be deemed a kidnapping, it would be a long search, how long would they look if they believed you just ran away? He doesn’t talk to other staff members enough to know how seriously the royal family would take such a thing. 

Faking your death would probably be the easiest thing. 

No one comes looking for you. 

He isn’t entirely sure how you’ll handle that suggestion but if you’re serious about starting a life together it isn’t going to be easy. 

“I’ll be right back.” He stands, and you immediately give him a confused look, he never gets up and leaves, but he’s just realized that you’ll need to be taken care of while he’s gone. Who will protect you when he’s away? He definitely doesn’t trust anyone here to watch over you, Elaine would be his first choice but she’s busy when she isn’t tending to you and in all honesty he isn’t sure what she would do if something were to happen to you. 

So he’ll have to go with someone who he knows is available to watch you and who he’s certain won’t harm you. 

You aren’t going to be happy with his choice. 

When he steps out into the hall he calls his name, a few moments later Leo appears, he already seems reluctant, Din never summons him but this is important, and he doesn’t have any other options. 

“I’m leaving, tomorrow, I have to take care of some things, Kodo said it would be fine for me to take time off when I took the job.” Tomorrow. Well that’s settled then he supposes. The twi’lek trembles under his gaze, clearly unsure as to where he’s going with this.  

“While I’m gone you will watch her.” Din adds on at the end, Leo looks clearly unhappy with this arrangement as he stumbles back a bit. 

“Me?” 

“I won’t repeat myself. You will watch her, you will make sure she doesn’t leave the castle when I am gone. If somebody tries to get near her, you stop them, if somebody tries to hurt her, you will stand between them, if she gets hurt you will feel whatever pain she feels tenfold upon my return. If she so much as gets a papercut while she’s reading in the library there will be repercussions.” He straightens his posture to make himself the tiniest bit more imposing over Leo. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, you’re understood.” Based on the fear in Leo’s eyes he’s certain he may have gone a little overboard but he’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Good.”

That’s taken care of. 

Once Leo is gone, disappearing down the hall, he opens the door, slipping back into the library where you’re standing in the entryway.

At least he doesn’t have to figure out how to tell you. 

“You’re leaving.” You say it like it’s a fact. Which of course you now know it is. 

“Yes.” No sense in hiding it. 

“And you just weren’t going to tell me?” He definitely should have told you. 

“I was just about to tell you.” He hates when you look at him the way you are now. Like you can see right through the steel, like you know he’s lying, like you can see the guilty expression on his face. “I was going to tell you soon. I have to go take care of some things.” 

“Take me with you.” You say it more like a demand and less like a request. He probably should have seen that one coming, even if he wasn’t going to get something to surprise you with he probably wouldn’t be allowed to take you off planet. 

“I wish I could, sarad, but I have to go alone, I’ll only be gone a few days.” Kriff, he really should have told you sooner. 

“Where are you going?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“I… can’t tell you.” Not a great excuse, he knows that. 

“If I’m being honest I don’t love the sound of that.” He can’t blame you, if your roles were reversed he wouldn’t just let you go. 

“I know but I need you to trust me, I’ll only be gone a few days.”

“And you absolutely have to go?” You sound less mad and more upset now. If he wasn’t leaving to do something for you, your expression alone would be enough to make him stay. 

“Yes. He says it like he’s confirming it for himself. 

“I’ll miss you.” All the anger has left your voice, now you just sound sad. 

“I’ll miss you.” More than anything. 

“When will you be back?” 

“I’m not sure exactly, I won’t be long.” Unless he can’t find the convert, but you don’t need to know that part. You nod and he’s a little surprised at your acceptance of all this. “I have to leave in the morning.” A deep frown settles on your face. 

“So soon?” He really should have told you sooner.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If you have to then you have to.” You give him such a sad smile, he wishes he didn’t have to go but he wants to do this right. 

“Can you stay here, I’ll come get you in a few hours.” He cradles your face in his hands, wishing he could wash away any of your doubts, but now that you know he should probably go get ready. “I have to go pack a few things, I’ll be back before dark, okay?” 

“And then you’ll stay with me the rest of the night?” And every night after. 

“Of course.” 

“Okay then, hurry back.” 

This will also probably be the only chance he gets to make that fail safe.  

He lifts his helmet a bit to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving you, watching as you instinctively close your eyes as he does. There isn’t a lot of time for him to do what he needs to do before you’ll be expecting him so he gets back to the cabin as quickly as possible.

He’s quick with everything, packing his bag with only the essentials and tossing the empty box down before finally sitting down at the table. 

Now to write the note. A letter with instructions on what to do if something ever happens to him. 

He doesn’t like the idea of you being left alone with your husband. The thought of it makes him sick. 

If another body guard were hired they wouldn’t protect you from him. 

Maybe he should ask Elaine to help you if that happens. 

She could get you out. 

If he wasn’t here he would want you to leave as quickly as possible, to go somewhere safe. He lists out all the places you could go, names and coordinates of people who can keep you safe at the mention of his name. He spends a solid hour staring at that piece of paper, writing out anything he’d want you to know before folding it up and setting it in the box. 

With that taken care of he kneels on the floor, feeling around until locating the familiar loose board under the kitchen table. 

He’d found it a week after moving in and it seemed like a perfectly good spot to hide things. He’s got a collection of things already set aside for you, he pulls each item from its hiding spot, putting them into the box before holding up a small chainmail shirt. He retrieves the stick shift knob from the shelf, wrapping it in the shirt and putting it in the box. 

In his note he’s left you with a task, to give those to the kid, and to tell him that he’s sorry. 

Lastly he fills a bag with credits, about a month's salary, you should be able to buy yourself a ship if you want, he isn’t sure if you’d know how to fly it but with the money provided you can pay someone to fly it for you. With that he sets the box under an extra flight suit in his bag before returning to the castle, on his way out the door he grabs the few bars of beskar he has. 

You’re right where he left you in the library, your brows furrowed as you stare at that damn book, he should have hidden it better. 

“Wanna go get some dinner?” You look up when he speaks, holding his hand out which you gladly take as he pulls you towards him. 

“We can do that. You’re all packed?” Thankfully you look less upset than you had earlier. 

“All packed.” He drops your hand as he opens the door, following you as you walk to the kitchens. He watches the way the back of your dress just barely drags along the stone floors as you ask for two dinners, handing his to him to carry with a smile as you continue to walk.

When you arrive back at your chambers you’re quick to lock the door, he watches as you rush to the closet, already sitting with your back to him when he steps inside, dim lamp light illuminates the room as he sits, his back brushing against yours as he listens to the sounds of your eating. 

What he wouldn’t give to eat face to face. 

He can’t remember the last time he shared a normal meal with someone. He ate in front of the kid but he always kept the helmet on, it would have been years and years ago, maybe with his parents. 

He finds the latch for his helmet, tossing it aside, he’s already decided he won’t be putting it back on tonight, he chews his food thoughtfully. What would life look like with you after this place? He certainly wouldn’t want to eat dinner like this every night. 

Maker, why won’t you just look? Everything would be easier if you’d just look. He would abandon his creed entirely if that’s what you wanted. Instead he loves the one person in the galaxy who doesn’t want to look. 

“You’re being quiet.” You finally break the silence as he sits up a little straighter.

“I’m always quiet.” He murmurs. 

“You think I don’t know that? You’re being extra quiet, what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” He takes another bit as you lean back against him, resting your back on his as he hears you set your plate aside.

“You’ve been quiet all day.” Of course he has, he has to leave you tomorrow and you’ve been in a white dress all day. 

“I’m quiet every day.” He finishes his food quickly, reaching around blindly until he finds your plate, standing to set the both outside the room, when he turns around this time he faces you, kneeling on the floor behind you as he plays with the lace on the back of the dress, lining a series of buttons in a straight line down your spine. 

“You’re avoiding the point.” You snap at him but he just continues to trail his fingers across the intricate patterns of your dress.

“I’m just gonna miss you, that’s all.” 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Your tone has softened.

“Want me to show you how much I’m gonna miss you?” He gives the back of your gown a teasing tug. 

“That might be nice.” You’re already reaching towards the lamp but he takes your hand, guiding it back into your lap. 

“Leave it.”

“Din…” You have a soft warning tone as he kisses your exposed shoulder. 

“Please, I want to see you.” He murmurs against your skin as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling it up towards your hips. 

“But-” He’s quick to cut you off. 

“It’s fine, if you don’t look then you won’t see.” He swiftly unlatches his armor, setting it aside as he pulls you into his lap, his chest flush with your back. He turns to kiss your cheek, watching your eyes flutter shut as he does. 

He bunches up your skirt enough so he can see your thighs, pulling his gloves off so he can touch you, he likes the feeling of his skin on yours, how often does he get to have this? Only ever with you, not that he’d have it any other way. You’re just so soft, he likes the way you feel when he spreads your thighs a little wider, watching your mouth open a tiny bit as you inhale sharply. He’s already terribly hard, trying not to rut against your ass as he lets one hand dip between your legs, under your skirt, as the other one drifts up towards your chest, splayed out across your sternum to keep you in place.

He pushes your panties to the side, admiring the wetness he finds already there as he swipes his fingers along your seam. He tilts his head to the side, eager to watch your expression unburdened by his helmet as he pushes two fingers into you. 

Once he’s in your peripheral you close your eyes, leaving him to observe the way your mouth falls open as he gently slides his digits in and out, feeling you shift in his lap to grind against his palm. 

He’s fascinated by you, by the way you move in sync with him, with each movement of his hand you match it with a rock of your hips, or by arching your back.

“Din-” Your voice comes out as a high strangled cry that makes his cock ache against the fabric of his flight suit. 

“Go ahead, I wanna watch.” He mumbles as he presses his cheek to yours, staring down, mesmerized by the sight of you riding his fingers, his own mouth falling open as he feels your entire body tense up, feeling you clamp down on his fingers as you come. He keeps his fingers inside of you until your breathing evens out, once you come down from your orgasm he removes them, bringing them to his mouth as he uses his other hand to reach between the two of you, pulling his cock free. He stares down at the sight of himself against the pretty white fabric of your dress as he moans against his own fingers, stroking himself for a moment before popping his digits out of his mouth, grabbing your hips and lifting you a bit. 

He lets out a small groan as your hands reach down to line him up at your entrance, he lets go of your hips, letting you sink yourself down onto him, his hands wrapping around your thighs instead, squeezing the meat there with a pleased hum. 

You’re going at your own pace as he fights his own impatience, doing his best to not thrust up into you as he latches his mouth onto your shoulder, biting softly as you take nearly all of him, gasping his name the entire time. 

After another moment you’re fully sat in his lap, your breathing heavy as one of his hands moves from your thigh to your clit.

“Can you come again? Like this?” He rasps the words out against your skin, you nod as he begins to swirl his fingers in small precise circles, his moans match your own as he feels you slowly lift yourself off of him, your chest bouncing as you fuck yourself on him. 

Gods as his witness he’ll never wear his helmet again during sex. 

It’s just better to really see you like this, he can’t believe he deprives himself of this so often, the way your body trembles, the sounds you make, everything is simply better without the filters and the modulation. 

“Maker- Din!” Your strained plea snaps him out of his thoughts as he looks at your face, your eyes and nose scrunched up in frustration. “Please, fuck me, Din please.” You always sound so sweet, at this rate he’ll never be able to say no to you.  

He sits up a little to give himself more leverage, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you, his other hand reaching behind himself to prop himself up as he thrusts up into you. His hips snapping up as he grits his teeth, a growl forming in his throat. He keeps you there for a bit, keeping up a brutal pace as he lets gravity do most of the work, bouncing you on his length, eventually relaxing after feeling your legs give out from under you. He sits back up on his knees, steadying you with both bands now, keeping you impaled on his cock as he leans forward, kissing up the column of your throat.    

“Kiss me, please.” He murmurs against your jaw, desperate for more of you as he lets out a low whine, wishing you would just look at him.

Your eyes shut as you turn your head to kiss him, he brings one hand up to your face, his other still on your stomach as he groans, rocking his hips upwards again. 

“You can look.” He pants, holding his forehead to yours as he stares at your face, contorted in pleasure as he pushes himself deeper into you, watching the way your eyes flutter a bit, never actually opening.

“I- I can’t.” You gasp out as he fucks up into you, short shallow thrusts, relishing in the way you take him, squeezing his cock with every rock of his hips, the way your face looks as he leans in for another kiss, quick and chaste, a sharp juxtaposition to how he’s fucking you, only pulling out in the slightest before slamming back into you. 

“You can, I want you to.” His voice is ragged and desperate at this point. 

“I will, just, not tonight.” 

“Ni vercopaanir gar Ru'kel haa'taylir.” I wish you would look. 

“I will, Din- I promise I will.” He’s sure you didn’t learn enough to know what he said but he’s still satisfied with that answer.

“Okay.” He kisses you again, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace, pulling you down onto him as he rocks his hips upwards. He manipulates your body like it’s nothing, his hands holding you tightly enough to keep you upright as he continues to slam himself into you, you’re soaking his cock at this point as he muffles his grunts with your mouth. He knows you’re both nearly there, with the way your words become nonsensical. He turns his head to whisper into your ear. “Come for me, sarad.” He groans, his mouth falling open as a slew of filthy noises fall past his lips he feels you pulse around him, he frantically goes to pull out but you shake your head no, slamming your hips back against his and riding out your orgasm he watches you mumble, barely coherently. 

“In- Inside, Din.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. You give him the sweetest cry as he bites down on your shoulder, he growls against your flesh as he releases the fire pooling in his stomach. 

“Bid jate- bid jate par ni.” So good for me. He mumbles against your shoulder.

He fucks his cum deeper into you with a few more sloppy thrusts before sitting back on his heels, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves, letting you rest back against him as you go limp in his arms. 

Once he’s caught his breath he leans back, keeping himself inside you as he kicks his legs out. He swallows, still a little unsteady as you sit up, one of his hands wanders to you back, drawing a star there with one of his fingers. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers softly just before you lay back on top of him.

“Why do you do that?” He doesn’t stop you this time as you reach over and turn the lamp off, taking his hands and guiding him to turn the both of you onto your sides as his erection softens inside of you. 

“Do what?” He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the darkness and biting back a groan as you adjust yourself to put your hips flush with his.

“You switch languages, usually when you’re near the end, or when you say something kind.”

Oh.

He’s never really thought about that. 

“How did you know what I said?” He brushes a bit of hair behind your ear as he runs his hand down and up your spine slowly. 

“I asked my question first.”

“Fair enough. I guess it just happens, I’ve never really thought about why. I suppose it’s just another layer of armor, another way to conceal things.” You don’t respond, presumably thinking over his response. “Your turn, how did you know what I said?”

“I guessed.” Smart girl. 

“Of course you did.” He places a kiss against the back of your neck before resting the bridge of his nose there. “Do you wanna sleep like this?” He rocks his hips a bit to accentuate his point, drawing a gasp from you. 

“Yes, please.” You whisper back.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles before closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, the last thing he feels before falling asleep is you intertwining your fingers with his. 

☆

He wakes up before you, careful to leave you undisturbed as he reaches over to turn on the lamp, happy to just watch you for a few more minutes before he leaves. Watching the rise and fall of your chest. After a moment he realizes he slipped out of you while he slept.

He’s in no rush but he knows the moment you wake he’ll have to go so he stays still for a while, enjoying the morning quiet until your eyes slowly open, and you stretch your arms with a groan. 

“Good morning, sarad.” He says softly, kissing your shoulder as you shudder at the sensation. 

“You’re leaving.” You whisper to him.

“I am.” 

Much to his surprise you turn to face him, of course he realizes a second too late that your eyes are closed. 

“Be safe.” You murmur, taking his face in your hands before kissing him. Maybe this will be a happy morning despite his worries about going. 

“Always.” He gives you another kiss before sitting up, dressing himself quickly, looking over at you every so often only to find that your eyes are closed until you hear the soft hiss of his helmet. 

“I’m serious, you better be careful.” You sit up and face him as he kneels beside you.

“I will, I promise.” He holds your face in one hand. “Goodbye, sarad’ika.” You give him a radiant smile. 

“Ret'urcye mhi, cyare.” Goodbye, beloved. That’s what you’d been learning yesterday. He’s a little taken aback by the sound of those words leaving your mouth, his own smile forming. 

“Jate bora” Good job. 

He doesn’t tell you how poorly you pronounced each of those words, too infatuated to care as he leans down, lifting his helmet enough to kiss your forehead. 

“I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He uses his free hand to gently grab your chin, giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll see you soon.” Once he’s shut the closet door he slips the fail safe box under your bed. 

And just like that he’s out the door, on his way to the nearest shipyard. 

☆

It goes surprisingly smoothly. 

He’s only gone for about four days, he gets lucky as far as transportation goes, managing to catch a cargo ship going directly to the planet he’s looking for. He doesn’t recognize it and in all honesty he isn’t sure he’s ever been there but he finds the convert easily enough.

It took a bit of convincing but he got what he needed from the armorer and just like that he was catching a ship back to you with two rings attached to a thin chain around his neck. 

He’s eager to see you immediately after landing but he’s filthy from the trip so he goes to the cabin first, shedding his armor and clothes before stepping into the fresher. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t started taking care of himself more after meeting you. 

He’d avoided mirrors all together until you. 

He’d shave when his beard got unmanageable. He’d cut his hair when it stuck out the back of his helmet. And that was it. 

And then you came along and suddenly he was staring at himself in the dingy mirror he’s in front of now. The first day he realized he wanted to impress you he spent hours in the cabin fresher, trying to even out his facial hair, and give himself something that resembled a respectable haircut. He needs another one soon, staring at himself now he knows he’ll need to shave before he sees you but he can probably go a few more weeks without a haircut. 

He’s pretty sure you like his hair long, even if you’ve never seen it, that’s the only reason he hasn’t just buzzed it all, the way he’d normally do it. You’re always touching it. 

So he cleans up his beard before stepping into the shower, he’s in a hurry, scrubbing away the days of travel and grime. He finds a clean flightsuit and dons his armor as quickly as possible, his hair is still wet when he puts the helmet back on. 

He makes a beeline towards the castle as the sun sets, the promise of you drives him forward despite his exhaustion. 

He checks the library first, finding the nook to be empty. He goes to your chambers, if his count is correct you would have had dinner with Kodo yesterday, so if you aren’t reading you should be in your room. He’s pleased to see a nervous looking Leo outside your door, his eyes go wide as Din approaches. 

He stops a few inches away from Leodall, looming over him. 

“Everything went smoothly?” His voice is low and husky. His professional voice. 

“Yes, of course.” He’s pretty sure Leo is too scared of him to lie so he gives him a curt nod of approval. 

“Then you’re dismissed, thank you.” He really is thankful, despite his dislike for the twi’lek. He watches him scurry away before hastily pushing your door open, stepping inside to find you there. 

You’re laying on your stomach, a book laid out on the bed in front of you. A look of anger crosses your face when you look up, assuming you’d find Leo in the doorway but once you see him you’re sitting up, rushing over to him and wrapping your arms around him. 

“I missed you.” You mumble against his chest plate as he returns your embrace.

“It was only a few days.” He laughs softly as you look up at him. He’s just happy to be with you again. 

“That doesn’t mean anything, I still missed you.” With the way you’re looking at him it’s a wonder he doesn’t get on one knee right now. 

Instead he can’t help it as he yawns, he’d been in such a rush to return to you he’d barely slept during his trip.

“Are you tired?” Your brows furrow in concern as he shakes his head no. 

“No, I’m fine, I’m just happy to see you.” He’s about to lift his helmet to kiss you, but you frown and pull him towards the closet. He isn’t entirely sure he’s going to be able to properly fuck you in this state but he’ll make it work. As you shut the door he starts taking off his armor and you turn to help him, carefully removing each piece until he’s in just his flight suit and helmet. You gently put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to the floor before kneeling beside him. He puts his hands on your waist and is a little surprised when you tenderly pull them away. 

“Lay on your stomach.” You tilt your head to the side and he’s about to argue but you click your tongue and point at the blankets. “I let you disappear for a few days with no questions, you owe me, now lay down. And take off your flight suit.” 

With a reluctant groan he does as he’s told, sliding his flight suit down to his waist, his confusion only growing as you straddle his back. His bewilderment vanishes though as he feels your hands kneading his shoulders. He’s about to flip himself over and tell you he’s fine but as he opens his mouth to complain you dig the heel of your palm into his back and instead a moan slips out. 

He doesn’t make much of a fuss after that, letting you methodically take care of the many knots and tense spots across his back. 

He turns his head to the side, closing his eyes as you hum a song to yourself, caressing and kneading every inch of visible skin until you’re satisfied. He feels you lean down, planting a kiss along his spine before climbing off of him and laying down beside him, he sits up with another rather embarrassing moan. He’s trying to flip you over to do you as you laugh, pulling him back down to lay with you. 

“You need sleep.” You once again catch him off guard as he feels your fingers on the helmet release, the kiss of air accompanied by the click of the lamp as you remove his helmet, kissing his forehead. 

“I missed you too.” He whispers into the darkness, realizing he hasn’t said it yet.

“I know you did, now get some sleep.” You pull his head down against your chest, squeezing his shoulder as you do. He really is exhausted, he hadn’t realized until he was reunited with you that he doesn’t sleep as well without you. 

“I love you.” He sleepily mumbles against your chest. 

No one takes care of him the way you do. Your soft hands continue to rub his back as he succumbs to sleep. 

“I love you too.” He feels another kiss on his forehead as he exhales the last of his energy. 

If he wasn’t so tired he probably would have proposed right then and there. 

☆

Having the rings has made him a mess.

Anytime you do anything he just wants to ask. When you’d kissed him this morning, when you’d walked out of your room in a green dress grinning at him like you’d done it just for him, when you’d handed him the speeder maintenance book from before because you just knew he hadn’t read it last time. 

And right now, as you read like you always do, sitting beside him. 

Now more than ever he wants to ask. 

He had wanted so badly for it to be special. 

He was thinking of maybe doing it in the gardens some night, where he had kissed you for the first time. But you look exactly how he always wants you to look right now. 

Your face buried in a romance book with a smile dancing on your lips. 

Tucked away in the nook, safe from the world. 

“How much of the Mando’a book did you end up reading?” He plays with the edge of the page he’s on now, he’s been pretending to read again, unable to pull his focus from you. 

“The translation book? Not a lot.” He watches as you turn to give him a smile. 

“Do you know what riduur means?” He knows you don’t, but he can’t stop himself from saying it. 

“No, I don't think I learned that.” You close your book, staring at him curiously. 

“It means partner, or spouse.” 

“Oh. Okay…” Your eyes get a little bigger once he says that. 

He gives you a nod before looking back down at his own book, silently cursing himself out for not going through with it. He hadn’t realized that having rings made would make him fall apart every time he’s in your presence. 

You’re just so… perfect. Do you have to be so perfect? You learn his language and you respect him and you love him and you’re endlessly sweet. 

He just wants to keep you like this forever.

Safe and happy. 

That’s why he can’t help himself as he sets his book down, he fidgets with his helmet for a moment before turning off the modulator, he wants you to hear his voice without the filter, sitting up, he cradles your face in his hands. 

“Can I ask you something?” He whispers.  

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[morgana-ren]

Why do you think Bailey has such regret/panic after he fucks the PC?

I think that ultimately, there's a few reasons why that is.

For starters, Bailey has cultivated a 'no bullshit, no excuses' atmosphere in his orphanage. You have a set date he expects payment, and if you don't have it, you pay another way-- he extracts value from you, one way or another. However, that doesn't mean what one might think it would mean in a devious concept (at least not regarding Bailey himself.)

We know Bailey has some sort of miserable past likely mirroring your own. The only thing that seems to shake him is that attic. It alludes to the fact that he may have grown up in the orphanage, or maybe before he bought it, it was something different and darker entirely.

The way he seems to have gotten over it is by separating himself entirely from any form of sentimental or gentle emotion. Like poof, gone. Not a fucking ounce of humanity left in that man. Not one. He found a goal, and he sticks to it steadfast. That goal is to-- more or less, anyways-- to never be vulnerable again. The town he lives in is sick, and it's wrong. Something is going on in this place that makes people exceptionally more licentious; more rotten. Dark desires that most people would never even conceive of entertaining are rather commonplace here. In more ways than one, they have everyone-- victims and perpetrators-- by the balls.

One way to crawl your way to the top would be to remove yourself from that situation-- and then take advantage of it. If you're not looking at anyone as a potential victim of your lust, but rather purely as a paycheck, it removes a lot of the complications. The town still has a facade of law and order, as we can see if you frame Leighton, or just allow Briar to get raided, the cops at least pretend to do their jobs when confronted with cold, hard evidence.

Bailey has avoided this outcome because, plain and simply, he doesn't indulge. Doesn't even consider it. He doesn't take advantage of his charges in the way one might expect. In the way that Leighton does, or the way that most of the people in this perfidious town do-- with pure, unadulterated lust and base desire.

Bailey is all about the paycheck, which has the double advantage of making him rich, and riding him under the radar. Both of these things, when coupled with his raw power, leave him relatively untouchable.

Let's examine what sleeping with the PC means knowing all of this.

Well, having sex is in and of itself a vulnerability. Especially in the way it's instigated with him. It's actually sort of brilliant: it literally breaks every single rule he has. Even the unspoken ones.

He shows humanity in being seduced. It reveals a weakness, both to him and to someone who could potentially take advantage of it. It shows that he very much does suffer from base human desire to the point where it's actually boiling over from his repression.

And how you seduce him has him breaking his very strict rules on payment.

No mercy, and no leniency. That's what one can usually expect from Bailey. No amount of batting your eyes and pouting your lips at him will get you what you want. It might work for everyone else in this shithole, but not him.

....Except it does.

In fact, it works so unbelievably well, that he pounces. Literally.

He loses all sense in that moment. Just goes right out the goddamned window. You ask him for a little extension on the payment, which should be an automatic 'no' without even thinking-- except he makes the mistake of looking at you when normally, he probably wouldn't. He would just keep his nose in his paperwork and point wordlessly to the door.

(This shows a pique of attention when it comes to the PC themselves. He seems to indulge them a little more than he would anyone else, which you see on several occasions.)

The PC doesn't even technically outright ask for anything. Just puts on a little show in the most minor sense, and Bailey straight up loses his mind. Shoves you to the floor and crawls on top of you right there, tearing at your clothes and trying to get his cock in you as quickly as physically possible.

Desperation. That's the word for it.

He breaks his most iron rule and pretty much every other one in one swift motion (or several, lmao) and he loses from it-- at least how he tries to view things.

He has to honor his word. You help up your unspoken part of the bargain, and while he is a complete bastard, he's not a scumbag. You get your damn extension.

And then there's the matter of the power you have over him, and know you have over him now. Lusting for someone is, in the most base sense, them having a form of power over you. You want something from them, and whether you'd like it to or not, that impairs your judgment regarding them. He wants to be seen as this iron-willed monster. Unbreakable and unmovable. Not even human.

But his grunting and panting and hissing over you shows that he is all too human for his own liking. Because not only did he give in to his lust, but he enjoyed it. Enjoys it so much that even if you ask him to stop, and take it all back, he won't. He'll keep fucking you even if you beg him to stop and try to beat him away, which shows that he is just like everyone else in this fucking town.

Even he has a weakness.

Bailey doesn't casually have sex just to have it. You'll never see him at the brothel, and he never touches any of his charges, or anyone else for that matter. That puts a weight of importance on sex to him, whether he means it to or not. That means there's something so special about you that he indulges.

That's where the regret stems from. It breaks his own mental image of himself. It breaks every one of his rules. Everything he bases himself on and spent years building crumbles beneath your touch. It shows him that he's weaker than he thought he was, and all because of, what is to him, the whining and mewling of an orphan girl he's supposed to be 'taking care of.'

I imagine that's why he turns colder afterwards. He cannot risk that happening again. Can't risk you worming your way into his heart the way you manage to do with everyone else. You'd ruin everything because you let him ruin you.

He owns you, and you're his property. If he thinks too long on that, he might start getting ideas.

And he can't have that.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

hey maggots, it's Asmi again at half past 2 am, I think I may have just got a lung infection and stomach infection. if i don't reply to you via asks/dms/etc just know this is why. im so sorry for the ramble, the meds are here as well as the sickness now, and it's way too late. oops.

i'm making a post here because if i disappear mid-chat/DMs with any of you all, don't worry about me, okay? my body since today afternoon has been seizing up periodically due to whichever infections and it genuinely feels like I might faint when it happens. needless to say, i have to rapidly leave whatever chat i'm on to try and fix it. just wanted to tell you all now because it might happens without warning, my immune system is fucked up (read: I don't take care of my body) and i don't take kindly to being ill.

it's kinda bleurgh.

this is why i hurt whenever i see crowley, well, at least one of the reasons. no one goes and hugs him when the bentley is one fire.

i'm usually the one doing the comforting, and it feels kind of miserable right now. my mum's handling too much on her own so i can't lean on anyone irl for comfort.

i just want to say thank you all, because for the first time I've felt comforted. and right now that is so important to me, because my body is suddenly a wreck and there isn't anyone who'll just by me and give me a hug and tell me how everything will be fine. but you all keep reminding me that i'm loved and cared for.

that means a lot. i love you all.

i wanna type more but it's better that I go to sleep before another bought of nausea/pain. i can already hear you yelling at me, maggots, i will see the doctor tomorrow if it doesn't abate, i promise. okay?

alright running on borrowed time i love you all please take of yourself better than I do of myself. this has got very sentimental it was supposed to be a practical update about the DMs replying thing. oops. but i mean all of it.

byebye i hope it doesn't get worse this kind of is awful.

[creepswrites]

Hi hi I love your writing so much, could we please have something for the leslie vernon fans 👀

yes omgomg i love leslie so much!! hiiii leslie vernon fans hiiii i hope you enjoy…… i rly see leslie in a VERY Particular way BUT i hope this is still satisfactory for everyone to read :)

LESLIE VERNON x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: People didn't really understand when you told them you weren't dating. Frankly, the only person who's opinion on your relationship mattered was Leslie's. Everyone else could go fuck themselves.

Leslie was a strange guy.

You’d met him at the nearby library one stormy afternoon when you'd retreated inside to get out of the storm. He'd been in the true crime section leafing through a book you had been meaning to read and the rest was history. The two of you had hit it off instantly, bonding over your shared love of true crime and horror. You became attached at the hip in a matter of weeks, the both of you gushing about the latest reported slasher villain rising or the psychology essays you both needed to write for class. He was your best friend.

Truthfully, neither of you had very many other friends but the sentiment still counted. 

One afternoon, someone had asked you how long you and Leslie had been dating for and the question startled you. You were sitting in class with Leslie and he'd been up late again so you let him copy off your notes. At one point, he'd dropped his head a little to rest on your shoulder and you let him. While you didn't consider yourself a very touchy-feely person, it was different with him.

"So," one of your more boisterous classmates said while everyone was clearing out for the day, "How long have you two been dating?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Y'know. It's kinda obvious, you don't have to play coy about it!" Another classmate chimed in with a less-than-kind smirk.

Leslie didn't say anything and you felt your stomach drop. Too often you'd make friends with guys who were only really interested in dating you and you felt sick with the idea Leslie was like that too.

You were about to make a run for it but Leslie just sighed. "It's not like that, c'mon guys." He lifted his head to give them one of his charismatic smiles. "You should know better than to go assuming that kinda stuff."

Thoroughly embarrassed, your classmates hurried off and you turned to look at him, smiling when he yawned and stretched. "Thanks."

"No need. 's weird people ask," he sighed. "My place or yours? I'm taking a nap either way, if that changes your mind." He said as he gathered his stuff to leave. The two of you packed your bags in a comfortable silence which gave you plenty of time to think.

You'd both just stepped out into the hallway when you grabbed his wrist. "Les..."

"Hm?" He gave you a tired smile.

"I don't have romantic feelings for you." You choked out, unable to meet his eyes. "I don't- I don't know if that changes anything but-"

He cut you off as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I don't either, babe. Don't sweat about it. People just... enjoy making assumptions about things they don't understand." He tilted his head to watch you smile. "Now. My place or yours?"

"Yours," you sighed, "My roommates'll be home."

So yeah. Leslie was a strange guy. But you liked him that way.

"Do you ever wish we dated?" You'd asked him one afternoon at a mall. The two of you had gone shopping at one of the bookstores and decided to go to the food court for lunch.

Leslie looked up at you with a bewildered expression. "No? Is this a trick question?"

"Yes." You answered honestly, stealing a fry off his plate despite having plenty of your own. "We spend a lot of time together, we cuddle, we've kissed a few times. But you don't seem interested in dating me."

He gave you a curious look and chuckled, covering his mouth. "What, do you want to date?"

You let out a huff, rolling your eyes fondly when he nudged your foot under the table to tease you. "No, obviously not. I mean, you're a sweet guy and I love spending time with you. But it's just..."

"Not like that." He finished for you. You both locked eyes and he gave you a sweet, genuine smile. "I adore you. You're one of my favorite people I've ever known. But 'm not into you like that." Leslie said as he took a bite of his burger. He chewed thoughtfully before nudging you again. "Not opposed to some kinda relationship though. Like, just an us thing, y'know? Not partners or datin' but some third thing?"

It had honestly been a bit relieving for you to hear and you two spent a long time talking about it.

Things changed in the next few days. You held hands walking to class a few times, sometimes Leslie would kiss your forehead or you'd kiss his cheek, and you started staying at his house more often than not.

People didn't really understand when you told them you weren't dating. Frankly, the only person who's opinion on your relationship mattered was Leslie's. Everyone else could go fuck themselves.

Your relationship wasn't strictly labeled since neither of you really cared for it. Some google searches led to you writing it off as queerplatonic and calling it a day. It wasn't romantic but you were emotionally intimate. You cuddled, relied on each other, opened up in a way more typical for romantic partners, and the like.

But Leslie was a strange guy. So, of course, you were both strange together.

You'd never considered him to be the jealous type though.

One day you were sitting in the library taking notes with Leslie sat beside you, hard at work playing on his phone under the table - it was your turn to take class notes since he did it last week - when a girl came over and sat beside you.

"Hey," she said softly, scooting way too close for comfort.

You gave her a wide-eyed stare before going back to your writing. "Uh. Hi. Can I help you?"

She giggled and gave a brief glance to Leslie. "You busy this weekend?"

"Yep," you said in a clipped tone. "Cleaning the turtle tank this weekend. They're overdue."

"Oh, you like animals? That's so sweet." She cooed and it made your skin crawl when she held your arm.

You were going to give some snarky retort but Leslie suddenly draped his arm around your shoulders, accidentally smacking her in the face slightly. "They're mine, actually."

"The turtles or them?" She asked, gesturing to you with an exasperated look shot your way. As though Leslie's antics ought to annoy you too.

Leslie just gave her a tight-lipped smile.

She huffed but kept her sweet facade up. "Well, I heard through the grapevine you two aren't dating. Soooo I don't see what's so wrong about wanting to go on a date with your friend."

"Oh, lots wrong." Leslie said, pulling you closer and making your pencil scrape against the lined paper. If his protectiveness weren't so endearing, you would've been annoyed at him messing up your notes. "First off, I'd advise them not to go."

The girl scoffed, grabbing your arm again. "You're not their boyfriend, you can't decide what they can do."

You knew Leslie well enough that you could tell when he was mad. He wasn't the type of angry who got up in people's faces or screamed at them. No. He got very quiet instead. Quiet and forceful without even raising his voice. It unsettled you sometimes but now, seeing it focused on some annoying, entitled girl, you almost wanted to kiss him.

"I think you should leave." Leslie said, his smile never wavering but grew unsettlingly.

"Make me." The girl shot back, clearly possessing a death wish.

Before Leslie could make a scene, you cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. Your eyes were closed so you couldn't see his reaction but you could hear the girl get up and leave. It didn't feel magical like how movies always made first kisses seem but it was sweet in a different way.

You pulled back when the realization hit you that you were kissing Leslie. You'd never talked about if that was okay or not and you were paralyzed at the idea you'd read everything wrong. You jerked back like you'd been burned and you stared at him

He was staring back with bright eyes and a soft flush to his cheeks that made you feel like puking. "Woah." He chuckled, running a hand through his hair nervously while unable to meet your eyes. "Um. Wow."

"I'msosorry!" You blurted out as you covered your face with your hands. "I didn't know how else to make her go away, I- I thought it was- I'm sorry, we never-!"

He cut you off by cupping your face and pulling you back in for another kiss. It was softer, sweeter this time, and your hands moved to hold his shoulders to keep yourself upright. His hands held your waist as you kissed and the whole thing felt a little magical. If you two were dating, you'd probably swoon under the attention.

If this were a normal coming-of-age film, maybe this would be the part where Leslie would confess to having always been in love with you and you'd burst into relieved tears and confess back. Or maybe this was more like a charming boy-next-door story where he tells you that he's only ever had eyes for you and you two would become the power couple of your psychology course.

But this wasn't either of those stories. You never liked those kinds of stories anyways.

So instead, you two pulled apart and, miraculously, laughed. It was a quiet giggle-fit, his lips pressed against your temple while you buried your face into his shoulder as you tried to keep your voices down.

"I didn't take you for the jealous type," you mumbled softly into his shoulder.

"Neither did I." He snorted before kissing your cheek. "That was nice though."

You nodded gently, nuzzling more into his neck. "We addin' that to the list of stuff we can do?"

"God yeah." Leslie said with a breathy chuckle. "Didn't think I'd like that as much as I did."

You snorted and kissed him chastely.

Leslie was a strange guy. But he was your strange guy.

[dmercer91]

hey e!!!!!!

i was wondering if you could write something angsty about matthew knies? maybe reader is having a rough time while he’s in toronto and she’s still in Minnesota? or maybe they get into a little argument before a roadie? or whatever angst you’d want to write!

feel free to write it whenever ! love u❤️‍🩹!

mother aryne accidentally fixes everything because she just emanates those vibes

also matty is a complete dickhead in this blurb pls dump your boyfriends if they treat you like this thank you

also, hi!! i love u too 🫶

unbearable emotions, mk23

“i miss you, matty,” you murmured into the phone, a deep sigh coming in through the other end.

“did you even listen to a thing i said,” he sounded angry, and you furrowed your eyebrows, you hadn’t known you’d done something wrong.

“sorry, matt,” your tone was sincere, and you frowned to yourself when he stayed silent. we’re you not allowed to miss him?

“usually when you need to vent about hockey you just want me to listen, i didn’t realize-“ you were cut off by a groan, your heart beating quicker. did he not want the distance anymore? was he finding his out?

“i’m just fucking sick of hearing you complain about it. i’ve got enough going on, y/n, i don’t need to be reminded of how i’m burdening you by having a job,” your lips parted in shock at his words, your original comment coming from sentiment and not disdain.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for it to come off like that. i was just-“ his voice lapped over yours, so you stopped talking, not wanting to anger him further

“whatever. i’ve gotta go, bye,”

“i love you, matty,” you whispered, the line doing dead without a response from your boyfriend.

tears streamed down your face as soon as you turned your phone off, confusion and shock prominent and your stomach churning from heartache

he never texted the next day, never called, so neither did you. it went on for about a week and a half, and then aryne reached out to you and asked if you wanted tickets to the game at the wild.

you agreed, still wanting to support him despite his recent mood with you.

you sat with aryne and the tavares kids throughout the game, and she’d invited you to come back with her to wait after the game was over

she’d mentioned that matt didn’t know you were there, and that she thought it’d be a nice surprise for him to see you

despite his recent coldness towards you- she claimed that he always spoke about how much he missed you.

he came out of the room with a glum look on his face, even though the team had won.

he turned, saw you, and his face fell even further.

you frowned, but walked over, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck.

he stiffened and then quickly returned the favour, hand going to your head and scrunching your hair in the process.

he kept you held close, nose smooshed against your hairline.

“i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, rocking the two of you back and forth and closing his eyes.

“i didn’t deserve that.” you mumbled, looking up at him and tilting his head down, his eyes opening.

“i was having a rough day, and i wanted you to be there, and it sucked being reminded that you weren’t. i was a prick, and m’ sorry,” he confessed, giving you a begging look

“please, can we talk,” he whispered, your heart aching in your chest.

you simply nodded, putting your head back on his chest. you were mad, but for now you just needed to soak in the time you were given with him.

“i love you, y/n/n,” he gave you a squeeze, his cheek pressing to your forehead.

[uncannydevotion]

HI THERE I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO REQUEST THIS FOR SO LONG !!! Can you do a oneshot/fic of alex kralie killing a younger sibling reader (like, early 20s small age gap) who got operator sickness?

notes: the gasp i gusped when i read this request chat let me tell u. first request on the new blog kicking it off strong w a deep dive into the mind of alex kralie 💪💪 this is short and sweet and i hope u enjoy it

warnings: platonic, major character death, operator sickness and its symptoms, alex kralie kills u that's literally the entire plot, i haven't watched marble hornets in the hottest sec so sorry if i get smth wrong.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

You weren't supposed to be involved. You were supposed to be off in college, working towards your dreams, not here. Fuck, he doesn't even know how you found him, but he imagines Jay played a part.

He had been crashing at a motel when a knock on the door of the room he was staying in set him on edge. It was one of those rare days where he was overwhelmingly paranoid. He had expected Jay.

Maybe his friend had found him.

Instead, he was greeted by his little sibling.

You had been so concerned when you saw him. He couldn't even get a word out before you were pushing yourself into his motel room, demanding an explanation on what the hell was going on.

From what he understood, it wasn't Jay who had contacted you. Someone had sent you a tape and Alex could only assume it was that hooded bastard out to get him.

Alex had begged you to leave.

Rather...

"I don't want you here, so would you just go away?" Is what he had said, his tone less than friendly.

He should've known you weren't going to listen. Even when you were both kids, you never listened to him. You always wanted to take part in whatever it was he did, even if he didn't want you to. It had been endearing back then, but now it was annoying.

Can you not understand that he is treating you this way for your own good? You needed to leave before you caught that things attention, otherwise he'll have to... deal with you.

You probably thought he was crazy, honestly.

And maybe, if he had been a little meaner to you when you were both little in middle school, you wouldn't be sticking by his side.

Or maybe you would be, because he's your brother. You always valued your family before yourself. It's something people praised about you, but now... now it's just the biggest flaw you have.

Alex tried.

He really did.

Even when you first started showing signs of the sickness, he tried so hard to ignore it, to get you to leave. You still had an out.

But then you saw it. You saw the faceless creature, and you coughed so hard you ended up throwing up, and you blacked out because of it. That was when Alex knew it was too late for you.

In a perfect world, he would've driven you to a hospital and left you there. But we're far from a perfect world, aren't we?

That's why he ended up driving you to the middle of nowhere. He wasn't thinking straight, and deep down he knew this was wrong. This wasn't right. But... he's too far gone. He's doing what has to be done.

Surely, you'd understand.

With Amy, he didn't have the luxury of killing her while she was unaware. It's the one thing he regrets. She didn't deserve to be scared. She no doubt felt betrayed, too.

But with you... he has that chance. And even in this state of violence, Alex didn't want you to see him as a monster. He's just an older brother, doing what he has to do to protect you.

The field he took you to was isolated. Not many people drove down this road because it was overgrown. Had he had the time, he would've taken you somewhere more... sentimental.

The gun in his hand had felt heavy. His head was pounding, hands shaking as he slowly raised it. You looked at peace.

Birds flew away from the surrounding trees as the gunshot rings in the air.

Your lifeless body was burned into his mind. Alex spent hours digging a grave for you, and even after you were long buried, he could still see you every time he closed his eyes.

Your death was nothing more than a tape now, one that Alex kept on his person.

This wasn't meant to happen.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

I REMEMBER IT ALL TOO WELL || MICKEY ALTIERI X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: you can’t understand any of this - least at all how mickey could do this to you.

warnings: past relationship, dead / ghostface!mickey, angst, swearing

word count: 1k

a/n: okay this came to me at like 4am and I wanted to write it all before I lost all inspiration so sorry if it isn’t any good or has any errors (also I suck at titles so ignore that too thank you <3)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

A part of you still doesn’t believe it.

Because there’s no way in hell that Mickey - sweet, attentive Mickey, the boy you loved more than anything in this world, was the same person who had brutally murdered your classmates. And he’d enjoyed it, from what Sid had said.

She hasn’t told you anything directly - no, Sidney Prescott was much to good of a person to do that. You’d heard her describe the whole thing to the police whilst you yourself awaited questioning. They’d thought you were an accomplice, the Bonnie to his Clyde - and you couldn’t exactly blame them. Even you could admit it was all too convenient: you were still alive without so much as a scratch, a fellow film student and long-term partner of Mickey himself. If you were an outsider, you probably would’ve thought you were in on it too. Many still did - you didn’t miss the whispers and stares as you shuffled through the hallways.

Sidney - the one who arguably should’ve distrusted you the most - was surprisingly the one fighting your corner, claiming she could see how much you’d truly loved Mickey. That you were just as much as a victim in this as she was. You personally thought that was complete and utter bullshit, but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.

Some sick part of you envied Sidney and selfishly wished you were there to see Mickey unmask himself - at least then you’d have the chance to ask him all the questions you’d never get the chance to now. Because Mickey- your Mickey - was dead, his bullet-ridden corpse lying God knows where. You hated yourself for mourning his death, what with all the pain he had caused. He’d killed your friends, he’d killed good people, and you should hate him. You should be glad that he’s dead.

But how could you be when he’d had the biggest heart you’d ever known, determined to make you smile even in the darkest of times? How could you hate the boy who promised you the world, who looked at you like you were the most valuable treasure there ever was? How could you pretend like he didn’t kiss you like you were oxygen itself and he was positively drowning without you, like he didn’t make you feel safe and excited and absolutely adored all at once?

No. The Mickey you loved couldn’t possibly be the killer. He was funny and carefree and gentle, not sadistic in the slightest. It just doesn’t make sense. In your mind, they were two different people - your beloved boyfriend and the twisted murderer. There was no overlap, there couldn’t be. You know it’s stupid; Mickey didn’t magically transform into this - this monster overnight. He was going on dates with you by day and throwing girls off of balconies by night, leading a complete double life at once. You loathed yourself for not seeing it. You didn’t know what signs to look out for when your boyfriend was a homicidal psychopath, but you were sure that you must’ve missed a dozen. You were too caught up in the fairytale that was you and Mickey, too caught up in perfect pictures of shared apartments and romantic getaways.

Maybe if you hadn’t been such a fool, you could’ve stopped this whole mess sooner. You could’ve turned Mickey in to the police, and he wouldn’t have been a threat to anyone.

No. Deep down, you know that isn’t true.

Mickey was so convincing, so charming, that you would’ve done anything for him. He would only have to ask with that perfect fucking smile of his and you would lie for him. Protect him. He’d spin a story about how he was doing this for the right reasons, doing this for you, and you’d capitulate. You had no idea how he did it, but Mickey just had something about him that made it easy to see things his way. something that made you willing to twist your morals just enough in the wrong direction. You despise that fact, and you’re suddenly grateful that he didn’t ask you to cover for him - shit, ask you to join him - because at least now you can pretend that you know for certain your answer would be a resounding “go to hell.”

You wonder if everything you knew was a lie. It had to be, right? Mickey must’ve been using you, there was no other explanation for it. Except for the fact that you were truly of no use to him. He didn’t need you to get close to Sidney - you’d met her through him to begin with. You weren’t some genius mastermind he could use to help with his plans, and he hadn’t even used you as an alibi. Maybe you were just a bit of fun on the side, a silly little plaything to keep him occupied whilst he wasn’t actively on his murder spree.

But it felt all too real. You think back to the times you were laying on Mickey’s chest, watching bad action movies whilst he picked them apart the entire time. The times he’d stayed up all night to help you with some last minute essay you’d had due the next day. What reason would he have to to do all of that?

Unless he truly did love you. That somehow is even worse. It means that adored you as much as he claimed he did yet he still did what he did; he threw your entire relationship away over some stupid fucking trial. The infamy obviously meant more to him than you ever did.

Everything about this is so damn unfair. You want to scream. You want to sink to your knees and sob. You want to bring Mickey back to life so you can kill him all over again yourself. You want him to hold you close and whisper into your ear that it’s all going to be okay.

You want your boyfriend back.

[filthforfriends]

Bonus Chapter

Alpha!Damiano Omegaverse

Word count: 9.6k

Read the actual fic on my Masterlist!

You’d missed the first bus after school and were now running almost half an hour late. It’s not that Damiano would leave the amphitheater without you, but you texted him last minute. So last minute that he wouldn’t even get the message until after practice. Your heart only sank further when the parking lot came into view and you saw how few cars were left. He was probably hungry and bored out of his mind so you jog the rest of the way.

His car isn’t in the lot. That can’t be right, so you go the double check up close. 

Where are you?

Damiano attended these practices like clock-work. You mosey towards the field in case someone can tell you if Dami went home early and why. Star quickly walks past you, giving a tight-lipped smile and a small wave, indicating that he very much wasn’t feeling social. From inside the structure, a familiar voice you can’t place calls you over.

“Y/n, Dam is over here!” You feel sick while breaking into a run, but when you round the corner, the only people on the field are Julio and Nikolai. They’re bent over cackling at your concern, hands propped just above their knees. Immediately you see red.

“Weren’t you banned from the team?” You try to look down on them from a distance, even though they’re both taller than you.

“I’m not banned from the amphitheater. I just can’t use it when Romero has it booked for practice.” Julio spits back in venomous tones, meanwhile Nikolai is texting someone amidst snide chuckles. It’s then that you remember Damiano has his hearing with the collegiate board right now. He’s on the other side of town.

“Whatever.” You turn to leave, taking out your own phone to ask Clio for a ride.

“Oh and she gives up so easy!” Nikolai is goading you like you’re some young alpha, hell bent on proving herself. Omegas aren’t fighters. In fact, you can’t fight, and this knowledge plants a seed of fear in the pit of your stomach. Surely they didn’t plan to harm you and risk real consequences. You clutch your phone in your right hand and walk towards the exit.

“Not so invincible now, huh?”

“This is what happens when bitchy omegas don’t have their bitch-boy alphas to protect them.”

“Call me mediocre again. I fucking dare you.” The sound of Nikolia’s voice raises the hair on the back of your neck and you know you need to get out of here. When you speed up your pace, they follow, footsteps growing ever nearer as they jeer. 

“He hasn’t bred you yet, so there's still some hope of finding an alpha to put you in your place.” 

“I would give anything to see that,” yells Julio. The faster you walk, the quicker they follow, so you try to slow your pace and manage your racing heart. If you can just get to the parking lot you’ll be in plain view of houses and the skate park. Finding bystanders was a tactic embedded into your psych before primary school. You got to the cement hall that ran under the building and noticed someone coming towards you. 

In the shadows, you think you’re in luck; a bystander found you. His heavy work books click each step and then his face comes into view. It's the alpha that Damiano had to fend off three months ago. Turns out he went to Okoro Academy and hung around Romero after school, waiting for a vulnerable omega to victimize. 

“Hey, you made it!” calls Nikolai. His joy is a mockery of your fear, and you’re struggling to think straight. 

“Imagine my surprise when I found out my cousin Phoenix had been victimized by the same runt of the litter.” He grins when he says victim, enjoying the power trip and the irony. There’s no way to physically get out of this so you’re going to have to talk your way out. Fist fighting all three would be easier than making yourself demure and submissive. What do you want is too forceful, so you try to soften the sentiment.

“I don’t understand what you want me to do.” Phoenix breaks into maniacal laughter and the other two follow after a brief side eye. If they’re unsure about his actions that either means this front isn’t nearly as united as it looks or that you should be very scared.  

“I want corporal punishment so we can control upetty omegas that need to be fucking humbled and taught how to serve”

“And I don’t want mutants like Damiano to dirty the gene pool. He should be sterilized and kept away from the population.”

“How fucking dare you!?”

“Ah, there she is!” Julio says in a sing-song voice. He lunges at you, but it's a fake out, only a couple steps before he falls back, laughing cruelly. You’d tried to back up too fast and end up falling. Only one elbow was bleeding, but Julio’s eyes kept darting towards it. The contents of your book bag are strewn three feet down the hall. You crouch down while trying to clean it up, papers crumpled and haphazardly shoved inside. 

You’re so focused on looking at the ground that you don’t see Nikolai until his cleats come into view. Immediately, you straighten up like your spine is a titanium rod, eyes wide in fear at his proximity. Nikolai lunges at you too, so close you can see the storm in his irises. This time you fall hard, tripping over your bag and getting the wind knocked out of you when you land flat. At that point, all attempts at regulating go out the window while you struggle for a decent breath.

“Woah! Is she okay?” Julio is nervous and you stare at him with every ounce of panic and rage so this moment will haunt him, whatever happens to you. His eyes dart from one person to the next, but he never sustains a gaze.

“She’ll be fine. Maybe she should call her savior for help.” Nikolai cocks his head to the side and tries to put on a scowl. You still have your phone clenched in a fist and begin to type. But you stop yourself upon realizing that this was a trap. They know that Damiano will go scorched earth if your safety is on the line. Phoenix, Julio, and Nickolai probably think they can take him. Maybe they can and Damiano will destroy his body. Or, more likely he’ll destroy them. Either way Damiano will be excommunicated from society for his Alpha Dysregulation. Incriminating him was the whole point of this display of strength.

Forcing a deep breath, you bring your phone back to your side and stare at them willfully. Julio is the closest to breaking. He’s blanched and picking at his cuticles, clearly wishing he’s never volunteered to do this.

“I am not bait,” you spit, trying to back away. Their plan had failed and you were banking on them recognizing defeat. 

“Bitch,” Nikolai murmurs, spitting on your shoes and bowing his head. 

“See, I told you this wouldn’t work,” Phoenix finally speaks. His voice is monotone in a way that makes your skin crawl. It means that his friendliness three months ago was completely a mask. People who can mimic emotion so easily often lack empathy. It's all a performance for personal gain.

 You try to walk away but Pheonix blocks your path, stepping in front no matter where you divert. 

A quick glance over your shoulder shows that Julio and Nickolai are also unsure. When they notice you’re looking, both young alphas try to harden their expressions. Option one is getting past them and taking the next exit halfway down the field. Option two is avoiding Phoenix and bolting 15 feet. You decide on the second one and don’t even make it a full step before being shoved to the ground. You land on your fingers, rather than your left hand. Something pops, but not like a knuckle. At first, intense shooting pain moves all the way up your arm and then fiery throbbing pain settles in your hand. 

You’re shocked into silence, as is everyone else. When your body does register the injury, it’s trying to shut down to protect itself. To hide, to curl up, to become smaller, to become less noticeable, to limit points of vulnerability, to be silent, to survive. However, you can’t trust that Phoenix will leave you be. In fact, this act of wounding seems to stimulate him like nothing else has.   

Help

While the text goes through, you’re trying to share your location.

“Atta’ girl!” He shouts gleefully, thrilled his prey is finally doing something amusing. Phoenix rips your phone from your hands and throws it against the cement. It breaks into three pieces, battery skidding until it hits the wall.

“NO!” you scream, trying to scramble away and find a place to conceal yourself. The sound echoes within the tunnel, deafening.

“What the fuck, dude!” Julio screams in horror. Nikolai is disturbed, but he handles it slightly better.

“This wasn’t the plan! We were supposed to scare her, without touching her. Not break her phone!” A force pulls you backward and you realize it's Phoenix's hand on your hood.

“And you’re scared aren’t you?” he snarls. It must have been a combination of the yelling, the chase, the adrenaline, the control, and the sadism, because Phoenix has gone full alpha. His charcoal eyes are souless, the place where his pupil lay a swirling black hole. The tendons on his face and neck quiver like they’re about to tear through his skin. You’re running before you can see his teeth, and this time he lets you go. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You’ve disappeared from view quickly, hiding in the bushes below the field until your assailants leave. At this point, all there is to do is ride out the overwhelming instinct to cower.

“Oh, come on,” Phoenix rolls his eyes. 

“No, you’re not supposed to do that type of shit,” insists Julio. Purposely sending omegas into flight or fawn was a major social taboo. It forces both an acute stress response and dissociation which occasionally causes tragedies. Omegas accidently darting in front of cars or hours of unnavigable panic reaching the point of mental crisis. The instict to hunker down until the episode passed left sick people without medical care and little children with traumatized parents. Originally, alphas tormented omegas endlessly because they couldn’t fight back before expectations were set up to protect their well-being.

“We should hide her stuff so they can’t trace it back to us.” Nikolai recognizes the new leader and reassembles y/n’s backpack. 

“And when she tells Damiano?”

“He’ll flip out. Mission accomplished,” Phoenix shrugs his shoulders, casually. “It’s our word against his, so you know what’ll happen if someone breaks ranks.” He glowers at Julio to make the threat clear.

  “Yeah? And in the mean time he could fucking kill me!”

“So, what? You’re afraid of him now? Phoenix taunts. Nikolai has fallen silent, holding the backpack like it's a bomb.

“Oh my – we did this because he’s dangerous! As someone who had their nose broken by Dam in a single punch, I can attest to that! He shouldn’t be in the general population, thats the fucking point.”

“What he shouldn’t be is so full of himself,” mutters Nikolai. He walks off to find a place to hide the bag with his head hung. 

“And that is the fucking point. Alphas like him are what's wrong with society. They don’t obey the natural order.

“You’re out of your fucking mind.” Julio picks up his duffel and walks away.

“We reminded an omega of her place! You should be proud of that!” Phoenix yells after him.

***

“We’re just thrilled to have you officially back on the team, drive safe!” The chair of the collegiate board walked the David’s out to the parking lot with a restrained, professional smile. They’d known which way the board was leaning as soon as the hearing started. Still, the end result was a huge relief. 

“Do you want to just pick up y/n on the way home?” Isabella was wearing a rare, full fledged smile.

“Yeah, I’ll call her!”

Y/n: Where are you?

[Missed call from Star]

Star: Saw y/n walk into the amphitheater so I think she forgot about the hearing. 

Y/n: Help

[Missed call from Star]

[Missed call from Athena]

Star: Call me as soon as you get this.

Star: Had a bad feeling and doubled back, but she was gone. Saw Julio get in his car. Nikolai’s car was still in the lot. Would they do something?

[Missed call from Star]

Star: I waited and saw another alpha leave. It might have just been her and them. Don’t panic.

Star: Stay calm, don’t panic.

Emmaline: Do you want help looking?

“Damiano? Honey? What’s he doing?” Matteo tried to get a good look in the mirror at his son whose breathing had doubled in pace and was shivering while sweating.

“I think he’s having a panic attack. Dami, what's going on?” Isabella turned around and took his clammy hands in her own. “Could be the adrenaline from the meeting?”

“I’m pulling over.” Matteo idled in a turn out.

“Amphitheater.”

“Honey, practice is over. You didn’t miss practice, you were excused. It's okay, let's go home.”  

“Amphitheater!”

“Do not scream at me, Damiano,” Matteo replies patiently. Dami slams his phone onto the center console. Isabella reads the notifications out loud and they’re headed to the field by the time she says ‘help.”

“She might be home already,” Isabella offers. Dami calls Clio, but he knows it isn’t true before she picks up.

“I thought she was with you.”

“So she’s not home?” Footsteps pound up the stairs two at a time. He recognizes the creak of y/n’s door.

“She’s not here,” Clio pants.

“Check –”

“I know I’m checking!” In the closet, under the bed, Clio looked in all the places y/n associated with calm or would hide as a child. If she’d been put in a state of terror, y/n would hide instinctively in order to survive. Until an omega calms down enough to think rationally, they’re an animal whose mechanisms of self defense are limited to the path of least resistance and making themselves invisible. The claustrophobia of being unable to fight back created some drastic evolutionary responses to avoid being targeted. 

Post societal collapse, omegas would likely survive to reproductive age at double the rate of alphas. However, in a first world country, it was an arcane instinct that could be manipulated to terrorize omegas. And that's what you were: absolutely terrified and alone. You needed Damiano more than you ever and every cell in his body was screaming with the unfulfilled urge to protect.

  “I don’t think she’s in the house, but let me just make sure…Dad? Thalia? Has y/n come home from school yet?” There’s a long pause and Clio is back on the line, panic in her voice.

“She’s not here. Do you know where she is, Dami? It still gets dark and cold earlier this time of year.” That's another thing you might be: hypothermic. 

“I know where to start, but you should stay there in case she comes home. So someone will understand what’s happening.”

“And what happened?” There's anger in her voice, probably suspecting y/n was only in this position because of Damiano. She was right.  

“I think she got cornered by three alphas.”

“Fuck, I’ll call my mom.” 

Before the car was even stopped, Damiano jumped out. He ran onto the field screaming your name then fell completely silent. He listened for a whimper, jogged around the perimeter trying to pick up your scent. In doing so, he saw a peak of green fabric, whose hue he recognized as your backpack. It was over the fence, hidden in an abandoned tire. Damiano scaled the fence quicker than he thought possible, taking a picture of the scene before digging through all the papers. Most had your name written in blue pen at the top.

Someone else had put them back in, crumpled and out of order. Why take everything out? If they touched this, had they touched you? He can’t suppress the pressure in his chest anymore and breaks out in loud sobs. At first they’re tearless, desperate noises, and then his face is flooded with saline and snot. Matteo makes his way over and hands Dami a tissue through the fence. 

“Wha – why, why would she leave it here? May – be be – because she’s around here. Y/n? Y/n?” For a minute, Matteo lets his son have hope. When his wife comes over they speak in hushed voices. Dami looks back at their preoccupied expressions, and wants to scream at them to search as well. Through that veiled pity, he realizes they’re not looking for y/n because they don’t think she’s here. 

“What? What is it?” he demands, wiping his nose on his sleeve like a toddler. 

“We don’t think y/n left it here, but we’ve already alerted the collegiate board and given them names.”

“Then how…” Someone hid it. Dami sinks to his knees, not wanting to think it, much less say it. In the background his mother talks about contacting parents and coaches.

“Do you think that they, that um,” a shaky hand covers Damiano’s mouth to muffle a scream. “They only care about hiding the evidence because they don’t think we’re gonna find her?” His voice loses all masculinity and courage, ending in a high pitched whimper.

“No,” Isabella states firmly. Matteo isn’t positive about that answer, but he agrees with his wife unequivocally. 

“Three high schoolers, right? Maybe they just didn’t know what to do with it,” he offers.

“Maybe they’re sadistic little shits that wanted to make the search even tougher for you.” Matteo and Dami are shocked at an ever-composed Isabella’s crass language. Yes she was an alpha, but Isabella limited the world’s perception of her as such. 

“They could have planted it there to send you in the wrong direction or terrify you. It could be as harmless as taking her backpack because they knew it’d annoy y/n. Maybe they threw it over the fence as a laugh and the little shits went on their merry way. So get back over this fence, show me her route home, and everything will be fine by dinner. Okay?” Isabella didn’t leave any room for argument.

“Her phone isn’t in there,” Damiano announced when his feet hit the turf.

“Then it's probably with her,” Matteo concluded. Feeling like an absolute dumb ass, Dami calls y/n right away. She doesn’t pick up the first or second or sixth time. Damiano sees why as he steps off the field. Somehow the whole family had missed the phone smashed against the cement. Dami drops to his hands and knees crawling around trying to gather the pieces, because maybe it wasn't yours. Sure it was the right model and color, but millions had been manufactured. 

Then Damiano finds the backing and wails with anguish. Thalia had insisted y/n decorate her phone with some volcanology stickers. The biggest one was faded where his omega rubbed her thumb in a circle absentmindedly. For a second Dami can’t take any more of this purgatory. I need her safe. I need her safe. I need her safe, I need her safe, I need her safe. IneedhersafeIneedhersafeIneedhersafeIneedher.

***

You hide in a wooded area a block from the amphitheater. No one would suspect, because you’d only visited once on a field trip. Phoenix might be watching, unsatisfied and yearning to inflict some real sadism. So you stay hidden until it feels safe, completely still, like a fawn. Movement can trigger predators. 

The problem is night falls before it feels safe. The woods are dark so you stumble for 50 yards, moving towards the street lights. Tripping on a log and face planting doesn’t even trigger a pain response. When you get to the treeline, you search for your assailants. There’s got to be a safe place with better lighting, but you’ll have to stay awake all night, so you can disappear into the shadows if they hunt you down. That is, unless you can get on the other side of a locked door. Then you’ll be safe. 

The darkness only worsens the fear. You can feel yourself being followed, but not see the steps that stalk you, always on your heels. Each time you whip around, Julio, Nikolai, or Pheonix manage to hide. It's an hour's walk home and this is too exposed. You’ll ever make it, might as well be waving bait in front of the predators. 

The first bus that passes, you get on. Everyone’s staring so you sit in the back. After the last stop, the bus driver tries calling out to you, but the sound blends into the idling engine. He has to physically tap on your shoulder, which makes you scream in surprise. He seems almost as jarred as you feel, scampering off the bus.

“Are you hurt? Miss? Is there someone I should call?” You run until you’re breathless, bending over and clutching your chest. Phoenix probably couldn’t keep your trail, but your body was shaking in a way you recognized as shivering. This didn’t look like home or safety.  Nothing here evoked memories. All you could do was walk until the world became familiar.

The sliver of moon cast long, distorted shadows, making mundane objects look sinister. A cat darts across the street. That makes you jump out of your skin and cower behind a bush. How long have you been walking? It could be 20 minutes, or an hour and a half. Working up the courage to continue might take even longer. Each time you scan for predators, their absence is never comforting enough to make your way back to the sidewalk. Eventually, you clench your teeth and do so anyway.

***

Y/n’s house has become missing person’s ground zero. Even Sandro helped search. Or rather, he kept watch while Damiano grabbed Julio by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him up a wall. The terrified alpha spilled all the details immediately, but it was more useless information. Sandro assured his little brother that this wasn’t a big deal and things like this mostly turned out alright. Damiano shoves him to the ground and the snarling accidently instills in Kevin the power behind that shiny exterior. He is much more self aware when he speaks to Damiano, reiterating that he’s confident everything will be fine. 

“She’s a fighter.”

“That's what I’m worried about. Alphas pick on omegas that challenge their power.”

“But she’s a brave girl.” One more platitude and Damiano was going to throttle Kevin.

“And that's what I’m worried about! Submission is the only way out!” Dami storms outside and paces in the backyard. It seems like the entire family is living in denial as a coping mechanism. Yes, y/n is probably fine, but the fact that he hadn’t an ounce of certainty sparked rage at all these people who could eat, sleep, read, and communicate without y/n, unharmed, in their arms. Dami could barely think, was still in disbelief that almost four hours later you hadn’t turned up. 

He heads back inside, keeping his shit together because he has to, and for no other reason. Before the squeaky door could announce his entrance, Dami overhears Thalia rattling off facts from her serial killer podcasts that make his heart stop beating.

“Statistically, the further you are from the time of abduction, the less likely you are to find the victim.”

“Bad timing Thalia.”

“But I’m not talking about missing omega statistics. Interesting enough, they do follow the same trend, but not with nearly as steep a curve. Other people aren’t what's most deadly, it’s mostly accidental and natural. Getting hit by a car or bus, accidentally injuring oneself and bleeding out, ravines, drowning.” Damiano shuts the door, pulls off his sweater, crouches down in the middle of the lawn, and screams bloody murder into the fabric until his throat hurts. Then he cries, imagining all the ways you could die, in pain and alone. 

It's a reminder that one of you has to go first. He might have to live decades, knowing you no longer exist in the world. That could be true right now, maybe you were already gone` and security would find your body by morning. Maybe you're about to fall off the edge of the earth and he can’t stop it because he doesn’t know where you are. Could fate be cruel enough to only give him four months? How many times had he said ‘I love you?’” 

“Well, there has to be something we haven’t thought of,” sighs Olivia, as he walks back into the living room.

“Friends, family, routine or preferred places,” Clio lists off. “They all know to call right away. What about that other little shit? Nikolai?”

“His parents reported he came home earlier this evening. His story matches, swears he didn’t put his hands on her. However there will be repercussions.” Isabella speaks in a calm, clinical tone, but her voice sounds strained. Anyone who looks at Damiano can see he wants revenge, not repercussions. Its torture, being unable to act on this properly, because he just got his life back. No, that’s what he wanted: torture.

“It's unfair,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“Yes, it is,” levels Matteo, putting a hand on his son’s back.

“Maybe this is an over reaction and she’s at a friend’s house! Hasn’t realized she lost her phone? I know I was that careless at 15.”

“Darling, that’s not what –”

“I found her backpack,” snapped Damiano.

“Listen, I fully believe that you think you saw her backpack, but –”

“Excuse me, what are you imply –”

“The papers had her name on them, you imbecile!” The entire room falls silent and Dami has to focus on not turning into a snarling alpha. “Excuse me,” he says tightly, stomping upstairs with his hands balled into fists. In the background, voices continue.

“Are you questioning my son’s honesty or connection to reality?” Dami pauses after turning the corner, surprised to hear his mother speak so sharply. “Because I can assure you, I saw the same thing. In fact, he has a picture on his phone if –”

“No, no, my apologies, Isabella. That won’t be necessary.” Olivia cringes, wanting to contradict her husband, but shying away from it.

“Obviously Damiano’s perspective is distorted because he’s y/n’s alpha, but I’m starting to be concerned, too. I know we’ll find her by morning, but she might have hypothermia by then and –” Dami walks into your room and closes the door behind him. If Clio is the voice of reason, we really are lost. For a second, he’s the calmest he’s been all day. That very quickly turns into devastation.

“Come home. Come back to me. Tell me where you are. Find someone with a phone. Fucking anything,” Dami babbles into your pillow. It smells like you, but it’s not enough to quell his asphyxiating anxiety. Only the real thing can do that. He’s never believed in God, or fate, or energy of the universe, but right now he’d plead his case to any higher power that would listen. They were all at a loss. You’d moved three hours north when you were nine, so all those childhood spots were on the coast. There were a few routine hangouts, then people’s houses.

It felt silly to call up everyone in y/n’s life and ask them to report your appearance. As if any decent person wouldn’t call the parents of a dissociated 15 year old who showed up at their house unannounced in the middle of the night. It all felt futile and Damiano couldn’t tell if being in your bedroom made him more or less miserable. This thought jogged a memory of your voice. I want to like – I don’t know, walk to your house, climb in your window, or something crazy.

There was no way. Damiano checked the security cameras at the front and back of his house. They hadn’t filmed anything, but if you did literally go in through the window…It was possible the motion sensor wouldn’t pick it up. Possible was more than he’d had for the last two hours. Damiano is half way down the stairs, ready to announce his great idea, when it hits him that having seven people watching may make you feel worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. I think I just need to go home and get some sleep.” Everyone reassured that no mistakes had been made and it was all very understandable. How impressive of an alpha to have so much self reflection. Of course, Isabella would use the geotracker in Dami’s phone to make sure he wasn’t going to commit homicide. Thankfully, it couldn’t tell her how fast he drove.

“Y/n?” He took a deep breath in, while taking off his boots. Dami had started hallucinating your scent before the one hour mark, but this was definitely real. Strangely enough, it didn’t lead straight to his room.

“Y/n? Baby, where are you?” He follows it to the back door and around the perimeter of the kitchen. The David’s didn’t leave windows open habitually, but every single one was locked. They’d never bothered to lock the skylight above the reading nook after having it installed because who the hell is going to repel down from the roof? It’d been locked. There was blood and a muddy footprint on the counter. No one else who’d do that but a paranoid omega.

He breaks into a jog, then slows down before the door, expecting to be locked as well. It’s not. You hadn’t locked him out. Damiano bursts into the bedroom and drops down with his chest to the carpet. You’re here in this room, or at least you were, but there's nothing under the bed. He would have bet money you’d be here. Nothing behind the desk and the whole closet always smelled like you because he’d never washed the sheets from the first time. He always sat in here when he touched himself, but couldn’t touch you. The stains told a story that he never tired of reliving.

The reality was that with the unlocked door and empty hiding spot you probably weren’t here anymore. But if he’d gotten here faster…Damiano still had to do his due diligence which meant locating the flash light that was likely under all this mess. Trying to conjure emotional stamina, he takes a deep breath that gets caught in his throat.

“Are you okay?” The voice is barely audible, but he recognizes it. 

***

“Y/n? Y/n! Where the fuck are you? Love? Oh my fucking god,” his voice breaks. Dami drops to the ground, feeling around for an arm or a leg. You climb out from under the pile of laundry and pull him into the shadows, behind the closet door. Dami blindly reaches out for you, vision not adapted to darkness.

“Who’s with you? Phoenix?” He could have deceived Damiano into thinking he had information and tricked his way into the house to get at you.

“What? I’m alone. Baby, come here,” he reaches out, anxious to finally hold you after this excruciating day. “C’mere, y/n. Just…just come to me,” he pleads. Damiano doesn’t want to freak you out further by forcefully hauling you out of your hiding spot. However, not doing so is torture. The sound of his voice tugs deep in your chest, but nothing can compete with this fear response. 

“Lock the bedroom door.” It was irrational, but the only way you’d feel safe. “And turn off the ceiling light.” You peek around the corner to see if the curtains went all the way to the ground. Slats of light from under the fabric would alert any passerby that someone was inhabiting this room.

“Y/n, you’re safe now.” It was a comforting sentiment, but there was no safety with Phoenix hunting you down to finish the job. Receding away from the corner brought you within inches of Dami’s face. As soon as you make eye contact, he extends a cautious hand.

“Phoenix, he’s – I think he’s dangerous,” you hiss. Even though you saw it coming, Dami’s hand on your waist startles you.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay,” he whispers. The sound of his voice evokes so many memories of gentle, loving touch that they blend together. Damiano reaches his hand around your back and to the other side, so his arm is wrapped around your middle. Your first instinct is to pull away to make sure he’ll allow it, but a much stronger urge to move towards this force of anti-chaos prevails. 

“I’m dangerous,” he emphasizes, forcing your brain to recalibrate. Damiano was so doting that his increased capability for destruction slipped your mind. Phoenix was just a regular alpha, without the motivation of a mate. Hearing your breathing change, Dami extended his other hand very slowly. He loosely wrapped his thumb and pointer finger around your wrist, and pulled towards him.

“You’re my omega so I become a weapon of lethal force to anyone that threatens you. In my presence, you are always safe.” The words take a second to process, but when they do you finally feel something again. That prospect is intimidating enough that you’re reaching for Damiano, just as he hoped you would. He pulls you into his lap and hugs you too tight. Instead of squeezing and releasing, he keeps you that close, until you have to ask for air. 

“Sorry, sorry.” There are tears on his face and when he roughly wipes them away they’re replaced two-fold. “Fuck, come here,” his voice breaks. This time you try to return the hug, even as your arms feel weak. Dami splays his hands out and rubs up and down, covering as much surface area as possible. His face is pressed into your neck, hair caught between in desperation. Heaving breaths try to replenish your smell like a diver has to replenish the oxygen in their bloodstream.

“Please scent me,” he whimpers, sniffling. You go through the movements, but getting back in tune with your body isn’t instantaneous.

“Are you shivering? Your cheeks are cold.” The back of his hand presses against both sides of your face. You offer up your uninjured hand, which, admittedly you can’t feel. The concern in his expression is so adorable that you kiss Damiano without thinking. It’s just a peck and he’s too startled to kiss back. You’ve obviously interrupted his train of thought because Dami opens his mouth to speak, but the words come a second later.

“We need to call your parents and tell them.” In retrieving his phone, Dami shifts his weight and you wrap your legs over his hips. Closer feels safer.

“Hey, I found her…Yeah, in my closet, actually. Mostly, but she’s really cold. Do I take her to a hospital?” You shake your head vigorously and try to snatch his phone. “No hospital apparently!” he exclaims, dodging your attempts. “Um, I mean her lips aren’t blue at all, but she’s shivering…Yeah, okay. Okay. Mhm, bye.” As soon as he lets down his guard, you grab Dami’s phone and slide it across the room. 

“I guess, we should get up anyways,” he scoffs. To sit on the bed, is the implication. Or maybe in the dining room. Both would leave you so exposed that anyone could come in before you had the chance to hide. Damiano gets up to retrieve his phone and pull back the covers. However, when you crawl off his lap, you go back into the darkness and refuge of the closet. Instantly the shivering worsens. Your hand throbs, too, but you can’t feel why. 

Instead of arguing. Dami climbs into the closet after you. He reaches up to pull a gigantic sweater off a hanger and removes his top. Just him being shirtless, you can feel heat radiating from his body.

“C’mere,” he coaxes. Damiano pulls the sweater on, but holds out the hem, inviting your under. There isn’t a moment's hesitation before you sit between his legs and duck underneath. Your face is pressed to his bare skin and just absorbing that one sensation takes you a second. All his warmth is trapped by the sweater, which is a bit musty but Dami’s body odor is heavenly. All the anxiety had him sweating through his deodorant. Damiano grabs the extra comforter from the bottom of the closet and throws it over your legs. He pulls it chest height and wraps his arms around you. In return, you experiment with scenting again, brushing against his chest.

“Whatcha doing?” he endears, looking down through the stretched out neckline. You take a deep breath for the first time in…

“How long?”

“A little over four hours.” 

“Shit,” you wince.

“Not your fault.” The anger radiates from him just like the heat. “Julio said he and Nikolai didn’t touch you, is that true?”

“Technically, yes.” Having to go back to that mental state is not only unpleasant, but jarring. “Can we talk about this later?” you whine, hiding your face against his skin. Guilt settles in the pit of his stomach.

“Some of it, yes. Some of it I need to know now. I’m sorry love.” You nod your head and Dami continues.

“Who was there besides Nikolai and Julio? Phoenix? Bystanders?

 “No bystanders. I tried to escape so other people would see, but Pheonix got in the way.” The word escape momentarily makes Dami lose his cool and he’s glad you’re not looking at his face.

“So you went into the amphitheater and all three were waiting?” You shake your head. “Okay…” Dami takes a deep breath and applies more pressure with his hand while rubbing your back.

“I think Nikolai texted Phoenix because they’re cousins. He’s the alpha that attacked me three months ago.” 

“Right,” he replies tightly. Keep it together, or she’ll absorb your anger. You can punch something later. 

“They wanted revenge.” On me. This is my fault and they took it out on her. I’m going to slit those fuckers neck to navel and flay them like a fish. I’m gonna take everything they –

“Dami?”

“Yes my love?” 

“I can feel you thinking about murder.”

“Sorry,” he winced, refocusing. He had to ask the hard question, the one he didn’t want an answer to.

“So did Phoenix,” deep breath, “do something to you?”

“Pushed me to the ground, broke my phone, and he, um,” your voice gets small then disappears at the memory. 

“He scared you?”

“All of them.”

“All of them tried to scare you.” 

“But he…” you’re both holding your breath. “Went into headspace. Then I ran.” Dami holds you too tight again and kisses your head. You may not know how dangerous the situation was, but he did. Retelling it was visibly distressing, so he tried to think of something to calm the anxiety. 

“Want to watch the security camera footage from tonight? It only covers about 60% of the house, but you can check the main entrances.” This sounds like a splendid idea. Dami pulls up the app on his phone and hands it to you. The idea that Phoenix and possibly Julio and Nikolai have been following you for four hours becomes less and less likely in your head. However, you’d been so damn sure and it felt unquestionably real.

“I – I feel like I’m…going insane. I can’t tell if I was actually being stalked.”

“The paranoia is normal. I’ve heard coming out of it can be a real mind fuck.” You nod, handing Damiano’s phone back to him. There was nothing on the footage except a bunny in the backyard. It’s embarrassing, the way you’d reacted, even though you couldn’t help it. 

“And everyone was freaking?”

“I was the only one freaking out.” He kisses your head again and again, drawing a heart on your scalp with his lips. Dami keeps running into dead leaves and twigs that he carefully picks out. Internally, you feel like an inflatable toy that's lost 25% of its air. 

“I called your dad an imbecile.” When you don’t laugh in response to this, Dami knows how sleepy you are. The shivering has stopped and your face has color again. Your lips part as little puffs of air hit his chest. The knowledge of how differently today could have ended up makes him nauseous. Instead of wrapped in his arms, you could be in a hospital bed with a cast, or bruised ribs, or internal bleeding. Whatever boundaries Phoenix might have set for himself would be second to his desire for violence.

Omegas have alphas because they can’t defend themselves. The only time you’d asked for his help, he’d had his phone off. Dami vows never to do that again, no matter how unprofessional it was for a call to interrupt a meeting. You needed him, so he should have been there. The volatile part of Dami fantasizes about how much he could fuck up those three alphas, given the excuse that they’d attacked his omega. How many bones could he break and still be met with understanding from the public?

The rumble of a barely audible purr wrenches Dami from his fantasies of vengeance. Your arm twitches against his chest as you fall asleep. The first thing he was gonna do when you were settled was text all his close alpha friends what had happened. Even if they didn’t have a personal stake in your life, they had their own omegas to protect, values to uphold. There were ways to make it impossible for your attackers to ever victimize someone again, both judicial and with brute force. He was fine with either.

Your soft purring continues distracting Dami everytime his thoughts take too dark a turn. The sound evokes the warmest sensation he’s ever felt in his life.

“Such a smart girl, knew you’d be safe in my den.” You nod against Damiano and yawn, nuzzling his chest. Running, walking, and hiding in a state of hypervigilance for four hours was exhausting, especially with your body attempting to compensate for how cold it was. The adrenaline spike from the attack had also taxed your endocrine system, as well.

Dami had completely forgotten that both sets of parents would be coming over until the sound of the door made you startle and cower. He whispered assurances, reminders that you knew these people, and that they were safe. Isabella and Matteo were first down the hall, since they already knew where you’d be. Olivia and Kevin followed, and it was momentarily hilarious to watch all four scan the room.

“Well that is a great hiding spot,” Isabella exclaimed. She murmurs something to Matteo who nods and slips out of the doorway.

“You said y/n was here,” Kevin states, a bit gruff. Isabella gestures to Damiano with a nearly indiscernible smile, who lifts the corner of the comforter with his foot to reveal two sets of legs.  

“Well what's she doing in your clothes?” your father interrogates, like cuddling is inherently something perverse. “Y/n?” he calls, as if you’re not within hearing range. His voice is so loud that you cringe. You can feel Damiano take a deep breath and hope he’ll call your father an imbecile again.

“She’s sleepy.” He kisses your head twice as punctuation. “And getting warm.” You look up at Dami with a pained expression, knowing you’ll have to part.

“It's a rather inventive way of sharing body heat that they’ve come up with.” Isabella is trying to model behavior for Kevin like he’s five. Floorboards creak as Matteo comes back into the room with a thermometer. He hands it to Dami, who passes it down to you.

“This is ridiculous,” Matteo whispers, to Olivia, who gives him a scorching stare.

“You have a more effective way of warming her up?” Damiano challenges. The thermometer beeps, and you pass it back up.

“96.7 so it’s a miracle she isn’t shivering. Normal is 98.6.” He resumes rubbing your back. 

“People lose a lot of heat from their scalp,” Olivia adds, surprisingly helpful. Dami tucks your head under his chin.

“One of the alphas pushed her to the cement. What can we do right now?”

“Is she okay?” exclaims Isabella.

“I don’t know yet,” Damiano answers honestly. For the first time, Kevin seems to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

“If he’s 18, we can have him arrested tonight,” states Isabella.

“Really?” you whisper. Damiano nods, and switches to pressing his cheek to your hair.

“He’s a 12th year at Okoro named Phoenix. Not on their soccer team. Blond, about six feet. I don’t know his last name, but I’ll recognize his face. He’s bothered her before.” Isabella nods while dialing, pacing to the other side of the room.

“What the hell do you mean ‘he’s bothered her before?’” blurts your dad.

“I took care of it and I will again.” Damiano’s tone is surprisingly measured, like he’s stating objective facts. Your alpha’s ability to convey power without raising his voice was infinitely more impactful. You can’t see faces through the knit, but the tension is still palatable.

“I think we need to assess y/n’s health properly, to see if she’s okay. We can’t do that while she’s in your clothes.”

“We know she isn’t okay. She was hypothermic 10 minutes ago,” Damiano snaps.

“Which is why we need to assess what else is wrong.”

“So she can be hypothermic again? That sounds productive.”

“I do not appreciate the tone you’ve been taking with me, young man.”

“Kevin!”

“What Damiano is trying to say is that a health issue is already being addressed and we can only do these things one at a time. To switch back and forth before we’ve finished addressing one health issue would ruin all progress and be detrimental to y/n’s health rather than beneficial.”

“Let’s listen to what Matteo’s saying,” implores Olivia.

“I’m her father!”

“And I’m her alpha.” Dami can’t prevent a bit of canine dialect from sneaking in. His voice has a growl to it that is definitely sub-human. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You could hear the hypothetical idea of a pin drop. It was so quiet that if a pin had ever dropped in this room, at any point in history, you’d be able to hear that sound echo through time.

Rather than rest on Damiano’s torso, you wrap both arms around him. The sensation of your injured hand brushing against the wall makes your eyes water in pain. This whole conversation had you stress sweating and now that sweat was drying against your skin. You start shaking again, teeth chattering.

“And now we’ve stressed her out, terrific.” Damiano wraps you in a tight embrace and rocks back and forth. The trembling doesn’t stop and the lack of control of your body makes you panic. He can see it in your eyes when he checks in and whispers apologies. Kevin is trying to assert dominance through some sort of macho stare-down which makes Damiano roll his eyes. The utter disregard for the gesture is apparently unacceptable.

“Y/n! Out. Now.” The yelling was so horrible that you just obeyed.

“This is so stupid,” say’s Dami, shaking his head. It sucks. It really, really sucks. Without Damiano and without the dissociation, you can feel how cold you are, how much your feet and hips hurt from walking in bad shoes. Your elbows are sore. It feels like there's half a dozen needles poking you under your clothes. And your hand hurts like a mother fucker.

“So co-co-co-cold.” You look behind yourself for that wonderful heat source and Dami is already waiting to welcome you into his arms. He pulls the blanket up while glaring at your father.

“So glad we did this,” he bites, as Isabella comes over.

“Okay…” She absorbs the scene with uncertainty on her face, also unsure why you’d been extracted from the most effective way of raising your body temperature. “Let's put her in warm, dry clothes.” Kevin huffs in agreement, and all of them leave. Hanging in the doorway, Damiano can see his expectant expression, that the alpha would leave his omega unguarded. Like he would trust anyone else to care for you right now. It was absurd.

Kevin gestures to Olivia to go into the bedroom. At first she’s happy to help, but then sees the battle of wills between Dami and her husband.

“You’ll be alright in here?” she asks Dami.

“Yes, thank you,” he answers cordially. 

Olivia nods once, closing the door as she hisses, “I’d like to talk to you” at her husband. The Davids have graciously given them the hallway to discuss, and are making tea in the kitchen.

“What in the hell?” she whisper yells, aflame in anger.

“I know! That kid doesn’t have an ounce of respect. I say we take her home right now and deal with this ourselves.”

“Do you know why we’re here, in this house?”

“Cause y/n’s here,” he replies dumbly.

“And why is that?” she snaps. Kevin had never seen his wife with so little patience.

“Because she walked here?”

“Because when she was scared for her life and needed somewhere that felt safe, somewhere she knew she’d be cared for, she. Didn’t. Come. Home.”

“Yeah, she wanted an excuse to go hang out with her boyfriend,” he dismisses. Olivia grabs him by the chin and forces Kevin to look at her.

“An acute stress response is not a social call. If they were mated that’d be one thing, but they're not. Her brain was operating on instinct and her subconscious believed that these people would be more likely to give her the help she needs than her own parents.”

“So we’ll have them spend more time at our house.”

“Kevin she was right!” Olivia doesn’t mean to shout and immediately lowers her voice. “Who did all the reporting to the collegiate board today? Who got the thermometer? Who contacted the security force? All to protect our daughter, not their son. Think about that.”  Kevin does, in fact, have a very rare moment of self-reflection.

  “I guess even focusing on Thalia with the speech therapy and the programs and all the psychologists was…a lot. It was overwhelming. Then Clio became – she was overwhelming and I didn’t have much more in me. Y/n has always been so tough that I didn’t worry.”

“Kevin, hear me when I say, I don’t give a good god damn whether you like that boy or not. If they stay together, he is gonna get a certification from trade school while y/n is in her 12th year and he is gonna take her anywhere in the world she wants. If we don’t like it, there are two wonderful people willing to fill our shoes and our daughter doesn’t ever have to deal with us again. If you want to have more than another two summers with y/n, then so help me jesus christ, you will make friends with these people. Because I am going to have a relationship with her and this family with or without you.”

***

“Ugh, I just wanna cuddle and go to sleep,” you whine. 

“I know, baby.”

“But my hand hurts so fucking bad.” You scoot into the light and all the swelling and bruising makes your stomach flip. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away.

“Dami, Dami, scent me.” You reach out with your good hand, opening your eyes just a crack in the opposite direction of the injury. Instantly he’s there nuzzling and holding you close, humming. The stress in your voice was palatable, but he doesn’t see the reason for a couple seconds.

“Oh my god.”

“When he pushed me I landed wrong. Distract me.” You say all in the same breath. Injuries on other people bothered you only slightly, but injuries on yourself made you feel severely ill, like combining the flu with vertigo.

“We have to –”

“I don’t care, I don’t care, distract me!” He rocks you back and forth, singing in your ear, scenting so heavily your brain went elsewhere for a couple precious seconds. You take a couple deep breaths in this refuge, and Damiano breathes with you.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” You open your eyes completely, still facing away. “Is it broken?”

“Yes.”

“Can we go to the hospital tomorrow?”

“The bones are already healing. They could heal the wrong way and you’d have to rebreak –”

“Okay, heard!”

“Can I tell them now?” he whispers, still rocking. You shake your head.

“I want to change my clothes first, if we have to go to the hospital.”

“Baby, you can’t change your shirt, but…Wait, were you in the woods?” A full two inches of the hem of your jeans is soaked and muddy.

“Help me change my pants please.” He nods, and you’re strategizing how to get off the ground, when Damiano wraps both arms around your ribcage and brings you upright with him. Habitually, you embrace him back and moving your fingers makes you hiss in pain, then double over. Your eyes squeeze shut while reciting every swear word you know. Upon opening your eyes, the broken hand is in your periphery.

“Is that fixable?”

“Absolutely.” He sounds so damn sure that you take a deep breath. “I’ve seen a lot of bad breaks, you’re gonna be fine. Do you want your leggings or my black sweats with the paint stain?”

“Uh, both.”

“Good idea.” Damiano had accidentally given you your own drawer, or rather half of one. You pointed it out and both laughed about passing this relationship milestone without realizing. When Matteo did the laundry he’d set your little pile of clothes to the left of Damiano’s on top of the dresser. It all happened so organically.

Your wet jeans were heavy and stuck to your skin. Undoing the fly one handed while sitting down was possible, but then you realized you were getting Dami’s bed dirty. 

“Ah, shit,” you stood up and looked behind you at the forest green blanket with little embroidered flowers. The fabric was too dark to judge.

“Your underwear wet too?” he asked, pulling down your pants for you.

“Why, you got something planned?” Damiano huffed a laugh and hung his head. You’re trying to keep things light, even as you continue to shiver. Knelt down, Dami pulled off your socks too and put on a pair of his wool ones. Getting two pairs of pants on involved a little laughter and almost falling over, despite a one-handed grip on Damiano’s shoulder. When he finished pulling up the waistband of the sweatpants, you put your good hand on his cheek and waited. After a couple seconds, Dami’s focus returned to your face and you kissed him.

There’d be no chance for this at the hospital, so you take full advantage of this little, private moment. Dami is unsure at first, then very confident, falling into the familiarity of your body. You take the hand on his face and drag it down his neck, chest, into his back pocket. The new grip allows you to eliminate the space between, pulling Damiano’s hips closer to yours. He moans, gets a bit feral, then forces himself to freeze and pull away. 

Damiano busies himself changing his own clothes, but he has a tell. He blinks much slower when trying not to get aroused at an inappropriate time. Dami is doing it right now and diverting his gaze away from you, trying to distract himself. A knock on the door makes Damiano clear his throat harshly and fiddle with a hanger, back turned.

“Yep. All good. Come in,” he voice breaks at the end like he’s 14 and you snicker.

“Oh you couldn’t find a clean top?” Isabella’s question is rhetorical. She actually means why didn’t you change into a warmer shirt? You extend your hand out and someone gasps, which isn’t very reassuring. You’re trembling from the cold, still.

“My first instinct would be to ice that, but – actually let's take your temperature again.” Isabella looks up for the thermometer Matteo is already handing her. While Olivia is clutching her sternum in horror, the David’s are entirely unfazed. Having two athletic alpha sons seems to have rendered them comparatively unshakeable. 

“I know Y/n and Damiano are going to be attached at the hip till she’s feeling better.” Isabella says it amicably, but also as a statement of fact. “I’d be happy to take them to get that wrist x-rayed right now and I assume y/n will feel safest sleeping here because it's Dami’s room.” It's charitable wording, to make it about feelings, which are so much easier to trivialize than instincts. Olivia and Matteo hold eye contact, one omegan parent to the other and there's an understanding.

“I'll take them to the hospital and drop them back when we’re done. Does that work? Can I get you anything on the way back?” offers Olivia. After the Davids and your mother agree on a plan, you breathe a sigh of relief and tune it out. It doesn’t matter. Your father’s preferences don’t outweigh the other three, no matter his entitlement or the size of his ego. A minor draft from the vent or windows makes you shiver violently, teeth chatter. It reminds Dami to take your temperature, and he doesn’t like what that reveals.

“96.1 of course she's losing body heat. Warm up the car.”

Notes: So this was a sub-plot I was gonna explore, but Guardian Angel is already to overwhelmingly long. As a result, I've decided to stick with all the other plot points so I can hopefully get this thing finished in under 20 chapters since I've been working on it over well over a year. (What the fuck) Thank you for reading and encouragement .

Taglist: @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle  @iamtashaquinn@icarodamiano @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem  @the-chaotic-cow @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia  @azertyhug @biancathecool@bohemianrainbow @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic@obiw4n @persona1read1ng  @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und@que--sera--sera @stardustingold@teenyweenynightghost   @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @slavicgoddess13 @bright-shiningstar@lizzylynch1 @hauntedpostperson@harryssshouseee @lonnybunnys

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 13 - No More Like That

prev - chapter 1

Seventy nine hand written notes. That was around four per day being delivered to Hosah's home address.

Every single one showed a new side to the killer, some detailing their warped view of the world around them, how angry they were, how upset and hopeless it all made them, others listing minute facts about Hosah's daily life that he himself barely took notice of, the things he did unconsciously and without realising. It was cases like these that the shifter found the most difficult, because he was able to empathise with the sick and depraved.

People like this didn't deserve sympathy, a phrase Hosah had heard time and time again, but there was something so uniquely wrong with the stalker that he just couldn't help but see the situation from all kinds of different angles. These kinds of monsters aren't just born sick, surely.

One note stuck out in particular, the rest were quite lengthy, taking up both sides of the pages they were written on, but this one was just a few words in a Get Well Soon card, 'Stop hurting yourself, and I'll stop hurting others'. A sentiment Hosah had found himself extremely familiar with, stop this self destructive behaviour, for me?

These statements meant little, if anything, to the shifter. He didn't get himself into shitty cycles of abuse for the people around him, it was all completely selfish, therefore only a selfish motivation could convince him to quit it, surely. The truth was, Hosah hated himself more than he loved others. He saw all the beauty in everyone around him, blinded by the rays of light that excreted from every stranger he passed on the street, it was his innate ability to find the ugliest parts of himself that made him able to see the desirable parts in others with such ease.

Hosah was only about half way through the pile of letters that had been left on his doorstep over the past few weeks, and he wasn't sure if he could continue to sit and read for much longer.

"These are fucking delusional.." Teddy wheeled around on his chair as he flicked through the few shorter notes in his hands, "I still can't believe you haven't been told to stay home, you know, for your safety."

If there was one thing Jules wasn't going to do, it was care about her employees livelihoods,

"Well, I'm their golden ticket to luring this guy in. Human bait, if you could even consider me that." The words scattered throughout the writings had started to seep their way into the shifter's psyche, his humanity becoming more and more debatable by the second.

Hosah laughed as he spoke, but looking back up at his assistants face, he could tell the giant was being deadly serious with his previous statement.

Teddy leant in, keeping his voice down, "We should chase Boss up on that. It's not right, keeping you coming back here, I mean they know where you work, where you used to live, it's only a matter of time before they follow us back to my place."

"There's no point. I can't lose this job, I.. Where else would I go?"

"She wouldn't fire you. She can't do that."

"But she would, she will, you don't understand," Hosah felt his throat tighten with every word he said, his big brown eyes now glossed over with tears.

"What don't I understand? Please, I want to know why you're so scared to stand up for yourself here." Although the words on paper seemed cocky, the tone in Teddy's voice was about as pure and genuine as it could get.

"There's nothing for me here. Jules did me a huge favour even considering giving me a job here, it's a miracle I like doing it and I like the people here. What other place in the city do you know that'd take on someone who can't do shit half the time?"

The pit of hopelessness in terms of making a living in this world was one Hosah had long found himself falling down, an endless rabbit hole of despair that the shifter would most certainly never have the ability to escape from. Sure, this job sucked, he had seven day work weeks for most of the year, he became the target of the depraved and disturbed, he was financially and probably psychologically abused by his boss in some way, but this was his only choice in society. You help the people in the same situation as you, or you sit around in suffering, waiting for someone else to come and save you. And if there was one thing in the world Hosah valued over anything, it was feeling like a hero.

Teddy sat in the quiet of the room for a moment, the cogs in his brain turning, leaving his face visibly deep in thought about whatever in the world Teddy thinks about.

".. Do you think people would pay a lot for your paintings?"

The question was a ridiculous one, one with an obvious answer, so obvious in fact that Hosah almost laughed out loud upon hearing it.

"God, no. I'd be lucky if anyone took any of them during a burglary." If that was the case, the shifter had struck gold with his stalker.

"I'm being serious, Hosah, your paintings are really amazing. I bet you could make a living just from selling those alone."

"I'm not giving up my likelihood to pursue some.. fantastical dream career path." In all honestly, it was the consistency and the routine that Hosah was more bothered about having to give up.

Despite all of the negatives in the field, being a detective gave Hosah purpose. It gave him a reason to get up and to take the subway every morning, because if he didn't, who would be there when one of his brothers or sisters in this world needed him?

"I didn't say you had to, over the weekend, let's go to.. I don't know, where do you even sell paintings, an art gallery? Let's go to a gallery and sell them one of your pieces."

The idea truly did sound lovely, and the thought of being praised by a professional in the field was one the shifter was particularly keen on, but simultaneously, the fear of judgement and criticism was overwhelming. The fear of not knowing what the people at the gallery would say was truly terrifying, and Hosah knew terrifying to its core.

The shifter sat silently, eyebrows furrowed as he weighed up his options. All of the pros and cons, which paintings would he even want to sell at all, what he'd do if things were to either go incredibly good or devastatingly bad.

The quiet of the near empty office space left Teddy with a feeling of unease, an urge to fill the void with whatever words came to his mind first,

"If you still like the idea of going back to Colorado and getting a quiet place together, it'd be best to start the saving process sooner rather than later."

Of course he still liked the idea, it was one he went back on a thousand times in a day, obsessing over the tiny details, making sure everything in his brain's personal palace was just as he'd left it.

Returning to the islet when things were too much in the real world was something Hosah did far more often than he'd like to admit. The term maladaptive daydreaming had been thrown around a couple times when he was a teenager, but he preferred to not really think in medical terms when it came to his brain's activity.

Being zoned out in his own little world was the shifter's safe haven. In that little boat on his way back from fishing all day, laying out for a moment, feeling the sun bask down onto his bare skin, even the summer's bugs couldn't bother him in this universe. Instead of paying attention to his reality, he would listen to the soft breeze against the lake, the bubbling of the fishes below the surface, tracing his fingertips across the cool water under the wooden structure he lay afloat in.

That was the hardest part of this decision, if he were to make his escapist fantasy a reality, would it be all he'd made it up to be in his head? Would it live up to his expectations? How could he be expected to share his dream with someone else, would Teddy even appreciate it like he did? It would probably ruin his entire existence if his only coping mechanism was to be ruined, he needed his cabin on the lake to survive even a day in this world.

"... We can think on it more later." was Hosah's answer. He couldn't help it, suggesting grandiose ideas far too soon just to weasel out of them when the prospect of them becoming reality brought back up again.

Sometimes Hosah wished for him to become comatose, or maybe a hollow, lifeless shell of himself only kept alive by breathing machines, just so he could retreat back into his own mind, living in that little cabin on the lake, without having to actually commit his physical form to the life. Locked-in syndrome didn't sound too bad at all.

The following Friday night was unusually quiet, the shifter was expecting a big bang after the fiasco that was the previous day, but it was all so eerily mundane. There was nobody waiting in the dark corners of the tunnels Teddy walked through on his way back to the, now shared, apartment. There was nobody tailing behind them as they approached the building itself. It was as if the stalker wasn't real at all, the entire situation being a massive, long lasting nightmare that Hosah had mistaken for reality.

As he sat on the same pillow he lay on previously, the shifter wondered why he should even be worrying in the first place. Sure, maybe he heard his name being said in large crowds or in the queue at a cafe, maybe he felt eyes on him constantly, even when completely in isolation, but when he really payed attention, it was evident that he truly was just alone. Who even had the time, or, as a matter of fact, who even had the patience to sit and watch his boring old life anyway.

Each note they had left gave such precise detail, facts only Hosah himself could know, things he hadn't even realised he did, the more they added up, the more unsure the shifter felt. It was stupid, there was cold hard evidence that there was someone following his every move, but Hosah couldn't help but doubt himself and the whole situation. Imposter syndrome was something just about everyone experienced, but this was to a whole new level. Being so separated from your own achievements that it even spreads out into the acts that are working against you, inadequate of deserving even the harshest abuse.

All of these questions, but the most prominent one being, why him? Not in a self pitying way, not in a way that would imply he was too good to be treat in such a manner, but why did he of all people on this planet attract such intense fixation. There was nothing truly amazing or special about Hosah, any of his coworkers would've probably been much more interesting to observe under a microscope, so why him?

Hosah was so lost in his confused daze, he spoke without even realising it, "I'm scared it's something I've made up in my head."

"Sorry?" Teddy, who was half way across the room, asked for clarification on what the, barely legible, words his roommate had just said exactly were.

"I'm scared none of it is real."

"..What isn't real?" The giant sat beside the throw pillow, his voice much softer now,

"The person stalking me. Why won't they do anything. I don't... I just need them to do something to my face, to know I'm not crazy." Hosah's arms covered his face as he went on, hiding his mixture of fatigue and fear that littered his pathetic expression.

"I can vouch for you, that whoever it is that's out to get you, is definitely real... Not- Not to scare you of course, but, I mean, there's no denying it really."

"I just need to run away and forget any of this ever happened. I need to forget New York, forget everything that came before it too, I just- I need to get out, you know?" The shifter rambled, rolling his body closer to the pale, coarse hand beside him.

"Can I come with you, or does 'any of this' include me?" Teddy joked, but the twinge of sadness in his voice gave away how he was truly feeling.

Hosah thought for a second, wondering if his genuine thoughts would be a little too intense to unload onto his assistant,

"I don't want to be too much but," The shifter sat up, a much more serious look about him than before, "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if I left without you."

Despite their last topic of conversation being quite dark and terrifying, this comment couldn't help but turn Teddy's concerned look into an uncontrollable smile.

The lack of verbal response from his roommate made Hosah feel as if he had to fill the air with clarification on his last statement,

"I mean, I think..." How to word exactly how he felt was the main issue,

"I think I'd spend the rest of my life wondering 'What if'. What if I said this, what if I did this differently, what would've happened if I stayed. That would really mess with my head. We have.. something. And I don't want to run away from it, for once."

The shifter's face progressively reddened as he spoke, unable to control what he said as he suddenly found exactly how to address how he felt toward the giant.

An air of stillness and anticipation filled the cluttered room, with Teddy's face being hard to read at best, whatever the giant was thinking, it was a mystery to Hosah. It was as if he was transported back into the elevator where they first met, as the shifter longed for him to just say whatever thoughts he was having in that moment.

After what felt like an eternity, Teddy just laughed, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Damn. How low is the bar?

Hosah was stuck between a 'You're welcome' and a 'Thank you', instead deciding to just not say anything at all.

-~-

The art gallery was weirdly quiet, to say it was the weekend and New York was in fact the world's first mega city, at least. Most people were probably tending to the consequences of their Friday night, managing some of the most indescribably unpleasant hangovers you could think of. Hosah was glad to be in an art gallery at twelve o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, knowing if he were to go back a year or two in time to this exact date, he'd probably be in the other boat.

He'd never actually been to this particular establishment, or really any galleries at all during his stay in the city. In order to calm his nerves for when it came down to actually trying to sell one of his paintings, Teddy had agreed to do a quick look around at all the other pieces first.

Hosah sat in the scarf as he had been doing much more recently, his top half poking out so he could still actually see as they toured around. One exhibit in particular caught the giant's attention it seemed, as he turned down the corridor labelled 'Shifter History Exhibit' with a big arrow pointing in the direction they were headed.

The shifter had never really been all that interested in history, especially when regarding how he would've been treated fifty or a hundred years ago, but seeing himself reflected in the renaissance era was a cool thought.

It wasn't like being a shifter was a new concept, given that the gene had existed long before humans had the resource to log any medical records or research, but it was a foreign idea to treat those with the condition with the same respect you would just any person on the street. Hosah didn't get it. If they saw him on his commute to work every morning, they wouldn't think twice to consider whether he truly had the status to consider himself human, but when he was shrunken, that was an entirely different story.

He could've sat and gotten himself annoyed at the absurdity of how people treat their peers for their differences, but it would've been a waste of time. Instead, Hosah lifted himself back out from under the scarf to take a look around.

The piece Teddy had been looking at was one of those weird little macabre medieval tapestries, where, despite the gory imagery, everyone seemed to have the same neutral dead-pan expression. This one in particular wasn't bloody at all, though. A lady and her tiny child, it seemed. Unlike all the other pieces from this dark age period in the gallery, this particular painting was very sweet. It made Hosah think there was a time in the past where not everyone like him felt as if they were aliens or unusually sentient creatures that just so happened to share a lot of features with their human counterparts.

Looking at all the tidbits of history that surrounded him, the shifter was reminded of his middle school education. Everyone in his class turning and looking at him as the topic of shifters came up in their history classes, learning that, if he were to be born in a different era, he would've been nothing more but a piece of entertainment to the people around him.

The killer wasn't doing anything unheard of when he'd used the anti-growth drug for shifters that go giant rather than shrinking on the sort of shifters on the opposite end of the spectrum, in fact, its a common practice even in todays age, where human trafficking amongst shifters was almost to be expected if you let too many people know what you are.

"I always really liked this era of art." Teddy sighed, the few people also in the exhibition probably thinking he's crazy as he was seemingly speaking to himself, "Makes me happy to think that humans have always made silly art in silly cartoon-ish styles."

"I think they just were all kind of shit at drawing. Too busy, I don't know, slaying dragons or whatever." The shifter observed, ready to move on from the specific painting.

The giant laughed, still fixated on the piece as he spoke, "Who do you think was the one who painted it, the mother or the child?"

"Read the context under it, I don't know."

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Although Teddy was joking, it was very true, the shifter couldn't sleep at all the night before, it was having its effects on his attitude.

Instead of apologising for his rudeness, Hosah decided to stay silent as his assistant to read out the little plaque that sat under the painting,

"Painting by Misery Carpenter in collaboration with her son Connie. Gothic illumination art estimated to have been created from as early as the year twelve hundred up to twelve fifty."

Hosah stopped to really look at all of the minute details, realising that, yes, this was indeed a collaboration piece it seemed.

“Looks like her son painted himself, whilst she painted herself. To scale probably, it’d be hard to get all of those details with giant hands.” The shifter observed, lifting himself further out from under the fabric to look closer.

“Seems that way,” Although Hosah couldn’t see Teddy’s face from where he sat, he could tell the giant was smiling as he said that.

The pair took in the painting in all of its newfound glory, Teddy realising that he had more to say on it that he’d initially thought,

"Isn't it weird how we just sort of stopped giving our kids names like that? When I was younger, I used to walk around graveyards a lot, just looking at all the headstones, there were so many names like that, one I always remembered was a woman called Morning Star, from the eighteen hundreds."

His rambling sort of put the shifter at ease, little things that would've gotten on his nerves a few minutes ago were now able to be overlooked, filling him with a weird urge to actually apologise for his sour mood, which was something he'd never felt the need to do before.

"..That is weird. Sorry I've been out of it all day, I'm just nervous." It was true, Hosah was very, very nervous to find out whether his art was truly worth what his assistant had exaggerated his skills to be.

Finally, the giant moved on from the creepy painting, heading toward a glass casing filled with the tiniest pottery one could imagine,

"It's okay. We can always try a smaller scale place if that'd make you feel better. Maybe go to a marketplace first, where people aren't gonna instantly think critically, you know?"

Uninterested in seeing any more, Hosah retreated back into the security of the scarf, "Yeah, that sounds good."

It could’ve been out of doubt for the shifter’s talents, or it could’ve been out of genuine care for his nerves, either way, Hosah appreciated the sentiment and would much rather prefer his pieces hang on the wall for someone to wake up to every morning rather than have hundreds of people observe it briefly every day.

Still, in supposedly peaceful and safe moments like this one, Hosah couldn’t help but get his mind stuck on the person who had been following him. A sudden and unprompted wave of guilt washed over his entire form as he came to the terrible conclusion that, this could all be some kind of trick. Something to throw the detectives off the killer’s trail, something to get them so worked up and paranoid about that they run away from the investigation.

“It’s a red herring,” The shifter muttered, frantically trying to get his assistant’s attention.

Rightfully, Teddy was confused, “They just look like ceramics to me.”

“Not- not that, the notes, the package, the gun, the breaking and entering. They’re not after me to kill me, necessarily, they’re trying to throw us off of the case. Get us too worried about my safety to work on it.”

“You think?” The uncertainty in the giant’s voice was nothing but agitating to the stressed shifter, “Seems like a lot of effort to go to, lots of research, lots of time writing the letters,”

“I’m serious. I’m- It all adds up. It’s all- It’s not- I don’t know. They’re never really here, no real true physical threat, it’s always leaving trails and shit behind my back. I don’t know, I’m probably not-“ Hosah rambled, before an interjection,

“No, I trust you. I think we should look into the idea more, before we make any rash decisions.” Although Teddy’s logic was appreciated, an input from the shrunken detective’s higher up, Jeanne, would’ve probably been more useful to him in that moment.

That was the thing with Jeanne, he could tell you the sky is purple and you’d stop to consider his point. He was blunt, his words often having no tone at all as he said them, but that’s what made him come off as such a credible source. That, and his years of expertise.

“.. You’re right. You’re always right. Can you just tell me what to do, step by step, for the rest of my life?” Hosah sighed, a twinge of restlessness in his voice as he spoke, curling himself back up in the crook of the neck, beneath all the layers of the deep red fabric that complimented the giant’s cool toned skin and auburn hair.

Teddy laughed at him, as he usually did when the shifter said stupid shit, like his previous statement, “I don’t know, I think I’d prefer if you made your own choices.”

“I don’t want to anymore. Just direct me, I’d live better that way.” The thought of never having to think for himself again was quite the peaceful one, in Hosah’s opinion.

Maybe the theory was one the shifter had come up with exclusively to put his mind at ease, but in the brief moments where he believed maybe, just maybe, every piece of real and raw evidence stacking against his idea was all just to distract him from the truth, he could finally breathe.

[charlie-pippin-faraday]

My danganronpa v3 chapter 5 pre-investigation running commentary:

“you’re such an optometrist. can you prescribe some rose-colored glasses for me too?” might be my favorite line in the game and certainly my favorite thing himiko has ever said. the play on words, the cleverness, and of course the underhanded sick burn

laughing at maki saying “if this weren’t a killing game i would’ve already fucking murdered kokichi” lmaooooo

oh i can’t believe i was WRONG about the black and white door being to kokichi’s lab, it was actually to kaito’s. but i was RIGHT that the astronaut lab would be COOL as SHIT

LMAO himiko to kaito saying she’d never wanna be in a vehicle he’s driving bc of his reckless confidence. you know what she’s probably right

please tell me the astronaut lab actually leads to something that can eventually be piloted that’d be fucking sick

you know i have a feeling i know whose lab is behind the suspicious red door

nope I was wrong it was not kokichi’s, it was rantaro’s. and i can’t even get in?? booo!!

“that sorta unexpected development can only happen in a real killing game like this one.” REAL killing game? what exactly do you mean by REAL killing game?

“what a waste. i can’t believe that idiot killed [rantaro].” hey that’s a rude thing to say about kaede!! and i thought you WANTED us to kill each other, monokuma!

shuichi brings up a great point - what DOES happen when construction is done?

what in the SHIT is that giant thing next to miu’s lab? that wasn’t there before, was it???

cyber courtyard? uhh okay. this definitely doesn’t feel like someplace i’ll be chased out of!

my new genius plan: shuichi, kaito, maki, keebo, and himiko each pilot one of the now-abandoned exisals, we shoot monokuma, and we bust out of here! a flawless plan!

aw i love that keebo has nice memories about miu (it seems like he’s the only one who does). apparently they must’ve bonded while shuichi wasn’t around (and i mean more than just the not-sex scene i witnessed)

“rust in peace” keebo plz

keebo don’t put yourself in danger why are you putting yourself under the hydraulic press if anything happens to you i will not be able to handle it

listen i know he just wants confirmation about how alive he is and how much of a soul he has which breaks my heart but still do not do that please

where is there a bathroom in the exisal hangar? and why the FUCK can’t i investigate the absolutely insane-looking toilet come on shuichi you can’t tell me you aren’t at least a little suspicious about that

me and kaito need to make up IMMEDIATELY i can’t stand this

i’ll be honest i had a suspicion the letters in the courtyard had something to do with kokichi before they were even complete, i could kind of see his name before we got all the letters

“shuichi, your words make me extremely happy” once again keebo i would fucking die for you

bro why do miu and kaito’s skills cost 6 slots but keebo’s costs 32????

very worrisome that kaito wants to learn about weapons. he definitely doesn’t wanna shoot kokichi or anything

oh he’s comparing kaito and maki to himself and kaede ❤️ parallels 🩷

sooner or later maki is going to force me and kaito to wear our “getting along” shirt

“i have to make up, for kaito AND for maki” this sentiment is sweet shut up

ah it’s finally time for the love key! monokuma woke me up so aggressively

hm i’m not sure about the moral and ethical implications of this key. oh well

oh no i got himiko?? tenko i’m so sorry about this

shuichi wasn’t very good at listening to the “stay in character” instructions he kept asking questions

that was alright but. i know who *i* wanna fuck (keebo) and i know who *shuichi* wants to fuck (kaito), so we’re gonna go back to a previous save file and try this again

oh hell yeah i got maki this time! kaito i’m sorry in advance for fucking your girlfriend

aw maki’s fantasy is that she never became an assassin and she’s in a long-term relationship? that’s sweet and a little heartbreaking

damn i can’t believe maki roleplay marriage proposed to me before fucking me

me to kaito the next day: “bro i swear it was a one-time thing, it didn’t mean anything. i’m pretty sure she was thinking of you the whole time!”

“last night with maki, was that a dream?” i am genuinely not sure, shuichi

okay i’m at maki’s 4th FTE. she’s talking about a girl she was friends with in the orphanage, whom she played House with. is this the person she was fantasizing about in the love suite????

yo where the fuck is kokichi’s lab? that’s the only one we haven’t found yet

i’m wondering who’s gonna get murdered. i REALLY fear for keebo, since i think kokichi is out for blood and they’ve been feuding since the start. i fear for himiko too, since i didn’t think she’d last this long anyway and i still hold my belief that all 3 girlies are gonna end up dead

“the outcome will settle once and for all how miu perceived me” aw keebo

a theory: maybe kokichi anticipated that the hammer will disable keebo and then he could swoop in and try and kill him. but maybe he DIDN’T anticipate how close keebo and miu had grown and didn’t see that miu would ensure the hammers wouldn’t hurt keebo. she DID program him as a living being and not an object in the virtual world, after all. we’ll see if they work on him or not

hey after a few tries i finally made it through the passage level! and on my successful attempt i only lost one student! RIP shuichi

damn i thought that door looked like the door in DR1, and then they lined us up like the poses at the end of DR1

something about this outside world backstory don’t smell right. i am very skeptical about everything they’re telling me

i appreciate kaito’s determination to punch kokichi in the face

did shuichi lie in bed for a whole day-plus?

oh? who’s come to my door to save me from killing myself?

of course it was maki

oh!!!! we’re getting the TRUE lore dump now!!!!!!!

the JOLT that ran through me when the name makoto naegi came on my screen. i even predicted i’d see that name a second before i did and i still felt that

i TOLD you makoto naegi was haunting the fucking narrative!!!!!! i could feel it!!!!!!!!!!!

okay while this seems more believable than what kokichi said, you cannot convince me that MAKOTO NAEGI of all people chose to abandon earth. and i do not believe it’s currently hundreds of years in the future

bro if this whole thing is about a disease killing the world, and this game came out before covid, the propheticness is unreal

the one thing i don’t believe is that kokichi’s cult was the remnants of despair. cause…i know things the characters here don’t. everyone in-universe knows everything that happened in DR1, but if I recall correctly the events of DR2 are like a dirty little secret that the general public doesn’t know. so they wouldn’t know that the remnants of despair were rehabilitated. unless they grew beyond class 77-b, but idk if that’s what they’re talking about

my new completely out of left field theory: the professor built keebo in the image of makoto naegi. idk how much time has passed DR1 (or DR2 or the anime) and how old makoto is now, but he’s old enough to have rebuilt the academy by now. and keebo’s super short, he’s got the ahoge, he listens to his inner voice of hope. it’s not the worst theory i’ve ever had

okay another thing that doesn’t sit right: “only a genius can overcome nature.” wasn’t that also kind of against makoto’s whole philosophy? he was a normal dude, who had hope. and didn’t he restart the academy with the idea of it being for EVERYONE? if i remember right? something about this doesn’t feel quite right either

where’s monokuma? and what about that secret door in the library?? did we just forget about that?????

“all four” exisals? shuichi are you dumb? there were 5 of them!

that felt suspiciously like a goodbye to kaito and i don’t like it. if something happens to him i’m suing

i have a sinking feeling something will go wrong and someone might die on our mission to rescue kaito

Annnnnnnnd I’ll be back after investigating this so-called murder!

[peachjagiya]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/751789107975520256/im-kinda-sick-of-waiting-around-to-find-out-if?source=share

Anon i feel the exact same way as you. I dont have a solution but i find it works best for me when i think of taekook as a fictional couple that i enjoy and love and that no one will ever be able to take away from me (i read and write fanfiction for one) and then the members as they are i take them as they are and what is presented to me. This excludes their private lives pretty heavily. In real life, though i want nothing more than for them to be ”real”, what i love about them is their bond. I dont go crazy with all the ”theories” that to me all seem like shippers choosing what they believe based on what aligns with their ship. And thats fine! But i cant delude myself like that. So what works best for me is: we will never know with absolute certainty what goes on behind the scenes. And thats how it should be. These are not our lives, its people who are actually strangers to us private lives. When taennie and paris happened, i obsessed over it, followed it compulsively. And eventually i was like. What the fuck am i doing? None of this, NONE OF THIS, has ANY impact on my life. I have nothing to do with it, and no agency in it because its got nothing to do with me. I cant control anything about it. Yes, I want taekook to be real, but at the end of the day, what does that matter to me? If i just want the relationship i can just daydream about it, them being real or not isnt actually going to make me any more part of it anyway (lol). Now i know that not just quitting them and instead staying with them could still be perpetating my problem but i hope i can continue to respect their private lifes. And i realize sending this to a theorizing shipping blog is kind of ironic, i do think theorizing is sort of inherently invasive (and rps in general so like myself included) but utlimately harmless as long as you stay respectful, they are public figures after all (please okay i mean no disrespect to you peachjagiya) So yeah, when that video with jk and the girl came out i was basically over it. My stance is that has nothing to do with me (and if its real i should not be able to see it and thats stalking and a gross invasion of privacy (same with the leaked taennie pics (although they are edited as hell))) so i do not have an opinion. I still love taekook. Are they real? A part of me is always going to believe that. But no, not that we know, and we can never know. But in any case, theyre real to me❤️ Hope this helps, if not then at least know youre not alone feeling this way (unless you dont wanna align yourself with my crazy lol), and i think some sort of distancing is healthy, not in a ”i dont care about them anymore” (like they mean so much to me, how could i ever do that), just another way of thinking about them. Yes its frustrating not to know but only if that knowledge matters to you. And maybe in the ways that matter (am i speaking in tongues rn) you’ll find it actually doesnt? All the love to anon and this blog 🦋💜

Some words for fed up anon and some ways of thinking about it. 💜

Just adding this second clarifying ask from anon:

No offence taken. I actually think a lot of what we talk about here isn't necessarily romantic. It's often in defence of their closeness in general because a lot of people seem to believe it simply doesn't exist. And in the course of denying their closeness, or minimising their importance to one another, there's a lot of anti-Tae sentiment, a lot of painting JK as something he's not, a lot of bending of ideas to fit weird narratives. That irritates me as a Tae/JK bias so I sometimes feel like I'm just battling that.

That's not to say we don't suggest romance. We definitely do. 😌 But you're right. You gotta protect yourself from potential upset or the weariness of never finding out by accepting that you're never operating at 100% certainty.

I don't think there's prizes for loyalty at the end. If they are a couple, there's no bragging rights if you never had a moment of doubt. JK and Tae aren't personally going to come to your house to congratulate you for never wavering. They are real people, not points to be had.

Sometimes we theorise and make jokes but hopefully it's a respectful vibe? I also hope people would let me know if the vibe got disrespectful.

Just because I'm worried how some people get:

Do I think they're a couple? Yes.

Will I continue to view them through that lens? Yes.

Am I putting my life savings and personal happiness on it? Absolutely definitely no.

Thanks anon 💜

Edit to add:

Taekook will stay cute! 🥰😘 😍

[jefarawol]

“I did,” Estinien’s gruff voice came from behind her. ��But it looks like you can't do anything without me.”  “Not true,” she scoffed back instantly. The elezen dropped to the ground beside her arm resting on his knee. “You were just thinking it.” She hated that he knew. “Your thoughts are so goddamn loud I could hear you before I saw you.”  “Is that why you're here?” She didn’t want to look at him. “To gloat?”  She could feel her irritation increasing with each moment. Had he always irritated her so? Part of her missed the way they used to be. She could feel him roll his eyes at her sentiment. She bit at him before she could stop herself. “I'm not in the mood for your attitude, Estinien.”

“No you'd rather sit around and feel sorry for yourself instead of doing something about it.” He was doing this on purpose. “That's not the Jefara I know.” No. She wouldn’t rise to it, she began to take a deep breath to steady herself. ”Pathetic.”

“How dare you-!” Every scale on her body bristled. “How dare I what?!” He cut right back over her. “Call you to your face?” She looked at him now with angry eyes, he only sneered at her continuing on unfazed. “You are pathetic, and weak. Unless you're going to prove me otherwise.” She rose to her feet, biting back all the horrible things she could say back, not that she had to, he could hear them all rotate in her mind. “I don't have to listen to this.” She turned on her heel and began to walk away. She knew he was right. But Dusk Mother be damned she would never admit it. “That's it. Run away.” He laughed, getting up as well. “Isn't that what you did last time? Fucked of so you didn't have to face the reality of your problem.” He easily plucked through images of her in Dravania, when she had fled from her own feelings, from admitting how she had failed him. “Leave me alone!” She felt sick. Her skin itched and she wanted nothing more than to tear at her scales. He had succeeded in getting under her skin as what was his intention. He let out a dry laugh as he caught her in a few easy strides and with barely any effort he pushed her forward.

”Pathetic.”She put her hands out to catch herself as she fell forward hissing at the pain in her chest still prominent. Not only was Estinien's voice echoing in her mind but the memory of Zenos, one he was dredging back to the surface with each time he said the same word he had.

“Really?” he scoffed when she didn’t get up. “Is that all you've got?” He kicked his foot out this time sending her face first into the ground, she had no purchase to throw her hands out to catch herself. “Is this the warrior who felled Nidhogg?” He continued his verbal assault. “Eating dirt from the ground. You're better than this.”

“Baszd meg!” she pulled herself up turning to him crouched as she cursed. “How many times have you beaten me,” he looked down at her “and you can't even bring yourself to land a single blow. Are you giving up?” This time he made his intentions clear to her as he raised his fist. She rose to meet him but her chest still ached, she wasn’t fast enough to catch his blow hitting her where it hurt the most. She cried out as he downed her again so easily, her lungs aching as she breathed through the pain, her limbs were heavy, she couldn’t fight back not that she wanted too.

He was right. She was weak. It was time to give up.

Across the clearing unseen to them both stood Barham, watching the scene unfold. As promised he had come to look for her when she hadn’t returned. He was surprised to see the dragoon strike at her. He observed from a distance, something in his instincts told him to let them hash it out. After all, who better could know what was going through her head? If he saw Estinien take it too far, he would step in, until then he watched them like a hawk.