#he actually just got beat up by a few fiends but he's too scared to tell them :[

[grease-weasel]

Telling his brothers how tough he was today

[tomatoswup]

phone calls

summary: two old rotary phones begin the connection between two souls. One from the past and another from the future.

warnings: angst, literally angst, sad vash :(, hurt/comfort but its not the comfort you think it is. kinda more like an acceptance comfort

pairing:vash x reader

-inspired by the movie "The Lake House"

A/N: am i a fiend for writing angst? yes. do I like reading it? NOPE. wanted to get this out before I hustled on school work hehe. But fun fact this was originally longer but I rewrote and condensed it b/c I thought it was too long for just a one shot lost media typa beat. honestly i don't think i wrote this right but fuck it we ball. I recommend reading this with the saddest song you have bookmarked. Enjoy!~

"Hmmm...Well you got some personality to you.” You mumbled, staring at the old red vintage rotary phone sitting in front of you. How did you come to achieve this old relic of time? Well in short terms, you liked to think about it like an equation.

Old attic + mischievous white cat = you adventuring to go find said cat and to your dismay, said cat scares the living ever hell out of you making you lose balance and fall backwards into endless towers of boxes.

Fun times right?

Those bruises weren't gonna be….

But that was the least of your problems at the moment. As expected, the rotary phone suddenly started to ring, shaking and clicking in itself, making you sigh in disappointment. Grabbing the phone, you yanked it up to your ear “Hey, yeah I don’t think this is gonna work.” You deadpanned “Now we know that we're always gonna be connected, what is this? The 5th time?"

"Damn and I thought you hanging up would’ve solved the problem. I don't think we could connect with anyone else though! I asked the farmer about it and he had no idea!" Chirped the male on the other side of the line.

Of course! It sounded like a normal conversation between two individuals but even Einstein himself would've been baffled at these circumstances. Imagine this, you find an old phone and you had been playfully talking into it until a voice actually responds without it being connected. Strange right? And no, you were sure you hadn't been seeing any strange figures on the sides of your vision.

Now here you were, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on alongside the man who had introduced himself as Vash The Stampede.

"21st century my ass, Google isn't doing shit!"

"Wait hold on now, did you just say 21st?"

"Yeah? Something wrong?"

"Uh well.. It's just that its actually the 32nd century."

You blink a few times "No, it's not. My calender literally says it's the 21st century. It's general knowledge."

"No I'm pretty sure its the 32nd century!" Vash snapped back.

Silence filled the air on both sides.

"WAIT A MINUTE-"

And thats how the unknown man from the future and you hit it off.

After this discovery, the two of you talked on the phone for a while, sharing things about each of your own time periods. And you slowly found yourself enjoying the conversations you would have with Vash who you soon found out, was pretty goofy in his own way, but kind. And unknowingly, Vash felt the same way.

What was an accidental and odd situation turned into practically an everyday thing for the both of you now.

After work, you always looked forwards to that red phone on your nightstand until one day, you decided to decorate it with cute little stickers because why not?

After all, it was fasinating to hear things about the future. Sometimes you'd laugh at the way Vash described it, like something out of an old wild west movie.

"It's all just desert! Really!" He groaned out as you chuckled, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you put books and CD's away on your bookshelf "At least you can make some cool sandcastles or something!"

"With what water?"

"Your tears." Snorting, you listen on as he whined through the receiver. "Hey but just imagine me helping you build them! Makes it hurt less."

Vash let out a exaggerating sigh "But seriously, it's not always sunny were you live?" He asked curiously.

"Nope!" You smiled, slipping one of your favorite books into place "It changes every so often really. Depending on the season." You hummed out, looking out the window to your right to see the drenching rain down with its spring showers.

"Season?"

"Sometimes it rains and sometimes it gets super cold. Other days it just gets too hot and if we're lucky, we get days with perfect temperatures. Its never the same but I guess that's the beauty to it here. Every day is a new sight no one could really get tired of. "

Or a new headache.

Vash stayed quiet on the line, and you imagined how he looked like deep in thought. Eyebrows furrowed, his supposed pointy blonde hair messily spread out across his pillow, and eyes as blue as the sky looking up at the ceiling in concentration.

…Okayyy that’s enough out of you.

He didn't say the eye part himself but you liked to ponder on the idea.

"That sounds beautiful.."

And to that, you smiled. "Yeah, it kinda is."

But something in your head made you stop and look down at the book you had in hand, unsure if you wanted to say anything.

"Hey Vash.."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry that I'm the only person you could really reach with this thing. I know you really wanted to talk to your friends.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not everyday I talk to someone from the past! From even before No Mans Land!”

You sigh and slip the final book away to which Vash adds in one more sentence. "And even if you weren't, I like talking to you."

You scoff in good humor "You're lying blonde."

"NO I"M NOT!" Vash gasps out dramatically "Oh how you hurt me so!"

"Hardy har har." You chuckled, shoving a box of things you wanted stored away in the corner of your room. "At least I know I'm speaking to someone as beautiful as the nightsky!" He huffed out trying to sound manlier.

“Yeah? Now how could you tell that?"

"Because I know a pretty and kind soul when I hear it."

E-Excuse me?

Your face flushes red "Alright cowboy are you trying to soften me up?"

"Pftttttt nooooooo~"

Your conversations never ceased to end, and when talking to Vash about practically everything, it felt...comforting. To know there was someone to listen to your struggles, and listen to his own. It felt so intimate.

Sharing about your life on Earth, the things you do and him speaking about his own life and travels around his home planet.

One day, Vash and you had been talking for the night and he mentioned something that gave you a sense of familiarity.

PROJECT SEEDS.

A large project that's been reported on the news for more than a few months now so of course you caught onto that. You've watched their segment on TV before. Something about bringing life to other planets?

You knew the Earth was dying, scientists had announced that someday in the nearing future, the very sun that shone down on you, would destroy you. But did that really matter to you anymore?

The project had been accepting registrations for boarding their new ship incase it happened. Your sister got to register in time but you had been too late. All the slots were filled.

That was a very odd day to say the least.

But that didn't stop you from speaking to Vash.

"Vash, do you ever think you'll see me in the future?" You pondered one night as you were cuddled up in your blankets, the cold being unbearable this winter season.

"Well, I hope so. Sometimes it gets tiring speaking into a thing of metal and plastic hehe.." You could practically hear him playfully grin through the receiver.

You gripped the handle of the phone tight as tears threatened to leave the corner of your eyes.

"I hope I get to see you one day Vash.."

He went quiet for a moment.

"I do too.."

That night, you slept with the phone held to your chest as the fluttering feeling in your stomach never ceased. And you didn't want it to.

Vash had made it a routine to call you every night at exactly midnight to check in on how you were since he couldn't really do it in person either way. And every time he called, it felt as if he heard your voice for the first time all over again. The warmth in his chest made him smile when you answered the phone with the nervous pitch in your voice.

"Vash?"

He found it theraputic to listen as you talked about your day, the normalicy and peace No Man's Land and that his own life had lacked.

Hanging out with friends, reading in libraries, and more.

How he loved it.. Hearing you speak so fondly, so excited, it felt refreshing to Vash.

You were full of life

And Vash wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With every time you spoke his name, he felt like melting into a puddle. He just wanted to hear you repeat his name over and over again, and no, he'll never get tired of it. He could spend an eternity laying in the dusty bed of the farmer’s home just listening to your voice. Listening to your worries, your hopes, and the momentary jokes you would tell him.

But as the days passed, after one full year and a half of the two of you speaking over the old rotary phone, you answered the phone one night with a change clear to Vash. You sounded so weak, so sickly and out of breath.

"Are you alright?" He asked, hearing loud shuffling and things falling on the other line.

"I-I'm fine!" You coughed out as Vash peeked out the old wooden window in the room he was staying in, spotting Wolfwood and the broadcasting girls waiting for him to join them.

"Are you sure?" He breathed out in honest concern, feeling his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

"I'm fine Vash, seriously." Your voice weakly echoed through the receiver "Just a little sick, that's all.."

"Please make sure to get some rest okay? I'll ring you when I come back."

"Promise?"

"I promise lov-" Vash caught himself, quickly shutting his mouth.

"Hm?" You hummed out in question.

"Sorry a fly got caught in my throat! Hahaha!" He played off before sighing.

"Take care of yourself, for me okay?"

"I will, I will.." Before Vash put the phone back onto the base, you said one more thing.

"Love you." And with that, the familiar ding of the phone receiver on the other line rang through Vash's ear, signifiying the end of the call.

And Vash was left in utter silence and awe. Love. Love you said. Him?

A fond expression instinctively grew on his face, yet the churning feeling in his stomach wasn't one of butterflies, but one of dread. He couldn't help but leave with the gut feeling that something was wrong.

When Vash returned back to his room and picked up the phone at the same time the two of you would call each other at every day, there was no reponse.

He called your name and no sound came out of the other end. So he put the phone back down onto the base and lifted it back up again to his ear as the same dread slowly seeped into his chest. The room was starting to feel a bit more heavier than usual.

"Hello?" He breathed out nervously as he felt his forehead start to sweat.

"Come on.." He muttered to himself worriedly. Maybe you weren't home in time and had gone to the doctor. Yeah, maybe that's the reason. So Vash left the phone alone for the night for the first time but the prodding feeling in his chest didn't leave.

He tried the next night.

No response.

Maybe you had stayed over your parents' for the day.

He kept the phone by him whilst he napped, waiting for the ring of the phone to wake him up like an alarm, but that didn't come.

He tried the next night, the next night, and continued for the next 3 months until finally.

One night, Vash just stared at the old red phone that hadn’t rung since that day, anticipating at least one final call, one last goodbye from you. Sitting on the bed side, he kept his eyes on the phone until finally Vash couldn’t hold it anymore and cried. Clear waters falling down his cheeks as he tightly held the phone to his chest in desperation.

Did you forget about him?

Did you find the love of your life and decided not to bother with him anymore?

'Come back.'

'Dont leave me please.'

'I love you."

'Please speak to me.'

The string of desparate thoughts ran through his mind as the burning sensation grew in his chest. He can't breathe. He gasped for air as his quiet wails filled the night.

Don't go.

The morning after Vash permanently left the farmer's residence. Of course, he took the phone along too, incase you ever decided to ring back but to Vash's dismay, it never did.

And Vash thought back to you, from time to time, stil wondering if you remembered about the red phone that sat in your room and the idiot blonde on the other side of it.

2 years had passed since that night, and both Vash and the gang found themselves in the city of Augusta for their annual merchant gathering, an event in which all the merchants from around the planet come and trade their valuables or tools in a big, single event.

Crowds of people flooded the streets as the stands were all surrounded to the brim. Vash had been walking beside Wolfwood, who was talking about some bounty hunters causing trouble around when something red caught his eye from an stand that they had walked past, causing Vash to stop in his tracks. Eyes widening in realization, he rushed over to the stall, leaving Wolfwood in the dust.

"H-Hey where are you going!?!" Wolfwood called out but Vash ignored him. His leather clothed hands slammed down on the stall table, the young man who managed the stall yelping in surprise.

"H-HOW CAN I HELP YOU?!" The man nervously shouted out as Vash reached over and picked up a very familiar red rotary phone "Where did you get this!?" He exclaimed in urgency. "How'd you get this!?"

"I-I-" The young man quickly cleared his throat and regained his composure at the sudden burst from the tall blonde-spiked haired man.

"It's a very old device! Back during the old days according to my great-grandmother!"

Vash looked down at the red phone, very dusty but he was able to make out the sticker decorations and doodles that were scattered around on it. Inspecting it more, he turned it around to the back and saw something melancholic.

"12:00 PM Midnight" was written on the back of the base with black marker. The time the two of you would call each other every night those years ago.

"Sorry, is.. is there anyone I could talk to about this?" Vash apologized, giving the young man a somber smile as he held the phone to himself, as if someone were going to rip it away from his grasp.

The man observed Vash for a moment, before nodding and giving Vash directions to his great-grandmother's home, right outside the border of Augusta.

"There you are!" Wolfwoods' voice rang out angrily behind him "The hell did you see now?!"

Vash turned to Wolfwood and simply gave him a smile "We're gonna be paying a visit."

It didn't take long to reach the old worn down home and greet the owner of the property, a small old lady to which surprised Wolfwood that she hadn't kicked the bucket yet.

Vash, of course, elbowed him in the rib for that one.

Seeing the phone in Vash's arms, the lady let out a small smile "My, I haven't seen that phone since I was a child..." She quickly showed Vash and Wolfwood inside, explaining how the phone came to be here.

"According to my grandfather, our lineage began with two sibilngs who were born and raised on Earth. When Earth neared its end, the daughter of the family was able to escape whilst the other sibling unknowingly stayed behind on Earth."

The old lady snapped her fingers to Wolfwood and waved him over "Be a dear for me and put this on the table."

Watching Wolfwood put a very old and deteriorating box on the table, the lady continued.

"Well, the sibling died before the daughter left Earth, so in attempt to preserve her family's memories, the daughter took some of her siblings' things, something to remember them by."

The old lady points to the phone in Vash's arm "That was one of them. And here-" The lady patted on side of the box "-are the things she was able to take with her. Check them out yourself." She softly motioned Vash to come closer with her frail, wrinkled hand.

Hesitating for just a second, he took slow and steady steps towards the box, biting the inside of his cheek in attempt to not just cry.

Damn, he sure felt like a cry baby these days.

Putting the phone down besides the box, Vash reached into the box and pulled out various things. Old shirts, CDs, a wallet, wired headphones, books, and something he never thought he'd ever see in fine print that made his breath hitch.

A colored photo I.D and on the side of it, your full name printed in black.

It was you.

These were your things, these shirts you've worn, the CDs you've listened to, the wallet you used in your day-to-day life, but he kept his eyes on the I.D.

Vash stared at your photo, the features you've described to him once were in his hands, proof of your existence.

He couldn't hold it anymore, how could he? Silent tears ran down his face as the small giggles he let out, turned into full on laughter.

He laughed and laughed whilst holding the I.D close to his heart.

You didn't purposely leave him.

You hadn’t meant to.

The same gracious laughter morphed into sobs as he grabbed everything he had taken out of the box, and enveloped them tightly into his arms.

This was the first time he was able to physically feel you, even if you weren't there yourself. He wished the smell of the favorite perfume you had gotten one day had still lingered onto your shirts, he wished he could've shared and listened to your favorite music alongside you. And he wished you were beside him, looking through all these things with him. He wanted to hear you reminsce your past and your present again.

Oh he wished.

Vash spent hours at the old ladies' home, looking and observing every single one of your belongings. There were some he remembered you talking to him about, and others he didn't recognize.

But it was time for him to leave and Vash knew it.

Looking up at the sky outside, he softly smiled, caressing the small compartment he had your I.D pocketed in.

"C'mon needle-noggin. Time to get your ass moving!" Wolfwood shouted ahead of him.

Letting out a large exhale, Vash muttered out a few words before running to catch up with the priest "Wait up!"

Behind him, two objects were left behind in the sand, placed neatly besides a metal nameplate.

The two red cherry rotary phones glistened in the sun, one filled with stickers and the other covered in dirt and scuff marks as your name plate, that had been cleaned of any dirt or scratches, continued to sit in peace as the windy breeze passed on by.

"I'll live on. For the both of us."

[study-with-ves]

Okay so starting with the first pictures because I actually took them yesterday, recently I have been sitting in the library cafe and spending around an hour just reading legends and lattes while drinking a latte and honestly I can not reccomend it enough, you do not even have to go to a library cafe just any cafe it is just such an amazing atmosphere, I advise everyone to do it as an act of self care.

And I have two pieces of new, I will start with the good news.

1: I went to the local supermarket yesterday and found a kinder egg easter egg with a miraculous ladybug themed toy inside and because I have no self control, I of course bought it. And I have no regret. None at all. I got the generic Ladybug but I am so happy with it I love it so much and am very temptedd to buy another but knowing my luck I would probably just end up with duplicates.

2: So. I was planning to come into the library at around 08:30 this morning, but my plans were drastically changed when, at 08:00 am, just as i was opening my wardrobe door to get my clothes for the day, I made a harrowing discovery. A chonking-ass-spider. Huge. Not huge huge but spooky and it was in my room and near my clothes. So I went and got the spider glass that I so kindly donated to the kitchen cleaning cupboard so it could be used for any flatmate who found it necessary, and I uncovered the beast (that had taken to hiding underneath my rug) and I imprisoned it in the pint glass labelled 'SPIDER GLASS', and quickly retreated to my bed, shaking. I then messaged pictures of the fiend because I was too scared to move, and I stayed like that for around half an hour, and I even got a video of it pacing around inside of it's prison with stone talus boss battle music playing in the background (take good note of this music, it is what I always play if i am having a hard time defeating an enemy in a game, usually in the witcher, it always helps me beat them). So after eventually gaining the courage to move from where I sat, I made my way to the kitchen, and opened the window as wide as possible, ready for the eviction of the beast (ironically enough, the window in my bedroom has been taped shut because of a humongous spider that resides on the other side of it -a spider that looks suspisciously like this spooky man in the pint glass). By now, I had spent quite a while around this spooky little man, and so I decided to name him Alfred. I decided that if I ever wanted to get to the library, I would have to just get on with it, and go head to head with my fiercest foe yet. So, I turned up the boss music (which had to have been playing on loop for at least twenty minutes by this point) and I began to count down from thirty. As I did so, I took my door wedges and propped open both my and the kitchen door, and with six seconds left, I got my postcard in hand and prepared for battle. I should note that at this point I had begun to feel rather sorry for little Alfred, as after pacing for around ten minutes to begin with, he had just been waving at me through the glass, which while was utterly terrifying for me to witness, I can only imagine meant that he was pleading for escape. I also feel I should mention that, before I started this countdown, I spent a good few minutes discussing with Alfred why it would Be best for him to just co-operate and not make things any harder for either of us, and he seemed to take it well. And so, I shifted the glass and shimmied the postcard under it, Alfred stayed perfectly still, gripping slightly to the glass so he didn't have to shift himself too much as the postcard went under him, and it is a good job he did because with my shaking hands I did almost drop the postcard as I elevated him, which, with an angrier spider, would surely have resulted in a counter attack, perhaps he had developed stockholm syndrome, or perhaps it is because I implied I would press charges against him if for breaking into my room if he didn't fully co-operate. Anyway, he slid his little butt to the bottom of the glass and sat calmly as I walked him to the kitchen window, as I sang a song about our encounter, the lyrics to which I can no longer remember. As I removed the postcard and tipped the glass on its side, the song came to it's finale and he swiftly exited the glass (unlike some sticky, smaller spiders I have encountered who are for some reason insistent on sticking to the glass like it is their new home), and he gracefully plummeted to the grass below, and we parted ways (hopefully forever). It was at this point nine o'clock, and I spent the next forty minutes carefully examining and shaking all of my clothes and belongings before I could actually put them on and safely escape the room that Alfred had somehow managed to break into. I do not plan to return for many many hours, hopefully any other spiders will be gone by then. They should be, because just before I left I T-posed to assert dominance.

I did at last make it to the library, unscathed, and I chose not to include videos or imaged of Alfred so as not to scare anyone, but if anyone would like to see him please do let me know and I will post a picture of him, properly tagged so you can avoid it if necessary.

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

[weelittleweasley]

Little Lion | Ron x Reader

Prompt as requested by 2 anons: Naturally as a Slytherin, you exude confidence and intimidation. Ron Weasley, on the other hand, not so much. But that’s what made you so attracted to the other, much to everyone else’s surprise. Question is will he muster up the courage to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with him?

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE: I know, I know, I know, the Yule Ball is only around for the Triwizard Tournament, but let’s pretend like it doesn’t exist just then!! I wanted to age everyone up to year six and give Ron and opportunity to redeem himself from the robes his mother sent him hehe. I literally am a fucking fiend for Ron Weasley, my love for him should be ILLEGAL. Ron content on here is MINIMAL TO NONE! If anyone has any great fic recs for Ron, PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY. LOOK AT THAT MOTHERFUCKER!! I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

All it took was for you to walk down the hall to get people to look at you and start whispering between each other. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, in fact you quite liked it. You were a confident girl and sometimes that confidence intimidated people. It gave you this sense of power that you liked to use when you needed something out of someone. Not to mention the people you surrounded yourself with in your house were also quite intimidating people, one of them being Draco Malfoy. 

You and Draco were best friends, a dynamic duo of sorts. People thought that you two would end up together, falling madly in love. But Draco was like your brother. He took you under his wing when you got Hogwarts and he was the person who helped you unlock that unfaltering confidence within you. Besides, Draco and you’s personalities clashed too much for it to work with you. You were both dominant, confident, intimidating people; Both of you needed to be in control at all times. Far too similar. 

Instead, you took a liking to people who were more reserved. People who thought before they acted upon their impulses. You needed someone who balanced you out. But someone who could dominate you and keep you at bay when you needed it. Only problem was people like that were scared of you or found you unapproachable. Which you understood, but at the same time, you wished that those people could suck it up and make a move.

As you walked down the hall today, Draco made his way next to you. “We should skip Potions today,” he states as you roll your eyes. Sometimes Draco kept this cool boy act up too much and you knew he was a big softie on the inside and he actually enjoyed school more than he liked to admit. “Seriously. We could ditch Slughorn’s class and hang out in the common room or by the Black Lake,” he tries to tempt you.

“Dray, we’re going to class whether you like it or not,” you speak as you continue to walk to class, Draco groaning when you tell him this. “Slughorn is may be old, but he says valuable things,” you push his shoulder.

The blonde boy just sighs. “I hate when you’re right.”

The both of you walk into Potions class, your face lighting up when you see that your other friends from Slytherin were already in class, awaiting your arrival. You grab a seat with Draco on your right and Pansy on your left. Pansy already starts gossiping about people who you could honestly care less about, but you give her the attention she wants anyway, her being one of your closest girl friends in the school. 

As she blabs on about some poor girl from Hufflepuff that she picked on during lunch, you watch as some Gryffindors enter the classroom, your eyes sticking on the Weasley boy. Ron Weasley was someone who you watched from afar. He was one of those boys who had that boyish charm that made you blush. The ginger was funny, for sure, but he had thoughtful and kind mannerisms that made your heart flutter when you watched him. You picked up on how he would notice when Granger would get distressed and he would offer her a sweet from his backpack that he had stored for occasions like this. You watched how he always packed more than one quill because Potter always managed to forget his. You watched how his eyes widened with fear when Slughorn would talk about how Potions can go wrong quickly, the Weasley boy fearfully concocting his. All of those little ticks made you develop a little crush on him after months of watching him.

Ron sat down in his typical seat next to Hermione and Harry, but he could feel a set of eyes on him from the moment he walked into the classroom. “Is she looking at me?” he nervously asks Harry. 

Harry glances over in your direction, watching that your eyes were glued on Potter’s best friend. When you notice Harry looking at you, you quickly turn away and pay attention to Pansy who continues to ramble. “She was,” Harry reports back. Ron nervously groans. “Oh come on, maybe she has a crush on you.”

“I highly doubt it. I bet she’s planning how to rip my heart out of my chest and then serve it to Malfoy on a silver platter,” his voice cracks. “She scares me.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Oh, please, Ronald. Just because the girl is confident and knows what she wants doesn’t make her scary; it makes her smart. I don’t know why she would have a crush on someone like you.”

Ron just looks at Hermione. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he exclaims.

With a huff, Hermione turns to Ron and Harry. “It means I’m surprised that she doesn’t have a crush on someone like Draco or Blaise Zabini. She likes someone like you, Ronald. Merlin, I didn’t think I would have to spell it out for you,” she turns back to the board, ready to start class. 

Your conversation with Pansy is interrupted when Professor Slughorn appear in front of the classroom and starts class, telling you to get into pairs. You turn to Draco, who was always your partner, Pansy with Blaise, Crabbe with Goyle. Everyone in the class regardless of their houses worked with the same people. Slughorn notices this and asks, “How about we switch it up and work with different people?” This earns a chorus of groans from the class. “I’m glad all of you are so eager to work with each other,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll assign the partners.” This earns more groans from the class.

Slughorn starts to pair people up with each other. You start to think that Slughorn is trying to make drama in the class when he starts. “Parkinson and Potter,” he announces.

“You’re bloody joking,” Pansy huffs making you laugh with Draco, making Pansy turn beet red. She grabs her things and moves to a work table in the back of the classroom. 

Slughorn continues to rattle off names of unlikely duos. “Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn continues as you have to stifle your laugher and Draco whispers multiple profanities, slapping your shoulder, him grabbing his things in a huff. Hermione was definitely not happy about this pairing either as she has a scared look on her face as she looks at Ron before she moves to the back tables. “Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley,” Slughorn announces.

Your heart quite literally stops and Ron looks like a deer in headlights. You did not expect this pair to happen. You can hear Draco cackling in the back of the classroom as you whip your head around. “Shut it, you nitwit,” you spit at him as he continues to laugh. You grab all of your belongings and make your way to a back table as Ron follows. Draco is still laughing, so you waste no time, slapping him upside the head, him letting out an ow! as you do so. “Bloody moron,” you huff at him before plopping down at a table with a shy Ron next to you. It is awkward. 

Slughorn calls out the last few partners before giving you the assignment for the  day. After he finished speaking, the class is silent for a long beat before the small chatter beings. You turn to Ron and offer him a small smile which he nervously reciprocate. The poor bloke is afraid of me, you think too yourself. “-so-”

“-um-”

The both of you talk at the same time. “You go,” you insist to Ron.

He shakes his head. “No, no, go ahead, I don’t even know what I was going to say, something stupid probably,” he tells you. His comment makes you lightly laugh. You suggest how you should start the task given. “Yep, much smarter than what I was going to say.”

You laugh again, “I’m sure what you were going to say was not stupid, Ron.” You had him a few vials of liquids needed to craft this potion. He carefully takes them from your hands and you notice how he actively avoids touching his hands against yours as if they were poison. Your heart kind of sinks at this. Were you that intimidating to him? You start, “You know,” you grab a pair of gloves, “I don’t bite. I know other people in the school say otherwise, but I’m not that bad.”

Ron gives you a genuine smile and laughs, looking down as his feet. “I’m sure you don’t,” he tells you as you blush lightly. “I guess pretty girls scare me.” Your heart rate picks up at the compliment, gulping a little bit, not making eye contact, too scare to. This was so unlike yourself. Ron clears his throat, “Anyway, let’s start, shall we?”

Within thirty minutes, you and Ron have completed all of the assignments for today’s class. You still had thirty minutes left of class, but Slughorn comes over. “Everything looks right to me!” he exclaims with excitement. “Well done, Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley! Since you’ve completed your work, I can dismiss you early from class!” 

“What? That’s rubbish!” yells Draco from the other side of the room. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing your things and thanking Slughorn for the great class. 

You and Ron exit the class. “Job well done, indeed,” you laugh as you nudge Ron’s shoulder as he laughs. The two of you walk side by side down the hall. “Um, well, I guess I’ll see you around, Weasley.”

Starting to walk in the opposite direction, you hear Ron call, “Wait! Uh...” You turn around to see Ron behind you. “I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and I was, um, do you wanna hang out by the Black Lake? I had snacks that I stole from the kitchen this morning.”

You cannot prevent the smile that forms across your lips. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Ron’s lips form a cheeky grin. “Wicked.”

The two of you made your way to the Black Lake, making small talk here and there until you reached your destination. The both of you sat side by side on the grass as Ron handed you a bag of crisps from his backpack as you thank him for the snack. “So,” he starts, “this might be a weird question, but...why are you friends with people like Malfoy and Parkinson?”

You smile and lightly laugh at the question. “Draco and I are like siblings. He’s the brother I never had. When I got to Hogwarts, as hard as it may be to believe, I was really shy. I didn’t talk to many people and he took me under his wing. He helped me find my voice. I owe that to him. But that’s all that Draco and I are. Friends,” you stress, trying to express that you and Draco’s relationship was simply platonic. Ron nods. “Pansy on the other hand, she and I became friends because of Draco, but to be honest, she annoys me more than she does entertain me.”

This makes Ron laugh. “I thought I was the only one who found her dreadful,” he chuckles.

“What about you? Why are you friends with Harry and Hermione?” you ask him before munching on a chip.

Ron takes a deep breath in. “Like you said, Harry’s my brother. He gets me into deep shit, but he’s my brother.” You laugh at his passing joke, Ron looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “But seriously, Harry and I met on the train to Hogwarts. He and I have been inseparable since. Hermione, on the other hand, butt her way into Harry and I’s friendship. Again, she gets me into some deep shit, too, but here I am...The two of them are much braver than I am though, so I don’t quite understand why they think I’m a good addition to this team.”

You nudge his shoulder. “I disagree with that,” you speak truthfully. “You’re a Gryffindor! You’re like a lion,” you shimmy your shoulders, making him laugh.

“A little lion,” he retorts. 

“More of a lion than I am,” you counter, making him blush.

-------

More classes like this came along. You and Ron partnered up and finished your assignment for the day early, escaping class to hang out by the lake, eat snacks, and clown around. The more time you spent with Ron, the more comfortable you were with each other. But most of your interactions were limited to Potions class and your Blake Lake encounters. Other than that, you hung out with different people, spend your free time doing different things. This made you both cherish your private moments more. 

You sat by the Black Lake today, eating biscuits that your mom sent in a parcel to you. As you munched, you spoke, “The Yule Ball is coming up.” The mention of the Yule Ball makes the both of you tense. Neither of you had dates yet and you both secretly hoped the other wanted to go with each other. “You reckon you know who you want to ask?”

Ron munches on his biscuit quietly before swallowing. “Not really,” he lies through his teeth. I want to take you, Ron thinks. “What about you?” You shake your head no. I want to go with you, you think. “I’m sure you’ll have someone ask you, (Y/N). How could you not get a date? Look at you,” he tells you as you blush. 

You wanted to scream at him to ask you. That you wanted him to take you to the Yule Ball so you didn’t have to go with someone like Crabbe or Goyle. But you don’t. You just sit and finish your biscuit. “I think I’m gonna head back,” you confess, not really wanting to stay any longer with Ron no matter how much you actually wanted to capitalize on your time with him. 

As you rise, Ron watches you gather your things. You bloody idiot, just say it, he thinks to himself. Mustering up all of the confidence he has, Ron stands up and stops you. “(Y/N)?” he asks, stopping you from walking away from him. You look at the Weasley, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Ron takes a deep breath in and then says, “Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Your heart flutters and the biggest smile appears on your face followed by beet red cheeks. Ron stares at you, relishing in how beautiful you look in this moment with kind eyes and rosy cheeks. “Okay. Yes,” you shake your head, making Ron smile wide.

“Brilliant,” he whispers, picking up his bag, walking back to the castle with you. “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nudging his shoulder, you tease, “Well, you didn’t make it a question, little lion.” Ron chuckles. “I would have said yes either way,” you admit.

-----

The Yule Ball rolled around and you were ball of nerves and excitement. You couldn’t wait to just go downstairs and see Ron and spend the evening with him. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing your hands over the satin crimson fabric of your dress. You smiled to yourself, you chose this dress mostly because of how beautiful it was, but also knowing it was the colors of Gryffindor. You wanted everyone to know who you were at the dance with. You were wearing these colors with pride tonight. 

Before you made your way to the ball, you met up with Draco. “Wow,” he claps as you walk towards him, you rolling your eyes. “You look stunning,” Draco tells you as you smile.

“You look fine,” you shrug as Draco teasingly slapping your shoulder. “I’m kidding, Malfoy, you look great.”

Draco offers you his arm as you both make your way to the hall where the Ball was. “I never asked you,” Draco says, “who was the lucky bloke who asked you?”

As you turn the corner to the hall, there Ron was, dressed in a black suit with a jacket that was a smidge too big on him. Probably a hand-me-down from Fred or George. Regardless, Ron looked handsome as ever. Your heart thumped out of your chest when you saw him. “Him,” you whisper breathlessly. 

Draco chuckles at first because he thinks you’re kidding. “You’re going with a Weasley?” he asks in disbelief. You ignore his snide comment, disjoining you from Draco, and you walk over to Ron. Draco turns to Zabini, “Did you know she was going with Weasley?” Zabini shakes his head. “What has gotten into her?”

Ron feels as if he may faint. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress of crimson, hair perfectly falling to frame your face. He felt like a fish out of water in his older brother’s old suit, but his thoughts were pushed aside when you approached him. “You are gorgeous,” he blurts, making you blush. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” he lightly laughs, grabbing your hand. “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

Smiling at the boy in front of you, you squeeze his hand. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” you confess. “I have the kindest, handsomest boy as my date to the Yule Ball.” Ron blushes a deep shade of red, almost matching your dress. “You want to go in, lion?” you call him his nickname. Ron nods and guides you inside to the ball. 

-----

The Yule Ball was fun for the first hour and a half. But soon enough you grew tired of dancing and jumping around. Ron looked over at you and spoke over the music, “You wanna get out of here?” You don’t even have to answer him, you just grab his hand and start making your way out. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. 

When you are outside of the hall, Ron tells you, “Give me one minute. I need to grab something from my room before we go. I’ll be right back.”

You watch him leave, a big smile on your face as you smooth out the material of your dress. This night felt nothing short of magical. Ron was a gentleman, making you laugh, dancing with you the whole night, making sure you were comfortable. He was perfect.

“You went to the ball with Weasley? (Y/N), you can do so much better,” Pansy laughs from behind you. “He’s a complete git.” Anger starts to rise in your chest. “You really could have anyone in this school and you chose the man who wears his brothers’ old clothes. He can barely stand up for himself, he has to let Granger fight his battles for him.”

“Will you shut it, Parkinson?” you snap. “Just because Draco didn’t ask you to the Yule Ball doesn’t mean you have to pick on everyone else’s dates because you are unhappy that you had to settle for Goyle. It’s not my fault that you get upset when people are happier than you. So how about this? Keep your opinions to yourself, because I can assure you no one wants to hear them. Not me, not Draco, no one.” Pansy’s face turns sheet white. “I like Ron. I think he’s brilliant. And I’m going to enjoy my night with him.”

The silence between you is deafening when you finish. Pansy just stares at you as you catch your breath from yelling at her. You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Spinning around, you see Ron behind you. You wished you could feel embarrassed right now, but you don’t. You just grab his hand and leave a shocked Pansy behind. “Merlin, remind me not to make you angry,” Ron diffuses the situation, brilliantly. You laugh at him before intertwining your fingers, leaving the Ball behind and escaping to your signature spot.

Draco leaves the hall and sees you leaving with Ron, hands clasped together. “Can you believe her?” Pansy asks Draco.

Draco just looks at Pansy. “I don’t care who she’s with. As long as she’s happy and they make her happy. That’s all you should care about too,” he speaks before walking away from Pansy with Crabbe and Goyle not too far behind him.

Soon, you and Ron arrive to Black Lake and sit beside each other on the grass in your ball attire, not caring if it gets dirty at this point. You look out at the lake as it shimmers in the moonlight. The night was beautiful. Just chilly. Ron immediately notices you shiver and without hesitation, he takes off his suit jacket and places it over your shoulders. “You don’t have to,” you insist.

“Yes, I do. Don’t want you to get sick now, do we?” Ron smiles at you, wrapping an arm behind you carefully as you lean into him. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you resting your head on his shoulder as he lays his head on yours. “What did you have to grab from your room?” you curiously ask him. 

You can feel Ron smile against your hair. “Reach into my jacket pocket. The left one.” You do so and pull out a small red rose. Its petals were lightly crushed from being pushed into his suit jacket pocket. You look up at Ron, eyebrows furrowed as if to say what’s this all about? “I wanted to get you a whole bouquet, but they wouldn’t have fit in my pocket,” he jokes as you laugh. “I like you, (Y/N). A lot. I like spending time with you and being around you. You make me happy. So, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend?” 

His confidence is palpable. You’d been rubbing off on him. He must have been rubbing off on you because there is a deep shade of red on your cheeks, you feel almost unable to speak. You finally find the words and say, “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Weasley.”

Ron smiles big and just gawks at you. “You’re my girlfriend now?”

“I’m your girlfriend,” you repeat as he laughs. “And you’re my little lion now.”

The two of you just look at each other for a moment before he speaks, “I’m going to kiss you...if that’s okay.” You nod your head and close the gap in between you two. The kiss is gentle and his lips are soft against yours. He kisses you like he is afraid of breaking you. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you in closer. You smile lightly into the kiss before pulling away slowly. “Bloody hell,” he whispers, inches from your face. “I’m so glad that this went better than I expected,” he admits as you laugh at your boyfriend.

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter Four

Wordcount: 10,570

Rating: M (18+) for smut

Masterlist

Crossposted on AO3

They were burning it. They were burning your farm. 

Bound and gagged, you had to watch as the two generations of work was being obliterated at the hands of the Empire. Tears ran down your nose, not noise escaping you as you shook on the ground, heat curling off the back of your neck, sweltering and making you swoon. Sorrow, fear, misery, agony. Your greenhouse, the water vaporators -- so much wasted. What was the point? Why would they just burn it? Destroying evidence. Smoting your existence as if it'd never been there, as if you'd never made memories here and grown up in that house. You didn't have much, but all your holobooks, your stupid rock collection, and your clothes were in there. Most of the clothes were just coveralls, but they were still yours. 

It wasn't the material things you sobbed over. No, it was deeper than that. You'd done so many things here and it was all you'd ever known. Now it was ash in the wind, nothing going to remain other than the steel that wasn't burned out, standing as a gloomy sentinel to hint at the atrocity committed. And why? Because you had been kind to someone, healed them, taken care of them... and where was he? He'd said he would be right behind you and now you were beginning to doubt that. What if he'd seen the mess and decided that you weren't worth it? He was still hurt, so you didn't blame him for not wanting to fight five people at once.

Your heart ached, because you thought that... with all that you'd shared, the fact that he'd taken his helmet off... maybe it wasn't that special. Who cared about you? He knew that you were alone and you'd fixed his ship up for him. He was gonna leave and you'd fallen for all his sweet words. Mandalorians killed for a living, he wasn't going to care if you were just another amongst his tally. You had probably been the biggest sucker of them all. Healing him, feeding him, helping him to the fresher, giving him everything you had --- even your body, maybe even a little bit of your heart too. And for what? Fire and death?

"Ready to tell us where he is?" the death trooper bent down in front of you as you wept in the dirt. 

"Fuck you," you sniveled. Everything was gone. You gained nothing out of turning him in. 

"Maybe later," he stood back up and you shuddered at the thought. 

"Hey, looks like we've got movement up ahead."

You jerked your head up, neck aching and cheeks definitely bruised from where you'd been slapped. Narrowing your watering eyes through the smoke you thought you saw... a dewback? What the kriff. The creature rumbled, upset by the fire and smoke, threatening to charge. 

"What do we do?" the white stormtroopers were looking for direction.

"Well shoot it!" the black one exclaimed as if it were obvious.

You got to see the truly unimpressive shooting ability of stormtroopers in action. Dewbacks had thick skin, so all they were doing was agitating it. And then -- fire was returned. What!? How was a dewback shooting? How -- oh, it wasn't the dewback. Even through the haze, the opponent shot back with stellar precision, striking down the two troopers to the left before the dewback reared and charged. Trundling forward, the death trooper tried to square off with it before leaping out of the way. White hot flames ignited, followed by a hissing wine as the death trooper was flung several feet back. The dewback hadn't hit it, but someone else had. 

Flames beating high behind you, so searing that you thought you were being burned by the inferno, the dark blue armor appeared almost black in the manic illumination. The trooper was back on their feet, blaster in hand as they began pacing circles with the opposing Mandalorian. You were mildly delirious and uncertain if what you saw was actually happening pace for pace. 

This wasn’t a normal death trooper. Paz knew it as he matched the strides, ignoring the other two stormtroopers who were trying to deal with the rampaging dewback. He’d heard of this from his sister, that there were Mandalorians who had switched to the Empire’s side to be paid for their work, despite the fact that the Empire had gutted Mandalore and slaughtered many vod. Now, in the feral line of his opponent, he knew instantly that this masked fiend had once been a vod in the precise manner they moved. But he was in dark plastoid, not beskar’gam. And Paz still overstepped him by more than a head. 

The smoke continued to churn forward in a dark cloud and he was wasting time while you choked on the ground. He drove forward, the death trooper knocking aside the muzzle of the rifle before it could find him. The pistol flashed in the mad light of the fire, but Paz’s left hand snapped out gripping the arm of the trooper as he fired, the bolt pinging uselessly off his armor. Had he been a second later, it might’ve struck between the protection of his beskar. Before the trooper could disengage with a well planted kick, Paz twisted, the dominant hand of the Imp making a sickening crack. Dancing backward, the trooper grunted and gripped the broken wrist, blaster having fallen from his fingers in the scuffle.

Ripping a vibro-blade out, his bad wrist was pinned to his chest as he levied it. “Are you ready to go to Manda?” the trooper taunted. 

Even between the curling fronds of his fury, Paz managed to laugh spitefully. “At least I’ll be going there one day. You’ll never walk amongst those halls, dar’manda. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Any Mandalorian who’d chosen the Empire over their own was weak. Paz thought the man in front of him was chuckle worthy as he leveled a blade, as if he’d have the skill to plant it before he was gunned down. He only knew one person who could pose such a threat to him and she loathed the Empire. 

The two clashed, your eyes widening as you couldn’t make out between the smoke and carnage. But as you blinked through the bleary wet tears, eyes burning. A blaster bolt went off and you shifted, waiting for the haze to clear just as the other two stormtroopers broke around the edge of the dewback that had started its descent back into the canyon. Stepping through the haze was the dark, non reflective glare of beskar. You were already crying, but the tears were now of unadulterated relief that Paz had won the fight and not the death trooper. With your mouth gagged, you couldn’t warn him about the stormtroopers that were now lining up, taking a knee to begin firing at him.

Only one blaster bolt hit him and it bounced right off of his armor. Turning around, he gave them an unimpressed tilt of his helmet before leveling his pistol. The troopers tried again, but were taken down in a laughable fashion, as if they were stationary targets. Once he gave the scene another hard survey, Paz hurried over to you. "We have to go, Tranyc. We have to go-" he cut the bindings on your wrist and pulled the gag down. You were covered in dirt and soot, tear lines running gashes through the darkness on your face. "Stars, what did they do to you?"

You started crying again as his glove met the side of your sore face. "I-I wouldn't t-tell them-" you sobbed hoarsely. "I-I-I'm scared."

"Shh," he scooped underneath your arms. "Hold on tight. Close your eyes if you need to, but you have to hold on." Pressing you to his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clung as best you could, hooking legs to his hips despite the uncomfortable seat of his utility belt. His jetpack ignited again, the source of the white flames you'd seen through the smoke.  The ground was spiraling away, your eyes dropping and you felt... nothing. Just watching the farm become a quavering light in the night, like a single candle's flame across a remote landscape. 

He landed by the Kote, your limbs shaking from exhaustion and being utterly overwhelmed by the most action you'd ever seen in your decades. Wrapping both arms around you, he hurried into the ship, didn't deposit you, but took you up into the cockpit before starting the ship. Flipping switches, the engines starting, and continuing his ministrations as you pressed your face into the cowl of his cloak, trying to dab your tears that kept coming. He had come for you. All that doubt and he had come to save you. You didn't know if you should be happy or upset. He'd come too late to save your home, but he'd come. 

Paz guided the ship out of the canyons and upward, breaking atmo without an afterthought. His skin was hot, rolling with primal fury as you clung to him, crying softly into the fabric of his flight suit. You'd done nothing to deserve this. But he couldn't stop right now. Not until the two of you were in hyperspace. It had taken the Empire weeks to catch up with him, but they'd managed to do it. Fuel was low, he'd need to make a pitstop and Tatooine was grudgingly close. Maker dammit, that was the last place he wanted to go. He charted the navigation and punched the hyperdrive. Fuel was fuel. That's all he'd stop for.

"Tranyc?" he entreated gently, prying you off enough that he could get a look at your soot stained face. He tried to rub some off, which made you flinch. No, that wasn't soot -- deep purple bruises were on your cheeks from where you'd been struck repeatedly. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a thousand yard stare, the shock of what had occurred glazing you over completely. "Darling, look at me."

You finally blinked, a few tear drops cascading as you glanced up toward his visor. The troopers had done this to you because of him. There was no other reason they would’ve bothered a farmer or beaten them. Not without orders to conduct interrogations. And you had defended him. People’s resolve crumbled for less, especially when their entire livelihood was on the line. Paz already hated the Empire for everything they’d taken, but the fire was rekindled anew. He was livid, looking down at your wet, bruised face, shame and guilt overwhelming him as he hadn’t gotten there soon enough to protect you. Just after promising you that you were safe with him, he’d let you walk into a den of wolves.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner-"

"Where were you? I-I thought you weren't coming," your voice broke and your lips trembled. "I thought you'd left."

Hearing those words broke his heart, but how could he blame you? Paz hadn't realized anything was wrong, never thought it until he'd spent the better part of his day picking up around the ship, taking a shower, and running a few checks on the engine before stepping outside and noticing a hellish glow emanating from the upper echelons of the canyon. Smoothing your curls, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd lost them, I never thought they'd find me out here, let alone go after you. I should have been there. I should have never left you." 

You nodded slowly and pressed your cheek against the beskar chestplate, the cold metal soothing to your ailing skin. What were you going to do now? Everything you'd owned was gone. "Why were they following you? You never gave me a straight answer, but I didn't think to go poking around..."

"The Imps attacked my covert after I helped one of my brothers escape with a baby that they wanted. Don't know much other than that, but I was one of few who escaped and they must think I know where said brother is," Paz explained. "Whatever they want with that child, it's part of something much bigger than I ever thought."

"One of those troopers... the black one... he said he was Mandalorian. But... he doesn't look like you," you pointed out. 

"He was dar'manda. Maybe he was Mandalorian, raised that way, but he forsook his people to become a death trooper. Many death troopers are dar'manda. Looking for the easiest path with the least resistance, betraying our ways to make credits and be on the right side of the law."

"It's not the right side anyone. The New Republic rules now."

"Where was the New Republic when the Imps attacked you?"

You didn't have an answer, instead you sighed and closed your eyes. "It's all gone," you warbled miserably. Even innocent Jumbles was gone. "W-where do I even begin? I don't know anything about the galaxy. Just home. How to farm and stuff-" Your chest felt as if you'd taken a full on sucker punch and you whimpered in discontent. 

"You can stay here. With me, Tranyc. As long as you need..." he drawled off. This wasn't how he'd wanted to convince you to come with him. He'd wanted it to be a choice, not because everything had been ripped out of your hands. "I won't leave you again. Not unless you ask me to. I promise.”

You had somewhere to stay and a person to take care of you. That felt like such a foreign concept. For so many years you'd taken care of yourself, carrying the burden of you solitude, and tending to your animals. The idea was queer, confusing, and in your mental state it made you scowl, mind filled with a thick fog that you couldn't see through. You had wanted to spend more time with him and part of you had also wanted to see other planets. Maybe one day you would have asked him to take you, once you had a better solution for the farm in the meantime, but it was gone. You were here now, leaving your dustball planet for the first time in your life and that petrified you. Because as much as you rolled with the punches in your day to day life, this amount of change was overwhelming.

Paz could tell you were on the brink of passing out from a combination of exhaustion and mental distress. Aside from going to your home planet when you were young, he doubted you'd been off of it since. 

"I-" you started up again, trying to formulate your thoughts, but the ideas were evading you, running too far ahead for you to catch up and speak. "-don't want to be a burden."

Burden? You were worried about being a burden? Paz's lips tightened underneath his helmet and he stifled a sigh, rubbing circles on your lower back with his palm as he sank into the seat. "What do you want, mesh'la?"

You didn't know right now. Your wounds were still too fresh and deep to make a decision like that. It was such a broad question and honestly, too much for you to handle in that moment. "C-can I help you?" He had just saved your life. In that second, you'd entirely forgotten that you had done the same for him and that technically, this should have made you even. But you were accustomed to working all your life and without that rock solid foundation of regiment you found yourself losing more grip on reality. You couldn't just pitter around the ship or you'd find ways of letting the churning maelstrom of your darkest thoughts beginning to smother you. "Can't fight, b-but maybe I can do things? B-be your mechanic or somethin'?"

Work. You were asking to be put to work. The first bit of direction. You craved it. Everything except for the Mandalorian had come crashing down spectacularly and you were trying to find the first piece to begin rebuilding your foundation on. Work was the most logical place to start. Because you had to work for a living, to survive, and it wouldn't be any different because you were on a ship now. You needed a job for your own sanity.

"I could use a mechanic," Paz revealed, which made you perk up hopefully. "You said the Kote still needs some work. I can make that your job."

Your head was bobbing enthusiastically, hyperfocusing on the distraction from the trauma you'd just endured. Rapidly, you began considering what you remember being on the ship and what you'd require to be capable enough to fix it. "I'd need supplies," you comment, chewing your lip and paling as you realized you needed more than just work equipment. You had lost everything. "A-and stuff."

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, continuing to pet your hair. The sensation was soothing and you melted back against the cool beskar as you rattled out a long exhale. "We'll take care of everything. Maybe not on Tatooine. We'll need to make another stop on a more suitable planet after we fuel up. Why don't you make a list before we arrive?"

A list. You could manage that, but not right now. You didn't want to move right now. Sitting on a man clad in full armor shouldn't have been comfortable, but it was. And you were absolutely drained, face aching, and lungs burning from the smoke inhalation. "Ok," you mumble, clinging onto your Mandalorian as he rubbed you. You were lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest, swaying gently like the rocking of a boat on the ocean, reminded once again that you were safe. As long as he was around, you were safe.

---

He put you to sleep again and when you woke up, you were in one of his oversized shirts. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the chamber before getting up. It was cold. Why was it so cold? You grabbed the fluffiest blanket and drew it around your shoulders as you left the captain's quarters behind and stepped out into the hull. Mentally, you had it together a little bit better now, but with that came a soul crushing headache. You were thankful that the ship wasn't brightly lit, mostly just a few amber lights here and there that cast a dim ambiance across the shed. 

You wouldn't call it a kitchenette, because that's not what was beside the table. It was more like a flip down hotpad, a caf machine inlaid on the side, a nozzle for potable water, and a little disposal unit for any trash. From helping rearrange the ship, you knew that the nearest drawers contained rations. Which at best, were meh. They were relatively tasteless ways of gaining the nutrients you needed. Sure, they came in flavors but mostly that was savory or sweet. The differences between something like chocolate or peanut butter were almost negligible. 

You sat down, not really certain where you were going, but you plopped down on a pillow and just stared at the durasteel table. So... this was it now. You were the mechanic for a Mandalorian with nowhere else to go. You knew the other farmers around your home planet, but asking for boarding seemed like an incredibly ludicrous and cumbersome thing to do. You also didn't know if the Empire would attack your neighbors after what had happened on the farm if you tried to stay on planet. It was safer for everyone if you left. 

Funny, you had wanted to have more time with him and your kriffing wish came true. Now you wouldn't be lonely! Your stomach rebelled at your poor attempt to be wry. This was not Paz's fault. From the sound of it, he had been helping his brother escape the Empire and your father had told you before that the Empire never needed a good reason to do terrible things. You'd brushed it off, believing that your dad was just being overdramatic. No one could be that awful. Right? 

But they were and now you felt hopelessly adrift amongst an ocean of things you didn't know. You thought you knew how people reacted, but then again you'd only ever met nice people until the stormtroopers. You knew Tatooine was a skug hole. You knew that there was Hutt activity and slave trading there. See, you knew a great many things from reading and watching galactic news, but you'd never experienced any of it first hand. 

Paz will protect you.

The very thought made you inhale and exhale at a normal pace. You rubbed your face, cheeks still stinging from where the death trooper had slapped you around. Slapped. Not punched, not kicked. He'd slapped you around and you'd been bruised pretty badly. 

"Oh, you're awake," Paz stepped out of the cockpit with a datapad in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired still," you reveal wearily. "But it's more... mental."

He trotted over, sitting down beside you and pulling you into a warm embrace. Maker you had needed that, just the confirmation that you weren't alone through this. No words were needed. The display of comfort, his powerful arms carefully encircling you and hiding you from the galaxy... You sighed and pressed into him, uncertain why the small gesture was bringing you to tears. "Talk to me when you need to," he offered softly.

"I like this," you tell him, preferring the way he shielded you and the heat of his body chased away the cold. Oh, the cold. "Why is it freezing on this ship?"

"Hm?" he loosened his grip enough so that you could glance up at him. The two of you were close enough that you could kiss his helmet if you wanted to. "We're in hyperspace. Space itself is quite a bit colder than your home planet. Are you cold?"

You gave glance at your blanket, arching a brow at him to make a point. The silly twist of your lips made him laugh. "You're not cold?"

"No, but I'm used to this," Paz returned and you comprehended a little better. He was dressed from head to toe and had the additional layer of his beskar. 

"You are warm," you grumble, pressing your face into the fabric of his flight suit. He was big, warm, and totally cuddlable and honestly, you were kind of a greedy bitch for his cuddles. The first taste you'd gotten nearly a week ago had set you up for disaster. At least all the tears you had spilled hadn't been over him leaving and one good thing had come out of all of this. But... you were working for him now. What did that mean for the two of you? Well, you were nearly on his lap right now, so clearly there wasn't too much to worry about, but you wondered if there were any logistics you should worry about. "And quite a bit? It never gets this cold in the canyons. Maybe not as hot as Tatooine, but we still orbited around two suns."

How the heck could a planet be so warm, but the space from one to another was this cold? You weren't an expert on planet stuff, just like you weren't a medic. Seems you had a lot to learn. "Tatooine," he muttered, fingers tightening around you subconsciously at the thought. "We just need fuel and then I plan to leave that awful place."

"I know the Hutts used to be pretty active there before the war. What's so awful about it?" you inquire curiously. 

"You might not mind the climate, but it is very hot and dry there. And even with the fall of the Hutt syndicate, there's still remnant activity, slavers, and the overall atmosphere of the planet hasn't shifted much in light of the turn over to the New Republic. It's too far and not much worthwhile for them to chance coming out here just yet," Paz elaborated.

"Wow there's still slavers?" Again, another foreign concept to you. Of course you knew what slaves were, but you couldn't understand how people could do that. How they could treat someone as if they were dirt, less and baser than an animal.

"Not just on Tatooine. There are other places that still allow slavery. Technically, the New Republic has their own form of slavery for criminals. Most have to work in indentured servitude to pay off their crimes."

"But that's... different," paying off crimes and debts in exchange for hard labor seemed fair. Not being held against your will for being unlucky. "Are you wanted by the New Republic?"

"Don't think so," he shrugged. "I try to keep my bucket out of anything that has to deal with them. Fortunately for us, it's only the Empire."

"Yeah, fortunately," you drawl sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but his words make you smile. "So... what are we going to do once we fuel up?"

Paz had a good amount of time to consider this while you were resting. He had been contemplating his course of action and knew that returning to the covert might not be the best idea until the activity with the Empire had settled down. "I know a Guild Master on Dadrus," he began slowly. "The ship costs a decent amount to keep running. Until we're certain that the Empire isn't tailing us, we can't stay in one place for too long. My original plan was to return to my Tribe."

He had very briefly mentioned his people to you and part of you expected the secrecy surrounding them was for their own protection. But now... you felt as if you could ask. "What's it like... with you Tribe?"

"Comfortable. Home," he sighed wistfully.

Immediately your thoughts hitched and you stiffened. You'd not thought to ask it, but now you were really thinking about it. "Uhm... y-you don't have an-nyone-" Anyone that might be waiting for him like a partner or a wife. Would he have slept with you if that were the case? Honestly, you didn't know how Mandalorian culture worked and if that was allowed.

"Aside from the Foundlings that haunt my every step like an army of ghosts, no, mesh'la," he purred. "It's been a while for me too."

That was hard to believe given how dexterous and experienced he was in that field. But his words relaxed you, glad that you weren't homewrecking or expecting to stand toe to toe with another lover. You still didn't know what this was, but maybe it didn't need a tangible name or label. You were content in his arms right now. "So children like you?" You assumed that's what Foundlings were, sounded a lot like Younglings and your father used to refer to children -- of all races and species -- as Younglings.

Wasn't hard for you to imagine why children might like Paz. He was patient, a good teacher, and gentle when he needed to be. But he was also strong and... you thought back to how easy he'd made the fight between the five Imps look. The very death trooper that you'd been unable to writhe free from, he'd kicked to the ground using his jetpack as propulsion. Stormtroopers weren't known for the prowess in battle, but it had been more than you could handle. Easy enough for a Mandalorian. 

"Well..." he pittered off, as if bragging a little bit was not suited for him. "I teach the Foundlings, so they are keen on me."

"I can see that," you murmur against his shoulder. "You're a very good teacher."

"You're just saying that."

"No, you were very thorough."

"Helps that you're an attentive student," he rumbled, pressing his helmet into the side of your face, the same type of kiss that he'd done before. 

"You should teach me more... sometime," you suggest. "I'm a pretty poor shot and if I'm going to be running around with you, I should probably know how to shoot a blaster." 

"Yes," his voice was quiet, barely picked up by the vocoder, crackling with static. "You should know how to shoot."

"I bet I'll get the hang of it in no time with you as my teacher," you gave him a big smile, earnest and bright. While you said these words, you also highly doubted it. Given how well you'd reacted in the face of danger last time, you knew you were just as likely to shoot yourself with a blaster as it fumbled through your sweaty fingers than actually be able to point it at someone with the intention of killing. But you liked the way he taught and it would give you more reason to steal his time over something he was very knowledgeable in. And... your intentions weren't completely innocent. You knew that subject was a bit of a turn on for him. 

"Here," he cleared his throat, trying to blink away the haze of arousal that had blindsided him as your sweet smile. "Use this to draft up a list of what you need. After Tatooine I was thinking of bringing us to a supply stop before going to Dadrus."

"Where we going?" you inquired as you took the datapad. Maker, you were going to need everything. From toiletries, to clothes and underwear, shoes, proper attire that would keep you from freezing your tits off on this ship. Then there was also the question of how many tools you'd need. 

"Dadrus is on the other side of the Outer Rim from here. I was thinking Gala would make a good stop before we arrive on Dadrus," at your clueless look, he continued. "It's a wealthy planet and under the rule of the Republic. There should be plenty of supplies and we shouldn't run into any issues while there. The Empire wouldn't show face on Gala."

"Why wouldn't we just wait on a planet that is governed by the New Republic then?" You point out.

"I'll attract unnecessary attention."

You hadn't thought of that. Mandalorians were not a dime a dozen and on a safe planet, people might grow incredibly wary of his linger presence. The New Republic may even question his intentions. They were typically bounty hunters, so it didn't make much sense for one to stick around in one place for a long time. "So... what if we go between planets that are New Republic?"

"Because the ship costs credits to run," he reminded you gently.

Ah, right and these planets weren't just going to top off the ship with fuel and supplies. Frowning slightly, you chewed your lip and nodded. Damn, there really was no easy way to manage this. You suppressed a sigh, turning your attention back to the datapad as you began drafted up what you'd need. "We should get real food too," you said out loud, not realizing that you might be rude in saying that. "I-I can cook it."

"I do like your food," Paz contemplated before nodding. A warm cozy feeling settled into your stomach at the compliment. "We might be able to find some salvageable food on Tatooine. It's going to take the better part of a fortnight to reach Gala once we leave the sector."

"Wow? Really?" You had no concept of space travel.

"Gala is hundreds of thousands of light years away. Requires navigating through a few different hyperlanes to get there. Even Tatooine takes the better part of a day to get to from your planet."

"Then we must almost be there," you realized. 

"Few more hours," he confirmed. "Here, you should put a little more of this on. I applied it when you were sleeping for your cheeks-" he picked up a bottle on the table, which appeared to be a bacta lotion. You hadn't looked in a mirror since waking up... or since you'd taken a shower a couple days ago. But you didn't feel grimy, so you wondered if Paz had cleaned the soot and dirt off of you while you were a limp noodle. Accepting the bottle, you stood up, immediately feeling the cold of the ship press back around you as you headed over to the fresher to assess the damage.

Flicking the switch on, you had been correct in your assumptions. The ash was gone from your face and the blackened bruising had faded to a sickly yellow. Your cheeks were still raw, but the lotion had done a swift job of erasing the trauma. Still, your eyes were a bit puffy from all the crying you'd done, nose tinged red as if you had a cold. You felt like a kriffing mess, clutching that bottle and staring at yourself for a few long moments, finally blinking and shattering the spell that held you. Just put your foot forward as you'd done everyday on the farm. This was life now and you just had to accept the hand that fate had dealt you. Even if you were afraid, naive, and felt completely unprepared to start exploring the galaxy, you had Paz beside you and he knew what he was doing. He promised he'd never let anyone hurt you and you believed him. Not just because you were too kindhearted and gullible, but because he'd saved you and took care of you. 

Opening the bottle, you lathered your cheeks, the tingling sensation tracing electricity over the bruises and numbing them. You distracted yourself by putting a little too much on, creating big circles of white on your cheeks, making a few faces in the mirror, earning yourself a giggle at how stupid you looked. Shooting. Paz was going to take your dopey ass shooting. Taking your elastic band off your wrist, you put it on your index finger and thumb, cocking it like a gun. Maybe you wouldn't be half bad with a professional guiding you. You made a bam motion in the mirror and the scrunchie flew off, ricocheting off the mirror and slapping you in the forehead. It didn't hurt, but you stumbled a few paces back in surprise. Crap, if that was any indication on how shit of a shot you were, Paz was in for a long day at the range.

---

Tatooine was hot. Way hotter than home. Like ten times hotter than home. Holy shit, why did Paz think you'd like this place? You could feel the suns glaring down at you with the full intention of giving you a sunburn. You'd not gotten a sunburn in years. Usually only your face and arms were bared, so you definitely had one heck of a farmer's tan, but you were feeling it coming on now with each second you stood roasting like bantha meat on a spit. Your hair was probably the worst thing about all of this. You tried to find a way to finagle it, because it was getting sweaty and damp on the back of your neck, but you only had one scrunchie and that was not enough to tie all that fluff into a bun. 

So you suffered, flanking Paz as you started down the sand swept streets of Tatooine. People here dressed similarly to back home in robes in earthtones. There was a lot of haggling, bustling, and activity. What you picked up on immediately was the fact that people parted easily for you. Well, not for you, but for the Mandalorian. No one wanted to touch him as if they were afraid that he'd burn them if they so much as brushed by. He kept you close, hand hovering protectively by the small of your back, almost holding onto your belt. You weren't going to wander away, but you were very curious about everything around you with your eyes stretched wide.

You hadn't seen many other races aside from humans and Jawas, so getting to see Toydarians, Rodians, Dugs, and a motley of aliens was an absolute delight. Maybe Paz did need to hold onto you, because your legs had a mind of their own and you had never feared for walking somewhere unsafe before. 

"Nope, this way," Paz guided you from the direction you had started to list toward, which was a shop of junk, mostly salvaged droids and parts. Not any of the more reasonable places on the strip that had things you might actually need. 

"Where are we going? Is it inside? It's hot."

How was he not overheating in all that clothing? Did beskar have some secret high tech that allowed for him not to sweat his balls off? Hmm, you didn't think so, but also didn't know why he wasn't complaining. 

"We're going to the range. The stations are in the shade," he told you, which was somewhat of a relief. The range? Thinking back to your battle with the scrunchie you grimaced a little. Dear Maker, you prayed, please, please, please don't let you make a fool of yourself. "Fueling up takes a few hours and there will be a delivery of food too. So we have a little time to kill."

The range was outdoors made up of several lanes with targets. Controls were situated in each booth, allowing for the targets to be turned on to create popup simulations. There was a mild bit of activity on site, a few other shooters amongst the two dozen lanes. The worker for the range gave Paz a dubious look, which made you giggle. Almost as if to say 'Why in the Maker's name do you need to practice?' But you two were assigned the middle lane labeled 12. 

"Now, you know basic gun safety, right?" he set his blaster on the shelf in front of him, which met the top of his thighs and was tummy high for you. 

"Keep the weapon pointed away from anything you don't intend on shooting. Finger off the trigger until you're about to shoot," you recalled those very basic lessons from your father. "Weapon on safe until you intend to fire. Treat every blaster as if it's loaded."

"Good," he nodded, making you smile slightly. At least you weren't an absolute idiot. "We'll start with closer targets-" he pressed the range controls, turning up the popups at 25 meters. "I need to get a better idea of your form. So go ahead and take the pistol and fire."

Now you were smiling nervously, reaching over to where the pistol that you'd taken apart the other night was. It was heavy and too big for you. He had mentioned that it was custom built for him and he was more than double your size. Finding the most comfortable way to hold it, you held your arms out, fumbled the safety, and then scrunched up your face as you tried to aim. Pulling the trigger, the blaster shot made you jolt, elbows bucking and blaster smacking you right in the face.

Paz caught your arms before you could do anymore damage, setting the pistol back down on the counter. "Let me see-" he tilted your head up, pulling down the hands that had automatically went to where you'd yammed yourself. 

"Did I hit it?" you garbled, having not been looking. Oh stars, you'd closed your eyes when you shot at it, hadn't you?

Paz was quiet, confirming your suspicions. His thumb brushed the tiny bit of ripped skin where you'd taken the blaster, but you weren't bleeding. "You locked your arms out, which caused them to buck with the recoil. You're too tense. And... you should keep both eyes open."

You knew that, but your body had reacted on its own and you'd ended up getting hurt in the process. Huffing, you glared back out at the target that you'd whiffed. "What should I do differently?"

"Watch me first," he instructed, picking up the blaster and pressed the range controls to allow for the targets to move in their popup rotation. His arms were not locked out and his stance was wide, supportive, and straight aside from the tiniest lean forward. The first target popped up and his finger was on the trigger, squeezing and hitting square on center mass. The target fell down in defeat, his shoulders turning as one further out popped up. One by one, he took them down, your eyes tracing between him, his form, and then the successful quick shot that he rained down on them with expert precision. His breathing was controlled and he wasn't tense. He was acting as natural as if he were sitting up in the cockpit or relaxing. He was Mandalorian and weapons were his religion, so of course he'd not exert any effort in a skill that was as mundane as walking or breathing. 

He reached and swapped the cartridge out before resting the pistol on the counter. 

"Now tell me what you observed."

"You had a wider stance, relaxed, easy breathing... and you weren't afraid of it."

"You're afraid of the pistol?" 

"I mean it did come back at me like I insulted its mother, so yeah," you admit sheepishly.

"My breathing was controlled, but it may have looked natural to you," he began explaining breathing cycles and how it was important to shoot at either the top or bottom of your breath. Experts could without adhering to the guidelines, but beginners who weren't familiar with bolt pathing needed the extra stability with their sight pictures. Everything sounded so logical and simple, but putting that to practice wasn't as easy as wiring and programming. Usually those things couldn't kill you.

After running down bullet pathing, trajectory, and math - you liked the math aspect - Paz had the pistol back in your hand. It was a tool. It didn't have emotions, you did. But that didn't change the fact that it made you nervous. You tried applying what he told you, but your arms were shaking as you held the pistol out and you were still jumpy. You fired at the 25 meter target and hit the sandy burm beneath it. 

"That was better," he encouraged, but it didn't feel that way. "Here, I'm going to help adjust you-" he came up behind you, utility belt brushing up against your back as he clasped onto your wrists. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax," he eased, guiding your arms out from their rigid position. The back of his cuirass met you and for the briefest moment, you did relax completely. His soothing deep voice filled your ears, rumbling like the earth being shaken by thunder in the wet season. Then you remembered you were on the range and started to panic again. "Now both eyes open. Slow controlled breathing. Go for the bottom of your breath, when your shoulders are down rather than the top when you're naturally more tense."

Following the instructions, you narrowed your eyes at the target, promising to give it a piece of your mind as he helped steady you. You sort of imagined that the target had a clever quip about kissing it's ass or something stupid, but your finger brushed the trigger and you fired. For the first time since starting, you hit it. Not center mass, but enough to the side that it caused the target to fall down in mock defeat. 

"There you go! Good job!" 

You were beaming, absolutely splitting the biggest smile since leaving your home planet. You envisioned yourself as somewhat of a sharpshooter now, wondering how soon it'd be before you were the quickest draw on Tatooine. Ok, admittedly you were getting ahead of yourself with your dumb daydreams, but you were so ecstatic that you'd actually kriffing hit it. Leaning back, you craned your head up to look at him. "That was me? You weren't helping?"

"I wasn't helping you aim," Paz assured you. "Do you think you can try a little further? Without me holding your arms up?"

Try? Sure you could try. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. "But can you... stay there?" It felt nice having him right behind you, making certain you didn't hit yourself in the face again. 

"I can stay," Paz agreed, which caused your shoulders to relax immediately as he lowered his own hands and moved them to your hips. Oh, stars you liked that so much better. A pod of butterflies erupted in your stomach as he pressed the next set of targets and you had to focus on them. But at this point you were just focusing on him and the nice cool press of the beskar against the inside of your back, chasing away the bitter hottest of Tatooine. You shifted your weight as you went to aim for the first and closest target, grinding into him more than intended. 

Paz kept a close eye on how you were lining up your shot, suppressing a huff as you leaned into him. You were inexperienced and green, but he'd taught Foundlings how to shoot for their first time too. But you weren't a Foundling or a child, and so when you pressed into him the codpiece pushing into his groin, he felt a rush of hot white desire as you fired again, missing the target, but undaunted. You tried again and grazed it before making the next attempt at a further target. The pistol was too big for you, he knew that, but he didn't have anything smaller. With the right amount of practice, he knew you could shape up. You weren't a natural and that was fine, he didn't want you to have to use these skills, they were just a safety measure. 

But there was a baser hunger in him that was stirred as you applied yourself, the huffing of air as you tried to blow a few stray, sweaty curls out of your face, the absolute focus you'd come under when you were really applying yourself. You'd looked much the same while working on the ship, but this time it was in his field of expertise. Shooting was just... shooting. He didn't derive any excitement from doing well, which he always did. Practice like this was more of a waste of ammo than beneficial at this point. However, when he watched you, there was a thrill in observing you get better, get more familiar with the weight of blaster, and your valiant attempts to not be daunted by the fact that you probably only hit the target once out of every four shots. 

And you were flush against him. Each tiny movement from your breathing to the way you shifted your arms, he could feel it. 

"I think," he started carefully as the trigger clicked, indicating that the cartridge was spent. "That it's time to go."

"Hm?" you glanced up, pinning him with those big eyes. 

"Time to go," Paz repeated again, voice hoarse and staticky as it came out of the vocoder. 

"Already?"

He smiled at your enthusiasm, wondering if you'd caught the husk in his tone or the breathy edge. You couldn't feel him, he had a codpiece on, but he wanted to leave -- now. "C'mon mesh'la, let's go-" he brushed some of the scattered curls out of your face tenderly, despite the beast threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. Maker, why were you so pretty? He was careful not to be pushy as you handed over the pistol and he reloaded it with a swift click, jerking it down into his holster. Placing a hand at the base of your elbow, he began whisking you away, his own open strides too large for you as you struggled to keep up. 

His eyes snapped upward, helmet tilting as he felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. He had intended on beelining for the ship, but he noticed something -- rather someone and had to readjust his pathing. Nearly picking you up, he dragged you over into an alley, causing you to yelp in surprise. "W-w-what's going on?"

"Old friends," he muttered, glancing back out toward the road before continuing further down the alley. 

"Friends? You don't sound very friendly," you observed as he held your hand, bringing you deeper into the labyrinths between the main street. 

"Ok, they're not friends," Paz admits, pausing around a corner and letting out a deep exhale. "They didn't see us." At least, he didn't think they had before he darted down the alley. He felt incredibly hot, not just because of the dual suns of Tatooine, but because of how dolefully you stood in front of him, looking for guidance, imploring him. "Mesh'la-" he groaned, crowding you against the wall. "I wanted to go back to the ship." Now he was just complaining. It wasn't your fault. 

"We'll get there eventually, won't we?" you point out brightly. 

"But that's not-" he pressed his helmet against the wall in aggravation. "Mesh'la?" He brought his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You were dewy, a little sweaty from the heat, but all smiles and sunshine. He dragged the pad of his gloved thumb over your lips, tracking the lower down. "Fuck."

Now you were beginning to comprehend why Paz had wanted to get back to the ship and your cheeks began to flush as if the sun really had burned you. You let out a soft breath, staring up into his visor as you were pressed against the wall of a building, boxed in by his impressive form. You knew that you got aroused from teaching you about weapons, but in your own little world, you'd not remembered until now and his insistence to get the heck out of the range. Now you were waiting for the coast to be clear in a dirty alleyway and your own legs were beginning to tremble as a surge of heat -- not from the climate -- rocked your knees. 

"P-Paz?" you're stammering, eyes half lidded as he traces his thumb down your chin and against your throat. You weren't really going to...? Not in an alley? Where could anyone see you? Your heart picked up a few beats, ears rushing with the sound of your pulse at the dizzying idea of him taking you in the alley where someone could walk in on the Mandalorian fucking you. Why was that exciting? Oh Maker, that should not have been half as exciting as it was. You should have felt dirty and ashamed by these thoughts as your hand planted against his cuirass, throat bobbing against his fingers as you wondered what was about to happen.

"Do you want it?" he muttered.

You were in your coveralls, not exactly the best article of clothing for a tryst in the alley. But you nodded, chewing on your lower lip. "I... always do."

"Mesh'la," he growled plaintively. "You can't say things like that to me."

"Why?"

"Because I won't be able to control myself."

"I know you'd never hurt me."

"Hey!" 

The voice caused the both of you to jolt, necks snapping in the direction of a gesticulating hand. "Fuck. Time to go," Paz grabbed you, hoisting you up like a child, your chest colliding with his pauldron. Air bursting from your lungs, he was running beneath you, blaster in his other hand, arm encircling you from under your ass as he made a mad dash through the alleys. You were wondering why he didn't just use his jetpack. If he did that, everyone would see the two of you. 

He was fast, charging through the side streets like the dewback on your home planet. The two of you were back at the hangar, the Kote's gangplank hissing downward before he burst into the cockpit. There wasn't a moment to spare, he was flipping switches, grabbing the controls with you still in his arms, and taking the ship the hell off of Tatooine before you'd even managed to fill your lungs up fully. When you finally lifted off the ground a loud laugh popped out of your throat, hair frazzled and snapping in all directions as you looked up at him. 

He was still tense, coiled and ready to strike, but at your giggling he eased, cocking his helmet to the side. "Friends?" You poked. 

"Mm, friends," he hummed, unable to keep himself from chuckling as you continued to snicker. 

"I'm going to go wash some of this sweat off while you set us back on course," you told him, bending forward to press a kiss to his steel cheek. The sensation of the metal on your mouth was refreshing. Climbing down you left him to that bit of work, checking on the few supply crates that had been loaded onto the ship with fresh food. You weren't really certain what some of it was before ducking into the fresher to wipe your neck and between your boobs with a damp rag. 

"Mesh'la?" 

You fumbled the rag. How the hell could he sneak up on you like that? Sure, you weren't hyper sensitive about your surroundings, but he was still quite large and you expected to hear his boots carving their path toward you as he crowded you in the fresher. "Hm?" He grabbed your waist, pushing into you, your hips hitting the edge of the sink. You floundered, gripping onto the edge of the metal as you gasped. His codpiece was gone and you could feel the rigid line of his hardness against your ass.

"You were going to let me take you in that alleyway, weren't you?" His helmet fell on top of the crown of your head, lolling slightly as he huffed through his vocoder. Maker, you'd done this to him? 

Face sizzling, you gave a small nod. "I..." You hadn't been thinking straight, perhaps the heat had gotten to you and you'd agreed to something so incredibly dirty when you usually wouldn't. His hand glided up to your chest, pushing the shirt up, revealing your perky breasts to the mirror where you could see your own face shifting and your lips parting as you let out a soft whine. The sink was cold against your tummy, but the rest of him was a hot blanket above you. "Yes."

"I would have," he was quiet, mumbling almost as he rolled his fingers over your nipple. "Out on the range you were such a good girl. Listened to everything I taught you. You'll get better. You were doing so well today-"

You moaned louder, leaning into his hand, crushing your stomach into the sink at his praise. Fuck, why did you like it so much when he told you how well you'd done? You knew you were shit at shooting, but the way he said it... he wasn't saying you were amazing, but he was still praising you somehow. 

"What if someone saw us?" you managed to squeak out.

"I would have shielded you. You're so small," he answered simply, reaching down to palm between your legs. "I wouldn't have let anyone see you. Do... you want me to show you how? How I would've done it?"

You knew you had to be soaked at this point, his fingers digging in against the material of your coveralls. Each sentence he uttered made your skin blister, heart steadily picking up in tempo, and threatening to give you a heart attack at this point as you were squished to the sink. The ache was awful, so needy and desperate that you could barely answer him. You manage to bob your head when words evade you. 

Drawing you off the sink, he pushed you up into the opposing wall, boxing you in just like he'd down in the alley. His helmet fell against your brow and you could hear his heavy pants coming through the modulator. He hooked a finger in your waistband, tugging both the coveralls and your underwear in one fell swoop. Skirts. You definitely needed skirts. The logistics of pants were too much of a hassle, they were --- you keened to his hand as he brushed your bundle of nerves and came down in between your folds.

"Mesh'la you're already soaked," he realized, watching as you pressed your head back against the wall and gnawed on your lips. "You really wanted it that badly in the alley?" He was taken aback by this as you continued to kick off your pants and boots. He'd have to buy you a dress or a skirt, pants wouldn't have worked in the alley. "I would have leaned against the wall and picked you up like this-" he ran down his thought process, steadying himself against the wall by bracing his right side, swinging his hand beneath the supple curve of your ass, before lifting you up, encircling your leg, bringing it to rest up on his hips where the edge of his belt was. Balancing you with the wall as a leverage point, he undid his belt and dug his cock out, which sprung readily, throbbing in anticipation. 

Your hands fell on his shoulders as he guided you down, slicking his length against you before holding you by your hips, lower back not touching the wall as he tested his entrance. You quivered, thighs clenching as he fought the resistance of your cunt and buried himself. Both of you gasped, but he moved first, beginning to fuck you against the wall. If he thought you could've been quiet at all when he did this, then he was sorely mistaken. Almost immediately you began to cry out, each fervent lock of his hips to yours stretching and hitting into your molten core. Maker, it felt so disastrously good, your fingers tightening around his shoulders as your heart fluttered anxiously, not wishing to fall. 

"And if you were being too loud-" he continued, pushing closer to you on the wall, nearly crushing you beneath his form so that he had more support, he covered your mouth, stifling the hitching whines and yelps. "Mesh'la," he growled in your ear, so gritty and animalistic that it set your teeth on end and stood up all the fine baby hairs on your body. 

Your eyes were watering, shadowed beneath him as he breathily pounded into you. Had you not been held in place by his hand your neck would be limp. He was in all beskar, his helmet against the side of your face, glancing down as he fucked you, beginning to mutter in Mando'a as you struggled to  keep your legs encircling his hips. He moved a little harder, your muffled gasps punctuated as you dug your nails into his shoulder viciously.

Paz barely felt it, the marks you were leaving through the layers of his flight suit and cowl. You were a shaking, whimpering mess against him, tears spilling from your eyes as your walls tightened. He knew it was coming, pounding harder as you whined and your lashes danced against your cheekbone. He moved his hand, let you scream his name finally, the vice grip of your cunt around him thrusting him over the edge as your orgasm assaulted him with a wave of pleasure. 

His hips stuttered and he caught his own moan in the back of his throat as he blissed out, forgetting completely that he was still inside of you, unable to hear you saying his name more insistence and not with the same slurred pleasure as usual.

"Paz!" you were panicked as he panted against you, in his own debauched daze. 

He rolled his head, visor looking at you, before he stiffened. "Fuck!"

"I-i-it's," you were stammering as he pulled out of you, setting you down on your feet. Your knees buckled and he caught you, but you were beginning to run down the last time you'd had your period. Theoretically, you should be due in a week. When was the most fertile time for a woman? Fuck you didn't know that, you'd never tried to get pregnant before.

"Tracyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

"Uhm," you were glancing down at yourself, wondering what might happen... You had liked the sensation of him finishing in you, the way he'd reacted, perhaps even better than when you'd given him a blowjob. But still... you weren't on any contraceptives. "I think... I think it'll be okay."

He crouched in front of you, capturing your face in his palms and framing you. "I wasn't paying attention. I should have been paying attention. If you become pregnant-"

"Then I do," you say dolefully, glaring down at the floor. "We should have a better idea in a week. That's when I'm due for that time of month."

Paz was quiet. So quiet that it frightened you. 

But his own mind was reeling. Had you just stated it would be fine if you got pregnant? No, you were trying to stop him from finishing inside you, so it wasn't that. "You wouldn't...?"

"No!" you grabbed your stomach reflexively, defensively. You were of the age where you wanted children, but you and Paz hadn't established any sort of idea for what the two of you were. "I-I mean, I don't think I'm ready, but that wouldn't be the child's fault for our own stupidity."

He wanted children, desperately, but that hadn't been his intention when he spent himself in you. That was something that needed to be discussed prior to a frightening situation like this. But your reaction warmed him. You would have his child if this accident resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. "You're so beautiful. Your ka'rta, your face, everything about you, Tracyn."

You were still holding your stomach, drawing a shaky breath as you tried to combat your anxiety. It was going to be at an all-time high until you had your period. What if it didn't come? Fuck. Then you were having Paz's child, you'd already said it. You were healthy and you knew you wanted kids, you just... wanted something more permanent and to not be on the run while it happened. "If I'm not, then I should really get an implant when we get to Gala. Even if... a short one."

Your suggestion made him smile. You weren't planning on leaving and you wanted to be with him, maybe even have his children one day if the two of you worked out in that way. Paz wanted it. He wanted everything to work out and keep you forever. But proclaiming such things now might frighten you when you were trying to cope with the fact that you might get pregnant. "We'll do that." While he wanted children, you being pregnant during this running from the Empire escapade was not a good idea. You were already a distraction enough and if you were pregnant... He shuddered at the idea, having to worry about protecting an unborn child and deal with whatever sickness that came with that. But he'd do it. Without a fucking doubt he'd do it. 

"Can I take a shower?" 

He nodded, standing up before planting a keldabe kiss upon your brow. You were doing better since losing your home, but he knew it might come up again later. He hoped the Kote could become your home. "Let me know if you need anything, cyar'ika. I'll be just outside."

--

Translate: Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Today is a good day for someone else to die.

[out-of-jams]

Airplane Mode | Track 07: 21st Century Girl | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok/ FemOC

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Explicit language. Anxiety. Somewhat brief depiction of a panic attack.

Words written in bold are spoken in Korean.

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“It’s cold as hell.” Eunjae’s mumbled complaint passed through the black face mask pulled over her mouth and dissipated into the winter air.

With teeth chattering, she quickened her pace to keep up with the older woman next to her. Eunjae’s over the knee black boots clicked against the sidewalk and she took a moment to be grateful that they were only three inch stiletto heels. Even with the sleeves of the thick, red Supreme hoodie that she’d borrowed from Hoseok’s closet that morning covering her hands, she was still freezing.

There wasn’t much that she could have used from his wardrobe without looking like she was playing dress-up, so Eunjae did what she could. A small, cute black belted fanny purse that she’d designed months ago was hooked around her slim waist. With her silver hair loose down her back and tiny rings through her cartilage piercings, Eunjae was pulling off a very Ariana Grande-esque look.

She’d been lucky that while her clothes were nowhere to be seen, most of her shoes and accessories had been shipped out to Seoul early. So after digging through two boxes worth of various shoes, she’d found her favorite pair of boots. Even though Eunjae wasn’t necessarily self conscious of her short height, her footwear collection might say otherwise. Almost every pair she owned were either platformed or heeled. Though she did own the occasional regular pair of running shoes.

“Let’s go in here.” Eunjae barely got a warning from the woman walking beside her before she cut to the right and almost left Eunjae in the dust.

At eleven am on the dot that morning, the doorbell to Eunjae’s apartment rang, effectively scaring the hell out of her. She’d been in the bathroom inspecting herself in the foggy mirror, the steamy air from her recent shower billowing out into the hallway.

The sound had startled her so much that Eunjae’s hand jolted from where she’d been drawing on winged eyeliner. The brush jerked, leaving a huge black streak down her cheek, which she scrubbed at viciously as she stumbled to the door. Luckily, the bruises had faded completely from her skin due to the impromptu cuddling session in the car with Hoseok on the way back from the airport.

Unlike earlier that morning, there was only one ring of the doorbell as the person on the other side waited patiently. With sudden nerves invading her senses, Eunjae hastily ran a hand down the hoodie she converted into a dress. The hem fell a little lower than mid-thigh and she was grateful that her boots were tall enough to help prevent her from accidentally flashing someone.

Eunjae took a moment to take a deep breath before pulling open the front door. She wasn’t normally so nervous about meeting new people. In fact, she was actually pretty outgoing. But something about the whole situation just made her a bundle of nerves that she tried to hide behind the bright smile she pasted onto her face.

Standing on the other side of the door was a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. Though it was hard to tell for sure. The woman’s wavy black hair was cut into a fashionable bob that did well to accentuate her elf-like face. She was dressed business casual, with a white blouse underneath a black blazer, french tucked into a pair of jeans. The woman had on a pair of short white heels with a cross body purse hanging from her shoulders.

She gave Eunjae a polite bow of the head and extended her hand with a smile on her red painted lips. “Hello, Morales Eunjae-ssi. My name is Park Soyeon and I’m here to show you around Seoul.”

Soyeon’s soft, accented voice soothed Eunjae’s nerves and she reached out to take her offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” Soyeon brushed her hand through her short hair, the gold watch on her wrist glinting under the lights. “I work as an English interpreter for the company, so I’ve also been appointed to tutor you in Korean, if that is something that you’re interested in.”

With a hand still swiping the excess eyeliner gel from her face, Eunjae stepped to the side and waved the woman in politely. “Absolutely. Yes. Come in and please ignore the mess that is my face.”

Now, almost two hours later and a healthy amount of shopping to break the ice, Soyeon’s personality was beginning to emerge. The woman was professional, that was a given, but the more time the pair spent together, the more Eunjae discovered that the woman’s initial innocent appearance was far from true. Her energy was enough to rival Hoseok and despite being in her mid thirties, she gave off a very spirited vibe. And the woman loved to shop.

Eunjae found that out the hard way when she had to physically hold Soyeon back from dragging her into all the high end stores in Gangnam. While yes, Big Hit was paying to supply Eunjae with enough clothes and necessities to last until the rest of her belongings arrived in Seoul, she didn’t feel comfortable racking up a huge bill. Soyeon had pouted all the way to the less expensive, less high end designer stores. But she’d perked right back up at the cute displays in the windows. Apparently, Soyeon’s girlfriend was huge into fashion, which only served to prompt the woman into even more of a shopping fiend than normal, since their anniversary was fast approaching.

Sitting across from Soyeon at a corner table inside a cozy cafe, Eunjae sipped idly at the sweating glass of water in front of her. With one hand fingering the sleeve of her too big hoodie, the other tapped across the screen of her brand new iphone. That had been something that Eunjae decidedly couldn’t pass up on, since she needed it to communicate and all.

Soyeon had nearly run her down in the Apple store when Eunjae tried to pay for it herself. While she didn’t have a job, she still kept up a somewhat steady flow of income into her bank account. Sometimes Miles would invite her to costar in some of his YouTube videos (or she’d just invite herself over since she practically lived there anyway) and since he made so much revenue, he would split the profits with her. Despite explaining this to the interpreter who snatched her wallet, the woman refused to acquiesce. So Eunjae reluctantly let Soyeon swipe the black company credit card to purchase it.

The first app that Soyeon had insisted she download was something that everyone in South Korea had. The air in Seoul wasn’t always clean enough for the human body to inhale, so the app forecasted when and when not a face mask was needed in order to step outside. Hence the face mask currently pulled down below Eunjae’s chin.

“So I think after this, we head back to the company. Sound good?” Soyeon’s voice came out muffled as she chewed on the end of her straw. The iced latte in her plastic cup was almost completely drained with more ice than coffee left.

“Sure.” Eunjae closed out of the most recent text thread with Miles and set her phone on the table. “If you want.”

Soyeon paused in her vicious chugging to eye Eunjae over the rim of her coffee. The woman’s eyes were narrowed in thought and she pursed her lips as she stirred the remainder of her drink. “You nervous to meet the boys?”

Eunjae huffed a laugh and dropped her gaze to her cup, using the tips of her pointer fingers to push it back and forth across the table. “I’m just surprised you’re done shopping is all. You were like a tornado of fabric and credit cards back there. I thought they’d have to call in a SWAT team to stop you.”

“Uh huh.” Soyeon leaned forward on the table and placed her chin on her fists, lipstick stained straw pressed between her lips. “You have nothing to worry about. The boys will be nothing if not respectful.”

She reached out a hand to stop Eunjae’s fidgeting ones, pausing long enough for Eunjae to look up. “Besides, you barely speak Korean and not all of them completely understand English. What could possibly go wrong?”

With a playful roll of her eyes, Eunjae snorted in amusement and fell back against her chair. “That’s like, exactly what someone says right before shit hits the fan.”

“Whelp.” Soyeon shrugged, taking one last noisy pull of her drink. “What’s that weird English phrase you showed me earlier?”

Eunjae simply raised a brow in response, lips pursed in mirth.

Soyeon giggled before standing from her chair with a wink. “‘Ain’t nothing to it, but to do it.’”

“I regret showing you that video so much right now.” Eunjae groaned but followed the older woman’s lead, standing and shoving her phone into the purse around her waist.

The ride to BigHit Entertainment was spent with Eunjae anxiously playing with the sleeves hanging over her hands. Numerous bags stuffed with more clothes than she needed spread across the backseat in a multicolor rainbow of plastic. A radio station streaming Seoul’s most current popular music blasted from the car speakers. Soyeon had turned the volume up to an obnoxious level, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel along with the beat.

Eunjae sank down further in her seat, causing the top of the hoodie to bunch up closer to her nose. The faded scent of, well, Hoseokstuck to the fabric and she had to stop herself from burrowing into it. She felt strangely comforted by the smell in a way that she didn’t understand. Maybe it was just a soulmate thing? Or perhaps it was because he was the closest person that she knew in the whole country? Who knew. Which was a little sad in and of itself since she barely even knew the guy.

The closer she got to the company, the more her nerves came out to play. Eunjae tried to push the thoughts--the reality--of the situation to the far recesses of her mind for as long as possible. But now she was less than two miles away from coming face to face with the boy group that she’d been fangirling over for a while now. Not only that, but she would have to put all of her nerves, her doubts, her starstruck anticipation aside because her soulmate was J-Fucking-Hope.

What if the members of Bangtan hated her? What if, for some reason, they couldn’t get along? Where would that leave her with Hoseok? Would he grow to dislike her too? Eunjae didn’t want to imagine being rejected by the one person in the world that the universe decided to pair her with. She didn’t know if she could handle that.

Over and over, the thoughts played in a continuous loop in her head until she’d worked herself up into an anxious mess. With her bottom lip caught between her lips, Eunjae fiddled with the golden crescent moon shaped earrings in her lobes. She clenched her eyes shut and turned her focus back outward, grasping onto the closest thing to keep her grounded.

Some song from Red Velvet was blasting from the speakers and Eunjae let the lyrics flush the dangerous thoughts from her mind. She had a habit of doing that sometimes: working herself up with situations that always turned out to be way less of a problem than she’d feared. And Eunjae didn’t want to turn into panicking mess before she even stepped foot out of the car.

Just as she got her anxiety under control, Soyeon whipped the compact SUV up to a gated parking lot. The woman barely had to slow to a stop and flash her employee badge before the security guard at the gate let her in. The car maneuvered around the various filled spaced until Soyeon finally pulled into an empty spot. As she cut the transmission, Eunjae took one last steeling breath.

“Come on, kid.” The woman patted her shoulder comfortingly before she opened her door and slipped out.

The cold air from outside shocked Eunjae back to her senses and she scrambled out to follow. The stiletto heels of her boots clacked against the concrete parking lot as she followed Soyeon inside the building. For once, Eunjae was thankful for the cold because it forced her to pick up the pace to prevent herself from freezing to death.

Instead of taking the front entrance of the building, the parking lot led to a back entrance for what appeared to be employees only. Soyeon bounced on the toes of her shoes as she quickly slid her laminated employee card through the scanner at the side of the door. With a beep, it flashed green and the woman rushed to pull the door open. She barely gave Eunjae two seconds to scramble in after her to avoid being locked out.

White marble floors and beige painted walls greeted the pair as they slipped inside. Eunjae had been expecting some kind of grand, showy interior. There were absolutely zero pictures of the inside of the BigHit Entertainment building online, which left ARMY to speculate what it was actually like inside. What she hadn’t been prepared for however, was how normal it looked.

Where they entered looked like any normal office building. They were in a wide, open hallway with a bright green exit sign glowing above the door they’d entered. To the right was another door that led to a stairway that Eunjae presumed went all the way up to the top floor. The rest of the hallway was empty of life: no doors, no employees, nothing. Just a security camera perched on the ceiling with a red light slowly blinking in and out of existence.

Soyeon turned to Eunjae with a sigh of relief, most likely from having just escaped the biting cold. The puse dangling from her shoulder swung with the moment and Eunjae had to shuffle out of the way to avoid being hit. “Well, this is where we part ways. I have a lot of work I need to catch up on.”

Eunjae blinked in both shock and confusion, stuffing her facemask into the purse around her waist. “Wait, you’re just going to leave me here?”

A short laugh left Soyeon’s red painted lips, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Not--”

Before the woman could finish her sentence, the metal door to the staircase swung wide open. It hit the wall with a thud as whoever pushed it put too much force against it. A sheepish looking Hoseok poked his head out from the doorway and he checked to make sure he didn’t put a dent in the wall.

“--exactly.” Soyeon finished her statement with a smirk of amusement. Tilting her head to the side, she raised an eyebrow at the rapper. A string of rapid Korean left her lips and if her teasing tone was anything to go by, Eunjae could take a guess at what she was saying.

Hoseok’s eyes scrunched as he let out a loud laugh; a shrug lifting his slim shoulders. “Whoops?”

The words had barely left his mouth before his attention turned to Eunjae. Quicker than she could process, he scanned her from head to toe. His expression morphed into something unreadable, eyes darkening in the fluorescent light. But before she could try to discern it, his eyes flashed back to hers with a dimpled smile, hair pushed back from his forehead like he’d ran his hand through it repetitively.

“How was shopping? Good?” The question left Hoseok’s mouth carefully, like was was trying to make sure that he was translating the correct words.

As with every other time Eunjae found herself around the man, the corners of her lips pulled up into a smile. She was the type of person where the energy of others directly affected her own. While he wasn’t as goofy and loud as he was on camera in person, the man’s friendly disposition rolled off him in waves so strong she could almost feel it on her skin.

“Yeah. Very good.” Eunjae shoved her still cold hands into the pouch of her borrowed hoodie.

“Aw, my little protégé!” Soyeon’s icy cold fingers pinched one of Eunjae’s cheeks playfully, earning an annoyed nose scrunch. “You’ll be fluent in Korean before you know it.”

Soyeon, much to Eunjae’s benefit (or horror), had been throwing random Korean words and phrases at her all day. After making her repeat them a few dozen times, the woman would give her random pop quizzes at the most inopportune times. And if that wasn’t enough, Soyeon had the habit of sometimes abandoning Eunjae at a store counter to fend for herself (“Immersion is the best learning tool, kid.”). All-in-all, the woman’s teaching methods were completely abnormal, but Eunjae couldn’t say they weren’t a little effective.

“Yah.” Eunjae waved the Soyeon’s hand off with a pout. “You’re such a bully. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Sucks to suck, kid. Anyway,” Soyeon put a hand between Eunjae’s shoulder blades and pushed her towards an amused looking Hoseok. “Go hang out until the boss man sends someone to come get you two. Shouldn’t be too long, but also, who knows with how long business meetings usually last?”

The woman left no time for anyone to reply before she turned on her heel and strutted down the hallway. Pointing a finger at Eunjae from over her shoulder she added, “I’ll have someone drop those clothes off later today. And I’ll meet with you sometime either tomorrow or the day after. Seeya!”

All Eunjae could do was stare as Soyeon disappeared around the corner. She’d evaporated just as quickly as she’d appeared.

The sound of Hoseok clearing his throat brought her attention back to him and even with the added height of her boots, she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He nodded his head back towards the door to the staircase.

“After you.”

Murmuring her thanks, Eunjae stepped past him into the stairwell. It was just as empty as the hallway and the drab colored steps seemed almost endless, twisting up and out of sight. Turning back to Hoseok as he followed behind her, Eunjae raised a brow, half curious and half anxious. “Where to?”

“Studio. Everyone..,” Hoseok flashed her a reassuring smile, hands gesturing with his words. “Excited to meet you.”

Well if that didn’t send a jolt of nervous anticipation down Eunjae’s spine, she didn’t know what would. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful that the rest of the members were excited to meet her or if she should feel more pressured to make a good first impression. With her finger pointed to herself, she squeaked, “me?”

Hoseok’s contagious laugh forced the tight muscles in her shoulders to relax a tad. He opened his mouth to respond, but before any words could make their way out, a loud rumble sounded from his stomach. His eyes widened and he looked down at his body as if he’d been betrayed.

“Hungry?” Eunjae stifled a giggle behind a sweater paw. It reminded her, however, that she had yet to eat for the day. The dread that had been weighing down her stomach all day had effectively chased away her appetite. Now though, it mingled with a twinge of hunger.

“A little.” Hoseok smiled sheepishly with a hand resting on his stomach like that would stop the sound from escaping again.

“Have you eaten?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and Eunjae’s brows pinched in concern at the grimace on his face. Hoseok’s shoulders lifted a little in a shrug. “Tried.”

“But?” She urged.

“I..,” Hoseok’s nose scrunched as if the memory he was reliving was unpleasant. His head tilted to the side slightly, eyes raising like the words he was searching for were etched into the bottom of the staircase above them. “Got sick.”

Eunjae’s eyes widened at what he was saying. She quickly did the mental math in her head, counting the weeks since they’d initiated First Touch. The timeline just about matched up to the normal statistic of when food would become totally obsolete to the body. Since she hadn’t eaten anything that day she didn’t know if her body would react the same.

And she didn’t really want to test that theory.

Slipping a hand out of her hoodie pouch, Eunjae extended it out towards Hoseok. The movement pulled his gaze down to her outstretched hand and she wiggled her fingers with a small laugh at his questioning eyes. “I’d be a bad soulmate if I let you starve.”

His slender fingers intertwined with hers slowly, almost completely wrapping around her smaller hand. Any remaining tension in her body dissipated at the electric current that burst through her veins with the feeling of safety, warmth, home. With a flash of his dimples, Hoseok gave her hand a quick squeeze of thanks and turned to the stairs.

“This way.”

As they ascended the steps, Eunjae couldn’t help but silently thank the fact that the touch of a soulmate also took away the feeling of pain. While she was used to walking around in heels, the toes of her shoes were starting to pinch her feet and it would only be a matter of time before she had to change her confident strut into an awkward shuffle.

Hoseok pushed the metal door open once they reached the third floor and Eunjae followed him out into the hallway. The heels of her boots sunk into the soft carpet and she sent him a questioning look when his hand slipped from hers.

He simply nodded his head at the doors lining the length of the long hallway. Words embedded in the frosted glass doors read out the names of some of BigHit’s main producers. Hoseok threw a wink over his shoulder and held a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

Eunjae just hummed in understanding. From what Sejin had said weeks ago at their initial meeting, the nature of her and Hoseok’s soulbond had to be kept on the downlow. She just wasn’t sure who was or was not informed. Did anyone outside of Bangtan and their management get to know? With the way Hoseok didn’t touch her as they walked down the hallway, Eunjae hazarded a guess that none of the producers knew.

The hallway was quiet except for the occasional sound of drums or piano keys drifting from the closed studio doors. Eunjae couldn’t help her inner fangirl from internally screaming. Where she was walking, Producer’s Row, was where all of Bangtan’s songs were made. Just a few feet away from her could be the key to their next big hit.

Lost in thought, Eunjae almost ran into Hoseok’s back as he stopped in front of one of the frosted glass doors. His lips quirked up in amusement and she had no warning whatsoever before he twisted down the handle. All she could catch were the letters spelling out MonStudio.

As soon as it opened, music poured from the room and spilled out into the quiet hallway. Eunjae couldn’t see anything past Hoseok’s tall frame and she took that moment to gather herself. That was it. The moment that she’d been preparing for all day. She was about to meet the members of one of the most famous boy groups in the world.

She didn’t get much time to prepare before Hoseok’s hand slid back into hers and he lead her into the room. Whether he was grabbing her hand to soothe the nerves wafting off her in waves, or to sate his hunger, Eunjae wasn’t sure. But she didn’t give it much thought because there was only so much her overwhelmed brain could process at once.

MonStudio, Kim Namjoon’s studio, wasn’t very spacious. The walls on either side of his desk were taken up by glass shelves displaying numerous amounts of bears and trinkets gifted from fans. There was a leather couch pressed up against the wall closest to the door and a small coffee table in front of it. The knee high table was littered with paper, some balled up haphazardly and others with words and sentences scratched out in black ink.

Taking up a seat on the couch hunched over a notebook furiously scribbling was one of Korea’s most famous rappers. With his blond hair pushed back by a thick headband, Min Yoongi paused in his writing to look up at the sound of their entrance. The end of the pen in his hand tapped a staccato rhythm against his pale cheek like he couldn’t contain the words it itched to spill.

The rolling chair that had been facing the desk across the room spun around as well. Eunjae was grateful for Hoseok’s hand in hers keeping her grounded against the starstruck feeling creeping up her throat. Kim Namjoon, in all his dimpled, long-legged glory greeted them with a smile.

His pressed a button on the computer keyboard behind him that caused the music spilling from the giant speakers on his desk to cut off. Namjoon’s hair glittered a dark grey underneath the lights of his studio. The baggy green sweater and beige cargo shorts he wore almost blended into the beige painted walls. It was just those two waiting in the room and Eunjae felt her fear dwindle a little at the fact that she wouldn’t meet all six members at once.

“She’s here?” Tilting his head, Namjoon tried to peer around Hoseok, who almost instantly moved out of the way.

Eunjae suddenly felt like she was on display. At the corner of her vision she could see Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to where Hoseok’s hand was wrapped around hers. An uncharacteristically shy smile tilted at her lips and she wiggled the fingers of her free hand in a wave. “I’m here. Hi.”

Hoseok gently pulled her farther into the room and motioned back and forth between her and the two other men in the room. “Eunjae, Namjoon-ah. Yoongi-yah, Eunjae.”

The use of the informal nickname didn’t seem to bother Yoongi as both him and Namjoon dipped their heads in a respectful bow. Both men spoke their greetings at the same time, Yoongi’s deeper voice blending in with Namjoon’s.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” Namjoon’s English was perfect and Eunjae couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at the fact that he could translate between the four of them. Gesturing towards the couch that the eldest rapper was perched on, he smiled. “Please, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

Yoongi gathered the notebook in his hands and the stray pieces of paper scattered around him and shifted to sit on the floor at the other side of the coffee table. Eunjae’s eyes widened. “Wait! You don’t have t--”

“Too late!” Hoseok released her hand only to grab onto her shoulders and guide her to the now empty couch. She didn’t have time to argue as he dropped onto a cushion and pulled her down next to him.

Instead of taking her hand again, Hoseok simply threw an arm over her shoulders. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and she smiled in answer to his silent question. While he acted casual about the skinship between them, Hoseok repeatedly made sure that she was comfortable with it.

“So,” the sound of Namjoon’s voice brought her attention back to the other two in the room. Thankfully, neither of them made a comment about the fact that she was pressed into their best friend’s side. “How are you settling in?”

“I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet, to be honest.” Eunjae huffed a laugh, sinking further back into the comfortable couch. It was no wonder that the rappers would sometimes sleep in their studios if all of their couches were so plush.

“That’s understandable.” Namjoon’s golden cheeks dimpled. “It’s a pretty big change.”

“That’s one way to describe it.”

Namjoon snorted in amusement and crossed one of his legs over the other, the chair beneath him rolling back a little at the movement. “Well if you ever need anything, you can come to any of us. We’ll try to help you the best we can.”

Eunjae could feel Hoseok’s warm stare burning into the side of her face as she gave her thanks to the grey haired man. Yoongi simply sat cross-legged on the floor, attention wavering between the conversation going on around him and the open notebook on the coffee table. The words begging to be etched onto the page conflicted with his desire to participate. That and the fact that the blonde wasn’t entirely comfortable speaking in English.

Hoseok spoke to Namjoon, the end up his sentence lilting like a question.

“Hobi-yah wants to know how old you are.” Namjoon translated for the rapper at her side.

Blinking at the question, Eunjae almost smacked her forehead at the realization. Korean manners were based a lot around how old somebody was, with more respect going towards those who were your senior. And she couldn’t recall ever telling Hoseok her age, so she wasn’t offended at all by the question. “I’m twenty-three.”

Hoseok made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded halfway between teasing and something else that she couldn’t decipher. He tapped a finger against his chest and hummed, “older.”

“I know.” Eunjae’s answer pulled a smile from his lips.

“Speaking of,” Namjoon rested a cheek against one of his hands, his forearms propped up on the chair’s armrest. Whatever he was about to say got cut short as the door the MonStudio echoed in a knock. All attention turned towards the figure on the other side of the frosted glass. “Come in.”

The door swung open to reveal Sejin in all his exhausted glory. The man sent an apologetic smile at the occupants in the room, finger pushing up the falling frame of his glasses. “Sorry to interrupt, but Bang PD-nim is ready to see these two.”

Whatever slight comfort that Eunjae felt within the confines of the cozy studio was wiped away almost instantly. The anxiety that had turned to a gentle simmer cranked itself all the way up, threatening to bubble over. She held it in though, pushed it down until it hid behind the small upwards tilt of her lips. Hoseok moving his arm from around her shoulders had her bracing herself for the inevitable.

She followed him as he stood from the couch, and with a few quick parting words to the other two men in the room, Eunjae trailed after Hoseok’s fleeting back.

Time to put on your big girl panties, bitch.

[moirai-au]

Charlie “Lee” Lewis (1920s edition)

(art by Ramvur)

@immabethehero @bupine @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna @taikeero-lecoredier @idkwheresanti @thebluejaysworld

Character

27 years old

born on May 25th 1893 in London, UK (Gemini)

homoromantic asexual (closeted obviously, the 20th century and he doesnt even know what those words exist)

he’s a leftie

internalized homophobia (product of his time and his father’s abuse)

needs his glasses to see shit from up close and read, otherwise he can see just fine

b a b y

seriously, he’s adorable

“fellas” “berries” “swell” “mooks” “what a pile of moonrocks” “dame” “huzzah” “cuppa” “bloody hell” “rubbish”

very touchy-feely! loves casual touches and affection

fought in the Great War. for ONE day.

Personality

hopeless romantic

modest: would never get completely naked in front of anyone, not even his romantic partner

repressed

daydreamer, creative

hardworking, organized

curious, cheerful

patient, honest

eloquent, very polite

realistic, indecisive

friendly, empathetic, considerate

obedient, naive, gullible

overall would never hurt anyone and would let people walk all over him because he’s just too nice

Issues

PTSD (from the war and from his time spent under possession)

fear of loud noises (phonophobia)

fear or others touching his throat

panic attacks

amputated right leg

phantom pains

thalassophobia (almost drowned when he was a little kid)

Likes, skills and interests

loves romance novels and poetry, wants to write some himself (he’s very good at it)

can play the violin

excellent dancer! he couldn’t do it anymore when he lost his leg, but that doesn’t stop him from doing his best

really good with his hands! woodworking, sewing and knitting.

favorite music genre: jazz

favorite animal: mice. they were mice in the attic his father locked him in as punishment sometimes, he liked to sneak in bread for them. they were cute and soft and kept him company.

favorite environment: hills and meadows

favorite time/weather: rainy autumn afternoon

favorite drinks: tea with milk and honey, cider

favorite color: bronze and indigo

 Backstory

youngest of three brothers

born in wealthy british family, with latent magical potential that was forgotten generations ago

had a formal education, with personal preceptors that taught him how to dance, and play the violin

he also loved to sew and knit, but that was considered a woman’s thing, so he did it in secret

but one day he got caught by his father, who got angry and beat him with his belt and called him a f*ggot

so he grew up really repressed, stopped knitting and stuff because he was so scared of the possibility of being gay

it didnt help with his studies, so apart from english he wasn’t good at a lot of academic stuff, unlike his brothers. 

his dad wanted him to work in high places, but that didn’t pan out

so, like the asshole he was, he decided to send charlie to manual labor, like factories or mines

ofc charlie was not thrilled, so he busted his ass to find something else

and miraculously someone noticed he was really good with his hands, so they offered him a apprenticeship in a tinker shop

that suited his father fine, so that’s how he started working in that shop

the years passed, and WW1 broke out in 1914 (he was 21)

he was enlisted in the british army by force in 1916, when compulsory conscription was put into place in the UK

he went to ONE battle in northern France, and was almost immediately knocked out when a landmine exploded near him

when he woke up behind the frontlines, his right leg below the knee was gone

when he came home, he ended up taking over the shop because the owner died in the war, and he made himself a prosthetic

and he was almost 27, no dame in sight

that  prompted his father to try and set him up with a girl from another noble family

poor charlie the hopeless romantic of course was appealed at the notion, but again, he was starting to believe that something was wrong with him because he didnt desire any woman he met

so all his doubts and fears are coming for him again

one day he was just in his shop and stressing out about it

when he heard a voice coming from his phonograph, over the music

the voice started talking to him and he freaked out

but the voice reassured him, told him they were a friend

it told charlie about his family, the magical potential that runs in it

he offers Lee a way out of his situation

voice: ill help you get out of this… predicament of yours, no strings attached.

Lee: I don’t buy that you wouldn’t want anything in return.

voice: of course i want something. i want a puppet!

Lee: a… puppet?

voice: indeed! you’re a talented artisan, aren’t you? a custom-made puppet would do nicely. see, i’m a bit of a… collector, one might say.

Lee doesn’t take the deal at first

but after a few weeks of coercing and sweet-talking

(and of Charlie trying to get rid of the voice without success)

he eventually gives in

over a few months the voice guides him

helps him to learn about his family history and magic

turns out spacetime magic is his family’s forte!

so with guidance he learns how to time-travel and “teleport” (its all actually different applications of binding spacetime around him)

then he arrives in 2020, exactly 100 years later

but the voice tricked him, he’s trapped in a warehouse

and the owner of the voice possesses him

(oh no the puppet was him all along who could have seen it coming-)

see, the way spacetime magic works, you can only travel to the future, not the past

so he can’t ever come back to his time

lee makes a good enough physical vessel until the fiend obtains the one he truly wants…

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Oh, oh, can I please have Caspar + 🐷?

Being a general in the imperial army had its ups and downs.

There was a lot of responsibility involved, of course, and Caspar found that quite a lot of it felt like red tape to slow down doing actual good. He wanted to get out there and do what was right for the people, but – apparently – there were rules about that, and him charging in recklessly to do what he thought was right wasn’t what he should be doing. Edelgard allowed him some slack with things, but many grumbled about his attitude and style of handling issues.

Caspar didn’t let it stop him much. If he saw people being wronged, he jumped to their defense. If he could protect someone in a battle, he’d do so – rank be damned! He wasn’t the sort to sit back and watch others do the work for him.

It was because of this that he had rode out to a remote village, word having reached his ears that a powerful magic user had stormed in and taken over the place. People were scared, but they couldn’t get away with this sorcerer practically holding them hostage as he did whatever he pleased in their little town. It wasn’t a big enough issue for the empire to devote its attention to, or so he’d been told when he brought it up, but Caspar wasn’t going to let that slide. It was only the one man, so he was confident in his ability to take the sorcerer down easily. He left his unit in his lieutenant’s care until he returned, sure that he would only be gone for a day at best.

As soon as he reached the village, Caspar could tell that things were off.

It was unnaturally quiet, the setting sun making the silent town feel eerie and dark as he moved through it. Ax in hand, ready for anything, the squelch of mud under his boots was the only thing Caspar could hear as he trudged further into the village.

“Show yourself!” he eventually shouted in frustration, knowing he was being watched. “I’m here to free these people, and hiding is only drawing out your punishment longer, you fiend!”

Windows were dark or shuttered in homes, no people in sight – not even any animals.

“You really are a loud thing, aren’t you?”

A shiver ran down Caspar’s spine at the voice – it felt like those words had been spoken directly into his ear – but when he whirled around, there wasn’t anyone there. Growling at how easily he’d been spooked, Caspar resolved his expression into something more fiercely determined.

“Why don’t you say that to my face!” the young man called back, eyes scanning every possible place this mage could be hiding.

“If that’s what you really prefer,” the voice returned, calmly, a face to finally go with it appearing in a flash of warping magic right in front of Caspar.

The light caused Caspar to close his eyes against the abrupt intensity of it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and get a good look at the sorcerer who had been terrorizing this town for some time. His confidence shot up again when he looked the man over. The mage was tall and spindly; thin limbs, boney hands and a gaunt face. He was older, hair thinning and age marring him. A gnarled cane of dark wood was gripped tightly in his hands, and Caspar was sure that a stiff breeze could have knocked the old buzzard onto his ass. There was no way he could lose this.

Of course, without anyone there to rein in his recklessness, Caspar was ignoring the important fact that this old mage had completely taken over a small town without any trouble.

Charging forward, swinging his ax wide, Caspar blinked when the man disappeared like a wisp of smoke – the blade of his weapon hitting nothing but air. He skidded awkwardly in the slick mud, whipping around to try and relocate the mage. The man reappeared as silently as he teleported out of the attack, cheekily waggling his fingers at Caspar.

Taking the bait, Caspar tried again.

And again…and again.

Every single time he came close to landing a blow strong enough to cut the skinny old bastard in half, the sorcerer would simply warp out of harm’s way with a raspy chuckle. It went on like this for a while, Caspar’s energy and stamina starting to fail him after some time, tired legs slipping and sending him face first into the mud; his ax knocked out of his grasp as he fell, skidding through the mud just out of reach.

Panting and sputtering mud out of his mouth, Caspar shoves himself onto his hands and knees, sweating and limbs shaking from fatigue.

“Rolling about in the mud like a hog, are we?” the old man hummed, his foot steps hardly making a sound as he approached. “Quite fitting for a squealing piglet of the empire. Did they not have anyone else to send out here but an obnoxious, arrogant boy?”

Caspar bristled at that, scrambling to get to his feet. “I am a proud general of the empire!” Sure, he was still young and he hadn’t ever hit much of a growth spurt, but that didn’t give this old coot any right to insult him in such a way when he was clearly the evil doer here.

“A proud pig, I see.”

“You’ll regret insulting me–”

The mage waved an age-shaky hand at the younger man, a smug look on his face as he chanted something out in a language Caspar had never heard before. “And you’ll regret ever coming to this little village, Sir Pig,” the old man mused, a wave of magic blasting Caspar off his feet and back into the mud once more.

Caspar groaned, shaking his head and trying to refocus his dizzied vision. He felt so tired, and it was an alarming struggle to keep himself awake, but he managed to sit himself back up and shake off the worst of the sluggishness. Aside from the fatigue, he was fairly certain that whatever magic had been cast at him hadn’t caused him any damage outside of a bruised rear end. Grinning at his luck – for the old man must have simply messed up – he made to jump back to his feet and get right back into the fight, only to stumble in surprise when he felt like he had tried to get up with heavy weights attached to himself.

“W…What the…?” he muttered under his breath, struggling once more to get to his feet. He managed to get onto his knees, but found himself hit with another wave of exhaustion, his breathing heavy and…what in the world, was he snorting?!

Muddy fingers reached up to his nose, Caspar blurting out in shock when they met with the round, flat of his nose – or, what had been his nose. Now, it was more akin to a snout, just like a pig’s. He snuffled exaggeratedly, swallowing thickly against the panic that was threatening to overtake him.

Okay, so what? The old mage could do a few tricks, make him look like a fool, but this could always be reversed, right? It wouldn’t be so bad, especially once he beat the sorcerer and made it back home. They had plenty of skilled magic users in the empire who could probably fix his nose in a matter of seconds. This was just a tactic to get under his skin!

Grunting in anger, Caspar settled a foul look on the far too amused old man, and tried once again to push himself out of the mud.

Why did he feel so damn heavy?! His armor didn’t restrict his movement this much, and he was used to carrying the weight of it by now – not that it was really all that much armor to begin with, really. But, after another few moments of struggling, it started to dawn on Caspar why he was having so much trouble. It felt like his armor was constricting him all of a sudden, movement restricted and breathing getting more difficult. It was a risk, taking away some of his defenses, but the feeling of claustrophobia got to him quickly, and Caspar scrabbled to get the pieces of armor off.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the way he was changing. The way his ears changed shape from rounded off to something more triangular, becoming wider, perky and pointed at the tips. His face started to round out, too, plump cheeks and a swell of fat beneath his chin. It was only when his fingers started to get thicker and harder to use – luckily, after undoing most of the buckles for his plate armor – that Caspar realized that this was going far further than just an embarrassing pig nose.

“H-Hey, what the hell is happening to me–?!” Caspar demanded, fear tinging his words as his statement ended on the horrifically piggish sound of an oink. With his armor now loose and mostly off, he saw the way that the rest of his body was shifting.

He was getting bigger…

The old sorcerer chuckled as he saw reality smack the young general right in the face, dark eyes twinkling as he watched the once confident fighter squirm and struggle as he grew more and more into what he’d spelled him as.

He’d called the young upstart a hog, and a hog he would be in every sense of the word.

Embarrassment and anger flushed Caspar’s features as he was helpless to do much more than watch as his body was ruined. Trim muscle was quickly overtaken by soft, supple fat. He grunted and cursed as his armor popped off and his clothes became uncomfortably tight against his frame. Stuck on all fours, it was easy to feel the way his body got heavier. His thighs grew thick and meaty, brushing up against each other as he struggled, but then forcing him to widen his stance as they pressed into one another. His ass soon followed, rounding out wider and wider, wobbling as he shifted his growing weight. His arms plumped up as well, plush and fat enough to overlap his elbows a bit; even his hands and fingers had gotten chubby.

The worst, however, was his chest and stomach.

His abs had quickly disappeared under a layer of chub, but it didn’t stop at just a pot belly. It kept growing – out and out, rounder and fatter. It was so bizarre to feel, this heavy part of himself just hanging there, getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. His gut bounced and jiggled as it swelled outward with fat, stretching his shirt out as far as it could go before buttons gave up and popped right off, pale flesh now exposed to the cool of the air. To Caspar’s dismay, his chest wasn’t too far behind; pecs rounding out and puffing up, drooping weightily against the continuously expanding swell of his stomach.

It was getting harder to keep holding himself up on his hands and knees, his weight just getting more and more to deal with. Desperation started to sink into Caspar’s hastily narrowing mind, a shiver running through his fattening body as his burgeoning belly grew big enough to connect with the ground beneath him, cold mud smearing across the vast expanse of his gut. He can barely even tell when a curly pig’s tail pops up above the wide spread of his ass, his rear doing its best to keep up with the rest of him.

Caspar jolts when he feels a hand on his head, thin, bony hands messing into his shock of blue hair. The old mage is smiling at him, a knowing look on his wrinkled face.

“Don’t look so frightened about all this, boy. You’ll find I’m not a cruel master, especially to dumb beasts that don’t know any better. Isn’t that right, my loud little piglet?” the old man speaks in a soft and assuring tone, another, softer glow of magic from coming from his palm as he pets the former general’s head like one would to calm down a spooked animal.

Caspar wants to protest, wants to get up and shake off the terrible dream that this has to be…but, as that last spell starts to take, thoughts of getting away or fighting back any further seem to slip through his head like water between his fingers. Eventually, the growing weight of his body is simply too much for him to keep holding up, so Caspar simply lets himself collapse onto the solid mound of fat that is his gut. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the mud was becoming less of a discomfort to him as he practically started to wallow in it like a real pig would.

“Good pig,” the sorcerer praised, ruffling Caspar’s hair before withdrawing his hand, watching with amusement as the young man oinks at him lazily, now finally content to simply do what pigs do best.

Grow fat and fatter still.

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (6)

warnings: panic, violence, blood

Chapter 6

Virgil took a step forward without even meaning to, and then jerked to a stop as Roman skittered back like a frightened deer. He wilted slightly, but tried not to take it personally. He knew better than anyone how scary being suddenly small could be. 

“Puff? Don’t- Don’t let them control you!” Roman’s sword faltered back and forth, face contorted with an odd mixture of anguish and fear. 

Virgil narrowed his eyes, casting a glance at the Dragon Witch. Control him? As if. Roman was tiny, in danger, and afraid. There was virtually nothing that could stop him from doing his damn job, and absolutely nothing that would make him actually attack Roman. 

Meters away, the Dragon Witch shifted impatiently. “I said, give the prince a taste of what dragons are really like, runt.”

Once again, the compulsion to move, to rend and tear, filled his mind for a heartbeat before being shunted away at the speed of light. He’d have to be a jackass to make this work, but he’d already proved himself capable of that in the name of protecting his people. 

A beat late, he started forward again, his gait now distinctly menacing. He thought of what could have happened if the Dragon Witch had used this spell on Roman when he was alone, and a low growl started up in his throat. Roman’s face crumpled as he started taking careful steps back, sword raised in a barely-steady hand.

“Puff, please. Don’t make me fight you.” He pleaded, raising his other hand defensively. Virgil continued to move, matching the prince’s retreat step for step. 

Until Roman stumbled over a stray branch, his sword dipping slightly for a moment, and Virgil lunged. 

That sword wasn’t all for show, of course, and Roman lashed it at him as he knocked the small side over, but with all the adrenaline flooding his system he had no idea whether the blow had landed. Didn’t really matter. He ducked his head down, and carefully latched his teeth onto the back of that cheesy outfit, lifting him up like a scruffed kitten with ease. 

The moment he was sure Roman was secure in his grip, he bolted, sprinting away for all he was worth. Behind them, a startled and then enraged shriek came from the Dragon Witch, but if there was one thing he knew, it was how to hide. 

He ducked between the long shadows cast by the late afternoon sun, mind set on finding a secure place to hide and nothing else. It could have been minutes or hours before he found the small cave carved into the wall of a cliff face, but all that really mattered was that he had found it. 

Clawing up the small jump to get into it, he made sure it was deep enough to hide them from view before finally releasing the death grip he had on Roman. He immediately switched gears to sniff at him instead, searching out any possible injuries.

The tiny side shoved him back, eyes a little wild with panic, and Virgil retreated. Right. He’d forgotten that he’d been fake-threatening Roman before. 

“Puff?” He asked, searching his eyes intently.

Virgil scooted back to give him some space, before carefully lowering his head to settle onto the floor, trying to be as non threatening as possible. It made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable, but he probably deserved any retaliation after the scare he’d given Roman, and he probably wouldn’t kill him, right? 

Before he could get himself worked up about the possibility, Roman sat down, letting out a deep breath. “You’re… still you, right? For realsies?” 

Virgil huffed impatiently at his hesitance, and more of the tension leaked from Roman’s frame. 

“Okay… okay. I believe you. Are you alright?” 

Virgil blinked. Was he? He stood up, turning in a circle to inspect himself, and then froze at Roman’s gasp. What, did he move too fast and scare him again?

“Puff, your side!” A delicate touch pressed against his left ribcage, and his ears flattened at the sudden sting. 

Huh. Guess the sword had gotten him after all. 

He laid back down, feeling too crowded in the small enclave otherwise, and rumbled at Roman reassuringly. It felt pretty shallow, it would be fine. Probably.

Roman looked at him with a stricken expression. “I… hurt you. You were only trying to protect me and I… I could have seriously injured you!” 

Virgil grumbled a disagreement. Roman was like half his size. He had scales and stuff, he was fine.

“Don’t you try and say otherwise!” Roman demanded, despite the fact that Virgil wasn’t really saying anything. He inhaled sharply, as though about to go on a self recriminatory tangent, and Virgil decided that no, he’d had enough of those. 

Without another sound, he padded over and curled his non-injured side around Roman, finding that at this size, he could comfortably curl up into a ball with the creative side tucked against him. Roman spluttered at being interrupted, and Virgil draped a wing over him, teasingly muting his protest.

“Fine, fine! But we’re going home, and getting you treated.” 

A loud crack echoed from outside, and they turned to see it had begun to storm while Roman was preoccupied by being a dunce. 

“When… that clears up, I guess.” Roman frowned, drawing closer to Virgil seemingly without realizing. He chirped in agreement, and settled his head back down to wait. After the earlier panic, he was happy to be a shield between Roman and the rest of the world for as long as needed. 

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of heavy rain and rolling thunder.

“They can control dragons, y’know.” Roman said, drawing Virgil out of his sleepiness. “The Dragon Witch. That’s why I… when they ordered you…” He trailed off. 

Virgil remembered the compulsion magic, but it hadn’t gripped all of him. It was almost reassuring; despite his appearance, he was still him, not a dragon. He turned his nose up dramatically for Roman’s sake, as if to dismiss the magic as insignificant. Roman chuckled softly.

“You’re really something else, Puff. Sometimes I think you’re not even really a dragon.”

Virgil froze, despite having just thought the same thing. If Roman figured it out… He felt his stomach sink. It wasn’t even really about the fact that he was a monster to be slayed anymore. There was something new he had with Roman, with all three of the Light Sides, and he desperately didn’t want to lose it. 

The moment of silence stretched on agonizingly, before Roman laughed again, a bit more genuine this time. 

“It’s okay, Puff. You’re special, you don’t have to tell me why.” A pause, as Virgil tried to process that. “I… apologize for being unable to protect you. For making you protect me.”

Virgil couldn’t tell him that if this were a fairytale, he’d be cast as the villain anyways, so there was no reason to apologize. He couldn’t tell him that he was supposed to protect Roman, couldn’t harangue him for being so insistent on taking everything on alone.

All he could do was curl himself tighter around Roman, and let himself purr loud enough to drown out the thunder. 

When the sky finally cleared, Roman was drooling from his position sprawled out against Virgil’s side. He snorted. Prince Charming, to be sure. The guy was out cold.

He ever so carefully lifted the wing he had left laid over the side like a blanket, and then slapped it back down on him, jolting him awake. 

“Hwagh?!” Roman said, jerking upright.

Virgil smacked him again for good measure. Rise and shine, Sir Sings-A-Lot. 

“Augh, stop your assault on my person, you fiend!” Roman rolled out from under his wing, sending him a petulant glare. He chirruped smugly, and proceeded to stretch obnoxiously as Roman moved to gather his belongings. 

The sky outside was grey, but the only sign of the storm was the lingering petrichor. Roman looked at his hand, minuscule against the backdrop, and sighed. 

“At this size, it will take ages to return to our entry portal. Normally, I could shift it closer, but… this form seems to have more disadvantages than mere size reduction.” 

Virgil looked at Roman consideringly. It should be doable at this size, and there was a soft blanket of leaves and other forest mulch in case he fucked up, so… 

“What? What are you looking aaaAAAAAHHH PUFF NO!” 

Roman hollered in protest as Virgil pushed him forwards towards the opening of the cave, grabbing Roman’s shoulders and then launching them both out into the open air. 

He almost lost at the beginning, the difference in weight making them plunge for a moment- and making Roman screech at an ear-splitting pitch- before he flapped hard, managing to regain his balance in the air.

There. Easy as pie. 

It was a bit difficult for him to trace their path backwards from such a different perspective, but luckily after Roman had finished yelling, he begrudgingly helped guide Virgil back to their doorway. 

He stumbled a bit on the landing, but managed to drop Roman only half an inch off the ground, so he counted it as a win. From there, they walked through to the familiar halls of their home in the Mindscape. 

Roman craned his head back, trying to take in how large everything was. “I… have no idea where we are. Everything looks so different!”

It was a little funny, that Virgil was used to this perspective by now. Hell, sometimes he got a little disoriented waking up big. 

“Wait.” Roman seemed to realize something. “Why hasn’t the spell worn off yet? Enchantments are usually limited to the realm they’re cast in.” 

That sounded like a problem Virgil had no idea how to solve. Good thing he had other people to depend on in this form! He grabbed Roman’s sash, lifting him up yet again, and began trotting down the hall towards the lounge. 

“Hey! Puff? Where are we going?” Roman called, nervously. 

Virgil purred lightly to reassure him, and then began carefully making his way down the stairs. Luckily, the others were already in the lounge area, Logan undoubtedly lured out by the smell of whatever pastry Patton had been baking.  

“Puff, wait- I don’t want them to see- !”

“Did you say something, Lo?” 

Roman went silent and still, and Virgil realized that he was probably hearing their voices from this size for the first time. He slowed, still mostly hidden by the bannister of the stairs, and set the creative side down, watching as he leaned against a stair for support, breathing hard. He motioned towards the others with his head, flicking his ears back and forth. They’ll help. 

“They… they shouldn’t see me like this. We should go back, I’m certain it will wear off eventually.” Roman said, voice layered with false confidence. 

Virgil stared at him, unimpressed, and Roman opened his mouth again before abruptly paling. 

“Puff? Kiddo, that you?” 

Virgil twisted around, seeing that Patton was now standing at the foot of the stairs, only a couple of feet away. He evidently hadn’t been as well hidden as he’d thought. Whoops. 

He shifted slightly, flaring his wings a bit to hide Roman’s crouched form from view, and then chirruped a greeting. Patton smiled. 

“Hey, little guy! What are you doing all the way over here? I made some cinnamon rolls for my son-namon rolls!” 

“Not your best.” Logan called out from his chair. 

“But you still ate them!” Patton responded cheerily, ignoring Logan’s displeased silence. 

Virgil shifted uneasily, but before he could really formulate a plan of action, he felt a tiny form duck under his wing. Patton’s eyes went wide as saucers, and Virgil looked down at Roman with his own surprise, resisting the urge to shift his wing and re-conceal him.  

The three-inch figure was standing up, stiff-backed, right in front of Patton. He summoned up a strained smile, tilting his head back to meet Patton’s gaze as though nothing was wrong. 

“Hey, Padre.” 

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 19: “I Was Here Too!”

GX has a vast array of unique characters, some of which we only saw once. Pick a “one shot” character and show them off!

WELP. Warning for minor character death.

Headcanon: ...too many to list. Oo, actually, no, I got one. The Gentle Darkness has favored the color red throughout all their incarnations.

Credit where credit is due, I got the name ‘Rune’ from @higuchimon​ and asked if I could use it too because I freaking love that name. As I’m sure you’ll be able tell, this is a vastly different character from the one they write. Also go check them out! They have amazing fics!

“Gather the prisoners!”

Rune didn’t think he could strain his muscles further, but when the shout rings out, he finds out he was wrong. All of his muscles freeze and lock in place, stretched taut with tension and screaming in agony, but unwilling to relax.

He’s trembling.

“Relax,” the man, Larz, whispers in his ear, a heavy hand on his shoulder and Rune flinches because everything hurts. Their captors - those creatures - work all of them from sun up to sun down with backbreaking labor, and Rune barely ever held anything heavier than book before being here.

Larz is probably the only reason he’s still alive. Rune still doesn’t understand why the man chose to stick with him when there are so many of his own comrades he should be looking after. But then again, Larz and his friends are all warriors. Everyone here is a warrior except for Rune. He still doesn’t understand how he got here. One minute he was walking peacefully alongside a wagon from the caravan; the next was utter chaos as the air itself split open and monsters charged out. Rune was knocked unconscious and woke up here in a cell with the ugliest face he’s ever seen leering at him. He hasn’t seen any of the other caravan members since.

Rune met Larz shortly after, the older man startling at the sight of him enough to whisper, “It’s you.”

Whatever the hell that means. At the time, Rune’s panic decided “where are we?” was a better question, and he still hasn’t gotten up the nerve to ask or tell Larz “I’m not who you think I am” simply because he knows he’d be dead if not for the man’s support. Any guilt Rune might have felt about lying pales in comparison to his desire to survive.

So he tries to relax but his shoulders are bunched and stiff and he’s fairly certain he physically can’t relax them because he’s forgotten how.

Thankfully, he does still remember how to take measured breaths.

The shout came from one of the lower ranked guards; a chaotic scramble ensues as they argue over where the order came from, and Larz gently pushes Rune back and nods to an unattended wagon. They walk toward it as if to pick up the work where it was left, then duck behind it.

There’s a stranger in the camp, obscured head to toe by a plain cloak, and Rune swallows back bile at the sight of the person who’s come out to face the stranger.

Zure, Knight of Dark World, right hand of Mad King Brron - who Rune dearly prays he’ll never have the misfortune of meeting - and the same ugly, terrifying face Rune had woken to that first terrible day of imprisonment.

“This is our chance,” Larz murmurs and Rune jumps.

“Wh-what-” His voice cracks and Larz covers his mouth with a calloused hand even as Rune snaps his jaw shut. That was too loud. He can’t draw attention to himself. He can’t draw attention to himself. The last time he did-

A heavy hand on his shoulder draws him out of the spiral before it can begin.

“How fast can you run?” Larz asks.

For a moment, Rune doesn’t respond. The conversation between Zure and the stranger has grown louder and angrier - well, Zure’s side of it at least; Rune still can’t hear the stranger’s voice. “I don’t know,” he admits. His legs ache, everything aches, and he never built up much physical stamina as a scholar. But if it’s for his life, his freedom, then- “But I want to try.”

Larz meets his gaze, and Rune hopes his determination shows through the fear- because he’s scared, he’s scared out of his goddamn mind. He has been since he got here. But he wants to live. He wants to go back home where Njal is waiting and forget this ever happened, forget about his silly, childish idea to travel the world and find ‘the thing he’s been missing’. It all feels so stupid and childish and whimsical now compared to this hell, compared to the threat of losing his life.

No, no. This is not the time to cry. Stop it, you traitorous tear ducts. You can cry when you’re safe, in a warm bed, with Njal hugging you.

With a nod, Larz reaches out with a glowing hand and snaps the chains that cuff their wrists. Rune feels a tingle, like something is resonating inside him, then the glow fades and takes the feeling along with it.

Most of the guards are distracted now by Zure and the stranger, even the other prisoners don’t pay much attention to Larz and Rune weaving their way across the camp. The few that do, Rune recognizes as Larz’s warrior buddies and aid in keeping the guards distracted.

So much compassion from people he barely even knows-

He sees Larz grab a sword in his peripheral. The gate is right in front of them now and Rune’s heart beats in his ears. They’re so close. They’re going to get out of here. He’s going to go home.

“Oi! Oi! Stop them!”

Rune forgets how to breathe.

Larz roars, yanking Rune forward by the wrist and breaking into a run. Rune stumbles before getting his feet under him. Red splashes in his vision as a goblin falls but Rune barely sees it, eyes focused solely on the vast expanse of desert in front of him. He just has to keep running. His legs burn, his chest aches, it’s hard to breathe-

Something grabs him from behind and Rune screams as he chokes on the collar of his shirt.

“Got you, filthy human!”

No. No! Where’s Larz?!

His eyes finally focus. The man stands several meters ahead.

When did he let go?!

Another goblin lunges and is quickly felled by the sword in Larz’s hand. Rune’s panic gives way to cold dread.

They’ll kill him.

“Run.” The word is barely a whisper; Larz can’t have heard it. Rune still sees the despair in the man’s eyes before he turns and flees.

Good. Good. He’ll be safe. He doesn’t deserve this. Not after the kindness he’d shown to a stranger, whoever he thought Rune was.

I don’t either, a smaller voice whispers in the back of Rune’s mind. He ignores it.

The goblins drag him back into camp. He doesn’t make it easy for them. He kicks and struggles but he’s never been a fighter - only held a sword once or twice while Njal gushed about his work, was always more interested in learning how the world works than throwing a punch. He gets maybe one good swing in and swears he feels something in his wrist crack.

He’s tossed to the dirt at Zure’s feet with soon to be bruises atop already abused muscles. A laugh grates against his ears as ugly, lipless teeth lean over to leer in his face. “Thought you could escape?”

Rune contemplates spitting in his face and decides, however slim his chances, he still doesn’t want to die today.

“Load him up with the others,” Zure orders when Rune doesn’t respond.

‘Others’? ‘Load’? Rune twists to look up and really wishes he hadn’t when he sees a misshapen mass of bone. A wagon, he realizes and feels sick. A wagon with people peering out between the white bars.

The edge of a cloak swishing into his vision. “Wait.”

The ground beneath him flips on its axis and Rune retches as something wrenches inside him as if trying to pull him apart from the inside out. For a brief few seconds, his entire reality consists of pain, nausea, and dancing colors. The sensation fades slowly, leaving Rune gasping against the dirt. He chances a glance up at the stranger, and piercing orange eyes stare down at him from beneath the shadow of his hood. Rune swears the person smiles.

“Not that one. Leave him here.” The stranger’s voice vibrates with an odd resonance that sends a shiver down Rune’s spine. He isn’t human, no matter what his face looks like.

“You have something planned?” Zure asks, ire in his voice but it’s obvious the two aren’t arguing anymore. What’s going on? Where are they taking everyone? Why not him? Who is this guy and why does looking at him make Rune feel sick?

“Yes.” The stranger still stares at him with those orange eyes and it makes Rune’s skin crawl.

“Fine. I’ll listen.”

With a wave of Zure’s hand, Rune is wrenched to his feet by the hair and nearly expels the meager contents of his stomach. He’s too busy fighting the nausea to struggle as the fiend drags him back to a cell. Unceremoniously dumped and arm cuffed to the wall, Rune can only watch and listen as the other prisoners are loaded into bone wagons and rolled out of the camp.

He’s alone and abandoned and in pain and can’t do a damn thing about it. He tugs on the cuff once as nearly screams as his wrist throbs.

He was so close to freedom.

Now is perfectly good time to cry.

*

Larz makes it back to the hideout in the mountain. Barely. Stumbling to the wooden door, he barely manages to rap out the secret code before collapsing to the stone beneath him. The door flies open as gentle hands pull him in. He can barely focus on the woman’s face.

“Larz,” a rough and worn voice gasps and Larz feels no end of relief to hear that voice.

Twins cries of “Father!” reach his ears next as Kyle and Gina rush him, and Larz’s eyes water.

“I made sure...I wasn’t followed,” Larz says, fighting for consciousness as he’s prompted to lie on a bed roll. He doesn’t protest as the women strip him of his rags to dress his wounds. His children hover nearby and, though he wishes they didn’t have to see him in such a state, he’s glad for their company.

He’s also glad for Freed’s company when the women deem it appropriate to let him join. “Larz, what news?” he asks softly, eyes haunted. Larz wonders if his own eyes look like that.

“Our men are being held in a prison camp to the north,” he murmurs to his friend.

“Was there a boy?” Larz jerks at the appearance of a strange face leaning eagerly over Freed’s shoulder. Freed turns an irate frown at the boy but nothing more, so he must not be a threat. “Blue hair. Strange clothes?” He plucks at the brightly colored garment he wears.

Larz’s breath sticks to his throat. The boy’s clothing is strange, far stranger than even Rune’s when he first came to the camp, and yet... “Y-yes. You know him?”

The boy hisses a word through his teeth that Larz doesn’t recognize and spins for the door.

“The candle still burns!” Freed snaps in the ensuing commotion as several other children in similarly brightly colored garments rush after the first boy. It takes Larz a moment of terror before he realizes the others are trying to stop the boy in red.

Red...? And if he knows Rune... No, it’s far too silly to hope for such a coincidence.

Scowling, Freed stands and Larz grips his arm before he can chase after the strange children. “Freed,” he rasps, consciousness slipping now that he’s safe. “He was there. Our King has returned.”

Freed inhales sharply, and Larz sees it, a tiny flicker of life and hope in his friend’s eyes. “I see,” he says, and pulls Larz’s hand off his arm to rest by his side. “Rest, Larz.”

There are still so many things to say - I tried to save him but they caught us, he’s so weak and frail now, you have to get him out of there - but the words fail him as Larz finally succumbs to exhaustion.

*

Rune is pretty sure his wrist is swollen. He doesn’t think it’s broken, it’s not discolored (yet) and it doesn’t hurt anymore than the rest of him. The bruises have set and he might as well be one giant lump of pain. He can’t even move without flinching. So he sits there, with his back against the hard stone, arm going numb and tingly as it hangs from the cuff above his head. His mind is foggy from pain but the same pain prevents him from slipping into the blissful dark of unconsciousness.

Basically, life sucks.

“Jesse!”

Rune pries his eyes open and risks looking up at the unfamiliar voice. The blurry shape of a person hovers over him.

Njal?!

“Jesse?”

No. No, that’s not... He looks different. Sounds different. What the hell is a ‘Jesse’?

Palpably excited, the boy chatters on in something distinctly foreign, neither the language from back home or the one spoken here that Rune had picked up in bits and pieces with Larz’s help.

“Who?” Rune manages to mumble and the boy trails off, excitement giving way to uncertainty. A girl with red hair lingers behind him, staring at Rune as if staring through him could answer her questions. Her eyes flicker over the space between them with a deepening frown. The boy looks back at her.

The girl’s hand moves and, despite the aches and pains, Rune jerks against his bonds and cowers against the wall as another monster appears from thin air. His voice shakes as he tries to warn them, but the boy chatters again, hands raised and waving. He doesn't look scared, and that terrifies Rune even more.

The monster looks like a woman - a barely dressed woman - and her mouth falls open at the sight of him. She shakes herself before Rune can decipher her expression and twirls the staff in her hand, saying something in that same foreign tongue.

Rune braces himself for more pain.

“Can you understand us now?”

What? He blinks up at the boy who looks like Njal. There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, if disappointment. Rune’s eyes flick back to the woman, standing calmly behind the redhead girl, and nods.

“Okay,” the boy says, something in his voice changing. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Rune hisses as his injured wrist is freed from the cuff and steels himself as the boy pulls his arm over red draped shoulders and helps him stand. The bruises have not done his aching muscles any favors. Clenching the red fabric between his fingers, Rune rides out the urge to scream. The boy waits for his breath to even before prompting him forward.

They’ve barely taken a step when the girl spins around, air hissing through her teeth, and backs away from the entrance to the cell. “Jay, we got problems.”

The boy - Jay? - tenses beneath Rune, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Problems?” he asks like he doesn’t actually want to know.

“This was a trap,” the woman says, keen eyes fixed calmly on the exit - their only exit - as she flexes her fingers around her staff.

Rune’s breath hitches as the boy shifts again. He...was left as bait? For these two? Or just anyone unlucky enough to find him? No. He doesn’t want that. He didn’t want Larz to risk himself and he certainly doesn’t want a pair of complete strangers risking themselves for his sake. He’s about to voice as much when the boy reaches for the girl’s shoulder with the hand not keeping Rune on his feet.

“I’ll distract them. Get this guy out of here.”

The girl spins around. “Jaden--”

“I can handle this,” the boy says. “I won’t start a duel if I don’t have to; I’ll just stall long enough for you guys to get out.”

A duel...? A fight? He’s actually talking about fighting those things? Rune’s breath stutters and the boy mistakes it for fear - well, it is fear, but not that kind of fear - because he murmurs a gentle, “Hey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine.” To the girl he says, “I still gotta find Jesse, so I can’t die here, right?”

So ‘Jesse’ is the name of a person who apparently looks like Rune? After the month he’s had, he’s just gonna roll with it.

The girl sighs - Rune can’t tell if it’s resignation or relief - and offers her arm. Again, Rune considers telling them to leave him and get out of here, but the four of them are already cornered and Rune still doesn’t want to die. So he grits his teeth as his weight is shifted from one person to another and doesn’t stop the boy from walking out to face what waits.

“What’s your name?”

Rune startles at her voice by his ear. She stares at him as if searching for something. “Rune.”

Her eyes flicker, but she smiles as she nods and repeats his names as if committing it to memory. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Christina. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

There are so many things he could say to that - why, you don’t even know me, please don’t hurt yourself for my sake - but he’s scared and he wants to go home. “Thank you.”

Voices filter in from outside as they slowly creep up to the edge of the cell and Rune shakes as he hears Zure’s voice. He tries his best to block it out, but he still catches snatches and the confirmation that he was in fact left as bait makes him feel sick. He holds his breath as Christina carefully pulls him from the cell but Zure faces away from them, and Christina begins to slowly lead him past the inattentive fiends towards the exit while Jaden chats it up with Zure like this is a regular Sunday night.

It would be admirable if it wasn’t terrifying.

Christina’s eyes are focused on the exit, but Rune’s are on Zure, so he sees the blade swing toward them, sees the lightning crack off it’s surface. He plants his feet, yanks his arm from her grasp, and shoves.

Then Rune’s entire existence is consumed by burning pain.

Someone screams. It might be him.

He never feels himself hit the dirt.

*

Everything is white when his eyes flutter open again. White and blistering pain and a voice without words- O-oh. He knows that voice.

I found you.

The voice wraps around him and it’s warm and that should hurt but it doesn’t, it’s soothing and loving and urges him to rest. His eyes flutter as he sinks into the warm light.

Wait.

Njal. He’s still waiting.

But the voice urges him to rest and so he does.

[vespiiqueen]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you (if you want !! 💛💖)

Wow I rambled a lot with this but i can't add cuts bc I'm on mobile rn DHSISHSJ sorry :"))))

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1. Ik Ik "haha how cringe are you" of me to say, but honestly? Homestuck. Homestuck helped me in a time of need and when i so desperately wanted something to latch onto. Finally, I caved into my friends telling me to read it-- and it's been a blast!! The epilogues / hs^2 make me feel kinda sad though, because so much of what I loved about the original was yeeted through the nine circles of hell and into the trash. I love Y/ffany's (I call her Yippi tho) design, the art is really pretty at times, Harry is a major dork, I LIVE for seeing Vrissy bc honestly?? Her design is 10/10, very early 2000s emo style and I also live for that. Tavros is cute and a nerd and I think that's swell!

But in terms of story and how any of this happens, it makes me sad to see it happen. If Vriska could return as Vrissy, why not OTHER beta trolls? Where's my Eridan fish man, writers?? Give me the boy or perish by my fury.

2. Also super "haha how cringe are you" but,,, murder cats (Warriors), esp the early 2005-2015 amvs and stuff. I remember watching Flightfootwarrior's "I Will Not Bow" Scourge amv for HOurs and having no clue what was happening, but all these edgy kitties were KITTIES! It's introduced me to a lot of music I still listen to to this very day (Imagine Dragons, Young/the entirety of Hollywood Undead, Breaking Benjamin). And yknow what?? This new arc is absolute chaos, but in the good way.

I'm an "OG Fan". I prefer the first arc, The Prophecies Begin, to almost any of the other arcs. I just could never get into the other arcs-- not to say I haven't read them, I HAVE and the Fire Scene was probably one of my favorite moments beside grumpy Jaypaw, god complex Lionblaze, and fear the gods Hollypaw. I thought the build-up for it was SUPER satisfying. Gray Wing is my baby and I fully embellish in the Gray Wing is Silverpelt theory.

This new arc is definitely something new for the universe. While I didn't read aVoS (but I may do that if i can find the files for it), and so I don't know the major events of it other than what I've seen M.A.P.'s (Multi-Animator Projects, for clarification,,, bc unfortunately that term is also something disgusting). There's fucking cat possession and all the Clans questioning their belief system, yo. Shit be on fire.

Also the Imposter is 100% Ashfur, that's canon now, yeah??? Also im sorry but fuck Root x Bristle that's the dumbest shit I have ever seen. Give me Root x Shadow or face the wrath of my dragon plushies.

RiverClan is my Clan and my gov assigned warrior name is Fireshell 🌟🌟

3. As much as I hate the author,,,,, Harry Potter. It's been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember. I can never really remember why, but I've always just loved it- the movies, the books, the extra little merch that would pop up in my local Walmart. Of course my favorite character is Draco Malfoy. I could go on and on and ON about how I think his character arc was SHIT and JKR didn't have the balls to make him a confident gay man that was always implied through the text (at least, my lesbian ass thought it was implied but i may just be projecting, idk). I could ramble about Draco for HOURS and what I think his character SHOULD have been and how his parents are horrible (more specifically, Lucius bc Narcissa [?] Actually showed a few good moments), and a child should never have to pay for their parents sins.

Oh noo, Draco's a villain because he's a victim of major abuse and peer pressure? He's a villain because a literal child can be horrible and they'll always always always stay as a horrible little fiend?? Fuck that. He's a child.

Unlike manchild grease pan Snape, who was a racist piece of shit and shouldn't have became a fucking school teacher but it's okay because he was ~~~in love~~~. No, fuck you, he was a creep. James Potter n Co may have been a little posh bitch to you, Snape, but that's no fucking excuse to continue to bluntly be a little cunt all the way into adulthood. You're an adult who flatly changed your PATRONUS to imitate Lily's. You have no excuse. And Harry went and named his child after you LIKE JESUS CHRIST, DID RON'S SISTER NOT HAVE A SAY IN THE NAMES TOO?????

I also fully adore the idea that Muggles can run into Hogwarts and their patronus can 100% be a made up, fantasy creature. Imagine you learn the patronus spell and suddenly fucking ARCEUS comes from your wand. Imagine learning the spell and CHTULU (i did not spell that right but im so tired) comes from your wand-- an entire ass fucking Lovecraftian, Eldrith horror is just the embodiment of you. What if it was a fucking Homestuck character like Vriska? How fucking METAL would that be?? Hskajssowjjsjs get on it fandom.

4. Hee hee very evident by my url but Pokemon is another major thing of mine. While vespiquen isn't my favorite (that title goes to Hydreigon), it is definitely up there!

I've ALWAYS enjoyed the idea of Pokemon. You run around, training up these fight monsters and collecting them. I remember playing my sister's Ruby version on her flip-up Gameboy. I couldn't even read but I ran around catching god only knows how many of the same pokemon wherever she was. Apparently, I had fought for hours in the same area and leveled her Blaziken up to lvl 50 something and left her lvl 30s in the dust LMAO.

I got my first game when it was Pearl/Diamond. It was Pearl, and it still holds a very fond place in my heart. I could barely read, I could barely write-- I had named my Turtwig something along the lines of "MmorpHy" and my player boy "ZbsibJ". Yes I remember the names slightly. I really didn't get far-- I barely got to the first gym but I was just so happy to play it.

I eventually lost the game, as a 5 year old would do, but I can still vividly remember what was happening when the game arrived. I had just came back from the dentist and was quite tired from fighting the dentist bc I was super scared. Mom suddenly handed me a box and said it was mine-- my overseas (at that time) dad had bought me Pearl and my sister Diamond, because I lost my shit about it when he visited one time.

Well, tdlr, I played it for about five minutes while struggling to stay awake against the loopy gas they made me take. I fell asleep listening to Twinleaf Town's soundtrack. Every time I play a rom of Pearl and I get to where the player's house fades in and I hear that first tune of the song, I get a huge smile on my face and cry-- as.. Weird as it sounds.

A few years later, I had gotten Pokemon Black bc I liked Reshiram on the cover. Now, this one I could actually READ when playing, but I don't remember a lot of things about it. I probably lost this one too, as a 8/9 year old would do. I DO remember, I chose Snivy and my sister chose Tepig (hrmm there's a theme here of grass/fire goin on......) and vibing to the music. I was so amazed by the sprites moving, I just kept getting into encounters to see the sprites move (oh boy, no one tell younger 7-9 y/o me about Zelda......oh wait....)

Playing Pokemon NOW, as a 17 year old """gifted""" chick, I stil have very fond memories. I recently beat Pokemon Black again and GOD the OTS SLAPS. I fucking adore the soundtrack-- the track that plays when you battle a trainer, the low health dings being turned into a legit song that also slaps, the battle! gym leader themes-- and oh my gOd, the legendary theme is amazing? It really tells you just how glorious these pokemon are supposed to be. It's not intimidating like Groudon/Kyroge/Rayquaza's themes. It's not action packed like Palkia/Dialga's is, it's not filled with tension like Giratina/Arceus's is-- but it radiates the GLORY that the beasts portray. And I live for that. (Also, Kyurem's version is my favorite because it glitches in the beginning and that's rly cool)

P/D/P and BW/BW2's stories, imo, are some of the greatest ones. Yeahhh, US/USUM's is cool and I haven't played XY nor SwSh-- but the ones I can find memorable are PDP and BW/BW2. I love N. I love Barry. They're my sons. Ghetsis is fucking terrifying, Cyrus needs a hug. Giratina scared the piss out of me when I was younger, which was NOT helped by Giratina and The Sky Warrior.

I think my favorite movies are the gen 4 ones. The Rise of Darkrai having a tear-jerking theme for such a mysterious pokemon (i still tear up when i hear Ocarion), Giratina being spiteful is a mood and Shaymin was cute, Arceus being angry is also a mood. Yeah, Pokemon 4Ever made me cry my eyes out over Celebi, Mewtwo Returns made me again cry because Mewtwo accepting who he is, I remember how vastly different the BW movies are-

I just. I have a lot of memories with the series, even if Gamefreak and Nintendo kinda do the series dirty a lot (your top-grossing thing and you made That monstrosity for the Switch? How dare you.). It's comforting to be stressed and pull up my roms for the games and to play them. Mystery Dungeon is incredibly fun to play, Pokemon Ranger is really fun with the concept (Shadows of Almia continues to kick my ass to this very day and FUCK the Jungle Relic, I hate the Water Challenge fucking gyarados bullshit). I remember the pokemon I got for MD (I got Time, my sis got Darkness) was Mudkip, if that is any help.

I love my little fictional pixel monsters.

5. Yup, someone told tiny 7-9 y/o me about console games. The legend of Zelda. My first Zelda game was Twilight Princess on the Wii and BOY did I play the fucking SHIT out of that game.

Honestly, looking back and looking at playthroughs now-- I still love TP. Twilight Princess is still one of my top favorite Zelda games-- yes, even after playing OoT, Majora's Mask, Wind Waker, Skyward Sword, the anniversary four swords edition for the DS where you could play by yourself (Nintendo pls bring that back, I don't have friends to play it with ;-;), Phantom Hourglass- ect.

Something about Twilight Princess grabbed me by the head and yeeted me into the world. I can remember playing it for hours with little to no breaks. I, a tiny 9 y/o, had gotten the hang of the controllers and managed to get past the tutorial quite easily. And then, I was launched into the game and I wasn't stopping for NOTHING. Mom and Dad would have to force me to save and get off to go and eat dinner. THAT sucked.

I had done everything on my own up until the first temple, the forest temple. Not where/when you saved the dumb kid, but when you were saving the spirit's light. Theeeeeeennn I got stuck on the fucking Forest Temple for deadass six months straight. I'd play for hours, running around in circles, unable to figure out where to go, and because I didn't grasp the temple's purpose of being that way- I'd get angry and get off. It wasn't until dad looked up a walkthrough and talked me through what I was supposed to do that I learned how to get through temples.

I had gotten to the last little fight with Ganondorf before the Wii broke and i could no longer play. Despite the Wii being broke and we got rid of it, I was ADAMANT on keeping the game, and I kept that game for YEARS. It was an original copy out of a sealed box, and I eventually lost it when I left it accidentally at my now ex-friend's house.

She had a Wii and I went "hey I have a Wii game!" And I brought my Zelda over. Worst fucking choice of my goddamn life. Mom called me to come home and said I couldn't sleep over like the original plan was, and that was it. My ex-friend stashed my Zelda and I never saw it again. And, even if I wanted to-- I couldn't get it back, which makes me upset. We had a BAD falling out. She likely doesn't even remember it's there, or sold it to the local game junkie kid who buys ALL games.

But I still love the game. Midna was amazing, and I loved how snarky she was and she has a very cute design! The game's OST is fucking phenomenal. Midna's Desperate Hour makes me cry bc goddamn it really sells how serious that situation is. I love Hyrule Field's theme in this game. I love the Twilight Realm's song. Zant was fucking hilariously scary. Ganondorf's design in this game scared the piss out of me when I was younger.

Midna and this game's Link and Zelda are def my favorites. Yeah yeah, Sheik is cool and all I Guess but dhsushwishs Midna holds the special place in my heart. She was totally my gay awakening BUT

For other game antagonists, I adore Ghirahim-- let's go you funky little queer-coded villain. Skull Kid was great, I love the entire dynamic of him. Prankster lost soul stumbles upon Majora's Mask and the mask makes him act out due to powers-- which, I actually took very heavy inspiration from for one of my OCs. The moon falling to Hyrule was a fucking terrifying looming threat.

But the game series holds a place, and I've yet to be able to play BoTW-- although, I'm fairly certain I'll like it. The playthroughs I've watched of it are all fairly decent! I just. Gotta save up enough money to buy it haha.

Dang guess I gotta go watch a Twilight Princess playthrough again.

Honorable Mentions:

Avatar: the Last Airbender, specifically Book 3

my OCs definitely make me happy, they're my children and I'd ramble A LOT longer if given the chance WHEEZE

My friends, but I didn't add them here bc it's more fictional stuff, I presume

Baking. I love to bake cupcakes.

Painting is fun. I'm an artist and goddammit im going to use painting as an excuse to make a mess.

Fire. I rly like fire, down to a pyromaniac level. However, i hate the fires that happened to my home town, the Great Smokey Fires of 2016-- THAT pissed me off. How dare you burn mountain landscapes to the ground. Perish.

History. I'm a history nerd.

I'm also a science nerd.

But fuck math, I cannot comprehend math to save my life.

For some reason, I rly like learning how the human body works??? like did you know, organs are actually sticky when touched by a bare hand?? Did you?? How fucking cool is that.

Bakugan. I love Bakugan, esp the DS game. I love my Darkus Leonidas. Give me back the online world, you peasants-- I want my Darkus Dragonoid. (Also fuck all my friends from when I was in kindergarten- my theory that Alice was Masquerade was somewhat correct.)

[perspective-series]

Vampire Perspective (17/17) FINAL

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: mild burning, lots of talk about blood, talk of death, idk if anything else

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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Patton was ready to outright sob with relief, guiding them both over the threshold. “Thank you, Roman.”

Virgil stared at the borrower incredulously, in a state of shock as he was guided across. So this was where the borrowers had gone… and they had let him enter? Patton he could understand, but him? Virgil? The one who had ruined the lives of every single person in this room?

 Roman nodded and smiled at Patton.

 Thomas, however, was not smiling. In fact, he was very confused and suddenly very scared. “I-I…” Was all he was able to say as he looked between the vampires and these new tiny creatures that were somehow already in his house.

“Thomas, please, I’m sorry to ah… to loophole you like that, but we’re really not going to hurt you.” Patton crept around Thomas, keeping to the edge of the wall so as not to frighten the human while he tried to get closer to the borrowers. “And I’m sure you have, er, a lot of questions.”

Virgil kept himself planted at the doorway, only shutting the door so that the beginning rays of sun wouldn’t leak in.

 Thomas nodded numbly. “I...I definitely have more than a-a few questions, yeah.” Thomas said nervously, watching everyone warily.

 The borrowers were also looking at Thomas nervously but Logan straightened himself up. “Hello, Thomas. I am Logan and this is Roman. We are borrowers who have taken residence in your home but fear not, we only take stuff you do not miss in order to survive.” Logan explained themselves briefly.

 Thomas blinked. “Oh...Okay?” Thomas still looked confused.

“They’re some of my other friends.” Patton explained, sitting down on the floor near the couch. Close to the borrowers for protection, but still giving distance. He hoped he could call them friends. “Um, I sort of found Roman the first time I came to your house. And I didn’t know what exactly Roman was, so I showed him to Virgil...and ah, I promise, Virgil won’t hurt you, any of you-” Patton gave Virgil a pointed look, “-but um… Virgil sort of, well, tried to get me to eat him.”

 Thomas’ face paled. “I’m...sorry?”

 “Yep.” Roman jumped in, popping his P. “Apparently borrower blood is even stronger than human blood. Tastier too. Virgil wanted Patton to eat me so he would become stronger.”

 “And then Virgil came and found me.” Logan continued, glancing at Virgil. “He intended on eating me as well.”

 Thomas felt like he was going to be sick. “But...obviously you-you weren’t eaten. So...what happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to eat Roman.” Patton assured him. “I kept him around for a while, and it was awful because we were both miserable, but I didn’t want anything to happen. And with Logan…” Patton paused, tilting his head at his fellow vampire. “What did happen, Virgil?”

Virgil shifted, looking across the room at everyone. So scared, so jumpy. Exactly like the terrified prey Virgil had seen locked up in the cellar back at his family home.

“...I realized I was turning into one of them.” Virgil shrugged with a wince, tucking his arms around himself. “I thought that’s what I always wanted- to be the strongest. I thought if I could just force them into submission, they’d leave us alone. I could make them cut it out, end all the crappy stuff my family’s done for literal ages. But I guess… I guess I just realized, if I went down that same path, I’m no better than any of them. And then I just didn’t know what to do, because of course I was still terrified of losing everything and making everybody around me suffer. Guess I ended up doing that anyway, heh.”

 Logan looked at Virgil, his lips twitching up slightly. Maybe Virgil had learned after all.

 Thomas frowned, coming a bit closer to all of them. “I see...well, I mean…” He looked at Patton. “Patton, I’m not going to lie and say I don’t still feel betrayed and I still hardly know what the heck is going on but...if you guys didn’t even eat these little guys and...and Virgil was right, he didn’t bite me that night, then...I’m willing to help you guys.” Thomas couldn’t believe he was doing this but here he was.

“...thanks.” Patton tried to give Thomas a genuine smile, even if he was still feeling quite disheartened. “Thomas, I… I know this is a lot, but I really am still the same Patton who was your friend. And… y’know, the reason I didn’t tell you all this is because of your reaction. I was scared you’d reject me, and judge me for what I am instead of who I am.”

 “Oh...Patton I am so sorry.” Thomas stepped forward even more. “I...this is going to take some getting used to. And, well you can probably hear it, but my heart is racing. But...based on what I’ve heard, you really are still the Patton I’ve always known.” Thomas gave him a smile.

 “He really is, you know.” Roman said to back Patton up. Giving Patton a smile as well.

“Aww, thanks you guys.” Patton gave them a true smile of his own, fangs and all. “And thank you again, Roman. And Logan. It was really big of you to come out into the open for us.”

 “Of course. We had talked things over these past few days and when we heard you at the door…” Roman shook his head. “Well, we knew we had to help you.”

 “I can only assume you came here because of your brothers, Virgil?” Logan asked, causing Thomas to raise an eyebrow.

 “Brothers?” He repeated, turning to look at Virgil.

“I have two brothers.” Virgil paused. “They’re assholes.”

Patton snorted. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.” The smile slowly fell from his face. “They came after us tonight.”

 “Those fiends!” Roman exclaimed.

 Logan winced. “Judging by your state, they seemed to have roughed you up pretty well. How did you even make it here? Were you followed?”

“...we’re not sure.” Patton gave him a guilty expression. “It started in the woods, then the city, and then a truck sort of hit us all. And then when we got up they were gone. I did take a chance, but… I was hoping we could rest here. Anywhere else they could easily get to us.”

 “Right, because...they need my permission or their permission apparently,” Thomas motioned to the borrowers. “To get in, right?” Thomas asked.

“A member of the home, yeah.” Virgil nodded. “Same rules don’t apply to vampire homes, though. They could waltz right into ours whenever they please because we’re ‘family’.” 

 Thomas winced. “Well...you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. I have a guest room so as long as you don’t mind sharing a room…” Thomas chuckled.

“I mean, I don’t think this is the best plan.” Virgil admitted. “Not that I mind sharing a room, but well… you’re gonna die eventually.” 

“Virgil!” Patton hissed.

“Or move.” Virgil corrected. “All of you. And my brothers are sort of eternal beings who can wait that long, they’ll just smoke us out. Plus there’s always the possibility of them catching any of us on the streets and beating us to a pulp. Actually that’s just Patton and I, if we’re lucky. The rest of you would definitely die.” Virgil grimaced, looking at the borrowers. “Especially you two… ‘cause they sort of found out you exist.”

 Everyone winced. “Well…” Logan started. “I assumed that would happen. I take it our scent is still on the both of you.”

 “Wait, so...they’re just too powerful for you? How come? Don’t all vampires have super strength and speed and whatnot?” Thomas asked, still confused about this whole vampire thing.

“There’s sort of different levels, based on, ah...blood consumption.” Patton gave a nervous giggle. “It decides how weak you are. Animal blood, then human, and top tier is borrower.”

“My brothers got some borrower blood a while back.” Virgil explained. “And even though they don’t have a constant supply, they’re still going fairly strong to this day. Heck we thought borrowers went extinct entirely.”

 “Really?” Thomas blinked, looking to the two borrowers. “Well...I mean, I know you can���t eat them cause that would be horrible but...why not just take small bits of their blood at a time?” Thomas suggested.

 Roman tensed but Logan actually thought over the idea. “That’s...not a terrible idea, actually.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Virgil reminded him. “What are you crazy? You guys have so little that one puncture and you’d probably bleed it all.” 

“No, it’s too risky.” Patton agreed, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. I mean I don’t even drink from humans when I can stop myself.”

 “Yes, I am a little skeptical about that idea myself.” Roman admitted, looking warily at both Thomas and Logan.

 “But think about it.” Logan continued. “If our blood is so powerful, then even a few drops of it would give you a boost. And we can afford to lose a bit of blood. Humans do it all the time, after all. If we only give what it relative to a pint to you, even once a week, there is no doubt you two would become stronger.”

“...okay, true.” Virgil hesitantly agreed. “But there’s no way to collect that tiny amount. And, what if we get addicted or something?”

 “...That is a fair point but with Thomas helping us, we could find a way to extract the blood. After all, humans do it to mice all the time and we are about that size. Surely tiny syringes exist.”

 “Okay, yeah, but what about them becoming addicted to our blood?” Roman asked and Logan sighed.

 “Well...I suppose we just have to trust that they’ll be able to stop themselves. It may be easier, since they won’t be taking it straight from us.” Logan explained.

“That’s a lot of trust to put in us, kiddo.” Patton bit his lip.

“Patton, you go crazy over a few human drops of blood.” Virgil reminded him gently. “If we’re going to do this, you have to step it up first and stop driving yourself mad.”

 “You already promised me you wouldn’t skip out on a day drinking blood. I hope you don’t mean to break that promise.” Roman said, arms crossed.

“I-I haven’t!” Patton rubbed the back of his neck. “Just squirrels and such aren’t very… filling.”

 Thomas shifted in his seat, biting his lip. “Um...hey quick question but does getting bit...hurt?”

Patton froze, glancing at Thomas uneasily. “...why?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Virgil answered, already catching on. “It’s a quick prick, and then our saliva provides a numbing sensation so prey doesn’t thrash quite so much. You can also be put under with mild hypnosis so you’re not aware of any of it, if the vamp is capable.”

 Thomas nodded. “...Okay. Then...I volunteer to be your...food supply? Blood bank? Uh, whatever you want to call it. You can feed from me.” Thomas said.

 The borrower’s eyes widened. Having not expected this.

“Thomas, you… you don’t have to do that…” Patton murmured.

“Oh come on, Pat.” Virgil’s tone was bordering between exasperated and pleading. “You’ve got a willing, consenting human right here waiting for you. And you’ve got three bystanders if you ever overindulge. How much more ethical can you get?”

 “Patton…” Thomas started. “It’s okay. If it will help you get better, get stronger so you can defeat Virgil’s brothers eventually. Then...I’m okay with this.”

Patton judged Thomas’ expression. “Okay.” Patton sighed. “But, just, not tonight? I mean it’s been a lot, and I already ate.”

Virgil let out a hiss, jumping away from the door like a cat. “Make that ‘not today’.” He corrected, rubbing at his ankle. Where before he was standing, a sliver of sunlight was creeping beneath the door.

 Thomas winced. “No yeah, I get it. That’s probably good too, since I have to get ready for work.” Thomas looked between everyone. “Um, you guys can make yourselves comfortable, the guest room is just down the hall on your left.” Thomas explained before heading to his own room to get ready for the day.

 “This is good.” Logan said as Thomas left. “With Thomas as a steady food supply for you, you should have no trouble with drinking blood from us.”

“Maybe.” Patton shrugged. “It’s still weird to think about, though.”

“Then don’t think about it.” Virgil gave his own shrug. “Just use your instincts.”

 “Patton, I...I trust you. I think this is a good idea.” Roman said with a smile.

 Logan nodded. “Yes, with a steady supply of our blood, the two of you will match the strength of your brothers in no time.”

“Surpass them, actually.” Virgil pointed out. “Because we’ll have fresh borrower blood.”

 “Even better.” Logan grinned.

 “Well, things seem to be wrapping up nicely.” Roman said with a smile.

 “We still have a lot to do before things are wrapped up.” Logan said, giving Roman a look. “Including...Virgil? May I speak with you...alone?”

“...sure?” Virgil agreed, hesitant about the fact Logan would want anything to do with him after the way he had encaged Logan.

 Logan nodded. “Great. Patton? Roman? Maybe the two of you should go scope out the guest bedroom.”

 “Oh...uh.” Roman leaned in close. “Are you sure?”

 Logan nodded. “Yes Roman, I’ll be fine.”

 “If you say so.” Roman said. He still didn’t fully trust Virgil but if Logan was sure, then he supposed he didn’t have much room to argue. He turned to Patton. “Let’s go then Pat.”

“Um, sure.” Patton agreed, giving the pair one last nervous glance. “Do you want a ride, or…?”

 “Yes, thank you for asking Patton.” Roman said with a smile.

“Of course.” Patton assured him, offering his hand.

 Roman grinned and scrambled on, glad to see Patton remembered his no grabbing rule. Things were looking up already. “Have fun you two.” He eyed Virgil. “But not too much fun.”

 Logan rolled his eyes at that.

Patton gave a tense smile, having a feeling that none of this conversation would be fun. “I’ll get some curtains up.”

“You do that.” Virgil agreed, waving goodbye as the two headed down the hall, out of sight.

 Logan watched them go, before turning to Virgil. “So, Virgil...I’m glad to see you have listened to me about who you can be.” He said with a slight smile.

“Yeah, you were right.” Virgil admitted, sinking down to the floor. “About...well pretty much everything, actually.”

 “I know.” Logan said but watched Virgil carefully. “...What made you realize though?”

“I’m not sure.” Virgil shifted back and forth. “A collection of things, I guess. I mean I knew you were right when you were still… at my house, but I kinda refused to believe it. And then you disappeared along with Roman, I blew up at Patton, nearly tore that Thomas’ guy’s throat out… really wasn’t a great week for me. And then when I inevitably holed myself up in my room like I always do I kinda had this epiphany of well, if i’m gonna live forever, I certainly don’t want to live like this.”

 “Well, I am certainly glad you came around.” Logan chuckled a bit of his nerves shining through. “I knew I was not going to be eaten but I didn’t like the idea of myself becoming a pet, either.”

“Yeah, no, that’s totally fair. Obviously.” Virgil winced. “I kinda… okay, this is gonna come of as really stupid.”

 Logan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” To be fair, Logan was used to stupid. He lived with Roman, after all.

“So you might’ve gauged i’m not the best at making ‘friends’.” Virgil explained. “I mean, Patton’s my closest friend, and even if we’re closer now I still basically forced him to live with me for eternity. So what i’m getting at is… yeah. I’m not good at this. But when I was starting to come around, I wasn’t really trying to make you feel like a pet? And then I thought I’d never see you again so I was already well on my way to trying to repress all this stuff, but um…” Virgil flapped his arms at bit, shaking his head. “Whatever. Look, i’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I started out threatening your life, and then your freedom, and augh. Just so much crap along the way.”

 Logan was silent for a moment. “Virgil, you did, in fact, do a lot of terrible things. I feared for my life for quite a while and even when I didn’t, I still wanted to get as far as I could away from you.” He paused. “However, you clearly feel bad for all of that. You could just be saying all this stuff to trick us but it makes no sense for you to. I believe you to be sincere.”

 Logan sighed. “That being said...I can’t forgive you. Not yet, anyway. You can apologize all you want but until I see a change...only then will I forgive you.” He gave Virgil a smile. “But not to worry Virgil. You are...well on your way already.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to forgive me.” Virgil nodded. “But...thanks. And I’m sorry Patton made us crash at your place. Are you guys really okay with me staying here? I can always leave.”

 “Of course.” Logan glared. “I am not just going to leave you to fend off your brothers on your own. You would get yourself killed.” And despite everything, he didn’t want Virgil to die. “No, you are staying here, for your own safety.”

“And what about your safety?” Virgil argued. “I could still bite your head off.”

 Logan waved him off. “Please, that was the first thing I stopped believing when with you. I may not forgive you yet but I...I trust you enough to know that that won’t happen. That you won’t do that.” Logan then shrugged. “Besides, with our new plan, it would be illogical for you to do so. Seeing as how you would eventually gain more power by feeding off of us forever then just once.”

“Okay, you got me there.” Virgil gave him a smirk. “Too bad, I’ll have to figure out other scare tactics.” His smirk slowly fell. “Wait. What about your friend?”

 “Roman?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“I mean, I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine to him either.” Virgil grimaced in memory. “And he doesn’t seem to possess your lack of basic self preservation. I doubt Roman wants me within the same continent, let alone the same apartment.”

 “Virgil, if Roman didn’t want you here, he wouldn’t have let you into the apartment.” Logan said with a slight smile. “Yes, Roman is weary of you but he will be okay. Especially knowing you have changed.”

“...okay.” Virgil decided. “If I’m really not going to drive anyone away, I’ll stay. And speaking of, you guys totally can’t leave. Especially not at night, until we drive them out. And by you guys I mean anybody mortal.”

 Logan blinked. “Well, that will be no problem for Roman and I but...Thomas does have to go to work. Although, he shouldn’t have a problem since it’s during the day, right?”

“Yeah, that- that should be fine.” Virgil agreed. “Remus and Deceit are into this stuff so deep that they can’t stand a single speck of sunlight.”

 “That’s good for Thomas then.” Logan said in relief. “Then yes, staying inside at night should be no problem.”

“Good.” Virgil nodded decisively. “Because I don’t want anybody else getting hurt.”

[jane-may]

I will find you, anywhere you go

So! I joined a Good Omens Secret Santa event and the gift I am giving is a fanfic! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope my SS partner likes it! Hi @user-mania​ !! This one is for you :D

I’d like to give special thanks to my super fren @clownsxclowns​ who helped me out giving me tips on how to post stuff here, this is my first time posting any writing and she was mega helpful! Thanks Kat!!

Summary: The story takes place on the garden of Eden. This is the first time Aziraphale meets Crawley, but the demon remembers the angel from before his fall.

Pairing: Crawly/Aziraphale

Genre: Fluff/Angst (it is SAD and I’M SORRY)

Word Count: 2389.

Warnings: no warnings

//////

“How long til she notices?”

Crawly broke the silence that lingered, almost absolute if not for the roaring of thunder and raindrops hitting the foliage of the many trees nearby.

Aziraphale and Crawly, properly introduced a few minutes ago, were still overlooking the walls until they could not see Adam and Eve, who disappeared into the horizon.

Aziraphale was a bit lost in his thoughts and didn’t quite catch what the demon asked

“How long until what?”

Crawly, who was under the angel’s wing, shifted closer thinking Aziraphale could not hear him over the sounds of the consistent thunders. 

“You know, how long until she notices they are gone? That they gave into temptation and all that”

“Oh. Well, I suppose soon. I guess we’ll have to just...wait for Her”

“Guess so”

Crawly knew he would have to report back to hell soon so he could be assigned to another task, but he didn’t want to. The reason being that he found Aziraphale, after being cast out for so long.

He knew for a while now that when an angel fell, the only thing they would forget was their name. It was part of the punishment, as so to make them long for everything they’ve lost because of their “rebellious ways”. But this wasn’t the worst part. The fallen angels were to be forgotten by everybody else. The only angels who would remember who they were before, were those assigned with the task of casting them away, usually higher authorities that worked on higher “departments” of heaven.

Aziraphale, being a principality, wasn’t allowed to attend when Crawly fell. Crawly told him about the mechanics so he even pondered if he should try to sneak into the ceremony, just so he could remember him later, but he couldn’t. He was too afraid of being caught and decided that it would hurt less if he couldn’t remember anyway. It was ineffable, he supposed. It was meant to be that way. Besides, an angel couldn’t do the wrong thing.

The duo was still standing at the wall until both decided to search for shelter. Aziraphale suggested a nearby tree but soon changed his mind as both found out that lightning could travel all the way down from the sky and hit the earth. And that what it did to the poor tree where it landed could easily discorporate both beings.

Crawly was quick to point out a cavern, a bit damp but deep enough to protect them. He instructed Aziraphale to stay a few steps away as he lit some logs using hellfire.

“Oh! Careful with that!” the angel exclaimed, startled by the specks of hellfire floating aimlessly in the air.

“You haven’t changed one bit now, have you?” the demon marveled under his breath, staring at the angel’s features that looked even more lovely when dimly lit by the small campfire he put up.

“I beg your pardon?” 

Aziraphale looked puzzled. What did he mean? They’ve met what, an hour or so ago, did he hear him right? He approached the demon, a bit hesitant still, his fingers twitching. Should he be this close to a demon anyway?

“S’nothing. You look like you’re cold, took all the rain and stuff. Come closer, this is not enough hellfire to cause you harm.” 

Crawly thought it would be better not to talk about the fall, not now. He needed to show that he could be trusted. All Aziraphale knew now is that he was a demon he met a few minutes ago, he had no reason to believe him if he brought up the subject.

“I’m fine, thank you! I don’t suppose we should be interacting though, not to be rude, it’s just...angel and demon, might cross the Almighty. Actually, I suppose I should try and find elsewhere to be, thank y-” he was heading towards the exit when another lightning struck, stopping him on his tracks and making him let out a startled gasp.

Crawly chuckled at the sound. “Well, it seems to me that the almighty wants you here.” he raised both eyebrows “besides, you gave me shelter out there, I don’t want to be owing you any favours.”

“Well...when you put it that way” he agreed, backing away from the entrance slowly.

The demon then stretched out his right wing invitingly, keeping his eyes on the fire. He found it very annoying that his eyes would change when his heart beat faster, but there was no way the angel would notice such a trivial detail. How would he notice the white of his eyes giving in to the yellow from time to time? It would surely take a while before it raised any questions.

Aziraphale sat down and let his head rest on the soft, pitch-black feathers. A couple of hours went by and the thunderstorm gave no indication of going away anytime soon. 

All this time, the angel was staring at the hellfire, lost in his thoughts. This wasn’t anywhere near the picture heaven painted of what a demon would be like. Sure, he had funky eyes and transformed into a huge serpent, but being next to him didn’t feel endangering. He wasn’t dirty, rude or mean. Heavens, his scent was even pleasant! He started to wonder, there were so many questions rushing through his mind right now. Why did he fall? Why did he smell nice? Why didn’t he have fangs or a tail? Oh but those were too rude to ask. Or maybe he could try to ask nicely? 

His train of thought came to a blunt stop when Crawly’s head bumped against his shoulder. He turned around and saw the demon yawn, pulling away

“M’ sorry. Bit tired.” The raindrops outside, the crackling of the fire, the distant thunders and the warmth coming off of both the angel and the campfire were all too cozy for the demon. He enjoyed sleeping, hell was too crowded anyway, it was practically impossible to find a silent spot there to nap undisturbed.

“You should rest. I will wake you when the storm has ceased, you can lay here for a while, I suppose” he then gestured to his lap swiftly and uncertain of why he was helping his not so menacing fiend. 

Crawly just nodded, gave him a smile and carefully laid down, retracting his wings and resting his head on the angel’s lap. This wasn’t the first time for him, he remembered that feeling from way before his fall. The fact that Aziraphale suggested that he laid down gave him hope that maybe the angel would end up in love with him again. Maybe he would just repeat all those steps they took, eons prior to the Eden, maybe he should never tell him and just allow that to happen again.

A whole day passed, the storm was still going strong. Aziraphale was staring down at the demon, paying attention to many details. His snake tattoo was quite charming and his auburn hair seemed to shine even brighter under the copper lighting the hellfire cast above them. 

Mindlessly, the angel started to trace the tattoo with his index finger, mimicking all the curves of the tiny snake. His skin was noticeably soft and instinctively the angel moved his hand to his hair, just to see if the locks were this soft too.

And oh, they were satin like. He continued to play with his hair for a couple of minutes and just as he started to doze off the rain stopped. He needed to wake Crawly up but he really didn’t want to.

Crawly shifted, his face now turned towards the angel’s body. Aziraphale quickly pulled his hand away from the hair, scared he might have woken him up. A principality shouldn’t be playing with a demon’s locks, big no no. 

Crawly groaned at the loss of contact, seemingly annoyed. The angel smiled and slowly got back to stroking his hair. The curls looked magnificent and he even made a little braid out of some rebellious locks that wouldn’t stay in place. Prior to this cavern, he had a completely different view on demons, but every minute that passed only proved to him that at least this one, was deep down a nice one.

“Crawly?” he cleared his throat “Crawly, the rain stopped. I think I’ll head out and grab something to eat.”

Crawly rolled over, his head now facing upwards. He noticed the angel was a bit flushed and couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He sat up quickly, stretched his arms and yawned.

“Sure, go ahead” he rubbed his eyes,  got up and helped Aziraphale up too. The pair walked out, side by side and were welcomed with quite the landscape. Dozens of fallen trees, chunks of soil that came up with them, broken branches and all sorts of fruits scattered around.

Crawly walked towards the mess, grabbed an apple from one of the branches laying on the floor. “Fancy a bite, angel?”

The angel’s eyes widened in disbelief  “Don’t be absurd!! Absolutely not! Look at what happened and, look at what they-” he paused, gesturing vaguely with his hands “did!” his face was close to being as red as the apple Crawly held out. “I don’t even know y-”

He was interrupted by the demon shushing him “Are yo- are you insinuating that the apple did that?? Aziraphale, she was expecting already, you said it yourself! Furthermore, I would, at the bare minimum, take you to a spot of lunch before implying such a thing, I’ve got manners!!” he took a bite off the apple, making an obscenely loud crunch.

“And why do you think I would want to partake in such activ- wait a minute. How do you even know my name? I don’t remember introducing myself properly.” 

Now he was very intrigued. He wanted answers and his frown wasn’t going away until he got them.

“I- um-ngk well” Crawly took another bite, buying his time to think. 

Would he tell him? Would he rather try to get the angel to fall in love with him again? What if he didn’t though? Hell, did he even deserve his affection? He endangered his safety when they were both angels. Sure, he took the blame and fell alone to spare him, but it didn’t make him feel less guilty.

“I’ve been round, heard things. Snakin’ round and what not- you know what, forget that. You don’t need to eat it if you don’t want to. I must say it’s terribly sweet though but-” he fumbled around some leaves and found a pear.

“Here, you said you were hungry, have that then” he blurted out, offering the other fruit.

“Should I say thank you?” he took the pear and carefully cleaned it with his robe

“Nah” Crawly shrugged, tossing away the remains of his apple.

They walked around in silence as Aziraphale ate his pear, both assessing the damage caused by the thunderstorm until the angel muttered 

“Did...did it hurt? You know, the fall” he kept his hands clasped together in front of him and his eyes looking down.

“Huh? Well, the pool of sulfur wasn’t very nice on the skin at first, but it made my wings much cooler I guess” he laughed off

“Pool of sulfur?” the angel stopped on his tracks, his voice heavy with concern. He didn’t know much about the fallen anymore. All he once knew he had learned from Crawly, who read some documents he really shouldn’t have and started talking about it, questioning if these methods were any good. Of course, those pieces of information were forgotten, along with the memory of who Crawly was before the fall.

“Oh. Yeah, how would you know...Aziraphale, what exactly do you know about fallen angels?” his heart sank. Seeing his angel concerned was too much, it reminded him of the day he decided to sneak into the highest of the head offices and read those files.

“Well,” he swallowed “They are angels who don’t trust the Almighty...and they also go against Her ineffable plan…” 

Well, this wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t everything. So, the demon insisted 

“And what else do you know?”

“Um, there’s a, well, there’s a trial but not all angels are allowed to participate, and they decide whether or not they should banish the angel in question.”

Crawly nodded, expecting more from the angel

“It’s said that they are given a different name...but I’m unsure about that since I’ve never met an angel who went through that”

This hurt. The demon almost couldn’t hide the growing pain cutting through his chest, burning worse than the sulfur, hotter than hellfire.

This was exactly why Crawly, while still an angel, decided to go through the paperwork in the first place. He found it very suspicious that in all those years, nobody knew of any fallen angel. Sure, the archangels would always threaten everybody with the idea of falling, but was it even true? How could it be true if there wasn’t a single solid example, someone, anyone? He was sure back then that they were lying about fallen angels, maybe even about hell itself. What he found out was much worse, of course, and brought Crawley himself to this unfortunate fate. Identity stolen, forgotten.

“Oh, dove. Some of them have met you, I am sure of that”

Aziraphale was even more confused. “What do you mean?”

“Nevermind. Well, you are the first angel to actually talk to me. Granted we don’t know each other from before the fall, now you officially know a demon. Congrats, I guess.” 

He lied. He couldn’t explain everything again, he had already fallen, the next would be Aziraphale. It already took a lot of convincing during the trial to prove Aziraphale didn’t help him spy on the files. Which of course, he did. He could never say no to Crawly and stayed out of the office ready to give him a signal should anybody walk up the empty halls.

He protected his angel then, and he would stay close by to protect him now. He didn’t care about whether or not Aziraphale would ever love him again, this was not about him anymore. He would protect his angel through the countless years ahead, and that would have to be enough.

[foegold]

people be wanting to know about a lil blue bastard. this ones long as hell so its under the cut jsdhfg

Your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

farmer! he’d just keep living the way he’d been living. it’s the sort of life he imagines he’ll return to one day, after he’s seen and done enough. ‘enough’ is a really arbitrary end goal though

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

who in the party wouldn’t he trust with his life tbh. in the most literal sense he’d trust Eli with it just because he knows Eli can bring him back from dying in some stupid and ill-advised way

What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

frogs are good, try to be nice to people but if they’re mean to you first then at least a few bets are off, the rich should probably be eaten. killing is sometimes necessary but maybe try some other stuff first

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

he doesn’t have any siblings, and his relationship with his mom and recently present dad is. a little weird, and not all the way comfortable, and not like really bad, but just confusing? it’s confusing. at least he’s had more transparency from his mom recently than just about any other time. it’s a start

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

he trusts other tieflings a little quicker than other races but its not really saying much because he’s not smart and if you’re good at talking and sound like you know what you’re talking about he’ll just believe you. he doesn’t have the good sense to second think it without prompting

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

so far just about every interaction with nobility has been messy or bad or scary or all three so right now the opinion is “not great”. also thats just too much money. whaddahell would you do with that much money.  he’s generally uneasy with authority figures at best, and flat out paralyzed by them at worst. he’s easy to bully when he doesn’t have anyone backing him up and he knows and hates it

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

he cycles through an assortment of sweaters but the one he wears the most is the heart sweater he got in Wunjo that’s been altered a few times in the last few months. he do keep collecting those scars tho, before starting adventuring he had a handful of minor scars just from working around the farm with the animals and the equipment and from romping around in the country. now he’s got all sorts, but the most prominent ones are: the thin scar on the left side of his face, starting just below the eyebrow and curving gently below his eye (the last time Leo would leave a mark on him); the twisted angry scars across his torso from being mauled by a giant undead horse(?); and the fluid, patterned necromancy scars slowly spreading across his back, creeping along inch by inch

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

besides his own house, Roman’s house has been the nicest! its warm and theres soup and friends there. there was a run down little ranch house somewhere at some point, but he’s not so sure anymore that he didn’t just dream about fixing the place up with his best friend

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

he doesn’t have a god he actively worships, but he’s peripherally aware of the god in the mountains that’s responsible for some of the most brutal storms in the region. he doesn’t care much about religion but hes got the same amount of concern most people would have about evil deities and what their followers do

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

probably woodworking! its handy, it’s useful for living out in the country where you have to either make the tools or furniture or fun items to put on a shelf you want, or go out of your way and also spend money to get them. maybe an actual alchemy set and/or poison kit but 1) playing with poison just a fun hobby for him and Xan to get into when they have the time and the plants for it, and 2) man he wouldnt follow the instruction manual anyway so whats the point

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

will his friends be okay? will he be okay? is there an FAQ for tieflings learning that they’re much closer to fiend lineage than they originally thought? that would be convenient and helpful. is john gonna figure out more about the little men named ‘adam’ that’re allegedly everywhere?  if he could know one thing about the future, he’d like to know if everything will end out okay. if things will turn out as nice as he’d like them to.

What colors are associated with your character?

looks at the camera like im on the office

blue, white, and black are the big ones but im trying to pepper in a few other colors. reds and yellows are a close second

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

everyone sits squarely in the #1 spot on the rescue list

that aside john and roman are extremely high priority, they’re not the sturdiest and if something looked at them too hard they might keel over. baster and xan come next, he knows baster’s a shit brick house but he keeps seeing bad things happen to her and really hes just had Enough of it. eli’s a little lower priority because they can heal themselves if they’re in a tight spot, and then blu considers himself least concern. he knows he can get thrashed around some and still survive, he’d rather take a beating and know he’ll walk out of it than let someone else take it and wind up dead

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

pathos, it’s easy to make him feel for u. legit any of them work though as long as you talk it up good enough he’ll believe you and if there aren’t any glaring conflicts between what you’re selling him and his base morals then it’s relatively easy to get him on board

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

idk probably something really simple that he put all of .5 of a second of thought into. hes not smart and doesnt have good foresight so he’d probably ask for a frog or smth unless there was something very much more pressing and present

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

favorite(?) spell is life transference. it hurts a bit but it keeps his friends safe so it’s worth it. invisibility is up there too, its fun and easy to steal from stores when ur not visible

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

he doesn’t like lying and also lies really poorly. he’s usually just honest from the get-go, its easier and feels better. if he has to lie its through omission, bold faced lies really just dont work

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

all sorts....bro the world is full of animals and lots of them like to be pet

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

he thought he’d grow up and be a farmer like his mom, the adventuring thing was extremely unplanned and impromptu. he hoped he could be a kind and brave person though, the way Canna described his dad.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

random roll says it’s Roman, he’d probably laugh because the only reason that would happen is because the party is fooling around with potions again. Roman’s very married and very in love with his husband and makes sure everyone knows it all the time

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

that doesn’t seem like a very viable circumstance, the only npc thats important enough that he’d listen to for something like that is his mom and she actively encourages him to take care of himself and his friends, and lets him make his own decisions about what he’s doing with his life, so

What unusual talents does your character possess?

idk if its all that unusual of a talent but he got really good at stealing and pickpocketing and he can do a sick flip. also does some black magic sometimes

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

it’s his name, u kno. bluebell is his middle name, but Canna called him bluebell growing up and he latched onto it a lot more than arden, and he thinks its a nice name, and a nice flower, and it sure would be nice if people would stop laughing when he introduces himself as “Blu”,

(blu was originally a stand-in name until i named him something else but it really grew on me and it fit him so! it didnt change, he just got other names too)

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

The Moon. 👀

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

he’s def scared of magic sometimes, especially his own. he also really wants to understand it better though, and be less scared, or at least control it better. imo it’s a healthy fear, theres been lots of magic mishaps 

How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

he learned common and infernal from mom! and he’s learning draconic from xan. it’s a nice downtime activity, sit down with ur best friend and homie and learn a new language just for fun

[groundzerobakugo]

maniacal // k. bakugou; vampire

  gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

...

 after gaining your independence, your first idea was to move away from the big city your family lived, preferring a smaller, more rural area to reside. but, what you hadn’t expected were the strange whispers of after dark. you didn’t really know what to make of it. you were used to big city life, where businesses stayed open late and buses still ran well into the evening. and compared to your new residence, you actually missed it.

  no one ever left their homes after the sun went down; it may as well have been a law. rumours held stories of ravenous and savage beasts that would hunt down anyone they found, of insatiable and uncontrollable fiends that would rip someone to pieces under the cover of darkness. at least, that was what you’d been told.

  the makeshift law hadn’t stopped you, though.

  the full moon was high in the sky, illuminating the streets as you took your time getting back to your apartment. there was a bitter chill to the air with the fall weather coming in, and you wished you’d brought along a spare coat; though, the sweater you wore did provide some warmth, so you couldn’t complain too much.

  you bopped your head to the music coming from your headphones. you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings--after all, no one left their house at night, there wasn’t anyone to bump into or a car to fear getting hit by. it was peaceful, in your mind, as though time didn’t exist, and you were just wandering around a ghost town with no place to be or people to see. after dark, the town was yours.

  but, despite the peacefulness you felt, there was an eerie chill in the air, as though eyes were following your every move.

  perhaps it was the rumours from the locals of things lurking around at night that could kill you in the blink of an eye. after all, everyone did think you were crazy for going out at night, and they constantly scolded you for stepping foot outside after dark. 

  you cast a glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing but the empty sidewalk, and grumbled to yourself. damn the locals for making you paranoid. you looked forward once again but stopped abruptly upon seeing a figure in front of you.

  “what’s a cute little snack like you doing wandering around this late?” their voice was smooth as velvet, and you looked up at their face. inhuman, golden eyes peered down at you, her lips quirked into a smirk, and an eyebrow cocked.

  “i’m just on my way home, enjoying the breeze,” you replied, taking out an earbud.

  she tilted her head to the side. “you’re human?”

  “and you’re not?” you snorted. “look, if you’re just trying to scare the foreigner, good luck, sugar. i’ve heard the stories, but i think they’re a pile of bullshit.”

  “oh?” she grinned. “you’re pretty brave, huh? what’s your name?”

  “what’s it to you?” you glared.

  “just curious.” she shrugged.

  you eyed the girl for a moment. she didn’t look like much of a threat, dressed in a high school uniform and all. “it’s (name).”

  “(name)-chan,” she hummed. “i love it! and hey, you’re pretty cute, too. i wonder....”

  an odd feeling ran through your body; unease and sudden anxiety making you take an unconscious step back. “wonder what?” you asked, voice wavering.

  she looked at you with a unsettling gleam in her eyes, lips twisted into a grin. “how you’d look covered in blood.”

  “wh-what?” you asked with an unsure laugh. “you’re still trying to scare me?”

  in an instant, the blonde stood nose to nose with you, and you could smell some weird combination of something floral and... metallic? she took a deep whiff, eyes fluttering closed as she sighed. “you don’t have to play tough, i can smell the fear on you, and it smells so good.”

  she shoved you against the wall, and you felt your heart drop in your chest. was this really happening? were the locals actually telling the truth? it wasn’t just some stupid rumour?

  before you could move, you felt sharp fangs pierce your neck, and you let out a howl of pain, her nails creating crescent shaped wounds into your shoulder. it was such an odd and unpleasant feeling, being able to feel the blood leave your body. your fingertips and toes began to feel tingly when she let go.

  “awh, you look even cuter now!” she grinned with a reddened smile.

  you struggled to stand through the haze, attempting to brace yourself amongst the wall. your palms scraped against the rough brick, and you could feel your shirt become wet and clingy to your shoulder, spreading downward with each drop of blood that gushed out.

  the girl licked her lips. “maybe i should keep you, you taste absolutely delicious.”

  “like hell you fucking will,” a new voice growled.

  you squinted, trying to make out a second figure, but everything was growing blurry. you could see vague shapes and indistinguishable sounds of grunts and growls, as though you were thrust underwater. it felt like you were almost drowning, even it was getting harder and harder to breath, harder and harder to stay on your feet, harder and harder to keep focus.

  but then everything fell silent, only the sounds of heavy breathing echoing through the breeze.

  “hos-hospital,” you mumbled. “i... i need to-to go... to the-the hospital....”

  something warm touched your cheek, and your eyes fluttered open for a moment, locking with ruby red irises. “ain’t no hospital around that’s fucking open. where do you live?”

  “hospital...,” you repeated, eyes closing once again. “need... need to....”

  “oi, don’t you dare fucking pass out on me,” the voice said.

  but you felt your conscious slipping away, and everything fell into darkness.

...

  “has there been any change with the human?” someone asked. “i mean, it’s been a couple days.”

  a grunt. “not yet.”

  “should we really be keeping her here?” the former voice again. “i mean, it was you who made the rule not to--”

  “i know what the fuck i said, shitty hair, but i couldn’t just leave her to fucking bleed out on the street, could i?”

  there was silence for a moment. “no, i suppose not. has her wound healed up?”

  “not completely,” they replied. “but--”

  the two froze upon hearing a small groan from your lips. your form moved on the bed, and both took a hesitant step forward.

  “is she waking up?”

  “looks like it.”

  “i think she’s waking up.”

  “yeah.”

  “she’s wak--”

  “i fucking got it, shitty hair! now get the hell out!”

  “right!”

  your head was pounding as you came to, body feeling heavy and sore as though you hadn’t moved in years. you blinked, eyes hazy as they adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. you struggled to sit up, a sharp throb coming from the junction of your neck and shoulder causing you to hiss in pain and clench your jaw.

  “lay back down.” a voice ordered.

  you jumped out the sound, twisting sharply to meet a ruby red gaze. instantly, you regretted the movement, “fuck.” you caught your breath for a moment, taking a glance at the person beside you. he was pretty attractive, you couldn’t lie, with wild blond hair, broad shoulders, and a sharp jaw. but what threw you off was the color of his eyes. inhuman and abnormal. “who are you? where am i? what happened to me? why am i here?”

  “don’t ask so many fucking questions, and fucking listen to me, dipshit. you’ll reopen that stupid bite.” he growled. “now, lay back down, or my damn hard work will be all for shit.”

  “kiss your mother with that mouth?” you grumbled as you laid back down. “now, answer my questions.”

  he quirked a brow, eyes narrowing. “you’re safe in my apartment. you were attacked by a vampire, and i fucking saved your ass so you better be damn grateful.”

  “what the fuck do you mean a vampire?! a vampire fucking bit me? what planet are you from?”

  and within the blink of an eye, the man was right in front of you, teeth bared and eyes wild. “i mean a goddamn, shit sucking vampire, dipshit. that blonde bitch was fucking hunting in my damn territory, and i don’t fucking go for that shit, got it?! she would have made you a shitty blood slave, or she would have killed you if i didn’t get there in time!”

  your eyes were wide with fear, mouth agape as you struggled to form words. your hands clenched the sheets beneath them, and you could feel your heart beat rapidly with fear. images, flashes, passing through your mind, memories of a blonde high school girl attacking you. a small whimper escaped your lips, and you subconsciously moved away.

  “i wanna go home,” you whimpered. “take me home.”

  but the blond didn’t respond. he only backed away and left the room, leaving you with teary eyes and a fearful heart.

...

  you couldn’t fall asleep easily after waking up the first time. it was as though every time you closed your eyes, you would see her. you would see himiko toga hunting you down. no matter how much you wanted to sleep, you couldn’t as the memories passed by. your neck ached with each moment you spent awake, but you couldn’t afford to succumb to nightmares.

  it wasn’t for another few hours that your door opened again. but this time, it wasn’t a blond. it was a redhead.

  “o-oh, you’re... you’re awake?”

  you only stared at him.

  “sorry, i was just going to leave some food for you,” he replied, setting down a tray of soup and a bottle of water. “i’ll let you eat in peace--”

  “wait,” you called, and he paused in his tracks. “please, don’t leave me alone.”

  his brows raised. “uh, ye-yeah. sure.” he sat down awkwardly on the side of the bed, eyes cast off to the wall in front of him.

  “what’s your name?” you asked.

  “me? i’m kirishima, kirishima eijirou,” he said. “you?”

  “(name),” you replied. 

  “you’re not from here, are you?”

  “nuh uh. i moved about a month back,” you said, poking around at the soup.

  “it’s not much, but bakugou says there’s a lot of nutrients in there humans need,” kirishima said, seeing you stare at the soup in disinterest.

  you looked over at him. “bakugou?”

  “the angry blond guy,” he laughed. “he’s really rough around the edges, but he doesn’t hurt humans. none of us do in this territory.”

  “so you’re a... vampire?” you asked.

  “not exactly,” he replied. “more of a dhampir. half human, half vampire. basically, i get all the cool stuff without needing blood.”

  “oh,” you murmured. “bakugou, he... he’s not gonna...?”

  kirishima gave you a small smile. “he won’t hurt you. like i said, we don’t hunt humans in this territory. it’s inhumane, especially with blood packs and even donors around, but outside the territory, other vampires still prefer the old ways.”

  “right,” you replied. you blinked tiredly, trying a spoonful of the soup.

  “bakugou said you’ll need to eat all of it, that way you get better quicker. eat and then rest,” the redhead said. “but... well, you should have been sleeping when i came in. it’s nighttime, after all.”

  you dropped your spoon back in the bowl, the soup tasting sour in your mouth. “i... i can’t.”

  his brows furrowed. “can’t what?”

  “i can’t sleep,” you mumbled.

  “oh? why not?”

  “nightmares.”

  “oh.”

  “i-i can’t close my eyes without... without seeing her there,” you said, tears threatening to fall. “i thought it was fake. i thought it was some stupid prank that everyone was so stupid they fell for it.” you laughed, a hollow sound bouncing off the walls.

  you jumped as you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “i’m sorry, (name). if you want, i can get you some sleeping pills. it might help a little bit.”

  “really?” you asked, looking over at kirishima.

  “of course,” he smiled. “but, you have to eat your soup first.”

  “okay,” you replied, the faintest of smiles tugging at your lips.

...

  twenty minutes after kirishima had left the room, there was a slight knock at the door before it creaked open. “you better be fucking decent.” the blond, bakugou, walked into the room holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

  “wh-where’s kirishima?” you asked, a bit fearful to be in the same room as bakugou.

  “he’s on an errand,” he responded plainly.

  you looked down at your hands. “oh.”

  the blond rolled his eyes and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “here. take two. shitty hair says you’ve been having nightmares.”

  “thanks,” you muttered, taking the medication from his hand. “what is it?”

  “a fucking ancient vampire sleeping draught,” he said.

  your eyes widened. “re-really?”

  “no, dumbass. vampires don’t even fucking sleep,” the blond scoffed. “now take the stupid pills and drink the damn water so i can leave.”

  you scowled. “fine. but...,” your face softened, cheeks turning a light pink. “but, please don’t leave.”

  his brow raised, “hah?”

  “don’t go,” you mumbled.

  bakugou hesitated for a moment. he could smell the fear on you, so why were you even asking him to stay? as if it would change anything?

  “please.”

  “fine.”

  you smiled at the blond and then swallowed the pills, following after with the glass of water he’d given you. “how long until they kick in?”

  “maybe five minutes?” he guessed.

  “oh.”

  silence passed between the two of you for a few minutes, and you could feel the pills slowly start to work as your mind grew hazy. bakugou stayed seated on the edge of the bed, occasionally shifting his gaze your way to check if you were still awake. something about being alone with bakugou was much different than being alone with the blond.

  you looked over at him. “why don’t you hunt humans?”

  he glanced at you. “what kind of a damn question is that? it’s fucking barbaric and stupid. that good enough of an answer for you?”

  you hummed. “i-i think. so, you’re not going to kill me?”

  “are you stupid or something?”

  “why’re you so mean?” you whined, body feeling heavy as you leaned his way. “i... i’m not... stupid.”

  “oi. oi. oi!” the blond froze as you passed out on his shoulder, not sure if he should move you or not. he growled low under his breath in annoyance. “god dammit.”

  slowly, he shifted to lay you down, but you’d latched onto his arm, pulling him down with you as you curled up against him. his cheeks blossomed into a cherry red, heart skipping a subtle beat. now what the fuck was he supposed to do? lay there without moving until you wake up?

  a cool blast of air from the fan sent a whiff of your scent his way, and he flinched. your wound was still healing, the smell of your blood still prominent through the bandages.

  would he even survive the night?

...

to be continued if requested