#he becomes their guardian cat angel.

[kizzer55555]

When they first lose the amulets I’m sure who the rogue will be yet but I feel like those amulets are going to go on a journey. The rogue who got them didn’t know their value and basically ended up tossing them away, (likely killer Croc or Grundy) and maybe they end up in the sewers. Where they will travel until someone finds them and puts them into a museum with lots of security. There, Selina will likely steal them, then resell them to someone. A fight breaks out and while one amulet is recovered, another is sent to the police who identify it and place it in police custody. The other amulet meanwhile ended up getting picked up by a crow because ✨shiny✨ and put in it’s nest. During another rouge attack, that amulet then falls and Poison Ivy finds it and gifts it to her girlfriend Harley. And then Harley used it as a decoration….somewhere. And has to consistently fight off the crow who wants it’s shiny back. It doesn’t even look like the amulet anymore. Meanwhile, the Amulet in police custody ends up in the center of a murder case at the police station and is the sole evidence left so it’s being passed between detectives, police, and even a few bats. And then they go through a few more things before Danny and Jazz finally find it. Some of which include falling the the bottom of the harbor, buried under a house, kidnapped by a raccoon, stuck in the engine of a car, left in a garbage can for days, used as a dog collar (that was a fun day for the bats, they still don’t know who that shapeshifter was), and used as a tribute for a ritual summoning. Danny and Jazz are running all over Gotham and always just miss them.

Meanwhile, Damian tries to talk Jason out of letting his pets roam Gotham as it’s dangerous. And Jason tries to explain to Damian that technically he doesn’t own them. And he’s fully aware of how capable they are in looking after themselves. Damian might try to take matters into his own hands and tail them during patrol but Danny and Jazz always give him the slip. Jason is going to have a slight existential crisis when they turn human again. He’s also still protective of them. They still count as therapy animals right? Humans are animals after all.

Danny would fail the wall test 😔 (click for clarity)

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knows, and that’s the problem.

She knows.

How does she know?

To put it simply, she’s Kryptonian. More specifically: a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, whose wavelengths of light bring forth her genetic heritage when she basks in its rays. If long lost Rao was once her father, Sol is her mother, raising her up to be all that she can be. A creation of a lost super-science, a power to rival gods, a force that made the Guardians tremble in their emerald tower.

Kara can see everything.

The world is alive with light. It cascades and bounces and caroms off of everything. More than that, Kara’s world is bathed in a thousand thousand hues the human eye will never know. When she looks at a person she can see the electrical conductivity of their skin and the heat bloom of their flesh and a myriad of other details, some of which other humans can pick up on a subconscious level, others that humans haven’t even discovered yet.

Kara can hear everything.

She can hear dog whistles and butterfly wings beating and the secret language of cats. She can hear the crackle of radio waves beating the atmosphere and the music of the spheres. She can memorize human heartbeats and pick out the slightest variation, the tiniest wobble that the owner of the heart never feels.

Kara can smell everything. She can sift between the scents of ingredients in her honey bun, detect poisons in a friend’s wine or flowers in a park half a state away. Sharks would be jealous of her. She can scent people but also their moods; fear smells horrific, sickly sweet and rotten. Joy smells hot and bold. When someone walks in the room, she can tell what they had for breakfast, smell of they’re sick, pick out the fragrances of their emotions.

Kara can feel everything. A touch can betray or affirm. To hear a heartbeat is one thing, to feel it another. Her fingertips can read the surface of another’s skin like braille and she can detect the slightest changes in temperature or perspiration, feel the thrum of contentment or fear in an embrace. Her touch is not dulled by her invulnerability. It as sensitive as her other senses.

Kara can remember everything. The day she stepped from her pod into the brilliant golden sunlight beneath a blue sky was the last time she would every forget; her now empowered brain can recall events in the finest detail, down to the soft timbre of another’s voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the softness in her gaze. And so Kara’s memory is hers to be kept forever, never to lose the sight of her.

That is how Kara knows, and knowing that Lena Luthor loves her is a pain so terrible that she almost wishes she could be spared that pain. When Lena sees Kara, her heart leaps and her breath softens and she comes alive with light, bathed in an auric glow more beautiful than a red sunrise. Kara wishes that Lena could see herself as Kara sees her. Radiant, angelic, a little holy.

Lena loves Kara Danvers, the bumbling awkward nerdy shy girl from Vaguely Canada who brings her burgers and donuts and OTPs.

She doesn’t love Supergirl and Kara doesn’t think she could.

That’s how the torture happens. Kara’s infinite perception becomes a self-imposed exile. She sees and smells the way James lusts after Lena, right in front of her. Baffled, she listens to the calm in her heart when they kiss and once she wakes frantically in the night, reaching about to sift through the city soundscape when she hears Lena’s voice cry out, then the sound of Lena’s heart racing and other sounds, and not for the first time, she pleads with a god she doesn’t know to make her human and free her from this curse.

She seeks feeling of her own. It’s pleasant enough but it lacks something undefinable, like a pleasant chocolate cake that becomes unbearable because she could have had something far sweeter and more filling instead. He tries in a fumbling way but it’s to please his own ego more than sate her desire. Then one day he is gone and in his absence all Kara can feel is a dull numbness, a ragged wound with all the nerves scraped out so that only a dull absence has been left behind, leaving her broken in a way that cannot be defined much less repaired.

Kara cannot help but snap her attention to the sound of Lena growing agitated, no matter how distant or minor. She hears harsh words and the heavy thud of a limo door closing and hears the sharp intake of breath as James realizes the mistake he’s made, and though he is her friend and he matters to him she feels a feral, possessive joy that borders on the cruel. It is a hard feeling, a red feeling, a sharp smelling mean feeling that tastes cold on her tongue, this resentment of the man for having a pale shadow of what she could have but wouldn’t.

Lena loves Kara Danvers and Kara Danvers loves her back, but she can never know because to know she must know all of her. Know the Other, the Super, the Alien.

Kara is two people and one of those people has been, well, a bitch.

Because Kara feels spending else. A green feeling, a sick feeling, the feeling of blades flensing flesh from bone while her veins turn to glass and her body burns to ash, the shocking pain of a little piece of home. A little piece that Lena made and didn’t tell her, and Kara makes the worst mistake.

She stops being Supergirl and is just Kara Danvers in a colorful suit, angrily refusing to ask Lena the question: I love you, how could you do this to me?

She does love her. She loves her laugh and her secret smiles and how soft she looks when she’s deep in thought. She loves the pain in her, the mirror of her own. She cherishes it as she wants hers to be cherished, held close by someone who knows what it’s like to watch your world explode or slip beneath still waters and be gone forever. She knows what it’s like to wonder what could have been and know the price you paid for what you have now.

She wants Lena so terribly that she’d almost choose the pain of Kryptonite instead of an eternity of this longing. She needs her, craves her, thirsts for her.

One night Kara realizes what she’s been doomed to. Another will succeed where James failed, and Kara will be spared none of it, and it will endure forever. She will carry memories of Lena in another’s arms into the sun dies.

No.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Lena says.

Kara -Supergirl- says nothing at first.

“I have to fly you.”

Lena nods. She’s doing this for Kara, because Kara asked. When Supergirl extends a hand, Lena takes it and Kara gently lifts her from the ground into a bridal carry, and they fly.

The trip takes nearly an hour. Kara can’t fly too fast or too high. Lena accepts it without complaint.

They land far north of National City, where the warmer climate yields to deciduous rainforest. Kara brings them down on a bare hilltop, an island in a vast ocean of trees. Nearby on a folding table is a basket. It might be important later or it might not. She might have a life of joy or she might spend the rest of forever in a wasteland, waking each day to grief.

There’s only one way to find out. Part of her, the part that hopes, the part that makes her Supergirl, believes in this, in herself, in this moment. She has to, because the chain of events that led her here, flung across endless space to stand in starlight with the most beautiful woman in this world, it demands that it happen. This is fate. It has to be.

Supergirl stands beside Lena. She raises an arm and points.

“There. Second star on the left, and straight on till morning.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and looks at her.

“You brought me out here for this?”

“Do you see that red light?” Kara asks. “It’s very faint. I don’t know if a human can see it or not.”

“I just see stars.”

“It’s Rao, my sun. I can see him. If I had a powerful enough telescope, I could see it. Krypton. The explosion won’t be visible to Earth for a thousand years.”

Lena looks up, her features bathed in moonlight- alive with a chaotic explosion of hues she’ll never see. She blazes in the night, her eyes a kaleidoscope from which Kara can never truly look away. She’s a rainbow.

Kara falters. Whatever she does tonight, this is it. This is forever.

“You said Kara would meet me here,” Lena says.

“Wait here, please.”

Kara turns quickly and walks into the dark, cape spreading behind her. Once she’s out of sight, she changes without restraining her speed, and walks back to Lena in a hoodie and leggings, hair in a loose ponytail and the back of her neck and hands in her pockets.

She walks back to Lena and stands beside her.

“Hello, Kara.”

“Hi, Lena.”

There is a tense silence between them. Kara devours the moment, consumes it so it will live forever, just in case this is the last time she sees Lena.

“We’re not far from the reservoir,” says Lena. “Why did you ask Supergirl to bring us here?”

Kara swallows hard. “I realized something really important near here.”

Lena turns to her. “What was that?”

“That there was someone who mattered to me a lot, and that I was willing to risk a lot to protect her. There was a moment where I thought I was going to have time make a choice, you or the chemicals. I didn’t have to but I would have. I would have picked you. I will always pick you. I can’t help it.”

Lena is not stunned. Her heart doesn’t miss a beat, but Kara can sense her apprehension, her fear, and something deeper than that.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her legs wobble. There it is. It’s done. She’s free.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have. You should have told me when we fought about the Kryptonite. I thought you would, hoped you would. I wanted you to so desperately, wanted you to trust me.”

Kara’s heart sinks.

“Wait, you knew? How?”

Lena laughs softly.

“The way you touch me. When you pick me up and carry me somewhere, you have this way about you. When I’m in your arms I feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world.”

“You are,” Kara says.

“That and you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

Kara makes a small, choked sound.

“Oh.”

Lena scuffs the heel of her boot against the ground.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I thought if I did, you’d see it as a confrontation and feel threatened. What about you?”

“I’m Kara. Supergirl is something I do, not what I am. When I’m with you I’m just me. I lose that with everyone when they find out. Kara isn’t my secret identity. Supergirl is. I’m just me. I just want to be me, I need to be me, and when I’m with you I am most myself. It’s like laying down all my burdens.”

“Same,” Lena said, softly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like an extension of my brother.”

Kara sighed. “Should we talk about the Kryptonite?”

“No,” Lena says. “Fuck the Kryptonite. Why’d you bring me out here?”

“To tell you.”

“Great, you told me. What did you think would happen next?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

Lena nods and seems to think about that for a moment. Her pulse has quickened and her jaw is tight.

“Let me ask you a different question. What did you want to happen?”

Kara swallowed hard. “What I wanted was… for us to make up. Be friends. Work it out. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena turns and looks at her.

“Bullshit.”

Kara flinches.

“That’s bullshit, Kara, and we both know it. You’re a terrible liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff at CatCo know who you are. Don’t lie to me. Please. Give me the truth.”

Kara looks up briefly, past Lena. She sees that faint red glow and her heart swells in her chest.

“I love you. That’s the truth. I’ve been in love with you probably since our first lunch together and I want you so badly that I can’t breathe when I think about it. I know a dozen languages and half of them aren’t from Earth, and there aren’t enough words in all of them to tell you how kind and wonderful and beautiful you are. I love you so much that sometimes I think,” Kara fights the tightening of her throat, “I think I’m almost glad that I’m here and not back up there under that red glow. I don’t think I could choose a life without you.”

Lena lets out a long breath and Kara is bombarded with sensations. Lena’s pulse races and her shoulders relax and her skin blooms with an ethereal luminous riot of color.

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

Kara can taste everything.

Right now the only thing she can taste is Lena.

[starsofang]

AN ANGEL WEEPS

guardian angel!simon x reader word count: 5k tw: NSFW, MDNI, death, bits of gore, religious themes, violence, heavy angst summary: simon would destroy the heavens and earth in order to be with you. heavily requested oneshot from this drabble!

Simon wasn’t partial to humans. You’d think with him being a guardian angel to many over the centuries, he would grow to like them. Really, it wasn’t that he disliked them, but more so couldn’t empathize with them like other angels could. Some were weak, some were selfish, some were burdening. All of them, though, were on borrowed time, and that was exactly where he came in.

There wasn’t ever a human life that Simon did not keep protected. All of his subordinates, as he called them, lived long enough to see their hair turn gray and their skin mold into wrinkles and age lines. Not once had a human died young under his watch, and he planned to keep it that way.

It seemed the gods held his professionalism to their advantage. Now that his previous subject had passed of old age, he was tasked with a new one. A more challenging one.

You, a high risk. Normally, people of your kind that had a doomed fate from birth were paired with angels who specialized in that. While Simon was practically one and the same with the others, he typically requested humans that wouldn’t be a pain in his ass.

You were different, though. Something about you compelled Simon to take on the task of being your guardian angel, and he was curious to find out what it was. You didn’t seem like you’d give him trouble at all. You were simply unfortunate in the hand of life, and he was determined to turn it in your favor.

On his first day of being your protector, he watched. Observed. He took the time to jot mental notes down of your routine. You weren’t a busy gal, that much he realized, but you were simple. He liked simple. It meant he wouldn’t have to chase you around like a loose pig escaping its pen.

The more he got to study you like a lab rat, the more he wondered what made you a high risk. You didn’t drink, nor did you do drugs. You didn’t spend the wee hours of the night partying. Hell, you didn’t even have a boyfriend to occupy your time. Even now, as he watched, you entered a bookstore, prancing around from shelf to shelf to read each book cover with keen interest, tucking your desired favorites under an arm.

Just from the first day alone, Simon came to think of you as soft and kind. You were the girl who helped the elderly cross the street, or the type that fed the stray cats in the alley, even if you used your last dollar to make it happen. You were a being with a heart of gold, and it was rare for Simon to see somebody so pure.

You were the type of person many took advantage of. He’d seen it plenty of times before – men and women of all kinds, using your big heart to get what they want, just to leave it shattered in pieces on the ground with no way of repairing it. Simon wouldn’t allow that to happen. He’d seen what he needed to see, and that was enough for him to become your permanent guard dog for the rest of your days, which he swore to himself would be bountiful.

There was one problem, though.

You could see him. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but when his little journey of following you around the city became abundantly clear, you confronted him about it, no bark, no bite. 

“Why are you following me?” you asked. Simon was fully expecting a tone of anger, a weak attempt at trying to be intimidating towards a brooding angel like him, but none of that came. In fact, despite your clear discomfort, you remained soft-spoken. Your voice was sweet as honey, smooth in the way it rolled off your tongue.

“Are you talkin’ to me?” Simon gruffed, eyes narrowing at you. You blinked at him dumbly, glancing around the bookstore before focusing back on him.

“Of course,” you confirmed in confusion.

He wasn’t sure what to do. This had never happened before, and it was wrong. Very, very wrong. Humans still partaking in the act of life weren’t able to see angels, let alone speak to them. It was against the very act of being angels. Silent protectors. Invisible.

Something was terribly off. Perhaps you were a fluke. Or perhaps you were far closer to death than he thought.

Simon was completely stumped. His very existence was the greatest kept secret in all of Earth’s lifespan. Not a single breathing soul knew of the actuality of angels. Sure, many believed in them – it wasn’t a secret in teachings, but that’s all it was. A belief. A strike of faith.

“Sir?” you called out. It successfully snapped him out of his spell-like hypnosis, realizing he was staring at you with a guise of puzzlement. He cleared his throat, standing a bit taller, eyes darting around the room.

“This isn’t how this is supposed to go,” he muttered to himself. You made a noise of perplexity.

“Pardon?” you questioned. Simon silently cursed (lord forgive him).

“This,” he repeated, gesturing between the two of you with a hand. “You’re not supposed to see me. Something must be truly wrong.”

Your expression morphed into lines of confusion and concern, eyes widening into fearful saucers. You looked scarcely similar to a lost puppy, one who had just been told bad dog. Simon felt a twinge of sympathy in your favor. How confusing it must be to have been followed around by a man who was sorrowfully unaware that you knew of his presence.

“Are you a ghost?” you asked, causing a crack of a smile to threaten on Simon’s lips.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mused. “Perhaps this might be easier if we talk somewhere privately.”

At first, you looked hesitant, and he didn’t blame you. He knew how weary humans were of strangers, after all, but Simon was no stranger – at least, he wouldn’t be in his eyes. He would know you the longer he silently protected you as your guardian, while you remained blissfully oblivious to his existence. It seemed that part wasn’t in the cards this time around.

Somehow, you agreed, following him out of the bookstore and on to the bustling streets, walking side by side with him. It was silent at first, Simon keeping his eyes trained forward, alert to any dangers nearby. It was in his blood to sniff out misfortunes from a mile away, and considering your state of high risk, you attracted them like flies.

“Suppose I’ll give it to you straight,” he began, garnering your attention almost immediately. Your eyes were pooled with dread, most likely expecting horrible news. Or wondering why you had followed a strange man with so much blinded trust. “Do you believe in angels?”

“Angels?” you gawked, the words unexpected. It was the last thing you imagined he’d say, and it took you for a complete whirlwind. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you?” he repeated. He turned his head to look at you, noting the gears turning in that brain of yours. It was subtle, but you were an easy read.

“Yes, I guess I do. There’s no proof of them not existing, so I can’t exactly say they’re not real, right?” you claimed, and the warmth in your tone made Simon smile.

He quite liked your character so far. Easygoing with incredible wit and enthrall. It was a breath of fresh air from some of the other people he’d been subjected to. There wasn’t a hint of malice in your aura, no storm clouds that hovered over you in the form of looming threat, no black smoke billowing around you in a polluted smother.

In fact, it was nothing short of bright. Hues of yellow emanating beaming rays. A burst of sunlight, down to the bone.

“Smart girl,” Simon hummed softly, returning his gaze forward as the two of you walked. “This is your first time talkin’ to one, I presume.”

For a moment, you were silent. He could feel your eyes studying the side of his face, desperately attempting to pry open his mind and see inside for yourself. He allowed you the complexity of wishful thinking.

“What do you mean by that?” you dared to ask, curiosity getting the better of yourself. You didn’t feel like the smart girl he claimed you to be at all. Matter of fact, you were perhaps a very stupid girl for following an unfamiliar man and listening to him speak of a higher power. You were even stupider for blossoming an interest.

It was a difficult conversation to have, one Simon wasn’t prepared for at all. He had to explain it in blunt terms, introducing himself as your guardian angel while you stared at him like a dead fish.

Yet somehow, despite receiving such complex information, you accepted it, giving him a smile and your name that he already had mapped in the back of his memory. You didn’t shy away from him. He didn’t understand. He knew humans were complicated, but he had never met one so trusting of his word.

Simon fully expected a breakdown, or a freak out. Perhaps even a fuck off with you going about your day. Earthlings didn’t know that angels existed, so to meet your very own, one so tall and brooding, intimidating and unapproachable with large, white wings that tucked into the comfort of his back, hidden, it was a damning thing. But you accepted, so easily, too.

It was strange. You were strange. Not in a cruel way like he had previously thought of humans, but in a warm way that left him confused. Perplexed. Such a sweet thing like you, so free of judgment and malice, only to end up with a terrible fate such as yours.. Now that was cruel.

Simon took a liking to you after your official meeting. He tried to deny it, reminding himself of his purpose, but it was hard not to form a friendship with you when you wouldn’t allow him otherwise. He stuck to you like glue, never letting you stray out of sight, waiting in the dark hours of the night for you to wake, watching silently while you’d read a book every night.

Where you went, he went. When you slept, he watched over you longingly. When you wept, he ached.

You became of utmost importance to him. You were his priority before, but now, it was set in stone that Simon would strive to give you the longest life, filled with nothing short of love and worship. When he formed this goal in mind, a second problem arose – saddened over the fact that it wouldn’t be him sharing it with you.

“Simon?” you asked him one night. Book in your lap, long forgotten as you stared up at him with an innocent curiosity. You were a nosy one, something he found out rather quickly, but instead of being met with his own annoyance, he grew quite fond of your wonder. “Does everybody have a guardian angel?”

He never got tired of your questions. In fact, he encouraged them. Conversation with you came easy, whether it was in the bright rise of the morning, or the wee hours of midnight. Simon wasn’t much of a talker until you came around, but sharing endless moments when it was just the two of you conversing as people became his favorite routine.

Simon perked up to look at you, eyebrows furrowing at your question. “No. Not everybody,” he answered honestly. You tilted your head at him, curious.

“Then how come I have you?” you questioned.

Simon stared at you, mulling over your inquisition. A pang of guilt tightened his chest. He knew the truth, yet you didn’t. You were blissfully unaware of what was at stake, why the heavens decided to gift you with him as your protector. You didn’t know how weak your own lifeline was, how you risked slipping in the depths of death every ticking second of the day.

He knew what was waiting for you at the end of the line. When you’d reach it, though, was the question. And he wished he had the answer.

“You’re just a special case, dove,” he explained, trying his best to be comforting. The last thing he wanted was for you to worry, to find out the real reason why he was assigned to you. “Nothin’ to stress about. Some people just get them early.”

“Special case?” you repeated to yourself, finger pressing to your chin in thought, face pulling into confusion.

Simon remained silent, eyes shifting away from you to allow you the time to think. He knew you had a hyperactive mind, one that may have been the very thing to cause your future downfall, but he didn’t have the heart to stop it. Perhaps he was a selfish angel, for he loved hearing your voice, loved hearing the cluttered mess of your thoughts.

He was becoming dangerously devoted to you.

Angels and humans were not meant to form bonds. Simon was already being greedy by allowing it to happen rather than cutting it off from the root. He was your protector, your guardian, yet he excused the blossoming growth of your relationship as playing his role. The closer he got to you, the higher of a chance he had in saving you.

“Simon?” you called out once again, garnering his attention. He heard the hesitation in your own tone, as if you didn’t want to speak your mind. “I’m not going to die, am I?”

If Simon had a working heart, it would have shattered right there. If he had a living, human soul, it would’ve lost its glowing light, fading into aching darkness.

“No, dove,” he lied, flashing you an assuring smile. “M’just here to keep you safe, that’s all.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, and Simon felt that nauseating guilt crawl its way back under his skin. It pricked him with unease. He hated lying to you, providing empty promises that your life was under no threat.

He never worried about humans. He did as he was meant to do, and that was the extent of it. Yet with you, he worried that if he didn’t go above and beyond his normal procedures, your blood would be on his hands. He didn’t know if he could live with himself for the upcoming centuries if he failed to keep his promise.

A world where your laughter drifted away with the wind, rather than fill the air of his presence, was a world unworthy. A world without you would be unfair.

As Simon watched you return to your book, your curious mind put on temporary pause, he vowed to keep the Earth spinning with you on it, alive and well, safe and sound – just as he’s meant to do, without the baggage of complex emotions he shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

The longing for you never became easier. In fact, the progression of the harbored affection only grew tenfold. Iit was increasingly difficult to continue with his duty as your protector without coming to the admission.

Simon, an angel, was falling for a human he was meant to keep safe, keep alive. Two beings, divided by separate worlds, yet he resided in yours as if he belonged there. The more time he spent in your orbit, the more the desire blossomed.

He was a smart angel, one that had developed a keen sense for human emotion over the centuries spent silently observing them. Simon knew that his feelings weren’t unreciprocated, and it was what terrified him greatly. Fear and love, mixing in the absence of his own humanity, taking control of his motherboard and turning on autopilot.

He suppressed these feelings as much as he could. The hierarchs he reported to could have no hint of these befuddling emotions that were causing warmth to run through his bloodstream, as if he were slowly becoming human himself. He could not allow them, or himself, get in the way of his original mission.

That’s what he tried to do, at least.

It wasn’t until a normal night, pent up in your apartment with a warm mug of tea, a book nuzzled in your other hand and a blanket thrown across you to form a picture of pure sweetness, that his resolve began to crack.

You, innocent and curious you, always asking questions about him and never making the conversation selfishly about you, had requested to see his wings. The white, feathered beauties, tucked away in the dip of his shoulder blades, hidden and protected. You were considerate in the way you asked, giving him an opt out if he wasn’t comfortable. No human had ever seen his wings, let alone him, and he found denying you much more difficult than he thought it would be.

So he did as you asked – unfurled his wings, allowing the slow stretch to showcase them. The feathers ruffled with his movement, but they glowed radiantly with the picture-perfect white. Once they were untucked and on display, Simon realized how vulnerable all of this was. He was bearing himself to you with no obstacles standing in the way. He was showing the real part of himself, and you were watching in patient admiration, taking in every tuft of feather.

The wrongfulness of his action was smothered over with the look in your eyes. You gazed at him as if he were the most beautiful thing that God had created, setting aside your book and tea in order to step up to him fully. You were silent, taking him in, taking your time. When you carefully reached out a hand with an itch to feel the soft wings, he didn’t stop you. He should’ve, but he couldn’t.

“You’re wonderful,” you breathed, speaking of him so highly that it made the organ in his chest clench with an ache. Your touch was gentle, nimble fingers smoothing over the tuft feathers. The pads of your fingers were soft, and it caused him to relax, releasing a breath he was unaware of holding.

“Please do not say that to me,” he whispered, voice tight. He took a shaky breath in, shutting his eyes so he didn’t have to look into your own. “Please.”

Your eyes flickered across his face, taking in how reluctant he was. He was holding back, this you knew, and while you understood, a part of you wished he would open himself up. For months, you had walked a thin line, but it had quickly shifted into something more dangerous. Feelings, ones that matched his own.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized softly, beginning to take your hand off of his wing. Before you could remove it, his own hand caught yours, warm fingers wrapping around your smaller ones. He dared to open his eyes, nearly collapsing under the sparkling gaze you had so graciously reserved for him.

Slowly, he brought your hand up to his mouth, releasing a trembling breath before placing his lips to your soft skin. You watched silently, but made no move to pull away. “What are you doin’ to me, dove?” he asked, flustered. “This is… this is not right.”

His eyes bore into yours, sinking into your lovely irises, growing lost in them. There was an unfamiliar pounding in his chest, a foreign swarm of fluttering butterflies in his stomach, things only humans felt for one another. Angels were not meant to feel this way for a human, and humans were not supposed to know they existed.

Yet, he couldn’t deny the pure fondness he held towards you. How he sought you out in every given moment, how his body longed for you every morning and every night. His mind felt that this was right, that it was meant to be, while the voice in the back of his head told him this would end in misery.

With the way you were looking at him as if he had captured the sun and stars just for you, he found himself moving without thought. Lips pressing to yours, his hand gripping your own in a vice, as if scared you may crumble to ash if he let go. You reciprocated, and that was your mistake – there was no going back, and Simon wasn’t sure if he’d want to.

Humans performed things in the heat of the moment. It was something Simon had come to learn over his many years of study, yet him kissing you so suddenly had made him feel like one. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating all at once. To feel alive, to feel real.

He performed the ultimate act of sin with you. He was clumsy and awkward, inexperienced in the way he had you melting on his tongue, arching your back off of the sofa he took you on. Everything you offered would have him sent into an early grave if he were a living being. Ironic, considering it was you on that path, something he had forgotten about in between your shared intimacy.

Simon never knew how wonderful it felt to be connected with a mortal in a physical sense. Inside of you, engulfed in your warmth that clenched around him so deliciously, writhing beneath him like a fever was coursing through your veins. You looked lovely, even with a scorching warmth to your skin and a sheen of sweat lining your forehead.

His wings cocooned around you both as he lost himself in you, swallowing your beautiful whines that resembled heaven’s choir. Your hand caressed the soft feathers of his wings while the other held on to his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, grounding yourself.

Everything about this act was pure sin. It was a test of the devil himself, and he had strayed off of the path of forgiveness and had ventured to a land of lustful desire. Yet, he continued on the path, moving on his own free will further and further the more your body took him in. Your pleasure was his newfound call, his new purpose.

As your body succumbed to its own heated climax, he watched in awe at the way your mouth fell open, eyes lidded halfway, clouding over with a lovely husk of satisfaction. You were more beautiful than any heaven he had seen, and if Simon could die, he’d seek you as his afterlife.

He should’ve regretted it. It was in his blood to find purity, to hold value in the sentiment of God. But as he laid there, your body spent and exhausted, soft breaths leaving your lips, he felt no such thing. He wrapped his wings around you, smothering you in a security blanket, using the purest part of him to keep you sound.

Simon should’ve known that the moment he fell in love with you, things would never go the way he wanted. He should’ve reminded himself of why he was your guardian in the first place, yet he had been nothing but selfish. He involved himself in you far too much, ignoring the angel on his right shoulder in order to listen to the devil on his left.

When he had been told you were a high risk, he never would’ve imagined that he would be the reason.

Everything happened far too quickly for Simon to comprehend. He wasn’t paying attention, he wasn’t protecting you. It seemed almost instant that your body had been struck in the middle of the street, the night sky making everything much foggier to the eye. It started out as such a simple night, with Simon following along behind you while you made a stop at a crosswalk to pass the street.

Distracted by the flowers displayed in the window of a pretty flower shop, he was consumed by thoughts of wanting to surprise you with them. Though he was a mere angel and could get you flowers from mother Earth herself, he knew humans had different sentiments, flowers being one of them. While pondering which flower you might prefer, the entire world had stopped in the midst.

Dreadful sounds of tires screeching, a loud explosion of crashing noises that made his ears prick, and you – silent. Not a single peep. It made his blood run cold, because you weren’t silent. You were curious, talkative, always letting it slip what was on your mind.

Simon stared at your unmoving body on the road, battered and bloodied, tainted with impurity. It was the complete opposite of what you had been. It was something you should’ve never been in the first place.

His legs moved before he could tell them to, and he found himself crumbling to the ground, taking hold of your body in his arms. Blood seeped from your head, painting your skin an ugly crimson. It was thick and vile. It didn’t belong. Not on you.

He became frantic. He didn’t have to listen to know your heart was no longer beating, because he just knew. You were the tattered version of yourself. A corpse, no longer able to smile at him, or ask your silly questions, or tell him you loved him. You were dead, just as your prophecy had predicted, and Simon had failed.

Weeping over your body did nothing to change fate. For the first time in all of Simon’s life span, he cried, ugly tears and snot, babbling nonsense from his mouth as he begged for you to wake up. He shook you in desperation, before holding you close to his chest and securing his wings around the two of you, unable to bear the thought that he had lost you.

The heavens were in havoc. One of their beloved angels, falling for a mortal? Completing acts of sin? It was true blasphemy, a desecration to their name. The world as they knew it was falling apart, and it was all because Simon was selfish and unholy.

Tossing him out was done without question. Sent to the burning pits of hell, white feathers falling from his wings only to be replaced with raven, black and nightmarish. He was one of hell’s fallen angels, while you remained at the top, separated and alone. Simon was one of God’s failed creations, and no amount of redemption or prayer would have him fluttering back up to his pearly gates. Home was no more, though he was sure that at some point, heaven was forgotten and you had replaced that title before he lost you.

Being apart from you was torturous. It felt as if he was missing half of his body, half of his soul. Apart of different worlds once again, not meant to be. Unfated. Simon couldn’t allow that to happen.

Even if it took him years to return to his beloved, he would do it. Even if it meant trudging through the depths of hell in order to crawl to the top, he’d complete the journey without pause.

Heaven may be strong, but his love for you was stronger.

War broke out between the heavens and hell. Colliding forces, shedding blood of the pure, and venom of the demented. It was a battlefield that Simon had been the cause for, vision red with rage. He saw nothing but the fueling desire to be reunited with you, and it wouldn’t simmer until that occurred.

Far too much time passed since he had seen you. Years, even, though he wasn’t sure – everything felt like a lifetime without you by his side. He had lost count of how many sins he had committed, how many angels he had slain in order to become one step closer to seeking your soul. The lovely angel Simon had once been was murdered and buried, filled with angry vengeance that poked through the eyes of a devil.

He wondered if you would forgive him, if you would still love him. After all, he was a blackened version of himself, no longer the image of purity. He was a beast unleashed.

All of those worries melted away into a yearning ache when all war had ceased. You had been expecting him, it seems, waiting for him. Your soul was still as radiant as ever, yet he was now a dark void in comparison.

“Simon,” you greeted, and oh, how he missed your sweet melody. Your voice alone, saying his name, had put out the raging fire in his bones.

“Dove,” he responded back, breathless. His heart was in his throat as he waited for your reaction, to see how you felt about him. His wings no longer white, his soul no longer sacred.

Time had taken a pause as the two of you stared at one another from your place in heaven. He was back in the place he originated from, yet it felt cold and desolate. It was a grueling task to make it this far, and he prayed it wasn’t in vain.

“Your wings,” you commented, eyes fluttering down to take in the raven feathers. He sucked in a breath, prepared to hear your disappointment, but it never came. “They’re wonderful.”

It was the exact words you had used to describe him as an angel. Your love for him hadn’t changed, even though he did.

Simon smiled at you, full of light and warmth. You smiled back, and he was a done-for man. That smile was the reason for the heavens falling apart, yet it was still the most beautiful thing he’d come across. He never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ve come all this way for you, dove,” he murmured softly, taking a step forward. He reached out for your hand, holding it so tenderly in his. He lifted it, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “Please, come back with me. Come home.”

To hell. To madness.

None of that mattered. Simon wouldn’t make the same mistake that he did when you were alive. This time, you would not be met with a foul end, and he would not live a life of regret.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands before looking back up at him, meeting his eyes. Your own were just as fond as before, lit up with the undying love that had never left.

“Take me home, Simon,” you assured, and the church bells sang.

i had many people asking for a full fic of guardian angel simon, so i am here to deliver. this concept's been on my mind for a while, and i finally pushed thru and wrote it fully, so i pray that it lives up to the standards everybody wanted <3

[pastelhikaru]

dp x dc prompt's that live in my head space 2

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:⋆·˚*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:⋆·˚*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭

✧₊⁺ Damian reverse adopts himself into the Fenton family

✧₊⁺ Danny helps fuel the Riddler's obsession in a healthy way

✧₊⁺ De-aged Danny adopts Tim as his sibling

✧₊⁺ Danny makes a company so ghost have an outlet for their obsessions

✧₊⁺ Frightknight x Scarecrow prompt

✧₊⁺ Cat!Boy Streamer Danny

✧₊⁺ Ellie is destabilizing and to save her Danny freezes her to stop her from melting

✧₊⁺ Frostbite helps heal Mr.Freeze's wife

✧₊⁺ Danny's wayward attempts to deprogram the Talon's

✧₊⁺ Danny is an unexpected inventor for villains

✧₊⁺ Clone children Danny, Dani, and Jazz

✧₊⁺ Obligations of a rouge verses those of a parent masterlist

✧₊⁺ Firefighting Danny :O

✧₊⁺ Danny adopts Batman's clone subject 514A

✧₊⁺ Tim Drake is related to Princess Dorathea

✧₊⁺ Ghost are Dragons AU <333

✧₊⁺ THE BEDAZZLER AU. MY BELOVED

✧₊⁺ Everlasting Trio's life becomes the Batkids fav sitcom <3

✧₊⁺ Tim asks Danny to stage a kidnapping of the best Robin

✧₊⁺ Danny becomes a tech giant and the Batman tries to prove it's a front.

✧₊⁺ Battinson can't seem to stop adopting kids

✧₊⁺ Danny takes care of the Talons and they may believe he is their new leader

✧₊⁺ Team Phantom escape from the GIW, and try to safely sustain themselves in Gotham without drawing attention

✧₊⁺ In need of adoption au

✧₊⁺ Danny has a Boo-Tube channel :)

✧₊⁺ Danny is BruHarvy clone

✧₊⁺ Martha Wayne ghost is stuck in her pearl necklace, in which danny finds and helps said ghost find her pearl pieces to send it back where it belongs. And oh, does this good deed come to bite him in the ass. :3

✧₊⁺ SPACE WHALE DANNNY???!!!

✧₊⁺ DPxDCxBlue Exorcist prompt. Another DPxDCxBlue Exorcist prompt

✧₊⁺ Danny mistakenly calls Dick Tata

✧₊⁺ Danny is dealing with his death day when he accidently traumatizes Dick and the other Bats

✧₊⁺ Ghost act as Guardian Angels

✧₊⁺ Danny mentally adopts a deaged-Bruce/ Amity is a War Zone AU

✧₊⁺ Assumed rogue Danny is making a gift for Sam which is essentially ectoplasm that eats waste. However because he is an assumed mad scientist making clones the Bats bust in and ruin his perfectly contained experiment

✧₊⁺ Danny befriends the YJ in his civi's now vigilantes keep hanging out in his apartment and he has to hide his heroic past

✧₊⁺ Phantom of Love masterlist

[owl-bones]

Hey, I got a question for ya.Who THA HECK ARE EOS AND HELIOS?! I tried to found their story but I didn’t managed to find it…And since you’re their creator…could you explain ??? 👁️👄👁️

Thanks for your time (if you founded the time to read this) and (in any cases) have a good day ✌︎('ω')✌︎

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

backstory/lore/personalities below the cut! it's. longgggg. VERY long. slkdfjlsdk like over 3k words

Backstory (personalities at the bottom)

Nim was a goddess of emotions, tasked with protecting the worlds made by creators throughout the multiverse. Eventually she yearned to create something of her own, but couldn't make something out of nothing-- so she used herself. She made two beings to keep each other company when she was gone, and used what remained of herself to become a tree to give them shelter.

The beings she made were too young and weak to harness her power in its entirety, so she sealed her power away in the fruits of the tree she became so they could grow into her strength slowly.

The beings were Dream and Nightmare, two halves of her whole.

It continues similarly to Dreamtale-- overtime the tree flourishes and the skeletons slowly grow up together. A village is built nearby and, over decades, becomes a busy town. The child guardians are mostly left alone as the people don't understand them and they keep to themselves, but there are many rumors and myths that develop about the tree they guard. One such rumor is that the tree is the reason the town develops so successfully and quickly. Over generations the guardians are a constant, never aging (truthfully just very slowly) and the mythos surrounding them slowly begins to warp.

People get used to their presence and seek them out more often, and as the details about their guardianship and abilities begins to spread more and more rumors develop.

Dream is outgoing and cheery. He's personable and warm and easy to get along with. The townspeople quickly adopt him like a stray cat, and he's given gifts when he visits and treated kindly. He's called things like "little guardian" and "angel" and the like. He soaks up this attention and praise like a plant hungry for the sun's light and, over time, visits more and more often.

Nightmare is more wary and shy, but strikingly intelligent. He's incredibly protective of the tree of emotions, and rarely leaves. It's more than a magic tree; it's their home and history. A hidden library, the sum of all of Nim's knowledge and life experiences, rests within the tree's broad hollow trunk. There's room enough for dozens, if not hundreds of books, and a place for the twins to sleep and hide away. He's dedicated his life to knowing as much as he can about their long-silent mother and their duties as guardians and is very protective of the knowledge. This makes him more enigmatic to the townsfolk, and people are known to be afraid of the unknown. He's quickly dismissed as the ruder sibling, and shunned. Not that he minds.

Dream isn't as concerned with their history-- he's far more interested in the present and future. He's found himself enamored with the town and how it develops; how he's watched children age and have families of their own, how more buildings are built to spread the town further and further. He knows everyone and everyone knows him.

They are young teens at this point. A couple hundred years old but still maturing and growing. As they've aged the tree has lost fruit; the apples drop to the ground and disappear when they're picked up as the twins absorb them to age into their powers.

But prosperity doesn't last forever, and the tree held no real power over the town's success. Soon the town finds itself in trouble-- a drought, an oncoming war, it's not important. What's important is they cling to their superstitions and fears and try to find a scapegoat. Nightmare is that scapegoat, keeping their salvation from them. They haven't been taking proper care of the tree, that's why there's fewer fruit. It's their fault.

If the town can get to the apples the twins protect, maybe they can use them to help themselves. Maybe they can plant more magic trees to increase their prosperity, or their warriors can eat them and gain their strength. They don't know anything about the tree's true nature and don't care to listen to either Dream or Nightmare when they ask for the guardians' boons.

The townspeople aren't dissuaded, and instead turn to manipulation. If Dream and Nightmare won't give them their blessing, they will simply have to take what they need. The guardians are children, anyway. What do they know about the world and politics of adults?

They know they can't get Nightmare away from the tree, but they can at least lure Dream away. He's offered tea and treats by a trusted villager, unaware it contains a sedative. He falls asleep and they go to work-- dozens of villagers go to the tree and start picking the golden apples. They ignore the black apples, not interested in something appearing 'tainted'. Nightmare tries to stop them but things get violent and he's downed with a blow to his skull. He's still young, weak, inexperienced, and hopelessly outnumbered. He's pinned and forced to watch as his mother's body, his home, is defiled.

The townsfolk didn't count on Dream being resistant to the sedative, however. Despite the amount of sleep-inducing herbs he consumed he's awake within a few minutes. He's groggy and aware something is wrong, but he's up.

Concerned and distraught he's been poisoned by someone he trusted, he returns home to find his brother injured and restrained and the tree devoid of golden apples.

The townspeople have decided to cut down the tree without removing the black apples, thinking that will remove the problematic negativity and they can replant the golden ones to only have positive trees. They're already partway through the trunk, and that's what spurs Dream into action.

They haven't noticed him yet and he starts picking up the apples to protect them-- but they disappear as soon as they're in his arms. They're his power by birthright, and absorbing them is what he's meant to do. It's only natural that his power would want to go where it belongs. At first it's warm and he feels stronger and more aware of what's going on, but the more apples he picks up the more his body aches and starts to burn.

His vessel was never meant to contain this much power this quickly, and as he desperately tries to save the apples it starts to break at the seems. His bones crack, the injuries filling with golden light holding him together, but he doesn't stop.

The townsfolk notice him, finally, and stop cutting at the tree to stop him. But it's too late. He's 'consumed' enough now that he's strong enough to keep them back with a magic barrier. He could stop now, talk them down from their frenzy, but... he doesn't want to. Despite the pain of his body breaking and barely keeping itself together, the power he now burns with is... good. His senses feel sharper, he's stronger, and he's brimming with energy. He keeps absorbing the apples.

His power overflows and can't be contained within him anymore, and golden light seeps out of his spine. The people always called him an 'angel', and this moment is where that myth solidifies itself. They aren't wings, not yet, but the amorphous magic light at his back is enough to make the villagers back away. This is the divine salvation they've been waiting for, right? An angel come down to lead them to safety?

But Dream isn't feeling like the happy-go-lucky child they knew him as. He's feeling an all consuming rage like he has never felt before. His emotions are much stronger than they've ever been, burning inside him. And not only that-- the vague impressions of people's emotions he could always feel are clear as day now. He can see exactly what the people are feeling.

Fear. Anxiety. Anger. And... hope.

That hope stands out to him. It doesn't sting like the other feelings steeped around the tree right now. It's warm and comforting and he wants more.

But first he needs to free his brother. Nightmare is falling unconscious and his vision is blurry, but he recognizes Dream. Dream does his best to heal him, a skill he's been practicing as his magic slowly got stronger. Now, though, his magic is much more powerful. It's raw and out of control and the positivity burns Nightmare with its force, scorching his armrs. Dream stops almost immediately, but the damage is done.

Nightmare was already weak, but now he's on the brink of dusting. The faint wisps of Nim left in the tree uses the very last bit of her magic to turn him to stone to help him recover.

Confronted by the loss of his brother, convinced it was his fault and his magic that did it, Dream shuts down. He goes fully into denial. Nightmare is just resting, he's fine, everything's fine. He can fix everything.

He needs to get rid of the townspeople. They're crowding him and his brother and they need to leave immediately. Shockingly, they obey. Dream is left alone with the statue of his brother.

It's not long before he gets a craving for more of that positivity he sensed. When he returns to the town, suspicious and still angry, he finds everything strikingly normal. Everyone is going about their business as if nothing had happened and he's greeted warmly (if a little nervously). There's more hope coming from everyone and it soothes the ache in his chest.

Dream overhears people whispering about him, calling him the angel again, and he starts putting the pieces together. The head of the town meets with him and suddenly he's not treated like a petulant child, but he's given information.

The town's issues are explained to him. The people are putting their hopes and dreams on his shoulders. There's expectations and they want things from him despite what they have done. And Dream finds himself answering the call, drunk on the power and feeling seen for the first time.

The people weren't acting maliciously, he tells himself. They were just misguided. They didn't know what they were doing, just like how they thought he didn't know what he was doing. He's the guardian of positivity. If they want prosperity and joy again, he can help them. He can guide them to what they want. They just have to stay away from the half-felled tree and do as he says.

As it turns out, the people are more than willing to stay far away from the negativity-steeped tree and follow his orders. They very quickly fall into line and worship him. He has no idea how to lead or manage a town, but nobody dares speak a word against him. Not that they need to. Despite the continuing issues they face, no townsperson can say that they're unhappy with Dream in charge. The opposite, in fact.

Since he came to be with them permanently everyone has found themselves filled with nothing but hope and happiness. They work tirelessly without complaint. Under his guidance the town expands even further over the decades until it's a fortified, bustling kingdom.

But Dream grows bored managing the mortals. He still ages slowly, and now an adult and having overseen a kingdom and its silly politics for generations, he wants more. He's grown properly into his powers and the magic at his back is now properly shaped like wings, like the 'angel' he is.

Nightmare used to speak of the other worlds the books within the tree would describe, and Dream for the first time in centuries seeks out his old home. He finds the books, worn but still intact, and learns of the multiverse and the balance.

It's then that he decides, like the expansion of the kingdom and his influence, to bring his light and positivity to other worlds.

It's another century or two after Dream leaves that Nightmare's petrification wears off. The apples have all fallen from the tree over the years, and he's slowly come into his powers himself. And yet he's still so... fatigued. Like something is sapping his strength no matter how much he rests.

The incident feels like it only happened moments ago for him, and yet he's alone. The library of his childhood is decrepit and the books are in poor condition and barely salvageable. His brother is gone, and when he goes looking for him... the town is a massive kingdom. White and gold and successful, flying golden banners and proclaiming Dream as their patron guardian.

But he's not there, either. Nightmare spends time in the kingdom working as a farmhand just trying to understand what exactly has happened and changed in the time he's been away. It's not easy finding information about his brother that's not glorified, and being an 'outsider' makes it even harder. The myth of the guardian of negativity has faded with time, his status as Dream's brother merely a footnote in the story, and for the first time in his life Nightmare is treated rather... normally by those around him.

It's a couple years later that Nightmare finally comes into his own and realizes the extent of Dream's control over both their original home, and the worlds he's visited since. He remembers reading about the careful balance he and Dream were meant to preserve... but he can tell that something isn't right. Somewhere along the way, growing up alone and worshipped and corrupted by the positivity he was meant to guard, Dream has lost himself. He's 'fixing' every AU he can, making them positive and trying to drive the balance as far in his favor as possible.

Nightmare leaves his home, alone and unsure of himself, and quickly finds himself lost in a sea of worlds that hate him. Due to his efforts to right the balance, he is painted a villain. He's used to it, and yet it still hurts. The hope that it was just that village that hated him quickly turns into the realization he is doomed to be hated wherever he goes, no matter how correct his actions.

The first time he runs into Dream, it seems like everything is going to be okay. They're together again, nothing bad can happen to them now that they're both powerful. But Dream's aura is draining to Nightmare, and their goals are too far apart. Dream's joy at the realization his brother isn't dead quickly turns to petulance when Nightmare insists he stops disrupting the balance and returns the AUs he's altered to their proper states.

They argue, and despite how much it hurts they go their separate ways. Nightmare continues to try and fix things, coming into conflict with Dream every so often, but he's outnumbered again. Dream has hundreds of people in his employ, sent out to AUs constantly to help put them on track to be positive. Nightmare is alone and weakened. Despite working tirelessly, there is nothing he can do to fix things. The balance shifts ever further, and Nightmare grows weaker.

It's years into their conflict that Dream hurts his brother again. He's used to them being on relatively even footing. He holds back against his disadvantaged brother, and Nightmare escapes before things get too bad. It's a song and dance they've done countless times at this point. But eventually, the time comes that Nightmare doesn't dodge in time. An arrow pierces his chest.

He's alive, the wound not enough to outright kill him, but he's comatose. Dream takes him back to his home, an opulent palace in an empty AU he's transformed to his liking. Nightmare can't get hurt anymore like this. Dream can protect him, and when he wakes up he'll convince him to see things his way. Everything will be okay. He always fixes things.

(Nightmare does eventually wake up and more things happen, but i'll save the how and why for later ;) )

Dream / Helios

Hundreds of years old, massively powerful, and incredibly influential. Dream has (peacefully) conquered most major AUs and solved their conflicts. Beloved by all and he knows it, he's egotistical and used to getting what he wants. And if he doesn't get what he wants... he finds a way. He's entitled and arrogant but also completely assured in his power. He has no need to gloat, he's quite confident in his status and abilities. But that isn't to say he doesn't like praise; he lives for it.

He's generous and well-intentioned, but also fully capable of justifying the means to get his end. If an AU can't be fixed it's either cordoned off or allowed to be destroyed. He employs many many people from many AUs to do his bidding, including those from AUs that would be considered 'negative'. If there's only one person left in the AU, removing them and giving them a better life is the next best way to fix it.

He doesn't have friends, not really, but his close confidants are Blue and Strike. He collects injured mythological creatures from AUs and rehabilitates them at his palace. He considers himself a patron of the arts, and aside from hiring people to help spread positivity he also hires artisans to live in his palace and fill it with art of all kinds. Tailors, sculptors, painters, writers, singers/musicians, and more.

He has many hobbies he's picked up over the years, but enjoys singing the most. He can fly with his wings, and is strong enough to carry someone along with him. He can change their size and shape depending on need.

He's very self conscious about the golden cracks all over his body, considering it a symbol of his weakness when he was young. He wears full coverings at all times (except his skull), and would only show the cracks to someone he truly trusts and cares for.

He's very skilled with a bow and rapier, but prefers to leave the fighting to his guards. He's very clever with his words and can be a skilled manipulator, but is equally capable of lacing his words with magic and forcing people to follow his will. He's very in-tune with souls and can manipulate even the slightest bit of positivity he senses, and there's a few people around his castle that are effectively his puppets due to their disobedience.

Nightmare / Eos

Cynical and exhausted. He's a workaholic; he doesn't have time to rest, he has to live up to his responsibilities. He rested enough as a statue and he can't afford to stop for even a moment. He wants nothing more than to have everything go back to the way it was and be close with Dream again, but worries the passage of time and what happened when they were young has put an irreparable crack in their relationship. The Dream he fights now is nothing like the Dream he knew when they were young, and he struggles to grasp that disparity.

Dream however can't help but recognize that Nightmare has barely changed. He's still shy and a bookworm. He's vilified and despised by most around him despite his good intentions, and continues to stand up for what he believes in in spite of it. He knows he will never be the hero of the story, but fights anyway.

He's slow to make friends and even slower to fully trust someone. He yearns to be understood and treated like a full person and not as a scapegoat for fears and misunderstandings. He's fighting to right the balance as is his responsibility, but all he really wants is to settle down and rest. He gets easily attached to people that make him feel safe and comforted.

He grew into his magic slowly as a statue, but is still adjusting to the changes even years later. When he's overwhelmed by negativity it can result in him leaking corruption from his sockets and mouth.

He's weakened from the balance being disrupted, but makes up for it with alternative magic he's learned from books. He has a passion for bookbinding and book restoration and has lovingly recreated and repaired what he could from the tree's library. He thinks it's very important to preserve Nim's history and live up to his responsibility as a guardian.

Not as skilled with a bow as his brother, but a decent swordsman with a sickle or scythe. He fights his own battles and eventually gains a team of close friends to support him.

[mins-fins]

ANGEL EYES. — [L.MH] [PT. 1]

❝ sometimes, it feels as if mark lee is your guardian angel ❞

SYNOPSIS: innocent cherub eyes, gently soft hands, a heart of gold, mark lee is the golden boy whose experienced as much love as he gives back. his grades are high, his smile is wide, and his laughter is sweet. the only reason mark lee gets embroiled in a world of trouble is because of his pairing with the 'messed up foster kid' in a school project. it would be stupid to ever let himself get involved, but mark does anyway.

PAIRING: mark lee x male!reader

GENRE: mid–2000s au, high school au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humor(?), slow burn, one sided pining to mutual pining, sadness as a romantic segway, relationship study, reader is a foster kid, mark pov, happy ending.. (i suppose)

WARNINGS: swearing, explicit language, violence, drug abuse, child abuse & neglect, family issues, mentions of death, smoking, homophobia, reader simply has the worst time and mark sobs about his circumstances, an awful amount of love that isn't realized to be love

WORD COUNT: 20.8k

NOTES: hey, hi, hello, its me isa mins-fins back with another BANGER 😍‼️ make sure to hit that subscribe button for more epic fanfiction 😋💥 okay but seriously, i've been writing this for almost TWO MONTHS (began in aug, first part wrapped up in nov) and its been a journey holy shit 😭😭 i dont remember why i randomly started this draft but i did and now its become this monstrosity, almost 21k words and were only halfway there, sorry, there's unfortunately more suffering awaiting, but dont worry, happy ending!! of course, user junjiie, i love you 💗, thank you for again listening to my unhinged rants about this thing and consuming all of the spoilers, you deserve love, and an endless supply of mark photocards 😊😊 as for everybody else who reads my stuff, thank you for sticking around despite the fact that i disappeared for about three weeks, please enjoy this mess 🤗

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BEFORE IT WAS IN THE CRISP AUTUMN ATMOSPHERE, mark lee had met you at the local police station. it was only a few months prior, august of 2004 brought the prospect of donghyuck doing everything to try and get arrested, prospects that mark could only respond with under the breath swears. he loves donghyuck, he really does, but driving shouldn't have been his first choice. in all of the friendships mark has had with other people in his life, donghyuck has always brought a wave of chaos along with him, the exact opposite of who mark's mom would advise him to stay away from, but she'd always had a soft spot for him, mark can't exactly blame her.

fresh off turning seventeen and utterly clueless as to what the future would bring, mark only found himself at the police station for one reason. donghyuck had driven without a license. yep, sixteen years old and he assumed doing an illegal u-turn was the way to end his summer.

mark has always been a stand up kid. the kind who handed out his mom's cookies to the neighbors. the kind who called for stray cats in alleyways. the kind who was simply an innocent bystander to all the bullshit his friends would pull.

so when donghyuck called him from a jail phone, voice heightened in indignation as he begged for mark to come make a case for him, the older really had no choice but to do so. mark had never been to a police station before, afraid of catching sight of real criminals in the flesh by just walking past the building. he had watched too many scary stories, had terrible ideas of human beings planted in his head.

and even as a seventeen year old who had experienced life enough that such things shouldn't have terrified him anymore, there was still a small pit in his stomach as he rounded the corner in direction of the building.

"and how exactly am i supposed to bail you out?" an eyebrow raise accompanied mark's inquiry, and donghyuck scoffed as he shook his cuffed hands.

"you don't have to bail me out, my dad knows the sheriff, i'm just getting off with a warning" he whispered, sweat on his brow as he shared that familiar 'no shit' look with mark (an ironic expression really, he's the only one between the two of them that's been in cuffs).

mark snickered. "you talk so much when you're the one handcuffed".

"watch your mouth, you need me".

just as donghyuck was about to let out a swear in addition to his snappy response, said sheriff walked into the room, tight lipped smile painting his face. "don't try that again donghyuck, or next time you'll end up in a cell".

in a instant, donghyuck's blood ran cold, mark almost laughed at the sight, but he remained still, watching. the older man glanced up, catching mark's anxiety ridden eyes. "and you are?"

"this is mark, my best friend" donghyuck was quick to quip, a hand placed onto his shoulder.

mark's stomach dropped to his feet, it isn't as if he did anything wrong, it was simply on par for him to be severely anxious around law enforcement in general, he was just afraid he'd somehow get arrested for nothing at all.

"ohhh i remember you, i used to assume you two were brothers".

mark let out a breathy (and clearly faked) chuckle, trying to bury his anxiety. he could never explain it, even if you gave him all the words to, it's not like he's a bad kid, he just finds himself tensing often. "no, just friends.."

"it's good to have someone so close as support" he narrowed his eyes at donghyuck, who stifled his scoff at the clear sarcasm lacing his tone. he then scrunched his nose, watching as donghyuck placed a performative smile on his lips. "now you, sir, we need to have a talk".

donghyuck frowned, whining out complaints as he's dragged away by the sheriff. "can you wait, mark?"

mark blinked, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. he nodded, out of words. the two bantered back and forth like friends, something mark could only stare idly at. he made his way over to the seats beside the door, where, nestled in the corner of one of them, was you.

you were scribbling something into your notebook, unaware of the eyes on you. mark sat two chairs away from you, tapping his feet onto the floor as he heard the faint sounds of scoldings. safe driving, don't get into a car without a license, your future won't be any better if you continue this shit.

swearing at a child, mark found that rich. he glances beside him again, now watching you intently. you were engrossed in the manner your pen scratched against your paper, mark had figured out through endless staring that you hadn't been writing, but drawing.

you avoided his eyes for a while, ignorant to the eyes gazing you up and down. you then glanced in mark's direction, almost startling him out of his seat with the sudden stare. you blinked, puzzled out of your mind. "is there something on my face?"

mark tensed in his seat, feeling his stomach swirl, was he staring so much that you felt offended? he felt guilty immediately, his lips parting immediately and releasing a silent breath. "no.. no i'm sorry, i didn't mean to".

you shrugged your shoulders, one click to your pen. mark recognized you, but he simply couldn't conjure up an explanation as to why you were sitting in a police station at this time, drawing whatever into your notebook. "so why are you staring then?"

"i'm trying to figure out why you're here" mark muttered, fingers fiddling with his necklace as he tried to get his tone straight in fear of again offending you. "i'm sure you aren't committing crimes".

"i can say the same for you, mr golden boy".

mark's lips turned up slightly, his hands twitching from where they rested on his lips. "i got kicked out.. always come here to let dad and mom cool off for a few hours".

the words earned an eyebrow raise from mark, that was strange to hear, especially from another person in regards to their own parents. mark had never really experienced such a thing, the way you described it made his nose scrunch. "what?"

before you could respond to that one, a police officer entered the room, one you seemed to recognize by the way your eyes lit up. "come on l/n, time to go".

a frown settled onto your lips. "do i really have to go now? you know how my parents are.."

"i can't keep you here, it would technically be illegal".

"it's not like they'll care anyway.." you mumbled, slamming your notebook shut with yet another click to your pen. "just an hour longer, please?"

there was a sense of hope in your eyes, maybe he would actually take your words into account. mark simply stared, staggered by what he was witnessing. the officer watched the change of your expressions, your thumb playing at the button on your pen, continuously clicking over and over. as the clicks amplified, so did the sound of your labored breathing.

"you know i can't do that kid".

your frown deepened, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. worry, that's what mark remembered. your eyes widened, but not in the usual shock, simply in disappointment. you cursed under your breath, muttering something about your parents getting pissed at your reappearance. you stopped clicking your pen, letting the chagrin settle onto you. "yeah.."

you sucked your teeth, imitating the look of a sulky child. mark was consumed by his silence, completely confused by the situation. he didn't give a comment, simply watched the whole entire thing happen. "i'll give you a few minutes, don't worry".

you didn't respond to that one, your eyes following the police officer who strolled out the door towards his car. you bit into your lip again, hands grasping onto your notebook and thumb still pressing onto your pen. "what bullshit".

mark continued staring, his hands clutching at his thighs. you then glanced at him once more, causing for him to flinch back. you stayed silent, watching him as much as he did you a few minutes prior.

"are you alright?" he muttered, leaving his voice at a low volume. he didn't want to raise it, he wanted to keep it at a volume that kept you comfortable.

you snickered, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "fine, going home is just my worst nightmare".

mark's fingers found themselves sliding across his legs, teeth sliding against each other in back and forth motions. he blinked his big brown eyes, staring with an assured gaze he hoped would somehow make it's way to you. "i'm sorry".

he whispered those two words as if he was in physical pain, eyes watering for an inexplainable moment. he couldn't help it, and he had no idea why he couldn't help it. it was embarrassing how much he felt at the moment.

you stared back, lips pursuing. your expressions did at least seventy transformations, as if you were in disbelief at someone having empathy for you. you seemed distraught, why is he tearing up? that's so strange.

you chuckled, hoping it would quell his worries. "it's okay, not like it's your fault".

"still, you shouldn't have to feel that way about going home.. your parents shouldn't be kicking you out".

you grimaced, put off by the words. it isn't as if they were terrible, you just seemed.. astonished. why did he care? it was simply weird to you.

"well thank you for your concern but i'll be fine".

mark blinked away the tears threatening to escape his eyes, god what was wrong with him? why did he even tear up at that? he totally weirded you out.

"yeah um.. i'm sorry" mark bit into his inner cheek, letting out a heavy sigh. "just have a good day" a theatric smile placed itself on his lips, he was definitely trying to convince himself that it wasn't that bad of a situation.

you stared longer, seemingly itching to say something. there were words resting on the tip of your tongue, mark could practically sense it. "yeah, you too".

and when you stood up to walk out of the door, donghyuck coincidentally escaped the clutches of the sheriff, stumbling out of his office with his arms crossed over his chest. the door closed behind you, and mark watched the entire time.

"what took you so long?" mark uttered, eyes casting donghyuck's way.

the younger huffed in his usual donghyuck manner, hands on his hips. "he was giving me a big talk about safe driving" he placed heavy air quotes around the last two words, lips curled into a frown.

mark licked his teeth, his thoughts retracing back to you. "do you know him..?"

donghyuck blinked, his mouth opening to ask about who until he saw the way mark motioned his head. "y/n? oh yeah, he's around here all the time, the officers basically take him in whenever.."

"why?"

his voice scratched like sandpaper, donghyuck wincing at the tone. he then shrugged his shoulders, his attitude puzzled. "something about his parents not really caring, it's pretty shitty".

mark's lips parted in a freezing motion, his stomach pain only worsening. "that's scary.. feeling safer at the police station than your own home".

"i don't know much about his situation, just know his parents have a terrible temper".

mark swallowed the lump in his throat, his head beginning to pound at the information given. he tried to distract himself by thinking about school coming up soon, but he was snapped back into reality by donghyuck.

"why are you even asking me about y/n?"

mark glanced up at his childhood friend, a small whisper in his mind telling him to lie. "just curious that's all".

the lie laid bitter on his tongue, but he didn't allow for donghyuck to dwell on it, rising from the chair he practically glued himself to. "promise me you'll never illegally drive again, the officers here look like they wanna kill me".

donghyuck rolled his eyes, tease evident in his attitude. "okay markie, promise".

mark pushed his shoulder in retaliation.

that? that was two months ago.

before the crisp autumn weather drifted through the atmosphere, before the leaves began falling to decorate the ground in orange and brown hues, mark lee had met you at the local police station. your legs crossed, pen clicking, and nose buried into your notebook.

september came and went rather quickly, the scorching heat of the summer air transforming into the russet autumn scenery which drifts into october. the temperature steadily dropping, sweaters becoming more and more common in his closet, mark can't exactly focus in class during the first few months of school.

when mark hears his name fall from his teacher's lips in pair with yours, he snaps out of an episode of disassociation, blinking up. "what?"

his teacher deadpanned, readjusting her glasses. she doesn't even seem surprised by his lack of focus anymore, his exhaustion is constantly evident. "project partners mark, you'll be paired with y/n".

mark only parts his lips in response, the words rendering him speechless. he glances around the classroom as he listens to the older woman's voice blurs into the background, catching sight of you in the far back, again scribbling into your notebook, your manner reminiscent of how you acted the first time you two met.

he stares for a while before again looking forward, his mouth going dry as he tries again to focus, but of course, he can't. his mind stays focused on you throughout the whole class, even after the endless words he lets blur away.

you spin your pen between your fingers, it's the same pen you had that day, maybe you have some sort of attachment to it or something, maybe it's your favorite pen, maybe someone special gifted that pen to you.

maybe mark's letting it all get to his head, why is he even making assumptions when he hasn't walked up to you yet?

while everyone else rushes to leave the class, mark rises from his seat and again glances over at you, slinging his back over his shoulder.

you're riveted by what you're doing in your notebook, so absorbed that you barely hear the shuffling footsteps making their way around the many desks towards yours. your lips turn down as you smudge the ink on the page, a small suck of the teeth adding to your frustration.

"um.. hi" mark whispers, watching as you glance up and pause, one click to your pen. you don't respond immediately, studying mark for a while, and mark tenses up under your gaze, sucking a breath between his teeth.

"hi".

"we uh— were partners for the project".

your smile is neutral. "i know".

mark began biting the skin off his lips, hands gripping at his backpack. "i don't know where you want to start, uh.. maybe we could go to the library?"

he's just saying what he's hoping will work. he doesn't exactly know you yet, he assumes your one off interaction at the police station left a sour taste in your mouth.

but unbeknownst to mark's anxious inner voice, you smile, not exactly a neutral one this time, a much better smile ('better' in terms of expression, your lips stretch into an aspect of satisfaction).

"that'd be nice".

mark nods, almost too enthusiastically he thinks. how embarrassing. you let out a silent yawn, oblivious to the battle mark is having in his head. "tomorrow maybe we can start?"

your smile again becomes neutral, but at least mark doesn't think you want to kill him. "yeah, tomorrow is fine".

tomorrow. tomorrow is fine.

"okay, have a good day y/n".

mark rushes out of the classroom much too fast, he feels a little terrified of you. maybe you don't exactly want to kill him, maybe you just look at everyone else in that way, maybe it won't be that bad to be paired with you.

still, mark isn't sure why his mind tells him he should stay away from you.

THE NEXT DAY GOES AS USUAL, DAD AND MOM bicker at the breakfast table, leave kisses on mark's forehead before letting him go off. the heightened smell of pine was all that met mark's nose, his senses freaking out as he stepped into the cool october air. it's still eight in the morning, it shouldn't be this cold. just a month ago the sun was attempting to burn off his skin with it's murderous rays, and now it's obscured behind gray clouds. hopefully it doesn't rain, he forgot to bring an umbrella, and mom would kill him if he turned up at home with his clothes drenched. he assumes that he's gotten pretty good at predicting the weather, and judging by the pattern the clouds form in the sky, it won't rain today.

history is his last class of the day, and mark immediately found out that history is the only class you two share. donghyuck runs his mouth in his ear all day, something about junior year really being the one where you lose your identity, mutterings about drinking and partying falling from his lips.

his chin leans against his hand as he complains about jaemin not giving him homework answers, and mark releases a small sigh, drawing a small snort from his best friend. "you getting bored of me now?" he's quick to ask, aggressively shoving his shoulder against mark's.

mark grunts, nose scrunching as he sees the elation donghyuck shows. "you've been talking forever, do you not get tired?"

"someone has to entertain you".

"i'm not entertained, i'm annoyed".

donghyuck huffs, an eye roll being his response to mark's insult. he never lets it get to his head, donghyuck has always been the least sensitive between the two of them. his lips curl up into yet another smile of glee, overjoyed by mark's irritation.

"it's the seniority getting to you, grandpa".

mark shares an incredulous with him, scoffing as he grabs his bag from where he let it sit beside him. giggles spill from donghyuck's lips, his face red at the sight of mark's furrowed eyebrows. "not even a year older than you.."

"you're still old!"

donghyuck sings out the words in the way of a melodic tune, whistling in the air. mark again mutters something about not being old, and donghyuck sticks out his tongue. "see you later oldie".

mark's face scrunches, but he bid donghyuck a goodbye anyway. he's been a constant in his life, getting called old by an annoying sixteen year old isn't exactly the kind of thing that puts stress on his life, he'll be fine, there's definitely worse the world could throw at him, and lee donghyuck just barely scratches the surface.

after lunch, he has history for a double period. he usually disassociates through the first forty five minutes, his teacher is a nice woman, yes, but she takes so long to get to the point. he's read through the topics time and time again, he's simply relearning them to get the last few credits he needs to graduate.

he'll be done by the time the second semester rolls around, so that isn't much of a worry.

when he slides into his seat, he wants to crane his head back to look for you, but just as his head connects the dots, attendance begins, and he hears you mutter a small 'here' when the teacher calls your name.

"mark lee?"

he glances up, straightening his posture. "here" he replies, licking his lips.

the dragging of your pen against the paper of your notebook stops, mark knows it's yours because he listened to the same sound yesterday up close when he asked you about the library.

the first forty five minutes of class fly by, mark manages to keep himself from falling asleep while his teacher goes on about something he'd already learned about years prior.

then, she stops, the shuffling of desks are heard in the room, and his teacher sighs as she places her hands against her desk. "as i said yesterday, your project is about important historical events, you can use these next few minutes to brainstorm with your partners".

she then sighs with her hands clasped together. "no funny business" she scolds, her tone reminiscent of a mother angry at her children.

a click of the tongue sounds as mutters begin getting louder, mark's chest tightens as he glances around the room, watching everyone else get up to discussing with their partners.

of course, he has to go to you.

he stands from his place and drags a chair over to you, eyes squeezing shut at the sound it emanates. "sorry".

you instantly squint, a scrunch of your nose adding to your expression. "did you just apologize for.. nothing?"

mark swallows, his lips pursuing. he doesn't have a response for that, apologies falling from his lips are programmed into his speech. the way you asked makes him feel as if something is wrong with his manner of speaking, he isn't sure why he thinks about it in that way though.

"i don't know i.." his words drift off into nothing, there isn't a response to that one, because mark has no idea why he says what he does. "i'm sorry".

you respond with a chuckle, and mark's eyes miraculously widen. he just did it again, and it felt completely normal. one click to your pen. your lips stretch into yet another neutral smile, the prospect amusing you. "alright, what should our topic be?"

mark pauses, scratching his nails against the wooden table. his eyes drifts over to your notebook, and you close it upon catching his gaze. his lips press into a thin line, a breath in his teeth. "maybe the industrial revolution..?"

it's simply the first thing he could say at the moment, he wasn't exactly thinking. you blink, using a hum as your reply this time. you map out the several features on mark's face, his big brown eyes shine with anticipation, and it gets difficult to hide your smile.

"unless you wanna do something else" mark is quick to add, his words a small whisper. "i want to hear your suggestions".

he observes the act of your expressions changing, your eyebrows pinching together in a questioning manner. you don't seem to mind, he gathers. "it's alright, i would've said the bubonic plague or something but that's been dried up countless times i assume".

mark breaks into a small smile, relaxing against the chair. "okay, the industrial revolution it is" he whispers, hands clasped together. "do you still want to go to the library today or..?"

"i can't make it today".

your voice lowers exponentially, eyes casting to the side. mark gazes, as if attempting to read your inner most thoughts. you don't exactly make them clear, that's puzzling, mark almost wants to ask what the deal is, but he assumes you'd probably cuss him out if he did.

he presents his warmest smile to you. "it's okay, i can find sources for today, we can begin searching together tomorrow".

you don't nod, simply stare back. mark blinks, avoiding your eyes as he glances around the room. "i don't really want to put that all on you, i can still gather sources i just can't stay after school.."

mark is the one who nods, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "that's fine, you think you can stay tomorrow though?"

god mark feels like such an asshole asking that, he tries to keep his eyes everywhere but directly in front of him, because he's afraid of getting decked in the face.

but instead, you chuckle. "yeah tomorrow is fine, sorry for being so.. inconsistent".

mark then shakes his head, hoping the movements would reassure you in some way. "it's alright, thank you for telling me".

your lips stay pressed together, another small hum vibrating from you. you again run out of responses, so mark speaks up. "let's work well together, yeah?"

is that really the correct choice of words? think about it mark.

mark already thinks too much, if he thinks more, he might begin feeling tears stream down his cheeks. he doesn't want to seem.. jumpy, even if there are voices screaming at him with their pitches so high blood might start pouring out of his ears.

and finally, you nod, which gets a small smile out of mark.

MARK READS ON AND ON ABOUT THE INDUSTRIAL revolution until the words burn into his brain, until the sun goes down and his mom is casting him strange looks every time she walks past his open door. around the fifth time she did a lap, she paused as she watched mark flip through the many books scattered around his bed. "what is going on here?" she inquires, and mark glances up as he's midway through reading about british imperialism, a small smile on his lips. "this is for my project" he whispers, clear fatigue in his voice. she narrows her eyes, puzzled by the manner he's acting in.

"it's almost ten o'clock, mark".

ten isn't that late, he would usually muse, but there's a pointed look she sends him that leaves the words resting on the tip of his tongue. "okay, i'll go to sleep now.." he mutters, licking his lips.

she smiles softly, tapping her finger against his door. "sleep for real, mark, don't read all night".

"i don't read all night" he argues to the air. he knows that isn't true, he can't argue about it to his mom. he crosses his arms over his chest, imitating the stubborn front donghyuck always puts up.

she utters something akin to a 'sure' and gives one last look to mark before walking down the hallway. mark only casts one last glance in the direction of his door, then he picks up the books he littered across his bed to shove into his backpack.

he isn't exactly sure why he couldn't stop thinking about your neutral smile. mark has only interacted with you three times in two months, yet there's something there that keeps him grounded, his mind warns him of something, but you can't be terrible, you seem practically harmless.

mark isn't new to knowing people with somewhat shitty parents, but he feels as if there's something more there. mark really can't judge from a one off interaction he wasn't even involved in besides watching, how can he concoct something like this about you in his head when you barely talk to him as it is? he can't just make shit up before actually sitting down to get to know you.

he stares out his open window, the night breeze comes in with a rush reminiscent of ocean waves. he switches off his lights and stares up at the ceiling, hair splayed behind him as he waits for the exhaustion to take over.

he's bad news mark.

but what does mark know? this could just be his anxiety's biggest manifestations, he's making shit up. he's guessing based on the few interactions you two have had, and if he thinks further, it seems that you don't exactly enjoy his presence.

mark doesn't get much sleep that night.

that isn't as crazy as it should be, mom asks about it at breakfast the next morning, catching the dark circles under his eyes. he manages to utter an excuse about sounds outside or something, it was barely believed, she squinted at him with pure incredulity in her eyes, but he quickly scarfed down the remaining waffles on his plate and rushed to school, weighed down by his backpack containing thick books.

donghyuck made an awful lot of remarks about him accidentally killing someone with his backpack. he had the urge to purposefully swing it around to hit the younger with his backpack, but he kept such thoughts to himself, he could get revenge on donghyuck another time. maybe he'll hit him in the head with a metal pan again, who knows?

the lack of sleep exhibits itself in mark's barely functioning body as a whole. seven separate times during the day he almost dozed off during class, his teachers gave him the benefit of the doubt, him practically snoring on his desk was nothing new, he gets a pass because he's the kid with good grades.

by the time last period rolls around, mark forgets everything else that happened today. two hours of sleep usually don't do him this bad, but considering he'd been constantly getting over seven hours of sleep this week, two basically rendered him dead.

his hand slammed onto his desk a few too many times, he jolted up a few too many times. his eyes narrowed as he yawned again, doing his regular glance around the classroom. he counts each of the heads he catches, noticing some missing, but only a certain missing one is alerting.

you aren't here.

mark's lips turn downward, a weathering frown now overtaking his former exhaustion. mrs. lim took attendance thirty minutes ago, how did he miss you not responding to the call of your name? he narrows his eyes at your empty desk, feeling a pit form in his stomach.

where is he? his lips pursue as he looks forward, now unable to care about his fatigue when he was now consumed with confusion on where the hell you were.

did you just decide to go m.i.a for absolutely no reason? god what an asshole move. do you even know how difficult it is to do a project on your own?

mark doesn't let the anger fester for long, though, because it then becomes worry. maybe something happened, you told him you'd be able to stay today, did you just lie to him?

okay, so maybe his anger does fester a little bit, but he can't stay angry at really anyone for long (not even donghyuck, annoying guy 101). his fingers press uncomfortably onto the straps of his backpack as he makes his way over to the library, maybe you won't show up, but he still has to finish this project anyway.

he drops the books down with a resounding thud, immediately getting to jotting down notes after apologizing to the librarian. his head simply leaned downward, threatening to fall and crash against the table at any moment. he isn't sure how he remains awake, but he manages to keep himself up enough that he's able to write at least two pages of notes.

he's about to begin drooling, an embarrassing feat really, but he can't contain his weariness.

and just as he's about to pass out—

"are you good?"

mark jolts up straight away, a gasp of surprise leaving his lips as he takes in the words. when he whips his head back, he immediately frowns, it's you. he sucks a breath between his teeth, shoulders relaxing. "yeah yeah i'm just tired i.."

mark would've spit out some snarky interjection when his eyes drifted downward. then, in their usual fashion, they widened, and a grimace made it's way to his face.

a barrage red and purple decorate your knuckles, the skin between your fingers threatening to open. he barely holds back his wince, it looks painful, so painful. why the fuck are your knuckles split?

"are you alright?"

you deliver a snort. "is that the question you're always going to ask me?"

"oh my god! you're— your hands jesus what the hell even happened!?"

mark grabs your hands to get a closer look, your rough skin clashing against his in a burning manner. you promptly draw your hands away, as if in a protective stance, as if.. weirded out by the whole ordeal. "nothing, it's fine".

"it's fine?" mark parrots, sharing an incredulous look with you he normally wouldn't share with anyone. "your knuckles are one snap away from bleeding!"

your face twitches, and you bring a finger to your lips. "don't yell in a library, it isn't that serious".

"it isn't—" mark cuts his own speech off, closing his eyes to try and keep himself calm. "what happened?"

you mutter something unintelligible at first, fingers picking at the sides of your hands. "i just made someone mad.."

"you just made someone mad?"

you shrug your shoulders, startlingly mundane about the whole thing. mark stares, an intake of fear entering him. your face is flat, the only expression mark could make out was slight irritation, but not at him.. at least he hopes.

"you weren't in class today" he whispers, now quickly changing the subject as you drag the chair beside him back, settling onto it.

"i skipped" you speed through your response, grinding any of the pain you feel in your knuckles between your teeth. "looked like shit, mrs. lim would've had a heart attack if i walked into her room".

"you didn't think to go to the nurse or something?"

you narrow your eyes, tongue probing at the side of your cheek. "you ask so many questions, that has to be your thing".

mark sucks his teeth. "..sorry for worrying?"

you blink, a neutral smile spreading across your lips. "you're a weird guy".

there it is. there the word is. weird. you think mark is weird. is mark weird? if mark is weird, then what does that make you? is it weird that he has empathy for others? is it weird that he holds empathy for you?

"are you insulting me?"

your head shakes back and forth, fingers prodding at the corners of your book. "not quite, i've just never met someone like you".

"well usually someone having split knuckles is cause for concern".

your face again drops, and the awkward chuckle mark hoped would quell such worries instead died down in his throat. he watches the way you gaze upward then downward, mapping each of mark's features with your tentative eyes. "it's not that big of a deal" you mumble, twiddling your thumbs as you quickly avert your gaze.

you avoid his eyes in the same way a child does when they fear upsetting their parents, your lips curl down into the exact appearance of disappointment.

mark's mouth is completely dry, he doesn't really know how to deal with.. this. he levels at you with a blank stare, attempting to see through you, maybe get into your thoughts and finally figure out why you don't find your knuckles being split being the huge problem it is.

"okay.. um, can you show me the sources you found then?"

mark is trying his best to not make it awkward, how do you not even release a wince at the pain you must be experiencing? you simply engross yourself in that pen and paper once again.

it's a bit difficult to make conversation when all he currently sees are the bruises decorating your hands. he grimaces as if you're some exhibit he isn't fond of, and from the flickers of your eyes he catches in his peripheral vision, you clearly take notice.

"you gonna stop looking at me like that?"

"sorry!" mark is quick to sputter, his blinks as rapid as his response. "i'm sorry it just.. doesn't that hurt?"

a breath falls from your lips, the beginnings of a laugh making it's way up into the air. "it's nothing i haven't felt before".

mark wants to ask again, but he keeps in such urges. again, he's still afraid you'll punch him in the face if he opens his mouth again. mark assumes he just doesn't get it, maybe how you feel is vastly different to how he feels. "can i at least walk you to the nurses office?"

another question, mark feels his stomach curl into something terrible, but instead of the blow up reaction he expects, you simply pause, blinking.

you press your teeth against each other, thinking it over with your eyes trailing the shelves of the library. one click to your pen, a small sigh falling from your lips. "fine.. i guess".

you guess, well that's a start. mark can make well with that.

you gather books as best as you can quickly, shoulders tensing. mark urges to grab your hand, maybe soothe it over with his thumb, but he suppresses such urges in fear of weirding you out (because you already deemed him a 'weirdo').

"you know.. if you ever need to tell someone something, i'm here".

it's a flimsy suggestion, a small uttering mark could only muster with the worry in his heart. you shot him a glance, the abrupt movement of your head almost startling mark backward. you stare, the expression on your face indecipherable, mark wishes he could reach into your mind, pull out your innermost thoughts and figure out exactly why you think the way you do.

your eyes stay narrowed for a moment, simply staring at mark, frozen in front of the nurse's office. you click your tongue, scratching at the start of your sweater. "sure".

sure, sure. it's not a no, that's good. it's not a yes, which isn't exactly assuring. it's a sure. sure. there's a start, it's a beginning.

you don't exactly sound sure, your eyes cast around your surroundings, and your lips sink into your bottom teeth. the anxiety permeating from you is reminiscent of mark's own.

well maybe you two aren't that different.

i'm here if you want to talk, mark repeats in his own head, and he begins biting the skin off his lips.

sure is your response.

it's a good enough response for a start.

THE TITLE OF 'FRIENDS' ISN'T YET ESTABLISHED between you two. you're still an enigma, a mystery, mark is still just the tiniest bit afraid you'll attempt to punch him in the face if he says something you don't agree with. you're an easy person to work with, in comparison to some of mark's other project partners. you two equally split up the workload, you don't mind taking up most of the work, you tell mark it's okay, even with bandages arranged around your bruised knuckles, you could jot down notes about the fucking industrial revolution all day. mark makes out that you don't necessarily enjoy talking, you communicate with your feeble expressions.

again, you two aren't established friends, and considering you only have one ninety minute class together in one whole school day, it would be a turbulent effort to even attempt a friendship.

you can be summed up as simply 'project buddies', there isn't anything more to it, but that's because mark has some fear instilled in him directed towards you. you don't glare, but it still appears that you do.

you continuously scribble in your notebook, biting your fingernails, the same anxious impulses mark finds himself unconsciously doing. day in and day out mark clocks a few more similarities between you two, that's interesting.

you become less of an apparition and more of an actual person, october begins coming to a close, temperatures falling at the rapid rate of the leaves. in the next coming weeks, he'll probably begin wearing jackets.

"i think maybe we should start going to each other's places after school?"

you pause in your dragging when mark brings that up, one click to your pen. you lick your teeth, whole body tensing. "we can't go to my place" you clear your throat. "my parents.."

you stop midway through your own sentence, it's as if you were restrained, unable to utter the rest of it in.. fear? you avoid mark's gaze, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

mark blinks, he sort of expected that answer. another click to your pen, you continue dragging it against your notebook page. mark almost leans over to check what you're doing, but he keeps himself still. you don't have to say more, he doesn't need for you to say more. "oh, it's okay! we can just go to my place".

you remain still. "your parents won't mind?"

mark quickly shakes his head. "they never mind, honestly they keep complaining about how i don't bring people over".

for the first time since mark's met you, a small laugh leaves your lips. "okay.. that's fine".

fine. not good, just fine. maybe it takes a while for you to warm up, mark doesn't mind, he can wait.

you tug at a strand of your hair using your finger, licking your teeth. "is friday good for you?" mark inquires, watching as you again begin vigorously clicking your pen.

you again pause before answering, an indecipherable feeling entering you. mark tries to study you, but he gets nothing, he really is clueless to how you are. "friday is fine" you then say, much too rapidly for it to be authentic. you seem shaky, erratic, it all seems so scary.

mark nods, a final click to your pen. "okay.. after school maybe? we could walk together".

yet another flimsy suggestion, mark only utters such a thing because he doesn't exactly want to pick specific times. it's easier this way, directly after school, you have your last class together, just heading home after it all finished would be fine. it's simple.

you stare at him as if he just grew two heads, your eyes dilated in a freakish fashion. mark finds it staggering, you always stare at him as if he's said something absurd when he offers even the tiniest bit of kindness to you. your eyebrows furrow, simply a look of pure confusion painted on your face.

but even with the torture you seem to be facing in your own mind, you present a neutral smile. "yeah, that's okay".

okay. not good, just okay.

mark thinks he can deal with okay.

the coming friday enters like a freight train, it's a tumultuous crash that is so rapid the world shakes. mark scratches behind his ear, eyes droopy as he simply awaits for the ending of class.

he zones out on the sound of a pen dragging against a notebook page, he doesn't need to crane his head back to know that you're scribbling something into your notebook. he wonders if you're interested in drawing, maybe you enjoy the aspect of art, that seems interesting.

mark wants to ask, but there's always a voice in his head that chastises him for being so curious, the same way his mother used to when he'd ask outlandish questions as a child.

he has to use all of the fight in him to not look back at you, he'd probably get another weird utter from you if he decided to simply turn back and stare, mark isn't stupid, he knows how people are, he knows it's weird to just sit and stare at someone.

one click to your pen.

class dismisses as soon as it begins, and mark almost falls to the floor when he stands up, his exhaustion practically weighing him down. he acts in a strange manner, one that draws a small snicker from you as you observe his behavior.

"you alright there?" mark only sighs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"i'm fine just.. tired" mark explains, chuckling emptily. you simply stare again, tightening your hold against your backpack. you click your tongue, shoulders still tense as ever. "do you want to come over now or..?"

you nod. "now is fine".

mark makes sure to not show his elation too clearly, just presenting his regular smile as it is to you. he almost grabs your hand, he wants to feel the intertwining of your fingers, but again, you'd probably punch him in the face.

the walk isn't long, mark walks to school every single day, having not skipped a beat ever since freshman year began. you two stroll towards mark's place in silence, the air growing awkward as the autumn air breezes through your hair.

mark clears his throat, taking in a breath. "is your hand getting better?"

it's a trifling inquiry mark only makes out because of the need for conversation, it'd be so much worse if you two were just quiet. mark usually doesn't have a problem with talking to people, but with you, it's just the slightest bit difficult.

you again offer a curt shrug as a response. "it's okay".

okay. wow, you never really give a sure answer. mark wonders if you even know the answer yourself.

"okay isn't really a reassuring answer".

"doesn't matter".

it does to me.

the words hang heavy on mark's lips, but they then die down in his throat, would it be strange to say that to someone you barely even know? someone who probably doesn't consider you a friend in their own indecipherable mind? mark curses himself for harboring such strong feelings towards you, someone whose basically a stranger.

"again, nothing i haven't felt before" you mutter, words hushed in their usual manner. you leave no more room for explanations, going silent as you continue your walk beside him.

mark, though curious, also remains silent, slowly speeding up as he makes out the sight of his house.

you keep your head down when mark opens the door, peaking his head from behind it. "mom! i'm home!"

mark misses the small flicker of jealousy in your eyes, too busy getting attacked by his mother's frenzied affection. you could only stare at the spectacle, keeping your silence.

"oh, and whose this?"

mark blinks, his big eyes widening extraordinarily. "this is y/n, my classmate, were doing a project together".

you again keep silent for a while, clearing your throat as she offers you a smile. "it's nice to meet you mrs. lee".

"oh you're adorable, look at those cheeks!"

you had half a mind to lean back when she pinched your cheek, but you stayed still, even with the tense of your stance. mark snickers behind his hand, finding the sight amusing.

he lets a breath fall from his lips. "were gonna go study in my room, if that's okay.."

"that's fine! don't be afraid to tell me if you need anything!"

she claps her hands happily and ruffles mark's hair, yet you continue staring incredulously, as if the actions were alien. you only nodded, silence again overtaking you as you follow behind mark to his room, smiling at his mother as you walk your way there.

"your mom is nice" you whisper, mark only able to hear it because of the lack of space between you two. you still don't smile, a neutral expression remaining on your face.

mark again chuckles lightly, motioning his head forward as he holds his door open for you. "yeah, everyone says that, you okay though?"

you glance back at him, puzzled. "yeah.. i'm fine".

fine, that has to be a specific buzzword of sorts. mark again blinks, several emotions flaring in his irises. "well i noticed you kinda froze when my mom touched you".

you merely offer a shrug, settling onto the floor and pulling out the several books you'd been reading prior. "i'm just not used to that kind of affection".

mark raises an eyebrow, dropping his backpack onto the ground with a resounding thud, the many books practically shaking the floor. that was an answer didn't really expect. maybe he just doesn't get it, your mom can't be that bad, it's your mom! how could a mother not harbor affection towards her child.

you snap your head up, a look in your eye, as if you were daring him to make a brash comment about your family life. mark gulps in the quietest way possible, smile straining against his lips. "did you get any more notes on the steam engine's origins?"

you reply with a small smile, seemingly pleased he changed the topic.

hours go by with you two simply studying and talking about your topic, the familiar drag of your pen filling the air of mark's room. you didn't bring up anything off topic, it's honestly impressive how long you stayed without getting distracted, but mark assumes it's because you just don't enjoy talking.

you've pretty much given up on the subject at hand, resorting to drawing whatever in your notebook. dark circles begin visibly appearing under your eyes, but you still don't make a comment, simply preoccupying yourself with your mini art pieces.

mark stares, eyes drifting off to his open window, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. he admires the reddish-orange hue of the sky, his lips turning up at the picture.

"what time is it?"

mark's eyes flicker in a sudden shift, and he again glances at you, then at the clock against the wall. "it's almost eight pm".

you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, gathering the books you rested on the floor to again put back into your backpack. one click to your pen, you also let it fall into your pencil case. "i should probably get going now.. thank you for letting me come over".

mark shakes his hand, offering a dismissive wave. "it's nothing, if you want to start doing this more often.. you know my parent's won't mind".

you pause, letting your silence fester as you put on your backpack. you bite your inner cheek, mark can practically hear you thinking. "..maybe" you mutter, staring down at the floor as you begin making your way down the hall, towards the front door.

mark pretty much springs to his feet, he doesn't want to be an impolite guest, his mom always told him that it's nice to walk people out. "or we could just go back to studying in the library".

he really just wants you to be comfortable.

you pause, steps slowing down as you make it to the middle of the living room. your fingers tap against the straps of your backpack, licking your teeth. "i'll think about it, then when i decide i'll tell you".

mark finds himself smiling at that. it's again, a start. "okay, i can wait".

you share yet another neutral smile, but it seems your lips itch to turn up even more, you seem to want to share a genuine smile with mark, but you stop yourself for some reason. "you're so patient".

"i learned from the best".

you again bite your inner cheek, and mark's eyebrow raises, those words appear to displease you.

"oh are you leaving already y/n?"

your displeasure transforms into immediate bliss when mark's mother again enters, blinking. "yeah, it's getting late now".

"do you not want to stay for dinner?"

you again stop in your place, seemingly freezing. mark does the same, parroting your expression with his shoulders tensing. he glances over at you, watching as the inner battle your having in your head plays on your forehead in big bold letters. "um.. i—"

"mark!" his mother chastises, smacking his arm in a manner that draws a small wince. "what are you standing there for? invite your friend over for dinner!"

mark almost wants to utter he's not my friend, but that's just so mean to say out loud. he isn't exactly sure if that's what you would want or not, so his mouth again hangs open like he's some sort of idiot who doesn't know how to speak.

but you break the silence by chuckling silently. "it's okay mrs. lee i wouldn't want to overstay my welcome".

she sucks her teeth, waving a dismissive hand in the same manner mark does. "don't say that! you're welcome here now! have you eaten yet?"

you can only stare incredulously, biting the skin off your lips. "no not really.."

she gasps in horror, her big brown eyes holding a familiar look of worry. "you must be starving then! just stay for a few minutes, yeah?"

you so badly want to decline, mark sees it in the shift you perform, but it's also impossible to decline, you share one glance with mark, then you sigh. "okay.. thank you ma'am".

"don't thank me, i'm simply doing the bare minimum".

you wonder where you've heard that one before.

mark finally snaps out of his daze, a warm smile spreading across his features. "are you really staying?" he inquires when his mom walks back to the kitchen, the volume of his voice merely a small whisper.

"just for a few minutes" you whisper in reply, the straps of your backpack burning into your palm with how hard you're pressing onto it.

mark can barely even hide the bigger smile that threatens to paint his face. that's nice, it's not along the lines of a sure or an okay, it's something more.

maybe it's a step in the right direction.

WHEN MONDAY AGAIN ROLLS AROUND, MARK has way too much on his mind. the crisp october air has just gotten cooler, his heavier sweaters now in need. a few days from now it might begin smelling much more brisk, trees will wither at an even quicker rate, the leaves crunching under his shoes will fly away in the breeze without bidding so much as a goodbye. by the time november comes to a close, mark will have worn out this red sweater he's so attached to. for now though, he's going to wear it every single day, it matches the appearance of the autumn season, he wants to stay on theme (and he also just has a super huge attachment to the sweater).

even after you stayed over for a few extra minutes to have dinner at his house, courtesy of his mother's own magnanimity, you two still don't establish any kind of friendship. he heard you utter a few words about how he clearly inherited that from her, but he feigned ignorance as he focused on eating dinner.

your presentation is next week, the last week was simply full of research questions and many pieces of cardboard scattered across the floor. the librarian finds the sight of you two so mundane that she greets you with a small nod each time you enter.

there's much more studying than there actually is talking about anything else, an unseen work ethic mark usually wouldn't find weird if it wasn't for the morbid curiosity he has for everything.. well— you.

mark stares as you continue jotting, tape on your right hand side you stare at the cardboard folder you two decided to use for your presentation. he's been distracted for a while now, but you're still as focused as ever, it's pretty admirable how dedicated you are to this project.

"do you maybe wanna be friends?"

the tiniest sound of ink dropping onto a paper stops, one click to your pen. you always seem to do that, pause midway through your actions before fully taking his words into account. you always stare at him as if he says something absurd, like he's a crazy person. mark finds each of your actions pretty strange.

"what?"

he claps his hands, nails scratching the back of his own palms. "i don't know.. you've had dinner with my parents already, isn't it weird that we aren't friends?"

you itch to say something, and mark wishes superpowers would be granted to him in this very moment. he can't tell what you're thinking and the irritation begins to seep in as quick as he craves for it to disappear. "unless you don't want to be friends.. i don't mind".

what a terrible liar. he does mind. he fucking minds so much it's going to begin physically paining him soon enough.

you let go of the tense you seem to hold onto, shoulders relaxing as you sink into your chair. "fine, let's be friends then".

you say the words in a manner that indicates you're just the slightest bit weirded out, almost everything about mark seems to weird you out, and maybe it makes mark feel a little insecure.

"what's your favorite season?"

"excuse me?" you narrow your eyes, and mark thinks any courage he could've held in that moment dies down in his throat.

mark blinks, you have no reason to be so terrifying. it must be some skill of yours. "well usually when you make friends with people you get to know them.. i don't really know much about you, it's a start".

a start, there it is again, a start. your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, you pull your sleeves over your arms. "what? like twenty questions?"

mark's slow nod is almost barely recognizable. "yeah basically".

you stare for a moment, your silence overtaking you once again. maybe you're just thinking of an answer, maybe you don't think of these things in the way mark does, cogs turn in his brain, and he begins;

"i like summer.. mostly because my birthday is in summer but i've never really been a fan of the cold, it's excruciating to sleep in the summer but i greatly prefer it anyway, it's easier to sleep in heat than trudge to school in thick snow".

when mark releases a final breath, he again glances at you. oh! he just rambled, he just rambled through a response that he basically programmed into his head in preparation for this kind of question.

you again, look at him like he's crazy, but there's a hint of amusement in your expression, your lips threatening to turn up into a grin. "i don't really have a favorite".

mark's face scrunches, that's a boring answer. "okay but if you had to choose, which one would you pick?"

your shoulders again drop, rising into a shrug that isn't exactly of confusion, but something much more complicated. "autumn, it's like the in between season, summer makes my skin feel too clammy and winter is just.. painful".

"painful?"

"i don't really enjoy snow" you begin clicking your pen consistently once more. mark wonders if that's one of your anxious habits, he has some of those as well, he wonders a lot about you. "i guess it can be pretty but it's so cold i just can't help but dislike it".

"valid point".

you hum in response, and mark again smiles. it's pretty nice talking to you about just stupid things like this, hopefully you can share more moments in such a fashion. "do you like history?"

you snort. "not as much as you clearly do".

mark shakes his head for some reason. "i don't really enjoy history i just put a crazy amount of effort into it like i do my other subject.."

"well you have to stay on the principal's honor roll".

mark clears his throat, if he couldn't pinpoint your tone of voice, he would've thought you were insulting him with a show of sarcasm, but it's quite the opposite, there's a show of admiration in that tone of yours, respect. it's flattering, and if mark wasn't still afraid of you punching him in the face, he would've allowed for tease to slip from his lips.

"you're very smart too, just in your own way".

"well i'm much more of a science person" you respond, and mark's eyes widen in a form of daze. he had no idea what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.

"science?"

"you seem surprised" you utter, just the faintest hint of surprise on your features as you mirror the look mark gave you seconds prior (save for your eyes widening).

"i don't know, i would've never guessed science".

"i've long finished that class i just.. i find the aspect of science interesting" you pause your consistent clicking of your pen, again beginning to draw out something in your notebook.

mark almost wants to inquire about what you draw on the pages, but he keeps that in the recesses of his mind. "like biology and stuff?"

"physics, chemistry, astronomy, all the bullshit you hate learning about in school" though you focus on the drawing you seem pretty into, you also remember to give as much attention to mark. "it's interesting to research about when there isn't an uptight guy up your ass".

mark snickers at the reply, completely knowing of the teacher you're referring to with that sentence. "mr. cho isn't that bad".

"oh trust me, he is".

you giggle at your own response, the first show of a genuine smile mark sees on your face ever since the first time he met you. "sorry for calling you weird the last time".

shock flickers in mark's galaxy like irises. he wasn't exactly expecting an apology from you, he already got over it (as much as he could with how terrified of you he was). "it's okay, i guess i was being kinda pushy".

"no i was just being difficult, don't blame yourself".

mark wants to but in, yet his mouth clamps shut. he itches to tell you no, to tell you that he just doesn't get you yet, but it's not your fault.

"well were friends now, so it doesn't matter".

when your eyes cast towards him, an unusual shiver runs down his spine, but a smile stays stuck to his face.

after legions of fear, friendship is finally established.

but it's still a little strange. though mark finally knows a few new interesting factoids concerning you (your favorite season is autumn, you have an interest in science, and you aren't as scary as you may seem), you're still a pretty clear mystery.

the rest of the week is spent finalizing your project, there's again less off topic talking again, and mark holds on to that small conversation you originally had in the library for the next few days, looking forward to the next time he can have such a talk with you.

you seem to thrive in silence, so mark doesn't try to force more conversation between you two, when you want to talk to him, you'll talk to him.

but mark still has that itching curiosity which won't go away.

"do you ever worry about someone for no reason?"

mark inquires it to donghyuck on the following friday, the barely warm breeze rushing past them, slightly lifting hairs from their heads. donghyuck blinks, stretching his legs forward onto the rest of the aluminum bleachers. "what do you mean by that?"

mark pauses, he should've expected donghyuck to answer his question with a question. it was all abrupt, flimsy, it wasn't all thought out like most of his inquiries. "i don't know.. sometimes i don't talk much to someone and i still feel like something is going on".

donghyuck raises an eyebrow. "ohh, you're talking about y/n".

mark doesn't even know why he's shocked, out of words, he nods at his response.

donghyuck lets out a breath. "y/n's a pretty stalling guy, he usually doesn't get to the point quickly, you might just be worried because he won't confide in you".

"i mean.. it still feels like there's more there, i can understand if he doesn't want to talk to me but i'm also afraid something more might be going on, you know?"

donghyuck sucks his teeth, offering mark an elbow nudge that seems along the lines of an affectionate gesture. "that might just be because of your naturally aiding impulses, i'm sure if something is going on, y/n just isn't telling you because he doesn't want you to freak".

mark's face scrunches. "i'm not going to freak".

"well then you clearly don't know yourself" donghyuck pats mark on his shoulder, grabbing his backpack and shrugging it over his shoulder. just as mark is about to give yet another brash response, donghyuck quips; "wanna race back to my place?"

before mark can respond, donghyuck leaps off the bleachers and begins sprinting, much to his own dismay. "hey! that's cheating!" he shouts, but donghyuck makes no move of slowing down.

mark curses at his own best friend, trying his best to keep up the pace. "donghyuck!"

all he receives in return is a gleeful giggle.

MARK FIRST MEETS YOUR PARENTS THE FOLLOWING WEEK, an event that was entirely accidental. you guys ace the project, the resounding look of pride from your teacher alerts you of that. the a+ was guaranteed you say, from the moment mrs. lim decided to place you two in a project together she knew it was. still, even with the usually high expectations, mark can barely contain himself, almost hugging you in the aftermath of the whole thing. he isn't sure how he managed to keep it all to himself, but he did, and it's good that he did, he was afraid of making it all more awkward. he was pleased to see a smile blossom on your face, your smile is pretty, it's fitting.

the moment class ends, he makes his way over to you. "we did a good job" he whispers, the volume of his voice barely able to be considered a whisper. he held his hand up, wincing in his own mind as he watches you stare.

but, fortunately for mark, you give him a high five, your hands meeting in a silent slap. for the sheer moment your palms meet, he basks in the feeling of your rough callouses against his soft ones. "you did a good job".

"we did a good job" mark specifies, and you stand up from your place, simply responding with a small nod.

you decide to not argue with him, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. there's a small silence that settles into the air, but then mark again perks up. "do you want to walk home together?"

shock colors your features, an instant look of fear flickering in your eyes. "i— i mean.."

you lick your lips, thousands of thoughts running rampant through your mind. "sure" you reply, feeling mark's heavy gaze directed towards you.

again, it's just a sure, nothing exactly reassuring.

mark tightens his hold on his backpack, a small look in his eye that you actively avoid. he decides to not comment on it, instead letting the silence fester as you two bid farewell to your fellow classmates and begin walking home.

it seems you walk home to school as well, you haven't muttered anything about a bus, or about your parents taking you to and from school. he usually sees you walk in the opposite direction of the bus stop, so he simply assumes you walk home like he does.

he hears you mumble something under your breath, and he narrows his eyes, curiosity peaked by the unintelligible words. he glances at you, eyes full of anxiety. "is everything okay?"

your head snaps up so quickly mark almost squeaks at the sharp movement. your eyes are widened comically, but mark can't even find an awkward chuckle ready to leave his lips, you look terrified, you look.. scared.

"m' fine".

"you sure?"

you don't have to lie to me.

mark decides to keep that one to himself.

"yeah i'm fine" you say, avoiding eye contact and stomping your shoes.

you stop in front of an unfamiliar house, only half the walk towards mark's own place. oh, so you don't live that far away from school. you live closer than mark even does, he guesses he again learned something new about you.

"hey you don't even live that far away" mark says, hoping his smile will somehow brighten your mood. he watches a small flicker of bliss form on your face, and he manages to contain his own elation. "you didn't tell me you lived close by".

you again mutter something unintelligible under your breath, but your tone of voice indicates that you're just the slightest bit afraid once again.

mark is about to ask again when the door swings open, and an unfamiliar woman with a mean look in her eye. she squints at the sight of you, irritation crossing her expression. "i thought you were staying at school late".

the look of fear in your eyes becomes more of embarrassment, but the terror remains. "i um— i messed it up, my projects over".

mark studies her face for a moment, he assumes that's your mother, but he doesn't capture a single resemblance between you two. "crock of shit" she mumbles, her eyes shift erratically, and she clicks her tongue in a manner reminiscent of how you do it.

mark stops as he feels an awkwardness shift in the air, and she finally has half a mind to acknowledge his presence. "do i know you?"

her head tilts slightly, and mark almost jumps back in complete terror. "no i.. mark lee, i'm y/n's friend".

she raises an eyebrow, a chuckle of disbelief being her immediate response. "you have friends?"

you lick your teeth, the irritation in your expression betraying the words on your lips: "i didn't mean to lie" you continue to avoid her eyes, as if afraid she might turn you into stone if you even glance at her face. "i'm sorry".

she dismisses your apology rather quickly. "whatever i don't care.." she almost rolls her eyes, but she seems to stop it. "it's nice to meet you.." she snaps her fingers as her words trail off, and mark realizes she forgot his name already. "mark".

your cheeks tint pink with embarrassment, and you look down at the floor, holding in your breaths. "can i have a few minutes?" you mumble, tutting silently.

she shrugs. "be quick, we have to talk" irritation laces her tone, and she places a performative smile on her face as she glances at mark, the door closing behind her.

mark is almost completely overtaken by his silence, but then you sigh, shoulders relaxing. "was that your mom?"

you mimic her prior shrug, tongue prodding at your cheek. "more or less.." you don't exactly react to those words, simply have an indifferent expression on.

"you don't look like her at all".

the moment the words escape mark, he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. that has to be offensive in some way, that's absolutely ridiculous to say, if his mom were here she'd smack him on the back of the head for the way he just acted. instead, you reply with a silent chuckle, a small smile painting your face.

"foster parents".

mark blinks. "what?"

"they're my foster parents, not my actual ones" you explain, and mark's heart drops to his feet.

oh. that's the entire expanse of your situation. mark didn't exactly think that would be the case, he doesn't know what he expected, but it definitely wasn't this.

"oh" he voices out loud, gritting his own teeth. "i— i'm sorry i didn't know".

he almost feels guilty in a sense.

for what, though?

"it's alright" you shake your head, shrugging your backpack over your shoulder, your expression of indifference remains. "see you on monday".

mark has no idea how he collects his words. "yeah, see you.."

but mark can't walk home without the feeling of nausea bubbling up in his stomach.

CONTRARY TO YOUR VERY WORDS, YOU DO NOT show up on monday. mark immediately jumps to the worst possible outcome. he isn't exactly sure why he jumped to thinking the worst, he's simply afraid something happened. your.. mothers sharp glare remains permanently framed in his memory, she was absolutely terrifying. when monday flies by with no sight of you, mark almost wants to walk to your place himself, but he keeps himself settled in his own thoughts, he wouldn't want to freak you out. his worries extended towards the day after, the greeting november air only adding to his worries.

now the oncoming cooler air is completely welcomed on mark's part. he enjoys the cold weather more than he has the gall to admit, and his dark red sweater has already been worn out even after only a week of consistently wearing it.

mark entered class on tuesday with a whole wave of nausea overtaking anything else he could've been feeling. when he took his seat, he practically waited to be bestowed with bad news.

he licks his lips as the teacher begins taking attendance, the 'here' he mutters is full of distraught he couldn't tell he was holding.

mrs. lim narrowed her eyes at her clipboard, the click of her tongue bouncing off the walls. "has anyone seen y/n?"

the question is asked out of sheer curiosity, just the slightest hint of worry present in her tone. it's a thing to be absent once, but you're usually only absent once, you're a pretty consistent student in terms of attendance.

her eyes flicker up, and the rest of the class begin their resounding murmurs. mark merely glances around, licking his teeth, additionally sucking his teeth to sell his irritation.

she scrunches her nose, about to ask again when, as if on cue, you walk in through the door. the indifference painted on your face is similar to the one he memorized back on that friday. you blink, avoiding her eyes in the manner of an ashamed child. "sorry i'm late" you mutter, frantically extending your gaze around the whole room.

mrs. lim stares, attempting to read your inner most thoughts. "it's okay just.. you'll get a tardy pass later sit down".

you offer your best nod, lips remained pressed shut as you shuffle towards your seat, avoiding mark's eyes specifically. his gaze trails onto yours, but because he can't see your eyes, he can't read how you feel.

you hang your head low as you take your seat, the familiar dragging of your pen against your notebook page not filling the room. mark feels as if the room is suffocating him whole, your very presence itself strangely scaring him.

"why didn't you show up yesterday?" mark inquires, he really wants make it sound like it's all okay, but his words trail off into an accusing whine.

you pause, shrugging. there's so much exhaustion behind your eyes, as if you've missed out on weeks upon weeks of sleep. "something came up".

you attempt your best shot at walking away from mark, back faced towards him as you walk in the direction of the bathroom.

mark scrunches his face, speeding up his own pace and brushing his shoulder against yours. he can no longer contain his curiosity, you look absolutely terrified of.. something. "what came up?"

"nothing".

"don't lie to me".

mark's expression of worry is now at full affect, his big brown eyes holding anxiety. you manage your best scoff, the grasp on your backpack tightening. your face twitches, the flicker in your eyes betraying the disdain you attempt to face make with.

still, you try to brush him off, shaking your head. "i'm not lying, and besides, it's none of your business".

mark kisses his teeth, a loud sigh now leaving his lips. he clears his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.

you stare, crumbling under his undeniably soft gaze. "i'm sorry" you mumble, immediately looking away from him, eyes shifting uncontrollably. "i just don't want to talk about it" you poke the side of your cheek with your tongue, clasping your hands behind your back.

mark stares down at his feet, biting down into his bottom lip. he scratches at his own fingers, anxious impulses all high and mighty. "it's alright, i— um.. do you wanna go get ice cream?"

you blink, sucking your teeth. you scratch the back of your neck, and mark has no idea why he asks that question, he just knows ice cream usually makes him feel better, maybe it's the same for you.

"ice cream? in november?"

"ice cream always helps people feel better".

you offer a small chuckle at that, head turned down as you nod.

mark smiles, he can't believe that worked. your walk to the local ice cream parlor is silent, clear fatigue still present under your eyes. you lightly shiver at the cold breeze that rushes past you, a faint mutter from mark questioning if you two should even be going to get ice cream in the first place.

"you're the one who suggested we get ice cream" you breath out, making no indication that you were against the idea of getting ice cream after school in the beginnings of winter. "i don't mind".

"but i just want to make sure".

the words seemingly appall you, and mark realizes that most of his words seem to have that effect on you. you again fester in your silence, tongue licking at your lips as you catch sight of the nearby ice cream parlor. "it doesn't really matter.."

why doesn't it matter? why is it so strange that i care about you y/n?

the words don't escape mark, they simply fizzle out into the air as the screeching of the open door instead meets his ears. mark is quick to smile as you two walk into the ice cream parlor, his humming immediately filling the air.

"i kind of see ice cream as a comfort thing because it reminds me of summer.." mark mutters, licking his spoon stained with the cookie dough flavoring.

you don't eat right away, simply stab your spoon into your pile of vanilla. "how can something so cold be so comforting?"

just look at you.

you suck your teeth, as if sensing his thoughts, the ice cream brightens your mood in just the slightest, he can see it in the way your eyes flare up. at least he momentarily got it, at least there's at least a sliver of happiness there.

"everything cold is comforting in summer".

"it's going to begin snowing soon" you smack your lips at the taste of vanilla on your tongue, it's just.. vanilla. "might get a brain freeze".

"worth it for the sugar".

now that, that draws a small snicker from you, your lips finally turning up in a display of ecstasy. maybe it isn't you finding that funny, but it's you finding mark's delivery to be blissful. your head tips down as you attempt to stifle your laughter, but you can't exactly hold yourself together.

mark stares at the prospect, his lips turning up unconsciously as his gaze is stick onto you, and how you look.. pleased.

mark can't even contain it. he loves seeing you be happy.

which then results in his mind retracting, he thinks back to the sight of your mother's angry face, and his lips turn downward.

maybe you were gone because something happened at home, mark can really do nothing but assume.

"sacrificing your well being for sugar? that's so.. strange".

"sugar is a good coping tool" mark breaths, throwing out the ice cream that he finished rather quickly.

you simply hum in reply, clearly not believing those words, but letting mark have the win anyway.

"hey y/n?"

you blink, your gaze slow as you stare down mark. mark clears his throat, swallowing his own fear. "i want you to talk to me.. okay? i don't mean to come off as pushy or annoying or nosey i just want to make sure you're alright, i'm not going to bite or anything".

you opt to awkwardly chuckle at that last bit, again shrugging your backpack over your shoulder. "i know.."

mark's face scrunches, he still doesn't really have you, you're still pretty withdrawn. "you don't have to tell me about everything just.. you know i'm here, if you ever need someone to talk to—"

"you'll be my first choice, don't worry" you finish the next half of your sentence with your own words, words that can't be feigned honesty, as you avoid mark's eyes in the process.

the words strike something.. different in mark. is it maybe bliss? some undiscovered form of happiness? he doesn't exactly know the name, even if it feels as if it's on the tip of his tongue, but he's pleased for now. there's trust that's been established between you two, you trust mark.

"okay, okay" mark heaves a breath, his smile sticking to his face.

you seem to like his smile, because your pupils dilate at the sight of it.

maybe it isn't exactly the ice cream that helped you feel better, but mark can't figure out that it might be him that's your cure.

FRIENDSHIP ALSO MEANS HAVING TO SPEND time with each other, something that seems easy enough. "spending time" simply equates to mark talking and you listening. again, you don't exactly enjoy talking, so you leave all of it to him. mark talks to death about himself, his life, his dad, his mom, stuff you probably don't find interesting, but keep circulating through your mind. mark can hear the disdain you must be feeling, because all he does is talk about his stuff. he doesn't think he would enjoy that if it was someone else, but you really don't seem to mind, as long as you don't need to do the talking.

"do i talk about myself too much?" mark abruptly inquires, head whipping towards you in an instant. your gaze is fixed on the ground, and you opt to sucking your teeth as a silent response. "it's alright, you can be honest".

you snicker at that. "you're a very.. thoughtful person".

mark narrows his eyes. what is that supposed to mean?

"you think a lot, there's simply so much on your mind" you clarify, tongue dragging across your teeth. "i don't mind if you talk, it's how i learn".

"learn about..?"

"you, what you like, how you are, talk all you want it's okay".

mark straightens himself, hands dropping into his lap. "i want you to talk".

you raise an eyebrow. "what?"

"talk about yourself, i know enough about me, why don't you tell me about you?"

"i'm not that interesting" your quick to say, fingers beginning to pick at your own individual nails. when mark sends you a look, you follow up on your words; "really i'm not, don't look at me like that".

mark takes in a deep sigh, carting a hand through his light brown hair. "it doesn't matter".

you bite into your cheek. mark parroted your own words to signal at least.. something, reaching out to you might be a challenge, but mark isn't going to stop trying.

you contemplate, eyes heavy lidded. "i mean— why are you at the police station so much?"

the police station. that's where you two first met, you raise your shoulders into a performed shrug. your dark sweater paralleling the color of your eyes, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "my parents are assholes".

the words are said surely, there isn't indifference there, there is no dissatisfaction behind your eyes, you know what you're saying, you don't even mind what you're saying.

mark could never say such a thing, let alone say them about his parents.

"oh".

mark clears his throat. "you're a foster kid? how does that work?"

mark knows how it works, he just needs to see how the terms spill from your lips. "they just drop me into another home when my other foster parents get sick of me, adoption is useless so i just stay with strangers who get paid monthly that don't care".

mark isn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. his mouth remains dry, what is a regular response to exposition like that? he scratches at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, guilt again in the air.

"sorry, i really know how to ruin the mood".

"no no! it's okay, i'm the one who asked".

"still, didn't need to make it all.. depressing".

"i mean— it is pretty depressing" mark scratches at his own knees, smile awkward. "but sometimes that's just how life decides to treat us".

us is a bit of a shallow way to put it, mark doesn't understand your circumstances, he's never faced any of what you face. "i'm sorry, i wish i could do something".

"you need to stop apologizing".

"but—"

"stop" you suck a breath between your teeth, hands placed symmetrically at your sides.

"alright, sorr.." he pauses when you raise an eyebrow, the beginning of his second apology forcing itself back down his throat. "okay".

you just barely hold back your shiver, the fall air rushing past you in a speed reminiscent of the ocean. "shit like that isn't your fault, i get you're.. you care, i know, but you don't have to apologize".

mark opts to awkwardly chuckle. "i don't really know what else to say.."

"you're a nice person to be around".

the words are enough to get a pause, but you don't exactly mind it, you said those words with conviction, as if you had previously thought them out and were completely sure of what they entailed.

or maybe you can secretly sense the effect they have, because mark isn't exactly the best at hiding the formations of his newest expressions. his eyes light up, the shine of the sun peeking behind the clouds amplifying the pleasure he recedes from the compliment.

your lips turn up by in the slightest, and you suck a breath between your teeth as you patiently await his response.

"oh" mark breaths, clearing his throat as he lets the strange feeling in his stomach settle away. "thank you.."

you don't reply, your smile simply mundane. you again kiss your teeth, mark's fingers fiddling at his necklace. "i.. uh— another thing i'm pretty interested in astronomy".

the mutter is half said, the rest of your words trailing off into something barely intelligible. mark's eyes dazzle in intrigue, astronomy is pretty interesting. "you like space?"

"i love space" you shake your head in disbelief at your own words. "it's pretty, the stars, the planets, just.. all of it is beautiful".

"and deadly".

now that one is a surprise, because you aren't able to stifle your laughter, your head shaking as a display of your amusement. "well yeah but that can be said for many things".

mark's eyes again dazzle, his own intrigue building up at the reply. "that's what makes a lot of the world interesting".

your eyebrow raise in a parroting of mark's own intrigue. "more like it's what makes it terrifying".

"terrifying can be interesting".

"i never said it couldn't".

your knees knock together, an indecisive look in your eye. you pull your sleeves over your arms when you begin noticing the goosebumps, a sigh leaving your lips immediately. "it's fine if you talk, i don't mind".

mark has no idea why, but he feels that those words are a lie. "it doesn't get repetitive?"

your expression falters for a simple moment, but instead of speaking, you keep your words to yourself. you shake your head silently, hands placed into your lap.

there's a moment of silence again, mark carefully crafts his next words, straightening his posture as he keeps his gaze trained straight ahead. "do you like drawing?"

seamless segway.

it would be seamless if mark wasn't shaking so much, maybe it was dumb of him to forget his sweater, but in his defense, it was warm in the morning! he would've been sweating on the way to school.

mark thinks if he focuses enough, he'll be able to hear the familiar continuous clicking of your pen in the background.

he again shudders, a small breath leaving his lips.

when you glances back at you, you smoothly slip your sweater from your arms and hand it over, slightly startling mark back. your face remains still, your gaze averting in an instant. "take it".

mark blinks dumbly.

you suck your teeth. "your cold, take it, you can give it back to me tomorrow".

"y/n—"

"you're not walking home cold.." you mutter, simply placing the sweater in mark's lap as you watch him again involuntarily shudder. "i'll be okay, don't worry about me".

mark wants to argue, but you leave no room for that, stubbornly crossing your arms. he takes the sweater and mutters a silent "thank you" 

a somewhat ggressive act of kindness, mark guesses that's pretty fitting for the kind of person you are.

he still tries to get you to open up, and slowly, it seems to be working.

"i know you hate snow" he comments whilst you two walk down the hallway that friday. he tightens the grip he has on his bag, a small smile on his face as he pictures the upcoming winter. your hum is a usual response, a simple sound mark has to focus to even catch. "how do you plan to survive winter?"

you snicker silently, again humming. "can't do anything but walk".

"you better have good boots".

"i have good boots, maybe not a good jacket, though".

he's about to ask for clarification when the spawn of satan decides it's his time to shine; "markie!"

mark flinches when donghyuck comes around the corner, bouncing on his heels as he makes his way over to mark. mark's loud sigh ricochets off the walls of the hallway. "that's the bane of my existence.." he mutters towards you, and you chuckle lightly.

"you're so sweet to me" donghyuck's smile is strained, but he doesn't focus all his attention on mark that often. his eyes flit over towards you, and there's immediate intrigue there. "and you must be the famous y/n!"

the volume of his voice causes for your face to strain, but you keep it all together as to not offend him. you glance everywhere before again focusing on his face, a small smile showing up on your lips. "famous is.. probably pretty dramatic".

donghyuck exchanges a knowing look with mark, who blushes and clears his throat whilst feigning ignorance at that glance. he extends his hand towards you, whistling. "well with how mark is, it seems you are".

he snickers, and mark just barely keeps himself from punching the younger. you shake your head as you too shake his hand, avoiding mark's eyes. "okay then, it's nice to meet you.."

"donghyuck".

"donghyuck, nice to meet you".

mark watches the interaction with wide eyes, his mind rushing with a flurry of thoughts. "i can't believe this is our first time meeting! it's been a while since you two became friends huh?"

friends is a weird word, but you don't exactly comment on it. "yeah, mark has mentioned you before he just never said your name".

mark blows a breath between his lips, unaware of why his anxieties are suddenly rising. you glance at him, practically sensing the presence of his anxiety. mark almost jumps, but he manages to keep himself together. "i have to get home early, i'll see you monday".

you don't exactly seem sure of those words, but your smile makes it all look fine. "it was nice meeting you donghyuck".

the other only hums, you two exchanging smiles as you begin your way down the hallway, smile dropping once you get a wise distance away from them.

mark keeps the silence before donghyuck pipes up; "isn't he cute?"

mark chokes on his own spit, his face noticeably scrunching up as he glances in his childhood friends direction. "what?"

"don't tell me you've never thought it before" donghyuck snickers, affectionately nudging mark as an uncertain smile tugs at his lips.

"i haven't! you're so.. strange".

donghyuck narrows his eyes, clearly he doesn't believe such words. "okay mark, i'll believe that for your own sake".

and mark can't register why he assumes he's lying, donghyuck is just crazy.

donghyuck is just crazy.

OKAY, NOW THAT IT'S BEEN MENTIONED, MARK can't exactly stop thinking about it. donghyuck can be so stupid sometimes, but maybe it's somewhat justified. he never really took the time to focus on your facial features in specific, and he guesses that laying awake at three in the morning is the perfect time to focus on them. mark noticed everything, nose freckles, moles, the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lips, your dark brown irises, he usually picks off the physical traits of those he's meeting for the first time with stark detail in his own mind. he really never did think about it, but now he has all the time too.

are you cute? mark's eyes stick to the photos decorating his walls, the figures shrouded in darkness without the light of the sun permeating through the window aiding in producing the shin they so clearly require.

yeah, you are. mark isn't over admitting when he finds a guy cute, you can easily be described as such. there's something about the flicker of your eyes that entices him, but that's just.. strange.

he opts to rolling over, staring at his alarm clock nestled onto the bedside table. being kept up because you're stuck pondering about whether you're friend not friend is cute is absolutely idiotic. since when has this happened before?

that question is also idiotic, it hasn't.

he pulls the covers over him and nuzzles against his pillow, feigning ignorance to his flurry of thoughts with a sigh as he keeps the pattern of your moles pictured in his head.

thanksgiving breezes past just as it always does every year, donghyuck's family again comes over for the festivities ('festivities' equaling the sharing of meals while the two scarf down pretty much everything in the kitchen), but mark stays unfocused even with a bunch of people other than you around him.

then the end of november speed runs until mark's face scrunches at the upcoming first day of december.

december is too cold, there's no foresight of ice on the ground, no snow ready to sneak up on everybody just yet, but he doesn't care, he can already feel the grimace ready to be painted over his features.

and as the cold breeze balls up it's fist into an open punch, mark takes a small breath;

you said you hate winter.

mark gets it, but it's less of you hating winter and more of mark constantly thinking of.. well— you.

again, he doesn't exactly need to take history, the class is as useless to his academic record as it is interesting, but mark won't continue complaining, he's terrified mrs. lim can secretly read his mind.

"what class are you taking next semester?" mark whispers, leaning back in his seat as the widening of his eyes is in tune with his complete interest.

your shoulders rise in a puzzled shrug, the familiar drag of your pen now right in mark's ear. you don't make an effort to glance upward, but mark is aware you're paying adequate attention anyway. "not sure, they always tell me after, what are you taking?"

mark decides to completely scoot backward, the crack of knuckles causing for your face to scrunch. "computer programming".

there's a beam in your eyes. "as a senior?"

mark's snicker is a result of your tone. "it's for last minute credits, just like this class.."

"ah".

you again engross yourself in whatever it is you're doing in your notebook, mark attempts to sneak a glance, but you seem to sense his eyes, as you flip the page upward where his eyes can't meet it.

well shit, you caught him.

yet you don't mutter a single word about the event which just transpired, you simply continue with the similar drag of your pen.

at this point, the sound is a puzzling solacing noise for mark. he'll never utter such words loudly though, it's strange to admit that the sound of someone drawing in their notebook has become a sense of comfort for you.

mark sometimes wonders how deep the corners of his mind expand. "finals week is coming up".

you hum in reply, nodding your head, pen seemingly having a mind of it's own. mark glances over, unable to decipher the gleam of your eyes. it could be irritation, or maybe it's satisfaction, you're confident in the strength of your brain, it doesn't seem like you would struggle.

your eyes flit up for a moment, and then you snicker for a reason completely unknown to mark. "you nervous?" he decides to quip.

another hum. "always, but i trust most of my intellect".

"you should, you're very smart".

the compliment is spontaneous, an abrupt uttering that you clearly weren't expecting, as heat coils against your skin, the reddish tint clashing with your once vain cheeks. your lips part, the dragging of your pen subsides. you then glance away as you clear your throat, blowing smoke through your lips.

"i'm sure you'll be fine" mark finally finishes, big eyes bugging out as he decides to avert his gaze. "don't give me that look, i've observed, you have one of the highest grades in the class".

"it's all just.. nothing".

mark decides to snicker. "not nothing, you have the ability".

"i guess i'll take your word for it" tease lingers on your tongue. "smartest kid in class after all".

there, now you two are even. you just complimented mark with words that he hears from people everywhere, but hearing them from you is what gets a stupid smile out of him. "oh.. well i don't know about that one".

mark tucks a strand behind his ear, the slightest bit of meekness displayed by his eyes. your eyes flitter upward, and the curve of your lips is satisfying. "yeah you do, you're smart, honor roll smart".

"i would say you're the same".

you long to take those words as a challenge, mark notices a certain burning in your eyes, but you opt to a small smile instead. "not enough for honors".

"well i think so".

and maybe, that's the only thing that matters. your face appears to light up, but you decide it's best to not comment on such a thing.

as the colder days approach, mark learns even more about you he doesn't exactly expect.

and it all comes through smoking.

"what?"

you seem amused by the inquiry asked of you, and mark's eyes widen in their usual jolted fashion, his hands clutching at his sides. you seem to look through him, humor still present in your tone as you reply; "did you just.. you smoke?"

mark clears his throat, eyes immediately averting, his gaze zeroing in on the visible air he can see being blown through his lips. "it's like a— um, anxiety tick thing, sometimes when i get overwhelmed it helps".

you bite into your cheek, shoving a hand into your pocket as you rummage for a while, pulling out a lighter which you shake in air, listening to the clinking of the metal. mark's eyes again bug out, a usual reaction for him, his expression reminiscent of a child hearing someone swear for the first time. "oh.. so you smoke?"

you pass the lighter, whistling in the air as you nod. "yeah, same thing really, it's not regular or anything i just sometimes need to let go".

mark longs to ask why, and you practically read his mind with the words displayed all over his face. "my parents are such amazing stressors, it'd be a shock if i didn't smoke at this point".

he can only stare, blowing smoke out from his lips as he watches it form in front of him. "it gets bad for me during exam season, finals get to my head and i can't resist".

"your parents don't know?"

mark shakes his head rapidly back and forth, a snicker falling from his lips. "nope, i think they would kill me if they found out.. can't let them know".

you opt to once again humming, shoving the lighter back in your pocket as your nose scrunches. you scratch behind your ear, howling winds earning the slightest shiver from you. "ah, i see".

mark keeps himself silent, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stares forward, his eyes then falling to the ground. it's bare, empty, the sight of snow may meet his eyes in the coming days, maybe tomorrow even, the weather has always been know as unpredictable, a snowstorm could happen tonight, mark is afraid of that one.

"please don't tell anyone" mark whispers, eyes still cast downward. it's embarrassing, not even donghyuck knows that he does, and he's sure donghyuck is a smoker himself. he isn't exactly sure why.. he just knows what the reaction would be. "it's.. um, i don't know actually, feels like everyone thinks of me as a certain person so if they were to find out—"

"i won't tell" you state immediately, raising your pinky. "you have my word" is your next collection of words, mark blinks at you with shining eyes.

a pinky promise? he isn't sure what he expected, but he guesses they are the closest thing to a legally binding agreement.

mark intertwines his pinky with yours, the clash of your fingers together something of a prospect. your finger is rough, his are soft, he can't help but keep that fact tucked away in his mind. "pinky swear?"

"pinky swear".

mark decides he will take your word for it.

he supposes pinky swears do a lot for people, as long as the promise isn't broken, he won't have a reason as to not trust you.

IT'S A WEEK BEFORE FINALS WHEN MARK REALIZES yet another thing he doesn't exactly mean to discover. your simply.. esteemed love for thai food is a prospect he didn't exactly expect, but with a week until finals and the end of the year breathing down your neck, he guesses learning more about you is the right way to go. he wonders if there'll be many more turns to take in the future, he wonders how much truly runs through your heads. through picking your nails and raising eyebrows, he's already been able to decipher a lot, maybe he could just learn more if..

"do you know any good thai restaurants nearby?" he inquires, arms placed idly as he again admires your side profile. you hum, scratching at the sleeves of your sweater. it's a pretty one, the hue is a dark red, mark is curious on if the shades of red are your favorite, he forgets to ask.

your snort is short. "not in this town, it's a distance away from here, used to go regularly as a kid, it'll never get old.."

"so it's like.. a place of comfort?"

"basically" you reply, getting comfortable in your chair. it's the midway point of the period, the class is doing nothing but studying for finals next week, it leaves room for flurries of conversations mark otherwise wouldn't have been able to have with you.

it's nice, discussions flow a little easier between you two now that you've gotten slightly closer. though skepticism remains at an all time high (mark picks up on the mutters you occasionally let slip about your parents, something along the lines of fighting, loose funds, substances, his eyebrows keep furrowed), mark finds the now regular talks a fond juncture.

he rests his head onto his fist, scratching at his jaw with mid length nails. "when was your last visit?"

you shrug despite clearly knowing your response, arms coming to fold over your chest. "i haven't gone since high school began, makes sense because that's when i got put with.. them".

'them' equating to your current foster parents, mark unconsciously slides downward in his seat, anxiety rising. he observes the twitching of your left eye, a sight almost frightening.

"do you— um.. can you go again?"

your right eye closes, a sign of your contemplation. "they're.. my parents, they're crazy".

"have you never attempted to sneak?"

you chuckle, seemingly amused. "really? sneaking? i would've never thought that from you".

"i took part a few times, you could thank donghyuck for that one" mark keeps his head leaned sideways, it's easy to admire your features in this manner. you have a nice side profile, the left of your jaw perfectly highlighted in the lighting of the room. your lips curve upward at the reply, enjoyment behind your eyes.

"oh, i see, you're that kind of pair".

mark longs to figure out the meaning of those words, but you once again begin whistling, arms folding over your chest.

a specific question keeps echoing in mark's mind.

"you could.. uh— why don't we go together?"

you blink, dumbfounded. you study mark for a moment, and he suddenly feels unconscious under your gaze. you then silently snicker, just the slightest bit amused. "what?"

his hands find purchase on the desk before him, eyes avoiding yours, throat clearing. "um.. i just— i don't know, you seem to be fond of the place, wouldn't visiting be nice?"

your eyes narrow. "you're so.. wow, okay".

you chuckle, hiding your oncoming expression behind the cover of your own hands. mark remains anxious at the lack of a reply, nails coming to scratch at his hands. "is that a no?"

"no, no! you're just.. too sweet" you opt to reply, laughter carrying you through. mark feels heat coil over his cheeks, he's sure that it may manifest in color which permeates his skin, but he can't exactly think about that.

"oh, um— i.."

"while i would love to go" you begin, smoothing your hands over your jeans. "that's implying i have to sneak out".

oh, mark can't believe how dangerously impulsive he is.

but instead of a snark, you smile, it's small, yet it results in genuine ease sinking into mark's anxiety ridden heart, his hands coming to clasp together. "that was a dumb thing to say right? i'm sorry, forget i even said anything".

you contemplate for a moment, mark's anxiety again rising as your silence merely continues. "that's a good idea, it'd be nice to go before it starts snowing".

mark almost dies, was that just a yes?

you seemingly read his mind, because your lips do a swift upturn. "i guess i wouldn't mind sneaking out".

mark blinks, attempting to properly register the words without looking like a crazy person. "i didn't— i mean.. you don't have to, i don't want to get you in trouble, if it does—"

"doesn't matter" you cross your arms, leaning back in your seat. "at this point, getting grounded is a blessing for me, it's not that far a walk".

"are you sure?"

you lick your teeth. "i've been conditioned to hide my money better, they barely pay any attention to me".

mark digests the depression littering those words, but you keep up appearances, preventing the dejection from blossoming up in your features. there's shy disappointment behind your eyes, yet you don't comment. "i'm sorry.."

your head snaps in his direction rather quickly. "for what?"

mark shakes his head in reply. "i.. um—"

"don't apologize for something that isn't your fault".

mark bites his tongue before he allows for another apology to slip, your eyebrow raise simply enough to shut him up. you remain the slightest bit terrifying, even after established friendship. "can't help it.."

he picks at his nails, feeling the burning sensation of your eyes on the spot. he guesses his anxiety is really that permeable, and he longs to change the topic. "let's just hope the grades are good, yeah?"

"are you saying you wanna be study buddies?"

"i mean.. that's sort of how our relationship began" one click to your pen, mark tilts his head at the sight of your notebook. it's a simple hardcover, no label, a blank dark shade, yet it seems to carry a large entailing of significance, just like the pen, it has to contain something of an emotional connection to you, maybe, similarly to mark, you form attachments to even the smallest of things.

the use of the word 'relationship' earns a puzzling manner of expression, as if you have to rethink how you two interacted before the establishment of.. your now larger bond.

"that's cute".

you again open your notebook, yet another click to your pen as you begin.. something. mark has never been courageous enough to inquire about it to you, but he assumes there's some length of artistic expression in your personality, or maybe you just really enjoy writing, or you just scribble back and forth. really, mark can't assume what he doesn't know, and maybe you just don't want to divulge such a thing, he doesn't mind.

he simply observes, staring for long enough that you catch sight of it through your peripheral vision. "you'll do well, alright?"

you glance over at him, as if puzzled by the sudden reassurance. mark almost worries that you'll punch him in the face, his mind really needs to stop going down that route. "alright, let's hope you give me your luck".

MARK IS SURE HE COULD PERFECTLY RECITE EVERY SINGLE printed word in the several textbooks he's been staring at with nothing but pure disgruntlement for these past few days. there's a flurry of muddled information swirling around in his brain, he's afraid he might be taking a history quiz and begin scribbling down the formula of quotient entities. the many trigonometry equations have begun rotting him from the inside out, you've practically been an angel of a study buddy for these past few days, even despite the many whispers you let slip about you sleeping through pretty much all of trigonometry. you have strikingly straight notations, not even a letter out of place, penned compositions littering each page.

he can barely help the upturn of his lips.

"didn't you take trig last year? you're supposed to remember these things".

mark keeps his forehead pressed to the desk, the cool air just barely disturbing him. "trig is pretty much useless, math isn't my strong suit".

your eyebrows furrow. "you still got an a".

mark scoffs. "wow, thanks for supporting me with my endless struggle".

your chuckles now appear much more vibrant, some timidity remains, but it's better than how it all was in september, the change jumps out to mark, you're just so—

"you sound defeated, don't worry mark, you're still honor roll smart".

his heart constricts for a moment, and while he would usually be worried he was experiencing some length of a health risk, he knows it isn't that (but he guesses you could result in a heart attack, you're simply very..), but he can never be too sure.

your handwriting is irritatingly neat, nothing of an observable mistake despite pen clearly being used. is it the same pen? do you keep pens? do you like pens? his intrigue towards you could extend for miles, but he lets it stay inward no matter what.

your eyes gleam with the light of an indescribable entity. "do you.. would you still want to go out to eat on friday?"

mark blinks, contemplating despite the very much known answer. "yeah, i brought it up, if it makes you happy.."

"well you should also think about yourself, if you don't want to go—"

"no, no! i do" mark unfortunately can't arise much excuses for his sudden enthusiasm. he notices the amusement on your own features, but he doesn't make a comment. "besides, we won't see much of each other next week, and then the break will come right after".

winter break is usually its own blessing in mark's eyes, but there's this strange installment of fear this year. he isn't sure the extent your parents go, no signs of anything physical that he can see, yet he worries about you just having to be there for a length of almost two weeks. from what he's observed, school seems to be your only source of escape from whatever goes on at home, and he's aware that a student's safe place being school is typically a bad sign.

but maybe that's too much to just tell you right off the bat, you might think he's crazy, you probably already think he's a little crazy.

"aww, you're gonna miss me".

and mark is unsure of why, but a red hue strikes his formerly vain skin, it's simply mindless teasing, yet he can't help his flustered nature. jesus, he might actually have a heart attack, why did the room suddenly spike in temperature?

if you notice, you make no comment. oh that must've been a good ego boost.

"yeah um.. we've really come a long way since september".

he's sounding a little too sentimental, a break really is nothing, mark guesses donghyuck was right, he does care way too much, even so, he feels it's justified. you stare for a moment, scribbling something in your notebook as your gaze averts. "thanks for not giving up on me, even if i was an unbearable asshole in the beginning".

"don't say that" mark softly chides.

"it's pretty true, you can admit it".

he clears his throat, smile displayed. "so are you gonna come to me friday?"

you nod. "if i don't get caught".

mark doesn't mean to showcase his anxiety in the manner of his expression switch, but hiding his lingering fright has proven him extremely difficult, his mother said it's 'detrimental' to commit such an act.

you tilt your head. "are you okay?"

mark nods much too quickly, rendered somewhat speechless. "fine".

the rest of the day is surprisingly less awkward than he expects.

the week completely exhausts mark, he could probably hang onto his own eye bags at this point. though you feign bright normalcy, it's obvious that you're just as tired, you'll both be wiped out after finals.

yet you seem pretty lighthearted.

"you sure walking is just fine?"

"we could hop the train".

a small frown tugs at mark's lips, but the joke isn't exactly distasteful. "i've never gotten that far" the overcast sky clashes with your dark jacket, it's somewhat of a picturesque image, your best features are explicitly highlighted, even with the shadowed sunlight.

"really? i did once in eighth, the conductor let us off at the middle of nowhere, we got a terrible scolding after that one".

mark's eyebrows furrow, there's a lack of context in that reply, as if you said it to yourself instead of to mark. "us?"

your nose scrunches for a minute. "old foster friend, i used to do everything to get in trouble, he'd tag along for the adventure of it".

"oh".

mark doesn't mean to extend the silence, but talking isn't anything of an accord to you, it's easy to sink into a fit of silence, nothing of a bother.

things appear so young and innocuous outside, sometimes mark believes that nature could be the perfect picture of innocence, if it didn't also harbor an equal opportunity of available danger. he shivers, almost slipping on ice which lays dormant on the floor, no snow yet.

mark wishes he could have not a care in the world, and judging by your circumstances, you clearly do too.

the place is a way's walk, but mark guesses it was good to get in some steps. it appears pretty homely, somewhat aged, the walls are cracked, tiles exposed, and from the captured glimpse of the menus, they're old laminated ones.

you stare with fondness, the smell bringing a sense of warmth to you, as if the place healed your scars. "basically, this place is my home".

"is the food up to par?"

"you don't even have to ask".

mark chuckles, and you can't resist your own corresponding chuckle.

"y/n? is that you?"

at the call of your name you blink, smiling right away. it's an older woman, early fifties probably, her jaw hanging in a manner of recognition. "oh you're so big now!"

"hi mrs. saeng" you don't step away, instead you allow for her to fully embrace you, mark simply observing. "sorry, i know last time i said my next visit would be soon".

"oh it doesn't matter, you're still so adorable!" she squeals as she cups your cheeks, completely rendering you speechless. "and your friend is..?"

"mark" you just barely speak through the squeezing of your cheeks. "he's my classmate".

the woman smiles, a huge, homely smile that strikes comfort mark wasn't exactly expecting. his hands come to clasp in front of him, the typical sweet smile taking over his features. "hi, it's nice to meet you".

she gapes in her spot. "he's even cuter than you! oh my goodness look at his cheeks!"

your nose scrunches up in offense, yet it's clearly feigned. "cuter than me? that's rude to say auntie!"

she crazily fawns before you sit, and as you observe the laminated menus which appear on their last lives, your lips take an upturn, but not at a specific thing, simply at them. "auntie?" he inquires.

you snicker. "there's no relation, she's just an old family friend".

auntie by association, mark guessed that one, he again didn't recognize any sort of relation between you two.

and really, it seems you haven't eaten in a while, mark can't help but observe the tiny things. "did you have breakfast this morning?"

you pause, pretending you are genuinely contemplating something. he's pretty sure you burn your tongue midway through inhaling the bouts of food, yet that seems to be the last of your worries, he can't help the goofy laughter which escapes him at that. "it upsets my stomach".

mark doesn't bother inquiring about lunch, his gaze immediately softening. "you need to make sure you always eat, okay?"

you stare, mark supposes the words appear a bit shallow. sometimes people can barely get out of bed, not even able to roll over to throw off their covers, or fold their blankets, or they find themselves rendered so exhausted that mundane tasks extract so much energy.

but it seems you reply with a soft gaze of your own, radiance carrying your expression. "okay".

mark hums, leaning back in his seat. "so what is this place to you?"

you don't even glance upward. "special spot, it holds good memories, from way before everything that's happened.. well— happened".

"you brought me to your special spot, so i'm special?"

you finally do spare a glance, your smile is one of the prettiest sights ever. "of course".

a smile blossoms over his features, his posture unconsciously straightening. he isn't sure why the news excites him so much, he'll internalize it though.

WHEN IT GETS TO A CERTAIN POINT, MARK IS UNSURE OF HOW HE LIVES through the week. he has always prided himself on his intelligence, it isn't the topics which perturb him, it's the extent of his own mind. his eyes grow heavier with each passing day, his wrists may have gone limp, but he doesn't pass out just yet, a good record in comparison to last year. it's simply exam after exam after exam, blue pen marks clashing in the visions of his dreams. he can't even close his eyes without seeing muddled geometric equations, he's going to begin reciting them in the startling mumbles midway through one of his sleepwalking episodes. it's a miracle how he makes it through finals week, but he does, possibly no bad markings.

the exams happen to be the least of his issues though, throughout his week, he was mainly stuck on christmas, specifically stuck on christmas gifts, specially stuck on christmas gifts for you.

again, you two only have one double period class together, and the week is full of packet after packet, nothing of a technical interaction going down. the somewhat date-y nature of your restaurant outing comforted him through the piercing manner of trigonometry, he guesses it's pretty funny.

mark's mind reverts back to the many moments of you scribbling with your pen in your notebook, the specific mini sketches you have kept placed beside your trig notations, and it becomes clear what he should get you as a gift.

when the week finally comes to a close, mark is simply glad that he's alive, glad that the information didn't all mix into mush, glad that he got a seemingly perfect gift for you.

"okay, how do you think you did?"

a scrunch of your nose is the opted response, but you don't seem any worried. "it should all be fine, i think all the information seeped into my brain".

the reply draws a chuckle, mark allowing for his head to tip downward. "you're probably the reason i passed, have some faith in yourself".

"hey, you have to give yourself some credit too, you're pretty much a genius".

mark, again, blushes. he doesn't mean for it all to shine through, he simply can't help it. you're much too sweet, even through your whispered compliments, terms shyly spilling from your lips while your head remains downturned.

it's.. cute.

you begin picking at your nails, clearing your throat. mark smiles at you; "thanks, but i really couldn't have done it without you".

you definitely want to argue with that, but your mouth plops shut, your eyes darting away. "i'm so fucking tired".

"maybe you should sleep through this break".

you giggle at that one, eyes seemingly getting heavier. "sleeping is really all i can do anyway",

mark hums, attempting to inconspicuously eye the box he carried all around the day. he pays a few glances between before taking in a huge breath, a breath which you causes the furrow of your brows. "um.. uh— okay, don't freak out".

apparently those words do a lot, as you let out possibly the loudest laugh ever since you two became friends. something about his delivery possibly, the amusement manifests in your movement, much less in your laughter. "are you gonna pull out a gun or something?"

mark frowns, true annoyance in naught. "no, i just have a gift for you and i don't—"

your laughter comes to an immediate stop, head tilting sideways, puzzled. "you.. what?"

mark blanks for a moment, the words disappearing into the air. "christmas is coming up, i uh.. you know we won't see each other during christmas, so i got you something".

you blink, dumbfounded, absolutely staggered, as if the act is terribly unheard of. you almost appear terrified, a callback to the moment where you called mark a weirdo for his regard when your knuckles were aptly split.

you're sending him one of those looks.

"why would you— did you spend your own money why would you do that?"

and there's less of disbelief there, more of guilt, guilt mark can't idly place. you shouldn't feel guilty for anything, yet you seem to. "hey, it's okay, it was all in my own will, just open it".

mark is even more excited than you, sliding the completely totally cynical box over despite your insanely watchful eye. your facial muscles twitch in desperation to display your own enthusiasm, but you somehow keep it at bay.

your fingers twitch. "what is it?"

"that would ruin the surprise".

mark is very impatient, tapping his feet incessantly, fingers again coming to repeat the act in a somewhat similar rhythm. you stare down the box, possibly hoping for it to open itself. he begins getting anxious after a moment, the less than rapid unwrapping keeping a tension in the air.

you seem to want to take your time, as if fearing as creature hidden in the box. mark places his hands in his lap, gazing endlessly.

when you finally pear into it, you again tilt your head, blinking. "holy shit".

mark snickers, that has to be a good one. "yeah".

"how did you— why did you— oh my god.."

it's simple, but mark was aware it would have the desired effect. you stare downward, completely and utterly astonished, you don't expect it, of course you don't, yet the reaction is great for mark.

you're out of words for a moment, so mark decides to take that time; "i sort of observed— i mean.. i figured you liked drawing, art, saw your notebook, saw your sketches, it seemed like the perfect gift to get you".

you blink again, simply pure devotion behind your eyes, as if you were one term from confessing your love to him. it's a art set, a cute kit consisting of colored pencils, markers, and even paintbrushes, it looks.. expensive. "how much..?"

"it doesn't matter" he cuts in, clasping his hands. "i wanted to get you something".

that should be enough.

you seem to struggle with what to say, unable to find the exact words until your lips begin trembling. "thank you, i don't know how to repay you".

"you don't have to".

a frown tugs at your lips, you clearly don't like the sound of that one. "i'll get you a gift of your own after the break, don't worry".

mark's nose scrunches, but he can't argue with you, because he really does want a gift, yearns to see what it may all add up to. he clears his own throat, hands smoothing over his thighs.

"i just wanted to get you something because—"

"i know, thank you".

he can't even help staring in the manner he does, his lips taking an upturn, eyes holding remaining regard he's always known he felt.

"it's nothing".

well, mark guesses it is something, he just has to figure out what something exactly entails.

[rainforestakiie]

hi! i wrote a small oneshot using an known theme. were two people who 'hate' eachother are trapped in a room together and can only leave if they sleep together. haha.

it got too long so i posted what i have. misunderstandings, loving sister-like figures and so on!

adamsapple and lilve!

Come with Me Part 01

This was the last thing Adam expected. What was supposed to be a typical, tedious meeting had become something else entirely. The annual gathering between Heaven and Hell was meant to cover whatever Sera deemed important these days, though Adam was often left wondering why his presence was required at all. Neither side cared for his input or even acknowledged his existence. Normally, Adam would sit off to the side, lost in his thoughts, patiently waiting for the tiresome ordeal to end.

The King of Hell and the Queen of Heaven rarely noticed him. Adam was there merely because Sera and Michael insisted on it. He would have much preferred to retreat into the solitude of his room, away from the Winners and his new Guardian Angel, Emily. It was easier to vanish in his own corner of the universe. He often wondered why Eve never had to endure these meetings. She was lucky.

Since their deaths, they had been tethered together, though Adam despised the constant attention of the Winners, while Eve relished it. She adored being adored. Over time, the truth about their strained relationship in life became clear. They hadn’t truly loved each other, not in the way the angels had intended. They were more like siblings, with Eve treating Adam like a younger brother—an absurd notion, in Adam’s opinion. After all, he had come first, hadn’t he?

Eve’s love life, on the other hand, had blossomed in secret with another woman, someone Adam had yet to meet but who, by Eve’s account, was everything she deserved and more. Their relationship remained a clandestine affair, always under the watchful eye of Sera, whose wrath would be merciless if she ever found out.

As Adam stepped into the grand hall, he paused, puzzled by the silence that greeted him. "Where is everyone?" His voice echoed throughout the vast chamber, making him flush with embarrassment.

The hall, split in two with one half bathed in celestial blues and whites, the other in infernal reds and blacks, was empty. The rows of chairs were deserted—no Sera with her stern, disapproving glare; no icy indifference from Lilith; no smug, taunting grin from Lucifer. Even Michael, with his usual cold detachment, was nowhere to be seen. It was unsettlingly quiet.

Adam wondered if he could leave. If no one was present, what was the point in staying? But, of course, the universe had other plans. One of the grand, crimson thrones that belonged to Hell’s royal family swivelled slowly towards him. Lounging lazily in the chair was Lucifer, his crimson and amber eyes half-lidded, his serpentine tail flicking back and forth like a bored cat.

“Oh.” Adam frowned, locking eyes with the devil himself.

“Just little old me, I’m afraid,” Lucifer drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

Adam stood there, speechless. It had been centuries since it was just the two of them. Not since Eden. Not since before Lilith had appeared. Being alone with Lucifer now, after all this time, felt wrong, unsettling. His skin tingled with unease, a shiver running down his spine. Every instinct screamed at him to leave, to slam the hall doors shut behind him, and maybe even convince Eve to take over these cursed meetings in his place.

"Aw," Lucifer cooed mockingly, that insufferable grin spreading across his sharp features. His tail continued to sway, taunting Adam with its slow rhythm. "Judging by that look on your face, you’re not thrilled to see me, Addie~."

The sound of the nickname made Adam’s stomach churn. Addie. He hadn’t been called that since Eden, a lifetime ago, before the fall, before the heartache. The name carried with it a wave of old wounds, of pain buried deep within him. He hated it. It reminded him of the first time his heart had shattered, of the bitter tears he’d shed alone in that cursed garden.

"Where’s the Queen?" Adam deflected, his voice tight, unwilling to utter her name. The familiar ache of loss welled up inside him, constricting his throat.

Lucifer’s eyes flickered with something—regret?—but it vanished as quickly as it had come. “Lilith finds these meetings... tiresome. She prefers more interesting company.”

There it was—a thinly veiled insult, cutting as always. Adam had never understood why both Lilith and Lucifer seemed to harbour such animosity toward him. It wasn’t as though he had betrayed them to the angels, sending them to their damnation. When he had discovered them with Eve, he had turned away without a word, refusing to get involved.

He hadn’t wanted to be caught in the middle of their twisted web. And yet, here he was, punished alongside them, cast out for simply existing. The angels had blamed him for allowing it all to happen, for letting Eve be swayed by temptation. What could he have done? Shadow her every move? Chain her to him? Eve had her own will, her own desires, and Adam had vowed never to impose on another soul after Lilith’s rejection. He had learned the hard way that love couldn’t be forced.

Granted, he had only wanted both Lucifer and Lilith to look at him, to stop ignoring him and spent time with him, but it had only pushed them further away. So, when Eve was presented to him, Adam had vowed for one: not to get too close and attached and two: not to impose himself on her. He thought it would keep her close but alas, it did not.

Perhaps that was why their relationship had soured on Earth. Eve had tried to reconnect, to apologize for past wrongs, but Adam had remained distant. Unless it concerned their children or their survival, he kept their conversations brief and cold. It hurt her—he knew it did—but he was still healing himself. In the afterlife, they had finally found some semblance of peace.

Eve had come to realize that while she could apologize, Adam didn’t have to accept it. They had grown more like siblings than anything else, and Eve had eventually let go, allowing the ghosts of the past to rest. It was better that way. Adam was happier in his quiet solitude, away from the complexities of love and heartache.

"Well, it seems neither Sera nor Michael is coming today. I’m going to leave," Adam said, perhaps too hastily, as Lucifer’s brow furrowed in response. But Adam didn’t care. He needed to escape. He couldn’t bear being alone with Lucifer, not again.

It was easier when there were others around. Lucifer had never made Adam a priority, not even when it had mattered most. And though it had once broken his heart, now Adam preferred it that way.

Let Lucifer find his amusement elsewhere. Adam had no desire to be the devil’s focus anymore. He was content to be forgotten, a shadow in the background, with no friends, only a sister with whom he shared a lifetime of scars and regrets.

Adam turned sharply, making a beeline for the grand double doors at the far end of the hall. They gleamed under the celestial light, their golden surfaces shimmering like a beacon of salvation. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the ornate handles with determination.

"Aw, are you really going to leave me all alone in here?" Lucifer’s teasing voice echoed behind him, thick with amusement. He had propped his elbows on the gleaming red side of the table, his sharp claws cradling his face like an innocent cherub. That infuriating grin only grew wider, splitting his face like a jagged crack.

"I don’t want to spend another second with you," Adam snapped, his voice trembling with barely concealed frustration. He tugged on the door handles, expecting freedom—but the doors refused to budge. They didn’t even shudder beneath his grip.

Lucifer’s chuckle filled the empty hall like a sinister melody. "Having trouble there, Addie?"

"S-Shut up," Adam stammered, feeling heat creep up his neck as he pulled harder on the handles. Still, nothing. It was as if the doors had been fused shut. He yanked again, desperation settling like a weight in his chest, but they remained obstinately closed, not even allowing a crack of escape.

"Are you really that desperate to get away from me?" Lucifer purred; his voice laced with mock hurt. His eyes gleamed with devilish delight, that ever-flickering tail swishing languidly behind him like a contented cat. "Ouch, Addie, that cuts deep."

Adam’s frustration mounted, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson as he yanked again, harder this time, his knuckles white against the gleaming gold. He needed to get out—now. He couldn’t bear to be trapped here, alone with the devil. His heart pounded with a rising sense of panic. Anywhere but here. Anyone but him.

He’d have preferred Lilith’s cold indifference over Lucifer’s relentless torment, any day of the week!

"Shut up," Adam hissed sharply, teeth clenched as he yanked on the golden doors with all his might. "Why won’t it open?"

“It’s not going to open~” Lucifer sang sweetly—too sweetly, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I would know. I’ve been trying to get out of Hell’s doors for the past hour.”

Adam froze. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned around, eyes narrowing into venomous slits. "What did you just say?"

Lucifer hummed innocently, flashing a careless shrug. "We're trapped, Addie. Can’t even open a portal."

Adam's face drained of emotion as the horrifying truth settled over him. Trapped. With Lucifer. With fucking Lucifer? His blood ran cold as the words echoed in his mind.

"Why?" he demanded, exasperated.

Lucifer shrugged again, his expression one of carefree mischief. “Beats me. I got a message this morning saying the meeting had been brought forward an hour.”

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it, nostrils flaring as his gaze darted around the grand hall. His heart plummeted like a stone into his stomach as he took in the familiar yet unsettling decor. His pristine, snow-white wings folded tightly against his back, the faint gleam of gold beginning to shimmer between the feathers, a change Adam had yet to notice. Instinctively, he edged back, pressing himself against the double doors leading to Heaven.

His wide eyes landed on something that made his pulse race with horror. "Why is there a bed here?!" he squawked, voice high with panic. "How long are we going to be locked in here?"

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with smug amusement as he turned toward the heart-shaped bed pushed to the side, complete with scattered rose petals and overly frilly pillows. He let out a sharp snicker, baring his sharp teeth in a wicked grin. "Come on now, Addie, you’re not that innocent. You fathered humanity, after all. Surely you recognize a honeymoon suite when you see one?"

“Honeymoon attire...?” Adam repeated slowly, his brain struggling to catch up. As the meaning dawned on him, his face scrunched into a deep frown. He inched farther away from Lucifer, backing away from both the devil and the offending bed. “Ha ha, real funny…”

Lucifer’s grin only grew as he slipped off his regal throne, his movements as smooth and fluid as a serpent.

“You know that expression you’re making is rather insulting,” he purred.

“Oh really?” Adam grumbled, rolling his eyes and folding his arms across the soft white fabric of his tunic. “I’m so sorry if I’m not eager to—well, you know.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with playful malice, his lips twisting into an even wider smirk. He sauntered closer, arms folded behind his back, as he prowled toward Adam. "I don’t remember you being so naïve, Addie. Has Sera really been sheltering you all this time?"

“Shut up," Adam snapped, his voice low and strained. He began shuffling along the wall, putting more distance between himself and the devil. He had no desire to continue this conversation. "Do us both a favour and don’t speak to me. Especially not about… that stuff."

Lucifer’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he continued to follow Adam’s retreat, his gaze slithering over Adam’s form. The thin white tunic Sera had dressed him in did little to hide his bare, porcelain legs.

"You know, Addie, you’ve been so sheltered by Sera that you probably haven’t learned the pleasures life—or death—can offer." Lucifer’s voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper. "And from my extensive experience, I happen to be an excellent teacher~"

Adam’s face burned with embarrassment, his fingers tugging at the hem of the short tunic, desperate to cover his exposed skin. Ever since he and Eve had died, Sera had forced them into these stereotypical angelic outfits—pure white tunics, sandals, and golden straps twining around their legs like vines. Adam despised it. The shame of it all gnawed at him, especially how the tunic barely reached mid-thigh. He longed for something longer, something to hide beneath, but Sera had always reprimanded him whenever he tried to cover up with his wings. She wanted him to walk through the Ring of Humility daily, as a reminder of his sins, until Emily intervened and lessened his punishment to twice a week. Still, Adam couldn’t shake the discomfort.

With no Sera around to scold him, Adam instinctively spread his left wing over his legs, shielding himself from Lucifer’s leering gaze. "I don’t want or need any lessons in that area," he spat coldly. "Especially from the likes of you."

Lucifer feigned a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. "Ouch, Addie~ Such harsh words. I’m a perfect teacher—just ask your ex-wives! I’m sure they’d vouch for my skills."

Adam stiffened, his stomach twisting in knots at the painful memories. His lips pressed into a thin line as his mind involuntarily returned to Eden, to that night when he had woken alone in the dark. He could still hear those strange, intimate sounds echoing through the trees. His heart clenched painfully as he remembered searching for Eve, only to stumble upon... that.

“I’m sure they can,” Adam muttered quietly, his voice heavy with old hurt. "I’m sure they never complained about whatever you did to them... or taught them."

Lucifer paused, the smugness fading from his eyes as he tilted his head and frowned, sensing the deep wounds behind Adam’s words.

Lucifer averted his gaze with a quiet, almost wistful sigh, the flick of his arrowed tail slowing as it drooped ever so slightly. The silence that settled between them was thick with years of unspoken words, a soft, uneasy tension hovering in the air like a delicate butterfly unsure of where to land. After what felt like an eternity, Lucifer’s golden eyes drifted back to Adam, no longer laced with teasing but with an unexpected gentleness.

"Adam," he murmured softly, his voice devoid of its usual playful edge, "do you truly find no joy in intimacy?" His gaze searched Adam’s face, tender and almost vulnerable. "Not even with Eve?"

Adam shrugged, his arms wrapping tightly around himself as if he could protect his heart from old wounds. "It was never pleasurable," he replied, the words falling heavy and flat between them. "If that’s what you’re asking."

Lucifer blinked, surprise flickering across his features. "But you fathered so many children…" he ventured, the words slipping out as if even he wasn’t sure of them.

Adam shot him a deep, tired glare. "That was never important to me. We only did it when Sera decreed it—when there was a child to be conceived."

Lucifer nodded, his expression softening with something Adam couldn’t quite decipher. There was a whisper on his lips, so quiet it barely touched the air. "We figured as much, but Eve only told us so much... No wonder what I taught her didn’t work as well as we thought…"

Adam arched an eyebrow, glancing at Lucifer with a hint of curiosity. He strained to catch the murmured words but could make no sense of them. Shaking it off, his gaze drifted again, this time alighting on the small lanterns hanging above the table. They hadn’t been there before, delicate and softly glowing, casting a warm, romantic light across the room.

His eyes wandered back to the heart-shaped bed. He tried to resist, but something within him—an ember of fascination he couldn’t quite douse—pulled him to look again. The rose petals scattered across the silky sheets were undeniably beautiful, and the frilly pillows and soft quilts, though gaudy, looked inviting. But it was the small, duck-like plush that sat nestled in the center of the bed that caught his attention. It stirred a memory—a simple, tender moment from long ago, when he and Lucifer had once sat together in Eden, watching the ducks glide serenely across the water.

Meanwhile, Lucifer’s gaze remained fixed on Adam, his expression laced with an unexpected tenderness. He watched the subtle play of emotions on Adam’s face with a pang of bittersweet regret tightening in his chest. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Everything they had once dreamed of—everything he and Lilith had meticulously planned—had unravelled the moment Adam turned his back and walked away.

~#~

It was a windswept day in Eden, the breeze weaving through the garden, carrying with it the faintest hint of change. The sky, usually an endless stretch of blue, was crowded with thick clouds, more than usual, their dark bellies casting shadows across the once-brilliant paradise. Pockets of sunlight were sprinkled here and there, dappling the ground in an unusual mosaic of light and dark.

Lucifer spread his magnificent wings—feathers dipped in shades of gold, blue, and purest white—and glided effortlessly through the shifting currents of air. His piercing blue eyes squinted as he searched for the one who had long held his heart—the first human, the first man. His pulse quickened with excitement, a thrill running through him. It had been so long since he’d last set foot in Eden. Sera had become suspicious, and her jealousy had tethered him, restricting his visits.

Gabriel, however, had finally relented, agreeing to distract Sera long enough for Lucifer to slip through unnoticed. But as he glided above the garden, searching for Adam, he stumbled upon a figure that momentarily stilled his wings.

Lilith. The second human. She sat beneath the sprawling orange tree, elbows perched on her knees, fingers drumming restlessly against her cheeks. Her icy-blue eyes were distant, unfocused, as if lost in a trance.

From the very beginning, Lucifer hadn’t liked her. When she had been born from the river of flowers, something within him bristled at her presence. Especially when he saw the way Adam gazed at her with new eyes. His wings had puffed up in the past, the urge to shield Adam from her pulling at him like an instinctual force. His thoughts had been possessive—he wanted to pull Adam away and hiss like a dragon protecting its hoard. Worse still, Michael had ordered Lilith to be made in his own image, knowing full well Lucifer’s affection for Adam. At least Michael hadn’t breathed a word to Sera of what he mockingly called Lucifer’s “crush.” Ridiculous.

Still, Lucifer hesitated in his search, perching himself high in the branches of the orange tree. His gaze softened with confusion as he observed her. Normally, Lilith clung to Adam’s side, and Lucifer would have to work to pry Adam away from her. But now, seeing her alone, something tugged at his curiosity. He half-expected Adam to come running up to her, his boyish wonder gleaming in his eyes, eager to show her some smooth stone he’d discovered in the brook. There had been a time when Adam brought those stones to Lucifer instead.

Lilith let out a dramatic sigh, a strand of golden hair falling across her forehead, which she promptly blew out of her face in frustration.

“What’s the matter?” Lucifer called down to her, his curiosity getting the better of him. “You seem troubled.”

Lilith stiffened at his voice, her body going rigid as she looked up, surprise flashing across her face. “Spying on me now?” she retorted, her voice sharp.

“No,” Lucifer huffed, flapping down from the tree to prove it, landing gracefully before her. He glanced around with an air of thoughtfulness. “Where’s Adam?”

Lilith rolled her eyes, rising to her feet with a sigh. She dusted off her long golden curls, allowing them to fall elegantly over her shoulders. “Worried I’ve stolen Adam away again?” she teased, her words edged with a bite, though it hardly fazed Lucifer.

“I wanted to ask you about that,” Lilith continued, her icy-blue eyes locking onto his with an intensity that unnerved him.

“About what?” Lucifer asked, already on the defensive.

“About your obsession with Adam,” Lilith pressed, her voice soft but probing.

“It’s not an obsession,” Lucifer snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation. “It’s—”

“Yes?” Lilith urged, her interest piqued.

He stared at her for a long moment, his frown deepening. “Why do you care?” he asked warily, trying to mask his discomfort.

Lilith hesitated, her gaze drifting to a patch of purple flowers nearby. She took a deep breath, a soft whimper escaping her lips. “I think... I think something is wrong with me.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer scoffed, puffing out his chest as he placed his hands on his hips. “You were crafted from the river of flowers itself, by my sisters, Sera and Uriel. There’s no way they made a mistake.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes, skepticism etched into every feature. “You angels are all the same,” she muttered. “So arrogant. You can’t even entertain the idea that you might have made a mistake.”

Lucifer’s wings ruffled indignantly. “Because we don’t make mistakes,” he replied firmly. “It’s simply not possible.”

“Really?” Lilith raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You don’t think my creation was a mistake? You certainly seem displeased whenever Adam chooses to spend time with me instead of going duck-watching with you.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to protest, but the words got caught in his throat. For a moment, he blinked at her, speechless. A quiet hum escaped him. Maybe the angels had made a mistake.

Lilith tilted her head slightly, a sly smile playing on her lips as she caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” she whispered.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “Fine. So maybe we do make mistakes sometimes. Adam never needed you when he had me,” he muttered under his breath. “But what makes you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Lilith stared at him, her gaze unwavering. For the first time, Lucifer felt a strange discomfort under her scrutiny. But then she shook her head, disappointment clouding her features. “Because... I feel nothing. Not even for you,” she said, her voice a soft, sad whisper. “And you are quite easy on the eyes.”

Lucifer blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected compliment. “Er, thank you?” he mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Lilith snorted. “It’s not exactly a good thing.”

Now Lucifer felt properly insulted. He crossed his arms, huffing slightly. What was with this human? Why did she have to be so... strange?

“Lilith,” he said, trying to rein in his frustration, “what do you mean when you say something’s wrong with you?”

Lilith sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. “I was created to be Adam’s partner, right? His other half.”

“Yes,” Lucifer spat, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “You are.”

“You don’t like that,” Lilith observed coolly, her lips curling into a faint smile. “You always make that face when you look at me. Adam doesn’t notice, but I do. Why is that, Lucifer? Why didn’t you stand up for him when I was brought into Eden?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he took a step back. “Lilith, I don’t—”

“I’m asking you a question,” she interrupted softly, her tone oddly gentle. “What do you feel for Adam?”

Lucifer’s lips parted, but no words came. He stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in the conversation. “What do I feel... for Adam?”

“Yes,” Lilith nodded, her voice steady. “I need to understand the difference.”

“The difference?” Lucifer echoed, confusion flickering across his features. But then something trembled in his chest, a warm wave of emotion loosening his guard. He stepped forward, his gaze softening as he peered into her icy-blue eyes. “Lilith... do you not feel anything for Adam?”

For the first time, Lilith’s carefully maintained mask cracked. A flicker of sadness passed over her face, and her bottom lip quivered. “I’ve tried,” she whispered. “Honestly, I have. Adam is kind and gentle... so sweet to me. He always wants us to be together. But I feel nothing. I look at him, and there’s no spark. No fire. Just... nothing.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, understanding dawning on him. He felt a pang of sympathy for her. Adam’s innocence, his pure-hearted nature, was part of what made him so endearing, so precious. But that same purity could be lost on someone like Lilith.

“You care for him,” Lilith continued, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. “I can see that. But the way you care for him is different from how I feel. I think... I think I love him, but not in the way I was supposed to.”

Lucifer stiffened at her confession, jealousy flaring in his chest, but he forced himself to listen. He had never heard her speak like this before.

“I’ve known from the beginning,” Lilith admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve known how much you love Adam. I saw it in your eyes, even before I was brought to the garden.”

Lucifer exhaled, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Do you... love Adam like...” he began hesitantly.

“Like you love St. Gabriel,” Lilith finished for him, her smile growing a little more genuine as she watched the relief wash over his face. “Does that make you happy?”

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully. “It does,” he admitted. “But I still don’t like you.”

Lilith chuckled softly. “Perhaps in time, you will.”

The silence between them deepened, but it was no longer heavy with tension. It had shifted, softened into something more fragile, like a delicate thread between them that neither dared disturb. Lucifer gazed at Lilith anew, and for the first time, the smoldering hatred that had long clouded his heart began to dissipate. There was something else now, something lighter—curiosity, perhaps even understanding.

"Lilith," Lucifer began, his voice weary yet gentle, like a breath after a storm. "You don’t love Adam the way Heaven decreed. Is that why you think something inside you is broken? But it's not so terrible, really. If that’s the reason, we can tell Sera. Another husband can be made for you."

It was Heaven's fallback plan, devised in case Lilith and Adam didn’t bond. Sera, ever confident, had been so convinced the two would unite, praising the supposed harmony between them while peering through the divine orb. But Lucifer had felt only frustration. How could Sera believe that anyone could be a better match for Adam than himself?

Lilith shook her head firmly, her hair shifting with the motion, catching the light like strands of spun gold. "I don’t want another husband," she whispered. "I don’t want… a man."

Lucifer blinked in confusion, disbelief shadowing his face. "What?"

"I’ve tried," Lilith continued, her voice now soft as a sigh carried on the wind. "I’ve tried to look at Adam as Heaven taught me, but it feels… wrong. I’ve even tried to see you that way, but… there’s nothing. No spark, no fire. Only emptiness." Her gaze lingered on Lucifer for a moment before she chuckled, catching him instinctively pulling his robes tighter, as if to shield himself from her gaze, though he was already swathed in layers of white and blue. "And I realized… something is wrong because I find myself drawn to the sight of St. Uriel."

"Uriel?" Lucifer gasped, his voice rising with disbelief. "Out of all my siblings, Uriel?!"

Lilith finally allowed herself to laugh, a soft, melodic sound that filled the space between them. Her cheeks flushed with color, a rare and charming sight. "No, I don’t like Uriel in that way. I merely find her form… appealing. Just as I find Sera’s beautiful, though it is Uriel’s curves that catch my eye more often."

Lucifer furrowed his brow, a sudden thought flickering through his mind like an unwelcome intruder. Curves? Was Lilith… alluring to women as well? It was not a notion he had ever entertained.

"Sera is rather… what’s the word?" Lilith teased with a wicked glint in her eyes. "Flat. Whereas Uriel… well, she’s more… abundant. Like two watermelons.”

Lucifer's mouth gaped as he struggled to process her words. It was as if his mind had short-circuited, leaving him utterly speechless.

"Oh." He finally breathed out, as if understanding had dawned on him in a rush. "Oh. So that’s what you meant… You prefer the female form."

Lilith tilted her head, her expression curious and thoughtful. "Female form?"

"A woman’s body," Lucifer clarified, his voice halting, as though this was new territory for him. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You, the first woman, were carved in the likeness of Uriel and Sera. They were the only two female angels we had, so… I suppose they modeled you after themselves. And it seems… you are more captivated by a woman’s shape than by a man’s."

Lilith’s eyes grew hooded as she pondered this revelation, her fingers tapping gently at her chin. "It’s more than just liking a woman’s body, though. I feel no desire to kiss Adam, no urge to share his bed. My thoughts often drift to a woman’s touch, her form… again and again."

"Exactly," Lucifer said with an awkward nod, his wings shifting restlessly. He had never imagined he would be explaining this to her. "You’re simply drawn to women instead. It’s nothing wrong, Lilith. It just means you’d find more joy with a woman than with a man. There’s nothing defective about that."

For the first time since Lucifer had known her, a spark of hope lit Lilith’s eyes, and her face seemed to bloom with color and life. "Truly?" she asked, her voice almost trembling. "Does that mean… I am not flawed?"

"Of course not," Lucifer replied, his own gaze softening. He bit his lip in thought before adding, "I love Adam, you know that. I crave his presence, his touch. Everything you wish for with a woman, I desire with a man. If that makes you flawed, then it makes me flawed as well."

A small, radiant smile played at the corners of Lilith’s lips as she nodded, relief washing over her features. But soon, that smile faded into contemplation. "But there are no other women, Lucifer. I do not wish to be with Adam. I long to be with a woman… what should I do?"

Lucifer tilted his head, considering Lilith’s question. It was clear that she was troubled, not only by her own desires but by the limitations of Eden. He crossed his arms, frowning in thought, and his wings rustled behind him as he shifted.

“That’s… complicated,” Lucifer admitted. “In Eden, there were only ever meant to be two of you—Adam and you. Heaven didn’t plan for alternatives because Adam was supposed to be everything for you, and you for him.”

Lilith’s expression darkened, and Lucifer quickly continued, “But Heaven doesn’t know everything. You’ve already proven that. If you don’t want a man, there’s no reason to force yourself. I don’t think you’re defective, Lilith—just different.”

“But what does that mean for me?” Lilith asked, her voice edged with frustration. “If there are no other women, am I meant to stay alone forever? Am I broken because Heaven didn’t foresee this?”

Lucifer hesitated. It wasn’t easy to provide a solution, and yet, he felt for her. She was stuck in a world that hadn’t accounted for her existence, much less her desires. He paced for a moment, his wings twitching behind him, and then paused.

“Maybe it’s not about what Heaven planned,” Lucifer said slowly. “Maybe it’s about what you want to create. If you can’t find another woman here, then… maybe it’s time to make space for what you want. Challenge the plan.”

Lilith looked up at him, eyes bright with a mix of hope and confusion. “And how do I do that?”

Lucifer smiled, the edge of mischief creeping into his expression. “You already did it once—by being different, by recognizing what you truly want instead of what was laid out for you. So, what’s to stop you from doing it again?”

A slow, thoughtful smile spread across Lilith’s face as she considered his words. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it’s time I stop waiting for someone else to tell me what’s right or wrong.”

Lucifer nodded. “Exactly. You were never defective, Lilith. You were just the first to realize that Heaven’s plan isn’t perfect.”

With a sudden spark of wickedness, Lilith's eyes gleamed as a mischievous grin spread across her lips. She lifted her chin, radiating determination, and stepped confidently toward Lucifer. "I have a plan."

Lucifer arched an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"You said it yourself—Sera would have created a new husband for me if I asked." Her tone was resolute, her mind clearly working through the details. The wheels of her thoughts were turning, and Lucifer couldn't help but feel captivated by the sight of her plotting. "So, why not have Heaven craft me a wife instead of a husband?"

Lucifer pressed his lips together, the idea unsettling him. "I... don't think Sera would allow that," he said carefully.

"Why not?" Lilith's voice was sharp, almost challenging.

"I don’t mean it badly!" Lucifer quickly raised his hands in defense, stepping back slightly. "Look, if anyone understands Heaven's absurd ways, it's me. I’ve been in love with Adam since the moment I was assigned as his guardian. But Michael… he disapproves. The first humans aren’t allowed to be with their own gender. Not yet, at least."

Lucifer's frustration was palpable. Maybe in the future, when the earth teemed with people, Heaven might relax its ridiculous rules. But for now, Heaven’s constraints—especially those set by Michael—were agonizingly strict. Lucifer itched to challenge his brother’s narrow views, yet he couldn't.

Lilith’s expression darkened further, her determination hardening into steel. "Then I will trick them," she declared. Her voice was cold, resolute. "And you will help me."

Lucifer grunted, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Oh, will I now?"

Lilith locked eyes with him, her gaze as unwavering as stone. "You will," she said, her voice rich with promise. "Because, in the end, you'll have Adam."

Lucifer’s posture softened immediately, his annoyance dissolving into a bright, eager smile. "Oh! Adam? Really? Well then, I’m in!"

Lilith blinked at the sudden change, but quickly shrugged it off. "Yes, exactly. At the end of this, you’ll have Adam, and I will have a woman."

Lucifer’s brows furrowed in thought. "And how exactly do you plan on making that happen?"

Lilith’s intense stare held his gaze, and slowly, realization dawned on him like a rising storm. He recoiled, shaking his head firmly. "No! No! I am not doing that!"

Lilith scoffed, her arms crossing tightly in front of her. "And why not?"

"Because!" Lucifer exclaimed, his voice thick with frustration. "It will hurt Adam, and the last thing I want is for him to hate me. I want him to love me, not despise me."

"We won't hurt him," Lilith assured him, though her tone was firm. "I adore Adam, too. I would never willingly cause him pain. But this is the only way to convince Heaven I’ve fallen for another man. Once they believe that, they’ll have no choice but to create a new wife for Adam."

Lucifer shook his head, his eyes full of worry. "Yes, but that would still hurt him! Choose someone else—anyone but me."

"It has to be you," Lilith said coldly. "You're an angel, and if Heaven sees an angel involved, they’ll be forced to create a new woman—not a man."

Lucifer knew she was right, but the thought of hurting Adam gnawed at him. He couldn’t bear it.

"Please, Lucifer," Lilith’s voice softened, and for the first time, there was a vulnerability in her eyes that Lucifer hadn’t seen before. "Please. After all is said and done, when we explain everything to Adam, he’ll understand."

Lucifer’s gaze dropped to the soft petals of the Eden flowers beneath them, their vibrant red hues reminding him of the carnations Adam had once excitedly pointed out to him. "I know he would understand," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "Adam would forgive anything…"

"Then you’ll help me?" Lilith asked, her voice hopeful, almost pleading.

Lucifer swallowed thickly, a deep determination settling over him. "As long as we don’t hurt him too much." He hesitated, knowing the risks they faced. "We might be punished by Heaven for defying their grand design. They won’t take kindly to us seducing Adam’s new wife… or me doing the same with Adam. We could be cast out, banished from Eden."

Lilith nodded; her face resolute yet gentle. "I know. But no matter what happens, we’ll be together. Wherever we’re cast, Adam will come with us. I may not love him in the way Heaven desires, but I do love him. I won't let him suffer alone."

Lucifer exhaled deeply; the weight of their plan heavy in his chest. Deceiving Heaven, tricking Sera and Michael… it meant pretending to be with Lilith, pretending to push Adam away. The thought of hurting Adam, of ignoring him when he called out, was unbearable.

"It’s going to be hard," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Ignoring him…"

Lilith flinched at the thought, her voice soft but resolute. "I know."

[nyashykyunnie]

Sung Jinwoo cai Bots: 5/10 requests done

Secret Admirer - College setting in which you are receiving mysterious love letters everyday in your locker not knowing who might possibly be the perpetrator behind it.

His Idol Isekais to his homeworld- Jinwoo had been your biggest fan for the longest time. As he was boredly doing his job as a high ranked hunter and guildmaster of Ahjin— He stumbles upon your panicked and confused form inside a gate, clearly frightened

The Heir to the Dragons Slumber- Jinwoo was supposed to kill you. Instead, his resolved faltered and chose to nurse you back into health, take you home, and forever keep you imprisoned there. Somehow his initial nonchalance turned into a dangerous obsession to which he absolutely refuses to let you go anywhere outside with or without him.

To Be Hated- You both were like cats and dogs with your competitive personality butting heads with his nonchalant and snarky personality. Yet as you bleed a slow painful death, you find yourself yearning to have Jinwoo come rescue you and cradle your beaten form

His Beloved Guardian Angel- Nurturing and watching the naive and innocent Jinwoo become one of the most powerful hunters to exist is a feat you are luckily to have been blessed with. With his fame came with companions worthy of him, and you yourself just a shadow in the past. But as you attempt to sever ties with him politely, you are met with Jinwoo's downright refusal to ever let you leave his life.

A/N: I'll try to do the next remaining bots. 4 Jinwoo bots and one Zayne, for now, I am an uninspired starfish that is just flopping on the floor contemplating whatever the hell comes to mind. Enjoy and keep being delusional dear Jinwoo fans, I'm with you.

[bonefall]

How did palefoot make it to Starclan, I thought you needed a proper burial in order to get a fetcher? Especially since his body was hidden. Did he just happen to get lucky and they found him before he got his spirit trapped in the dark forest?

Also, him then becoming the patron of finding bodies is a bit funny, like a car crash victim becoming the patron of surviving car crashes. Then again, you can't really complain about getting prayers I guess.

Nope, BB!Cats don't need a proper burial to get to StarClan! It's just extremely disrespectful from the living, and denies the family a chance to grieve since they can't sit vigil and share tongues with their loved one. It's a deeply malicious mortal action.

Also LMAO yeah Clan cats are brutal with their ironic patrons. They love it. It's exactly like how Catholic saints become the patrons of things related to their insane deaths or just straightup insults. Like Saint Elmo who is the patron of tummy aches because they gutted him like a fish. Or how Saint Drogo who was allegedly so ugly he is now the patron saint of the unattractive (and also coffee).

Quick dribble on Fetchers;

Their basics are covered over in StarClan 101

Fetchers can be anyone. They're usually a family member, or a guardian angel, but there's no hard rules with Forest Four.

SkyClan DOES have a hard rule; Cloudstar is the "Grim Reaper" for SkyClan, in what he feels is repentance for his time as the Rat Leader. He is their only Fetcher.

They have to come down and find your spirit. Some Fetchers are better at this-- just because they have a better sense of when death is near, or they were nearby, or they were fast, or you invoked them shortly before the death, etc.

It's possible to run away from your Fetcher if you want, or hide.

BUT, Dark Forest cats can ALSO Fetch you.

In the case of cursed bloodlines like the Appledusk Lineage, very strong fetchers are sent who can fight the rival demon effectively.

Flametail was immediately dragged down to the Dark Forest because of this. That wasn't an accident; they killed him and then kidnapped his soul.

RiverClan cats believe that if your Fetcher doesn't come for you, Ripwater will find you first and bring you to the Dark Forest.

You NEED a Fetcher to get to StarClan. If you are a spirit who looks for StarClan on your own, you will find the Meadow of Young Stars first, and then the Dark Forest.

When you die, you usually get "knocked out." Your Fetcher can bring you to StarClan while you're still asleep, making it seem like you "woke up in Silverpelt"

However it IS possible to die awake. You will suddenly not feel the pain of your injury. It's extremely alarming.

So, Palefoot was able to get to StarClan. It actually did take the Fetchers a while to find him though. He was killed and buried very quickly, and it took him a while to wake up and realize he'd been shoved in a bog. He didn't realize he was dead at first, he thought he'd just been beaten up and thrown in the mud.

He wasn't really taking it in that he was kinda numb, and in spite of being in the autumn bog for a while, he wasn't cold. It wasn't until he got back to the camp that he realized no one was responding to him, and then it hit him that he didn't need to breathe anymore.

(I like to keep the rules 'loose' for situations like that, lmao)

[zzzuyuo]

magical realism settings. 🔑

the stars are disappearing from the sky. slowly, one by one. but they are not just disappearing, they fall down, shattered into million pieces and turn the hand crafted wooden sculptures of a small shop alive.

a local astrology club discovers a new constellation but oddly enough it moves closer to earth

an old, weird lady buys the remains of a long closed animal shelter. she manages to get the shelter back to business yet she only accepts dead lifeforms that she then revives back to life.

the guardian angel of a grumpy grandpa is sent to earth because he is a menace to god’s patience.

a cat with superpowers saves the country and its human becomes the sidekick. lil twist here.

a florist becomes well known for their top-notch gardening. it is said they can harvest any type of plant. even the most ancient ones. what a deadly power it could unleash in the wrong hands…

[yandereunsolved]

When You Fell From Heaven - ,, yandere JPM with an angel reader

cw(s): yandere themes, psychological torment, suggestive themes

☾ You were assigned your first case among the humans by the Archangel Michael himself! To say you were honored would be an understatement. You were just a simple guardian angel, leading mortals into the afterlife and protecting the ones that were under your care. You had never actually been on earth, given a vessel of your own, no less. It was a bit uncomfortable to fit all of your angelic divinity into a human body, but you would get used to it. With all the fiber in your being, you wanted to become a Power, a warrior of God against the demons. You are much more than just a simple guardian. This was the perfect way to prove it to those above you. 

☾ The Cortez, a place filled with unimaginable agony and sin—they even had attracted a fairly powerful demon, the addiction demon, and a few lesser demons into their walls. You would have to start with the newer and weaker spirits first and then move on to the more troublesome ones. You plan on stripping their power spirit by spirit until they have nothing to feed off of. You'll take care of the addiction demon and then the dead owner, James Patrick March. It's much too troublesome that the demon has attached itself to James. You may have a bit of a problem with taking his soul to hell while exorcising the demon with your angelic abilities.

☾ The first time James saw you, he knew there was something off about you. He felt a shudder go up through his spine, and he felt fear for the first time in his afterlife. It was absolutely intoxicating to him. It was more pleasurable to him than the fear he gave to others. It was like he was discovering a brand new drug. You're like his own personal brand of heroine. He's tried them all, but the adrenaline from his own fear is the most addicting. So many thoughts ran through his head. 

Who is this? A challenger? Another, better successor? Perhaps the 10 Commandment Killings weren't just his epilogue. 

"It's time to start a new book, and you'll be the very first chapter, my dear."

☾ He has watched you since he noticed your presence. He just knew you were something extraordinary. The first time you set foot in the hotel, the addiction demon disappeared into the murky depths of another-dimensional pocket space. He was perplexed when he was unable to call it back. It refused to respond to his commands. Not even the lesser supernatural evils in the hotel would attack you when he commanded. They just all cowered in fear. When the addiction demon did come back, it seemed much more feral, territorial, and truly demonic. He regained control over it, but it was like holding back a dog with its hackles raised and teeth gnashing, ready to kill an intruder.

☾ Even more questions popped up in his mind when he noticed souls disappearing. He was hiding to investigate. He wasn't showing himself because he didn't want to be seen. Yet, you saw right through him. You seemed spooked—like a fawn that had wandered too far from its mother and got caught in the path of a starving wild cat. You disappeared in the blink of an eye, and he just stood there surprised, a little emboldened. This little thing is taking souls from his hotel. Challenge accepted. 

"Oh, you little minx. Let's truly see which of us may be able to best the other."

☾ It was only after he saw you in the action of saving a soul did he realize who you were. That fear and excitement coursed through his veins once again. For the first time ever, he had a worthy prey. You were an angelic being sent by supposedly some man upstairs. His mission became to corrupt you and save his lifetime of work from being undone. After all, if he can corrupt an angel, can't he kill God?

☾ You were just so deliciously infuriating to fight with. It was impossible to go back and forth with you. You always refused his advances, his invitations to private dinners, and the sweet nothings he would try his best to whisper into your ear. Still, you were like a skittish animal. Every time he got too close, you would scamper off back to your room. You warded it against all dark beings. It was your only safe place in his hotel. He had to fix that. He had to make you crawl back to him and beg for his love. Yet, every time, you would simply whisper some words about saving him. 

"James, this isn't the way. I forgive you. I can lead you into the light."

He almost believed you. He knew there was no saving an evil as great as him. 

So he used the addiction demon to slowly break down your defenses. He needed to use it before it became completely feral due to its lack of food because of you. He promised it that he would allow it to feed off your corrupted energy once you finally fell from heaven. 

☾ He pulls your strings just like a master puppeteer. He warns the ghosts of their antics. If they dare ask for your help, if they dare try and get saved, he will drag them to one of the torture chambers. They may be dead, but he still has a few tricks up his sleeve as to how to psychologically torment them. It leaves you isolated. Everyone in this hotel is your enemy or a soul to be saved, except the charming James. He so lovingly speaks to you about how it was only a matter of time until you gave in. Even when you exercise your power against him and make his soul quake in his presence, he can still feel his little hold over you growing. Day by day, he chips away at you with new psychologically haunting games. One day, you will fall. One day, you will fall and be his greatest trophy prey. 

☾ At some point, the game of wanting to make you fall turned into a need. Sure, the addiction was there, but he just believed it was a demon or a momentary high. No, it's a high that never ends when he is around you. It's like your very existence breathes life into his deceased figure. 

☾ He begins to fantasize about what you will look like when you fall and what he will do to you. He wants to hold you close and rip your rotting wings off of your angelic soul. He wants to preserve your wings and use the last bits of them or different things. He wants to stuff his pillows with your feathers so he can sleep with that last bit of your holiness at night. He wants to sharpen the bones from your wings and use them for his weapons. He could use them as spikes at the bottom of one of his chutes. He could use one to stir his tea. He could use two of your wing bones to make matching rings for the both of you. Wouldn't that just be so romantic? 

☾ He invites you on a tour of his esteemed hotel. You decline. So he lures you out. He drags a living client in his hotel to the room in which you are occupying. He knocks on the door and holds a knife to the victim's neck. 

"Shall we go on a tour, or should I go all by lonesome with my friend here to one of my torture chambers? Hmm?" 

You obviously said yes. He was over the moon at that fact. He shows you every inch of the hotel with his same gentleman-like, suave demeanor. He allows you to enter the torture chambers and feel the desperation of the spirits within. He shows you the chutes and what leads to the acid pits, so you see where so many have met their end. He grabs your hand and drags it against the walls so you can feel the souls trapped in them. Every crevice in that place you have seen. It will be your home for the rest of eternity. So he wants you to know it well. 

☾ He even shows you his room. That's the last place on the tour. He locks you in his room and speaks of his master plan—not the details but the overview. You are unable to escape because the walls are lined with angel wards, making your powers essentially useless. He speaks of what he will do to you when you fall. The torture and pain he will inflict. He speaks of how the addiction demon taught him all of this. He tells you how he knows all of your secrets. How he has learned about all of your abilities from the dark forces below.

He goes into fine details about the love you both will make together. The days you will spend in his bed mere seconds after your angelic aura is tainted. He speaks of how it will be good for, good for your recovery.

"Yes, darling! I do have a special plan for the both of us. That night will be the greatest. I promise to make the sweetest love to you, better than any other. For you have never even been touched by a man, have you? I doubt angels are even allowed to explore themselves. What a pity... but don't worry. I'll show you the ropes, even if you may be a little tied up."

☾ He refuses to leave you alone after he learns of the angels way. He becomes ever more persistent in his acts to entice you into his sinful ways of living. He'll show you how freeing it can feel to just give into the darkness and embrace it. He'll lose articles of clothing by 'accident' and ask you to help look for them. He'll speak of different poisons and different torture methods and how you could use those to get back at the so-called 'divine beings' that have kept you as a measly guardian for so long. He teases you about how great of a lover he would be. About how he could help you take over heaven. 

"Hmm, yes. You could become greater than Lucifer himself, dear! We could take over heaven... together."

☾ You either win against the evils within this hotel or fall. Your powers weaken each day as the addiction demon relentlessly attacks you, and James learns more of your kind. It is a race against time itself to see who will come out on top. It truly comes down to you. How devoted are you to the heavens? Is your dedication to becoming a warrior of God greater than your need for a man so singularly devoted to you and only you?

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt333 @lacucarachapisser @marchsfreakshow @slutforgarlogan @nahoyasboyfriend

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[fizziepopangel]

Daddy Alastor

Let’s be clear, Alastor is an asexual king, he would fuck no one to become a father, the man would simply acquire a child. Most likely a child from Cannibal Town.

Despite his reputation, Alastor would be surprisingly good with kids. It would shock everyone except Rosie..

Rosie would give him all parenting books she could get his hands on because the usual calm and collected radio demon would basically be shitting himself when he realized that he was a father now.

Although he would dub himself a father, I don’t think he would really feel like a dad until his child actually called him dad for the first time.

Alastor would be very, very protective of any little ones he acquired so he wouldn’t trust just anyone to watch them. In order of most to least trustworthy to watch his child would be: Rosie, Vaggie, Husk, Charlie, and as a very last resort, Lucifer, Sir Pentious or Angel Dust, under no circumstances would he leave his kids alone with Niffty since he still sees her as a child herself.

Lucifer would be a last resort solely based on the fact that he has his own personal beef with the former angel.

His kids would absolutely terrorize Sir Pentious when left alone with him on the rare occasions they were left with him, but they would get along with the egg bois.

His kids would not be allowed to watch tv….  But Charlie and Sir Pentious would be total pushovers and they would end up letting them watch cartoons when their father wasn’t around. Alastor would be pissed if he found out since he would 100% be trying to teach his kids about the magic of radio.

With his own father having been a rather abusive piece of shit, Alastor is very much a gentle parent and does not believe in putting his hands on his kids for any reason. And god help anyone who does put their hands on Alastor’s child.

Teaching his child to cook would be something Alastor really valued because cooking and being in the kitchen was a big reminder of his mother. Each time he was in the kitchen with his kiddo, he would show them a new dish from his childhood, each one accompanied by a memory and story of his mother.

If he had a son, Alastor would have him in a little suit similar to his.

Alastor would be the type of parent to have a bag of everything his kid might need from various snacks to a change of clothes to a little first aid kit, he would even do this when his kid gets into teen years.

Husk would be his go to babysitter for a small child despite not being his first choice since he’s a cat and he would think a small child would absolutely love hanging out with a giant cat…. He would be correct. Vaggie would be his go to choice for an older kid since he would trust her more to watch out for an older kid in a more attentive way, and he would nickname her his child’s guardian angel.

There would be weekly trips to cannibal town to visit aunt Rosie (who would always have a new gift for her favorite niece/nephew).

In the event that Alastor had a little girl, he would threaten Angel Dust within an inch of his life. Not because he’s afraid of his child being hurt by the spider demon in anyway, but because he wouldn’t want his child exposed to Angel’s *cough cough* adult content too early or too often and any daughter he had would absolutely want to hang out with Angel as much as they could because he would be the most extra when it came to playing dress up and giving makeovers, and playing tea party…. And Angel would be the only one who could entice a certain cat to play with them too.

Any child of the infamous radio demon would know all the other overlords well since he would bring them to overlord meetings with him. Alastor would sit them on his lap with a coloring book and some crayons and a few snacks on the table in front of him and when asked why he brought a child with him, he would refer to his kiddo as a future overlord and call it an early lesson in their “family business”. In the event he had an older child, he would have them take notes on what they learned in the meetings.

Despite having his own personal issues with the king of hell, Alastor would go to the man for advice on parenting if he had a smaller child since he is the only one Alastor knows who has really dealt with a small child.

His child would be one of the only people who he talked to without his radio filtered voice most of the time.

He would hang up every drawing his kiddo made, especially if he saw that they had a real passion and talent for it. And when he ran out of room in his room and his radio station, he would make Husk hang them at the bar and persuade Charlie to hang them around the hotel.

This man would absolutely let his child come on his radio show every now and then, and he would 100% always refer to them as the a “very special guest” just to make them feel special.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I am in a constant state of Sephiroth brainrot so I totally get you, he’s just so beautiful 😭

Anyways, could I request some cuddling headcanons with him please? More specifically Crisis Core/pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth because I think he’d be more willing to cuddle, lol

He’s so tall so I feel like cuddling with him would be super comforting!

This is probably ooc for him but we’ll live with it for the headcannon. Also idk if this is what was expected but here, have it. I tried.

Sephiroth, at first, would be likely unaware of the concept of cuddling until you brought it up to him one day. He wouldn’t be the type to reframe himself from indulging himself in something you considered a comfort…unless it’s within the timeframe of his missions then no, he wouldn’t be able to indulge you during those times. He’s a hero after all so his duty as one is top priority.

Other then that he’ll happily oblige to your whims -within reason of course- but other then that Sephiroth happily lets himself become your personal body pillow and heater with how warm he was which was one of the main reasons why you loved to cuddle yourself into his side; More specifically on those rainy days where he would be aloud some time off and catch up on some light reading with a blanket draped over your laps.

The first time you cuddled, Sephiroth was stiff as a floorboard. So much so you were scared that he was going to strain a muscle of his if he wasn’t careful. You lifted your head from his chest to stare worriedly into his cat like eyes. ‘Sephiroth, relax.’ You told him as you placed your hand against his cheek, your thumb caressing the skin stretched across his cheek bones as he hummed in content, almost akin to a cat purring, as his eyes drifted to a close for a millisecond under your touch before opening again to look into your eyes

his features softened in tandem with his muscles as they obeyed your words almost immediately. You attempted to put your head on his chest once again and this time there was a more notable difference. He wasn’t tense but he still wasn’t fully relaxed almost as though there were parts of him that couldn’t fully relaxed under any circumstance no matter how hard you try to console them. They were just. There.

However you couldn’t complain as you found your hand slipping from his cheek onto his chest where his hand then came up to press against him tenderly as his warmth seeped into your palm and your cheek then throughout the rest of your body. ‘You’re warm’ you hummed in content as your eyes closed as sephiroth’s warmth lulled you into a state that tiptoes to and fro across continuous and unconscious.

His presence already brought you to relaxation but once he allowed his other arm to cage your against his chest as he moved over so that his back was facing the door to the room you shared, you immediate felt a wave of protection come over you. With his tally frame, it was like a wall had been put in front of you, a warm, comforting, protective but strong wall. Some of his silver locks would fall from his shoulder and cascaded over you like a waterfall or a curtain equivalent but it made your first cuddle session with Sephiroth all the more magical in your eyes as his hair forced your eyes to focus on him and only him. Which you weren’t complaining.

After that, cuddling became somewhat of a thing you both indulged in on a plethora of occasions. Each time it was always with Sephiroth setting himself into positions where he could quite easily protect you from all harm. When you asked him about why he preferred it that way, his only response was so that he could keep you safe but also because of how he came to like how you felt cuddled up against his frame that he almost felt possessive in certain instances. He felt like your guardian angel, your protector and he kept to it almost as seriously as he did his job.

Yet I’d like to think there are moments where you got to be the one with Sephiroth cuddled into your side, despite how humorous that may look to have SOLDIER’s number 1 war hero with his face pressed deep against your neck and or chest with his arms clutching your waist with an iron grip like you were his personal teddy bear he’d like to hold after a nightmare.

As much as Sephiroth enjoyed being a comfort to you, you enjoyed being a comfort for him during his worse days. You don’t tend to speak during those moments as you didn’t want to dig up whenever Sephiroth tried so hard to keep buried within. However you do communicate through your actions as once he walks through the door and you could see the fatigue within his eyes, you wordlessly stand up from the bed and open your arms towards him and watch as he picks you up in his arms and brings you back into bed.

Where Sephiroth would quickly cage you in his arms and bury his head into your neck as his hair slipped off his shoulder and pools itself onto you in a silky soft heap that held a bit of weight to it due to how much hair there was on the man. How he maintains it you’ll never know. But you also found out that if you were to run your fingers through those silky tresses of his, he’d sink further into your touch and might -might- even fall asleep against you if he were tired enough.

As I mentioned before, During rainy days where Sephiroth got some time off, he likes to catch up on some light reading. When he does, you made it apparent in keeping him company as you both sat yourselves down on the couch that was strategically angled so that the light from the windows as the rain splatters against them would give the room a bit of an ambiance. Talking wasn’t a necessity for the two of you whenever you cuddled, no matter where ever it maybe, for what could words express that your actions couldn’t?

So you would tuck yourself into his side, other times you’d be sitting on his lap, face buried a giant his chest or against his neck as his shoulder acted as a makeshift pillow for you but Sephiroth always insisted that you’d pick a position that wouldn’t give you a crocked neck later on. You most likely never head his advice and he could only sigh in bemusement at your predicament when you did eventually get a crooked neck from cuddling him at an odd position.

Either way, you’d have a blanket tossed over you both as you sink deeper in his warmth as he read passages of his book aloud with that voice of his that only ended up making you sleepier then usual. Sephiroth would soon join you, though after he moves you both to the bed for more comfort before bringing you back into his warmth where you subtly cling to him like a koala which never failed to humour him.

[arminsumi]

hiii! It’s me again! (i’m becoming your fan fr)

so, I wanted to came up with the idea that during the raid on Liberio (s4) armin meets the violetevergarden!reader who is marleyan weapon who got badly injured, and and first sees armin as a treat when he wants to treat her wounds ^^ i would like to see that also with Eren but i think it will be too much work for you…

i will thank you in advance, hope you have nice holiday! take care of yourself ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Marley's Guardian

Armin x fem!Marleyan!reader

Overview; Armin feels compelled to help you after you emerge from a fight with Mikasa and Levi badly wounded.

Contents; canon!au, fluffy angst, fraternizing

Warnings; major S4 spoilers!! injuries, war/battle setting

Note; i rewatched a bit of this show and cried, i forgot how beautiful it is. thank you for your lovely request my angel 🥰 you take care too!

p.s. i'd loveee to write this for Eren too but maybe another time hehe

"Keep your eyes and ears alert for her." Levi's voice echoed in Armin's head.

"Mikasa and I will be responsible for slaying Marley's Guardian. The rest of you stay far away from her. I don't need anyone dying on me tonight."

As much as everyone was bitter to admit it, you were the strongest enemy on the other side of the sea.

In the Scouts you were referred to as Marley's Guardian; known to be the soldier that protected them from taking a finishing blow during the Battle of Shiganshina.

Now the invasion of Liberio was at hand.

You were perched on the rooftops, alert and ready for battle when a bolt of lightning descended from the sky and struck the center stage where Willy Tybur was currently giving his impassioned speech.

You watched as his blood was squeezed out of him by Eren Jaeger. The roar didn't send chills down your spine, nor did its appearance frighten you. For you there was nothing to fear, except...

"Your mission is to keep Levi away from Zeke." your captain had instructed beforehand. "Avoid confrontation with two Ackermans."

Armin sat in a vacated apartment, watching out the window as you leaped from rooftop to rooftop and became smoothly airborne in the night sky.

Mikasa and Levi swarmed you, their hearts panging as loudly as yours.

Although you were Armin's enemy, he looked at you with amazement and awe in his big eyes. He was taken by you.

"So that's her..." he thought, watching your battle intently.

You moved swiftly and calculatedly, like a cat.

Armin's eyes struggled to follow you, they were darting around the night sky. Sometimes he lost you, and only found you again when he saw a flicker of ODM gear.

"Blood...?" he muttered under his breath when he saw you again.

You changed course desperately. It seemed like you were trying to escape the overwhelming fight.

You headed straight into the window of the vacated apartment building where Armin was hiding.

"Where is she going — !! "

He pulled out of sight just in time before you hurtled through the window with a violent smash.

The glass was pierced, shards flew everywhere. The sound of breakage and your body thudding on the wooden floor startled the atmosphere.

Armin flinched and reactively shielded himself with his arms as some glass shards struck his body. His cheek begun to bleed, a thin river of crimson ran down it.

He kept one shaky hand on his sword, ready to draw it. Knuckles white.

But his grip loosened when he saw you struggling to push yourself up with two hands.

It felt like a major moment when you and him looked at each other for the first time. For a second, Armin admired your beauty, albeit with a bit of bewilderment in his chest.

Your chest was violently heaving up and down. He could see you were pained by the impact of hurtling through a window, but injured by the fight with relentless Ackermans who now flew back hurriedly to Eren in the main battle.

You looked at him and he looked at you. Panting. Him less than you.

He lowered his gaze to your abdomen. "You're bleeding." he commented.

You didn't respond.

Armin cautiously approached where you limply laid.

"I just want to help you, I promise." the blond assured.

But as he approached you, you made a swipe at him and shuffled away like a cat. He very nearly got scratched.

"I'm not going to hurt you." he said earnestly.

His uniform was stained with blood, his blond hair bespattered with it too.

Armin drew closer. "You can trust me." he said.

He wondered why your eyes were still fearfully staring at him. Then he realized you were eyeing out his blades and gear.

"Will this help?" he dismantled his ODM gear and let it fall to the ground with a metallic thud. "I'm unarmed now."

The apprehensiveness in your face dulled out, but you still had a look of bewilderment as he came closer.

You felt puzzled.

He was a soldier, an enemy; a threat. So why did he show tenderness and humanity to you?

Slowly – for what felt like an infinity of a time – you let him draw closer to you.

He was cautious. Curious. Confused.

Cautious that you might try with your last bit of strength to kill him, but curious about if you would let your enemy treat your wounds. And confused, because he had no idea why he was betraying Levi's order's to stay away from Marley's Guardian.

"It's alright." he said comfortingly.

You remained still, your piercing eyes calculating his movements as he took off his military rucksack to retrieve medical supplies. It made him nervous to be your object of focus, even if you didn't seem hostile anymore.

When he showed gentleness in how he wrapped the bandages around you, you felt... well, you felt something, but you couldn't quite understand what it was or what it meant.

"Your name... what is it?" you asked him. You felt you just had to know his name, at the very least.

He looked up at you, his breath hitching. "Ah – ah, Armin." he said.

"Oh. The God of Destruction?" you remarked.

Armin felt awkward and awful. "I am the Colossal, yes." he admitted almost guiltily.

"That's very strange. You're the God of Destruction, but you're helping me. Why?" you asked blankly.

You seemed doll-like to him, he was absolutely intrigued.

"I... I don't know. I couldn't just leave you here to bleed out."

"But that's what you're supposed to do."

"I know, but I couldn't." he said, temporarily biting an end of the bandage.

Your blood got all over his hands and uniform but he didn't care.

"I don't understand." you furrowed your brows and began to tear up. It was all so confusing that it made you want to cry for some reason.

"Why are you treating me kindly?" you choked.

Armin forced himself to focus on wrapping your bandages or else he would have cried, too.

He breathed heavily as he listened to the battle outside continue.

"Why!"

He didn't answer you.

When he finished tending to your wounds and was sure that you could make it on your own, he disappeared after giving you a long, blue-eyed stare.

[toomanythoughts2]

I don't know if anyone else fucks with AU's but I have put so much thought into a Metalocalypse AU where Dethklok gets sent into a universe were Toki never makes it to the band/never leaves Norway. So Dethklok, in that universe, never reaches their full potential and they are on the path to world destruction because Dethklok needs all 5 members to defeat Salacia. So the band has to go on an adventure to get Toki into the band so that they can all go home/set the universe back into place.

The problem I keep running into to is who is Toki in this world without Dethklok? And I have a few ideas.

Toki stays home and becomes the next Reverend after his father dies. He secretly sneaks out to go play guitar under a persona in a few towns over and leads a double life essentially. He's very unhappy but has to be the dutiful son to his parents.

Toki stays home, becomes deeply religious, but fully believes that God will send him angels to rescue him from his family. When Dethklok comes to get him, he is convinced that they were sent as a answer to his prayers. He constantly refers to Dethklok as his Guardian Angels.

Toki is forced to stay at home (due to manual labor needs) but has plans to escape on his own. Dethklok technically ruins his plans to escape on his own by announcing his escape, but he does escape. The whole congregation and his parents know though, and they plan to track him down and bring him back home. So it becomes a race to see who will get to Toki first. This Toki is very desperate for freedom and has lost a fair amount of childlike whimsy in exchange for survival techniques.

Toki becomes a "copy cat" guitarist for hire, where when a band just needs a stand-in guitarist, he can come in and play their guitarist's part perfectly. He has a hard time expressing his own original work and is a serious loner, despite wanting to desperately connect with band members and people.

Toki becomes a black metal guitarist for a local band that plays gigs in clubs to make ends meet. Toki fully recognizes the full reach of his sexual and gender identity and dresses more feminine. Personally, this universe would be Toki's "Snakes N' Barrels" complete with glam and gender non-conformity. He's pretty happy here and has respect within the community but wants more/not fully understood by people. I think this version of him would be the most expressive.

Toki ends up having to become a prostitute since he was kicked out at such a young age, gaining reputation for his natural gift for guitar. It became what he's known for.

Toki gives up guitar and picks up keyboard/piano instead. Particularly, becomes a college student after a influential professor hears him playing one night to get some cash for a room. He ends up going to school on a scholarship and learning under said professor to play piano. Though, Toki's heart is always set on the guitar but because of his Father, he has some serious PTSD when handling it. I also like to play around with if the professor is a good guy or has some kind of ulterior motive.

Toki is unable to land a role in the band but is able to help out producers and musical engineers "under the table" and learns the ins and outs of the business. He ends up giving up on the guitar for the chance at a life that will take care of him, while also being a little bitter that he was never good enough for people to play. He ends up becoming the youngest rising musical producer. He is very serious in this universe, having completely given up everything to survive. Think about it is Abigail and Charles had a baby but make it a little bit meaner and unhinged. That would be this Toki.

This universe actually splits into two directions:

Toki becomes a producer on his own and the band has to find him. Either by being the "under the table" employee and learning by watching, or he takes a more active role and helps make decisions.

Toki never makes it into the band/too scared to duel Skwisgaar but is able to work directly under Charles as an apprentice and finds out that is he talented in music producing, becoming Dethklok's producer and not their guitarist. I like this version because this keeps all of the members together but they are still not where they need to be. Also, this version of Toki is very serious, very hard, very stubborn. He had to basically give up everything that our Toki is known for in order to do the job he was being given. He's talented in it and he has never failed Dethklok or Charles, but he doesn't play around. He doesn't play guitar because of his bitterness at being taken advantage of by other musicians or lack of response.

These are just a few that I can remember, but I just love the idea of playing around with "Toki if he never joined Dethklok" and "Dethklok desperately trying to get Toki" I particularly love the religious ones and the music producer one. Though the Black Metal one has my heart because I picture Toki being the most "Toki" in that universe and not afraid to take center stage and be himself. UGh, I love Toki <3

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

Husk

I have a lot to say about Husk for about 2-3 months now and I really don't know where to start. Que a lot of rambling that I hope comes out coherent.

I think the best unique thing about Husk that I love is the fact he can potential crossed paths to most of the sinner characters we were introduced, in their living life. He was born between Alastor and Angel birth years. I did the math on this once but I can't be bothered with it now. I think Angel and Alastor were about a decade-possibly 15 years apart, while Husk was in between. So they were from the same generation.

The thing that sets Husk apart from the other characters, was he actually grew to an old age. While the others died relatively young or midlife.

The fact that Husk was a world traveler means he wasn't stuck in the city/town/state he was born in like the others may have been. Increasing his odds to cross paths with the other sinners.

I like to imagine that Husk has some type of butterfly effect of the other characters lives that he unintentional and unaware he caused that lead the sinners lifes to what they are.

I lowkey headcanon (not seriously, just for funsies) as weird parody of an guardian angel. Here me out. He not a guardian angel tho. I love his avian cat design. But admit it, its freakin weird he has wings as a cat right?

The only ones we see with wings are the royalties of Hell (Can the Ars Goetia fly?) the sins...and angles.

Beside Valentino. But Val sort of makes sense...hes a moth. Moth has wings by default. Husk is a cat, yet he has wings? It also makes sense why Val is a moth. Granted I think a prostitute be more moth like...standing by a street lamp on a corner street at night. THAT makes sense. But given, Val a pimp...I guess it works for him too.

So Husk, a cat, has wings...makes me think why he has wings in his afterlife. Seems like a random thing to be given when it seem to be reserved mostly for royalty and wings seem like it be a huge advantage to have in Hell when most sinners don't get it. Must be some type of reason Husk has them. But alas I don't know or we probably never know beside cool character design.

Now, going on with this weird wing thought...and my lowkey non serious headcanon (Which im 100% isnt going to make canon), Husk is some unintentional weird type of opposite effect of an guardian angel.

Husk with his potential of crossing paths with a lot of the sinners we know, I think it be hilarious if he butterfly effect that he indirectly caused their path towards Hell or death. Like for example, he gave Nifty directions that started a weird Rube Goldberg machine situation of cause and effect that caused that directed her to find a man she became obsessed with and stalked then eventual murdered. Husk involvement is completely indirect but at the same time, the vent would never would happen if he wasn't involved.

Moving on from his living life to his afterlife.

Husk died in the 70s and the pilot 2019. Alastor was missing for 7 years (starting 2012), I vibe that Husk been under Alastor ownership for quite awhile before that. No later than 2000 but I'm fairly sure he was owned much before that. But I'm going with the minimal amount of time of Husk soul being sold. So Husk was able to fall, rise to overlord fairly quickly only to lose the status just as quick. His reign was very short lived. The rest of the time was serving under Alastor. That's quite a wild ride in a span of 30 (But I personally believe its much shorter) of unbounded soul years. Which seems a lot of years, but when you have eternity to live out the rest of your life, its very little.

I don't question how Husk was able to become overlord so quick. He a master magician...so very good at sleight of hand/cheating as well as lifetime gambler. He able to keep a stoic expression to minimize his own tells, while being very perceptive and skilled at reading other people very well. He can easily win and work with and manipulate people desperations of gambling their souls to him without much risk to himself. He can easily play hand in his favor with his skills and the rare chance he can't, he can fold and cut his losses before it gets to deep.

However, what had him lose it all. Because I doubt someone was better at cards then Husk. Especially in Husk own house. I don't doubt Alastors good at cards. But I don't think Alastor skill at cards is greater than Husk. To the point Husk lost everything to him including his own soul. I think they both cheat if they play a game together. In fact I think they have play a game, with intent of cheating and trying to catch each other in the act. Its their own game while playing a game, knowing each other enough that they will cheat and it brought a new level of fun trying to catch each other while not getting caught themselves. It probably became a own special drinking game, that one has to drink when they got caught. But I don't think Alastor the reason why Husk lost everything.

I think the reason Husk lost everything in Hell as quickly as he gained it...is by self destructive depression. Husk was the cause of his own downfall.

I only suggest this because...how else an extremely skilled card player who also skilled at sleight of hand, will lose hand after hand in his own gambling house?

My other clue is this:

Along with his heavy drinking. I think Husk always been a heavy drinker but it hit a all new level when he lost his love and became extremely jaded by the event.

I think Husk had found a very special someone and something happen to them. Be it died during an extermination or been betrayed by them, etc. Or it may be someone in his living years and something reminded him of them and triggered a downwards spirals for him.

Mostly, I think he caused them to leave him or indirectly caused them permanent death, etc. and he filled with self loathing, regret and remorse. Because he did love and care for them...but he fucked it all up due his own self-centered, selfishness and greed at the time. The pain caused him to close off his heart to avoid feeling that loss again and drink himself stupid to avoid feeling anything or to quiet his self hatred thoughts.

I believe the lost of them sent him a destructive spirals of depression. He started drink insanely heavier, which impaired his judgment greatly and just grew apathetic.

Enter Alastor and the lost of Husk soul

Alastor may have very well manipulated and cheated his way with the impaired Husk to gain his soul. Very possible. Especially the way it was pictured in the flashback. Alastor symbols and lit up eyes and extended antlers along with a sinister smile as well as Husk stunned expression of his loss of the game.

BUT

I don't think that how it went down. I can't remember the exact wording but it sounded like Husk turned to Alastor for help. It was a last resort, but Husk was desperate enough to go to it.

They were both overlords at the same time at one point. Alastor and and Husk was good friends once. Maybe, not close like Alastor is with Rosie but still good friends. Alastor probably took a liking to Husk as he from the same generation. I also assume Husk appear around Vox falling out with Alastor as Husk and Val fell around the same time. So Vox probably started befriending Val and helping Val with his rise to overlord. I can see Alastor do the same with Husk just to spite Vox and cause him to be jealous. But even if it started as a ploy to upset Vox, Alastor probably end up liking and growing fond over the cat. Playing hands and having late drinking and jazz sessions and such. Alastor appreciate Husk blunt and often correct observations and insight.

So when Husk was clearly not doing well and smarten up enough to seek Alastor for help. I think Husk knew the rate he was self destructing he was going to lose it all, including his soul. So he went to Alastor and struck a deal before Husk truly got in a shitter situration with a shitter dealer that he would regret much more.

Because let's be honest. Husk knows what he was getting into when he offered his soul. Think about it. Even if Husk had an impossible high number of souls...say a billion. He lost a billion souls by suddenly being bad at gambling. Even if the pot is a billion souls that he want to regain back, its not worth the risk of betting your own soul. Even if your got an amazing hand...Is it worth the risk during a harsh losing streak playing against another overlords as an opponent?

Husk knew he was going to lose his soul with his spiral. He knew what he was getting into. He an overlords himself. He may have treated his own souls more poorly than Alastor himself. I don't think Husk was cruel... I'm sure he had his own moments like Alastor and had causes. I do think he was a apathetic/detached master. The souls he owned was just a commodity he use for gambling. When sharing his retelling to Angel about this. He sounded remorseful that he betted souls like they were just an object and not a precious thing. I think he only felt that way AFTER his own soul did not belong to him. That's when he realized what a shitty and dick move it was to prey on desperate souls and pass them around when it should been obvious.

Husk collected souls to use as a commodity. Husk preyed onto the sinners desperation and addiction to get them.

While Alastor, I don't think he really cares about hoarding souls. He powerful enough without them. BUT if an opportunity reveals itself, he take advantage. But he only does it with quality souls that has real potential and use. He a quality over quantity man.

Husk knows what it means to sell one's soul. Yet he still offered it to Alastor. Because despite the rep Alastor has being ruthless, Alastor is probably one of the "kinder" overlords to have as a master. But Husk only knew that by insider information by witnessing himself by hanging out with Alastor and possibly glimpsing how he treated his contracts. Which appears not to be much different than any other sinner.

I know Alastor performs horrendous acts. He goes on killing sprees, probably enjoys torturing people. But I don't think he does it to his own souls. Because, TBH, people who do that want to feel powerful and they do it with people who cant fight back. Alastor is already powerful. He doesn't need weak prey and why damage his own property when no one can stop him from breaking someone else's? Alastor is so powerful that its boring. Where's the fun and entertainment when everytime you "play", the game is stuck on easy mode and the opponent is knocked out of the ring within minutes. Heck, Alastor gets even less than that. He just looks in their directions and people forfeit. Alastor wants the thrill of a challenge and exchange wits and banter. So he seeks stronger opponents to fulfill is needs for carnage and havoc. Not some frighten, defenseless slave.

Alastor not a good man as he willing to commit terrible acts and enjoys it. But from what we seen, hes not a bad man's as it appears he doesn't attack without cause or reason. He appears he only acts monstrous when he defending. He has no interest in sex so he not going to force Husk into sexual acts. Alastor may have his contracts to demeaning things or just do things for shits and giggles and entertainment but overall, hes tamed to souls he own. (The souls he doesn't own that pledge their service and loyalty however...is another story) Alastor pretty much just let his contracts do what they please as long as they respect him and do what he commands as he needs them. Which, honestly isn't much. Alastor seem to summon his shadow minions over his soul contracts because it seems less of a bother to everyone while Alastor remains more in control of the situation. It's simply less chance of error if Alastor used his shadow minions that act on his will vs some contracted soul who most likely is performing half heartedly as they are forced to do something they don't want to do. He use the contracted soul for a long term project since it would take too much power and effort to maintain and sustain his shadow minions over a extended time. It seams Alastor only have souls as a resource an a backup reserve. More of a "better have it and not need it then need it and not have it." Alastor even gives them task that align with the skills they are good at. I think part of it is because Alastor is also on a leash so as much as he denies it, he has empathy. But he will still utilize the resource when needed but overall he self reliant and a lone wolf and rather no really on people if he can help it, even if he does own them. I also think he knows Overlords and soul ownerships sort of go hand and hand. But I think soul ownership leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth. Not because of his own soul but being a mixed man in the 30's....its very likely he had some heritage on his precious mother side of ancestral slaves. So, Alastor understand the necessity needs of ownership for survival and advancement in Hell, but still has a distaste to it.

Granted we don't see how Alastor (beside with Husk and Nifty)or anyone besides the Vees, interact with their contracts, and we know they treat their people poorly. But I think from what we seen is Alastor is very mild. Including the scene he threatened Husk.

Mind you, Alastor was giving clearly giving clues he was already agitated before that interaction. He was essential a growling dog warning he was going to bite if it interactions going to continue. His snapped his neck irritatedly along with a clearly exasperated "what is it" that didn't have a radio filter when he addressed Husk when Husk went to get his attention. Husk was trying to warn Alastor about Mimzy but it was clear to even someone who doesn't know Alastor...(and Husk knows Alastor well) that Alastor was already on edge. Yet Husk continued to push forward. Even then...Alastor kept composure. Laughing off and dismissing Husk concerns. It was when Husk muttered a jab about sensitive personal information (One that I'm sure Husk wasn't even originally meant to know )about Alastor that anyone could have overheard if they were near, and that same sensitive information promised to trigger Alastor...THAT'S when Alastor became terrifying and threatening. So granted, no one deserve what happened to Husk when he was threatened but at the same time...it was Husk own undoing at the moment. Husk muttered that jab to Alastor that antagonize Alastor to reacted harshly. Husk was lucky that Alastor restrained himself ONLY to threat....Alastor gave Husk mercy by warning him to watch himself because next time would be the last time.

So Alastor is rather mild with his demands with contracts for the majority of the time but when he isn't, he very brutal but he usually given a cause to turn.

So Husk offered his soul to Alastor knowing what it would mean to sell his soul. Specifically chosen Alastor because, it would surprise to anyone to hear, is the lesser form of evil in such a situation. He sold his soul while he was somewhat lucid and not completely impaired to work out a deal that doesn't completely screw over Husk. Place some terms and agreements. I do think they did play a hand and wager, either to finalize a clause they couldn't agree with and use the bet to finalized it or just have Husk go out a way he comfortable with. Alastor may also play some mild manipulation but I don't think Alastor preyed on Husk as its implied. Alastor was sought out for a reason, and on Alastor part, an overlord soul is too tempting to resist. Especially being handed on a silver platter. If Alastor wanted to decline the offer, for the unlikely name of friendship, knowing it would ruin it. It wouldn't have done any good in any scenario to decline. If Husk was worry about losing his soul due to his own destructive impairment, might as well gain something from it and offer some protection to a friend then lose out on a quality soul, instead of watch from afar the downfall of his friend which he probably won't see again afterwards. It also strategy. It either gain a quality and powerful soul to his collection, or lose out and someone else has it...that could be potential be used against Alastor, along with any possibly knowledge Husk had gathered on the Radio Demon. So even if it wasn't tempting or desirable, its about survival.

Naturally, their friendship has soured greatly since then. Because, how can it not? I don't think Husk hates Alastor. I know the fandom believe he wants him dead. But Husk is just being jaded and surly. Husk didn't treat Alastor more venomous than any other resident when he was introduced. Husk is also comfortable enough to voice his less than kind opinions about Alastor or to Alastor. Husk doesn't act like a terrified servent in Alastor presence. (Unless he knows that Alastor in bad mood and looking for a cause for someone to be his punching bag), The two act like longtime friends but one is grumpy because he there out of reluctant obligations and just frustrated, annoyed and just tired of this shit of Alastor antics that hes forced to endure. Alastor seem to treat Husk more friendly, which to be fair can be an act but I think it part genuine.

Out of the two of them, its Husk that reminds everyone that Husk is on the Alastor leash. Alastor not the one that usually "putting Husk in his place", Husk the one that normally does it. If anything, I think Husk hate and angry with himself that everything is is own undoing. Frustrated and annoyed by Alastor who amused by it. Alastor is also just a reminder how low Husk became. It's easy to blame Alastor for his problems and even understandable that he does. He does blame Alastor for his current predicament at times simply because its just easier to do so and feels better to blame someone else to be the cause of your problems but ultimately, Husk knows he brought it all on himself and I think that's what hurts and bothers him the most.

Husk wants his soul back, but I don't think he wants Alastor to be dead for it. Tho, I think Husk feels that's the only way to get it back at times. But despite it all, he cares about Alastor. Even if its begrudgingly. I think Husk also knows its better to have as Alastor as a great ally than an enemy, even a dead one to gain his soul back. Husk is wise, even is Husk gain his soul back, regain his full power and strength it still fails to compare to Alastors own power. Husk knows there are greater foes that Husk cant compete and defend for himself or his newfound family against, but Alastor can, even if Husk doesn't fully trust Alastor. But Husk trust his own experience and knowledge of Alastor to guess his motivations and intentions.

I think Alastor called upon Husk to the hotel to bartend, because A) He knew from their former late night hang outs that Husk can make great drinks. but B) Husk also has wisdom and experience that can fulfill Charlies needs and benefit for the hotel. Husk has skills on perception and reading people from gambling. Husk knows about losses, knows the woes of losing his soul, knows about addiction, lost of love etc. I think Alastor pulled Husk to the hotel not only because Husk has skills that can be utilized to help but I think Alastor knew Husk can benefit from the hotel to be the sinner Alastor remember he use to be. Not the "husk" he became. Alastor doesn't believe in redemption, at least one that send someone to Heavens gates. But Alastor can see the possibility of rehabilitation. Something Husk could benefit. He lowkey subtle hinted it at the pilot. "I thought you be perfect to man the front desk as the job seem to be made for him" (At a rehabilitation hotel) Husk is not going to work on himself because Alastor commanded him to be. So Alastor has Husk station there with the possibility and off chance of Husk getting help even if its through osmosis from the sidelines. May even warm up on the idea and want to better oneself. Guess what...its working. Alastor won't admit his underhanded method of helping. He has a reputation of being ruthless to maintain after all.

I think its also why he pulled Nifty. He using her skills but also figure a place like the hotel is one of the few place that accept Nifty the way she is and let Nifty develope friends and family that would embrace her. I think Nifty was a lonely soul and she just TOO much for most sinners to handle. But at the hotel, she can be welcomed and be herself. It also a place Nifty would enjoy to be in. She a simple girl. She likes to clean and kill bugs. A large building will grant her that.

Alastor even try buttering Husk up and get Husk more comfortable with the idea of working at the hotel by offering him cheap booze free of charge. Alastor didn't have to care at all and can just say "I own you so...tough shit." But he did try to get Husk to warm up to the idea despite Husk not having a choice in the matter, and wanted to at least ease his grumpy avian cat into the change.

If Alastor care so much why doesn't he release them? One might ask. Beside overlords being super possessive and Alastor being a control freak? I think for Nifty, She doesn't want to and she needs the protection.

Husk...I think Alastor fears with their soured friendship, there is nothing stopping Husk to reveal any or all his sensitive knowledge about Alastor if he not bound to Alastor and forced to be silent by it. Husk is probably the only one that knows about Alastor own sold soul beside the one he sold it to. Alastor confines to Rosie but I think he still restrained himself real intro personal stuff. Husk is probably Alastor other confident (Tho, probably not by choice by either, Husk being forced into now, and Alastor lips being loosen by Husk made drinks combined with the comfort and nostalgia he has with the cat while inebriated. Which he rarely indulges in because of that fact, but still does on really hard days and regrets the things that slip but at least Husk can't tell a soul on Alastor command.) Information can be such a powerful tool that can be weaponized. Husk knows things about Alastor that would just completely ruin, may even destroy him or actually bring Alastor to his final demise. Also, small part and Alastor won't admit it, he values Husk perceptive insight and Alastor trust him to be his eyes and ears.

I'm sure there's more I wanted to say. But I'm sure I ramble incoherently enough about my thoughts on Husk.

What do you all think?