#i didn’t even mean to give him the gloves i just always draw them on him as autopilot but it works so fun with the outfit so im happy

[maplemaplemaplemaplemaple]

there's few joys in life greater than putting sasha nein in a little black dress

[sarahghetti]

missing piece; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader centric, marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader

summary: how you and jake get together.

warnings: literally all fluff, a little insecurity from jake, a lot of nuisance from marc and steven, female!reader.

word count: 2.4k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

out of the three of them, jake is the one you meet last.

marc and steven have mentioned him, of course: the third alter, a little sarcastic and a little aggressive, but who will still make kissy noises at every cat they pass even though his success rate is… quite low.

for a while, the extent of your knowledge about him is just tidbits like that—the things that jake lets the others share from the safety of their headspace.

he’s a cab driver. he likes 2% milk, the leather gloves laying on the corner of the coffee table are his own, and he thinks that steven is a better cook than marc.

(steven might have made that last one up. all you see is him looking into the reflective surface of the pot before he snorts, claiming, “yeah, jake definitely agrees, love, trust me.”)

but that’s not to say that jake doesn’t know anything about you.

he’s always been there throughout your relationships with marc and steven, watching as you smile and laugh and kiss them with so much light in your eyes that they might as well as hung the sun in the sky.

marc and steven have learnt about what you like, what you dislike, which means that jake learns these things as well, and even steps in sometimes to remind them.

marc’s on a grocery run, trying to recall which salsa you liked the most the last time he made tacos. “the one with a green label, pendejo.”

steven’s packing your lunch for work, signing off on a note to stick at the top when—"hey. draw a frog on that.”

“what?” steven felt jake watching, but didn’t actually expect him to speak up. “what are you talking about?”

“she’ll like it.”

“I—”

“nevermind, just give me control of our hand.”

it’s terrible. it’s ugly. the faintest depiction of a frog that’s ever lived, marked with a little “- j” so you know exactly who it’s from.

you absolutely love it.

he doesn’t mean to fall in love with you. truly, he doesn’t. to him, you’re theirs, and he’s still hesitant to get involved with their lives any more than necessary.

but how could he not? not when they spend so much time with you, and he feels that aching warmth in their chest whenever marc or steven look at you.

he finds himself laughing at your jokes even if he’s not the intended recipient, admiring how you look even when you’re not getting dressed up for him.

marc and steven know, of course they do, and accept his feelings far before he does.

because I think at the beginning, jake is nervous to front around you.

you fell so easily for marc and steven, and though he’ll never say it to their faces, he gets it.

marc’s a real softie once you get past the ten-foot tall wall he’s erected around himself, and steven’s… well, steven.

but jake? jake “protector of the body” lockley, who’s sole self-imposed purpose is to keep their heart beating? he’s not a “people-person.” he doesn’t know how to love someone, at least in not the way you deserve to be loved.

“so dramatic.” marc rolls his eyes as he finds himself fronting on their doorstep. jake heard rustling from inside, indicating that you were home, and immediately relinquished the hot seat to one of the others. “you can just talk to her, you know.”

“I know.”

even steven scoffs at him.

“oh, yeah?” to his credit, jake manages to maintain eye contact as marc stares at him in the reflection of a picture frame. “you wanna get back in here, then? say hello to our girlfriend like a normal human being for once?”

when jake doesn’t respond, he continues.

“that’s what I thought. it’s not complicated, you don’t gotta fuckin’ sweep her off her feet or something—"

marc’s words are cut off as you open the door, eyebrows furrowed. “marc? are you just going to… stand outside all day?”

he gives one last pointed glare to his reflection. “nope, we’re coming.”

jake is only coaxed out once you start asking the boys about him.

you don’t want to push him if he really doesn’t want to talk to you, but with all the little things he does, you can’t imagine that that’s the case.

“pass this along to jake for me, would you?” it’s the frog drawing that he made for you some time back, but now with the addition of your own smiling frog beside it. “I’d give it to him myself, but…”

marc can see you deflate a little as you trail off, and that’s illegal in this household. his heart sinks, and he knows that the others can feel it too.

fortunately for everyone, guilt is a wonderful motivator for jake—particularly where you’re involved.

so it starts off small. when it’s time for him to work a cab shift, he doesn’t wait till they’ve already left the apartment to front, instead taking over just before in order to say goodbye to you.

“I’m heading out for work.”

the voice—so clearly your boyfriends’ but a bit flatter than marc’s, more softly accented than steven’s—makes your head snap up from the couch. a flat cap, light jacket layered over a button-up shirt.

black leather gloves.

“jake!” you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about how excited you sound, jumping up to your feet. your enthusiasm to finally see him has his face heating up, and he ducks his head to hide it before you can see.

he fiddles with his sleeves. “don’t be awake when I get back.”

“uhm.” you ruminate over that for a second, confusion so plain that jake has to hold back a grimace. then it hits you—

oh. he just doesn’t want you to stay up on his behalf.

“okay.” you smile. “have fun!”

he snorts. “I’ll try. good night, querida.”

those few minutes before he leaves has you looking forward to his shifts, even if it means that you have to go to bed alone.

initially, jake doesn’t let himself think that you always being around when he’s fronting is anything more than a coincidence.

but then one night, you’re out hanging out with friends, and he gets a text as he’s stepping out the door: be safe! have a good shift :)

jake can’t really argue with himself after that.

(that, and the other two heckle him about it so much that he has to accept it. steven already has to deal with marc’s self-confidence issues—dealing with jake’s are much easier in comparison.)

still—

“don’t even know if she likes me,” jake grumbles as he enters their building, hands stuffed into his pockets. he’d already parked his cab for the night, not too far from the flat, and the walk home has been the three of them running around in circles on the topic.

“don’t even know if she likes me,” steven repeats, not unkindly, but still very much annoyed. “mate, do you hear yourself?”

“she’s just kind, that’s all.”

“she remembers your schedule better than marc or I do, and we’re all in the same body!”

jake clicks his tongue as he rides the elevator, avoiding the reflections around him, lest he comes face-to-face with his alters.

marc chimes in. “you do know if you ask her out for dinner or something, she’ll say yes, right?”

he misses inserting their key the first time, swearing under his breath.

“I’m serious. we’ve talked about it before—”

“don’t be stupid—” jake opens their door a bit more harshly than intended, and the sound stirs you from where you dozed off on the couch.

“jake?” you rub your eyes, yawning. the sound of your voice shuts them all up, and you sit up just enough to look at him. “welcome back.”

“what are you…?” jake gestures vaguely and you shrug.

“wanted to surprise you, but I guess I fell asleep,” you chuckle softly, and his heart clenches.

“a-ha! you see? our poor girl was staying up late just to see you! how are you going to say that—”

jake tunes steven out as he walks towards you, pretending to be unaffected when he extends a hand.

“come on, let’s get you to bed.”

he doesn’t ask you about a date that night—you’re far too tired to be thinking about that, after all—but he turns the idea over in his head.

asking you out to dinner seems so formal, but it’s not like he can just buy you a coffee, either. what’s the protocol for asking out your alters’ girlfriend?

”you’re thinking about it too much.”

yeah, he knows, marc—that doesn’t make things any better.

gradually, he starts to front more during the day.

not as often as marc and steven, but enough for you to learn a bit more about him: how he likes his coffee (black, as expected), his favourite breakfast (eggs in a basket), and that he likes playing ABBA in the flat while doing other things.

jake is very much a ‘fake it till you make it’ kind of guy—is he nervous about spending time with you? of course not—how could he be, when he flirts and jokes around with you so easily?

and flirting with jake is fun. it’s all surface level—he refuses to touch the elephant in the room that is your obvious feelings for each other with a ten-foot pole—but he’s shameless in a way that marc and steven aren’t, making you hot in the face at the most inopportune times.

he might be wearing a smirk the entire time, but he means every compliment, every word that he says to you.

sometimes you hold his gaze for too long and see how his eyes soften when he looks at you, and it takes your breath away.

jake wants you so hard it hurts. he knows he’s digging himself a hole with how (little) he expresses himself, and although it fills him with anxiety, he knows that he’s going to need a different approach in order to actually let you know how he feels.

your hand is nestled in the crook of marc’s elbow as you walk past storefronts on the way home, pointing out the things you see in the window displays.

“those are the pots you were talking about, right?” marc gestures towards a set of expensive ceramics in all their glory, and while he’s correct, you shake your head with a sigh.

“’s not the colour I want.”

“your dedication to colour coordination in the midst of steven’s mess is admirable.”

you laugh, continuing on ahead until you stop in front of a boutique. in its display case is a sleek, form-fitting dress that falls so beautifully on the mannequin that it makes you suspicious as to how it’d actually look on someone. “oh, that’s pretty.”

marc hums from above you before stilling suddenly. you know what comes next; you’re ready to greet steven when—

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that, querida.” the corner of jake’s mouth curls and you roll your eyes, grinning.

“hey, jake.”

“hey.” his smile is lopsided, almost boyish. “don’t suppose you wanted to pop in now to try it on?”

“you’d like that.” he shrugs, guilty as charged. “but nah, I’m getting kind of hungry.”

jake gently tugs you with his arm. “then let’s go get something to eat.”

it’s a reoccurring joke between the two of you, and it’s your turn to deliver the punchline. your voice is teasing, “you asking me on a date, lockley?”

“yes.”

his tone stops you in his tracks. gone are any traces of humour as he holds your gaze. it’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him for a while.

that’s not right. he’s supposed to smirk, full machismo, and say something like obviously, princesa. your brain lags. “I—what?”

“I’m asking you out. do you want to go get dinner?”

you stand there, gaping like a fish as you internalize what’s happening. it takes everything in jake to not fidget on the spot or backtrack with another teasing comment. no, he has to make you see that he’s serious about this, even though his heart is racing a mile a minute.

slowly, a smile grows on your face until you’re beaming at him, and all the tension releases from his body. “yeah. yes, let’s—let’s go, jake.”

it’s nothing fancy. it’s not even new, either. he leads the way to one of your go-to places whenever nobody wants to cook, and though it’s your first official ‘date’, a sense of comfort settles over you.

begrudgingly, jake admits—the solution has always been a simple one. you don’t need him to be marc or steven, or to plan the perfect date. you’ve always just wanted to know him.

he can see as much in your barely constrained excitement as you both take a seat, legs brushing up against each other under the table. so, what else can he do but let his guard down for once?

finally, finally jake’s opening up to you, and he absentmindedly traces patterns on your hand with his thumb. “what do you want to know?”

well—lots of things, but there is something that you’ve been meaning to ask him…

you tilt your head, curious. “do you actually think that steven’s better at cooking than marc?”

 “dios, are you kidding me?” his lips curl up with so much distaste that you can’t help but laugh, and you bury your head in your hands; the sight warms him from the inside out. there’s so much jake wants to tell you, but—

there’s no rush. you have all the time in the world, after all.

[codgod]

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

[pillow-anime-talk]

his talented baby. {pt.2}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a person who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; some comedy; big fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. sebastian michaelis & undertaker {kuroshitsuji} + josuke higashikata & rohan kishibe {jojo 4}

part one {click}

— SEBASTIAN (ft. chess)

Sebastian was perfect in everything; in cleaning, in cooking, in playing various instruments, in foreign languages, in gardening, even in singing and dancing. There was, however, one thing he couldn’t achieve fully well, and that was the game of chess.

Of course, he defeated others (I mean here; Grell, Agni, Bald or Finny) with ease, but when you offered him a game one day, his so far intact worldview changed dramatically. Eventually he found someone better than himself, but at the same time he felt so damn frustrated that he couldn’t win against your person. You were better than him, than Ciel, and even better than Mr. Tanaka, who was almost equal to him and the young lord.

“... Your move, Sebastian.” You announced by moving the bishop to the field of your choice, taking his black rook at the same time. “Are you going to give up, my love?” You smiled gently as you took a sip of delicious English tea with the perfect amount of sugar. The man looked at you in response, frowning and looking at the chess alignment after a short while.

“No. Everything is fine, I just need to think for a moment.” He said calmly, though his face expression seemed to hide the urge to swear. “I am impressed with how quickly you made such a confusing setup, darling.”

“Well, well. My grandpa taught me to play. As the saying goes, the student has surpassed the master.” You chuckled as you put your chin on your right hand while looking at the fingers of your man surrounded by white gloves, who decided to move the king to space F5. “Maybe someday you will surpass me, who knows?”

Sebastian stared at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding in delicate, almost invisible amusement.

“Maybe someday, dear. For now, I will give you the honorable title of the best chess player.”

— UNDERTAKER (ft. drawing)

Drawing has been your passion since you remember and you loved to paint literally everything; still life, nature, huge landscapes, other people, animals, and even things that didn’t make much sense (Picasso was one of your biggest inspirations when it came to cubism). In addition, in your bag you always carried your favorite blue sketchbook in which you drew tiny thoughts or things you noticed while walking, working or drinking coffee in a cafe.

That day, however, you were sitting quietly on one of the chairs in the funeral parlor, and the Undertaker was also sitting nearby – he was writing names with concentration, calculating in his mind the number of deaths in the last month and year.

His calm face was really handsome from your perspective; the faint light of the lantern caressed his pale complexion, and his green eyes full of mischief stood out behind his fair hair. Every now and then you glanced at the tall man, then your eyes focused again on the small notebook whose pages were blank. I mean, they were not all empty; some of them had sketches of dogs on them, others sketches of flowers, and others featured the figure of a tall Grim Reaper.

When you finished your illustration, you smiled and nodded, satisfied with your work. A beautiful play of light, self-confident pencil strokes and small additions in the form of ivy and rosemary beautifully composed the whole black-grey picture of Adrian.

“Excause me, darling...?” You whispered hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt his work. Nevertheless, the man quickly looked in your direction and a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Yes, my little flower.” He asked, instantly standing up and forgetting about the paperwork – you were definitely more interesting than the dead, after all. You showed him your drawing with a slight blush on your face and he opened his mouth in slight shock. “It’s me?” You nodded, and the Grim Reaper just chuckled. “Am I really THAT handsome?” He joked and you just rolled your both eyes. A short time later, Undertaker praised your talent, asking if you’d like to hang some of your sketches on the board next to the entrance.

— JOSUKE (ft. playing drums)

More than five years ago, you and your three friends started a music band. Since then, you’ve been focused on making your dreams come true, on small concerts played in the Morioh, on school performances, also on learning notes and practicing singing. You were the drummer and leader of ‘CR△WL’; your vast musical knowledge, willingness to develop your passion and daily rehearsals aroused great admiration from the rest of the band and from people who watched your slowly growing career. Of course, Josuke was no exception, on the contrary – he considered himself your biggest and most faithful fan, who with the greatest pleasure went on dates with you to music shops or bookstores with records of old bands.

The young man was delighted every time you played the instrument – just like years ago in your garage when you first played ‘Paranoid’ by Black Sabbath for him. He was smitten and would come over to your house to listen to your covers or help you make a video for your YouTube channel (you were pretty popular for tutorials, trivia, and drum videos).

“...Y/N, Y/N. Would you be able to play this song?”

That day, Josuke visited your house once again. Your mom made you two some snacks, and you grinned as you practiced another song for an upcoming concert at one of the smaller festivals this summer. Your boyfriend seemed to be excited like never before, so you asked what is the title of mentioned song. Hearing the familiar words, you just smiled, nodding your head in response.

Instantly, your both hands and right foot began to beat the drums, which making the dark-haired teenager’s face look very surprised.

“Y/N... You really know every song on this planet!”

— ROHAN (ft. rapping)

Karaoke, bowls full of ice cream and fruit, carbonated drinks, hot snacks and great company were what you’ve been missing for the last few weeks. Focused on studies and work, you didn’t have time to rest properly; but you finally met with your closest friends and you also took Rohan with you.

You had a great time gossip with besties who talked about changes in their lives and new achievements, for example, at work. You were telling about your experiences as well with a huge smile, while Rohan was sitting right next to you, talking to some people from time to time. He wasn’t interested in large gatherings, but he couldn’t say ‘No’ to you either because you were too sweet that evening.

Suddenly, one of Cardi B’s songs was played in the background and you almost squealed.

“Ooooh, I see that someone want to sing, huh?” The blonde haired girl asked, and you just laughed, thanking her for the black microphone.

Rohan almost spit at his new shirt as soon as you started rapping the verses without any problems, without even looking at the screen where the lyrics were displayed. You had a great time dancing a bit in the middle of the small room. You looked at your partner with a smirk, sometimes sending a kiss or wink in his direction. You were literally in your world; you showing your energy and love for music so perfectly.

Rohan was really surprised.

[plush-rabbit]

The Dateables and Things

A/N: I needed to write something and like it was supposed to be about them and how they show affection towards you, but it did not come out like that so here it is!!

-

Barbatos: 

He was only ever meant to serve- devoted and loyal to a fault where he’d die for his master if it was asked for. Barbatos was never meant to interact with you more than necessary; you were only an exchange student after all, a means to an end for the young master’s grand scheme. And yet, here you stand before him, invading his mind and body, acting as a poison that will wear him away and leave nothing but dust. You’re nothing more than a human, and all the same, you are a human, all of that and just that. He isn’t sure what it was that attracted him to you, perhaps it was how every other demon and angel and sorcerer had taken a fancy to you, or maybe how you always tried to include him when he was content just staying by the sidelines. Whatever the reason was, he was attracted to you, like a moth to a flame, his heart fluttering and beating against his ribs. 

It’s no surprise how affectionate you are with him. You cling to him, hands hooked onto the crook of his elbow, or hands bunching up his blazer so as to not get lost. When you part ways, your lips press against his cheek, fingertips oppressed over his jaw to turn him towards you and to keep him from running away. It wasn’t something that he was proud to admit, but he wanted your touch. He craved it more than he could ever understand, and more than he was ever willing to admit. He wanted to keep you close to him and he wanted to kiss you and never part for breath. The attachment and desire terrified him. It wasn’t like him to want to give in to such temptations, to want someone and want to give up so much of himself to someone other than his king. 

The attention that you gave to him was something that he craved, and wanted once he got a taste for it. He truly believed that if he just sat back and spoke to you in short conversations, that you would find someone else- find someone who could love you as selfishly as possible. But you never left him alone and he didn’t push you away. He wanted the attention that you gave him, he savored it each and every time that it was given to him. You had wanted his attention and when some spell had made him want your attention, he couldn't lie to himself that stealing and harboring all of your love was intoxicating.  The spell made him obsessed, and now beside you, he wishes he could blame a spell that would warrant such a lack of manners and selfishness. 

Porcelain clicks against each other in a sweet melody, and he feels your eyes on him. You sit on a stool, watching and talking, and he is paying close attention. He serves you the first slice, humming and nodding along. He pours you the first cup and places the sugar and creamer in for you even though the tea that he has made needs nothing of the sort, but it’s something that you prefer. The honey is stirred in thick and sweet now mixed into the drink, and he passes you the fruit that has sat above his slice of dessert. 

Barbatos says your name so sweetly, your name held in a whisper as he draws your attention. “My dear, would you like another slice?” Such a simple question has you beaming, your smile bright like the human sun, and it’s all for him, the warmth, the love, the want for him. It's for him and no one else. He’s glad that this is the timeline for him, that you chose to want him. You shake your head, and politely tell him no. Your hand reaches for his that are bare from the usual gloves that rest beside his own empty plate. Your wraps around his, your thumb arching over his knuckles. He pulls out of your reach and he smiles as your fingers reach out to continue to touch him. He curves over your hands, thumb and index finger pinching over each of your fingers and tracing upwards. “I wish I never had to part from you,” he whispers to you. “I think I could trace your body for eternity and never grow bored.” When he kisses you, he can taste the honey stuck on your lips. You’ll always get the sweetest honey, always be poured first when it’s the two of you, you'll have the sweetest piece and the finest china.

Diavolo: 

There’s an expectation for him, from him. He is a prince. A future king of his people. He has done so much, has sacrificed having any sense of normalcy in his relationships, and he will always be expected to sacrifice and to make the right choices. He suggested the exchange program to open communication, and it brought you to him. It was meeting you that he realized just how lonely he really was. Or perhaps he had always known that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how desperate he was, there was always going to be a power imbalance with every relationship that he would have had. He was never going to be an equal in a relationship. But then you come along, and he isn’t a king to you. He isn’t a “Lord” or a “Prince”, he is simply just Diavolo.

You’re human and it has to be a cruel joke on him made by the universe to have you live a short life and have him live to a time that you could never comprehend. A part of him restrained himself from trying to get to know you, but that was all that he wanted to do; he wanted to get to know you. He wanted to be close to you and to hold your hand and when you would lean against or laugh at one of his jokes, he would swell with pride, beam with a smile and be covetous with your attention. You were sweet with him and it was intoxicating. He needed more of you, needed more of the casual banter and the eagerness that many were hesitant to give him. Not many were like that to him. Not many wanted to be around him in fear of saying something that would offend. 

It’s so rare for him to wish for anything different about his life. He’s fine with his status despite how lonely it could be. But when he’s around you, when he’s reminded of how human you are when you grow weary after using magic, he wishes that things were different.That maybe as human, he would have met you all the same and would have fallen for you just as hard. You make it difficult to stay away from you. He tries not to grow so attached, but he can’t help but seek you out as you do with him. It is wicked of him to steal so much time away from you, but having you close to him brings him comfort that he has not had in a long time. 

When he’s around you, he gives you his all; his entire being is placed in your hands. He’s allowed to be himself, to stay soft without the fear of being torn apart and having to harden up. Around you, he’s allowed to want and to give into his wants as small as they seem. He can trace the lines on your palms, have you brush his hair and hold his hand. Around you, he does not have to be a prince, he can simply be himself. As much as he loves being someone that you can rely on, he cannot deny that he also loves just being spoiled by you. He gets to let his guard down and to have you pet him and coo such soft things that if it were any other, he would have ordered an execution. He gets drunk off your comfort, how you baby him and how you let him be a puddle of ooze when around you. He wants nothing more than to spend his days with you, to nuzzle into your chest and let the world be locked away and blocked by wood. 

Your legs are thrown over the cushions of the seat, your phone held in your hand as you mindlessly scroll through whatever it is that you’re watching. He could only guess short videos with the brief seconds that are given to him. Your back is turned to him, and he stares at the nape of your neck and the outline of the shirt that is draped over your back, the muscles and fat shaping the fabric over your body and he is entranced by it. You’re in a vulnerable spot, and you give your back to him, and he gets to stare, gets to let the tip of the pen blot on the document, and let the stack of paperwork remain the same height. In the next breath, you tell him that you can feel his eyes on your back and the corners of his lips twitch. He makes no noise as he walks over to you, crouching down to be at eye level with you. “I think I would like for you to hold me,” he says in a delicate voice, fearing the possible rejection even if it were impossible. Your smile grows and you open your arms, letting him lay upon you. Diavolo gets to be held by you; he is allowed to feel soft and have you wrap your arms in a comforting hug and play with the hair that trails along the back of his neck.

Simeon:

You’ll always catch his haze on you no matter where either of you are. He’s been alive for so long, and lived in a way that a proper angel should. Simeon is an angel, devoted and loyal to one and no other. He is supposed to be an angel first, and a being second. His entire existence, his reason for being alive is to be devoted to Father. In the entire time that he’s been alive, he can count on one hand all the times his own loyalty has wavered, and even then, it was a passing thought, and ones that he has punished himself for. Never has he strayed from the teachings that have been engraved upon him, words etched into his very soul and being, words that glisten along his skin in gold and blood. He is an angel, through and through. 

A plan was set out for him, there was to be no shortcuts, no distractions or any of the sort. And yet, he meets you. Defying death and making relationships with a kind that eats your very soul, and protecting the young angel from such a proud demon. Meeting you set him off of his trajectory. Meeting you had only made him fall, slowly and surely. He chases after you, lays his head on your lap, and watches you sleep, traces the shape of your face and dips his index on your cupid’s bow. When he sees you laugh alongside Luke, and wave to gesture him over, he believes that he could have had a good life with you had he been born mortal. He’d stake his life on it, rip his own wings out if he was wrong. He would have been happy with you, he would have lived a good, long, loving life with you. He’d grow gray and rest beside you, count every new wrinkle that appeared on your skin. In a different life, he would have loved to wash dishes with you and live ordinary. 

Whatever he has going on with you, the relationship is a sin. It’s a mockery of what happened long ago, but in Devildom, where the moons’ light and the stars and night sky obstruct Father’s view, he can lie beside you. He’s rotten, worms and parasites filling his insides, but when you kiss him and hold him in your arms, he’s pure and holy once more. He wants you, craves you, desires you more than he has ever needed something in his life. He describes you in such a way that anyone would have believed you to be a saint, to some angelic figure higher than him, someone coated in gold and sweet like perfume. Yet, you aren’t that. You’re human. Sinful and pure, an enigma that holds onto him in the middle of the night with your ear pressed against his chest. He’s noticed the way that Raphael looks between the two of you, and he’s aware of what the angel would say, but it’s you, and it’s no question that the former angel would trade everything just to sit beside you for a moment. 

He’s answered for his treachery, held his tongue and stole from the Celestial Realm all for you. He was stripped of his status and made human. It’s blasphemy to think, but it’s you that he’s placed above all else. He’d never place the blame on you, he would rather have his mouth fill and drip of blood before he would ever make you feel guilty. There are many things that he would do rather than ever have you feel like you have to hold the blame for his blessing being removed. Even with his blessing removed, even with his status as a human, it doesn’t stop him from blessing you, from hoping and pleading that his words would keep you safe from the dangers around, from something that he can’t protect you from. 

“I don't think I’ll ever understand how you type so fast,” he says, watching in amazement as you send out a message. You stick your tongue out to him in response and he smiles. “You think that being a writer and living with Luke and Solomon, that I would have it down by now, but-” he cuts himself off with a sigh, turning his body over, the comforter pulled slightly away from you. The phone is placed on the nightstand where it buzzes with a notification, and your hands pull on the stolen piece of blanket back towards you. You open your mouth in a retort, and he watches as you furrow your brows and swiftly turn your head to sneeze into the crook of your elbow. “Bless you,” Simeon whispers as you sniffle out your thanks. The moonlight peeking through the window does nothing to warm the room like a sun would have, but it’s enough to see you in a pearl glow with fuzz dancing in the air. There was a time where he would bless you before you woke, desperate to keep you safe, and now he continues that, hoping that you would stay alive because he needs you more than he would like to admit. 

Solomon: 

The sorcerer has never been one to form bonds- after a few hundred years of immortality, one learns that all good things do come to an end, and the pain never fades. However, you seem to be different. He’s spent a long time alone, and he’s had his fun and spent time mourning for those whose voices he no longer remembers- he’s told himself not to get attached, played coy with you, teased and flirted, and he thought that whatever the two of you shared, would stay as a fling. He was fine with it- he was fine with the flings and the small moments, and he was fine remembering the things that his past lovers used to love. Solomon was supposed to be fine, not caring, not wanting to get close because getting close meant love and love meant mourning and it meant grief, and as powerful as he is, grief wears away the soul. He’s sure that he could handle another heartache, but he’d rather not.

A part of him is sure that he had some way that he showed his love to someone, that he could be vulnerable to someone when he was younger, when the weight of immortality wasn’t so heavy. He tries to remember it for you, tries to even copy your own, but it never fits right. Every action that he mirrors is false, it isn’t him. All of it is you, and he doesn’t want to be a copy of you- much less he doesn’t want to stain the memories he has of you with copies of himself crudely pasted over your silhouette. You show love so eagerly, so readily, and without saying any words, you’ve already made it clear what you think of him, and what you want from him.

It’s a slow build of wanting to be with you and allowing himself to be close to you. The flirting is fine- that’s the easy part, sharing sharp grins and letting his hand linger onto you for a bit longer than necessary- it’s all fun and games. He never thought he would ever want you so hopelessly, as if he were young and in love all over again. You were supposed to be fun, and then all of a sudden you weren’t. It was by chance- maybe, or maybe not- that you had been chosen for the exchange program, and it was only by chance that he had wanted to stick close to you out of some sort of comfort to provide to you when you looked so helpless and lost. And by a cruel joke from fate, he had gotten attached. The brothers had taken away all of your attention and it had left him feeling empty. He wanted to reach out to you; he needed to touch you, to be near you and to occupy every inch and ounce of your mind just as you had to his. 

Citrus coats his fingers, it’s sticky and wet, and he pulls at the white string that dangles from the orange slice, tossing it onto the bowl of peeled skin and white thread. A television show plays in front of you, one that you’ve been eager to watch and enthralled ever since. Two empty bags of popcorn have fallen to the floor, and you sit with your leg underneath you and body pushed to the corner of the couch. It’s so simple, so human, that it makes him smile and wince when orange squirts on his wrist. The slice of citrus is cleaned, peeled and made to look delectable for you. You turn your head towards him, mouth parted open and he places the slice on your tongue. With a hum, you knock your head gently onto his shoulder as a thank you, and he continues to peel the citrus. 

He stares at you, with your finger pinched softly over the peeled slice of citrus, and you trace his lips with it, and he can’t help but smile, and open his mouth to have the orange placed flat on his tongue. “Thank you,” he says, with bursts of juice filling his mouth and sliding down the back of his throat. He can't help but stare at you, to have the bowl of skin and seeds in front of him. The show has been paused and it lights up the room, and he’s looking at you. His thumb brushes over your lips, and when he kisses you, you taste like citrus, and summer. You lean into the kiss, lips stretching into a smile and thinning the touch between the two of you. Solomon’s hands are sticky and sweet, and when he looks at you, you’ve returned to watching the series as you lean against him. If you were to ask him for anything, he’d do it in a heartbeat, no matter how big or how small the request is. And in this moment, you ask for another slice of citrus, and he hopes that you would always ask him for this, that you would never peel your own fruit again just for the chance to be beside you, for the chance for you to need him.

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Quite the Opposite

1.3k || “I’ll take the mask off if you take that shit off and show your face, luv.” “Negative.” You bat your eyelashes at him. If Ghost didn’t know himself any better, he’d swear his heart stutters. “Scared you’re ugly under there?” Those painted lips of yours quirk up into a smirk. “Quite the opposite, L.t.”

Genre: fluff

CW: none!

Author’s Note: ooc?? maybe. tooth-rotting and sweet?? absolutely.

===

===

It was a rare day off. Not in the unexpected sense. Leave days were rigorously preapproved and, even if Ghost never jumped at the opportunity, he had racked up a serious number of days he could take off if he wanted to.

He never did. What point was there to rack up memories tainted by the dark corners of his past when he could stay and work and forget all the hurt for a little while. Ghost only every made memories when the military forced it on him. Creating a team with people like Soap where it was impossible to have a bland, boring day, forcing him to take leaves when it became obvious Ghost wasn’t going to take them himself, and, most importantly, when they forced him to meet you.

Forced, perhaps, is not the right word. But there’s no way Ghost could possibly admit to being the one that opened up first. He was Distance personified. Far away stares, no communication unless absolutely necessary. Protection. For his sanity and his heart and any other parts of him that had the slightest chance of slipping away from him. Protection from feeling when he’d already spent a painstaking amount of his life icing out anyone or anything that could hurt him.

Only that didn’t explain how he got here. Sitting in your room on base - more of an unused meeting room turned bedroom to give you privacy - waiting for you to finish up with getting ready.

He’d never understood what took you so long to get ready on days where you had all the time in the world. Ghost had watched you be first in line for attendance some mornings knowing damn well you’d rolled out of bed maybe three minutes before that - it wasn’t as though you were fully incapable of quickly getting ready to face the day.

“Almost done yet, kid?” He asks. You give him a hum that could mean ‘soon’ or ‘maybe when the week is out.’

The past thirty minutes have been full of pacing, checking the door to make sure Soap or Gaz weren’t on their way to steal you away from him for the day, and more pacing. This wasn’t a briefing to stand in the corner, motionless, waiting for Price to hand out information to memorize. This was him sitting in one of the small folding chairs staring at you turn your face this way and that in the dim fluorescent lights.

If his heart weren’t threatening to beat out of his chest every time he looked, Simon would spend the entire day watching you put on makeup. Brows furrowed in concentration; lips parted in a way that sends his mind to the gutter. You didn’t know how beautiful you really were.

“I don’t think you need all that shit on your face.” A gruff comment. One he’s said every time you ask if you can go ‘freshen up’ before the squadron heads to a tavern. Ghost shifts in his seat and the chair creaks beneath his large frame. “You look fine without it.”

The comment, as always, knocks a light laugh from your lips. A sound the stills the thundering in Simon’s chest just long enough for him to truly appreciate it.

“Ghost-” he leans forward, almost unconsciously when you say his name- “I wear makeup almost every day.”

He doesn’t say anything. What can he say? I genuinely thought your skin was just that clear. That would only prove Ghost to be one of those men who thought natural makeup was actually their natural face.

“And who are you to talk?” The lit to your voice draws Ghost’s gaze away from the door and towards you, all done up and finally ready to go. “You don’t need all that shit on your face either.”

Ghost raises a gloved hand to his mask, watching with amusement as you gesture to the black face paint under his mask. “I’ll take the mask off if you take that shit off and show your face, luv.”

“Negative.” You bat your eyelashes at him. If Ghost didn’t know himself any better, he’d swear his heart stutters.

“Scared you’re ugly under there?”

Those painted lips of yours quirk up into a smirk. “Quite the opposite, L.t.”

“Now you’re just taking the piss out of me.”

“Maybe.” You shrug and start gathering your things for a quick walk around the marketplace in town. A date. An outing that Ghost had carefully planned under the pretense of a bet from the last poker game he kicked ass on.

“Woah, take me out to dinner first!” You had thrown your head back in laughter at Soap, who had run into you on the way back from the pisser and caught your round the waist. His hand too close to your ass for Ghost’s liking, but you’d always known the right things to say to get out of situations like that.

“I’d love to, bonnie,” Soap had said, “but Ghost over there just ran me out of my last dollar.”

You’d turned, lips quirked then as they were now, and stared at Simon. He kept his gaze flat, uninvolved. Anything to try and keep you from saying what you were about to. “Maybe he should take me out to dinner instead.”

Your words had sucked the light, airy mood straight out of the room and replaced it with thick, sexual tension. Soap could hardly keep his jaw off the floor. Though that may have had more to do with the amount of tequila he’d had that night.

“If I win this hand, I’ll take you out for dinner, lass.” His words replaced the smug look on your face with a scowl. 

“Spending too much time with Johnny?” You asked him. Brown arched in defiance.

You were a horrid cheater - at least, you were to a man who knew how to read situations. Ghost had seen your not-so-subtle glances at his hand, but he’d left his cards up for you to see regardless. It was entirely more entertaining for you to try and call him on bluffing without exposing that you were cheating.

Even harder for you to bluff now when you knew he had nothing. “I’ll take you up on that offer, Ghost,” you cooed.

Soap took a seat next to Simon. Your seat. “Can’t fold though.” He leaned forward to look at Gaz and Price. “None of you can. Wouldn’t be fair to Bonnie over there.”

Fair enough. The only useful thing Ghost had in this hand was a King. Surely Price could scrounge up a pair. Something to get him out of this situation Ghost had managed to put himself in because he wasn’t used to the way you loosened his tongue and pulled prayers from his lips.

Ghost hadn’t expected Fate to be on your side. He should have. Out of the shit had he had, everyone else’s were worse. “Fuckin’ hell. A high card. I win on a fuckin’ high card.”

“Coming, Ghost?” You ask. He can’t remember when you got over by the door but now, with the brighter halls illuminating half your face, he’s stun locked. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

There aren’t enough words in the English language for Simon to pull together and explain that you’ve been replaced by some version of a goddess.

“Surprised that I clean up nice?”

“Something like that?” He stands and makes his way over to you. Careful not to look in your face too long because the sultry fox eyes you’re wearing are more dangerous than any mission he’d faced before.

“Want me to do yours next?” You tease.

“Take off the mask?” He asks, and, when you nod at him, he replies with a curt, “Negative.”

“Are you ugly under there?”

“Quite the opposite.”

You shake your head fondly at him and his lips quirk up into a smile behind the mask. The last thing Simon ever expected to chink away at his frozen heart was a done-up face like yours, but he was quickly coming to realize one thing: you were unlike anyone he’d ever met before.  

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 70: The Apprentice

summary: The Djarin clan officially adds a new member and embarks on one more small journey before heading home.

warnings: references to trauma, alcohol, fluff

rating: T

word count: 5.537k

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chapter 70: the apprentice

Astra smiles as Din kneels down to the height of the children’s pod, his light attachment engaged on his helmet as he tends to Grogu. She crosses her arms over her cuirass and watches Din’s gloved hands tug on Grogu’s robes to make them sit just right.

“All right, buddy,” Din says to Grogu with a gentle sigh. “Are you ready?”

Grogu coos and nods at his father. Astra’s smile only grows. After all of Grogu’s efforts at the Battle of Mandalore, Astra and Din didn’t even have to discuss the possibility of Grogu becoming an apprentice. The only thing they did was plan out when, and no later did the Armorer share that she would be taking Ragnar and the covert to the Living Waters to give him a proper ceremony. All the stars had aligned for them, and Astra couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Sorry, Grogu,” Din’s apology draws Astra from her reverie. “I’m probably blinding you with this light.”

Grogu giggles as Din removes the light attachment and stands. Din takes Grogu from the pod and holds him in the corner of his arm, letting Zora and the pod float closer to Astra’s side. Din’s visor meets Astra’s gaze for a long moment, the barrier of his beskar not hiding a single thing from her. Astra’s question is hushed, meant to be kept just between them. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Din lifts his free gloved hand to her lower back. “We’ll find out.” He’s gentle in easing her forward with himself, a gesture that makes Astra bite back a smile even with the uncertainty that awaits them. “Here we go.”

The Djarins enter the illuminated mine as soon as Ragnar begins to repeat after the Armorer in the Mandalorian promise that always makes Astra tear up, especially because of how much it means to Din.

I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors that I shall walk the Way of the Mand’alor, and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.

Astra takes Din’s hand from her back and instead laces her gloved fingers with his. Din’s helmet glances at her, and Astra reassures him with a smile and a squeeze of her hand. She, too, had repeated the words softly under her breath, wanting to memorize them for Din’s sake.

Once the Armorer pours some of the Living Waters over Ragnar’s helmet, she begins the call-and-response. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Regnar echoes.

“This is the Way,” the Mandalorians chorus, Din and Astra included.

Din starts to lead their family forward once Ragnar begins to climb up the stairs of the waters. All eyes are on the four of them as they make their way to the Armorer, but it’s something Astra’s used to from her old life. She wouldn’t trade a single thing about what she has right now or who she has right here for the entire galaxy, much less the life she once had.

Din’s hand only leaves Astra’s when they reach the stairs that descend into the Living Waters. She waits on the top stair with Zora while Din and Grogu go down further, until Din’s boots are immersed in the water. He bends down to set Grogu on the last dry step, standing back to his full height to face the Armorer.

“Grogu is my apprentice,” Din declares. Astra smiles with pride, a twinge of amusement catching the corner of her lip at Din’s blunt delivery. “He is no longer a foundling.” Din’s visor has since found Grogu as he looks upon the little one with hardly concealed pride. Astra’s chest swells underneath her armor. “Add him to the Song.”

The Armorer turns from the stretching Living Waters to face Din. Her response is immediate. “He is too young to speak, so he is too young to take the Creed.”

Grogu’s ears fall in disappointment as he starts to babble to himself. Astra grimaces, the warmth in her chest exchanged for a prickling cold chill. Grogu has already started taking on a burden of guilt for not being able to speak yet, and this harsh reality just makes it worse.

“He must remain a foundling,” the Armorer insists.

Din’s visor pans over to the Armorer in deep thought. He considers his words for a long moment, causing Astra to hold her breath as she waits for him to speak. “If his parents gave permission,” Din gives Astra a quick look, “couldn’t he then become a Mandalorian apprentice?”

“Yes.” Astra’s chest flares with hope at that. “But his parents are far from here, if they are even alive.”

Din looks at Grogu once again. Astra does the same, and she almost wishes she hadn’t when she watches the dejected way Grogu receives the Armorer’s truth. Din steadies himself with a careful breath and nods.

He speaks with as much certainty as Astra’s ever heard from him. “Then we will adopt him as our own.”

Grogu babbles in delight, his ears rising as high as they possibly can on his head. Astra’s smile is tearful in her joy as the Armorer’s visor finds her. Astra nods to agree with Din, and the Armorer turns back to face Din. “This is the Way.” Astra’s never heard her utter the words with such joy before.

“This is the Way,” Din repeats, his voice strained with the same emotions Astra’s experiencing. She lets him speak for the both of them, knowing her voice will fail her should she try to speak.

The Armorer turns to face the gathered Mandalorians. “Let it be written in Song that Din Djarin and Astra Djarin are accepting this foundling as their son.”

Din’s visor finds Astra’s gaze for a moment. She shakes her head at him in disbelief, her smile growing as he tilts his helmet at her. Grogu has been their son ever since the moment they first devoted themselves to one another, but at long last, it’s official.

The Armorer faces Grogu and goes on. “You are now Din Grogu, Mandalorian apprentice.” Astra’s joy bubbles over with a soft chuckle. As if I didn’t have enough Dins to worry about.

“This is the Way,” the Mandalorians chorus.

The Armorer turns back to Din. “You must leave Mandalore and take your apprentice on his journeys, just as your teacher did for you.”

Astra’s swept over with a wave of relief upon her words. She wasn’t sure how the Armorer would take the news of them staying on Nevarro, but as it turns out, it’s the perfect arrangement for their family. Astra also smiles at the mention of Din’s mentor. He’s told her plenty of stories about his mentor from his Mandalorian upbringing.

“This is the Way.” Din’s response to the Armorer is even more emotional than before. Astra can sense the same relief she felt before washing over him now. For the first time since they met, they’re on a set path with no immediate dangers. It’s simply them and their home on Nevarro. At long last.

Din picks Grogu up and holds him even closer than he had before. Astra waits for them to join her, and this time, it’s Din who reaches for her hand. She smiles and rests her head against his arm, her entire being filled with unprecedented content and love. Grogu is officially their son, and he’s Din’s apprentice. He’s earned a piece of their family’s name, and now, they’ve done everything they set out to accomplish.

The Djarins are finally going home.

After one last stop, Din reminds Astra as they hop inside the N-1. Another Mandalorian had brought the ship for them with the rest of the fleet, and returning to it is already reminiscent of home. Their family bids farewell to Bo-Katan before getting in the ship, along with a promise to return for visits. It’s the first time Astra’s embraced their ally, and given everything they’ve been through together, there’s no doubt it won’t be her last.

“All right,” Din catches Astra’s attention through the comms. The engine of the N-1 roars to life in a sound so familiar it makes Astra smile. “Are you ready to go back there?”

Before Astra can respond, Zora does so for them. “Goo’, Papa!”

Din chuckles, a warm sound that makes Astra’s smile grow even more. “Thank you, Zozo.” He starts to pull the starfighter up. “Here we go.”

Astra watches Zora’s eyes widen in wonder as they return to the rough atmosphere of Mandalore. She isn’t as relieved to be leaving this time as she was before, even though she’s more than ready to start the new chapter they’ve been waiting so many years for. Mandalore is no longer a place to be feared; Though many bad things have happened to them here, she’s proud of the work they've done.

Astra is so endlessly proud of the man she married for doing everything he can to honor his word. She can’t wait to tell him that and so much more when she marries him again.

“Mama?” Zora’s sweet voice pulls Astra from her wandering thoughts. She glances at her daughter, whose brown eyes have shifted from the transparisteel around them to her mother’s gaze. Astra melts at the way they resemble Din’s own, with the stars creating flecks of gold that shine bright with an inexplicable love. “Luh’ ‘oo, Mama.”

Astra beams and cups the side of Zora’s tiny face with her hand. “I love you too, Zora.” She places a kiss on her daughter’s forehead before letting her wrap her tiny arms around her neck. Astra buries her face in Zora’s curls and exhales a soft breath. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Zora’s voice is quieter and muffled when she speaks again. “Papa luh’ Mama.”

Astra releases a gentle laugh and brushes her hand over Zora’s head. “I know.” Astra lifts her head and watches Din point something out to Grogu on the scope before they jump into hyperspace. “I love him, too.”

“Are you two talking about me back there?” Din’s voice is full of amusement, something that not even the crackling of the comms can hide from Astra.

“Yes we are,” Astra confirms. “All bad things.”

“No!” Zora protests. “Luh’ Papa, Mama! ‘Oo luh’ Papa!”

“Is this true, cyar’ika?”

Astra lets out a dramatic sigh and raises her brow at Zora. “You really had to tell on me, didn’t you, Zora?”

Zora furrows her brow at Astra. “Luh’ Papa. ‘N’ Papa,” she pauses, pointing at Din through the transparisteel, “luh’,” Zora taps Astra’s cuirass, “Mama.” Zora brings her hand to Astra’s cheek.

Din’s soft laughter through the comms is infectious. “Looks like all our secrets are getting aired out.”

Zora, still rocked with confusion, lets out a pitiful whimper. “Papa?”

Din glances back at them as best as he can. “I’m sorry, Zozo,” he apologizes sincerely. “Mama and I are just joking, that’s all.”

“Papa’s right,” Astra agrees. “We both love you and each other very much.”

Zora’s brow starts to relax, but she’s still unsure. “Gogu?”

“Of course we love Grogu, too.”

Grogu babbles through the comms, letting Zora know he’s heard Astra’s words. Zora allows herself to smile at that, her excited breaths returning as she sets a hand over the transparisteel. “Papa, Papa!” She adds one more word that makes Astra close her eyes in sweet disbelief. “Home!”

It takes a long moment for Din to respond. When he does, his voice is strained with pure, overwhelming joy. “Almost, baby girl. Just one more stop.”

Din’s words make Astra’s stomach erupt with butterflies. They’re on their way home, with just one more stop left to go. Astra holds Zora close and keeps her eyes shut, hoping to get at least a quick wink of sleep to make the trip go by even faster—but she’s too excited to do so, like a child on their Life Cycle.

Still, Astra’s thoughts of their home make the trip go by quickly. The N-1 drops out of hyperspace and soars towards the blue-and-green surface of Adelphi, its atmosphere allowing for a much smoother ride than Mandalore’s. Astra takes a deep breath while Din lands the N-1 alongside an impressive collection of X-wings and Y-wings. Mandalore isn’t at fault for its stormy skies and eerie caves, but Astra has a strong appreciation for Adelphi’s tropical climate after spending so long on the desolate planet.

Astra and Din slide their canopies open at the same time, and Astra takes a moment to stand and stretch while Din gets Grogu and himself onto the ground. Once he’s set Grogu down, Din takes Zora in one arm and helps Astra with the other. She thanks him with a kiss on his beskar cheek, her hand lingering on his cuirass for a long moment as her gaze finds his visor.

Her excitement to go home is incomprehensible, but Astra will always remember that her true home is the person who’s staring back at her.

Din lifts his free hand to her cheek and runs his thumb over it as he rests his helmet against his forehead. He keeps the moment brief, but it’s enough for Astra to hold onto until they get all the privacy they want in their home. Zora stays on Din’s hip for now as he leads their family to the heart of the outpost, adjusting his speed to account for Grogu’s tiny legs.

The door slides open for them when they arrive, revealing what can best be described as the rangers’ recreation space. A bar sits across from them at the far side of the room, with tables, chairs, and games hugging the other sides of the wall. Carson Teva stands at the bar with a drink in his hand, though the arrival of the Djarins catches his attention in an instant.

Carson smiles at their approach. “Let me buy you a drink, Mando.”

Din’s voice is warm when he answers. “Thanks, but I’m here on business.” He sets his free hand on Astra’s back and tilts his helmet at her. “My wife might like one, though.”

Carson looks between Din and Astra with his brow raised. “Oh, my apologies.” He sets down his drink and faces Astra. “I hadn’t realized—.”

“It’s all right, Captain Teva,” Astra stops him before he can continue the unnecessary apology. “We haven’t had the chance to formally meet, yet.” She smiles and reaches out her hand to shake his. “Astra Djarin.”

Her name, as well as Carson’s quick once-over of her face, proves the gears are turning in his mind as he shakes her hand. “Astra…” His eyes light up with recognition.

Astra lets out a soft chuckle. “Yes, formerly of Arilia.” Din runs his thumb over her back for comfort. Astra looks up at him with a reassuring smile. “And a drink would, in fact, be lovely, Captain Teva. If you don’t mind.”

“Please, ma’am, it’s truly my honor.” Carson sets down a pile of credits before the chemist gets to work. “Many of us assumed the worst after Alderaan.”

“Understandably so.” Astra’s grateful for Din’s close presence at her side, and the way he continues the gentle movements of his thumb on her back. “I was on the run for a while, so I did my work for the Rebellion in the shadows.”

Carson thanks the chemist when they finish Astra’s drink and hands it to her. “Senator Organa will be delighted when she hears of this.” Carson pauses, his brow knitting together. “If you wish her to.”

Astra grins. “She already knows.” Carson’s eyes widen in surprise. “We’ve exchanged some holo-messages.” While the Jedi who took Grogu hadn’t upheld his word about allowing them to see Grogu, he did at least connect Leia to Astra, though they haven’t had the chance to speak since Astra and Din were last on Sorgan. “But I appreciate your offer, Captain.”

“Please, ‘Carson’ is just fine.” Carson nods at her and brings his attention back to the two of them. “I have to say, we appreciate what you did. You made our jobs a lot easier.”

Astra draws a sip from her drink at the thought of it all. The liquid burns down her throat and offers a relaxing warmth, though it’s no close rival to that which Din offers her with his mere presence. She takes a quick glance at her other side and sees Grogu making himself comfortable with the tip-yip on top of the bar. Astra chuckles and shakes her head.

“We’ve both been chasing Moff Gideon,” Din insists, his words drawing Astra’s attention. “You would have gotten him eventually.” Din shares a quick look with Astra. “We just got there first.”

Carson laughs at that. His gaze finds Grogu on top of the bar as he raises his brow in amusement. “Your kid sure likes the trophies.”

Astra looks up and notices the various helmets and droid heads displayed there. Grogu babbles as he points to one in particular: an IG head. Astra’s heart softens as Din offers the gentle words. “It’s not him, kid.” Din turns back to Carson and gestures with his helmet to the IG head. “One of them reminds him of someone we knew.”

Carson hums as he smiles at Grogu. Astra draws another sip of her drink as Din goes on.

“I have a business proposition.”

Carson lifts his own glass to his lips. “Shoot.”

Din gestures with his helmet to Grogu. “This youngling is my apprentice.”

“Let me guess.” Carson points at Zora with a soft smile. “This is your apprentice?” He nods in Astra’s direction. Zora lets out a curious coo.

She chuckles and raises her brow. “Not yet.” Astra looks up at Din. “But she is our daughter.” She takes a quick glance towards Grogu. “And he’s our son.”

“Well, you have a wonderful family.” Carson lifts his glass almost like a toast. “But what does that have to do with me?”

Din continues to take the lead. “I’m a bounty hunter by trade.” Din tilts his helmet towards Grogu again. “Now that he’s with me, I’ll be more… selective in my assignments.”

Carson nods in understanding. “Go on.”

“You don’t have the resources to protect the Outer Rim, let alone hunt down Imperial remnants.” Din shifts Zora’s position on his hip, drawing Carson’s attention back to their daughter. “And I need work.”

None of this comes as a surprise to Astra. Din’s been more than open with her about this arrangement, and about the reality that she may not be able to come on every job with him. Grogu has to learn, their family has to make credits, and Zora certainly still isn’t of age to be taking down Imperial remnants. They have a lot of people around the galaxy they would trust to keep an eye on her, but only if necessary. She’s safest with one of her parents, especially in their new home.

Astra reflects on all of this while Carson inhales, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Let me get this straight.” He leans closer to Din with a curious raise of his brow. “You want to work for the New Republic?”

Din tilts his helmet. “On a case-by-case basis. An independent contractor.”

Carson fakes a grimace and hums once again. “You know this is against regulation. It’ll never get approved.”

Din lowers his voice. “Which is why you won’t tell them.”

Carson looks off in the distance and lifts his drink. “Let me think about it.”

Din leans close to him. “You already did.” Carson chuckles as Din makes his way closer to Grogu. Astra stays where she is for now, sipping more of her drink as she watches him. “It’s a good deal, and you know it.”

Carson opens his hands. “Is that so?” He makes his way over to where Din now stands.

“All I require is a small advance.” Astra raises an eyebrow at Din’s words, until he points up towards the IG head. “What I want in return is that.”

Carson’s brow furrows. “A scrap assassin droid head?”

Din returns his attention to Carson. “I need it for parts.”

Carson nods with a small smile. “Well, you can have it.” He frees a hand from his drink to shake one of Din’s. Zora claps her hands together to celebrate their deal, making all of them chuckle. “I also happen to have something else for you.” Carson draws a holotransceiver from his belt and holds it in the air between them. “This was found on Coruscant during a recent investigation of a Doctor Penn Pershing.”

Din’s visor meets Astra’s gaze without hesitation. She freezes, her grasp on the nearly-empty drink in her hand tightening. Astra forces herself to relax as Carson sets up the message for them.

“I figured you would want this, Mando.” Carson nods at Din. “I’ll let you two watch it while I get your droid head.”

Din nods in wordless gratitude. When Carson steps away, Din eases Astra over to his side with his free hand. He keeps his hand steady on her back as the blue light of the holo-message flickers to life. Doctor Pershing stares back at them, though Astra’s intrigued to find that he wears the same amnesty pin that Captain Bombardier sported on Plazir-15.

This is for the Mandalorian, should our paths ever cross again. Probably not, and probably for the best, given all I’ve done. Pershing chuckles lamely at that. I’ve learned a lot during my time in the New Republic’s Amnesty Program, and it’s given me the chance to reflect on everything I did under Moff Gideon’s command. One of the things that kept bothering me the most was the mystery I left you with.

Astra looks at Din, but his visor remains fixed on the image of Pershing. She takes a deep breath and watches the holo-message again.

You asked me about your wife, but I never got to answer. I pray to the stars she’s okay, but I don’t know how they could have changed her state of being.

Astra raises her brow at that. Din’s since drawn her even closer, and Astra welcomes the gesture that brings them both more comfort.

They set her into a coma that stopped her normal brain function. It would allow for me to insert an old but renovated piece of cloning technology used during the Clone Wars, a chip inserted into the brain that would alter her brain function to serve specifically implemented orders.

Din’s hand on Astra’s back tightens into a fist. Zora starts to whine in worry, but Astra shushes her with gentle reassurances.

Moff Gideon was going to use her as an addition to his forces, most notably against you. Seeing as I never had the chance to get there and insert the chip, I don’t know what ended up happening to her. All I know is that resuming the brain’s normal function is extremely difficult to do.

Astra can’t help smiling at Grogu upon hearing Pershing’s words. Leave it to their son to do something considered impossible.

So, if she didn’t make it… I wanted to say I’m sorry. I wish I could have told you this in the moment, but there wasn’t enough time. Actually, I’m sorry regardless. For all of it. You proved your sense of honor to me, and I wish I could have returned it. This is my best attempt. Pershing bows his head. I hope it’s at least brought you some closure.

Pershing’s image disappears. Din seizes the holotransceiver and stares at it in his grasp, as if he’s considering crushing it into a million pieces. Astra sets down her drink and remains gentle with the way she approaches him. She reaches her hand towards his and closes his gloved fingers around the holotransceiver. Din’s visor watches her every move, and there’s no doubt he’s hanging from every word she hasn’t yet said.

“I’m right here,” Astra reminds him, her words a soft whisper as she sets a hand upon his cuirass. His visor finds her gaze and she nods. “What happened was years ago, and despite what he said, I’m still here.” She taps his beskar. “And ever since, I’ve been healthy enough to have our baby, save Mos Espa, and help you retake Mandalore.”

Din huffs, amused. “That’s a hell of a list.”

Astra laughs. “Yeah, all in a day’s work.”

Din chuckles and sets the holotransceiver on his belt, taking her hand from his cuirass to entwine his gloved fingers with her own. “I would expect nothing less from you.” He looks from their hands to her gaze. “Thank you, cyar’ika.”

Astra smiles and gives his hand a squeeze. “We can talk more about it later. For now…” Astra pauses, her gaze catching Carson’s approach with the IG head, “it’s time to go home.”

Din tilts his helmet at her, though his chance to respond passes when Carson catches up to them. “Here’s that down payment.” He gestures to the droid head in his hands.

Din hands Zora off to Astra to take the IG head from Carson. “Thank you,” Din says with a firm nod. “You know where to find me.”

Carson smiles. “So long as you keep R5 with you.”

Din swings his helmet towards Astra. She holds back a laugh and lifts her brow. “I guess we’re keeping him.”

Zora cheers and claps at that. Din offers Carson a final nod before he leads their family back towards the N-1, where he takes the opportunity to comment on Zora’s reaction. “I did not raise a droid-lover,” he mumbles.

Astra’s armored shoulder nudges his arm. “Maybe you did.” Din snaps his helmet towards her and Astra smiles up at him. “You’re a lot nicer to droids now than you think.”

“Not the ones on Plazir-15.”

Astra shrugs. “Well, Zora wasn’t there for that.” Astra brushes some of Zora’s curls away from her face. “What she saw was you go after R5 on Mandalore before we even knew if it was safe to breathe.”

“Reluctantly.” Din remains stubborn as they reach the N-1. He sets the droid head where he’s also stashed away the remains of IG-12. Din taps the metal next to R5 twice and nods. “Hey, buddy. Ready to go to Nevarro?”

R5 chirps in the affirmative. Astra’s ready for Din as soon as he turns around, her lips curled up in a sly smile. Din does a double take between her and R5 and sighs. Astra laughs and makes her way inside the ship, with Din helping her as always. This time, Grogu stays with Astra, and Zora rides up front with her father. As the engine of the N-1 roars to life, Din speaks to his family through the comms.

“All right, everyone,” he begins, his voice as light and carefree as ever. “We’re going home.”

Astra smiles so wide her cheeks start to hurt. Grogu coos in Astra’s arms, and Zora cheers from her place on Din’s lap. The N-1 soars into the air and breaks through the atmosphere in short order, the blue lights of hyperspace soon flickering all around them. Astra struggles to maintain her composure at the sheer joy she’s experiencing.

“Greef’s set us up with the room at the inn we had before,” Din informs Astra. “I’ll drop off IG’s parts at the Anzellans’ on our way into town. We’re slated for a late-night arrival right now, and Greef said he’ll get us set up with our cabin in the morning.”

Astra nods and strokes one of Grogu’s ears. “That sounds great.” Her voice trembles, but not with sadness.

Still, Din’s able to hear the sound as he tries his best to turn around and face her. “Are you okay?”

Astra beams at him, the vision of his helmet blurring before her. “The best I’ve ever been.”

Din’s helmet tilts before he makes himself face forward again. “I can’t wait to hold you.” He adds one more thing under his breath. “And kiss you.”

Astra chuckles. “Me too. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, you’re the one who asked to marry me again.” Astra grins, as if Din can somehow sense it. “That calls for celebration.”

Din steadies himself with a deep breath, one that’s audible through the comms. After a long moment, he speaks once more. “Are we there yet?”

Astra laughs and gives her head a fond shake. Grogu’s already fallen asleep in her grasp, and she has no doubt that Zora has done the same in Din’s arms. Astra’s grateful for that, as she hopes to keep them asleep upon their arrival to Nevarro.

The ride from Adelphi to Nevarro isn’t long, and Astra’s almost surprised when the N-1 drops out of hyperspace. Din guides them to the surface and Astra smiles wide as the lights of Nevarro’s town become closer and closer. That’s the town they’ll be using for whatever resources they might need, from weekly runs for food to monthly updates to Zora’s growing wardrobe. That’s where Astra and Zora will go if they need to pass the time until Din and Grogu return from an adventure.

That’s their hometown.

Astra kisses Grogu’s fuzzy head, careful not to wake him up as she does so. The skies of Nevarro are dark in the nighttime, but the N-1 lights the way for Din to land just outside the town. When she and Din hop out of the starfighter, they successfully get their sleeping children secured inside the pod, and Din borrows a hovercart to get IG’s parts to the Anzellans. Thankfully, they’re still awake, and they accept Din’s offer to complete their work overnight for extra credits.

Astra gets butterflies of excitement once again when they’re settled at the inn for the night. The kids remained asleep for their transfer to the beds, and now, Din and Astra are able to help with each other’s armors before they attempt their own slumber. As exhausted as she is from their travels, Astra’s excitement upon moving into their home tomorrow fuels her energy. The deja vu of the moment they spent here just before their journey to Mandalore only intensifies the feeling.

When she and Din settle on the bed for the night, Astra takes the liberty of straddling her husband’s lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as he raises his brow at her.

“What did I do to deserve this view?” Din asks, his voice as gentle as his touch upon her waist.

Astra smiles and rests her forehead against his. “You gave us a home.” Din starts to protest, but Astra gives him a quick kiss to silence him. “Before you try to say otherwise, you were the one who helped your friend in such incredible ways that he gifted us the cabin. You inspired your people to find a home of their own as well.”

Din’s face starts to redden as he shrugs. His gaze avoids Astra’s out of shyness, and Astra takes the quick moment to admire how handsome he is with half his face illuminated by Nevarro’s moonlight. No, he’s just this handsome all the time.

She moves past her thoughts to remind him of one important thing. “Din.” Her gentle utterance of his name earns his gaze again. Astra looks at him with as much sweet severity as she can manage. “You never have to do anything to earn my attention, appreciation, or my love.” She brushes her nose against his. “You’ll always have it all.”

Din’s gaze searches Astra’s, looking for a lie after all the pain he’s been through in his life. His brown gaze flickers with beautiful, golden light when he finds only honesty, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in a breathtaking smile as he whispers his honest response. “I love you.”

Astra brings her smile closer to his own. “I love you, too.”

She lets their smiles melt together in a passionate culmination of their love, of every word they want to say but can’t begin to express. Astra loses herself in time with their kiss, but by the time they pull away, their heaving chests are pressed against each other. Astra chuckles and starts to lie by Din’s side, though she keeps her arms wrapped around him. It encourages him to stay close to her, his body hovering over hers once she’s rested her head fully upon her pillow.

“Now,” Astra can’t help laughing in her complete and utter joy, “can you kiss me to sleep?”

Din chuckles with her, his eyes sparkling like never before. “It would be my greatest pleasure,” he assures her, his lips brushing her own. “And my greatest honor.”

With that, Astra and Din celebrate their first night on their home planet of Nevarro together in a rather innocent way, though the excitement of tomorrow promises something even more beautiful for them and their family.

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[sweatandwoe]

Just One Bite - Part 1

After having the misfortune of being bitten by a vampire, there are only two options left for you: accept becoming an undead creature of the night or die. You've made your choice, and you're ready to accept the consequences of it.

Unfortunately, the man who had bitten you has far more control than any other vampire. And far too much power to leave the decision up to your own making.

Vampire!Silco x F!Reader Warnings: MDNI, Cannibalism Mention, Gore, Violence, Vampires being weird, Vaginal Fingering, Lots of thinking about death 4.8k Words

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Happy Halloween!

Here is part 1 of Vampire Silco! Thank you to everyone who donated during the live stream charity, we got 480 dollars donated! Thank you to everyone who donated <3 <3 <3 Part 2 of this fic will be uploaded on Friday. I hope you enjoy

Ao3 Link!

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There is something beautiful in death. 

There is a softness to the bone and a dullness to the tissue that creates a drip of petals on the pale floor tiles. Petals that will stain to a brown that the owner of the establishment will lie and say was coffee if anyone else were to ask. 

But you know what it truly was; the last signs of a struggle. 

“Is there a reason for the rush order today?” 

Singed is smoking, a rarity for him but not uncommon with Zaunites even if he was an adopted one. The cigarette hangs from one of the lipless sections of his mouth, held between crooked canines. “Silco wants something fresh for tonight.”

Your eyes dart to the man on the table, now hooked up to tubes that are draining him while he wriggles in what is left of death throes. No noises leave him now, lips blue and eyes drawing back, into bloodshot pale dots. Singed will eat those later, after you’ve left, along with probably most of the man’s organs. He had always been the type to prefer to chew rather than drink. 

It was lucky your skills were considered invaluable to him, and that he was well-fed. “I’m surprised he didn’t select someone.” 

“He did.” Singed’s sharp fingers grow red as he presses down onto the man’s chest cavity, shirt gone and mismatched eyes gazing over the bruised chest. A finger traces just over the sternum. “Luckily for you, I told him no.” 

You roll your eyes, offering him a scalpel, that he doesn’t take with a small shake of his head. “Not like I’ll be mortal for much longer anyways.” 

There’s a pause from the older man, before he draws a sharp nail, a claw really, over the skin of the dying man’s chest. It’s a sight you’re used to enough, moving your hands to hold back the flaps of skin when Singed creates them, which he gives a small thank you for. The man is beginning to pass out, eyes drawing back and whimpering quietly. 

“Slap him.” 

You do so, and the man jolts and Singed purrs, both hands wrapping around the sternum bone. Pressing down with his palms, hooking his fingers under it, until it breaks. Not very cleanly, but enough that most of the bone is now out of the way from the prize of his heart. He sets down the bone on a table nearby, red splashing along the sides of it, and coating the bottom like red on fresh snow.

The doctor snubs out his cigarette in it, turning the bloody bone over like an ashtray. “If Silco asks for you, it means he plans on killing you. Not turning you.” 

You frown, pinning the flaps of skin out of the way before moving to discard your gloves. The scar on your neck is tingling. “He’s drank from me before-”

“That was a different situation. One where he managed to maintain control. Thanks to certain parties present.” Singed strolls back over, and draws some muscle and tissue away, to a faintly beating heart. It stops moving when clawed fingers grab it, easily ripping it away with a wet tear. “I believe if I hadn’t been there to watch, you would most likely be dead.” And Singed offers a rare smile, one that makes his good eye crinkle. “And I rather like you alive. Or undead. Far more useful.”

You reach over, easily grabbing another cigarette from the loose jacket he always wore, knowing he kept his extras in the top left pocket. Familiar enough to get close to a vampire, without real fear of his teeth or claws. In fact, Singed only hums in amusement when you pluck the joint between your lips. 

“You know, studies have shown the effects of those,” a bloody finger gestures to the cigarette while you draw out a lighter, “may kill you even faster than he would.” 

You flick the lighter and take a deep inhale, shoving the metal back into your pocket before speaking. “I think cancer takes a few years, Doctor.” 

“And Silco has taken almost two with you already if I’m not mistaken, he could lose to it by this point.” Singed smiles, but it’s not kind. There are no teeth and his eye isn’t crinkling now. “He drank from you two years ago. Vampires aren’t known for that usual level of patience with their prey..” 

That was true. Usually, if you were bit by a vampire it was a matter of time. Death or the turning was the calling because your blood would sing to the vampire. Usually, a vampire would take a year to kill someone at most, the thirst, and the calling would be far too much. Humans were not like other mindless prey, and leaving them alive seemed to drive the immortals to a point of insanity. But so far Silco had retained his own, while not even dipping his fangs once more against your skin. Though you weren’t sure if you would’ve objected to that familiar bite. 

Glancing at the calendar, the current month holding a silly picture of a Kitten with drawn-on details by Jinx, it would be two years to the day in just one week. 

Two years ago, when you found him on a night when a fire burned blue and Zaun’s air was filled with ash instead of fog. 

The fangs are still in your neck, whenever you think about it. A feeling that never truly goes away; the feeling of being eaten alive, of your blood draining out of you, of your nails scraping along his skin, and the soft whimpers that draw from your lips until he finally opens his eyes and finally, truly sees you. 

You blink the memory away, the smell of your cigarette suddenly burning at your nose. Drawing it away from your lips, you instead stare at the clock, watching as the seconds tick by. “Almost dinner time?”

Singed hums, drifting closer to the corpse now, heart still in hand. Kind enough to wait for you to leave before he’ll bite into it, but the way his eyes are darkening, he’s clearly hungry. “Yes, I don’t think there’s anything left for today. The blood will be processed and I’ll have someone else send for it.” 

You don’t linger, moving away with a soft goodbye that he returns, and you ignore the wet tearing noises you hear the moment the door starts to close behind you. Singed held a level of patience that could’ve rivaled Silco, but you’re also certain that comes with the fact that you’ve worked with him for the past two years now. You had certainly seen what he had done to strangers before, or anyone who tried to steal Shimmer’s formula. It was why your walk out is empty; no need for guards when the scientist was the true man to fear here. 

Your thoughts drift in about vampires once more as you make your way down the stone halls of the laboratory. When you’d be turned, you’d be a drinker, you had decided that. It might be less fresh, but at least it wasn’t as disgusting as the noises that were echoing in the hall as you left. 

The cigarette is snubbed once you’re outside the lab, and there’s a car coming down. Probably whoever was there to pick up the blood supply, and you only give a small wave that is acknowledged back, before you cross the street and begin to wander. It was late, but you didn’t want to go home yet. There was still a bit of daylight, though it was disappearing as you left the emptiness of where the lab was and into the deeper trenches of the city. 

Since Vander had died, the Underworld had grown louder and far more colorful. Beautiful, even with people that had lilac or violet eyes roaming the streets, slack-jawed and easy targets for those with sharp teeth. Crime had been rampant before Silco had taken over the Undercity, it was just not as blatant due to Vander’s control and weak stomach for the sight of it, hidden behind closed doors from the Hound of the Undercity. That same weakness was one of the reasons he lost control, and died. 

Though Singed was working on bringing him back, a special side project to try and create some other version of undeath than a vampire. Something that involved you picking up a lot of deliveries for dead canines, and when he was annoyed, he’d have you skin them too for whatever skin he was making for his monster. 

He really was a dick sometimes. Luckily, that was the worst he made you do, you hadn’t annoyed him to the point of him strapping you to the red-stained gurney. At least so far. 

The air warms the deeper you go, and the more people with purple eyes appear. Some have obvious bite marks along their throat or arms and you pass a body slumped over with several sets of different-sized bites. There even appears to be a few chunks of flesh missing.

It’s easy to look away after so long, to ignore the problem and continue forth until you find yourself on Drop Street. 

It has your scar tingling, and there is a burn that rolls through your throat. Fangs in your throat, desperation runs through you, a familiar panic that has your heart jumping. But for the past few times you’ve ended up on Drop Street, you’re still not sure what you’re so desperate for. 

Eyes flick over the buildings as you continue to wander down the street. Torgen’s shop still has its lights on, with the scent of leather oils perforating from it. Heather’s Laundry is also still open, though it seems the hours have extended since the window had been broken into. But your feet carry you to the sound of the thumping music, to flashing lights and a sense of familiarity makes you feel safe. 

The two bouncers only nod, recognizing you or at least the pin in the shape of an eye on your coat. They step aside to let you in ahead of a few junkies who scowl and yell but are easily ignored once you’re in the club. The music is loud, pumping life through the crowd and also vibrations through the floorboards. Similar enough to a heartbeat that you wonder if Silco simply had a sick sense of humor. 

Probably, in the interactions you had with him, he did have a quick wit. And he seemed to enjoy making people around him laugh, or making fun of his enemies. 

The bar is crowded, but you wait your turn by people watching briefly, eyeing a couple who seem to have little shame in one corner right next to the dance floor. You drag your eyes away to a person dancing, whose connected long neon lines of ribbon from their wrists. The original color of them is unrecognizable, but the long ribbons have a glowing effect of a soft teal. 

Like blood in a blacklight. Or Silco’s good eye. 

You really needed to stop bringing everything back to him. It’s making your scar ache almost painfully. 

Once you can, you lean against the bar and give Thierem your best smile. “Can I get a-”

“No.” His arms cross, and his mouth is a thin line. It looks awkward on the young man, who you had never seen look so stern before. “Sevika said if you’re in here, to bring you straight to her.”

That has you blinking. “What the fuck? Since when?”

“Since she saw you come in five minutes ago. She’s pissed.” 

“What the fuck did I do?” 

A cold grip lands on your shoulder and it sends a chill down your spine like you were splashed with freezing water. The claws of metal are sharp, grazing over the meat of the joint. “You came here tonight.” 

Sevika is kind enough to not drag you out of the bar, but simply into the back, ignoring any employees you pass, who in turn dutifully ignore the two of you. It's a saving grace for a lot of embarrassment, even when she shoves you into the pantry of The Last Drop kitchen, a can lands beside you and opens up to what you can only assume is some sort of gourd filling. The tall woman ignores it, in favor of glaring at you, silver eyes are cold but not terribly unamused. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

You stare at her, the truth is too heavy and the lie slides out easier. “I wanted a drink?” 

Not even a twitch of a smile. Shit. “You know he put out a rush order today. And you came back here anyways.” 

“Not like I’m going upstairs to see him-”

“Do you understand the risk you’re putting yourself under?” Silver eyes narrow, and both flesh and metal limbs cross. “The risk you’re putting him under? All of us?”

Gingerly you tap your foot against the floor, feeling like a scolded child under Sevika’s gaze. “Singed mentioned he asked for me.” 

“The doctor lied or you misread because he did not ask for you. Silco only wanted a rush order. If Silco wanted you, he wouldn’t just ask you to meet here, he’d make sure someone gets you here.” At your wince, she frowns. “You should know that. And you should be grateful for all the precautions we have to take that you’re not dead.”

Hands twist in your pockets, feeling for your lighter. Tracing your thumb over the familiar engravings on it. “He wouldn’t kill me.” And you wince after saying it, realizing it does sound like a dumb childish thing out of your head. To believe you wouldn’t die at the second bite. 

Maybe because you knew how Silco could maintain control. You were a testament to that, with a scar on your neck as a constant reminder, with meetings and interactions with the man an even further display of control. Fingers leave your pocket, moving up to touch your neck, and you swallow before correcting yourself. “I don’t think he’d try to kill me. On purpose.”

“So you’d risk him doing it on accident?” 

“Sevika, I get it.” You sigh, feeling a sharp twist in your stomach at her words. He could do something by accident, that was how the first bite had happened, but it still stings. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

“If he wants you, he will call for you.” Sevika re-affirms, moving forward. “He doesn’t want you dead. He’s taken precautions so he won’t kill you. Try to respect that.”

You want to, you really do want to and you really want to tell Sevika that, but you let go of the lighter in your pocket to cross your fingers when you nod. “I’ll try.” 

“You will.” Silver eyes narrow again, but this time her brows knit with it. The gaze draws over your forehead, then your neck.“You alright? You’re starting to sweat.” A pause before she adds on for more clarity, “A lot.”

“Just a headache, probably getting a cold.” You blink, trying to smile. “Maybe that’s why my head hasn’t been on right lately.”

Because how do you explain the addiction to something you’ve felt once? The feeling? The way you dreamed of fangs in your neck, draining you, and if he did end up draining you to the point of no return, it would be fine so long as it was him. 

What you craved was insanity, one you hoped Silco would one day give you exactly what you wanted. Just hopefully he’d have more control then too because you certainly would not. 

Sevika leaves shortly after that, the boss’s true meal being delivered now and she goes to help take it up to him. And you leave out the back way, heading to a cut-off alley that is an over-glorified smoke area for all of Silco’s workers. 

There’s no one else when you exit the building and you’re thankful for that. Taking a spare cigarette from your jacket pocket, and move your lighter up to it. In the faint green and golden lights of Zaun, you can see the metal along the lighter. The soft engravings along each side, are wavy and intricate. The flame it gives is dulling, a signal for another refill soon, but it still manages to light the cig well enough to flick it close. 

Smoking helps with the thoughts, distracting you with memories that you don’t like remembering, but it clears your head. The smell of smoke, the shattering of glass, clawed hands around your waist, teeth in your throat, the crying of a little girl.

You wonder where Jinx is tonight. 

“Is that my lighter?” 

Your eyes shoot upwards, staring at the man who has consumed many of your thoughts of late, before glancing back down to the lighter. Then your eyes glance back up to him, feeling beads of sweat roll down the small of your back. “Yep.”

Silco’s lips twitch, leaning on the back balcony with a cigar, and his own lighter. He drags it between the chipped front teeth, holding it perfectly outside of the fangs’ reach. It’s hard not to swallow at the sight of them, already feeling an itch on your neck, right over your scar. “You kept it?”

You frown, rolling your shoulders to try and contain the itch in your neck before leaning back against the wall and trying not to stare at him. Trying to stop the spread of warmth you’re already feeling in your veins just from the sight of him. “It’s a nice lighter.”

“There are others that are far nicer than that.”

“None in my pay range. I was using matches before I started working for you.” 

“I think a match might be better than that old thing.”

You narrow your gaze, glancing up briefly to see him take a drag of his cigar, before flicking it back down. “It still works very well, despite it’s age. Do you want it back or something?” 

There’s a chuckle above you, but you keep your eyes straight forward, trying to ignore the heat flooding your stomach at the amused noise. “I don’t want it back.”

Unable to resist it anymore, you drag your eyes back to the man above you, to really look at him. He’s staring out into the city, and you can just barely see his good eye from this angle. The slight breeze curls the loose ends at the back of his head, silver streaks dragging through black. There’s no hint of any scars or anything wrong, and he’d almost pass for human. But then he turns his head, revealing the scar and the fiery eye, and the hint of a fang that always protruded from that side of his mouth. 

It appears more when he smirks. “Your devotion to my lighter is most admirable.” 

It’s easy to scowl, pretend to be more annoyed at his remarks, and ignore the spreading warmth going lower, beyond your abdomen. “Sevika gave me shit for coming here tonight.”

The smirk disappears easily at your remark. “Why?” 

“Said you were hungry and didn’t want you to do something stupid.” 

He huffs, glaring out across the city. “I think I rarely do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, I know, but I create a flight risk around you. From what everyone says anyway.” 

This wasn’t your first one-on-one interaction with the Eye of Zaun since he had bitten you, and in none of them had he made you feel unsafe. But you were a symbol of his control now, the fact that you stood here, alive for two years after being bitten, no one doubted the amount of control Silco possessed. Even if he were to kill you as Sevika feared, it was probably more about if he did it publicly and made a mess. 

But he wouldn’t do that because you knew he had hardly made a mess the first time. Red-stained lips and teeth were what you could remember.

Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment, and you swear you can hear the bending of metal from where one of his hands lays on the railing. Turning your gaze away, you just sigh, ready to leave before you do something or say something stupid. But when you turn to glance back, to say goodbye, you can just see him leap over the railing. 

Landing right in front of you, gravel sprays up beneath his boots, but only to your knees. And then he’s staring at you, directly at you. 

The cigar is still between his teeth, though he’s moved it to his molars now before he raises two fingers to hold it instead. His bad eye glows, but in this light, so does the teal one. “You don’t create any risk.” His voice is low and measured but smooth enough to draw your focus to only him. You stare at him, and he crosses his arms. “If there was a true risk, you wouldn’t be alive by now.” 

“Everyone else doesn’t think like that.” 

A line appears on his brow and he takes one step forward. “Do you think I’d hurt you?” He’s in front of you quickly, inhumanly so, and your heart leaps. Mismatched eyes turn to gaze at your throat before he raises his free hand and your gaze follows as it moves to your neck. Fingers trace over the mark, and you shudder involuntarily before his thumb grazes over the column of your throat. 

It’s here you realize how tall he is in comparison to yourself, how sharp his fingers are, and how easily he could rip out your throat. But part of you wants him to but not with his hands. To watch him lower his head, to feel his brush of fangs, his fingers holding your body close to his own-

“Your pulse is jumping.” Fingers brush over the scar, dragging the edge of the digits slowly, enough to have you shiver. Enough for him to ask, “Are you scared?” 

“No!” Wincing at how defensive you realize that sounded, you blink, taking a moment while he takes a step back, hand still on your neck. “Just remembering… the last time.” 

Silco’s lips twitch, and his fingers trace over the indents of his teeth once more, before drawing away. “I don’t believe I held your throat last time.” 

“No, you did. Just not with your hands.” 

He raises the real eyebrow. “So much cheek today. I would have men fired if not killed for that on a bad day.”

Your brow furrows, staring right at him, trying to ignore the tingle along your neck. “This is a good day for you? Needing a drink so badly you have to rush order it? That’s your definition of a good day?” 

His smirk this time is soft, something you’d almost consider a smile if you didn’t know him better, “A vampire never has a good day.”

You roll your eyes, and it only widens his almost smile, threatening to be real but given his nature and reputation, could never be so. It’s almost odd seeing him like this, being so comfortable and easily amused, but you guess it happens more frequently when he’s alone and doesn’t need to put on the boss routine. Even if he is your boss, even if it’s a distant connection. “How about a good night then? What’s the definition of a vampire’s good night.” 

The smile slowly falls, like rain starting to drop. A slow start, before his lips deepen into a frown, the first sign of thunder before he’ll be a storm no doubt. “One where the thirst doesn’t leave you feeling like you’re drowning.” 

You frown, feeling your scar burn at the word ‘thirst’. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. You’ll be like this too.” There’s a pause, eyes darting away from your own when you light up with that information. “Soon enough.” 

You frown. “Been two years. Most vampires don’t make it a month.” Slowly you raise the corners of your mouth, a bit forcefully. “Surprised we’ve lasted this long.”

He smirks, far more cruelly than the softer appearances earlier. “I believe I have been gifted the power of restraint.”

“You couldn’t have gotten the one where it makes you sparkle? Or is that a Piltover exclusive trait?” 

“I can still bite you again and this time drain you properly.”

The words shoot right into your core, and his eyes run along your neck again, following your pulse point. His eyes grow dark, nostrils flare and his lips curl slightly, revealing more of those perfectly crooked fangs, gleaming in Zaun’s lights. But he takes a step back, pulling away completely, distancing himself from you. And it makes you whimper when he does, causing mismatched, glowing eyes to flash back onto you, and more sweat starts to drip down. Something he doesn’t comment on. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? “I think I need to go home.”

He nods, moving to bring his cigar and your cigarette to the ground. Snubbing them both out with the heel of his intricate boot. “I’ll walk you.”

There’s no choice in the matter, Silco had a habit of this, to the point you had been expecting it. He tended to like to walk you home if you came to the Drop. Sometimes if he came by the lab too. Perhaps he just liked your scent in your nose, perhaps he did have the same bond that you felt. Or perhaps he was always debating about taking another bite, while you were alone and no one would be able to catch him in the act. 

Despite the danger, his company wasn’t unwelcome. Though today, when he presses a hand to the small of your back to help guide you back through the door, more heat spreads through you and you jerk away. A quick lie, an apology falls from your lips, saying simply that you had lifted too many things in the lab. It works as a good excuse as to why you were so off today as well. Just having some back issues and totally not about being weirdly horny about his teeth. 

He only nods and keeps his hands to himself while he escorts you home in an odd silence.  It’s thick but you’re not sure how to break through it, and in the end, you only can by wishing him good night. 

But once that door shuts, your back is pressing against it. One hand shoves down into your pants, the other helping to tug them down just enough. Fingers run quickly along your already-soaked slit, before slipping two in and curling them just so perfectly. Pretending how his long fingers would be even deeper inside of you, and it has you clenching around your own digits already. 

In the privacy of your home, you don’t have to pretend over what you want. You don’t have to lie. Here you can moan Silco’s name wantonly, touch over your scar with your free hand, while your hips grind down into the palm of your other. Here, you don’t have to care about how messy that potentially could be. How fucked it would be, to beg him to fuck you while he kills you. 

But if he were to eat your heart, the least he could do would be to eat you out first.

You fuck yourself, back slick and pressed against the wall, thumbing the bitemarks. “Silco, please.” It’s easy to beg this fake, imaginary Silco, who is the one curling his fingers into you in your mind’s eye. Carrying more of those almost smiles, and a softer kiss to your forehead, before he’ll set you down on his cock, and bury his teeth into your neck while he fucks you until he’s filled you. Until you’re his completely. 

There’s a crashing noise somewhere in the street below you, what you’ll find tomorrow to be a garbage can destroyed by probably some whumps, but you only register it for a second. To caught up in your own pleasure, too busy crashing down at the thought of his tongue working over you, his fangs just peeking out of his mouth. The grin when he gets you to whimper for him. 

Too much. 

You finish and slide down the door, until you’re sitting on the door, stars in your eyes and slickness down your inner thighs. 

Clarity comes minutes afterward, realizing how it wasn’t normal to be this deep into a crush, to become turned on this easily. And that has you considering how vampirism is also not normal, maybe none of this is truly normal for even vampires, and maybe Singed kept you around for so long not to help with the experiments, but because you were one. 

You were going to get answers, even if Singed didn’t like the questions. 

[warriorofdragons]

Got The Touch

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Language, NSFW(18+ Only) Oral, Vaginal Fingering, Cowgirl Position

“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” Cole asks. “It was my idea remember?” you ask tugging playfully on his lapels. Cole chuckles, “Just makin’ sure seein’ as well…You can’t see me,” he says with sideways a tilt of his hat and goggles. His hands reach up to cup your face and you lean forwards and he meets you halfway and you can feel his lips press to yours. “Do you remember the safeword?” Cole asks. “Spurs,” you answer. “Good,” he replies with a nod. You stare at his floating goggles and hat where his face should be, “This is weird that I can’t see your face.” Cole chuckles, “If’n ya change yer mind…” You reach out and lightly tap his goggles and then trace the band to his hairline and then trail your fingers down to find his cheeks, “I know the safeword,” you say cupping his face. You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and can feel his beard and his soft skin. He feels the same as he always does, it’s just a little disconcerting not being able to see well….him. You release his face and lower your hands to smooth over his torso, he Definitely still feels like your boyfriend. “What was this disguise even for?” you ask unzipping his jacket slowly. Cole shakes his hat, “Eh, just some fancy, schmancy upper class shindig I had to blend into to find our target,” Cole explains. “Oh, you mean the ones you hate?” you ask running your hands back up his chest to push it off his shoulders. Cole effortlessly rolls his shoulders and shrugs off the material down to his elbows, and you help him remove his left sleeve like you always do. He laughs again, a deep chuckle, the sound of which always brings a smile to his face and yours. “And the goggles were part of the disguise, strange I didn’t think goggles were the latest fashion craze,” you tease. “Well, no,” Cole begins, pausing to adjust his goggles up and down on the invisible bridge of his nose, “These are actually Night-vision Goggles. Old standard issue Blackwatch.” “Oh…” you say with a raise of your brows, “Riigght, Blackwatch,” you draw out, “The Secret Black Ops Division and Shadow of Overwatch, where the team colors are black and emergency glowing red.” Cole snorts, “I didn’t pick the team colors, Sweetheart, I just rocked them,” he says holding out his gloved hands. You laugh, “What’s next? Construction Yellow?” This time Cole laughs too, “I’ll give the designers your notes.” Then Cole leans in towards you and you instinctively close your eyes and turn your face away when the light from his goggles catches you at the wrong angle. Cole’s lips miss and hit your cheek, “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. You blink hard in the attempt to clear the sudden spots from your vision, “Those bright, glowing goggles just blinded me,” you say rubbing your eyes now. “Oh, I’m sorry, Honeysuckle,” Cole says softly, “Here let me take ‘em off.” Cole’s hat lifts up in one of his gloved hands and then the goggles tilt downwards and are tugged upward after meeting unseen resistance and then finally dangle freely in his left hand. Cole then crosses the room to deposit them in his lower nightstand drawer. Then he turns around and holds out his gloved hands in front of him, one of which is still holding onto his hat and says, “Hold on, now My eyes need to adjust.” You giggle and cover your mouth, “Do you have any idea how funny it is to watch an invisible man try to feel his way around the room?” Cole chuckles, “Well, actually I can see myself just fine, I’m only invisible to you.” “Really?” you ask. “Yup,” he says putting his hat back on to which you feel a little relieved because without the hat and goggles on he looked like he was headless even though you can still hear him talking. Cole steps back over to you and stands in front of you, “To me, you and I look exactly like we always do, I could almost forget that you can’t see me,” Cole says placing his right palm on your cheek. You place a hand over top his and the other on his chest, and trail your fingers down toward his sleeve and feel the delicate skin greet your fingertips. You turn your gaze to the space between his glove and sleeve and softly stroke the inside of his wrist. You hear a soft exhale and know from the sound that Cole is smiling. You lean towards his hand and kiss his wrist. Cole’s thumb brushes your cheek gently in appreciation.

You move your fingers up his sleeve, trailing his muscle through his clothes and when you get to his elbow you get an idea. Removing your hand from his arm you ask, “Can you roll up your sleeves for me?” His hat pulls back and then his hands withdraw and you can see them busy themselves with his sleeves. He carefully and meticulously rolls up his sleeves so that the new cuffs sit comfortably just under his elbows. You bite your lip as you stare at his arms, Cole crosses his arms and you bite your finger next as you stare at his fingers gripping his bicep. “I thought you said you like my sleeves rolled up, because you like how strong my forearms look?” he questions. “I do, but this is doing things for me too,” you say covering your mouth with your hand. “Oh?” Cole asks with a lilt of his voice and what you imagine to be a quirk of his brow, ”Do tell.” You giggle under your breath, “Like it’s not just what I can’t see, like…” you stop to exhale, “Like I never noticed how it accentuated your shoulders too?” Cole begins to flex in a couple of generic strongman poses and you almost double over with laughter. Cole chuckles and grabs a hold of your waist and tugs you towards him. You’re still laughing as he kisses your cheek and then kisses towards the corner of your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him and delight in the feeling of his hair between your fingers as you card through it. As you pull back you tug on his scarf and pull it loose from around his neck and make an elaborate show of dropping it to the floor. You feel across Cole’s shoulders and squeeze his upper arms before trailing down them. When you reach the exposed portion of his arms you take the time to rub up and down them multiple times, earning you a pleased hum from Cole. You then finally trail back up his arms as he runs his hands along your back and start to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. You can’t help the twinge of disappointment you feel when you’re reminded once again that you can’t see your boyfriend, and as his shirt falls open…there’s obviously nothing for you to look at. “What’s wrong, Pumpkin?” Cole asks. Of course Cole would have noticed your slight frown, so you try to shrug it off by smiling up at him and shaking your head, “Nothing’s wrong.” His hat tilts sideways at you, “Oh, Honey,” he says sweetly stroking your sides. His hat then tips downwards as he glances down at himself for a moment. “You know what I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you lie on the bed for me?” he asks his hat tipping back up. You nod, “Okay.” He releases you and you glance back at the bed behind you and then start to sit down on the edge of it. Cole finishes removing the shirt himself and lets it fall onto the floor behind him. With the exception of Cole’s gloves and hat, he’s now just a floating pair of pants as he walks back over to you. You watch him bend his knee as his dress shoes scuff the carpet and he kneels down in front of you. You’re slightly surprised when you feel his hands on your sides again, because without being able to see his arms, you hadn’t noticed them. “Sorry,” Cole huffs. “It’s okay,” you say. You feel Cole’s fingers ghost under your sweater, “May I?” You nod, “Yeah.” You then lift your arms up as Cole lifts your sweater up and over your head. He throws it to the side and then you feel the push of his right hand on your stomach nudging your backwards. You lay back down on the bed and Cole’s hands splay across your stomach and then smooth up your body. You cover your mouth with your hands and giggle as you watch his gloved hands rub over your skin sensually. Cole leans down over you and you can feel how close he is from the heat radiating from his body and you smile from the proximity. His hat bows down and you feel the hairs of his beard tickle your skin first before his lips gently meet your stomach. “Cole…” you moan softly. His lips curl up in a smile and he continues to slowly kiss up your body. You look for his hands and place yours overtop and then follow by touch all the way up to his shoulders. You can feel Cole pause slightly in his ascent as he ponders your next move. You trail your fingers back towards his neck and you find his hair and bury your fingers in it and tug. Cole brushes his nose back and forth against your sternum before going to where you’re directing him and his hat almost gets brushed off of his head by the bed beneath you both as he starts to kiss your neck. You close your eyes and enjoy his kisses. Cole presses his chest to yours and you sigh at the contact and scratch his scalp lightly. He then nips at your neck and you groan lightly. You move your hands back down his neck and across his back and his shoulders flex as he props himself up on the bed. Like this he feels exactly like how he normally does as he kisses back down your collarbone. You open your eyes slowly as he drifts between your breasts. He palms one of your breasts in his right hand through your bra for a few moments and then slides his hand underneath you. You take this as your cue, and lift your chest up off the mattress and he slips his hand between your shoulder blades and feels for your band before unclasping your bra. You watch as his gloved hand removes your bra and throws it off the bed. Cole then palms both of your breasts in his gloved hands and you gasp. You watch his hands work for a moment or two before letting your head roll back onto the bed. Cole nudges one of his legs in between your knees and you part your legs for him. You gasp and moan as Cole pinches one of your nipples and then rolls it between his fingers. Then his left hand suddenly withdraws from you and you see his hat dip down towards your body and you’re unprepared for when his lips find your nipple. You bite your lip and groan again when he swirls his tongue around it. He pinches your left nipple as he sucks on the right. “Cole…” you moan. You feel the hint of a smile and then Cole groans against you as he sucks harder. “Fuck…” you whine. Cole then releases your nipple and nips and sucks another part of your breast and you just know that he has the intention of leaving hickies. He nips and sucks in at least two more places and it’s becoming too much. “The other one…please…” you beg. Cole does as you ask and switches to your left breast and takes that nipple into his mouth next. You moan loudly and Cole’s left hand comes up to massage the breast he littered with hickies. You hum contentedly and rub between his shoulders blades. Cole’s mouth finally leaves your skin in a heavy exhale and you can make out his soft panting above you. You stare up at his floating hat and then catch the movement of one of his gloves out of the corner of your eye and focus on that instead. His fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans and then slowly drag the zipper down. You lift up your hips and Cole pulls your jeans off of you and down your legs. You try to reach out for Cole’s belt to undo it, but his hands stops you. “Not yet,” he laughs, “Got somethin’ else in mind, Darlin’.” His fingers dip under the waistband of your underwear next and he slowly pulls them off of you. Cole lets out a low whistle and you feel your face grow hot and cover your face with your hands. Cole’s hands lightly tear yours away from your face, “Can’t help it, Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous.” Your face grows even warmer as you smile wide, “You’re such a flirt, I’m literally already naked.” “I know,” he says happily. You laugh. “Now do me a favor and keep your legs spread apart,” Cole says pulling your knees apart. “Okay,” you say excitedly, adjusting your legs so that you’re more comfortable.

A couple of moment pass where Cole just keeps his gloved hands on the inside of your knees and then he lets go and…you watch as he tugs off his left glove and then the right. Your eyes widen as now all you can see from your vantage point  is the floating hat on his head. You startle when you feel his fingers on the inside of your right thigh. And then you relax and even giggle when your realize that he’s walking his index and middle fingers down your thigh. He inches closer and closer to your core and then…he withdraws his hand. “Oh, you’re a tease too,” you say. Cole chuckles and suddenly both of his hands are gripping your inner thighs and kneading them. “OH! Ohhh!” you moan out as you melt under his touch. He massages you thoroughly and then withdraws his hands once again. “Oh-Cole!” you gasp out as his index finger slides up through your folds unexpectedly. “Still think I’m a tease?” Cole asks while now circling your clit. “Yes, even more so now,” you sigh. “Hmm…then maybe I should…” he hums, his fingers stopping their enticing movements. “No! Please, please, Cole,” you beg. He starts rubbing your clit again and this time you can feel his left hand gripping your right thigh, “I like it when you beg.” You roll your head back as you prop yourself up on your elbows and moan in response. Cole then moves his finger through your folds again and coats his finger in your fluids and spreads it over you before returning to circle your clit. You moan softly and start to breathe a little heavily. “That feel good?” Cole asks lowly. “Yes, God it feels so good, Cole,” you moan. He hums deeply and you can feel his metal thumb rubbing circles on the inside of your right knee now. Cole’s finger swiftly begins to stroke up and down your vulva and you moan lowly again. All that can be heard in the quiet of your bedroom is the slick sound of Cole’s fingers swiping through your folds and your soft pants. Cole circles once more and your eyelids flutter as you bite your lip, and then you feel his fingers delve back between your folds, but this time he presses his index finger into you slowly. “Oh yesss…” you moan. He positions his hand so that his thumb can rub your clit slowly while he lightly pushes his index finger in and out of you. You feel Cole’s metal hand splay itself across your thigh and he palms it firmly. He withdraws his finger after a handful more strokes and when he pushes in again you can feel two fingers enter you. Cole fingers you more deeply and your thighs start to squeeze together as your legs begin to shake. His left hand pulls your right leg back away from your left, “Keep your legs apart, Sweetheart, want to see you bare to me,” Cole growls. “Okay….’m trying…” you mumble caught up in the sensation of Cole’s fingers curling inside of you. “Heh,” Cole chuckles. Your eyelids flutter again as Cole removes his left hand from your thigh and then you see his hat lift off of his head and watch it be set down beside you on the bed. You lift yourself up higher on your elbows as though that would help you see what he’s about to do next. You can still feel him slowly fingering you, but you do notice the sudden absence of his thumb after he removed his hat. “Oh please, oh please…” you plead. You feel his hot mouth slant abasing your clit and your entire body jolts as you arch your back and cry out. Cole licks and circles your clit with his tongue as his fingers thrust faster into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and instinctively throw your right hand out and find his hair as you wiggle your hips against his face. Cole sucks hard on your clit, even just the sound of it causes you to moan and clench hard around his fingers. You bite your lip furiously and whine as Cole shows you no mercy. You can feel his left hand lifting your leg to sit on top of his shoulder and you lay back fully on the bed, and bump your knee into his right shoulder as you lift it up to rest your feet on his back. You reach your left hand down next to tangle it in his hair too, “Oh, Cole!” you whine loudly. Cole groans against your core and you feel like you could cum just from the sound of his voice. You can feel Cole adding a third finger and he slows his thrusting just long enough to make sure you’ve acclimated, your sudden chants of, “Yes, Cole!” certainly encouraging. He swirls his tongue rapidly and you tug harder on his hair and he groans again and you can feel his chest heaving under your calves. “Fuck! Oh COLE, YES!” you cry. You cry out one final time as you cum hard onto his fingers as they continue to thrust in and out of you. Your whole body trembles and then goes slack and Cole slows his fingers down and gives one final suck to your clit before coming up for air. But he doesn’t go far as you can still feel his hot breaths as he pants against you. You struggle to catch your own breath as you stare up at the ceiling, your heart pounding in your chest and in your ears. You feel Cole extend his tongue towards you again and you tug upwards on his hair, “Baby, nooo it’s too soon!” you whine. “I just want to lick you clean,” he breathes. You loose your grip on his hair and shiver a little as he gently laps at your release. You continue to catch your breath as Cole licks a stripe up you, he touches your still-sensitive clit and you yank on his hair again and he lifts his head finally. You hear him swallow and smacking his lips and are overcome with your urge to kiss him. You sit up quickly, sliding your legs off of his shoulders and reach out to him with your right hand and manage to find one shoulder and trace it swiftly back to find his face and slap him in the cheek. “Oof!” Cole exclaims, the smack resounding throughout your bedroom. Your hands shoot to your mouth, “Ohh, Honey, I’m SO SORRY!” Cole blows out a puff of air and you can hear him rub his cheek by the scratching of his beard against his metal hand, “Well, that smarts.” “Cole, I’m so so sorry,” you apologize profusely trying to gingerly reach out to find him. His hands find both of your wrists and guide them to his face where you rub the cheek gingerly that you had offended. “I’m fine, a little surprised more than anythin’,” he says. You lean forward to try to kiss him, but he turns his head at the last moment and you kiss the tip of his nose. “Oh!” he mutters in surprise. “Ah! I’m sorry,” you apologize again shaking your head. Cole snorts and then you feel his right hand gently cup your chin, “Here…” And then he tilts your chin a little and you feel his warm lips press to yours, and as you taste yourself on his tongue you pull him in closer between your legs. Cole hums happily and you stroke his bearded cheeks. When he pulls back he then presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose and you giggle. “I’m still sorry about your face,” you say quietly. “Shh, I know you didn’t mean it, ‘sides you can’t see me,” he reminds you. And you hear a whooshing sound through the air and you lean back and look in the general direction, but you can’t see his arm at all, But you Assume he waved it at himself? “See?” he says and you look back up between your hands at the sound of his voice. “Well, I don’t but…yeah,” you laugh. Cole chuckles and then pecks your lips again. You hear the shifting of fabric and glance behind you as he retrieves his hat and places it back on his head, “Maybe it’d be best if I keep this on.” “You say that as though you don’t always wear it during,” you laugh. “That’s not true,” Cole points out, “Sometimes you wear it.” You giggle some more and bite your lip.

Cole stands and you come face to face with his erection that’s undoubtedly throbbing painfully in his pants. “Want me to do the honors?” you ask. “Please,” Cole says a little strained. You undo his belt buckle and then drag his zipper down before pushing his pants down. Cole exhales with relief, “You won’t believe how tight these fancy types wear their pants.” “Well, they’re no Wrangler,” you joke. “I’ll say,” Cole says. You palm his erection though his bright red, plaid boxers and can hear Cole’s breathing hitch. You look up at him and see the underside of his hat as he tilts it backwards. You then trail your eyes down his invisible body to his underwear and another twinge of disappointment fills you at the thought of being unable to see him. Shame, and this is one of the best parts, the unveiling. So you reach your hand into his underwear and trail down through his pubic hair until you find his shaft and firmly grip him in your hand. You hear Cole’s breathing  grow labored above you and smile. You stroke him and pull down his underwear with your left hand. “Mmm…shit…feels so good…” Cole moans out. “Yeah?” you question looking up at him with your best bedroom eyes. Just because you can’t see him doesn’t mean he can’t get a good view of you. “Mmhmm…” he moans again. You rest your left hand on his thigh and trail your hand up to his stomach, relishing in the way his muscles tense and he becomes putty in your hands. Cole’s right hand suddenly grabs your wrist and you stop. “You okay?” you ask looking up at him. “Yeah…yeah…it’s just as nice as that’d be, I Really want you to ride me instead,” Cole says his voice becoming gravelly. You let go of him and smile, “Your penis?” Cole laughs, “Oh, I see what you did there, Tempting. But yes.” Cole releases your wrist and you release him and he toes off his shoes and steps backwards out of his pants and underwear before pulling off his socks in a hurry. You immediately miss his warmth and tuck your legs up onto the bed and crawl back to your side. You see Cole’s top nightstand drawer open up and his hat floating above it and listen to the sound of him rifling around before a floating condom packet removes itself from the drawer. You cover your mouth with your hand and stifle your laugh as it rips open, but then you watch in curiosity as he rolls it down his penis. As he finishes you stare down at his erection now prominently covered in a red condom. “Wait,” Cole says his erection bouncing slightly as he steps back, “Can you see?” “Yes!” you exclaim happily. Cole starts laughing and you join him. “What Are The Odds?!” he laughs hysterically. “Talk about a Bullseye!” you laugh. Cole’s hat nearly falls off as he doubles over in laughter. “Oh my God,” he begins trying to catch his breath. “Come on,” you say getting up on your knees. “Right,”  he says climbing into bed next to you. You wait for him to finish getting comfortable and then smile lightly at the Cowboy shaped indent in the mattress and sheets. You can actually tell from the way the pillows are misshapen that he has his hands folded under his head as he waits for you to climb on. You can see his erection plain as day which is incredibly helpful and makes you bite your lip at the sight, but the rest of him… You slide your hand across the bed and find his outer thigh, and gripping it with both hands you then feel along his inner thigh and carefully swing your leg over and straddle his thigh. You hear the sound of fabric shifting and then feel Cole’s right hand on your hip, as he helps guide you over his right leg next and then you inch forward until you’re over his penis. Cole releases you and tucks his hand back under his head. You gingerly place your left palm down on his pelvic area next to his penis and from there slide it up to his stomach. And then you take a hold of his erection in your right hand and guide him up to your entrance. You push his tip inside of you and exhale quietly. You can feel Cole’s stomach go taut as he holds his breath and you slowly push him deeper inside of you and start to sink down. You place your other palm on his abdomen as well and close your eyes as you guide yourself down. Cole tenses again and moans a little the further down you sink and you bend forward as you finally take all of him in. You pause to take a breath and to adjust and you can feel Cole’s stomach rising and falling normally again. You open your eyes and look down to where you’re both connected and it’s a little disconcerting to see yourself sitting on seemingly nothing. “And with my final trick I’ve made your penis disappear,” you joke quietly. Cole snorts and then after another moment of silence from you, he asks, “You doin’ good, Baby?” “Yeah,” you say and you straighten your back out and start to circle your hips. Cole groans lightly in approval, and you close your eyes again. You rub your hands over his abdomen and like this it feels exactly like it always does. You circle him a few more times just to make sure you’ve properly adjusted before rocking your hips against his. He grunts in response and you roll your hips a little more firmly. The pace you set is nice and slow, but meticulous and you listen eagerly for Cole’s breaths and gasp yourself when he finally decides to roll his hips up against yours. You lean back and place your right hand on his thigh so that when he thrusts up he can hit you at the right angle. You moan and roll your head back. “You’re so Fuckin’ Beautiful, Darlin’,” Cole groans his accent getting thicker. You smile and bite your lip, “You’re sweet.” You can feel yourself beaming from the praise and you move just a little bit faster. Opening your eyes, you look down at Cole and can still see the imprint of his hands tucked under his head. You start to close your eyes again and then you hear him shift and suddenly feel his hands on your hips. You lean forward so that he can thrust up into you harder, and you come down to meet him and he hums out, “Darlin’.” You fumble around with your hands trying to find his chest and when you do you plant them there and ride him faster. Cole’s labored breathing greets your ears and you can feel the sweat forming under your palms. “Mm, Fuck! Oh that’s it, Baby,” Cole moans. You moan with him and then lean forward all the way and press a kiss to his chest and you can feel his fingers dig into your hips. The sound of your bodies slapping together and the bed creaking underneath you combined with the feeling of him buried deep inside you, quickly builds you to a second orgasm. But you want to make him cum first, so you desperately bounce in his lap and bite your lip to continue stifling your own moans so you can catch each and every one of his new moans and groans as the result of the rolling of your hips. “Fuck, I’m gonna-“ he chokes out. “Cum for me, Baby, cum for me, Cole,” you beg. Cole pants heavily and then you feel his right hand slide between you and stroke your clit, “Want you to cum too, Pumpkin, need you to cum around my cock!” You moan loudly at his words and his touch and squeeze harder around him and he almost loses it, his hat even almost falling off in the process and crumpling when he throws his head back into the pillows. But he rubs your clit faster and you frantically try to ride him until finally you cry out and cum and your walls flutter around his cock. Cole cries out next, his voice joining yours as you pull him along with you and his hips slam up into yours hard and then stutter as he tries to draw out his orgasm. As his cries taper off into a low groan you collapse face first onto his chest and gasp for breath.

Cole’s chest rises and falls in rapid, short breaths beneath you. You open and close your eyes as you try to breathe and Cole drapes his arms over your back, and you smile happily and try to slow your breathing. When you both have caught your breath again Cole gently rubs his hands down your back. “Roll off me, Darlin’, so’s I can get up,” Cole says. You tiredly pick up your head and sit up and gripping the bottom of the condom in your hand, you gingerly lift yourself off of him hissing slightly at the sting from him stretching you, and he slips out of you. You then let yourself fall back down onto the mattress beside him and roll onto your side. The bed dips down beside you and you close your eyes and shift to your back as you bask in the afterglow while Cole removes the condom. You hear his footsteps in the adjacent bathroom and then the water from the faucet, and realize he’s probably also cleaning himself up. You lift your head and open your eyes to stare in his direction just as the bathroom light turns off and when you don’t see him at all you panic. You quickly glance around the room and notice that his hat is now hanging from the top of his bedpost. “Cole?!” you call. “Hey! It’s alright, Honey, I’m right here. I didn’t go nowhere,” Cole shushes you his footsteps approaching you. The bed dips down beside you and you reach out for him and don’t relax until your fingers trail over his left arm and to his shoulder and back. Cole leans over to you and presses a kiss to your temple. And it’s only now that you even notice the red washcloth in his right hand. He shifts again and you keep your hand on him as he kisses your knee, “Lay back,” he says. You do as he says and you feel the warm, wet washcloth glide through your folds. Cole rubs his bearded chin against your knee and you release the tension in your muscles finally. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say. “Yes, I did,” he says softly. When he gets back up to toss the washcloth in the hamper, you whine at his loss. “I’m comin’ back, Sweetheart,” he assures you as he climbs back into bed with you and kisses your thigh and then all the way up to your chest. You find his face again with your hands and pull him close to you. Cole kisses you, long and slowly and you melt under him. When his lips part from yours you hear a smile in his breath and then he scoops an arm under you and rolls backwards and pulls you ontop of him. You chuckle and adjust carefully and slip one of your legs in between his. You glance down at him and it still looks like you’re floating over the bed and you snort. Cole reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp finally and the room is now enveloped in darkness. You roam your hands over his chest and he feels the way he should and not a smidge different. You then let your head rest overtop his heart, in a way relieved that you can’t see him for normal reasons. Cole’s fingertips trail up and down your spine before he wraps them around you and keeps you caged to his body. “Now, I guess we both can’t see each other,” he says letting out a low chuckle. “I wish I could, I miss your smile,” you whisper. Cole feels around for one of your hands and brings it to his lips, “It’ll wear off soon, Pumpkin, and then everythin’ll be back to normal. Doc said so.” “I hope so,” you say softly. Cole rests his chin on the top of your head, “You know, I miss the way you look at me.” You shift your head up and then he presses his lips to your forehead, “Really?” He hums in affirmation, “I know, I know, you’re still lookin’ AT ME, but you’re not really seein’ me. It’s different when you can see my face, I guess.” “I do miss your eyes the most of all, the way you look at me always gives me butterflies,” you say. Cole cups your face, “I promise you, Darlin’, I absolutely looked at you That way tonight.” You tap your finger to his chin and trace it up to his lips and then lean towards him and gently press your lips to his in their stead.

[fe-fictions]

Good day/night! :]

Might you have some spare Henry crumbs laying around? I've been on a crowman high lately and you write him so well! <3

(Here's some Henry taking care of a sick wife and baby!!!)

The family had taken a brief, albeit very fun and relaxing, trip in Plegia. Morgan being only eight months old certainly made things interesting. Having the whole family there to enjoy the beauty of Plegia outside war time was fun.

Plus, you were both Plegians, so it was nice to learn about your roots.

It was a magical time. Or at least, it would have been. You woke up the morning after you came home and found yourself unable to get out of bed.

You had a fever, your head was pounding, and you were a snotty mess of misery. Henry was amused until he heard baby Morgan bawling down the hall. You both caught, according to your husband, the Plegian swine flu.

No one was immune from it, not even sweet, innocent little blood bags like Morgan (Henry’s words, not yours).

So Henry quickly went from teasing you and being fascinated by how miserable you were to going into full-blown panic.

Like any disease, a baby catching it had a higher risk of complications. Most recover, Henry explained while frantically scribbling an urgent letter for Maribelle to tie to one of his crows, but itty bitty babies could suffer serious health problems.

Henry got to work on preparing you a bucket of cold water, a second bucket for the kerchiefs you would be blowing your nose into all day, and a third bucket in case you couldn’t keep your food down.

You didn’t.

“Gods, Henry- did you have to send that filthy animal to me? I’m literally down the block! It would take you fifteen minutes to-”

“Fifteen minutes is a waste of time! Morgan and Robin could be dead by then! And if it’s either of them, it’s no joke, nya ha!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“It’s nervous laughter!” He chuckled again, though judging by how pale his face was, it seemed to be true. 

Maribelle simply scoffed and hurried to the bedroom, ready to treat her friend.

“Robin, darling! Oh, you look positively ghastly!” She gasped, drawing the mask over her mouth and nose. She pulled on her medical gloves, a stave at her side and a big pouch of herbs on her belt. “The Plegian swine flu is no joke...it’s very rarely found in Ylisse, but when it travels with you…”

“I-it’s a disaster.” You wheezed, not before you were overcome by coughing. “Anything y-you can do will be a welcome remedy.”

“Luckily for you, there’s nothing here that herbs and plenty of rest won’t fix. Now Morgan might be a little trickier, given his age...but we can at least get started with you.”

Maribelle was quick to send  Henry off to grind up the herbs, preparing some disgusting concoction guaranteed to get your body back to normal.

Presuming Henry could put it together.

“Now, when did you start to feel ill?”

“W-well, if I’m honest… It started around-”

Crash

“Ah, gods- I broke the cup!!”

“-The time we got home, last night. It was late-”

Smash

“The pestle’s shattered!!”

“-And I just thought I was tired, but...my head feels about the same as-”

Bang

“The herbs are everywhere!!”

“HENRY!!” Maribelle shouted out the door, “What in the gods’ names are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess!” Henry apologized, his voice shaky and unsure. “I-I just meant to help a bit, but it looks like I’m making things worse, nya ha!”

“Why don’t you come and sit,” Maribelle pinched  her brow, “Just settle down until you stop breaking things.” 

You watched as Henry wandered back into the bedroom, looking surprisingly pale and nervous. You had never quite seen him in such a way, before.

After all, it was always good times and weird vibes with your husband. Since when did he become the anxious type?

“I’ll be right back, Robin. I’ll get your medicine.”

“Give some to Morgan, first.” You asked, “I can wait.”

Maribelle nodded to you before taking off, leaving you alone with your husband who was bouncing his leg and fidgeting with his hands with a nervousness that you’d never seen before.

For a few moments, it was quiet, listening to the rhythmic, rapid tapping of his heel against the stone. Eventually, though, you would have to snap him out of it.

“Henry, a-are you all right?” You questioned as gently as you could. Henry started to nod, giving you a cracked, faux grin. Then he paused, his smile fell, and he shook his head.

“Well, if I’m honest? No. Not at all. I feel like I’m dying inside.” He admitted. “I mean, you’re sick, and so is Morgan! My two favorite living people! And there’s not a thing I can do about it- I mean, he’s just a baby, and we’ve only been back together for a year- I dunno. It scares me, y’know? Which is impressive! When’s the last time I’ve been genuinely scared, right! Nya ha ha!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Henry.” You tried to assure him. But he shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

“You don’t know that! All it takes is one thing to go wrong and it could be bye-bye wifey, or even bye-bye baby, and I...oh, I couldn’t handle that. Nope, not one bit.” 

It was certainly a reasonable concern. 

“Henry, sweetheart...come here.” You held your hand out to him, insisting he sit with you. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the pain that numbed your sense of worry, but you were far calmer than he was.

He took your hand, revealing trembling fingers. You squeezed it tightly, trying your best to comfort him despite your situation.

“Maribelle will take care of us. We’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“But you can’t be sure!” He sighed shakily, “Anything can happen when it comes to Plegian flu. It can either be nothing at all, or really bad! And you never know until it happens. If something bad did happen to you or Morgan, I just...I don’t know what to do! You already told me I’m not allowed to re-animate either of you if you croak, so...I’m out of options!”

“I’m standing firm on that, just so you know.” You informed him with a soft smile, “But, Henry...there’s no value in worrying for worrying’s sake. W-we really shouldn’t be concerned with the unknown until it comes.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one having to take care of both of you! What if I mess up?! What if I make it worse!! I already broke Maribelle’s mortar and pestle, there are herbs everywhere, a-and I just-”

“Henry,” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You’re overthinking.”

“B-but I just...I worry about you guys…”

“I know.” You beamed at him, stroking his cheek. “But please, try not to worry. We need to wait for Maribelle’s diagnosis, and we can go from there, okay? It’ll be easier if we take it a step at a time.”

“Gosh, Robin...how’re you able to stay so calm all the time?” He looked at you incredulously, “I’m about ready to pop out of my skin and just run around like a headless Risen!”

“Experience.” You laughed. 

Maribelle came in not long after, informing you both that the flu didn’t appear to be as bad as it could be. 

“Morgan should recover within the week, though we’ll need to make sure he receives two doses of medicine each day; one in the morning and one at night. Henry, you’ll have to make it for him each day- is that something you can handle? Or will I be making more visits this week?”

Henry shared a look with you, seeing your encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can handle it, I promise!”

“Good. Morgan’s going to be counting on you. Robin, you should need more rest than anything else, but I’m recommending you take one dose each evening; it will help you sleep better, and it’s strong enough that it should hold you the next day.”

“That’s fine by me.” You agreed; the less disgusting, bitter herbs you had to ingest, the better.

“Your recovery time will be a bit longer than Morgan’s, though, judging by how you’re doing… I’d say two weeks at minimum; a month-and-a-half at most. Now if you want, I can have Lissa or Libra come and help take care of you, so that Henry can focus on caring for Morgan. Or, we can simply send Morgan off with a wet nurse while you’re here.”

“N-no, I-!” Henry interrupted before you could reply, putting a hand to his chest. “I can handle it, Maribelle! After all, if I can’t take care of my family, what kind of man would I be? Just a sad bag of bones and sinew! Not good for anything but crow food.”

Maribelle glanced over at you, looking for some sort of response. You knew she was still wary of Henry, especially now that she was out a very lovely mortar and pestle. But you were confident in his abilities.

“He can take care of us.” You told her, “I trust him.”

“Well...if you insist.” She conceded, earning a whoop from your husband- and an apology for it shortly after when he realized you weren’t to be around loud noises with your headache. “I’ll be coming to check up on you twice a week until you’re all better- until then, Henry, we’re counting on you!”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, Maribelle! We just take it a day at a time, and it’ll be great, nya ha!”

“Robin, if anything changes, or you need help...please don’t hesitate to call me or the other healers immediately.”

“I will.”

“I do mean anything, dear.”

“...I will.”

“If Henry does one thing wrong-”

“Hey!”

“I got it, Maribelle.” You chuckled, waving her away. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be sure to call for you if we need anything. But I’m positive Henry will take care of us just fine.”

“You can bet your organs on it!” He grinned, giggling happily with his wife’s support. Maribelle gave him a long, hard look, but eventually took her leave. 

Henry was quick to move Morgan’s crib into the bedroom, guaranteeing that he could keep track of both of you and ensure you were both recovering nicely at the same time.

While it was heartbreaking listening to Morgan’s discomfort and those tiny baby coughs, it helped to see him improve day after day.

You did end up recovering about a week after Morgan, all thanks to Henry. He made sure to give you only the best. Most of all you were just thankful that none of you could get the Plegian swine flu ever again.

Especially since he bought Maribelle a replacement mortar and pestle that came from a questionable source, covered in animal bones and bird skulls and...you really didn’t know what corner of Hell he summoned them from.

At least there wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to break anything else of Maribelle’s, seeing as you wouldn’t be getting sick again.

You would take extra steps to ensure that just so he wouldn’t frighten Maribelle with another horrifying “gift”.

[acourtofthought]

Message sent from @sanfangirl

“So I was thinking on Lucien’s buildup and how it will eventually relate to Elucien, when I noticed something. Now I borrowed the books from a friend and wasn’t able to reread or quote much, but I remember noticing how Feyre is constantly hinting as Lucien’s inferiority. Like, not in a bad way, but when she talks about Lucien winnowing in ACOMAF she says “Lucien couldn’t winnow as far as Tamlin or Rhys, but he was fast” or something along those lines. But she’s saying he’s not as powerful as these other High Lords. And later on in ACOWAR she was totally planning to leave Lucien behind despite knowing he was desperate to meet his mate and she should have been able to sympathize, since she was missing her own mate quite strongly. My slight issue with Feyre and Lucien’s friendship aside, Feyre doesn’t see Lucien as very powerful until he’s able to break free of his chains, and even that is kind of dismissed as a freak accident. But to me this draws a parallel of how she also sees Elain. Elain was always portrayed as weaker compared to Feyre and Nesta. And then she’s Made by the Cauldron and comes out a powerful Seer. Interestingly enough, her mate, her soul bonded equal, discovers or is unknowingly able to tap into a wealth of spell breaking powers that break through Hybern’s chains and it turns out his daddy is actually very powerful, knowledgeable, charismatic Helion and he’s a High Lord’s heir. Now again sadly I don’t have the books at hand right now but hadn’t Lucien compared his power to his brothers (or at least Eris) before? And been found lacking? Do I need to point out that with most of his potential somehow locked away his power was still plentiful enough it was clear he was a powerful High Lord’s son (just, you know, not that one). And we have already seen hints of Elain being stronger and more powerful than people give her credit, I mean, stabbing the King of Hybern, talking back to Nesta, being willing to scry for the Dead Trove, need I go on? I hope in Elucien’s book we’ll be able to see their true potential bloom, and the IC’s reactions to the polite pair’s scary powers will be fun 😂”

My response to the above (for some reason it didn’t give me the option of “Answering” this, only “editing”.  I didn’t change anything from your original submission though, I’m just adding here at the bottom.

For only having read through the series on borrowed books, I’m really impressed!  I don’t think I picked up on anything my first or second reads, I was just sitting there thinking that SJM told me all I needed to know not realizing she was putting clues throughout. 

I know Lucien mentioned that he wasn’t particularly wanted or needed in Autumn and no one paid much attention to him which gave him the opportunity to train as long as he liked.  But that even with that, no one worried he’d bother killing his way up the long list of heirs.  And I know he previously acknowledged that Tamlin’s powers were much greater than anything he could do (since he’s still in the dark as to being Helion’s heir and doesn’t seem to realize it would be possible for him to display the markers of being a High Lord).  

But yeah, there are many examples of Feyre and the others thinking Lucien could never measure up to the IC.  That he may have trained but the IC would wipe Lucien off the face of the earth in a single blow.  She seems surprised that he doesn’t back down from Rhys or the Illyrians staring him down.  Questions whether he’d sell them out.  Az thinking he’s not good enough.  Nesta having problems with him for awhile. 

And the exact same thing can be said of Elain’s character.  Anytime she does anything, people are shocked.  She helped save Briar, helped save Az, saved Nesta and Cassian by stabbing the King yet they still think she needs protected and handled with kid gloves.  

I think it’s pretty purposeful on SJMs part though.  That the entire narrative surrounding Lucien and Elain is the people around them doubt them as capable, that they’ll always be secondary to the “real” warriors.  I think that makes them perfectly suited as Mates because it’s a struggle they can both understand.  And just because they aren’t as outspoken or fighters in the traditional sense doesn’t mean they can’t play a role that’s just as important to anything the IC has done and doesn’t mean they aren’t just as powerful.  

[potatoes-and-rice]

(Sonamy) - Favorite colors

Here is my first sonamy fic!! it's a sweet little oneshot!!

words: 561

ship: sonic/amy

___

The warm sun rolled over the soft grass that lay under the feet of the two hedgehogs. The warmth abruptly stopped under the tree that covered the pair. A soft breeze flowed, causing the pink hedgehog to stir from where she rested. “Oh Sonic, it's such a beautiful day!” She exclaimed to the one snoozing next to her. Hands clasped together, she looked over to the blue hedgehog whose eyes were closed. “And you’re not even looking at it,” she frowned. “I’m awake, Amy,” His eye opened to glance at her before closing again. She huffed and crossed her arms, sitting with her back against the tree.

A nice silence surrounded the two, which normally happened when they hung out one-on-one. It wasn't uncomfortable by any means, Amy filled the time by playing with the small patches of grass near the tree. Sonic's ear twitched, "You're gonna get grass stains on your gloves again," he teased. Heat filled her cheeks as she picked up the loose grass and dumped it on the fool next to her.

Her eyes popped open as she spots something blue, wiggling around in the grass. The color dances across the small flowers scattered around their feet. She grabs Sonic’s arm, startling him “Look at this butterfly!!” He caught a glimpse of wonder in her eyes while he plucks grass off himself. “It's such a pretty blue color,” her hands cup her face, smiling, “Oh I just love blue, it's my favorite color!” Sonic looked at her, perplexed, “I thought your favorite color was pink.” "I have a bunch of favorite colors," she stated matter-of-factly, waving her finger around. "You can only have one favorite," he rolled his eyes playfully, "that's why it's called a favorite." "Ok smarty pants," she crossed her arms, "then what's your favorite color?"

He didn’t know what to say, “I uhh,” he scratched his head and looked around. “I don’t have a favorite col-” "Oh wait wait wait," she cut him off. "Can I guess?" He nods. She taps her finger on her chin, thinking for a moment. "Oh my gosh," her eyes lit up, "Is it yellow??!"

She beamed, smile wide, her face so close to his. She had always been pretty, but maybe it was the admiration in her eyes or the way the light peaked out from the leaves and sprinkled on her face. She often made his heart jump, a warm feeling rising in his tummy as if he was about to take that first bite of a chili dog. Sometimes she could be a bit overwhelming. Most of the time her affection made him want to squirm away, but he felt drawn to her at this moment. Maybe it was her compassion, her fearless leadership, or the way she wouldn’t give up without a fight. He couldn’t help but admire her as much as she did him.

“Yeah,” he shyly rubbed under his nose, “Yeah, it is” Her smile widened, “I knew it!” She laughed, throwing her arms around him. Her quills were soft and warmed his skin. The close contact made him nervous; he cleared his throat. Amy loosens her grip, tail wagging happily. They sat at the base of the tree, watching the clouds roll down the sky. Deep reds and violets bleed into the bottom of the skyline. Silence once again sits around them.

___

I hope you all enjoyed!! Here's a little drawing from the fic!!

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2023 Day 7- Minotaur Part 3

The Rut

Almost there, part 4 is that sweet lemoney goodness. But this is still super sweet and fluffy.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 promptlist as well as @catbatart for theirs too.

Part 3

Big Bad Lawyer

You barely managed to survive your day, and you had to skip lunch and barely take five minutes to wolf down a quick power bar in the bathroom because each client had extra issues. All of them had drop tines, or crazy intricate and complicated brow palms and top palms and bez’ for your caribou clientele. Your moose clients had gigantic main palms and brow palms where you had to use something of a curved ice scraper on them and you were sure your hands were forever going to stay greasy and oily despite wearing gloves for every client, a few of them, having to change your gloves a couple times and empty your velvet box and it was just one big blur of velvet. And so you of course, felt like you were always running late and behind and even took in an emergency appointment. 

But by the time you were done, it was just you and Macy left as Dick Rick was still waiting in his car in the row of spaces meant for the spa in the front. Especially since Macy insisted that if he didn’t have an appointment or was not going to buy anything, he had no other business in the spa and had threatened that if he would not leave, the police would be called to make him leave and that he would be black listed from the spa, should he continue to “harass” the specialists there. 

But here in the parking space, watching the spa like a hawk. Then you and Macy walked your last client to the door and locked it behind him once you got him checked out. 

“Should I call the police?” Macy asked as you both eyed Rick’s car with weary skepticism from a distance that you hoped he couldn’t see you from his vantage. 

“Well, this morning he claimed he had a job opening for me at his “new spa”. Did he actually give you or the other receptionists anything to that effect or not?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Macy confirmed before she walked back to the desk and handed over the manila envelope before you took out the clearly- printed off a cheap printer- paper that had all kinds of flashy gimmicky symbols and none of the same font and it looked more like a flier than anything before you quickly got a pen and wrote ‘no thank you, not interested.’ with a scrawl of your name before you put it back in. 

“He’s not going to take that no very well.” Macy predicted. 

“No he’s not, that’s why I’m hoping I can call in a favor to make him accept it.” You said before you pulled Bauvar’s business card out of your pocket and called him up. 

“Hello?” Bauvar asked after the second ring. 

“Hey Bauvar, it’s Bianca from The Velvet Spa, is that offer of being a bid bad lawyer still good?” You asked hopefully. 

“Of course. Do I need to head down there?” He asked. 

“At your earliest convenience, yes please.” You confirmed. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” He offered. 

“Thanks.” You thanked him gratefully. 

“Bauvar? Who’s that?” Macy asked once you hung up the phone. 

“You know that new caribou minotaur I had yesterday? Bauvar Leopold?” You prompted. 

“Oh you mean the same handsome guy who dropped you off at the door this morning who was a last minute first timer?” Macy grinned mischievously. 

“Yes. Well, he was at Caribou Coffee when Dick Rick caught up with me. He agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend to Dick Rick to keep Dick Rick at bay. And he’s a lawyer and when I tried to tell Dick Rick I had a noncompete, which, I am contemplating having him draw up, just to say I have one, but I wouldn’t have anyone else here sign one. Thankfully Bauvar picked up on that and used that to help me escape Dick Rick’s clutches.” You revealed as Macy hummed excitedly. 

“Oooh, so is he coming to have a second act to it? At least the boyfriend part too? In addition to “The Big Bad Lawyer”, which did sound hella sexy, just sayin.” Macy asked. 

“Yup. He offered that if Dick Rick kept harassing me, he’d happily step in, for the big favor of getting him in and taken care of so quickly.” You explained. 

“Nice. So I take it, you want me to play along too?” Macy asked. 

“Please?” You requested. 

“Girl I got you.” Macy reassured you. 

“Thanks.” You thanked her gratefully as you both pretended to wind things down and get ready to leave as it seemed Dick Rick then creeped his car closer and closer to the building until he was parked right behind the handicap parking spot.  

“Subtlety is not in this guy’s vocabulary is it?” You snorted derisively. 

“Nope.” She offered as you both waited on Bauvar to arrive. 

“Oh, hold the phone, god damn.” Macy crooned when Bauvar drove into the next parking space with a much nicer car, in another good looking suit and the moment he got out of the car, you and Macy smiled happily at him. 

“Hey Sweetie, you ready to go get dinner?” Bauvar asked just as Rick got out of his car and approached once you met Bauvar at the door. 

“Yup.” 

“But I thought you two were going to look at my offer together?” Rick asked skeptically. 

“Oh yes, here was his offer.” You offered the manila envelope over to Bauvar who took it out and looked it over but frowned deeply at it. 

“What- in the phony three dollar bill looking offer is this?” Bauvar immediately scoffed at it.

“It’s not phony, how dare you!” Rick began to argue before Bauvar simply reached out, lowered his head so his antlers would collide with Rick’s to get Rick to take a step back as Bauvar soon stood between you and Macy and Rick and every time Rick tried to side step him, Bauvar would advance him further and further back. 

“Oh really? Let’s prove it.” Bauvar challenged before he got his phone out and called the number on the sheet on speaker and immediately got a ‘this line has been disconnected’ message before he outright looked on the Better Business Beaurer’s list of businesses and it wasn’t even listed as a business. 

“What kind of shady charlatan shit is this? If this was a real business, the phone wouldn’t be disconnected and the address wouldn’t be to the damn coffee shop down the street! You really did just smack a bunch of shit together in a Word Document and expect it to pass as genuine offer? No. This, is literally false advertising and you can get your ass sued for this shit. The firm I work for- is a firm who sues assholes like you for trying to copycat other businesses and do things like this. Plus this is a direct conflict of interest and a direct violation of Bianca’s noncompete, which I looked over and is iron clad with not a loophole in sight. Now lets look at the very place you’re trying to copycat here, if I look this up on the BBB’s website, I’ll bet you twenty bucks we’ll find it’s the real deal.” Bauvar challenged before you and Macy looked at each other worriedly. 

“Honey, no, I’m so hungry and so tired, I just want to go pick up a pizza and go home. I already turned it down. Come on Babe.” You called after him. 

“It’ll only take a minute,” Bauvar insisted before you got back and ripped the paper from his grasp and shoved it into Rick’s chest. 

“Richard Burke, I am declining your offer of employment. I’m perfectly happy where I am and with how much I make doing it. I’m not interested in it, or you or anything else you could possibly offer me. And I swear to every god, that if you do not leave me alone, I will not only ban you from the spa, I will black list you and then I will get Bauvar to file a restraining order against you. Please, leave me alone. I don’t know how many times or how many ways I need to tell you ‘no’ for you to get the hint that I’m not interested in you or having anything to do with you. Please, go home or go anywhere else other than where I work, where I live and stay away from my friends and family. I have been more than kind and patient and professionally polite but that line ends here. Please, go away and leave me and mine alone.” You firmly insisted before you turned around to walk away from him, but he gave chase. 

“So what does this place have that whatever spa I could open up wouldn’t have?” Rick yelled after you. 

“A soul! Integrity, honesty, transparency, continuity, stability, a good reputation, pick any or all of those things. I have worked far too hard and for far too long to have poachers like you try to scavenge off of me.” You said as you turned around and continued to walk backwards towards Bauvar and Macy. 

“But it’s a spa! All you are is a cog in the wheel to them!” Rick hotly argued. 

“So? What’s it to you? Why should you care?” You asked rhetorically. 

“But you’d be a co-owner if we opened up our own place!” Rick yelled. 

“Why would I want to be a co-owner with you when I already am the sole owner of this?!”  You finally snapped as you gestured to the spa before Rick gasped in shock.

“No, no, that other red deer-taur chick is the owner.” Rick tried to argue as he gestured to her picture in the display picture. 

“I am not going to argue with you about this any more. You can believe whatever you want to believe. Now, you will either leave or I’m calling the cops to escort you off the premises, because you are no longer welcome here.” You declared. 

“You don’t have the authority…” Rick tried to argue as Macy was already on the phone with the cops. 

“Try me.” You challenged before in only a few more moments the cops came. 

“My name is Bianca Boven, and I’m the sole proprietor of this business and this person is stalking me and harassing me. I’d like him removed and to file a restraining order.” You urged the cops as Bauvar just stared in shock at the BBB’s website that listed you as the sole owner and proprietor and felt- if anything, supremely humbled by that fact. 

“And I’m Bauvar Leopold, I work with…” Bauvar offered as he showed his ID and business card as he and Macy both gave testimony of Rick’s harassment before Rick just glared hatefully and spitefully at you as he was escorted off the premises and threatened to be towed from his parking spot.  

“Sorry to drag you into this.” You offered to Bauvar once the police left once Rick was escorted away as Bauvar at least walked you back to your car that was parked in the parking garage behind the building as he was happy to ride up the elevator with you to where you and Macy had parked near the top of the parking garage. 

“It’s ok. I’m happy I could help. I’ll get the restraining order at least squared away first thing tomorrow.” Bauvar noted as he walked with you to see where you and Macy had parked together before Macy quickly walked ahead and got in her car to drive home for the night, sensing you were pretty safe in Bauvar’s company.  

“Thank you. Please, don’t forget to bill me for your services.” You reminded him. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He waived off. 

“Well, you’re a lawyer, that’s your bread and butter isn’t it?” You proposed. 

“Nope, my bread and butter is suing corporations for false advertising, and malpractice.” Bauvar offered. 

“Oh, ok then.” You chuckled with a grimace and shake of your head. 

“So I sincerely doubt I’d ever see you or your business.” He offered. 

“I would hope not. I try really hard to avoid both.” You offered. 

“Yeah, I can tell.” He nodded. 

“Well, thanks for this, I owe you.” You offered. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He repeated. 

“Just take the IOU as a professional courtesy.” You insisted with a laugh. 

“Fine, fine, don’t twist my antlers.” He smiled as he ducked his head down as his ears laid back a bit bashfully before you took a step forward and kissed him right on the side of his cheek and muzzle before you booped his nose and quickly took the two more steps towards your car door but hesitated to get in as he started laughing despite his own cheeks, that you could practically see blushing through the fine fur all over them. 

“You booped my nose!” He covered his face with his hands to hide his otherwise flushed and flustered state as you laughed with him. 

“I did.” You confirmed. 

“I thought my grandma would be the only one to boop my nose after like, elementary school.” He admitted as his tears had started to bring a tear or two to his eyes as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles because he had practically dissolved into a laughing fit himself. 

“Well, now, you’ve been booped, as an adult, how does it feel?” You asked. 

“It’s not fair.” He insisted as he just shook his head but his smile was absolutely precious and particularly bright and beautiful. 

“Why isn’t it fair?” You asked with a tilt of your head as you turned to face him before he closed the distance between you. 

“Because it probably won’t be the same if I tried to boop your nose.” He offered. 

“You can try.” You leaned towards him, with your nose presented to him before he reached forward and booped it which got you to giggle. 

“Better?” You asked. 

“Almost.” He admitted as he was just about to try to kiss you, before his phone chimed as did yours. 

“Sorry, I gotta go, and tuck the kids into bed. Thanks for this and thanks for your help today, I really appreciated it.” You thanked him before you opened the door to your big SUV and got in. 

“You’re welcome, yeah, get home and get to the family. I guess I should have asked if you had a husband or boyfriend who would mind if I played boyfriend huh?” He realized. 

“Actually, there isn’t one. So don’t worry about that.” You offered with a bittersweet smile and subtle shake of your head as his heart broke to know that you were trying to raise a family all on your own and could only hope that the ungrateful bastard was at least paying good child support. 

 “Well, in that case, would you mind if we played this charade again? I have a social thing at the office next weekend and we’re expected to bring a plus one because the president of the company is throwing it with his wife. Would you mind pretending to be my girlfriend for it? Because usually at these things, the ones who try to fuck their way to the top come out en force and I really don’t want to be a target for the social ladder climber.” He admitted. 

“Uh, next weekend? What day?” You asked. 

“Saturday night?” He answered with a slight grimace. 

“What time?” You asked. 

“It’s at 7.” He answered. 

“Yeah I could swing that. You could pick me up from here and drop me off here after.” You volunteered. 

“Thank you so much.” Bauvar blew out a breath of relief. 

“So how fancy is this shindig? Formal? Black tie?” You asked. 

“Uh, business formal.” He answered. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Text me the details so we can color coordinate.” You offered and smiled when his own smile brightened quite a bit. 

“Will do.” He nodded. 

“Goodnight Beaver.” You teased which got him to laugh again, because even though he usually hated that mispronunciation of his name, he appreciated your sense of humor regardless. 

“Goodnight Beautiful Bianca.” He offered in kind and grinned when you rolled your eyes and shook your head before you got into the vehicle and started it up and waived goodbye at him before you went home. 

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.29--Episodes 16-17

I have watched through S3E17; spoilers DNI. Also, spoilers warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—Bae’s death was a knife wound. Bae’s funeral was twisting the knife, adding salt, and dunking me in a vat of lemon juice. Everyone who knew him put dirt on his grave—including his son and Hook. Hook is what really gets me.

—Oh, wait. Not everyone. Rumple didn’t even get to be there. That destroyed me. Rumple did everything to find Bae, and still Bae died and Rumple didn’t get to be at his funeral. That’s so fricking unfair.

—My feelings on Regina and the Wicked Witch are b*tch (affectionate) vs. b*tch (derogatory). Regina shows up for their magic duel wearing black, red gloves, and perfect lipstick, and I’m all, “Yes, Queen, look fabulous while you duel 🫶🙌💅.” Zelena spends time getting dressed up for the duel, and I’m like, “Girl, stop being so petty and dramatic, what’s your problem.”

—The last thing Regina needed was a bratty older sister. When it comes to parents, neither of them really got a great draw. Each of them got one decent parent and one really crappy parent. And it’s not like Regina asked for or wanted the life that Zelena is so jealous of—but Zelena is so self-centered, she would never even consider that. I get the feeling Zelena would be an enthusiastic participant in the Trauma Olympics.

—But she got hers. Turning green because she’s jelly of Regina is a hilarious twist.

—Oz is a gorgeous set piece. I don’t know, or care, if it’s actual decor or CGI, it’s absolutely stunning. Gold and vibrant green are just mean to be together.

—While Oz itself is beautiful, I’ve actually found the Oz characters to be disappointing. So far, all we’ve got is the Wicked Witch, the flying monkeys (who barely even count), and a rather fleeting, meaningless encounter with the Wizard. While I do usually love the intertwining of multiple stories with each other, it feels like Oz needs more structure and world-building on its own. Having more of the characters present as their own entities (the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, Glinda, and that’s just off the top of my head) would have been more rewarding after the long buildup for Oz.

—I’m quite pleased to see the silver slippers. Yeah, the red shoes are iconic, but using the OG silver is splendid.

—I love how Hook gives zero hecks and wears his pirate clothes in Storybrooke. Everyone else wears clothes appropriate to the environment, but Hook is still 99% pirate. (The other 1% is the fake hand he attaches instead of his hook.)

—That one time he wore a knight-like disguise in the Enchanted Forest was a very good moment for him. And for me. That outfit was gorgeous on him.

—Blackbeard was a rather generic pirate. Now, I don’t expect he’s ever going to come up again, at least in any significant capacity, so that’s fine, but he could’ve looked more intimidating. If even Hook is going to be somewhat afraid of him, he should look like the beefiest, wickedest, meanest pirate on the high seas.

—I adore Ariel for preferring swimming to walking. One of the things I hate most about OG!Ariel is that she acts like walking is for some reason superior, even though she’s never frickin tried walking in her life. OUAT Ariel has done both, and now she’s made an informed decision. Not to mention, mermaids having realm-crossing superpowers makes her preference logical (although preferences aren’t always, and don’t have to be).

—Eric’s cloak with the Ursula clasp is dope.

—Just when I thought Hook couldn’t get any angstier, now he has extra drama with Emma. And the word “yearning” has canonically been used to describe his feelings for her, so….

—Rumple being reduced to a slave to Zelena’s whims is killing me. Regardless of which side he fights for, he’s always been a beautiful, lively, crafty, witty man. He’s easy to root for because he’s almost larger than life, because he has complexity and intelligence and vitality. And now he’s been brought so low, and that eternally-entrancing spark in his eyes is gone. While his posture usually reflects his self-confidence, now his back is bent and his shoulders are hunched. Zelena has taken an uncannily bright man and destroyed him. I need somebody, anybody, to rescue him, because the worst part is, nobody can even be there for him because Zelena makes him dangerous. It’s all or nothing, and the nothing he has right now scares me.

—His powers of future sight are terribly inconsistent. Which is easily explained by the difficulty of interpreting the future, but still—how did he not see this coming?

—Regina’s method of training Emma is rather amusing. Also the fact that Emma just had to be extra in her use of magic.

—Poor Snow. She has not only a stubborn husband, but also a stubborn daughter, teaming up to try and build a crib. That baby will be safer sleeping on a table *jk* *don’t leave babies on tables*

—This entire town needs to schedule family therapy sessions with Archie. Sister-to-sister, couples, stepdaughter-to-stepmom, and Henry can have a great-uncle to great-nephew chat with himself. Really, though, these people might consider having conversations instead of internalizing everything and becoming evil. Just a thought.

[universestreasures]

@blasterdiablo​​ Sent: An 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 Sentence Starter (Accepting!)

❝  i  mean  it  was  nice  on  the  hanger,  but  it  looks  even  better  on  you.  ❞ [@ Misaki Broken verseee

The Queen of Heart’s unbirthday. 

Arguably the most important holiday in the Wonderland calendar, and one Kai had been spending weeks preparing for. Not that she herself was keen on celebrating it. It was a day that used to hold happy memories for her, but they weren’t the same without all of her loved ones to celebrate it with her. Her mother, her father, her uncle, Ren...all of them were gone from her life in one way or another, whether taken from her by humans clad in blue, by unknown reasons, or by madness that came with taking one’s assigned role. The celebration didn’t feel the same without them there, so why should she even care?

Though, this years celebration was...different than the years before. Kai had been there when she woke up, giving her the special unbirthday breakfast she used to enjoy when she was younger but remained once again untouched aside from a few bites of jelly toast and some black coffee. It was only after breakfast that he suddenly...left her side, leaving a card guard to escort her through the schedule for the day until he comes back from whatever the urgent thing he needed to do was. 

The entire thing was odd. Was he planning some kind of unbirthday surprise? Like how her parents and Uncle Shin used to? She didn’t know, but as the day went on she couldn’t help but start to feel...worried. It was an emotion she had not felt in so long. Why would she need to when Kai and Miwa took care of everything for her? But with things being so...uncertain at this moment, with the day getting closer and closer to shifting until the night, she couldn’t help but feel such a thing strongly. 

And she wasn’t taking it well.

It was on display throughout the day, but especially apparent during her fitting with the Mad Hatter.  Normally she stood still and quiet during these, like a mannequin or a doll. However, her usually cold body started to get warmer, her body was sweating, and she was irritated by the the lace of the pair of gloves he had made for her. The entire thing was overwhelming, not surprising since her heart had been closed off and cold for so many years now. 

❝  i  mean  it  was  nice  on  the  hanger,  but  it  looks  even  better  on  you.  ❞

The voice of the Hatter draws Misaki’s attention away from her irritation, shifting her gaze from the broken clock in the room towards him. He had gone on with his fitting like nothing was wrong, despite the fact something was obviously wrong! If Kai or Miwa were here, they’d surely notice. They always noticed how she was feeling, even without words needing to be spoken. And without them here, without their support, that loneliness she’s long since feared would consume her starts to as she is forced to rely on herself to fix things. Guess it was time for her to start acting like a queen, then.  

“Knock it off...” Her voice is low, but the power behind it made up for the low volume. Hands move to grip at the ends of the laced gloves, Misaki showing no restraint as she uses all her might to tear them off of her body. The queen showed no care for the work he put into the clothing with her display, despite the beauty of the clothes themselves. She just wanted it off and wanted it off fast, her instincts driving her to be the complete opposite of what her usual demeaner was: to be big and loud so that others will listen. 

Seems like the day had come...where her destiny was to finally take it’s grip on her, the very thing Kai’s efforts had been delaying this entire time in an effort to keep her stable...

And there was no turning back this clock...no matter how hard the White Rabbit may try...

“I SAID KNOCK IT OFF! I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!”

The ground shakes at her words, Misaki releasing a red wave of energy from the center of her heart that rips some of the fabric off of her and then shoots throughout Wonderland to be seen by all. Dull red roses that covered the castle garden suddenly became much more vibrant, along with every single other red object in the land. Color had returned for the first time in ages, a sign the citizens might take as that things were finally shifting towards returning to normal after years of stagnation. Little did they know that the changes were only just beginning, for both them and the Queen of Hearts.

The young woman now clad in a torn dress due to her power breathes heavily, sweat dripping down her face as a hand is placed over her heart.  For the first time in ages, she takes notice of her heartbeat. It was moving, painfully so, but still moving strong. And it felt...felt odd...

“What...What is this...This feeling...” She speaks, but more to herself than to the other in the room. Her gaze then shifts to the other human, her expression twisting from one of confusion to one of angered desperation. “Answer me, Hatter! What’s...What’s happening to me?! Why does...Why does my chest...hurt so much? And where is...”

Water soon forms in her eyes, another display that had been absent from the Queen since the early days after the incident. Legs buckle beneath her as she drops to the ground in the center of the Hatter’s workshop. She...She was breaking like glass when too much pressure was being placed on it, but...just how much could she take? 

“And where is Kai?! Where is my rabbit?! Why...Why isn’t here here?! When...When I need him!”

~

[sadnesslaughs]

"Do I look like the kind of person who can be reasoned with?" "….Yes?"

(A response to a writing prompt)

The pair sat exhausted, two bloody warriors on their last legs after a clash of flesh and beliefs. While their bodies were in tatters, their spirits remained, still powering through the pain as they eyed each other off. Their backs resting against whatever piece of wall they could prop themselves against. Grant smirked, the hero always smirking, even when he knew the weight of the situation he was in. The pair were both sealed away in the villain’s bunker, safe from the destruction the villain would cause to the outside world.

“They said you were getting old,” Grant said, trying to force out a laugh. His hand cupping his bruised jaw, feeling some sort of fracture along his jawline. “Didn’t know you could still throw a punch like that. Still, think this one ended in a draw. How about calling off that bomb? As a show of fair play?”

“And they said you retired. Yet, here you are, as always.” William could force his laugh, resting his head against the wall, letting those thin white hairs touch it. “Villains don’t do draws. Do I look like the type of person who can be reasoned with?”

“Yes?”

“You’re serious, aren’t you? Have you known many villains to change their minds? My impending death won’t make me soft.” Determined to show his strength, William went to stand, only for Grant to scoot forward, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. Grant’s gaze went to the wound on the man’s stomach, silently letting him know that standing would worsen his condition. As William settled into the spot again, Grant spoke.

“Villains? No. Most villains are stubborn to the point of their own demise. I don’t see you as a villain, though. I don’t mean that in the typical heroic way of everyone can be redeemed. I just don’t see you as an evil guy.” Grant continued to smirk, furthering the frustrations of the villain.

“You don’t see the guy that’s planning on bombing a city as a villain?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Shit, how do I say it? Shit, pardon my swearing. Pardon it again. I think I’m really on my last legs here.” Grant eyes fluttered, begging for sleep and still he persisted, clenching his gloved hand into a fist, trying to hold on to his last bit of life.

“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.” William shrugged, turning his head against the wall, staring at the hero. Grant was struggling to hold on. William was sure he had struck one of his vitals. His attacks were usually so precise. He hadn’t expected him to last ten minutes, let alone survive the time they were spending now.

“Heh.. That’s actually funny. It’s weird. You just don’t seem like the worst type of villain. Sure, you’re going to drop a bomb, but you also gave a good amount of warning. How long did you give them? A week? So, plenty of time for people to move without that fear of roads getting congested. A typical villain doesn’t do that. You wanted your needs to be met without conflict. Instead of our side looking for a peaceful resolution, they sent me. Now a city falls because of that. Both sides aren’t innocent in this.”

“Only someone psychotic would threaten a person without a reason. Yes, I hoped things would go differently. I wanted that money.”

“For what?”

“I hadn’t decided. There’s so many things wrong with this world, I wasn’t sure which to devote my time to. Food, disease, housing, the environment and everything else. Where do you even start?”

“No clue. I’ve never been a smart guy, that’s why they send me to punch things. I wish I had been. Some days, I would have loved to make a real difference. It’s not satisfying hurting people. It’s never been my nature, just something I was good at.” Grant lowered his head, closing his eyes.

“HEY. You haven’t convinced me yet. Wake up.” William snapped, pulling Grant back into the conversation. “I doubt it means much, but I’ve never considered you to be stupid. Intelligence isn’t only about research and theory. You’re more tuned into the world than most. I respect that about you. You’re one of the few I respect, Fair Fight-“

“Grant. Grant Turner. No point for dying men to have a secret identity, right? And you’re William, right?” Grant couldn’t gesture with his hand, instead, it firmly rested against his wound, sticking to the spot.

“William Reazna. Yes. Suppose I do cancel that bomb of mine. Then what? What do I do then?”

“What you planned to do. You help people. You won’t have cash. But you’ll have your life.” His sentences getting shorter, struggling to push out anything longer, those sharp breaths pushing the last flickers of life forward.

“What good is a city in ruins? I’ll stop it. There��s an override switch. I’ll activate it.” He slipped a hand into his green coat, pulling out a remote. When he pushed a button, a small tile on the wall flipped over, revealing a red button. “I kept it hidden, didn’t want it getting bumped in our fight.” William went to stand, only to watch as Grant forced himself to his feet. His back squished against the wall, using it to help drag himself up.

“I’ll do it.” Grant said, digging around in his pocket, grabbing a small sealed off tube, similar to toothpaste. He tossed it at William and walked towards the button. With each step, he kept himself leaned against the wall, using it for support.

“You had this the entire time? Why didn’t you use it on yourself? You insane, heroic idiot.” William stared at the thin cap on the tube, not taking it off yet. “Sit down, I’ll apply it to you.”

“If you stand. Die. Wound. Too. Open. I’m gone. You might live.” Everything was getting harder for Grant. His expression glazed. When he reached the button, he slammed his hand into it before collapsing face down onto the floor. Even in that moment of lifelessness. He still smirked.

“Grant? GRANT. Shit. Now you’ve got me cursing.” William opened the tube, pushing the gel out of it. The warm gel burning his fingers as he rubbed it over the wound. The sensation burned as the gel warmed, solidifying into a temporary seal. Not enough to heal the damage, but enough to keep him held together until he could find help. William steadied himself against the wall as he stood, looking at the deceased hero beside him.

“I don’t know what possessed you to make this move. Had you killed me, you probably would have been able to stop this without my help. So, why risk everything to spare me? Did you know something I didn’t, or are you too stupidly heroic for your own good? Shit, thank you, Grant. No one else would have given me a chance for redemption. I’ll collect your body when I have the strength to carry us both out of here.” He promised, bowing his head. Saying a small prayer for the corpse before making his way out of the bunker.