#i think he probably could also do it to EB

[silverskye13]

I need you to know that I've been rotating your doodles of the boys in my head and all I can think abt is tanguish using Helsknight as like a stool or smth to get to a higher place that has no convenient thingys to grab under it

I'm personally thriving on the idea of Tanguish doing what my cat does, which is, now that he's aware he can climb Helsknight like a tree and the knight won't fall over, he does it at random times without warning. Helsknight is standing close enough to a high place Tanguish wants to get to? Steppy-steppy-scrabble-scrabble-skadoodle, you are a ladder now.

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[thewertsearch]

AG: I used to really like him and always wanted to help him get stronger, so that he might stand a fucking chance to actually make it on our world.

It's honestly tragic. You probably did like him initially - but, as a consequence of your worldview, your genuine attempts to make him stronger were warped into abuse. He was never going to internalize your lessons, because the manner in which you were delivering then were far too cruel to be effective.

AG: 8ut he was just soooooooo weak and indecisive. He wouldn't change!

Due to her cruelty, Vriska completely failed to impart the lessons that she was trying to - and, of course, she blames Tavros, for refusing to be bullied into changing.

The more he 'failed' her tests, the angrier she got. The angrier she got, the more deliberate her abuse became.

Until the cruelty was the point.

AG: And when he tried to change, it was too little and too l8. Always l8. L8ey L8ey L88888888. AG: Too l8 to kiss me. AG: Too l8 to kill me. AG: He couldn't do it when I really needed him to. So when I saw he was actually serious a8out trying to kill me now of all times… AG: I just got SO AAAAAAAANGRY.

Anyone with a brain could tell you Tavros isn't a killer. He's a gentle troll, and cold-blooded murder would traumatize him.

So Vriska trapped him in a situation where not murdering her would also traumatize him, and got angry when he chose the wrong trauma. This scenario was unwinnable by design, just like their last FLARP game.

Don’t kid yourself, Vriska. You were screwing Tavros around until the end.

AG: I know our races are completely different. And I really h8 the idea of you thinking worse of me 8ecause of this. AG: 8ut I don't have anyone else to talk to a8out it!

Holy hell, Vriska’s really going through it.

The worst part is, John is the only confidant she has. She's incredibly lucky he's as easygoing as he is.

EB: i bet karkat would listen. EB: or what about terezi? she's pretty nice, isn't she? […] AG: For one thing, they would pro8a8ly just 8e pissed off at me for killing Tavros. AG: And more importantly, there's no waaaaaaaay I could tell them how I really feel a8out it.

I think I'm starting to understand why Vriska's begun to change.

So far, Vriska's life has been very simple. She killed because she had to, and she's convinced herself that it's the only correct way to live. A brutal life makes you strong, after all, and a peaceful life is a burden.

Alternian culture validates this worldview, as every troll is expected to take part in the Empire's conquests. Her nation wouldn't want her to stop killing - it'd just want her to switch targets. According to the world around her, Vriska's way of life is correct. She's never been meaningfully challenged on her beliefs.

Until today.

Today, Vriska has been confronted by a species who don't want to kill. A species seemingly populated by wimps like Tavros, who all watch ridiculous movies and believe in lame nonsense like friendship.

A species of weaklings, who weren't blessed with an upbringing as violent as hers.

And a species that succeeds anyway.

I think humanity, and John in particular, have called into question some of the most fundamental truths of Vriska's existence.

And something inside her has just said ‘w8 a second........’

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

One Big Family

Team Free Will 2.0 & Winchester little sister!reader, John Winchester & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

It was impossible, crazy, ridiculous.

But it was also happening. After over twelve years, the Winchesters finally got to see their father again.

It wasn’t what Dean had meant to wish for, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, especially not now, with what was happening in front of him.

You, his twelve year old little sister, were basically meeting your father for the first time. You were mere months old when he died, so you knew him from pictures only.

After everything had been explained to John, his first request had been to re-meet you. Sam had gone to your room to explain what was going on, and when he returned Dean and John watched as you shuffled along behind Sam, his jacket gripped in your small fists as you hid behind him.

“That’s her?” John breathed, and Dean turned in surprise to see tears welling up in John’s eyes. “She…she’s so big.”

“It’s ok,” Sam whispered to you, trying to coax you out from behind him. You peeked around him to see John getting down on one knee to be less intimidating.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted with a wide smile, and between his soft eyes and the way he said “sweetheart”—just the way Dean said it—you felt your shyness ebbing slightly as you stepped out from behind Sam’s legs.

“Hi,” you mumbled shyly, shuffling your feet as you approached John.

John reached his arms up slowly, hesitantly, as if waiting for your approval. You, never one to turn down a hug, gave it readily and melted into your father’s arms.

Dean had never seen his father smile like he did as he held you in his arms.

“It’s good to see you,” John said quietly as he pulled away. You didn’t seem to know what to say, so Sam spoke up.

“Honey, how about you show him your room?”

You lit up with excitement, snatching up John’s giant hand in your small one and practically dragging him towards your room.

“Ok, ok,” John laughed. “I’m coming!”

“I guess she’s warming up to him,” Sam chuckled to Dean after you disappeared with John in tow.

“We should probably join them,” Dean said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

…

“Wow.” John laughed. “You’ve gotta lot of toys in here.”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Daddy bought me most of them, he’s really—“ you trailed off when you saw the look of shock on John’s face.

Sam and Dean entered your room before John could ask what you meant, and as soon as they came in you ran to Sam, suddenly shy again in John’s presence. You didn’t know how he would feel when he found out about the angel that was like a third dad to you.

“Hey, something wrong?” Sam glanced between you and John.

“Um, no,” John spoke up, recovering from his shock. “We were just catching up. Dean, can I talk to you?”

Dean nodded, and he and John stepped out of your room.

…

“Kid, did something happen?” Sam asked gently.

“I—um, I mentioned daddy,” you mumbled, staring at your shoes.

“Hey,” Sam coaxed, kneeling down to meet your gaze. “He’s not gonna be mad, ok? He’ll understand, you didn’t do anything.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with more assurance than he felt.

…

“What happened?” Dean questioned.

“It’s nothing, just…” John cleared his throat, and Dean had never seen him so hesitant. “I just wanted to know…does she call you two her dads?”

The question threw Dean a little.

“I…”

“Look, I get it,” John cut in. “She hasn’t seen me since she was a baby, it makes sense. She just, she mentioned ‘daddy’ and I…I was curious.”

Dean nearly cringed, but he kept his face in check. ‘Daddy’ was your moniker for Cas, and Dean wasn’t too sure how his father would react to the knowledge of angels.

“That’s a really long story,” Dean sighed. “I think maybe we should all talk about it.”

…

“So…angels,” John said quietly about an hour later. “And…the apocalypse?”

“Yeah, more than one,” Dean scoffed.

“And an angel, and the son of Lucifer are living with you,” John added.

“Jack,” you corrected with a smile. “He’s my big brother,” you added proudly. With the less-than-welcome greeting Jack had gotten when he entered the world, you had taken it upon yourself to make him family, and even though you were technically eleven years older than him, he always felt like a big brother to you.

“I see,” John said, smiling softly at you. “You three have been busy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sam said.

…

The four of you spent all day together, and John did all he could to get to know you.

You hit it off well with him, rambling non-stop about everything he’d missed, and he listened with wrapt attention.

You got to experience a lot of firsts with John—he gave you a piggyback ride, you had a pillow fight, and to cap it all off, the whole family sat down for one last meal. But all too soon, it was time to say goodbye.

The moment the boys found out that John had to go, they decided that you shouldn’t be around when it happened. So, at the end of the night that had ended way too soon, John pulled you into his arms for a final goodbye.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” he said with finality. “These three dads you got here are raising you right, so you listen to them, ok?”

“Ok,” you promised through your tears.

“Hey,” John pulled back, framing your face with his large hands and using the pads of his thumbs to brush away your tears. “It’s ok, sweetheart. We got this day to remember, yeah? That’ll have to be enough for us.”

You nodded, leaning forward for one last hug. John reciprocated, squeezing you tightly.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” John breathed. Just as he was about to pull away, you stopped him with a tug on his arm and a gentle whisper in his ear. At your words, he smiled and picked you up, and Sam and Dean trailed behind as John carried you into your room…

Where John Winchester got to tuck his little girl into bed for the first time, kissing her head and wishing her goodnight. He closed the door with great hesitation, giving you one final, longing glance before shutting off the light and closing your door.

“You’ve got a good kid in there,” John said to his sons, no longer able to hold back the tears.

“Thanks, dad,” Dean smiled.

“You tell that angel friend of yours thanks for me, ok?”

…

You awoke the next morning to a quiet bunker.

“Daddy?” You began. “Are you back yet?”

With a flutter of wings, Castiel stood in front of you.

“Hello little one,” he greeted with a smile. “Yes, I got back last night after you fell asleep.” Cas grinned when you launched yourself into his arms. “I’ve heard you had quite the eventful day.”

You recounted every moment of the previous day with your father, and Castiel watched with a patient smile, glad that you got to meet John, even if just for a day.

“Well, after such an exciting day I’d say you need a lot more sleep,” Castiel said with a frown when he noticed the early hour.

“Can you tuck me in?” You asked shyly.

He smiled, “Of course little one.”

“You’re awake.”

The two of you turned at the sound of Jack’s voice in the doorway.

“I’m putting her back to sleep,” Castiel informed him.

“I wanna say hi to Jack first!” You insisted, jumping out of bed and running to hug Jack. He laughed and hugged you back tightly, before lifting you in his arms and carrying you to bed.

“Castiel is right, it’s far too early for you to be up, little sister. Get some rest.” He set you down gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead, an action mirrored by Cas.

“Sleep tight, little one.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

[rhiannonsknife]

── ౿🩸DATING RHIANNON LEWIS

— summary: dating rhiannon lewis hcs.

— warnings: fem!reader. established relationship. canon-typical violence. some fluff. and when i say ‘some’, i mean the first point. after that, things went downhill. nsfw content. mdni. knife play. spanking. i didn’t beta read.

only finding out that you‘ve pulled a literal serial killer when your girlfriend comes home covered in blood.

sure, you‘ve had your suspicions that rhiannon was hiding something before: you would occasionally hear her leaving the house late at night whereas she would later claim she went on a walk with tink (who walks their dog at the crack of dawn??) and you sometimes catch a glimpse of bruises when rhiannon comes out of the shower wrapped in nothing but a towel. but she would always come up with excuses for these as well. so realization only really dawns upon you when you get off work early one day, ready to curl up on the couch with some of rhiannon’s ice cream while you wait for your girlfriend to come home. when she does come home shorty after, she’s covered in blood (or dragging a body down the hall, thinking she’s got the house to herself). the prolonged eye contact when she notices you sitting on her couch, the spoon sliding from your grip and clattering down onto the hardwood floor…awkward.

being the only exception on her kill lists!!

rhiannon’s kill lists would make anyone uneasy. except that, for you, it’s oddly endearing because she considers you her only exception once you get to know each other and start dating. she shields you from her darkest thoughts, and despite her usual disdain for people, she’d genuinely want to keep you close. if anyone ever crossed you, though…not only would they immediately make it onto her long list of people to murder, rhiannon would instantly start plotting her next kill. it’s how she shows her love <33 she would definitely have unique love languages guys!! instead of overly affectionate stuff, she probably tends to keep an eye on the people around you to make sure no one ever wrongs you. if someone does, she would obviously try to offer comfort, but her solution would probably be a) unconventional, and b) rather blunt: “want me to kill them for you?“, “i could make their life miserable, y’know?”

taking care of her after a particularly rough night.

do you endorse murder? not exactly, no. but rhiannon has convinced you that all of her victims genuinely deserved it and you know better than to question your girlfriend. what she does out there, you’ve decided, is none of your business. that only changes when she returns back home from her killing sprees: that’s when you���ll help her change her clothes, or run her a hot bath to wash off the dried blood from her bare skin! taking a bath with rhiannon and kissing her bruised knuckles one by one to soothe the ache <33 washing her hair for her, massaging her scalp and her burning muscles in the hot water of the bathtub <33 having her lean against you until it gets too cold to stay in there <333

taking care of her after a particularly rough night.

while she appreciates these loving gestures, it isn’t always what rhiannon needs. sometimes, to be taken care of isn’t what she craves. sometimes, when the adrenaline has not yet ebbed and she comes home in blood that’s still wet and warm to the touch, what rhiannon needs is to take you. in this disheveled state, she will come bursting through the door, stripping out of her clothes the second it falls shut behind her. seeing that you’ve waited for her to come home on the couch, she will snap at you to get on all fours for her, her fingers already unbuckling her belt as she speaks. also: rhiannon who wears the strap when she’s out killing people so she can get down to business right away once she’s back home <33

rhiannon, who doesn’t necessarily needs your touch or for you to make her feel good. the sight of you getting fucked is enough to get her off too.

she’s not opposed to the idea of using you for her own pleasure occasionally. it’s quite the opposite, actually: she loves how eager you are for this, often asking her to use you. but the point is that she doesn’t need that to feel satisfied: watching you work for it, bouncing on her strap whilst she’s still covered in blood or begging for her touch whilst you kneel before her, sucking on her fingers, is more than enough for rhiannon.

rhiannon who fucks you from behind in front of a mirror so she can see your eyes roll back whilst also looking at the reminders of her previous kill.

the blood is smeared all over her as she pounds into you from behind: it’s dribbling down her chest, trailing down the valley between her exposed breasts -she has taken just enough time to unbutton her shirt for you. so you have something to look at, she’d claimed with a grin. you’re not complaining now that you can watch them move with every deep thrust of her hips. there’s blood on your body too. a crimson handprint on each of your ass cheeks. a trail up your spine. rhiannon is making sure you’re marked up in the evidence of her actions. “look at me” she orders sharply as your head falls into the pillows to stifle your cries. when you don’t immediately obey, her fingers tighten in your hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look up by tugging on it. “look at me” rhiannon repeats, moaning as if she could actually feel your pussy clench around the silicone cock. her eyes roll back in the reflection as she looks at the mess she’s made of you, a reminder of the thrill of her murders and the fact that you’re so willingly hers in spite of that. she cums untouched at the realization.

she loves to worship your body.

rhiannon loves to do this when she’s not caught up in the adrenaline rush and actually has time to fuck you good. that’s when she’ll make you strip for her or use her beloved knife to tear the clothes off of you.

okay pause because i need to get into that for a second: rhiannon, who tears your clothes apart with her knife.

she lies you down beneath her, on a night where you’ve got all the time in the world, and reaches for the knife she always carries around with her. it’s slightly unsettling, but you trust her. “tell me to stop and i will” rhiannon murmurs against the back of your neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. she snickers softly when she notices, her fingers running up and down your sides first. then, suddenly, there’s the sharp, cold sensation of the blade against your bare back. you inhale sharply and rhiannon soothes you. “shh” she whispers and you can feel her lips curl into a smile against your skin. “let me have this” and then she’s cutting through the fabric of your shirt smoothly, tearing it off of your bare body once she’s done, before tracing the shape of your outline with the blunt side of her blade. she’s committing every detail of you to memory, following every curve and dip of the body she loves most with the same weapon she normally uses to take lives.

anyway, back to what i was saying. rhiannon worshipping your body.

she adores your body and she will use every chance she can get to remind you of it. once she has you naked beneath herself, there’s no stopping her. she will cover you in kisses, tasting every inch of skin her mouth can reach, licking up the side of your neck before whispering: “gonna fuck you so good” into your ear. and, god, she does: rhiannon who fucks you deep when she’s got the time to!! holding one of your thighs up while her mouth is sucking marks to your pulse point and her hips are grinding in a slow but steady rhythm, stretching you out around her and reaching in so deep.

rhiannon, who moans when she’s literally just finger fucking you.

her jaw goes slack when she first sinks two of her fingers into your wetness, her lips parting against your own so she’s panting right into your mouth. rhiannon’s lashes flutter when she pulls her fingers back, her eyes watching you closely as she pumps them back into you again and again. her face is mirroring your own: mouth agape, brows drawn together in pleasure, eyes hazy with lust. the little ‘uh, uh, uh’ sounds she makes with every single thrust….

she gets rougher in bed after longer periods of time without killing anyone.

she’s claiming to be fine when you go on longer vacations with her but clearly she isn’t. she can’t even enjoy the scenery or all the activities you suggest without feeling the tension of not having the weight of her knife in her pocket. all this pent-up tension leads to her becoming increasingly frustrated and rougher when she’s fucking you. it’s not like you mind it, much, but it’s still a noticeable change: she’ll push you more frequently, fucking you into a state of overstimulation where you literally can’t walk properly for days. her hands are much more aggressive as they tear off your clothes or land hard smacks on your ass that make you cry out in the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. she fucks herself into exhaustion, either by having you on her cock in various positions or by using you for so long she’s a babbling, breathless mess near the end of the night.

rhiannon, who tells you to shut up.

as much as you both enjoy hearing the other during sex, sometimes it’s just not what rhiannon needs (specifically when she’s using you for her pleasure). when she’s sitting on your face or grinding against your thigh, she doesn’t need you to tell her how hot she is, she doesn’t need your words of encouragement or praise. she needs you to shut up and take it. “fucking shut up, will you?” she hisses, pinning your wrists down above your head, her lips lingering above yours as she humps your thigh. “shut up and take it”

— i might add more to this or write a part 2 if anyone wants to hear more of my horny rhiannon thoughts <3

[alphajocklover]

just wanted to say that Uncle story you made was really good... Any chance for a part 2?

Hey everyone. I wanted to thank you all for your kind words concerning my Uncle John. After I shared what had happened to him and how I got into TF reporting, I got a lot of supportive messages (along with the regular ones that seem to think this is some sort of… kink blog? What even is that?). Because of how kind you’ve been, I thought I should update you on how everything is going. I’m sorry to say there isn’t much to update you on though. I have a good idea as to who transformed my uncle, which I’ll probably expand upon in another post (I keep saying that, I know, but I will), but what I don’t know is where he is. I haven’t got a clue where he is at the moment, but luckily I’m not the only one searching for him.

The Douchebag Revolution has been keeping an eye out for him for one. Since I help them out sometimes they’ve been helping me. They can be surprisingly nice at times, and they’re pretty sympathetic to people who have been transformed against their will, since they all were at some point. They also seem to have somehow gotten the idea that Uncle John was straight before he got transformed, but since that seems to motivate them more I haven’t corrected them.

I have members of other groups I’ve mentioned helping me too. I won’t name names, since they could get fired (or transformed), but I do have some connections at EB Jewelry, despite the company's anti-journalist policy. They’re the reason I was actually able to get some information on the company in the first place, and they’ve been using some of their connections within the company to help look for my Uncle. They haven’t found much yet, though it's because of them I can safely say that EB Jewelry isn’t involved in what happened.

Then of course there are the other TF Reporters who help, a few personal friends of my Uncle, and… Nick. My Uncles literally devilish friend, Nick. Honestly, he’s been looking harder than anyone, and I think I know why. I’ve always referred to Nick as my Uncle’s devil friend, and that's how he introduced himself to me, but… from what I’ve noticed, they were actually closer than that. It was the little things that gave it away. The look in Nick's eyes when he talks about my uncle, both fond and painful, the way he seems more desperate to find him than I do, how protective he’s been of me since my Uncle disappeared. I think he and my Uncle John were seriously involved, for quite a long time.

It’s kind of weird to realize your Uncle is, or at least was, in a long term relationship with a devil, but no matter the reason, I’m glad he's here. I don’t know If I could do all this without Nick's help. He’s half the reason I haven't been turned into a dumb hunk myself. I do worry sometimes that this is starting to get to him. Whoever transformed Uncle John has been sending… pictures, recently. He’s always transformed in a different way and with a different look, but I can just tell it’s him. They’re showing him off like some sort of trophy, using him to mock us. Nick never says anything but it’s killing him seeing my Uncle that way, I can tell.

This whole thing is my fault. I was the reason my Uncle got changed. I have to get him back. I know whoever took him is reading this post. I know you’re powerful, powerful enough that time travel, demons and capitalist don’t want to fight you. But I’m not afraid of you. I know who you are, and I’m giving you a fair warning: I’m coming for you, and I’m getting him back. No matter what.

**I’ve been meaning to do a sequel to the ‘My Uncle’ story for a while. I love big lore stories. I need to introduce the big bad soon, but there so much other stuff to write too so it might still be a bit. Hope you love this story and hope you guys can wait!**

[wardenparker]

Hi it’s me again 🥹

Could I also pleeeeeease request my grump baby daddy Javier Peña with “should we make it official” ? 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Javier Peña. 3,017 words. "Should we make it official?" Co-written with @absurdthirst

Established relationship. Pregnancy. Lying to friends to hide a relationship. Revelations. Talk of marriage. Committed with a capital 'c'. Alcohol/food. Cursing.

“Are we sure we’re doing this?”

Javier turns to look at you just outside the Murphy’s apartment door, eyebrow raised at the slight panic in your tone. You are normally the calm one of the two of you. This….this has you rattled and Javi surprisingly calm. He glances back at the unopened door and then shrugs. “We can always blow off the dinner Connie has spent hours making.” He tells you, knowing you would feel guilty if that happened.

“Noooo.” Your face scrunches into a sulking pout for a second, knowing that you would never do that to your friend. But there is still enough fear in your system to wonder if you’re making yourself sick with anxiety or if the morning sickness is coming in the evening now. “People are going to start to notice pretty soon…they really should be the first people we tell.”

“They should.” He’s thought that for some time, but it’s honestly more fun to fuck with Steve this way. “Should we make it official?” He asks, hand raised and ready to knock.

“It’s probably about time,” you admit with a laugh. It’s been sneaking and secrets and bickering at each other at the office for almost as long as you’ve worked together, but it’s time to come clean.

“Make sure to look annoyed at me.” Javi shoots you a wink before he raps on the door. “You know what that does to me.”

“That’s how I ended up like this in the first place,” you tease, smothering a laugh as he knocks on the Murphy’s door.

Javi’s grin is quick to drop into a scowl when he hears the footsteps come towards the door. It’s been interesting, fun, convincing Murphy that he couldn’t stand you. The entire office believed that Javier Peña had finally met a woman he didn’t want to fuck – obviously not the truth – and that would be revealed tonight.

Steve pulls open the front door to the apartment he shares with his wife and their adopted little girl with a bright smile on his face and Olivia in this arms. “Nice of you two to not kill each other on the doorstep,” he jokes, surveying your scowling faces.

Javi scoffs slightly, rolling his eyes. “Just let us in, asshole.” He grumbles. “Or you’ll have to witness it.”

“Connie Murphy, love of my life.” Nudging past Steve, you find Connie bustling happily in her kitchen and wrap your arms around the other woman for a tight hug.

Javi greets Steve, chucking Olivia on the chin and suppressing his grin when she squeals happily at him. He hadn't encouraged the Murphy's to adopt her, but she was a cute kid, growing on him and the guilt of her mom's death is slowly ebbing. "So dinner, huh? You can't get enough of us at the office?"

“Connie thought it would be a nice thing to do,” he shrugs, glancing back over his shoulder toward the kitchen before he and Javi start to stroll back into the apartment. “Me? I get enough of the bitching on a daily basis.”

"How would you know we are still alive if we weren't bitching?" He snorts, winking at Olivia as she watches him from over her father's shoulder. She gives him a slobbery grin and he chuckles when she flutters her lashes at him. She's not even one and she's already a flirt.

“You might try being nice to another human once in a while,” Steve points out, though he knows better than to think Javi will take the suggestion seriously.

“I’m nice.” Javi grunts, frowning slightly. Walking into the kitchen, he spots you and his frown deepens, wondering why you are looking a little green.

“If you’re nice then I’m Princess Di,” you drawl, shifting past the boys carefully so you don’t brush Steve with your bump. Connie had offered you a beer and opened one for herself, and you need to get away from the smell. “I’m going to go powder my nose.”

There’s a beer in your hand and he’s instantly aware of why you look sick. Reaching out, he plucks the beer from your hand. “Thanks.” He chuckles. “Don’t think you should be drinking tonight.” He huffs. “You get all pissy.”

Not feeling well enough too banter with him, you just throw Javi a characteristic scowl and continue on to the bathroom. You’ll thank him for grabbing the bottle later.

Steve shakes his head and throws a pout towards his wife. “Why do I have to put up with this shit tonight?” He whines, making Javi smirk as he tilts the bottle back and drains it quickly. “How about some whiskey?” He asks, knowing the smell of that doesn’t affect you.

“Always after the good stuff.” Steve chuckles but grabs down three glasses. Connie isn’t partial to whiskey so he knows she’ll stick to beer. “You have a good weekend, Jav? Considering we actually had one this time?”

“It’s good.” It’s dealing with a sick lady and working through the very real anxiety that has gripped both of you, but that can be admitted to later on. “Don’t pour that pain in the ass a drink.” Javi snorts. “Otherwise she’ll be busting on my ass all night.”

“What if you deserve it?” Steve counters, lips curved in a smirk.

He shoots Steve a sour look and watches as he pours three drinks, knowing he will be downing the third as well.

“Did you guys piss her off already?” Connie huffs playfully at both men when she moves through from the kitchen to the dining room table with a large pot in her hands. “Steve honey, will you put Olivia in her highchair and grab the plates?”

“She’s just naturally pissy.” Javi snorts, taking the drinks from Steve when he’s distracted and drinking one, setting the glass down and bringing the other two into the dining area.

“So what’s for dinner?” Thankfully, your morning sickness — a misnomer since you usually get it in the middle of the night and now in the evening — and other food related sickness seems to dissipate quickly after you’ve actually thrown up. You can stroll back into the dining room with no one any the wiser now that you’ve started stashing a toothbrush and toothpaste in your purse.

Steve missed the way you nod at Javi, assuring him you’re alright and he frowns to cover up his worry. Scoffing, he sets the whiskeys down on the table. “Anything should be better than your cooking.” He huffs. The one time you had him and Murphy over to your apartment, you had burned the store-bought lasagna.

“I never claimed to be a chef.” He will never let you live that lasagna down. Although now the two of you laugh about it. “That’s Connie’s realm.”

“Can you two stop clawing at each other for one damn night?” Steve shakes his head and huffs as he pulls the cigarette from behind his ear.

“I mean…” Glancing over at Javi with mischief in your eyes, you shrug at Steve. “If you’re gonna be cranky about it, I guess we might manage to be a little friendlier.”

Javi chuckles as Steve narrows his eyes in confusion. “You two better not start shit tonight.” He warns, pointing between the two of you. “I’m ready to turn you over to Escobar myself for the reward.”

“Come on, Peña.��� Rolling your eyes for show, you beckon Javi toward you and hold out your hand for a performative truce. “Murphy doesn’t want any trouble tonight.” When Javi steps forward to make a grand show of shaking your hand you tug him in, practically grinning when you lean forward and press your lips to his.

The groan of your lover covers the choked sound of surprise from Murphy, one that Javi would ignore anyway as he curls you closer into his arms and deepens the kiss.

“What the hell?” Connie had walked back into the room with forks in her hand, but promptly drops them on the floor in a clattering shock.

Javier smiles against your mouth, taking his time to kiss you and his hand cups your cheek tenderly before he pulls back and gives you another soft kiss before turning back to Steve. “Is that better?” He asks with a smirk. “All friends now.”

“What the fuck was that?!” A gob smacked pair of Murphys is just standing there staring at you, and the nonchalant expressions on your and Javier’s faces isn’t helping at all.

“You said you wanted us to be friendlier to each other.” Friendliness had nothing to do with the way Javi’s arm stays around your back, protective as it rests on your body.

“We’re just trying to be good friends,” you reason, leaning in and putting your head on Javi’s shoulder.

Connie stares at you two, her mouth open and she shakes her head. “Oh shit.” She gasps out. “You two are sleeping together!”

“What a shocking thing to say.” Even with your voice completely deadpan, you still can’t help but crack a grin. “That’s a mighty big accusation, Mrs. Murphy.”

“Sleep with her?” Javi sneers, even as he jostles you against him slightly. “Why would I do that?”

“Gross.” You agree, nodding once like you’re punctuating a sentence. “Definitely haven’t been doing that at all.”

“Never.” Javi hums, his fingers caressing your back and he twists the shirt you are wearing around his fingers to pull it tight against your stomach.

You can’t really blame Connie for squawking in surprise. It is surprising. Especially because you’ve been religious about your birth control. But things happen, and having made the decision to have this baby has made you and Javi both anxious and giddy in alternation. “Surprise?” You offer, surveying your friend’s pale expression of shock.

Steve’s jaw is on the floor and Javi casually reaches over and taps his chin. “Never seen a pregnant woman before?” He asks, amused by the reactions.

Once Steve swallows, he goes from just surprised to being giddy and surprised. “I have so many questions.”

“Can we eat first?” Javi asks, turning back to you and frowning slightly. “How is your stomach, now?” He questions softly, worry shining in his eyes.

“It’s fine.” The smile you offer him is grateful, and you soothe one hand over your bump in relief. “Beer isn’t going back on the acceptable smells list any time soon.”

He nods and shrugs apologetically. "I'm sorry, cariño." He reaches down to stroke your stomach affectionately. "He'll like beer later."

Once he manages to put his eyes back in their sockets, Steve hustles you over to the table to sit and starts to serve. “I don’t understand,” he admits easily, shaking his head at the two of you. “How long has it been?”

Javi sits down easily beside you and gives you the glass of water he had poured when he had brought the whiskey to the table. "Do you want to answer, or me?"

"It's been about a year and a half." The actual start of things is a little fuzzy, since you and Javi had started out in a friends-with-benefits casual sex to blow off steam scenario, and the feelings had developed over time.

“A fucking year and a half!” Steve sits down rather abruptly and shakes his head. “How the fuck have you been fucking for a year and a half and I didn’t know?”

"Because it's really fun to mess with you," you admit and Javi grins. "It's pretty much our second favorite pastime."

“But you two fight all the time!” He looks over at Connie as if to confirm he’s not crazy. He bitches about the two of you to her often enough and she’s been around you both.

"Aww, c'mon, Murph." When Connie passes you a plate you inhale cautiously, but everything seems to be okay as far as scents go. "You've never heard of couples who bicker as flirting?"

His eyes widen in horror and his nose curls in disgust. “Oh fuck! You two have been flirting and fucking all around me. Where the hell have you— no, I don’t want to know.” He points at the two of you seriously. “You better not have fucked on my desk.”

Now that he mentions it, you actually can't recall whether or not you've ever had sex on Steve's desk. Tilting your head in curiosity at Javi, he reads the question in your furrowed brow and shakes his head, though he does end up laughing. "Apparently not," you assure Steve. "Though we have definitely fucked on my desk."

Steve slumps back into the chair and covers his eyes with his hand. "I can't— fuck, I don't believe it. I just— fuck...."

"Everything's okay, Murph ." If you tried to reassure him that nothing is going to change that would be a complete lie, but at least you can tell him that nothing bad is going to happen. "If anything, I thought you'd be thrilled. Once this is out, less bitching to deal with on a daily basis."

“Not if it’s foreplay for you two assholes.” He grumbles, sliding his hand down his face before looking at the two of you again.

That makes both you and Javi snicker, and even Connie chuckles a little behind a bite of her dinner. “It is, a little,” you admit with a shit-eating grin. “But we promise to leave your desk alone.”

“You better.” He huffs and tilts his head. “How far along are you?”

“Nineteen weeks.” Whatever this crazy pasta dish is that Connie made, it’s seriously hitting the spot, and you fork up another bite. “It’s going to start getting hard to hide soon, so we figured we should start telling people.”

“Next you’re going to tell us you got married.” Connie snorts, shooting you a grin. She’s absolutely thrilled for you, even if it makes her sad that she is not pregnant yet after years of trying.

“Let’s not be crazy.” It isn’t as though the thought hadn’t crossed your mind in the last few months, but you’ve kept it to yourself. The baby is plenty enough change in both of your lives.

“That comes after the baby is born.” Javi tosses out causally as he forks up another bite of his plate and groans in pleasure. It’s been a long time since he’s had pasta this good. Since you’ve been having food aversions, it’s been a lot of eggs and toast.

When the other three of you all stop and stare at him simultaneously, Connie is the first to break. The disbelief on your face says absolutely not before she can even ask her question, but she still poses: “You’ve talked about it?” With only polite and mild surprise.

“Not exactly.” Javi looks up at Connie’s shocked face and shrugs. “But she’s having my kid.” He stresses. “Figured she wouldn’t want to be pregnant getting married.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to get married.” As painful as it is to admit, you really hadn’t expected it. Hope? Sure. But that isn’t the same thing at all.

Javi straightens up from his plate and narrows his eyes slightly. “What made you think that?” He asks, confused to why you would believe that. Sure, there had been many conversations about what to do when you found out you were pregnant, but he had told you he was all in.

“I just…” This really isn’t the time or place you imagined having a full conversation about it, but you swallow and try not to let the enhanced emotions of pregnancy bubble to the surface. “Mainly because we’ve never really talked about it. We’ve barely talked about how we’re going to raise the baby after we catch Escobar and we get reassigned.”

“If we are married, the DEA works to assign agents to the same station.” He knows that you should know this as well. “I just wanted you to focus on your health.” He admits. “You’ve been getting sick a lot. Didn’t want to add more stress to you.”

You’re touched that he’s been trying to keep your stress level down, but you put your hand on his arm and squeeze gently. “You can always talk to me about the important things. Even if I’m not feeling great. That’s the partnership angle of this whole thing. And wanting to get married definitely qualifies as important.”

Javi glances as Connie and Steve, both of them trying not to appear as if they aren’t soaking this up like the newest Telenova. “It won’t change between us, cariño.” He murmurs his eyes turning to you and softening. “We will be like we have been, just two agent Peña’s instead of one.”

“The time we’re changing things is right now.” Your hand inches down his arm, tangling your fingers together and nudging in Connie and Steve’s direction as if he might have forgotten they’re there when he was just looking at them. “We’re not a secret anymore. That’s going to change things. But that’s okay.”

Javi nods and straightens back up, looking towards the other couple again. “Dinner is good, Con.” He compliments, eyes sliding over to Steve. Watching to see what Murphy will bust his balls over.

“If you guys need help with anything, you let us know.” Steve says instead. It isn’t a question, or even an invitation. It’s an expectation from one friend and colleague to another. The three of you have been stuck in this battle together for a long goddamn time now and he’s not about to let a plot twist change the team you’ve formed — even if he’s still completely shocked at the twist to begin with. “Baby. Wedding. Whatever. Just say the word.”

Javi nods and takes your hand, knowing that this is a lot of change in a very different way. Most would never consider that Javi was capable of loving you, staying with you and creating a family. He was a lot more than people gave him credit for, and that was fine. As long as you knew where he stood – and that is right beside you.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[starryhologram]

CCCC Band AU Master Post

AKA I made a crack AU where Heart, Mind, and Soul become famous. But now, it’s a more serious and loved AU.

Disclaimer: Like the SCP AU, the HMS in this AU exist in the “real world” as opposed to a psyche/headspace. When the Whole splits, the three replace him. Also, warnings of canon typical v10l3nc3. These versions of Heart, Mind and Soul have been caricaturized, and are fun house mirror versions of their album/canon counterparts. Hope you like if you read!

Heart takes his g. un, the same one he missed Mind with, and he places it to the back of Soul’s head.

“Soul.” Heart bites the other’s name hard. Spits it out with disgust. Soul feels the cold metal press against his skull. They were truly going to usurp him. He didn’t think it would end like this.

“Heart. Please. Put the gu. n down.” He begs, eyes sliding over to where Mind watches from a distance. His face unreadable, Soul wishes he would help.

“Shut the fuck up.” Heart jams the barrel against Soul, knocking him slightly forward.

Should he fight? Continue to beg?

“You can threaten to kill us all but I can’t return the sentiment?!” Heart shouts.

Should he let it happen?

His blood goes cold as he hears the trigger shake in Heart’s grip.

BANG.

Soul falls to the ground.

Heart steps back, dropping the g. un.

Mind walks over to Soul and puts his hand against his neck. “He’s still alive.” He comments.

“That’s fine, I wasn’t trying to kill him, anyways.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

Heart doesn’t say anything in return.

Mind sighs, shaking his head. Best to let Soul recover, then. He wasn’t going to be the one to put him out of his misery, and he had a feeling Heart wouldn’t either.

Mind picks up Soul’s limp body gingerly, his head dripping blood onto his hands. Seeing his face, the skin had torn around where the bullet had exited. Soul’s eye was completely gone.

It was morbid, but Mind continued to carry the other to his room, laying him down on the bed. A few moments later, Heart shuffled in, shoving first aid supplies into Mind’s hands.

“Like this will help.” Mind says sarcastically. Regardless, he begins bandaging up the side of Soul’s face.

The computer in the corner of the room dings with a notification.

“Ugh. I thought we turned those off.” Heart frowned.

“We did, but I kept them on for emails. Stand with him, I’ll see if it’s important.” Mind moves to the desktop, jiggling the mouse to turn it on.

“No way this is real.” He scoffs after a few moments.

“What? What does it say?” Heart demands impatiently.

Mind reads out the contents of the email for the other.

“You’re kidding. Do some background research! Look it up!” Heart raised his voice frantically.

After a few more moments of key strokes mouse clicking, Mind turns back to Heart. “It’s real. What do we say? Should we decline? Accept? This is a very big decision.” He glances at Soul once again. “And honestly, he should decide too.”

“We could let Whole decide.” Heart offers meekly.

“You shot Soul, Whole is probably out of commission as well. We will have to wait. I will let them know to give us time to make the decision.”

Over the course of the next few days, Soul floated in and out of consciousness, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing. He wished he could have had nice dreams, but it was dark and hazy. Something haunted him about how he had gotten hurt. Mind and Heart refused to tell him, and Soul couldn’t bring himself to remember.

The bright side of his dull situation, however, was that Mind and Heart were being so nice to him. They gave him warm food in bed as he recovered, and even spared him from sarcastic quips. He wishes it could always be like this, getting along.

Eventually, Soul was able to remain conscious for a longer amount of time. And Mind and Heart finally decided to tell him once he proved cognizant enough.

“Soul.” Mind announced as he entered the other’s room, Heart trailing in his shadow.

Soul smiled at the other two. “Good morning.” He said softly, his voice had been nothing but kind to them in return these past few days.

“We have to tell you something. And we need… you to help us decide.” Heart stammers, “On what to do about it.” He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” Soul asks.

“While you were… recovering. We received an email.” Mind began, sitting at the desktop once more to pull up the page.

“It reads as follows.

‘Dear Tridential Sovereignty, us at Galaxy Star Records have recently found your music and think you have just the talent we’ve been looking for.

We are pleased to offer to sign you as one of our many talented artists. We would be honored to represent you, and help you reach your full star potential.

Kindly, Galaxy Star Records. LA, California.’ “

Mind turns to look at Soul once more. His mouth is agape in shock. “We’ve been offered a record deal?” He asks in disbelief.

“It would seem so.” Mind replies.

“Of course we should go for it!” He exclaims. Mind and Heart almost seem surprised by his answer.

“Uhm.. are you sure? This is crazy.” Heart digs his toe into the carpet absentmindedly.

“I mean, this can only be good right? As long as its reputable! What could go wrong?” Soul looks like he got everything he could have ever wanted for Christmas.

~~~

A man tears himself apart in the dead of night

Grasping at lyrics that aren't quite right

But you’ve head this before

And I’ll never again

Because the spotlight is blinding

And the audience is screaming my name

Please don’t let me lose myself in the fame

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: Sign On Offer From: galaxystarrecords@contact.com To: tridentialsovereignty@gmail.com

Thank you so much for accepting our proposal! We can’t wait to start working with you!

First order of business we do need to get settled is the contract. You can access it here, and we will need all of your E-signatures.

Next you can also take a look at a list of preordained names that you can choose to go by as per our guidelines. Your band will still be called Tridential Sovereignty under us, but your individual names will be pseudonyms (No real popstar doesn’t have a stage name!).

You can view our list below.

Luna

Callisto

Oberon

Nova

Kepler

Aristarchus

Metius

Tycho

Voib

Pulsar

Orion

Asteroid

Comet

Thebit

Nebula

Rigel

Quasar

Antimar (antimatter)

[File attachment contract.pdf]

~~~

Private Emails are uploaded. Subject: RE: Sign On Offer From: galaxystarrecords@contact.com To: tridentialsovereignty@gmail.com

Apologies, there was a misspelling in the list of names.

Voib is meant to be Void.

Thank you.

~~~

BREAKING NEWS! Introducing TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY! VIX NEWS keeps you updated with up and coming artists that you should be aware of!

Your favorite niche internet micro-celebrities become famous! Who would have thought their covers of cult classic Tally Hall songs would have skyrocketed their stardom?

Meet Comet, Nova, and Pulsar! The ‘Heart, Mind, and Soul’- they call themselves- of Tridential Sovereignty. Sweeping the globe with their new music to rock your socks off!

Recently signed on by Galaxy Star Records, after an interested team heard their individual covers of “The Mind Electric” by ミラクルミュージカル (also known as Miracle Musical). These young artists are rising through the charts, and concerts are selling out fast internationally!

We here at VIX NEWS are excited to see where they go from here! Follow us for more updates on Tridential Sovereignty!

~~~

A video titled ‘Late Nite Show Interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGHNTY’ is uploaded.

The video opens with a studio audience cheering as the host waves at them thankfully, smiling warmly.

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and other lovely people! We have a special guest for you tonight- at their first television appearance- Tidential Sovereignty!”

The host gestures to curtains that three figures emerge from, the one in a red jacket is waving and smiling just as much as the host was. The two following him are much less enthused.

The crowd cheers as they walk across the stage to sit at a long couch adjacent to the seat the host had taken.

“Thank you so much for joining us this evening!” The hosts says, “Yeah! Thank you for having us!” The one in red responds.

“Now, you guys have been taking the scene by absolute storm- ahaha, pun not intended.” The hosts pauses for the audience to laugh. “But, I’d love to get to know you guys a bit more. You guys all look very similar, is that intentional? Or are you guys triplets?” He asks.

“Triplets is the closest word.” The one in blue states plainly. “Ah yeah! We’re all kind of like brothers, sure.” The one in red adds.

“What interesting responses!” The host laughs. “Now, Pulsar,” he gestures to the one in red, “You call yourself the Soul? What does that mean?”

Pulsar’s smile doesnt faze, but his eyes scan to his other two counterparts nervously. “Yeah, I’m like the Soul… its just… a way of referring to myself, like Nova is the Mind- eh the brains of it all. And Comet is the Heart, you get it? It’s just… the way we make up the Whole… band. Tridential Sovereignty.” He stammers out quickly.

Comet shoves him.

The host is laughing again. “Well that’s certainly a way of thinking about it!” He says, and it eases Pulsar’s nerves. “You guys were pretty popular on the internet at first, right? How’s the transition from the screen to the stage been?”

“It’s been fine, we still do all the main stuff behind the scenes; the music writing and stuff. But seeing fans in real life? Cheering for us on stage? I… don’t think any of us could have imagined it. We assumed we would be stuck in our mom’s basement doing this for a niche audience for our whole career, honestly.” Comet replies.

“It’s crazy how quick things can change!” The host quips, “Hey! Would you guys like to play a song for us?” He asks, the crowd cheers in enthusiasm.

The three nod in agreement, stand up and make their way over to instruments set up for them. Pulsar stands at the middle mic, holding an electric guitar. Nova stands at an electronic keyboard. A blue bass is propped up next to him. Comet sits down at a drum set.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, this is Tridential Sovereignty!” The host announces as the three begin to play.

Pictured: (left) Pulsar with no make up, wig or mask, in casual clothes. (Right) Pulsar within the first few months of rising to stardom, before his outfits became more pink.

~~~

A video titled ‘VIX NEWS: Exclusive interview with TRIDENTIAL SOVEREIGNTY FT. Your questions!’

The video opens with Pulsar, red wig, feathered boa and pink dress in all, sitting on a stool in a white room. He smiles, introducing himself, “Hi, babes! I’m Pulsar, but you know that!” He laughs

The camera cuts to Nova, sitting in the same room, but clearly shot at a different time than Pulsar’s takes. He sits square and upright and says, “Hello. I’m Nova, of Tridential Sovereignty.”

The video cuts again to Comet, slouching on the stool. He waves meekly to the camera. “Hey, I’m Comet.” He says flatly.

A voice from behind the camera calls out, “So, we sent out a form for fans of your’s to ask! And here are the ones we thought would be best to ask you guys!”

“How exciting!” Pulsar claps his hands together. “What’s the first question?”

“Your-claimed- ‘Number one fan’, Pulsar, asks: what is your favorite song?” The voice off screen laughs aloud as she reads it.

“Oh, I have so many favorites, you know! But I think a special one in my heart will always be The Bidding.” He says.

“Nova, an unnamed fan asks ‘if you could go solo, would you?”

“Hm. I do shows on my own often enough. If you mean officially leave Tridential Sovereignty one day? That is yet to be determined.” Nova’s face shows no change in expression as he answers.

“Comet, Rio asks ‘if you could change anything about your life now, what would it be?”

Comet barks out a laugh and then frowns as he collects himself. “Right. Yeah. I mean, is anyone really happy with where they are? I messed up a lot in the past but I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Dunno. I don’t think I care anymore anyways.”

“Pulsar, Twine- of course-?” The announcer sounds confused as she says the name. “Do you have a PR team yet?”

“What? Twine? How did… how did you get that question?” Pulsar’s brow furrows in shock and confusion, “That’s a joke… right? I think. Ah, yeah. A joke.” He laughs unconvincingly.

“Nova, what do you do when you encounter writer’s block? From Hayley.”

“I simply don’t. If I don’t feel like writing, I don’t write. Let it come to me. I know what I write is good.”

“Comet, Jedas asks ‘what is your favorite show you’ve performed at?”

“The VMAs were cool. Or the Bubble Dome. I dunno, as long as the crowds are big they’re always great.” He grins.

“Pulsar, Ciddle asks ‘care to show us what’s behind the mask?”

Pulsar puts a hand up to his mask, holding it down to his cheek. “Yeah, no. Not right now. I wear it for a reason.” He looks away.

“Nova, do you guys plan on doing another make-up collaboration? Asks Lori.”

“I think we’ve got some eyeshadow coming out soon. This is better a question for Pulsar.” Nova sighs.

“Pulsar, Faust asks, if you were a cat, what kind would you be?”

“Orange. Definitely.” Pulsar laughs.

“Nova, ‘Bold move straightening your hair, any reason?”

“It’s a wig. And it differentiates me from the other two.”

“Pulsar- or as ‘Smouul’ calls you ‘Pulss,- insert joy emote- te- tec-ah? Muciss? Teach music? Is that what this says?” The announcer struggles through the question.

“Smoul? I know him… too, like Twine. Ah Smoul! I could teach you music! All you gotta do is ask! But I also offer courses on music too! They should be linked in my Instagram bio!”

“And finally, one more for you Pulsar, from another unnamed fan, ‘Are you going to answer for your growing list of controversies?”

Pulsar frowns. “Hey, I apologized for those. And I promised to do better. That’s all I can do.” He huffs. “Are we done now?”

“Yes, I suppose we are! Thanks for joining us-.” The announcer is cut off as Pulsar gets up and walks off screen.

“Cool, thanks bye!”

The video ends.

~~~

List of things Pulsar has done

Been paid to support NFTS {a lot of other celebrities were doing it at the time! It was a cute picture of a chicken! I didnt know it was evil!}

signed a merch deal with a company that runs a sweatshop to produce the merch {Look- I’ve been over this- I even uploaded an apology video! I didnt do my research and I promise to do better!}

uploaded an apology video {Hey! My fans know that it was an honest mistake! Plus I followed the guide on how to make a good apology video! I even made one of my own guides!}

made a guide on how to make apology videos {Only 50$!}

Doesn’t have a PR Team {My PR team is my best friend, Twine, he’s a Soul like me!}

got scammed by someone in another universe than him {Alice is my friend! And he said he needed the money!}

Almost was convinced to join the Church of Scientology {I was not almost convinced it was for the celebrity gossip! But Paladin said I shouldn’t do it}

is there anything else you’ve done? {not yet- I mean, No!}

~~~

Pictured: (Fake) Tweets talking about the perceived decline of Tridential Sovereignty or #TriSov, and how their original fans dislike the way their music sounds nowadays.

~~~

Pictured: The updated outfits of Comet, Pulsar, and Nova! At this point in their career, the three dont perform together as much as they used to. Before this change, Nova would often pick up DJing Gigs around the world. But, now he performs solo songs that sound like theyre meant for Old Navy Advertisements… theres no Heart and Soul to his music, just the melody and baseline lyrics that will appeal to the widest audience.

~~~

Pictured: Nebula, the Whole. He acts as the manager and agent of Tridential Sovereignty. He isn’t seen much nowadays, some say it’s because he can’t handle what they’ve created. They took over his life. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what we wanted to become. But, it’s much too late now.

~~~

OOC STUFF

ive reached the ten photo limit on mobile and ive got so much written that my tumblr is lagging. Theres still some more long written posts ill add in reblogs and such. Characters mentioned such as Twine, Smoul, Alice and Paladin belong to @disruptivevoib @shxwrunner @socialc1imb @calamarispider @b0vidine

Feel free to send asks about these guys! Or even my scp au!

All art in this post is mine

[sunsetcougar]

okay okay Lyrebird exorcist AU. I know this probably wont happen, but when the Hotel's finally has enough of Valentino's shit, what if Vaggie lures him into an ambush using Angels voice? Or would she just refuse to do it outright because it resembles what she did as an exorcist too much? Maybe she thinks "Just one last time..." but after she does it she just has a panic attack because she's doing it again? On another note: I am fascinated by the overlords in general, and how would they react to somehow learning Vaggie is a former exorcist? I mean in canon i dont think it would be that big a deal, but in this AU exorcists are much more terrifying. They are moreso monsters than soldiers. Also how did the interaction with Carmilla go exactly? We know Vaggie was in a daze, but the whole interaction was probably a lot more tense on Carmine's end. I mean this voice stealing monster is suddenly in her home making demands, again exorcists are a bigger threat here. But Carmilla had killed one of them so its possible the fear of facing off against one (not the entire flock of course) ebbed away somewhat.

Oh that’s a bit of a tricky one. Vaggie would outright refuse unless Charlie asked her. She struggles to say no to her, so she’d suck up her nerves and use her mimicking. But you’re right that it would end with her having a panic attack. Using her mimicry to lure someone to their death feels so… right. So horribly right and relieving, like she gave into an addiction she was finally getting clean of. (What if she can’t stop? What if she gives in again and again? What if she hurts one of her friends or worse, Charlie?)

Alastor is the first overlord to learn Vaggie is an exorcist, and while he’ll never admit it she scares unnerves him, especially after he learns that one of the voices in her library is his mother’s. Rosie is second to find out when she and Charlie talk, and she’s far from comfortable with the idea of one of those… things being one of Hell’s permanent residents, but doesn’t say so to Charlie’s face.

Eventually the news that the princess is dating a fallen exorcist spreads and it makes the other overlords at minimum nervous. It’s one thing to not be able to trust voices one day a year, but now there’s a mimic designed to kill them running loose 24/7, 365…

As for Carmilla, she figures out Vaggie is an exorcist before they even meet face to face. It’s not rocket science after all. And since she doesn’t know how the exorcist’s mimicking works, if they trade voices face to face or if it’s some kind of hive mind, and doesn’t want to risk them getting her voice, she uses text-to-speech during their meeting. That was Vaggie’s first clue that Carmilla knew something because she knows the overlord isn’t mute, so why isn’t she talking?

Carmilla is as afraid of the exorcists as every other sinner, the idea of losing her voice to one, especially considering she killed one, is terrifying. If they found out, if they took her voice, they could use it to lure out her daughters. If they got her daughter’s voices, they could use it to lure out her. She knows she’d go running if her children cried, even if she knew it was probably an exorcist.

[tedwardremus]

I feel like Ron fans really want him to be an Auror for the rest of his life like Harry is because its a "cool" job but it makes perfect sense he stops after 2 years? He is canonically lazy. That is not projection. That is not bashing. That is how he IS. He is lazy. Why would he want such a work intensive, difficult, and stressful job long-term? I really think the glory would wear off fast once you realized you can't even talk about what you are doing, you have to work overtime, you can get injured, you deal with constant stress, and for what? A basic pension. You don't even get rich off of it. Ron at the joke shop suits his character SO much.

oomph

Okay, Anon. I love you, and this is a safe space for people to discuss their controversial opinions with no judgement but I will have to push back a bit because I am a member of Team Ron Defense Squad.

I agree that being an auror wasn't the perfect fit for Ron, but I disagree with his laziness.

He was lazy when it came to school work. But a lot of kids are? That's hardly unique for a teenager. School didn't really interest him. But he was bright enough to do well in all his subjects (well, except history and divination, but those were joke classes) so he didn't really feel the need to work harder.

But in the things that he was interested in? The boy was not lazy.

You don't become the best chess player Hogwarts has ever seen at age 12 when you are lazy. That is years of hard work and skill development (prodigy level!). He probably spent hours at the Burrow as a kid studying chess moves and learning to see the board. That's not lazy.

You don't become a prefect by being lazy.

He also went off by himself and practiced quidditch so he could make the house team. That's not lazy. Thats determination (and a little insecurity because he was afraid of beign mocked for putting effort in or being told he wasn't good enough)

Which is totally relatable. Have you ever been afraid of failing or being compared to someone who, in your mind, has already mastered the skill you are practicing, so in the end, you didn't really try? because not trying is better than failing? That's not lazy, that's being insecure and anxious.

Ron is also with HArry on all his adventures. Going into the forbidden forest, starting an underground defense club, solving mysteries, fighting in the Ministry. This isn't lazy.

One of Ron's number one traits is his caregiving. Offering tea, the easy way in which he assures people, making sure Harry eats. Caregiving is not lazy. It takes attention to detail, emotional intelligence, and a lot of follow-up and determination.

I think Ron retired from ebing an auror early for several reasons.

1.) The job was finished. They caught the death eaters, the trials were over, he had some breathing room, and he realised that he could move on. That it was a job he felt he had to do but didn't really enjoy doing

2.) He saw that Harry really did enjoy it and that Harry didn't need a caregiver anymore, he wa an adult who could take care of himself and had Ginny at home to also care for him.

3.) Hermione, the ultimate girl boss that she is, clearly has ambitions and was career driven. Ron wanted to make sure she wasn't burnt out and that she had someone at home to take care of her (and their future children). Ron is the ultimate wife guy and I love him leaning into the role hard and with vigour.

caregiving and homemaking aren't laziness, and seeing a traditional feminine role as lazy in the body of a male character is sexist.

4.) I love Ron and the twins relationship. They are very close, even if the Twins mocking him crosses the line. And I can see Ron caring for George after the war in his very Ron-like way. Stopping by after an auror shift to help clean the shop and make sure he ate that day. Takes him to the pub for a pint, where they don't talk, but Ron just wants George to know he is there for him.

Over time, Ron learns that he loves working at the shop. He is good at it. And Geroge loves Ron being there, and he needs the help. George wants to be creative and invent things, and Ron has a great mind for business. He is using his logic skills to improve their business strategy and expand operations. He is good at balancing books and making sure bills get paid (oh no! It Looks like he enjoys a bit of homework after all!)

And Ron loves greeting customers and talking to kids in the shop. Being friendly and a bit goofy and his warm and comforting self.

He doesn't need fame and fortune because he is secure in his role as a caregiver, it is his ultimate strength. He has matured and moved on from his childhood insecurities. He is no longer in the shadow of his large loud family.

He is Ron. And he is enough (kenough)

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter five

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I won't lie, I love this chapter, especially because it shows one of my favorite things about this reader very clearly--the fact that she only has one braincell. She's been surprisingly fun to write, even with all of the angst!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

The doors opened with a noise so loud she winced. 

When she looked up, she was face to face with a gun.

Y/n was afraid in a distant sort of way. It was, sadly, not the first time she’d been held at gunpoint pursuing a story. But the first time had been with a wire under her shirt and a whole bunch of cops around the corner. 

This time, she was alone. 

And the man on the other end of the gun was a cop. 

“Shit,” Lieutenant Gordon said and, mercy of all mercies, put away his weapon. “What are you doing here?” 

For some reason, the disappearance of the gun kicked the fear up a notch. Her heart suddenly tried to take flight. She took a deep breath, dizzy now, and managed to say, “Got a second for that interview?” Her voice was too high. Probably not the best time to crack a joke, but she obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Behind Gordon was a shadow. 

No, a man. 

The Batman. 

His mouth was slightly parted, what she could see of his face…almost shocked. 

“You two look awfully surprised to see that someone followed you. The blindingly bright light wasn’t very hard to find.” She should shut up, she thought distantly. She still wasn’t sure if they could be trusted. But the fear was ebbing away, slowly but surely. 

Gordon pinched between his eyes, the movement pushing his glasses up to his forehead. 

“There’s a locked gate that requires a code. There’s barbed wire.” He sounded like Alfred when she and Bruce had gotten into something they were told not to touch or do as kids. Tired dad voice, they called it, snickering behind his back. 

She hooked her thumb in Batman’s direction. He still stood absolutely still, cape blowing in the breeze, his mouth closed now. “Followed this guy in.” 

Gordon looked over at the vigilante. “This is the girl you–” 

“I remember,” Batman said in that voice of gravel and smoke. It sent a thrill of fear through her. Actually, his voice was kind of sexy, now that she was thinking about it. 

She was losing her mind. She had barely slept in a week and she was losing her mind. She was with two men she wasn’t sure if she could trust, on top of an abandoned building where it would be very easy to kill her, and she was thinking of sexy voices. Well, one sexy voice in particular. No offense to Gordon, she thought wryly. 

“I’m also, um…a journalist.” This was directed at the vigilante. In her experience, honesty opened up more doors than it shut. She was usually pretty good at figuring out when to lie, particularly about her profession, and when to tell the truth. Or when to split the difference. She trusted her gut more often than not, and right now, she was relatively at ease. “Couldn’t help it, sorry.” 

“So you just…” Gordon waved a hand vaguely. 

“Followed the light? Yeah. I just hope it doesn’t lead to death like it usually does.” God, she needed to stop cracking jokes. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. “So if you’re going to murder me, can I please at least get a good quote first?” 

“This concerns her anyway,” Batman said, shocking her so much that she nearly toppled over the edge of the tower. And–oh shit, the tower was really tall and had absolutely no walls or rails or anything to protect her from the drop. She took a shaky step back towards the elevator, but it had returned down below. Heights had never been her friend. An irony, Bruce liked to point out, because she lived in a tower. Then that would almost always start an argument about what “irony” meant. 

“Are you sure?” Gordon said. The wind whistling in her ears made it hard to hear. She hoped the question wasn’t Are you sure we shouldn’t kill her? and was instead simply Are you sure we’re going to trust her? 

“We can always throw her over,” he said. There was something almost familiar about his voice, she realized, but then the words caught up to her. 

She gulped, dizzy again, but Gordon did a double take. “Did you just make a joke, man?” 

The Batman gave no indication that it had been a joke. She gripped the pepper spray tighter. Not that it would help her if she got tossed over the side, but it made her feel a little better. 

“He’s kidding, don’t worry. Tell her you’re kidding, she looks ready to puke.” Gordon crossed his arms, clearly not intimidated in the least by the hulking figure of the vigilante. 

“I’m kidding,” the Batman said with a cutting glance towards Gordon. “I don’t kill people.” 

She squinted at him, unable to clearly see him in the darkness. She really couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. She guessed he had to have at least some sense of humor about all of this. He was dressed as a fucking bat, after all. 

She decided to trust them. “Okay, which means I’ll be really upset if you make an exception for me. I’ll haunt your ass. Yours too, Gordon, because supposedly you’re the only cop who isn’t corrupt in this city.” She crossed her arms and shivered. As long as she ignored the sheer drop surrounding her on three sides, she’d be fine. “Though I’m not convinced yet. I’ve been gone from Gotham for too long.” 

“The force has changed a lot in a year.” Another look exchanged with the vigilante. “But I understand the sentiment.” 

Y/n glanced around, keeping her eyes on the view instead of the drop. “So no one else has ever followed you up here?” she asked curiously. She saw what she was pretty sure was a spotlight on the far side of the platform. “Because seriously, the light is a dead giveaway.” 

“His girlfriend did once,” Gordon said, and he smiled. “But no one else.” 

“Wasn’t my girlfriend,” the Batman mumbled. Mumbled. He was suddenly less scary when he sounded like any surly man denying any attachment to a woman. 

Her ears perked up. “Oh? She got a name?” 

They both gave her looks that said they knew exactly what she was up to. She shrugged, the perfect picture of innocence. It was worth a shot. 

She changed tactics. “You said this concerns me. What does?” 

“The murders you witnessed,” Gordon said. “We found ties to the Gallo family. I was coming to fill him in.” 

“The Gallo family,” she repeated. She knew this already, but better to play at ignorance in case they gave her more information. That and it hadn’t been confirmed by someone who was on the investigation team. “The mobsters in New York?” 

“The very same.” 

“Was the one who got away one of them?” she asked. Because that would be bad. Very bad. 

“We didn’t get any information out of the other three. One…committed suicide not too long ago, actually. Part of why I’m here.” Gordon sighed. “Getting rid of Falcone created a vacuum. The Gallos are just the first ones powerful enough to fill the space.” 

Falcone. She knew the name. Knew the story. Knew he’d been responsible for the deaths of Bruce’s parents. That was one death she hadn’t begrudged the Riddler–at least Thomas and Martha had gotten justice, in the end. 

The Batman turned and looked over the city. His figure cut a dark shadow across the city skyline. “Any ideas where to start looking?” 

“So you can bust some heads?” Gordon said. He was smiling. Y/n looked between them. It was fascinating. They were obviously close but this only confirmed it. She itched to take notes but she didn’t want either of them to snatch her phone. Damn, she should have set it to record when she was in the elevator. Gordon continued, “But no. We’re coming up empty so far. None of the typical informants have heard anything about the Gallo family. As far as we know, none of them are actually in the city. If they are, they’re laying low.” 

“Could you identify them again?” Batman asked. His eyes glinted in the darkness as he faced her again. She noticed he hadn’t come any closer to her, unlike Gordon who was only a couple of feet away. Instead he was near the edge, about as far away from them as he could get. Was it to make her feel better, safer? 

“Maybe, with the help of the video.” She knew eyewitness testimonies were shaky at best. And the more traumatic the event, the more unreliable the testimony could be. But a video helped and would do wonders in court. “What does this mean for me?” she asked. “Am I supposed to stay locked up forever, afraid to go out in case there’s a mob hit on me? Or even just a regular murderer trying to take out a witness? Because both of those are kind of shitty.” 

“Yes,” Batman said at the exact same time Gordon said, “Probably.” 

Her heart sank. 

“We’ve been protecting your identity as best we can,” Gordon said in a sure tone that again made her think of Alfred. She wondered if Gordon had kids. “But we can’t be sure there isn’t a leak in the department. We’re still plugging all the holes left behind from Falcone.” 

She winced. “Okay, I’ve done two bad things so far.” The Batman crossed his arms. Gordon motioned for her to continue. “First, I may or may not have been loaned out to the Tribune on special assignment to report on my own case. So the editor definitely knows my identity. And I also may or may not have reached out to a GCPD officer to be a source.” 

She heard the Batman sigh even over the noise of the wind. Gordon was pinching the bridge of his nose again. Their response made her feel like a little kid getting in trouble and it made her bristle. She bit her tongue to keep from immediately defending herself. 

“Which officer?” Gordon asked and his tone told her all she needed to know. He didn’t trust some of his fellow cops, if any. 

“He hasn’t even agreed to be a source yet, and besides I have the right to protect–” 

“Which officer?” Batman cut in, the sharp growl of his voice startling her. 

The sound of it made her spit it out. “Martinez.” 

Both men visibly relaxed. “Martinez is solid. There’s a reason I brought him with me to get your statement,” Gordon said. “We can trust him.”

“Okay, good. That’s good. See? I’m not a total idiot.” She relaxed marginally. 

“Maybe you’re just lucky,” Batman said. 

She laughed humorlessly. “Lucky? Well, buddy, you know what I was doing the same day I witnessed a fucking mob hit? Burying my mother and grandmother. And don’t even get me started on the rest of my personal life right now.” 

“He didn’t mean it,” Gordon said with a sharp look. “His humor takes some getting used to.” 

Batman mumbled something under his breath again that sounded a lot like I can talk for myself. But he didn’t actually butt in. 

“Okay, whatever. What can I do? I don’t want to be killed, obviously, and I don’t particularly like the idea of being locked in an ivory tower either, nice as it is.” What she didn’t say was that she wasn’t sure she could handle being locked in Wayne Tower with Bruce Wayne. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t be reminded of how close they used to be and the distance between them now. And all of that on top of the immense grief she experienced at unpredictable times. She never knew when she’d be reminded of her grandmother and subsequently that she was gone. Around every corner, through every doorway, was the potential for a punch to the gut when she remembered her grandmother was dead. 

“What can you do? Stop sneaking into construction sites at night, for one,” Gordon said with a soft snort. “But any information, anything, you come up with while working on this story, send it to me, too. And we’ll work with you on identifying that fourth suspect.” 

“You aren’t going to tell me to stop investigating?” 

It was the Batman who answered. “Would you actually stop?” His voice was rough on her skin, giving her goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold or the fear of heights. 

She shrugged. “Probably not. But I don’t want to die, either.” 

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said. He took a step forward. She noticed how broad his shoulders were, how sharp his jaw was, how his gloved hands were clenched into fists at his side. She really, really should have found a way to sneakily record everything. She was probably closer to the Batman than most people had ever been. 

She swallowed. “Don’t worry, Wayne Tower’s plenty secure.” 

“Still. I’ll be around.”

“That sounds a lot like stalking.” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I promise I won’t peek in your windows.” A twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“That sounded a lot like another bad joke,” she said. But she smiled.  

“Let me drive you home,” Gordon interrupted. He was glancing back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. She wanted to protest, but she doubted her luck had held long enough for her to be able to get a taxi back home. 

“What, that’s it? Two whole pieces of information and you go home? You guys don’t text or anything?” She crossed her arm. She really hadn’t gotten any more information that she didn’t have–except for the suicide of one of the suspects. If it even was a suicide. “This meeting could have been an email.” 

“Never know who’s listening,” Gordon said. He tilted his head towards the vigilante. “Besides, he’s paranoid. Only calls if he needs something. Hates texting.” 

She eyed the man in question. If he hated texting, maybe he wasn’t as young as she thought. Then again, Bruce hated texting too, old man at heart that he was. But he was the exception, not the rule. 

“I’d really appreciate it if you two kept me in the loop too. Quid pro quo,” she said. 

“For your article?” Batman asked. There was a certain edge to his words that made her think he didn’t like reporters. And really, it made sense. If she was trying to keep her identity a secret, she wouldn’t like reporters either. They were a chronically nosy bunch even when they weren’t working on a story. 

“For my life. If I survive this, yeah I’m going to write a hell of an article. But I kind of have to be alive to write it, don’t I?” She crossed her arms again and stared him down. 

“Quid pro quo,” Gordon said. “As long as you two agree to play nice.” He chuckled, like it was part of a joke. 

“Keeping her alive is nice,” Batman said. Another joke? Every interaction between him and Gordon solidified the fact that they got along well and were around each other often. No way Gordon didn’t know the guy’s real identity. But if they were as close as she suspected and if Gordon was as honorable as everyone said…no way was he going to let any hints slip. 

Her mind spun as the two men talked quietly about off the clock watches of Wayne Manor. She now had two very reliable sources for her article–if they really did keep her in the loop–and a new certainty that an op-ed for the Batman was in her future. She doubted any reporters in Gotham had spent as much time with the vigilante as she already had. Her veins thrummed with that inner fire. 

She might be able to expose a mob conspiracy and the Batman’s identity in one fell swoop. 

It was all she could think of as Gordon drove her home.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings

[silverskye13]

One of them is deathly injured/unconscious and desperately needs help (Although, I think that happens in canon)

This does happen in canon! But we can always make it happen again.

Tanguish lost time. He knows he lost time, because it's sunset now. He can see it through the gap in the buildings in the shopping district.

He miscalculated. It happens sometimes. More often in places he's not familiar. But he loves rooftop running, and the Hermits have such an interesting, infinite combination of odd nooks and crannies in their builds. The shopping district is a rare playground. A rare, deadly, playground. He'd leaped, he'd, however briefly, flown. It had been beautiful. It had been intoxicating. It had felt like whatever Icarus must've felt when the sun called him into heaven.

And, probably, it also felt like whatever Icarus felt when he fell too.

There was a weightless moment where he realized he'd misjudged his leap. A weightless moment where all he saw was broad horizon, and the wide open blue sky, and he felt the cool wind in his hair and on his skin. Then the weightless feeling of falling. The blind knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it.

And then there was the ground.

He awoke to a caged sliver of sunset between two tall nonsense buildings. One of them was running a machine. He could hear it through the vibrations it made in the wall. Or maybe he was shaking. It was hard to tell. It was hard to tell anything. He knew only he was injured badly, in the distant way that any dying thing knows injury happened to make it this way.

Tanguish lost consciousness. Tanguish lost time.

His vision, even while he lay still, twisted and pitched. His breathing wasn't right; quick, hiccupping gasps that pained him to make and didn't bring enough air. There were parts of himself he couldn't fathom, even more parts he couldn't feel, and the parts he could ached in a bone-deep and broken way. Even his pulse hurt, thudding against every bit of skin pressed to the earth. There was a smear of red just in his peripheral vision. Blood on the ground.

Tanguish was surprised he'd awoken, being so injured. He didn't think he would be awake for long. There was an ebbing darkness around his vision, and an unresponsiveness in his limbs. A finger twitched and he felt every nerve in his arm catch fire in response. He willed himself to move, or to call for help, or to do anything besides lay on the ground.

The sunset reminded him of hels. The clouds changing colors in the orange and red above could be vented smoke. The single pinhole star in the sky could not. There was something lonely about being hurt so far from home. He was a detached limb in the world somewhere.

Tanguish closed his eyes.

[theostrophywife]

mariposa.

i just need a quick fix, i ain't gonna miss this we've already crossed that line before, i won't get addicted tell me lies girl say it softly, you'll be sayin take it off me

author's note: you guys know how much i adore lucien. i'm absolutely unwell just thinking about our overprotective, feisty fox boy. there's also a surprise guest appearance that i think ya'll will appreciate 😏 song inspiration: lacrimosa by matt kent.

The rhythmic pounding of hollow drums echoed throughout the spring manor, its seductive beat beckoning you to come outside and join in on the festivities. Your gaze flickered to the shimmering lock placed on your bedroom door as Tamlin’s warning echoed in the dark and empty bedchamber. 

Stay in your room.

You huffed, crossing your arms. Who the hell was he to tell you what to do? Tamlin may be the High Lord of the Spring Court, but it didn’t grant him the right to forbid you from attending Calanmai. Especially not after you spent the whole day being paraded around the countless lords seeking your hand in marriage only to then be tucked away when your presence was no longer convenient.

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

With a wicked grin, you pulled a rhinestone pin out of your hair and knelt in front of the door. You whispered an incantation and the pin glowed brightly as you rattled it against the lock. With a flick of your wrist, the door propped open. You peered out into the hallway and confirmed that the coast was clear before carefully creeping through the quiet house. 

The spring manor was empty for the night. There wasn’t a single servant present to stop you from making your way downstairs. They were all probably at Calanmai already, dancing and drinking and doing all the things that Tamlin had barred you from doing. He already had the Great Rite to worry about, your brother had said. The High Lord didn’t need his troublesome little sister getting in the way of his duties. 

You would make him regret it. 

The thought put a spring in your step as you strolled through the gardens, taking in the balmy evening and the cool spring breeze. First thing was first, you needed to conceal your identity if you hoped to avoid being spotted by your brother or any of his cronies. With a wisp of magic, conjured an intricate golden mask, its ornate swirls and whorls fanning out into deep yellows and oranges as white spots dotted the edges of the black borders and veins. The accessory matched your copper dress perfectly. As you placed the mask over your eyes, the wings flickered and mimicked the graceful movements of a monarch butterfly.

Donning a satisfied smile, you crossed the clearing that would lead you to the festivities. Your skirts whispered against the earth as you winnowed atop the hill at the edge of the manor. Down below, you watched as High Fae and faeries alike danced around the fires lighting up the lush landscape. 

The savage beat of the drums summoned you across the grassy knoll and you gladly surrendered to its call. Smoke curled through the air and enveloped you in its intoxicating haze as you reached the heart of the crowd. Someone grabbed you by the waist, dragging you into the throng of dancing bodies circling the large bonfire burning at the center of the field. 

There was something magnetic about the movements, a ritual awakening deep within your bones as magic unfurled its golden glow through your entire being. You tipped your head back and laughed, twirling in dizzying circles as you changed partners again and again. One of them—a handsome dryad—handed you a goblet filled with a golden, sparkling liquid. 

The drink was unlike anything you’ve ever tasted before. You could feel the edges of your vision blurring, every thought and worry ebbing and flowing through your mind, and your surroundings turned fuzzy as though someone had placed a lace veil over your eyes. The carefree feeling it brought was delicious and addicting so you drained the drink down to its last drop, greedily licking the sparkling remnants off your lips. 

The dryad you were currently dancing with twirled you across the field and you clumsily stumbled across the soft grass before a pair of strong arms steadied you. 

You looked up to thank the stranger, but the words died in your throat as soon as you beheld the male standing before you. He was the embodiment of sensuality and seduction with raven hair as dark as night and golden brown skin gleaming against the backdrop of the burning bonfire, the flames mimicking the intricate tattoos peeking out above his perfectly fitted tunic. Fine clothing adorned his body, its deep ebony color matching the shimmer of darkness that seemed to waft through his shoulders like the night sky. 

But it was his eyes—those deep violet eyes that shimmered with amusement that seemed to set off your internal alarm. Danger lurked behind that amethyst gaze.

“Be careful, little butterfly.” A voice as smooth as velvet drawled. “We wouldn’t want you flying away now, do we?” 

With feline grace, the male placed one hand on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder as he swept you across the crowd. This dance wasn’t like the wild, jovial traditional dance of the Spring Court. It was smooth and steady, every twist and turn performed with calculated precision. A lethal waltz with an equally lethal partner. 

The stranger spun you around and the silks of your skirts hugged his dark trousers as he reeled you back into his arms. 

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” the handsome male purred. “Where has the High Lord been hiding a treasure like yourself, my lady?” 

You swallowed thickly. The music and laughter echoed all around you, but they sounded slow and distorted as though your mind had been dipped in a jar of honey. Faces blurred in your periphery and dragged across the forefront of your consciousness like molasses, there and gone with the blink of an eye. It took a considerable amount of effort to bring your focus back to the stranger.

“I’m new to the Spring Court.” 

It wasn’t technically a lie, given that you’d only just made your formal debut a week ago. The stranger raised a brow, but if he had any qualms regarding your statement, he didn’t voice them. 

“Allow me to extend the warmest of welcomes, then.” He took a gloved hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles, mischief sparkling in those star kissed eyes. “My name is Rhysand.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhysand,” you said with a shy smile. “I’m—”

“Spoken for,” said a voice from behind you. 

A figure emerged from the trees, tall and lean and all too familiar. A flash of scarlet glimmered in the night as Lucien came into view. 

Of all people, it had to be your brother’s best friend catching you sneaking out of the manor and dancing with the most beautiful male you’ve ever laid eyes on. Still, there was the matter of the stupid little prattling of your heart as you turned to face the handsome red headed male.

Despite the increasing effects of that damned faerie wine, the sight of Lucien never failed to take your breath away. 

As befitting an emissary, he was dressed in fine clothing of a deep, rich green that accentuated the crimson locks flowing behind his back. Intricate braids crowned his head as soft tendrils kissed the planes of his elegant face. His sparkling amber and golden mechanical eye affixed on you. A heated spark flashed through his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher its meaning. 

You’ve fancied Lucien for as long as you could remember. At first, it had been a harmless little thing. You were so young when you first met and he’d always had that older, mysterious allure made even more enticing by the fact that Lucien was forbidden fruit. He was Tamlin’s best friend and constant companion and you were the younger sister with an innocent crush.

But now that you were both fully grown, the tension between you and Lucien was anything but.

“Calanmai is for invited guests only,” Lucien said sharply, his shoulders tensing. "And the last time I checked, you weren't on the list."

A lazy smile tugged on Rhysand’s lips. “Now, now, Lucien. Is that any way for an emissary to address a High Lord?” That violet gaze winked down at you. “Especially not in the presence of a beautiful maiden.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “The lady is spoken for.”

Now that was interesting. Lucien could’ve easily identified you as Tamlin’s sister, but he chose not to. Perhaps he didn’t want word of your escape to reach your brother.

“Stunning creatures, butterflies.” Rhysand said with a knowing smile, reaching out to caress your mask. Lucien bristled, but the High Lord of the Night Court only smirked seductively. “Though I’ve found that they tend to get restless if not properly stimulated.” 

Lucien angled himself between you and the handsome stranger. “My lady has had enough excitement for one night.” 

You frowned, glaring at your friend’s back. You wanted to dance and laugh and drink until dawn. You wanted to feel the wind in your hair and the music in your chest, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body and making you relaxed and pliant, but as Lucien pinned his gaze on you, the fear and concern swimming in his eyes kept you from speaking.

“It’s time to escort you back to the manor,” Lucien announced with finality. He spoke into the smoky night, not once looking at you. An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it as your friend's fists clenched at his side.

Violet eyes met your own as Rhysand dipped into a bow. He kissed your hand once more, making you blush fiercely. “Until we meet again, little butterfly.”

You watched as the male sauntered away, but not before winking back at you with a sultry grin. 

Without a word, Lucien grabbed your wrist and winnowed into thin air. The sudden transition was jarring and you barely had time to gather your wits before you were being ushered through the doors of the manor. The black and white chequered marble floors blurred beneath your feet as you and Lucien passed through like a furious wind, his deep auburn hair nearly whipping against your cheek as he stomped up the sweeping staircase. 

He didn’t look back once. Didn’t speak as he threw the door open and watched you walk through the threshold. Alone in your bedchambers, Lucien whirled around with barely contained rage coloring his handsome face. 

“Are you fucking insane?” The Autumn Court male finally spoke as you plopped down on the bed, the aftereffects of all the dancing and drinking weighing heavy on your body. “Do you know how utterly idiotic it was to venture out alone? On Calanmai, of all nights! You’re lucky that it was me who found you and not Tamlin.”

“And dancing with Rhysand—Rhysand of all fucking people!”

“At least he bothered to talk to me!” you yelled, voice hoarse and strained. “All you and Tamlin ever do is lock me in here like I’m some child that needs to be constantly coddled.” 

“Could you blame us?” he said harshly. “One night on your own and you managed to attract the attention of the most dangerous male in all of Prythian. Rhysand may have flashed you pretty smiles and flowery words, but it doesn’t change the beast that lurks within. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. He could have ripped your mind apart without lifting a single finger.”

You blanched at the realization. “I—I didn’t know.”

“That’s precisely the point,” your friend snapped. “You jump into things headfirst without any regard for your safety.” Lucien released a shaky breath, his hand trembling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “If anything happened to you…”

The worry dancing in his eyes momentarily sobered you. Enough for you to take his hand and squeeze in reassurance. “I’m fine, Lucien. Rhysand didn’t do anything to me. We just danced, that’s all.”

His grip tightened around your wrist. “He made you smile. Made you laugh. And he called you little butterfly,” Lucien said the last word softly, but it laid heavy between you. 

“It was because of the mask—”

A burning fire raged within Lucien. “I don’t give a damn why. He doesn’t have the right.” He titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Only I get to call you that, mariposa.”

You whimpered at the gruffness of his voice. Mariposa was Lucien's nickname for you and he usually said it with soft fondness, but the there was nothing gentle about the way he was wielding it now.

There was a part of you that knew Lucien was angry. His words echoed, but they didn’t fully register and were instead swallowed up by the haze clouding your mind. The only thing you could focus on was how badly the room was spinning and how your internal temperature seemed to spike higher and higher as Lucien pulled back to pace in front of the crackling hearth.

Heat blossomed in your core and snaked its fiery tendrils throughout your body, making you feel flushed and overheated. Your skin felt too hot and your dress too suffocating as you crumpled into a nearby chair. You hadn’t even noticed that your hands were shaking until you haphazardly wiped the sweat off of your brow. 

“Y/N?” Lucien’s voice sounded hollow and distant even though he was kneeling right beside you. You blinked, murmuring softly as he took your face in his hands. Gone was the wrath and fury from earlier, replaced now by worry and concern. “You’re burning up.”

His mechanical eye focused on the golden flecks covering your mouth. Lucien cursed lowly as he wiped his thumb across your bottom lip. The action made you shiver and you involuntarily leaned into his touch, his warmth, his scent. It felt good, so good, to have him touching you. 

“Did the High Lord give you anything to drink?” Lucien tilted your chin and you groaned, lashes fluttering against your cheek as his rough, calloused hands brushed against your skin. “Think, Y/N. I need you to answer me, sweetheart.”

You blinked, recalling the goblet of wine. “No, no, it wasn’t Rhys. It was another male. A dryad. Your fingers brushed against the flecks on your mouth and you furrowed your brows in confusion at Lucien’s deep frown. “He gave me some wine. It was gold and sweet.”

“That bloody bastard.” Your friend’s tone was sharp and biting, anger rippling through him in waves. 

“Why?” you asked as spots blurred your vision. “I feel fuzzy and warm and it’s so godsdamned stuffy in this room. What’s happening to me, Lucien?”

“You drank Amortis,” Lucien explained. 

The mention of the potion sent a course of panic through you, but it was swallowed up again by the flame of desire burning hotter and hotter underneath your friend’s intense gaze. Somewhere in the abscesses of your brain, you knew that this was bad. 

Amortis was an aphrodisiac used as an aid during the mating rituals of Calanmai. You vaguely recalled learning about it during your lessons about the Great Rite, but you’d been too drunk on faerie wine and music for the significance of the drink to register.

“The dryad must have slipped it into your wine when you weren’t looking.” His expression darkened, a snarl rippling through his chest. “I’m going to rip him apart bit by bit. Tamlin can have what’s left.”

His eyes widened. “Oh gods, I have to tell Tam.”

You shook your head and tugged at his wrist. “No,” you pleaded. If Tamlin heard about any of this, he’d never let you out of his sight again. “Please don’t tell my brother, Lu.” 

Lucien softened at your given nickname for him. Try as he might, the Autumn Court male couldn’t deny that he had a soft spot for you. Having known you your entire life, he was just as protective over you as Tamlin was. Growing up with brothers, he hadn’t been prepared for the antics and schemes that you always seemed to get yourself into. You were trouble personified and you had him completely wrapped around your finger. 

Always have, always will.  

So he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine,” Lucien conceded. “But we have to do something. You’re burning up.” 

“A shower,” you suggested. “I need a cold shower.”

Your friend helped you onto your feet and escorted you into the large bathroom attached to your bedchambers. The marble tiled shower hissed and groaned as Lucien eased the handles. Mist fogged up the mirror and you leaned against the countertop, wriggling out of your shoes. 

The effects of the potion reached its peak and took full control of your body. Every sensation felt intensified as you doubled over in pain. You nearly ripped the dress off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your lace underclothes as you stepped into the cold shower. 

Curled up into a fetal position, you hugged your knees to your chest and allowed the freezing water to cool your body temperature. Lucien knelt down beside you and wrapped an arm against your shoulder, stroking your hair and murmuring words of comfort. 

The warmth of the Autumn Court male enveloped you in cinnamon and sunshine. Whether it was the Amortis or your natural attraction to Lucien, you found yourself leaning in closer and nuzzling into his neck. His grip on your shoulder tightened as your lips brushed against his skin. 

“Y/N.” 

A fiery tendril curled around your finger as you looked up and met Lucien’s gaze. Water fell in rapid droplets, soaking through his white shirt and clinging onto his golden-brown skin. You traced the scar above his brow and his eyes fluttered close in response. Lucien’s ragged breathing filled the room as you traced the elegant planes of his face, your thumb brushing against his lips. They looked so lush and inviting, you wanted nothing more than to lean in and take a bite. 

You tilted your chin up, nuzzling your nose against his. An inch closer and his lips would be on yours. Lucien's lashes kissed your cheek as his eyes fluttered open. Meeting his burning gaze was like looking directly at the sun.

“I want to kiss you,” you whispered. 

A flash of something dark and dangerous glimmered in Lucien’s hypnotic stare before he clamped down on your wrist. For a second, you could see the conflict raging within him. He wanted this as much as you did. All he needed to do was give in. The shower above you hissed and Lucien blinked, snapping out of whatever moment the two of you had been in the midst of.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “It’s just the effects of Amortis.” 

“Amortis lowers your inhibitions,” you countered. “But it doesn’t alter your desires, which means I’d want to kiss you even if I were sober.”

Lucien gently removed your hand from his face and set it on your lap. “Maybe so,” he mused before reaching up to turn the shower handle. “But I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Not like this.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Why? Because I’m Tamlin’s pesky little sister who’s had an embarrassing crush on you for centuries?” 

The redhead pinned you against the tiled wall, his stare burning holes into your skin. “Because I care about you. Because the first time I kiss you won’t be because you accidentally consumed an aphrodisiac.” He braced his palms on either side of your head and you swallowed at how much he towered over you, how easily he caged you in. “When I finally kiss you, mariposa, it won’t just be a kiss. It’ll be everything and there’ll be no going back from it. So I need you to be sure.” 

A shiver crawled up your spine. “I am sure,” you said softly. “I’ve always been sure about you, Lucien.”

He smiled. A devastating sort of smile that sent sunlight into the cracks of your soul. “Then tell me in the morning, little butterfly.”

Dawn broke over the horizon as golden rays speared through the bruised sky. Someone had left the curtains in your bedchambers spread apart. Probably you. Or maybe it was Lucien. 

Lucien. 

Memories from the night before flooded your thoughts. After your embarrassing confession, Lucien had helped you get dressed and carried you to bed. You shot up in the large four poster bed, rustling the pillows and blankets that he’d carefully tucked you into. A glimpse of red snagged your attention and you found your friend sprawled across a velvet lounge chair, his long legs hanging over the edge. 

The sound of your shuffling roused the red haired male from sleep. He pitched forward, alarm spreading through his face when he found you staring at him. Lucien crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside your bed. He scanned your features, gently cradling your chin between his fingers. 

“I’m fine, Lu.” 

Relief washed over your friend. There was something endearing about the way he fretted over you. 

“Never scare me like that again,” Lucien said. 

You grinned. “I think that’s the last time I ever drink Amortis. Though I can’t promise to stay out of trouble.”

Lucien sighed deeply, running a hand through his fiery locks. “I’m serious, Y/N. In all of my immortal existence, I’ve never felt terror like I did when I saw you dancing with Rhysand.”

“Is the High Lord truly that horrifying?” 

“I wasn’t scared of him,” Lucien said. There was no bravado in the statement, just pure honesty as he fixed his gaze on you. “I was scared for him. Of what I wanted to do to him for simply breathing the same air as you.”

You swallowed thickly. “What you said last night…what I said last night. I meant it, Lucien.” 

Lucien went still as death, his mechanical eye whirring to life as he scanned over you. Checking for any traces of Amortis. Confirming that you weren’t still under its spell. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caressed his cheek. 

“I’m not under any spell,” you whispered softly. “What I feel, it’s real. I wanted to kiss you last night and I still want to kiss you this morning. I’m sure, Lucien.” 

His slender fingers curled gently around your wrist, his breathing low and ragged as he brought his gaze up to you. There was something primal and possessive in those eyes. 

“I won’t insult you by attempting to describe how I feel about you in words,” he declared, his voice like honeyed wine ebbing through your very core. “I’ll just show you instead.”

Lucien’s slender fingers curled through your unbound hair, tilting your head at just the right angle before he gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss ignited a fire within your core. It was soft and sweet yet demanding and possessive. You could tell that Lucien was barely restraining himself by the way his breath hitched as your lips met. 

You melted into his touch as he brought you closer, setting you on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. Centuries of curiosity was satisfied as you raked your fingers through his hair, the feel of it smooth and silky like you’d always imagined. Shy pecks turned into lingering heated kisses as you explored one another. Lucien groaned when you shifted your hips, greedily leaning down to taste more of him. 

He tugged you by the top of your thighs, placing you chest to chest. The sunlight streaming in from the window crowned him in glorious day, his auburn hair shining brightly like a living flame as though Lucien was the embodiment of fire itself. There was a wildness in him that drew you in like a moth to a flame. 

Lucien stroked your cheek tenderly as though he were convincing himself that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. His features softened as you took his hand and kissed his fingertips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “You put the flowers in this court to shame with the way you bloom.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, filling you with a wave of emotions. It was a rare occasion for you to be rendered speechless, but Lucien was more than capable of stunning you into complete silence. 

You pressed your lips against his in response, the kiss turning urgent as you poured all of the words you weren’t able to articulate into one single action. Lucien groaned as you gently tugged on his bottom lip. He teased his tongue past the seam of your lips and you gladly obliged, welcoming him in. 

There was no trace of his restraint from earlier as Lucien flipped you over, pinning you underneath him as he completely devoured you. It was in that moment that you realized that you’ve never been properly kissed. Because this…this paled in comparison to every other kiss you’ve ever had. 

It nearly knocked the breath out of you. From the way that Lucien’s chest was rising and falling, you weren’t the only one. As the kiss deepened, the desire to feel him, to truly feel him, became overwhelming. You tugged on the hem of his shirt and Lucien pulled away to allow you to pull it off of him. 

He toyed with the straps of the nightgown that he had helped you change into a few hours ago, a question in his expression. You merely nodded and shrugged out of the silky material. Lucien watched as you laid yourself bare before him, his fingers brushing against your delicate skin. 

You tugged at the front of his trousers and he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “Are you sure?” 

“I told you, Lucien.” You said, meeting his burning gaze. “I’ve always been sure about you. I want this. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he whispered. “More than anyone has ever wanted anything in this entire realm.” 

“So take me.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you again but this time it was desperate and full of need. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every line and curve with devotion. Lucien kissed every surface of skin as though he were committing your body to memory. His fingers dipped low as he parted your legs, groaning when he found you wet and ready for him. 

You watched as he lined himself up at your entrance. Every move was filled with tenderness. Lucien teased the tip in, his gaze never leaving yours while he eased his cock inside of you. His length stretched you beyond your limit, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Once he filled you to the hilt, he paused. 

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of red hair from his cheek. “Never better.”

Your friend smiled before slowly pulling out, monitoring your reactions as he established a steady pace. By no means were you inexperienced, but as Lucien rolled his hips into yours, it felt like you’d been starved of touch your whole life. He seemed to echo the sentiment as awe and bewilderment took over his features. 

It had never felt like this with anyone else. 

The way he touched you was full of devotion as though your body was a temple and he was making his burnt offerings upon the altar. Lucien lavished you with worship, his large hands easing your leg up so he could angle himself deeper. You moaned as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Gods, Lucien.”

His forehead dropped to yours, eyes blazing with fire. You didn’t have to say the words. Lucien knew exactly what you meant. “I know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I know, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breathing ragged. His muscles tensed underneath your fingertips as you raked your nails across his back. Lucien growled into your mouth as you dragged him down beside you, flipping positions so that you were perched on his lap. 

His skin glistened in the early morning light, beads of sweat glimmering like crystals along his perfectly sculpted torso. You braced your hands on his chest and rode him slowly, moving your hips back and forth while he watched through heavy lids. A large hand clamped down on your right hip hard enough to bruise, but you kept the steady rhythm as the male underneath you groaned. 

From this angle, the friction on your clit combined with Lucien’s upward thrusts unraveled that familiar feeling in your core. Lucien felt you clench around him and he sat upright, sucking harshly at your neck. 

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered gently. You closed your eyes, giving into the rush of sensations. “That’s it. I want to watch you come undone.”

The impact made your vision blur with white heat. For a split second, you felt as though you were floating above your body, watching as you writhed in pleasure. Lucien’s voice brought you back and you relished the way your name tumbled so prettily from his mouth, like the prayer of a devoted believer. He roared as he finished, his head lolling against the crook of your neck. 

At some point, his braids had come undone and you giggled as crimson locks tickled your cheek. Lucien lifted his head, observing you with a soft smile. Behind him, the sun reached its peak over the horizon and formed a golden crown upon his head. 

You propped an elbow up against your pillow, a small smile spreading across your lips as you admired the male beside you. 

Lucien grinned back, brushing his nose against your cheek. “What are you thinking about, mariposa?”

“I’m thinking that I should endanger myself more often if this is what it leads to.”

The redhead frowned, flicking your nose. “You do seem to have a special talent for attracting trouble.” 

You shrugged lazily. “I attract a lot of things. Including stubborn, possessive redheads.”

Lucien chuckled before pulling you into his chest. His arm snaked around your waist as he nuzzled against the back of your neck. 

“Falling for you is by far the most reckless thing I’ve ever done,” he whispered softly. You turned slightly, worry marking your features. Lucien smoothed the creases on your forehead. “But I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

You sighed in relief, melting back into his arms. Comfortable silence stretched between you as the reality of what you’d just done settled. Lucien was right. There was no going back from this. 

The spring manor came to life, voices filtering in and out as everyone started preparing for the day. You turned to fully face him, speaking the words that you were both thinking. 

“What are we gonna tell my brother, Lu?”

Lucien brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We’ll tell him the truth. That this was inevitable. That nothing in this realm could’ve kept me away from you.”

“Are you sure about this?” Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. “About me?” 

“I am sure,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been sure about you.”

As he echoed your words from last night, you leaned in to kiss him. You were part thrilled, part terrified of whatever came next. 

But as long as Lucien was by your side, you were ready to face the dawn of a new day.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

[albertasunrise]

Back to Reality - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy 😘)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

You gawked at Ben as the piece of information he'd given you set in. Frankie. Your Frankie thought you were dead. Ben watched you closely as a myriad of emotions flitted across your face. His arms gently bounced Esme as she settled against his firm chest and fell asleep once more. He knew this was a difficult idea to process but he also knew that you had to understand that Frank was delicate right now and needed time to assimilate this world instead of the one he'd been trapped in for weeks.

"Titch?" He piped up after you had been silent a while, his eyes searching your face for any sort of understanding.

"He thinks I'm dead?" You asked and he nodded grimly "What?… How?… What do you mean?"

"When he woke the first time, he was sobbing about how he was going to see 'her' again. Initially, I had thought he meant Mel but it soon became clear it was you he was talking about." Ben answered as he rested his cheek against the crown of Emse's head "The doctor believes that when he was in a coma he was dreaming but aspects of reality trickled in." He continued "So those days we sat by his bedside and you asked him to come back to you, he could hear you. Or I suppose the ghost of you."

You couldn't hold back the sob that fell from your lips. Your heart shattered completely and you sank to the floor as you processed what Ben had said.

"So all that time he's been living in a world where I died and he's had to raise little Esme all alone." It wasn't a question. It was just you stating a simple fact and Ben could do nothing but watch as you fell apart on the clinical hospital floor.

"Titch, I know this is a lot to take in and I know your first instinct is probably to run back in there and try a convince him that this world is real and that you are too but…"

"I know what you're going to say, Ben." You interrupted "He's fragile and we need to be careful with him. I get it!" You snapped "I will stay away."

"That's not what I am saying." Ben groaned as he carefully lowered himself onto the ground beside you, his large hand cradling Esme's head as he slid down the lino-covered wall "He just needs a few days to adjust. He's been in a coma for close to two months. He's confused and it's going to take a few days for the fog to clear. So perhaps we ease him into this gently."

You nodded, knocking a few tears loose with the action and Ben smiled as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"He's back with us Titch and he's getting better." Ben stated as he nuzzled the downy hair on Esme's head "You and him and Esme are going to be a family but he's still got a road ahead of him."

You nodded, taking Ben's free hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"We just need to help him walk it. At whatever pace he can manage."

The next few days were torture. You avoided the hospital like the plague, handing Emse off to Ben each day so that he could take her to see Frankie. You knew he was going to try and get Frankie to come around to the fact that you are real. That this isn't a dream but Frank was out of it during his visits. They had kept him mildly sedated in order to keep him calm as he got used to being awake. Ben and Will watched as his awareness slowly but surely ebbed its way through. Fish became a little more coherent with each visit.

"You think you feel up to holding her today?" Asked Ben as he took the bottle of water Frankie had been sipping from off of the man and placed it on the table "She seems smaller than I remember." The man said and Ben shared a look with Will.

"Remember what we talked about yesterday Catfish?" Will asked as he perched on the bed "You've been sleeping for a while and what you remember of Esme was a dream."

Frank's brows drew together as he tried to remember the conversation in question. Things were still so fuzzy. Memories felt heavy but he tried to figure out which ones were real and which ones were just a coma-induced fantasy.

"Who's been taking care of Esme whilst I've been gone?" He asked, his voice quiet and uncertain as his eyes flitted between the two Miller brothers.

"Titch has been." Ben stated "She woke up a few days after you had your heart attack." He continued as he placed his hand on his friend's and squeezed in in a reassuring gesture "She really wants to see you… She's missed you like crazy."

Frank just closed his eyes and shook his head as a few silent tears slipped down his flushed cheeks "Why would you say that to me." He choked "Why give me hope when there isn't any."

"Fish I am telling you the god's honest truth." Ben urged "Titch didn't die. It was all a dream."

"Ben." Will piped up, giving his younger brother a look that silently said 'That's enough.'

"I would like to hold my daughter now." Frankie stated plainly and Benny nodded, smiling down at little Esme as he scooped her up and placed her into her father's waiting arms.

The pilot beamed as he looked down at his daughter and it was the first time in days that either Miller brother had witnessed genuine joy from the older man.

"Hello, princessa." He cooed as he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose "You are so pretty." He resumed as he stroked her plump cheek with the tip of his pointer finger "Just like your mumma."

"Titch is such a natural with her man." Ben beamed as he watched the scene unfold "Seems to know what Esme wants before she even cries. It's mad." He chuckled but Frankie didn't look at him. Didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken.

Ben's shoulders visibly shrank at that.

Will motioned for Ben to follow him as he stood from where he had perched on the bed and made his way out into the hall, letting the pilot know they'd be back in a moment before stepping far enough away that they were out of earshot.

"I think we need to bring Titch to visit." Will stated plainly.

"But he still doesn't believe she's alive." Ben argued, glancing at the man through the glass wall of his cubical before returning his attention to Will.

"He's stable. The doctor said today that his vitals are strong and he's confident that the worst is behind." Will stated as he scraped a hand over his short blonde hair "I think it's time we bring her here. So that he can see for himself that she's alive and well."

"I don't know Will." Ben replied, shaking his head as he thought about it "You remember how he was last time he saw her."

"He had just woken up from a 7-week coma and he was confused." Wil growled "He is now awake, lucid and talking so I think now is the time to rip that bandaid off. We're gonna need to eventually"

Ben nodded. He knew his brother was right. Frankie was going to have to see you at some point and he had promised you that it was a few days that Fish needed to get himself used to this reality. Well, those 'few days' had long passed.

"Fine." Ben conceded "I will bring her with me tomorrow when I come to see him with Titchy." He replied "You're right."

"I know." Will teased as he gave his bother a friendly pat on the arm "Happens more often than you think."

"Shut up." Ben grumbled before they returned to the pilot's room.

"Are you sure about this Ben?" You asked as he led the way to Frankie's room.

When he had said it was time you visited with him and Esme you had been sceptical. You didn't want to go through another ordeal like the one you had experienced before. In just over a week you had witnessed him go into cardiac arrest and then wake up and beg you to leave him alone.

You weren't sure how much more your heart could take.

"Will said that it's time we rip that bandaid off and I agree." He stated simply as they came to the ICU "He's stable and getting stronger every day so I think it's time he starts to get used to the idea that you are very much alive and kicking."

"Your arse if this doesn't go well." You added and he chuckled.

"Fair enough."

You stopped outside Frankie's cubicle and noted he was sleeping and you felt yourself grow more and more nervous by the second. Ben didn't need to look at you to see this.

"I will go in, and let him know he has a visitor. Give me a few minutes okay?" He said softly as he placed a comforting hand on your arm "I'll wave at you to come in when he's ready okay?"

You simply nodded and watched as Ben stepped inside the glass room, his smile growing wide as Frankie's eyes cracked open and fixed on him.

…

"How are you feeling this morning brother?" He asked as he sat himself down beside his friend.

"Little stronger today." The pilot answered and Ben grinned at his reply.

"That's good Fishcakes." He chucked when the pilot groaned at the nickname "Feeling up to a visitor?" He asked and Frankie gave him a perplexed look "Titch is here." Ben stated and Frankie's eyes widened "She really wants to see you." He finished as he looked over his shoulder at you stood in the ward as you fidgetted with your hands.

Frankie's eyes followed Ben's and his eyes widened further as he saw you standing there.

"You can see her?" He asked Ben and the younger man chuckled.

"Course I can."

"She's really there?" He asked and Ben just smiled at him sweetly and nodded before motioning to you to come in.

You nervously stepped inside. Esme's carrier in one hand and the other pushing the glass door open. Your eyes never left Franks. Not even when you placed the carrier down on the floor beside you. The two of you just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Ben finally spoke up.

"I'll leave you two to catch up." He said as he picked up Esme "We're gonna go say hi to Esme's fans… Aren't with Titchy." He said as his voice adopted that high-pitched tone that was only for her.

Neither of you looked away as he left. You just continued to stare like it had been years rather than weeks without seeing or speaking to each other. When you couldn't take the silence anymore you spoke up whilst taking a seat at his bedside.

"How are you doing?" You asked, your voice quiet and timid as you searched his face for something.

"Stronger." He replied simply and you nodded "Still confused."

"I bet." You replied, trying to lighten the mood that had settled over the room "I'm so happy you're awake."

"Am I?" He asked and it was your turn to look confused "What if this is some sort of coma-induced dream?"

"Frankie-"

"How do I know that this isn't just my dying brain showing me what it is I want to see?"

Silent tears slipped down your cheeks as you and him just continued to stare at each other.

"I want to believe this is real." He hicupped as his own tears started to fall "I want to believe that the woman I love is alive and sitting right in front of me but I can't."

"I am real." You urged as you grabbed his hand and brought it to your face "Does this feel real to you?"

"Everything there felt real too!" He stated as he snatched his hand away "The pain… The heartbreak… All of that felt so real."

You sobbed loudly then as he continued.

"The pain I felt when that car struck me… it was so real. The pain of not being able to breathe as I lay there dying felt so real and I…" He trailed off but you knew what he was going to say.

He had been ready to die.

"What can I do to convince you that this is real?" You sobbed as you hugged yourself.

"I don't know." Frankie answered honestly "I don't want to accept this, that you are here right now, alive and well only for me to wake up one day in a different hospital bed and realise that it wasn't real. I can't lose you again."

"That's not going to happen!" You pleaded but he just shook his head.

"I wish I could believe that."

You were saved by the Ben.

The younger Miller strolled in with a grinning Esme in his arms and you quickly wiped away your tears and schooled your features.

"Titchy here is quick the chick magnet." Ben chuckled as he bounced her and she smiled widely as she shyly shoved her head in his chest "Awe… You weren't all shy a minute ago."

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to willingly babysit when I go back to work?" You chuckled and the man just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Because I'm an amazing uncle?"

"That you are." You said fondly as you took Esme from him "Time for someone's lunch you said as you sat down again and pulled down your tank top. Smiling as Esme eagerly latched to your breast and started to suckle.

Ben watched a moment in fondness before his eyes travelled over to Frankie who was watching in awe. His eyes were red and teary. From what, Ben wasn't sure but he did wonder if it was partly due to the beautiful spectacle of you breastfeeding Titchy.

He had been able to sense as soon as he walked in that your reunion hadn't been what you had hoped. So instead of prying, he tried to bring some joy and Titchy was nothing but pure joy in his eyes. He knew that both you and Frankie would talk about what had happened when you were ready. He wasn't going to push the subject. He knew this was going to take time and he was there for the ride.

So in the following weeks, You visited with Ben, hoping that each visit would bring him around to the idea that you were alive and that this wasn't some fever dream.

Then when the doctor announced that Frankie was well enough to go home, Ben helped you move into the pilot's house. You had figured he would be more comfortable in his own environment but he still needed help. He was getting stronger every day but he still had days where he felt rough and bone tired.

"Can I get you anything else?" You asked as you walked into the lounge and placed the freshly brewed coffee you'd made for him down on the table beside him.

Today was one of Frank's worse days. But he hadn't wanted to stay cooped up in bed. So you had helped him to the couch that you had set up with pillows and soft blankets. Esme was now napping on his bare chest, skin-on-skin time being something he had demanded the moment he had gotten home. You couldn't help but glance at the large scar between his pectorals. It was healing well but still looked pink and slightly angry. It was a clean cut. Almost a perfect straight line, right down the centre of his chest. The surgeon had said he was sure that with time, the scar would fade to the point that he almost wouldn't notice it but Frankie hadn't really cared all that much.

He was littered with scars from battle after all.

"No, thank you." Frankie replied as he glanced up at you and smiled before returning his attention to the drooling baby on his chest "She's so perfect." He stated as you sat down on the armchair across from him "I still can't believe that you and me made her."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." You chuckled "I still have to pinch myself on the daily because I can't believe she's real." You flinched at your statement, internally scorning yourself for your choice of words but Frank didn't appear to be phased.

"I hope she is." Was all he said as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at his precious angel.

You watched him for a while. Admiring how much of a natural he was with her. Since getting him back home you had started to express, allowing him to do some of the feeds whilst you cooked or cleaned, whatever needed doing.

Frankie did what he could on the days he felt well enough but on the days that he didn't you know he was torturing himself. He hated how weak he felt. This was a man who had never been afforded the opportunity to be weak. He was expected to be strong every day of his life. To walk away from battle even if he'd taken a bullet to the leg.

"I never told you how wonderful Esme Nursery is!" You said after a little while "You didn't such a wonderful job. Especially as you were squeezing it in between caring for her and visiting me in the hospital."

This made Frankie pause and he blinked up at you as he studied you closely.

"Ben told me that if you weren't with me at the hospital or caring for Esme, you were spending every waking moment getting that nursery finished."

"I had to keep myself distracted." He replied, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he remembered how every time he'd closed his eyes, he pictured you as your face paled and your eyes had drooped. The alarms had rung in his ears for days.

"I know it must have been really hard for you, Fish." You said softly as you gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Not as hard as it's been for you." You didn't react to this.

This was the first time he'd acknowledged you and what you had likely been through whilst he'd been in a coma. He had still been weary of believing you were real. The odd comment here or there making it clear to you that he still didn't believe this was real.

But you could see that he wanted to.

"I don't want this to end." He whispered, so quietly that you almost missed it but you didn't.

"It won't." You replied with a smile.

Frankie glanced at you and noted a new expression you'd not seen before. Something that almost looked like hope so you hoped that your next statement would give him that.

"We're here to stay."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[jake-g-lockley]

Shiny Things (Din Djarin x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be Tagged?

A/N: If there is something that I love more than love, it has to be soulmate love! Also, I desperately had to channel simp Din somewhere after the last episode cuz have y’all heard the Rizzalorian? The song for this is Paper Rings - Taylor Swift, cuz, well, y’all gotta read and see hehe. Also dedicated to @sofasoap because we share a mutual distaste for *ahem*. Anyway! Enjoy the cute chaos.

Warnings: ugly men doing ugly things, mentions of repaying a debt, other than that very very soft Mando

Word count: 2.8 k 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Come on now, hurry, that table over there doesn't even have their food and drinks yet.” the owner shoved you and you stumbled slightly, eyes casted downwards.

You sigh softly and begin to prepare the drinks, setting them on your serving tray . You stretch your arm slightly, trying to unknot the painful cramp that had twisted itself in one of your muscles, your eyes watering slightly as you get frustrated by the ebbing pain. You bit your bottom lip and picked up the tray, walking over to the table and setting a drink and a bowl of porridge  in front of a figure, keeping your eyes downcasted.

“Woah.” came a deep modulated voice and you froze, your hand still on the bowl of porridge.

You looked up, your eyes wide with alarm as you found yourself staring at a shock of silver, no, beskar, and a black t-visor. Din Djarin froze too, he didn’t mean to say whatever he said out loud. He could feel his cheeks going crimson with embarrassment, ever so thankful for the helmet that covered his face. Your face morphed to one of curiosity. You’ve never seen a Mandalorian before and you quickly scanned him, noting his broad shoulders and stoic posture that made him look almost regal.

“Hey! Come back here and tend the bar!” the owner shouted and you grimaced slightly, gripping your serving tray close to you before turning on your heel and rushing to the bar. 

You found yourself glancing at the Mandalorian ever so often as he spoon fed something in a little hovering pram. Your heart involuntarily sank a little.

“He probably has a wife somewhere.” you think sadly and continue to serve people at the bar, keeping your eyes tactfully off the Mandalorian,

When you saw him getting up to leave, you carefully ducked into the freezer, pretending to pull something out of it. You hear a clink of credits and glance outside, only to see the Mandalorian exiting through the front door, the hovering pram close to his right gloved hand.

That night, you dreamt of the Mandalorian, your hand was in his and you had your head against his shoulder as the both of you stared quietly at the setting suns. You woke up sad, beating yourself up for letting yourself think of the Mandalorian.

That morning you kept yourself busy, skillfully forming a rhythm as you prepared drinks, served and thanked customers. Your productive morning was cut short when a customer cleared his throat and gestured towards something that wasn’t on the bar before you had turned your back on it. A small bunch of wildflowers tied together with string and a tiny note was in front of you and you looked questioningly at the customer who notified you on it.

“Some big man in beskar left it here when you weren’t looking.”

You scrambled as soon as you heard the word beskar. Your hands snatched the note and your heart soared as you blinked at the tiny smiley face scrawled on the paper, followed by a tiny drawing that looked sort of like you that was scribbled with crayon.

You sighed and when your eyes dropped to the front door, you swear you saw a flash of beskar ducking away which made you giggle slightly. Despite being so far away, Din sighed when he heard the pretty giggle over the harsh sounds of the cantina. He suddenly felt someone watching him as he hid away from the entrance and his eyes met with a shopkeeper who was smiling at him, gesturing for him to come closer.

He sighed again and walked to the shopkeeper, Grogu babbling happily beside him

“I don’t have to see your face to know that you’re pining for someone, Mandalorian.” the shopkeeper teased as soon as Din was in close proximity. “I’ve been watching you.”

Din stayed quiet, squaring his shoulders slightly.

“So tell me then, was it love at first sight?” 

Din’s heart pounded under his armour. He’d never had this type of conversation with anyone and he wanted to close off. But, oh maker, he wanted to stand on top of the tallest mountain he could find and shout about how he felt when he looked into your eyes.

So he decided to compromise with himself, nodding slowly.

“It’s okay to feel like this, Mandalorian.” the shopkeeper says, arranging one of her many necklaces. 

“Do you know anything about her?” Din asks, his voice surprisingly soft, not in his usual authoritative manner.

“She’s in debt to the cantina’s owner, which is why she always looks so sad. He doesn’t treat her right, the poor thing.” the shopkeeper sighed. “But I have to say, she has a heart of gold, son.”

Din wanted to say that he already knew that about you, the kindness in your eyes was unmistakable. But he nodded again, his chest tightening under the strain that his heart was feeling. 

“Go after her, son, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” the shopkeeper said, raising her eyebrows as if she had made her final decision. “Here, take this with you and give it to her, it's on me.”

She held out a simple silver necklace that had a small purple gemstone hanging as a pendant. 

“Oh no, I can’t take that.” Din says, holding his hands up.

“Fine, I will give it to your peculiar child then.” She rolled her eyes and handed Grogu the necklace, who gladly took it and stared at the stone that was refracting the light of the suns.

Din placed his hands on his hips and tried to give the shopkeeper a look of disdain but he couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I can sense your reservations from here, Mando, hold your head high and do this. If you are not going to do it for yourself, at least do it for her.” she said, a finality in her words and he felt a push in his heart, his smile growing wider as a slight weight lifted off his shoulders. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next morning, Din sat on his bed and tried to rehearse what he would say to you, but nothing was going right. He frowned at Grogu and chewed on his bottom lip. Grogu babbles something and Din shrugs.

“Fine, you’re right, I’m gonna just wing it.” he grumbled as Grogu toddled towards him holding out the necklace in his little hand.

“Thanks buddy.” Din smiles under the helmet and picks Grogu up, taking a deep breath and standing up.

You were deep in thought, tapping the bar with your nail until a small modulated cough broke your thoughts. You whirled around and couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face when your eyes caught the gleaming beskar. You instantly forced the smile down glancing around for your boss but Din had already caught it and was trying not to fall off his chair from its intensity.

“Umm, how can I help you?” you say to the Mandalorian, your eyes downcasted to where his gloved hands laid on the table.

“A porridge for the little one.” said the voice. 

“Right, let me serve the other table and I’ll come back with the porridge.” you say, turning around and biting your bottom lip so that another smile couldn’t escape you.

On your war back to the bar, you felt a little tug on your loose pants. You looked down to see a peculiar little creature smiling up at you and you almost melted at the sight. You couldn’t help but kneel down and pat its head right there in the middle of the cantina. 

“Hi there! Oh, aren’t you the cutest thing in the galaxy!” you squealed as the little green creature jumped into your arms.

You cradled him and walked to the bar, giggling at his little babbles and Din tried hard to fight the incoming fit that was plaguing his head when he saw his son in your arms. With the baby in your arms, Din stared longingly as you rushed around the bar, getting the porridge ready. You turned around and set the porridge in front of the Mandalorian.

“Here you go! Porridge for your little one.” you peered over the counter only to see an empty hovering pram.

“Oh! Where is your little one?” you ask, your brows furrowing in confusion as you tossed your hair and bounced Grogu on your hip.

“Umm, you’re holding him.” the Mandalorian said and your eyes widened as you turned to look at the baby you were holding.

“He’s adorable.” you whispered, running a knuckle across Grogu’s cheek.

“Can I, umm, feed him?” you ask suddenly and Din nods without hesitation. 

“While you do that, can I speak to your boss?” Din says, seizing his chance. 

“Sure!” you called your boss and the porky man stumbled out of the back room, drunk as usual.

“What!” he barked and you tried to hide your grimace, gesturing towards the Mandalorian without a word, shielding the baby from the horrible man.

Din held his head higher, his hand forming a fist at the way the man was talking to his girl. Din blinked at the way he unconsciously called you his girl, forgetting what exactly he came here to do.

“Oh, a Mandalorian! Never thought I’d see one, I thought you people were extinct.” the porky man chuckled.

“Is there somewhere we can talk? I have an offer you can’t refuse.” Din says, his voice darker than anything you’d heard.

You watch as the Mandalorian was led away by your boss. You tilted your head, wondering what might he want with him. The baby in your arms squeals and you smile down at him, booping his little nose gently.

“Your dad will be back.” you assured the baby although when you looked into his big bug eyes you were not sure whether you were convincing the baby or yourself.

“What can I help you with, Mandalorian?” the porky man asked Din as he slipped into a booth, a little far away from his girl.

Din’s heart was thudding loud enough that he could quite literally hear it despite the loud cantina. He didn’t even know your name, how could he free her? He took a deep breath before answering, letting the breath settle his heart, a reminder that he was doing this because it felt right. He pulls a bag of credits from his pocket and drops it in front of the man in front of him, who’s eyes lit up at the familiar jingle. 

“I want to pay the girl’s debt.” Din says clearly, his voice as steady as his purpose

“That girl? Are you related to her or something?” the fat man chuckled, and Din tipped his head without a word. 

Suddenly, the owner pushed the bag of credits towards Din making him absolutely confused. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.

“Mandalorian, I don’t think you understand, I need her here, she brings in the customers and does everything. You think I’d like to lose my best worker?” the owner chuckled, his three chins warbling. 

Before Din could retort, someone interrupts him and turns to talk to the owner. Din leaned slightly out of the booth, only to see you looking at him, Grogu still on your hip as you bit your lip nervously. 

Din didn’t know what else to do and when his heart sparked hard against his chest, he jumped up and ran towards you, scooping the baby out of your arms and plopping him into his hovering pram. Your eyes were wide with surprise as the Mandalorian took your hands in his.

“HEY! GET THAT MANDALORIAN!” yelled the owner from the booth. 

“My name is Din Djarin. Do you trust me? Please, just trust me, we need to get out of here.” Din pleaded with you, panting slightly under his helmet. 

Someone tried to lunge towards him and he kicked them hard, sending them flying into a table and you gasp.

“Come on!” Din urged, his hands still surprisingly gentle against yours.

You nod and watch him punch another person who tried to pull him away from you. Din pulled his hands away for a second, immediately slipping under your armpits and pulling you up and away from the bar, as if you were the same size as the baby. You scream and Din swings you, making your foot collide with someone’s face.

“I’m sorry!” you shout through the chaos as Din sets you down and pulls you by your hand and the both of you sprint out of the cantina as fast as possible, knocking down carts and tables.

“GOOD LUCK SON!” called the shopkeeper and Din shot her a two finger salute and pulled you as he ran faster, Grogu’s pram speeding up to keep up with the both of you.

Adrenaline was pumping through your system like it had replaced your blood. You felt like you were on fire as the Mandalorian, who was apparently called Din Djarin, led you quickly around corners. 

“That’s my ship! Run!” Din urged and the both of you ran to the open ramp, jumping in, Din shutting it almost immediately.

You collapse on the floor of the Razor Crest, taking in big gulps of air as your brain scrambles to take in the situation put out for you. Din had disappeared and soon you felt the rumble of the Razor Crest and you were soon airborne. A while later, you feel something soft against your hand and a big beskar helmet hovering above your face. You glance down at the baby who had been checking on you, his tiny hand patting yours.

“You okay?” the modulated voice makes your gaze snap back to the Mandalorian’s helmet.

You felt your brain seize and suddenly you were laughing. Your eyes were squeezed shut and you were cackling, balling yourself up into a ball.

“I can’t believe we just did that! THAT WAS AWESOME!” you jump to your knees and grab ahold of Din’s helmet, as if it were his face. 

Din was in shock. The sound of your laughter made him feel ecstatic. 

“Oh maker, I can’t believe you kidnapped me!” you laughed, throwing your arms around the Mandalorian’s neck.

“Yea… WAIT! NO! You ran away with me!” Din said, panicking a little. 

“Yea right, you were the one who literally snatched me away!” you squealed.

You loosened your arms when you realised that you had literally climbed into Din’s lap. You looked down bashfully and Din raised an eyebrow under his helmet.

“Thank you. That was the scariest, most cathartic thing I’ve ever done.” you shot Din a small smile that made him feel like Grogu’s mushy porridge. 

Din felt something poke his side and he turned to see Grogu slipping the necklace into his hand. Din cleared his throat, making your head snap towards his visor. 

“Look, I know this is going to sound like I have ulterior motives or something, and I know the circumstances look iffy.” he took a deep breath and continued. “But I’d like to ask you something and you could totally refuse and I’ll send you to someplace safe.”

“Anything Din.” you whispered, wondering if he had the same thing in his mind as you.

“Would you, umm, like to go out with me?” he mumbled and you almost didn’t catch it with how soft he said it.

Your face broke into a dazzling smile

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me this since you sneaked away after leaving flowers for me.” you let your hand find his, only to feel something in his palm.

You pulled it up and unravelled his fingers, to see a familiar looking necklace sitting on the palm of his hand. Tears filled your eyes as you traced the stone, a reaction Din didn’t expect at all.

“Hey, what’s up?” Din asked, his thumb wiping the tears that had begun to spill from your eyes. 

“How… how did you find my mother’s necklace? I had to pawn it off years ago.” you said and Din’s eyes widened.

He sighed and brought the necklace to your neck, pushing your hair aside and clipping it before arranging your hair again, sliding his hands down to wipe your tears. 

“Long story, I’d love to tell you someday.” he whispered as you leaned into his touch.

“Someday? You are that confident that I’ll go out with you Mandalorian?” you chuckle through your tears. 

Din shrugged and you threw your hands around his neck again, pulling him close. No shiny thing in the galaxy could compare with your Din and in that moment, you felt true safely, sighing into his embrace, sure that he had felt the zing you had on that lucky day he came waltzing into the cantina.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @violet-19999 @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie

[total-drama-brainrot]

How would p! Noah act in area 52/51? Would you give him his ability to hack into anything?

I think that's Canon idk. Or would he just scare the crap out of everything (aliens included)

Well, Noah's hacking ability is canonical, even if it's only really established in his Island biography and later on in Dramarama (I believe?). Since p!Noah is meant to mimic canon Noah for the most part, I don't see why he wouldn't have the same hacking abilities.

Not that I think they'd be much good in Area 51/52, since most of the challenge itself is pretty much just a game of hide-and-seek meets "find the needle in the haystack". Of course, he could always use his technological prowess to prevent the deployment of the guards, but it wouldn't really be in character of p!Noah to deprive himself of something as exciting as being chased by armed forces.

He could always hack his way into Owen's Jokerisation chamber, but again it wouldn't really impact the competition much, since Owen's whole deal for this episode doesn't really have much sway on the plot itself

As for what he'd do during the episode?

Well, I think I'd need to establish how Greece's Pieces plays out first before stating anything concrete here, but at this point in the timeline p!Noah has been outed to the rest of his castmates as less sane than they had assumed (my means of snapping Ezekiel's arms like twigs, and menacingly playing around with a knife, among other things). They'd still be fairly hesitant to be around him, and Noah would be free to act more overtly antagonistic/crazy now that his façade is in shambles. (Perhaps too antagonistically crazy, since a lot of his instability is also just an act.)

There's not really much you could change about the episode's beginning, at least nothing substantial; p!Noah would probably find a lot of amusement in Duncan getting laser fried and Tyler electrocuting himself on the fence, but otherwise wouldn't have much reason to act out against his team. Unless he's feeling particularly daring at that moment, and decides to forego the rock tossing to instead dodge the lasers all the way to the warehouse entrance, but again this isn't a substantial change in terms of the overarching plot of the episode.

When the teams are inside of the warehouse, there's a little more room to play with character shenanigans.

Because they're looking for Alien Artifacts. Trinkets and gizmos supposedly dangerous enough to warrent a whole branch of governmental force dedicated to studying them. That's exciting - of course Noah's going to want to mess with them.

Of course, his main priority initially is getting Owen back from his time-out chamber. But that's laughably easy for him, given his hacking abilities and general technology savviness. But as soon as he's got his chubby buddy back? You know your boys are messing around with every artifact they can find, to Alejandro's ire.

Maybe he and Owen are the ones who initially encounter the floating aliens? Maybe the two of them walk into the scene of Tyler and Alejandro "dealing" with them, and Noah siezes the oppertunity to smush the alien face huggers into paste (with the added benefit of hitting both Tyler and Alejandro around the face with a metal pole, or something).

Or maybe the face huggers can smell the crazy ebbing off of him from a mile away, and fly away as fast as they can before Noah can even get to the scene.

Either way, whatever artifact Team CIRRRRH manages to get their hands on wouldn't last long enough to win them the challenge; either Tyler would follow his canonical counterparts footsteps and somehow break it, or Owen and Noah would inadvertantly sabotage their team whilst messing around with their chosen artifact.

Noah absolutely pockets a few alien-tech weapons from inside the warehouse though.

When they finally get back onto the jet, Noah scuttles off to some hidden corner of the cargo bay and begins reverse engineering the artifacts he stole borrowed from Area 51, if only just to abate his ceaseless boredom. Regretably, he's more of a software guy than a hardware guy, and he mostly ends up with a pile of useless alien scraps.

(Potential here to have him enlist Cody, who's canonically a bit of an engineer, to help him tinker with the artifacts? I think Cody would risk his luck with sometimes-crazy Noah if it meants getting away from always-crazy Sierra.)