#i wonder what crossed his mind in that moment

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 ( 이.𝐃𝐇 )─────엔시티

( 二月 ). ──your boyfriend, donghyuck, learned your love language 이동혁 &fem!rea. ⟡ one shot, fluff warn. language, kiss wc : 1119THOU ++( 𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 )

노트 this is 100% self-indulgent

Your head cocked, a slight giggle meeting your ears. It wasn’t unlikely that your boyfriend laughed—he did it all the time in fact. However, he kept giggling to himself every couple of minutes (breaking the comfortable silence), you were starting to feel left out of the joke. 

“What’s so funny, Hyuck?” 

He hummed a moment, lifting your legs from off his lap and getting up, “Oh, nothing.”

He’d just spent the last half an hour letting you rant about your day, a couple snacks being nothing but ripped up wrappers by now, littering the top of your baby-pink blanket. 

Of course, he wasn’t laughing about what you’d just expressed. No, he was laughing at the plan he was about to enact. One he’d been cooking up throughout the entire time you’d been dating. 

He extended his hands out for you to take, “C’mon,” He instructed quietly. You jut your bottom lip out at him, soft eyes meeting his own. He found you so overwhelmingly adorable, “Baby, don��t be like that,” 

You took his hands, challenging, “Hyuck…” But before you had the chance to finish whatever thought had crossed your mind, he was pulling you up, the blanket pooling around your ankles. 

Your eyebrows creased, furthering the pout, “I was warm.” You stated simply. 

He picked it up wordlessly, wrapping it around your shoulders, “Better?” 

You shook your head, causing him to laugh. 

Then he led you through your place, and just as you thought he was just putting your pouty-ass to bed, he veered you by the shoulders. The bathroom illuminated, your boyfriend immediately catching your eye through the mirror. His hair was slightly messy, casually, but so attractive, complimenting his features; due to this comeback, his bangs were shaggy—arguably one of your favorite looks on him. 

And don’t think you hadn’t noticed that he kept doing that weird, guilty-pleasure thing that made you swoon like a schoolgirl: ruffling his hair with his fingers or shaking it out of his eyes. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe he’d figured you out. 

“You’re just gonna stare?” 

You huffed when he broke your concentration, the feeling of a brush being gently pushed into your hair. He de-tangled it from bottom to top, and you wondered who taught him that. 

“Why do you look so confused?” 

“You got another bitch?” You audaciously accused, “Who taught you how to brush hair like this?” 

His laughter continued, “I have a sister,” He said, now being able to fully run the bristles down your hair without it getting caught. “And, a hair stylist.” 

You hummed a moment, squinting your eyes at him through the glass. However, your mock-accusation was short lived when you caught a glimpse of the way his toned arms flexed, his slightly oversized black-tee only adding to the allure. 

God, when’d you become so down bad? Usually it was the other way around—Donghyuck praising the very ground you walked on. Usually he was the one obsessed, but there was something about his gentle, yet confident mannerisms today. His domestic actions and attentiveness. The way he wasn’t saying you needed to feel better, but was trying his hardest to make it happen. 

Actually, he always did that. Failure to notice or comfortable complacency? 

You turned, the brush comically still in the air like you hadn’t. “What’s up?” He asked, confused, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry,” 

There was never any doubt that he loved you like the sun loves the moon, however, now you were sure. 

“No,” You assured, “You didn’t.” 

“Okay good, I really wasn’t trying to make your day wor—“ 

The words died on his tongue when your lips met his suddenly. That wasn’t like you—always cautiously calculating your every move. 

But, Donghyuck wasn’t like you at all. And, maybe that’s why it worked, because two polar magnets can’t connect. 

You heard the brush clatter to the counter behind you, fingers gripping through the blanket against your waist. He pulled you close, close enough to become one in another universe (maybe you’d like to crawl into his skin, be the very blood in his veins). 

The air wasn’t moving when you broke apart, eyes fluttering open. You’d seen him this close before, but your cheeks still tinted pink every time. “Sorry,” You whispered against him, mouths only centimeters apart still, “I don’t know why I—“

“Shut up,” A smile creased his features, and he pecked your lips again, and then your cheek, and the other one, and the side of your mouth and anything else he could reach from that proximity until you were clawing your hands at his chest, giggling. 

“I love you,” 

No shit. “I know.”

You tried to push him away, a little embarrassed at all the skinship. You didn’t do things that were too much but you did enough because that’s how your boyfriend shows love. But Donghyuck wasn’t like you in that sense; he liked over-the-top displays of affection, or so you liked to think. On the other hand, maybe it was exactly what you actually needed. 

But somewhere down the line, he met you in the middle. He kissed you absentmindedly still, reassuring you a billion times that the heart behind his ribcage was for you and only you. He listened to your worries and irritations, remembering fine details, places and peoples names. He held the door and your hand. Arms a sturdy safety-net. He reminded you he was always there by standing behind you with his head on your shoulder, arms around your waist. He changed, but only because you had as well—opening up to him slowly. 

His knees buckled the first time you rested your legs over his lap, or head on his shoulder, or hand on his leg. He swears he could’ve died when you sat by him while he played his PC games, reading quietly on your iPad, sharing your hobbies. You made him coffee in the morning, and always asked if he wanted something from the store. You even slept with your head on his chest sometimes, listening to the constant rhythm of him. It was the little things, the things you’d do without overthinking. 

And through it all, he’d finally figured you out. You weren’t complicated, you had just never been taught what love was supposed to feel like. Luckily for you, he was a great teacher. 

“Say it back.” Unfortunately (or not) he trapped you between him and the countertop. 

Donghyuck didn’t need to hear it often from you, he really didn’t, he knew you loved him. He knew he was the only one in your heart, as you were his. But sometimes a man’s gotta be selfish. 

And, in actuality, he loved talking in your love language. 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

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[occamstfs]

MuskMask Up

Found footage of the missing persons Eddie Leon and Bowen Chen, last seen vlogging at a new gym with a mandatory mask policy. Well documented is what seems to happen when one forgets theirs.

Mixing it up a bit! Diary entries within a short metanarrative police investigation- Meat of the story is coworkers bulking up at an advanced rate after borrowing masks from the gym, hope you enjoy! -Occam

The following footage was found by the now missing-in-action Detective Smith during a missing persons investigation of civilians Eduardo “Eddie” Leon and Bowen Chen. If you have any information on the whereabouts of the pair or Detective Smith please call APD with information.

February 1st:

The scene opens with Eddie’s face inches away from a tripod he’s setting up. Behind him, stretching outside the entrance to a gym, is coworker Bowen Chen. Eddie smiles once he sees the camera has begun recording and backs away to start the first vlog on his journey to better health. Hopping up and waving both hands with abandon, he does just that.

“Heyyy guys! Today’s day one of hitting the gym with Bowen! Obviously he knows what he’s doing so this whole thing should be a piece of cake- I mean look at him!” He gestures to his friend mid-drink of water and Bowen quickly chokes it down before shyly responding. Face blushing pink as he’s clearly not nearly as comfortable on camera.

“Ah, uhm- Yes. Hello, audience? I’ve been ah uhm, steady? At the gym for a few years now and Eddie was wondering if I could show him the ropes. Sooo, uhm.” Eduardo was very clear that he was going to be doing a vlog about the whole thing but Bowen had no idea how much a camera would put him on edge. Seeing him flounder and hearing every word come quieter than the last Eddie quickly picks up the slack.

“So yeah! We’re going to a new gym that opened up, all their ads brag about retention rate and quick results which is what I’m all about haha!” Seeing a man in a face mask come through the automatic doors behind him Eddie claps his hands and tacks on, “OH! They also still require face masks which, I don’t mind,” he playfully grasps his friend’s jaw causing blush to return over a shy grin, “it does mean you might be seeing less of this little cutie’s face but so it goes~ When in Brome hee hee!” 

Bowen’s phone goes off as a timer set to ensure the pair stretch for long enough comes to an end. He then chastises Eddie for spending so long of their prep time vlogging before crossing his arms and resetting the clock to make sure his trainee stretches. Eddie quickly turns off the vlog with a wink, “Yikes already on his bad side haha~ See y’all later!”

February 9th:

“Helloooo guys~ Took my mask off real quick to record this.” He pauses to sniff the air and almost gags as he smells the musk of the gym, usually covered by his mask. “God is this what all gyms smell like?” Looking down at his sweat stained body and glistening chest he grimaces as he guesses he’s certainly not helping. Shaking it off he returns to his vlog, “Hm. I’ll edit that out- Helloooo Guys! You would not believe how much progress I’ve made already!”

He does a small flex and it’s clear he has put on more weight than would be expected, or rather more weight in a week than should be possible. “No one tells you how much you have to eat to put on mass, guys! Or I guess- Bowen told me huh?” He giggles and then jolts upright and turns the camera to his trainer working at a machine. “Speaking of gains there Mr. Mass is himself.” Behind the lens Eddie continues, “I forgot my mask today so the sweetie let me borrow his. Hear that ladies? This hunk’s also a gentleman. Someone get a ring on that finger!”

As Eddie continues to film Bowen’s reps it’s clear that something besides the effort is causing him discomfort. In fact it almost seems like the workout isn’t bothering him at all as he rolls his eyes before bending down to put more weight on the machine. With a free hand he plugs his nose to have the slightest moment of freedom from the musky scent that must be distracting him. Then as soon as he grunts through his first rep at the new weight a figure appears behind him, wearing a mask over the whole of his head and taps on his shoulder before clearly preparing to confront him.

“Oop, oh shit-” Eddie whispers, too far from his trainer to know what exactly the little confrontation is about, but after a few gestures to his maskless face it’s pretty clear. The sound of Eddie quickly putting his mask back on can be heard behind the camera as across the gym Bowen clearly nods a few times, assumedly acquiescing, motioning to pack up and head back later. He apologies and gestures for Eddie to head to the locker room but then the sweaty masked man waves him off and pats him on the back, pulling out a mask from his sweatpants.

Bowen’s gasp is loud enough to be heard enough on camera as he backs into the machine in shock as the brute holds out a mask retrieved from his sweaty pants. He waves his hands clear as day that he’s not about to put on that must-be stained mask. Eddie quickly gets off his machine and starts to head over check in on his friend. He knows Bowen hates attention and is wont to fold at any confrontation but surely he’s not about to be pressured into putting on that dirty rag.

Keeping the camera trained on Bowen just in case, he’s too focused on the shot to really notice the fear in the man’s eyes as he stares up at the masked figure. And then, with a gulp, Bowen shakily accepts the mask, close enough to read lips one could just about make out Bowen’s whispered apology, “I’m sorry sir it won’t happen again” And then he does the unthinkable and puts on the dirty mask. Eddie reacts quietly enough only for the camera to pick up, “Jesus Christ- Bo!? What are you doing?!” 

After the masked man pats Bowen on the back, harder than one surely should, and offers a rough handshake, he departs. The camera captures a few more frames as Eddie walks the final few feet over. While not covered in sweat, it’s clear that the mask on Bowen’s face is wrinkled and has a small dark patch in its corner. Either from the workout or from the anxious confrontation, the trainer is clearly breathing heavily. 

With each breath his eyes begin to glisten glassy. Staring off into the middle distance he adjusts his pants and seems distracted as each heaving breath strives to be deeper than the one that came before, as each gasp of musky air tries to instill more of the essence trapped within the wretched mask. His eyes almost begin to cross in the last frame before Eddie puts his phone in his pocket, leaving the last few seconds of the recording audio only. “Uhhhhm, Hey Bowen? What the fuck was that?”

There is a few seconds pause followed by the sound of presumably Bowen swallowing saliva before he answers “Oh! Uhhh yeah? I don’t know dude?” “Dude?” “Sorry my head feels like it’s swimming, Eddie? That was so uhh, intense-” The sound of adjusting clothing again comes through, someone pulling on the elastic band of their underwear.

Realizing the whole confrontation only happened because he forgot his own mask, Eddie apologizes, “That wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t take yours. Look we can swap if you-”“NO.” Silence follows once more before Bowen continues, “No I uhm- don’t mind br- Eddie. How about we call it there and head home?” Eduardo agrees and the pair head off to the locker room. After a few steps the recording ends.

February 15th:

The image begins as usual of Eddie from afar, though the sound of weight’s clanging is far louder than usual. After a few false starts interrupted by the din of falling metal, the vlogger walks a few feet away and begins talking to the camera, “Hey everyone, quick update this time-” Flexing to himself he takes a moment to address his continued growth before in the distance he hears brash, deep laughter and what little of his face is revealed makes his worry clear as day.

“I’m still chugging along but Bowen has, well blown up? Ever since the last vlog when that asshole made him wear a dirty mask it’s almost like he’s a totally different person? Here, look-” Eddie quickly pans the camera over to a man almost unrecognizable resting on a bench. Beyond having arms as large as Bowen’s legs should be, the man’s demeanor is indeed entirely different. He flexes his arm and moans to himself as he sees a central vein pushing against the strained shirt sleeve.

“Is it steroids? Do you think? OH! He’s also started using the masks the gym provides- Are there like, inhale-y steroids?” The vlogger quickly heads to the web to research, paying no mind to what the lens catch as the camera unintentionally witnesses the massive man lumbering up from his bench, leaving an unwiped sweat stain in his wake.

Massive pecs bounce with each step and thighs strain his shorts as he makes his way over to Eddie, “YO! Edster- Come help me stretch!” Eddie flinches as he’s shouted at, groaning uncomfortably he obeys his trainer. Forgetting he was taking a vlog at all he sets his phone down. The air fills with groans, cracking bones, and almost deliberately loud grunts from Bowen.

“You know I seem to remember you wanting to not put on too much weight Bo?” 

There’s a deep guffaw, “Pshyeah, but y’know, when the muscle-bug bites huhuh!” The sound of his sleeves straining from a performative flex covers up his breathy moan from hyperextension. “Woah bro, why do you look so down?”

Clearly not thinking his mood would be caught by a man whose only gear has suddenly become self-obsessed, Eddie stumbles, “Well I don’t know, I guess? I’m just worried about- You just seem a little different is all.

“Huh.” There’s a long silence interrupted only by the buzz of music and clanging weights far off. Then there’s a quick gasp as in one motion Bowen stands and hoists Eddie into the air, “woAH! Bo! Put me down!” 

“Huhuh no bro I get it- You don’t know why you’re not seein’ results as good as mine I totally get it!” Eddie grunts and gags in arms that truly could snap him in half, “Ugh B- you’re so sweaty ple-ugh.” Squirming in the behemoth’s grasp his face is forced into sweaty pecs that promptly stain his mask a dark blue. “God you’re going to get your b.o. All over me dude-” 

There are a few more seconds of complaint before Bowen finally drops his little buddy. Picking up his phone there’s a look of concern or questioning on his face, any number of thoughts soar through his mind, has Bowen always been that tall? Why has he grown so much? What happened to him, is it going to happen to me? And then he takes a deep breath. A sigh in relief or irritation, it’s unclear, but it doesn’t matter. The camera gets a much better glimpse this time as the gym-goer breaths in the oh-so musky, mask filtered air.

Under the mask his mouth squrims into a grimace, but already eyes begin to give way to thoughtless longing. With another breath one twitches while the other falls open wide, wanting nothing more than to mainline the scent directly into his nervous system. Pupils dilate large enough to almost hide his cacao irises before a meaty hand pats him on the back, “Earth to Eddo- Bro? You comin’ to wash up or what huhuh!” Jarred back to sentience, Eddie nods and follows him, the recording ending a few moments after.

February 22nd:

The camera alights on someone unrecognizable baring his torso for fans he doesn’t yet have, though the glazed look in his eyes is more than enough hint to prove it is the vlogger before he introduces himself. “Yoooo guys! Back at it again with Bowen, how’re we lookin?”

Eddie flexes a thick bicep and smirks under his mask, adjusting it as he laughs. It’s deeper, slower, a far cry from his usual giggle. “oh yeah, I’ve been usin’ the gyms masks just like Bowen said. And I gotta say, I think they’re the real secret of this place, I’ve just been packin’ on muscle since I started borrowing them.”

Standing to his side, Bowen makes himself known, somehow even bulkier than last time. Veins criss cross his forearms and shoulders stretch wide enough that it’s a wonder he was able to even get the suctioned compression shirt om. The thin elastic straps of his mask almost snap as he speaks up, the meek camera-shy man he once was clearly erased from his mind, “I’m saying Ed! Don’t know why you were holdin’ out on trying them after seeing how much I’ve grown!” Bowen crosses his arms and his top is stretched to his limits.

Eddie laughs before his eyes go dull as laughter leaves him with no choice but to take yet another deep breath. Lost in a thought that seems to never come, his words are barely audible enough to be caught by the camera almost mistakable for a moan, it may as well be one. He whispers “need more.” Drawn out like a death knell his vocal chords creak as they lengthen. And then, the camera captures the impossible.

It looks as if it’s edited. Arms go limp as they hang lower, bloat larger, heavier, barely staying in their sockets before his shoulders similarly bulge into thick balls of muscle. Pecs that have existed for less than a month push his sweaty tank top to its limits. The bench on which he rests creaks under his weight as thighs send tears through athletic shorts that were already too tight to wear. 

Behind him, his massive trainer’s eyes widen as he pauses his workout to stare at Eddie’s growth. Hungrily watching as individual strands of muscle flex and surge. Were his own mask not already sweat-stained, the drool frothing from his mouth may be more apparent. Bowen lets his weights clatter to the floor as he staggers close and leans in close to Eddie’s neck, sniffing like a predator, releasing something in between a whimper and grown as his scarred palms clench at his prey-apparent’s biceps, still bulging larger in his hands.

Bowen’s chest, over doubled in size since he began frequenting this gym, produces a rumble low enough to barely register as words. Through his mask he teeths the man’s neck, “Think I got another idea to get some gains Eddie.” This stirs the man from his reveries though does not for minute stop his growth as he bolts to his feet, almost falling forward from the new weight on his chest. Surely he would have had the man about to work him out maintained the iron grip on his arm.

Not another word is heard from the pair as they swiftly retreat to the locker room. The tripod continues filming until Eddie’s phone dies and contains little else of note. Other gym goers wander around the background, all of them masked and many of them stare forward with the same glazed eyes as they sit at various machines, laughing to themselves, breathing heavily, and lifting more with each heaving rep. Just before his phone dies and the recording ends, the man who gave Bowen his mask collects the tripod, through his mask a smile is clear on his face.

On March fifteenth newly promoted Detective Archie Smith follows up on a lead from coworkers of the missing men that the pair had recently started hitting up the Musclerade Gym. something about vlogging. The detective didn’t care. Miraculously, almost immediately did he find a pair of men who identify as Eduardo and Bowen. The only thing is-both resolutely deny ever having worked in an office building. Beyond that, it barely takes a glance to tell that despite their names and races that they cannot be the men in question. By sheer body weight alone, it’s impossible

Sure Mr. Chen looks healthy enough in his license photo but that massive hunk that stands before him could punch straight through the Detective. With a gulp Archie finds his eyes desperately wanting to trace the powerful muscles, begging for his attention through spandex and strained nylon. He finds his attention drawn to his own crotch as he can’t help but trace the veins on ‘Eduardo’s’ flexing arms to a hairy armpit dripping with sweat. Before he’s lost to his lusts however, he comes to his senses as the acrid musk pouring from both men sears his nose.

With a grunt he shakes off the beyond unprofessional distraction and meets the eyes of both men, neither too pleased to see the officer in their space. He fakes a smile and turns to continue his investigation before being intercepted by a man who seems to be of some authority, pulling him off to the side. Only his eyes are visible which sets Archie on edge. “What seems to be the problem officer?”

He explains his case and the mystery man calls the pair over, their harsh glares soften and Eddie laughs as he’s reminded of his little vlogs. Apparently the pair are trainers at the gym which despite some strange ping at the back of his mind, ignoring something screaming from his gut, when he sees their sculpted forms, smells their noxious odors, he can’t help but believe them. The masked man even offers to give him the recorded film, that is as long as he’s okay adhering to the gym’s guidelines while he waits.

There’s a glint in the eyes of both massive men now standing behind him as they each dislodge wrinkled masks from stained pants that have clearly suffered at least one gym session. Prepared to suffer more discomfort than this to sate his curiosity he throws on one of the hopefully unused masks. It’s at this point that the case goes cold. 

This recounting of events, along with a copy of Eduardo Leon’s ‘vlogs’ were found sloppily scrawled on some magazines near the shredded uniform of Officer Smith. It doesn’t seem to be his handwriting unless he were racing quite hastily against, well. I haven’t quite the idea what. I suppose it is of some note that they were next to a bloated member of the gym who didn’t have any I.D. on him. His clothes seemed to be from a lost and found as they didn’t fit quite right. We were unable to further investigate his identity, but without a doubt it simply could not be Officer Smith.

The junior officer who retrieved the evidence could scarcely spend five minutes next to the man, and given Smith’s predilections towards order and cleanliness it simply could not be him. Unfortunately the state of the gym put the officer in such unease that he did no further investigation. It’s a shame as when an investigation team was sent the following day it was as if the gym was never there. I am not one for flights of fancy, it is my belief that the whole situation was simply some drug front, perhaps steroids. At any rate should you see, or perhaps smell any of these men. I advise caution. And under no circumstances should you borrow one of their face masks, obviously.

Included above are to our best knowledge are the most recent sightings of Bowen Chen, Eduardo Leon, and finally a third depicting Eduardo alongside who we believe to be the man of interest found nearby Officer Smith’s uniform. It seems they haven’t stopped growing, that is, if this all isn’t some wild goose chase. Again, if you have information do report to APD. Though please refrain from submitting any, biological material. We have lost enough of the forensics department to this mania as is.

[lucygraysboy]

“umm…” billy only hums in response, scratching the nape of his neck while pondering the question. sal and carmine’s isn’t the kind of place in which he’d like to discuss what exactly happened between them in nashville and how it makes him feel whenever these memories come back to him, but at the same time he doesn’t want to give lucy gray nothing but awkward silence. “right, whatever lulu gray and billsy got up to in tennessee, that’s between them. i’m just happy they had the sense not to get past second base,” he softly assures, gulping down what’s left of his coke as if he could drown in it and save himself from this embarrassing moment. his gaze is bashful, never lingering long on her face. cheeks so warm that it’s a wonder the snow outside doesn’t begin to melt. “well, good. i mean, tom cox can be a bit shy so…” he stutters a bit, setting the now empty can of soda down on the table as his palm begins to tingle from the cold. “i ain’t ever seen nothin’ of yours either so it’s alright. we’re all good.” he should just stop talking already. he hasn’t seen anything, but it’s not like he hasn’t thought about her in that way before. the fantasy of kissing her passionately, her lips, her neck, her breasts, her belly, her thighs… laying her down on a bed covered in rose petals, candles burning all around them, and loving on her for hours and hours, basking in the sweet symphony of sounds she would make — that’s crossed his mind countless times. but he’d never admit it. he shifts a little uncomfortably in his own chair, trying to focus on counting the white tiles on the wall behind lucy gray. “hey, with all this snow outside and since we’re already basically two blocks away from central park, would you like to go sleddin’?” he wonders, awkwardly changing the subject before something even more embarrassing happens to him. “we don’t even have to buy our own sleds. there’s a guy who rents ‘em for like five bucks or somethin’.”

“billy bonney, what are you even talkin’ about?” looking at him like he’s lost his mind. THAT definitely wasn’t the answer she was expecting. now daring to blush, really might be tempting… he did NOT just imply she had her lips on his clothed tom cox. he wouldn’t just pretend and come up with something that dirty, but the realization it must be true then is awfully embarrassing. how the hell could she go actin’ like that? how’s it even possible? “maybe… drunk lucy gray was just losin’ her mind… i know that couldn’t been her.” answering slowly, angel face twitching in a sheepish smile. how does one go about… goin’ down on someone anyway? guy or girl. how is the act of it just not embarrassin’? apparently she had no shame. apparently she wanted to boldly be unashamed and untamed. her belly flutters then tightens, tingles erupting between her thighs and her chest buzzing alive and suddenly feeling the tingling need to break free from this sweater. the hard surface of the seat beneath her, now her worst enemy because anything touching her butt cheeks right now is responsible in adding to the feeling. suddenly, she knows how it happens, how people find no shame. these weird, intrusive, agitating tingles of sex drive that explode absolutely out of the blue will have you actin’ human to a wild animal in split seconds— the alcohol just amped that up no doubt. shit. scooting up, so her butt hangs off the stupid seat, “it was actually none of the above… i’ve never seen your private hood.” mumbling this confession in a low whisper — mild amusement in her eyes, swirling around the napkin with her finger against the table as doe eyes stare at it. this would be a lot easier conversation right now if he’d been born as a girl. but he’s not. he’s this tall, charming, handsome man with an adams apple, attractive big hands her eyes flicker away from the second they dare follow along his face and a significant beautiful mouth carved in it’s own alluring away she could write a million secret poems about. and she has over a decade’s worth of harbored feelings for him. so this is quite a disaster what her mind and body’s doing to her on the inside — all behind these innocent bambi eyes.

[redcherrystars]

Braids 🥀

A/n: STRONGLY based off the mullet Sylus has for Tomorrow’s Catch-22, and what he says in the dress up menu when you change his hairstyle (pulled this morning, got Caleb and then my beloved Sylus ❤️❤️ +his outfit and hair)

Content: (wc 1k) lnds Sylus x afab reader, loads of fluff, pampering Sylus, pet names (sweetie, baby, etc.), just toothrotting fluff

It’s been months since your boyfriend has gotten a haircut.

Sitting criss cross on your bed, you watch as Sylus unbuttons his pressed black button down and peels off his slacks, only to put on a red teeshirt and black pajama pants with white doves on them (you obviously bought, as Onychinus’s leader would likely not purchase for himself). It was a miracle you found a pair of pajama pants in his size so you wouldn’t have to send them to a tailor.

Sylus runs his fingers through his messy white hair, the ends of his mullet like hairstyle now brushing against the top of his shoulders.

“Hey Sy?” You bounce off the bed. Unsurprisingly, you’re dressed in one of his teeshirts, so large it hung off your shoulder, revealing tantalizing collarbone and smooth shoulders

Sylus turns around to face you moments later, pulling his shirt over his head, giving you a brief glimpse of his abs. What a view.

“Yes, sweetie?” Sylus nearly purred. His hands go to your waist, holding you close as he inhales by your scalp—the man just liked your natural scent.

“I can’t sleep!” You whine, internally smiling at a clever idea you concocted.

“Can’t sleep Kitten? What would you like to do then, with all this extra time on your hands?” Sylus glanced to the alarm clock on his nightstand—it was 11:46 PM.

You grin at him cheekily. “Can I do your hair?”

“Can you do my hair now, hmm…let me think..” your boyfriend puts on a fake pensive expression, his white brow furrowing in thought. “I suppose that can be doable.”

“Can I do your skincare too?” You’re beginning to get excited, and he can feel it.

“Alright.” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching his nose bridge. You giggle and beam at him, before kissing his jawline, feeling slight scratchy white stubble tickle your lips-it seems he hasn’t shaved in a few days either, not that you mind one bit.

With a giggle you slink out of his arms (much to his disappointment), prancing into the bathroom. Your boyfriend ensured his beloved lived in luxury, and the master bathroom was no exception. High ceilings, a crystal chandelier with warm ambient lighting, black marble tile, and a huge walk-in shower. There was even a clawfoot bathtub large enough for two with space to spare elevated on a black marble platform by a large window, overlooking the cityscape in the N109 zone. With tinted glass, this view was yours and his to share.

On the black shelf next to the double sink, you grab a little bag full of various skincare products, a little plastic container of clear elastics, and your pink hairbrush. Plopping down on the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor, you gesture to Sylus to come and sit between the space between your legs. Reluctantly, he sits down, and lets out a pleased moan when you begin to run your fingers through his hair, messing with the white stands. You wonder if (and if so, when) he will cut his hair, or keep it the same length. His slightly grown out—more of a wolfcut did make your knees weak.

You gently detangle any knots or snags in his hair with your brush, and he sighs with relief as the brush’s bristles massage his scalp. Then, with nimble fingers, you begin putting dainty little braids in the length of his hair, pulling the elastics you used wide with your teeth before securing the braids you made.

“Feels good, huh?” You murmur, grabbing his face with a gentle hand, turning it slightly towards you, and kissing his cheek.

“Feels good.” He confirms. “You’re too sweet baby. I should be the one pampering you.”

“Oh hush you big bogey.” You crawl over him, now sitting between his large legs. With a warm washcloth, you gently wash his face before applying a moisturizer. Sylus had absolutely no idea what the creams you were applying to his cheeks, nose, under eyes and forehead did, but it felt so nice. Once you put a pink kitty face mask on him, you let out a surprised squeak when he flips you around in his lap, and picking up your hairbrush off of the bathroom tile.

Before you know it, his warm fingers are threading through your hair, untangling knots, and brushing out any broken strands of hair. Then Sylus is braiding your hair too, deftly, and one peak in the mirror tells you it’s a french braid.

“When did you learn to do this?” You lean your head back once he secures your braid. Your hair was so long it nearly touched your butt.

“Online video tutorials. Luke and Kieran involuntarily became my models.” All of his efforts made your heart ache and flutter at the same time.

How this man loves you.

“Is this why I found many pink and blue wigs tucked away in the closet a while back?” You ask as he puts a grey crow sheet mask on your face, gently smoothing out the sheet’s wrinkles.

“Mhm. The twins insisted if they were going to be volunteered for practice, they would get to pick out their wig color.” Sylus’s red eyes crease in the corners with mirth.

“Are you sleepy now?” Sylus tilts his head a you.

“Maybe a little..” you mumbled.

“Come on, Sweetie. We can watch a movie until you fall asleep if you’d like.” He offers.

You nod, almost eagerly, and squeal when your big boyfriend scoops you up off of the bathroom floor and carried you into your shared bedroom. Sylus practically tosses you onto the red blankets of your bed, and crawls over you, before rolling under you, having you snuggled up on his chest. Pulling one of the blankets up to your waist, he presses three kisses to your neck.

Sylus puts on a cute animated movie—one you both have watched together a thousand times. “I love you.” He murmurs, tilting your face up and placing a soft chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” You rest your head against his chest, your heart full, your body warm and relaxed in the embrace of his.

You should let Sylus braid your hair more often.

[organic-bloodbath]

thank you for the chishiya x pregnant!reader, it was so good!! i hadn’t finished the show when i sent my request, not knowing he was a doctor lol

if you’re still taking requests… how about after they wake up in the hospital, and reader has already delivered their baby? anything soft or fluffy💕 thank you!!

Child of Hearts - Part 2

Chishiya x Pregnant!Reader

This applies to two different requests:

"I just read your child of hearts shot it was so nice, so like after the borderlands, like when they are in hospital due to the meteorite and all.

So the child is born in the hospital and all are safe,  i want chishiya reaction to seeing his child for the first time. While being in the hospital bed along with the reader who was lucky to survive the crash"

- Anon

Part 1

Summary: You wake up in the hospital and get back home safely. Later, you finally deliver the baby, Chishiya by your side.

A/N: Second part for softie and fluffy Chishiya ♡ Thank you for everyone reading the first part, hope this is alright 🫶🏻

♤♡♧◇

You opened your eyes, confused where you were and what had just happened. At first, you saw only white all around you. White ceiling, white walls, and as you looked down, you were covered with a white blanket.

You were starting to panic. You had no memory what had led you to a hospital. This was a hospital, right? You were too paralyzed to even move at first.

Then, a few flashes came back into your mind. You were only crossing the street outside with Chishiya, a crowd of people surrounding you, until you noticed something bright in the sky. After that, no memory at all.

You didn't know how many minutes you stayed still and in your thoughts, but after a moment the door opened and a woman in a doctor's coat came in.

"Oh, you're finally awake!" she exclaimed and came to stand next to you. "Are you feeling alright, Ms. Tanaka?"

"Um, what happened?" you asked and instantly coughed, finding your voice a little raspy. "Can i get some water?"

"Of course, honey," the woman said and brought you a cup of water. "Do you remember anything?"

You shook your head.

"A meteorite hit Tokyo and people were taken to the hospital, you included," she explained.

"A meteorite?" you asked in shock, brows shot up close to your hairline. That wasn't at all what you had expected. It wouldn't have been even close to any guesses you might have had.

"It's a wonder, really, how little bruises and injuries your body suffered," she said. "Only your leg got a severe hit and you lost a lot of blood. We took you in for a surgery, and you'll be fine."

You glanced at your leg under the blanket and found your thigh wrapped in bandages.

"Is my baby..." You laid your hand protectively on your stomach, trying to find any movements but felt nothing.

"Your baby is alright," she smiled. "We examined her throughly and she's healthy and well."

"Her?" you whispered, eyes wide. You hadn't known the gender of the baby, you had wanted it to be a surprise when the baby would be born.

"Oh, you didn't know the gender?" the doctor asked, surprised. "I apologize for ruining the surprise."

Then, your eyes widened.

"Chishiya? Where's Chishiya?" you panicked. "Please, please don't tell me he's-"

"Mr. Shuntaro is alright," she calmed you down. "He's awake and well. I'll send him here soon, you shouldn't get up and walk yet."

You let out a breath of relief. Everything was fine. You were going to be fine. Nothing to worry about. Chishiya was okay. Your baby was okay. You were okay.

When you saw Chishiya approaching you not long after, tears started pouring down your cheeks before you even realized it.

"Y/N!" Chishiya breathed out and wrapped his arms around you tightly. He held you in silence for a while, and you let yourself cry against his shoulder. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. "When i woke up alone, for a second i thought i had lost you."

"I'm okay," you assured him. "And the baby is too."

You stayed like that for a few more minutes.

"Let's go outside for a bit," Chishiya suggested after a while. "It's good for you to get some fresh air."

He told you he'd get you a wheelchair if you were too weak to walk on your own but you weren't that much in pain. Although, when you put weight on your left leg, you did let out a short wince, making Chishiya force you to sit back down until he'd gotten you crutches to use.

On your way through the corridors, you saw many patients who had their arm or leg wrapped in bandages but were overall doing well. Some were on a wheelchair and some moved with the help of crutches, like you. You wondered how many people died in the accident and how many were left only injured, like you. Then, a fear in your chest rose if any of your friends or family had been around and gotten hurt. Right now, you recognised none of the patients. You wished you would have though, because that would mean atleast they weren't dead.

As you arrived outside, the sun shining bright on a cloudless sky, you and Chishiya sat on a bench together. You were both quiet for a moment, only enjoying the fresh air.

"Do you feel somehow... different after the accident?" Chishiya asked.

"I suppose, a little bit," you answered, furrowing your brows. "I can't really explain it."

"Me neither. It's like something inside me has changed, but i can't figure out what."

You did have an odd feeling. Like there was something missing, but you couldn't figure out what could mean.

"I haven't been in an accident as big as this before," you stated. "Does every victim, like us, feel this way? Like, as if you now have more will to live after almost dying."

"Well, technically we did die for 1 minute," he corrected.

"That's strange, isn't it?"

"Sure is," Chishiya agreed.

You were about to say something, when someone approached you.

"Y/N? Oh thank goodness, darling," an older woman rushed towards you and immediately put her arms around you, squeezing you so hard you were barely able to breathe.

"Mom, i'm fine," you mumbled against her blouse. "What are you doing here?"

"They called me, of course," she said. "I'm sorry, i would have come sooner but you know how it is at work."

You weren't so close to your mother anymore, you saw her very rarely. She had always put her work and career before you, sparing you the most minimal amount of time she could.

"Oh, and Chishiya," mom gasped, as if only now noticing his presence, and took him into a hug as well, startling him completely.

Mom had never hugged Chishiya before, so Chishiya only froze and didn't manage to hug her back, not really knowing what to do. You found the confused expression on his face amusing and couldn't help but smirk a little.

"What a miracle that the both of you survived that massive attack." She let go of Chishiya, looking down at your stomach. "Oh, i mean, the three of you, of course."

"Is everyone else alright?" you asked.

"Yes, as far as i know," she nodded. "I've asked all our family and friends and they were all okay."

♤♡♧◇

They kept you at the hospital for two more days to make sure everything was alright with you and the baby, doing a few tests, until they gave you the permission to go back home.

Your father, who had moved to Korea after his new wife seven years ago, called you for the first time in five years as well. You had let him know of your pregnancy, but he hadn't cared to be involved in your life very much. So his call was a complete surprise, but it was a nice gesture to see that his daughter didn't die.

As you got back home, slowly you and Chishiya settled back to your normal daily routine and tried to continue your life as before.

♤♡♧◇

♡ 6 WEEKS LATER ♡

You and Chishiya were at a restaurant, having a dinner together. You hadn't gone out in a long time, so it was nice to have a fancier meal for once. Right now, you were in the bathroom, leaving Chishiya to sit at the table by himself and wait for the bill.

While washing your hands, you felt your underwear become wet. Your eyes widened as you looked down to your feet and right then you felt pain in your stomach.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered. "No, no, no."

"Hey, you oka-" a girl came to you from one of the stalls right at that moment, but her words stuck in her throat when she looked down as well. "Oh. Oh." She put her hand on your shoulder. "Come on, i'll help you."

You gasped after another cramp.

"Are you alone here or with someone?"

"I'm w-with my boyfriend."

"Okay, i'll help you to him, it'll be okay."

You didn't know this woman but you were thankful for her help, anyway. You clung on her elbow as she walked you towards Chishiya. He turned to look at you, confused at first why you were dragging a stranger with you, but soon realized what was happening.

Chishiya was immediately right by your side, holding you up by his hand on your arm and other around your back.

"Okay, we'll need to get to the hospital," Chishiya said. He didn't show it, but inside he was freaking out a little. He knew this day could come any moment by now and had mentally prepared himself for that, but it still came as a surprise since you were in a public place.

"I can drive you," the girl offered. "It'll be faster than ordering a taxi."

You and Chishiya shortly exchanged glances.

"Okay, okay thank you, i-" you started but your words were interrupted by a gasp of pain.

Chishiya and the girl helped you to the backseat of her car, Chishiya sitting right next to you.

"I'm Kuina, by the way," the girl said, glancing over her shoulder after she had put her seatbelt on.

The entire car ride, which didn't last more than 15 minutes, Chishiya held your hand and tried to make you stay calm.

"So, you know if it's a boy or girl yet?" Kuina asked.

"Girl," you answered when the car stopped at traffick lights. "It's a girl."

Kuina smiled. "I'm sure she's going to be a very beautiful child."

♤♡♧◇

"Chishiya, i can't do this," you muttered on the hospital bed. "Please, don't make me do this, i want to go home. Can't we do this tomorrow or next week or-"

Chishiya cupped your face in his hands, stopping your panicked rambling. "I'll be with you the entire time, don't worry."

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can," he assured you while you were crying. "You're one of the strongest people i know. It'll be over sooner than you realize."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

♤♡♧◇

Hours later, after finally delivering the baby, which had been the most exhausting, painful and terrifying experience in your life, the baby had been taken away shortly.

You were only lying on the bed, your body feeling heavier than ever before. Chishiya sat next to you on a chair, his hand resting on yours. You had squeezed his right hand so hard during the delivery that he could have easily twisted his fingers into wrong positions.

"You did well," Chishiya said with a soft voice. "They'll be back any minute."

"I'm so tired," you mumbled.

Chishiya brushed your hair with his fingers. Your forehead was still sweaty. "I know."

After around 15 minutes, Chishiya left to go to the bathroom. Just a moment after, a doctor came inside, holding something in her arms and a wide smile on her lips.

"Here she is," she announced and gave the baby to you, wrapped tightly in a white blanket.

As you held her in your arms and looked at her sweet little face, your eyes started to water immediately and in just a few seconds you were crying.

She was so beautiful with her big dark eyes and toothless smile. She was so tiny and fragile that you were almost scared to hold her too tight.

"Hi, honey," you chuckled through the tears. You wiped your thumb gently on her cheek and right when you were about to pull your hand away, she grabbed your thumb with her little hand, looking into your eyes.

Soon, the door opened again and Chishiya stepped back inside, stopping on his tracks when he saw you and your child. Your cheeks were wet from the tears as you lifted your head to look towards him.

"Shiya," you breathed out. "Come here."

He walked towards you slowly, as if afraid that this was all a dream and if he took one wrong step, he'd wake up back to a much darker reality.

He stopped right by your side and looked at the baby, locking eyes with her. He was speechless and couldn't find any words to say.

"Do you want to hold him?" you offered.

You gave the baby to him and he carefully took her into his arms, being as careful with her as you had been too, scared to drop and break her.

Chishiya only looked at his daughter for a while in awe. He took her small hand in his and flinched, when the baby let out a little laugh. It immediately made a smile spread on his face, and you could see his eyes starting to water a little bit, but he forced to keep the tears inside. You didn't think you had ever seen him cry in front of you.

"She's beautiful," Chishiya whispered, then turning to you. "Like her mother."

You chuckled, cheeks warming up - even after these few years, the compliments Chishiya gave to you still made you blush and your heart flutter. You couldn't believe that all three of you had survived a meteorite attack with only a few scratches and were now here together.

Chishiya gave her back to you, and you moved yourself a little to the left so that Chishiya could sit on the edge of the bed with you. He put his arm around you, gently squeezing your shoulder and pressing a kiss on the top of your head. He let his head lean against yours as you both just looked at your child together.

"Shiya?" you whispered.

"Hm?"

"What should we name her?"

"Don't mothers always have a list of ideas what to name their kids?"

"I did have, but none of them seem good enough now," you said and let your thoughts wander around your mind for a moment, until it catched one of idea. "I think... Akane."

"Akane," he tried, tasting it in his mouth first a little bit and looking at your daughter in your arms who had eyes on you the entire time. "She does look like an Akane."

"Where have i heard that name before?" you wondered. "It sounds familiar."

Chishiya thought about it for a moment. "It does, doesn't it? But it's a beautiful name nevertheless."

"Y/N, Chishiya and Akane," you smiled and looked into Chishiya's eyes. "I like that."

Chishiya smiled back and kissed you gently on your lips. "Me too."

♤♡♧◇

A/N: i hope you liked this, let me know what you think 🫶🏻

[azurem]

IM SORRY. IF SOMBD ALREADYY ASKED ABT IT buuuuut what's your take on inkmare first kiss or confession??? Chaos chaos, evil chaos

Uhhh. i do not remember well to be honest. I remember asking how the first kiss would be, however!

My take on the confession is that it was the one that happened first, when the relationship still was somewhat unilateral. Nightmare realized he had somewhat of a crush, and, assuming it was something about possessiveness (aka he thought it was a childish whim he wanted to quell), quickly proceeded to action. Like. Second truce done, friendship established and he didn't take long to confess.

I assume it was a mix of you-do-this-to-me + a try-to-sell-something-to-you kind of talk? Like. He wasn't quite sure if Ink reciprocated (which was kinda the situation) so he was sure to market himself and his question like something beneficial (though he was still kinda grumpy with it cuz he also has the unconscious thought that the crush existing™ was an act done against him. Like, the thought that this was Ink's fault and that he had to take at least some responsability about it)

I imagine it was quite attractive (of an offer). And Ink did find it entertaining enough he accepted. I imagine it happened when they were in one of their recreational meetings (aka probs reading inside nm's library or inside a geno au) likeeee

"...I've made a mistake," Nightmare said. Ink looked up at him from his place, sitting cross legged on the floor. They placed the book down. "This— a horrible mistake."

Ink just stared at him. The question marks of their eyes made him die a bit. They smiled at him. "C'mon, you're a confessed torturer. Can't be that serious."

But it was. He briefly considered sitting down, just to see them eye to eye, but Ink was already up and coming closer. The motion resulted on their elbows resting on his desk, their torso leaning forward.

"Hmmm?"

He really should have planned a better scenery for this kind of thing. Still, he couldn't let himself be intimidated, much less so when Ink was being so brave about it. "You're cruel."

This was not the response they expected. Nightmare saw him get their arms back to their sides, their back straightening. Ink's lost face stared back at him, their eyes wider than usual.

"You—" he couldn't help the way his hand shielded his mouth for a moment, as if he couldn't figure out the reason why his voice was acting. "You're— all I think about, now."

He had to fight against the instinctual need to hide himself like a child. It was sickening. He had vowed to himself to never let himself feel this small. And yet.

"You plague my mind," Nightmare said —as his hand went down from his mouth, it landed on his chest, squeezing the fabric with the need to touch— "since when, I don't know."

Ink's breath hitched with realization, flustered like one who'd suddenly find their seed peeking out from the ground in leaves. Oh. Oh!

"I don't know how," Nightmare continued, something like bitterness on his tongue before it cleared to something warmer. "But you've— you've enthralled me. I want you. As such, I need you."

"...huh."

"If you want me to beg—" Nightmare took a moment. Whatever he was about to say died in his mouth. "All I need now is a promise. An attempt. Anything."

"This is— hm. This— y'know—" Ink fidgeted with his hands, surprised when he found his cheeks warm. It was a sickening, horrible feeling. It tasted purple in his mouth, it tasted pink. The same feeling willed him to cover his mouth with both hands, unwilling to let it out on the floor.

When Nightmare looked at him cover himself as if he had something to hide, Ink felt something new. A new type of fear he never knew before. Why?

"...Of course," Nightmare said after a moment. He had never seen Ink turn those colors before. He wondered if this view would become familiar to him. "This means that if you accept, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Ink looked at him with a type of confusion so sharp it was almost disgusted. "...Huh?"

"A truce between lovers would be quite a solid thing, don't you believe?" He said dryly, his fingers twitching with the dread of someone who hasn't been told yes. "Whatever you need, I'll acquire it for you. Whatever you want, you'll have. But you'll give yourself to me."

"But not the AUs," Ink said after a moment. He couldn't distinguish the emotion in his own voice as he put his hands down. "You wouldn't stop your show just to have me, won't you?"

"I'm afraid not," Nightmare said. His eye looked down on them. He couldn't help but smile bitterly. "Of course not. You'll make no slave out of me."

"...You're funny," Ink murmured. "I like you. You're— you're intriguing, dynamic. I'd like to know where your character arc is going. I like your color palette."

"...Is that a yes?"

Ink sighed. (It was a yes.)

[nonightingalesinberkelysquare]

WARNING FOR GOOD OMENS SPOILERS!!!!

FURTHER SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FOLLOWING BOOKS: The Bone Clock by David Mitchell, You Only Call When You're In Trouble by Stephen Mcauley, and Bibliomaniac by Robin Ince.

So I'm sure a lot of the fandom have seen the pictures posted by a very lucky fan who saw the production of good omens happening out in Scotland today!!

However what I'm not seeing people talk about is a hidden gem in the reblogs.

SOMEONE HAD MANAGED TO GET A PICTURE OF THE BOOKS IN THE WINDOW!!!

Naturally, I had to go and do my research to see if these books give us any clues or serve any other purposes other than decorative purposes

AND LET ME TELL YOU

These are the the books visible in the window:

I'll go through them one by one

(Please bear in mind, I haven't read any of these books personally!! The only information I have on them are the little bits I found online in a very rushed attempt at research!!!)

Okay firstly

"The Bone Clocks" by David Mitchell

Now, this is the one that I struggled to make sense of the most out of the three.

The story appears to follow a runaway teenage girl who is a "lightning rod for psychic phenomena." These visions are said to reorder reality and send her into a real life nightmare.

However,

It also states that there is a boy who eventually crosses paths with her and who's story "comes together in moments of grace and extraordinary wonder"

As I said, I've never read these books and the only link I could begin to make with this is the idea of a "supernatural being meets another supernatural being and what they can do when they're together defies anyone's wildest dreams" story, similar to what we have seen and could see in GO3.

The next book is where it gets FARRRR more interesting (in my opinion)

NOW

THE TITLE? INTERESTING ASF.

IS AZIRAPHALE IN TROUBLE? OR EVEN CROWLEY?

The quotes are literally taken from the amazon listing itself, but I'll just point out the bits that stuck out to me personally.

☆ "is it ever okay to stop caring for others and start living for yourself?"

And I'm skipping a HUUUUGE chunk of the story here so apologies

☆ "Tom does what he's always done - answers the call."

☆ "Thus begins a journey that will change everyone's life and demonstrate the beauty or dysfunction (or both?) of the ties that bind families together and sometimes strangle them."

THAT LAST QUOTE REALLY STICKS OUT TO ME. Personally, I'd say that could possibly relate to the heaven and hell divides?

But furthermore, we were told prior to the whole NG situation that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't talking.. so could that mean that as soon as they begin speaking once again, they have the power to leave heaven and hell behind? Perhaps stop the divides?

And last, but certainly not least

Now, keep in mind that this particular book is nonfiction and appears to be written from the authors own point of view as he aims to visit 100 bookshops in 100 days.

This has a relatively short description from what I can see right now so I'll put it in here

"Bibliomaniac takes the reader on a journey across Britain as Robin explores his lifelong love of bookshops and books - and also tries to find out just why he can never have enough of them.

It is the story of an addiction and a romance, and also of an occasional points failure."

This one interested me SO much because it SCREAMS Aziraphale character development sort of thing? You know?

I really struggled to find any spoilers for this one whatsoever but one website did mention the author's love for vintage books, which he only ever reads as and when, as opposed to focusing on just one book.

I just thought this was SO SO SOOOOO interesting, and if anybody has any differing thoughts/interpretations or has even read the books, the comment section is a safe space to do so!!! All theories/suggestions are welcomed (any hate WILL be blocked, don't test me).

OR MAYBE THIS ALL MEANS NOTHING AND IM JUST CLOWNING FAR TOO HARD?!??!??!

[ablobwhowrites]

Hello, I've been a fan of your yandere ramblings, especially the sonic ones since no one does those really on this.

So I came with my own little ramblings for a human y/n that gets sucked into mobias (basically a reverse sonic X)

First of all, y/n is always staying at someone's house in a rotation (from cream and vanilla to tails to Amy, etc), and isn't allowed to sleep on their own without some mobian cuddling them.

Also y/n pulls a generations and meets different eras of the sonic cast, first meeting classic sonic, tails, knuckles, Amy, robotnik and metal sonic. And robotnik just being intrigued by this other human, and has metal kidnap them (who grows obsessed, yandere robot go brr).

And after a lot of classic obsession and shenanigans, y/n is transported to the mid modern era (sonic adventure and advanced series), and meets new characters like cream, big and chaos.

Cream is the only normal one (still is clingy), and tails is slightly more obsessive (still normal tho), and chaos just plays hot potato of constantly nabbing y/n during adventure 1.

Then onto generations itself and the time monster decides to also nab y/n because Eggman told them to (definitely not because it finds this human adorable).

Also fleetway sonic and scourge being the clingiest and jealous hedgehogs ever.

Omega also likes to just hold y/n randomly, like he does with cream and cheese in the comics

(tails and cream and chao's are strictly platonic yanderes for any yandere sonic stuff I do and may add to the platonic only if needed)

I do imagine they have their are scared as all hell but for classic sonic I do imagine he is shorter kinda how it is in other modern games and just imagining y/n in changing styles everytime they are put into a new sonic generation just to fit into the era. And is the classic era kinda wearing something like eggmans fit but modified to be their own and kinda fitting the hero style but they do try to take their gloves off but it's a struggle. And just imagining classic knuckles keeping y/n near the master emerald as that way he can protect two things at once. Tails is kinda like a that little brother who always wants to show you stuff even if your already doing something. Like tails will come to y/n and holds up his newest invention and y/n is like "oh cool. But tails I'm really busy right now t-" and tails is like "hold on let me show you want it does" and ends up destroying the only portal way home for y/n.

I do imagine just y/n at classic Amy's place and is just like "I wonder if I can make a run for it to see what would happen." But mostly just waiting for the right moment to run like when classic eggman and sonic were fighting and ended up tripping into a open portal somehow and now are in the mid modern era and I like to think their outfits changes to corespondents with the sonic era they are in. And imagining with some cross over games may or may not become obsessed with y/n like the sonic characters are and it's hell for y/n cause like bro has to deal with this now.

Plus imagining omega just being a kinda bodyguard for y/n is nice. They don't know omega is obsessed to buy keeps it more professional and so is shadow because he grows more insistent that he go everywhere with y/n to keep them safe even if not endanger, he still goes just to be sure nothing happens and then rouge is like "oh the master emerald and y/n! What a package deal!" and steals both but if she cannot get the emerald, she goes for the better option and y/n having to cling into rouge because like they do not wanna fall from how high she flys cause like bro you wouldn't be scared just looking down to see how far from the ground you are from?

Plus imagining y/n having a bunch of chao's walking behind y/n like ducklings because I say so and y/n wanting to take one because it decided to sleep on y/n's lap but they can't take them out of the chao garden. I love chao's they are so silly.

Also metal sonic after he sees y/n standing minding their own business:

Metal sonic and y/n are bascially that scene with miles running away and Miguel chasing him. And imagining that metal sonic dragging y/n back to eggmans base by the ankle because like I know if metal sonic held hands with y/n, he ain't never letting go of y/n's hand

(that's it's for my yapping for rn, but anyways if you guys like this y/n or idea please don't feel shy and request your ideas or y/n ideas. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[theresilent-uriel]

"I don't know the first thing of seduction and even when you in fact do, it makes me slightly worried following advice from your experience, darling." Uriel slowly cracked a grin, aware he was already falling into the trap of making another jealous had, of course, the one person he would ever care to cause jealousy been present. This demon Knight was trouble and a bad influence. "The timing wasn't that convenient, but it isn't the moment for us. You are making Rhys and I out to be sex-crazed teenagers with the raging hormones." He shook his head at her. The thoughts crossed El's mind, the admiration and pining led to shameless fantasies wondering what the First Son could do to him when they were alone. It's but that, a fantasy. "Do you know how insane I will look for him if I blurted it out of the blue? He'll dismiss it, push me away, and we'll pretend it never happened. I'm happy you know how well to work them to your advantage, but I'll never reach that level." El released a gust of air and dropped his gaze to the outstretched hand silently. Either accept the help or drown in his endless loop with Rhys, those were his options. He took her hand firmly, giving it a small shake. "I might end up regretting this." Dropping his palm after a moment, he couldn't contain the chuckle. "I'm the food vacuum of the family and I wasn't nearly as tall as him. He's blessed with good genetics."

"It's all in the art of seduction, my friend. Sometimes you use other people's jealousy to enforce feelings, but that is another conversation altogether." Keilah could feel herself grinning like an idiot listening to the witch's ramblings. So cute. So innocent. So unwilling to take what he wanted for himself. Kei supposed it was up to her to provide a little demonic influence. "Oof, a kiss only and then centuries of distance? Both of you are probably just so pent up you don't know what to do with it," the Knight waved dismissively before giving Uriel a pointed look, "that's exactly what I want you to say, but don't worry. Baby steps. Look, I don't know Rhys personally, but I know all about men of power and how to work them– it's how I got ahead as a female in Hell to hold one of the highest ranks below Prince." The demon thrust a hand out in front of her as a gesture of goodwill for him to take, "let me help you, and you might just bag Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Emphasis on the tall– seriously though, what was he fed growing up?"

[quintessenceofdust88]

Of course some 🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Diana baby! ♥ Here are 30 sentences of tsunami for you, direct continuation from my fuck it friday, and it comes with the promise that the last chapter will be up at Tuesday by the latest (but I really really wanna have it out tomorrow!) ♥

- 🌊

“Vivie, that is so beautiful, pixie,” Tommy tells her, because he’s a firm believer in always praising her daughter for her efforts (actually he’s a firm believer in giving Genevieve everything he’s never had growing up, but that is neither her nor there). But he’s afraid he’ll have to burst her bubble at least a little bit. “But… you know Daddy is not going to see Mr. Evan, right? We don’t work together, sweetheart.”

Genevieve looks at him as if Tommy’s being particularly obtuse. He briefly thinks that, if she’s mastered this look by this point, he’s already praying for himself during her childhood. She crosses her little arms and huffs at him. 

“I know you don’t work together, Daddy, Mr. Evan works with Christopher’s daddy!” She tells him. “But you’re going to his house, aren’t you?”

Tommy looks at Sal, completely at loss, but his best friend is no help. Sal looks back at him with a shrug, clearly making an herculean effort to hold back his laughter, and Tommy glares at him before looking back at Tommy. 

“Baby, why would I be going to his house?” He asks, completely baffled. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to Evan Buckley’s house. It’s not like he hasn’t low-key stalked the man’s social media and the last three days and been even more charmed by what he saw. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about asking the other man out at least ten times since that day.

But Tommy can’t, because he can’t hold Evan accountable for the things he said under the effect of anesthesia. Tommy doesn’t know what scares him the most about bringing it up: Evan being honest and telling him that of course he didn’t mean it, he’s straight, what is Tommy even thinking, or Evan being too polite to say that and date him out of a sense of obligation.

(The thought that maybe Evan did mean it never crosses his mind. But apparently it crosses Vivie’s.)

“Because, Daddy, mr. Howie said you should, remember?” She tells him, and for once in his life Tommy curses her absurdly good memory. “He said you should check it if mr. Evan meant it or if he was just being silly!”

“Wait, wait, silly about what? What did Buckley say?” Sal asks, his gossiper vein clearly showing, and Genevieve is answering before Tommy can stop her. 

“About wanting Daddy to ask him out!” She says, bouncing excitedly on her toes. “He said Daddy should, as a thank you, but Daddy said he didn’t mean it because he was too sleepy!”

Sal smirks like he has just won the lottery, and Tommy would strangle him if he wasn’t hurt. Tommy’s cheeks blush impossibly red, and he runs a hand through his face, wondering how he can tell his five-year-old to shut up without traumatizing her. 

“Did he now? Isn’t that interesting?” Sal says, crossing his arms and smiling smugly at Tommy, who flips him off mentally. 

“It’s not, because he was under heavy painkillers and probably wouldn’t know the difference between me and Margot Robbie at that moment.” Tommy grumbles.

“Dude, that’s flattering yourself” Sal scoffs at the same time Vivie pipes ‘Who’s Margot Robbie?!’, and Tommy very maturely chooses to ignore both of them. But he should have known there’s no stopping his determined little matchmaker. --- I hope you like it and have a wonderful week, sweetheart!

[make me write]

[diminuel]

Do you think Crocodile and Mihawk get into a bragging war about their kids and accomplishments?

I'm probably in the minority because I don't really get dad - kids vibes from Mihawk and Perona/ Zoro (maybe I just haven't seen the light yet *lol*)

But for the sake of the idea, I can imagine that neither of them are the type to brag but one day Mihawk might make some appreciative comment on Zoro's achievements and judging it against the accomplishments of his captains. Crocodile is listening without much comment but the moment Mihawk says something that implies that Luffy might not be able to keep pace with Zoro's growth, there's a ringing in his head and he tells Mihawk about what Luffy has achieved, as a person and as a captain.

At the end of the extensive rant Mihawk is left wondering just why the hell Crocodile knows so much about Strawhat Luffy (because Croc has not trusted anyone with the truth yet and while Mihawk might be very observant and smart, the thought that Crocodile could be Luffy's other parent just has not ever crossed his mind.) He feels not even Shanks would be able to give such a detailed account of the boy.

(It will all make sense once he realizes that it's his kid and then maybe they can engage in bragging about the kids that might get a bit too heated from time to time.)

[fr34k0n4l345h]

Easy Come, Easy Go

A Marble Hornets 1920’s au fic

enjoy!!

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Chapter One - Birdie

The streets were draped with a tranquil silence. Only the buzzing of distant cicadas and the rhythmic chirping of other nighttime crawlers filled the void that formed in the heart of Birmingham, Alabama. The streets may be desolate at this hour, but beneath layers of asphalt and crust was a bustling community.

The dance floor was cast in an elegant glow that coincided beautifully with men and women alike that moved and swayed about suavely in dazzling attire. Risqué attire of the likes that were frowned upon during the daytime. People of all sizes, backgrounds, and colors mingled and chattered between watered down bootleg alcoholic beverages. Brassy music filled the air that swirled stagnantly with remnants of tobacco smoke. The night life was energetic and free. Up until a few years ago, it was foreign and daunting world to Jay. Yet, it was one that he’d come to accept. What choice did a paperboy like him have?

“Birdie!” A masculine voice slurred from across the finely polished wooden countertop. This snapped Jay from his mindless idle daze.

“Pour me another whiskey on the rocks!” He looked up to meet the clearly inebriated man, who slapped a couple of crumpled bills atop the shiny bar-top. Jay had learned the hard way to keep his head down while on the clock. To do exactly as he was told. To speak only when spoken to. This job was the only thing keeping him off of the streets. The last thing he needed was his loud mouth getting him fired. So no matter how arrogant or crude his customers were, his body moved on command.

“You got it.” Practiced and gentle hands moved with precision prepare the man his requested beverage. He slid the sparkling glass across the lacquered wooden surface in exchange for the mishandled bills. The man tipped his fedora in thanks before vanishing into the crowd, melting into the sea of mingling strangers.

The bartender shoved the crinkled paper into a jar behind the bar, then folded his arms lackadaisically on the countertop with a heavy sigh. Jay often caught himself wondering if this was the life truly deserved. It certainly wasn’t the life he’d imagined as an ambitious teenager. He often wondered how things would’ve turned out had he gotten that position at his childhood friend’s budding film company. Kralie Inc. It was an industry mammoth now. He’d always known it had potential. Especially with the knowledge and expertise of the man running the business. Alex Kralie.

—

“No, no, you’re doing it all wrong!” An immature voice scolded. “You need to feel what the character is saying, not just speak the line!” The young blonde in his memory had lighthearted frustration carved into his features as he berated his friend. The innocent southern sun beamed upon the two of them, singeing his delicate skin even with the protection of his stained blouse. It was how they spent all of their days together; in the yard of his father’s victorian style mansion beneath the endless canopy of blue above them, acting out every book they could get their grubby little hands on.

“This is too hard,” Jay huffed in protest. “why can’t your sister act as the princess? She’s a girl!” Little beads of sweat glistened on their blemish-free features. A symphony of birds sang around them.

“Because she isn’t pretty enough, I already told you that.” Alex argued, arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Now start over!”

It was in that moment that Jay’s entire perspective of the world shifted, turning itself inside out. He was a boy; he couldn’t be pretty! His prepubescent mind couldn’t fathom such a concept. Oddly enough, the sun seemed to beat down on him harder.

“What are you doing just standing there? Move!” Alex nudged his shoulder with a closed fist, shaking the boy out of his flabbergasted staring contest with the ground. When he looked up, he was met with a smiling expression. One that, as a child, Jay had become familiar with. A smile that spread to his own features. A light laughter bubbled from his chest. The memory faded.

—

“I can’t be friends with you anymore.”

“But Ale—“

“DON’T!”

The voice echoed. Then, there was a trembling breath. It was so faint, yet oh so fragile. Like a mere gust of wind would cause the male to crumble into a million little fragments.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything at all. I— we’re done. For the sake of my life and yours, don’t write me. Don’t look for me. Y’know what— just forget we ever met.”

His chest burned.

“Goodbye, Jay.”

—

It was as if a boa constrictor had wrung itself around his heart. Becoming tighter with each loop around. Why, oh why did that memory always come back to tourment him?

“Sir? ‘Scuse me, sir.” A thick country accent filled his ears, smooth and warm as honey. Jay looked at the man across from him, tired eyes boring into the stranger. Eyes that weren’t quite seeing in the present.

“You seem to have, uh.. spilled.” The man gestured to the glistening puddle of an unknown liquid and cubed ice in front of him. If Jay wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly was now. He jumped to action, yanking the rag dangling from his belt and hurried to clean up the liquid. The surveying man chuckled. It was a pleasant noise that carried above the music flowing from the stage across the establishment.

“Long night, huh?” The curious customer inquired. Jay huffed out a short laugh. It was a pathetic attempt at courtesy towards the customer.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He’d murmur. With the spilled alcohol now soaked into the rag without a trace, he plopped the soiled fabric aside. Before he could lift his gaze, a wad of neat bills were slid his way. It was more than enough cash for just one drink.

“Neat moonshine for me. Get yourself somethin’ while you’re at it. You look like you need it.” His effortless smile exposed a little tooth gap hidden behind his lips. A subtle feature that complimented the man’s kind attitude. Jay could only stare at him in wonderment at the suspiciously generous offer.

“Thanks.” He’d awkwardly reply after a few moment of battling his own brain to come up with coherent words to say in response. He took the cash, then worked to pour the stranger his alcohol of choice. Surprisingly enough, even as a bartender in one of the several underground speakeasies in Birmingham, Jay didn’t get around to drinking often. To summarize a long story short, he was a lightweight and didn’t enjoy how quickly the substance got to him. But bootleg beer was the perfect ratio of water and actual alcohol to give him a comfortable edge. So, he poured himself a glass.

To Jay’s confusion, the stranger didn’t leave after being served his drink.

“Brian, by the way. Are you new ‘round here?” Brian focused in on him with upmost curiosity, but it wasn’t the condescending type. It was friendly and lighthearted. This man didn’t seem like the type to frequent a speakeasy like, yet here he was.

“Uh, yeah, kinda. I work weekends mostly.” He’d sheepishly reply. Truth be told, he wasn’t new at all. He’d been working at that joint for about a year now. Sometimes, the paperboy couldn’t help but tell little white lies. What did it matter, anyways? At these bars, he was Birdie; a hard-working student caring for his siblings at home. Not Jay Merrick; the man who was hardly getting by. A failure living a double life to escape his unfortunate reality.

The man, who he’d come to know as Brian, nodded and sipped on the golden liquid in his glass.

“Thought so. I was wonderin’ why I haven’t seen the likes of you ‘round.” He idly responded, swishing around the liquid in his glass. There was a brief silence between them. “What’s eatin’ you? You’ve got that thousand yard stare to you.”

The question came as a surprise to Jay. It wasn’t often that anyone acknowledged him beyond asking for a drink. For a moment, he faltered.

“I thought the bartender was supposed to be the one asking those questions.” He cracked an insincere smile. It was true. Jay was wrung dry; undeniably so.

“Says who?” Brian chided, a charming smile dancing on his lips. Jay felt his mouth go dry at that. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip of the bubbling liquid inside in a desperate attempt to drown the butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, y’know how it is.. the state of the world ‘n all.” Jay brushed the man’s obvious prying off with a lazy shrug. Much to his relief, Brian seemed to take the hint. He hummed from across the wooden bar top.

“Yeah, real shame what’s goin’ on in these parts. Especially with folk disappearing or turnin’ up dead in the night. Real scary world out there.” The stranger spoke before tilting his head back and taking a swig of his aged moonshine. At that, Jay could only stare.

“S-Sorry, what?” He stammered over his words. His brows knit together. “Did you say people are..” He couldn’t even utter the words. Why hadn’t he heard of this in the papers he delivered? Surely the press would be raging about something so alarming. Brian nodded.

“You heard that right. Murders and disappearances. Some say there’s a killer on the loose. Some are sayin’ it’s a man-eatin’ cryptid that lives in the forest.” He continued. It sounded absurd, and yet there was no sign of jest in the mans tone. Jay felt his heart lurch in his chest.

“No one really knows. Just stay safe out there, alright? Don’t give in to the shadow’s call.” Their eyes met. Jay held Brian’s gaze, which was terrifyingly sincere for a man he’d just met. It was a haunting passing moment. Then, he realized the message he was being delivered; a warning. Brain must know something that he did not. A wave of unease washed over him. Perhaps he was just paranoid— but if he were paranoid, how could Brian make such claims with a straight face?

“Loosen up, kid! look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Jay’s boss, Mr. Murphy, boomed as he rounded the corner. He was a plump and jolly man with slicked back salt and pepper hair. Your stereotypical black-jack loving speakeasy owner. He casted one of his thick arms around Jay’s scrawny shoulders, which made him stumble. At the appearance of a new face, Brian’s pleasant smile reappeared.

“Good evenin’ to you, Mr. Murphy. I’ll get goin’ now.” Brian stood from the barstool, abandoning his now empty glass. He straightened out his tan overcoat. “It was nice talkin’ to you, uh..” Brown eyes flickered over Jay’s appearance. Oh right! He hadn’t introduced himself.

“Call me Birdie.” He promptly filled in the gap. At that, a smile tugged at the corner of Brian’s lips. A glint of an emotion he couldn’t quite capture twinkled in his eye.

“Right. Until next time, Birdie.” With that, the man with the comforting accent excused himself from the bar, revealing the atmosphere behind him. The population of customers were slowly dwindling. The music tapered to a laid-back swing. The morning hours must’ve been approaching. Beside him, Mr. Murphy droned on about tonight’s business and the typical drama that occurred almost nightly. Jay tuned him out. He took Brian’s abandoned glass and acquired a clean polishing rag.

As he was wiping the surface, something caught his eye. In red ink at the base of the glass resided two lines side by side and a curved one beneath it, resembling a smiling face. It was uniform and tidy, like it had been stamped on. Jay’s eyebrows creased. Where could this have come from? He’d been watching the customer the entire time, had he not?

He looked up towards the dark stairway that led towards the only entrance and exit of the secret establishment and felt a freezing chill run down his spine.

“Murders and disappearances. Some say there’s a killer on the loose. Some are sayin’ it’s a man-eatin’ cryptid that lives in the forest.”

Jay began to vigorously rub away the red ink with the smooth fabric of the white rag, staining it with the dye as a result.

“Don’t give in to the shadow’s call.”

He set the glass aside. He found himself looking back towards the darkness engulfed door way, as if something was luring him towards it. Beckoning him. A sense of unease hung over his shoulders. Brian’s words stuck to him like a curse. What did that man know that he didn’t? There was something strange going on. And something from deep within him, a primal yearning for knowledge, urged him to find out what it was.

Next

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HIIII THIS IS MY FIRST “big” project so feedback is appreciated :]]] will be posted to ao3 and wattpad at some point!!

[legacygirlingreen]

"Spitfire" (A flashback) || Captain Rex x OFC Mae || Clone x OC Week 2025 Event

Pairing: Captain Rex x OFC Mae Killough (Bio HERE)

Word Count: 4.9k

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Medical related touching over armor (seriously nothing kinky about it but clone men's mind may have wandered); slightly suggestive comment; mentions of clone rights (or the lack there of); mentions of deaths on Ryloth

Author's Note: Hi there! I am really excited to participate in the first day of @clonexocweek with a little flashback for my OC Mae! Thank you so much for organizing this event and making all the banners! This was a silly idea that came to me, wondering what if Rex and Mae had crossed paths previously without realizing it. So this is a technical 'first meeting' to provide a bit more weight to the actual first time they interact, found HERE. I hope you all enjoy, and as a reminder, this ship exists within a larger AU by @leenathegreengirl. If you haven't seen her work, seriously go check it out. It's got Clone x OCs all over it with so many original characters! ~ M

Mae & Rex Masterlist || Chronological Next Work || Masterlist

Fire and brimstone is what Cody would have described it as. He couldn’t recall ever having encountered a civilian so furious—at least, not one who wasn’t a military officer. The Jedi didn’t get angry. His brothers, too, typically kept their emotions in check, controlled by discipline and experience. It was only the occasional politician or separatist who displayed their anger so openly, and even then, it was often driven by pride or ideology.

But the small woman in front of him? Her fury was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. She hobbled forward, her movements sharp and determined, though it was clear that every step caused her pain. Despite his recommendation to let him carry her bag—one she clutched tightly, almost desperately—she insisted on managing it herself. And that’s when it hit him. He realized, for the first time, that he had never truly known what real, raw anger looked like—at least not from someone like her. Anger that burned hot and fierce, yet controlled and purposeful. 

When Cody had been sent to the transport ship in the hangar upon its arrival with the fleet, he hadn’t expected to be tasked with retrieving a civilian. He’d assumed it would be another officer, or perhaps someone of higher importance. But General Kenobi had given him clear instructions: find the civilian and bring her to the bridge.

The moment his eyes fell upon her, however, all thoughts of formalities disappeared. The unmistakable markings of the RAR uniform were marred with the signs of a long, grueling journey. The weariness in her eyes, the sheer exhaustion etched into her face, told him everything he needed to know. This woman had likely faced horrors beyond comprehension, and yet here she was—alive. A miracle, really.

Her chest was tightly wrapped in surgical dressing, and her arm was bound to her torso by a makeshift sling, but despite the injury, she moved with a sense of urgency, as if time was slipping away from her. There was no hesitation in her step, only resolve.

She hardly spared him more than a glance and brief exchange of plesantries, rushing to push past him and make her way toward the leaders, the need to speak with them evident in her every movement. When he reached for her bag to assist her, she slapped his hand away with a sharp motion. The action was swift and unyielding, and a small part of Cody understood why. She didn’t want to appear weak or helpless. She wanted to prove she could handle herself, even in her condition.

It wasn’t a battle worth having, so Cody backed off. He wasn’t about to argue with someone clearly determined to maintain control over what little she had left. Besides, if her resolve was anything like the fury in her eyes, he knew better than to push her.

As he walked alongside her, occasionally calling out directions as they navigated the twisting corridors, Cody couldn’t help but notice how her hair unraveled from the bun that had struggled to contain its chaos. Strands of bright red tumbled free, a striking contrast to the sharp anger burning in her eyes. The color, vivid and bold, mirrored the fiery intensity of her emotions—a fury that seemed to consume her from the inside out.

Cody had heard word that the 501st would soon be joining their fleet. It was all part of some reckless scheme cooked up by Master Skywalker and his padawan, an ill-conceived plan to push their main ship through the blockade by sheer force. Cody could already feel the tension in the air, the impending chaos that would follow.

A part of him longed to be down in the hangar with his brothers-in-arms, to be facing that challenge alongside them. But instead, here he was, walking beside a woman who seemed ready to tear his head off at any moment. Her anger was palpable, radiating from her like a storm waiting to break. Maybe, just maybe, he'd catch up with Rex later—after Skywalker had barreled through the blockade, of course, and before his own men would be sent to the surface to deal with the aftermath.

Cody could already sense how intense the invasion was going to be. The Twi’lek had endured horrors that were almost beyond comprehension. The stories of Master Di’s fate, along with the remnants of the Republic's forces, painted a grim picture. Yet, somehow, this woman—this survivor—was still standing. It was a miracle in itself. If anyone could withstand such brutality and emerge on the other side, it was someone like her.

“We can slow down. There's no need to rush—”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, her voice cold and resolute. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, her breath labored, but she pushed forward without faltering. Cody didn’t press the issue. If she was stubborn enough to ignore the pain of her injury, who was he to challenge it?

They continued down the hallway, and soon they arrived at the door to the bridge. Cody braced himself for what he anticipated would be a tense confrontation—an explosive exchange with the sole survivor of the last deployment to Ryloth. He understood her anger. Waking up to find yourself discarded, abandoned off-world—it wasn’t a feeling he would wish on anyone. Still, part of him was curious: what made a natural-born, someone with a choice, willing to join this cause? He and his brothers had been bred for war, for duty. She, however, had chosen it.

The door slid open, and Cody spoke just as they entered, his voice steady.

“Generals—”

The woman remained silent at his side as they approached the holotable, where the strategy for the upcoming invasion was already unfolding.

“Cody, right on schedule.” General Kenobi acknowledged him, turning back to his data with a nod. “We’ll need to start preparing the men for deployment soon. Skywalker’s forces managed to breach the blockade, and they’re routing here now. Once they arrive, they’ll establish a protective command perimeter around the planet for the invasion.” Kenobi paused, his expression shifting as he turned toward the woman. With a brief gesture toward another officer, he resumed his transmission with the leadership on Coruscant.

Cody watched as several Jedi joined the conversation via hologram. Master Yoda’s image appeared, and the wise, ancient figure’s gaze landed on the woman standing beside him.

“Arrived, to provide intel on locating the Twi’lek survivors on Ryloth, I see.” Yoda’s voice, raspy but commanding, filled the room.

Cody saw the woman’s nostrils flare, the faintest sign of irritation. Yet, with a controlled breath, she nodded her acknowledgment.

“I can only provide information from before my...unwanted departure from the planet,” she began, but was swiftly cut off by Master Windu’s firm voice.

“The intel you offer will be sufficient, citizen. Any information you can provide might aid our forces in locating Cham’s fighters, especially since the final stand of the 303 was unsuccessful. Tragic, but unfortunately, that sentiment is becoming all too common in this conflict,” Windu continued, his tone flat and dismissive.

At that moment, Cody could feel the woman’s restraint snap, and he knew an eruption was imminent.

“Tragic? That’s all you have to say about it?” Her voice was sharp, laced with a fury that Cody could feel emanating from her. “I thought the Jedi were supposed to be compassionate?” She hissed, the words like a venomous strike. With a swift motion, she dropped her bag onto the durasteel floor of the bridge, the loud thud reverberating through the room, even reaching the transmission coms.

“We are,” Windu replied, seemingly unbothered. “As I was saying—”

“Your definition of compassion and mine are very different,” she cut him off, standing taller, her posture rigid. “What happened to those men—those brave men whom you left to die, I might add—was more than tragic. It was unimaginable.” The words were sharp, every syllable laced with grief and anger. Cody could see the tension in her shoulders, her jaw clenched as if she were holding back more than she could afford.

Mace Windu’s voice came again, but his words only fueled the fire. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re now working to bring freedom to Ryloth.”

“So now, this invasion is worth your attention.” she spat, her voice cold and full of contempt. “Not the countless rotations we spent pleading for reinforcements?” She slammed her palm down on the edge of the table, her eyes now locked on Kenobi as if seeking a Jedi with more understanding than Windu or the others on the Council. From Cody’s experience, Kenobi was certainly more empathetic, more willing to listen—but he doubted even his leader could calm the fury that radiated from this woman.

Kenobi’s tone softened, his voice steady and measured. “What happened on Ryloth was unfortunate, and I understand that what you and your forces endured was deeply upsetting. My condolences for the RAR forces you lost. Perhaps, by helping us locate the Twi’lek freedom fighters, their sacrifices may not have been in vain.”

The woman seemed to pause, her gaze lingering on Kenobi, as if weighing his words. For a brief moment, she appeared to consider his compassionate approach—but it wasn’t enough to quell her anger.

“Kenobi, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice tight but curious. Cody watched as Kenobi nodded. “When was the last time you actually spoke to your men?” she continued, her tone sharp. “I’m not talking about battle plans or troop logistics. I mean, when was the last time you took the time to ask how they’re doing? I know you Jedi have...a sense of things, and I don’t pretend to understand it. But I’m a doctor. I know when people are hurting, when they need more than just orders and missions. And I see that the Jedi could be doing more for the men who fight these battles for you. The RAR may be disbanded, and those of us like me cast aside, but the disregard your order has for these men—it’s obvious. And it angers me.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut, and Cody felt the weight of her anger and her pain. The raw emotion she carried in her voice made it clear: this wasn’t just about the battle, or the cause. It was about the men who fought, and the people who had been forgotten. She wasn’t angry at him, Cody realized. She was angry for him.

For a moment, silence settled over the room, as Kenobi and the others absorbed her words. Cody stood in stunned disbelief. He never imagined he would witness Obi-Wan—of all people—being the target of such a verbal barrage, let alone one that left his leader looking uncomfortably guilty. The transmission from Master Windu cut off abruptly, as if something in her words had struck a chord with the Jedi Master.

That’s a first, Cody thought to himself.

Next came the transmission from the Jedi at the temple. Master Yoda’s solemn image appeared, his expression heavy with thought. “Much to discuss, we shall have. Concerns for the clone army—an important notion. Hear them, you will, Obi-Wan,” he said, his voice calm yet grave, before disappearing from the feed as well.

Cody glanced around the bridge. It felt as though time had frozen, everyone holding their breath, waiting for Kenobi’s response. He knew exactly why. His brothers, like him, were curious to hear how their Jedi leader would address the woman’s accusations.

It wasn’t that Cody felt neglected—overall, he knew that most of the Jedi respected their ideas and military strategies. But, in some ways, she wasn’t wrong in her assessment. It was difficult to express these feelings without coming across as ungrateful. The Jedi, for all their wisdom and kindness, weren’t always attentive to the needs of the clones. They were kinder than the Kaminoans, certainly, but that didn’t mean they truly understood or took the time to listen to the men who fought and bled for them.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan said, carefully choosing his words to avoid provoking another outburst.

“Commander Cody, may I see your helmet?” she asked, turning toward him. Without hesitation, he nodded and passed the helmet to her, his fingers brushing the cool surface as her delicate hand circled the rim.

“Have you ever wondered how the armor these men wear truly functions? Or how impractical it can be?” she asked, holding the helmet out toward the Jedi. Cody was taken aback by her understanding. She seemed to grasp the very complaints he often muttered under his breath to the new troopers—that over time, they would adapt to the constricting armor and the limited visibility through the viewport.

All eyes turned to Kenobi as he took the helmet in his hands, turning it over thoughtfully before peering inside. He paused for a moment, then, without a word, slipped it over his head. Cody’s chest tightened. He couldn’t help but watch, his breath catching as Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged for an instant. The Jedi’s head tilted slightly to the right before he slowly removed the helmet, a solemn expression on his face.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she said, turning toward his Lieutenant. “What’s your name, Trooper?” Her voice, to Cody’s surprise, was calm—soothing even—something he had not expected from her given the way she’d stormed aboard the ship ready to reign hell.

“Uh, Waxer, Ma’am,” came the stammered response, as Cody watched Waxer blush bright red, his helmet tucked awkwardly under his arm. The trooper stood straighter, visibly flustered by her attention.

“Waxer, would you mind if I demonstrated some of the challenges I’ve noticed with the standard armor, from a medical perspective?” Her tone was respectful, almost measured. Cody’s brow furrowed. He’d never experienced anyone openly seeking consent before touching his men. Even the rare doctors who weren’t his brothers in arms simply did what they had to without question. Not that he minded—their intent was always to help—but there was something about the way she asked that felt different, more deliberate, and somehow more considerate.

Waxer nodded, his face still flushed but giving a stiff acknowledgment. All around them, the rest of the troopers on the bridge seemed to lean in, their attention drawn to the unexpected display.

With quiet confidence, she reached forward and gently lifted Waxer’s arm, showing the Jedi where the armor's design created limitations in movement.

“Now, as you can see here,” she continued, her voice unwavering, “the gap between the codpiece and the thigh armor is so minimal that if you try to move your leg too far, you risk cutting off circulation or causing discomfort. It’s a design flaw that’s hard to overlook.”

She then lifted his leg with one hand, her fingers careful around the back of his knee, and Waxer’s eyes widened. Cody, who had been watching intently, had to suppress a laugh. He could see the poor trooper’s discomfort—this close to his manhood, and she, so composed, going about her demonstration like it was nothing.

Cody could barely contain himself, but he knew better than to let the laughter slip. Instead, he focused on her point, silently agreeing with the doctor. She was showing, not just telling, and doing so in a way that drew every eye on the bridge. There was no mistaking that her expertise was being absorbed by every man in the room, even if her demonstration was a little...uncomfortable for the trooper involved. The men had limited experiences with women, especially one this pretty. Cody internally realized this was going to be the talk of their platoon for ages. 

“Waxer, could you explain how physically taxing the armor becomes during extended periods of wear, particularly when sitting down?” she asked, gently lowering his leg. Obi-Wan’s gaze shifted toward his trooper, and Cody couldn’t help but watch in anticipation. It wasn’t quite an interrogation, but he knew the woman’s intentions were for the benefit of the men. Despite understanding that, he was grateful she hadn’t singled him out, instead choosing to address his Lieutenant.

“It’s not unbearable, Ma’am,” Waxer replied, his voice awkward, his hand reaching to the back of his neck as though uncomfortable with the attention.

“But the strain becomes tiresome, doesn’t it? Surely something lighter would improve your functionality,” she pressed, her eyes encouraging him to speak freely, to be honest.

“It does get heavy, especially at the end of a long day. Sitting is painful, yes,” Waxer admitted quietly, the weariness in his voice unmistakable.

Obi-Wan’s expression remained unreadable, though Cody could tell he was considering her words with an intensity he rarely showed. The woman’s pace slowed, the point seemingly made. She turned toward Obi-Wan, her tone becoming more solemn.

“I know the Senate views this army as little more than a tool, a collection of military assets,” she said, her voice steady but laced with a deep sadness. “But they are men. They deserve respect. They deserve someone who will listen to their concerns without the threat of decommissioning. I’ve spent enough time with them to understand that they rarely voice complaints, and certainly not to the Jedi.” Her words trailed off, her thoughts seemingly taking her to a darker place for a moment.

Cody hadn’t met the clones she’d served with, but he’d heard whispers of their final stand. The conditions on Ryloth had been so dire that the Senate had ordered all RAR workers off the field, dissolving their contracts with frightening swiftness. He didn’t want to dwell on the horrors she’d been forced to endure, but a part of him felt a warmth in his chest at the concern she expressed. She might have been removed from the conflict, but something in her wanted to ensure that, in the end, something good was done for the men she had served alongside. He could respect that, perhaps even understand it better than he’d like to admit.

“Doctor,” Obi-Wan said, his voice calm, waiting for her to properly introduce herself as she repositioned herself beside Cody at the table.

“Killough,” she replied, her voice cool. “Though I’ve neglected that surname for so long to avoid unwanted associations… You may call me Mae.” Her words hung in the air, a subtle hint of something deeper beneath the surface. Cody recalled the name she’d given him in the hangar. It wasn’t the same name, he was certain of it. For a moment, he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before, but the look on the General’s face told him it was significant. There was an unspoken conversation that passed between Mae and Obi-Wan, something quiet yet powerful, before the tension seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had come.

“I see,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, his gaze unwavering. “The Jedi do not hold attachment to their origins, only to who we become. A sentiment we share.” He paused, stroking his beard for a moment before continuing. “Well, Mae, if you prepare a report, I’d be more than willing to share it with the Council—and perhaps with a contact of mine in the Senate. We’ll see what can be done.”

Mae said nothing at first, her eyes scanning the holographic map displayed before them, detailing the planet’s surface. She seemed deep in thought, her mind focused. Finally, she spoke again, her voice measured. “Cham’s forces were fleeing through the canyons, hoping to reach a set of caves to hide from the Separatists. They were traveling with women and children. I wasn’t told the exact location, but…” She zoomed in on a quadrant, her finger tracing a specific area. “I believe they were near this sector.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Thank you. Compassion is in rare supply these days. Your concerns will be passed along, Doctor.” He hesitated for a moment, his words softening. “And, I offer my condolences for the loss of your comrades. May this mission we are about to undertake bring honor to their sacrifice.”

Mae—Cody would need to adjust to that name now—bent down, retrieving something from her small bag. She set it gently on the table in front of them. “My personal reports,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “If that is all, I’ll be on my way. I believe the transport I arrived on will soon be departing for Coruscant. Seeing as my services are no longer required…” Her voice held a trace of irritation now, the faintest venom creeping into her words at the implication of being dismissed.

“Cody, would you ensure the doctor makes it to the shuttle?” Kenobi asked, his attention quickly drawn to a communication officer who had resumed his work after receiving transmissions from Skywalker's fleet.

Cody nodded, and this time, as he bent down to grab the woman’s bag, she made no move to stop him. They walked in silence toward the lift, the hum of the station echoing around them. As the door slid shut, Cody adjusted the weight of the helmet under his arm.

"Thank you," he said quietly after a moment. It wasn’t much, but the weight of what she’d done lingered in the air between them. She had openly criticized both the Jedi and the Senate on behalf of the clone army. It was the kind of conversation Cody had heard whispered in the barracks or out on the planet's surface with his brothers, but never voiced to those who could actually bring about change. The briefing he’d received before heading to fetch her had made it clear that she was a senior officer in the now disbanded organization. A voice like hers carried weight, and to wield that power in their favor was a debt Cody knew he could never repay.

“No need, Commander,” she replied with a soft shake of her head. “You and your men do more than anyone could ask. A simple conversation from me won’t change that fact, but…” She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor as she drew in a labored breath. “If I can make it any easier, it’s a privilege.”

“Not many Natborns would say that,” he remarked after a moment, his voice thoughtful.

“Well, I think that’s because the Republic has done its best to keep us apart,” she said, her tone tinged with frustration. “It’s easier to dehumanize clones into just military assets when the citizens only see you at a distance.” Her eyes met his, and Cody could tell she didn’t share that perspective herself, though she understood it all too well.

“I suppose,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with the resignation he’d grown so familiar with. “But this is what we were created for. I guess it’s understandable why people might assume that’s all we are.”

“I still believe,” she said softly, her voice steady but firm, “just as your Jedi believes, that we possess an element of choice. Our origins do not define us. That’s true for anyone who lives, breathes, and has a beating heart—like you and me.” Her words lingered between them as the lift doors opened, and they stepped out into the quiet, sterile hallway. Together, they walked in silence, the soft echo of their footsteps the only sound as they made their way toward the hangar.

The hum of activity in the hangar grew louder as they approached. Inside, the air was thick with the rush of preparation: transports lined up in rows, engines warming, the buzz of soldiers and mechanics alike moving in swift, practiced coordination. And then there was the unmistakable presence of blue and white plastoid armor, troopers milling about, readying for the battle ahead. General Skywalker’s forces had arrived, and the wheels of the invasion were beginning to turn.

Cody paused for a moment as they entered the hangar, his eyes scanning the bustling scene. It was clear that the next phase of their mission was about to begin—the invasion of Ryloth was imminent. Yet, amidst the whirlwind of activity, this brief, unexpected reprieve felt like a stolen moment, fragile and fleeting.

There was something about the chaos around him, the tension of the impending battle, that made this silence between him and Mae feel even more significant. For a moment, it was as if time had slowed, and the weight of her words settled in.

As they approached the transport heading back to the capital, Mae reached out a hand for the bag slung over his shoulder. Without a word, Cody passed it to her, the exchange quiet and familiar.

“Well, Commander,” she said, standing at the bottom of the ramp, her gaze meeting his. “I wish you well with your invasion.”

“Thank you,” Cody replied, his voice low. He hesitated, his curiosity getting the better of him. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your plans now?”

He knew she no longer had a contract with the military, and without steady employment, life in the heart of the Republic would surely be difficult. The expense of it all—well, he couldn’t imagine what it would take to navigate that world. But then again, that kind of resourcefulness was something that still felt like a foreign concept to him.

Mae took a moment to adjust the strap of her bag, her eyes momentarily distant. “I might try to find some backwater planet, somewhere far from the conflict.” She sighed, a soft, almost melancholic sound. “I don’t regret helping in this war, not for a second, but...” She paused, her words trailing off for a moment before continuing, her voice quieter. “It would be nice to return to my original purpose—to heal. I think I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last a lifetime.”

There was an unmistakable heaviness in her tone, a quiet resignation that spoke volumes about the toll the war had taken on her. Cody couldn’t help but sense the depth of her weariness, as though the weight of all she had witnessed had become too much to carry any longer.

“I think that sounds like a good idea, Doctor. Take care of yourself,” Cody said, his gaze following Mae as she nodded and began walking up the ramp. She didn’t speak another word on the matter, and before long, she disappeared into the transport. For a brief moment, Cody let the events of the past few hours linger in his mind, reflecting on her words, her actions, and the unspoken understanding that had passed between them.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a sharp knock on his shoulder armor broke his reverie. He turned to find Rex standing beside him, a grin spreading across his face.

“Who was that?” Rex asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his head catching the light of the hanger in his short blond hair as he nodded his head in her direction. “And what’s all this comm chatter saying Kenobi and Windu got yelled at by a civvie? Was that the woman the boys won’t stop talking about?”

Cody should have known Rex would be nearby, especially with the arrival of his men. The camaraderie between them ran deep, forged in the heat of countless battles, but the closeness they shared was also born from years of working side by side. Rex had a way of sensing when something was up, and today was no different.

“Yes, she was the one,” Cody replied, his voice thoughtful as he watched Rex’s mischievous brown eyes study him closely. He knew his friend would want a full debrief at some point, but right now wasn’t the time. So instead, Cody decided to give him a taste of the story, without diving too deep. “But, it was… well, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. An absolute spitfire, that woman.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh? Does the Commander have a little crush?” Before Cody could respond, Rex gave him a playful shove, his laughter echoing around them.

Cody rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar weight of Rex’s teasing. “Not likely. We all know you’re the one with a thing for redheads,” he shot back with a smirk, his tone just as playful.

Rex shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed. “Didn’t get a good enough look at her. Now, spill,” he demanded, nudging Cody with his elbow as they started walking back toward the bridge. “What happened? You’re holding out on me.”

Cody sighed, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. He knew better than to resist Rex’s curiosity. “Fine,” he relented, his voice lowering slightly. “She spoke up for us, Rex. For the clones. In front of Kenobi and the other Jedi. She—” He paused, considering how to describe Mae’s presence, the impact she’d had in such a short time. “She didn’t hold back. She said things none of us ever would. Or could.”

Rex’s eyes widened a little, though his grin never faltered. “A civilian? Getting in their faces like that?” He shook his head in disbelief, clearly impressed. “I gotta meet this woman.”

As they walked, the noise of the hangar and the looming preparations for war seemed to fade into the background. The weight of the upcoming battle would soon return, but for now, Cody allowed himself a moment of quiet gratitude.

For all the pain and chaos they’d been through, there had been something almost... refreshing about Mae. She’d spoken on their behalf—spoken truths that were often ignored. In the midst of the war machine, she’d reminded him that there were still those who saw them as something more than just soldiers. He’d never forget that.

“Maybe you will,” Cody said, his voice quieter now as they neared the bridge. “Maybe you will, Vod.”

[theheartcollecter]

GHOUL

Fem!Reader x Monster!141

Chapter 4: Dain

Warnings: none (lmk if I missed any)

A/n: I don’t have a scheduled posting time but expect a new chapter every week!

“Quite the show you put on ova’ there.” I turn my head to see Simon walking along side me in the halls. Black hoodie, worn jeans, a pair of sneakers, and, of course: his mask. Simon hasn’t talked to me much these past days so I try to cherish every moment with the hulking wraith.

I let a smile ghost over my lips, “Thanks. Hope I didn’t scare you away.” Simon’s eyes find mine. “Scare me away? You’d ‘ave t’ do much worse.” His words are so true it stuns me for a moment, i turn my gaze towards the floor as the two of us keep walking to the barracks. The emotions welling up inside me are banging at my heart to be let out, to express every thought that has ever crossed my mind about the men who saved my life. They weren’t perfect, sure, but they were enough. Enough for me. I had seen how they lingered close to one another, small touches here and there that give away their closeness. I would if I could squeeze in; if I too could receive small touches from them.

Simon is quiet the rest of the way, he opens the door for me when we get to the barracks. “Gaz made some biscuits earlier. Want some?” I shake my head. “Who’s Gaz?” I mutter as Simon opens a container filled with chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen. “Kyle,” Simon says between bites of the sugary dessert, “Gaz is his code name.” I hum, “Humans foods taste like ash to Ghouls. I guess you weren’t aware.” I explain as I sit down on a stool in front the kitchen island and lean my chin on my palm. Simon grunts in acknowledgment, finishing the rest of his cookie. “How long have you been working with the Task Force?” I question. Simon comes around the other side of the island, leaning his back onto it. He crosses his arms, with his sleeves no rolled up I can see his muscles bulging under his ombre arms. I must have been staring the way Simon looks at me, almost predatory. A lamb in a wolf’s den, although I am certainly not as helpless as a lamb, I proved that much this morning. “Almost ma whole life. How long you been a Ghoul?” I sigh, “Its all a bit blurry now, but two or three months.”

Ghouls lose almost all memory of their human lives after being turned. I remember my parents and some close friends but other than that I couldn’t tell anyone what my routine was or where I went to school. “I know what it’s like.” Simons says, his voice snaps me out of my sulking. “To feel different, like a monster.” I stare up at him with a deeper emotion: appreciation. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words come from someone. I’ve ate so many Ghouls sometimes I do wonder if I’m even a Ghoul anymore. Maybe I’ve turned into some mutation, an outcast who belongs to no group or family, with no friends or companions. Simons hand caresses my shoulder, “Don’t ‘ave to feel that way, me and the boys got you now.” I touch his hand to make sure it’s real. The feeling of belonging to something, someone. “Thank you.” I say it so quietly I’m not sure if he even heard me, but a nod from him reassures me. “Go get cleaned up, you stink from training.” I chuckle a little before rolling my eyes and getting up. With one last glance towards Simon, I head to my room.

I strip myself in the bathroom, there are no scars on my body, but the memories still remain. My milky hair, crimson eyes and unusually sharp canines. Stepping into the shower, the warm water runs over my body. I scrub floral scented shampoo in my hair, and then soap on my body.

When I get out I change into some sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. Opening my door and walking down the hall I’m greeted by the boys sitting at the dinning room table discussing something. “Ah, Bonnie. Come sit down.” Johnny pats a chair next to him. I sit, looking at the papers on the table. A couple unrecognizable faces, but one stands out. Red eyes and blue hair, unmistakably a Ghoul I knew. “Ya know ‘im?” Kyle asks. “Yes.” I respond, but my eyes are still trained on the Ghouls face. John grunts, “We’ve got a new mission, hoping you could help us. These men ‘ave been using this Ghoul, it’s gotten outta hand.” I meet his eyes, “Who is he, sweetheart?” “I used to be friends with him when I first turned…but something changed, and he led me to the Ghoul you saved me from.” I bite the inside of my lip. It feels vulnerable to admit this, almost embarrassing that I’d be so dumb to trust him. Him. Dain. He was kind at first, showed me how to use my Kagune and hunt properly. But then..he got involved with a bad bunch.

Johnny clasps my hand, his blue orbs staring into my vermillion ones. “Ya don’t have ‘t do it,” his voice is soft, like he’s speaking to a lover. “Ya can say no.” My lips part, then close again. I look at the others, none of them say anything in rebuttal to Johnny’s statement. “No, I can do it. What do I need to do?” I look at John, my hand still holding Johnny’s on the table. “Kill him?” John sighs, “If that’s what has t’ happen, then, yes. But if ya can get ‘im away from the others, then keep ‘im alive.”

The boys talk some more as afternoon turns into night, they finally get up to head to the mess for dinner. “Want anythin’ love?” Kyle asks, I shake my head. He smiles at me. God, it’s like the sun shining. “Did Cap’ tell you that’s my shirt?” My face contorts in confusion, “Oh, it is?” I look down at the shirt and now I realize it’s a couple sizes too big. Kyle laughs, “Ya look cute in it.” He winks and leaves out the barracks with the others. My face feels hot, I look down at my sock-clad feet and let a dumb smile cross my face.

Taglist: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @sugarrush-blush @caffieneaddictt18 (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[galilea-naerie]

Floravelle had welcomed her home with open arms. The moment she crossed the threshold into her homeland, a sense of peace settled over her. The scent of fresh blooms, damp earth, and the faint, lingering sweetness of crafted perfumes filled the air. The kingdom’s ever-present warmth, vibrancy, and beauty were a stark contrast to the sickness and suffering she had left behind. Elves walked along and pixies flitted about, greeting her with familiarity, their voices carrying the relief of having one of their healers home. Yet, despite the comfort of home, despite the quiet joy of falling back into her routine, her mind strayed to Rhys. She had always known her work would consume her, that she was bound to her calling as a healer. But she hadn’t expected longing to take root so deeply within her. October wrote her letters often, writing to her as if he had never left. His words were a constant comfort. He wrote of stories of his healing, of Aimon, of the way that kingdom was shifting beyond Floravelle’s borders. And though he rarely wrote of the uprising directly, the unease of it was weaved into his letters. He wrote about the process of the recovery, and sometimes he would slip in news of Rhys in the same breath as if he wasn’t meant to but couldn’t help himself. Rhys was busy. Always. The words lingered in her mind. It was no surprise, not really, but she wished, perhaps selfishly, that he was resting, that he wasn’t carrying the weight of a kingdom that was not his. She wondered if he wished to be king? She had never asked him, but given the way he spoke, she doubted he did. Life carried on. The cycle of healing, of tending to those in need, remained unchanged. And yet, one day, that rhythm was shattered. October arrived in the dead of night. She had known something was wrong the moment she saw him. He looked rough, exhaustion lining his face, his normally lively expression subdued beneath layers of something darker. There was no teasing remark, no casual greeting. Just a sharp inhale before he spoke. “They need you, I need you,” he said. Then, a pause, and softer, “Rhys needs you.” Her hands stilled over the herbs she had been grinding. The world around her seemed to blur, as if the weight of those words had altered the very air she breathed. October’s expression was grim. “He’s dying, Galilea.” She didn’t hesitate. Within moments, she was gathering what she needed, moving with a precision honed by years of practice, but her heart beat wildly in her chest. Dying. The word echoed in her mind like a curse. She refused to accept it. The kingdom was in a state of quiet chaos. Even in the dim light of dusk, she could see the signs of hardship, makeshift tents, the hollowed faces of those who had suffered too long, the underlying tension of a people barely holding on. She had seen desperation before, had touched it with her own hands, but it never ceased to unsettle her. Aimon greeted her with a nod, his own weariness evident, and when she made her request, he did not question her. Within minutes, he had procured a large bathing tub and filled it with clean water. Galilea rushed to where Rhys lay, her heart a wild thing in her chest. October led her to him, and the sight of him stole the breath from her lungs. Rhys was deathly pale, his skin clammy, his breathing shallow. The wounds that had yet to fully close left angry red marks along his body, and his once strong frame looked thinner, weaker. His sister was at his side, hysterical, pleading. “Please,” she sobbed, clutching Galilea’s arm. “Please, save him.” His niece crying as well unsure of exactly what was going on. Along with a woman who looked vaguely familiar but Galilea could not place at the moment. Aimon wasted no time in lifting Carina and carrying her off while trying to comfort her. Galilea placed two fingers to his pulse on his wrist hearing how weak his body was, feeling the weak thrum beneath her palm. It was there, but barely. She turned to October, pulling him aside, her voice low. “I’m going to use the bath. October’s expression darkened.

“Galilea,” He began, “I don’t have a choice.” She cut him off. “You do, the option to not bargain with death.” He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration warring with something like fear. “If they find out,” October spoke. “They won’t.” She leveled him with a steady gaze. “You trust me, don’t you?” October exhaled sharply. “That’s not the problem.” She knew it wasn’t. The healing waters of their land. That milky, shimmering substance that could bring even those at death’s door back to life was a sacred secret. One that no being could ever truly know. But Rhys was dying. And she would not let him. She could not let him. “Get everyone out,” she said. “Now.” She added in a quieter voice. October hesitated only a second before nodding. He carried Rhys to the tub, laying him gently within its depths. Then he ushered everyone out, leaving her alone with him. Galilea moved swiftly, adding the necessary ingredients: crushed petals, ground herbs, a whisper of something ancient and powerful. The water shifted, turning milky white, then tinged with pink as Rhys’s blood mingled with it. She placed her hands over the water, murmuring the final invocation. The magic took hold, weaving itself through his body, reaching for the wounds, the pain, the damage unseen. And then, she waited. Two weeks passed. Rhys remained submerged, his body suspended in healing. The bruises, gashes, and scars disappeared one by one until not a single mark remained. He looked untouched by battle, his body whole once more. But still, he did not wake. The waiting was agonizing. October and Galilea worked tirelessly to keep people at bay, shielding the secret of the water. His lover, Galilea had learned, had been the most insistent, demanding to see him, but Galilea remained firm. And she could not deny the twinge of jealously that was there. She understood desperation. She understood fear. But she would not risk this, just because his lover needed to see him. She tried to focus elsewhere, focus on healing those she could, on keeping herself from drowning in the uncertainty of whether Rhys would ever open his eyes again. And then, one night, he did. Galilea had taken to sitting beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, listening for any sign that he was returning to her. That evening, she dipped a sea sponge into the water, squeezing it gently over his skin, wiping away the damp curls that clung to his forehead. Then, a sound. A deep, quiet groan. Her heart stopped. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyelids fluttering, and then, finally, his eyes opened. Bluer than she remembered. A rush of warmth flooded her chest, relief so profound it nearly stole her breath. “You’re awake,” she murmured, a soft smile curling at the edges of her lips. Then, teasingly, “Your eyes are even bluer than I remember.” And then, she said, quieter, “It’s nice to see you again.”

It was difficult work getting the cure to everyone affected. It was another set of sleepless days and nights trying to help his people. Even for the brief periods where he could rest his mind could not. But the cure was working. Less people appeared to grow ill and within days more seemed to be on the streets again conversing with one another, relieved to be free of their plight. But with the healing came the time for goodbye. October had chosen to stay, a choice that Rhys wished Galilea would make as well, but he knew she was bound to what she did and for that he would not ask her to stay. It was selfish to do especially when the future of his people and what lay before him was still quite uncertain. She needed to be with those that needed her more than his deep infatuation with her. He looked at her and nodded, "I'll let them know." He said softly. A moment of awkwardness seemed to settle between them, but soon she was reaching out to hug him and he easily wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close to himself, his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, enjoying the softness of her hair and her body in his arms, committing it to memory. He would never forget her. Sense told him he would never see her again though he hoped he would. “You’re an incredible being, I’m fortunate to have known you.” He said softly to her and pulled back reluctantly, his lips grazing against her cheek in a soft, but fleeting kiss. He looked down at her, his hands moving from around her to take her hands and gently squeeze them, “thank you for all you have done. Should there ever be anything I can do to repay you please let me know. I have a feeling I won’t be leaving here any time soon.” He told her and smiled, but it lacked any amusement. He was facing far greater trials with her departure and the deepening sense that he did not wish to be away from her. He followed her outside and helped her onto her horse, his eyes looking up to her one last time. "Goodbye, Galilea." he said to her and stepped back as she rode off, his eyes never leaving her until she disappeared between the trees and yet still searching for some lingering glimpse of her. He felt a hand pat his back and he turned his head to see October offering the comforting gesture before retreating with Aimon and Rhys was left with the feeling that he was both wrong and right to let her go. As time passed Rhys found that Galilea was never far from his mind. Especially when he saw Aimon and October together, making their connection work and seeming to fall deeply in love with one another. Rhys longed for that, but with Galilea. Though he respected that she was so tied to her duties as a healer. He understood they could not be together. He found himself attempting to distract himself from the painful feelings with the daughter of the Lindly’s wanting his bed on occasion and attempting to get him to love her. He was fond of her, of her warmth and womanly figure, but he always found himself imagining it was Galilea. He found himself hoping that one day, if he dreamed hard enough, he would wake and find her there instead. But that never came to pass. And as time progressed on the demands of his people grew. Healed from their ailments, but more destitute than ever the despair had made its way to anger and the talk of revolution seemed to finally deeply root itself within everyone. They wished to overthrow the king and they had turned to Rhys as their leader in that fight. The sleepless nights were back in full force. It seemed constant that there was someone at his door needing resources or coming to him with an idea. Other nights had turned into meetings between himself and a select group of close friends who were finding themselves to be the ones people were turning to for help, Aimon and October among them though many people still regarded October with a level of wariness that Aimon was fiercely defensive over. It seemed no matter what they were heading in that direction of revolution and it would only be a matter of time before the time to act would rise.

Word of dissent amongst the people had worked its way up to the palace. The streets were now heavily patrolled by military men. Their meetings were arranged during the days in the back of the wash shop, bakery, or butcher. The guards were distracted by the population of people in the streets while the men covertly met to discuss their plans behinds the scenes. As the months passed the access to meats, dairy, basic home goods became less causing the prices ro rise to such a rate that most of the population of the city seemed shut out entirely of access to food. While the illness has passed them it had still killed a large part of their population, taking out the farmers and cattlemen, the very thing that gave people life. The tensions continued to rise as hunger now became the plague affecting his people. Rhys had taken to staying with Sandrina and Carina permanently as it was closer to the center of town and easier for people to get to him, daily he had people at his door until eventually tensions reached such a fever pitch he had a mob at his door urging him that there was no more time to waste and Rhys agreed. For weeks he and his friends had been trying to organize a themselves, give them goals, give them reason and purpose, and hoped that they could find some audience with the king to attempt to appeal to any humanity he may have, but they had been refused and tensions grew. Rhys had had a gut feeling it was only a matter of time until this mob formed and now they were demanding he lead them to the palace himself as their leader, their voice, the man who had remained healthy and saw to their healing while the king turned his back. Peace talks had been attempted and refused. Rhys took up the sword he had stored away, taken from the discard pile of the local forge. It was the best a man of his means could ever hope to have and it would do little against the perfectly crafts weapons of the guards and army men. Rhys knew he may die, he knew many of them may die. He was acutely aware this was a small step towards liberation, but it was a step that needed to be taken. He could not allow them death to simply come for them and wash them away either via disease or hunger. They had to fight. He lead them to the palace gates which were locked and the guards mocked them from the other side, telling them to turn back, but then men began to lift men to climb over the walls. They were weak with hunger and from disease, but the fuel of desire to live, the fuel of anger, the fuel of knowing life could and should be better pushed them forward. Swords clanged together, arrows flew from every direction, fire began to over take the courtyard and the gardens surrounding. It was a chaotic mess of anger, fear, and quickly death. Rhys pushed forward through the palace doors. They would be quickly outnumbered and he knew hit was important to make it as far as they could as they only had the element of surprise on their side. They fought their way through guards, pushing onward until the sound of heavy armored footsteps started echoing off the stone walls. “We must go back, Rhys!” One of the men Rhys had brought with him clapped him on the shoulder as he spoke, “we must get to the king!” Rhys insisted, but as he turned back to speak to the man he could see the army coming up behind them and his own small army was vastly outnumbered. The fighting had turned to running to escape, a point made was a point made but not all were ready to lose their lives for it. Rhys stood his ground attempting to fight off the oncoming army, but he was soon overwhelmed. He felt the piercing stab of a blade through his shoulder and his knees buckled beneath him even as he still swung his sword with his other arm and came down with the blade upon the head of the man who stabbed him, killing the man, but the blade still embedded in his shoulder and blood seeping out from around it. Another soldier came from behind Rhys and brought his sword in a blow across his back, slicing through the fabric of his shirt and cutting a large deep wound across his back.

Rhys finally faltered, his knees giving beneath him now as he fell to the ground. The soldier came around Rhys and pulled the sword free from his shoulder allowing the blood to now flow freely from that wound as well. The solder scoffed at him, “You can go slowly.” He said and stepped over Rhys, leaving him there to die. Consciousness seemed to come and go, the image of Galilea coming to mind and the life he wished they could have had together. After a time he could not determine Rhys felt a pair of arms wrap around him and lift him from the palace floor, “Hang in there, Rhys.” The familiar voice of Aimon spoke to him, rousing some hope that this was not yet the end before consciousness fled from him all together.

[ssaraexposs]

The panic in his eyes, when Akutagawa had been infected