#in the middle of it i did go “oh what if hes hiding a scar behind his hair” tho so I tacked on that doodle

[skyward-floored]

I’ve been in a Sky mood lately lol. So for prompts maybe something angsty with him? Like him getting used to life after being trapped on the island for years? Or one of the boys trying to reassure themselves that he’s actually back?

I saw this prompt and went HEHEHE I do enjoy me my angst. Especially Incredibles au Sky angst (sorry Sky bdhdbdbdhd)

I sort of mixed your two prompts together? It’s mostly the first one, but there’s hints of the second. And also a different thing entirely XD Enjoy!

(Also warning for a character getting a flashback. It’s seen from an outside perspective, but here’s your warning just in case.)

————————————————————

Sometimes Warriors still couldn’t believe Sky was back.

After over a year of trying to come to terms with his disappearance, wrestling with hope and denial and grief, going to his funeral for Hylia’s sake— having him suddenly come back was... earth-shattering. In a good way, of course, but sometimes Warriors caught himself falling into the pattern of endless questions on what had happened, and had to remind himself that he knew now.

Sky had been tricked, lured away, fought for survival while being hunted within an inch of his life, and then finally made it home alive. Though... not without scars.

Ones that sometimes caught Warriors off guard.

The afternoon it happened, Warriors had stopped at Sky’s to drop off some things he’d borrowed, and ended up staying and talking much longer than he’d intended. He wasn’t complaining though. After thinking he’d never get moments like this again, he’d spend every waking hour with his brother if he could.

“...So then Aryll told me she made a new friend, and asked me if I wanted to meet her, and of course I said yes. I should’ve known better, because five seconds later she whistles, and this huge vulture lands in front of me,” Sky said with a wave of his hand, and Warriors laughed. “I know! Where did she even meet a vulture?!”

“Probably the same place she met those geese that one time,” Warriors said with a grin, and Sky joined his laughter that time.

“Oh I’m sure. She has plenty of bird connections,” he chuckled, leaning back with his wings stretched out on either side of himself. He picked up his glass of water and drank some of it before he continued. “I’m sure she’ll have quite the message system worked out when she’s older.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Warriors smirked. “Heck you won’t even need the mail service if she keeps up like this, just ask her to send letters via pigeon.”

“Hm that’s true... I’d never have to buy stamps again,” Sky said thoughtfully.

“Hey now, don’t forget those stamps help pay my salary,” Warriors grinned. A truck outside beeped as it backed up, and Warriors glanced out the window, before looking back inside. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying... Sky?”

Sky had completely frozen in place, his glass of water slipping from his hand.

Warriors quickly shot out a hand as it hit the floor, freezing the puddle before it could spread, then got off his chair and hurried to Sky’s side. The cup hadn’t broken so he left it where it was, and he looked worriedly at his brother.

“Sky? Are you okay?” he asked urgently, and a tremor wracked through Sky, his eyes glazing over. He’d been fine literal seconds ago, what was wrong? “...Sky?”

“We need to hide,” Sky whispered, his voice hoarse.

Warriors blinked. “What?”

Sky swallowed, shaking as he stared into the middle distance. “We need to hide, they’re coming,” he stressed in a croak, his breathing starting to pick up. “Guardians, they’re close.”

“Sky... there are no guardians here,” Warriors said in confusion, and Sky shook his head, ears twitching.

“There’s one right over there,” he gasped, his breath trembling. “We need to hide, it’s going to—”

“Sky, no there isn’t,” Warriors said slowly, sitting down beside his brother. “There’s nothing there.”

“B-but—” Sky stuttered, twisting his head around to look at the wall. A bead of sweat trailed down his brow. “Yes it is. It is, it’s coming, we need to hide now.”

Sky pulled his wings in close to his body, feathers puffing up, and Warriors looked at him in dismay, unsure of what to do. He knew enough to recognize Sky was having some sort of flashback, but he didn’t know how to help him out of it.

The truck outside beeped again, and Sky violently flinched, nearly falling off the couch as his feathers puffed out even more. Warriors looked between him and the window, then carefully stood and walked over to it, closing it and blocking out the sound. Sky didn’t visibly react to the quiet, and Warriors went back over to him, watching as he trembled in place.

“Sky, we’re not on the island,” Warriors began carefully as he sat back down. “You haven’t been there for weeks now. And I wasn’t ever on the island. How can I be here with you if we’re on the island?”

“I-I...” Sky stammered, his voice faltering. Then he suddenly snatched Warriors’ wrists, eyes huge. “Wars they got you too, you shouldn’t have come, it’s going to be like everyone else,” he choked out, still shaking. “We have to hide!”

Sky began tugging at his wrists, but Warriors resisted the movement, staying where he was. “Sky, there’s no danger.”

“Yes there is! I have a base right over there, we can get to it if we hurry, we can’t let him—”

“Sky, we’re not on the island,” Warriors repeated, slipping his wrists out of Sky’s hold and taking his hands instead. His skin felt clammy. “I promise you we’re not. We’re in your house. We’re safe.”

Sky kept shaking, but he didn’t argue the point, and Warriors felt a flicker of encouragement when he didn’t keep tugging on his hands.

“You’re not back there,” Warriors repeated, and Sky squeezed his eyes shut, another bead of sweat trailing down his brow. “You’re in your house, on the couch in your living room. Sun is at work, and Aryll is taking a nap. Nobody is in any danger.”

Sky trembled in his seat, his eyes still closed tight, and Warriors lightly squeezed his hands, waiting for him to come back. His eyes reopened, still looking glazed, but less so than before.

“Come on Link,” Warriors whispered, looking into Sky’s eyes. “You’re safe here, I promise. Nothing is trying to hurt you.”

Sky swallowed, and Warriors stayed beside him, watching as his feathers slowly began to smooth. Warriors repeated the reassurance that they weren’t on the island, and he kept it up as Sky’s frantic breathing started to even out, and his eyes gradually cleared.

It felt like a long time before Sky’s shoulders slumped, his wings falling limp as he took in a shaky breath. He was still trembling, but much more lightly, and Warriors studied his face.

“You back?” Warriors asked carefully, and Sky looked at his lap, shame coloring his face.

“I... I think so. Sorry,” Sky whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Warriors said easily, but Sky kept looking at his lap, ears red.

Warriors looked at him worriedly, then lightly squeezed his hands, pulling back so he could deal with the frozen puddle on the floor. He easily pried it up and shaped it into a small ball, then set it on the table, looking back at Sky again.

“Hey. I mean it,” Warriors said when he saw his expression, lightly touching Sky’s shoulder, light enough that he could pull away if he wanted. Sky didn’t, and so Warriors held it a bit tighter. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.”

“I was the one stupid enough to go there,” Sky muttered under his breath, and Warriors frowned.

“Sky, you were tricked. You thought you were doing something good, it’s not your fault,” Warriors repeated, and Sky didn’t meet his eyes. Warriors sighed. “That looked pretty rough. Do you want some water?”

“I’d appreciate that,” Sky said quietly.

Warriors nodded and stood, giving his shoulder a squeeze before he grabbed Sky’s glass and headed to the kitchen to refill it. It only took him a moment, and when he returned, Sky hadn’t moved, still staring at his lap, faintly trembling, wings lightly wrapped around himself.

Warriors passed him the cup, and Sky silently took it, sipping without a word.

“You need anything else?” Warriors asked, and Sky shook his head. Warriors hummed in reply, then paused as he thought of something. It wasn’t Warriors’ go-to, but Sky usually appreciated physical contact much more than him, especially since he’d been back. “...maybe a hug?”

Sky finally looked up, still shaky and pale, and gave a tiny nod.

Warriors gave him a sad smile, then leaned in, wrapping his arms around his brother.

Sky was stiff for a moment, then practically melted into the touch, a wavering sigh coming from him. He pressed his face against Warriors’ shoulder, and Warriors lightly rubbed his back, feeling equally reassured by the touch. He knew Sky had been through a lot, but the blatant show of it had been a bit frightening.

Oh Sky.

“I’m such a disaster,” Sky said in a wobbly voice, and Warriors sighed.

“Anyone would be. Truth be told, I think most of us became disasters while you were gone, so you’re in good company.”

Sky let out a wet snort, and Warriors squeezed him, Sky still shaking just a little.

“Has this happened before?” Warriors asked after a minute, pulling back so he could see Sky’s face, and Sky shrugged.

“Not... to that extent,” he admitted quietly. “There’ve been... things, but not...”

He trailed off weakly, and Warriors nodded. That was about what he’d figured.

“Okay. We’ll figure this out. Just like old times, huh?” Warriors said with a faint smile, and Sky huffed.

“Yeah. Can’t say I miss that side of things,” he mumbled, and Warriors squeezed his arm again.

“I’ll stay until Sun comes back,” he reassured quietly, and Sky nodded, silently resting his head against Warriors’ shoulder again.

Neither of them said much else after that, and Warriors idly played with the piece of ice on the table, Sky watching him quietly as he shaped it into a small bird. Warriors added some ice to it, and worked on shaping it into a slightly bigger one.

Sky stayed silent as he leaned against him, and Warriors tried not to stare, worry clenching in his stomach. Nightmares were common enough between them, though they’d gotten better as the years had gone on. Warriors had practice with those, and panic attacks, and a small list of the other crap they all dealt with after their superhero careers, but this... felt way out of his league.

We’ll figure this out, he promised silently, adding small feathers to the bird he was shaping in his palms. Sky breathed out a weary sigh, and Warriors swallowed.

We will. We’ll figure it out.

[wackpedion]

I wasn't planning on posting these doodles but someone reblogged my last post about angst going crazy, and so I thought well if theres a demand for it I might as well

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕 ✧

yandere secret agent x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧ 🍸₊˚ ⋆｡ 𖦹 °

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: after taking on your friend's offer to head downtown to a hidden bar, you find yourself in the middle of a covert operation. thankfully Messiah is there to hide you from danger. or did he just push you right into it?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: gn reader, yandere, suggestive position & situation, slight violence, reader held at gunpoint, mentions of a firearm and getting shot, reader pressed against male crotch, sadism(?), auditory hallucination (you hear voices), hair pulling, swearing

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,153 words

⭒ a/n: it was my birthday last month and i had planned to post this by then but ofc i never learn my lesson and kept my drafts in tumblr (leading to it getting deleted) 😭!! so sorry for the wait everyone and happy late new years! :D hope u like the batman wannabe.. it goes from 0 to 100 rq because it's hilarious to me and i'm sleep deprived.. i can smell the hate comments already

will you venture down this path?

it was supposed to be another weekend night spent alone in your home; you, comfortably snuggling against your pillows while playing your favourite brain-rot game from night to morning.

but here you were— unfortunately not in your bed, and devastatingly not romancing your fictional game characters. your friend, Vern, had dragged convinced you to join him and try out some random jazz bar which recently opened.

he mentioned his band would be playing there... he's probably just trying to get more people to hype up his band.

the warm ambience of the bistro & bar, alongside the joyous laughter ringing all over the room, people bantering and simply enjoying each other's presence was enough to erase the thoughts of your usual weekend plans. it was the type of place where you couldn't bring up any negative emotions just because of how chill everyone and everything was. so that's one forgiveness point to your friend.

at some point, Vern had split off from you to meet up with the other Ares band members to go perform— leaving you to drink away your life at the bar.

you channeled your best resting bitch face to avoid any strangers trying to hit on you, which worked. you sat alone listening to the blue voice of the current performer, making small talk here and there with the bartender.

oh, the bartender—

you'd been eyeing him up all night.

he was the only other person at the bar. like all other bartenders, he was charismatic and attractive despite the two deep scars running down his left cheek.

maybe he noticed you looking at it, because he suddenly rasped out, "...animal attack" with a nonchalant smile. which is quite impressive, since your gaze never once lingered on the scars for too long. he must be observing me.

Logan (you read his name tag) was an exceptional conversationist. and he played the bartender role extremely well. he brought up topics like your ambitions, your dreams, and even your darkest passions effortlessly.

but his eyes never seemed to really focus on your figure when you talked.

it was always off to a specific direction in the distance. and when you turned to look at what he was looking at, there would only be the same wrinkly old man sitting on the sofa chair.

"can you see it?"

confused, you reply, "see what?"

do you see it? the eyes? his lack of mouth? with hair as white as his, and skin as dark as void, how can you not see me?

"what the hell are you sayi—" you grow pale when you turn back and see Logan had his back turned away from you the whole time, far from the counter.

who was talking to me?

and for the first time in 3 hours since you've arrived, the old man from the chair moves. he wanders aimlessly for a moment until setting his sights on the bar. multiple random people who were loitering in the room take notice of his sudden movement, and all briskly walk towards him.

you're petrified.

the world is spinning, people are blocking the old man's path from you. and you're so thankful for that because it gives you the time to be pulled on top of the bar counter and then underneath it by a pair of strong hands.

your consciousness recovers and you're met with Logan, body crouched down to your level. his shadowed face shows no semblance of the bright man you were talking to a while ago. now his own icy blue eyes pierced through yours, and the once attractive rasp of his voice is now chilling to the bone.

"Logan—"

"you better fucking shut up unless you want to die."

he pulls out a revolver and points it to your forehead.

profusely nodding your head in understanding, tears begin to prick your eyes; this is so fucking messed up, what is happening??

your brain tells you that this was just the alcohol getting to you, and maybe Logan has some kind of split personality and a murderer... that it's some kind of sick prank Vern is probably pulling on you. maybe my drink got spiked...

but your gut tells you that you are in great danger. alcohol has never made you experience that level of auditory hallucination... hell, you were probably being delusional right now— of course Logan's trying to kill you!!

you could hear the faint sounds of bodies thudding against other people as if they were thrown or pushed. but no screams, just grunts. the loudness of the approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the counter.

you cover your cries as best as you can with your palms and with Logan's hidden weapon still pointed at you. you could so easily whack it away or dodge it. but you stop once you hear the most grotesque voice ever, the result of what sounded like flesh tearing apart and bones reconstructing.

"where... are... they.....?"

you are faced with two decisions:

scream for help and get shot in the head by Logan

scream for help and face whatever the fuck is out there

either way, you don't get to choose. because the stress of the situation is beginning to overwhelm you and soon your whimpers slip out a little. small enough to not be heard from in front of the counter, but big enough for whoever is on top of you— and that someone happened to be the psychopathic bartender.

you freeze.

but your strength alone is not enough to hold back against the veiny hands that grab the back of your hair and push you against the bulge of the man standing in front of you.

you push and thrash over his grasp, but your actions only lead to him digging the lower parts of your face further into his crotch. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING??? IS HE TRYING TO SILENCE ME WITH HIS DICK?!

and it works...

you stay silent and limp, not because of fear. but because of the absurdity of this situation and the slow growth of whatever beast is hiding under those black waiter pants.

the heat of your muffled breath against his privates collects in your face, it's getting too much but you hold yourself together. your hands that were once pushing him off now lay on the top of his hardened thighs.

Logan shares a couple words with the old man before pointing him elsewhere. you catch a strange name falling off the old man's lips, Messiah. fuck, is this a cult? shortly afterwards, you hear the light sounds of evacuating feet. he's finally gone.

and with the speed of a middle-aged lady during black friday sales, you manage to push him off to the side and stand up across him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

you were humiliated, violated, mentally tired and— and—

why the fuck is he blushing.

[tayraedoll]

My Compliments to the Chef

Part 2 of the series- You go on your date; Alastor gives you some unusual cooking lessons and the ovens aren't the only things getting hot.

Part 1

TW: Self-consciousness, mild sexual situations, sensory deprivation, flashbacks, hurt/comfort, swearing

You stared down at the dress on your bed. It had been neatly laid out when you returned to your room the night before with a message scrawled in the most elegant handwriting you had ever seen:

Don't be late Darling - A

The dress was gorgeous- all black with a halter top, knee-length pleated skirt, and a thin belt around the middle. The fabric felt sturdy, no doubt it was expensive. He even gifted you a pair of black stilettos to pair with it.

You bit your lip nervously, of course you were nervous about going on a date with Alastor, but what caused your heart rate to spike at the moment was the thought of wearing this dress. It was definitely considered modest-to Alastor's taste- but the halter top would show the entirety of your arms...there was no way to hide the scars that littered your skin. Could you wear a jacket? Would that be considered rude?

You sighed, if you didn't get changed soon then you would be late...and you did not want to find out what Alastor would do if you kept him waiting after he explicitly told you to be on time. You paired the dress with simple silver hoop earrings and a bracelet and dabbed on dark merlot-red lipstick. Overall you looked good...if you could ignore your arms. You swiftly left the bathroom, not wanting to look in the mirror more than necessary. Snatching a small clutch you made your way to the lobby.

You caught sight of Alastor as you descended the stairs- he had traded his normal red pinstriped suit for a black one with coattails. He wore a bright red bow tie and he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail that exposed his undercut. You were so preoccupied with ogling at him that you missed a step and had to catch yourself on the railing to save yourself from an embarrassing fall the rest of the way down the staircase.

When you safely reach the ground level Alastor turns with a cheerful grin and confidently strides up to you, "You look absolutely ravishing Darling!" His hand reached for yours and gently brought it to his lips. "Give us a twirl!", he raised your hand above your head and you slowly rotated on the toe of one heel for him, a happy smile curling across your own face at his antics. "Tu es magnifique."

You blush at the barrage of compliments and nervously cough,"Shall we go then?", you start towards the door only for for the demon deer to wrap an arm around your waist.

"Nuh-uh-uh! Not that way My Dear! I would not subject you to walking in those shoes all the way across the Pride Ring. No, we shall be traveling in style!", he adjusted his bow tie and puffed out his chest. He pulled you flush against him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Hold on tight Darling."

You gasp as your vision suddenly went black and your feet were no longer on solid ground. Your grip on Alastor's coat was iron-clad as you reacted to the sudden weightlessness of your body. Then, just as soon as it began it was over, but instead of being in the hotel lobby you found yourself on the sidewalk outside a beautiful white-brick building. You were so busy taking in your new surroundings you didn't notice that you never let go of Alastor until he chuckled at you, "Oh! Sorry!", you jumped away from him and hid your blush by smoothing your dress down.

Alastor approached the little mouse demon hostess, she looked up at the much taller demon with a friendly smile, "Good evening Mr. Alastor sir! We have your table ready!" She hopped off her stool, barely coming up to The Radio Demon's knees, to lead the way to your dinner table.

The inside of the restaurant was just as stunning as the outside. It was all polished birch wood with black and gold accents and was dimly lit except for a small stage with a live pianist playing a relaxing tune. The chairs were dark with gold cushions, the tables adorned with white tablecloths, gold napkins, and black roses served as the centerpieces.

The hostess deftly placed the menus on the table and filled the water glasses, "Your server will be right with you!" Alastor held your chair out and motioned for you to take a seat before pushing it in.

"Oh Al, this place is breathtaking!", you take one last awed look around before unfolding your menu.

"Hmm yes, this place is certainly a bit of a hidden gem. There are certain types that won't give it a fair chance due to the staff actually."

"What do you mean?", you give him a perplexed look.

Just then, another cheerful mouse demoness approached your table, but she was significantly taller than the hostess. No, not a mouse...a rat. "Ah Alastor! I thought I heard your voice!", she chirped. "And who is it you've brought with you? She sounds lovely!", the rat turned to you then, her eyes were completely white and foggy as if she had milk on her lenses. It took you a second to understand- she was completely blind.

"Tilly, my dear friend! This is Y/N, she is a chef as well and I thought I'd bring her here tonight to experience all La Rodere has to offer", Alastor smiled kindly between you and Tilly despite her not being able to see it. "I'll just have my usual Tilly, if you don't mind. Although, perhaps a bottle of champagne instead of whiskey tonight."

"Of course! And what can I get you Sweetheart?", she faced you expectantly.

You quickly glance at the menu again,"Could I get the Poulet a la Moutard Francaise please?"

"Yes ma'am! It's a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening!", with that Tilly scampered off to fetch the champagne and turn in your order.

"You have impeccable taste My Dear", Alastor eyed you slyly.

"I take it that is your usual order?", you smiled over your glass of water at him.

"Correct! Now come along, or we will miss the show!", he grabbed your hand and pulled you along to the swinging doors that hid the kitchen from the dining area.

"Alastor! I don't think they would want us back there!", you admonished the chaotic demon.

"Nonsense! I join the kitchen all the time Darling! HAHAHA", he laughed at your bewildered face. "I assure you, you are in for quite a treat."

Upon entering the kitchen you were met with a small kitchen that was neatly kept. The smells of all the French cuisine hit your nose warmly causing you to take a deep breath in. Cozy- that was how you would describe this kitchen. There were three other rat demons similar to Tilly working at the space's center. Two more with the milky eyes and one with jet black eyes.

"Y/N, meet Tilly's siblings- Lilly, Billie, and Stew. They will be preparing our meals tonight!", Alastor introduced you, though none of the three chefs reacted to your presence at all. There was something that just seemed...off, but you couldn't decide what it was.

Just then, Tilly came in and joined her siblings at the center of the kitchen. A copy of the restaurants menu was laid out on the counter, she skimmed over the menu with with her fingers until she found the dish that you and Alastor chose. The rat with the beady, black eyes glanced at the item Tilly pointed to and began preparing the chicken and the mustard sauce. Once you began to get your first whiffs of the food, the third rat started blending various spices together, not using any measuring tools at all and continuously taking large sniffs at the mixture.

"What's happening Al?"

"You may be familiar with the three blind mice, but what about the four rats with only one sense each?", Alastor chuckled at you.

"One sense? What do you mean?", you ask as the rodent with the spices let out a hum of approval and mixed the blend into the dish. The beady-eyed rat then placed it in the oven to finish cooking.

"Tilly is the only one that can hear, hence the reason she takes the orders. Her sister Lilly is the only one that can see, so she begins the dish preparations and does the plating. Billie, being both blind and deaf, has a peculiar sense of smell. She does all the spice blends and knows when the dish is ready to plate and serve", Alastor explained as you watched on completely mesmerized. Just like he said, Billie clasped Lilly on the arm, which Lilly responded to by immediately pulling the food out not even bothering to temp it.

"So what does Stew do?", you nod to the last rat in the group.

"Oh, Stew has the most important job of all! Not a dish goes out that he does not taste test first!"

Lilly placed a spoon in the mustard sauce and lifted it to Stew's lips; he paused momentarily as the sauce caressed his taste buds. He reached out and felt around various spices with different tops in front of him until he found the salt which he sprinkled over the top of the dish before nodding his approval. Lilly divided the food between two plates and handed them to Tilly.

"Your dinner is ready!", she cheerfully called to the two of you. Alastor placed your arm through his and led you back to your table where your champagne was already waiting. He once again pulled your chair out for you and tucked you under the table before taking his seat.

The food was positively divine, possibly the best you had ever eaten. You chewed slowly, savoring each bite; thinking of how each individual leaned into their strengths to pull the meal together flawlessly.

"Penny for your thoughts my Dear?", Alastor broke you from your reverie.

You smirked back at him, "Are my thoughts worth so little?" Your smile softens as he laughs, but then you frown. "I feel sorry for them...I can't imagine only having one sense. Not only in everyday life but in the kitchen especially; part of what makes being a chef so fun is getting to use all the senses to create a masterpiece."

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose, but they all get to enjoy it in their own way. The unique artistry of their preparations is a large part of why I am so fond of this place."

You reached a hand out to his slowly, allowing him time to pull away if he wanted, but he didn't as your fingers tentatively caressed the back of his hand, "Thank you for bringing me here, I feel honored that you have entrusted me with one of your secret indulgences."

His other hand came up to run his claws over your hand, you flinch back slightly when they run over the exposed, red skin of your arm. It did not hurt, but you were afraid it would repulse him. You bring your hand back to yourself and shift uncomfortably for a second, skin tingling slightly. You don't notice the crimson eyes studying your reaction.

"There's a reason I brought you here specifically, your training begins tomorrow."

Your head snaps back up to him,"What training?"

You stand there in the kitchen nervously, wondering what Alastor was going to have you make. The prospect of cooking for The Radio Demon thrilled you, there was so much that you could learn from someone with his experience. But the anxiety gnawed at you, he made it clear he was not a fan of your cooking, what were you supposed to make to impress him?

"Ah good evening My Dear!", speak of the demon himself..."What are we making today?"

Oh? He was planning on cooking WITH you?! This was an unexpected but exciting turn of events; there were so many advanced dishes he could help you with!

"OOO maybe a turducken?! I have always wanted to try making one! We could start with- OW!!", Alastor had flicked you right between the eyes rather hard, your hand flying up to rub the sore spot on your forehead.

"No, we are not teaming up to make some ridiculous frankendish monstrosity. We are here so that you can learn how to speak through your dishes. Put yourself on a plate! Now, what is something you enjoy cooking? What's a dish that you enjoy eating? Not for how pretty it is or how well you have mastered it, but something that you feel genuine emotion for? Preferably something simple."

You frowned at him, a dish you were emotional about? You had to think, most dishes that evoked any emotion in you conjured negative feelings due to failing at them. You highly doubted that's what he had in mind. After a moment, an idea finally popped into your head, "What about tuna melts? I used to make them all the time when I was in culinary school, they were fast and easy to make between classes."

"Excellent! Tell me, what are the ingredients?"

As you listed your ingredients off they suddenly appeared on the table one-by-one. After all ingredients were gathered you set out to start your prep when Alastor grabbed your arm, "Not so fast Dear, there is one more thing I did not tell you." With a snap of his fingers, your vision was suddenly non-existent. You gabbed onto the counter to ground yourself as your world suddenly plunged into darkness.

"Alastor! What the fuck are you doing?! I can't cook if I can't see!"

"Oh, but you can Darling! You just witnessed two blind rats cook yesterday!"

"Lilly did the cooking and she had sight!"

"Well, then it is a good thing I am here! I shall be your eyes today", he leaned in close, his chest just centimeters from your back. An expected shiver traveled up your spine as if his static was prickling directly at your skin. "You worry too much about aesthetic perfection, hone in on your other senses for a bit. Learn to let go."

You bit your lip in contemplation, "You won't let me hurt myself right?"

You felt more than heard his low chuckle vibrate across your shoulders, giving you another involuntary shiver. His fingers trailed down your sleeve-covered arms to where your hands still gripped the counter, "I promise no blood will be spilled this day."

Your breath hitched slightly as he dislodged your fingers from the counter, as your posture straightened you back became flush with his chest. Was he always this much taller than you? It felt like he was towering over you, his breath caressing your scalp and blowing your hair slightly. He leaned impossibly closer to you, "Now, walk me through how to make this dish."

His hands guided yours through cutting your french loaves. You focused intently on your sense of smell, trying to gauge when just the right amount of garlic was added to your butter when it became fragrant. It was hard to concentrate on the food though, with Alastor's cologne filling your nostrils with every inhale. You felt the demon flinch back slightly when you opened the cans of tuna.

"You sustained yourself by consuming cat food?", he asked incredulously.

"Hey! It's actually really good! Besides, you don't get to complain when you are a broke college student. These cans were less than a dollar each!", you laugh, reminiscing about your college days scraping together pennies just to fill your fridge.

"Hmm, perhaps you should have contemplated eating your teachers instead. The ones you didn't care for anyways."

He helped you mix and spread the tuna across the bread loaves, topping them with cheddar slices before popping them in the oven. Even when you weren't using your hands his touch lingered, as if he didn't want to let you go.

You pulled the melts out of the oven when you heard the cheese bubbling, the bread gave a satisfying crunch when you cut the sandwiches in half. Your first bite transported you back to culinary school, you could picture yourself scarfing your sandwich down before your next class began. A mixture of anxiety, determination, and exhaustion consumed you, an emotional cocktail that you were intimately familiar with during that time in your life.

"Hm! I suppose the cat food is edible", Alastor snarked from behind you as he ate his own sandwich. "It reminds me of a seafood dish we ate mixed with peas during The Great Depression, however, this is more elevated. I can imagine you struggling to get by financially and turning to this dish to satiate your hunger. I can finally taste you in this meal...good job Y/N."

You smiled at the long-awaited compliment, with another snap of his fingers your sight was restored. Sadly, that meant that Alastor stepped away from you and you lamented the loss of contact.

"Now, just two more senses to vanquish! Make sure to think of two more meals that hold a special place in your heart. Good work today my dear!", a surprised yelp ripped out your throat as his cane gently smacked your ass on his way to the door. Did he seriously just-?! But before you could confront him about it he was gone, leaving nothing but a manic chuckle behind.

The next evening you waited for the deer demon impatiently, your thumb tapping against the the opposite bicep. What was that yesterday? The memory of how close Alastor was to you played over and over in your mind. How the heat of his chest seeped into the flesh of your back, how his claws tingled as they traced down your arms. But mostly you thought of how his hands felt holding yours; how the muscles and tendons flexed as he moved you around...how the strength of them left little doubt about what others things he could make you do with so little resistance...

"My, my- someone's a bit jittery today!"

Alastor's voice made you jump, your mind scrambling to abandon the train of thought you were on.

"A-Alastor! Hi! Er-yes, just excited for our next lesson is all!", you laugh nervously. "Today I was thinking of making salmon and risotto bowls. It was what I cooked to win that scholarship to culinary school."

"Excellent choice My Dear! I must say I quite like your affinity for seafood. Now, lets begin", he snapped and your world, once again, fell dark.

"Uh Alastor? Weren't you supposed to take a different sense away? I worked blindly yesterday already!"

"Hmm yes you did, but you will find that I did take another sense away. As for your sight well...", he leaned in close, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear "...perhaps I just like you this way."

You exhale shakily, the air around you feeling thick, the tension weighing on your shoulders. You took a few deep breaths to calm your heart rate; as if sensing your distress, Alastor straightened up to put some distance between you but maintained the looming presence behind you as he took your hands and helped you through making your dish. You leaned in to smell the fish to check the seasoning when you realized you couldn't smell a thing. You were completely dependent on your hearing alone to cook. Your mind raced as you struggled to figure out a plan of action to continue.

Alastor leaned into you once again, whispering into your ear "Surrender completely, my dear listener, let the food sing you a melody. And trust me as your host of this experience, I promise I won't steer you wrong." He gently carded a claw through your hair, pulling a stand back behind your ear and leaving goosebumps along the flesh of your scalp and causing the little hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

You lean back against him, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest ground you as you match your breathing to his. As you concentrate on inhaling, the sounds of the kitchen begin to register. You could hear the risotto gently bubbling in the pan, the popping getting closer together as the liquid reduced- telling you it was time to add a bit more stock.

"Help me add more stock to the rice and test the heat of the pan", your voice was barely above a whisper. The demon behind you responded immediately, hands gently holding your wrists leading you through the motions. The water evaporated from the pan immediately, the sharp sizzle telling you it was time to add the oil and fish.

True to his word, Alastor kept hold of you through the whole process, as soon as you told him what you needed to do based on what you heard he immediately complied. You moved through the kitchen together locked in a strange dance; the food cooking, your small whispers, and his radio static the only sounds in the small space.

You choked on your first bite, your mind immediately going back to 18-year-old you. You remembered exactly how you felt when you were announced the winner of that scholarship, the day your entire life turned around...right before it all went up in flames. You weren't even aware of the tears rolling down your cheeks until you suddenly regained vision and Alastor was right in front of you. His hands tenderly held your face as he gently used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. He stared down at you intently but with a tenderness in his eyes you had never seen before. The next thing you knew you had your arms wrapped around him, clinging to him as you sobbed into his coat. Years of trauma and repressed emotions finally letting loose, you sobbed until you had nothing else left in you. All the while Alastor just held you, never saying a word and never casting any judgement.

When your tears dried and your sobs completely quieted, The Radio Demon pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted your head back to look at him, "Our final lesson is tomorrow. Think of one more meal Mon Cher."

Your hands kept running through your hair, you almost felt sick with anxiety about today's lesson. When was the last time you cried? Probably when Grandma died, and even then you hid away in the bathroom, cleaning your face at the vanity before exiting so you could be the strong, older sister that your siblings needed. And then you just fell to pieces in front of Alastor, full-on ugly cried into The Radio Demon's coat! Your face flushed in embarrassment, you'd have to apologize to him.

Time kept ticking...he always arrived right on time, but today he was officially late. Great, your emotional outburst scared him off. Your hands fisted in your hair as you clenched your teeth to swallow the frustrated growl that threatened to rip out of your throat.

Just as you were about to run out of the kitchen (again) the Overlord finally walked through the door, he was practically running at the pace he moved at. He looked a bit disheveled himself, like he was in a hurry. He's probably in a hurry to get this over with and get away from you. You shook your head, you didn't want to entertain that thought. You opened your mouth to apologize for your breakdown but he beat you to it "What is the meal today?"

"Ummm...lamb chops with garlic smashed potatoes. It was Grandma's favorite, she normally paired it with Merlot. Look Al, I'm really sorry-", you were suddenly cut off when Alastor gripped your biceps, his hold was firm but not painful. His eyes held the same intensity they did the other day.

"Do you trust me?", his eyes bored into yours, reading every micro-expression your face made as you thought of the answer.

"With my life", you murmured softly, feeling the tears spring into your eyes again. His hand came up to cup your face once more.

"Good, please remember that I will never put you in harms way. Just...trust me", you heard his fingers snap and your world entered the now-familiar darkness. It was different this time though, you stood frozen for a few seconds before you realized what was off. Your hearing also left with your vision, this is how it felt to be Billie and Stew- deaf and blind.

Alastor? Your own voice did not register in your ears; there was no way to know if you had said his name out loud at all. The only thing your ears picked up was the sound of your own blood rushing through your veins. You heard your heart rate spike as panic started to creep into your mind. Alastor!

You felt the comforting pressure of hands on your shoulders, you were so used to these hands being on you now that you were sure you'd recognize his touch in a line-up at this point. He gently pushed you down to take a seat which confused you- weren't you supposed to be cooking?

Then you felt something touch your lips, you flinched back, causing liquid to spill down your chin from the whatever it was. Long, clawed fingers gripped your jaw to force you to stay still as the liquid met your lips once more. Red wine...Merlot, just like Grandma taught you to pair with red meat. Realization finally dawned on you, your sensory assignment today was taste...and you weren't cooking but being FED.

A claw gently dipped your bottom lip, a thumb brushing over your tongue to coat it in the spice mix for the lamb. You stopped breathing completely, your mind short-circuiting at the thought of Alastor sticking his thumb into your mouth. In an act of bravery you slowly slid your tongue over the digit letting out a hum of approval at the spices that coated your palate.

A glass was slowly transferred into your hand, the Merlot serving to keep your mind occupied as he cooked. You took the time to pick each component of the wine apart- cherry, chocolate, and plum notes. A hint of blackberry and tobacco in the aroma.

Even though you were temporarily blind and deaf, you sensed when he returned to you; it was as if his static aura seeped into your skin, alerting your body to his presence even when there was no way of noticing his approach. A hand cupped your jaw and pushed on your cheeks, gently prying your mouth open. The lamb was warm, definitely medium rare based on the texture, the musky taste of the lamb paired perfectly with the garlic, salt, and pepper seasonings it was coated in. The potatoes were crispy with a warm butter flavor, sour cream and cheese used to top them. The meal felt like home- familiar and warm; memories of cooking with Grandma flashed in your head. You felt the smile that split your face, your chest vibrated with laughter that you couldn't hear.

A hand gripped yours and pulled gently, you carefully stood up and let him lead you a short distance before pulling you down again...this time onto his lap. Your heart skipped a beat, you were sitting on The Radio Demon's lap...how? why?...what was happening?

You felt your eyes dance around frantically, trying to find him in the dark, asking for him to restore your sight so you could gauge his reactions and body language to try to make some sense of what he was thinking. Then you felt them, a barely-there brush of lips against yours but definitely lips pressing to yours in a tender kiss. As quickly as they appeared they were gone; your hands traveled up along his jacket and shirt buttons before coming to a rest on his collarbones.

Suddenly, his fingers tangled into your hair and pulled your head back so that he could meet your lips more head-on. Alastor sealed this kiss with more force, holding your head so that you couldn't put any space between you two. You melted into him, parting your lips to give him access when you were caught by surprise; instead of his tongue entering your mouth a warm, full-bodied liquid tasting of cherry and chocolate poured from his mouth into yours- the Merlot. He had taken a sip of the wine and was pouring it directly into you. Your throat vibrated in a moan, his tongue quickly sweeping into your mouth once you swallowed the wine he fed you. Never had a wine tasted so good as when it came from Alastor's lips.

This dance continued a few more times, each kiss becoming more frantic and desperate with teeth gnashing together and tongues exploring every crevice of the other's mouth. You moved so you were straddling his hips, hands holding onto his lapels so he couldn't disappear on you.

The sensation of weightlessness whirled around you- his shadow magic you quickly realized. When you were grounded again your sight and hearing were restored but you didn't recognize your surroundings. You found yourself in a room of different red tones, with a large fireplace and armchairs in front of it and a desk off to the side. Beyond the typical room furnishings was a forest, the whole scene looked peculiar and distorted. How fitting for his room to resemble himself so much. You turned back to the demon whose room your inexplicably found yourself in...and he was looking back at you like you were the first meal he's seen in weeks.

Part 3 coming soon...there will be smut.

@voxslays

@ladyadrasteia666

@angeldustharmony

@milkissesx

[gojoidyll]

it's ok, i'm ok

(implied) simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader x johnny "soap" mactavish

cw | insecurities, depictions of facial scars (reader), mentions of being interrogated/tortured, open ended, may continue (?), etc.

sum | a mask protects you, and you're determined to keep it that way.

When you look in the mirror, you immediately feel a tinge of disgust. Your eyes racked over the scars that littered your face. There was one long nasty one, on the right side. It marred the skin terribly. It reached from the top of your eyebrow and down all the way to your chin and the scar was not straight at all. It was jagged, cut with haste. You could still feel the pain lingering there before your eyes lingered on the other scars. One was a horizontal line slashed across the middle of your nose, another perfectly symmetrical with your jawline on the left side of your face, and finally the last one. The one that was smaller than the others and cut across the left side of your temple.

The scars were given to you a year or two ago. You can’t exactly remember the date as the memories start to blur, but what happened to you was as clear as day. It was an interrogation, the squad you were apart of had been captured and slowly the enemy began cycling through every single one of you until you were the last. But you gave them nothing, even as they slashed your face up.

You could still feel your nails being pulled out, your nose being broken, your-

You shook your head and reached for your mask, the black fabric covered both your mouth and nose before you reached for your favorite baseball cap and fixed it over your head. It wasn’t a perfect covering, but it did its job. The job being to hide most if not all of your face from your comrades in arms. You learned all too well, that the men would much rather have a pretty face to look at then a scarred one (as you came to realize with the women in the squadron who … were not scarred as you were).

And as you got ready for the day and to head out to base, you wondered if you would find someone who wouldn’t care about your scarred appearance, but … you found it highly unlikely.

“L/n, meet taskforce 141, you’ll be joining them from here on out.”

The moment you get on base and being handed a new team assignment wasn’t on your bucket list, but you had no complaints. Your original team was already disbanding to begin with. Most of them retiring after they were rescued from being captured, but you decided to stay. If only to keep your mind occupied.

And even as you introduced yourself and met the tf 141 guys, you still had that ache in your heart. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least you will be doing something.

“So, L/n, do they call you anything else?”

Its when you are left alone with tf 141 to “better get to know them” when you finally come back to reality.

“I don’t have a nickname if that’s what your wondering.”

“Really,” asked the man with a mohawk, you already guessed he was the one called Soap, “they just call you l/n?”

You merely nodded, the words seeming to have left you. Which was another thing you noticed. A change that just didn’t sit right. You used to talk a lot, you always filled the silence, made things louder, brighter, happier almost. But now, you just meander with the silence in hopes that someone else starts talking so you don’t have to.

Soap merely grinned at you before reaching out and clapping you on the back, “well, then No Name, guess we’ll just have ta figure somethin out.”

At the mention of the words “No Name” you had a feeling that that was what your nickname was going to be. And as it turns out, you would be right.

“No Name! Come check this out!”

Fixing your baseball cap and adjusting your mask a bit, you trotted over to Soap, eyes seeming to bore into what he was looking at on his phone.

“Really?”

“What? Oh come on, you can’t possibly say this isn’t funny.”

You rolled your eyes, the action going unnoticed due to the bill of your cap, “whatever you say, Soap.”

And that was how the weeks followed. You trained silently with them. Soap being the only one who seemed to try and tear away at your walls, but nothing seemed to work as you were as silent if not even more silent than Ghost was.

Speaking of the man, he was probably the one you liked being around most.

He didn’t look at you when he talked, nor does he try to acknowledge you. Something that you found being grateful for. And when he did have to communicate something to you, his eyes never seemed to pry nor did his actions seem like he wanted to know more either. You found that you liked the little to no attention you got, and luckily when you are near the man no one else tries to get to you as well. And Soap? He tends to pay attention to his friend more too. Another thing you were grateful for.

Though, the brief simplicity you had gained and the happiness of blissful silence all seemed to come crashing down when a small group of women that shared the barracks with you stole both your mask and hat.

“So that’s what you look like…”

You were not amused when the women who you fought alongside with more than a couple of times started to crowd around you to get a good look at your face. It had caused your usual straight look to turn more down, the obvious hint of displeasure and anger clear on your features.

“Where’s my mask,” you managed to ask as you swatted a girl’s hand away.

One of them giggled, “we sort of hid it from you.”

You glowered, “where?”

You knew the question was fruitless as the girls scattered immediately the moment you started to get out of bed. And before you could make the move to look for both of the items, you chanced a look at the clock and almost let out a groan before holding in.

You had no time to waste on looking for either of your belongings, nor did you have any extras in your locker.

Today was going to be a shit day.

“What.”

The single word that left your mouth was more of a statement than a question as you stood next to Ghost and Soap, both who seemed to openly stare at you as the three of you waited for your Captain and Gaz to show up at the meeting point.

“It’s nothing,” Soap answered a bit too quickly for your liking, and when you shifted your gaze towards Ghost you immediately hated that fact that his eyes were directed right at your face. You instantly started to miss when he didn’t look at you at all.

“Girls in the barracks hid my mask is all,” the little information you relented was hopefully enough to get them to stop staring.

However, it wasn’t enough.

“Didn’t have a spare,” you managed again. But the stares they gave you was all you could feel, “know my face isn’t great to look at, once I get a new one or find my old mask, you won’t have to stare so damn much.”

And when Ghost finally talks to you, not at you or near you, like he really talks to you and sees you for the first time, your brain just short circuits.

“Why? You’re pretty to look at as you are now. Soap and I just don’t know how to act around a pretty lady.”

[fatuismooches]

Imagine Arlecchino being worried that her lover would be put off by her blackened hands, but then they just yank off any gloves Arlecchino might wear to hide them, and kisses her hands to assure her that they love them.

It had come to your attention that Arlecchino only wore gloves in your presence.

It was an average day, and you were at the orphanage again. The kids there liked when you went over to play with them. Today, you were reading them a story, a fairy tale that ended with the two characters falling in love. Soon enough, the children were asking non-filtered questions about if your relationship with Arlecchino was similar.

"Yes yes, Arlecchino and I are in a romantic relationship," you quickly eased their concerns, a bit embarrassed to be speaking about this.

"Is that why she smiles around you? She never does that," a child tilted their head at you.

"Well, sometimes love can make you do funny things. It brings unexpectedness into your life."

"She even dresses differently around you. That is a funny thing," another kid piped up and you looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"Father always wears gloves around you!" You raised your eyebrows, still unable to see why that was strange.

"So? She always wears gloves."

"That's not true," he shook his head. "Father never wears them around us, or the other Fatui, or around anyone else. She always wears them around you though." Your brain had a hard time processing this information, but you knew it was true since a bunch of kids wouldn't lie to you about something like this.

A lot of Fatui wore gloves, it was useful for the kind of dirty work they did, so you didn't think it was strange when Arlecchino wore gloves. But now you were incredibly confused and intrigued at why she felt the need to cover up her hands. And kind of stupid that you never noticed until now.

"Well, what do her hands look like without the gloves?" you questioned.

"Her hands are-" Before the child could finish, the familiar click-clack of heels echoed throughout the room. Immediately the children straightened up and quieted down at the sight of Arlecchino, and even your heart hammered a bit from the anticipation of the kid's answer.

"Good afternoon, Father," all the kids spoke at once, showing their respect, and she simply nodded her head at them. Her attention was mainly focused on you.

"I see you've been keeping them occupied, [Name]. Thank you." You smiled at your lover. Regardless of the whole glove situation, you were still happy to see her. "Would you care to join me for a walk now? I have just a bit of spare time," she held her hand out for you to take.

"Of course, Arlecchino. I'd love to," you placed your hand on her gloved one, the mere touch of it making you wonder once again what was under the fabric.

She intertwined her fingers with you. Gloved ones. And now more than ever you wanted to hold her bare hands, no gloves getting in the way of the skin-to-skin contact. You'd have to wait until the two of you were home and alone, however.

—

Thankfully it was one of the rare days when the two of you could have the luxury of falling asleep with each other. Even hours later, your mind raced with possibilities as to what she hid under those gloves. Scars? Burns? No matter what, you'd still love her. She was so beautiful to you regardless. But it seemed that you weren't so good at hiding your emotions on your face.

"[Name], are you alright?" you nearly jumped at Arlecchino's voice, not noticing her next to you.

"Oh! Well, I-, it's nothing really-" You glanced up at her face and you already knew that she wasn't going to buy that excuse. "Okay, fine... the truth is, I think we need to... talk." At that, the Knave was on guard, immediately needing to know what troubled her beloved.

"Tell me what plagues you, and I shall have it taken care of immediately," her eyes narrowed at you, fully intent on solving whatever issue this is, even if she had to... teach someone a lesson, right now, in the middle of the night.

You took a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself. "We need to talk about us."

"Us?" The Harbinger echoed. She was not expecting that. You nodded, and you reached for her two gloved hands, holding them in front of you two.

"This is..." you were unsure of how to voice your thoughts regarding the gloves. Your fingertips danced to the cloth around her own fingers, gently grasping it and-

You had barely been able to tug the long glove a little teensy down when Arlecchino swiftly grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements.

"What are you doing?" For how serious her voice sounded, you swore you could hear it waver for a split second.

"Arlecchino, I-I know you only wear gloves around me. I don't understand why... you know you do not need to hide yourself around me, right?"

Arlecchino closed her eyes, knowing that the jig was up, and appeared to think. "You may not like what you see. You may consider it... unattractive." Your heart broke a little bit.

"Oh Arlie," you sighed. "I would never think that, not ever. No matter what your hands may look like, I can assure you that I'll love them wholly, just like I do for the rest of you." She did not respond other than her thumb slowly rubbing circles on your entrapped palm.

"Please, may I see them? As your lover, the one you said has the sole privilege of seeing every part of you?" You reminded her tenderly. She opened her eyes once again, the ones everyone found terrifying but you loved.

"As you wish." She let go of the grip on your wrist and you were free to pull it off. And you did, in one fell swoop the glove fluttered to the floor. There laid Arlecchino's completely blackened hand, adorned with darker patterns and beautifully manicured nails.

Well, you certainly weren't expecting that. Arlecchino carefully gauged your expression, looking for any signs of repulse or discomfort. For once, she was worried if she had made a mistake, if you would be put off by her hands. But she didn't need to worry, as you found her hands completely alluring.

Without hesitation, you placed a kiss on the top of her hand, making Arlecchino stiffen at the sudden affection. But you did not stop there of course. You had a lot of area left to cover. Your kisses reached up past her elbow as your hand was loosely linked with hers, fingers massaging her palm. It was unexpectedly smooth.

"Your hands are so pretty. I don't see why you would ever hide them from me," you stated honestly. The other glove on her other hand received the same treatment - yanked off and discarded, and soon a victim to your ceaseless kisses, peppered up and down her arm. Arlecchino did not move or speak while you did this, her eyes remained trained on you like a hawk, taking in your every move. Taking in every motion of your lip, drinking in the passion in your eyes as you boldly looked at her as you continued your dauntless display of affection.

After your little stunt, you pulled away for a quick breather, but Arlecchino being Arlecchino, had to regain dominance of the situation again, and she briskly caught your chin with her hands, the one you daringly made your stake on. Before you could speak, she hungrily kissed you, her free hand pushing you down on the bed. She kissed you again and again, determined to make you feel the same things she just felt, her hand running up and down your arm. By the end of it, you were panting, but you felt triumphant. It was hard to change Arlecchino's mind, but you did it anyway.

"It seems like I've successfully proved that you're hands are quite lovely to me," you mentioned breathlessly.

"It seems you have," Arlecchino agreed with you, her usually blank expression had a sliver of softness, her thumb running over your lip. "Thank you." You smiled and gently grasped her wrist.

"So, no more gloves, right?" You asked teasingly. Arlecchino sighed at your tone but a small smile adorned her face as she kissed you once more.

"No more gloves, [Name]."

[munsonkitten]

Eddie locks his ankles behind Steve’s back, thighs squeezing his sides, and holds him there.

“Stay inside,” Eddie whispers.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, shaking but easy. So soft and so sweet.

He’s still shaking, just resting against Eddie as they try to breathe together.

“You okay, Harrington?” Eddie whispers. He runs his hands up and down Steve’s sides, over the scars that match Eddie’s.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve whispers, muffled into Eddie’s collar bone.

Eddie’s hands still, he freezes. Still blanketed under Steve’s trembling body, Eddie takes a deep, shaking breath.

“Pussy was that good, huh?” he jokes. Because there’s no way Steve meant that. There’s no way he even said it, nah, Eddie’s just hearing things.

Hearing things he wants to hear.

“No,” Steve says. He lifts his head. “I mean, yeah. Your pussy’s great, man, but no, that’s not — I just had to tell you, okay? It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but you know, I have to be honest because we just… did all that, and it would be wrong for me to not tell you.”

“After we—” Eddie starts, but then all the words catch right up to his brain and he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so heated and full of all the words Eddie wants to say back.

Steve’s still inside him, still covering him with his body. It’s so hot in the room, and Eddie feels gross, but none of that matters because Eddie may feel gross, but he’s loved. Loved in a way he never has been, and that’s—

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie laughs. He thinks he might start to cry, thinks he might be already. “I mean, hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, middle school, so there’s that.”

“You didn’t even know me,” Steve points out.

“Didn’t need to. Knew you were pretty,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “What about you? When did this revelation hit you?”

“At Reefer Rick’s,” Steve answers immediately.

“Oh yeah? Which time?”

“The first time, man. When you had that bottle pressed to my throat. Fuck, all I could think was that you were wild. Wild, but scared, man. Like an animal that shouldn’t be caged, I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Steve? You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this the whole time?” Eddie jokes.

Steve shrugs. “Didn’t wanna scare you off. You, uh, you’re doing better now, than you were then, and even just, a few weeks ago, you know? And if I would’ve—”

“I would’ve ran,” Eddie realizes.

Steve shrugs. “I would’ve waited longer, you know. Just, you were lying there in nothing but a pair of fucking cut off shorts, squirming, man. You were squirming and whining, and fuck, you would’ve seen how hard I was if I didn’t say something first to beat you to the punch.”

Eddie laughs. “Can’t believe I got you that worked up.”

“You’re a fucking dream, Eddie Munson,” Steve says. “And I don’t wanna wake up from this one.”

And it’s fucking cheesy, it’s so fucking cheesy, but Eddie finds himself smiling, his grin overtaking his whole face. He can’t stop it, can’t contain it, doesn’t fucking want to.

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet,” Eddie teases.

“Did that actually work?” Steve asks, his grin matching Eddie’s.

“Consider me swept, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink. “My feet are thoroughly off the ground.”

Steve kisses him again, and he moves them, slipping out of Eddie’s messy cunt, but not letting him go, not going far. He grabs the joint and the lighter off Eddie’s nightstand and lights it up again, taking a hit before passing it over to Eddie. They lay on their sides facing each other, Steve’s arm slung over Eddie’s waist.

“Hoping to get me horny again?” Eddie asks as he brings the joint to his lips.

Steve laughs, ducking his head to hide himself in Eddie’s neck. “I’m hoping I’d get a second round without it, but hey, if it works, it works.”

“Don’t worry, baby, you can have as many rounds as you want,” Eddie promises.

Something has definitely changed between them, but strangely, as Eddie lays in his bed beside Steve, smoking the rest of the joint they were working through earlier, it feels like nothing’s changed at all. They’ve been in love with each other this whole time, been living in each other’s pockets for the entire summer. Steve’s seen Eddie naked before, he’s helped him bathe, helped him change his bandages, helped him brush his hair, and makes sure he’s eating.

All these acts of kindness have never been because they’re just friends, and Eddie knows that now, and he thinks he knew that before, too. He kisses the top of Steve’s head, noses against his sweat damp hair, and holds him closer.

Soon they’ll have to get up and clean up, to wash away the evidence of what they just did, and they’ll get in the shower together, not for the first time, but for the first time when they both know what it means, and Eddie will hold Steve close, and he’ll ask Steve to call him angel and sweet boy, and—

They’ll clean up later.

Now, though, he whispers a quiet, “Yeah, I love you,” and holds him tight, and hears the same three words whispered back.

excerpt from strange as angels on ao3

[salubriwrites-blog]

First Date with Andrealphus: The Christmas Village

Hi. I needed to write something cute, so I did. Christmas time is usually an explosion of the 5 senses, and I really wanted to dip a little into an excursion when you help Andrealphus experience something for the first time. Some of the dialogue is based off of his lobby interactions with you.

I love this little man I would do anything for him.

Edit: Happy Holiday! As of 12/5/24 I went back and made some serious edits. Story is still the same, just reads less like the ramblings of a horny, feral FF writer.

“How do I look?”

“Good!” 

After a dawning silence, Bathin elbowed his brother hard in the ribs, and Gusion sighed dramatically. “You don’t look like a maniac with all the blood and feathers in your hair. I can barely tell that you have scars, you might actually wanna- here, just wear these. They’ll hide your eyes.”

“What are they- oh. Thank you,” Andrealphus laughed awkwardly, touching the frames that Bathin set on his nose. Needing to feel them to understand, the devil ran his fingers over the slim sunglasses, clumsily rubbing the lens as he did so. His investigation forced Bathin to sigh dramatically as he took them off to clean the finger marks.

“Just don’t touch them and you’ll be okay.”

“Am I ready? Any word from Beleth?” Andrealphus asked, now doing a nervous spin in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched to feel for collisions. 

“No word yet,” Bathin said, staring at his phone while Andrealphus paced, reaching wide  to navigate the unfamiliar room. They were in Gusion’s wing of the compound, which was cramped and filled with books. It was a far cry from Andrealphus’ own bare bones unit, spacious with minimal furniture that he knew approximate locations of. Occasionally bumping his knees, he paced while running his hands through his hair, feeling the hairspray used to cement it in place.

Delegating his brothers, Bathin was in charge of preening and dressing Andrealphus, scrubbing the blood and gore off his body and brushing the snarls from his hair. Gusion had prepared the transmutation potion that the devil would need to disguise himself. Lastly, Beleth took point distracting his Lord Majesty Belphegor. He hadn’t told anyone exactly what that distraction was going to be, just to be patient. Technically Belphegor didn’t know what Andrealphus was going to be doing with you that night.

Much less that the two of you were about to leave Hell. His Lord Majesty was strict when it came to letting his underlings out of his control. Other kingdoms in Hell had need for the capable warriors, a sizable portion of his wealth and sway among the Kings came from Andrealphus and his brothers, his flock of golden geese-angel butchers. They were an asset that Belphegor guarded with jealousy that rivaled Leviathan. No one got to have control over Andrealphus or his brothers just because, and you were no exception. 

The day that his Lord Majesty denied your request to have one of your great fighters accompany you across the veil was one the butcher remembered clearly. His first step down the road of defiance. 

“I’m homesick, and it’s a very special time of year on Earth.” You plead before his Lord Majesty. You had dressed up for the occasion, Bathin explained your ensemble to him later. A white and silver toga, your purple hair braided and adorned in jewelry that you thought would stir some distant memory for Belphegor. What he realized in the moment was that you smelt nice, soft like flowers in an afternoon sun. Andrealphus could see the desperation in your eyes just from the way you spoke. “There are no better warriors in all of Hell, he makes me feel safe… please, name your price. Just a few hours of his time, you wouldn’t even know he was gone.”

“Andrealphus does not perform escort duties,” Belphegor said stiffly after pretending to think. Although he was fuming at his master’s decision, the devil could feel a hand being pushed against his chest to stop him from correcting the Prince of Sloth. “You are loved by Satan, ask him to put together an entourage if you wish to return to Earth so badly.” 

The butcher heard your blood quicken in your veins at that remark, he could smell bitter resentment mixing with your perfume. You would have had better luck talking to a brick wall than Belphegor as he slouched in his seat. “I don’t want an entourage from Gehenna, I want Andrealphus.” He could hear the air being cut by your hand as you swung to point at him. No one understood the logic behind your decision, you two had only met in a few freak accidents in Tartaros. The discussion had never evolved beyond, “did they hurt you?” and “Stand behind me, no one will harm you.” Your sudden appearance in Niflheim was a shock to everyone, almost as shocking as your request for Andrealphus. 

Rumor had traveled far across the kingdoms of Hell that Satan and Mammon were spoiling you rotten, yielding to your every command. Either because of your unstoppable charisma or a testament to their weakness, no one knew for sure. Whatever it was that was swaying the minds of the Princes across Hell, Belphegor would not fall for it. “You may not have Andrealphus, not for a price you would willingly give. Now go.” 

As you turned to leave, Andrealphus felt your eyes on him, and though he had to remain solid, he could sense the scheme brewing in your determined sigh. Almost a month’s worth of secret letter exchanges between his brothers, and encouragement that Andrealphus be on his best behavior, led to the invitation. Andrealphus would be your date to Earth. All of the different verbiage circulating around his duty that evening confused the devil. Belphegor had used words like “entourage”, you had requested a companion, and now Gusion was telling him that you had asked him to be your date. What was this meant to be?

“Be prepared to be a chaste gentleman the whole night,” Beleth assured Andrealphus, but at the same time was slipping a condom in his coat jacket.

Preparing for tonight, they had to keep all of those words in mind. Bathin had dressed Andrealphus into something unassuming and charming, while Gusion sharpened and slipped a sword into the butcher’s pocket (along side Beleth’s condom). He was dressed to woo you and decapitate angels if necessary. 

“It’s time,” Bathin said suddenly, and before Andrealphus knew it a pair of hands were picking him up by his elbows. “He’s asleep.” Allowing himself to be awkwardly carried, the two devils rushed Andrealphus through the complex. It all looked absurd, from Bathin and Gusion’s hushed tones of coordinating, to Belphegor’s snores throughout the building. They reverberated through the iron halls, rumbling like thunder and quaking the floors. When his Lord Majesty was asleep, all of Niflheim knew it, and by the sound of it the Prince of Sloth was lost to an early hibernation.  

Acrid cigarette stench met the trio as Beleth stood by the front gate leading out of the compound. Andrealphus’ stomach clenched when he also detected the faint aroma of sweat and orgasm on the tall devil. Understanding why no one had been told of his plan, Andrealphus broke free from his brothers to hug Beleth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he whispered, and he felt Beleth exhale high smoke over his head. 

“Come on,” the cool devil chuckled, fixing the blind one’s tie and smoothing out his suit jacket. “You know what it takes to put him down. At least now you know you can take it slow. Go on, have a good time and make it worth my trouble.” 

One more minute of fussing over the finishing touches of Andrealphus’ outfit, setting the makeup that hid his scars, and brushing cigarette ashes off his jacket. All the while his brothers explained in great detail how they had prepared him. 

For once he was trying to hide from the angels, so the halo and angel wings were left behind under his bed for now. Trading out the completely black suit, he was wearing one of Bathin’s shirts that allegedly shimmered like sequins in the proper light. 

“It will make you shine when the city lights hit you, like a diamond.” Bathin explained fondly, fixing the shirt into Andrealphus’ pants. His suit jacket remained though, just in case he would need to offer it to you. 

Gusion put the transmutation potion in his pants, “drink it once you get to the portal, it’ll last a night and you should come across as human if any angels look at you.”

Last but not least, Beleth was fixing stalks into Andrealphus’ outstretched hand. “Give her those when you get to her, they’ll make her smile.” 

With that final blessing, the three devils who stayed behind helped to push Andrealphus through the heavy bars of Niflheim’s gate. The first few steps were nerve wracking, he kept looking over his shoulder though he couldn’t see, listening for the snoring of his Lord Majesty to stutter. In an instant he was prepared to spin on his heel and climb back over the gate, pretending that he hadn’t been about to sneak out of Hell for a night. No one stopped him, no one even talked to Andrealphus all the way to the portal.

The way to Earth was high and lonesome, filled with the buzzing of souls that moved like bees around his horns. Grazing over Andrealphus as he leaned into the incline, feeling his way to the world of the living. With each step there was agony as his horns began to throb, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through that he remembered. He blamed thinking about you while compiling a list of things to talk about. Still trying to come up with ways to avoid any awkward silence, he reached into his pocket for Gusion’s potion. Tearing the stopper out with his teeth, Andrealphus reveled in feeling nothing as he knocked the bottle back. A viscous texture that reminded him of angel’s vitae coated his tongue and throat, oozing its way down into his gut. Tossing the bottle to the ground before continuing his march, Andrealphus felt the change immediately. 

His horns receded into his skull, and the devil waited until the headache passed to run his fingers through his hair. It was jarring to lose something so integral to his identity, not having to navigate around the great horns. Wondering if you would approve, Andrealphus pulled his jacket tighter around himself when an unfamiliar chill worked into his extremities. Not a chill like fear or thrill of the hunt, but something that nipped at his fingertips and made his nose numb. 

With an enigmatic yawn Andrealphus felt the portal opening, and the familiar comfort of Hell’s energy melted away to the sounds of a crowd, the hum of music, and warm aromas of something delicious. Somewhere in the mixture of all these new sounds and smells, Andrealphus caught a whiff of you. Soft and sunny perfume mixed with your own cold sweat from the arduous trek. There was no audio cue that told him that the portal to Hell had closed behind him, just that strange shiver that made him hold his arms. No mistake about it, he was on earth now, walking amongst humans, not knowing where he was. All he knew was that he was on the right track, you had forged ahead and had to be waiting somewhere for him. Except your scent was lost now, he would have to work to pick it up again.  With one hand in his pocket to feel the blade Gusion had given him, Andrealphus turned in a slow circle, the other reaching out to feel and orient his surroundings. When- 

“Get out of the fucking road! Idiot!” Someone screamed, the shouting made Andrealphus reflexively go for the scythe on his back… which wasn’t there. A rough hand closed around the devil’s upper arm and he was half dragged sideways. Clinging to that familiar sensation, used to be pushed and pulled around by his brothers, Andrealphus allowed it to happen. “Maybe if you weren’t wearing sunglasses at midnight you’d see where you were going, are you trying to get yourself killed?” That same person demanded, and Andrealphus swiveled his head in their direction. Their heartbeat was accelerated, whoever his savior was it was definitely mortal.

“P-pardon me,” he started, but their footsteps were receding before he could continue. “I’m looking for a… oh.” The person didn’t even stop to listen to the devil, their footsteps quickly receding, leaving Andrealphus alone and more confused. Of course there were going to be threats on Earth, ones that he shouldn’t leave away with holy magic. Afraid to stretch his hands out to feel for obstacles, he shuffled awkwardly in the direction where the footsteps were hurrying off. 

An immense sadness made Andrealphus reach behind him until he felt something solid, hopefully a wall, and slide down its facade. What am I doing here? He asked with a huff, soothing himself by fidgeting with the flowers Beleth forced into his hand. Long stalks and soft petals that felt like velvet, he ran them between his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know the first thing about Earth and now that he was on his own, no way to find his way to you. He had an excellent sense of smell and hearing, honed over years of conquering his blindness, but hunting down devils was one thing. Unable to find you in this new world full of strange sounds and feels, had he hit the limit as a hunter? On top of all of it, this damn chill that he couldn’t identify was making him feel pathetic, pulling his knees to his chest as he sought to fight it off. 

What if you weren’t even up here? What if you decided that since no devil - especially not the devil of your choice - would accompany you to this special occasion on Earth, that there was no reason to make the journey? He could imagine you back in Tartaros, probably sitting on Satan���s lap looking at the clear skies and drinking from the river’s of gold. Not even thinking about the devil who was chained to the duties of his lord-

Get a hold of yourself, Andrealphus tried to imagine what Beleth would sound like or say in this situation. You are Andrealphus of Niflheim, Belphegor’s most violent warrior. You have honed yourself to conquer all of Heaven, Earth would be a breeze for you. Yes, the devil thought to himself with a smile, pushing himself back upright and using one shoulder to walk along the wall. He was just overreacting, you and Earth were another hunt, another conquest and he would rise to the challenge. It was just another hunt, though the quarry was much more desirable than the finest angel downs. Following the radiating warmth of a hundred bodies and the smell of something aromatic, he forged his way through that unknown path. He had to remember the steps to victory; become familiar with the hunting ground, know his quarry’s mind, and move without suspicion. The last one was a little easier said than done, as he felt wind whip past him, along with the roaring of machines and foul smell of fuel. 

“You made it!” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Andrealphus felt fear for the first time in centuries. With a yell the devil clung to the wall while your familiar laugh softened and came closer, “did I scare you?” 

Instead of answering you right away, the devil exhaled deeply and waited until you stepped closer. Once the tips of your shoes touched his, and your breathing mimicked each other did he find his composure. Only to lose it again when he felt how close you were. Perhaps too close, but after wondering if he would ever know a comforting presence again, decorum be damned. 

“You got me,” he laughed, feeling the flowers he had gripped to make sure he hadn’t squeezed the life from them. Reaching, Andrealphus felt your shoulder and ran his hand down until his fingers met your wrist, pressing the stems into your palm,  “these are for you.”

“Andrealphus,” your smile was audible, and the devil couldn’t help but do the same. You inhaled with the flowers pressed to your face, and the devil felt bold enough to stay where he was and listen to your appreciation. “These are beautiful, did you find them here?”

“No, I had uhm, some help.” 

“I can tell,” you laughed, and he felt his suit jacket get plucked at. “You aren’t wearing your usual suit, is this… Bathin’s?” Your feet retreated and he stood still while you admired his assembled outfit. “Your hair, too. It’s all different.”

“Different… good?” He asked, wondering if it would be inappropriate to pull you back into him. Now you were his anchor and the sensory overload he was experiencing could wash him away. He didn’t want to lose you again. Yes, it would be inappropriate, he decided and reminded himself of the situation. This was his first date-escort-tour with you. Neither of you had spoken beyond, “are you hurt?” as well as, “get behind me, no one will hurt you.” What was he supposed to say now that there was no danger? That list of things to talk about had flown out the window now that you were standing in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s nice. You look nice,” you elaborated, and a gust passed between the two of you. There it was, he realized with a tightening of his fist. Silence between you, though it was alleviated by your hand reaching out and taking his. Your fingers were covered in a warm fabric that took the edge off the cold that- wait.

“Is this… weather?” He finally asked, having found the word that could not describe the bite in his shoulders and back. Like your grip had been keeping it from him. “This is cold, right?”

“Oh, Yeah!” Your hair whispered as you threw it back to laugh, letting his hand fall into yours. At last, he thought with a contented sigh as you pulled him to follow you. Following the sound of your footsteps, he trailed behind you, letting you navigate the path for him. “I had kind of forgotten that Hell- home doesn't get cold or hot. It’s nice all the time. Would you like to stop somewhere and get a jacket? Or at least some gloves?”

“Gloves would be nice,” he said, fixing his sunglasses on his face while you tucked some of the flowers into his suit pocket. “So, what is this thing that you wanted to visit?” 

Leading the way, you hugged his hand close to you, forcing Andrealphus’ hips to collide against yours. The proximity was better than any warmth Earth could have given him. “It’s called a Christmas village,” you began.

“Tell me everything.”

Following your instructions and with your guidance, Andrealphus used a crosswalk for the first time. Using his feet and listening for the woman’s voice overhead, he successfully let the bumped stripes show him the way to find the tactile bars. You even let go of his hand to let him feel the confidence of doing it himself, though he quickly snatched for you again once the challenge was conquered. Taken by surprise at how accommodating Earth was, he was tempted to ask about doing it again. The exhilaration of that independence he only felt when he’d been somewhere a hundred times before was unequal.

“Are there many blind people on earth?” He asked, lifting one foot to feel for the curb as he triumphantly stepped up to your side.

“There are, they usually have things like guide animals, canes, or even people to help them.” You explained, pulling him closer to the chorus of music. “I’ll be your guide for tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Just for tonight?” He asked, feeling his cheeks turn pink at his audacity and wondering if the makeup that Gusion had put on him would hide some of it. He heard your heartbeat quicken as you gripped his hand tighter. “Maybe for our second date… hangout… escort mission.” There it was, he realized with a grin. Even you were afraid of what to call this. Taking advantage of your confusion, the hunter leaned in and whispered to your hot ears. 

“It’s a date.”

Your heart pounded at that. Now that the devil had found his quarry, the true hunt could start in earnest. Leaning on you, Andrealphus ate up your descriptions of this Christmas village. It was a dense square, much like the city center of Abyssos, adorned with festive streamers that traveled through the air. They began attached to the top of a tall evergreen tree that was the main attraction, then leapt from poles and stalls all the way out, creating a thematic web of colors. According to you, the tree was already alight with festive colors, which he asked you to explain in detail. You let him stand close as he pretended to admire the tree, listening to your hushed voice. He liked it when you whispered, your cadence was smooth and the consonants on your tongue tickled the back of his deck. It was nice to enjoy the density of your jacket, the warmth of your breath. Daringly, Andrealphus thought that you wanted to stand next to him too. 

“Why a tree, though?” He asked after you had finished explaining the garland, ornaments, and lights. “Why not… a rock?” Tilting his head to you, he listened to the notes of your laughter rise and mix with the aria of the carollers nearby.

“Some people think that the tree represents a life and death cycle, they used to decorate their homes with branches to prepare for the coming of Spring. Some use it as a metaphor for Jesus and God. Most excitingly though, it’s where people put their presents for their family.”

“Could I put something under a tree for his Lord Majesty?” Andrealphus mused, allowing you to walk him away. 

“You could, anyone you want to give a gift to, it goes under the tree and you don’t open it until the big day.” 

Musing, Andrealphus dreamt about the people he would give gifts to while you navigated him toward the delicious smells next. 

“Let’s try out some of their food, this village has some really good stuff.” 

You left him to sit on a bench while hustling back and forth between food stalls. So far that evening, candied nuts and an intricately bowed treat called a pretzel had been his favorite. The twists reminded him of his own horns, and he enjoyed the stimulating patience game he was forced to play as the candy melted in his mouth. This was nice, he decided as he waited for you, not minding the cold so much now that he knew it wasn’t the worry of danger. In a way, it felt like you were going out foraging for him, returning with bounties to share. Your latest hunt yielded a bratwurst, and you had to instruct Andrealphus on how to eat it. “You hold it like this, you don’t need to use utensils or anything.” 

“Feels phallic,” Andrealphus mumbled, and you both shared an immature giggle as you guided the sausage toward his mouth. Phallic, perhaps, but it was also delicious and you laughed as his eyes bulged behind his sunglasses. “We need to show this to Beelzbub, an edible phallis would be a hit.” After that, the devil decided he wanted to follow his nose, urging you to hold on and help him maneuver the crowds in search of the food stalls. “I wonder what else is here that he would like… could we bring something back for my brothers?” 

Now that hunger and warmth had been addressed, neither of you were shy about clutching onto each other anymore. Arm in arm, he walked with gathering confidence through the village, becoming familiar with the stalls and attractions. Soon it was him leading you, asking for descriptions of where his feet had taken the two of you. All the while you continued to describe the colors, decorations, and sounds in that way he secretly adored. One of the last places you circuited in the village was the ornament stalls. 

“I wish you could have your horns out for this part,” you hummed, laughing and putting a hand to his chest to stop Andrealphus as he pretended to think about growing them outward. “We could wrap them up in tinsel, you’d look so festive. Maybe we’ll just get an ornament you can wear instead.” 

“Like my feathers?” He asked, touching his pierced ears where nothing dangled. “Could we make those into ornaments to hang on a tree?” 

“We could,” you replied thoughtfully, and there was a pause as something scratchy grazed his nose. “I think I like this one for you.”

“What is it?” He asked, reaching a finger to bump against what you held out. It was a sphere, and just from the way it swung wildly at his inquisitive touch, the devil knew it was fragile. Cupping it in his hands like a prayer, slowly dragged his fingers across the glitter and paint. 

“It says Christmas Village 24, here, and with little angels flying around,” you explain, hesitating before helping his fingers find the painted details to feel himself. Then you laughed even harder as Andrealphus subconsciously dragged his finger across their little throats. “Do you want it?”

“I do.” 

After the quite concerned vendor had wrapped up the ornament, Andrealphus was already explaining to you all the ways he would repaint the ornament. “I can ask Gusion to paint red marks over their throats, and we can erase their wings.” 

“We’ll find a tree to hang it on for the season,” you promised, holding out a piece of kettle corn and waiting for his lips to take it from you. The last food item for the evening was that, taking turns teasing your fingers in front of each other, letting your lips and tongues coyly snatch the popped corn away. 

“Then you decorate the tree, and underneath it you put gifts for your loved ones?” Andrealphus asked, holding out a piece of kettle corn and waiting eagerly to feel your mouth. What would he put underneath a tree for you? Perhaps a dress made of the softest feathers from angels. Or a bratwurst. 

“Yeah, it’s a big time for family and friends to come together and express gratitude and love.” You explained, there was a pause as he caught the smell of more kettle corn and opened his mouth. There was an ever longer, sensual pause where your fingers lingered on his lips. Were you still acting playful with feeding him, or if you were trying to turn his face to yours. Did you want to kiss him? He hoped the answer was yes, but before he could test you with tilting his chin, something else about you caught his attention. Not you though, you were sweetly oblivious as you dropped your finger from his chin. You were disheartened by the shift in his expression, mistaking his alertness for disinterest, but kept talking in an attempt to make a recovery.

“If you wanted, we could do something like this in Niflheim. We couldn’t do a tree like the ones here though… oh! Maybe we can get Mammon to loan us one of his dildo pillars,” you laughed, too caught up in your excited day dream to notice his shift in behavior. Keeping an ear out, Andrealphus began to sweep and smell the street. “Can you imagine? A giant penis with tinsel and little ornaments hooked into the foreskin? Oh, and Amon could cook, I know how to make a lot of this stuff but we’d have to… get ingredients from elsewhere… maybe Leviathan would help decorate.” While you had been walking, Andrealphus was already calmly putting himself into the perfect position to catch you as your legs gave out. Deftly, as you were swooning mid sentence, the devil swooped in to snatch you. 

“Whoa, is she alright?” A voice Andrealphus did not recognize asked, and a pair of footsteps got too close. Swinging you out of the stranger’s reach, everyone was suddenly an enemy. Any of these people could have poisoned you, any of them could be angels.

“She’s fine,” he tried not to snarl on the off chance that this was someone who was only trying to help. Being by himself in this place was already overwhelming, but what would he do if he had to fight? With you struggling to breathe in his arms, no less. “She just needs to go home.”

Holding you close, Andrealphus used his hip to find the railing that led out of the village, moving until his feet found the textured bumps on at the crosswalk. “What’s going on? Talk to me, please. Do we need to return?” 

“I need… need…” you were gasping, your fingers interlocked around the back of the devil’s neck as you pressed your lips to his ear. He knew what you were going to say - word had traveled fast and far when you first came to Hell. The human who needed to be regularly given energy in order to survive. Every devil was scratching and clawing for time with you, hoping that you would collapse into a dire strait. Of course, what rotten luck that it was him, and here of all places, that your breath was growing shallow and your weight was sagging in his arms.

“I know, just hold on a little more. I-I’ll get you back to Hell, back to Gehenna.” Scrambling to keep track of where he was going, Andrealphus moved away from the music and aromas, focusing only on your pounding heart and shivering fingertips. 

“Will we make it?” You asked, he wondered what face you were making when he stopped you from undressing right there in his arms. There wasn’t going to be a need for that, he thought as he continued to walk, feeling for a place where he could open the portal. “You might have to-”

“That isn’t going to be necessary,” he assured you, smoothing your hair out of your face, feeling his flowers he’d put into your bangs. “I’m taking you back to Gehenna, where his Majesty Satan, or Sitri, even Paimon are able to help.” The devil began to panic as his feet searched for a place to set you down long enough to open a portal.

“Andrealphus,” you’d begun to say, but was interrupted by a scream and a crunch. His stomach flipped as the ground underneath him collapsed and he couldn’t figure out how to land. All he knew was that you could not be harmed, and clutched your head to his chest as he landed awkwardly on his shoulders. Over and over he rolled, bouncing and crashing into things that crunched and froze his bones. By the time the devil’s roll had slowed, you were gasping for breath and he tasted blood in his mouth.

“What happened?” He groaned, stifling a scream when he couldn’t move his leg or one of his arms. “Are you hurt?”

“D-Don’t move,” you panted, groaning to yourself. He felt you sit up on top of him, not minding as he squeezed at your thighs and hips. “I’m not hurt, but oh gosh you are. Can you feel this?”

He answered by grunting in pain when you touched his leg. Taking inventory of his limbs, Andrealphus' heart stopped as he realized that both an arm and leg were broken. Breathing sent a sharp ache through his core, and something warm was dripping down his neck. “What happened?” He asked again.

“I think you walked off the path, we fell down a snowbank. No one saw us though, I think, so we have privacy…” Voice trailing off, Andrealphus panicked when he heard your clothes shifting again. Your teeth clattered as you had pulled your pants down, reaching for him next.

“This isn’t good, r-roll me on my side.” Doing as he asked, you thought you were helping him shift so that his own trousers could come off. Instead he pressed his hand into the biting cold, the snow,  and began to draw out his sigil. “I can still get us to Gehenna, just… I need to draw.” 

For a few minutes he struggled to remember it, but the pain of his leg dulled his senses. Whimpering and shivering, he couldn’t give up, running his hand over the cold slush to try and erase his last attempt. All the while your eyes were on him, half naked and cold, he could feel your stare fading. Clutching his injured self, Andrealphus realized he was losing a race against time. “Just hold on.”

“It doesn’t have to be anyone from Gehenna,” you whined, and he felt your open palm run down his front. “Y-you can help me.”

“I know, I know,” he repeated himself softer the second time, still trying to open the portal. He’d heard the way you flinched at him. Please don’t think I don’t want you, he thought to himself as he struggled. “I just… I want you to be helped by someone you know.” 

“Andrealphus,” you whispered, the crunching of that cold powder reaching closer to him. Mindful of his injury, you shifted the devil to lay on his back. He was helpless to stop you as the belt buckle clinked. “I don’t mind if it’s you that helps me… I like you.” 

“I know!” The devil snapped, slamming his head back into the ground, not caring that it sent a dull throb down his spine. “I know that you like me. I like you too,” he had to pause as he squinted his eyes shut and cursed himself. This was not what he had planned for tonight, not the way he wanted to confess his feelings. “Except I don’t want the first time that we… I want it to be a choice, not a necessity. It should be meaningful and darling, maybe somewhere where you could see starlight and feel safe. Not like this.” He waved his hand to gesture to his useless form, you gasping for breath, cold air blasting down the embankment. Up above carols were still playing, and no one was looking for either of you.

“Our first time will be meaningful and sweet,” you promised him, taking advantage of his damaged body to unzip his pants. Both of you knew that he was too hurt to fight you off. Andrealphus squeezed powder between his fingers as you pulled his flaccid penis into the cold, warming it with your naked thighs as you shimmied on top of him. “This doesn’t count, this is… an energy transfer, not sex or love making. I promise we can do it again, for real, because I want you, Andrealphus.” 

“You do?” He asked, voice hiccuping in his throat as you ground your naked body against his erection.

“I do,” you giggled breathily, letting your lips tickle his ears. “I think you’re the kindest and most honorable devil in all of Hell. You could have broken every bone in your body just now trying to get me back. Just so someone I was comfortable with could take care of me. You aren’t greedy, and you wanted to prioritize my sense of safety.” His body was so battered from his tumbling that even just your weight pressing ever so sweetly on his chest made him gasp. “Do you know how hot that makes me?”

The powder that he was laying on top of melted from the heat of his body as you straddled Andrealphus. Asking you if this was an appropriate place was forgotten when he felt your soft, naked skin sliding along his length. Having you on top hurt fiercely, but he grit his teeth as pain gave way to burning pleasure when you slipped him inside. Freezing air snatched his warm cry and let it fall back down on his chest as you leaned forward, planting your hands firm against his shoulders. You were so tight it almost brought tears to his eyes, pushing the sunglasses off his face so that they could flow freely.

Rocking slowly, it was like you were milking the energy out of him, each thrust giving you vitality. While pinned there in the snow, broken and feeble, he was at the mercy of your hunger. Your hips rising and falling along the lengths of his cock made a sweet sound that reminded Andrealphus of innocent kisses. He wanted to kiss you so badly, he realized with a strangled breath.

“Oh, mercy,” he whispered into the air between you as you coaxed an orgasm out of him. Gritting his teeth, he ran his hands down your cheeks and over your eyelashes, hoping to have just a taste of what you looked like at the precipice. “I’m so close.”

You didn’t say a word, but the half laugh, half moan as you caught his fingers and kissed them said it all: “no peeking, you have to wait until our first time.” While he came down, you slipped backwards and cautiously dismounted from the devil, helping him button his pants back up. While he was gasping to regain control of his body, shivering and numb in the snow, you let out an energetic sigh as your wits were restored. You weren’t a doctor, but you poked and prodded at the places where he’d hurt himself, peppering him with gentle evaluation while the devil struggled to catch his own breath.

“Thank you for helping me,” you whispered into his ear, finally helping him sit up and aiming his finger at a place to draw. “Now let me help you, you need Morax or Beur.” 

With your guiding hand, the butcher drew his sigil into the snow, and as the door back to Hell opened, you lay against each other and slipped down like a slide. With a quiet oof followed by a gasp that could have woken his Lord Majesty, you both collapsed into a familiar living room floor. 

“What the fuc- oh. Daughter of Solomon, Andrealphus, you’re back early.” Bathin calmed immediately at the sight of them, hopefully using his best poker face as he helped you to your feet. 

“There was an accident, everything is okay now, it's just that,” you waved your hand to the devil’s broken body.

“Oh, what the fuck you were supposed to be looking after her,” Bathin hissed exasperated, dropping to his knees to examine the extent of the injuries. 

“I did-”

“He did-” you spoke over each other, and Andrealphus smiled wide.

“We’ll have to sneak him out to get to Morax’s hospital,” the devil sighed, picking Andrealphus up and clutching the battered man to his chest. “Would you mind getting the door for us, dear?” 

Sneaking out of Niflheim one more time, you led the way to the grand hospital in Paradise Lost. Andrealphus talked his brother’s ear off the whole way, explaining his outing with you in great detail. You of course chimed in occasionally to elaborate on things he didn’t quite understand. Bathin tilted his head at you once to silently ask, “what the fuck?” when the butcher couldn’t stop talking about tinsel covered cocks with feathers hooked into the veins. It wasn’t the ideal end to a first date, but you spent the night next to Andrealphus at the hospital. Sitting next to him, one hand holding his uninjured arm, you listened with a wide smile as he talked over and over about his favorite things from the village. 

“Can we get bratwurst again?” He yawned eagerly, letting you run your hand over his face until exhaustion became greater than discomfort. At the beckoning of your fingers, he began to fade.

“Sure we can,” you promised, scratching his arm gently. “I know it got forgotten in all the excitement, but I saved your ornament.” 

“You did?” Andrealphus drowsed, turning his head toward you as you gave the packaging a jingle. “We can find a big tree to hang it on.”

“We can,” you mused sweetly, fixing it to one of his horns. “We can even make our own ornaments, with angel eyeballs or whatever you want. Next time I’ll show you what mistletoe is.” 

“On our second date?” He asked, barely finishing the sentence before a whistling snore passed through his lips.

“Yeah,” you hesitated before stealing a kiss from his forehead. “Our second date will be even better.”

[spacebaby1]

Only mine (2)

"You can sleep here, I'll fix it up to your liking from tomorrow," You stood inside the huge bedroom that was mostly empty but had a bed in the middle with few boxes to the side of the room; your own room. "My room's down the hallway, that door. If you need anything, tell me, hum?" You nodded in response, "alright, sleep now." With that, he left closing the door behind him while you stood in the middle of the room. Sleep didn't come easy to you; every time you'd shut your eyes, you only saw blood and immediately sat on the bed.

You felt uneasy and alone; the darkness in the room made you uncomfortable, so you kept the lamp on. The bed was too comfortable and you weren't used to it, usually you were forced to sleep on cold ground and it's what you got used to. Getting up from the bed, you laid down on the floor, shutting your eyes and immediately falling asleep.

Around four in the morning, Sanzu got up for his morning workout, and as he was walking down the hallway, he stopped to check on you for a minute. Slowly, he opened the door, his heart almost dropped when he noticed the bed empty and you weren't there. He entered the room quickly but stopped when he saw you sleeping on the floor near the bed without the pillow or blanket, sleeping on the cold floor.

He wondered if you fell from the bed, Carefully he made his way towards you and just when he reached to pick you off the floor you flinched at the sudden contact of his warm hands and as soon as you saw him leaned beside you. You jumped sitting and backed away from him, your back slammed on the wall breathing heavily, "Hey, it's just me. You were sleeping on the floor." He reached for your hand, but you flinched away. He sighed, getting up and turning the light on before walking back to you. He leaned down a bit closer to you, "it's me, did I startled you?" He forwarded his hand one more time. You noticed the scars in his hand that looked like they healed a long time ago, "Hmm?" He hummed, waiting for you to grab his hand, which you did, and he noticed how tired you looked. He just sat there with you holding his hand and tilted his head, "Why were you on the floor?" You looked down, "the beds are uncomfortable?" You shook your head, "you fell?" Again, you shook your head. He gave your hand a squeeze, making you look at him; he had a soft smile on his face before he dragged you by the hand gently closer to him until you sat right in front of him. Sanzu placed a hand on your head, "you're used to sleeping on the floor?" You nodded, fidgeting with your fingers, and he noticed you'd do that every time he talked to you. "Now now, don't worry about anything like I said. I'll take care of you. You shouldn't sleep on the floor it will hurt your back and head. Try to sleep, okay? It's still early." He got up and helped you stand before making you lay on the bed and caressing your hair with a soft smile; this wasn't the same man who killed your father at all, he acted differently towards you.

You tried too hard to sleep after he left and just couldn't go back to sleep, so you tiptoe where he went downstairs. You heard sounds of other men talking as you stood behind the door, trying to take a peek. It was a house gym; Sanzu was training with his katana while three other men were there training. You recognised one of them; kakucho from the elevator. He was talking to a long, purple haired man standing next to him, a much taller man with the same purple hair but short ones. Kakucho noticed you peeking and immediately smiled, "Oh, it's you!" You gasped when he called out, making the other men and Sanzu turn their heads towards the door. Sanzu quickly placed his katana away and reached you before Kakucho did with a huge smile on his face he spoke, "I remember you! I saw you yesterday with Haru!" Sanzu placed his hand over your shoulder as you held on his side, desperately trying to hide away. "Oh, who's this beautiful girl?" Ran made his way towards you. Rindou followed behind them, "Why she's acting like we're gonna bite?" You looked at the three men then back at Sanzu, to which he nodded down at you. Kakucho smiled softly at you, forwarded his hand for you to shake, "and you are?" You shook his hand, "y/n, " you replied, and this was the first time even Sanzu heard your voice. "Aww! She speaks!" Ran jumped in the conversation, pushing Kakucho away and grabbing your hand, shaking it up and down rapidly, "I'm Ran Haitani, but you can call me Roro." You giggled at his nickname, and Sanzu was dumbfounded; did you just giggle? "And that's my baby brother, Rindou." Ran placed a hand on your head before removing it and looking at Sanzu, "where did you get yourself a cutie like her!" Sanzu groaned, grabbing your hand and walking out of the gym and towards the living-room couch, "Wanna wait here? I'll be done with the workout soon, okay?" You nodded.

"Good girl." He smiled before walking back to the gym room.

[specialagentlokitty]

Booth x reader - I need you

Walking into the Jeffersonian, you squinted a little as the harsh lights making your way to your office and you tossed your bag underneath, sitting down in your chair.

Seeing a file neatly laid on your desk, you picked it up and flicked through some of the things that were on it.

Pushing yourself up, you took it with you a few offices down, tossing it on the other desk.

“Stop leaving files on my desk to try catch my interest Mr FBI.”

He took the file from the desk and held it back out to you again with a little grin on his face.

“Come on, I know you want to.”

“Sorry Booth, but I’m not feeling too great.”

Brennan glanced at you, and she gestured for you to follow her so you did, giving an apologetic look towards Booth.

Brennan took you back to your office and she closed the door.

“You said you had the all clear from your doctor.”

“I do, come on Brennan, you’ve known me since we both started here, my doctor gave me the whole clean bill of health a few months ago.”

You sat down in your chair, kicking your feet up on your desk and Brennan walked over.

She took your leg, rolling up your trousers so she could have a look and you laughed a little at her.

“Come on Brennan, Booth doesn’t call you Bones for no reason, you’re the bone lady and my leg has a little too much skin.”

“I’m making sure that your surgical scars haven’t gotten infected, did you care for them properly afterwards?”

“You were there Bren, you know I did.”

She nodded her head, rolling your trouser leg back down, placing it back in the table.

“I want you to go back for a check up.”

“Even if I did I would be looking at a few months waiting time at least Brennan, you know that.”

“What if I make a few calls, get you seen sooner, will you go?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll go if you want me too Bren.”

“Alright, I’ll make the calls, but I don’t know how much longer you can keep hiding this from everybody else. Especially if you relapse.”

“If I relapse we’ll tell them.”

“Okay, thank you. You know, Booth really wants to work cases with you again.”

You smiled, laughing as you nodded your head.

“Yeah, I know.”

Brennan smiled a little at you, gesturing to the door.

“Maybe you can come join just this one case? I know you love being in the field.”

She held her hand out to you, and you grinned, taking it so she could help you up.

And one case turned into one, and two, and three and so on.

A few weeks had passed, and you were in the middle of a case.

“We need to go (Y/N), we’ll be late.” Brennan said.

She scanned her card, walking over to you she held out your jacket to you.

Pulling your gloves off, you took your lab coat of and draped it over a chair, making your way to your best friend to put your jacket on.

You did it up, and you looked at Brennan.

“I’m scared…” you whispered.

“Well, it’s understandable that you’re scared, but you need to do this.”

“What’re we doing? Where you going?” Hodgins asked.

“We have an appointment.” Brennan said.

“Oh a field trip, where’re we going?” Booth asked.

He walked over to you and Brennan, grinned happily from ear to ear and you shared a look with the other woman.

“You can’t come.” Brennan said.

“Sorry FBI.”

You made your way back down the stairs, and towards the door with Brennan in front of you and Booth jogging over to catch up to you.

He gently grabbed your arm.

“Hey, what’s going on? You always let me come with you.”

“It’s nothing Booth, Brennan and I just have an errand to run that’s all, okay?”

“Related to the case?”

“No, so don’t worry you won’t be missing anything.”

Booth narrowed his eyes a little bit at you, and he slid his hand down to yours, frowning at you.

“What’s going on? I know you, I know it’s something.”

“Booth, it’s nothing, alright? Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He carried on staring at you and you sighed.

“Don’t give me those sad puppy eyes, I don’t like it.”

“Well talk to me then.”

Walking over, you hugged him lightly and he hugged you back before you pulled away.

“I’ll tell you after if it’s anything to worry about.”

You smiled at him, and you left to go to your appointment.

Sitting on the bed, you swung your leg back and forth and Brennan stared at you in the hospital gown.

“You’ve lost weight, a lot.”

You nodded your head, gesturing to your leg.

“See anything familiar?”

Brennan walked over, kneeling down she inspected the leg you had mentioned.

She stood up, and looked at the door as the doctor walked back in with the results from your tests.

Brennan walked over to look at them while the doctor tried to get her away so he could talk to you about what he had found.

“Brennan, stop.”

She stopped, looking over at you.

“It’s back… isn’t it..?” You whispered.

“I’m sorry to say, yes. And it’s much more aggressive than last time, it’s progressed a lot quicker, but so far you do still have some time to weigh up your options, and of course we’ll give you all the information you need to make the best choice.”

“Thank you, can you just email me everything? I know you’ll need to do another appointment so you can arrange thag for whenever I can attend at any time.”

You grabbed you stuff and went behind the curtain to change and headed back to Brennans car, staring out the window.

“There are many procedures that can help, surgery doesn’t look like a necessary option right now, so, you’re left with Chemotherapy as you best course of action.”

You said nothing, and Brennan glanced over at you.

“What will you tell the others?” She asked.

“Nothing.”

“(Y/N), you need to to tell them.”

You shook your head, looking at her and you looked at the road in front of you.

“I don’t want the treatment…”

“You need it. You.. you’re not thinking rationally right now that’s okay.”

“No, Brennan, I don’t want the treatment anymore, okay? Just… just drop it…”

Brennan parked in the parking lot and you got out of the car, making your way back to the building.

Brennan jogged after you.

“Just think about it over the next few days, then we’ll talk after your next appointment, okay?”

“Yeah.”

You walked back to your office, sitting down in your chair, running a hand down your face and you leant back with a deep breath.

You knew she wouldn’t tell anybody, not if you didn’t want them to know, but you also knew that she wasn’t going to drop the subject.

And you were right, over the next few weeks she kept bringing up treatment options and how to tell everybody.

Sitting in your office, you had your head buried in your arms.

“You didn’t go to your appointment, you know how important it is to discuss progression and treatment.”

You slowly sat up.

“Brennan, I told you, I’m not getting the treatment.”

“If you don’t you’ll die.”

You nodded.

“If I’ve relapsed then I’ll probably die either way Brennan.”

She walked over, sitting down on the corner of your desk.

“You don’t know that, the outcome is very promising at this moment in time.”

“Brennan just drop it!”

Getting up, you grabbed your jacket, throwing it on and you made your way towards the door and Brennan followed you.

“Just hear out the options (Y/N).” Brennan called.

“I know my options!”

“Then you know treatment is your best option!”

You spun around, glaring at her.

“Brennan this is my life! My choice!”

“And you’re throwing it away! Just go see the doctor again!”

You spun around, crashing into somebody and you stumbled back a few steps, mumbling an apology.

“Treatment? For what?” Booth asked.

You looked at him, and the others who had just gathered around at the commotion and you looked at them.

“I’m sorry.”

You pushed past them all, pulling your car keys from your pocket and you left the building all together.

You went back to your apartment, and you made your way straight to bed, turning your phone off so you wouldn’t have to listen to the questions people would be trying to ask.

What woke you up was the banging on your door and you stumbled over to it, opening it to see the FBI agent standing in front of you.

“Hey Mr FBI.”

“I’m not in the mood for joking around, what the hell happened today?”

You stepped aside, letting him in and made your way to the couch, dropping yourself down.

“Nothing Booth, it’s fine. We just had a disagreement that’s all.”

“No, no you don’t get to brush me off anymore. Bones said treatment and doctor, what the hell is going on?”

You looked at him.

“Damnit booth, why the sad eyes.”

He walked over, crouching in front of you.

“What’s going on (Y/N)…?”

You took a deep breath, and you gave him a sad smile, placing your hand on the side of his face.

“I’m sick Booth…”

“Like cold sick? Because we can get you things for that.”

You laughed a little bit, shaking your head.

“No… no I uh.. I have Cancer Seeley… I was first diagnosed years ago when I first started working at the Jeffersonian, I went through all the treatment, got the all clear. I go for check ups every year, and had the all clear up until a couple of months ago…”

“Why didn’t you say anything? What are the treatment options?”

“I… I’m not seeking treatment…”

He furrowed his brows a little bit.

“I’ve done it all before… I don’t want to go through that again Booth, it’s unbearable, the pain, the sickness after, the weakness? I don’t think I can do that again..”

Booth gave your hands a small squeeze.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll go get all the options and we’ll… we’ll weigh up the best ones and you won’t be alone. I’m going to be there okay? Every single step, treatments, scans, appointments, everything.”

“Booth in not seeking treatment.”

“Please… get the treatment..”

“Without it I can have a few good years, with it I’ll be in pain possibly for nothing…”

Booth looked at you, and he could see he wasn’t going to change your mind on the subject.

He rested his head against your hands, then moved to kiss the back of your knuckles.

“Will you just think about it for me…?” He whispered.

You looked at him.

“Please?”

You sighed and nodded your head.

Booth stood up, and he pulled you up with him, wrapping you up in a tight but gentle hug and balled your hands into the fabric of his blazer.

“Please think about it..” he begged.

He moved from side to side and you laughed a little bit, stepping on his feet while he carried on moving around with you in his arms.

“But, we are going to spend as much time together as we can, we’re going to go to that crappy amusement park you love so much, and go see all your favourite bands and you’ll be able to jump on any case when you’re feeling up to it.”

You laughed a little, looking up at him.

“Does the big, bad, scary FBI have a soft side?” You taunted.

“For you? Always.” He smiled.

You smiled at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw and you rested your head on his shoulder again.

Booth closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, burning the memory of you in his arms into his mind because if he couldn’t talk you into treatment he knew there was nothing stopping him from loosing you.

“I need you (Y/N)….”

You said nothing, but you held him a little tighter, tears burning your eyes, heart breaking at the sadness in his voice

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

An ode to a scar and the shoulder blade

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF284 noticing small things. (Thank you once again!) Missing Ron’s 96 scar that I wrote this on a whim. Methinks this is only a prelude and I might add more chapters if I can. If you haven’t seen nor read the Shibuya arc, then treat some of these as spoilers.

—

Fandom: Kamonohashi Ron kindan no suiri / Ron Kamonohashi’s Forbidden Deductions

Characters: Totomaru “Toto” Isshiki, Ron Kamonohashi, brief appearance of Spitz Feier

Word count: 1095 (I struggled with this)

TW: mention of suicide, biting

HAND on his heart, Toto could still pinpoint the time and place Ron’s “96” scar had bewitched him.

Well, bewitch might be a strange wording, but the very first time he found himself staring at it was the day he returned to Ron’s apartment to talk about the first case they shared together and the aftermath.

Ron sat on the floor with his thigh muscles bulging from his grey sweatpants, looking up at Toto. From this perspective, the police officer knew that he was not wearing a shirt underneath that beige pullover. He had a beautiful view of the scar. He was still aghast, mind, after Ron told him of his flaw, that is sending the suspects to kill themselves through his power of hypnosis, in which Toto experienced firsthand. But the scar kept on disturbing his peace.

Of course, that time Toto thought it was a tattoo. Who would in their right mind let himself be tattooed with a number? Especially when the Japanese people do not have a positive attitude toward skin ornaments. And yet, he did not ask Ron. Japanese men, the polite ones mostly, would never do such a thing. Besides, what would his grandma say? Oh well, the old woman knew that he had the habit of not holding back things from his mind, saying them aloud without filter.

“It is not a tattoo. It is a scar.” Ron told him at the onsen. It had been a month since he learned to know the younger man and they already saw each other naked.

“Not a tattoo?”

Ron smiled at him and explained the instances he got the scar.

“Ah, I have learned to like it. It has become a part of me.”

“Definitely…”

To be honest, one could not overlook the “96” scar as it was so huge. But what fascinated him more was the intricate firmness of Ron’s shoulder blade. Toto realised later that Ron was not fond of wearing T-shirts underneath his hoodies or pullovers. The shadow of a bare chest followed his sleepless nights.

Toto thought about it long and hard when they were on the rooftop battling against Winter Moriarty at Shibuya. Ron asked for his help about searching for clues that had something to do with his scar and that could be found within the surrounding areas. The police officer could not help it, but his vision went straight toward Ron’s gorgeous left shoulder blade where the huge 96 was. The wind blew the collar away that it exposed the skin. Ron was not wearing a shirt with only his pullover hiding his upper torso. Toto gasped.

Damn it. They were in the middle of a crime scene exchanging wits with a Moriarty clan member and all he could think of was Ron’s white smooth skin and the muscles that defined his shoulders. Ron followed Toto’s line of sight, and an image of a lighted bulb appeared on his mind.

“As expected of my partner,” Ron said, who tried to lighten up the mood a day later after Toto informed him and Spitz that the cadaver in the morgue was not that of a suspect but someone else.

“What do you mean, Ron?” Spitz asked, curious, putting down the iced black tea on the table. The three men were at Ron’s apartment to go over the recent case.

“I asked Toto for clues. I never thought that the M Family henchman meant me and my scar. That was the reason I realised that Toto’s supervisor and the victim were in the same building.”

Quick thinking. Another asset that Ron possessed. Toto was so lucky to have known this person.

Spitz said his goodbyes mentioning that he could not stay longer and had to fly back to London as his students were waiting for him. The police officer, however, stayed.

“Are you still feeling distraught concerning the suspect and the victim?” Ron grabbed his drink, which consisted mainly of ice cubes and kuromitsu.

Toto found out from Amamiya that the victim chose to kill himself hours after Ron saved him. It made him wonder how huge the M Family’s influence all over the world was not only in England.

“There was a split second where the suspect looked scared though after you guessed it correctly. Do you think he was talking to the boss?” Toto focused on the floor.

Caught off guard, Ron spilled his black sugar syrup drink on his T-shirt.

“Ahh… apologies, Toto. I think I must change.” Ron took off his shirt right there and then that made Toto freeze on his seat. His mouth forming an O.

Mesmerised with the scar and the shoulder blade before him, Toto forgot to ask anymore questions.

He touched his forehead then shook his head in disbelief. Suddenly the room began to feel warm despite the ventilator running on the ceiling. He untied his necktie, rolled it nicely and pocketed it inside his grey suit.

“Are you all right, Toto?”

“Y-yeah… I felt so warm. Is all.”

“The room has a nice temperature, don’t you think?”

The police officer nodded. Vigorously. He supposed. The younger man came closer to him still undressed.

“Lately, I have been noticing things, albeit small, on you, Toto,” Ron began his speech. “You have a penchant for my shoulder blades, my left one specifically, is that so?”

Toto did not, well, could not, answer. He was tongue-tied and so Ron continued.

“Would you like to touch them?” Ron took the police officer’s hands and put them on his shoulders. “There… there…”

Like a scorching hot pancake, he put them away at once.

“Toto…” Ron sat then on his chair gesturing Toto to sit on his lap. “Come here…”

Like an obedient child, Toto followed Ron’s orders. He looked at this former shut-in with delectable blue eyes and an intellect so great he could not believe his luck.

At first, he hugged Ron and then placed his face on his left shoulder. Sensing that the forbidden detective was waiting for more, he sniffed it then bit Ron’s shoulder without further ado. It made the latter moan. Like a victim of a vampire, Ron made it more accessible to Toto, who was trying to control himself that he did not go for the overkill. Like a cat, he began to lick the “96” scar down to his shoulders.

“If you do not continue this Toto, I would be very disappointed…”

“Huh?”

“I would like to go on please… let’s go to my room!”

And Toto could not say no to that.

~tbc~

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #32

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: implied past non-con

Ambrose was really proud of Ellie.

He’d braved the bank, the trip went off without a hitch (mostly), and they were home safe without issue.

Ambrose watched Elliot wipe down the bar counter, his brow furrowed as he scrubbed at the wood. He worked so hard, and without complaint.

Without complaint…

Hm.

Ambrose finished his tea, and went to clean off his mug.

Elliot didn’t complain about anything. He kept to himself, and Ambrose only knew something was bothering him if Elliot couldn’t hide it anymore.

He’d seen some of Elliot’s scars. Elliot had told him very little about his… experiences, and Ambrose didn’t want to push, but what if he was still in pain?

Ambrose put the mug on the shelf. Elliot walked in, putting the dirty rag in the washing pile.

“Ellie?”

Elliot looked up at him, stilling. So… obedient.

“I think you should see a doctor.”

Elliot straightened, looking away and off to the side. “Did I do something wrong? I- I’m sorry, I’ll fix it.”

“No, no! It’s that we should make sure you’re healthy. I’m not a doctor- I mean, I can make some kinds of medicine and help with other things- but I could have missed something,” he explained.

Elliot bit his lip. “Okay.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ambrose added. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

Elliot took a deep breath. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice cracking on the ‘sir’.

Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck. “We could.. wait a while, if you want. We don’t have to go today.”

Ellie glanced up at him. “I- I’ll go. Um, I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

___________________

The doctor’s office was in the middle of town, and Elliot dutifully followed Ambrose down the street.

There was still gray slush on the cobblestone, and their boots crunched the wet snow. At least the sun was shining. He looked up from the street.

There weren’t many people out, much to his relief. It had been a busy week, and Elliot wanted all these errands over with. Master Ambrose didn’t seem to mind that he was shy, thank the gods, but he insisted on taking Elliot places now.

Maybe he wanted him to be more outgoing. Elliot wasn’t sure he could manage it.

The office looked more like a house, but the sign did say ‘doctor’ on it. Maybe the doctor was like Ambrose, and lived in the same building as his practice.

Master knocked on the door; using the brass knocker. Fancy.

Ambrose didn’t wait for a reply before opening the door. It made Elliot’s insides squirm.

They went inside, and the room was… normal. A couch, a couple of chairs. But there was a door separating it from the rest of the house, and this had to be a waiting area.

A woman came through the door, smiling, and she looked kind. Her black hair was poofy and pretty, and her dark brown eyes matched her dark brown skin.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft, and it reminded him of Ambrose.

“Hi,” he breathed out, and Ambrose smiled at him.

“Hello, Ruby,” he said. “Is Hannah busy?”

“She’s with a patient right now, but I could get Ben if it’s not serious. He’s almost finished with his training.”

“Oh, uh, we’ll wait for Hannah if that’s alright.”

“No worries,” she smiled, “she shouldn’t be long.” Ruby looked at Elliot, and he tried not to shrink under her gaze. “What’s your name? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’m Elliot,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.” Ambrose squeezed his hand in approval, and some of the tension trickled out of him.

“Likewise. I’ll let my wife know you’re here.”

Ruby disappeared behind the door again, and Ambrose sat on the couch, Elliot following his lead.

The doctor was a woman. 

Elliot let out a long breath, shuddering. She was a woman, and wouldn’t hurt him like a man would. Hopefully.

Master Ambrose looked relaxed and unbothered. If Master wasn’t worried, then maybe there was nothing to worry about.

___________________

It wasn’t long before Dr. Hannah was finished. The door opened again, and her patient, a pregnant woman, came out with her. They were laughing at some kind of joke, and Dr. Hannah bit her farewell before her eyes landed on them.

“Hello, Ambrose, and you must be Elliot. Ruby said you needed to see me today?”

“Elliot does,” explained Ambrose. “He needs a check-up.”

Elliot fidgeted as Hannah looked at him. “Alrighty, well come on back.”

He followed Ambrose and Hannah into the hall, and she ushered them into a side room.

The door closed quietly behind them, and Elliot scanned the room.

There were two chairs, and a shelf of equipment that he didn’t know what they did. One wall had measurements on it, and there was a scale nearby.

A cot took up the most space, and Elliot really didn’t want to get on it. But Ambrose would be watching, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen, right?

Ambrose sat down as Hannah grabbed a clipboard.

“Take your shoes off, please.”

Elliot toed off his boots, and neatly put them aside.

Hannah guided him to stand against the measuring wall. “Stand up straight and even,” she said, “and think tall thoughts.”

Her pen came to rest at the top of his head, pushing down his hair. The doctor wrote down the number. 

“Good. Now if you could step on the scale for me.” Elliot got up on the little platform, and Hannah adjusted the weights until the bar was even.

“A little small, but that’s okay.”

“We’re working on it,” said Ambrose from the chair.

“And is that going well? Balanced diet?” Hannah asked, writing on her clipboard.

Ambrose nodded. 

“Great.”

Hannah gestured for Elliot to sit in the cot, and Elliot obeyed. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

Hannah put her clipboard aside, and rolled up her sleeves. “Don’t worry, my hands are clean,” she smiled, noticing his stare.

He wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about where her hands were going.

Doctor Hannah picked up a- a thing, and Elliot tried to take deep breaths to calm himself like Ambrose had taught him.

“I’m just going to use this to look in your ears,” she explained, “and then your mouth, nose, and eyes. Like a magnifying glass.”

“Okay,” he said. That didn’t sound too bad.

Hannah put the little cone on the end barely inside his ear, and it was cold but didn’t hurt. She switched to the other side.

“Mhm,” she hummed, “all clear there. Tilt your head up for me?”

She peered into his nose, and again it felt strange. “Good. Open your mouth please, and go ahhh, stick your tongue out- yes just like that. Perfect.”

Elliot closed his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth.

Hannah looked into his eyes, and marked whatever she had been looking for on her paper. 

She pulled out a metal thing from under her coat. It had a metal circle at one end, and two branches at the other.

“This is a stethoscope,” she said. “I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs with it. This might be cold.”

Hannah put the two ends in her ears, and slipped the other end under his shirt. It was cold, and Elliot squeaked.

“Sorry.”

She moved the metal around, and it was uncomfortable. “Breath in deep… hold it… aaaand let it out. Good.”

Doctor Hannah pulled the ends out of her ears, and offered them to him. “Would you like to listen to your heart? It’s always neat to hear your own heartbeat.”

“Um, okay.” Elliot put the ends in his ears.

Thump thump thump.

It felt calming, somehow, and he relaxed. 

“Neat, right?”

Elliot nodded. He listened to the blood flowing through him for a moment longer before handing the stethoscope back.

“Alright, heart and lungs are great. Ears and nose are clear, mouth and throat are nice and pink. How’s your vision?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any trouble seeing things?” she clarified. “Up close, or far away?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

Hannah put down her clipboard. “Can I touch your face and neck?” she asked. 

Elliot looked over to Ambrose, who nodded. “I- I guess that’s okay.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Hannah assured him. “This shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, you need to tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her fingers came to just below the back of his jaw, pressing for something, and Elliot could feel something push back.

“I’m checking your lymph nodes,” she explained. “If they’re swollen, that could mean sickness.” She pulled her hands away. “But yours feel fine. Could you please take off your shirt?”

Elliot hesitantly undid the buttons and pulled it off. The cool air made him shiver. 

“Alright,” the doctor said, “I’m going to need you to lie back. I need to feel your organs; make sure everything is okay.”

Elliot took a deep breath and laid down, his fingers gripping the edge of the cot.

“Just relax,” she advised. He nodded stiffly.

Her hands began to press on parts of his stomach, and it was so unlike how other people touched him that Elliot began to calm down.

“You’re doing great,” she said. “Does anything hurt?”

“No,” he breathed out.

“Okay. You can sit up now.” 

Hannah picked up her pen and paper. “I think that’s everything, unless you need me to check your spine. Do you have any concerns?”

Elliot began to shake his head, but Ambrose interrupted.

“I really think you should see his back,” Ambrose warned. “And maybe his… lower half.”

Hannah looked between them. “Are you alright with that?” she asked Elliot.  “Ambrose could step out if it would make you more comfortable.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Elliot’s eyes. “I- could show you, but I- I need him here,” he admitted. 

“That’s perfectly fine,” soothed Hannah. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Elliot wiped his eyes and turned around.

Hannah gasped in shock, and Elliot hung his head, shivering.

“Oh- oh my. Uh-”

Her hand rested on his shoulder. “Do- does your back hurt a lot?”

“No,” he mumbled. “Not anymore.” 

“Okay- um, stand up for me.”

Elliot got off the cot, his vision blurry.

“Try and touch your toes, without bending your knees,” she ordered, and Elliot tried but couldn’t manage it.

Her hand ran over his spine. “Okay, you can stand up. Do you feel any stiffness on your skin? Like- like you have to tug against it?”

“A little.”

Hannah guided him through a few arm movements, concern on her face. They were hard, and he couldn’t do some of them very well.

“Did any of those hurt?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Go ahead and put your shirt back on.”

Relieved, Elliot pulled it on. 

“I’m going to need you to do some of those exercises every day,” she said. “Scar tissue is less flexible than regular skin, and currently it’s limiting your movement.”

Elliot nodded, an empty feeling in his chest. 

“It might also help if you massaged his shoulders; help loosen those scars up,” Hannah told Ambrose. “It doesn’t have to be every day.”

Ambrose nodded. “Understood.”

Doctor Hannah turned back to Elliot. “Do you want me to check your privates?” she asked, voice low. “We don’t have to.”

Elliot worried his lip. Ambrose wanted her too, and if he didn’t do it now, he would have to later.

“Okay,” he said, numb. “Okay.”

“Is- is that a yes?”

Elliot couldn’t bear to speak, and nodded instead.

He unbuttoned his pants, and pushed them down until they lay on the floor, and his boxers- he couldn’t force himself to take them all the way off. They rested at mid-thigh, and his cheeks burned with shame. He screwed his eyes shut

Hannah’s hands rested on the fabric of his boxers.

“Alright,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Does anything hurt right now?”

“No,” he whispered. 

“Good. How about when you use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Do the scars on your thighs ever bother you?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt when you touch yourself?”

“I- I don’t do that,” he whimpered.

“Okay. I’m going to touch you, very briefly, and tell me if it hurts.”

Hannah moved part of his- he didn’t want to think about it-

“Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m all done. You can get dressed.”

Elliot fumbled with his underwear, sobbing, and pulled on his clothes as fast as he could.

“Is there anything else you two are worried about?” she asked. Hannah offered him a tissue, and Elliot wiped his eyes.

“I- I think we’re good,” said Ambrose, who looked pale.

“Great. Just let me know if anything changes- anything at all.”

“Thanks, doc.”

___________________

They walked home in silence.

“I’m sorry,” said Ambrose quietly as they left main street. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to do that.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You did, though.” Ambrose shook his head. Elliot’s breath stuttered. Was he in trouble?

“I’m sorry for crying, sir.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I- I made you do something you didn’t want to do.” Ambrose cleared his throat. “So I’m sorry. It wasn’t right.”

Elliot didn’t know what to say. A part of him was upset, still small and scared, but the other part was relief. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, except his shoulders, and the Doctor said he could fix it.

“I- I’m glad,” he said. “I was scared but I’m better now. I- I wasn't sure if I was normal, um, there. But I know, now.”

“You think it was worth it?” asked Ambrose, opening the door to the inn for him.

“Yes, sir. That’s what I meant.”

“Well… as long as you feel that way, I suppose. Just… tell me if you really don’t want to do something, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Elliot fidgeted. “...okay. Um, can I go to my room? Please?” 

“Sure.”

Elliot practically ran, taking the stairs two at a time. 

He picked up the bear Ambrose gave him and huddled under the bedcovers. 

“I’m normal,” he said to no one. “Normal, normal, normal. I’m fine. I did good.”

He was fine. The doctor said he was fine. The doctor said he was good.

He was good. 

Elliot squeezed his bear tight. “I’m fine.”

And he very nearly believed it.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285

@whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee

@tobiaslut @whumpsoda @loserwithsyle @bitchaknso

[gtwscratch]

This Heart of Mine is Guilty (And Remorseful)

Summary: Grian breaks the rules of the games for Scar, and Scar confronts him about it. (set in Secret Life)

CW: Mentions of past cheating/killing/stealing, character self-deprecating

Word count: 1,233

=====================================

“He needs to log out..!” Grian says as he watches the Wither chase Scar, panicked.

“He can’t, we’re in the middle of a session, Grian,” Cleo responds, also a bit panicked, but she hides it better.

“I know but..! He can’t lose his first life..!” Grian doesn’t finish his sentence, but he can’t get the words out of his head.

He can’t lose his first life because of me again.

Grian knows he’s been awful to Scar. He knows he’s messed up over and over again. He’s let the urges of being a red life take him over and ended up killing Scar on more than one occasion. He’s stolen a life from him and lost it not even twenty minutes later. He’s cheated on him after finding out they were quite literally soulmates.

And yet, after all of that, Scar has shown him nothing but love and kindness and admiration and-

All Grian knows is that he has to stop this.

He watches Scar stumble and slow down, narrowly missing getting hit by a skull, and Grian feels something. There’s an itch just beneath his skin to do something—anything—and his wings puff up a little from the panic. Without really thinking, he pulls out his comm.

<Grian> Scar log out

<Grian> Scar log out

<Grian> Scar log out

Distantly, Cleo is talking, but Grian doesn’t hear her. All he can hear are hushed and angry whispers. The edges of his vision are purple as he continuously types out the message, praying that Scar is going to be able to read it.

Players are never able to log out in times of extreme danger like this—the Watchers make sure of that. But Grian himself isn’t a regular player. He’s mentioned changing the rules before, but he’s never actually tried to do anything. So maybe, just maybe..

Grian’s heart leaps to his throat as he sees Scar pull out his comm on the shore, nearly dropping it. He reads over the messages.

<GoodTimesWithScar had left the game.>

Grian could cry. His legs feel shaky, and his hand goes to cover his mouth with relief and shock. He did it. He actually managed to save Scar.

Grian feels lighter than he has since the desert.

He suddenly remembers that he’s not alone and looks over to Cleo who’s staring back at him with wide eyes.

“.. How did you do that?” she asks, wariness in her voice.

“Um..” Grian can’t think of a good excuse, so he settles for, “I’ll tell you later. We need to go.”

===============================

Grian knew there was going to be a punishment for saving Scar. The Watchers would never have let that happen so easily. And of course Grian doesn’t regret breaking the rules for Scar—he’d do it again in a heartbeat—but now his wings ache, and his back feels exposed as his secondary and most of his primary feathers have withered away. He’s also lost a life.

He’s exhausted after defeating the Wither, and it shows. He nearly stumbles, but a strong hand catches his arm.

“Woah there, take it easy, G.” Grian relaxes as he hears Scar speak and steadies himself with the man’s help.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, looking up at Scar’s green eyes. Oh, what Grian wouldn’t do for them to stay that beautiful green color.

Scar’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern, and he starts to lead Grian a bit away from the group of people celebrating the defeat of the Wither. When they’re out of earshot, Scar speaks up.

“Why did you do that?”

“What’re you talking about?” Even though he’s tired, Grian tries to play dumb.

The man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You shouldn’t have used your powers like that for me.”

For a moment, Grian is alarmed before remembering he told Scar about the Watchers (and how he was one of them) while they were both half asleep and cuddling in some past season. Neither of them had spoken about it afterwards when they were more awake, so Grian had figured that Scar didn’t remember. Looks like he was wrong.

This time, he doesn’t deny anything strange happening. “In my defense, I didn’t for sure know if that would work or not.”

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have tried it at all.”

“But you were in trouble.”

“Grian, it’s me! I’m always in trouble!” Scar shouts.

Grian’s wings (or what’s left of them) puff up, a bit agitated. He was finally trying to do something right, and Scar didn’t seem to care. “Whatever, what’s done is done. It doesn’t matter.”

Grian’s a little startled when Scar grabs his arms, and he’s even more startled to see the anguish in Scar’s eyes.

“But it does matter!! You lost a life!! Oh, and your pretty wings.. I’m not worth that..”

“No, you stop that.” Scar’s words strike something deep within Grian. This is his fault. He’s the reason Scar doesn’t think he’s worth this kind of sacrifice.

“But I’m not! You are.. everything.. and I’m just me,” Scar says quietly. “So please.. don’t do that again.”

“.. No.”

Scar blinks. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m going to risk my life again for you if I can.” Grian doesn’t think he’s ever been so sure in something before.

Scar’s look of agony is now primarily replaced with confusion. “You-! We’re not even allies, let alone on the same team! Why are you so-!”

“Because I’m not hurting you again!” Grian quickly answers before Scar can even finish the question.

He didn’t really mean to say it—Grian just sort of blurted it out without thinking. He’s never been one to show any kind of vulnerability. However, unlike past instances, Grian doesn’t look or feel ashamed of the revelation. Instead, he stands his ground and speaks confidently (as confidently as he can as the adrenaline wears off.)

When Scar doesn’t respond, Grian continues. “I have been the cause of so much of your suffering in these games. Please, let me save you from something I caused for once.”

He watches as Scar’s expression softens, and he takes a step forward, pulling Grian into a gentle hug. Grian immediately reciprocates, clinging onto the back of Scar’s shawl like the man will disappear if he lets go.

“Grian,” he starts softly, “you know I don’t blame you for any of that, right?”

He doesn’t respond, and the silence is all the answer Scar needs.

“Well, I don’t. I know you didn’t want to do those things. You didn’t have a choice—none of us do. Everything that happened is in the past now. Yeah, it hurt a lot, but I knew it wasn’t really you.

“This is you. You’re trying to make amends for something I’m not mad at you for.” His hand slides to Grian’s waist, rubbing his thumb up and down against the fabric to reassure the avian.

“And, void, I do appreciate the effort, but please don’t be reckless.” Scar kisses the top of Grian’s head, eliciting a soft trill from his throat.

He leans more into Scar, feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re one to talk,” he mumbles. He finally lets the exhaustion of the day wear on him.

Scar chuckles softly and easily picks up the smaller man. “C’mon, you need to lay down.”

As Scar carries Grian off to find a bed, Grian starts to get more drowsy. He rests his head against Scar’s chest, and the steady beating of Scar’s heart soothes him into sleep.

Scar is still green.

I saved him.

=====================================

AHHH THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND SUPPORT WITH THE FIRST ONE SHOT!!! I wasn’t expecting so many likes and reblogs!! :DDD

I’m so excited to keep postinggggg :)))

I have one more one shot already in the works, but after that, I’m not sure when the next one will be. Maybe I’ll aim for weekly posts? Not sure yet.

[roriaa]

When Sun and Moon meet - S2 FINALE

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to Lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

Warnings: Arguing, Fighting, Betrayal, mentions of death

Masterlist

҉ * ‧͙ ⋆ ⁺ ༓ ☾ Chapter 11 - Trust to Betrayal

“What are you doing here?” I hissed. “Aren't you part of the fire nation? Couldn't they make an exception even though you were banished?” I asked but no response. “Oh so you're just going to stay quiet huh? What happened to your snappy attitude when we last met?” I shouldn't be asking such questions, knowing I wouldn't get any response from him. “I genuinely thought you came to Ba Sing Se for a change until I saw the drill in the walls with the fire nation logo. I even gave the benefit of the doubt when you were looking at Appa’s missing poster.” I stopped for a moment of realization “That's why you’re here! Once Aang comes here you and your nation can easily catch him”. I sigh in irritation “You're so annoying you know that? I don't even understand why you want the avatar so bad to the point you almost got killed. If your father really does care he wouldn't have banished you. You're lucky that Aang was the one that wanted to save you from the snow storm, the rest of us wanted you dead!” I scoffed “But of course you don't care! You only want your ‘honor’” I mocked. “Then once you go back to the fire nation you will continue with the fire nation war schemes and stand right next to your father in his horrible plans” 

“That's not my plan” Zuko finally speaks up. “Oh wow, so now you finally spoke up” I rolled my eyes. “Then what is your plan Zuko? All you fire nation people are about war and taking over everyone's happiness” “You don't know what you're talking about,” Zuko said out loud. “You said that many times to me before, but I feel like I know enough” I glared at him but sighed heavily. “But really what's the point of me trying to say anything to you.” I sat against the wall leaning my head back trying to keep my anger in check. “I wasn't the one who caused the drill in the walls of Ba Sing Se, it was Azula,” Zuko said. “Azula?” I asked, “My sister,” he answered. Ah, so the girl in the middle of the fake Kyoshi warriors was Azula. I rolled my eyes “So what? It's your sister, same tribe, same blood, same everything” 

“That's not the case…” Zuko sighed as he continued “my sister and I always had different views of everything ever since we were younger. Which led to my banishment with a scar to remind me” He touched his scar. I furrowed my eyebrows in sadness and moved closer to Zuko. “Did your sister have the same mindset as your father by any chance?” I asked softly as he nodded. “Then did you possibly have the same mindset as your mother?” Stupid question indeed.

“My mother left years ago because of the fire nation” Zuko said which made me wince at my unnecessary comment. “Sorry…” I said awkwardly. “I'm sure you’ll find your mother” I put my hand on his shoulder in encouragement. “Thanks” He gratefully said. I took my hand off of his shoulder and thought about my own mother. “My mother died from the fire nation last year, however weirdly enough I can't remember the details even though it was so recent” I shrugged stiffly. “I actually had a dream about her when you…uh hit me to the point I passed out” This turned way more awkward than it should have. Zuko stiffened and croaked out a sorry but I shrugged it off. “She told me not to give up in my dream but I'm still not sure what that means to this day…maybe she knew my sister was going to sacrifice herself to the moon spirit and to tell me not to give up…she wanted me to keep my head up high.” I sway slightly, feeling quite sad that I lost two of my loved ones in such a short period of time. “I'm sorry” Zuko said in sympathy as I shook my head. “It's not your fault…that's actually why I came to Ba Sing Se, not only for me to start new but to get revenge at the guy who killed my sister.” I said, trying to sound more confident. “The person who killed your sister was sent to the spirit world by the Avatar” Zuko said which made my eyes widened. “Oh…well that works too” I said slightly embarrassed. There was a moment of silence till I spoke up again. “Are you still planning on hunting down the Avatar…” I asked, silently praying his answer will be no. “This scar cursed me to chase the avatar forever…but lately I realized I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free from my mark.” Zuko turned around to face away from me. “What if you could be free from your mark?” I said which made him immediately turn around with his eyes widened. “What…?”

“In the Spirit Oasis, the water there is more enhanced which could heal your scar” I explained “When I was younger I was in major pain and no one knew my cure, so my parents took me to the spirit oasis for my moon spirit to heal me. Which is why my hair is white” I pointed to my hair. “I'm sure your scar could possibly be healed in the Spirit Oasis, I could take you there.” I leaned closer to his scar, he closed his eyes as I moved my thumb across his scar. Then I heard a crash from the other side, showing Aang, Katara and the Old man who owned the tea house. “Katara! Aang!” I said running towards them in a hug. They both hugged me back “Thank you for coming to save me” “Of course we would save you Y/N no need to thank us” Katara said as Aang nodded. “Yeah! You're our friend!” Aang added. I smiled softly “Yeah…friends” I turned around to see Zuko irritated once again. The once soft moment was replaced quite fast. “Go help your other friends” The old man said while consoling Zuko. We nodded and ran out. I was following Aang and Katara but I took one last glance at Zuko in worry.

“We gotta find Sokka and Toph,” Katara said as we were running. I heard an electrifying sound and immediately turned around. Aang blocked it with his earth bending while I used my water bending to turn into ice. I looked to see who the attacker was and it was Azula, of course. Katara moved  her water bending to get a direct attack at Azula, a wave of smoke fills the atmosphere until she comes out again. Attempting to hit us with fire, the three of us used waterbending to shield ourselves. Azula landed on a tall rock which Aang was able to break down with his earth bending. Azula landed across from me, pointing her fingers like she was going to use lightning however she didn't know who to hit. Suddenly a blast of fire landed near Aang. From the corner of my eye, I saw Zuko who hesitated on who to hit. But it didn't take long for him to make his decision, shown by using his fire bending to aim at Aang. “Y/N Go up the waterfall and get Sokka and Toph,” Katara said, blocking Azula's attacks. I nodded instantly moving towards the waterfall, dodging Azula's attacks that were specifically made towards me. I lifted myself up with my bending, looking down at the scene feeling disappointed in myself. Looking at Zuko, I once again was a fool to trust him, again. It didn't take long till I was out of the cave.

  ҉   ☾

“Appa! Momo! ” I yelled after finding them both. I had no idea where I was once I managed to get out of the cave. Luckily, I found Appa and Momo together outside. I immediately got on Appa “Yip yip, we need to get to Toph and Sokka” I said which made Appa make a sound of agreement and he started flying. Once we got near the palace, I immediately saw Toph and Sokka with the King and his bear. “Sokka! Toph!” I yelled. “Y/N!” They both yelled back. I got down from the sky bison to get eye to eye level with the two. “Are you okay? Aang got a vision of Katara asking for help for you” Sokka said. “Yeah, it was hailing a lot around the palace” Toph included. “I'm fine but Katara and Aang aren't,” I said quickly. “They’re fighting Azula and Zuko right now” I was panicking, a lot. Last thing I want is one of them dead. “Do you know where they are?” Toph asked as I nodded. “Get on, everyone” I ushered the king and his bear to get on. 

  ҉   ☾

Once we made it to the destination I got off the bison “You guys stay here, it’ll be dangerous to all come together” I said. “Then why did we all come here?” Sokka whined. “It's because Katara needed to make sure you all were safe, and it's not for long. I just have to use my waterbending to get down and to somehow get Aang and Katara up. You guys need to be here for all of us to escape” I explained as they both nodded. I made my way over towards the waterfall and took a deep breath before jumping in. Once I made it down, I saw a horrific scene. It was Katara, crying while holding Aang’s body. I immediately used a splash of water to border Katara and Aang, making sure no one touched them. Coincidentally a wave of fire was shown, the old man came out of nowhere, landing in front of Katara and Aang. “You’ve got to get out of here! I’ll hold them all as long as I can” he says to both of them, making Katara nod and carrying Aang to get out of here. “Katara!” I yelled out making her look at me in somewhat relief but I could tell she was on the verge of crying again. I pull her closer towards me and make a water platform beneath our feet, helping us up. Before we reached the top I made sure to glare at Zuko, and he saw me, glaring at him. “Just as I thought you wanted a new start” I said, making sure he heard before disappearing.

  ҉   ☾

All of us were able to get above from Ba Sing Se, it wasn't as happy or uplifting as it was before. Instead it was depressing and anxiety wrenching. We stared at Katara, pulling the spirit oasis water out of the bottle to heal Aang. Internally praying he will come back to life again. Once the spirit of water disappeared in Aang, Katara couldn't help but hug him even tighter, crying. I looked down in disappointment at how everything turned out and so did everyone around me. Till a glow of a familiar arrow and breath indicated he was in fact alive. Everyone smiled happily while Katara laid him down and hugged him even tighter. Thank the spirits. “The earth kingdom… has fallen” Said the earth king with his head down, in disappointment and guilt. I felt bad for him. Thinking just as he saved his kingdom, it broke down once again.

A few hours go by, the cold breeze hitting my face making my skin feel like ice. It feels nostalgic, it feels like my home…northern tribe. I looked at Katara, still holding Aang in her arms. I decided to speak up “I'm sorry Katara…” I said shakily. “What do you have to be sorry about? You saved me.” She whispered, looking towards me in worry. I shook my head “I knew about Zuko being in Ba Sing Se the whole time” I admitted. I felt everyone suck in a breath which made me internally wince. “I met him here and talked to him but I didn't do anything because…I-” My voice cracked “I thought he must have changed…if I weren't so naive then…I would have caused any of you guys trouble”. I looked down, ashamed of my actions. Katara’s hand meets mine “It's fine Y/N…I'm just happy all of us have made it out”. I look up to everyone nodding. I dropped my shoulders and continued to look across from me, the night cloudy sky…

Season 2 END

<- Back - Next ->

a/n: WOAH lots of Zuko today and betrayal lmao. BUT S2 HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED. Not 100% sure when season 3 will start up, I already started it however I have ap exams soon for school, so I wont have much time :(. But I wont be gone for a while. Make sure yall take care of yourself and have a nice day! :)

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taglist: @luvkvni @katovano @karmaswitch @someonesmember @velvet-spider @sh3sa1dwhat @nerdisthenewcool @meiraloves2dmen @fqnfics101 @iluvme547 @leaderwon @yukihatesreoyo @heart4hees @4l3x1s @kkissaku @corpsebridenightamare @newjellis @fatkish@pbeckn26@jasminesacademia @kyo-kyo1

[captain-mj]

Honestly a tradegy that the fandom has so many "possessive ghost/ ghost kidnaps soap" but none of soap being the kidnapper I think it would be fun! Very much feel soap would be more of a "taking you for your own good" sorta guy

(Are there any fics like this and if yes PLS link)

I have zero clue if there are any BUT I can make one

Ghost never, ever drank with people if he could avoid it. After the military wouldn't let him back in after Roba, he spent so much of his life trying to drink it away.

Soap was no different. The only difference was that he happened to be his bartender.

After a while, Soap managed to break down some of his walls. Soap just... got him. He was so nice and there was something about him that put Ghost naturally at ease.

And it's the biggest reason why waking up restrained and without his mask felt so much like a betrayal.

Soap looked at him, serene. So gentle.

Ghost tried to jerk himself forward to strangle him but it only bent his back harder. It hurt.

"It's okay, Simon. Not going to hurt you."

"Fucking bastard. Did Roba put you up to this? He pay you?" Ghost spat out, suddenly very very scared. He couldn't handle it. He'd kill himself first. What they were doing in Manchester?

His family.

Oh god, Tommy and Joseph and Beth and his Mom.

"Who's Roba?" Soap tilted his head, fluffy mohawk getting in his eyes. "Nothing like that, m'eudail. How often do you leave the house?"

Ghost glared. "I don't know."

"6. Every night except Tuesday night, you come to the bar. You have your food delivered. You work out in your home. Your mom visits you on Wednesdays which is why you don't come to the bar on Tuesdays. It's so you won't be hungover when she comes, right?"

Ghost stared at him. "You've been stalking me."

Soap smiled. "For months. Watched your every move. You don't take good care of yourself."

Ghost started to take deep breaths, realizing how well he was played. "I... I..."

"It's okay. I promise. I would never hurt you, Simon." He ran his hands through Ghost's hair, gently touching each bleached strand. "Do you dye your hair so you don't look like your father?"

Ghost physically couldn't cry. Instead, he shook until he thought his bones would shatter.

Soap winced. "I'm going to undo some of the ties so you can get in a more comfortable position. You're not going to try to escape, ya understand? You're in a cabin in the middle of the Scottish wilderness."

Ghost let him slowly rearrange him, feeling helpless. Being out of the military and also still being injured meant it was hard to really keep his skills up. He had barely started to bulk back up.

The bed underneath him felt... nice though. Far more comfortable than anything Ghost had ever had.

"I spent a lot of money on this cabin. Had some rich family members die." Soap grinned and Ghost knew for a fact Soap killed them. "So, you're going to be safe here. No more worries. No more fears."

Ghost shuddered and rolled on to his stomach, hiding his face.

"I don't mind your scars. No need to hide those from me."

Ghost choked down something harsh mixed with bile.

"You're not getting your mask back. Don't make me tie you to the bed. I want to see your face."

Ghost slowly adjusted, taking deep even breaths. He was going to die here. The one person he thought was his friend betrayed him.

"There you go, m'eudail." He continued to stroke Ghost's hair until he eventually fell back to sleep, weighed down and likely still drugged.

When he woke back up, his arms were tied behind his back and he was leaning against the headboard. There was a small tray in front of him with some food.

Soap smiled at him. "I'm going to have to feed you. Can't trust you not to try to kill me." He got a spoonful of the soup he had made and offered to Ghost.

Ghost glared at him. "No."

"Simon. Be a good boy for me." Johnny purred, using the same voice he made in the dead of night when he encouraged a very drunk Ghost to drink some water.

Slowly, he opened his mouth, shamefully letting Soap feed him.

It was delicious. Tasted better than the cheap stuff he had been getting. Anything he couldn't microwave was usually out. He just... couldn't bring himself to cook. Soap picked up on his disappointment when it was gone.

"I'll make you more, okay?" Ghost nodded and Soap touched his face, making him squirm. "I can't wait for when I trust you enough to untie you. I promise, I'll take such good care of you."

Ghost looked at him and nodded. Maybe if he played along, it would be easier...

Later that night, Soap got a gun out. He undid Ghost's binds and motioned for him to go to the shower. Ghost followed him, watching the gun warily. Soap clearly had training, knowing exactly how to avoid getting close enough for Ghost to yank it from his hands. He also kept the gun aimed at his legs so it wouldn't kill Ghost if he shot.

Ghost cleaned himself up, enjoying the smell of the soap. It was... pine? He wasn't sure. Once he was done, he pulled the towel into the shower, refusing to let Soap see him.

Soap had gotten him a t-shirt and some sweatpants. They had a skull design on it that he liked a lot. As awful as it was, Soap clearly knew exactly what Ghost liked.

Ghost obediently let Soap tie his hands back together before Soap put him to bed. He sank into the luxury of the blankets and sheets.

Soap got in bed next to him and Ghost was already stepping outside of his body. It wasn't that bad if he dissociated early.

But Soap did not start to undress him. Didn't tug his pants down or get handsy. He didn't even touch him.

Nights were easily the best. Ghost had plenty of time to himself and Soap never touched him at night. He also put rain sounds on at night. It helped him sleep.

The withdrawals hit fast. His steady diet of alcohol and the painkillers he was prescribed for his.... entire body honestly. Soap was so sweet the entire time, knowing exactly how to help even though he refused to give him the drugs or the alcohol to make it stop.

Ghost felt lips against his forehead as Soap checked his fever. "Don't touch me like that."

"Just checking your temperature, Simon. You're so warm. I'm worried." He gave him more acetaminophen and gently pet his hair. "You're going to be okay."

Ghost grimaced as he moved. His vision turned fuzzy as the fever got worse. "Don't let the skeletons get me."

"the skeletons?"

"Yeah. They haunt my dreams. Roba made them."

"Who is Roba?"

Ghost swallowed. "He raped me. A lot. He kept me locked up."

Soap winced. "I'd never. Ever. I promise. I just want to love you, Simon." He put a wet rag over his forehead, trying to cool him down.

"I know. You wouldn't do that to me." Ghost smiled serenely, even as the world spun. Soap stayed next to him, protecting him from the night terrors and fever induced hallucination until he managed to get through it all.

He kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. Ultimatums or forcing himself upon him.

Soap never did. He had such soft hands that fed him and tied him looser and looser until one day he didn't bother.

"If you kill me, I'll be happy knowing I got to spoil you as long as I could."

Ghost didn't even try. The only difference was he (usually) fed himself. He had gotten spoiled and they both knew it.

Soap was gentle when he tried to ask Ghost if he wanted more. It was soft. Just a slight brush of his hands on Ghost's thigh before he grabbed Ghost's hand and held it. "Anything else I can do for you?"

Ghost wanted to say yes. Stupidly. But if he broke, he knew Soap would take whatever he wanted. Despite how good Soap was, he was still anxious. Unreasonably so.

It was absolutely reasonable. Soap was a kidnapper.

Soap nodded when Ghost turned him down and it didn't get brought back up. They watched movies on the couch and Ghost waited by the door whenever Soap had to leave and occasionally they went outside. It was winter and very cold so they didn't do it very often.

Ghost was spoiled and that's why when Soap slipped his shirt off to shower, he touched him. Tracing the tattoos on his back. Enjoying the feeling of him warm beneath.

"Your fingers are freezing." Soap commented, leaning into him. "Having fun?"

Ghost lightly leaned down and kissed his shoulder. "Yes. I am."

[sonicasura]

Let's be honest with ourselves that Transformers Earthspark has its issues. It isn't uncommon for the series to have a few messy iterations throughout the years. However those at least have something going for them.

Bayverse is a junk pile yet there's a lot of material you can build off on and some pretty interesting concepts. RiD15 is an awful sequel to Prime but does decently well as a standalone although there are much needed changes to be had. Earthspark... Well, it's just there.

I can be lenient with the plot holes and poor pacing as Nickelodeon is notorious for interfering with any show that isn't SpongeBob to the point of cancellation. The issues truly land on the characters themselves. I'm gonna try to simplify it without devolving into a rant like the previous draft.

Edit: Gonna add some further edits as I wrote this in the middle of the night. Plus my simplified version skipped some key details.

Robby. Somehow they made a human character I actually dislike instead of be neutral about. In the official Transformers wiki, he's labeled as a big brother who cares for his siblings but his actions so far say otherwise. Robby literally ran away in the first episode because they moved then decided to try and hide the Terrans from his parents.

Yet he rarely gets enough consequences for his actions. I think we don't just need less Emberstone saves not just because of plot armor but force actual character growth on him. Like a life changing to one of his siblings as consequences for his actions and strained relationship until he gets his head outta his ass.

Edit: Yes, I know Robby is a teenager but that isn't a decent enough excuse for his behavior. Seen the trope about big brothers who do act closed off or at some points rude but they haven't done shit that put their family in serious danger. No, I didn't try to purposely forget the times he was injured badly.

There honestly needs to be less of those and his consequences be adjusted to it affects someone else badly. *

Next issue is lacking confrontation with Optimus choices alongside the obvious misplaced trust in the 13 Primes. Quintus Prime literally emotionally manipulated and scarred Mo through a fake bad ending reality because she doubted herself. No good person would do that, much less an actual ally. Even moreso on a child.

I seen this shit in Trollhunters but at least Jim, the main character, was a teenager. (It still was wrong though.) We also got remember that Liege Maximo and Megatronus/The Fallen are Primes. Yet somehow it is best to trust them.

Don't get me started with some of Optimus' choices when it comes to GHOST. He probably did it to protect his Autobots but what about the Decepticons who are locked away? Why are there so little of his companions with him especially since Bumblebee had fucking went into hiding before the show began.

There needs to be tension between Optimus with his Autobots. Someone is bound to snap and Bumblebee would have the biggest impact. The man clearly isn't okay as he's doing things that even Megatron admits ain't like him.

Mandroid needs to be written differently. He has the making of a sympathetic villain but oh boy. First off it is clear that his depiction is ableist aligned since the reason he doesn't like Cybertronians is because he lost his arm. Major thing to change right there.

Give him a narrative where his interest been genuine but slowly declines as the Autobot/Decepticon war increases the number of destroyed lives. Let him become a victim to this than just 'I lost my arm so death alongside experimentation to all Cybertronians'. Also don't make Mandroid ignore the obvious fact that the Transformers parts he puts into his body is slowly poisoning and instead come up with ways to fight the infection. Kinda like in Ironman 2 where Tony's arc reactor began to do the same thing.

Edit: Mandroid's negative views on Cybertronians are about the war and he's aware of the Energon poisoning. It is just that it is poorly portrayed to the point you rarely see it over his Arachnamechs/his ruined life.

Have the man present various evidence of destruction the war caused by both sides at the Malto children or anonymously spread such info around town to sew discontent with the townsfolk. 'These are the people who you consider heroes. Who you see as family and friends. Or should these tragedies be forgotten?'

Do a Baxter Stockman where you frequently see him try to fix the Energon poisoning than just simple dialogue. Even have testing on organic subjects to see how they react and find ways to counter it. Don't keep these key points as simple dialogue. *

I don't think Karen needs much changes either. 'But her taking over Cybertron doesn't make sense!' It actually does for one reason: hubris. Have you ever seen what happens when you give a control freak power? Their behavior becomes more erratic as they begin to think they deserve more. She is xenophobic in nature so imprisoning Decepticons and ordering around the Autobots is a drug to her.

Karen wants to treat them like slaves so the next step in her mind is Cybertron. Her death is well deserved and well played. Just like Icarus, the bitch flew too close to the sun.

I think the last major issue, other than out of character racist Shockwave, is the Terrans. No offense but they need a bit less screentime so the rest of the cast can shine. We barely see Alex and there's unclarified issues involving Bumblebee with Arcee if he's uncomfortable around her.

I also want their flaws to be at the forefront. Thrash is the only one who gotten such character development from his encounter with Swindle. We need more of that! Like Hashtag's overreliance on the Internet biting her back as she is forced to use real world skills.

Edit: I accidentally put in Terrans when I really meant Twitch. The screentime for everyone needs to be balanced mainly for the Malto family. Alex alongside the three younger Terrans rarely get involved or their characters further build upon. Twitch needs to get benched more.

Also the Dad Number 2 should really be addressed. Wheeljack was clearly uncomfortable when it been brought up. Plus it is way too fast to even consider such ideas unless you plan to have it addressed properly. Like 'Kid. We barely know each other yet somehow I became a father figure in an instant? It's best not to do that until you truly certain "Dad Number 2" doesn't mean harm or feels comfortable with it.' *

Earthspark clearly has potential but these problems need to be handled better. Addong the deleted scenes help add some clarification but canon needs to present it. We are supposed to get a second season so hopefully some of these are addressed.