#like at a certain point you can only open the bag of dead bird so many times before it’s like stop it!!

[lyriumsings]

bruh i’m about to go to bed but i want to fight everyone who’s ever mean to lana in smallville

[plistommy]

First ’part!’

Steve dropped Robin off at her house after the drive home from college, laughing as she gave him that disappointed parent look while getting out of the car with her duffle bag.

He told her he was going to Eddie’s with a grin.

”You’re gonna make me puke,” She groaned ”No need for details tomorrow. And remember tomorrow too, we got an 8am shift. You better be there.

”Yeah, yeah! Love you!” Steve laughed as Robin pushed the car door close and flipped him the bird.

When Steve got to Eddie’s trailer, he bit his bottom lip with excitement as he parked his car and got up. He knew he had just gotten up from a six hour drive, but he still made sure to look as good as ever as he walked to the front door and knocked on it with a smile.

Surprisingly, Wayne was opening it and Steve straightened his posture immediately with a big smile.

”Hey, Wayne!”

”Steve,” the old man smiled. ”Back from the trip?”

”Yeah! Just dropped Robin off. It was nice, she really liked the place.” He said smoothly.

”That’s nice.” Wayne hummed. ”Eddie’s in his room practicing and I was about to head out for work. Feel free to come in and make yourself at home. I’m sure he’d like to see you.”

”Thank you.” Steve said with a smile. He knows how to act with parents. Always with respect and a little bit of that Harrington charm of his. Wayne was a nice man.

When Steve walked inside, Wayne told him they had food in the fridge and some beer, reminding him to tell Eddie to take a break from his practice because ’he always listens to you’ and then he was gone.

Steve took a deep breath before he started to walk towards Eddie’s room at the very back, the loud noise coming from his beloved electric guitar growing louder and louder as Steve got to his door.

He pushed it open, knowing knocking would be useless because Eddie wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Eddie had his dark hair on a ponytail, tattoos on display as he was shirtless with only sweatpants on - Steve’s sweatpants - while sitting on his bed with a concentrated look on his face.

And fuck did that make Steve horny as his eyes slowly took in all of him. His arms as he played, those fingers and especially the heavy outline of something big inside those sweatpants.

Steve had to bite back a moan. He needed to get it together, but who could blame him when his boyfriend was this hot.

The said boyfriend hadn’t noticed him yet, so Steve took a step forward and stopped right in front of Eddie and that’s when those big brown eyes looked up.

The playing stopped immediately.

”Steve?”

”Hey, babe.” He grinned.

Eddie was gaping at him before he was throwing his guitar to the floor, carefully, and got up. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him into a kiss, making Steve go little bit on to his tiptoes as Eddie pulled him closer.

Steve laughed a little but happily laid his hands to Eddie’s soft cheeks and deepened the kiss.

They made out for what felt like hours before Steve pulled away and took in Eddie’s flushed face.

”Missed me?” He said oh so sweetly and that got a reaction out of Eddie as he pinched Steve’s sides.

”Asshole,” Eddie started, the deep voice of his going a little high pitched when he was annoyed. ”You almost made me a dead man, you know that, right? And to hide it under my pillow for fucks sake. Wayne almost found it when he tried to change the sheets—”

”Wow wow wow, he tried to change your sheets? I thought he was picking up cans?”

”They were dirty because a certain person made a mess of himself last time and I didn’t have energy to, but not the fucking point, Steve!”

Steve just giggled loudly as Eddie went on and on about what a tease he was to leave that type of polaroid behind when he’d know how crazy Eddie would go over it.

Like that wasn’t the whole point.

Steve liked to be a tease.

When Eddie was rambling too much, Steve stopped him with a kiss on the lips and it worked, every single time.

He untangled Eddie’s hair and pulled him closer.

Eddie groaned into the kiss, hands roaming down on Steve’s body as they happily found their spot on top of the younger boy's ass.

A squeeze.

”Mhm, Eddie…” Steve moaned as he pulled back, letting Eddie kiss down his throat as he played with his ass.

Maybe he had been a little worked up too for the past three days. He just had it easier with Robin and their plans for the days to have some distraction while Eddie was at home with the polaroid.

Steve still wished he could’ve seen Eddie’s face when he found it.

It was of Steve's ass, but what drove Eddie so over the edge over it was how the picture was taken. With Steve spreading his right ass cheek so Eddie could see a small glimpse of his hole that was wet from lube.

And a small ’Missing your dick. Xo, Steve’ written at the bottom of the polaroid.

Eddie always loved when he spread his cheeks for him, so Steve did it on purpose.

”You drove me insane with a picture like that. Have no idea how much I've wanted to fuck you for the past three days. How much I’ve jerked myself off thinking about it being your hole wrapped around my dick…”

And oooh yeah. Steve was gone.

He pushed Eddie down to the bed, coming to straddle his hips as he leaned down to kiss him again. He grinded down to the other’s clothed cock and it made him already whine like a pathetic slut.

Steve wanted it so bad.

Eddie rubbed his ass and gave it a smack as Steve grinded down harder.

���Oh my god—” he cried and buried his face into the crook of Eddie's neck.

”Hmm, and you said I would be the one not being able to hold back?” Eddie said smugly.

”Fuck you,” Steve moaned and pulled his head back. ”Need your dick like, really badly, dude.”

Eddie chuckled and patted his cheek before pushing Steve off and manhandling him to lay down onto his belly.

”Oh, I know you do. Was the big boy so desperate for not being able to have my cock inside for three days?”

Oh god, this was so embarrassing, but so so hot. Steve just couldn’t believe he was the first one to crack after all of that teasing.

He arched his back as Eddie pulled down his tight jeans and underwear with one go and then he felt a hot tongue on his hole and fingers and fuck.

Steve had missed this. Even though it had only been three days.

Eddie always ate him out like he was made for it. He knew Steve’s body so well and he always left him wanting more after he had finished with him. It also helped that Eddie had a long tongue. And the skills coming with it.

He felt ringed fingers spreading open his cheeks as Eddie pushed his head deeper, letting out these obscene sounds as he literally moaned at the taste of him.

Steve couldn’t help but to moan back as he grinded his ass onto the other’s mouth, hands clutching Eddie’s sheets like his life depended on it.

”Missed your ass,” Eddie groaned when he pulled back a little, stretching closer to his bedside table to get the lube and soon Steve felt the cold liquid on his hole and two fingers pushing in.

”Yeeesss…” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head as they were fully seated inside him. Eddie didn’t give him time to settle, he didn’t even really need it, and started to fuck him with them.

He added a third finger pretty quickly, even fourth one as he fucked Steve open, getting him ready for his cock.

”Eds c’mon! Fuck me!”

”What’s the magic word?”

Steve groaned under him as Eddie pulled his fingers off.

”Please, Eddie,” Steve turned his head, brown eyes glossy with so much need ”Please.”

He was turned around again, jeans pulled off of him and his legs were thrown over Eddie’s shoulders as the older boy looked down at him with a wide grin.

Always taking advantage of Steve’s flexibility.

”Even though I love your ass, I love to look at your face even more.” He purred and then he was lining himself up and finally pushing inside Steve.

And Steve could’ve just cum on that spot.

His mouth was open in a silent scream as Eddie bottomed inside him, always so fucking long and thick Steve felt it in his throat.

Eddie was biting his bottom lip, eyes screwed shut as he was probably trying his best to not cum immediately as well.

”E-Eddie—” Steve whined and Eddie just moaned on top of him.

They kept still for a while until Steve started to squirm.

”Oh my god, Eddie, just fuck me!”

”Yeah, yeah, okay!” Eddie nodded hurriedly and pulled out before pushing right back in, making them both moan loudly.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s head when he started a rough peace, holding on for dear life as his boyfriend fucking devoured him.

It felt like they hadn’t fucked in years. They were going at it like animals and they probably sounded like onces too because they couldn’t help how loud they got.

Steve was just happy Wayne had left to work. He didn’t wanna think about the poor man hearing all of this.

”Mhm, you take me so well, Steve,” Eddie moaned and Steve just whined as an answer.

He tugged Eddie’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, but it was more like breathing and moaning into each other's mouths.

”Love your b-big cock!”

”Oh shit!” Eddie cursed, biting Steve’s earlobe as he picked up his pace. The skin on skin growing more frantic as Eddie’s hips met Steve’s ass.

Steve was sure he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, but he didn’t care. Not even when Eddie leaned closer to him and his legs were split apart so widely.

”You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” Eddie looked down at him and Steve gave a little laugh before Eddie’s dick hit that spot inside him that made his whole body tense as he came.

It felt like he would black out as his orgasm felt like it was never ending. He hadn’t felt this intense in a while.

”Shit you’re perfect, you’re, you’re so—” Eddie moaned as his orgasm hit him, his hips shaking a little as he filled Steve’s hole with so much cum.

They kept letting out little moans as they calmed down, both sweaty and gross. Eddie slowly let Steve’s legs fall down and it made Steve whine pitifully.

Eddie chuckled before dropping down next to him, cock slipping out and he pressed a soft kiss onto Steve’s cheek.

”You alright, baby?”

Steve nodded ”Uh-huh. Just a little… just a little,” he was trying to get out which just made them both crack up.

”I fucked you that good?”

Steve snorted ”Duh, man. You know how much I love your dick.”

Eddie groaned and leaned down to kiss Steve, pushing his brown locks away from his sweaty face.

”You need to stop with the teasing.”

Steve looked at Eddie and grinned ”Why? It seems to get me really good things.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes and patted Steve’s ass.

”I know, darling. But you can just ask me nicely next time.” He grinned, those cute dimples of his showing.

”What’s the fun in that?” Steve pouted ”I loved how you were all whiny when you called me. Soooo desperate.”

”Oh I was the desperate one now? Huh? You were the one to jump on by dick the second you got here!”

”And you let me.” Steve bit back with a sweet smile and Eddie laughed loudly.

”You little shit. I’m so gonna get back at you for this.”

Steve just giggled and let Eddie wrap his arms around him.

”No need, man. I already got your huuuge dick imprinted on my mind. No need for pictures.” Steve said, so casually, but he knew it was making Eddie go crazy.

That was confirmed when Eddie growled, fucking growled and snatched Steve by the hands and pulled them behind his back and...

They were going at it, again.

They had really missed each other.

And if Steve got a little late work the next day, he blamed jet lag. Robin said that wasn’t possible, but Steve kept to his words while she cursed him out.

Thankfully she forgave him the next hour when he brought her her favorite snacks and took care of the most annoying customers.

”How did Eddie react when you got back?” Robin asked when they were closing off.

”Thought you didn’t wanna know.”

”You’re right,” She sighed ”But I do wanna know if he gave you a hard time like you deserved to.”

Steve grinned a little and that’s all Robin needed to know as she gagged and made a face.

[bloggerspam]

And here it is!!! the finale :D

Sorry if me switching back to my main blog is confusing. I did a poll, and it looks like ya'll want me to continue using my main blog, and then reblog onto my sideblog instead of the other way around. It was trial and error figuring that out, lemme tell ya, but this is the way it's going to be now!

Thanks for sticking with me through this transitional phase of me trying to figure out the best way to do the sideblog thing. I'll reblog/update masterlist tomorrow morning :)

Now onto the finale! @aug-kissed

Week 4: First Kiss

===

When Danny arrives home, shoulders a little slumped from how he was essentially booted out by Lucius for clocking in too many hours, his apartment is dark and the only source of light is the lone window in the living room. 

It’s an open space plan, the flickering streetlights below provide very little visibility, but Danny ignores it. He doesn’t need more to see, what with his powers and all, and he’s too tired and grumpy to do anything about it anyway.

He really wanted to get this particular part done, for the new wheelchair modifications he’s been working on, but Lucius just couldn’t wait 5 more minutes. 

“It’ll be there next week, Nightingale.” Lucius had said to him as he tossed Danny’s bag at his face. “Besides, you’ve been saying five more minutes for an hour. It’s late. Go home.” 

Danny huffs, thinking about how he was veritably dragged and pushed out. Lucius had shoved Danny’s jacket into his arms in a way that effectively had him wrapped up, and he was deposited into a company paid taxi with an expertise the older man no doubt got from handling Bats. 

Putting aside the humiliation of being treated as one of those nosy vigilantes, Danny’s more miffed at the fact that he’s going to be thinking about that unfinished part all weekend now.

Maybe Tuck will have a new target for him? Or he could visit Sam and Val, go to the shooting range or something. Maybe visit Jazz and Ellie—a smile curves into his cheeks, or maybe he could see a certain pretty birdy…

He thinks about his options for distraction as he puts away his things. Shoes off, bag and jacket on the hook, keys in the tray. Just like Jazz taught him. 

He’s about to wander into the kitchen, see if there are any leftovers, when he notices it: an american robin, perched just outside his window on the fire escape rail.

There’s something…Other about it, the plumage of the little bird is more distinct in color: the red of its belly a little more red, brighter, as opposed to the usual orange its kind usually sports. The gray parts of it, around its head and wings, are darker, blacker. Its eyes give it away: they glow a little yellow, almost a trick of the light, like they’re simply reflecting the streetlights.

But Danny knows Other, so he approaches the little bird with a probably ill-advised sort of confidence and curiosity. Can curiosity still kill you if you’re already dead most of the way? But it's a moot point regardless: he’s a Cat, and he has a soft spot for Robins. 

He opens the window to step out with a grace he’s still surprised with, even after all these years. Sometimes he still feels like that 14 year old boy, stumbling his way through halfa-dom and vigilantism. Look at him now, a cat through and through. Thank the Gods for Selina Kyle.

He reaches out towards the bird as it tilts its head, but before he can make contact it flutters away towards a rooftop two buildings away, perching itself delicately upon a dainty finger. Following the hand he spots a woman standing there, looking away and smiling as she tucks her hair back against the wind. She’s familiar, but it still takes him a moment before the memory comes back. She looks very different, after all, when she’s not tied up and crying her eyes out.

Anastasia’s eyes glow yellow now, just for a moment, and then a black and white cat steps into existence beside her on the ledge. It rubs up on her as it passes to sit primly next to the hand holding the illusionary Robin, one eye green as emeralds and the other a watery ocean blue. 

The Cat and Robin nuzzle, which makes Danny smile. The meta woman vanishes the two, and even from far away Danny can see her smile, the way she mouths thank you as she twirls a finger to subtitle it with glowing white text in the air. A neat little trick that makes Danny chuckle. 

She hasn’t looked his way once, no doubt given strict instructions from the mastermind of all this. She points down, once, twice, before turning away with a wave over her shoulder, disappearing into the night just like her lovely illusions. 

Danny looks down, his smile growing as he spots a little business card taped to his balcony railing. One side has a time and a place embossed into it, just like the one Stray left. 

And just like the one Stray left, when Danny flips it over there’s a bright red kiss mark on it. 

He remembers sticking around, intangible and invisible, and feeling butterflies running havoc in his stomach as he watched Red Robin kiss his mark. It made him reach out, caress the vigilante, just a little, before snatching his hand back. Red Robin probably already suspected Danny’s not a normal human, but there was no need to be obvious about it—a true moment of weakness had overcome him. 

Danny knows the vigilante is watching him from somewhere, so he presses his barely contained smile against the mark, eyes closed and savoring, hoping Tim feels even a fraction of those butterflies Danny felt all those nights ago.

At least he has a plan for the weekend now, and something new to occupy his mind until then. 

===

The Gotham Museum was relatively empty for a sunny Sunday afternoon. 

The locals must be taking advantage of the rare nice weather to head to the various parks instead. Not that Danny was complaining in the least. The lack of crowds was nice, and meant that Danny found a free bench to sit and wait at fairly easily. 

The Museum has been hosting a special exhibit for the past couple weeks, a Halloween Special for the month of October. A whole slew of historical artifacts that were deeply entrenched in mysteries of the past, remnants of serial killers that never got caught, paintings and art based on spiritualism—on the occult and macabre. 

It seems like a bad idea, bringing that kind of juju into Gotham, but so far nothing bad has come of it. The people of Gotham have mostly just enjoyed the novelty of it, especially since it’s in line with the season. Danny himself has lightly scouted it before, to see if anything was worth stealing (there wasn’t). But he didn’t get to truly enjoy it, and hasn’t really had the time to revisit it in the light of day.

There’s something so very sweet of Tim to take Danny here for their first date, and hilarious considering what type things Stray as stolen. A spooky museum date may seem like in bad taste, but Danny lives for it. Tim must have done his research, which Danny appreciates. He’s always enjoyed how intensely curious the other man is, how thorough he is when he dissects his cases as Red Robin, how every corner is inspected in his work as co-CEO of WE.

It makes Danny shiver, thinking about that focus on him. Danny likes being a mystery, and he likes that Tim would like to pick him apart down to his minutiae. It’s thrilling. 

A breeze blows by, causing Danny to adjust himself lest he have an incident. He’s opted for a dressy kind of casual today, with a long sleeved button up shirt, midnight blue with gold constellation patterns littered about it. It’s tucked into a high waisted dark brown pleated skirt that goes down to his ankles, with a thick leather belt that has a gold buckle. He’s chosen to wear black tights underneath, in accordance to the weather despite the fact that he doesn’t really feel the cold anymore, with chunky platform boots. 

He accessorized the entire outfit with a variety of gold chains, because Danny can’t resist a good theme. He has them around his neck where the ring of rage and crown and fire hang in shrunken form, on his wrist in a delicate bracelet, from the top of his ear to the lobe of it—connecting the cuff and dangly star earrings he’s put in. Even his bag, an over the shoulder number that’s shaped like a midnight blue and gold star, has a thick gold chain strap. He’s even done a little make up: mascara and a light concealer, with of course a bright bright red lip. 

He’s unexpectedly nervous, but before he can really truly spiral a shadow dips into his periphery. 

Danny has seen Timothy Drake-Wayne at galas before, many times even, whenever he’s dragged to one with Sam. The co-CEO has always looked so sharp, clean cut, like the very tip of a freshly cut diamond gem. It’s always long crisp lines and white picket fence smiles, genial and open, an American Dream. 

But here, in the autumn sun and October breeze, it’s just Tim who has come for him.  

A sweet boy with a sweet smile, a gleam to his eye that spells trouble—charming in how dorky and boyish he is. He’s wearing an MIT sweater over a forest green button down, the collar of it just as crisp as his gala suits but softened with his slightly messy hair. He’s got on some clearly ironed khaki shorts and tall white socks with a green accent on them, with some white sneakers to go with the whole fit. It’s simple, but clean. 

He looks like any other college student, just a little dressed up, if Danny didn’t know his shoes were $600 Alexander McQueen leather sneakers and that the watch he’s wearing cost more than his rent. Not to mention that he knows for a fact that Timothy Drake-Wayne is a high school dropout. It’s a subtle kind of rich, and a funny little joke besides—did the other man buy that sweater because MIT is Tim backwards? Though Danny does appreciate the bright yellow UNIQLO shoulder bag, it’s a bright little spot of color that makes him smile. It’s even nicer that Tim smiles back at him. 

“Hello, Pretty Kitty.” Tim’s voice is light, and he has this look about him that reminds Danny of a puppy waiting to be praised. Danny isn’t fooled by the I’m just a Guy demeanor—he can see the way his eyes dart this way and that, surveilling their surroundings. The way he eyes Danny head to toe with an appreciation, a hunger—it makes him shiver, the way Tim’s eyes eventually fixate on his lips. Old money nepo baby or not, there’s no doubt the vigilante is always hidden under the surface—a sleeping bird of prey. 

Tim offers him a hand up, which he takes, and is delighted to note that with his boots he’s an inch or two taller. He also notices, with the way other man’s eyes go a little half-lidded, that Tim seems to be equally delighted about it too. Danny flips their clasped hands so that his own is cupping Tim’s, and brings it to his lips to kiss lightly on the back of it, keeping eye contact the entire time just so he can see the other man’s eyes dilate in pleasure. 

Danny’s heart flutters. “Hello, Handsome Bird.” 

===

The date is good—no, the date is phenomenal. 

It’s fun going around the museum with Tim, making fun of the more absurd artifacts, sharing anecdotes of their strange night lives and even more bizarre day lives. 

Neither of them are delusional—Danny knows Tim did extensive research on him, on his history and clearly doctored life, just as he knows that Tim knows Danny did the same.

Tim didn’t have to keep making little allusions to Danny’s previous life, but the throwaway comment about it not being the first time Tim has taken down an organization was appreciated. And hot. 

He might take him up on that, though with how incompetent the GIW are it’s hardly necessary. Val seems to be having fun running circles around them back home anyway. Though Jazz might like not having that worry on her plate, no matter how small of a worry it was. 

Danny gives as good as he gets, taking Tim by the hand to drag him close, whispering in his ear and making little comments referencing Tim’s other life, his siblings, making little jokes about dads and their interesting hobbies. A fursona is mentioned, once or twice, just to make Tim laugh at the little hypocrisy.

Danny is not going to lie, especially not to himself: he was scared when he decided to take the leap. It was a gamble, actually doing something with the tension between Stray and Red Robin. There was no guarantee that Tim would have accepted Danny in all his weird, half ghost bullshit. 

But when Red Robin had cornered him that night, about his M.O., about why Stray stole the things he did, well. It led to Tucker doing a deep dive. It led to Sam sharing her suspicions about a certain Crime Fighting Furry from when she was forced to all those galas as a kid. It led to Danny connecting dots about one, if not both, of his indirect bosses. It led to the conclusion that eventually, something was going to give. 

Because Red Robin was relentless, and knowing that the vigilante and Timothy Drake Wayne were one and the same? They would be fools not to see that the end was nigh. 

So he took the chance, and Gods, is he happy he did. 

“There’s a diner just around the corner,” Tim is saying, gesturing with his free hand as he guides Danny outside the Museum with the other hand gently braced against his lower back, “One of the chefs is Indian, so even though most of the menu is American, they’ve got some tasty fusions going on for the more adventurous sort.”

Danny can’t help but smile at Tim’s enthusiasm, a little surprised that he even knows Danny likes Indian food. It’s a little above and beyond, some might even say too far, but considering who they are and what they do? It’s sweet that Tim would look into the littlest things for their date. 

The walk to the diner is short and pleasant, if a little cold. It gives Danny the excuse to snuggle up to Tim and watch a little blush light up on ears and neck, which charms Danny to no end. 

When they’re seated at a booth, Danny decides to slide in next to Tim, instead of across. That seems to throw Tim off a bit, by the way his face scrunches up cutely. Danny bypasses it by simply lifting the other man’s left arm to fit himself snugly against him, which quickly cuts off anything Tim might have said about it as he pulls Danny just that little bit closer.

Tim orders a chicken fried curry and grits, and Danny orders a burger with an order of garam masala spiced onion rings. Danny takes particular joy in feeding Tim one, as well as insisting on two straws for his Chai Milkshake.

It’s surprisingly good, and exceedingly cute how shy Tim is, considering how touchy they’ve been with each other. 

Danny is practically sitting in his lap, and Tim keeps fiddling with Danny’s hair, the nape of his neck, running his fingers down Danny’s side causing little shivers. It's frankly impressive how Tim manages to eat curry with one hand and pet at Danny with his left simultaneously, all while holding a conversation with Danny. 

Danny settles back onto Tim’s shoulder when they’re done and waiting for dessert (a slice of mango lassi pie for him, a slice of coconut cream pie for Tim). They’re talking lowly now, making abstract references to their night lives, when Danny notices a fading mark just below Tim’s collar. 

He twists slightly, still leaning on Tim, hooking his finger into the vigilante’s collar and tugging a little before gently pressing a finger against this. 

“It hasn’t faded yet?” Danny whispers, because it’s his mark, he knows it, recognizes it now. 

“Thankfully not,” Tim grasps Danny’s probing hand into his, smiling softly. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since I got them. I only wish…”

“Wish what?” Danny hums as Tim trails off, transfixed by the way Tim has brought his hand up to nuzzle against it, the corner of Tim’s lips tracing a long line down from the tips of his fingers to the sensitive inside of his wrist. 

“Wish I did the same—left you a gift to remember me by, I mean.” Those dark blue eyes, like royal blue sapphire, never stray from Danny’s, almost hypnotizing him. 

“That’s an easy fix, isn’t it?” Danny breathes out, zeroing in on how Tim’s lips are pressed against his wrist now, not quite kissing, before they open just slightly. He can feel Tim’s breath, warm and soft, as he smirks and slowly latches on. 

It should be awkward, watching a man suck a hickey into your wrist. It isn’t—it’s so hot Danny can barely even stand it, and is about to do something about it.

That is, until the waitress comes by with their dessert. Danny blinks, and suddenly Tim is all charming smiles and hands in laps, thanking the waitress and cheekily smirking at him as he brings up a spoonful of pie to feed Danny.

Danny takes his revenge by eating the pie as sinfully as he can. 

If the way Tim keeps eying him like a hawk and insisting to feed Danny himself is anything to go by, he succeeds. 

It’s a hollow victory, however, if you consider the way Danny’s face doesn’t seem to cool down the entire rest of the date, especially whenever he catches sight of the hickey on his wrist.

He’ll call it a draw.

===

Danny lifts a hand to cradle Tim’s cheek, gentle as he can manage, keeping his fingertips away in habit despite the lack of gloves and claw. Tim brings his own hand up to cup Danny’s hand as he nuzzles into the palm of it. Danny’s heart is loud enough he’s afraid the whole building will come down, even more so when Tim turns into Danny’s palm, lifting it slightly to kiss the hickey he left there at dinner, lingering and never taking his eyes away from Danny’s. 

“Can I kiss you?” Danny’s voice is barely a whisper but it feels like it echoes through the empty hallway. Tim grins at him, a little bashful and cheeky at the same time, no doubt remembering the last time this question came up between them. 

“Handsome guy like you? I’d be a fool not to let you.” Danny grins back at Tim’s response, feeling his eyes blink green briefly, flashing a little fang and catching the way Tim’s eyes dilate just that bit more. He slides his other hand up, hooking his arms around Tim’s neck to bring him a little closer. 

“You are hardly a fool, Tim Drake-Wayne.” They both lean in, hard to say who does it first, and Danny finally, finally gets to taste that smirk Red Robin loves to flash when he thinks he’s won. 

It tastes sweet, the sweetest thing Danny’s ever tasted. 

They savor each other, before Danny gets a little impatient, kitten licking at the seam of Tim’s lips. The other man grants him access easily, and that—that tastes even better. 

They quickly get lost in each other, in the feel of each other. Danny distantly recognizes that he’s been pushed up against his front door, that Tim’s hand is sliding from his upper back down, slowly, leaving a burning trail of heat behind. He feels that hand push against his lower back, bringing him closer, and Danny’s okay with that, more than okay even—

And then suddenly the pressure of the door behind him is gone, and he’s being walked backwards. Danny blinks out of the haze of wet and heat, tilting his head up and panting as Tim licks at the sweat on his neck, realizing that Tim has lockpicked his way through Danny’s front door. One-handed. 

“Why the fuck is that so hot—” Danny groans as Tim bites a a particularly vicious hickey into his shoulder, getting cut off as his lips are once more consumed. 

The door is kicked closed, and the next thing he knows Tim has turned them around to slam Danny back against the front door and latch onto his neck again. 

“Lockpicking turns on the thief, who would have thought?” Tim laughs, voice raspy and only a little wrecked, which is unfair because that is a lot of coherence going on when Danny’s kind of a mess. “Besides, I didn’t want to give your neighbors a free show—wanna keep you to myself.” 

Danny melts a little as Tim, feather light, runs the back of his finger against Danny’s cheek where he knows a blush is fiercely painted on his face from the consideration. Danny doesn’t remember being this flustered or hazy when he was the one giving the hickeys, but then again, Stray has always been more confident than Danny has ever been. 

He tries to channel a bit of Stray now, arching up and looking at Tim from under his eyelashes. It’s a feat, considering he still hasn’t taken off his shoes and is still taller than him. He’s delighted to note that Tim has a smear of red lipstick all over his lips and a part of his cheek. 

“If you wanted a show, all you had to do was ask, Red.” Danny feels Tim freeze, his other hand gripping at Danny’s waist tightening just a little bit before letting go as if being careful not to leave bruises. Danny feels a little thrill crawl up his spine, because oh does he want bruises. 

Danny smoothly slips out of Tim’s arms (without even using his powers!), getting to work. By the time Tim has gotten his wits about him to turn around, Danny already has his shoes off with a hand braced on the corner wall, peeking back out with a little cheeky grin, pointing at the other man’s feet.

“No shoes in bed, darling.” Danny starts shedding his jewelry and belt, heading towards his bedroom with a little skip in his step and a hum in his throat. 

He hears Tim scrambling to take his shoes off behind him, and smiles in victory as he unbuttons his shirt. Hands latch onto his waist, causing Danny to gasp as Tim lavishes with more kisses to the neck, growling a little about teasing little Cats as he’s turned and backed up onto the bed. There’s a frantic push and pull, as clothes get tossed away amidst Danny’s giggles and Tim’s laughter, as kisses get stolen and hands roam this way and that. 

There’s a moment where he catches a glimpse of them in the vanity mirror next to his bed. The smeared lipstick and bitten marks all over his neck and shoulders, hair a disheveled mess as Tim licks his way down down down. He loses himself to the feeling of it, drifting away with only a single thought beyond good and yes and more:

Gods, does Red look so good on him.

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

===

There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria. 

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

------------------------

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

------------------------

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

------------------------

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

------------------------

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

------------------------

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

[mythicandco]

She isn’t sure why she says it.

Maybe out of pure curiosity - because it’s just the first name that pops into her head, for some reason.

But a name pierces the eerie quiet of the strange in-between dimension, a place that looks like a Demon Realm-style fun house on steroids. Dark liquid lapping against the wildly-twisting, greenish walls is the only sound here other than a human girl’s breathing.

“Philip Wittebane.”

The moment the name leaves her tongue Luz Noceda realizes she should probably check on her mother. Wasn’t that the whole point of this in the first place? But before she gets a chance to correct herself, a cube slowly floats out of the dark liquid around her, as though simply appearing for her is a difficult task. For a few moments it simply hovers there, it’s sides dripping black goo.

Then the side closest to her turns shiny and gold. Her heart rate increasing, the girl moves forward to take it - and then stops. What if it’s just his coffin, or something? Certainly Philip Wittebane would be long dead by now if he’d written his journal back in the 1600s.

But curiosity once again triumphs over doubt and Luz takes the cube in her hands. The worst that could happen is I see a skeleton, she thinks. Big deal. I’ve seen skeletons before.

Unlike the cube that showed her King, Eda, and Hooty, it takes a moment of her holding it for the thing to flash white and transfer her into a reflection. She finds herself holding her breath, and when the cube finally responds to her touch, the girl is caught off-guard and nearly drops it, severing the connection.

Luz is able to hold on, however, and she blinks as things come into focus around her. She is in the reflection of a glass picture frame. It’s holding up some painting of a black spider and a little red bird, she thinks, but her face is so close to the parchment she can’t tell for sure.

She turns her attention to the room around her, and chokes back a gasp at the most notable feature - a large, circular ring with white-and-gold wings splayed at its sides. It vaguely resembles Hunter’s staff, but that isn’t the most worrying part - it’s being constructed around the portal door, which was supposed to be destroyed. Worst of all, it looks nearly completed.

Luz covers her mouth and ducks to the bottom of the reflection as something moves in the dark - an old man with dirty blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and a dark green scar on his face. He’s wearing robes typical of the Emperor’s Coven, but she doesn’t recognize him-

Wait.

Is that Emperor Belos? Without his mask? Luz never thought she’d actually see him like this. He looks... like a sad old man. The girl frowns, but then the impact of what this means hits her full-force and her eyes widen in pure shock. She had said Philip’s name.

“NO,” she says aloud. “NO WAY.”

Belos stiffens and spins around, his eyes narrowing. They dart to his mask, which is laying next to a closed book a few feet away from him. “Who’s there?” he demands. “Spying on the emperor is an offense punishable by death.”

Luz drops the cube out of pure reflex, severing her connection to the castle. It begins to sink back into the goo, but she lets out a yelp and grabs it again.

“No, bad cube,” she scolds. “I still need your help.” Luz loosens her hold on it, but it doesn’t light up again. “Hey, come on, go back to the castle,” she says. “Please?”

The cube doesn’t respond. She shakes it. Still nothing. “Let me see Emperor Belos again! Come on, cube!” But the cube doesn’t listen. Luz grunts in frustration.

“You’re on a mission, Luz. Focus.” Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, the girl does just that.

“Show me Philip Wittebane.”

It still kind of shocks her that it works; but it does, and Luz finds herself in the reflection of the eye on the door. Staring straight at Emperor Belos.

Both sides let out identical exclamations of surprise, and for the fourth time in the past half an hour, Luz almost drops the godforsaken cube. She hisses “mierda” under her breath before she can stop herself, and is surprised to hear Belos use a profanity of his own that she easily recognizes as from the Human Realm.

The two stare at each other for a moment, and Luz takes another few moments to look at Belos’s face. He really does seem like a sad, old man, even more so up close. His blue eyes have no shine in them, and his hair is in desperate need of a good combing through. She can only see one of his ears, but it’s noticeably smaller than any other witches’ she’s seen so far and has a nick in it, and a disturbing thought occurs to her that she quickly pushes aside.

Heavy bags under his eyes - even more noticeable than the Golden Guard’s - are also present, but the most horrifying part of his face is the strange green scar. Luz doesn’t know what it’s from, but it doesn’t look like anything from the Human Realm.

“Surprised?” she asks, summoning up every ounce of strength that she can. Belos can’t hurt her where she is right now, she’s pretty sure. Even if he destroyed the reflection, it would be destroying the door, and she’s fairly certain that that would only sever the connection again, not actually kill her. He takes a step back with a grimace.

“The Owl Lady’s human pet,” the emperor practically snarls, and Luz flinches. “Guess it was only a matter of time before you tapped into this as well.”

Luz has no idea what he means, but she holds her ground. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier when your notes are helping me with it,” she replies. “You are Philip Wittebane, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles for some reason. Now is not the time to get excited about a potentially very dramatic backstory, she mentally tells herself.

Even if you really, really, really want to hear everything about it and take notes.

It’s Belos’ turn to wince, and he reaches for his mask. “You got ahold of my journal?” he asks in a voice that sounds more surprised than resentful.

“It was in the library for a reason,” Luz neglects to mention the paper dragon and the Forbidden Stacks and Amity-

No, Luz. Focus. “But, um, yes.”

A dry laugh escapes the emperor’s throat. “I assumed no one was going to let a human into the Forbidden Stacks.”

Luz blinks, the puzzle pieces in her mind still not quite fitting together. “But if you’re Philip Wittebane, then doesn’t that make you human, too?” She is pretty sure that was right, but with her brain still kind of frazzled by the fact that Philip and Belos were the same person, she might’ve forgotten how the laws of nature worked.

Belos chuckles again, this more sharp and harsh. Luz backs up, but with holding the cube in her hands she doesn’t get any further away from him. He puts the mask on and turns away. “I’m hardly human anymore.”

This is an interesting development. “Ooh, is this like from the Henry Pottery books? If you drink unicorn blood, you’re immortal, but also-”

“This is nothing like that.”

“Oh.” Luz frowns. “Could you tell me what it actually is, then?”

Belos whirls around, uncomfortably close to the door’s reflection. “No.”

Luz let’s out a yelp and the cube shatters in her hands. “Crap,” she says, trying to take the pieces and put them back together. Apparently he did get mad enough to break the door. With a deep inhale, the girl tries to steady herself.

Remember, Luz, she tells herself mentally. You’re on a mission to contact your mom. Worry about what just happened once you tell her what’s going on. She’s still freaking out a little, but the girl breathes a few times and promises herself she’ll look into the Philip-Belos mystery once this is over and taken care of. She opens her eyes again.

“Camila Noceda.”

[jelly-fried-rice]

Hello!!! i hope ur doing great!!

So may i request Matt x tom in which matt confesses to tom in the most absurd way possible? :D

Oh my lord first ask here we go- I imagine he wouldn't do anything too drastic or absurd, but this is definitely out of the norm. Just as if he never really dated someone seriously before so he goes searching in ways to let someone know they like them and he comes across a bird website without reading it's for birds-

[[Edit: oh my god this whole thing deleted itself sorry this took so long- Luckily I keep short back ups in my google drive when I write. And sorry it's not my best work, but these are drabbles after all]]

Matt x Tom

Matt confessing to Tom in an absurd way.

As much as Matt comes off as a confident guy, he over thinks a lot. And with overthinking, comes extensive planning and researching. Lots of note taking

He likes Tom as much as he likes himself, but he never had to impress himself before so he wouldn't know what exactly gets people "wowed"

Matt searches of subtle ways that you can confess to someone, but something that would make an impact for sure! And what better resource to use other than trusty Google?

He used Tom's laptop instead of using his phone like a normal person. Probably just to get time to talk to him and bring up conversation. Well, it worked!

Ignoring the fact he didn't check the domain of the website or the title of the article, he quickly got to reading.

Dancing? That's a way to confess to someone and attract them to you? He did take ballet in year 4 of school- No. He hasn't practiced in years so he wouldn't be up to perform.

Building? Like, what, a house? No, he couldn't do any arts and crafts let alone a whole building.

Singing? A love confession through a song would be sweet- if he could only remeber the lyrics of any song. He could hum for sure, but his memory was never the best so memorizing lyrics could take months!

Rocks! Well, more like pebbles and stones to be exact. Something that looks pretty and would be easy to carry? Matt can get behind that! It would be a sure way to get Tom to notice his feelings towards him, right? Sentimental things seemed to be something Tom cared about, since he had the same guitar bass for years and kept his childhood bear in mint condition.

With a short shout of "fuck", Tom has retracted his foot from the floor only to find a smooth and pointed stone. He raised a brow in annoyance and sighed, bending over and picking up the amber stone. It's pretty for sure, but nothing he would think about at first glance.

He placed it on his desk, to question Tord later on about it. Lord knows this was one of his stupid ways of minorly inconveniencing the Brit in his day-to-day schedule.

"Tord better have a good excuse for putting tiny hazards in my room again-"

He turned to his bed, only to have the utter look of disbelief on his face.

A whole pile of pebbles and small stones, neatly piled on his freshly made bed. Either Tord was seriously fucking with him or it was the other two. He leaned towards the ladder, mostly due to the fact that Tord would have left his bed a mess or even hide the stones underneath the covers, the messy way it was before he got back home. But now it was neatly made along with a large pile of rocks sitting innocently enough on top.

And with a quick knock and no other warning, Matt barged into Tom's room. Which was quite odd seeing as Matt usually hated to invade someone else's personal space in such a way.

Matt looked as if he were the one supposed to be in shock.

"Tom! Uh, you were out with Edd minutes ago- I promise I have a good explanation!" Matt scrambled to hide the bag behind his back, but it was no use. The clinking sound of stones clashing against each other was a dead giveaway, not to mention the guilt on his face alone.

That's when Tom remembered the tab left open on his laptop. The bird courting rituals- surely Matt wasn't doing what he thought he was?

"Matt, you DO realize that certain birds give stones and pebbles to thier potential mate, not humans. Right?"

...

A long, uncomfortable 5 seconds of silence passed. At this point Matt didnt bother to hide the bag in his hand any longer. He looked disappointed, but also nervous since he knew Tom had common sense and put two and two together. Wait- since when did his face suddenly feel so hot?

"Y-you mean I gathered all these pretty stones for nothing?"

The dark eyed man approached the ginger calmly, taking the bag and placing those on his desk along with the amber stone. He pulled in the taller man into a comforting hug and sighed.

"I accept the pebbles and your silly confession Matt. But lord help me if I find a pebble in bed while I'm sleeping tonight."

[sunflowersupremes]

The Trade

All is not well in Gil-Galad’s war camp.

Characters: Elrond, Eönwë’

Background Eönwë/Maglor because I love them.

Read on AO3

They’d been traded.

He knew - he truly knew - deep down that it hadn’t been a fair trade. Maglor had given his sons away in return for being left alone by Gil-Galad, which Gil-Galad was already doing. It was a trade on paper, and nothing else.

If the Feanorians had also been given a few wagons of supplies, it was mostly because their camp was starving (that had been added to the agreement only after Cirdan - Gil-Galad’s messenger - had seen the condition of the Feanorians and their followers).

No, in truth it had been the easiest way to ensure everyone stayed alive. The longer the war raged the fewer supplies the Feanorians were able to find. Crops would not grow and game was scarce.

Maglor had given them up because he would not let them go hungry, and he had cut his own rations to feed them until Maedhros had ordered him to stop.

That didn’t make it sting less.

He was glad to be in the army, to be making a stand against Morgoth, but every time Eönwë - the leader of the Valar’s forces - would compliment him, Elrond would have to bite his lip. He was forbidden from asking why the Valar had not come to their aid sooner (he had done it once, in front of the entire court, and Eönwë had been spared having to answer by Gil-Galad swooping in to drag his herald off).

Even his position as Herald - which again, he did enjoy to an extent - was given to him to keep him under the king’s eye, because they did not seem to trust him.

Elros was spending more and more time with the Edain, who seemed to have elected him as some sort of leader. No one was watching him to see what he would do (probably because he had not yet stirred trouble by asking King Finarfin if he thought it was fair that Beren was returned and not Andreth. He hadn’t meant to upset the king, he just thought it was a fair question).

At least that incident had finally gotten a reaction out of Gil-Galad. He was tired of being simply sent away like an errant child, with nothing more than a plea to behave himself next time or to think before he spoke.

He did think before he spoke.

That was why he spoke.

But after he’d nearly reduced the king of Tirion to tears, prompting Finrod to shoo Elrond away, Gil-Galad had finally shouted at him, telling him to stop acting like a child and sending him to help reinforce the walls around their camp.

Eönwë stopped by to see him again, studying him with large, owlish eyes that mirrored the night sky behind him. Then he pointed to the bag on Elrond’s hip, where the Peredhel had taken to hoarding food, instinct telling him that the next meal might not come. “You will not go hungry here, half-elven,” the Maia said gently. “We have supplies aplenty.”

He gripped the leather strap more tightly, narrowing his eyes. “Then why can you not share with the others outside your camp? The Sindar, the Dwarves, the Feanorians, the Mortals of the south? Are they nothing to the Valar?”

Eönwë had, once again, been spared needing to reply by Gil-Galad. The king had come from no where to grab Elrond’s arm, sinking nails through his cotton shirt, and promised that Elrond would not trouble him anymore. As soon as Eönwë was out of sight, the scolding had begun.

It had devolved into a screaming match fairly quickly. Elrond accused Gil-Galad of trading in slaves; Gil-Galad had said he was no more a slave to him than he had been to the Feanorians.

The half-elf had said that the king didn’t understand; the king had accused Maglor of abusing the twins.

Elrond had threatened to join Elros and the Edain; Gil-Galad had replied that Elrond wasn’t forced to remain.

At that, Elrond had snapped that he was going to find his family. Gil-Galad had shouted that he was more than welcome to, in fact, he was ordering Elrond to do that.

Of course, Gil-Galad thought he meant Elros, but it wasn’t his fault the king was an idiot.

Elrond practically gloated as he packed and slipped away, heading not for the Edain’s camp, but into the woods. He’d gathered up as much food as he could fit in his saddle bags, and simply walked out of camp, heading to the east where he had last seen the Feanorians.

Back in camp, all hell had broken loose. It was Finrod who had realized he wasn’t with the Edain, when he had gone to visit them. A few people had suggested leaving Elrond to die on his own, but Elros had threatened to disband the Edain army if his brother wasn’t found (no one was certain if he had the authority to do that, but they really didn’t want to find out).

Finally a blue jay had swooped into the camp and chirped at Manwë’s herald. Eönwë had announced that Elrond was merely following the king’s order to return to his family, and Gil-Galad had shouted that Elrond had known exactly what he meant and that he was going to find the half-elf himself and tan his hide (Manwë’s herald had seemed strangely amused by the fight).

No one thought it was a great idea to send the king out on his own, so Cirdan had simply said that he would go and set off before he could be stopped.

But it wasn’t Cirdan that found him.

He felt the Maia before he heard him, but he kept going, his eyes glued stubbornly on the path in front of him. He’d filled his horse’s back with supplies, so he walked instead, leading the horse by her reins.

After a few moments, a voice echoed from around him, asking, “Where are you going, half-elf?”

“Should you not be leading an army, my lord Eönwë?”

The Maia materialized beside him, falling in step easily. “You will not find them where you are going.”

“Then I will keep looking.”

“Their camp has been disbanded. Their followers have joined the Edain army.”

Elrond tightened his grip on the horse’s reins. “Where are they?”

“I know not. Something to the southeast, I believe.”

Elrond turned his feet southeast. Eönwë followed him. “Your king is distressed.”

“My king ordered me to go to my family.”

“You knew what he meant, did you not? Your brother is to the west, by the sea, and yet you travel southeast.”

“My family is there,” Elrond replied.

“They are not your family.”

“They raised me.” He swallowed. “I love them.”

Eönwë seemed to consider. “They would not want you to do this, I should think. They sent you away for your own-“

“Why do you care!?” Elrond turned sharply, narrowing his eyes at the bird-like Maiar.

Tilting his head, Eönwë raised a feathered eyebrow. “Why should I not?”

Elrond snapped his head back to the path in front of them. “I’m not allowed to ask you why no one protected us from Morgoth sooner, if you care so much.”

Eönwë chirped, almost sounding amused. “It was not my decision, young lord Peredhel.”

He snorted. Then - with a bit more caution than he usually spoke with - he looked sideways and asked, “What if it had been your decision?”

“It was my Lord Manwë-“

“But what if it wasn’t?”

Eönwë blinked at him. A cloud drifted by in his large blue eyes. “I do not enjoy war.”

“Neither do we,” Elrond pointed out, breaking their eye contact.

For a while, they traveled in silence. Birds called out to them from the trees, and occasionally Eönwë would twitter back at them.

Finally, Elrond broke the silence, “Ever since the Nirnaeth, there’s been no food,” Elrond said quietly. “Kanafinwë said it wasn’t so bad at first, but as the years passed everyone began to see the damage.”

He blinked, feeling tears in his eyes but refusing to let the Maia see him cry. “Kana would go hungry to make sure we ate.”

“The land is poisoned.”

“Why?” Elrond stopped, turning to look up at Eönwë. “I know the Exiles brought the Doom upon themselves, but it was not just the Exiles who suffered.”

Eönwë sighed, expelling enough air to send up little clouds of dust at their feet. “I cannot give you an answer you will find satisfactory, Elrond.”

He looked off into the woods, at the gnarled and twisted trees, dead leaves drifting by even though it ought to have been the height of summer. “I can tell you that the Valar are much bereaved, that they find no joy in the suffering of anyone, even those who have forsaken them, and that Melkor has long been on their minds.”

Elrond sighed. “Am I going to find them?” he asked quietly.

“I do not think so,” said Eönwë. “And even if you did, I imagine you would be sent back.”

He swallowed and nodded slowly. His feet had begun to ache, and he had no idea how long it had been since he had last slept. It certainly felt as though he’d been traveling for hours, perhaps all night, but under the twisted trees of Beleriand it was difficult to tell the time.

“How far back to camp?” he asked wearily.

Eönwë’s eyes glittered with stars, his lips almost quirking up in a smile. “No so far as you might think. I have been leading us in circles.” He looked remarkably pleased with himself.

Elrond glared at him.

The Maia whistled loudly - Elrond winced and covered his ears - and a large hawk swooped down to land on a branch above them. “Leave the bags,” said Eönwë quietly. “He will take them to your family. I can… make an exception for this, I think.”

Elrond didn’t ask what he meant by exception. It wasn’t hard to understand he wouldn’t be able to help his family again.

They made quick work of removing the bags from the horse’s back, and the hawk simply gathered them up in his talons and took off with a powerful flap of his wings, throwing up a blinding cloud of dirt.

Elrond was practically shaking from exhaustion by the time the bird was out of sight, and he barely noticed Eönwë grabbing him and lifting him onto the horse’s back. He let the Maia take the horse’s reins and leading them back the way they had come.

Elrond was nearly asleep before he heard the Maia quietly say, “Kanafinwë was a friend of mine. If you have need of an ear, mine will always be open.”

He nodded, leaning forward against the horse’s neck with his eyes closed. “He only allowed the trade because he heard you were leading the army,” Elrond confessed. He yawned. “Maitimo nearly called it off when he heard about you.”

Eönwë laughed and the Maia’s hand came up to rest on Elrond’s shoulder. “Rest little Peredhel,” he cooed. “I shall handle your king.”

How many dads does Elrond have at this point? Because somehow Elrond’s dad is, all at once, a star, two mass murderers, a shipwright, a king, and one (1) bird boy.

Also Eönwë totally thinks he can teach Elrond to fly (since Elrond is part Maia AND the son of Elwing) and there’s a 50% chance that someone (probably Gandalf) had to convince him that “throwing Elrond off a cliff to see if he sprouts wings” is a really bad idea.

1

Okay but AU where Elrond befriends Eönwë and after the War of the Wraith Eönwë is like “you know who should guard the Silmarils? Elrond. Because Elrond would absolutely not hand them over to the Feanorians when they come looking for them, because that would be against the will of the Valar and he should be very careful not to accidentally fall asleep on account of his mortal blood. No. Elrond would never do those things. Elrond is a good child, very reliable, and his brother is the king so even if some accident happens he would have diplomatic immunity.

Manwë strikes me as the type of guy that you could absolutely lie to his face and he would believe you just because he wants to think the best of everyone. So if Eönwë was like “oh no, I don’t think Elrond meant for the Feanorians to just… walk out with the jewels… thereby avoiding any more bloodshed… and fulfilling their oath…” Manwë would probably believe him. (also by the end of the War of the Wraith Manwë is just 100% done and even if he did figure out the lie he’d be like ‘FUCK IT. FINE. PROBABLY BEST THAT NO ONE HAS THOSE DAMN ROCKS ANYWAY.’

2

Another great idea is imagining Eönwë just periodically showing up in Middle Earth to check on an increasingly exasperated Elrond who just wants to live his own life, but Eönwë keeps patting him on the head and calling him “little Peredhel” and offering certified ‘Terrible Advice’ because Eönwë doesn’t understand anything about how people actually work.

Eönwë couldn’t be one of the Istari because Manwë knew if they sent him he would just move into Rivendell and possibly never leave and also drive Elrond insane. (Okay, that might be AU #3 because its cracking me up)

Look, I’m not saying that the Counsel of Elrond had to be held outside because Eönwë was sitting in a tree, watching, but I’m totally saying it.

[coeurdastronaute]

Fear 12

Previously on Fear

The apartment was very small. 

It was painfully tiny and nearly impossible to stretch across, but it did the job, it was a place to hide and a place to rest. A few plants took their places, vibrant and green against the mess of the room, with its dirty laundry on the floor and the lack of counter space. A bed was pushed against the window, the frame barely fit, the apartment just wide enough to accommodate it. On the kitchen counter, a few old mugs of stale coffee took up most of the space, while on the tiny desk, a stack of books and papers acted like a tablecloth. 

Elyza pushed open the door and felt the warmth as she walked inside from the rain. There was a taste to the air, there was a heat to the evening that felt like home, in a way she couldn’t fully comprehend, though she didn’t ask any questions. The window was cracked, and the hanging vine of one of the plants wafted in the breeze. 

There was traffic noises coming from outside somewhere, though she couldn’t quite place it, or really anything in particular. But that didn’t stop Elyza from walking inside. 

At the stove, Alicia moved around the pan and hummed, she moved her hips around slowly, though suddenly all the noises were gone. There wasn’t much else to do except stand there and look, and Elyza found herself searching for words, but not having much else to say, and so she watched and felt her heart grow very warm and full. 

The birds were too loud to allow her any longer with her dream. 

Real life came slowly to snatch away a perfect moment, and Elyza scrunched up her face and tried to turn away from the light that slipped in through the window. She ran her hands over her face and grunted in complaint that the first good dream she had in weeks was taken away because of some birds who got too overzealous with a little bit of sunlight. 

Even with her complaining, the body beside her didn’t move too much, unperturbed by the noises outside, still very invested in her own dream world. Elyza sighed and pressed her hand against her stomach before closing her eyes and hoping to fall asleep again. She did her best to conjure the images again, but they just played there in her brain, fragments and completely unattainable yet again. 

But she didn’t move again. Instead, she just stared at the ceiling. That was what she did for hours while attempting to not bother the other sleeping girl. If she stared long enough, she was certain she could fade away or freeze time. There were glimpses of it, she tricked herself into believing. 

For some reason, it never really mattered though. Alicia just kind of always knew when Elyza needed her. With a movement, the sleeping girl almost woke, and she slipped an arm over her middle, wiggling closer until her chin was on Elyza’s shoulders. No eyes opened as she clung to a few more minutes. 

“Sleep more,” Alicia murmured. She didn’t see it, but Elyza closed her eyes and smiled slightly, faintly, just the tiniest bit. 

“Okay.” 

“Bad dreams?” 

“No,” she shook her head and let out a big breath. “Good dreams.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

Alicia rubbed her stomach over her shirt and hummed, content at the news of her girlfriend’s good dreams. She kissed her shoulder and inhaled, squeezing her arms to hold the moment as tightly as Elyza had her dreams. 

“I want you to stay, please.” 

“I am,” Elyza promised, shifting only to kiss Alicia’s messy hair that tickled her nose. But still she kept there and waited-- for what, she wasn’t sure. 

“Tell me about the dream?” 

“It was before. You were dancing barefoot around my old apartment and cooking dinner.” 

“That’s it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I like socks. Tell your brain that for next time. Better to slide around in.” 

Elyza snorted and kissed her again, this time leaning her chin against her head and hoping that she might fall asleep once more. She knew it wouldn’t happen, but she didn’t care. She just didn’t want to be awake. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The sun snarls directly overhead in the mean kind of noon that comes despite the remaining haze from the half-dead city. Elyza drags her forearm across her forehead, the mix of blood and sweat forming a nasty mess on her arm that she wipes on her pant leg. The grunge of her hard work seems to be less that it was before-- something she’s noticed of the dead and how skeletal most were now. It either meant no one else was dying, or there were no more people to die. 

The remnants of the small group of walkers pile up to her shoulders as she pulls the bandana down from nose before pulling off the thick gloves. The killing them part was always more fun than the clean up, but here she was, still doing it. A janitor of sorts. She chuckled at the imagery. 

From her back pocket, she pulls out a cigarette, carefully putting it to her lips and lighting it with her old lighter. The smoke puffs into a cloud before drifting away as she snaps it shut and puts it back in her pocket. She doesn’t inhale it, and quickly pulls it from her lips after a moment of hanging there. She very much wants to smoke, but can’t convince herself to do it. It’s the habit, just as much as these fires are habit. Ritual, perhaps, would be a better explanation. 

Twenty-eight more notches to go on with the count, she observes, leaning on the shovel. The parking lot is quiet, though some gulls can be heard in the distance on their way back toward the bay.

With a small, proud nod, she tosses the cigarette onto the puddle of gas and takes a step back as the pyre goes up in an instant.

She doesn’t like watching them burn. It feels oddly intimate, as if she is forgetting some key step, as if she should say something. Often she doesn’t. Occasionally, she’ll mutter some prayer from the recesses of her mind, tugged out of the archives from her years in the orphanage’s school. Lately, she likes to forget that they’re people. She has to remember everyone back at the compound. She reminds herself that it is for them and not for herself, even though a tiny bit of rage seeps into this. Her retribution for those taken from her. She seeks her pounds and pounds and pounds of flesh as payment. 

With a clunk, the shovel gets tossed in the back of the old pick up and Elyza grabs her coat hanging on the tailgate. She has plans for the day, and she has a tight schedule to keep if she is going to save the world. A foolhardy task, she knows, but at this point, foolhardy is all the world has left.

The truck complains, gurgling as she shifts gears and heads in the opposite direction of the compound. As much as she does everything for them, she can’t quite stand being near the people that forced themselves into her being. She never wanted to be responsible. She just wanted to save the world. 

But she knew how to survive on the road. She preferred it. 

The apartment they picked was in an already vacated section of city that didn't’ attract many walkers. Elyza parked a few blocks over and walked, carefully lugging the backpack full of supplies and checking for anyone else. But all was clear despite the nagging feeling Elyza could never seem to shake. 

Sometimes she liked to pretend she was coming back from class to see her girlfriend in their shared apartment. Sometimes she liked to imagine they were married and would debate what to get for dinner-- their favorite place or try something new. Those nagging moments of before crept in, stemming from the time they were apart, when Elyza allowed herself a reprieve from searching to hide in made up places. 

But they were here, and it was now, and she carefully knocked before entering their little slice of the world. 

“You left early,” Alicia complained, looking up from her book. 

“Wanted to go look for a few things. 

“How many?” 

“Just a few,” she shrugged and tossed her bag on the table before crawling onto the couch between her girlfriend’s legs, flopping onto her chest, burrowing there soft and clumsy. 

“Mmm,” Alicia hummed, knowing it wasn’t the truth but accepting a few white lies. She learned that Elyza needed them to survive; accepting them as acceptable as long as she could spot them. 

She rubbed along her girlfriend’s back, the shirt still damp from sweat and her trip. She slipped beneath the fabric of the shirt and traced the spine and muscles there, snug beneath her skin. 

“Are you ready to go back yet?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Me either,” Alicia promised. “The trucks almost full though.” 

“We can get more stuff.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I got you something.” 

“What else could I want? I have the third floor walk up with an ocean-view in a trendy neighborhood I always wanted.” 

Elyza moved only slightly, pushing herself up and reaching behind her back. With a face she tugged and brought a fist back between the two of them. She had a smile that Alicia liked, ignoring the hand and whatever was inside. 

“I found it… a long time ago. Before you were…. When we lived on the rig.”

She twisted her palm and let the necklace dangle from the chain hooked on her finger. It swung between the two of them. 

“You got me this all that time ago?” 

“You went up and got yourself kidnapped so I couldn’t give it to you.” 

Alicia rolled her eyes but smiled as she played with the charm on the end. She looked it over and toyed with it. 

“It’s pretty.” 

“Thought you might like it.” 

“Can I put it on?” 

With a nod, Elyza sat up and waited for her girlfriend to do the same. When she did, Alicia pushed her hair to the side and let her clasp it there. She pressed it against her chest, as if telling it to stay put and never move. The weight of it was minute against her neck, but it was there, and it was new. 

“I love it,” she promised, leaning forward to kiss Elyza. “You should go shower.”

For a moment, Elyza didn’t move. She just stared at the necklace on Alicia’s chest. Almost bashfully, she lifted her eyes only and thought about something, though Alicia couldn’t quite decipher the look. And when she couldn’t, she cocked her head to the side and she rubbed her thumb along the jaw there. 

“I’m going to go shower.” 

“Okay.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

They stayed away for six months or so, because it was easier. Elyza went about the task of cleaning as best she could,t aking to it like a job, like one she refused to take any time off from at all. They lived a relatively normal life, considering it was the end of the world. Trucks were left at the drop point close to the cabin and they slept in a bed together every night. 

Elyza worked through things in her head, turning it over again and again. So she enjoyed the killing of the already dead. It made it easier to focus and think about anything else. It was a monumental task, to find herself amidst the deeds she’d done, and so she turned to words and books, inhaling them at every step, staying up late while Alicia slept beside her, the candle burning low into the night. And she’’d read them every day, as if she could find a manual for being alive. 

Beside her, Alicia watched the voracious way at which she studiously attacked life, and though she couldn’t fix it, she watched the burden fluctuate on her back. Though she couldn’t do anything, she fought as hard as she could to help. 

But they couldn’t stay away forever. 

The morning the clouds rolled in, Elyza sat down to breakfast by kissing her girlfriend’s forehead and simply muting those words aloud. 

“We can go back.” 

Alicia looked up from her oatmeal and furrowed, confused by the sudden thought. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I don’t want to stop what I’m doing,” Elyza decided. “But we should go back. God only knows what they’re doing anyway.” 

“We can stay if you’re not sure.” 

“No. You want to go back, and it’s not fair to keep you away.” 

“But you needed time.” 

“I don’t know what I need,” Elyza finally admitted. She was sheepish about it, about admitting and talking. “But I think we need people. They might need us.”

“They might,” Alicia nodded. 

They sat, drinking instant coffee. Alicia looked the surly girl beside her over, wondering what it all meant. There truly was no telling what happened in her head, or how she got from point A to point B, just that suddenly the blue in her eyes was earnest beyond reproach. 

“I’ll go out to gather some supplies,” she muttered, leaning forward to kiss her girlfriend’ once again. 

Alicia leaned back and watched her disappear. The thunder rumbled in the distance and she knew from experience that it was a bad time to be out and to travel. She would have to delay them a day or so until the storm passed. 

Never one for premonition, Alicia couldn’t help but think that something was wrong in the air. She wanted to blame the humidity and the storm and the uneasiness it caused, but it ran deeper than that. 

She decided they would visit the Colony first.

[marsbutterfly]

*chants*

eren angst

eren angst

eren angst

maybe something along the lines of the reader involuntarily going missing for a while and it scares the shit out of eren ( who has feelings for them )

when they come back, he's partially pissed at them and partially relived. it gets all angsty and he confesses to them.

thanks 💕

Note: This might have been one of my favorite requests  to write so far.  Angst stories have always been my favorite to write about. I hope you enjoy! <3

A Sigh of Relief

Summary: As you go missing during a mission, Eren realizes he might have lost his chance to confess his feelings for you.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

The river’s current gently carries your body towards the center of the forest. Water washes away the blood oozing from your head wound. 

You open your eyes to the now setting sunlight shining directly above you. Slowly, you shift your left arm in a manner where it covers your face.

A loud ringing in your ear blocks the song the birds are singing. With your other arm, you touch the soaking wet gear hanging around your waist. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath. While sliding your fingertips up and down your equipment, you feel a small hole in one of the tanks, a faint smell of gas only confirming your suspicions; There is barely any left.

Looking around for an instant, you realize your blades are nowhere to be found, leaving you completely defenseless against the titans.

A gasp gets caught in your throat as you are reminded of the biggest threat of them all, the monsters who inhabit this forest. You try to sit up, only to be welcomed by a pounding headache.

Placing a hand on your head, you feel the warmth of the blood resting against your fingertips. 

“Maybe it’s for the best if I wait until the sun goes down.” You think to yourself. Truth is you are not certain you have the necessary strength to stand up. So you simply allow yourself to give in to exhaustion and fall asleep right there, against the running water.

.

As the cold night breeze hits your skin, you open your eyes to the bright moon lighting your surroundings. Your wet clothes bring your body temperature down to roughly 87.5 ˚F and you can feel your fingers becoming more and more rigid.

A small cloud of steam leaves your body as you bring your hands towards your now blue lips, trying your hardest to keep them warm.

After lifting your body weight up with the help of your arms, you wrap yourself around your cloak. A few things go through your head at this moment, but the most prominent one is how to stay calm and assess the situation you find yourself in right now.

You dig deep into your brain to remember what direction the walls would be in. From all your training, you realize you should head north. You drop your broken equipment in an attempt to reduce your weight and make yourself faster.

The next step is looking at the sky and finding the North Star. It doesn’t take you a minute to find it and start walking in the direction it points you.

“I’ll rest during the day and make my way towards the wall during the night.” You think to yourself as your boots splash the water around you. Feeling gentle drops of rain against your skin, you quicken your pace. “Hopefully soon.”

.

“Please, Commander Erwin, I need to find Y/N!” Eren desperately pleads, seconds away from getting on his knees and begging the tall, blond-haired man for the chance to go looking for you.

A heavy sigh leaves his chest as he places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Eren, but you know no one could possibly survive all this time by themselves outside the walls.”

His green eyes become clouded with the tears he has desperately tried to keep in, but the simple thought of losing you, before he even has the chance to tell you how he feels, is enough to send him into a spiral. 

He runs out of the Commander’s office clutching his chest. His boots clicking against the floor as he tries to get as farther away as he can, but before he could get too far, Mikasa grabs his arm, pulling him into her room.

She looks at him for a few seconds as hiccups erupt from his body faster than he could breathe. The black-haired girl wraps her arms around him, pulling him towards her and hugging him as tightly as she can.

Neither of them has the courage to start a conversation, for they know it would involve talking about feelings they are not ready to accept, but Eren knows it needs to be said.

“Y/N is probably dead.” He whispers against her hair, trying to muffle his voice as much as he can.

“Eren, don’t say that,” Mikasa says, for the first time she can’t find the right words to tell him. Nothing in this world would be able to bring him a sense of peace right now.

“How can I not say it?” He yells while pushing her away, his warm tears flowing down his face as he rushes his hands through his hair. A few seconds pass before his legs give up, bringing his body down to the floor.

Mikasa quietly looks at Armin, who just walked through the door, a heart-broken expression taking over her features. The blonde boy kneels beside his grieving friend, his arm wrapping around Eren’s shoulder.

Sobs erupt from his body for a few minutes before he lets out a pained scream, punching the floor so intensely his knuckles are now covered in his own blood and a few speckles of dirt. He tries to take a deep breath and gather the courage to speak.

“I can’t accept it.” He says quietly, looking down as his tears hit the ground.

Mikasa and Armin share a concerned look, but neither of them says anything, they both simply hug Eren as tightly as they can, trying their best to calm him down. Their efforts were in vain. 

.

As the sun now shines brightly in the sky, you try your best to climb a tree, hoping it will be enough to protect you from the titans in the area as you rest for a few hours.

Sitting on a branch, you take a few breathes, trying to forget about the throbbing pain on the back of your head. Using what little strength you have left, you rip the edge of your cloak and wrap the cloth around the wound.

A subtle grunt escapes your lips as you try to find a comfortable position to rest. Once you close your eyes, your thoughts are taken over by the green-eyed boy who’s always by your side. Before drifting to sleep, you can almost feel his hand touching yours as he brightly smiles at you.

Once the sky turns dark, you continue your path towards the wall, always following the stars above you like a map. 

Every so often, you would run into a bush of fresh, small fruit. Shifting what is left of your cloak around your shoulder and torso, you are able to form an easy-to-carry bag, using it to store what little amount of food you find along the way.

This is your life for the next four days. Running as fast as you could during the night and resting while the sun shined. At times, the possibility of giving up and allowing titans to feed on you doesn’t sound so bad, but the idea of leaving Eren alone in this cruel world is enough to quickly push you forward.

At last, your sacrifice paid off as soon as you see the gates of Wall Rose. Using every ounce of strength you have left, you force your legs to keep running until a Garrison Soldier lay his eyes on you, yelling to his comrades to lower the equipment necessary to pull you up.

Once your feet touch the top of the wall, you finally allow your body to collapse on the floor. Dehydrated and exhibiting clear signs of hypothermia, you close your eyes and drift into a well-deserved night of sleep as a soldier quickly takes you to the doctor’s office.

.

As you wake up, before even opening your eyes, you feel someone’s hand touching yours. Slightly, you shift your fingers trying to figure out who it is without having to check.

A gasp escapes the person sitting beside you and, involuntarily, you widen your eyes and allow all the air in your lungs to come out. His tear-filled, green eyes meet yours as he stands up, quickly wrapping your body in a thigh embrace.

In a desperate attempt to feel close to him, you hug Eren back, placing your head against the left side of his chest as you feel his heartbeat. Warm tears drip from your face onto his shirt, leaving a small stain where they land.

Once he pulls away, you notice how his face has turned a deep shade of red, and his bottom lip quivers as he tries to speak.

“Where were you?” He manages to let out, quieter than a whisper. 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts and remember as much as you can about what happened to you these past few days.

“I fell off my horse onto the river a minute after Commander Erwin gave the retreat order,” you answer, more tears threatening to fall and you don’t try to stop them. You quietly look at his reaction, but he simply listens to you, tears of his own flowing down his face.

He nods gently, giving you a second to breathe. “It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I do!” You quickly reply, not wanting him to feel like you are keeping this from him. “The river’s current dragged me towards the center of the forest. I woke up in pain and alone.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU GET UP AFTER FALLING?” Eren screams as he backs away from you, hands curled into fists. You shrug away from him, wide eyes noticing the anger taking over his features.

“I hit my head and passed out.” You whisper, looking out of the window purposefully avoiding his gaze. Eren’s hand touches your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. You can see all the pain he is feeling.

“I WAS SO AFRAID!” He yells once again before punching your bedside table with his free hand, a loud bang following closely behind. His body trembles as blood pour from his hand-wound, he’s desperately trying in some way to stop the tears that run down his cheeks, onto his neck.

“Eren, I….” You try to break the silence, but he interrupts.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.” His voice breaks and you feel your heart sink in your chest. You try to grab his hand but he is barely out of your reach.

“I always tell you I’m coming back,” you flash him a smile, trying your best to comfort him from afar. “Why were you so worried?”

“Because I’m in love with you.” He says and, for a second, you can feel your heart stop. You stretch your body as far as you can to pull his arm, your fingers tips barely brushing against his skin but enough for you to pull his body towards you.

In a second, he comes crashing down on you, crushing your lungs, but even though you are in pain, you don’t miss the chance. You find the courage to bring your lips together in a love-filled kiss.

His soft lips against your dry ones feel like heaven on earth. You can feel a smile taking over his features and his tears no longer run down, neither do yours.

After a few seconds, you pull away, gesturing for him to get up, which he quickly obliged.

“I don’t know if you can tell,” you say as you grab his hand, “but I’m in love with you too.”

All the sadness in his eyes is now gone. He quickly sits on the hospital bed, never stopping your fingers from touching. He lets out a long sigh and you arch an eyebrow at him.

“I’m so glad to hear that!” He says, his smile growing bigger by the second.

A giggle escapes your throat as you place your hand on his hair, messing it up with your fingertips. He lets out a laugh of his own before moving your hand.

“Welcome home, Y/N.” He says as he touches his forehead to yours. With your now free hand, you wrap it around his neck pulling him closer.

“I’m glad to be back.” You whisper against his lips before pulling him closer for another kiss, not realizing Mikasa and Armin, who has just entered the room.

As they share a look, your friends quietly walk out of the room, a smile of approval on their lips. 

“Told you he was gonna go for it,” Mikasa says, gently bumping Armin’s ribs with her elbow. The blonde boy laughs and shakes his head.

“Took them long enough.” is all he says as they continue their way down the hall.

In your hospital room, Eren wraps his arms around you. The warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne is enough to lull you to sleep, a smile never leaving your lips as you feel safe for the first time in so long.

From now on, you know you’ll always have Eren to protect you and you’ll make sure to be there to protect him.

[hellisheuphoria]

Chapter 2: Silence

The MC has a rough day, and finds comfort in a certain individual.

[Nothing much to say here, except thank you for reading, and don’t hesitate writing any constructive criticism to me or pointing out mistakes, ily all <3]

Morning arrives, and your eyes still barely open from the exhaustion of last night. You wished you had never woken up, far too tired for the day ahead.

You can tell it is early in the morning- just before 6 am. There is no sun in the Devildom, and so you have had to adjust your internal clock to the eternal darkness of this world.

No light creeps into your room to remind you that there is a new start to another day. That the past belongs in the past- yet your mind just can not correspond with that. It feels like everyday is the same.

It is eternal and infinite, yet you are mortal and weak. Despite possessing pacts with the most strongest rulers of the Devildom, you wield no strength. You possess no magical power. You’re useless.

If a demon wished to devour you right this very second, you would be gone. There is no power within you to perform any spells, and so you are defenceless.

Already in a depressive state, you will your weary bones to move. In order to avoid your housemates, you would need an extremely early start to the day. Meaning, now.

You freshen up in the bathroom, noticing your horrible features on your face. Your skin is pale and hollow, dark circles have comfortably edged themselves under your eyes, your eyes are hollow and lifeless and your hair thin and dead. You look like a zombie.

Your RAD uniform is crumpled and messy from having thrown it on the floor the day before, not giving a single care for it in the world.

You quietly walk to the kitchen, with your school necessities and belongings in your bag that has been slumped over your shoulder. You grab a small carton of yoghurt to eat and walked to the door, making sure to be quiet so as to not wake any of them up or alert them.

There are barely any students by the time you get to school, but they are almost always the nicer demons, the over achievers of the school. As they say, the early bird catches the worm.

You walked to the courtyard, where many beautiful plants and wildflowers resided, making it a truly wonderful and bright place in RAD. You sat down on one of the benches and took out your yoghurt, peeling the plastic off.

Someone tapped your shoulder from next to you. The white hair gave it away immediately; Solomon.

”Hello, MC. You’re quite early, today.” He greeted you with a lovely smile, but you could tell something was going on if you looked deeper into his eyes. He held onto a secret of some sorts.

”Hey.” You responded, nervous and flustered at the same time. You two didn’t talk often, despite being the only two human exchange students in the Devildom. He was very handsome and you would find yourself staring at him during class, enraptured.

He was also a very powerful sorcerer, having made pacts with more than 72 demons- Asmodeus included.

But he was nice, and hadn’t hurt you at all. Well, yet. You hoped he wouldn’t, you actually liked him.

”You look tired today. Had a rough night?” He observed you closely, his eyes still looking around your face as you slowly went red.

”I-uh, you could say that. I woke up sort of early and couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

”Huh, alright.” He was still smiling at you, his lips perfectly complimenting his beautifully sinister face.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away, choking the rest of the yoghurt down. You were feeling way too nervous for your liking- you felt as though you were supposed to act a certain way around him.

You breathed in slowly. “Uh, I need to get to class now.” You adjusted your bag on your shoulders and stood up to walk away, when he called out behind you.

”Have a nice day, MC.” You didn’t look back, but responded. “You too.”

For the rest of the day, you spent your time avoiding everyone, especially Mammon. You knew he would be extremely pissed at you, but you didn’t care. Today was not a good day.

As cute and clingy as he was, you just needed to get away from everyone- you really did. You could understand why Lucifer was frustrated at them half the time- they can be quite a handful.

As the day ended, you were in your last class, the Devildom history. You only had Satan, Asmo and Solomon with you in this class. They sat away from you, but you could hear Asmo’s whispering from miles away. He was being seriously loud.

“You know what happened today? I tried talking to MC, and they literally ghosted me! I think there’s something up!”

Satan agreed with him, “You’re right. Mammon wouldn’t stop complaining today about how he couldn’t find MC.”

Solomon didn’t talk, but you could feel his stare from your spot in the class. You could almost hear his thoughts from how hard he was staring at you.

When the class ended, you packed up as fast as you could and almost ran from how fast you were, you didn’t want to talk to anyone at all.

You could hear Asmo and Satan yelling behind you, but you ignored them and ran away. You didn’t want to answer any of their questions, you don’t want to talk to them.

Your outburst yesterday with Belphegor made you wary of everyone else. You were worried if he had told them what happened, and then they would want to talk to you about it.

You didn’t want to talk about your feelings, you would break if you did. It scared you witless, it terrified you. You didn’t wanna ruin their relationship with Belphegor or you. You didn’t want to be selfish and hurt them with your stupid fear.

The minute you ran into the house, you could tell it was empty. There were no shoes lying around, and nobody was arguing. Perfect, you were by yourself, and there would be no one to bother you.

You kicked off your shoes and got to your room. You locked your door, put away your bag and slithered onto your bed, not having taken off your uniform. God, you were tired.

You wrapped the blankets around you and eased into the mattress. This way, you would feel better. You wouldn’t feel as bad as you usually did, you would feel great when asleep, you were able to finally escape from your wretched world. The world soon became indecipherable, indifferent.

You zoned out and fell asleep.

You woke up to the sound of chattering, laughter and arguing close by. The light creeped in from under your door and ended right at your face. Your room was extremely dark, a change from when you first got home.

You were still groggy and tired, but if you slept any longer then you wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

You were feeling pretty lonely, but to be honest? It may just be better this way. You wouldn’t feel hurt when the program ended and you had to go home, and you wouldn’t ruin a relationship that could last for thousand of more years.

You didn’t leave your room, but you kept your door locked and turned on the light. You decided you would pass the time playing Mononoke Land, a game that Levi introduced to you a while back.

It was quite interesting, and the time passed by quickly, but only by an hour. It was about 6 pm, so you still had a lot of time before you would need to sleep.

You felt jealous of everyone sitting in the living room, enjoying their evening. Asmo was probably painting his nails, Satan could be trying to read a book despite Mammon’s blabbering.

You snickered a bit at the thought of Mammon being yelled at by Satan while Beel ate in the background, and Belphegor-

Oh. Belphegor would be napping, like always. You were jealous of that, as scared you were of him. You wanted the ability to sleep at any time you wanted to, despite the setting or time. It would be really convenient for right about now.

You could feel yourself getting sadder by the moment, but you didn’t know how to deal with it. You were lonely and scared, but you didn’t know where to turn to.

A ping from your DDD shook you from your thoughts.

Solomon- Hello, MC, do you have a minute?

MC- Uh, yeah. Why?

Solomon- You left something behind at school and I forgot about it until now. I have your notebook with me, you forgot it at history.

MC - OH, shoot. Should I wait for you tomorrow or come now? It’s only 6 pm.

Solomon - The Devildom can be quite deceiving when it comes to the seasons, but it’s winter right now, and it’s dark. Don’t worry, I’ll be at the house of Lamentation soon. I wouldn’t want you to have your soul eaten.

You felt your cheeks turn red, he didn’t want you to get hurt.

MC - Thank you, Solomon, I’ll be waiting. Text me first, don’t ring the doorbell.

Solomon - Got it.

You shut off your phone and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, wondering about Solomon. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all, not that you thought he was. After all, he cared for you enough to not risk you getting hurt. How sweet of him.

You messed around on your phone for a bit while waiting for Solomon. You hanged around in your room idly, doing nothing in particular. You then got a notification from your phone. As it turned out, that new feature where you can look at other group chats that you’re not in got activated again.

In the group chat, there was a picture of Mammon on the front page news of Majolish, a fashion magazine. He was modelling again.

Asmo rambled on about him, surprised that his ‘scummy’ older brother got into the first page of Majolish. Honestly, snooping on them was kind of fun. You’ve probably got more than dozens of blackmail from this feature.

Solomon- MC, I’m here.

MC - I’ll be out soon.

You wrapped yourself in a jacket, still in your uniform. You would have to wash that soon, you probably sweat a lot in it.

You tried your best to avoid everyone, making yourself as quiet as a mouse, you hoped. The floors creaked slightly, but they were all probably too preoccupied to notice.

You got to the front door and silently opened it, seeing Solomon outside. He was wearing his casual clothes, but still had that same look on his face. Handsome, too.

”Hello, MC.” He took your notebook out of his pocket and held it in front of you, with his arm stretched. You reached out to grab it, but he snatched it away and looked at you smugly.

”Let’s have a little chat, first. You owe me, don’t you?”

You dumbly stood there, gaping at him. Of course- this was Solomon we were falling about. He’s as sketchy as it could get.

”Oh- fine!” You said, trying your best not to sound pissed.

You put on your school shoes and walked out the door, making sure to close it quietly. Solomon walked with you, not saying a word but you could guess your notebook was still in his pocket.

You sighed, “Look, Solomon, if you’re not going to give it back to me, then can I just go back home? I’m tired.”

He looked at you with a side glance. “I could tell. You’re still in your uniform.” Pausing for a second, he continued. “Why were you acting weird today? I wouldn’t have expected our dear MC to run off like that. So I assumed that something must be up.”

You looked at the ground, clenching your hands in your pockets and keeping your eyes off him. “What’s it to you?”

He stopped walking, and so did you. He chucked, “As a fellow human exchange student, I only want the best for you.” He took your notebook out of his pocket, placing it in your hands. “If you ever find yourself in need, I will be there, no matter the scenario.”

He pat your head, then walked off, calling behind him. “Good evening, MC.”

You stared at his back, confused. He has never been this close to you, why now? You glanced down at your notebook, where he seemed to have placed a little ripped note on it.

Tear-rible mistake on your behalf, leaving your notes behind.

-Solomon :)

It was a horrible pun, really, but that didn’t stop you from laughing out loud in the middle of the street, facepalming yourself. You turned and walked back to the House of Lamentation, trying to contain yourself.

Seeing the house in your view calmed you down a little, and you knew you had to be quiet to avoid Lucifer’s wrath. He could have probably heard you laughing from miles away if he tried hard enough.

You walked up the door and slowly opened it, wincing a little when your shoes scraped the carpet, leaving a little scuff mark. But he was an extreme perfectionist. He would notice that right away.

Panicking, you half ran to your room and locked it, sliding down the door in disbelief and relief. You really needed to find a better way to sneak out.

Your phone buzzed at the same time you thought it, almost as if in agreement.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “From Heaven or from Hell.”

Ok so I had a ton of trouble writing today for some reason. IDK why but here you go :) as expected. 

The Kree popped the last socket from the wall, pulling the device down for a closer examination. Admiral Vir stayed back in shock. He thought all of the kree were dead, but this one , it looked more than alive enough to him, though it did occur to him that this kree was neither voiced or voiceless. He had only ever seen something like it on a battlefield over two years ago, and they hadn’t gotten close enough to examine them in a medical capacity.

Was it possible that Dr. Krill and the others had been fooled.

If that was the case, these guys had done a phenomenal job at playing dead. Nothing was supposed to get past Dr. Krill, but he supposed there was a first for everything.

He knelt in the darkness wondering what he was going to do.

He could leap out and capture this creature, in one on one combat the Kree were no match for a human, the only reason they had been such a problem was because they were armed and could fly the last time he met with them.

But this one, it was just a skinny bird creature with twig legs, and no wings, but if he followed it, he might be able to find the others. 

He melted a little further back into the shadows, as much as he could with skin and hair that might as well have glowed in the ambient light. Too bad he had forgotten his ninja costume, that would have really helped right about now.

The kree turned and with a small chirp to itself, it began moving up the hallway.

He followed after at a distance feeling for once like the hunter instead of the hunted. 

He bared his teeth in half pleasure.

The feeling was sort of exhilarating.

He was the monster in the dark, the dangerous creature lurking in the shadows. He was the one stalking in the darkness just out of sight. Human’s hand had to hunt things in close proximity like this for thousands of years, and most creatures on their home planet were way to fast, strong, or agile for him to be able to do anything.

But in comparison to this Kree, he was a wolf, or a mountain lion. He would have radioed for assistance, but he was worried that his voice or the light from his implant would alert the creature, and he wouldn’t want that, so instead he kept very silent and well back as he followed the creature though the ship watching as it plucked equipment form the walls and stowed it in a bag. On one or two occasions, they came across one of the engineers working to fix the problem, but when that happened, they quickly slipped in another direction.

They were heading down, towards the docking bay forced to dodge more and more people as they moved, but they managed to make it.  And once they reached the docking bay, he was more than surprised to be led back behind the alien ship, to where someone had cut a near invisible vertical slit in the plastic which surrounded it.

The little creature slipped through and vanished inside the ship. 

He stayed outside, crouched low. This would probably be a good time let someone know where he was, but when he went to do so, he was surprised to find that bridge communications had been shut down.

The little bastards must have done something to it.

Oh well, than he was going to have to think up something else.

IT was best to know what he had to work with before actually making a move. So he inched forward quietly scooting through the plastic barrier and up towards the ship. He kept in a low crouch as he slipped up the open ramp and into the darkness. His infrared eye helped to pick up anything that might give him away as he moved through the darkness.

The ship was small, so it didn’t take him long to make it back to the bay where the bodies had been found, and when he did, he was both surprised, and not particularly surprised to see what he saw.

A gathering of Kree sat in a circle in the middle of the floor. Together they were comparing parts they had looted rom the ship, warbling i their strange kree language, and with laughter about what they had done.

Listening to them talk, he felt his lips pull tight in annoyance his hands balling into fists.

Pirates. 

They thought they had duped the humans,

Turned them into chumps as they robbed them blind right out from under their noses. 

It was a smart enough plan, but there was one thing that none of them had accounted for.

The fact that a human might be listening in.

Anger welled up inside his chest.

These creatures were trying to make him and his crew look like fools, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. He was going to stop this, but….. Before he did that, he was also going to give them a piece of their own medicine.

And with that thought, he slunk back into the darkness.

***

The Kree sat around in a circle laughing to themselves. The humans were so stupid.

Even their doctors hadn’t managed to catch the kree, with their ability to shut down their bodies into a mild state of coma, which approached death in appearance. In this state their internal organs barely functioned, and their cortical zones almost completely shut off.

It used to be something they could only do under certain circumstances, but after one of their scientists had done a little experimenting, he had discovered the place in the brain that was responsible for the shut off, and managed to implant manual switches for the ability.

Originally no one had thought that would be useful in any sort of way but they were quickly proven wrong, or at least the pirates had proven it wrong.

“This doesn't explain how we are going to get out of this place when we are finally done.”

Their leader scoffed, “We have full control of their ship, I am sure we can find a way to open the airlock.”

“And what if we are found out?”

“By who.” he retorted, “The have no reason to suspect us. It is more likely they will turn to one of their own crew members being a sabotage than suspecting us. I mean, what is the logical conclusion, that one of their  own is doing it or the creatures in the cold room have risen from the dead to steal their things.” He looked around at the others, “See, it makes sense doesn't it.”

They were just about to begin nodding their agreement to him, when a sound reaches them from down the dark hallway.

The sound of claws being pulled over metal.

They all grew very still staring at the entrance to the dark.

“What was that?” Someone whispered.

“I am sure it was nothing.”

There was silence for a few moments as they went back to their conversation.

They were cut off as a rattling noise broke out behind them in the darkness on the other side.

Together they turned in fear, eyes wide as they stared into the abyss.

The scraping sound continued almost melodic in nature.

Silence.

“Go check it out.” Their leader ordered pointing towards the most junior member of the party, They tried to argue but there was n ouse  in trying, and they were shoved into the darkness. Arms held protectively before it’s body knees weak, it ventured into the darkness and towards the scraping sound.

It was close, probably around the corner from it when the sound stopped very suddenly filling the little ship with an oppressive silence.

It turned its head this way and that unable to see in the near darkness.

It scrambled around in it’s toolkit trying to find the light.

Finally it found it, the cold metal reassuring against it’s hand as it flipped on the little beam of light.

Directly into a pair of milky eyes and glistening sharp teeth.

The others heard nothing.

“Find anything!” They called after it, but there was no answer 

“Not funny!”

Still no answer.

The scratching sound started up again on their other side.

THey turned in fear, huddling together in the middle of the room. W-what is that.

A sudden rush of movement to the darkness at their right. They spun, but it was already gone.

Staring into the darkness, it seemed as if something they couldn’t see was just right outside their vision

Someone flicked on a light into the darkness and caught the flash of two white orbs before the movement scuttled back into darkness.

“We have to get out.” Their leader ordered huddling them together and then backing away into the darkness of the opposite hall If the creature was over there, than they were going to be plenty safe here, together in a group with their flashlights turned on waving about in all directions.

One of their number began to scream, and they turned just in time to see the flailing counterpart pulled violently into the darkness, a pale white hand gripped about their leg.

They weren't trying to be quiet anymore, simply screaming as they fled, picked off one by one.

Their leader was the last left, nearly making it outside before his flashlight came upon a figure blocking him. In the eerie light of the darkness, its skin was washed out and pale, its clothing pale as well, when the flashlight beam moved up it passed over pale hair.

The face grinned as the flashlight passed over its eyes.

A flash of blue, and it was over.

***

The crew heard the screaming almost as soon as it had started, but it took them a few minutes to gather their gear before running in. By the time they made it everything had gone silent. A group of marines stepped through the plastic just in time to see admiral Vir walking down from the ramp dusting his hands off and looking quite pleased with himself.

“Sir…. what’s going on.”

“Oh just fixing a little problem, nothing to worry about.”

“And what was the problem.” 

The man grinned one of his green eyes flashing, “Pirates.”

When no one understood where he was going with this, the man simply grinned again, “Pirates. Turns out that the Kree were just playing dead to get aboard our ship and steal our shit.”

They stared at him incredulously, “What.”

“You heard me.”

They shook their head sin surprise, but followed him as he motioned them onward, “here, come take a look.”

Not that they doubted their Admiral, but they still found it shocking when they discovered the Kree hogtied and incapacitated around their own ship. The Admiral had a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

“That should be all of them-”

That is until they came upon another group of Kree 

He paused in his tracks staring down at the unconscious bodies, “What the-”

“Good work, Admiral.”

THe man scratched his head, “I…. I didn’t do this….”

“It was dark, you probably did and it just doesn't look familiar.”

He went very quiet for a moment before nodding his head. “I uh, sure I guess.”  

He handed off the stolen parts to he engineering crew uncharacteristically quiet

“Admiral, is your arm alright.”

“Yeay, yeah…. Just a…. misunderstanding .”

They looked after him in confusion as he walked away.

A misunderstanding.

***

Maverick was sitting in the half darkness of the ship chapel. A single light was on above the lectern, and she read by the dim lighting eyes scanning over passages of familiar words.

She wasn’t alone of course.

The Burg sat across the room, his wings folded easily behind his back as he perused through her collection of religious books. At first she thought that she wouldn’t like having a burg aboard, and had tried very hard not to show her unease around him, but he had proven himself to be affable, intelligent, kind, and very very helpful.

A lot of the crew didn’t understand that about him just yet, and so she had made it her mission to be his friend even if no one else would.

She hoped that he would appreciate the effort, and it seemed to be paying off.

It was just then that the door at the end of the room opened.

She lifted her head expecting one of the night shift crew to come in for a visit, but instead watched as Adam stepped inside and let the door hiss shut softly behind him. He had a thoughtful, and almost concerned look on his face as he approached, and she stood marking her page and setting her book aside as he walked up.

She was about to open her mouth to ask him if there was anything she could do, but he cut her off and spoke first.

Blurting out, “Do you believe in guardian angels.”

She paused in her tracks surprised at the question. Across the room, the burg lifted his head and also closed the book very slowly.

She was too stunned to speak for a moment as the burg scuttled over wings whispering lightly as they were tugged by air.

“Guardian angels.” She repeated, still not entirely sure what to make of it.

The Burg stopped beside them, “Guardian angel?” He wondered 

Maverick turned to look at him, “A divine being sent down from heaven in order to protect one of the living. Some say they are angels, others think they are dead family members, some have even gone as far as to assume dead pets, but generally an entity sent down from heaven to help someone whose work is not yet done.”

The man shuffled his feet, ‘And in that same vein, do you believe people can be…. haunted .”

That caught her off guard again as well.

The Burg looked at them for explanation, and the Admiral explained this time, “Like an angel accept an unholy being sent from hell maybe?”

She crossed her arms over her chest as he stood watching her, “Why the sudden interest.”

He looked at her and then sighed before sitting down, “If I tell you, promise you won’t call me crazy?”\

The expression on his face told her that he wasn’t joking, and she walked over to sit next to him, “Go on.”

“You remember the civilian transport.”

She shivered, “how could I forget. Never in my life have I entered a place that was corrupt and tainted in my life.” She shivered, ‘And I have been into some pretty dark places in my time.”

He nodded his head, “And you remember captain Everett?”

“The cannibal… the guy you had to kill? “

He nodded his head 

“Ok?”

“Well, ever since then, I have been…. Seeing him around. There have been times where he has been so real, it was like he could touch me. I would see him in mirrors and as a chill breeze….” He shivered again, “So I sort of assumed… based on the fact that I seem to have been followed from a tainted ship, that he manifests in the cold, and that I see him in mirrors that it was… well that it was a bad thing. At first I thought I was crazy, and then I thought it was a ghost.” 

“But-”She ventured 

“But then today I saw him again, and he seems to be helping me. Leading me in the right direction, assisting me, but in really really creepy ways.” He lifted his eyes, “What am I dealing with here? Am I crazy, is it a ghost, is it something more. I don’t know what to think.”

Maverick looked at him with a critical expression before slowly resting a hand on his shoulder, “Do you know why I joined the marines.”

He shook his head.

She sighed, “I don’t tell this to many people. I think Ramirez knows but other than that I don’t like to share, but on earth isn’t safe for me.”

He looked at her confused.

“I have had too many experiences with what you describe, and not all of them are good.” She looked around at the room, “I don’t claim to be an expert by all means, and I cannot be certain, but I think if it was bad you would know quite definitely…. Has it ever tried to harm you, to convince you to do things that you think are wrong?”

He paused and shook his head, “No… i, I guess not.”

“Than I don’t think you have to worry, but if you are still concerned, I would talk to Dr. Adric. Maybe he can help you.”

***

I don’t know what you are or what you want, but as long as you don’t hurt me, I won’t get rid of you. 

[acadiahqs]

Things were finally beginning to settle down. Emery felt normal again—or whatever the equivalent to normal in a magic school was. He was much more tired and anxious and jittery these days, sure, but that was the norm for him.

Leaving campus for the evening, he texted his guardian to let him know he was on his way home when there was a particular breeze that blew through him, making his hair fly in his face. It was as if…the wind was pushing him to a certain direction. Tucking back his hair behind his ears, the magician stared at the direction that the wind was blowing. He usually took the same way home every day, but clearly there was something telling him to take a new way.

He wanted to ignore it, knowing how this ended in, like, every horror movie ever. But his legs moved faster than his brain, and before he knew it, he was walking in the direction the wind wanted him to go.

There was the edge of campus this way, tall and thick bushes on the borderline to separate from the forest that was usually avoided by most people. A dead end.

Figures, Emery thought to himself. If this were a horror movie, the killer would’ve jumped out and got him with an axe by now.

Instead, there was a bunny rabbit that seemingly popped out of thin air, landing right at Emery’s feet. Startled, the magician stumbled back, clutching the strap of his book bag. “What the fu—”

“Magic in danger,” the bunny said in a low and raspy voice. “Follow me.”

Emery stared wide-eyed at the animal for a moment before glancing around wildly. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. “Did you just…talk?”

“Magic in danger. Follow me,” the bunny repeated before it started hopping towards the thick bushes.

“H-hey, wait—!” Emery ran after it, the bunny’s words barely processing in his head. Magic in danger? What the hell did that mean?

The little animal hopped right through the bushes, making Emery groan. This thing was surely leading him to his actual death, right into the forest where no one would be able to find his body for days, weeks.

Still, he didn’t turn around. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed his way through, nearly tripping over branches before making it to the other side.

Except, it wasn’t the forest. At least, not the same forest in Lennox. No, this one was different somehow. There was a brightness to it, as if it was still daylight. The trees were taller, bigger. The birds were chirping away. Some deer nearby got spooked by his presence and pranced away.

The place was whimsical. It was…magical. More magical than Acadia could hold.

“Where…am I?” the professor wondered out loud, taking in every detail, every sound and smell. This couldn’t be real. He had to be dreaming, right? He must’ve fallen asleep on his desk. Yeah, that made sense.

“Follow me,” the bunny’s voice cut through his thoughts.

If this was a dream, Emery wanted to know this bunny’s deal before waking up. Like why did it sound like it smoked ten packs a day? Hitching up his book bag, he followed the little thing through the woods and out into a clearing at the edge of a cliff. Looking into the distance, his throat suddenly went dry.

There stood a castle. A castle so grand that it looked like it jumped straight from every fantasy book Emery has ever read. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes a couple times to make sure that the castle was really there. If he really was dreaming, it definitely felt real.

The bunny rabbit continued to lead him down a trail to the bottom of the cliff where a pathway started and right up to these stone gates. Two guards stood on either side, tall and slender and almost impossibly beautiful. Maybe he could get actual answers from them.

“Uh, hi?” Emery’s voice was quiet, small. He cleared his throat to try to get their attention. “Could you, uh, tell me where I am? Or what this…is? Has this always been here?”

Rather than saying anything, the guards took one look at the bunny right besides Em before they opened the gates. The magician let out a huff of breath before following the darn thing inside.

If he was impressed with the outside of the castle, the interior was something else. White and gold marble floors, stone walls with colorful tapestry hanging, tall windows to let the sun in to give the place some warmth. Emery was quite literally pinching himself, wondering if he was ever going to wake up again.

He let himself be led to a grand room with various flags hung from the ceiling, a shimmering carpet leading up to where a throne sat—and, god, it made Emery want to faint from the mere sight. The throne was nearly as tall as the ceiling, the white and gold seemingly glimmering from the sunlight.

“Where the hell am I and can I stay here forever?” Emery asked out loud, his jaw dropping to the floor as he took it all in. This was every nerd’s fantasy, after all.

“You’re in Valoria, Child of Earth,” an unexpected voice answered him, firm and almost thundering throughout the throne room.

It startled Emery, making him jump and let out a small embarrassing sound. Coming from the entryway opposite of him, a tall, inexplicably gorgeous woman made her way to the throne, as if she were gliding before taking her seat. She had long and shimmering blonde hair, a pointed golden crown on her head. She wore a sparkling white and flowy dress, perfectly tailored for her. She had a small smile on her face, like it was a practiced one to show her politeness, but it was clear that she had great power and could crush him at a moment’s notice.

“Val-Valoria? What is that? That sounds familiar, I…” Emery was wracking his brain for the answer. “Wait. Wait, I’ve read this book. I—it’s about this girl who finds a portal to a fantasy land, a-and this is…this is it. This is…”

Swallowing thickly, it was then that Em noticed her ears. They were pointed and slender, like an—

“You’re an elf,” he said out loud before realizing it. “An elven queen. You’re—you’re Rina Eilhorn, aren't you?”

The Queen’s smile actually became genuine, even if it was for a second. She gave a slow nod. “That’s right,” she said. “I suppose my messenger bunny showed up for the right Child of Earth.” At this, the rabbit hopped up the steps up to the throne, stopping at the Queen’s feet for her to pick him up. “At least now I wouldn’t have to explain the history of this land.”

Emery’s mind was running—and screaming and dancing. He was in a magical land that he’s only ever read about, and it was real. He wanted to cry.

“There’s no time for weeping,” Rina said, her face becoming serious all of a sudden. “I have an urgent matter and I’m afraid that it’s a problem that only the Children of Earth can fix.” She paused, maybe for dramatic effect, but Ems didn’t dare to make a sound. “Magic is running low, dangerously so. Someone—or something is draining the Wellspring, the source of all magic.”

Emery’s eyes widened. This was…well, it was nearly unbelievable. Magic was his constant, so what would he do if it was gone? He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Thousands of years ago, when my mother ruled,” the Queen continued, “she was approached by the Keepers—a group of mortals who made their way into our land—to make a deal. They wanted access to the Wellspring, to have magic on Earth. My mother made the deal, but under one condition. The portal to Valoria would be closed forever. Since then, our Wellspring is the reason why your earth has magicians and moroi and every little creature you can think of. The Keepers became master magicians and regulated the magic usage on Earth, then came the royal morois, and so on.” She leaned back into her throne, her hand slowly rubbing through the bunny’s fur as it lay contently on her lap. “If there is no magic, there are no magicians. Moroi cannot control the elements. Werewolves can’t shift. Sirens can’t manipulate with their voice. So I’m reopening the portal, because Valoria and Earth need help. Wouldn’t you agree, little magician?”

“I-I…” Emery couldn’t find the words. He was trying and failing. This was absolutely beyond his comprehension. “Why me?” he finally asked, remembering her earlier comment. “I mean—why did you decide to lead me here?”

The elven queen released a chortle. “Don’t you feel flattered by thinking you’re a chosen one,” she told him. “This isn’t some young adult novel, Emery Woods. You were simply at the right place at the right time.”

Emery couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened by the words. He did love reading books because he always felt himself transporting into them, being in the protagonist’s shoes, feeling like he was meant to save the world. His eyes narrowed when he realized something, though.

“Wait. How did you know my name?” he asked.

Rina smirked down at him. “Figure out what is draining the Wellspring and save magic. Repeat the message to those you trust. I only hope that Headmistress Wolf isn’t one of them.”

Emery blinked a couple of times. “What? Why does she have anything to do with this?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” the Queen simply said with a rather bored sigh, as if she didn’t drop like, a million bombs onto him. “You are dismissed, Child of Earth.”

“W-wait, wait—!” He had so many questions. How did she know his name? What could possibly be draining the literal source of all magic? What did that mean for the academy? Why did the Queen seem distrusting of the Headmistress? Were the Keepers still around? He wasn’t able to ask any of this, because with the small wave of the elven queen’s hand, he was transported right back on the other side of the bushes, back on campus.

Letting out a huff of breath, Emery took a moment to process everything that just happened, basically frozen on the spot before shaking out of his thoughts.

“What. The. Hell?”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Chasing Providence {Dimitrescu/OC} Pt 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairings: TBA, at minimum platonic House Dimitrescu/OC, with some wlw side characters (also original, but not the focus of the story) Rating: T for mild violence and possibly triggering content Warnings: A character briefly threatens suicide as a means of prolonging a conversation (i.e. saying "if you don't listen, I'll ___") Additionally, this contains spoilers for Resident Evil 8. Summary: Months after being infected with a mysterious virus, investigative journalist Avaskian Caldwell is left with no choice: Xe has to get help, one way or another, from whatever remains of the Umbrella Corporation could be trusted. Or, perhaps, from the very person who started it all... Along the way xe'll have to get along with vampires, fight off would be hunters, befriend a hoard of cultists, all while performing the duties of an everyday servant. There's nothing xe won't try as xe's forced to chase providence. Notes: While this chapter features a somewhat talkative Ava, xe's normally selectively mute, and will be for the entire rest of the story.

1: Blood Runs Thick

“This can’t be it. No fucking way, bruv, are you sure you got the address right?” The journalist asked, eyes narrowed as xe stared out into the distant hills. One hand held a phone, currently without any signal, while the other kept a tentative grip on the van’s door handle. To their side was the driver, a middle-aged man with relatively little patience. When he replied, it was in a language the journalist didn’t speak, but could clearly understand as a swirl of profanity. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not like I could afford to pay you to take me back, anyway… I’ll just, uh, be going then. Try to have a nice day, eh, you old chap?” With that said xe opened the door, hopping out rather eagerly. After tucking xer phone into xer pocket, xe quickly gathered xer bags from the trunk, half expecting the man to drive off before xe had a chance.

Surprisingly, he stayed all the way until the journalist gave two hard pats to the van’s side. Then he practically slammed the gas pedal, speeding off in a whirling cloud of dust and kicked up rocks, promptly sending xer into a coughing fit. Curse these feeble lungs, xe thought, scowling. Absent-mindedly xe put a hand to xer throat, silently checking if xer, ahem, ‘wounds’ were still covered. Once satisfied, xe turned to the long, winding path into the village. Was this truly where the ever-elusive “Miranda” could be found? What in the blazes of hell was a scientist like herself doing here, in a mostly empty stretch of Romania? The thought sent a rush of anxiety to the journalist’s chest, as xe wondered if this “Miranda” would even consider helping xer. Xe hoped that, at the least, xer unique case would get her attention.

In the end, it took xer twice as long as expected to reach the village proper. There were no signs along the path, nor signs of life, other than countless dead birds, hung like falling leaves from every tree. Once, a display this gnarly would have made bile rise up in xer throat. But these days? After everything xe had researched? This was no hell, not when compared to the bombed ruin that was Raccoon City. Yet xe still cut xer hand when hopping the barbed wire fence, as if once again a rookie, too desperate for the truth to see the proper world. Fresh blood dropped onto the snow, but xe allowed xerself no wince nor complaint, instead focused on the figures moving in the distance. Strangers. Nay, sources. Someone would know something about the mysterious Miranda, even if they didn’t realize it.

So the journalist made haste, approaching as casually as xe could, considering the heavy traveler’s bag on xer shoulders, and the sturdy cane xe walked with. It was the latter that caught people’s attention first, as it click click clicked against the stone path. Before long there were several pairs of eyes on the journalist, some of them bearing thinly veiled hostility, others filled with nervousness.

“Who are you?” A man growls, stepping in front of a woman (his daughter, based on similar features, age difference) as he does. One of his fingers jabs into xer chest, daring them to take another move, carrying an unspoken threat within it. For a few seconds xe simply smiles at the man. Somewhat amused, xe hoped that xer natural charm would win the day, despite a quick glance telling them that most of these strangers were armed.

“I’m a journalist-” xe started to say, until the others moved their hands towards their holsters- “or at least I was, once. But I come asking for assistance, kindness from my fellow humans,” xe said, gesturing widely with xer arms. This made the others present pause, though the journalist wasn’t immediately sure that xe hadn’t just misspoken. Romanian was not xer first language. Or xer second, come to think of it. Oddly enough, however, it had clicked rather quickly in xer brain, as if xe had always been meant to speak it. “You may call me Avaskian Caldwell. Or just Ava, or just Kian, or just Vas, depending on your mood. Ah, but that hardly matters. I am here… to find a woman. Someone I have heard much about, a, how do you say… ‘marvel’ of science? They tell me she is called ‘Miranda’. Have I come to the-” xe do not get to finish that sentence. Before xe can understand what’s happening, someone has grabbed xer by the throat, attempting to life xer into the air.

For once in xer life, xe’s glad for the ‘extra insulation’.

“Fuck you, outsider, you don’t deserve to taint her name with your foul tongue!” The man shouts, squeezing xer throat, urged on by the jeering crowd. A smarter person would have been rather concerned at that point. But the journalist- Ava, as xe said- was not known for xer cleverness. That did not, however, stop xer from exhibiting cleverness. Taking advantage of xer ridiculous arm joints (which may or may not be doubled, possibly merely weird as fuck), xe reached into xer bag, ignoring the crowd’s scared reaction, retrieving an evidence bag. Inside of it: several broken vials, each marked with a symbol of terror. This is not a place of honor the symbol screamed. To the villagers, it meant something else, something older. To Ava? It meant the prophet of death, it meant Umbrella.

“I come bearing the sign of your village. I come bearing the scars of your Goddess,” Ava proclaims, raising the bag into the air. As soon as xe does, xe is released, the man scrambling backwards. Others turn away, some leaving, a handful gathering to pray. ‘Twas an odd display, but one that Ava preferred over a public execution. Only one person dares to approach: A woman, likely mid thirties, with dark eyes and darker hair. There’s a clear caution in her movements, as if it was taking all of her courage to not flee. “Do you perhaps know how I may reach Miranda? I am in dire need of her knowledge.” At this, the woman flinches, though her gaze lingers on Ava’s throat. It’s then that the journalist realizes xer collar was undone, exposing xer strange, ever-bleeding wound. The stranger does not speak until xe has covered the deformity.

“One does not simply reach Mother Miranda. But there are ways to get her attention, to ask for a, hmm, blessing,” she explains. With a sigh of relief, Ava starts to celebrate, eager to find a cure for what ailed xer. But the woman wasn’t done speaking, and her next words cut a thick line through xer hope. “It may take a few weeks, maybe less, but we can ensure your prayers are heard. Mother Miranda always rewards the faithful. Even those who start out as outsiders. In the end, all are welcome here, if they keep the faith in our Mother.”

“No, no, that won’t do!” Ava snaps, far harsher than intended. The woman flinches again, and xe starts to pace back and forth, trying to release xer pent up energy. “There has to be another way. Faster, more direct. I don’t-... I might not have time to wait. Please, please, anything you can do to help, even if it’s just pointing me in the right direction…” A gulp, eyes shining with unshed tears, a quiver of the lower lip. Falsehoods alike, directed for an honest purpose. Miranda was xer only hope for information- and, perhaps, for salvation. But the latter had never been Ava’s true priority.

“There might be one way, but it is dangerous. You’d be more likely to die on the path than reach your goal, if I am honest. Yet… if there is anyone in all the village who can grant you the audience you seek, it would be one of the four lords. If you are certain-” the woman could only watch as Ava nodded furiously, silently begging- “so be it. Follow me, but do not say I did not warn you. I do not want your spirit coming to haunt me for my act of pity.”

—————————

“An unexpected guest? How… delightful. Do tell me why you even bothered to drag this miscreant before me, Cynthia?” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with a scowl, staring down at the fragile human in question. Of all the things she had expected to find, once her head servant called her, this was not one of them. An intruder would have been more likely. Perhaps even more fun, if Alcina felt like letting her daughters join in the resulting feast. But this ‘thing’ was hardly worth her time. They were short, although admittedly somewhat plump, with a scent that implied illness. For once, she could not pinpoint the exact disease by smell alone. Not that she cared, really. ‘Twas simply… interesting.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Avaskian Caldwell, and I come with an… offer. With mutual benefits, I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu,” the journalist answered, giving a deep bow. Despite xer manners, Alcina seemed unimpressed, even irritated by the display. Still, she gestured with her right hand, encouraging xer to get on with it. “I am in need of a meeting, specifically one with the much beloved, dearly respected Mother Miranda. In exchange, I offer two things: The sweat of my brow, and the blood in my veins.” Much to xer displeasure, Alcina replied with loud laughter before fixing xer with a hard stare.

“Pray tell, little thing, what makes you think I won’t simply take your blood now, hmm?” She muses, cackling again, ignoring the way her servant flinched at the sound. But Ava did not waiver, instead simply reaching into xer sleeve. Slowly xe pulled out something metallic, speaking firmly as xe did.

“For one, Mother Miranda would certainly dislike losing out on this opportunity,” xe started to say, unable to stop xerself from smirking. Then the knife fully exited xer sleeve, dancing in the light, before pressing against xer own throat. It was certainly a unique threat. Instantly Alcina rises to her feet, only pausing when she realizes that she wasn’t the one in danger. “Secondly, my blood is worth more if I am alive. You see, I have a wretched ‘condition’, which does a handful of lovely, lovely, life-threatening things to this poor vessel of mine. But someone as intelligent as yourself could find plenty of use for my so-called ‘illness’. If you give me a chance to explain, that is.” Though she does not sit back down, or even nod, it quickly becomes clear that Alcina did not intend to interrupt. Yet. “Grand, grand! I do appreciate it, my Lady. Now, let me just grab the research I brought with me…”

Never once lowering the knife from xer throat, Ava digs into xer bag, forced to briefly clip xer cane to xer belt. Then xe retrieves a closed manilla folder, carefully handing it to the giantess in front of xer. Wordlessly Alcina accepts the item, opening it to peruse its contents, only pausing to put on a pair of reading glasses. A minute of quiet passes before Ava continues xer explanation.

“I heal faster than anyone else on your staff, guaranteed. Hell, I cut my hand down in the village, on some damned wire, and the wound has already closed back up, good as new. That means, of course, that if someone were to let’s say… remove some of my blood, well, it wouldn’t take too long for me to get more, now would it? Obviously there has to be some biological counter, some form of payment for my ability. The rule of equivalent exchange, and all that, yes? As it stands… I eat an extra slice of bread a day. That’s it. Nothing bad enough to cancel out the boon of my blood. My… extensive reservoir of blood. Interesting, yes?” Ava says, still as charming as ever, despite the indescribable terror in xer chest. If there was one thing that xe had learned as a journalist, it was how to hide xer fear. Which was plenty useful, in the current situation, especially when Alcina flips a page to reveal the one downside to xer condition.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to try and deceive me. Here I was, beginning to think something of you, and you hand me a sheet that says it clear as candlelight: Your blood is dirty. Infected. I won’t be drinking it anytime soon, nor would I even consider allowing it to be used for my family’s wine!” Alcina is essentially yelling at this point. But Ava only takes a step forward, smile present but trembling, and gestures for her to turn the page. With narrowed eyes she does, quickly reading through the notes. Once, then a pause, then once more. Finally she closes the folder, setting it down upon her desk. “Fascinating. You are indeed a… unique case. I cannot guarantee you a meeting with Mother Miranda, and even if I do, it will be because of your condition. She will use you, as is her divine right to do, likely without ever once considering attempting to cure you. But if you are determined to meet her, well,” Alcina leans in with her own grin, sending chills down Ava’s spine, “I will not stop you. Here’s hoping you manage to give me plenty of blood before you ‘expire’. Cynthia, show her to the servants’ quarters. I expect her to be working by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Although Ava could not help but twitch at the Lady’s choice of pronouns, xe had expected this. Eventually xe would explain the indefinite nature of xer gender. Or perhaps xe was doomed to die a horrific, tragic death long before xe ever had the opportunity. Either way, xe could not help but feel a small sense of elation, pleased to have made some progress towards xer goal. Three steps forward and two steps back was still, cumulatively, a step forward. In time, xe would likely come to regret this series of choices. But who among us could say they held no regrets at all? And if, in the end, this storyteller came away with one hell of a story… wouldn’t that outweigh the regret? Even if Ava did not know it, xe would one day learn a valuable lesson from the strange family xe now worked for: Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Oh, and what a lovely covenant it would be.

[chibienvychan03]

A MC Surprise

Since you’ve been taking care of his plants while he’s away on missions, he’s given you a key to his place. Not even Minor or Eli have that privilege. He trusts you to be in his sanctuary. Trusts you to not be too curious and go through his stuff unlike a certain person who shall be nameless but somehow they’re still friends… No, it’s not Eli.

 Thanks to having a friendship with Eli, you have an ally willing to help you within reason. He has informed you they’ve been working on a case, and that is why Gavin hasn’t been at his home or contacting you lately. It’s an urgent and confidential mission so you understand when Eli can’t give you the specifics of it though he tells you the hardest and most dangerous part has been finished. They’re wrapping things up.

 Since Gavin has been working hard, you decide to put your culinary lessons to good use and make him a home made meal… using his own kitchen. Considering the last time you visited, you stop by the grocery store before you head over to his place. You thank whatever deity there’s a market close to his place as you don’t think you can carry it the entire way there, and you want to keep this a surprise. Eli will warn you when he can’t stop Gavin from heading back to his place.

 Seeing as he trusts you, you ensure you don’t lose the keys by having it hang on a necklace around your neck. You use it to unlock the door. Inside two birds greet you from their respective cages. After you close and lock the door, you head over to their cages to pet each of them. Pearly coos at you while Zappy, being the little imp they are, insists on being scritches. You decide to humor them and give them a few scritches, however, Pearly is feeling left out so you give him some too.

 Once you decide they’ve had enough, you head into the kitchen and start emptying your bags. You sort them according to the dishes. Anything that needs to be kept chilled is placed in the fridge until you’re ready to use them. However, something catches your attention.

 “Zappy!” You sigh as they’re poking their head into the bag, being very curious. “How did you get out of your cage?” Is Pearly still in his cage? You take a risk and check. At least you only have to worry about one escaped bird.

 “Let’s get you back.”

 Zappy gives you those incredibly cute birdy eyes which melts your heart. “Fine. You can stay, but you better be on good behavior.”

 It seems Zappy understands you, making you wonder how much they understand. That’s for another time when you have time. Better start cooking before he comes home. You want him to come home to a fully cooked home-made dinner.

 With everything organized, you start preparing the vegetable starting with carrots. You move onto the next vegetable. As you’re chopping it, you notice Zappy entertaining themselves by playing with the carrot peels. “You silly bird.” When you pick up a new vegetable, they become interested in it and then goes back to playing with the peels when their curiosity has been satisfied.

 Soup, curry, duck, rice, and a dessert. While you’re standing behind the stove stirring the soup, Zappy uses your shoulder as a perch to get a better view. They snuggle against your neck to which you pet them.  At least they aren’t making a mess and just want to watch what you’re doing.

 Time flies by. Soon Zappy is chirping up a storm. You wonder what has their feathers ruffled before remembering Eli promised to text you when Gavin leaves work. You race over to your phone, which is charging. There are over half a dozen texts. It hits you. You have left it on vibrate as earlier you’ve been on scene doing a shoot.

 With Zappy being this chirpy, it must mean Gavin has arrived. You peek out the window to find him parking Sparky. Hurrying over to your cooking, you attempt to finish it and hopefully you can get it on the table before he opens the door. In your haste, you don’t notice Zappy jumping off your shoulder to assist you by somehow dragging out the necessary silverware and plates.

 After triple checking to make sure they’re done, you’re ready to set the table. That is when you noticed the table already set. You glance over to Zappy who appears to have that smug look… if birds can have one. “I’ll give your reward later on.” They don’t give you any trouble when you put them back into their cage.

 Soon enough, you hear the key being inserted and the lock being unlocked. You race back into the kitchen to pretend you’re not there, however, the smell of dinner is a dead giveaway. Not to mention, you’re wearing the ginkgo bracelet.

 “Something smells good,” Gavin comments as he enters. He’s wearing a huge smile, knowing you’re already there and have prepared him a dinner that he never saw coming. “What’s the occasion?”

 You leave his kitchen. “It’s your reward for all your hard work.”

 Gavin hangs up his coat before embracing you. “Thank you. But I don’t want to trouble you.”

 “How many times must I tell you, you’re no trouble at all, and I wanted to do this,” you mumble against his broad, muscular chest. “You give so selflessly. Why can’t I give you something in return?” You puff your cheeks and pout.

 Gavin chuckles. “You can, and I appreciate everything you do.”

 “Now go wash up.” You shoo him away so you can finish by doing the final touches.

 Humoring you, Gavin heads to his bedroom to get some casual clothes. A couple minutes later, a shower can be heard.

 You squash any naughty thoughts especially ones where water runs down those muscles. Oh great. Better busy yourself before your mind heads in that direction. You place your creations on the table, making sure to give yourself the less spicy curry. When you’re cooking, you make two, one for yourself and one for him. You don’t know how he can withstand such spicy food.

 “Maybe it’s because he’s hot.”

 “Who’s hot?”

 Gavin’s sudden appearance startles you almost causing you to drop the soup. He manages to catch both you and the soup you’ve worked hard to cook. “Sorry.”

 As soon as you calm yourself, you give him a playful slap on his upper arm. “Are you part ninja? I didn’t hear you coming.”

 “Um… no, I can make more noise if you like.” You assure him you’re fine either way. Then Gavin goes back to his original question. “Who is hot?” The way he says it sounds like he wants to give a beating to whoever you think is hot.

 You decide to tease him a little for nearly giving you a heart attack. “Someone we both know. He’s kind and gentle. Helps me and everyone else. Often neglecting himself.”

 Gavin’s frown becomes more and more prominent as you gush over this person who he doesn’t know as himself. “…. As long as he treats you well.”

 “Yes, he treats me well, and I hope one day he will have the courage to ask me on a date.” You bat your eyes at him.

 “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t know what’s he’s missing out. You’re a good catch.” Gavin pauses. “I’ll beat him up if makes you cry.”

 You press yourself against him. “Does that mean you’ll beat yourself up?”

 “Yes, I will…” It dawns on him who you’re referring to. “Ahem, would you… Um… Can I? Crap, this sounds a lot better in my head.”

 “Yes.”

 “Yes?”

 “Yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.” You answer his unasked question.

 The brightest smile graces his face as he lovingly looks at you. “Thank you.” It seems he can stare at you for a long time without being bored.

 Your stomach has other things in mind. You blush. “Before dinner gets cold.”

 “Of course, can’t let your efforts go to waste. I bet it tastes great,” Gavin comments you on your cooking before he even has a bite.

 Typical of him. You usher him to his usual seat. “Let me know if it’s not spicy enough.”

 “You didn’t try it?”

 You give him that look. “You know I can’t handle spicy.”

 Gavin blushes big time as he recalls your lack of tolerance for spicy. He’s about to tell you to not to make it spicy for him when you cut him off.

 Pointing the serving spoon at him, you prepare to give him a piece of your mind. “You’ve always made sure I enjoy my meals. Why can’t I do the same for you?”

 “Ahem… okay.” Gavin holds up his hands in surrender. He wants to make you happy, but if making him happy makes you happy, then so be it. “Let’s dig in.”

 “Right.”

 The two of you enjoy the meal you’ve painstakingly cooked. Thanks to your friend, your knife skills have improved to the point of you not cutting yourself at all. You talk about what you’ve been up to lately, the latest movies, songs, and whatever crosses either of your minds.

 Then you bring out desserts. “I hope you’ve made space for this.” You made sure to make it not too sweet.

 “Of course.” Gavin thoroughly enjoys the piece you’ve given him. “It’s the best fruit tart I’ve tasted.”

 Your blush will make a tomato green with envy. “I just followed the recipe. Nothing special about it.”

 “It’s special because you made it,” Gavin says in between bites.

 “Just finish your dessert.” Could you get any redder? You have a feeling the answer is yes, and Gavin isn’t even trying. He’s being his honest and genuine self.

 “As you wish.” Gavin finishes his dessert according to your wishes. When you eat yours, he picks up the used plates. Before you can object, he refuses to let you do any of the washing. “Since you cooked dinner, I’ll wash the dishes. You can play with the birds.”

 Okay. It’s been awhile since you’ve really played with them. You head over to where their cages are only to find Zappy has escaped his cage again… “You little escape artist.” You open Pearly’s cage, allowing him to fly out and onto your shoulder. Soon Zappy is on your other shoulder. The two snuggle against you, chirping in content. You sit down before you give them scritches. They love the attention you’re showering on them.

 Minutes later, Gavin joins you and the birds. Did he just take a picture of you? You stare at his cell phone which is in his hands. “This picture is for my eyes only… and yours.”

 Phew. You hope you look good in it given his photography skills. “Do you know you have a little escape artist here?”

 “Zappy broke out again? I swore I put a better lock on his cage.” Gavin turns his attention to the cage. You both look at this bird, wondering how they escape no matter what Gavin tries.

 “Apparently you need to do better,” you chuckle as you pat the empty space next to you on the sofa.

 He complies with your wishes and sits next to you. However, neither birds budge from their perches on your shoulder. Gavin isn’t annoyed as he knows the birds love you too, just not that way. He doesn’t blame them. After all, you’re kind and generous. It helps you sometimes spoil the two whenever you’re there or take care of them.

 “Indeed. You want to watch a movie?”

 You shake your head. “It’s been a long time since we’ve chatted. I want to catch up.”

 “Didn’t we do that over dinner?” Gavin appears to be confused. When you puff up your cheeks, he realizes his mistake and profusely apologizes.

 “I want to get to know you better,” you say as you lean on him, being mindful of Zappy who’s on your right shoulder.

 “What would you like to know?”

 You giggle. “Part of the fun is finding out without asking directly.” He gives you that confused look. “Find out through conversation. Let it happen naturally.”

 “Oh okay. It’s about the journey, not the destination.” Gavin is now on board. You’re on the same page. “So what shall we start with?”

 You start off with a random subject.

[poison--ivory]

Haikyuu!! Virus Au(Random/Reader) Part 2

        Warning: Blood, gore, subtle mention of character death

                 Virus au! Part 1

                                     Tendou felt like absolute shit. 

His feet dragged across the school’s now dirty floor. A bright orange and purplish hue crystalized the walls nearly blinding his field of vision. Warm wind blew in between the nailed up boards. The glass broke a while ago from an incident a few days back involving a second year jumping from the third floor hallway. 

Ever since the outbreak his attitude regressed back to his childhood demeanor. He puts on an act for the rest of the team’s first years. But, distancing himself emotionally from the rest of the team. Ushijima could read him like a book on some days, but Semi and Reon could tell exactly what was going on in his head with each fake smile. 

The school went on lockdown a while back. Whoever was in the school stayed in the school. Which in turn left a lot of students stuck within the walls of the private school. The volleyball team stayed overtime that day and so did some other students that didn’t want to go home early and stayed cooped up in their dorm rooms. 

At the time we didn’t know about the disease. The only indication of the world changing were the warning sirens that Japan uses for missiles firing. So, we all thought another bombing was going to happen in Japan.

Coach Washijo was called down to the teachers lounge and before he went gave Ushijima instructions and a key to the bunker of the school. It wasn’t until much later that they rounded up all the students into the gymnasium. As we were guided to the gym, Tendou took quick notice of the boarded up gate. What used to be the plain metal bar gate was now being boarded up with planks of plywood.

What was even stranger was the bleak silence. Not a single sound came to Tendou ears, usually the noise of birds singing and cars driving nearby would be heard. He just chalked it up to the sirens blaring that silenced the animals and most people would already be inside if the warning sirens went off.

As we were piled in the gym our principal stood on the stage, his intense gaze loomed down over all of us. Some of the teachers were already on break until April and most stayed behind for the time being in preparation for the next year. The ones that did stay were only a few, most of them being the honors class teachers and the exception of Coach Washijo.

If Tendou didn’t already feel anxious he did now. He remembered the air getting thicker and the slow realization of his paradise falling further from his fingertips.

The door to the class 3-2 opened and a brown haired girl slumped out the doorway, her hair a matted mess and her clothes at this point are just rags. Her crestfallen face was something to be depressed about. She slumped off down the hall, leisurely being drawn over by the darkness. The next person to come out was a breath of fresh air. Goshiki popped his head out into the hallway and gave Tendou a small smile, before ushering him in. The faint smell of medical supplies and the musky smell of the half washed invaded his nasal passage.

Dread filled his body as he noticed how many of his old schoolmates layed stiff and sickly on the makeshift beds. Desks were pushed together to make new beds once the nurse's beds in the clinic ran out. He could make out some familiar faces here and there, faces all a little pale and dark under the eyes. However, some of them on closer examination had sunken in cheeks, greyish skin and a strong pungent odor emanating from specific bodies he passed. 

Stopping in his tracks Tendou glanced down at the dark haired ginger. Dark brown eyes soulless starred as they gazed at the white ceiling. Chunks of hair fell off in clumps littering the floor with red splotches and slowly gathering pools of blood underneath the lumps of torn flesh. Flies quickly gathered on the discarded meat. A brave soul walked over and tossed the lumps into a garbage bag and quickly moved on to do the same to other large heaps that lay slumped on the floor.

Tendou groaned and pulled the mask that laid on his chest up to his face, the smell only dimmed it. It was still present but not as bad now. Goshiki led him deeper into the classroom, the smell seemed to grow fainter with each step. 

Tendou knew what he was going to see however he brushed it off as he took another glance around the room. His eyes watered, the smell really is getting to him.

Goshiki slid the curtain open to reveal a certain third year student. “We’re here, Tendou. Please, don’t make too much noise, we just got him to calm down. He’s been convulsing since last night and we finally managed to tranquilize him.” 

“Tranquilize?” He questioned.

Goshiki nodded, “We had to. He bit two of the people we had come to give him medicine and he just kept screaming and kicking people.”

“Wakatoshi didn’t tell me that.”

“Coach told us not to bother you with this. That you didn’t need to be affected any further, he’s been worried about you Tendou.”

“He doesn't need to be. I’m fine.”

Goshiki gave a brisk nod back and walked out of sight. Taking his seat he stared down at the young man.

The body of Semi, Eita laid on his back. His once lively eyes are now cast over by a grey screen, kind of like a dead fish. 

He would like to think that maybe it was his fault Semi got hurt, but no he can’t really blame himself. Semi and him both decide to split up to repair the school wall. While he worked on the wreck Semi jumped on the car and over the wall. Him and a few other students pulled on the hunk of metal as Tendou and a few others pushed the car out. Apparently there was a survivor underneath the car and Semi with another student tried pulling him out. He didn’t know what happened afterward, all he heard were the others rushing Semi back over the gate.

“Hey, there Semisemi.” He tried to make a smile pull at the corner of his lips, but failed. “I really hope you’re getting better.” 

No answer.

Tendou put a shaking hand down on top of the old pinch server’s chest. The steady heartbeat of Eita softly battered against his palm.

Thump

Thump

Thump

 “I don’t know what to say. . .sorry I was never great at vocalizing my emotions.” The sunken cheeks of his friend looked surreal and Semi’s shallow breathing made him feel anxious. Dried lips, chapped from hours without moisture. “You're really green in the face, Semisemi. Did you eat today? I’m pretty sure I have some umaibo in my dorm room. It's probably stale, but still sort of edible.” 

Thump

Thump

Thump

“Maybe when all of this is over we can all go to a karaoke room together, play a couple rounds of volleyball like old times sake.” Tendou started to spout about all the good times they had together. The weeks before felt like a lifetime. He’s seen students go mad over the isolation, grow depressed from the loss of loved ones and everything in between. 

Thump

Thump

Thump

His mind aimlessly wondered to his family. His mother is probably the only family member he cares about. His father left them at a very young age. Tendou’s mom never spoke ill of the man even when she heard he was getting remarried last year. She’s a kind soul, and Tendou could clearly tell he didn’t inherit his mother’s benevolence. The patience she had could rival that of a Siberian tiger.

Soft moaning came from the bed ridden teen. Tendou’s heart skipped a beat and a soft grin formed on his lips. Low gurgles sounded from the back of his throat and Tendou panicked. He quickly moved Semi over onto his side and swiftly scooted his body away from the bile escaping his mouth. Coating the floor in a thick black paste.

. . . 

. . .

. . .

Something is very wrong.

Why is his vomit black? And when did his heart stop beating? It was fine earlier and Semi was just breathing pretty average. So, why is he still breathing if his heart stopped?

Before Tendou could yell for help, his body was violently yanked. Semi’s once feeble hand was now forcibly dragging Satori. He was pulled towards the bed and in a blur of fight or flight he chose to flee. Tendou maneuvered his right arm behind himself to grab a hold of Semi’s hand. It was cold and felt like plastic. He tried to wrestle Semi’s strong grasp off his shoulder yet to no avail couldn’t free himself. He wiggled back and forth, even placing his feet on Semi’s chest and was able to give some distance between one another. However, it was short lived as the being that used to be Semi seemed to gain a small power boost and was able to dig his fingers into Tendou’s jacket. Tendou thrusted his right leg out and pressed it against the wall. A loud thwack resonated in the classroom as he fell against the hard tile floor.

Steamy expiration landed near his neck, the smell just alone made him gag. Tears built up in his eyes and before he knew it his old friend’s mouth fell open. He’s gonna kill me.

Tendou’s mind went into a flurry of rushed thoughts. He could just feel the piercing of his flesh being torn open. Out of instinct he swung his arm back and his elbow made contact with a solid object. Semi fell off him again, his body sliding across the ground, and tearing down the heavyweight curtain.

Students slowly walked towards the disturbance happening in the back. Three students seized Semi and pinned him on his stomach before lifting him up forcibly dragging him out the room. Some of the others asked Tendou if he was alright, but all Tendou could do was stare in fixation at Semi’s now pink eyes.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Four

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dark themes, death of unnamed and background characters, descriptions of blood, descriptions of a dead body Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] Cross-posted to AO3

Why was it always vampires?

It seemed like the bounty lists were chalk full of them these days, more so than normal. Which was not awful for slayers. They were generally high paying jobs, considering most of them were wanted for the murder of the humans or cryptos they’d been feeding on. You just preferred to stay away from the fangs. The superhuman abilities of a well-fed vampire were difficult to match in a fight, even for seasoned slayers. While you had the training and equipment to deal with them, the bounty was not always worth the medical bills after the fact. You specialized in the kinds of bounties that were more brains than brawn. Preferring the chase over the actual fight. Today you did not have much of a choice, apparently. You’d come into the office later in the morning and arrived to find all the new non-vampiric bounties had been promptly snatched up by the early birds. Leaving you stuck with the fangs. Great.

Your target was a vampire named Qin. He was active and was not doing much of anything to cover it up. A serious threat to everyone if left unattended to. The urgency in needing to deal with someone like him had bumped his bounty up fairly high, even for the usual vampire fair. There were plenty of breadcrumbs to follow, making your afternoon much easier. He was holed up in the old industrial district during the day. Most of the old neighborhood was being retrofitted for industrial lofts and modern condos, so there would be plenty of construction sites and condemned buildings for him to hide in and a steady stream of workers to pick off for food. Sightings and intelligence had his location narrowed down to a three-block radius. The was all easy enough. Killing him would be another story.

Vampires did not have any one magic bullet weakness- they aren’t susceptible to iron or silver- making them harder to handle. Staking one through the head or heart was usually the best way to incapacitate one, until their body was burned and ashes were scattered. That required getting closer than you were comfortable with. The last thing you wanted was a fanged creature with arms reach of your neck. You really should have just taken the day off. Too bad your landlord never took a day off when it came time to collect your rent.

Starting with the largest warehouse on the southside and moving north until you got lucky, or rather unlucky, enough to run into your bounty, seemed the best course of action. And today kept proving to be an unlucky day for you. You’d barely broken into the first building when you came across two completely drained corpses left out in the open, bodies still cooling. Your bounty was here and full of fresh blood.

Well shit.

Sword drawn you continue to sneak through the abounded building. Vampires were natural predators; their sense of smell was leagues above your own. It was more than likely he already knew you were here-unless he was occupied with another victim. That must have been the case, considering he hadn’t jumped out at you yet. On high alert you continue farther into the warehouse with a white-knuckle grip on your weapon. The main body of the building is split into two storage areas, the first dark in the overcast afternoon and empty. There are signs someone’s been around, a mattress and blankets in a corner, duffle bags and a pile of dark clothes next to a tower of take-out boxes. Odd.

You drop to the floor as the crack of a gunshot splits the silence. Mind reeling you wonder what vampire needs a fucking gun. Another scan of the space confirms you’re still alone, no shooter in sight. It must have come from the next room, too loud to have been outside the building. As you approach the partition the familiar metallic sting of fresh blood reaches your nose. Vampires don’t bleed.

Three more shots ring out, definitely from the other side of the partition.

Vampire’s don’t use guns.

Another deep breath draws more of the scents in, the dust and mildew of the building, the spark of gun powder and the overwhelming musk of human. Your bounty was not alone and wasn’t with anyone friendly. It wasn’t another slayer- once a bounty gets picked up its pulled off the lists- and most slayers didn’t smell so strongly of human, so the next logical assumption was a lone hunter. Not that it would have been hard for any human to pick up on this vampire’s trail, but if it had been law enforcement to find him the building would be flooded with cops.

You truly had the worst luck today.

Odds were probably one to four against the hunter. Humans rarely stood a chance against vampires unless they caught one out in sunlight.

A loud crash, like something heavy collapsing, shakes the silence. As a slayer you’re obligated to help the human but considering all that’s gone on in the last few weeks you’re feeling much less inclined to do so.

“Come on Mando! I thought you freaks were proud warriors and all!”

Fucking hell. Kira was right, you are a Mando magnet. The vampire’s taunt is not reassuring in the slightest. You did not need a dead Mando on your hands. Creeping into the next room you’re quick to find cover behind some dust covered work benches. Surveying the space leads you to believe the Mando and Qin have been at a while. The space is trashed, boxes toppled over and crushed, shelves up ended, and bullet holes are scattered throughout the space.

The Mando’s back is to you at the moment while he and the vampire stare each other down. You don’t need to see his face to know who you’re dealing with; you’d been on the look out for this particular mop of curls since your last run-in. How was he everywhere you needed to be? Why couldn’t you shake him?

He suddenly springs into action again, drawing the spear he’d been carrying on his back, swinging it in a wide arch at the vampire. Qin’s too fast and easily dodges the attack before going in for his own, trying to get within arm’s reach. Mando doesn’t let him, blocking each attack with deadly precision. Neither gives in, pushing back against the other, jumping around the other in attempt to land a hit.

You’re hesitant to say you’re impressed by Mando, but only out of spite. He moves like a well-oiled machine, despite not having the upper hand he does not give up control of the fight to his undead opponent. This is the most dressed down you’ve seen him, baring the silver tac vest over a dark colored shirt. You can safely assume its beskar, the metal harnessed solely by the Mandalorians. Just one of the things that made then unique to other hunters. As he circles around Qin you catch sight of blood dripping down his sharp jaw, the hair just above his ear dark and matted with it. He’d taken a pretty serious hit already.

Now you really had to help him.

This was the kind of opportunity you never had when dealing with vampires. Qin’s attention was solely focused on the hunter. There was no indication from either that they’d noticed your silent arrival. You had one shot with the element of surprise, and you needed to make it count. If you could incapacitate Qin, stun him long enough for you and Mando to finish the job you could make it out of here in one piece. Mando in close to one piece.

Although there was no magic bullet for vampires, a bullet wound did still require time and energy to heal. Even though vampires and the like were technically “undead,” they still felt and registered pain to some degree, meaning bullets also provided a certain shock factor. You lose the sword, reaching for your thigh holster instead. While you were not a fan of guns, you weren’t willing to risk a fight with a vampire for your pride. You always came prepared when dealing with a bloodsucker.

Qin and Mando continue to circle each other in their tense dance. Despite the dark look in both their eyes, Qin has a smug smirk plastered across his face, probably under the impression he was going to be having a Mandalorian for lunch. Too bad you couldn’t allow it. All you needed was a clear shot. You mentally will Mando to put some distance between him and the bloodsucker, as if that would actually work.

Your breath catches in your throat as Mando sweeps his spear in another wide arc, forcing Qin back. Maybe you were lucky today after all. The moment Qin lands back on his feet, far enough away from the hunter, you jump out from your cover and take the shot, tagging Qin in the temple.

Damn good shot.

Mando jumps as Qin’s body crumples to the ground, face drawing together in confusion. That feeling akin to satisfaction returns. You could get the jump on him and a vampire. Third time would not be his charm, you are sure of it. You would not let it.

His brain catches up with the situation and he swings around, staff pointed at you as you vault over the workbench. Next comes the recognition, his jaw dropping just a bit at your sudden materialization. You’re thankful his first reaction isn’t to attack as you’re quick to re-holster your gun.

“Focus Mando,” you quip, directing your attention back to the vampire beginning to move on the floor.

“Fuck!” Qin curses, already starting to come back to it. That seemed too quick, even for a recently fed vampire.

Mando snaps into action, kicking Qin down before his spear finds its way through the vampire’s rib cage. Judging by the ear-splitting screech Qin let’s out, Mando found his mark, staking Qin where he lays. Mando does not move as you approach with sword in hand. He does not move as you bring your blade to rest on the bounty’s neck.

“You have one chance to surrender or I collect the bounty on your head, Qin.”

“You bitch!” He snarls, thrashing around the pole shoved through his torso. “Working with a Mando, that’s low- even for a slayer!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“See you in hell one day, bitch.”

Smug even in death. Ugh. You don’t feel much as you chop his off with one swift swing. Not after you saw those two innocents on your way in. People like him were the exact reason humans called your kind monsters.

“Sunny disposition on that one,” you grumble, stepping back from Mando and the decapitated bounty. The hunter doesn’t even offer you a curtesy laugh. Stick in the mud.

“Why are you here?”

He doesn’t bother to hide the suspicion. Did he think you were following him now? That was rich.

“Doing my job. I took on the bounty for this one.” Pulling your messenger bag off, you begin to organize your supplies, “which I’d like to finish up if you have no objections.”

Mando just steps back, leaning against his staff. You can feel the weight of his gaze boring into you while you work. His eyes tracking your every move, detailing each item you pull from your clean up kit. You didn’t spot any bag of his lying around, you wonder how he had been planning on dealing with the body.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Why did you help me?”

Questions, questions.

“You let us go last time- I owed you for that at least,” you shrug. Now you were even. Well, as even as you could be with a human Mandalorian.

He’s silent for a moment, watching as you pull a few jars and a water bottle out of the bag. One contains a small collection of thistle bulbs. Mando doesn’t ask but you can see the curiosity growing as you stick the sharp plants into the vampire’s wounds.

“Vampires are weak to thistle, introduce it into the body and it halts their healing abilities. Aloe vera works too, it’s just not as flammable.

“Aloe vera and thistles?”

You chuckle, “what, did you think garlic would work?”

Mando scoffs, his sharp eye still following your hands. Next comes the burning of the body. You want to get that done as quick as possible. Thistle was not an end all weakness and even decapitated vampires could regenerate. You douse the body and head in gasoline from the water bottle.

“Light?”

Eyebrows raised you gingerly take the lighter he offers, catching the edge of Qin’s shirt with the flame. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the corpse to catch. The flames cast shadows over the Mandalorian’s face as you watch him from the corner of your eye. The air is heavy between you and not with the smell of burning flesh.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to let him kill me?”

“Why would I want that?” Had he not come to the realization that you couldn’t kill him?

“You get rid of nuisances, right? So one of you will have to kill me eventually.”

It takes all your will power to not burst out laughing. There was no way he was getting anything from an inside informant if that’s what he thought slayers did. You had this Mando pinned down about as wrong as he had you figured out. No wonder no one had been able to find a turn coat when one didn’t exist to begin with.

“I don’t know where you’re getting your info, but you need to find a different source. Trust me. As much as most slayers want to get rid of hunters, we can’t without very good reasons. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be any better than the ones we hunt.”

He quirks an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, “so what? You’re just monsters hunting other monsters?”

“One,” you hold up a finger, “we use the term crypto.”

“Crypto? Like cryptid?”

“Where do you think humans got the word from?”

Mando scoffs at that but doesn’t press.

“Two, most of us don’t actually qualify as cryptos. Slayers are primarily half-bloods.”

You revel in the confusion on his face. Never did you think you would find yourself completely altering a Mandalorian’s understanding of the world. This was priceless.

Why were you telling him all this?

“Half-bloods?”

“You know, half human?”

“That’s possible?”

Now you cannot hold back the laugh this time, “human genetics are surprisingly adaptable.”

A look of disgust washes over his face and your heart drops.

“I just want you to know we’re not so different… our job is to stop those who hurt or take advantage of humans, to stop those who threaten to expose us. I imagine that’s not so different from what Mandalorians want…” after all, they couldn’t want to kill you all, could they?