#please someone inform me if this is normal or if i should seek some sort of guidance

[parkercore-69]

the dawning realisation that something might be wrong after you just spent a solid thirty minutes (completely unsolicited and uninterrupted) talking out loud to absolutely fucking nobody about:

1) scepticism around ghosts

2) the complex science behind cryptozoology

3) the art of film making and how all the components of a film are crucial in making an audience feel a specific way and why psychological horror is a brilliant example of this

4) the way Juno(2008) perfectly represents family

5) how The Perks of Being a Wallflower(2012) is a raw and human story of mental health and trauma with a main character whose biggest flaw is his empathy- and how the many layers to it’s narrative make each watch different as you discover something new.

And I was on an absolute roll until it just fucking clicked in my head that i was verbally talking to myself- or my shelves, really- like some manic insane person going on a panicked rant about conspiracy theories and society. Sure, it’s slightly unnerving that I was talking to myself for such an elongated period of time- and I really should be socialising more- but god damn i should’ve been making notes.

[frog-man-blog]

Spoiler for AvA Season 2

I got a theory I have to share rn

Also this post is long- just be prepared

If you don’t understand or if I’ve accidentally leaned off topic please let me know! (Also remember you don’t have to agree, this is just a theory)

So we know how in the end of the episode, where Orange and Chosen were captured, they have been imprisoned.

Orange was locked inside of a cell wall Chosen was locked inside of this giant white box.

But take a good look at the giant white box Chosen was put inside of



I’m pretty sure by now, everyone knows that this isn’t just a normal cell specifically made for Chosen so he can’t escape. And if you don’t know, well, those wires and weird contraption in the middle should give that away.

This is a machine meant to do some thing, but nobody knows what it’s meant to do. Some people have brought up the idea that Chosen could be tortured, however, I do not think that’s the case.

If they were to torture Chosen, that would mean they would want information out of him. The only information that Chosen could possibly have is anything about Dark or Alan. I do not believe they would torture him for the sake of their own entertainment or enjoyment.

Dark is a reasonable assumption as anything about his whereabouts are unknown, and nobody knows if he’s alive or if he’s dead. However, there were no wanted posters of Dark anywhere, and no indication that they were looking/going after him. 

Alan is the next reasonable assumption as to why Victim wanted to captured him, as people have been speculating that Victim wants revenge on Alan. However, if Victim had done his research considering all of their origin stories are on YouTube in canon (I could be wrong) wouldn’t he have known Alan had enslaved Chosen for five years? Thus knowing Chosen should have some sort of grudge against him?

Yes, there is a chance that showdown could have been on YouTube in canon, considering Chosen and Dark fought on YouTube’s website during showdown. However, with that logic, this episode would have been uploaded on YouTube in the canon universe. (Unless this really is just a reality tv show and they’re all actors but that’s for another time)

 Of course, Chosen could be questioned about something else entirely however, we have no way of knowing what. I do like the idea of Victim going after Alan for revenge, but that also might not be the case because if I’m right that they’re not looking for information out of Chosen, it wouldn’t make sense why they captured him specifically. Especially if they have access to the YouTube videos that are in canon and know that Orange and his friends are much closer to Alan. 

Yes, they could’ve very well captured Chosen to lure Orange and his friend out however, unless they planned to use Chosen for something else, capturing him in a machine meant to do something to him seems like they would be plotting something bigger.

Also the fact that they would’ve easily been able to capture the 5, or at least Orange makes it even more confusing why they targeted Chosen first and not raid Alan’s computer. (Unless you know… their computer is hard to find or not wanna make contact with Alan yet)

We do get this scene of one of the mercenary’s getting feedback from someone else as the other mercenary’s were about to attack Orange. Could it be that they had planned to capture him, but were going after Chosen first, and Orange so happen to be there? Or was that feedback meant for something else… we don’t know yet.

However that doesn’t mean Victim seeking revenge isn’t impossible. Just because he might not question/tortured Chosen about it, doesn’t mean Chosen won’t play a big part in it.

So let’s continue back on the path before. The reason why Chosen was captured and why specifically a machine that’s definitely more than just a special prison box.

With the torture being out of the way, we still have tons of options as to what it could be that they want from Chosen. And there is no way we could go through all of the endless possibilities. However, I would like to bring up 1 theory I found that could be plausible.

This is a machine meant to harness Chosen’s power, and use it to power up something or make them stronger. In no way do I think this is just a prison for Chosen, as there is even a control panel and tons of wires hooked up to this white box.

Obviously, this machine could do anything. But it would make sense that Victim would want Chosen’s power for his own, considering we don’t even know if Victim has powers. Perhaps he’s stealing them, or just using them for his own benefit. Again we don’t know. 

We currently do not know anything of Victim’s character and his motives. For all we know we could have everything wrong. All we know was that he was deleted, and technically died, but is now back. (although I think it should be obvious that when you delete something off the internet, it’s not gone, it’s still there)

Yet, I can’t help but feel excited about where the story is going. Really takes me back to when the first episode of season 1 aired. It was such a small community back then and we all freaked out about Chosen’s return. This was even back when Dark was mostly (Aka a part of the fandom on insta) characterized as a nice, and goofy bestie to Chosen (which isn’t entirely wrong per say) and it caught us off guard when it was revealed he was gonna be the main villain.

No joke- I was actually heart broken when he was revealed the big bad

But that’s about it

I don’t wanna make this post any longer

And my phone is lagging bad-

So if you read this far thank you for listening to this giant post 😭 and again you don’t have to agree, I just like sharing silly goofy theories.

[jarredlharris]

Thoughts inspired by open discussions during a progressive Christian church service

Note: Nothing I say here should be taken as criticism of the people I'm discussing. I sincerely believe that these are well meaning people who do great things and are even doing their best to address some of the things I'm going to talk about. Instead, please see this as a discussion of some ideas and the complexities and difficulties involved in those ideas.

For about six months, I've been attending the online streams of a progressive Christian church's services when I get a chance. One might wonder why a witch that worships Freyja, but that's a question (and a fair one) for another post. But for now, I want to talk about something the head pastor of this church has been trying for the past couple Sundays. At the end of the past couple sermons, he's set aside time for people (including people attending online) to ask questions and share their own thoughts.

I think this is a wonderful idea, as it gives a chance for people to openly talk about their own doubts and struggles. It's especially helpful as a lot of the members of this church, like me, have come from a more conservative Christian background. In many ways, many in attendance are still trying to sort through what they used to believe and trying to understand how a form of Christianity that differs from what they originally learned might work and what it might look for. These discussions give them to verbalize that process and work it out in community with the encouragement of their pastor.

This past Sunday, one thing occurred to me, however. In some ways, it still felt like it was the "lay people" seeking answers from "the answer guy." And this got me thinking about just how hard it can be to get away from the tendency to seek out "experts" and "authorities" for answers.

The irony here is that the head pastor -- and I also say this in his defense -- isn't seeking to be the "authority" or an "expert." He often points out that there are different lines of thought on many of the things he talks about and tends to present his interpretation of things as just that: his interpretation. And he welcomes disagreement -- after all he welcomes comments and other peoples thoughts during this discussion in addition to questions.

I also think that it's natural, normal, and even understandable to seek out "experts" on various topics. After all, we are humans with a finite lifespan and a limited amount of free time. it simply isn't possible to learn everything about everything ourselves. We often have to rely on people who have dedicated more time to studying a particular topic than we have to help keep us informed. And in many ways, I think that's the real service that the head pastor is providing, as someone who has spent considerable time studying the Bible and learning theology.(1)

And yet, I couldn't help but notice this dynamic and wonder how the various people in attendance -- including myself -- have progressed in being our own authorities and having our own ideas. Ultimately, having ideas that are purely our own and uninfluenced by others is most likely impossible. I certainly don't think it's entirely desirable either, if I'm being honest. But I do hope that we're all considering the answers we get and thinking critically about them. And I hope we're listening to multiple answers (something I'm sure the head pastor at this church would promote as well). And hopefully as time goes on, we continue to find more answers for ourselves.

---

(1) One thing I'll note is that being the scholarly type, this pastor also tends to have what I might call "academic humility." This is a trait I've noticed among many historians and other scholars. They tend to present things as "how they understand things at this time" and are very open about the questions they still have. I first noticed it when Is tarted reading Hilda Davidson's books about Norse culture and mythology and it's pleasant to see it reflected in some Christian ministers as well.

[bipolarmango]

Hey. Idk if you can or want to help me with this. No pressure, if you can't or don't want to, feel free to delete the ask. Thank you either way.

I suspect I might be traumatized. I don't know how to proceed with this tbh. I don't have therapy and I'm not sure how to grasp what trauma is and what not. I just feel descriptions of others fit with me almost the right way... What steps can I do, if you know any?

Thank you so much.

Hello there. I'm am by no means a specialist, but here comes the little I can help you with.

According to Trauma Info For Medcare, trauma results from exposure to an incident or series of events that are emotionally disturbing or life-threatening with lasting adverse effects on the individual's functioning and mental, physical, social, emotional, and/or spiritual well-being.

That being said, I understand it might be confusing to grasp whether you have experienced a trauma. I myself could well understand my childhood was a trauma due to how out of normal it was. However, for me personally, it was harder to understand that my latest breakup and the aftermath of it also were a huge trauma for me as I unintentionally thought that everyone goes through breakups and they're never nice.

I think the relevant thing is to focus thinking trauma as a disturbing incident leaving lasting adverse effects on the individual's functioning and mental, physical, social, emotional, and/or spiritual well-being. If it has caused you this, it's a trauma. Different people can get traumatized from different things to the different level and there's no shame on it. Also, past trauma may lead you to process new things differently, leading to new trauma. Ie. because of my childhood trauma my breakup hit me worse while someone without my background could have done better.

It is confusing and other people like to dismiss the trauma people go through because they don't think it's trauma.

How to proceed with it? I truly recommend therapy to help you to process the trauma and find ways to deal with it. I tried to go without hwlp and "get over it and move on" with my childhood trauma. I could bury it down for many years until the other major traumatic time happened and everything came crushing down. Only then I found out that I had built my whole behavior for trying to survive the trauma and now I need to unlearn things and develop some parts of me to function like a more normal person. So, in my opinion, you can't run from the trauma forever and the best way is to process it. The best therapists for trauma are trauma therapists but any psych educated therapist should be able to help you to the point. Just pay attention that your therapist has real training in psychology as in many places, "therapist" is not a protected title and anyone offering any sort of therapy can use it. Always check what the therapist has studied and graduated with.

If you don't have access to therapy, there are some books written by medical personnel about trauma. Perhaps you can read these? I don't know how much help they offer but at least the information is medically correct.

Also, please remember that sometimes traumatic events are, in fact, a crime against you, even if it might feel you deserved it or caused it. In this kind of situations, please seek help and report the incident(s).

[writingpracticetime]

Interactions with other villains

From the notes of Mitchell Newman:

Let me set the scene.

First, the Discreet Entrepreneur’s Network, or the DEN as it is appropriately titled, is a loosely organized guild of sorts for villains to meet and exchange illegal goods and services. It’s members are vicious, super-powered criminals of all stripes--master thieves, serial killers, unethical scientists, the whole spectrum. They’re dangerous, violent, and not at all kind to non-members, or even new members.

Second, we have Constructor. A famous hero and  goody two shoes who only ended up in prison for protesting a mass eviction. More to the point, an (admittedly, not self described) pacifist who at the time was famously bad at combat.

The DEN should have torn Constructor to pieces, and this whole problem should have ended there. Instead our goody two shoes swipes dozens of members and eventually breaks the whole network into pieces.

How?

---

You have always been bad at public speaking.

You don’t stammer.  But seeing lots of eyes on you makes you freeze and all of the words you planned slip away. It doesn’t help that at least half of the people in this room are murderers, but they would have the same effect if they were third graders.

You wish Sandy was here again. She was always good at coaching you through these things. The only reason you ever made it through interviews or press talks was because of her prep work.

"The pipeline," you try again.

The Organizer quirks an eyebrow at you. For a second he looks to his assistant, a pale woman whose eyes are fixed on, and then he motions at you. "Go on."

"the pipeline they're building," you try again. "Its damaging to the environment. The people don’t want it there. And it’s. Illegal."

The crowd actually bursts into laughter.  You’re too used to talking to politicians.

---

Afterwards, Bonfire nods sympathetically at your grimace on your way out.

“There’s a reason I’m not a member,” she tells you.

“Did you hear? Did I…?”

Did I do good? It’s the sort of approval you used to seek from Sandy. You stop yourself, because you already know the answer regardless. Not a single person in that room approached you to join your next operation.

“There’s still the two of us,” Bonfire shrugs. “Best not to work with too many, anyway. That’s how snitches worm their way in.”

“Yes but…”

“Wait!”

A reedy voice calls after you. You don’t recognize the stick figure man who darts after you, eyes darting.

“Wait, okay okay okay okay,” he says, quickly. “Constructor. I’m--Cyberscout. I, your pitch, I mean--”

You wait. You hear a flare of irritation at your shoulder.

“Okay, your pitch sucked,” Cyberscout says. “Didn’t you used to go on TV? Man. N-not to down you or anything, what I mean to say is, just… I can help you with that. Not with your speaking skills, but getting the word out other ways, and doing some information gathering for you. So I’ll sign on. Pay back the favor.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah, uh. You jailbroke me,” he says. “I don’t work for nothing, normally I’d ask for a favor or cash but… since you already did me a solid… just this once.”

You hold out your hand, and like that you make your second ally.

---

Your second venture into the DEN goes better. You practice with Bonfire and Cyber ahead of time, so your voice is stronger. When you enter the latest venue, you nod at the Organizer and the silent pale woman next to him, taking a deep breath and refusing to feel intimidated.

Again, you  describe what you’re opposing as wrong. Again, you talk about the people’s wishes. Again, you call it illegal, and again there is snickering, but instead of falling silent your voice booms.

“Are you going to pretend you all don’t care?” you ask, and you hear yourself echo from the back of the hall. “How many of you have been thrown into solitary Akonite cells for store robbery, for having? How many of you got beaten by guards? Now CEOs are lining their pockets with medications they got from experimenting on prisoners just like you have been, and they go completely free. This is illegal, against the public good, all of the things they say about your own actions--and yet the men doing this go free.”

Dead silence.

“If the hypocrisy doesn’t make you furious,” you say. “That’s because you have no fight left in you.”

---

When you leave the conference, you know Bonfire heard because she’s smirking.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agrees. “Still no takers?”

“They’re probably worried about losing face,” Cyberscout says. “I mean, I was. But after a talk like that, just wait. They’ll trickle in.”

And they do. Days after, a greying old woman approaches you. She seems hesitant to meet your eyes or speak at first but when she does his tone is cold, brusque, and to the point.

“You may have heard of me, you may not have,” she says. “But to the point, I know a few things about unethical experiments, how they are run...and how to help the subj--victims. If you are willing to look past my past indiscretions, I can be an asset.”

“I care more about what you’re willing to do now than anything you’ve done in the past,” you tell her.

She holds out her hand stiffly.

“Call me Asag,” she says. “Dr. Asag.”

---

At your third DEN meeting, the Organizer’s lips thin as he sees you. He once again exchanges whispers with his assistant before glowering at you. You brush him off, and stand to explain your next venture.

“One more thing,” you say. “Before anyone here thinks of joining, this is going to be a no-kill operation.”

“What?” booms a hulking figure in the back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“No interrupting,” the Organizer drones, but you speak up.

“Wait,” you say. “Let him talk.”

The man steps forward, and you have an instant flash of recognition. It would be impossible not to recognize him, actually. You don’t think you've met anyone else that big.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s really like out there!” the giant says. “You really expect anyone to go out and not defend themselves?”

“I didn’t say you can’t defend yourselves,” you explain. “I said you can’t kill anyone.”

“You can’t get shit done if you’re not willing to kill,” the man says, darkly.

“Really. And how has that worked for you? Wait--” you make a show of trying to remember him. “Oh wait, I know. It got you in prison. Where I broke you out, without killing anyone.”

There is actually some laughter. In your favor this time. It makes you grin.

“Hobbes, right?” you ask. “It’s possible to fight and neutralize someone without killing them, and it’s usually better that way because then the feds can’t justify using as much force against you.”

“Then I’d like to see you try to neutralize a real super,” Hobbes spits.

“Alright,” you say. “Come at me then, and I’ll show you.”

“Absolutely not!” the Organizer shouts. “There will be no fights during conventions!”’

You don’t even spare him a glance. “Outside, then”

The Organizer hisses at the entire crowd follows you both, eager to see blood. “This isn’t--the rules--”

After a fight that admittedly takes a lot more out of you than your previous efforts neutralizing low ranking heroes, Hobbes grumpily becomes your next ally.

---

More and more come to you. Some asking for monetary compensation, some asking for prison breaks in the future, and some who seem to be as drawn to your ideals as you are, deep down.

With each venture, the Organizer seems less and less happy to have you appear, until one day when you are about to come to another gathering you find yourself barred.

“You’ve broken enough rules,” the Organizer says, darkly. “You aren’t welcome in the DEN anymore.”

“What rules?” you ask.

There are a few, of course. Some minor things here and there, but nothing that got anyone else banned. He tells you, and you are about to object but someone else cuts in first.

“You’ve been cutting into his profits.”

It’s the pale assistant. Her voice is weak and thready, like she can barely speak up.

“What are you talking about?” the Organizer sneers. “I never--”

“He’s been working with some of those corporations you’ve been undercutting with your, um, stuff,” she says, her voice getting higher. “B-both sides. Always got to work both sides, he thinks. Get some villains to help, sell out the others.”

Other people inside are listening, murmuring. The gathering of villains are getting agitated--clearly, this is news to all of them, as well.

“Please,” the assistant says. “I have proof. I’m a--I read minds. I can tell you everything, just get me away safely and I’ll--”

He turns on her and attacks, hands around her throat. You don’t even have to think about it. You slam concrete into the Organizer’s face, and all hell breaks loose. Someone grapples you--and then Hobbes wrings them off you. Bonfire, always drifting at the edge of the event, darts in and jerks the coughing assistant out of the fray. And with that, your last venture at the DEN becomes an all out brawl.

You decide it’s still better than public speaking.

---

---

MN: So, real talk for a moment. How did you do it? Money? Threats? Brainwashing? I know there were a few mind control types in your group.

#4598: Hm?

MN: How does a hero go to a bunch of violent crooks and end up leading them?

#4598: The only way you can. With their consent.

[baroquebucky]

comfort

bucky always found comfort in steve, but he’s gone now. who will he turn to for comfort now?

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! thank you anon for requesting this <3 just angst and fluff (and endgame steve >:[) !! let me know what you guys think :] (srry for any typos)

“this is bucky!” steve smiled at you happily, you were Steve’s neighbor, always lending him a helping hand when he needed it and giving him emotional support and encouragement that would last him a life time.

“nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard lots ‘bout you” you smiled, sticking your hand out and bucky reluctantly shook it. “why don’t you guys come in for a bit? I’m making some pasta and i put way too much” you grinned, watching as bucky and steve looked at each other, having a whole conversation silently before Steve spoke up again.

“we’d love to” he grinned, pulling bucky inside your apartment with him before you closed the door. Bucky took in your apartment, it was somewhat messy, but it a nice way, a live in sort of way. You had plants all along your windowsill and a basket full on blankets near your couch, books along the shelf with a couple other things and pictures all over the place.

“hope you guys like chicken Alfredo” you smiled, checking the pasta before deciding it was good enough and scooping some out onto three plates

“bucky i have a serious question for you” you spoke as you set the three plates down on the dinner table, smiling at steve as he thanked you.

“oh, okay” bucky mumbled, shifting in his seat and heart racing. You were gonna ask him about his time as the winter soldier weren’t you? You were going to judge him for everything he’d done.

“what animal do you think you can take in a fight?” You spoke seriously, looking at him as you set his plate down.

That’s it? What animal he could fight?

“what?” He asked, confused as to why you were asking him this. Surely this was some test? Maybe it was code for something, if he answered a specific animal then it proved he was a good person.

Steve groaned as you asked the question and you scowled at him, hitting him softly as you passed by him and to the kitchen to get some water for the three on you.

“what animal do you think you could beat if it was just hand to hand combat?” You looked at him, studying his features and quickly taking in the fact that he was in fact the most breathtaking man on earth.

Bucky looked at steve who let out a sigh.

“you should answer now, she asked me that a couple days ago and we talked about it for almost an hour” steve smiled, reminiscing on the way you even made him coffee so he could stay until the end of your discussion.

“uh, i mean, well i guess I’m a super soldier so- i don’t know i don’t wanna fight any of them” he spoke warily, looking at you nervously and watching the way you narrowed your eyes at him before your face softened, breaking into a wide smile and nodding your head proudly.

“James barnes i think you and i are going to get along just fine” you smiled, taking in the way his eyes lit up just a tad at your words.

Steve smiled at the way bucky sat a little straighter, loosening up a bit and warming up to you little by little. He wanted him to have someone to turn to, he wanted him to have you like steve did, someone he knew he could always rely on.

After the whole Blip went down and everything was back to normal bucky found himself lost at times, wandering the streets in seek of comfort. He was left alone in the world with nothing left from his old life.

Steve had only been gone for a couple of days and he already felt horrible. He had no one to turn to, no one to lean on. He was alone.

He tried finding solace in sleep, wishing that his mind would whisk him away to be happy in his dreams. His attempts were fruitless, all he managed to do was toss and turn, his mind racing and never relaxing enough to fully sleep.

The small moments he did manage to sleep he awake in a cold sweat, nightmares plaguing his mind, his memories rushing to him alongside the pain and thoughts that has recently set in after steve left.

Bucky sat on couch of his apartment, it was silent as the sounds of the city were muffled through the walls, rain gently hitting his windows. He so badly wanted to just break down and cry, to have someone tell him everything would be okay, to comfort him and remind him that he wasn’t alone even with steve gone.

Bucky scrolled through his contacts, vision blurred with tears as he searched helplessly for someone he could go to. As he scrolled through his contacts he found you, when had he put it there?

He clicked on your name and sure enough, there was a picture of you smiling brightly with steve, a note written under your contact information.

buck, y/n helped me get through everything, theyre sweet and caring and kind, please talk to them if you ever need anyone i promise you they can help - steve

Bucky let out a shaky breath as he read the note steve had left. When did he even get ahold of his phone? Buckys mind was racing, he wiped his tears and locked his phone. He would be fine, he didn’t need anyone to help him.

As the day progressed bucky felt the pain in his chest growing with each breath, tears threatening to spill out any moment. He was frustrated that the feelings wouldn’t just go away, it was persistent and nagging at him every minute of the day as he tried to push it away.

Maybe if i take a walk it’ll clear my mind, bucky reasoned, throwing on a jacket and heading out, there was only a very light drizzle as he walked aimlessly, trying everything to get his mind off the emptiness he felt in his heart.

Was he not good enough for him to stay? Was everything bucky had done, too much for steve? Why would he leave him so abruptly? After everything he just left him with no hesitation.

Bucky tried to shake away the thoughts but they grew louder and louder, tears stinging at his eyes and he decided he’d had enough.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, taking note of where he was and recalling the path he and steve had taken the first time they visited you, he let his mind wander, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it.

By the time he reached your apartment he wanted to turn around and leave. Did you even live here still? We’re you even home? It wasn’t a good idea, he should deal with it by himself.

Bucky was about to turn to leave when you opened the door, dressed up with bright red lipstick on. Oh wow you were stunning, bucky thought as he turned around to face you.

“bucky?” You asked, looking at the man before smiling widely, “bucky! oh wow hi!” You grinned, not hesitating to pull him in for a hug and squeezing him tightly. As you pulled away you noticed his red eyes and the frown on his face. Your smile quickly disappeared when you saw the way he tried to hide the tear stains, looking down at his shoes.

“oh james what’s wrong?” You spoke softly, grabbing his wrist gently and pulling him into your apartment, he looked up quickly. It was still the same, it was just as homey as he remembered it.

You led him to the couch, quickly bringing over the basket of blankets and letting him choose whichever one he wanted, smiling as he picked the fuzziest of them all.

“good choice” you softly spoke, grabbing a blanket for yourself and setting it on the couch next to him.

“do you want anything to drink, i have coffee, hot chocolate, water and maybe some apple juice” you smile fondly at the man on your couch and he thought for a second before replying.

“can- do you think i can have a hot chocolate” he spoke softly, “please” the tone of his voice made your heart clench and you wanted to just hold him, but you knew he didn’t need that just yet, so you just nodded and made his hot chocolate as fast as you could, adding whipped cream and marshmallows and placing it on the table in front of him.

“added extra whipped cream for you” you smiled, slipping your heels off and grabbing your phone, “I’m gonna get changed and I’ll be back out in a second, make yourself at home buck” your smile was warm and sincere and he already found the emptiness fading.

“i have to cancel today I’m really sorry” bucky heard, his super hearing picking up on the conversation you were having. “something came up” your voice was calm. “no i cant just ignore it” your tone shifted, leaning towards annoyance as you continued.

“excuse me for caring about someone other than myself!” You spoke dryly, changing out of your dress and into some sweats and an oversized t shirt. “you know what i think, i think it would be better if you deleted my number and forgot about me actually! i think that’d be great” your voice was cold as you hung up, letting out a sigh before smiling slightly, thank god you didn’t have go through with that date.

As you walked out you noticed bucky getting up, heading towards the door.

“leaving so soon? you barely touched your hot chocolate” you frowned, your voice making bucky turn to look at you, his words died on his tongue when he noticed you were changed.

“you have a date” was all he said and you smiled, shaking your head and pulling him back to the couch with you.

“had” you corrected him, “cancelled on ‘em, didn’t really wanna go” you scrunched your face up as you spoke, sipping some of your hot chocolate before looking at bucky softly.

“got better things to do” you stated, watching the way he slowly warmed up to you, moving his body to face you.

“like what?” He whispered, looking down at the blanket in his lap as he let it lightly.

“like make my bestest friend in the whole world feel better” you answered, not missing a beat as you spoke, looking at him.

Bucky swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Never in a million years did he think someone he met a total of three times not so long ago could bring him so much warmth, so much comfort. He didn’t bother hiding the blush on his face, he knew you wouldn’t tease him about it, you were more focused on making him feel better.

“what’s eating at you buck?” You prodded him gently, watching his body language closely for any signs of discomfort. He looked at you before focusing on his hot chocolate, picking it up and taking a small sip.

“good hot chocolate” he mumbled, taking another sip and you smiled, nodding your head silently. Bucky set the mug down again, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “it’s just-” he began, cutting himself off before he could continue.

“he didn’t say goodbye to you, did he?” His eyes were whirlpools of emotions. You gave him a sad smile, shaking your head.

“no, not really” you spoke, “he kind of hinted at what he was gonna do y’know? didn’t wanna say it out loud so we kind of, i guess just didn’t wanna say it” you mumbled, “made it too real” you smiled at him again, not wanting to make his mood any worse.

“don’t you- how are you so okay with it? I mean it’s just- don’t you feel like if you did more he wouldn’t have left?” Bucky asked, desperation in his eyes.

Everything clicked in your mind instantly. Your stomach fell and your heart broke in your chest, Bucky’s sad eyes and slumped shoulders told you everything you had to know. The way he couldn’t even keep eye contact with you for longer than three seconds, how he fumbled with something when he spoke. You wiped the frown of your face before giving him a reassuring smile, scooting closer to him.

“sometimes i do” you nodded, picking at some fuzz on your blanket, “i do find myself wondering if i had given him different advice throughout the time i knew him if he would’ve made a different choice” you spoke softly, bucky looked at you, watching the way your lips poured slightly.

“I’ll think ‘maybe if i had asked him to stay for dinner one more time’ or if i made him more hot chocolate” you chuckled softly, bucky smiled at your words, sadness filling his chest as he realized how hurt you must be.

“you shouldn’t blame yourself y/n, you did your best” he whispered, clearing his throat before continuing, “i mean you brought him so much comfort and helped him through so much, in the end it was his choice and that’s not on you” he finished, hands shaking slightly. Bucky was silent as you nodded.

“listen to yourself buck” you smiled, placing a hand on his, “it’s not your fault, you did your best, you meant so much to him and you always will” you assured him, squeezing his hand in yours. Bucky was quiet as you gave him soft smiles.

“I didn’t mean me-” he began but you shook your head.

“you were his best friend for his whole life, he talked about you all the time, spent years looking for you to get you back” bucky let out a shaky breath. “You were good enough, you are good enough james.”

The firmness in your voice made bucky look up, your eyes were set and serious. Bucky tried to find any trace of lies, but your words were sincere and settled in his bones like a warm fireplace.

“it’s just- i wish-” his voice cracked and his bottom lip quivered, tears stinging his eyes. He was embarrassed, moving to wipe his tear quickly.

You beat him to it, your hand caressing his cheek and softly wiping away at the tears. You moved you hand to the back of his neck and softly pulled him into you, shaking your arms around him as best you could.

Bucky cried into your shoulder, mumbling incoherent sentences as sobs racked his body. You help him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly and whispering to him it would be okay.

“you’re okay, i got you” you whispered, “I’m here let it out sweets, it’s okay.”

Bucky knew he should feel embarrassed for crying like this, in front of you, someone he barely knew. Your words were too comforting to let him and your presence far too warm to even let him consider leaving you at this moment in time.

You didn’t mind one bit that bucky was crying into your favorite t shirt, you held him tighter, giving him all the time he needed to calm down.

By the time Bucky’s cries had softened to soft hiccups he pulled away from you, eyes red and cheeks tear stained. His nose was pink and he sniffled softly, using the back of his hands to run his eyes.

You silently handed him some tissues, softly letting him know where the bathroom is. He smiled at you softly, getting up from the couch and heading to your restroom. You sat in silence as you waited for bucky to come back, sighing softly to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, blinking away a couple tears and getting snacks from your pantry, putting on your comfort show and switching to the pilot episode.

Bucky washed his face with cold water, smiling at the fact that your bathroom smelled like eucalyptus. His dried his face and washed his hands, letting out a shaky sigh before looking at himself in the mirror, frowning at how broken he looked. He tore his gaze away and turned off the lights, walking out and seeing you sitting on the couch cross legged.

You smiled up at bucky, patting the seat next to you and moving so he could sit. The couch dipped a little as he sat down, grabbing the blanket and bundling it in his lap.

“when I’m upset i watch this show, it always cheers me up” you spoke to him gently, “that is if you aren’t leaving, i don’t wanna hold you hostage or anything” you chuckled and bucky smiled at you, laughing softly.

“no i- do you think i can stay a bit longer?” He asked and you nodded, linking your arms together and pulling each other closer.

“you can stay for however long you want” bucky felt his heart grow in his chest, how could you be so warm and welcoming to him? He didn’t question it for long though, your dazzling smile and sparkling eyes cleared his mind.

“ready?” You smiled and he nodded, watching as you hurried to press play, adjusting the volume and grinning as the show began.

Bucky couldn’t help but steal glances at you, smiling at how you mouthed the lines, offering him snacks if he hadn’t touched them in a while, constantly making sure he was okay.

Relaxation. He finally felt relaxed, his jaw was unclenched and his brows were furrowed, he had a small smile on his face. His muscles were relaxed as the showed played on your tv, your body heat radiating onto Buckys side.

You looked up to comment on something in the show but quickly stopped when you realized bucky had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed and he just looked so soft.

You smiled as you looked at him, moving some pillows quietly so you wouldn’t wake him. You helped him lay down and set the blanket on top of him, telling him to go back to sleep when he stirred slightly. For the first time since steve had left Buckys slept peacefully. He found comfort and assurance with you.

Steve was always looking out for bucky, always saying that he had to pay him back for all those fights bucky saved him from in the 40’s. Steve helped him get out of hydra, helped him get his mind back.

Bucky smiled at you as you pet alpine in your lap, dozing off as you struggled to stay awake before finally giving into sleep. He picked you up swiftly, tucking you into bed like you had done with him nearly a year ago. He kissed your forehead gently before sliding into bed next to you, falling asleep quickly with you by his side.

Now even after he was gone, he was helping him heal. And for that, he was forever grateful.

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea (part 2) | Lee Bodecker x Reader

(read part 1 here)

summary: your relationship with your stepfather only becomes more tense, and both of you know you can’t avoid him forever.

word count: nearly 5.8k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon/noncon, and a few consensual encounters), stepcest, pain kink, daddy kink, groping, semi-public sex, a bit of pregnancy/breeding kink (just through dialogue), stockholm syndrome/sympathy for the abuser, grooming (hence the thing before this one), a bit of violence including use of a gun, a bit of housewife kink?

Jimmy O’Doyle was sweet, and handsome; tall, and strong, and with this gorgeous blonde hair that he either styled relentlessly or just somehow dried perfect on its own.  Sure, his nose was a little big, but you found it endearing, especially when his smile was even bigger. 

Most of the girls in Knockemstiff had a crush on Jimmy— maybe it was his looks, maybe it was the fact that he drove one of the nicer cars in town— but he was either oblivious or uninterested.  He seemed to keep to himself most of the time, though he'd always be polite and carry conversation if you approached him.

Well, not you.  You never approached him.  It made you a little too nervous.

Therefore, you had no plan when he approached you after church one Sunday.  You didn't even realize he knew your name, until he used it to get your attention with a tap on your shoulder.

"Oh, hey Jimmy," you mumbled back, looking up at him and chewing your lip.

"I like your dress," he informed you with a tilted smile.  You looked down at it— yellow, with a white gingham on the skirt— and felt your face getting a little warm.

"Oh, this?  Thanks, um, it was a gift from— from my stepdad."

"Oh, was it your birthday?"

You shook your head.  "Not for a few more months, he just bought me something to be nice."

Jimmy nodded, and there was an uncomfortable silence before you suddenly blurted out: "I like your tie!"

"Thanks!” he beamed.  “I got it when I went to—”

"Time to go, sweetie," your mother interrupted to inform you, motioning to the parking lot where Sheriff Bodecker was opening the driver's side door of his patrol car.  (Yes, he drove the three of you to church in the fucking patrol car.)

"Just a minute, mama," you smiled back.  “What were you gonna say?” you asked Jimmy.

“Uh, I was just gonna ask you somethin’...”

“Well, what is it?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a moment.  “Just if maybe you wanted to, uh, go for a drive sometime or somethin’...”

“A drive?  Yeah, sure,” you smiled, feeling a giddy nervousness bloom in your stomach.  “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” he nodded.  “I’ll pick you up tonight?  At 7?”

You pictured Jimmy appearing at the door with your mother and Lee sitting in the living room.  “Um, no, I’ll meet you somewhere.  At the corner of Bailey and Hillside?”

“All right,” he smiled.

“I’ll be the one in a yellow dress,” you winked.

“I’ll be the one in the blue Cadillac,” he grinned.

Your mother called to you again and you waved goodbye to Jimmy, feeling your cheeks warm as he waved back.  

“What was that all about?” she asked as you got into the back seat.

“Oh, he was just asking if I’d wanna join the choir,” you lied quickly.  

“Well I hope you said no!  I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself,” she smiled.

“Of course, mama,” you nodded, shooting Lee a glance that said ‘do you see how she is?’

He looked back just for a second before starting the car, and you knew he understood better than most.

//

You had a plan to tell your mother and stepfather that you were going to meet some friends for dinner, but they never even asked where you were going.  Certainly made it easier to slip out and begin your walk to the corner where you planned to meet your date.  

You had your yellow dress on like you said you would, but you didn't wear the white cardigan that you had on over it at church that morning.  It was a warm night anyhow, but you hoped it would be a little more mature without it.  Not revealing or anything, but a little more daring.

Hopping into Jimmy’s passenger seat made you feel like the most special girl in the world, though you knew it wasn’t actually that big of a deal.  You let yourself get excited anyway.  

The conversation was pleasant, if nerve-wracking.  At first, you kind of hoped some other girls in town would see you in his car and get jealous, but as you two got to talking and you appreciated the scenic drive, it wasn’t so important to you anymore.  Jimmy asked where you wanted to go.  You just told him to go anywhere.  You weren’t exactly offended when he decided to take you to the closest thing Knockemstiff had to a ‘makeout point’: it was just a nice park that had a lot of open space and a cute little creek down the middle.  Knowing what this implied, you felt your face warm up slightly.

“Is it okay if we just sit in here and talk for a bit?” Jimmy asked gently.  “I rather like getting to know you.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you nodded, “I like talking to you, too.”

It went on like that for a while, talking about all sorts of things that were mostly unimportant.  Jimmy went on a bit of a ramble about baseball, which you normally found terminally boring; it was interesting when he talked about it with so much passion, though.  And he returned the favor by listening to you talk about politics which was probably just as boring to him.  

“I’ve never known a girl who knew so much about the world,” he said, seeming impressed.

“I don’t think I know that much,” you shook your head, “I just listen to the radio.”

“I listen to the radio, too, but it must not be the same station as you,” he laughed.

An awkward, but not necessarily uncomfortable, silence fell over the car.  You wanted to make a move, but you didn’t know how.

“Maybe we could turn on the radio now,” you suggested.

“All right,” he jumped up, leaning forward and turning his car radio on.

And dear, I wonder if you find love an optical illusion, too? 

“Oh, I love this song,” you admitted.  “I don’t have a record player, but I think if I did I’d only have Billie Holiday records.”

“You should come over sometime, I have a lot of records,” Jimmy offered.

“Does that mean we’ll have a second date?” you asked hopefully.

“Does that mean we’re having a first date, right now?” he returned.

“I was sort of hoping so,” you smiled nervously.

“So was I,” he agreed.

Are the stars out tonight?  I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright…

Your mind wandered as you feared that somehow, Jimmy would see right through you— see who you really were.  And if he did that, he’d never want you.  You knew that.  You figured Sheriff Bodecker would go out of his way to make sure you knew that, if he ever found out this was going on.  But he wasn’t going to find out, you decided, because he had no way of knowing and you were grown anyhow.  

‘cause I only have eyes for you…

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized Jimmy was leaning in towards you; and though you felt oddly guilty for no good reason at all, you closed the gap and kissed him.

It was gentle and sweet, nothing like the kisses you were used to.  Some materialistic, status-conscious part of you (probably the part that was related to your mother) was over the moon to be kissing the most popular young man in the whole town.  Most of you, though, was just happy to be kissing a boy that you liked, and that liked you back.

And secretly, a very teeny tiny part of you was thinking of someone else.

“You are so beautiful,” Jimmy whispered into the kiss.

“Really?  You think so?” you whispered back, smiling.

“Everybody does,” he answered as if it were obvious.  

You kissed him deeper, the smallest moan slipping out as his hands moved over your waist.  You gasped a bit when his hands moved to grab your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and kissed him again, whimpering softly as his hands massaged you through your dress.

Arousal was starting to awaken between your legs, and you felt your hips pushing down against the seat a little harder, seeking stimulation.  Gingerly, your hand started to slide up his leg, and you both gasped when you felt his erection underneath the corduroy.

He quickly took his hands off you to open up his trousers, pulling his cock out and sighing a bit when your hand wrapped around it.

You could tell it wasn’t as big as the Sheriff’s— not as long or as thick— but it still felt good in your hand, and Jimmy still looked beautiful with that look of pleasure and shock on his face.

“Damn, you’re…” Jimmy moaned, almost in disbelief, as you started to stroke him.  “You’re incredible.”

“Touch me again,” you pleaded gently, biting your lip when he reached up to pull the top of your dress down a bit— just enough to expose your tits and grab them again.

You got lost in the moment, with how good his hands felt on you, and how nice it was to kiss him, and how much you wanted him to come all over your hand.  So lost, in fact, that neither of you noticed a car had pulled up behind his until there was a tap at your window.

It was the Sheriff, shining a flashlight into the car.

“Shit!” Jimmy gasped, shoving you away and tucking himself back into his trousers while you pulled up your dress to cover yourself and turned off the radio.  Your stomach sank and you thought you could probably vomit right then and there.  

“Roll down the window, please,” Lee requested, and you awkwardly cranked the handle until it was halfway down.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, it was—” Jimmy began to explain.

“What do you want?” you interrupted, glaring at Lee.

“Just wanna make sure you’re both alright,” he answered sternly.  “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

“It’s not even ten,” you announced with crossed arms, “and you aren’t supposed to be workin’ tonight.”

Jimmy stared at you with wide eyes, somewhere between impressed and terrified that you were standing up to the Sheriff.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Lee snarled.  You sighed and rolled up the window again; Lee stepped out of the way so you could open your door as you got out.  “You, stay in the car,” he instructed Jimmy, who nodded fearfully.

The second you shut the door, Lee was pressing you back into the side of the car and staring you down.  You were terrified of him, actually, but you refused to show it.

You whispered to him harshly, hoping Jimmy wouldn’t hear your exchange.  “Go.  Away.” 

Lee chuckled, in an angry sort of way.  “Givin’ some schoolboy a tug in his car, huh?  In the dress I bought you?  Thought you were better than that.”

“It’s none of your business,” you asserted.

“Everything that happens in this town is my business,” he replied, “and everything that happens to you is my problem.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t a jealous creep who followed me around,” you hissed.

Jimmy stepped out of the car, and both of you turned to look back at him.

“Everything alright?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if he was asking you or Lee.

“Can’t say that it is,” the Sheriff shook his head.  “Way I see it, this is public indecency for the both of you.”

“Sir, we didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll let you off with a warning,” Lee told Jimmy with a disappointed frown.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled.

“Not you,” he turned back to you with a sigh.  “I'm afraid I'll have to detain you.  Can't give you special treatment just cause you're family.”

“What?!” you squawked.

“You heard me, girl.  Hands behind your back."

“You can’t be serious,” Jimmy protested. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your vehicle?” Lee remembered angrily, and Jimmy hesitated but obeyed.

As he cuffed your wrists, his hand drifted downward, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

"Lee, don't…" you pleaded softly, "not here."

"Not here?” he whispered against your ear, making you shiver.  “Then where, princess?  You're never at home anymore.  When am I s'posed to make my girl feel good, huh?  When are you gonna take care of me?"

"You can take care of yourself," you grimaced.

"Oh, I do.  After your ma falls asleep," he chuckled.  "I get my cock off all by myself, thinking about you and your tight fuckin' hole."

You whimpered as he started to gather your skirt, rubbing his hands on your legs underneath.

"And what's this with you calling me Lee?  You know it's Sheriff in public, and Daddy at home."

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I was just—”

“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” Lee grumbled as he roughly guided you to his patrol car, all but tossing you into the back.  

“Where are you gonna take her?” Jimmy asked as he leaned out of his window, not seeming to have noticed the way Lee was touching you but still obviously uncomfortable.

“Home,” was all Lee replied as he got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

Of course, as he started to drive, you realized that was a lie.  He drove down winding roads in tense silence, until he pulled into a clearing in the woods and turned off the engine.

“You fucked up real big tonight,” he informed you as he turned back to look at you through the caged partition.

You just looked at your skirt, that damned yellow and white gingham that had gotten you into this mess.  

“Get out, get in front of the car, and bend over the hood.”

He leaned back to open the door for you from the inside, and you shivered from the sudden blast of cool night air.  Lee watched you through the windshield with a dark glare as you walked around the car and laid yourself down over the hood.  The metal was cold; cold enough to seep through your clothes and make you shiver.  The whole world looked sideways when you saw it from this angle, but truthfully, your whole world felt completely upside down. You just waited like that for a moment— and it was the best he’d ever done to make you feel worthless, having you wait patiently for him to do what he was about to do to you.

Eventually, he stepped out with a gruff instruction not to move.  When his form was no longer visible in your peripheral vision, you felt him pressed up against the back of your legs as your skirt started to slide up.

“I try to be nice to ya,” he grunted, “treat you right, buy you things.  And what does it get me, huh?”

You didn’t say anything, because you were sure anything you would say would just make it worse.  With your skirt flipped up completely now, you could feel the cold autumn breeze on your legs as he pulled your panties to the side.

“I’m startin’ to think that kindness doesn’t go very far with you.  You like it best when I’m mean, dontcha?”

His belt made that terrible clinking sound as he opened it, and you felt his cock rubbing through your folds.

“Normally I would get you wetter first, but I think this’ll just have to do tonight.”

He pushed forward and it fucking burned.  You cried out, breathing through your teeth as you tried to bear the pain.  Behind your back, your nails dug into your palm.

He didn’t slow down at all, though, and fucked you faster and harder in spite of the sting.  Determined to get a reaction, he slapped your ass, too.

“Daddy!” you sobbed.  “It hurts!”

“You could’ve avoided it,” he yelled angrily.  “It didn’t have to be like this, but you wanted to act like a fuckin’ whore, and now you’re gettin’ treated like one.”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, wet tears warming the cold metal of the car beneath you. “I’m so sorry, daddy!”

Lee grabbed your hips tighter, surely enough to bruise.  Disturbingly, you felt yourself getting more aroused— it made it less painful physically, but so much more painful mentally.

“Told ya you like it rough,” he laughed.  “You’re already clenchin’ on me, I can tell you’re gonna come.”

You tried to shake your head, but he was right.  He reached up and pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp.  Even that made a pleasant tingle run down your spine, despite the fact that it hurt so much.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, princess,” he groaned, leaning down and watching your face closely, “you’re gonna come for your daddy, right fuckin’ now.”

You heard a twig snap before you knew what it was.  "What the fuck?!" another voice called out.

It was Jimmy, standing off just a few feet away in disbelief.  You closed your eyes, unable and unwilling to look at him in this moment.  Lee just sighed as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cock back into the pants of his uniform and zipping back up.  "You didn't see anything, kid."

"You… you're…” Jimmy stammered, “that's your stepdaughter!  The hell is wrong with you?"

"I said," Lee growled as he crossed the distance between him and Jimmy, pulling his gun from its holster and holding it under the boy’s neck, "ya didn't see nothin'."

"Don't hurt him, Lee, please!" you sobbed.

"Hey!" Lee yelped, turning back to look at you.  "You, shut up!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Jimmy protested.  Lee responded with a swift backhanded slap, hitting Jimmy with his gun in the process.  

"You'd better learn how to respect authority, son, and real damn soon before somebody hands your ass to ya.  I'm not doin' nothing wrong with her, I'll have you know.  She's of age, and I'm not forcin' her to do it.  She likes it,” Lee bragged, “begs me for it, day and night.  Frankly, I can barely keep up with her.  Now, get on and mind your business, and this won't be any trouble for you."

Jimmy hesitated a little, glancing over at you for a moment.  “You’re a sick bastard, Sheriff,” he sighed as he shook his head.

Lee just grinned, almost like he was proud of the title.  "Tell me somethin', Timmy—"

"It's Jimmy."

"Yeah, whatever— you kissed her, didn’t ya?"

"Yes."

Lee laughed, grabbing the boy on the shoulder as if they were old chums or something.  "Oh, kid, if only you knew where that mouth had been."

Jimmy looked disgusted as he glanced at you and then to the ground, before turning away to storm off into the woods.  Lee seemed so proud of himself as he walked back to you, pushing you down since you’d started to lean up off the car.

"Now, where were we?" he purred.

"I hate you," you sobbed, "I hate you!"

"Oh yeah, that's right— you were about to come all over my fuckin’ cock."

He quickly got himself back out and shoved into you again, hard and brutal thrusts slamming your hips forward painfully.  

"I'd better not catch you with another stupid fuckin’ boy," he growled.  "You don't know how mean I can be, little girl.  You don't know everything I could do to them… you don't know everything I could do to you."

You tried your best to apologise again but the strength of your sobs made you nearly unintelligible.  Worse, you were so close to coming that you were starting to see stars.

"You're mine now, ya hear?" he moaned against your ear.  "Nobody else in this town is gonna touch you, or they'll have to answer to me.  Don't even want 'em lookin' atcha."

Your orgasm made your legs feel like jelly, your whole body going limp as all the energy to fight left you.  He kept fucking you strong and fast, overstimulating the most sensitive places inside you.  Your eyes rolled back in your head, your thoughts became fuzzy and distant, and all you could feel was overwhelming pleasure buzzing under your skin.

"Yours," you moaned weakly, "just yours, daddy…"

"Fuck, gonna come," he warned you, "gonna fill you up, sweetheart."

You nodded, the danger of that prospect feeling distant and abstract, while the best parts of it felt so close and tangible.  He groaned as he pumped his load into you, thick and hot and warming you from the inside out.  When he finally slowed to a stop and pulled out, you could feel a gush of it leak out of your opening and run down your thigh.

Silently, he uncuffed your wrists and helped you up off the car, sliding into the backseat with you with a quiet shut of the door behind him.  Something about the overwhelming sensations of it all, and the way it went from so loud to so quiet in just a moment, and his sudden switch from cruel to gentle, made your eyes water until you couldn't help but bawl.  You threw yourself into his arms and sobbed, clutching at his chest.

"I'm so sorry, daddy," you whimpered, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong…"

"Shh, it's okay, sweet girl," he cooed as he stroked your back soothingly.  "You know I only get upset like that cause I want the best for you."

"I know," you sighed, "I just wanted to be normal, you know?  Have a boyfriend like the other girls do, somebody I could marry someday."

"I get it," he nodded, "I don't blame you.  I wish we could leave this place, and start over where nobody knows where we are.  But you know I couldn't leave Knockemstiff… not when I'm about to win this election."

"If you can win here, maybe you can win somewhere else," you suggested.

He turned to look at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face.  "You sayin you wanna run away with me, princess?"

"Umm…" you stalled.

"I know you wanna get away from your ma.  Hell, so do I.  You understand why I needed a wife though— people trust men with wives more," he explained matter-of-factly, "and not wives that are more than 20 years younger than them."

"So it was all a way to get reelected?" 

"I was lonely too.  Marriage didn't fix that though.  You did."

You looked up at him and couldn't believe the way you felt when you did.  Sometimes you hated him even more than you did before he married your mother, but at times like this, you loved him in a way you'd never loved anybody before.  You wondered if maybe hating somebody like that sometimes was just the way love worked.

"Come on, sweet girl, let's go home," he suggested softly, kissing you on the forehead.

You nodded as he got out of the back and returned to the driver’s seat, starting the car.  Laying down, you watched the tops of the trees through the window— though it was quite dark out and there wasn’t a lot to see— and felt your eyelids get heavy.  Drifting to sleep, you dreamt in vivid colors of abstract things that you could never explain with words if you tried; though you couldn’t have known it, Lee watched you sleep in the rearview mirror, and did some dreaming of his own.

//

Midnight snacks; the least of your many bad habits.

You emerged from your room in your summer nightgown— which meant it was as thin as it needed to be for the heat outside— and stepped carefully over the floorboards you knew to creak the loudest as you made your clandestine trek to the mint-colored refrigerator.

As you moved through the living room to get to your destination, you jumped when a figure shifted in the darkness.  Realizing it was Lee, you relaxed (mostly).

"You scared me," you giggled.  "What are you doing on the couch?"

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head and looking a little exhausted.  "Uh, nothing… what are you doing up?”

“Just getting a snack,” you admitted, “hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t stop on my account.  I was thinkin’ of a beer anyways,” he shrugged, following you to the fridge as you opened it.  His shirtlessness was a little distracting as he stood behind you, looking over your shoulder and reaching around to grab the glass bottle.  Settling on a leftover slice of cake wrapped in saran, you set your bounty on the counter while Lee opened and took a sip of his drink.

“Is it good?” he asked you once you’d acquired a fork and scooped a bite of the sweet, sugary dessert into your mouth.

You nodded, smiling but trying to keep your lips together to avoid spitting the food out.  It was a few days old but somehow it tasted better than it had when it was fresh— maybe it was that it was cold on a hot night, or maybe it was that you’d had to navigate a nauseatingly-boring baby shower in order to get some the first time.  Your mother insisted on dragging you along to all kinds of ridiculous community events like that.

Your next bite was more ambitious, because you weren’t exactly worried about eating in a ladylike manner when it was past midnight and you were eating cake in your pyjamas.

“You got some frostin’ on your nose,” Lee informed you— but before you could wipe it off, he took his finger and swiped it right on the tip of your nose.  You felt yourself blush a bit as he licked the blue cream off of his finger.  “It’s sweet,” he announced, “but maybe that’s just you.”

As warmth bloomed in your chest from his kindness (even if it was cheesy), you felt a little bolder to press him about what was actually going on.

“Why were you really on the couch?” you asked softly.

He paused for a second, taking a long, slow sip of beer as he thought, but finally answered.  “I got kicked out of the bed.  Your ma… well, she doesn't handle rejection very well it seems."

"Rejection…?" you encouraged, feeling a bit nervous suddenly.

"I wouldn't sleep with her,” he clarified.  “And now I'm sleepin’… here."

You swallowed, even though you weren’t eating at that exact moment.  "Why… why wouldn't you sleep with her?"

He smirked a little.  "Sweetheart, once you've had a taste of rare meat, you never go back to well done."

The comparison to meat was demeaning, even if you came out on the flattering end of the metaphor.  Still, you took pity on him as you saw how uncomfortable the couch looked.

"You could sleep in my bed, you know,” you offered awkwardly.  “I mean, it's not as big as yours but… it's definitely bigger than the couch…"

He smiled at you in a way that made you wonder if you'd made a mistake.  "You're too sweet, darlin'.  Even for your own good."

The rest of your cake and his beer was forgotten as you walked with each other to your bedroom, now both of you avoiding the creakiest boards.  You couldn’t ignore the way he shut the door behind you as quietly as possible— another reminder that, though neither of you were saying it, that this was the sort of thing you didn’t want to be overheard.  The secrecy of it all made your spine tingle, and you liked it.  Who knew a good girl like you would learn to love breaking the rules so much?

It wasn't as strange as you'd expected to have him in your bed.  A little cramped, maybe, but also oddly nice.  He cuddled up to you, and you felt small but safe in his arms.  When his lips pressed against the back of your neck, you whimpered softly; and when his fingers started to trail down between your legs, you moaned a bit louder.

"Gotta be quiet, pretty girl, don't want anybody else in the house hearin' ya…"

You'd never known how good it could feel to be touched until Lee touched you.  His fingers found every delicate spot and slowly took you apart until it became near impossible to stay quiet.  So quickly after invading your body, he invaded your mind as well, and now he was all you could think about.  Not just in moments like this, disturbingly, but damn-near all the time.  It wasn’t that you forgot everything you hated about him, but more that you forgot how to feel the hate and instead could only logically try to convince yourself to hate him still.  Logic was long gone, though, as he kissed your shoulder and pushed two thick fingers into you.

"You're so wet, honey, you're gonna spoil me," he purred softly against your ear.  "Want me to love ya good, sweet girl?"

You nodded quickly, smiling wide.

He smiled back as rolled you onto your back and slipped between your legs, pushing his pyjama pants down.  You preened when you felt his cock start to slide over your pussy.  When he suddenly pushed in, you gasped and arched your back.

"Shh," he soothed, "it's okay, baby, you can take it.  You're so good, princess, my good girl…"

You whimpered but kept mostly quiet as he thrusted deeper, nearly all the way in.  Was he always going to be this much of a challenge to take?

"Keep those legs open real wide, honey, show me how bad you want it," he purred.

Your head craned up to watch his cock disappearing inside you, only to fall back again as he pulled back and pushed in, over and over, fucking you slow but deep.

"Daddy," you whimpered softly, "feels so good, please don't stop…"

He kissed you, cradling your face in his hands.  "Not gonna stop, princess, 'm right here, not gonna letcha go…"

You clutched at his shoulders, feeling so full that it almost hurt but you loved it, god you loved it more than you could’ve ever believed.  You loved the feeling of him inside you, like you were made for each other.  You loved his little breaths and moans, and knowing it was because of you that he felt good.  You loved it, even, when he went a bit too deep and your arms shot up to push him back, only for him to grab your wrists and hold your hands above your head.  

"My girl," he whispered into your ear, "my girl, my girl, my girl."

And shockingly enough, you loved being his girl.

"I love you, daddy," you sighed, so quiet that you were afraid he wouldn't hear you.  But he did.

"Say it again," he requested.

"I love you," you repeated, "I love you so much, daddy."

"I love you too, princess," he answered with a smile, "more than you can imagine."

He kissed you as his thrusts gained some speed, your walls already fluttering each time he pushed all the way in.  You knew he felt it because you could tell that he was still smiling into the kisses he placed on your neck and shoulders.  You knew he was close, too, because it was his cock beginning to swell and flex within you that pushed you over the edge.  He helped you stay quiet by wrapping his hand around your neck and tightening until you started to see stars.  It made everything stronger, so much so that it quickly became overwhelming as tears quickly began to pour down the sides of your face.  

He was quick to comfort you though, relaxing his grip and wiping the tears away with reverently-whispered praises.  

“Don’t pull out yet, daddy,” you requested softly, wrapping your legs around his hips when you felt that he was trying to pull back.  “I like feeling you inside me…”

He kissed you again, gripping your thigh tight, and stayed that way until you finally agreed that he could go— and who were you to say how long you made him wait?  It felt too good to let him go so soon, even if he was exhausted.  As soon as you nodded, though, he was slipping out and sighing. 

"Fuck it, I'm not gonna wait any longer," he groaned as he laid back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, "I wanna make you mine for good."

You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him and admiring the little details of his face that you could only see when you were this close.  "I thought you said you'd never leave Knockemstiff."

"I don't think I have to.  What's the point of bein' the Sheriff if I can't marry who I want?"

You bit your lip a little before replying to that.  "You really wanna marry me?"

"Of course I do, princess,” he smiled proudly, looking back at you.  “Might have to wait a while if I'm s'posed to save up for another one of them diamond rings…"

"I don't need one, long as I have you," you decided confidently.

"You're too good to me, sweetheart," he smirked, kissing your temple softly.  "Can't wait to spoil you the way you deserve."

“How’s that?” you pressed, drawing abstract shapes onto his chest with your fingertip.

“A bigger bed than this,” he laughed.  “A nice car— if you want your own, that is.  You know I’d love to have you shotgun with me in the patrol car as much as I can.”

“You’d really get me a car?”

“Of course, after a little while.  What kind would you want?”

“A red one.  A real glossy red one.”

“Alright,” he smirked.  “How about I getcha somethin’ else fancy— pearls, maybe?  A girl like you deserves to wear pearls every day.”

“You think I’d look good in them?”

“Mm, especially if you weren’t in much else.”

“Okay, I could wear pearls if you bought them for me.  Maybe I’ll be one of those wives who’s wearing pearls and heels when her husband gets home from work.”

“Fuck, talkin’ like that’ll get me hard again, princess,” he groaned.  “Anythin’ else you want?”

“...I want a baby,” you admitted softly, embarrassed to even say it.

“I’ll put one in ya right now, sweetpea,” he purred.  “Well, maybe not right now, I need a minute or two but… I could’ve already gotten you pregnant, you know.  I’m no good at pullin’ out when it comes to you and that tight little pussy.”

“Is it strange if I sort of hope you did?  Get me pregnant already, I mean.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “at least not to me.  But I’m a little stranger than most.”

“Yes, that’s the impression I get,” you giggled.  

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’d look beautiful pregnant, all round and glowin’, with my baby in ya…” he trailed off, clearly imagining it.

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’re the most handsome man in all of Ohio,” you winked, snuggling up closer to him.

“That is most certainly strange,” Lee laughed.

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (2)

warnings: mild blood/violence/injury, demon slaying, miscommunication, impromptu first aid, mentions of spiders, virgil tempting fate with his internal dialogue again

-

Whenever Virgil wasn’t sleeping, he was on the move.

At first, it had been because he didn’t trust himself around towns for too long, and there was always the chance of a real demon slayer getting wind of that ridiculous rumor and trying to track him down and kill him for it, even though it totally wasn’t his fault.

But then, as time went on, his bizarre pseudo-popularity seemed to have a different side effect.

Namely, every time he managed to save another human and hauled them back to the nearest town, he’d be practically swarmed. Antsy townsfolk would hurriedly inform him of the horrible tragedy they’d heard about up north, or the mysterious disappearances by the woods between this town and the neighboring one, or any sort of rumor that they thought a “demon slayer” should know about.

Where exactly were all the real demon slayers when people needed them? Why was he, an actual demon, seemingly more accessible for seeking help?!

Still, he wasn’t exactly doing anything else with his life (his unlife?), and if there were less demons, that meant the world would be safer for Thomas, didn’t it? So off he went, taking the less-traveled paths and following vague leads right into more danger.

His latest case had been a requested one, from a weaver in the last town. She had received a letter from her brother saying that he planned to come visit, and weeks later, he still hadn’t appeared or replied to her many return messages. The worry seemed to weigh her down like a physical burden, and he’d agreed perhaps more easily than normal.

Now, he was wedged into a shallow crevice in the mountainside and sorely regretting that decision.

The issue wasn’t the demon, no. He’d actually been making good progress on getting deeper and deeper into its territory in the past few days.

The issue was that he wasn’t the only one hunting it.

First, it had been a gaggle of young teens, and he’d been so alarmed that he’d almost dropped right out of the trees and ushered them back out of the woods. The less humans traipsing around this deep in demon territory, the better.

Of course, that was when he’d managed to spot the swords strapped to their sides, and suddenly, never appearing before a human again was looking more and more appealing. He’d immediately switched gears from tracking to stealth, and honestly, should have just turned tail and left then.

Instead, because those kids were around Thomas’s age and he still needed to find that weaver’s brother and also he was a sentimental idiot, he trailed them at a distance, always staying downwind and poised to bolt.

They handled themselves well at the beginning, and then the environment began to warp around them, and then it turned out there was more than one demon nesting here, and Virgil had been on the brink of jumping down and interfering, swords or no swords, when--

Between one blink and the next, one of the demons was cleanly beheaded.

The demon slayer-- for what else could he be-- smiled brilliantly as the body disintegrated to ash, holding a hand out to help one of the teens to their feet.

“It seemed like you all could use a little assistance,” he’d said, turning to face one of the other demons with a confidence that visibly unsettled it. Above, a circling crow cried out raspily. “My dear Missus informed me of your call for backup.”

If the stranger’s swift execution hadn’t tipped Virgil off, the way the baby slayers looked up at him with blatant awe was clue enough. This slayer was powerful and charismatic, whereas Virgil was neither of those things, so he was going to stay right here in his crevice until the whole situation had sorted itself out.

The three other demons seemed to have no such qualms, lunging at him in a semi-coordinated attack. The slayer handled them with terrifying ease, and for a moment it seemed that the battle had been settled, as simple as that.

Of course, that was when the landscape twisted further in on itself, buzzing like a disturbed wasps nest, and Virgil realized abruptly that this was the first time he’d seen so many feral, newly-created demons in one territory.

A stronger demon was keeping them all in line, like the queen of a hive. And it wasn’t at all pleased about the intrusion.

The slayer seemed to have caught on as well, his sword held aloft in threat. “Looks like the real fight starts now,” he said with a sharp, cocky grin.

Mere minutes later, the smile had grown considerably more strained.

Coincidentally, he’d taken considerably more damage in that time as well.

The slayer had given as good as he got, but against a demon’s healing factor, it wasn’t good enough. He was losing.

“Get out of here!” he instructed, and the baby slayers hesitated, clearly torn. He shot them a dazzling grin, hiding all signs of fatigue even as another blow rattled his sword. “Come now, don’t you know an order when you hear one? I don’t want any distractions while I handle this gruesome ghoul, so back to town with you!”

He cut off any further arguments by pointedly leading his attacker astray, giving them ample time to flee. Virgil felt some of the tension fade from him as the baby slayers got away cleanly, leaving just the slayer and the queen.

Really, he shouldn’t want the slayer to survive. Not when having a slayer that strong anywhere near him, or even in the same country as him, could easily be a death sentence. That didn’t change the jolt of panic that went through him when the queen finally gained the upper hand, knocking the slayer back into sheer cliff face hard enough to snap something.

… A slayer that protected others from demons so wholeheartedly was one that would protect Thomas.

The queen advanced towards the slayer, wounded and weakened but already gloating about how his flesh would be more than enough to completely rejuvenate her. Her entire focus was on the human’s fallen form.

Virgil dropped down on top of her soundlessly, claws piercing through muscle and fat until he’d torn her nearly clear in half. She shrieked in outrage, but a skull-crushing stomp was enough to knock her unconscious for at least a few moments.

The slayer, exhausted, half-crumpled against a tree, and his shoulder very clearly dislocated, looked up at him for a moment with something like hope.

When they met eyes, however, that was swiftly extinguished in favor of wary frustration.

“Another demon?” he complained, trying rather unsubtly to grasp for the sword that the queen had knocked free of him. “Exactly how many monsters can one fit on a single mountain?”

The sword was entirely out of reach, but Virgil kicked it a little further away for good measure. The slayer shot him a petulant glare.

Virgil pointed at a scrap of bloodied cloth left behind from one of the baby slayers, trying out a questioning rumble. Backup coming for you?

“I’m offended that you think I would answer that,” the slayer responded, nose upturned, “or any other monosyllabic interrogative questions, for that matter.”

Virgil growled low in his throat, frustration bubbling up. If he ditched the slayer here without backup, there was no guarantee that someone would find him before the morning came, and Virgil was relatively sure that the demon he’d just stabbed through wasn’t the only threat up here.

Not to mention the cold. He hadn’t thought the nights were cold enough to harm people yet, but demons seemed a lot more durable, and the slayer was shaking just slightly. He remembered the few times he’d had to sit out snowstorms while traveling back home up the mountain, and couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

So, leaving the slayer behind to fend for himself wasn’t an option. That meant doing something insanely, dangerously stupid: taking the guy with him.

Precautions first, then. He was pretty good at hiding himself from other demons by now, but human scents were a lot more trackable.

Virgil scooped the slayer sword up off the ground by the hilt, grimacing at the burning sensation it emitted. The slayer’s jaw dropped.

“Hey! You can’t just take that!” he cried indignantly, starting off on a tirade about craftsmanship and integrity. His rant cut off sharply as Virgil raised the sword and brought it down on the queen’s neck.

His motions were stilted compared to anyone who actually knew how to use a sword, but it hardly mattered. The sun-blade cut through easily, decapitating her in one motion and leaving only ash behind. He took a moment to hope for the soul of whoever she’d been before being turned, and a longer moment for the weaver’s brother, who was surely dead. Exhaling lowly, he planted the sword blade-first in the dirt.

It was tempting to keep it; he’d certainly wished more than once for an easier way to deal with his adversaries than the bloody scraps he normally got in, but there was no way he was bringing a demon slayer and a demon killing sword with him. That was just asking for trouble.

“That demon did all the work in an honest fight against me, and yet it’s the backstabber turning against his own kind who actually gets to eat me? That’s sad, even for a demon,” the slayer bit out, still trying to inch his way back up into a standing position.

Virgil ignored his muttering and took a testing breath in through his mouth. The slayer was definitely bloodied, but most of the major injuries mustn’t have broken skin, because the smell wasn’t too bad. It probably helped that he’d managed to avoid being injured in this fight, and so didn’t have a desperate need to heal like normal. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t even need a nap to make up for it.

He reached out for the slayer’s collar, already mentally plotting out the most efficient way to a distant abandoned bear den when a piercing shriek sounded, and his vision was suddenly full of flapping feathers. He staggered a few steps back with a surprised yelp.

“No! Missus Fluffybottom, you beautiful fool!” the slayer cried out, sounding incredibly distraught.

Virgil swatted outwards and managed to catch his furious assailant on the second try, his hand easily big enough to grasp it. He drew it away from his face for inspection, and realized that the screaming and wriggling bundle of fluff was actually a young crow.

“Scourge! Fiend!” the crow yelled at him in a belligerent tone that was uncannily similar to the slayer’s. He blinked down at it, befuddled.

“Wait! Don’t hurt her,” the slayer said in the most subdued voice Virgil had heard from him all evening. He looked up and found that the slayer had managed to climb to his knees, but wasn’t struggling to move further. “She’s a simple bird, no threat to you. You’ve already got your prize, haven’t you?”

There was something uncomfortably desperate in his gaze, and Virgil realized with a start that the slayer absolutely believed he was about to kill his bird in cold blood. He opened his hand, bracing for another assault, but the crow kicked off and flew right to the slayer instead, nestling against his collarbone. “Roman, Roman, Ro-man!” it crooned.

“Get out of here, you finicky little fowl, go! Shoo!” the slayer-- Roman?-- commanded, to no avail. He glanced up at Virgil, lifting his good hand and turning his bad shoulder slightly as though to shield the little creature.

Virgil averted his eyes from the bird, hopefully conveying how much he didn’t care about her. If he had enough self control to not murder-kill people despite it being all monsters like him wanted to do, he wasn’t going to snap because a bird the size of his palm repeated some swears in his direction.

Back to business. He grabbed the back of the slayer’s outfit and pulled, hauling him up onto one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. … Or like a sack of other, non-food items. Virgil sighed through his nose. Whatever.

Roman sucked a breath in through his teeth as his injuries were jostled, and then immediately started squawking in protest upon realizing the indignity of his position. The crow-- apparently dubbed Fluffybottom-- repositioned herself to a perch on Roman’s calf and joined in on the complaints with her own raspy calls.

Virgil ignored them, already focusing on the trek ahead.

---

By the time they reached the cave, Roman had long stopped muttering creative obscenities under his breath.

The slayer might have actually fallen unconscious, but Virgil wasn’t going to jostle him around just to check. If he stopped focusing on their surroundings, he could easily hear Roman’s heart beating, the blood pumping beneath his skin, tantalizingly out of reach--

… He had mostly focused very hard on their surroundings. The point was, the slayer was definitely still alive, which meant him passing out during their travel was fine. Convenient, even.

It certainly made it easier to squat and carefully lower his body onto the cave floor without worrying about any sudden thrashing on Roman’s part. Laying flat on his back with only the slightest crumple to his brow, the guy looked a lot less intimidating. He was probably Virgil’s age, honestly.

He also looked unsettlingly corpse-like at the moment. Virgil considered for a moment, and then sidled over to Roman’s side, tugging his injured arm out of the curled up position it had taken. He carefully maneuvered it until it was straight out, forming a right angle with Roman’s side.

Then, he pulled, applying a slow, steady pressure. The misaligned bone shifted back into place with a sickening clunk, and Roman cried out as he regained consciousness. Virgil released him, and he instantly cradled the limb to his chest.

“What in the name of--,” he started, and then seemed to remember it all at once. Or the wave of pain from all those other injuries hit him all at once. One of the two.

Either way, he sagged back against the ground, squinting at Virgil suspiciously as he bustled around the small space. Missus Fluffybottom landed on his forehead, making him look even more ridiculous.

“I notice I am not devoured,” he finally spoke, almost conversational.

Virgil ignored him in favor of moving to arrange some firewood near the mouth of the cave.

“Not even a teensy bit,” Roman continued, making a show of inspecting himself for missing flesh.

Virgil continued to stack rocks around the wood. He was beginning to regret waking the slayer up, dislocated shoulder or not.

“Now, my silent saboteur, I want you to be honest. Are you planning to turn me into some sort of spider?” the slayer asked, and that was enough to finally make Virgil turn with an incredulous raised eyebrow.

“What?” Roman defended, pinkening. “That’s a real thing that a demon did to some people! And you seem... spider-y.”

Virgil scowled at the insulting way the comment was phrased. Spiders were cool and helpful and oh yeah, they didn’t annoyingly needle him while he was busy keeping them alive. He abandoned the fire to stalk closer and drop to a squat by Roman’s legs, dodging a wild kick easily. He pointedly tore a long swath of white fabric from the slayer’s overlayer.

“Hey! Do you even know how long embroidery like that takes--,” Roman cried, and Virgil smacked a hand over his mouth, drawing close and hissing quietly. The sound was close enough to a shush to get his point across, going by the way the slayer huffed indignantly but didn’t speak when Virgil pulled his hand away.

He did whine in protest when Virgil grabbed his injured arm, but then he went still and silent, like he thought any sudden movements would end with the whole limb removed. Virgil wrapped his forearm in the fabric, and then looped the extra around his shoulder, maneuvering him as painlessly as possible, and tied it off.

Roman’s silence suddenly felt distinctly different.

Virgil pulled him up into a sitting position by the front of his shirt, and tightened the knot slightly. The sling looked just about as good as could be expected, given the circumstances.

“You are actually a demon, aren’t you?”

Speech was one of those human things that Virgil still hadn’t recovered, but he thought that the sarcastic fang-bearing smile he directed at Roman spoke volumes all on its own.

“Then why are you tenderly nursing a demon slayer back to health?” he retorted, sounding bewildered and incredulous in equal measures.

Why are you pushing your luck? Virgil thought back, clicking his teeth in irritation and shoving the slayer back into a prone position.

Roman let out a high pitched wheeze, his good arm coming to cradle his ribs defensively. “Or not-so-tenderly, I suppose. The question stands!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and returned to the half-built fire. He’d pestered the only doctor in town for first aid lessons for months, he wasn’t going to stop practicing medicine just because of a little thing like being turned into a demon that craved human flesh.

To his surprise, the silence lingered as he worked, long enough that he turned and cast a suspicious glare over his shoulder at the slayer, who jolted nervously at his attention.

“Wh-what?” he asked, fiddling with the torn edges of his sling. “No escape attempts here, haha!”

“...” Virgil squinted at him and his blatant fake laugh for a long moment, trying to figure out just what was wrong with the scene.

Wait. Where was the bird?

A chill ran down his spine, and he twisted to stare at the mountainside beyond the cave entrance. No raspy-voiced baby crows in sight.

It had to have gone for help, knowing exactly where Virgil and its slayer had holed up. Roman knew he’d realized it, was watching him with the wary expectancy of a cornered hare in front of a trapper.

A surge of furious panic did bubble up in the back of Virgil’s mind, but he quelled it with relative ease.

If backup was coming, then the human was no longer his problem.

Pleased at the neat way the situation had resolved itself, Virgil tapped two fingers to his temple in a gesture of farewell and scrambled out the cave, scaling the cliff face and resolving to put as much distance between himself and this region as possible.

With any luck, he’d never run into that particular slayer again.

[dangermousie]

CFC Chapter 54

“A crashing car?” Ahahahaha I see you, Meatbun. But it was indeed an utter pileup!

I know I commented on this passage in its various iterations eight billion times already but I still have more to say. And it’s that XQC taking so long to realize that even though HY is young, his emotions and feelings are as genuine and strong as those of anyone older is so realistic - people do tend to think that especially with regard to children - think of a reaction of an adult to a three year old crying over ice cream they dropped. It’s all amused even if not meanly so. Because to an adult with vastly more experience, this is not a big deal. But what that forgets is that whether it’s ridiculous to someone else or not, to the person at issue that is a real feeling, AND that of course a person can only feel through the lens of their experience - what else is there? Emotions aren’t any less valid because they are informed by lesser or different experience.

Honestly, to me so far this is one of the driving messages of the novel - everyone is in their own world of issues and pain and none of these characters can truly look through the lens of another person and it would be so much better if they did. To XQC, for so long, He Yu’s strong feelings (and we know so many of these feelings are awful - despair, and self-loathing, and loneliness) never quite felt real and therefore never quite felt fully valid. And by the time it wasn’t the case, it was too late.

But the same is true for He Yu - he is so concentrated on his own grievances and his own pain, he cannot perceive others’ different issues. In He Yu’s mind, he’s the winner and always champion of Misery Olympics and while he’s had a horrible time of it, that doesn’t mean other people didn’t either just in different ways. Whether because of his condition, his issues or just his age, HY is not empathetic in the least.

And think about it - XQC does not have a horrible illness. He does not have unfeeling parents. But he had to watch his beloved parents brutally murdered in front of his eyes at 13 (!!!!) and then had to raise a 5 year old by himself. Is it worse or better than HY’s trauma? That’s a matter of opinion but what there is no question about is that is a different type of trauma and a different type of scar. Or think about the patient in the asylum whose name I am too lazy to look up - her life is such a theater of horrors that to me, it makes the combined issues of HY and XQC seem small, though once again that’s subjective. Nobody wins when people start this sort of competition.

My heart breaks for XQC but also - I am sorry - if/when HY x XQC hook up again (how? I have no idea! But that is one of the joys of Meatbun - I both have no idea how/where it’s going and utterly trust her), please have He Yu read up and learn things because Good God. You should not be in major pain the morning after unless you are into pain and XQC clearly is not!

The other thing is the bit about XQC forcing himself to walk in his usual ramrod-straight manner is the moment I went utterly gone for him. I mean, I liked him and found him interesting before. But this is the thing that flipped that invisible switch for me and I went rabid and irrational and now I am Team XQC and I don’t care what he wants and does from now on, he should have it. It’s so small but so real. My mother and her mother were both big on straight posture. And one of the reasons they gave was when you walk with good posture - you look confident but also it makes you feel confident and stronger. And I’ve actually found it to be true - when you throw your shoulders back and straighten your neck and hold your head up, it does not just give others a signal, it gives a signal to your own brain. So to see XQC insist on doing it, despite being emotionally and physically shattered - because of his pride refusing to give up, because he’s so unbending, but also this being some sort of instinctive armor, just hits straight through the heart.

OK, I laughed at HY as a fucking machine. But also, this is another point in the whole “everyone has issues” narrative and HY’s life could be worse. HY, with all his other issues, can pay an insane amount, an amount that XQC could not pay in a million years, so easily. It’s not even a blip to him. Hell, the fact that he forgot to pay speaks to that - I can see forgetting to pay a friend a couple of bucks back right away because it’s not much money. HY forgets because it does not loom in his mind. And this rich lifestyle is instinctive, is ingrained in him. I think he’d find it hard to be poor.

THAT is what he’s thinking about? Priorities are...

The sole good thing that came out of this insanity is that XQC is getting in touch with his emotions, even if those emotions are (rightly) rage. He’s too closed off from them normally.

The fact that you slept with a man should be secondary to the fact that you drugged and raped him, but here we are...

To me, this sums up He Yu as a moral wasteland. To still, when sober and past his fit and not under influence of wine, to still feel excitement over his revenge and to somehow twist it that it’s XQC’s fault for being raped by He Yu is !!!!!!!!!

(I suppose if I were charitable, I’d assume that the disquiet is small stirrings of almost dead conscience and his “he deserved it” is an attempt to justify the unjustifiable to himself, but I honestly don’t want to think so because I am so angry at him. Not until I see some more evidence. I don’t feel like being indulgent with He Yu since he’s indulgent with himself enough for two.)

1. The fact that you can tell from the picture XQC got taken by a man (I am gonna defer to Meatbun’s expertise here) definitely points to the fact that the pictures are going to be used for something bad later - because if it’s just oh XQC had sex, so what, he’s single what’s the big deal. But like this it becomes a different matter. No idea if it will be used for HY or XQC or both, and by whom (money is on Duan and co, but after the way HY went off, I would never say HY himself won’t use it badly somehow) but knowing Meatbun, it will go for maximum damage.

2. Ruthless? Perhaps. Unfeeling? Hmmmm. I am not He Yu’s biggest fan atm but that’s a wonderfully misleading adjective here. He does still seem to be in shock. And fixating.

3. The whole “hahahaha XQC is a hypocrite when he was all ‘I am not interested in sex’“ is - I am not sure if HY is just short-circuiting (fine) or using a rapist justification/rolling in a sea of toxic toxicity (not fine) because I am sorry, that’s totally like “he/she had a reaction, can’t be rape” writ large. Yeah, sure he had a reaction - you poured drugs down his throat. That has nothing to do with his default preferences or his actual state. THE FUCK?!

Anyway, we end on the whole “u mad bro?” bit and you know what strikes me? HY was all “I am done, we are done, my revenge is complete I don’t care” but here he is, still desperately seeking and craving reaction and interaction from XQC.

I remain utterly puzzled as to how these two will ever be a couple except for a couple being defined as “two mutually homicidal people.” Leaving aside everything else, I am willing to accept HY is in the closet - clearly whatever his orientation is, it includes men. But I do not get that sense from XQC at all. When he’s not drugged, he’s barely interested in sex with anyone and I do not get the sense he’s in the closet either. Chances of anyone, let alone He Yu, who is both a man and someone who raped him to humiliate him, being able to entice him into sexual encounters voluntarily is about the chance of me going to visit Mars. Meatbun loves doing insane things so I can’t wait.

PS I know people use the term psychopath all the time casually but ummm, I think He Yu may actually be one? When he has his father (!!!) on speakerphone, calmly carrying a conversation with the man as he’s raping his father’s friend in the club as he talks (!!!!!) that is...in RL I’d be “team lock him up for life, there is something so basic broken in him that it can’t be fixed.” Like - the hell? The ability to put things on different shelves so much is not in the same country as sane (it makes me think of 2ha and TXJ banging CWN being the curtain while performing court business but TXJ was bona fide clinically insane and also this is worse because this is his actual freaking father omg.) Of course, only time will tell whether it’s evidence of him being irreparably incapable of normalcy in terms of living in the world/interacting with others or it was an extreme psychotic (in casual parlance not medical one) break because most people are capable of truly horrific stuff if certain levers are pushed and his default is saner. It’s the question, isn’t it? Whether He Yu’s factory default setting is the monster of the previous chapters or the kid who’d cut his wrists so as not to hurt others.

Anyway, this novel is a terrifying roller coaster ride and I love having strong emotions.

[everything-laito]

In theory, if Laito was human, how do you think he would have turbed out instead? Because clearly in the supernaturals they don't seek help nor is it recommended. But for humans it is clearly recommended that you sort your issues out if you want to survive in the society. Laito would sinply be almost forced to see the error of his ways plus he would most likely be accused of harrassments and/or rape (I'd actually like a very long analysis on this because I find this an interesting concept lol)

Alrighty anon! I’ll try to make it a long one. Just the length usually varies with the ask but I’ll go as in depth as I can with this one as requested!

So let’s start off with the thing I’ve mentioned quite a bit on this blog: the power dynamic between Laito and Yui/his other victims. The reason why he has so much power on top of his mind games is that he is physically stronger than Yui by a LONG shot. There’s absolutely no way (that Yui sees) that she can physically beat him. So he takes advantage of that. Most abusers in real life do the same thing too: preying on weaker people. “Weak” in this sense can be weak mentally, emotionally, physically, or having weak connections (little or no connections with others). So from that point, Laito being human would definitely be a bit of a game changer, but if he’s as smart as a human as he is a vampire, he still has a lot of tricks up his sleeve.

I wouldn’t say that not seeking help is a vampire thing. We don’t know a lot about vampire culture who aren’t nobles. All the vampires in the game are higher class vampires. Although I’ve seen some characters be like “it’s a vampire thing,” I have an inkling that most characters (except Shu of course) haven’t interacted with people who aren’t nobles. Laito says that killing for vampires is how you express love, but the only people I’ve heard say that has been Laito and Cordelia (However please please correct me if I’m wrong on this), and we know that Laito gets a lot of his “morals” from Cordelia. We really don’t know a lot about vampire society like we think we do.

Same goes for people in real life, humans. The rich lead lives that are very different from most of us. A lot is kept hush hush about celebrities and rich people, not to mention that lifestyle must be very suffocating. On top of that, we still have a stigma in our societies today that therapy/getting emotional help is “bad.” I recently heard that my roommate’s brother said he wouldn’t go to therapy cuz it’s a “liberal thing.” Like bruh. No, getting therapy is not political. But we make it a political issue for some reason, despite it being there for everyone and we should normalize it as such. On top of that, many people brush off many rich people’s emotional health issues, because “they have money.” Sure money can get you a lot of things, but having that much money or at least those very high expectations can put a lot of different emotional stresses on someone.

So I believe it would still work for Laito in that manner. He’s nobility, and this seems like old fashioned nobility too. People having mental illnesses and getting treated for them was out of the question and taboo to talk about. Not to mention having a sexual abuse scandal. So I think that Laito would be coerced into not saying anything if he had the option of getting help somehow. I’m still unsure why he stayed silent about it. I don’t think he ever said why, but I have an inkling it’s because he didn’t want Ayato or Kanato to worry about him + he didn’t know how to say what happened + he didn’t know what was happening was bad. Those are my theories though.

I don’t think he’d be able to see the error of his ways because growing up in that family, he was very isolated. People higher up are still isolated from what happens to the lower classes, or simply just don’t care about it, or it’s just normalized. A big example is sexual abuse and harassment in the workplace done by CEOs of companies. Or sexual abuse scandals involving priests. Both are in positions of higher power and use that power to abuse. It’s more of a control fetish for them, and on top of that they weren’t taught to respect other people (specifically women and children). It doesn’t seem like the diaboy families are taught that, given their backgrounds. I’ve also mentioned before that it would be very very hard for Laito to get convicted of sexual harassment and assault in real life. I answered that part of this ask here which is also a lengthy ish doozy as well. Feel free to read the whole thing, but I’ll highlight htis paragraph here:

When it comes to real life, many people in power don’t get easily called out. That’s why the #MeToo movement was so amazing, because it gave sexual abuse victims a chance to stand up for themselves against their abusers who they were silenced by. When it comes to political and powerful figures, they definitely use hush money, blackmail, or other means to not let this information get out to “taint” its brand. Or even so, when it comes to any type of abuse, abusers know how to silence a lot of their victims so they don’t talk to anyone about this through manipulation. It’s a lot more nuanced than this.

So no, I don’t believe Laito would get convicted of his crimes, even if he was a human.

Hope that was long enough for you! If you would like me to elaborate on anything else or have any questions, please let me know!

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you've always known there's a soulmate on the other end of your injuries. when you're working the victory pit during the harvest close festival, though, it's the furthest thing from your mind. ironically, it's the closest mollymauk has ever been to you.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: canon level violence, mentions of molly activating his swords, canon level allusions to war and corruption

title credit: the steve miller band

note: takes place during episodes 17/18, requested from the soulmate abc list: damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Throughout your childhood, you’ve been called blessed. It started with bruises and scuffs. Little things that are perfectly normal for a child to receive and not remember. The problem with your bruises and scuffs was that they were not your own. When you grew into your celestially gifted powers, it started to make more sense.

Your family had stories of soulmates bestowed upon their clerics, but it wasn’t something that had happened in many generations. Nobody was really concerned until the wounds you received from your soulmate began getting worse - deeper, taking longer to heal, more life-threatening. It worried you, and your family, but it pressed you to become a better cleric. To find your source of power and lean into it. You heal yourself each night before bed, hoping that you’re giving some sort of comfort to the person you’re connected to. Even if you have no energy spells, you pull a pearl you were gifted when you left your hometown and press your lips to it and let it fill you with the love and warmth of life and still heal yourself. It’s your nightly ritual and, since you’ve started doing it, you haven’t missed it once.

Except once, but really that doesn’t matter because of how you miss it. It’s the Harvest’s End festival and the Victory Pit, and you’ve been conscripted to work it. You hate working for the Crown, but it pays well and allows you to help people. Your clerical skills and magic get used every day and you help the people that really need help. Still, the inevitable war looming over the Empire worries you. You’re skilled for your age, more so than the other clerics who perhaps have years over you, and War Clerics don’t have the longest life expectancy. After the last time that your soulmate died, and the grief and pain it inflicted upon you, you don’t want to do that to them. You try not to think about the several times you’ve felt their death and resurrections, though, because it worries you.

Most of all, it tells you very important information about them. They’re some sort of adventurer, best case scenario. The worst case, though, is that they’re a criminal. Regardless, you’ve become fond of them. The cuts don’t really hurt as much anymore, but they still pucker and scar when you heal them at night. There have been a few times when you’ve gotten hurt and you know that they’ve received those wounds, so perhaps they know about you as well. You hope they do because it would be awfully lonely to be the only one out of a pair to be aware that there is, in fact, a pair.

Still, your soulmate is the furthest thing from your mind as you funnel people into the Victory Pit. Clerics double as security, mostly because the Guard want to watch the fights more than they want to keep people safe, and you grit your teeth trying to keep your prepared spells at the back of your mind. You have several healing spells in your mind, but a few offensive ones as well. In Victory Pits of the past, you’ve had to use them. Now, you’re just sore and aggravated with the hickey that appeared on your chest last night - that you did not receive yourself. It doesn’t bother you that whoever you’re linked to is getting lucky, but it would be nice if you didn’t have to look at the proof for the next week or so.

Someone stamps on your toe and you bite back your curse, skittering backward and colliding with someone who is cursing. “I’m sorry,” You apologize on instinct, turning and grabbing the person by the arms. You’re momentarily struck by how beautiful they are, but you’re at work. “Are you okay? I’m a cleric working in the Pit today.” They glance down at you, baubles and trinkets swinging from their gaudy horns, and you realize with a start that they're purple. It’s not that tieflings are rare in Zadash, but purple ones are. The group they’re with also has a blue tiefling, a small green halfling, and a half-orc. Truly a strange band of people.

“No, no,” The person you’d run into says, voice smoother than you’d anticipated, “I’m alright. Are you okay, darling?” They smile down at you, completely red eyes smiling with merriment as they settle their hands on your biceps in a mirror of how you’re holding them.

“Please, I ran into you,” You shake your head, “Besides, I’m working. It’s my job to make sure that you’re okay.” You give them your name, telling them to seek you out if they shall become injured.

“Oh,” They sweep you grandly underneath their arm, squishing you into the side and stepping toward their group for a few steps, “I will get painfully injured today, but I will seek you out specifically, darling. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and I am fighting with the Mighty Nein. You may call me Molly, all my friends do. I am a man of many friends, and you are one of them now. Keep your eyes on me today.” He winks and then sweeps himself away with a flourish, leaving you standing and a little flustered.

After that, the Victory Pit starts faster than you anticipate. You're stationed in the Pit itself, one of the more powerful offensive clerics on the roster today when you start to put the pieces together. You're not sure why you didn't notice at first, but Mollymauk - Molly - has a lot of scars. A lot of familiar scars. You trace a particularly deep scar on your collarbone as you watch the first Pit fight and wonder. What are the odds? Could Mollymauk really be…? A horrible thought hits you, and you can feel yourself pale. He's fighting in the Victory Pit today. He's going to get hurt, which will either confirm or deny whether or not he's your soulmate but if he is… Shit, you're in for a rough day. You know that The Mighty Nein is slated for the first fight against an Otyugh. They're nasty creatures, although not really native to Zadash you've still had to heal up some rather awful sucker wounds in your time.

You're glad to see that Mollymauk holds his own in the fight, and stays far away from the Otyugh. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him with the idea that he might be your soulmate and you get the sense that he's a melee fighter more so than a magical fighter in the beginning, but then he activates his swords, and the pain blossoms in your ribs as he drags his blades along his.

There's no question now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is your soulmate. Watching the way he fights and interacts with the Nein during their fight with the Otyugh everything about the injuries you've received from your connection with him makes so much more sense. You actually find yourself… Weirdly proud of your scars, then. You've heard about the Nein, how they're swords for hire and defeated the Fey Spider in the tunnels, but still. Mollymauk seems like good people. Maybe it's naïve to hope on your part because he's your soulmate, but you'll take it until you're proven different. You've been doing things like that for most of your life, and you'll be damned if you stop now. You know you can hold your own, too, so that helps. The next fighters pass in a haze to you, as you stand ready to save someone from death the Banderhobb fight passes with no need for clerics, and the fights with the Giant Crocodile and Ice Troll are much the same.

When the Mighty Nein is back up, your senses fire to life. The next monsters are Winter Wolves, nasty creatures with powerful ranged attacks. You steady yourself against the half-wall you're stationed behind, readying yourself for whatever pain Mollymauk is about to feel. The beginning of the fight is tense, and your fellow clerics watch you curiously as your hands grip tight and relax intermittently on the wall in front of you. When one wolf whirls and releases a nasty, icy breath you heave a sigh of relief that Mollymauk wasn't hit but then the other does the same thing. You feel it more than see Mollymauk get hit, sharp shards of pain washing over your skin so intensely that your eyes roll back in your head and the only thing that keeps you from collapsing is the fervent grip on the wall. Someone lays their hands on you and you feel a swell of magic before you shake them off. "I'm fine," You grit out, "Save your spells for the competitors." Even though you could use the healing, there's a reason clerics wait in the wings at the Pit. It's very possible that someone could be on death's door before the end of the day and if they die because you wasted a spell you'd never forgive yourself.

By the time you fight the darkness from the edges of your vision, Mollymauk is delivering the killing blow to the final Winter Wolf. You're not sure how he's still standing, let alone aware of his body enough to swing his swords like they weigh nothing. Your knees practically knock together as you gather your wits, wiping a hand down your sweaty face. The trials only get harder, and one hit almost took you down. You know you should heal yourself but you're not really sure if your nightly heals affect Mollymauk and, while you have no love for the Empire, it wouldn't be fair if your heals do help him. (And, again, there's the preemptive guilt of maybe not having enough energy for a lifesaving spell. You're just too selfish to use your pearl, too, so you have to make do and conserve your energy.)

The next group comes out and whispers flitter down the row of clerics to you: Owlbears are next. They're awful creatures, nasty when there's only one but two are damn near unmanageable. You happen to know these two aren't even mated, but that hardly matters. It's going to be a bloodbath at best, and at worst there'll be a death. Reaching over the wall, you unhook the latch that keeps it connected just in case you need to rush into the field. The beast-keepers are technically supposed to be the first on the scene, but you're also technically more powerful than they are. You rarely listen to the rules at the Victory Pit, mostly because you're a Crown Cleric and not from the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.

The fight is intense and the clerics next to you barely hold you back when several members of the team go down. They have clerics on their team, yes, but it's hard to tamp down your instincts when you were practically raised by your family for clericdom. It's only when you hear the whispering chatter that the beast-keepers are gathering the magical manacles that you jump into action, flinging open your door and sprinting into the field. The gasp from the crowd barely registers in your mind as you dodge an attack, skidding underneath and stopping next to what looks more like a bloody lump of cloth than a humanoid. The beast whirls on you, but you're faster. You've cast spiritual weapon before it can strike, the air in front of you and the injured party member shimmers and then, the first thing you thought of, a replica of one of Molly's scimitars but three times the size, appears and blocks the strike.

The Owlbear reels back again, going for another, but you're right there to block it. The beast-keepers are going to get an earful from you when you're done with the Pit, but for now, you're relieved that they've managed to subdue the beast and you can focus on the fallen. They're not in great shape, and with a precursory feel of their pulse, they're incredibly close to death.

You put your hands on either side of their neck, close your eyes, and pray. It's not necessarily a religious relationship with the deity that gives you the powers you have to heal, but it's still technically a prayer. The contestant heaves a deep breath, and you can feel the life rush into them from the fold between this plane and the next. The other clerics have gotten everyone else, so you focus on your patient. They probably need two or three more spells before they’re fully stabilized, which is going to burn through either your higher energy spells or all of your lower levels. You grit your teeth as you roll your patient onto the blade of your spiritual weapon, using it as a makeshift gurney. They’re already calling for the next team as if the clerics they’ve hired aren’t already spread thin trying to keep this team from dying. The Mighty Nein are at the doors, holding them open for the clerics, and you barely catch Molly’s eyes as you bring your patient off of the Pit floor and into the waiting room. The scimitar disappears as you lay them on a cot, quickly finding the worst wounds and sealing them with magic, burning through a lot of the spells you prepared and the arcane energy that it takes to cast.

The next beasts are angry and wily - displacer beasts - so you don’t really have time to think about how Molly is lingering near you, trying to find a time to talk to you while you’re trying to keep this person from dying. You stabilize them eventually, but the scarring will be intense. There’s nothing that you can do about that with what you’ve got now. Outside you can hear the next team win against the beasts and stress begins to bundle in your shoulders at the thought of how quickly the Pit is moving. Molly is hovering over your shoulder as you step back and begin clearing the blood off of your hands, despite his group being called out once more.

“That was my sword,” He rumbles, keeping his voice down and stepping even closer to you when you turn around. You track his tail thwipping through the air behind him, either very agitated or incredibly curious. Either could be incredibly accurate, and you don’t really have enough time to parse any information from the rest of his body language.

“Yes, it was,” You want to grumble, but it comes out softer than you intended, “Sorry, but you’re being called and I have to get back to my station so that you don’t die.” Molly tries to catch your arm when you slip around him, but with a promise and a smile you turn back to face him. “Don’t fucking die out there, and then we can talk, okay?” You wish that you could tell him, warn him really, that they’re about to face a Hill Giant. An incredible creature, really, but pushed to a near unreachable limit by the beast-keepers and their prodding, angry spears and arrows. It makes you sick to your stomach, but this is your job. The Empire pays your bills and keeps you fed - they would not tolerate any dissent from you on the matter of the Victory Pit and the treatment of the creatures captured specifically for death, no matter how strong of a case you can make. Instead of telling Molly what he’s up against, you casually brush the back of your fingers against his hand and let your magic make its way into his system. He should be okay, you think, the blessings of a cleric are strong.

Making your way back to your station, you fidget with your uniform. One of your friends - using the term loosely because you’re more like coworkers - catches your sleeve as you pass him. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes. “You’ve never given a contestant your blessings before, what’s so special about him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You pull away from Brock, “I just told him that if he wins, we can have a conversation. That’s all.” You shoot him a pointed look and then, after glancing around to make sure nobody else is looking, a wink. Brock grins and relaxes into his station, shaking his head. You’re known to push the limits, but outright break the rules? It’s almost unheard of for you. Everyone knows you’re blessed with a soulmate and Zadash is a bustling metropolis, frequented by the sort of people who get the injuries you sometimes show up to work with. They know you’ll need to stick around to find them, so you’ve only pushed the limits the Empire gives you, not outright shoot past them. By the time you’ve found your station again, the Hill Giant is almost out onto the Pit floor, and Brock has probably figured out why you’re so soft on one particular contestant.

The giant knocks out one of the pillars, roaring so deeply it vibrates in your chest. He’s pissed, rightfully so. The spines sticking out of his body make you sick to your stomach, and you have to look away. Your eyes find the halfling that was with Molly earlier, but as she sprints off toward the human woman, you realize that she’s a goblin. An interesting myriad of people traveling together, but you’ve seen strangers come through your town. She fires off two of her bolts, missing entirely, and you watch one arc through the air and strike off of the helmet of a Guard, who yelps.

You snicker as she takes off again, and the human man fires off his magic. It’s strange to see magic come from another person, especially magic that is clearly learned and not given. It almost makes you wish that your magic was learned instead of bestowed upon you but that would mean losing Molly, who you’re already rather fond of. You’re watching the man try to keep his cool and almost miss the other tiefling casting - a giant fucking lollipop appearing out of the air, smacking the giant, and then flames rocketing out of her hands to hit him, as well. You grin when you realize she’s a cleric, too. You wonder if she has a soulmate, but it would be improper to ask.

When the giant reels back and hurls a large chunk of wall, you suck in a breath. Everything is happening so fast, and Molly… Not only will it hurt to take the hits, but he’ll get hurt. It’s not just about you, but if he goes down so will you, and then you can’t help anyone. You’re almost relieved when the giant turns toward the half-orc, but then Molly is sprinting up toward the giant’s legs, his swords out. He’s a melee fighter, getting right into the thick of it and making your skin crawl. Molly’s swords carve through the giant like butter, making you cringe because the giant is pissed, and Molly won’t have time to get away from whatever is about to happen to him.

When the giant whips around, his eyes are fully black and bleeding down his face. You’re almost certain that’s Molly’s doing, but you don’t really have time to figure it out. The giants club swings up, and then down, and before Molly hits the ground your world has gone hazy with pain and darkness.

The pain and darkness keep their hold on you for what feels like forever. You know that eventually you’ll wake up, but floating in the darkness of unconsciousness you think of Molly. Did someone heal him? Is he okay? You’ve felt the other times he’s died, the way it rips you apart inside, the way you sleep for what feels like days before you wake up. Is this the same way? Has Molly died, even for a second, and you’re left to suffer the consequences? The stories your family told you all ended with soulmates together, no longer bearing the injuries of the other, because of the love that they share and the way they give and take equally. Nobody told you stories of soulmates where one dies over and over again - or at least comes close to doing so rather regularly. You’re still floating in the abyss when you hear his voice. Molly’s voice startles you because normally it’s the deity who blessed you with magic that comes to you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay.

But this time it’s Molly. He’s saying your name, asking you to wake up so that he can see your eyes again. Faintly, as you drift closer and closer to the surface, you can feel the light tracings of fingertips against the crest of your cheekbone and the faint wisp of breath against your hair. He keeps speaking, telling you things that you’re not sure you’ll remember when you finally float to the surface.

That happens faster than normal. When your eyes finally feel light enough to open, Molly is there. He looks a little worse for wear, but you can tell he has at least one healing spell in him. When he realizes you’re awake, a large grin splits his face. “There you are, darling,” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair to be even closer to you, “Scared me for a moment there.”

“Now that I’ve found you I highly doubt that you can get rid of me, Mollymauk.” Your voice is hoarse as you push yourself up, one of Molly’s hands curling around your shoulder to help you sit up on the cot. When you’re upright he moves from the chair he had set up next to your bed to sit next to you, his entire side pressed against yours. “You are a man who is constantly in danger.”

“That I am,” He leans against you, his horn pressing into the side of your head but you don’t mind. He’s warm and nice. The aches in your body numb a little bit just by being near him, but Molly seems like he has a bit of an ego so you don’t mention that. “Do you know why we feel each other this way?”

“Have you heard of soulmates, Molly?” You drop your voice to a whisper and turn your face to him, your lips pressed against his lavender forehead, “My family has legends of them, given to clerics to help them become the best healers they can be. Pushed to their limits by the other’s injuries, but also filled with an overwhelming need to be good enough. To have enough power. To protect, and love, and heal.” You kiss his forehead, hoping it’s not too bold, and let one of your last healing spells flow through his body. The last one you cast on yourself.

“It’s rotten work to love me, darling.” Molly finally says, one hand searching yours out, “But I do feel much better having met you. I feel connected, loved.”

“It’s not rotten work to love you, Molly. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I do not plan on stopping now.” You kiss his forehead again and his head turns, his own lips pressing against the side of your neck as he sighs, “Perhaps your work is not done in Zadash, but it should be soon.” You drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper so that only Molly can hear you, “War is coming, Mollymauk. You, The Mighty Nein… You should run before you’re conscripted to fight.”

“And you?” He asks, red eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, “What about you?”

“I… I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me.” You watch the shock flicker across his face for a brief moment, but then it settles into something that you can’t find a name for. “But if not, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be conscripted to be a War Cleric, not at first. They’ll take the clerics from the temples before they take me.”

Molly caresses the side of your face with his other hand, a small and hesitant smile playing on his face. “Darling, of course, I’ll have you. The Nein will, too. We’re meant to be together, after all.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Interview with the Mandalorian

Pairing: Mandalorian x Female Reader

Rating: T (future parts will be Mature/Explicit)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of prior violence against the reader (not described in detail)

Summary: The Mandalorian has placed a want ad for childcare and you decide to answer it. Despite having a questionable past, he decides to hire you.

Word Count: ~5400

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in a multi-part story of Mando and childcare reader. I love romance so expect lots of fluff, but there will also be some humor, action, and angst, and eventually smut. I’m going for more of a slow burn here -- or at least trying to if I don’t get too impatient.

Link to Chpt. 2

Gif by @bestintheparsec (Thank you! You're awesome 😁)

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Wanted: Childcare Professional

Caregiver needed for toddler for all basic baby needs. Single father with demanding job, odd hours. Position requires living on starship. Looking for someone not squeamish and good in a crisis. Preferred skills: cooking, pre-school teaching, and first aid. Bonus skills: combat training or ability to repair pre-Imperial tech. Interviews at Cantina Manolita, ask for the Mandalorian.

You re-read the want ad as you headed out to the cantina. It started out normal enough, not squeamish was a little odd, yet understandable, but then, good in a crisis and combat training as a bonus skill? Exactly what type of toddler does this Mandalorian have? Still, it’s not like you can afford to be picky, what with your past. You’d been bouncing around from odd job to odd job, each one more terrible than the last. Your most recent job had been cleaning rooms at a very seedy no-tell hotel and after that, you’d rather change 1000 poopy diapers than go back there. Despite your education and years of experience, no one wants to hire someone with the stain of the Empire on their resume. Your only hope is that the Mandalorian who placed this ad will be willing to hear you out and with a bit of luck you won’t have too much competition for the job. Many people are wary of Mandalorians, so perhaps that will keep the candidate pool small. You’re secretly intrigued by the idea of working for one, as all you really know is that they are respected warriors who either stick together in tight groups with other Mandalorians or they work alone. You wonder why this Mandalorian is seeking outside help, must be a special circumstance.

Din watches as a woman in a short red cocktail dress, platform heels, and quite a lot of makeup saunters through the cantina. It’s a lot of look for mid-morning and he’s surprised when she heads straight to his table, leans down to give him a generous view of her cleavage, and coos at him, “You must be the Mando who placed the ad.”

“The ad for childcare? Yes.” Din emphasizes the word to be certain she’s answering the correct posting.

“Yep! That’s why I’m here, baby.” She winks at him and plops herself down in his booth, ignoring the chair placed directly across from him. Baby? He’s a bit taken aback, but he figures he should at least ask her some questions about the job.

“Do you have any experience caring for children?” He begins.

“Well, not exactly for children, but I am very, very caring. I’m sure I can take really good care of you… both.” She flutters her eyelashes at Din.

“So, if you don’t have any experience, why are interested in this job?” He feels like this is a fair question, especially since he was hoping to find someone more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to younglings.

“I just have so much love and I want to share it. Especially for someone who needs me, hot stuff.” The woman has been sliding closer to Din as she speaks. He tries to move away from her to keep some space between them, but with the child napping on the end of the booth next to him, he really has nowhere to go.

“Uh, ok, do you have any experience with teaching?” This interview is not off to a good start, but what if she’s the only one who shows up?

“Oh, I’m a real good teacher,” the woman replies, and then drops her hand onto his thigh just above the beskar plate and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” she says suggestively.

“We’re done here. I need childcare, not, whatever it is you’re offering.” Din lifts her hand off his leg abruptly, scoops up the child, and quickly moves himself across the cantina to another table. Who shows up to a childcare interview to hit on the father? He’s annoyed at her for wasting his time. He sees the woman pouting and then watches as she gets up with a little stumble, calls out, “Your loss” in his direction and heads to the bar. Under the helmet he rolls his eyes; the next person has to be better than her.

Din has become increasing fatigued and desperate for some help as he takes care of his foundling and searches for information on the Jedi. That alone would be plenty to keep him occupied, but he’s still hunting down bounties too in order to keep them in credits for all the fuel they’re burning up as they traverse the galaxy. Although he’s been able to keep the kid with him all the time so far, it’s not easy to hunt with a baby along for the ride, and he wishes he had someone he could trust to stay with the little one on the ship, keeping him safe and hidden away. After all, they’re still on the run from the ex-Imps and other hunters. Oh, and not to mention, Din is still dodging New Republic officers for that mess on the prison ship. No wonder he’s exhausted.

Sighing lightly, he reminds himself that he’s going to find the help he needs today when he sees a young woman, much more conservatively dressed, giving him furtive glances across the cantina. Din gives her a little nod, and she makes her way over to the table, but she barely takes her eyes off the ground as she does so.

“Are you interested in the childcare job?” Din asks, hopefully.

“Y-yes, I’m h-here to interview.” She seems extremely nervous and can’t seem to bring herself to look at his visor for more than a moment. “I l-like children, um, I have done, um, a lot of b-babysitting.”

“That’s good,” Din says softly, trying to put her at ease, “Can you tell me more about what you did as a babysitter?”

Looking down at the table, she replies shakily, “W-watching them, um oh, I don’t know, uh playing games, making snacks, um just, um, helping, I guess?”

Maker, she’s so uncomfortable, Din wonders what he can say to help her calm down or if it’s worth it to continue the interview. How is she going to handle their situation, if she’s this nervous at the interview? Before he can think of anything to say, the baby pops his head up suddenly to investigate what’s going on, startling the poor woman so badly she jumps up from her chair.

“Aah!” She lets out a little cry and then stammers, “I-I- I think this was a bad idea. I c- can’t do this.” and runs off.

Din sighs; maybe the third time will be the charm, isn’t that what they say?

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find someone.” He says to the child’s inquisitive expression.

Din has the feeling of being watched and turns to see a well-dressed man hovering near the cantina’s entrance. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, with sort-of a schoolteacher aura about him, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see Din. The man stares at him for a moment over a pair of owlish spectacles as if assessing the situation and then finally approaches Din’s table.

“I am here to interview for the childcare position, but I want to be very clear that I am an experienced and sought-after professional.” The man declares to Din in a stern voice.

“I’m looking for a childcare professional, please sit down.” At least this one is experienced and looks like he understands the position.

“I must tell you I am a strict believer in order and discipline when it comes to children, and I do not abide any shenanigans.” The way this man speaks makes Din feel like he’s back in school and he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Din clears his throat, “Perhaps you can tell me about your experience.” The man rattles off a list of schools and families where he has worked; stressing certain names as if Din should be impressed, which perhaps he would if he recognized any of them. Din doesn’t care for the fact that this man keeps emphasizing words like prominent or respected as he speaks of his past, it sounds haughty and snobbish. This guy may have a lot of experience, but his frosty demeanor is off-putting. Still, Din can’t deny that he’s the best candidate so far.

“How do you feel about living on a starship?” Din asks him.

“If the ship is in good working order and the facilities are well maintained, I am sure it will be adequate.” He says the last word as if adequate means appalling, indicating that Din’s home is not an ideal living situation. Din feels his optimism dwindle yet again, as this fussy man will likely turn his nose up at the Razor Crest before he even has a look inside.

“What is that?” The man asks brusquely. Din follows his line of sight and realizes the child has climbed up on his chair again wanting to be a part of the conversation. The man’s tone of voice is irritating, but Din restrains himself as he says, “That is the child.”

“That thing is your child?” He has a look of mild disgust on his face. Suddenly this man’s illustrious qualifications don’t matter to Din at all.

“Thank you for coming, but I don’t believe you’re suited for this position.” Din tells the man, trying to match his haughty tone from before. The man lets out a little ‘hmpf’ but then gets up and leaves the table.

“I’m sorry, kid, I know he was bad.” Din sighs again, “We’ll keep trying.” He despairs that he’s in for a full day of bad meetings, when he glances across the cantina to see a beautiful woman looking in his direction. He gives her a nod in greeting, but he’s afraid to hope that she might actually be here for him. However, she smiles warmly at him and starts towards their table. He feels his heart skip a beat; damn, she’s pretty. He watches her as she moves confidently through the crowd noting that she appears courteous to the others around her and Din thinks maybe his luck is turning.

“Good morning! Are you the Mandalorian who placed the want ad for childcare?” You ask with what you hope is a winning smile on your face.

“Ah, yes, I am. Are you here to interview?” Din feels a surge of optimism; you seem composed and he already likes you much better than the other people he’s spoken to today.

“Yes, I hope you haven’t filled the position yet?” you ask him.

“No, not yet. Please sit down.” He gestures to the open chair across from him. “Can you tell me a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job?”

You start to introduce yourself expressing a keen interest in children and briefly mention your training and experience as a teacher, when you notice two little green hands gripping the edge of the table next to the Mandalorian. Slowly a small green head covered in soft white peach fuzz lifts up to reveal two shining dark eyes and a pair of giant pointy ears.

“Oh my goodness,” you breathe out in delight, “aren’t you the most adorable child in all the galaxy?” You cannot control yourself from fussing over this little one. You really are a pushover for cute kids, but this one is beyond precious. The child smiles at your words and lets out a happy cooing sound. Totally entranced, you make goofy smiley faces back at him causing him to giggle while you completely forget that you are supposed to be doing an interview right now.

Din watches your face as it transforms itself from an expression of polite professional interest to a look of absolute adoration. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at the child, your smile is positively beaming, and you’ve clasped your hands together at your chest in utter delight. It’s like watching someone fall in love all in one instance. He feels that he could ask you to do anything for the child and you would. He reaches over and picks up the little one drawing your attention back to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just, he’s so cute, um, what was I saying?” You quickly turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian, trying to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be impressing him with your childcare skills not going ga-ga over his son.

“It’s ok, he is cute.” Din responds amiably, this interview is already off to a better start than the others. You seem like a genuine person to him, someone who makes friends easily, who would be pleasant to have around. “You were telling me about your teaching experience.”

“Yes, yes, so my most applicable experience is my time as a pre-school assistant teacher. I worked there when I was earning my degree in Linguistics and Language Teaching at the main university on Riosa. I always loved that job so much and have really wanted to work with children again.” Oops, first mistake, mentioning Riosa is risky, he has to know of the Empire’s former presence there.

“So did you work with many toddlers at the pre-school?”

“Oh yes, so many toddlers. I’m very good at keeping them entertained with games and stories. I know how to set limits and help them learn about rules. Oh, and I also know how to make many snacks and meals that little children love.”

“He does seem to always want to eat, so that would be helpful.” The Mandalorian chuckles a little at that and gives the child a pat on his head.

“I also understand that children can be messy and I’m really good at cleaning and doing laundry too.” You try to think of what else you can say to show that you’re a good option for him. But before you can, he changes the topic.

“So Linguistics? That’s an impressive choice of studies.” He nods his head as if he approves.

“Thank you, I specialized in language structure and syntax. I speak Rodian, Naboo, Sy Bisti, and some Ubese too.” You hope you don’t sound like you’re bragging but none of your recent employers have been interested in your language skills in the slightest. It’s nice to hear that he thinks it’s notable and you do want to impress him if you can.

“Also impressive. All languages of commerce or politics. That’s very practical.” Again, he sounds like he values these skills. “But you don’t have a career in linguistics now? I would think someone with that background wouldn’t be interested in taking care of a toddler.”

“I truly do love children, and well, things don’t always go as you plan, do they?” You were really hoping to answer more questions about childcare or first aid or really anything else, but it looks like you’re going to have to get to the touchy part of the interview. The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to explain.

“When I finished my degree, I was invited to join a prestigious research group. I thought it was an incredible opportunity, a chance to work with professors and other academics. I had to take several difficult qualifying exams before they even offered me the position, and when I did so well on them, everyone I knew was very impressed. I really thought I was going to do something fantastic. I found out too late that the research group was just a front and really it was part of Imperial Intelligence. I had been living in my happy academic bubble, I knew the Empire was on Riosa but they never paid any attention to the university, and I was too naïve to realize I had been recruited to be a code-breaker.”

You pause there, internally cringing again at your stupidity, and wondering if you should continue or if he is going to end the interview right now. While he’s sitting more rigidly than before, he gives no indication that he wants you to stop, so you decide to plow ahead with your story.

“For a while, I tried to be terrible at the job, pretending that I couldn’t break the codes, that they were too complex for me. I hoped they would think they made a mistake and let me leave, but they saw through the ruse. They punished me, and I knew I had to start doing better or they would likely kill me. So I did what I was told, but only about a third of the time. The rest of the time, I would purposely leave out crucial information from the messages I broke. Or sometimes I would just change it completely. I tried to be strategic and do it without a pattern so they wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing. Eventually though one of the other code-breakers figured out my secret and he turned me in.”

You pause again at the memory of that betrayal. You had thought that Kerrick cared for you. You quickly look up to avoid any tears springing to your eyes and take a calming breath.

“What happened next?” The Mandalorian asks you.

“I was punished again, more severely than the first time. I suppose I was fortunate though, because they deemed I was too valuable an asset to terminate. They didn’t send me back to code-breaking. Instead, they forced me to teach Sy Bisti to a class of officers. It’s one of the languages their droids couldn’t translate. I didn’t try to make trouble again. I didn’t think they would give me a third chance.”

Din watches you carefully as you tell him of your experience with the Imperials. The expression on your face and the way your shoulders have slumped tell him that you’re ashamed of what happened to you. That you feel responsible and likely blame yourself for having been tricked by them. Din doesn’t see it that way though. From his perspective, you were simply a young woman who was manipulated and then abused by a corrupt system.

“Can you start today?” You snap your head up in surprise.

“What? I- I mean yes, I can, but-” you stumble over your words, “You- you want to hire me?”

“Yes. The child likes you and you’re the best person for the job.” He’s very straightforward about it.

“You’re sure? Even with the Empire stuff?” Your words sound lame to your own ears, but you need to be certain he won’t hold it against you.

He gives you a brisk nod. “You were brave to try to sabotage their intelligence, but also not too much of a fool to get yourself killed.” He’s blunt but his words are a comfort to you in a way.

That seems to be all he is going to say on the matter, as next he tells you about the living conditions on his ship. He explains carefully about his creed and the fact that you can never see him without his helmet. That isn’t a surprise though as it’s one of the only other facts you already knew about the Mandalorians. Besides, after spending time with so many helmeted Imps, it honestly doesn’t seem that odd to you. At least you’ll know this helmet doesn’t plan to kill you. You arrange to meet him in a couple hours at his ship after you’ve had a chance to pack your things. You’re so elated to find someone who wants to hire you for a decent job and who doesn’t loathe you for your past that you completely forget to ask him about the need for combat training.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you’re packing up your meagre belongings it occurs to you that you didn’t ask him anything about himself or really much about the child at all. You realize you don’t even know their names. Maybe you should slow down and find out more about this Mandalorian and his son, but honestly you’re willing to take the risk. You’re sick of this awful city and the terrible jobs you’ve been forced to take here. At least you know that the Mandalorians were enemies of the Empire, so that’s a bonus in your eyes. Besides from the job description in the ad, it seems like this Mandalorian has to be at work a lot so you’ll probably be alone with the child most of the time. You’ve never seen a species like the child before, but you’re willing to learn all about him so you can be successful at this job. You gather up your bags, leave a few credits for the landlord, and head to the hanger, enthusiastic about a new life.

Din is watching as crates of supplies are loaded onto the Razor Crest, and he thinks about his new hire. From the moment he saw your reaction to the kid, he knew he was going to offer you the job. His only concern is his own attraction to you, and, he has a little nagging guilt that he didn’t explain anything to you about the dangerous aspects of the job. If you knew the Imps were after the child, would you still be willing to take the job? Din knows he’ll have to tell you about that, but maybe he’ll wait until the Crest is in hyperspace before he does. Yeah, it’s underhanded, but he doesn’t have the time or the patience, quite frankly, to try to find other childcare. Plus, there’s a good chance your knowledge of the Empire will be helpful to him. Din hopes you won’t hate him too much for withholding information. He sees you enter the hanger, and once again you smile when you see him. Din’s pleased that you don’t seem intimidated or fearful. So many people look at him with trepidation or dislike, and although he’s learned to ignore it, when someone actually smiles at him, it’s such a pleasant change. Besides, you have a pretty smile.

“Hello again!” You call out to the Mandalorian, as you make your way towards him. Seeing him standing next to his ship, you’re suddenly struck by what an imposing figure he is in all that armor. He’s quite tall and obviously very strong. A whisper of an emotion runs through you, almost like desire, but it’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like that you can’t really place it. You forget all about it though when the little green toddler spies you and immediately runs right for you with a happy face. You drop your bags and crouch down, holding your arms out to him and scoop him up when he reaches you.

“Hello, buddy! Are you excited to have a new nanny? I’m excited to be here.” You tell him cheerfully as you give him a hug. You stand up again to address the Mandalorian, who’s come over to help with your bags. “I’m sorry, I was so happy to get the job earlier, I completely forgot to ask the child’s name.”

“That’s ok.” He tells you. “I don’t, um, I don’t actually know his name.”

“Beg your pardon?” He doesn’t know his son’s name. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t help but give him an odd look.

“He’s a foundling. I rescued him.” The Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate. You remind yourself that you don’t know much about Mandalorian culture, so maybe that is typical for them. He hasn’t told you his name either.

“Well, what do you call him?” You look down at the little one in your arms.

He shrugs as if it isn’t important, “Kid, pal, womp rat,” he supplies, and in anticipation of your next question he says, “You can call me Mando.”

“Alright.” So, no names then, that’s different, but whatever works for him.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” Mando offers picking up your bags.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry those, I can get them.” He just gestures with his helmet for you to go ahead, so you head up the ramp into your new home.

The child babbles to you as if explaining things as you look around the hull of the spacecraft. It’s very utilitarian, but you figured it would be, Mandalorians don’t strike you as the types to think of creature comforts as a priority. The little one babbles at you again and extends an arm towards a section of the hull where you can see what looks like a mattress covered with a blanket and pillows that look new and unused. The Mandalorian comes up behind you and says, “Like I said before there’s only one bunk in the ship, but I thought this would work for you?” He sets your bags down next to the bed.

“This will be fine.” You’ve slept in much worse places, your cell in the Imperial Intelligence compound springs to mind. In any case, it’s nice to know that he’s thought to provide this for you. Other employers you’ve had would probably just make you sleep on the floor.

Din takes you on a brief tour of the ship, mostly making sure you know where the essentials are. He keeps waiting for you to make a comment about the ship’s age or make a joke about it being a clunker like everyone else does. But you surprise him, as you simply take it all in with a pleasant expression on your face. Although when he gets to the weapons locker, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He realizes that he hasn’t told you what he does for a living, “I’m a bounty hunter, and weapons are part of my religion.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it makes sense you’d have a cache like this then.” You give him a nod, as if to say this seems completely normal, even though you’ve never seen so many weapons outside of a military facility. However, if it’s part of his religion the last you thing you want to do is insult him about it.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Mando inquires.

“Yes, I do. I had to take a course on marksmanship at the university.” You wince again at your innocence back then. A college that requires a course on shooting? No wonder it had been a recruitment ground for the Empire.

“Did you pass?” Mando wants to know.

“With high marks,” you reply, ever the top-notch student.

“Good. Do you have a blaster?”

“Uh no.”

Mando turns back to the locker and considers it before choosing one of the smaller guns in there. He hands it to you saying, “Here, this one should be good for you. But let me know if you think something else would be better suited for you.”

“You think I’m going to need a blaster to care for the child?” You try to keep from sounding incredulous as you stare down at the gun that he’s placed in your hand and then back at the sweet toddler who’s currently propped up against your hip.

“No, of course not, but you’ll need to be prepared when we’re off the ship.” He seems very matter-of-fact about it.

“Prepared for what?” Where does this man plan on taking you?

“Just, prepared.” Is all he says in response.

The baby makes grabby hands towards the blaster and you carefully hold it away from him. “Can I keep it in the locker for now?” you ask feeling a little uneasy. You might know how to shoot, but you’ve only ever aimed at targets in a shooting range and the idea of having to use a blaster for protection is frankly terrifying. What have I gotten myself into? Will I never learn?

“Yes, just remember to take it with you whenever you leave the ship.” Din stows the blaster away again and then says, “We should get going now,” and motions for you to head up the ladder to the cockpit. He probably should have waited to give you the blaster until later. He can see the questions and the anxiety in your eyes and he knows he’s going to have to come clean about the danger he’s putting you in. But sticking to his plan, Din says nothing and focuses on taking off and setting coordinates to Dantooine, the last known position of his next quarry.

You try to stay focused on the child in your arms, but you can’t keep yourself from staring back at Mando. The need for a blaster has brought your original question back to the forefront of your mind, and although it’s pretty much too late to ask now, you figure you should.

“So in your ad, you said, combat training was a plus. Why exactly did you put that in there?”  

You watch as he puts the ship into hyperspace, before he turns to you. You’re just starting at the black visor in his helmet, waiting for him to speak, when he finally says, “There are Imps after the kid.”

“Excuse me, what?” You hope you heard him wrong.

“I rescued the child from some ex-Imperials. They have a bounty out on him.” Din decides to leave out the part where he originally collected on that bounty, delivering the child right to them. He’s doesn’t want you to despise him so he figures he’ll keep that part of the story to himself.

“What do they want with him?” You’re still holding the little one tight, and you look down into his big, dark eyes and wonder what those terrible people could possible want from this adorable child.

“He has some kind of powers, like uh, like a sorcerer, or something.” He tells you sheepishly.

“Like a sorcerer?” You repeat, o-kay.

“I know it sounds strange. But, have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“Oh, yes, I know a little about the Jedi. Wait, can the child use the force?”

“You know about the Jedi?” He seems excited to hear that. “What do you know? Do you know any of them?”

“I know the Jedi were once an order of knights and they had the ability to wield the force. Have you ever heard New Republic people say ‘May the force be with you’?” That phrase has been everywhere, so you feel like he must have heard it.

“Yeah, but I really have no idea what they mean by it.” Din feels a little embarrassed to finally admit that to someone. He hopes you don’t think him dumb for not knowing.

“From what I understand the force is like this invisible energy that lets the Jedi manipulate things with their minds. The phrase is meant to give you hope, sort of ‘May the positive energy be with you and bring you good things’. It’s a bit ironic though because for such an optimistic phrase it’s actually how Imperial Intelligence successfully broke several Rebel codes since they put it at the end of so many messages.” As much as your viewpoints aligned with the Rebellion, you had wished someone in their command had been intelligent enough to realize that you shouldn’t put a known saying into your coded messages. You look over to Mando and he gives you a nod in response, so you continue.

“I also know there were some Imperial commanders, very high up, who were pretty obsessed with the Jedi. They were always looking for any information about them. They thought there was a Jedi working with the Rebellion and any messages we decoded about him were supposed to be flagged as extreme priority. But, I never saw anything about him. So, that’s all I know.”

“That’s the most anyone has been able to tell me so far, so it’s very helpful.” Mando replies. He’s silent again for a bit and he seems to be looking down at the child. “It is my task to bring the child to the Jedi, he’s one of their kind. I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. He- He’s special.”

Looking down at the little toddler in your arms, you remember how the Imperials treated you, and the years of damage, fear, and violence that they rained throughout the galaxy. You can’t possibly let them get their hands on this innocent one. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” you tell the child. And then you look at Mando, “I promise.”

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged for Chapter 2, please let me know. Link to Chpt. 2

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11​ @theravenreads​ @nicotinebirds​ @boomtownboy @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: Could I request willex fake dating au, maybe the boys are trying to get Alex a boyfriend and so he asks Willie to fake date him to get the boys off his back or something please!

Anon, I love fake dating AUs, I’m beyond glad that you suggested this. Plus with willex I think fake dating is very in character, especially for Alex. I had a lot of fun writing this one, thank you for your request! I’m sorry it took me so long to get round to writing it, but to make up for it I’ve made it longer than most of my other fics.

A Dream Come True

Alex had to hand it to them – when Luke and Reggie wanted something, they really pushed for it. Normally it would be one of the many things he loved about the two of them. Determination, perseverance, resilience, all good qualities. And when they put their minds towards something useful like booking Julie and the Phantoms a gig or dragging Willie out of the washing machine when he got stuck in it playing hide and seek, they were definitely useful to have around. So usually, Alex loved their pushiness.

He just didn’t like it when it was aimed at him. Even less so when they were trying (for the umpteenth time that month) to get him a boyfriend.

And the worst part was that this time Alex had run out of excuses.

For reasons Alex simply couldn’t fathom, Luke and Reggie had been obsessed with the idea of finding him a boyfriend for some weeks now. Reggie had downloaded several dating apps and entered all of Alex’s information, and every time Alex saw him the first thing Reggie would do was reel off a list of several candidates he’d deemed worthy. Luke, ever the technophobe (or rather just terrible with technology), had taken a more natural approach and spent countless hours wandering the streets of Hollywood for someone who was, in his words, ‘the sort of guy who would make Alex lose his goddamn mind’.

It wasn’t that Alex didn’t appreciate them trying to make him happy – he found it sweet, if a little weird – it was just that he knew nobody they found would ever be right. He knew what he was looking for, he knew what he wanted, and he didn’t think that Luke and Reggie could get it for him.

The first time they had tried to send him on a date Alex had faked a cold and pulled out at the last minute. The second time he had “accidentally” shown up to the wrong location and missed the entire thing. The third time he simply hadn’t gone – instead, he turned off all the lights in his house, locked all the doors and windows, and hid, so when he didn’t show up and Luke and Reggie came over looking for him they assumed he was out. The fourth time and most recent time he had pretended to fall asleep when they told him about it.

Alex wasn’t the most creative of people and he had pretty much exhausted all of his go-to date-dodging tactics. So the fifth time his friends tried to set him up, he completely panicked.

“So I was doing my usual lap of Sunset Boulevard this morning,” Luke said in lieu of a greeting the moment he walked into Julie’s garage. “And Alex, dude, bro, you will not believe the guy I saw.”

“Good morning to you to,” Alex said flatly.

Luke wrinkled his nose like the greeting confused him, but then saw Julie setting up her mic in the corner. A bright smile grew on his face as he was distracted and for a moment Alex thought he might have been lucky enough to get out of the conversation. But a moment later, Reggie entered the studio and also decided that greetings weren’t a necessity.

“Luke! Did you tell Alex about the guy yet?”

Julie snickered (she found the whole thing much funnier than Alex did and he most certainly did not appreciate it) and for a moment more Luke continued to just look at her, absolutely besotted, but then he came to his senses and all of a sudden his excited smile was directed at Alex.

“Right, that. So I ran into him outside the Orpheum, so he’s probably a music guy,” Luke gushed, winking in a way that Alex supposed was meant to be suggestive. “We had a little chat and he told me he’s training as a teacher and is also looking for someone to settle down with.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” Alex said, laying a gentle hand on Luke’s arm. “You’re getting forgetful. I’m not looking to settle down with anyone.”

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Luke shrugged Alex’s arm off and instead planted his own hands firmly on Alex’s shoulders, shaking him a little. “Maybe not, but that might change when you meet this guy.”

“I doubt it. What’s his name?”

“Oscar. Maybe Oliver. Orville? I don’t know, but it definitely began with an ‘o’.”

“He sounds memorable,” Alex deadpanned. “I’m sure we’ll have a great time together.”

Reggie gasped excitedly. “So you’ll meet up with him then?”

“No,” Alex said firmly.

Julie giggled again (and once again Luke looked at her, dazzled). “Why not, Alex? You sounded so enthusiastic about him!”

“Very funny,” he returned. “I’m not meeting him.”

“Why not?” Luke whined, dragging the words out like a frustrated toddler. “You always do this! Reg and I try to set you up with people but you always say you don’t want to. Are we missing something?”

Alex could see the cogs whirring in Reggie’s mind before his face lit up and he triumphantly guessed, “Or are we missing someone?”

If anyone had asked, Alex wouldn’t have been able to give a reason for what he said next. It was completely untrue, a wild statement made under extreme pressure in the face of an emergency. Perhaps it was a bad decision, but he had run out of excuses to not meet people and he was getting desperate. He hadn’t had time to consider it.

Alex said, “Yes.”

Reggie’s jaw dropped, Julie dropped her microphone, and Luke dropped whatever respect he had left for Alex’s personal boundaries. He launched himself at Alex, tackling him to the floor in what he assumed was supposed to be a hug, and Alex was fairly certain that Luke was crying with happiness.

“Dude!” he shouted (though it was rather muffled since he had his face buried in Alex’s shirt). “That’s awesome news! Reggie and I can stop searching! I didn’t think you’d be able to find someone yourself, bro.”

“Thanks for having so much confidence in me,” Alex said flatly as he extricated himself from Luke’s vice grip and hoisted himself to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” Luke said as he wiped his eyes (yes, he was actually crying happy tears).

Julie had her arms crossed in front of her chest, looking half-puzzled and half-affronted. “You’re seeing someone? And you didn’t tell me? The only one of your friends who is even a little bit good at keeping a secret?”

“Hey,” Reggie interrupted, “I’m good at keeping secrets!”

“Reggie, honey, I love you but at Christmas you told everyone what you’d bought them as soon as you’d bought it.”

Reggie looked like he wanted to defend himself but couldn’t. “I was excited to see everyone’s reactions…”

Rolling her eyes fondly, Julie turned back to Alex. “Anyway – why didn’t you tell me?”

While he was a terrible liar, Alex just so happened to be a very good actor. In high school he’d got the lead role in the school play two years in a row, but whenever someone asked him if he was gay (before he had come out) he would often panic and pretend to faint to get out of the situation. Though he was technically telling a lie here, he decided it would be the prime opportunity to employ some of the improvisational skills he had worked on with Carrie back in their theatre club.

“It was all very new,” he explained, “we weren’t sure if it was going to go anywhere and we didn’t want to tell everyone until we were sure.”

It was only at this point that Alex realised he was digging a very deep hole for himself and it was most certainly too late to climb out of it now.

“When do we get to meet him?” Reggie asked excitedly.

“You already have,” Alex replied.

A little voice in the back of his mind was saying, shut up, you absolute idiot, what the hell are you playing at? Perhaps stupidly, he drowned that voice out.

Looking dumbfounded, Luke clutched Alex’s shoulders again. “We have? Who is it?”

The little voice got louder – don’t say it, Alex, I’m begging you not to say it, it’s like you’re actively trying to ruin your own life, you absolute–

“Willie.”

In eery synchrony, Luke, Julie, and Reggie all looked to each other with identical expressions of shock and bewilderment and then turned back to Alex with furrowed brows.

“Willie?” they all chorused.

Alex pursed his lips and rocked on the balls of his feet, suddenly regretting every decision he’d made that had brought him to this point in his life. “Yep.”

“I thought your thing with him finished like six months ago?” Julie said.

“Well, there wasn’t really much of a thing to finish,” Reggie reasoned, “just Alex’s pining from afar that had lasted for like four years–”

“Yes, thank you, Reginald,” Alex interrupted. It wasn’t that Reggie was wrong, Alex just didn’t like how right he was. “And yeah, it did… I guess. But then we were hanging out together a few months ago and it was really nice and we started doing it more often and eventually he asked me on a date.”

Alex was overly aware that every word he had just said was an utter lie. Firstly, he had never really got over Willie – Willie wasn’t the sort of person you could just forget or move on from, even though Alex had never actually dated him. Secondly, Alex and Willie hadn’t actually hung out together alone in quite a while. Willie had been busy with their blossoming art career, going to different presentations and awards shows, trying to make a name for himself; Alex, on the other hand, had been doing his best to avoid dating anyone. And thirdly, Willie had never once asked Alex on a date.

He knew he should have backtracked, told them the truth, but he was in far too deep.

“This has been going on for a few months?” Luke said incredulously. “How have you kept it from us that long? Dude, you just let Reggie and I spend literally all our free time trying to find you a boyfriend!”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“You could have told us to stop,” Reggie said.

“I did,” Alex returned. “Several times.”

Julie raised her hands placatingly. “Okay, okay. That’s not important right now. What’s important is that Alex and Willie are finally together. Are you sure they’ll be alright with you telling us while he’s not here?”

Alex shrugged, trying to act like he wasn’t too sure (which was easy because he’d never been less sure of anything at any time in his life). “Umm… well… we haven’t really talked about it much, but… you know, I’m sure he won’t mind too much. I’ll tell them tonight.”

Julie smiled warmly. “Well, I’m happy for you in any case. It’s nice that you’ve finally got what you wanted for so long.”

“Amen to that,” Luke said, finally picking up his guitar. Alex had all but forgotten they were supposed to be practising instead of talking about his very fake relationship with Willie which Willie didn’t even know about. “And Reg and I can finally stop looking for someone.”

“Could’ve stopped before you’d even started,” Alex said, sitting down behind his drumkit, “but alright.”

He knew that sooner or later he would have to tell Willie what he’d done and he was absolutely dreading it. Willie was a very chill person and Alex knew they’d probably find it funny more than anything, but it was still a daunting prospect. But for now, he focused himself on his drums, hammering out all of that excess anxiety, and forgetting the absolute nightmare he’d created for himself just for a little bit.

*

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning and Alex was very much not ready to go to sleep. For one thing, he was still wearing his clothes instead of pyjamas, and for another he was pacing his room like a caged lion with anxiety and had been doing so for almost three hours. He was trying to build up the courage to call Willie and let him know what had gone on, but he was so nervous that he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to string a sentence together if Willie picked up the phone.

He knew he would just have to bite the bullet. He couldn’t put it off forever or it would end in disaster. For the thousandth time he reminded himself that Willie was the kindest, funniest, most good-natured person he knew and that he had nothing to be scared of when it came to telling them that he had made a massive, probably damning mistake. Willie would be fine with it, Alex knew.

Before he could dwell on it a second longer, Alex dialled Willie’s number and let it ring.

It only rang twice before Willie picked up. Even though it was late, Alex had known Willie would pick up (the guy hardly slept at all) and he fought the urge to tell him to go to bed.

“Morning,” Willie said chirpily.

Alex checked the time and blinked in surprise; he hadn’t realise how long he’d been pacing for.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he said. “How come you’re still awake?”

“Mario Kart,” they replied. Alex could practically hear Willie’s smile – suddenly there were butterflies in his already anxious stomach and they certainly weren’t helping. “Why are you still awake? I thought your bedtime was half nine.”

“It hasn’t been in two years and you know that,” Alex said. Willie giggled brightly which teased a smile out of Alex. “I, uh… I actually need to talk to you about something that happened today.”

Just get on with it, he told himself, don’t drag it out.

“Oh?” Willie said. “What is it? You sound nervous – do you need me to come over?”

“No,” Alex told him, “it’s late – or maybe early. Either way, you don’t need to come all the way to my place just so I can tell you this.”

“It sounds serious.”

“It might be,” Alex admitted. “It depends on how you take it.”

There was a brief silence on the other end and for a moment Alex wondered if Willie had decided to end the conversation, but then they said, “Alright, let me just pause the game.”

Another short pause as Willie stopped mid-race. Alex took the opportunity to collect himself, shake out his nerves. It would be fine. Willie would be fine with it.

“Okay,” he said a moment later. “I’m back. What’s going on, hotdog?”

Alex scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, suddenly unsure where to start.

“Okay,” he began uncertainly. “Well… Luke and Reg have been trying to set me up with someone for a while now and I’ve been trying to avoid it as much as I can. I’ve sort of run out of excuses and you know how difficult it is for me to say no to them.”

Willie hummed knowingly. “Like with the Great Cactus Robbery of 2019.”

Alex winced at the memory – he hadn’t realised cactus spikes hurt quite that much, but he’d gone through with a lot that night for Luke and Reggie’s sake.

“Don’t remind me,” he said witheringly. “Anyway, you know what I’m talking about then. They told me about another guy earlier today and I really needed another excuse to give them. I tried just point-blank telling them no, but then they started asking questions and…”

“And?” Willie prompted.

“I told them I was seeing someone,” Alex said. There was silence on the other end. “I told them I was seeing you.”

After a moment or two (that felt like an eternity) Willie burst out laughing. Alex sighed, affronted, but he supposed it was one of the better reactions he could have got. At least Willie wasn’t angry at him.

“Why?” Willie wheezed between laughs. “Was that seriously the first thing that came to your mind?”

“Yes,” Alex grumbled. “I was under a lot of pressure. You were the obvious choice.”

They giggled happily and Alex realised just how true those words had been – whether he liked it or not, Willie would always be the obvious choice for him.

“Well, I’m flattered,” they told him, blatantly trying to contain their giggles. “Thank you for thinking of me, hotdog.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex said. “But I’m sorry about it too. I’ve created an absolute mess and dragged you into it, so I understand if you’re angry at me.”

“Does it sound like I’m angry at you?”

“No?”

“That’s because I’m not,” Willie said kindly. “I get it, man, you just panicked. No big deal. Besides, we can ride this out easily.”

Alex blinked. “We can?”

“Sure, man, it’ll be fun. We’ll pretend to date for a few weeks, have a friendly breakup, and then everything can go back to normal.”

“You’re sure?” Alex checked. This hadn’t been what he was expecting – he’d thought Willie would say it didn’t matter but he needed to come clean. He hadn’t been expecting the offer of dating.

Fake dating, said that irritating little voice in his head. It’s not real. Don’t let yourself forget that.

“Of course I’m sure,” they said. “I mean, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to, but surely it’ll be easier than backtracking completely with the others. And it’ll get Reggie and Luke off your back for a little while longer.”

He considered it, weighing up the pros and cons. On one hand, he’d get to date Willie at last, something he’d wanted to do since he met him. It would give them more of a chance to hang out together, Luke and Reggie would stop pestering him, and it was always fun to harmlessly mess with his friends. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure his sentimental little heart could stand getting to date Willie and then having him taken away even if that was the arrangement from the very start.

But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Alright,” he said resolutely. “I’m in.”

“Cool,” Willie returned happily. “Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss, you know, like, boundaries and stuff like that?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He heard Willie press play on his game, the unmistakable sound of an item box being broken on Mario Kart.

“See you tomorrow, Alex,” Willie said. “Or maybe now we’re dating I should be calling you ‘babe’ or something.”

If that made Alex’s heart flutter, he wouldn’t say anything about it. “We’ll go over pet names tomorrow. Goodnight, Willie.”

“Goodnight, babe.”

As Alex put his phone down and launched himself into bed (still fully clothed but suddenly far too tired to even consider getting changed) he thought to himself that there probably couldn’t have been a better outcome.

*

Alex had expected the meeting with Willie to feel awkward and weirdly formal, but it was completely the opposite. Both of them were in high spirits the whole time, jokingly holding hands and making heart eyes at each other, laughing every time one of them used a particularly ridiculous pet name for the other. (When Alex had called Willie ‘sugarpoops’ he had thought they might die from laughing.)

But the meeting was productive too. They set some effective boundaries – any touching was allowed, just not too intimate; kissing was fine, but only to prove a point; and just for the fun of it they agreed they had to act like the most sickeningly in-love couple the world had ever known. Alex didn’t really care if that would give the whole thing away, it seemed like a bit of fun and it would be useful when it came to reminding himself that none of this was actually real.

That bit, he had to admit, still stung.

He and Willie had arranged to meet Luke, Reggie, and Julie at the studio that afternoon, so spent the day together beforehand. Just to try and get into the swing of things, they treated their morning together as a mini date. Alex took Willie to minigolf, then they went to an ice cream parlour, and after that Willie tried to teach Alex how to skateboard for fifteen minutes before Alex got too nervous and gave up. It was fun and Alex tried not to think about the fact that this was the reality he was missing out on – if he imagined he was just hanging out with Willie as a friend, which in a way he was, then it was just about bearable.

They arrived outside the studio together and they could hear the other band members’ voices already inside. Alex’s stomach started squirming nervously which he thought was weird. He didn’t actually have anything to be nervous about – he and Willie weren’t really dating.

But still, he was starting to feel a little bit queasy and was seriously considering just running away.

Then he felt Willie’s hand slip into his and their fingers lace together. He looked down at them and saw that he had a kind, soft smile on his face, gently encouraging.

“Ready to be my boyfriend, sweetheart?” Willie asked teasingly.

The nerves didn’t disappear, but Alex found it a lot easier to ignore them after that.

“Always,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Alex pushed open the studio door and led Willie inside. Julie, Luke, and Reggie all hushed immediately and looked at the couple like they’d been caught red-handed. If their guilty expressions were anything to go by, they had been talking about Alex and Willie before they had walked in. He could only guess as to what they had been saying, but at that point Alex hardly thought it mattered.

It was showtime.

“Hey guys,” he said, grinning broadly. “What are you talking about?”

The three all responded at the same time but with wildly different answers.

“That gig next week,” blurted Luke.

“I lost my favourite hairclip,” Julie explained.

“I’m thinking of buying a horse,” Reggie told them.

Alex and Willie looked at each other, trying to hide their amusement.

“Anyway,” Julie said, “doesn’t matter what we were talking about! Because you’re here now, both of you! And you’re dating!”

Without warning, Willie giggled brightly and attached himself to Alex like a koala to a tree. Alex laughed and threw his arms around Willie, holding them tightly, pressing a firm kiss to the top of their head.

“I feels so good to finally have it out in the open,” Willie gushed, gazing at Alex with pure adoration in his eyes. “Right, sugarplum?”

Alex gently rubbed the tip of his nose against Willie’s, fighting the urge to laugh. “Of course, my little cheesecake.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see his friends’ expressions – he had to close his eyes so he wouldn’t be able to see them, otherwise he definitely would have broken character and started laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Luke looked utterly horrified, like the display of affection was disgusting; Julie was staring at the two of them wide-eyed, her face flushed red, looking like she would rather be anywhere else; and Reggie just looked baffled.

After a while, Julie cleared her throat and the couple turned to look at her innocently.

“So,” she said, “we’ve heard Alex’s version of the story, but Willie – how did… all this happen?”

Willie linked his arm through Alex’s marched the two of them over to the couch and sat Alex down, then sat primly on his lap, laying their head against Alex’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you asked.”

“I’m not,” Luke muttered, “this is weird.”

Julie kicked his shin and he shut his mouth.

“I had been watching Alex from afar ever since we met, but I didn’t think a cool, handsome drummer could ever care about someone like me. I was convinced we would only ever be friends. But then we hung out together and I saw all these different sides to his personality – he’s so caring and soft, you know, and he means everything he says. Alex isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. So I decided to just go for it, ask him out, admit how I feel.”

Alex stroked a hand through Willie’s hair, eyes fixed on him. “Since then we’ve never looked back. And we never will.”

“Oh, my darling!” Willie exclaimed, throwing themself at Alex and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It certainly wasn’t how Alex had envisioned his first kiss with Willie going (and he had envisioned a great many different versions of it) but in a strange way it felt just right. Sure, they weren’t dating, but they were hanging out together, having fun, being in each other’s company and loving every second of it. Maybe the circumstances weren’t exactly what Alex wanted, but the love they held for one another was still there, nothing could take that away.

So maybe it wasn’t the best decision he’d ever made, but Alex let himself get lost in the kiss. He didn’t know how many times he’d get to do this in his life, so he figured it was better to make the most of it. He blocked out the fact that his friends were right there (a sure sign that he wasn’t thinking straight – absently he knew that he would be very embarrassed by this when it was all over) and just focused on Willie.

And he was sure he wasn’t imagining the fact that Willie seemed to be enjoying it just as much.

When Julie eventually cleared her throat again, they separated. But Alex couldn’t take his eyes off Willie. He knew he wasn’t imagining what he’d felt in that kiss – like sparks had flown between them, forcing their dynamic into something much more than friendly banter and an inside joke. Willie’s eyes were glassy and he was breathing heavily, scanning Alex’s face for something, though Alex didn’t know what. All he knew was that the kiss had pushed the boundaries they had spent all morning setting and if he wasn’t more careful he would lose himself to this silly little charade.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon and evening just talking to each other. Willie stayed firmly planted in Alex’s lap and they both used the occasional cutesy nickname for each other, but it seemed as if both of them had silently made the decision to tone things down a little bit. Luke seemed relieved about it at least – for all the heart eyes he made at Julie he certainly seemed uncomfortable at the affection Alex and Willie had shown. It was probably because Alex hardly ever showed love like that in front of people.

But god, he wanted to do it all again.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like any of their friends suspected Alex and Willie of lying to them. By the time they were all on their way home – Alex and Willie walking away hand in hand – nobody had brought up the fact that it could all be fake.

“That went well,” Willie said as they walked along the seafront, heading back to his place. The cold night breeze lifted their hair and Alex couldn’t keep his eyes off them, not when they were looking so beautiful.

“Yeah,” he said, watching the way the amber glow of the streetlamps danced in Willie’s eyes. “It did.”

“Have you thought about how long we’re going to do this for?” Willie asked. Alex was sure he heard nervousness in Willie’s tone, maybe mingled with hope.

He shrugged. “A few weeks maybe. Unless you had something else in mind.”

“No, no, that’s fine, man.” They had arrived at Willie’s apartment building and stopped just outside of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, smiling smally. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t know what he was thinking – he had expected a goodnight kiss from Willie, but instead he was left alone in the cold as Willie let go of his hand and hurried into the building. Alex was suddenly reminded again that it was all fake, that he shouldn’t have expected kisses when they were alone.

It hurt though. He knew that kiss earlier had been more than just top-notch acting.

He fell asleep that night, still thinking about it, the memory replaying on a loop in his mind. In one way or another, Willie was going to drive him crazy.

*

The next two weeks flew by. Alex found himself hanging out just with Willie more and more often, playing Mario Kart together at Willie’s insistence, going on more dates that weren’t actually dates, or even just video-chatting each other while doing their own separate things to enjoy the company.

After that first day as a “couple”, Alex was sure Willie’s confidence had been knocked. For the next few days they withdrew himself from Alex and Alex didn’t know if he’d done something wrong or if it was just something on Willie’s mind. Still, he let Willie work through it, and a few days later he was back to normal, clinging to Alex like a barnacle to a ship, calling him every pet name under the sun.

And still their friends were none the wiser.

The end of their time as a couple came all too quickly. Alex walked Willie back to his apartment again, a heaviness in his heart. He didn’t know how an actual breakup felt, but he was willing to bet that a breakup would be less painful than whatever this was. No part of him wanted to give this up, whatever silly little thing was going on between him and Willie – it was fun, it was freeing, it gave Alex a light feeling in his chest and made him so happy he thought he might burst at any moment. He didn’t want to give any of it up.

But still he walked Willie to his door.

They stood facing each other, hands interlinked between them, sad smiles on each of their faces. Alex tried to memorise every detail on Willie’s face as if it was the last time he would see them.

“This has been fun,” he said eventually, his voice low, quiet in the night air.

“You can say that again,” Willie agreed. “I loved being your boyfriend.”

“I loved being your boyfriend.”

Something flickered in Willie’s eyes, an expression gone too quickly for Alex to name, but it was quickly forgotten because a moment later Willie stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Alex.

It wasn’t like any of the other kisses they had shared in the past few weeks. There was nothing over-the-top and exaggerated about it, it wasn’t just a stunt they pulled to fool their friends. It was slow and soft and Alex felt the rest of his body go fuzzy and numb as all he could concentrate on was Willie’s lips on his.

An eternity later, Willie pulled away, his eyes scanning Alex’s face.

Alex swallowed heavily and said, “I thought we could only kiss each other to prove a point.”

Willie nodded. “Did I not get my point across very well? Do I need to kiss you again?”

Alex almost laughed but something stopped him. “Just… just explain it to me first. So I don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I loved being your boyfriend,” Willie said. “You enjoyed being my boyfriend. So… why should we stop?”

Alex felt his head spin. Somehow the nightmare he’d created for himself all those weeks ago was turning into a dream come true.

“You mean that?” he asked. “Tell me you mean that, Willie, please.”

“I mean it,” Willie said resolutely. “I’ve felt this way about you for too long just to let it go. If you want me then I want you. I want to date you, Alex. For real.”

Alex kissed him again, short but sweet.

“Is that a yes?” Willie asked, giggling.

“There’s no other answer I could have ever given.”

Even though they remained boyfriends (real ones this time), Alex and Willie decided to drop the over-the-top, lovey-dovey stuff. It was fun, but it wasn’t them. Instead, they chose to fill every second together with quiet declarations of love, casual dates, soft kisses, nothing that wasn’t real.

But they never did tell Luke, Reggie, and Julie how much of it had been fake.

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @boggie-brainrot @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh @sunnysbright @sylphrenas @callmeontheleyline

[solastia]

Say You Won’t Let Go | 5

Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin x Seokjin

Word Count: 6,721

Warnings: Violence, referenced omega abuse, minor character death

Author Note: My lack of battle knowledge shows, I'm afraid. I kinda rushed through it because I couldn't figure out how to make it sound interesting lmao. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter of a story that is taking way too long to write! I'll try to get the next one out faster, especially since I know y'all just want to see what goes down during Jimin's heat.

PLEASE don't fill up my comments with nothing but, "OH MY GOD YOU UPDATED!" Y'all guilt trip me worse than my mama

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A light mist showered over the training grounds, making the ground beneath them soggy. He knew if anyone would slip in the mud it would be him, so he watched the ground with careful eyes as he walked around assessing his troop’s progress.

Namjoon cracked his neck as he silently watched his villagers learning to defend themselves. He knew that if this really turned into a war they would be at a disadvantage, as they’d admittedly gone a bit soft. It had been nearly a hundred years since the last big tribe war, and they’d focused on advancing their village rather than fighting for more land.

He turned towards the direction that would take him home, sniffing in vain for some hint of his mate. He knew he wouldn’t be able to smell him this far away, but it didn’t stop him from wishing.

When his thoughts weren’t taken over by worries, they were occupied by thoughts of his sweet little mate. His Jimin, who was no doubt at home going crazy with worry and stress. He had no doubt that Jimin would do his best to protect their people, he just hoped someone was looking out for him. He’d try to do everything himself if someone didn’t force him to delegate.

He probably should have made some sort of arrangements for Seokjin as well, he thought sheepishly. He hoped the man would be doing alright in a village where he knew literally no one. He was also relieved when he realized his thoughts of the man no longer felt influenced by alpha instincts or needs of any kind. His claim was settled and he was free to consider the man with a rational frame of mind.

Truthfully, there was nothing much for him to consider. The omega seemed nice enough, and sure he was attractive, but Namjoon felt nothing when he tried to picture the man naked to assess his reaction. Well, nothing beyond the guilt that he felt knowing what another omega looked like underneath him. He’d always been a one-person man and it just wasn’t in him to consider even trying to force himself to think of Seokjin romantically. Friends, maybe. Sure.

Besides, his Jiminie was a needy little thing and wrung every drop of affection that was in Namjoon to give.

He smiled again, his thoughts once more on his mate. How he adored the man. He had been perfectly content to live out his days without pups and pass on his title to one of his nephews. Sadly, it appeared as though his mate had been correct in thinking that their childless state posed a challenge that others couldn’t pass up.

Theirs was a fertile land that they’d been cultivating for several generations now. It was almost unheard of for packs to truly settle in one spot, but they had been lucky enough to find such a lush land to call their own. Good soil, healthy and plentiful game, clean rivers and lakes - even their huge mountain was worthy of envy, as it provided so much protection and resources. The friendly human village that was always happy to trade with them was something to go to war for all by itself.

He sighed and turned his attention back to his men, observing their progress. Yoongi was a brutal trainer - merciless and always seeking perfection. Normally, he wouldn’t have given him such free reign but he’d decided that his right hand’s brand of tough love was what they needed the most at the moment. They didn’t have the luxury of time.

He’d sent a messenger to the Kim’s tribe, figuring him marrying into them should provide reason enough for them to send him more warriors. He had no faith that a message to get there and forces sent in enough time to help them with a battle if it came to that - it was rather a backup plan. In case they should fall, perhaps the sent warriors could at the very least save the pack they’d left behind.

The sound of feet running through puddles reached his ear and he swirled around to catch one of his scouts rushing towards him. The man was running so fast he couldn’t stop in time to prevent him from slipping into the damp ground. Namjoon reached out a hand and hauled the man up, narrowing his eyes as they met the frantic ones of his best scout.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“They’re here!” The man panted. “They didn’t go through the western forest as we thought. We suspect they went downriver instead. They’re already here, Alpha.”

Namjoons’ heart dropped right to his stomach. They weren’t ready. They weren’t…

Gentle hands pried his fingers from his hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes bored into him. “Joon?”

“They’re already here. They’re…” He turned to his scout. “Where exactly are they, Yuen?”

“I spotted them setting up camp next to the cliffs.”

“Shit,” Yoongi hissed. “That’s only a twenty-minute walk from here.”

Namjoon hung his head, reaching up to rub his suddenly aching eyes.

“We have no choice but to be ready. Yoongi, Round up the men. Collect three of your best to be added to our personal party. We move out the moment you’re ready.”

Yoongi nods briskly and turns to roar orders. Namjoon spots Jungkook and waves him over. The younger alpha jogs to him and Namjoon grabs his shoulders.

“You are not going to like this, but…”

Jungkook interrupts him, “I’m not staying behind.”

“You are ,” he nods firmly, Jungkook’s mouth opening again to argue. He shakes his head, effectively shutting him up.

“I’m not going to make you stay right here, just in the back of the men. If things go south, I need you to be ready to run back to the village immediately. I’m not saying this because you’re weak - in fact, if I could I would have you up there with me and Yoongi because you’re better than both of us. It’s because I trust that you would be able to reach the village before any of our enemies could get there and save our people. Save our mates.”

Jungkook bows his head and softly asks, “You really think it’s going to go that way?”

Namjoon shrugs. “Dunno, Gukkie. I’ve certainly never dealt with this any more than the rest of us have. I just figured our best chance of survival is to expect the worst and hope for the best.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll stay back there?”

Jungkook nods then shakes his overly long hair with a grin. “Besides, your other option is probably Yoongi and it would take him two years to power walk back to the village.”

“Brat,” Namjoon chuckles fondly, pushing the man away from him. “Help him get everyone going.”

Jungkook nods and runs off, plowing into Yoongi’s back instead of stopping properly. Namjoon shakes his head and turns to sniff the air again in vain. He missed Jimin fiercely.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Once assembled, their party made good time reaching the cliffs. Namjoon decided their best course of action was to simply walk up to the outsider’s camp and demand answers. In fact, their leader most likely expected that since Namjoon would be well within his rights to do so. They were “visitors” on his land, after all.

Once their camp came into view, Namjoon paled, momentarily stunned. They had brought so many warriors, all of them painted and well-armed. This was definitely no negotiation party.

He forced himself to calm and pulled his shoulders back, bringing himself to full height and allowing his scent to permeate the air around him until even his own men were gritting their teeth against the blatant demand for submission. He gathered Yoongi and several of the warriors that he’d picked to surround him and strode forward.

He noticed several scouts and lookouts stand to attention but they made no move to stop him, nor to run back to their camp to inform their leader. Either they were in too much shock or…

“Ah, there you are, pup.”

A man stood in the center of their camp surrounded by several burly warriors with axes strapped to their backs. The man himself was armed with a massive club strapped to his hip and a bow on his back. He was stocky, not in very good shape, and was probably around the same age as his father. His scent indicated he was Pack Alpha, but it was sour, tinged with age and some sickness underneath.

“You are the Yang Alpha, I presume,” he inquired with as much politeness as he could manage.

“Indeed, my boy. Come join me by the fire. I’ve come for a little…chat.”

“You will speak to him with respect,” Yoongi growled, his hand tightening on a dagger strapped to his thigh.

The Yang Alpha chuckled, waving them forward. “What a loyal little beta you have there.”

Namjoon simply nodded and waved Yoongi down. He could tell what sort of man this was already. Nothing he said was going to have much of a difference. He already thought he was superior to them simply because of his age - and perhaps his warriors who have no doubt seen many battles.

He followed behind the Yang guards as they led them to their central fire and sat on the offered log. Yoongi stayed standing at his right and his other guards gathered behind him.

The Alpha proceeds to act like they weren’t even there, picking up his meal that he must have set aside earlier and tearing into a chicken leg. Namjoon startles at that for a moment, trying not to let his worry show. Unless this man’s war party traveled with a bunch of chickens, they had been in Namjoon’s village. Someone had snuck in and spied on them, and now he was eating the stolen chicken right in front of him like a taunt.

Namjoon clears his throat, willing his body to appear unbothered.

“I’m sure you are aware of why I’m here. State your business on my lands.”

The Alpha belches and licks his fingers clean, smacking his lips with satisfaction. He tosses the bone into the fire and only then does he see fit to look at Namjoon in the eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling in a mocking smile.

“Ah, pup. No need for aggression. I’m simply here to look out for my neighbors,” the man shrugs nonchalantly. “I’d heard of your… troubles even across in my land so I thought I should come and lend a hand.”

“And what kind of hand do you think we need?” Namjoon asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

“Ah, well. At first, I thought I’d give you one of my daughters. I have far too many of them anyway and their mothers were all certainly fertile as rabbits,” he smacks his tongue against his teeth and sighs. “Then I got a real good look at this land. Fertile soil, steady water supply, a village full of hard little workers.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenches as he waits for the inevitable. “Uh-huh…”

The alpha shrugs again and drawls, “And then I thought the best hand I could lend is my own. You’re a young pup and I’m sure you’re trying your best, but with a land like this to protect and your line unsecured, well…” he waves around. “Half of these warriors are my own sons. My line will be secure for hundreds of years. Figured I’d do your people a favor.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, wiling his alpha down. He desperately wanted to just lunge and tear the man’s throat out, but he knew he needed to be smarter than that.

The other Alpha snaps his fingers and bellows for wine. A moment later the scent of omega hit Namjoon’s unsuspecting nose. Why would the man have omegas in his war party?

The omega was male and jogged towards the Alpha with a full cup of sour-scented wine, and somehow doesn’t trip despite his eyes never leaving the ground beneath him. Namjoon felt his anger somehow grow further when he took in the state of the omega - the way his ribs poked out as though it had been far too long since he’d seen a good meal, the bruises that mottled his skin from head to toe, the state of his wrapping that barely covered him and was hardly in good enough shape to be considered a cleaning rag. The omegas scent was muted, as though the body was trying its best to protect itself. However, it was still enough for Namjoon to catch the hint of bright citrus hiding behind the muted emotions. He’s never seen an omega treated in such a way. They were to be protected and cherished, not treated as though they were even lower than the chubby dogs sitting on either side of the Alpha leader.

Suddenly, he noticed that Yoongi had gone deathly still at his side and he glanced up, noting the stricken expression on his second’s face. He knew full well that Yoongi hid a bleeding heart underneath all his gruffness, but he didn’t think this was what that was. Yoongi began to growl and he watched in disbelief as the omega’s nose twitched and he slowly glanced up to stare at Yoongi in wonder.

“I see your beta has his eye on my bitch. Reaching a bit far there, eh? Even a male omega is  too high above a beta ,” he laughed cruelly, spitting out the designation like a slur.

Namjoon observed the pair curiously then turned back to the alpha. He figured his best bet for getting out of here safely was to distract the man from what he thought was happening.

“What are your terms for leaving without a fight?”

The man guffawed, a bit of spittle flying in the air. “No fight? Impossible, my boy. Unless you were willing to sit there and let me end you here and now, of course.”

Yoongi managed to tear his gaze from the omega long enough to growl at the man. The alpha simply sneers and grabs the omega by his hair and tugs him down to his knees in front of him. He runs his hands through the tangled auburn locks, silently mocking Yoongi.

“What, have you imprinted on him? Is he your precious little mate? Too bad. He’s mine. In fact, I’ve been thinking about breeding him since my last bitch is about to burst. Gotta give the new pup a friend, eh?”

Yoongi’s hand tightened around his dagger and pulled it halfway out of its sheath before Namjoon was able to place a restraining hand on his arm. He shakes his head and Yoongi lowers his hand, near-silent growls vibrating his whole body.

“I can see that there is no peaceful solution to be had with you, therefore I’m issuing you an official challenge. I will give you this evening to pack up and leave. If not, we will meet you at dawn and it will be a fight.”

Namjoon stood and placed a comforting hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, squeezing gently to urge him to fight his instincts. The man may have been a beta, but he was more alpha than many born to it.

He observed helplessly as the omega watched them leave, first soft whimpers then omega keening the further they got. The sound broke even his heart - he could only imagine how Yoongi felt.

They left the camp with Yoongi ahead of him and guards surrounding them both. He stared at his best friends overly straight back as he marched forward - no sign of the normal casual slouch that he was practically known for.

“Hyung, I doubt they are going to leave. There’s going to be a battle and I promise you that we’ll get him out. Do you trust me?”

Yoongi’s shoulders release the tiniest bit of tension, though not enough. “I hear you, Joon. I just…I can’t believe I finally found them. I found my mate and they…Joon. Did you fucking see him? He’s so beautiful but they…they hurt him. And he’s so scared. I’m a fucking beta and I could smell how terrified he was, that’s how bad it was. Who does that to an omega? A fucking monster, that’s who. You shoulda let me gut him, Joon. I coulda fixed it all right there.”

“And then his entire war party would have descended on us immediately and we would have been wiped out.”

Yoongi grunts and hangs his head.

“Hey, Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you scent him?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, it was a bit muted cuz he’s been traumatized I think. Can happen when a body is trying to protect it…but underneath it all, he kinda smelled like those oranges you always carry in your pockets.”

Yoongi snapped his head up to stare at him in wonder. “Really?”

“Yeah. If I can smell it that well even though his body is trying to mute it, it’s probably going to be strong enough for even you to scent when we get him well again.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi was smiling like a dope, and Namjoon chuckled silently. It was a new look for his friend but it suited him. Yoongi finally finding his mate was at least one good thing to come out of all this madness. The man had long ago resigned himself to living without one despite everyone assuring him that it would happen eventually.

Namjoon sighed and watched the sun lower itself on the horizon. The symphony of oranges, reds and blues usually brought a smile to his lips, but this night it merely made him anxious.

“Yoongi, make sure every man we have is alert tonight. Lookouts especially, but I don’t think anyone should sleep tonight.”

“You think they are bastards enough to attack in the middle of the night…” he pauses and curses, answering his own question. “Of course they are. I’ll let everyone know.”

Namjoon nods and faces the horizon again.

They’d make it through this - they had to.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

They’d put out the fires hours ago and simply waited. Many of the men that weren’t as proficient with weapons had shifted already, preferring to rely on their wolves in battle instead. Namjoon had chosen not to. He wanted to be standing tall and meet the old bastard face to face when he cut him down for threatening his people and upsetting his mate. Because of pathetic Alphas like this one, his mate had felt worthless enough to demand they add another to their home - to his bed - just to protect their village. He was furious that Jimin had been proven right.

Yoongi silently stalked towards the large rock that Namjoon perched on, his black form blending into the dark of the night perfectly. He jumped up and settled next to him, his ears standing tall and following every sound. He slightly bumped against Namjoon, a familiar motion that made him sigh.

“I’m good, just...angry. We haven’t bothered anyone in at least a hundred years. We have no desire to go around stealing land and killing people. Yet, just because we haven’t been able to have a pup we are suddenly deemed weak and unworthy? It’s so old-fashioned and just...barbaric. Because of this way of thinking I had to hurt three people - myself fucking included - by adding another person to my marriage just for his potential ability to breed. What happens if he can’t have pups either? What the hell am I expected to do then?”

His breathing is growing more erratic the more upset he gets and he clenches his fists tightening, whispering all of his hurts into the night.

“I...Yoongi...this has been so hard for me too. I know that everyone feels bad for Jimin and like, he’s been trying to keep it together in front of me, but I’m hurting too. I’ve never wanted anyone besides him. I’ve known since I was a kid that he was the love of my life. And like, every time we got pregnant I was both elated and terrified because it hurt me to lose the pups....but I was always afraid of losing him more. It just got worse and worse every time he lost them. That last time when I got home...he was laying on the ground surrounded by blood...I thought that was it. And if he died, I would follow him, Yoongi. Pack or not.”

The beta whines quietly and rubs his nose against Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Having Seokjin around is hard now, too. I’d forgotten about how strong the alpha instinct is to mark when you complete the ceremony. I had this idea that I’d...I don’t know. Hand him a cup full of jizz or something and let him take it from there,” he laughs self-deprecatingly. “I don’t feel anything for him besides curiosity and I hope that we’ll be able to be friends at least. I just...I feel so bad and guilty. And I just…” Namjoon sniffled and wiped at his dampening eyes. “I don’t even know if I’m making sense right now, hyung. Everything is so scrambled up there and now I have this...fucking war shit. I’m tired and I just want to go home and nest with Jimin.”

A tiny lick on Namjoon’s cheek was his only answer, but it was enough for now. He laughs softly, wiping another stray tear.

“Thanks, Yoon. Love you too.”

He sighs and leans back, staring up at the stars above him. He really was emotionally exhausted. When all of this was over - if he even survived it - he was making his father take over for a while while he took a nice vacation. He decided the least his village could do for him after everything he’d sacrificed recently was not bother him while he got his life with his mate back on track.

Yoongi suddenly stiffened next to him, bringing him to attention. He heard it next - a rustle of leaves and the occasional crunch of someone stepping on an acorn or some other debris.

They were here.

He could see them now, the red and gold eyes of the shifted warriors stalking through the trees. He sniffed the air, waiting for the leader to make himself known. Even as his own men threw themselves in front of him, effectively blocking any foolish enough to attack him directly, he waited…and waited.

He wasn’t showing up.

Namjoon lowly growled at the cowardice of the man. He was brave enough to trek across the land and try to steal from his pack, but fighting his own battles was asking far too much, apparently.

At his signal, his men leap forward and attacked the foreign warriors. There was no need for frills and banners - he simply wanted them gone. Yoongi was still sticking close to him, but his nose too was searching the air for the absent leader.

Namjoon bellowed his rage as he watched some of his people fall, the enemy ruthless with their kills. Hundreds of warriors fought in the makeshift battlefield, the ferocious growls and pained cries imprinting themselves into Namjoon’s nightmares for years to come. Jungkook was thankfully following instructions and staying as far from the front line as possible, but still managed to make a few kills. Trusting that the boy was safe for now, he throws himself further into the fray, his skills with a sword untried and rusty but enough to fight off shifted warriors for now.

Suddenly, Yoongi howls and leaps away from him, running forward at a speed that Namjoon didn’t even know he had in him. He cursed and shifted to follow behind, fearing that Yoongi had seen Jungkook in trouble or something equally horrifying. His confusion grew as Yoongi sailed right past the battlefield and kept going towards the enemy camp. He tried to bark orders to stop so he could get an explanation, but Yoongi either didn’t hear him or refused to obey because he only went impossibly faster, his sleeker form streaking through the trees and making it difficult for Namjoon’s wolf to keep up. While he was the biggest wolf the village had seen in years, he lacked any sort of agileness or grace. Usually, it wasn’t that much of a problem, but Yoongi charging into an enemy camp without backup would be.

When the cliffside camp finally came into view, Yoongi went charging past the guards and Namjoon was still a few leagues behind, having already tripped three times and leaving dirt and twigs clinging to his platinum-hued fur.

Nearly panting with effort, he too ignored the threats of the guards and trotted to where Yoongi stood growling at the Yang Alpha. The man had the omega they’d seen earlier held to the dirt-packed ground with a foot on his back, the rotting wrap that had been his only piece of clothing nowhere to be seen. There was a group of leering men standing around in a circle around the scene like it was simply entertainment. The rest of the pack continued with their duties all around the camp like this was a usual occurrence. Namjoon averted his eyes to give the omega some respect, keeping them glued to the offending alpha instead as he and Yoongi slowly shifted forms.

He unfurled and looked down his nose at the flabby alpha, towering over the now raging man. His fetid breath swirled in the air as he cursed Namjoon and Yoongi for their interruption.

Namjoon rumbled and stalked closer, uncaring of his nakedness as he postured. He had nothing to be ashamed of after all - especially next to this failure of a man. This man who bullied and abused omegas, who attacked peaceful packs unprovoked, who didn’t even have the balls to join the fight he had started.

“I was waiting for you, Yang. You were nowhere to be found. You aren’t backing out, are you?” Namjoon asked in a mocking tone, drawing the alpha’s attention to him and away from the beta who was now guarding the omega from view.

“Hardly,” the old man guffawed, vile spittle flying. “I thought instead it would be amusing to breed my bitch while his mate was being gutted. Poetic.”

Namjoon felt his growl rise to the surface like molten lava. “Instead, you are going to die.”

“Sorry, pup. Not this day.”

The old alpha waved at the group of warriors that had been standing around like spectators and they quickly shoved the man behind them and faced Namjoon.

There was nothing pretty about the way he fought his way through them. He simply forced his way through to the alpha with a brutal viciousness he didn’t even know he possessed. Two of the men were bashed together with so much force he was almost certain he broke them. Several others were shredded with half-extended claws and his canines. Before he knew it the ground around him was littered with bodies and only one remained between him and his prey.

“Please,” the man - no, he was practically a boy. No more than fifteen he thought. “He told me to watch. I didn’t want to. I didn’t even want to come here. He’s…”

“Shut up, you sniveling whelp,” the alpha grunted and shoved a dagger into the boy’s heart from behind.

Namjoon reached forward and caught the boy as he fell, staring into the bewildered eyes of the youth as he died in his arms. He lay him gently on the ground next to the other men and stared at the alpha with disgust.

“He was your own son , you monster!”

Namjoon’s eyes whirled to meet the hate-filled ones of the omega, who was now free of his bindings and glaring at the Yang alpha like he was a maggot he’d just found in his meal.

“He was weak,” the Yang alpha grunted derisively. “Was always telling me he didn’t want to fight or breed. Useless whelp wanted to be a healer like his bitch of a mother.”

The man seemed to suddenly realize he was out of shields when he peeked over at Namjoon then ran straight for the omega. Yoongi had begun to leap forward to block him, instead, the omega pushed him away and let the alpha grab him.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi’s voice was filled with hurt and confusion, and Namjoon didn’t blame him one bit. They were trying to save him - save everyone. Why would he let the crazed alpha have him?

“It’s alright. I belong to him. Don’t I, alpha?” the omega crooned, his voice like liquid honey.

“That’s right. You and everything we see are mine. It’s all mine,” the alpha nearly whispers as he pulls the omega’s back to his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Namjoon could see it now. The madness lurking behind the alpha’s near-crazed frantic eyes. There was something wrong with the man, and he suddenly remembers the sour scent when he’d first met him.

The omega releases a loud purr and allows the alpha to bury his face into the crook of his neck, his scent suddenly pouring out as if he’d just popped off the cap. Namjoon observes with trepidation as the omega seems to be slowly making the Yang alpha walk backward, his eyes locked with Yoongi’s as he allows his scent to fill the air for the first time in what must have been years.

“Omega, what are you doing?” Yoongi asks pleadingly, his hands out towards the man even as tears begin to fall from his eyes. Namjoon knows his friend must be overwhelmed right now - he was just able to fully scent his mate for the first time, as well as any alpha or omega would have.

“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay,” he croons soothingly, petting the alpha still buried against his neck. “I’m going to make it all better.”

Namjoon has a horrible feeling in his gut as he finally notices how close they are getting to the edge of the cliff. There was nothing on the other side but a rocky ravine and if they should fall…

“Omega, come to me now,” he growled, trying to infuse as much alpha voice as he could into the command.

The man’s eyes glazed over slightly, but he squared his shoulders and shook his head. Namjoon was amazed at the man’s strength.

“I’m going to end this now.”

The omega suddenly turned in the alpha’s grip and placed both of his hands on the man’s chest.

“This is for my mother, for me, and for every other life you’ve terrorized.”

With a firm push, he sends the alpha tumbling off the cliff edge. The garbled yell as the scent-drunk man finally realizes what is happening to him reaches their ears, but neither Namjoon nor Yoongi go to watch the scene. Namjoon certainly didn’t want to have that image in his mind. The omega, however, stands there staring in silence, until a final thud signals the alpha’s fate.

He turns and faces the remaining members of the Yang pack as they all stare with expressions varying between horror and satisfaction.

“According to your own rules that state anyone who defeats pack alpha takes control, I am now leader of the pack. My first and only orders will be that anyone who wishes to leave the pack may do so now without fear of retribution. Everyone else will go back to the main village and stay there, never to come this way again. And finally, I am stepping down as leader immediately and leaving it to Kwon Jiyong.”

A quiet mild-smelling alpha that Namjoon had hardly noticed before glanced up sharply at the claim.

“Me?”

“Yes,” the omega nodded decisively. “You are one of the few that actually treats everyone well and has been strong against the corruption of this pack. You did what you could to help even when you were one man against hundreds. I don’t know how many times you’ve tended my wounds when alpha said to let them fester or snuck us food when we were being punished yet again. No one else here is more worthy of the title than you.”

“I…” the alpha gulped, staring nervously at all the gazes now on him. “I’ll do my best.”

The omega nodded and strode through the crowd with as much grace as a king of old, and seemingly uncaring of his nudeness or the battered state of his body. He walks right up to Yoongi and places his hands on his hips, cocking his head as he studies the beta.

“I’m Jung Hoseok,” he finally says with a tiny smile.

“I’m Min Yoongi,” he murmurs back, unable to tear his eyes from the omega.

The omega’s smile grows and his scent is once again swirling around them so strongly Namjoon is almost embarrassed. At least the man smelled good - mostly like the little oranges that Yoongi always ate, but with a few deeper notes that brought to mind a bright summer’s day. It was so strong that it was a good thing the man seemed to have a handle on muting it when he needed to, but he knew that it was a blessing for Yoongi. He could actually scent his mate - something he’d never believed he could do. He would be able to scent his mate’s emotions and health, bond properly...Namjoon nearly wanted to cry he was so happy for his friend.

Yoongi snaps his eyes away from the omega and suddenly starts to look around, frantically searching for something.

A tall beta quietly walks up to them and tears off his long crimson tunic, standing in nothing but worn leather wrappings. He offers it to the omega with a shy quirk of his lips.  

“It’s clean and has no scent, so it should last you until you find something better.”

The omega seems to gladly accept it and throws it on immediately, the fabric nearly reaching his shins.

“Thank you, Seunghyun,” Hoseok grins and the beta slinks back away as quiet as before.

“He’s not one of the ones that hurt you?” Yoongi grunted.

“No,” Hoseok shakes his head, sighing. “He’s a craftsman - makes and repairs our weapons. Jiyong will probably make him his right-hand man.”

The three of them stand there awkwardly for a moment as the remaining members of the war party seem to ignore them for the most part and begin preparations to leave.

“So,” Namjoon clears his throat. “Are you coming with us or staying with them?”

“Oh,” the omega blushes, glancing at Yoongi. “I was waiting to see what he wanted. Do you...want me to come with you?”

“YES!” Yoongi blurted, then cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, sure. If you want. Whatever.”

“Great! Let’s go!” Hoseok laced his arm with Yoongi’s and tugged him along, leaving Namjoon - their pack alpha, mind you - trailing behind. Namjoon snorts to himself, thinking that his friend was about to have his life turned around more than he’d ever thought possible.

“Wow, you smell so good,” Hoseok suddenly purred, making Namjoon wish he could be anywhere else.

“Uh, that’s nice of you to say, but I’m beta. I don’t…”

“I can smell you, and I’m pretty sure you’re aware we’re mates so it’s probably because of that,” Hoseok chuckles, leaning down to take an exaggerated sniff of Yoongi’s neck.

The beta glanced up at him warily. “Yeah? What does it smell like?”

“Mmm, like fall.”

“What?” Yoongi scrunched his nose and even Namjoon leaned closer curiously to hear the explanation. He’d certainly never been able to scent Yoongi, and he’d known him all his life.

“Yeah, like...cinnamon and pine and maybe a hint of something else. It’s nice. Comforting.”

Yoongi’s shoulders went rigid and he fell silent. Years of studying his best friend gave him that the knowledge that the man was trying not to cry. He wanted to stop and hug him, but he also really wanted to hurry back to their own camp and put on some clothes.

Jungkook came running through the trees to meet them, thankfully bearing a bag full of clothing they always kept around for after a shift.

“Hyungs! Someone from the Yang side came through and stopped all the fighting. Said their alpha was dead and pulled everyone out. What happened?”

“Jung Hoseok here saved us all,” Namjoon reached up and grasped the omega’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Hoseok dropped his head shyly and blushed at the claim.

“Really? How?”

“Pushed the fucker right off a cliff,” Yoongi grunted with amusement. Hoseok squawks in dismay.

“Shit, that’s so cool. Are you coming back with us? My mate is a badass omega too - he’ll love you.”

“Yes,” Namjoon answered for the pair as they remained silent. “Hoseok and Yoongi are true mates. We need to get them back to the camp before their instincts take over. I’d also like to have a nice big meal for the evening to celebrate our victory and get some meat on his bones. Have a few of the men head out to hunt, please Gukkie?”

“On it, alpha!” Without another word he ran back the way he’d come, leaving Yoongi and Namjoon to quickly dress and continue their trek at a slower pace.

After a few more minutes of walking, Namjoon glanced over at Hoseok, studying him curiously.

“You know,” he finally says after a while. “You seem to be taking everything pretty well right now…” Namjoon was genuinely amazed at how strong this omega seemed to be. He’d just killed someone, left who knows how many years of abuse behind, has to be starving and cold - and yet he’s just grinning as he walks with Yoongi, swinging their linked arms like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Oh, believe me,” Hoseok chuckles. “I will be having a panic attack later, I can promise you that. There will be tears and crying and I probably will keep myself behind doors for a while,” he shrugs and glances over at Yoong with a fond smile. “I think I’m mostly alright at the moment because my omega is thrilled our mate is here. Kinda running high on pheromones and hormones right now.”

“Gotcha,” Namjoon shakes his head. “We’ll plan on the two of you...bonding...tonight, but we’ll have to pack up and head home tomorrow. It’s going to take a lot of work to get the village running smoothly again.”

The moment the camp is in sight Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief. If he was being brutally honest, he hadn’t thought he’d see it again. Hadn’t thought he’d get to go home. But here he was and he was just so ready to get to his mate again.

“Alpha.”

“Ah, Jackson. Good to see you’re alright,” Namjoon smiled brightly at a favored member of his inner circle.

“Thank you, alpha. Good to see you lot make it out alright too. Just wanted to update you before you found your bed.”

“Great. You two go on ahead,” Namjoon gives Yoongi a friendly tap on the back. “Get your mate fed and seen to by our healers before you do anything.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi mumbles, his cheeks nearly scarlet. Still, he grabs the omega’s hand and tugs him towards the central fire where the men are already prepping food for the evening meal.

He turns back to Jackson. “Report.”

“We have twenty-three men wounded, ten were killed. Arrangements have already been made to send the bodies home and we are doing what we can with the wounded. Most of their injuries can wait to be dealt with until we can take them home to healer Lily. A warrior came from the enemy encampment and informed everyone that the Yang alpha was dead and called the men back before we lost too many of our own.”

Namjoon sighs and thanks whoever would listen. He nods, “Thank you, Jackson. Go find your own rest. We pack up and head home tomorrow.”

Jackson grins and spins around, running back towards his personal group of friends. Namjoon sighs wearily and makes his way towards the tantalizing scent of roasting meat. He’d barely sat on a log before someone is shoving a bowl of food into his hands and he begins to eat automatically, just wanting the chore to be done so he could go to sleep. He stares at his friend Yoongi talking softly with his new mate while they fed each other bits of food like the disgusting saps he’d always suspected his friend would be.

One more night and he could start the journey home.

I’m almost there, Jiminie. I’m actually coming home to you, love.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Scholars’ Chit Chat Submission

Cyno x Reader (actually platonic, in a way I guess, study partners, but possibly romantic in the future)

*Lore dump warning; Spoilers for all the Archon Quests and speculations of Teyvat; Really it’s all serious talk

XXX

“Hey Cyno,”

The said male turned away from the book he was reading, and focused his attention on you instead.

“What’s the matter?”

“Do you believe in eternity?”

Surprised at your sudden question, the male went quiet for a few moments.

“You want my own opinion or an objective one?”

“As much as I would like to hear both, it’s almost lunch time. So I would like to hear your opinion first.”

Sighing at your carefree reply, Cyno closed the book he was reading shut.

“Well, I simply don’t. After all, all living things will come to an end, it is the law of the universe and the reason why they say time is money.”

“Well yeah, I mean, our former archon did die five hundred years ago...”

Puzzled at your deflated mood, Cyno realised that this question didn’t simply popped out of your mind, but rather something that you had been thinking hard about for quite some time.

“Why’d you ask, by the way? You worried about the future?”

“It’s normal to be worried or even sacred okay? This is the very reason why we seek knowledge in the first place. To survive is the natural instinct of humans, and curiosity stems out of it as we can predict the future with more known about the world...”

“And yet the world is so vast, and our lives are so short, but we can pass down our knowledge through our legacy... That is the most basic right of humanity...”

“Yet don’t you think that it is strange? The fact that it has been thousands are even more years that we humans had been existed, there isn’t much we know about the pre-archon war era?”

Cyno looked down as he realised what you said was true.

“Indeed, but there isn’t much we can do about it isn’t there?”

“That’s the problem!! Nobody questions about it and that’s what makes it fishy!”

You are... Quite the special type of student at Sumeru Academia, even though you do seek knowledge about the world you all reside in. Due to the lack of Mysticism studies you didn’t take part in, you were the type to question everything, even the principles that had been decided by the Academia for centuries.

But that’s what allows your breakthroughs in your findings in the past few years here. Rather than focusing on a particular study or field, you tackle anything that comes in your way. Becoming one of the people who had read the most books in this grand library of Sumeru Academia.

Cyno liked that part of you, new perspectives shed more light to the field and it never gets boring when you suddenly throw questions at him for no absolute reason.

“The part where you go ‘seeing is believing’ is the easiest way to deceive someone?” He guessed, letting out a small chuckle.

“Exactly!! ‘Show not tell’, because people believe in what they see so when they try to deceive someone they show what they want them to see.”

“Illusions, mirages... People get tricked so easily without asking their own rationality!”

“So what you’re trying to say is-“

“That we should question this world in the first place!”

‘Here we go again...’ Cyno thought, but he didn’t actually mind your rambling.

“First! Why do we have to trust the gods in the first place? *All we can do is observe the chess game that the gods are playing, we don’t know the rules of the game, but as soon as we speculate it long enough, we’ll be able to guess what the rules are.”

“But in the end, we won’t know if we understand all of the rules cause who can predict what happens in the future anyways?”

“But with Astrology-“

“Do. not. interrupt me.”

Ah, you were getting heated up.

“With enough information, anyone can predict the future, they say. But can we actually do it? We can’t! We’re human after all.”

“Which leads to the question of, why don’t the gods spill the beans if the really care about us so much? But they didn’t.”

“I know it’s hypocritical to judge gods through mortal standards, but I have evidence.”

“If the gods truly care for each single human being of Teyvat, then shouldn’t everyone have a Vision if they’re supposed to be the grace from the gods?”

“You’re saying that those without Visions are not important in the eyes of the gods?”

“Hah, as much as I prefer that they care for both, my instincts tell me that they don’t care for either of them for some reason...”

Cyno narrowed his eyes at your slightly hesitant answer.

“Is this about you not able to obtain a Vision for yourself?”

“Cyno, how many times have I told you? If I were to receive a Vision, I would have went all the way to the archon responsible and politely give it back to them.”

“Politely?”

“Alright, maybe throwing it in their faces before telling them off that I don’t need it.”

“Violent as always, my dear.”

“Elemental energy is not magic anyways, we all know that, and the Hexenzirkel doesn’t often share their findings about Irminsul either...”

“Your point is…?”

“What’s ’free’ is the most expensive, even hilichurls are a problem for normal humans, yet Vision holders see them as eyesores more than anything… Everything comes with a price, Cyno, and I believe that you understand that well.”

“Indeed,” he agreed with a sigh. “For knowledge, we sacrifice time and our energy for it. And the culmination of many scholars forms this very library we are in.”

“The crystallisation of human knowledge, or so I recalled,” you agreed with a huff “but what if that’s the gods want us to believe in? Away from their true purposes in order to keep humanity under the reigns?”

“…”

“You angry? Sorry, I know that it’s disrespectful to judge on people’s faith like this, but I just can’t help but worry about the future when something big is about to happen…”

“N-no, I don’t mind, it’s just-“

“Explaining is concealing and concealing is the truth, go on.”

Cyno realised something, despite you knowing he has a Vision himself, you had come up with theories about the secrets about Visions, mostly concerning ones actually. But he understands it is a way of you caring for him, there are rumours about those who have Visions would one day disappear from the world.

You were scared that one day he would go somewhere that you cannot follow.

But as your partner, he has no intentions of it until you finally seek the answers you had longed for.

“The Geo Archon’s passing, Mondstadt’s Knights of Favonius incapable of fully stopping the Fatui, the electro Archon Baal stopped giving out Electro Visions since last year… Not to mention the Fatui following the Tsarista’s orders by any method of sort…” Cyno listed out. “Yes… It is all quite alarming…”

“But that promise we made the day we met, I have no intention of breaking it.”he reminded with a soft smile on his face.

“I am, your partner in crime after all.”

…

“Here you are again, saying things like that so easily…” you huffed, trying to contain your happiness from his words.

“Until the day I make the gods confess their intentions, I’m not letting you go anywhere without me!”

Seeing you back in your normal mood, the male smiled in relief, all that’s left is to lift your spirits up a bit more.

“I’ll treat you something sweet for lunch, what do you want?”

“W-Wha?! Umm…”

Seeing you flustered at his sudden question, Cyno knows that he had succeeded as you mumble under your breath about what you should pick.

‘Don’t worry too much about the future, try focus on what we have right now, alright?’

‘We are raging treason against the very laws of this world after all, so please allow me to enjoy such little time with you, my dear.’

XXX

I don’t know what I’m writing… QAQ

Exiled, if you want I can make a few more short dribbles about this (well mostly about how they meet and other stuff they think about-)

-lies on ground-

-and dies out of embarrassment-

-snowdrop, out

ANY CYNO CONTENT IS GOOD CONTENT, BUT THAT LORE DUMP WAS NICE AND REFRESHING. YES SNOWDROP, I DO WANT EM GIMME

[dear-yandere]

☽ darling, don’t leave me.

yandere! jojos + dio. general headcanons. tw: mentions of physical abuse, gaslighting, confinement, and noncon (dio’s part).

art credits: rosuto, ぴの, wW 武 Ww, unknown, suan, tumbleweed.

Jonathan Joestar is obsessive.

A true gentleman, Jonathan knows better than to let his feelings stray from his control. Still, he’s never been one to pursue love, so these feelings are entirely new. He courts his darling like any other self-respecting man of his time, allowing them the space to choose whether or not they desire him too. He doesn’t take being turned down personally as he’s perfectly content with merely being by his darling’s side. Even seeing them fall for another man is something he cannot force himself to intervene in; every smile and laugh not directed at him hurts far worse than any punch he’s ever received, but Jonathan thrives in seeing his darling happy and carefree.

Clingy as he may be, he isn’t above taking a few of darling’s possessions should the opportunity present itself. A head band or hair tie here or there, perhaps a pair of gloves or a hat his darling is sure to not miss — Jonathan is surprisingly adept and subtle at stealing and keeping these little trinkets. Darling may notice a few missing possessions, but it’s nothing Jonathan can’t laugh off as a misplaced item and easily replace with something new and extravagant. Money isn’t a problem, especially when it comes to his sweetheart. If it means they’ll stay by his side — or even look his way as more than a friend or confidant — he’ll give his darling the world.

Overbearing and well-meaning as he is, even gentleman aren’t without their flaws.

“You don’t have to feel the same. All I ask is that you don’t leave me.”

Joseph Joestar is protective with a hint of possessiveness.

Acting much more like an older brother rather than a lover — similar to his grandfather Jonathan — Joseph is hyper-aware of anyone that might hurt his sweetheart. He’s not sure how it came to be this way, really; it’s a first for him to not know even his own feelings. His darling is easy enough to read, and perhaps that’s what got him into this situation, where even the slightest brush of skin against his or the mere sound of them saying his name sends his nerves on edge. He likes the attention they give him when he acts like a brotherly figure; there’s no need to worry about unwanted feelings developing between the pair. At least, darling doesn’t have to worry, because Joseph falls in love despite his precautions. It isn’t until a competent rival appears that Joseph becomes rather intensely possessive and competitive — a rival like Caesar.

He hates losing, especially when he had his eyes set on the goal first. The moment a suave man like Caesar sets their sights on Joseph’s darling, he’ll turn snarky, snappy with even his darling. It’s a brutally stark contrast to the playful, chipper demeanor he usually bears, but it’s easy for darling to play it off as him having a bad day — until he doesn’t relent. His grip is harsher these days, his tone more grating and condescending whenever darling shows interest in his rival. At some point, he’ll lash out whenever they show interest in any man other than him.

If his insecurities and one-sided love are kept unchecked, he has no qualms with cutting his darling’s connection to anyone he deems a threat.

“Of course I’m jealous! You’re mine! You need me!”

Jotaro Kujo is manipulative with a hint of sadism and lucidity.

With a cool and collected exterior, it’s easy to convince his darling that everything they believe is wrong. Even a lionhearted lover will doubt themselves; or rather, Jotaro would seek an individual like this out. He’s used to women and men swooning over his good looks and alluring physique, though he doesn’t care much for the attention. Even when he degrades and admonishes his admirers, they fawn and swoon over him — it’s nothing short of disgusting, really. 

His ideal darling — the only type of person he’d seek out, rather than let come to him — is someone with a steel heart, someone hellbent on rejecting his words as law, someone who puts up a fight. Degrading and humiliating them will be a treat, a fun little challenge to come home to. He doesn’t want them to enjoy this in the slightest; he wants them to slowly break, to slowly doubt every piece of information they hear unless it comes from his mouth. Even the death of a loved one will seem surreal, exaggerated, fake unless he says so himself, and even then he won’t allow his darling that sort of luxury.

Once he’s tied his darling down (with a ring, and with ropes), they won’t see very much of him. As he pursues his career in Marine Biology, he’s often away on business trips, his only excuse for long periods of absence being “it’s too dangerous”, or some slew of insults thrown his darling’s way. He isn’t fond of divulging much of his personal life with them even if they are the love of his life; to him, secrets come hand-in-hand with relationships. Darling’s life is in danger simply by association; it’s best to act as if they don’t exist. Still, that doesn’t mean he’ll let them slip through his fingers. When he wants something, he’ll get it even if it’s eventual. 

Darling was doomed the moment he found an inkling of interest in taming them.

“Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

Josuke Higashikata is protective with a hint of delusion.

Sweet and compassionate as he may be, Josuke isn’t immune to feelings of inadequacy, jealousy, and obsession. He rationalizes these feelings as merely being protective of a good friend of his, but it’s not until his friends point out that what he’s feeling is love that he truly understands why his heart pitters and patters like raindrops when his darling’s around. He completely understands if darling doesn’t return his feelings — these things take time, he’ll say — but he doesn’t take kindly to jealousy of any sort. A mere mention of liking someone else will have him moping and distancing himself, but he’ll stay around just enough to ensure his beloved’s protection.

Josuke wouldn’t fare well with a darling who’s familiar with getting under his skin. Even an insult or two to his hair isn’t enough for Josuke to give up on his one-sided love; if anything, it’s an opportunity. Crazy Diamond has the power to heal after all, and when Josuke’s emotions run away from him, his darling may end up with more than a few cuts and bruises. Bones will be shattered, blood will be spilled, and apologies will fumble past trembling lips as darling’s abuser fixes them up — as if nothing ever happened. The only trace of evidence are the tears in Josuke’s eyes and the excuses on his lips — this easily becomes the norm. Both he and his darling will constantly tread along eggshells, the former worrying that his actions destroyed any chance of a relationship and the latter worrying the next time they step out of line, they’ll die.

But Josuke wouldn’t let his sweetheart die, no. He can heal whatever wounds they may receive, even its its from him. He’s a platonic yandere, at worst, and an overbearingly violent one at best. 

“Please don’t scream. People will think I did something terrible to you.”

Giorno Giovanna is manipulative with a hint of protectiveness and lucidity.

This soldato is cunning and intuitive, a natural-born leader with charisma rivaling his true father’s. He turns heads wherever he goes, inspires everyone he meets — it’s almost laughable how easy it is to twine people around his fingers. As a mere Passione soldato, he isn’t much threat to his darling, but as don, any hope of escaping his suffocating love is slashed. His control reaches farther than his darling can ever tread, and although he understands why his little coccinella would go so far as to run away, the thought of being without them is inconceivable. How can he protect them if they’re not at his side? Without him, darling could fall in love with the wrong person, someone who wears a mask and will hurt them once they’ve settled down together; without him, darling could fall in love with a monster. His step-father was like that, and he’d made Giorno’s childhood a living hell. So how could he let his darling tread that same path?

With a well-behaved darling, the don is a fairly normal lover... once they get past all the bodyguards and paranoia-filled lifestyle. Unlike his father, Giorno is not sadistic in the slightest; rather, seeing his darling in physical or emotional turmoil hurts him. He’s more apt to manipulate them in subtle, gentler ways rather than through brute force or threats. After giving them a new identity, he’ll keep them someplace safe, a private island off the coasts of Italy, somewhere heavily guarded and devoid of life except for his beloved and their bodyguards. It’ll be lonely, he’s sure, so he’s certain to visit whenever he has an ounce of free time. But even he can’t replace one’s need to feel social, safe, normal. That’s just the price his lover has to pay as the future spouse of a mafioso.

If he lived a different life, there’d be no need for all of this. Giorno’s love is bittersweet at best, but that realization isn’t enough to let his darling go. They need him, perhaps just as much as he needs them.

“I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile.”

DIO is sadistic, manipulative, and possessive.

Love has never done much for him, not in the way feeling powerful has. He prefers ruling over others rather than giving someone the ability to rule with or over him. His darling is nothing more than a plaything, at best — something to pass the time, something to sate his curiosity. Just how far can he push them before they crumble between his fingers and shatter like a precious gemstone? He takes pleasure in testing these boundaries, humiliating his darling as if that will help him understand this odd feeling humans call love. It’s possible for him to truly fall in love with his darling, but they will never take priority over his desire to end the Joestar bloodline. Perhaps, once he accomplishes this goal, his darling will be something nice to come back to, something stagnant and forever his.

He’ll go to lengths to break his darling, over and over again, see how much torture they can withstand before they realize that crying out or begging gets them nowhere. Will they hide their defiance under a facade of obedience, or will they truly break? It’s all an experiment to Dio, but either way, he’ll force them to be his little sex slave — sometimes, if they’ve behaved particularly nasty, darling will be the sex slave of his devoted followers, a little reward for being such wonderful subordinates. 

Apart from sexual torture, he’s keen on testing his darling on tidbits of information from the books he reads — completely mundane and often vague questions designed to make his little slave fail. It’s just a precursor, really, because he likes seeing them shine with determination only for it to shatter before their eyes. Punishments always follow, usually humiliation or sexual assault of some sort; though if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he won’t shy away from physically hurting his darling. All the better to break them with.

It’s a miracle if darling survives this little game of his, but if they do, he’s certain to keep them around for far longer than he originally anticipated. Being immortal can get so boring, you see, and what’s the fun of bottomless money and endless casual sex if he can’t keep an entertaining and worthy slave here or there?

“Tell me you love me as I fuck you into the mattress.”