#these things are everything I didn't know I wanted out of a Light ancient

[amplexadversary]

Me, edgelording over the fact that the pretty mary-sue flight has diverged into giving us some absolute FREAKS:

(gif source)

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"BIRDS OF A FEATHER"

Yall I am literally sleep deprived and I'm 90 percent sure im gonna fail my math exam. I wrote this to try and calm down but I feel like it sucks. I literally spent like 3 hours on this so be nice pls. Lmk what you think and if you have any questions! Send in asks! Love yall! Thank you for supporting my trash writing LMAO.

Prologue:,Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4:

The moment you stepped off the plane, a strange sense of dread washed over you. Gotham City. The place you had spent years trying to fit in. Here you were again, bound by some invisible force to the very people you had spent your life chasing after. "The Batfamily". The same family who had neglected you for years. Who had hurt you emotionally, time and time again, making you feel small and invisible. Making you feel worthless. And yet, now, they all seemed desperate to make things right. To make up for replacing you with Traitor Tiffany. Tiffany who stole your life, who copied everything you said and did to a T.

Tiffany who they loved for that year before she was exposed.

You were going to ignore them. For the next two weeks, you would just do your best to make it through, keeping your distance and focusing on the countdown to when you'd be back at boarding school in New York. That was your escape, your sanctuary.

But as you entered the manor, the familiar echo of its grand hall made you feel a strange weight in your chest. The vast space, once cold and intimidating, now felt like it was closing in on you. The walls, the grand staircase, and even the ancient floors seemed to watch you.

You barely had time to drop your bags in the entryway before you were ambushed by them. All of them.

“Hey!” Dick’s voice was light and cheerful, far too cheerful considering everything. You didn’t even look up at him, not even when he wrapped you in a tight hug. You didn't bother hugging him back. You weren’t sure if it was because you were tired, or because you just didn’t feel like dealing with his overbearing presence, but you kept your focus on your phone, fingers tapping away as you scrolled through messages from Ariel, Claire, and Rory

“You’re coming back in 2 weeks right? imy alr” “NYC is lame as fuck w out u. come back now.” “Call me literally everyday. two weeks is wayyyyy too long”

They didn’t know about this—your insanely weird family of spandex wearing losers. They didn’t know about Tiffany, or the spy drama, or how everything had shifted when you were 15 or that you were technically half snake. All they knew was that you were just you, and they loved you for it. This summer was the highlight of your life.

And now, here you were, trapped with them for two weeks, trying to figure out how to survive without completely losing your mind.

“Hey, kid” Dick repeated, taking a step closer, his words coming out strangely awkward and nervous. Good, he should be nervous. “come on. Let’s grab breakfast, yeah? You can’t be all that hungry, but we are. It’s family time. You wouldn’t want to miss it.” He smiled at you like you were a little kid.

You felt your lip curl into a slight frown, but you kept your eyes on your phone. Since when did this whole family breakfast include you?All you wanted to do right now was sleep. “I’m good. Not hungry.”

Bruce appeared from the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway before you saw his face. The expression on his face wasn’t the cold indifference you remembered. It was warm. Too warm. He tried to hug you, but you quickly dodged him like he had the cooties. He took it like a champ, brushed it off and acted like he was reaching for your Goyard.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, like he was trying to be gentle. "We’re having breakfast together. You don’t want to miss out on the family time. It’s important that we all reconnect.”

You didn’t even look up at him. You could practically feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Reconnect? How could they possibly want to “reconnect” after all the years of neglect? The years of pretending you didn’t exist?

“I’m just fine here,” you muttered, fingers still flying across the screen as you tried to walk up the stairs.

Bruce didn’t take the hint. “Come on. You should eat something. It’s good for you.”

You wanted to snap at him, tell him you were tired of being treated like a child. But you didn’t. You were too tired for all that. Instead, you sighed. "I said I’m fine. I ate on the plane.”

Jason’s voice cut through the tension, his ever-present smirk on his face as he sauntered into the room, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. "Damn, it’s already this bad?" He raised an eyebrow at Bruce, then smirked at you. “Come on, little bird, you’re too grown up for us now, huh? Don’t you want to at least pretend to like us? Have too much fun over in St. Tropez? Too cool to hang out with your big brother?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, suddenly annoyed. "Actually, yeah. Ya'll are lowkey losers." You were harsher than necessary but you wanted to make sure Jason got the hint. Make it known you haven't really forgiven him.

They were all obviously taken aback by your new attitude and mean girl habits, all too shocked to say anything.

Tim followed behind Jason, his ever-curious eyes flicking from you to Bruce, then to Dick. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just shrugged, settling into a lean against the wall.

“You don’t have to join us, but it’s not like you have a choice,” he added, his voice calm but firm, like he was waiting for you to push back. “We’re not letting you hide in your room forever.”

You scoffed, "So i don't have a choice. Bit of a contradiction there, smartass."

Your sure you heard Bruce mutter something about language but Tim simply side-eyed you and brushed it off, his confidence unwavering.

Cass entered next, moving quietly, as always. But her gaze, there was something in it. A kind of quiet insistence, like she wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away unnoticed. You’d always hated how silent she was, how intense her focus could be.

“Breakfast,” she said, her tone not quite a question, not quite a statement. It was just her way of saying we’re doing this, whether you want to or not.

You groaned, slumping a little as you looked up from your phone. “I’m literally only here for two weeks. I don’t need to sit with you guys at every meal. That's so lame.”

At that, Bruce stepped closer. His hand rested on your shoulder, a touch so gentle you barely felt it, but the weight of it was enough to make your heart skip. “You’re staying here for two weeks, and we’re all going to make the most of this time,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re part of this family. And that means we all spend time together. You don’t get to hide anymore.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, and you could feel the heat of everyone’s attention on you. They were all looking at you—waiting for you to say something, do something. It was unsettling. Unbearable.

You finally snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I just want to talk to my friends, okay?” You waved your phone at them. “We were actually having a conversation before all of you interrupted.”

A soft laugh escaped Damian's lips, but it wasn’t kind. “You’ve got better things to do than talk to those people. You have to make up for your misconduct from last time. And tell us what you did while in St. Tropez.” There he goes again, speaking like an 80 year old man.

You felt a sudden wave of unease as you glanced at him, then at Jason and Tim. They both seemed to be looking at your phone with a sharp intensity. What was that about?

You tried to ignore it. You had to. But the more you looked at your friends’ messages, the more you realized that even your phone couldn’t offer you peace here. Bruce was standing too close. Dick’s eyes wouldn’t leave you. Tim was still leaning against the wall, his gaze locked on you with that knowing, calculating look that made your stomach twist.

Jason finally broke the silence with a lazy, teasing grin. “Don’t be a brat. You don’t need to text anyone right now, you've been gone two months. You've got me now.”

You rolled your eyes again and you couldn't stop the words from slipping out, "Oh yeah jason? How long have i got you for? Till some shiny new sister comes in? Or will you expire before that? Do I get you for 2 weeks or 3 or-"

Jason's face fell, he obviously thought he was forgiven just because of your conversation the night before you left and because you replied to his messages occasionally.

Bruce stepped forward cutting you off, taking pity on jason, "Enough. I understand your frustration, but we are trying. Let us try before you shut us out." He said his tone stern, he was demanding a chance to redeem himself, not asking.

Before you could protest, Damian spoke up, his voice still a bit too soft for comfort. “You will stay here with us. You’ll see, it’ll be better for you.”

Punk. If he was a normal kid brother, you would've long made him stop talking to you like that.

You gritted your teeth, fangs coming out and stood up from the couch, locking your phone and stuffing it into your pocket. “Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go to breakfast. But don’t expect me to start liking all this.”

Bruce smiled, just slightly. It was subtle, but there was something behind it. Something that made your skin crawl.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost too soothing. “We’re all here for you now.”

You walked toward the dining room with Bruce close behind you, his hand on your lower back as if ensuring you wouldn't runaway, a small, constant pressure that felt both grounding and suffocating. You wanted to shrug it off, but the thought of doing that in front of the others was too much. The others who were still watching, still waiting. You could almost feel their eyes on you like they were tracking your every movement, waiting for any sign of resistance.

As you passed through the grand entryway, you could hear Alfred’s familiar voice calling from the kitchen, his tone as warm and fatherly as ever. “Ah, there you are, Young Miss. I’ve made your favorite this morning. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and Pancakes” He turned to face you with a soft smile, but it faltered when he noticed the scowl on your face. “I hope you’re feeling well. It’s important that you eat something substantial, especially after a long flight.”

You nodded noncommittally, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Alfred. I’m not really hungry, though…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see it,” Alfred said with a knowing wink. “Come now, don’t make me chase you down for a seat.”

He motioned for you to sit at the table. Dick, already seated with a glass of juice, grinned at you like you were a little kid being coaxed into something.

“Come on, just sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair next to him. “It’ll be fun. It’s family time, remember?”

You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. It was suffocating. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to play along with their sudden act of being a family after years of neglect. But you knew if you didn’t sit, if you didn’t comply in some way, they would only dig in their heels harder.

You sat down, pulling your chair in with a slight sigh. You didn’t want to, but it felt like the lesser of two evils. Jason gave you a little smirk from across the table, while Tim and Damian were already deeply engaged in a quiet conversation, glancing at you occasionally as if waiting to see how you'd react.

He spoke again, voice bright, like he was trying to lift the mood. "So, … what’s new with you? I bet you’ve been busy, huh? Euro summer? Did you have fun?" He smiled at you, but there was something in his eyes, something that lingered a little too long, like he was waiting for a response he had already anticipated.

You felt like a child that stole cookies from the cookie jar, "Yeah pretty fun. Didn't do much though." You shrugged trying to sound casual.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, the others falling into place around you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, almost searching, before he turned his attention to the food. He wasn’t pushing, not yet. But there was a quiet, insistent presence in the way he looked at you.

“You know, (Y/N), it’s not just about the food. It’s about spending time together,” Bruce said, the softness in his voice unusual, almost too gentle for someone like him. “This is important. It’s part of being a family. We’ve missed you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t know what to say. It all felt so fake. The kindness, the attempts to bond—it was all wrapped up in a layer of suffocating control.

Dick spoke again, trying to make you crack, to bring out the oversharer in you he remembered, "Any plans? Got anything to do?"

You shrugged, offering him only a brief glance before focusing on your plate. "Nothing much. Just school stuff."

"School stuff?" Bruce’s voice cut through, the sternness returning as his eyes bore into you. "What do you mean by ‘school stuff’? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?"

Your eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was almost protective, but you didn't want that anymore. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You were done with the overbearing dad act. You were 16 now—not a little girl who needed constant monitoring. You didn't need his attention, not anymore.

You picked up your fork and took a bite of the scrambled eggs, more out of habit than actual hunger. They were good, just like Alfred’s cooking always was. But the taste felt like nothing in your mouth.

“I was texting my friends,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your eyes flicking to your phone where the notifications from your friends were still blowing up. “They wanted to check I got here okay. I—”

Bruce cut you off before you could say more. “We understand that, ” he said, his voice low but firm, like a quiet warning. “But right now, you’re with us. And this time, we don’t want you distracted by those friends. You were with them for 3 months. It's family time now.”

You blinked at him, feeling a little breathless at the sudden sharpness of his words. Was that... affection? It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he spoke. It made your chest tighten. There was never family time before, at least none that included you.

“Don’t be rude,” Dick interjected, his tone light but with an edge of something else. He was looking at you more seriously now, no longer the playful older brother. “You can text your friends later. But right now, you’re here with us. And you’re going to enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but your phone buzzed again in your pocket, and this time, it was an unknown number. You pulled it out reluctantly, glancing at the screen. It was a guy from your European trip, the french prince, one you had been texting occasionally during the summer.

But before you could even open the message, Damian’s sharp eyes caught sight of the name, and his expression hardened just slightly. He straightened, his voice suddenly tight. “Who is that?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Nosy much? “None of your fucking business,” you snapped without thinking.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, and you could feel the heat of their gazes like a thousand little pricks against your skin.

“Don’t get upset, (Y/N),” Bruce’s voice was almost soothing, but there was a new intensity to it. “We just care about you. You don’t need to talk to them all the time. You’re not going to be alone anymore.”

It wasn’t just a promise,—it was an expectation. . You realized, with growing unease, that it was a practically a threat.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Again. The sound was a welcome distraction, but you knew exactly what it was: a flood of texts from Ariel, Claire, and Rory. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you could sneak a glance without drawing too much attention. Should you risk it after what happened not even a minutes ago? But before you could decide, Bruce’s eyes locked onto yours.

“Let me see that,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding. It wasn’t a request. “Who are you talking to?”

You froze for a split second, caught off guard by his intensity. The entire table fell silent, all eyes on you. You hadn’t realized how quiet they had gotten until now.

You hesitated before responding and quickly shoved your phone out of reach. “It’s just my friends from school, the ones I spent the summer with.”

Only after you explained did you realize that you didn't owe him an explanation.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his playful tone dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “Really? Because it looks like you’re texting someone from Europe, given the country code and all.”

Your heart skipped. You had been texting Ariel, and now your friends were practically spamming you in the group chat. "The girls!!" you named it that just to be petty after leaving the one with Barbra, Cass, and Steph. You didn't even think about how it might look to the family, who had all but cornered you into their web of attention. You didn’t want to admit it, but now you felt the pressure. How long would they keep this up?

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you muttered, finally pulling your phone out and swiping away from the notifications, deciding to put it on Do Not Disturb around these psychos. You had a sudden, uncomfortable sense of guilt, like they were expecting you to explain yourself to them.

It was quiet and awkward for the rest of breakfast.

The morning after breakfast felt like an eternity. You had expected them to back off, to give you space after your little outburst, but no. The Batfamily had different plans. They were relentless. They didn’t just want to bond with you; they needed to bond with you. It was like a mission they had assigned themselves, as if they could somehow erase the years of neglect in just two weeks.

You knew better than to expect anything close to normal from them. But this was too much.

It started innocently enough, Bruce knocking on your room door, his usual stoic expression softening when he saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by your belongings. You had been trying to shut out the noise of the manor, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the countless texts from your guys you met and the relentless buzz of Gotham in your head.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of something in it. Concern? Hope? You didn’t want to figure it out.

“Can we talk?”

You didn’t even look up, too busy focusing on the group chat from the girls. You weren’t ready to face him. Or anyone else. Especially not after breakfast. They all thought they had it figured out.

“You can talk to me while I’m on my phone,” you said flatly. “I’m busy.”

Bruce didn’t even flinch at your indifference. He took a step inside, shutting the door behind him as he sat on the edge of your bed. His presence felt heavy, like he was trying to make himself at home in a space that wasn’t his.

“You know, we’ve missed you, these two months felt like two years” he started softly, like that would somehow change the years of absence between you two. “I know this has been hard for you, but we’re trying. I’m trying. I’m just... trying to make up for lost time.” His hand hovered over the space next to you, but you didn’t budge.

“Stop trying so hard. You’re not going to fix anything, Bruce,” you muttered, your fingers tapping away on the screen.

“I don’t need to fix anything,” His voice was gentler now. “I just want to be here for you.”

Your eyes flicked over to him, and for a moment, you saw the guilt in his eyes. He was fighting against something, holding back. He was being real, honest. But you couldn’t let it get to you.

“I don’t need you to be here,” you said, your tone icy. “I’m not some little kid who needs you hovering over me, not anymore.”

He sighed, the disappointment in his voice sharp. "I know. I know, kid. But you are my daughter. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Not again. Especially with your..... abilities.”

The words felt like bullets, it hurt, the more he spoke the more you hurt. You just wanted him to go away.

The awkward silence that followed stretched on too long. Finally, Bruce stood up. His eyes lingered on you one last time before he opened the door. “Okay, but just know, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. I'll always be here.”

For the next two weeks, the family got more insistent on spending time with. The only thing that kept you going was that it would be over soon, or so you thought.

Damian was always the silent observer. The kid who knew how to push all your buttons without saying a word, the little brother who constantly attacked and ridiculed you.

One evening, he shows up at your door, a subtle shift in his body language telling you something’s up. His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s trying to break down the walls, bit by bit.

"Move over," he said, his voice devoid of its usual bite. Instead, it carried a strange urgency. He was holding a pillow, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

You narrowed your eyes, a growl rising in your throat. What the hell does he want now?

“No. What’s your problem?” You shot him a glare, rolling over on your bed, trying to make it clear you had no interest in him being there.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting.

"Come on," he says flatly, crossing his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his tone. "It’s just for a little while. You used to bother me about this, don’t be so difficult now."

“Why are you always so insistent on being a brat? I've forgiven you for attacking me,” he muttered, stepping closer. “When we were younger, you always insisted on cuddling, begged for it even, always tried hugging me. You’ve grown up, yes, but that doesn’t mean things should change.”

When you refuse, Damian has none of it. He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and sits on your bed without asking. His demeanor is as sharp as ever, but his eyes flick to you constantly, waiting, hoping for some sign of compromise.

He walked toward the bed, pulling the blankets aside as if he was entitled to your space. You felt a flicker of that old resentment stir inside you, but the pressure of everything else, the family trying so hard to pretend everything was fine, Bruce’s repeated insistence on your bonding, the suffocating feeling that had followed you since you arrived, made you just want to give in.

You scoffed. “I grew up because you wouldn’t leave me alone when I was younger. You used to beat me up for trying to get close, remember? You literally threw me down a set of stairs. You never wanted to ‘bond’ then.”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips twisting into a brief frown. “Because you were insufferable.” His voice softened, a little, but still cold. “But I’m not the same as I was. Neither are you.

And then, without warning, he scoots closer, his shoulders stiff, as if awaiting your wrath. You almost let out a laugh; he still hasn't realized that maybe you don't want the cuddles anymore. But his face betrays something else: a quiet desperation. You could almost feel his need for connection, like he’s trying to make up for all those years.

He shifts awkwardly, a hand touching his hair, trying to mimic what you once did: the slight tap on his shoulder, the gentle nudge. But as he waits for you to break, you just stare at him, no words exchanged.

And that’s when he did something you didn’t expect: he laid down beside you, just like when you did to him when you were younger. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even seem to care that you clearly were about to strangle him.

You went still, your heart pounding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an uncomfortable cuddle. You wanted to push him off, but you couldn’t, not when he was being so vulnerable.

Instead, you just shut your eyes, and let the anger mix with the humiliation. You wouldn't admit it, but it felt nice.

Dick was the first to bombard you with affection every morning for two weeks straight. He’s like the human embodiment of sunshine, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his unrelenting kindness. He tries to coax you into breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinners... you name it. His tactic? Overload you with so much “family time” that eventually, you’ll give in.

He makes it a point to show you that he’s willing to work on your relationship. Every morning he’s there with a bright, goofy grin, telling you stories of his past adventures. He tries, in vain, to get you laughing with ridiculous anecdotes about the circus, Batman, and his early days in the Teen Titans. He stopped once you asked him for Connor's number and another topless picture if him.

At night, he tries to “reconnect” by suggesting game nights or silly activities like arts and crafts. “Come on, you loved painting when you were younger!” he’d say, pushing a small set of watercolor paints toward you, clearly hoping for a nostalgic response. But you’re not having it. You just roll your eyes and text your friends, but he stays close by, watching. He doesn’t pressure you, but you can feel his eyes lingering, waiting for the moment when you finally break.

But the moments are few, and even though you keep pushing him away, there’s a slight glimmer in his eyes every time he talks about when you’ll finally bond.

You avoided Duke like the plague, hiding everytime he came too close looking to hopeful. His betrayal was too fresh.

Jason tried to appeal to you in ways that are typical of him: snark, sarcasm, and outright bad-boy energy. He brings up old memories he knows you cherish, things that will make you cave. He walks around the manor like he owns the place, tossing out insults and lighthearted teasing every time you pass by. He’ll try to lure you into movie nights, always choosing the most ridiculously bad action movies, or challenge you to random things in the game room.

“Bet you can’t beat me in this game,” he’ll say, tossing a controller at you. “Come on, I’m the pro around here.”

It’s his way of bonding, of trying to “get you” in his own unique, unpredictable way. He also, strangely, gives you random moments of tenderness, moments that remind you of the old Jason, grabbing your shoulder when you least expect it, offering a smirk that’s soft when no one’s looking. But like everything else, it’s hard to believe this is real.

Your trust and abandonment issues ran too deep to believe any of them were genuine, though they all clearly were.

After a particularly annoying spat one day, where you ignored him all day, he jokingly announced, “If you didn’t have that attitude, maybe we could actually have a decent time. Just saying.”

In moments like that, you feel the thrum of tension in the air, the frustration of someone trying to connect with you and the knowledge that you're just too far gone to care right now. Now he felt how you did. Still, Jason's persisted and it’s obvious he won’t give up anytime soon.

Your entire existence had become one giant performance for them. The two weeks finally came to an end and so did your torture. You and the girls spent all night calling as you packed and they planned you a 'freedom celebration' that would start as soon as you got to Rory's house.

The two weeks really were torture, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went to sleep, it was like you were the star of a reality show you never agreed to. Every time you tried to slip away, to find some peace of mind, they were there, trying to draw you back in.

Alfred had begun preparing “family dinners,” encouraging you to join in at the table, asking you questions about your life like they hadn’t been absent for years.

Dick insisted on taking you out on family outings, making sure you were included in everything from movie nights to visits to the Gotham Zoo.

Cass would show up randomly in your room with little presents, a sketchbook, or a necklace. “For you,” she’d say with her quiet smile, a silent plea for you to forgive them.

Tim’s persistent attempts to engage you in every intellectual conversation, trying to get you to talk about everything and nothing at once, began to feel like a strange form of manipulation.

And Jason? Jason kept throwing out random quips, trying so hard to get a rise out of you, until the sarcasm wore thin and left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t funny anymore.

You couldn't wait to leave.

The morning of your flight, Bruce called you into his office, a serious expression on his face. “Good Morning,” he began, his voice a little too calm. “I need to talk to you about something.”

You stared at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going back to boarding school,” he said quietly, locking eyes with you. “It’s not safe. Tiffany escaped and is working with Patience again. They’ll come for you. They’ll come for all of us.”

Your blood ran cold. Tiffany. The girl who had stolen your life. The one who had tried to replace you. The one who had made everything about her and who had tricked the Batfamily into thinking she was you. Now she was ruining your escape.

“No. I’m not staying,” you spat. “I can’t be here. I won’t be here.”

“You have to stay here,” Bruce said, his voice firm, unwavering. “For your safety.”

“You can’t do this!” you screamed, jumping up from your seat, your fangs flashing as your emotions took over. “I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back! I’ll be fine in New York! You can’t keep me here!

But Bruce wasn’t backing down. His tone remained soft, even as the finality of his words sank in. “You’re staying in Gotham. And you’ll go to Gotham Prep. It’s safer.”

“No!” You felt the weight of your anger burst out of you. The room seemed to shrink. “I’m not going to Gotham Prep. I won’t stay here. I won’t live in this—prison!”

Tears welled in your eyes, hot and angry, and you could feel the pressure building inside you, the need to break free. But as your eyes met Bruce's, you realized—he was immune. He didn’t look scared of your fangs. He didn’t fear your powers, he didn't fall into your manipulation.

You later found out from Jason that Tim and Damian had been working on a serum, after what happened with Tiffany. A serum that made them immune to your powers.

There was no escaping now, not till you were 18 and Tiffany behind bars.

Taglist:

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[ezlo-x]

Josha the Malotologist

A short comic abt Josha and her cute little test subject Malice :] (Dialogue undercut!)

Page 1 -

I am Josha and I am an aspiring Malotologist. I created this new field as I want to study this fascinating parasite, and to teach and show others to not be afraid of it.

I was born a year after the attack occurred, while I wasn't really directly affected by it. In a way, me and other children have to deal with the aftermath of The Calamity.

Page 2 -

What fascinated me of this "monster" was how it was possible to corrupt all the technology done by the ancient Sheikah, including the Divine Beasts.

The day I found out that Malice has a form of sentience, I show it to my teacher Purah and Robbie.

However, they seemed far from thrilled.

Page 3 -

I would ask simple "yes" or "no" questions and Malice would go to each side to answer.

I would reward it by giving it a small piece of meat, I shouldn't do this as I can see it is gradually growing from it's tank.

But I wanted answers and it seemed like such a rare opportunity to have to speak to one of the sources.

Page 4 -

One day, I woke up and headed to my lab and realized that the Malice that I was testing on grew a mouth filled with teeth.

"Do you understand me?"

'Yes...'

"How were you able to grow a mouth?"

'Meat...'

Ah. Guess that's my own fault. I decided to press on

Page 5 -

"I have a question, how were you able to corrode and corrupt the Guardians and Divine Beasts?"

'Low...Guard...Pathetic.'

It did not gave me a cohesive answer that I--

‘I…use. Guards…to see…I have eyes

I see every-thing-Hyrule.

I eat to grow, consume.

I have eyes, I see. Everything.'

Page 6 -

'[Ex]-cept, forest.

The Light

Sword of Evil's Bane

I must see I don't. Have. Eyes in there...

Help me grow turn me into one...'

Page 7 -

I put Malice back into its smaller jar.

I didn't tell anyone about this. For the first time working with this parasite I've felt true genuine fear.

I leave my lab more often than before, I'm afraid that one day it will catch me by surprise.

I wanted to discard of that jar...but it knows. It always knows.

[mellowmusings]

death bed | coffee for your head

Azriel x sick reader part. 2

A/N- I had the idea for this when I heard the song and instead of sick Azriel I made a sick reader, please don't kill me and let me know if you wanna be tagged. Enjoy :). Warning- Angst, reader is depressed and sick, Azzie baby is depressed too. Mainly a really sad fic (mentions of death due to illness). Summary- You had been sick for sometime now and upon visiting a healer you find out the reason, unsure how much time you have left, you wish to spend every second of it preparing Azriel for the moment you leave.

'Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed'

You were tired to say the least, for the past few nights you hadn't been able to sleep at all, and your sweet mate was worried sick for you, and so you had to change your plans for the day, ditching shopping for a visit to Madja instead.

A bell rang as you step into the healer's shop, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and incense, instantly calming your nerves. Soft light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on shelves cluttered with jars, vials, and bundles of plants you didn't recognize. The space felt ancient, yet welcoming, as if it held the quiet weight of countless healing rituals. A small wooden counter sat at the back, covered with bottles and unmarked potions. The faint sound of wind chimes hung in the air, but it’s the stillness that stood out—everything in this room felt intentional, designed to soothe, to listen. There attending to a small plant with the smallest flowers you had ever seen stood Madja.

Yeah, I don't wanna fall asleep I don't wanna pass away I've been thinking of our future 'Cause I'll never see those days I don't know why this has happened, but I probably deserve it I tried to do my best, but you know that I'm not perfect

You felt like throwing up, surely this was a joke? it had to be a joke, no she was lying or maybe you had misheard her, it had to be that way, right? "I know this can be shocking news y/n but like I said it's also a very rare illness" "No,no you're lying please tell me you're lying". She begged. Her voice broke on the last word, she couldn't breathe she felt choked, she wanted to throw up but instead she just fell to her knees and cried her heart out.

I've been praying for forgiveness, you've been praying for my health When I leave this earth, hoping you'll find someone else 'Cause, yeah, we're still young, there's so much we haven't done Getting married, start a family, watch your husband with his son

She didn't know how long she spent crying there with Madja comforting her and stroking her back, she was in shock but more than that she was worried for Azriel, if something happened to her then- No, no she wasn't going to think about that right now but for some reason her thoughts kept circling back to Azriel, to the quiet that would fill the room when she was gone. He’d wake up, reach for her, and feel nothing but emptiness. The bed would be cold, the silence too heavy. He’d feel it in the small things—no more shared glances, no more soft words in the dark.

Would he be okay without her? She couldn’t shake the fear that the grief would swallow him, that the shadows he kept so tightly contained would consume him without her there to pull him back. Would the memories be enough, or would they slip through his fingers? The thought of him unraveling, of him breaking, made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t ignore. She wouldn’t be there to catch him, and that terrified her.

Her gaze caught on a lovely family in the park, children being chased by their dad, their mom laughing at the scene and smiling lovingly at her partner, right, she would never be able to have that with Azriel either. Maybe, one day he'll find someone else, who'd love him just as much as she did, someone who'd start a family with him, give him heirs as lovely as he is. She hoped so because if Madja was right then-

I wish it could be me, but I won't make it off this bed I hope I go to heaven, so I see you once again My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings Happy you were mine, it sucks that it's all ending

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed, yeah

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Yeah, I'm happy that you're here with me I'm sorry if I tear up When me and you were younger, you would always make me cheer up Taking goofy videos while walking through the park You would jump into my arms every time you heard a bark

You lay back against the pillows, your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. Azriel sat beside you, his fingers gently brushing over your hand, but the tension in the air was thick, suffocating. You could feel the worry in his touch, in the way he kept glancing at you, like he was afraid to miss something, afraid to lose you before he could even understand what was happening.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice trembling as you gathered the courage to finally say the words. "I’m sick." You tried to keep your tone calm, but it cracked as soon as the words left your lips. "The healer said it’s a rare heart condition. Something... incurable."

His face froze, eyes widening with disbelief, and he leaned forward, as if to pull you into him, to somehow shield you from the world. But you didn’t want his protection right now. You wanted him to hear this. To know the truth, even if it shattered him.

"I wish it could be me," you continued softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I wish I could take it all. The pain. The time. But I—" You faltered, and the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. "I won’t make it off this bed, Azriel."

His hand tightened around yours, his breath shaky, but he said nothing, his eyes begging you to take it back, to tell him it wasn’t true. But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

"I hope I go to heaven," you murmured, forcing a small smile through your tears. "So I can see you again. One day, after this... after all of this."

Azriel’s face crumpled with pain, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He reached for you, pulling you close as if he could somehow hold you together, like he could make everything right if he just tried hard enough. "No," he whispered, his voice raw. "No, please. Don’t say that. Don’t leave me." It hurt to see the brave and stoic shadow singer crumble infront of you over such a small matter, he had faced death time and time again, but never had you seen him so broken.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of him holding you, but there was no denying it now. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep fighting against what you knew in your bones was coming.

"I’m not ready," you whispered, voice barely audible, "but I think... I think you need to be. This is the reality now, Love. I won’t have much time left."

Azriel held you tighter, but it was clear that he was barely holding on himself. You could feel his heart racing against yours, the fear, the love, the desperation. But you knew, deep down, there was no way to stop it.

"I just need you to be ready," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "Because I won’t be here for long. I need you to promise me something, Az."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face a mask of agony, but he nodded, clinging to your every word.

"Promise me you won’t forget me," you said, the ache in your chest growing, but you didn’t want him to carry this burden forever. "Promise me you’ll live, not survive, but live, even if I’m not there."

He pressed his forehead to yours, and for a moment, it was like the world stopped moving. "I’ll never forget you," he said hoarsely. "And I’ll never stop loving you, not even after…"

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek, but you could feel the finality of it, the quiet acceptance in your soul that you had already said goodbye. "I know. But you have to promise me, Love. Please. Live, for both of us."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy, inevitable. And in that moment, you let go. You accepted what was coming, not with peace, but with a sorrow that was too vast to express.

Azriel didn’t say anything after that. He just held you, and in the silence of the room, you both faced what you knew was coming, as painful and unbearable as it was.

Cuddle in your sheets, sang me sound asleep And sneak out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03 Sundays went to church, on Mondays watched a movie Soon you'll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me

You were curled up against Azriel, the quiet crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. He held you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield from the world. The memories flowed easily now, the ones you both cherished, the ones you were trying so hard to relive, to hold on to.

"Cuddle in your sheets," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "like we used to, like we did so many times. You’d sing me to sleep, your voice soft, your hand in my hair."

Azriel’s thumb brushed over your skin as if committing the sensation of this moment to memory, the feeling of your body pressed against his. "I’ll sing you to sleep forever if I can," he replied, voice thick with emotion. "But you know... I think the best part was sneaking out through your kitchen at exactly 1:03. I used to look at the clock, and I knew you’d be there. We’d laugh, sneak away like we didn’t have a care in the world."

You chuckled softly, a tear slipping down your cheek at the thought. "Sundays, we went to church together. Mondays, we’d watch a movie, get lost in each other’s company. Simple, sweet. And it was ours." You pulled back slightly to look up at him, a small, sad smile on your lips. "I wish we had more of those Mondays."

Azriel's eyes softened with the weight of your words, his voice barely more than a broken whisper. "We still have now," he said, but even he knew the truth in the heaviness of his words. Time was running out.

You closed your eyes, trying to soak in every moment, every detail. You could feel the pain of the inevitable, but for tonight, for this brief moment, you clung to the idea that you could still make new memories. "But soon you'll be alone," you whispered, a sob escaping before you could stop it. "I’m sorry that you have to lose me."

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, his face pressing into your hair. "Don’t say that," he murmured, though his voice was thick with sorrow. "I’ll never lose you. Not really. Not in my heart."

You nodded, your body trembling in his arms. "I hope so," you whispered, holding him tighter. "But I’ll always love you. Every memory, every laugh, every quiet Sunday. I’ll carry those with me, even when I’m gone."

And for a moment, time felt still, like the universe had paused just long enough for you both to hold on to each other a little tighter, to try and make every second count before it was all gone.

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your own, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to constantly settle in your bones. Your breathing was shallow, weak, each rise and fall of your chest an effort, and yet, despite it all, you smiled up at him. It was the kind of smile that told him you were fighting, even when it seemed like there was no fight left in you.

"I don't want you to stay awake for too long," you whispered, your voice thin, but still full of the love you carried for him. "I know you watch over me, but you need sleep too, Azriel." Your hand squeezed his, the action small but intentional.

He looked at you, eyes filled with an ache that ran deeper than the shadows that normally clung to him. His gaze searched your face, searching for something, anything that might bring you back to him, but there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming. His grip tightened, but he didn't speak. What could he say? Every word felt like a lie in the face of what you both knew was inevitable.

"You've been so strong," he finally whispered, voice hoarse. "Please, don’t give up on me now." His thumb stroked over your knuckles, as if grounding himself in the reality that, in his heart, he knew you were slipping away.

You let out a soft, raspy laugh, and though it was faint, it made him want to smile, even though the pain was consuming him. "I’m not giving up," you said, each word a battle, but the light in your eyes still bright enough to pierce through the darkness. "I’m just… trying to make the most of the time we have left."

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tightening, but you gently cupped his cheek, urging him to look at you. "Don’t stay awake for too long," you repeated softly, your hand slipping into his as you pressed it over your heart. "Don’t go to bed, not yet. I’m still here. I’m still with you."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. You felt his warm breath on your skin, a small reminder of how much he loved you. How much he needed you.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Let me make you coffee in the morning, just like we used to. I’ll get you out of bed. I’ll help you find your strength again, just like before."

You smiled at him, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision. "I’ll make the coffee," you whispered, "when I can. I’ll make sure you get through it, even after I’m gone. I wrote you letters. Letters for the years to come, so you’ll know I’m still with you. So you’ll know that I’ll always love you, even when I’m not there."

Azriel’s heart shattered. "No," he said hoarsely, "No, you can’t leave me." His voice broke at the end, the rawness of his fear leaking through. You were fighting so hard, so fiercely, for him, but he couldn’t stop the truth from settling in his chest.

"You’ve always been my strength, Azriel," you whispered, your voice so soft, but so full of love. "And I’ll be yours, even when I’m not here to hold you. I need you to live. To keep fighting. And when the days feel long, when the nights feel too empty, I want you to read those letters. They’re for you. I’ll make sure you find your way."

Azriel couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He leaned down, kissing your forehead, his lips trembling against your skin. "I’m going to keep you here with me, in my heart. Forever. I promise. I won’t forget, I swear it."

You smiled through the tears, despite the weariness that clung to your body. "I’m not leaving you, Azriel," you whispered, "not really. Not ever."

But the truth, unspoken between you both, was that you didn’t have much longer. And still, you fought, not for yourself but for him, so he could have something to hold on to after you were gone.

"Please," he begged softly, his voice breaking, "don’t leave me."

You brushed a tear from his cheek, as your voice trembled, "I’ll never really leave you, Azriel. I’ll always be with you. In every letter, in every thought."

You paused, a soft, warm breath escaping your lips. "I’ll get you out of bed, Azriel," you whispered, a hint of a smile on your face, "I’ll get you going again. Even if I’m not there to see it."

His tears fell freely now, but there was a quiet peace in the way he held you—knowing, with an ache so deep it felt like it might swallow him whole, that he would carry you forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

A few weeks had passed, and the weight of each day was beginning to take its toll. The glow in your eyes had dimmed, and your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. Azriel stayed by your side every moment, his presence constant, like a shadow you never wanted to be without.

He had been trying to hold on to the last threads of you, keeping the hope alive that maybe, somehow, you would pull through. But he knew. He knew with every soft breath you took, with every fleeting smile you gave him, that time was slipping away from both of you.

Today, though… today it felt like everything was slower. The air in the room was thick with an aching kind of quiet, the kind where even the heartbeats that echoed in the space between you seemed too loud.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, his arms around you, pulling you close like you’d always been. His fingers lightly traced the line of your jaw, like he could imprint your face into his soul if he touched you long enough. His lips pressed to your forehead, trying to pour every ounce of love and comfort he could into you, but it felt like it was never enough.

You had grown weaker. Your skin was pale, your breathing labored, but you still smiled at him when your eyes fluttered open.

"I’m still here," you whispered softly, your voice raspy but filled with the love you had for him. "I’m still here, Azriel."

He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, his throat tight. "You don’t have to fight anymore," he murmured, brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. "I’ve got you. I’ll never let you go."

You smiled faintly, your hand reaching for his, weak but determined. "I know," you whispered. "I know… but I have to tell you something, something important."

Azriel leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. "Anything," he breathed. "Tell me anything, love. I’m listening."

"I wrote letters," you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open. "For the years to come… For you. So you know I’ll always be with you, even when I’m not." He silently promised himself would read every letter you left behind, each one a piece of your love, keeping him alive in a world where you no longer were.

Azriel’s chest tightened, a sob breaking free from deep inside him. "You don’t have to go," he said, his voice raw, breaking with the weight of everything he wished he could say, everything he wished he could change. "I can’t… I can’t lose you."

A tear slipped down your cheek, but your smile didn’t fade. You reached up with trembling fingers, tracing the line of his jaw, as if trying to memorize him the way he had memorized you. "You’ll be okay, Azriel. You’re so strong. You’ve always been strong. Just—just remember that I love you. I always will."

His breath caught in his throat as he kissed your hand gently, his voice cracking. "I love you," he whispered, "I love you more than I could ever put into words."

You closed your eyes, your hand slipping from his, but he caught it again instantly, holding on as if it would keep you tethered to him, keep you from slipping away.

Your breathing grew even more shallow, each one taking more effort than the last. Azriel could feel the tremor in your body, the slow, inevitable shift that told him everything he feared was coming. But he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

"I’m not ready to let you go," Azriel murmured, his voice hoarse, tears streaming down his face as he held you in his arms. "I’ve never been ready to let you go. Not now, not ever."

You gave him one last, gentle smile, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. "You’ll always have me," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "In every letter, in every thought, in every coffee you make. You’ll find me again, in the quiet moments. I’ll always be with you."

And then, as if your body had finally found peace, your chest stilled. Your breathing slowed, and for the first time in weeks, there was complete silence. Azriel’s heart shattered, his breath caught in his throat, and for a long moment, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

"No," he choked out, his voice breaking, his chest heaving with the weight of loss. "No, please…"

But there was no response. Only the soft, quiet sound of his heartbeat echoing through the silence, as if trying to fill the emptiness you left behind. His arms tightened around you one last time, as if holding you could bring you back, as if love could defy death.

For a long while, Azriel stayed there, clutching you to him, his tears falling onto your skin. He couldn’t let go. Not yet. He needed to hold you, to feel you close, to believe, for just a little longer, that you weren’t truly gone.

And in the stillness of the room, as the shadows of night stretched across the floor, Azriel whispered the only thing left in his broken heart.

"I’ll always love you. Always."

The room was silent. Still. But his words lingered in the air, a promise he would carry with him forever.

And I, don't stay awake for too long Don't go to bed I'll make a cup of coffee for your head I'll get you up and going out of bed

Azriel stood at the edge of the balcony, staring into the endless void of night. The stars above seemed to mock him, distant and cold, twinkling as though the universe was still moving forward, as though life was continuing. But for him, everything had stopped.

The wind swept through the courtyard, its icy fingers clawing at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold that had settled deep in his chest, in his soul. He had not moved from that spot since… since that moment. The moment she had slipped away from him, her final breath trembling in his arms, leaving nothing but an echo of the love they had shared. The world felt like a hollow, silent place, and he was drowning in its emptiness.

He could still smell her, faintly. Her scent lingered in the air, in the folds of the blanket she had used to curl up in, in the spaces between the letters she had written him, all the things that were now gone—faded into the dust of the world she had left behind.

Her letters. He had read them, over and over, each one a tear-streaked page of her love for him, a love he could no longer feel against his skin, in her touch, in her smile. He had read her last words, over and over, searching for some kind of comfort. But the comfort never came. The words she had left behind—I’ll always be with you, Azriel—only left him feeling more alone. Her absence was a shadow that consumed everything.

"I’ll always be with you," he muttered bitterly to the darkened sky, as if the universe owed him something. "Where the hell are you now?"

He wanted to scream. To shout into the abyss that had taken her from him, to demand it give her back. But what was the point? The universe didn’t care. Time didn’t care. And now, all that was left was his hollow existence.

The days blurred together, the ache of her absence cutting deeper with every passing hour. He had stopped sleeping, stopped eating. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but exist, moving through each day as if in a fog. The shadows whispered her name—her voice, her laughter, the warmth of her skin against his—and all he could do was shut his eyes and pretend he didn’t hear them.

But the silence… the silence was the worst.

Everywhere he went, there were reminders. The empty corner of the room where her chair used to sit, the books she had loved scattered across the table, the coffee mug she had left on the counter—his mug now, though it meant nothing. All of it was just a reminder that she was gone, and he was left alone, trapped in a world where nothing made sense without her. Without her laughter, without the way she’d tease him in the mornings, the soft way she’d press her face to his chest when she needed comfort.

She had been everything to him. His light, his warmth, his reason to fight. And now…

The darkness pressed in on him, a crushing weight on his chest. His wings, once majestic and powerful, now felt like an anchor. He had no use for them anymore. They had carried him through battles, through pain, through moments of glory. But now they felt like a reminder of how empty he was. How much of a shell he had become.

The weight of the silence was unbearable. He could feel the crushing loneliness clawing at him, desperate to consume him whole. And as he stood there, staring out into the endless night, he almost wished for it to. He almost wished for the silence to swallow him, to take him with her, because what was the point of living in a world where she wasn’t there?

“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered to the darkness, his voice cracking. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, each one a reminder that he was still alive—still breathing, even though every part of him screamed to be gone. To be where she was, wherever that was, because life without her felt like a slow, torturous death.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it as if the physical pain would distract him from the ache in his chest. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

The weight of everything pressed on him—the guilt, the anger, the regret. He had promised her, promised her, that he would take care of her, that he wouldn’t let her go. But in the end, he had failed. He hadn’t been enough to save her. And now, she was gone, and all he had left were the memories. The hollow echoes of her voice, her laughter, her touch.

“I wasn’t enough for you,” he whispered, a raw, broken sob escaping him. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, his wings folding around him like an armor of despair. “I couldn’t save you. And now… now I have nothing.”

He curled into himself, his arms wrapping around his knees, his head pressed against them as the tears came in waves. His body trembled with the force of it. Every sob was like a shard of glass digging deeper into his heart, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

The world had moved on. The stars had continued to shine. The wind had continued to blow. But for Azriel, it had all stopped. Because she was gone, and no matter how many times he whispered her name into the darkness, no matter how many times he begged for her to come back, he knew the truth.

She was gone. And he was broken beyond repair.

Time would pass, the seasons would change, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered without her.

And as the silence closed in around him, Azriel made a vow to the shadows, to the darkness that now felt like home.

He would never forgive himself. He would never forget the way she had died in his arms, the way he couldn’t save her. And as the cold night wrapped itself around him, he whispered through clenched teeth, “I’ll make the world pay. I’ll make everything pay for taking you from me.”

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they wouldn’t bring her back.

And he would have to live with that.

Taglist: @anarchiii @er1023 @siriuslystyle1989 @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @starlightazriel

[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

https://www.tumblr.com/dollyrin/764243962401849344/hey-yo-can-i-request-headcannons-of-the-ancient?source=share

I'm not the original Anon but I would like to see your take on this idea

Cream Oreo Cookie: Sure thing! I'll do my best because I didn't read the whole thing and only the ask of it 😅

Pure Vanilla Cookie

The way you steal everything in his castle and then bring it back confuses him and got him interested in it actually

Instead of stealing the artifact or anything that holds great value in history or could be sold for riches you bring it back

Though there is one thing you stole that you never went and give it back which was his heart

As he walks through the halls just to get a glass of water he would saw a glimpse of you in the darkness on the window ready to leave..."Y/N Cookie?" He called out to you

Which you only turned your head around and gave him a wink which immediately made him blush and had his heart skip a beat

And just like that...you took his heart and never gave it back...which he doesn't mind at all actually...

Now every once in a while he will stay up and wait for you...

White Lily Cookie

She was confused on what you want to steal from her when she barely has anything that worths anything since she's always on the move...

Unless you want her soul jam that is? And yet you never touched it..

But you did stole her tools and items she needs for her expedition and has to wait a whole day for you to give it back

She got used to it at this point and while she waits for her items to brought back she improvised to what she can use which actually helped her to be more creative with her ways of doing things like...climbing a mountain...getting something away from her path...or how to light a campfire and etc

You we're very helpful and Wonderful in her perspective..

And she wants to also thank you for giving her flowers in each item you gave back to her

Hollyberry Cookie

You are one cheeky Cookie to be stealing her juice every once and awhile and give it back while putting sticky notes on every juice you stole giving it ratings whether you like them or not which surprised her and actually find it quite funny and entertaining

At this point she would put one of her personal favorites out and check if you like it and some of it did made it to be one of your favorites which she was glad

Wild berry Cookie on the other hand is confused to why Her Majesty is even entertaining this but unfortunately he can't do anything about it let alone his son either...

So they let her be

In one of the juice you stole you actually found a sticky note on it saying..."You do know having juice all alone is very dull right? But having a plus one doesn't!"

Dark Cacao Cookie

You are one very odd Cookie for him

I mean how can you break in his walls and stole some of his weapons but what is much more baffling is the fact you put it back where you find them

You even out sticky note on some weapons saying where you got in and how you managed to get the said weapon which...helped him to actually be more secure and improvised with his way of securing his kingdom which he..thank you for that...

Those notes also have small puns from here and there which he unfortunately inherited from you despite how he has it but...because of you...he starts to actually smile which he won't admit Ofcourse

Golden Cheese Cookie

She was amazed from your greediness and how you managed to get pass her most trusted and most strongest guard of the gates Burnt Cheese Cookie

You stole a lot of gold from her and yet you give it back...you are one interesting Thief Y/N Cookie

She told Burnt Cheese Cookie to actually let you pass which he was baffle and even was taken a back from that but...he can't do anything because her Majesty has made up her mind so...he lets you in whether he likes it or not

Until...you gave her a sticky note saying to let him fight you because you had fun playing with him and his jackals and snakes

Burnt Cheese Cookie was not sure if he should be annoyed or relief to not let in a thief like you into the Golden City whether you give the stolen items back or not

Golden Cheese Cookie was entertained by your greediness and wondered if you plan on stealing more artifacts from her in her Golden City and Palace

[bktempted]

You should really head home - the rational part of your brain knows this - but desperation makes us do strange things, and you really need to finish this paper before morning. The University library at midnight is a labyrinth of shadows, rows of books stretching endlessly like the ribs of some ancient beast. You're hunched over your laptop, its harsh glow the only island of light in this sea of darkness.

That's when you feel it again. That crawling sensation up your spine, like someone trailing their finger along each vertebra. You've felt it before, in your room at night, in the campus coffee shop - moments when the world feels slightly off kilter, as if reality has shifted two degrees to the left.

You turn, hoping it's nothing. Instead, you see him.

That boy from your study group. That boy with his soft sweaters and softer smile. That boy who always seems to have a spare charger when your laptop dies. He doesn't seem like just a boy now, as he stands in shadows that cling to him like loving tendrils, his familiar features transformed by the darkness into something beautiful and terrible.

"You shouldn't be here alone so late," he says, and his voice - his voice is different. Lower, richer, dripping with something that makes your chest tight. "It's dangerous for a girl like you."

You clutch your laptop closer, as if it could shield you from the intensity radiating from him. "I had work to do," you manage, hating how your voice trembles. "Plus, what's the worst that could happen?"

Your words hang in the air like a freshly struck match, one that he's going to snuff out. He takes a step closer, the air between you is thick, charged with unspoken intentions. The space shrinks until you're breathing the same air.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, each syllable brushes against your skin like velvet wrapped around steel. "You're so naive. That's why I have to watch over you, make sure you don't get yourself hurt. The things that could happen to you…" His voice trails off, fingers reaching up to catch a strand of your hair, rolling it between his fingers, memorizing its texture. "You didn't give me a choice."

And suddenly, horrifyingly, you realize. All those moments when you felt watched. It wasn't just a feeling. It was him. "What do you want?" you whisper, though something deep in your bones already knows.

"More." He laughs - it's soft, almost tender, but entirely wrong. "I've learned everything about you," he breathes, he's even closer now. "And it's still not enough. It'll never be enough."

His fingers brush your cheek, and you can't tell if you're trembling from fear or something else entirely. The touch is gentle, reverent even, but there's possession in it - ownership in the way his thumb traces your lower lip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Horror blooms in your chest, but it's tangled with something else, something that makes you hate yourself a little. Because despite everything, there's a part of you that recognizes this for what it is: devotion in its deepest, most absolute form.

The library seems to pulse around you, the shadows growing longer, hungrier. His eyes reflect nothing. They're black holes that need to consume everything you are.

"Don't be scared." he murmurs, as his other hand finds your waist, steady and sure. The heat of his palm bleeds through your clothes, marking you. "Let me show you." He starts to tug at your skirt. "Let me show you just how well I know you."

Your heart is pounding so hard it might burst, but you can't move. It's not fear rooting you to this spot - it's desire. You're disgusted with yourself, but the heat from his body spreads through your veins leaving you dizzy with need. The line between right and wrong blurs, it's irrelevant.

He offers you your final out, one last challenge, "Tell me to stop. Say the word and I'll let you go." You say nothing. He knows you wouldn't. He keeps going. Hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing the contours of your stomach, circling your naval, dipping lower. It's familiar, he knows what he's doing - he learned from you.

He guides you backwards, towards a secluded corner between the shelves. He turns you around, and bends you over, pressing your chest to the cool surface of a table. It's all happening so fast; you barely have time to process. His erection is hard against your ass. "I'm going to fuck you the way you've always wanted."

You nod, in stunned silence. He pushes your skirt up and your panties to the side, and then he's inside you, filling you in one smooth thrust. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch, and the pleasure behind it.

Fuck. He's a perfect fit.

He sets a brutal pace, and the rational part of your brains screams at you to fight; to do something - anything - but it's drowned out by the overwhelming tide of sensation. By the dark thrill of being taken like this, used like this, by someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

He hits that spot inside you, that secret spot that only you know about, that you reach for with your favorite toys when you're in your room all alone, when no one's watching. "Yes," you gasp, the word torn from your throat. "Yes, yes, yes." A prayer. A plea. An admission of how much you want this, even if it terrifies you.

He leans over you then, his chest pressed against your back, "I told you." His voice is perforated by each thrust "Like you've always wanted." His words are invasive, and they only make you more desperate for him. Because he's right. God, he's so fucking right.

"It's time to cum. You want to cum, don't you?" You don't have a chance to answer because he's hitting that spot again, over and over, while his fingers work magic on your clit. It's too much. Too fucking much. You're cumming, you're shattering, you're breaking for him. The sounds you make are embarrassing, animalistic, but you can't control them. Moans, whines, broken sobs of pleasure all absorbed and recorded by the books that surround you. In that moment, you learned something new about yourself. Something only he could teach you.

[marali-iin]

Howdy!

Could I request something with Apollo, maybe about Reader having been missing and him searching for her or something like that? Feel free to take the idea in whatever direction you like!

YESSS

An Apollo request, you have no idea how happy it made me my dear anonymous. He's literally my favorite god.

(I wasn't sure like in what context you wanted it, so I made the time period as vague as possible. Feel free to interpret it in either modern days or ancient Greece)

His loved devotee went missing

Alright, it wasn't like he was panicking or anything, he was simply....concerned.

It's not like it was his fault though, you'd make quite the habit of praying to him and giving him offerings, or simply lighting up the candles of your altar for him, or who knows, think of him and make a sun drawing on a random paper. He'd gotten used to it, but it's not like he needed it...

But it's been four weeks, where the hell are you?! Everything, literally everything you used to do for him at least once a week, suddenly gone, all of the sudden, out of nowhere, you, stopped. Not a single prayer or candle

It was fine at first, nobody's perfect, you are a mortal after all, you may not have time that week or were too tired, he understood. He was a cool god, he wasn't going to smite you out of existence for such a simple thing

But then it was as if you didn't care at all about him, it was...odd. You weren't his favourite follower, he had many more, he didn't need your offerings, but he still appreciated them. He still felt happy to read the simple poem you tried to compose to him, he took his time to try to communicate with you by the flames of your candles, heck, he even made sure to try not to burn you by driving his charriot too close.

It just felt dull, he used to look forward to your prayers, maybe he had just gotten used to it but now without them it was weird, as if something was missing.

You

He missed you

He regretted every prayer he didn't show himself to you, every offering he simply collected and didn't actually taste and admire through as he should've. Every drawing or song you made about him, he wished now he'd kept them closer to his heart, because how he missed them. He was centuries old, he had some of the most brilliant and magnificent cults in his honor, he killed the mythic python and was praised for it, he was one of the gods with the most lovers, his own kids got to be gods or legends; and still, he missed you, his heart ached in loneliness of not having you, he wasn't even sure if he had one before! But the pain was real, and if he was a mortal..he would've cried

He knew he would've been SOBBING, begging the gods to bring you back to him, but he wasn't, because he WAS the god, yet he still missed you.

It took him a while, he had to swallow his pride and admit the truth: he needed to find you, but he didn't even know where to look. It was difficult to find your altar, he usually just sat and enjoyed your praises when you called for him, he never looked around to figure out where it was, he was doomed! But still, he had to try, his entire self was begging to hear you once more

Maybe another god took you? He knew how that usually went, and he didn't like it at all, it could mean you were dead! But it wasn't time to be pessimistic, because he did manage to remember something, a rosemary plant. Now it wasn't THAT much, but it was better than nothing, he knew that from your altar, if you looked outside you'd see a rosemary plant, he just needed to find it.

It wasn't easy, he always thought the human realm was pretty simple..oh boy, it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to find it, but it looked exactly like what he remembered, or at least he thought it did. Was this why you stopped worshiping him? Because he was an asshole and didn't appreciate you enough when he had it? He'd understand if it was now, because even he was hating how much he took your appreciation for granted. But at least it was something, and the fates had a little bit of compassion with him, because it was the right plant.

☀️

You took a step back, absolutely surprised and scared at the same time, you were apparently schizophrenic now? How the hell did a random man appear in front of you, and why did he feel so...familiar? There was something about him, a certain warmth, you knew you'd felt it before, when you were sure your prayers were being heard and your offerings held by Apollo..it was the same feeling.

"where have you been?" He didn't show himself in all his glory to you, despite how much he wanted to, to be completely honest with you in every way of how he was and what he'd ever be, but he didn't want you to die from embracing his truly godly form either. It didn't matter what pathetic excuse you had for yourself, or if you actually had a valid reason, your words were cut before they could leave your mouth as he stepped forward all the way to you and held you in a tight hug. He didn't want to hear it right now, he didn't need to. "I've been looking for you.."

He just needed you two to simply, be, finally reunite. He missed you

[ironstrange1991]

Safe Place

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Things don't always go the way we want. The reader learns this the hard way and Stephen is the only one that can make her feel better.

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: None.

A/N: Another self-indulgent fic inspired by another bad day. I'm just really happy to have something to post. I hope you guys like it and have a good read ;)

Tears had been streaming down your face and soaking your pillow for what seemed like hours since you had gotten home after a terrible day where everything had gone apocalyptically wrong. You were relieved to be home in the first place, but at the same time you were disappointed enough that you didn't feel right about being there.

You knew that you had placed too much expectation on that day and that it was your fault for expecting too much from luck when you knew very well that in your life luck had never been with you. You just wanted to disappear. You wanted a hole to open in the ground and swallow you, but all you could do was cry your eyes out and that was exactly what you did until you fell asleep and woke up to the touch of a trembling hand in your hair and the baritone voice calling your name.

"Sweetheart" You heard Stephen calling you. "I barely saw you today. I didn't know you were already here. Are you hiding from me?" He dismissed the question with a light and caring tone, but you knew he was worried. You didn't look at him as you answered.

"I want to die, Stephen." You said, giving in to the tears and hiding your face in the pillow.

"Oh sweetheart! Things didn't work out the way you expected, huh?" He asked and you felt the bed dipping.

"It's my fault. I should listen to MJ and stop putting so much hope into things that I know will never happen. I always get disappointed and never learn."

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Come here." He asked, touching your hair and you crawled so you could lay your head in his lap. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

But you didn't want to talk about it. It was like by doing so you were accepting it was real, and you didn't want it to be real. So you just shook your head.

"Okay. How about I tell you about my day? Would you like that?"

You nodded.

"Well, Wong and I spent the morning training a group of masters who are going on a mission for the first time. They are good, they just need to gain practice, and the mission is not that difficult. I believe everything will be fine." He said as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

"After that, I got a call from Stark asking me to come over there to help identify a magical artifact they found in the hands of Hydra. It was an ancient relic that disappeared from the London Sanctum hundreds of years ago. You can imagine Wong's happiness when I took it straight to the Kamar Taj."

You could feel the lump in your throat getting less tight as he spoke. Not only was his voice soothing and pleasant, but you enjoyed listening to him talk about his sorcerer stuff. It was another world entirely and at that moment all you needed was to distance yourself from your reality and to be immersed in his.

"Let me see what else..." He said and you waited. "Oh, I almost forgot! Stark is throwing a party at the end of the month and he insists that we both go. I could have said that I'll be on a mission, but I know you like spending time with your Avengers friends, so I confirmed our attendance. Did I do wrong?"

You shook your head and he chuckled softly. "I knew you'd want to go. Let me see... what else? I had cold pizza for breakfast and I ventured into the kitchen to make something for lunch because I was starving."

That caught your attention and you waited for him to tell you what he had cooked.

"Tuna spaghetti. It didn't turn out as good as yours. I think I overcooked it. It was sticky, but it was what I had and it satisfied my hunger. You know I'd rather eat your food anyway and at least I didn't burn the house down."

You smiled to yourself and turned around to look at him. Your eyes were still wet with tears, but you were calmer and the heaviness in your heart was replaced by warmth. "I love you." You whispered reaching out to touch his face. There was a frown on his forehead that slowly faded and he smiled back.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He replied as he continued to caress your hair. "Feeling a bit better now?"

You nodded. "It's amazing how you can do that."

He cocked his head to the side. "Do what?"

"Change my mood just by talking to me."

"And caressing your hair. That sure helps." He said with a cocky smile.

You smiled back at him. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Did you know that? You found me at my lowest and changed me forever. I know I'm not an easy person, that this anxiety and mood swings are constant and that I make you worried most of the time..."

"Sweetheart..."

"Let me say this. Please." You asked, bringing your fingers to his mouth to shut him up.

"I know I need you much more than you need me. I know I shouldn't say this, but I feel like I can't live without you. Or maybe I can, but I don't want to have to find out."

You sighed deeply, trying to contain the wave of emotion that was threatening to spill over your eyes. "Today was a horrible day. Everything went so wrong that it would be comical if it wasn't so fucking annoying and heartbreaking. But at the same time I know that no matter how bad things get, I will always have this home to come back to and when I say home I'm not talking about the house, I'm talking about you. You are my home and my comfort, Stephen. My safe place and I love you with all the strength of my being and if for all this love you give me I have to pay by cooking you a decent meal, I'm more than happy with the bargain."

"Can I talk now?" He grumbled and you took your hand away from his mouth. He was trying to keep the same confident face as before, but there was a whole world of emotions behind his blue eyes and you saw his throat bobbing a few times. "First of all, you'll never have to figure out whether or not you can live without me because, sweetheart, I'll never leave and I'll never let you go." He sighed, trying to compose himself, and then continued, "Secondly, I want you to know that you're not a burden to me and I don't think you need me any more than I need you. You say I saved you at your lowest, but you forget that you've saved me from myself so many times. I changed you? You've changed me too, love. You've made me a better man, you've taught me that love can be a good thing and that I don't need to be in control of everything all the time. You've made me let my guard down and allow myself to love and be loved. To care for you and having you care for me is the greatest achievement of my life. You're my home too, sweetheart. My love, my best friend, my everything. It's safe to say that neither of us are easy people." He finished with a smirk. "We just complement each other so well."

You nodded, feeling your eyes fill with tears again, but you smiled. "Thank you."

His smile widened, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now get up and go take a shower and I'll order some food. I'm sure you'll feel better after that."

You sat up and stretched before standing up. "I'm already feeling better, actually." You answered honestly. "If you're not in a hurry, I can cook you something. You must be dying to eat some decent food."

He seemed a bit surprised by your offer, but smiled happily. "Really? And what will you do?"

"It'll depend on what's in the fridge."

He nodded, "Okay. I'm in."

"But there's something I want in return." You said, taking his hand and pulling him to stand up. You pulled him close to you, letting him tower over you, and rested your hand on his chest.

"And what is it?" He asked, already knowing the answer very well.

"You. I want you to come take a shower with me."

He hummed, lifting your chin to make you look directly at him.

"I thought you were sad," he teased.

"I am. And really mad, that's why I need some physical love. You know?"

He chuckled. "Alright, love. I think I can provide that for you."

You barely waited for him to answer and dragged him into the bathroom with you. Your mood swings sometimes confused even you, but if there was one thing that was certain about your depressive crises, it was that they always ended in sex. It was your body's way of balancing things out, exchanging cortisol for oxytocin, and you were fine with that. More than fine, in fact.

After the shower - and what ended up becoming a long lovemaking session - the two of you got dressed in comfortable pajamas and ended up in the kitchen. You wanted to prepare something decent and nutritious, after all Stephen was a tall and strong man and you knew that his body needed more than the empty calories of two slices of pizza and some tuna spaghetti, but when you looked in the fridge you realized what you had already feared. You were practically out of food.

"Oh Stephen, we forgot to go to the grocery store." You said dejectedly, but your eyes found a piece of bacon and some cheese and you sighed in defeat. It seemed that the nutritious food would have to wait for tomorrow.

"I can make mac & cheese. It has bacon, we can fry it really crispy and add it to the recipe. I know it wasn't what you expected..."

Stephen approached, hugging you from behind and taking advantage of the fact that your hair was tied up, he gave you a little kiss on the back of your neck. That never failed to give you goosebumps.

"Anything you prepare for me will be delicious, I'm sure. And I love mac & cheese. It's fine by me."

You turned to look at him "Are you sure? There's still time to order food if you want."

He shook his head "I'm sure. Unless you changed your mind. I know you've had a long day, sweetheart."

But before he finished speaking you were already grabbing the necessary ingredients from the fridge. "I did, but I'm feeling much better now. Your mac & cheese will be ready in fifteen minutes, and I promise it will be way better than your sticky tuna spaghetti."

He chuckled, letting go of your waist and stepping away, opening a cabinet door and grabbing one of your ceramic pots. "I'm going to put the water on to boil. I don't think you can go wrong with that." He informed and you let out a soft laugh.

"Don't forget the salt." You said as you grabbed a knife and began to chop the bacon into small cubes.

"Before or after it boils? I never remember."

"After." You replied, watching as he turned on the stove. It was quite a sight: Stephen Strange dressed in nothing but pajama pants, his hair wet from the shower, his back marked by your nails, his neck marked by love bites you had left on him, doing banal and domestic things in the kitchen. He may have been a sorcerer, a master of the mystical arts, and protector of the Sanctum, but what made you fall more and more in love with him each day were those little moments when he was completely ordinary.

You got distracted while finishing chopping the bacon and cheese and were surprised by his arms wrapping around your waist. He didn't say anything, he just hugged you from behind, gave you a kiss on the back of your neck and laid his head on your shoulder, and that act made you melt. You continued your task with a deliberate slowness so that you wouldn't have to move away from him, but eventually you finished chopping everything.

"Steph... I need..."

But he held you tighter in his arms, humming, "Just one more minute. I just want to stay like this for one more minute."

You chuckled, dropping the knife and reaching your hand up to his hair, stroking it slowly. "As if you didn't have me for an hour in that bathroom." You said, and he groaned as if the memory of what you did was too good to mention.

"It's not the same, sweetheart." He said, lifting his head to speak in your ear, "Sometimes I just want to be close to you like this. It's not sexual."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest and your knees went weak. "Does that mean the great Doctor Strange sometimes needs cuddles?"

He gave your ear a light nibble to tease you back, "Sometimes... yes."

You nodded, turning to look at him and cupping his face. "You deserve all the cuddles in the world, Steph. But right now you need to decide what you want more. Cuddles or mac & cheese?"

He sighed exaggeratedly. "Such a hard choice." He said, pretending to think, "But I think I'll have to choose mac & cheese." He responded with a smirk and let go of you. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his lips and then stepped away, returning to your mission.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were sitting at the table to eat. Stephen had chosen a bottle of red to open and you allowed yourself a glass that he generously poured before pouring his own and sitting down.

"It's always so rewarding to sit at the table to have dinner with you after a day of doing the things I do." He confessed, sipping from his glass and allowing himself a bite of the mac & cheese. "Oh this is delicious!"

You smiled as you watched him devour a second bite. This was your favorite part of cooking for him. It might have been a little weird, but you really loved watching him eat, especially when it was something you had cooked for him.

You allowed yourself a bite too and smiled contentedly. "Okay, this is really good."

"I told you!" He said, smiling, and you found yourself thinking that it was possible to endure the bad days and the terrible days, as long as you had Stephen by your side. After all, he was the only one who could make you feel good even when everything around you seemed to be falling apart. He saved you from the world and especially from yourself, and you could see yourself going on as long as he was there for you.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[t-a-a-1]

The Darkest Hour

Ch.4: Guardian

Summary: After being labeled as crazy for trying to report that robot aliens exist on national television, you lose your job and move to Jasper City. In a drastic turn of fate, you meet Optimus Prime. You and Team Prime get together to find ancient relics that are vital to the Autobot's cause.

Along the way, you and Optimus start to develop feelings that go beyond comradeship.

But what happens when he discovers you've been lying all of this time?

For a better reading experience you can read this story on Ao3:

>>>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60642838/chapters/157365316

Ch.4: Guardians

     It was rather quiet at the base. Ratchet sometimes would look at the hangar's elevated floor. He thought he would see you there. He didn't find you as annoying as other humans. You were rather curious. Asking about all things Cybertronian. It was like talking to a child sometimes but he didn't mind explaining especially when you had questions about Cybertronian biology.

    He didn't want to admit it but he-

Beep. Beep.

"Oh? I got a video from (Y/n)!"

    Ratchet hears Jack exclaim from the sofa and this immediately gets his attention.

"I don't have enough time. I have been abducted by Decepticons. I'll lead them to the relic located in Fingal's Cave, Northern Ireland two days from now. Retrieve my cell phone from my house. I am sorry."

.

.

.

    You didn't have time.

You rapidly click 'sent' before breaking your laptop in half. You know they were coming for you and as soon as you heard the doors open, you quickly grabbed one cigarette.

    Two Decepticons dragged you across the Nemesis. You couldn't walk a lot, probably due to a broken bone or something else.

    It took about three minutes to reach another door. Everything looked the same except for a few purple colors and other doors that had guards.

    One of the doors opened and the two Decepticons pushed you inside, making fall to the floor.

"What is our status with the machine?"

"We still need to make modifications. The human mind is different from that of a Cybertronian," Knockout tried his best to figure out a way to make his machinery work. "Getting into her memories will be difficult without the proper materials."

"Then I trust that you will be making progress soon, Knockout."

    The lights in the room blinded you.  Not because they were too bright but due that you were deprived of light for two days.

    Two Decepticons carried you by the arms, you were too weak to walk, your stomach hurts, your head too and your energy was low.

"Prisoner was seen scavenging on the vault."

"I was looking for food!" you muster all the strength you had to defend yourself. "I've been here for two days and haven't eaten a thing."

"Wasn't the Energon cup I left on your cell enough?"

    The Decepticon was an automobile that you found a bit strange but you didn't have the right mind to question it. Things were just the way they were.

"Humans don't eat Energon, I'll die! Shouldn't you be smart enough to know that?"

    A taller figure walks in front of you. His steps made the entire floor move but you had gotten used to the feeling of it. He studies you, walks around you and his optics pierce through your soul.

"The fact that you are still standing after yesterday's event is admirable. I wouldn't expect anything less from Optimus' pet."

    You didn't like the sound of that but you were too tired to fight it. Your body is in pain from all the bruises and maybe a few other injuries. They had beat you up after you refused to speak. It wasn't for a long time, Megatron seemed to know that you would be a difficult one.

"What were you looking for in the vault?"

    Megatron asks and you don't say a word. You look away.

"I won't ask again," he gets closer to your face. So close that you could see his optics and the mechanics behind it. There wasn't a single thing that didn't move as small as it seemed. Everything had a function and it fascinated you. "What were you looking for in the vault? Was it your bag? Anything of importance in there?"

    You took a few seconds to respond and you raised a hand. You slowly opened it, putting one cigarette in front of his face.

"What is this ... artifact?"

    Megatron takes the cigarette in his hand, inspecting it.

"I was looking for my bag ... because I wanted that. It makes me less hungry."

    The Decepticon leader drops the cigarette on the floor and steps on it. Crushing your hopes.

"Pain may not be enough to make you speak," Megatron keeps looking at you and as much as you would like to keep the eye-staring contest, you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"But let's wait and see how you react after hunger takes over you."

"I won't talk."

    It hurts to even do so.

"Oh, but all of this would be so much easier if you did," he turns around and walks towards a berth. One that is not completely functional. At least it doesn't work with humans. Yet. "Regardless, we'll get what we want. Talk or do not talk, the choice is yours."

...

    It has been a couple of days since you had left the base. It has been quiet around here without you. The kids can be a bit nosey but nothing the Autobots couldn't handle.

    Optimus wonders what you would do if you were here. Would you be on your laptop? Maybe have a conversation with him? If you wanted, he could talk to you for hours, giving you information about Cybertronian culture. In exchange, he could ask you about human traditions. After the talk you two had about the human process of creating life, he was particularly curious about the human body.

    He had just come back from patrol duty with Bumblebee when he heard a lot of talking between his Autobot friends.

"Optimus!"

    Ratchet's preoccupied voice was something he wasn't fond of. It could mean two things. One, someone had messed up with one of his experiments. Two, bad news.

"(Y/N) has been captured by the Decepticons!"

Or three. Horrible news.

....

Bombs. Guns. Granades.

Screams. Fire. Blood. Pain. 

    When you were told that you were going to report on the war in a faraway land, you were excited. This was going to be your big step. The thing that will mark your career forever.

And it did mark you. Forever. But in ways you thought unimaginable.

It wasn't until you saw men, women and children being killed that you truly realized how stupid the world really is. It's a war and no one ever wins. So why? Why?

"Will I ever stop ... being so useless?"

    Another day of not eating.

You didn't know when you were going to start to hallucinate. Maybe you already were. You wished you could smell the outside air. You had not realized how different the air is when the majority of living creatures occupying the area are alien robots. It's a different type of smell. Clean and sanitized, kinda like the smell of a hospital but with a more metal element to it.

    The doors from your prison cell open. You are thankful because you hated the dark. Not really a phobia but many thoughts cross your mind when there is no light around you.

    Megatron slowly makes his way towards you.

He is not that intimidating. Are you afraid? Yes, of course. But if you had to compare, Optimus had a more menacing frame. Although Megatron's eyes could frighten anyone, the way he moves and presents himself does not imply any harm. You won't underestimate him. Not a bit.

"I won't say a word."   

    You say as you look at him. You sat in a corner, nothing was tying you down. Not like it matters, it's not like you could do much against giant robots.

"I did not come here for that," his voice is way less intimidating. In different circumstances, Optimus could very well have been the villain. "I have come for a small conversation."

"If you think you can manipulate me into talking-"

"I would rather like to call it ... convincing you with words."

    You knew this was going to be an interesting conversation.

"Words are powerful."

    You say as he stands in front of you. You don't stand up, having a nice view of his posture. You can tell so much by the way someone moves.

"Agreed."

    You wait for a few seconds, keeping eye contact. The room didn't look so dark now as Megatron had this purple aura that surrounded him.

    You didn't know what he wanted but you were waiting for him to speak. But he was also studying you, trying to find the best way to talk to you.

"Eons ago, I was a young gladiator trying to survive."

    Out of everything, you didn't imagine Megatron to be a storyteller. Oh, but how much you loved a good tale. Especially the ones about myths and legends of great warriors doing the impossible. Even if it's a story about a bot becoming a destroyer of worlds.

"Every day, as I exited the pit after killing comrades, I would watch the upper classes cheer for me."

    He seems to remember the cheers, the chanting crowds. But his optics had changed, for a second, he was lost. Going back to those moments. There is some fear in them and you didn't know if he was being honest or it's another manipulation tactic.

"But what was there to cheer for? I had massacred Cybertronians. Someone like me and them."

    You didn't doubt his words. At least there is some truth to them, you could tell as much.

"I would kill as I watched them eat the best kind of Energon. Drink the rarest of oils and wear the highest of tech accessories."

    Megatron gets closer to you but he never kneels. He still believes he is above you. It's comical. Telling you stories about the inequality he suffered when there will never be a time he will see you as equal.

"Do you know what that feels like? Being tortured if you failed? Your spinal cord breaking and have no spare parts to repair it? While I see others throw parts into the pit, like their lives meant nothing."

    Rage. He is filled with it. Finally, an emotion you could sympathize with or at least recognize. You didn't break eye contact nor were afraid. If he wanted to kill you, he had done so a very long time ago. You are more curious and in awe at the being in front of you.

    His metal was damaged and scratched, his tall figure and spiky demeanor. He appears to be fierce, he had to be, otherwise he wouldn't be here. But you can't help and wonder if he had been allowed a different life, would he be different?

"I don't fight for freedom," Megatron says. "I fight for my survival."

    You sigh heavily and your eyes show nothing but exhaustion. You muster the strength to speak. You can't give him anything but your sympathy.

"... You must be so tired."

    You must be hallucinating because for a moment you could have sworn you saw something else in those red eyes.

    Megatron turns around, no longer allowing you to see his face.

"Optimus was just like those Cybertronians I hated and he continues to be one. The system I fight to break, he continues to fight to repair it."

He steals a glance your way and he notices your concern.

"He was part of the crowd. Enjoying every match, every death. Laughing as it happened. How did you think we met?"

    He walks back towards you but you notice his steps have become slower. The floor didn't tremble as much as if he was being careful without knowing.

"Oh? Didn't he tell you?"

    You part your sight away from his. After a heavy sigh, you take up the courage to look at him again.

"We've been looking for ancient Cybertronian relics," you don't have another option. You had to sacrifice a little bit of truth to survive. "We don't know their function yet but we believe that they might be parts of something bigger."

"And do you know the location of these relics?"

"Just of one, the rest of the information is on my cellphone."

    He seems to be interested now or rather atypical about your wording. He probably doesn't know certain terminology.

"And where is this cellphone you speak of?"

    You muster a smile. You know Megatron can be a great negotiator, but so are you.

"If you want to know, I'll have my bag. With my cigarettes."

....

Fingal's Cave, Northern Ireland.

    The night is dark and full of mysteries. Especially in dark caves where the waves of the sea clash against the rocks. It would have been a perfect vacation, had you not been kidnapped by evil alien robots. This might be nothing for them, maybe just a nice bubble bath. But to you? It's a certain death. You don't even know how to swim.

    You stand next to Megatron. Behind you, there are a few warrior Decepticons. It was cold and humid and your intrusive thoughts made you want to jump into the crazed waves.

"The relic should be right there," you point to one of the walls and Megatron quickly looks at his army. It took only one look for them to know what they were supposed to do. Excavate.

You waited for a few seconds and noticed how fast they were putting away rocks and dust. Soon they will reach the relic and once they have what they want they will take you back to the Nemesis.

    Suddenly, a green moving circle appears on the other side of the cave. You are a bit relieved. For a moment you genuinely thought they wouldn't appear.

    It's the first time you see a ground bridge. It's beautiful and even more the aliens coming out from it. Tall, big, strong. Everything you weren't and for a moment you feel guilty. They shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be worrying about an insignificant life such as yours.

"Took you all long enough."

    Optimus stands in front of his team. A battle mask covers half of his face, he looks fierce. You had never seen him like this before. He was intimidating and you were a bit scared of what he could do.

"Let (y/n) go, Megatron."

"Did you bring her cell phone?"

    A shiver runs down your spine. You look up at him and he looks at you. Your eyes and his optics meet for a second. Unable to control your confusion, your voice betrayed you. With Megatron, showing emotion is a fatal mistake.

"What? How do you-"

"Nothing happens in the Nemesis without me knowing. Or do you think I was careless enough to leave your cell-door open?" his voice resonates within the containment of the cave. Not even the waves crashing could subside his voice. "I wanted you to contact them so they could do all the work for me."

"I am sure you must have led them to other relics. If they want you, they must turn them in as well."

    You began to panic, your plan was crumbling. It was your fault for believing you could outsmart a million-years living creature.

"It's not true! They don't have them, I never-"

"We have one."

    If looks could kill, your eyes would have killed Optimus. In fact, the Autobots have two relics. Optimus is lying and although a part of you is glad to know he could lie, right now you wish he had stayed quiet.

"Then you know what you must do."

    Megatron suddenly picks you up, putting you a few meters above the water level.

    You didn't know what to say. There was no guarantee that after receiving the relic, Megatron would let you go safely. Most importantly, you didn't understand. Why would the Autobots risk losing a valuable item over a human? There were many of you and only a few of those artifacts.

    Optimus doesn't hesitate and uses his comm-link. Speaking clearly, he calls Ratchet, ordering him to bring one relic through the ground bridge.

    Meanwhile, you see the Decepticons work on obtaining the other relic. They must be close as their excavation has become slower, maybe due that they do not want to damage the relic.

    You try to find a way to break free but Megatron's grasp is too strong.  Your body has started giving up, you haven't eaten in four days and your mouth tastes like cigarettes.

    After a few tense minutes, Ratchet comes from the groundbridge, holding the white pot that contained the relic. You instinctively move your head from side to side. You didn't want to be the reason they lost it.

"Starscream, retrieve the relic and the cell phone."

    You didn't notice the Commander before. Your senses must be failing you by now. He passes by Megatron and you know that if he could, he would push the leader of the Decepticons into the water.

"My pleasure, my liege."

    And as he passes by, you can see Ratchet's disappointed face. All of their faces, as a matter of fact. You hated being useless and being used. You thought that staying quiet was the best option. But after seeing Optimus hand down your cell phone to Starscream and his cocky smile, you couldn't have it.

"Just go!" you scream, hoping that your voice is loud enough. "I'll figure it out! You don't have to do this!"

    But it's like they weren't paying attention. Like your opinion didn't matter at all. Like you were a liability that had to be taken care of, not listened to.

    Ratchet hesitantly gives the white ceramic pot to Starscream who aggressively takes it in his claws. He happily walks back to his Master as if he had finished completing the hardest of missions.

"You have what you wanted. Now let her go!"

    Optimus threatens Megatron but it only amuses him. He looks at you, taking a few seconds to appreciate your face one last time.

"Lord Megatron, we have retrieved this place's relic."

    Starscream says as the army of Decepticons had successfully extracted the artifact and that's everything Megatron needed to hear.

"A deal it's a deal," Megatron crossed optics with Optimus.  "But this is for lying."

    He opens his claws, letting you go and dropping you into the wild waves.

    Megatron watches as Optimus jumps to save you. A selfless act, very much like him. What he was doing for you, he would do for anyone else. But there was something about it. Something that Megatron knew would catch Optimu's attention. Whatever it was, he would figure it out eventually. For now, he will let Prime have you. To let him enjoy his human pet as much as he can. Before taking you away.

"Next time, bring me all the relics you have, Prime. Or she will pay the price."

    Bulkhead, Arcee and Bumblebee didn't even hesitate to go after him. They focused on helping Optimus and it was too late regardless. Megatron was already one step inside the groundbrige, ready to go back to the Nemesis.

"How did you know they had more relics?" Starscream walks behind Megatron, curious about his actions.

"I didn't," he says. "It's all a bet. Besides ..."

    Megatron stops walking and quickly glances back. Getting a glimpse of Optimus coming out of the water, holding your fragile body.

"She's not half bad."

....

    The first thing that crossed your mind after waking up was ... work.

Fowler told you to not worry about it and that things had been taken care of.

    You didn't want to ask any further.

Especially after learning that you could no longer go back to your home.

    It took you a couple of days to recover.

Falling into the wild waters of Fingal's Cave had done more injuries than the ones the Decepticons inflicted on you. Your body crashed a few times into rocks before Optimus rescued you.

     But the pain in your body did not compare to the disappointment you feel.

    You couldn't even look at the Autobots without feeling ashamed.

Now you can't even go home now.

"I apologize as for you now have to remain here. But it must be in your best interest to stay since the Decepticons know of your home location."

    You didn't hear Optimus come through the rooftop door. Even with his massive steps and weight. Maybe you had gotten used to the sound of walking bots too fast.

"You may not be too fond of sharing a home but I promise you we are not too loud."

    The top of the hangar gave you the best view of the Nevada desert. With sad rocks and a few cacti... alright maybe it wasn't that visually appealing.

    But the night sky made up for it.

"I don't do good with people ... and bots," you pull out a cigarette from your jacket's pocket and light it up. Hearing Optimus coming closer and sitting down on the cliff with you.

    You immediately move away for a few centimeters, feeling uncomfortable at the closeness. You didn't notice your body had acted this way but Optimus did.

"I can sense some hostility emitting from you."

    Optimus optics lay on you but you wouldn't spare him a look.

"Optimus was just like those Cybertronians I hated and he continues to be one. The system I fight to break, he continues to fight to repair it."

    You didn't know if you should bring up the matter or just keep it to yourself. But after the events at the Nemesis, you find yourself unable to look at Optimus the same. Not like it matters much, but deep down, a part of you wanted to trust him ... to believe in him.

"If there are any concerns-"

"Megatron told me," you interrupt him, the act feels disrespectful but you hope he didn't feel like that. "That you used to enjoy watching him fight and kill others in the gladiator's pits. That you fight to bring the caste system back."

"While is true that I used to attend such activities, I never supported it," subconsciously, Optimus wanted you to look at him. He needed your acknowledgment, something you refused to give him at the moment.    

    "Megatron and I used to share similar ideologies. But he believed that equality could only be obtained if the other classes were eliminated."

"And you?"

"I believe that every sentient being has the ability to change."

    You let out a subsided laugh, looking down at your lap and then up again at the desert night.

    "So what? You were hoping to change a whole social class with pretty words and inspiring speeches?"

"We cannot build a new world founded on violence."

"And where has that led you? To a strange planet and your race almost extinct."

    He had good sentiments, you admired that but at some point you consider naivety to be stupidity.

"Cybertron will be rebuilt on tragedy," you say.

"And what am I supposed to do? Let him have his way?"

    You have noticed that Optimus speaks less formally when he finds himself in a tough spot. Now, it was one of those moments. Your words had hit a circuit but you didn't want for this to turn into an argument. Not when you wanted to gain his sympathy.

"I am not saying I know what's best. What I am saying is that I thought you..."

    You couldn't continue with your sentence. Because what you wanted to say was stupid and based on old ideas. Maybe deep down, you wished Optimus was that hero the world needed. But he was a leader. The leader of a war where there is no winner. He could only do what he did best. And that was making the hard decisions no one else could.

    You had put too much expectations on his shoulders. He can't be a hero and a leader at the same time. If he were to be a hero, he would have been dead long ago. But his team needed him alive, he couldn't afford to die a martyr. He must know that.

"Listen to me Prime," you called him by his first name. Now more than ever, you believe there will never be a time when you will call him by his first name. "Everyone is a slave to something. Even you are enslaved to your own stupid ideologies of hope."

    You were always precausious to never show your beliefs. Maybe years ago, you shared similar sentiments as Optimus. You saw yourself in him and you wanted to save him. Save him from the disappointment of the real truth of your world.

"But let me tell you this; you have those views because you lived through better times. You have tasted peace and solemnity," you had no stand to be lecturing him. Yet, you didn't see it that way. You were just speaking your feelings.

      "But them? Working as miners, being gladiators just for your entertainment? They never had what you did. This is their hope to have better times."

    You sigh heavily and feel your lungs struggle to breathe.

"And you just took that from them."

    Seconds turned into minutes and you thought Optimus would stand up and leave you alone. But he instinctively got closer to you. He probably didn't notice his actions.

"I used to really enjoy watching your old reports."

    The leader of the Autobots looks back fondly at the younger version of you. A few years back you had done a story about a small town that had been struck by a tornado. Many died and homes were destroyed.

    But instead of focusing on the downside of things, you talked about how the community came together to help each other build back their town. The resilience and strength. Optimus was inspired by how such small things could build things bigger than themselves.

     "Even when the report was about a catastrophic event, you always ended things positively."

"In the days where I had doubts, where I thought I couldn't do this anymore, I ... "

    He pauses, he can't understand the feeling in his spark but his voice box struggles to process words.

"I would watch you on TV and you would give me inspiration to continue my mission."

    His formality had dropped drastically and you wonder if this was his way to let his guard down and open up to you.

"But now that you are telling me this ... I think you are right," his voice cracks and your world crumbles.  "What is left worth fighting for?"

You didn't know Optimus could feel doubt and hesitancy. You are reminded of the power of words. How you, a small insignificant human could make a robot full of wisdom question the truth of his life? It was too much power and you didn't want it. You didn't want Optimus to view life the way you do. So pessimistic, so gloomy.

    You didn't believe in any of it, hope, love. None of that was enough to change the world. But Optimus didn't have to know that.

You wanted him to keep believing. To belive he could change the world with just words.

Fuck the truth.

"Megatron is full of rage," you say. "And sometimes rage allows us to live. To survive."

    You decide to overstep boundaries and you put a hand over his servo. But you don't look at him, too shy to do so.

"But faith does too."

    You were no one to question his beliefs. If you were completely honest, you would like to keep enjoying the company of this Optimus. The optimistic one, resilient, strong with unbreakable morals.

But in the back of your mind, the question still remains. There's no victory without sacrifice.

What if to win the war, to give meaning to the lives of fallen ones, he has to sacrifice his ideologies and beliefs?

What would you do ... Optimus?

"(Y/n)," Optimus calls your name so sweetly you feel your body shake up a little.

    He holds your hand, so delicately, so softly as if he is afraid of hurting you. As if he is afraid you might break. You had never been held so fondly,  your heart feels like melting.

"I have failed miserably in protecting you," He looks at your body and you feel like his optics pierce through your soul.  You feel seen but you didn't mind it one bit. "The injuries in your body are proof of it."

"I am aware we are strangers to titles but I would like to establish a new relationship."

    You didn't understand how he could make you feel in such a way. In a state of warmth and peace. How his presence alone was enough to comfort and heal wounds that go beyond physical pain.

"If you accept me as your guardian, I'll protect you and no harm shall ever find your way. I'll give my life for you if necessary. I'll do as you ask and have your safety as one of my purposes for living. Under these stars as a witness, I swear this to you."

    Like the stars above, there were many mysteries you didn't understand. You thought that maybe Optimus was one of those mysteries as well. Otherwise, you didn't understand how such a beautiful creature would ever put your life above his own. Does he see you as a bothersome being? Probably. But you don't mind. A part of you wanted to be protected by such a powerful creature. A righteous one at least. Maybe he does see you as a pet to be taken care of.

    But now that you think about it ... You don't mind devoting yourself to him either.

"I accept but under one condition," you wish you could be closer to his face, you feel a need to look closer at his optics.  "If you protect me ... then I'll take care of you."

"Care for me?"

"If you ever have doubts, if you feel lonely, or if you just want to talk,"  all of a sudden you feel shy and you quickly part your sight. You didn't have the time to think the reason why. "I want to share the burden of your decisions with you, please."

"You will do that for me?"

    He blinks multiple times, unsure of your words and you find this cute.

"You are willing to give up on your life for me," you make a small pause before continuing. "It's the least I can do."

    Looking at a desert wasn't fun. But talking always was. Especially with an alien robot with millions of years' worth of wisdom. It's strange how you always felt better after talking to Optimus. He doesn't seem to be the type to judge and that's what you appreciated the most about him.

"(Y/N), You have proven to be more than meets the eye," you hear his voice closer and immediately turn. He had slouched significantly to be able to see you face to face. It must be an uncomfortable position but he still made the effort to see you at an eye level.

    Maybe he also had a certain need to be as close as possible to you.

"I am glad the universe allowed us to encounter."

And before you could have the time to blush again, your brain replayed his words.

"Don't you mean optic? You guys don't have eyes."

    Optimus straightens his back, no longer looking at you. This time he looks up at the sky, he looks curiously at them. Putting a servo on his chin, he looks to be in deep thought.

"That is true. But that is an ancient saying of my people."

"If it's an ancient saying then can we assume your kind and mine have met before?"     You tilted your head, imagining the possibilities. You move your feet into a yoga position, feeling more comfortable.

"That is an interesting theory although I don't remember reading such things back at the archives. Maybe it's something worth investigating."

    Optimus also thought of the possibilities, maybe this could be tied to the relics.

"Oh! Do you want to investigate it together?" this could be an important piece to your report. It would also be more credible if you had an actual Transformer help you write on what is probably one of the greatest discoveries in human history.

     "We could write a report on it and give an informative presentation to the kids and the Autobots."

You put your hands up and them move them slowly in a parting motion.

"Cybertron and Earth: A Deeper Look Into Cybertronian-Human Relations and Why Our History Is Longer Than We Think."

The topic sounded more interesting to Optimus and the archivist in him started to show. You knew this by the way he would blink more often. It happened whenever something excited him.

"That sounds like a remarkable and revolutionary subject. I could try to look into Cybertron's' old archives and see if I can find something related to the topic."

If Optimus could always be excited like this, you wish you could hear him talk forever. Could he tell you all the stories and tales of his people. But would it hurt him to speak about them? To reminiscence the past may open old wounds and you didn't want to be the cause of it. You won't push it but you'll wait until he is ready.

"And I'll interview Fowler and see if he knows something or knows someone that knows more of the topic." That will be a challenge but there hasn't being a single person who never gave you an interview. Of course, you find your way. Ethical or not, it didn't matter as long as the truth was revealed.

"I  am looking forward to hearing about your findings."

"I am excited to look at your research too!"

That night you learned many things. About Optimus especially. About how he would blink a lot whenever something got him excited. About how he loses his formality in words when he gets comfortable, excited or angry. Things like this made him feel closer to you as if he wasn't from an alien race but rather just another living creature existing in the same universe. And that's exactly what it was.

One hour turned into two, then three, four. Time passed by so fast, just talking and enjoying each other company. You smoked a few cigarettes and promised Optimus to buy a few gallons of oil for him to enjoy next time.

Although you were still downhearted for being unable to return to your home, you tried to look at the bright side of things. It was something you weren't used to do. But being with Optimus, his optimism rubbed off on you.

    You two talked endlessly until you fell asleep on his servos. Optimus watched the sunrise; grateful to have met you, thinking how beautiful it was to love the ordinary. For at least, and with all the certainty in the universe he knew ... he was worthy of this.

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A/N: This chapter took longer than I expected and I think after this one I am going to work on another fic (from another fandom) because I am so close to finishing that story and I just haven't uploaded in sometime. But! I'll be writing one shots for tumblr. I'll start working on a one shot for Christmas! The poll is over and we have a winner. Thank you to everyone who voted and all the comments, notes and likes. I'll take my time to respond to each of you :) My inbox is always open for any comment, ideas, concerns or prompts ideas.

I definitely want for Reader and Optimus to have chemistry. I think it's very important to show interaction with each other and show why they are attracted instead of them just having them fall randomly? Like I want to show Optimus and Reader have similar interest and passions but having contrasting ideas. I'll probably have them dancing and being silly together at some point.

On the next chapter I'll have Reader do some actual work. She's gonna be undercover (she has to dress seductively to fit into the world of car racing where she meets a hot mechanic who teaches her a lot about cars and Optimus has to follow her around cause that's his job as his guardian. His circuits go crazy cause he can't understand why all of a sudden he finds a human attractive-)

I want Optimus to feel like he has something of his own, something only he can protect and take care of because he can and wants (by choice) and it's not forced upon him nor a responsibility to bear (like the matrix) and that lovely thing being you ofc.

Sorry for an errors and grammar mistakes, I don't proof read.

I also feel like I haven't used much of the other bots so I'll make sure to use them more often now if the plot requires it.

I think that's all for now. Thank you so much for reading and see you in the next chapter!

Previous Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/768513873838030848/the-darkest-hour?source=share

Next Chapter: Soon

[cushfuddled]

When I first started shoveling Jayvik fanfic into my mouth a month and a half ago, I was shocked and delighted at the avalanche buffet of top Viktor and dom Viktor content. But I've started to feel like the detective who kneels down and touches some footprints in the dirt like, "Something happened here..."

Because I can't remember the last time I saw a fanon concept become...so ubiquitous? Even in fics where Viktor bottoms, he's a power bottom/topping from the bottom. Spotting a fic with an overwhelmed sub bottom Vik in the Ao3 tag feels a bit like the moment a snow leopard graces your Himalayan trail cam.

I DO NOT mean to suggest anyone "should" write more inexperienced/bottom/sub Viktor! It's just...as someone who likely missed whatever ancient discourse might've plagued the Arcane fandom years hence, I've been through this fandom song and dance enough times to recognize the smell of...what say, capital-O Obligation.

I just want people to know they can write whatever kind of fanfic they want. That's the point of this post. I hope someone somewhere reads this and feels emboldened to let loose/goof off/get freaky/whatever.

Because I can see why people would feel Obligated to portray Viktor as a top/dom/the sexually experienced one. He's physically disabled and chronically ill. Ableism so often takes the form of paternalism and infantilization. There's this pervasive notion that disabled people don't have sex. People think we're too "pure" for sex, or assume we're "undesirable" as romantic partners/that our physical or mental disabilities would make sex impossible. With that cultural context, it's a radical act for so many people to come together and choose to portray Viktor—a disabled, terminally ill man who struggles with suicide ideation—as a sexually experienced top.

One of the hardest things about being disabled/ill is the lack of control. You can't plan for the future; you don't know whether your pain levels will be better tomorrow or demand another trip to the ER; your life is totally in the hands of overworked doctors who don't care about you. So it feels kind of like an act of reclamation to put Viktor in a dominant position. In a safe, sane, consensual arrangement, all parties have control over the situation, but with topping and/or domming comes the Role of authority/power. Making Viktor an experienced, sly top/dom gives back Viktor's autonomy and agency.

So yeah. I get why this trend is pervasive within the fandom! It's fantastically subversive. I just hope nobody feels like they HAVE to fall into this dynamic.

I remember a Tumblr post from years ago where someone described the drawbacks of a supposedly "feminist retelling" of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, wherein the heroin saves herself by her own strength and wits. This, I would argue, is a perfectly fine story to tell...but its lack of intersectionality betrays a shallow definition of feminism. In casting those retold fairy tales in a feminist, "empowering" light, one ignores the realities of the people who found escapism in those helpless damsels.

In a paradoxical way, when my MCAS knocked me flat on my ass for two years, I was always out of control of my life AND forced to take control all the time. All those overworked, traumatized, apathetic doctors meant I had to be my own patient advocate. I had to do my own research; figure out which treatment plans made the most sense; find doctors who took my insurance and could see me within six months; argue with Medicaid when they didn't want to pay for one of the drugs I'd been prescribed; find new and creative ways to feed myself when my body reacted like it was allergic to everything other than water and Cheerios. And god, I had to self-police myself all the time. At the doctor's office, you have to look sick enough that they believe you when you say you're hurting, but you don't want to seem TOO sick because the desperation will make the doctor diagnose you with "hysterical woman" (or they'll just assume you're fishing for drugs). At home, you want to project some amount of strength so you don't worry your loved ones or make yourself too much of a "burden." (You also don't want to have to manage other people's anxiety on top of your own.) My disability (autism) and chronic illness (MCAS) are invisible, but I imagine there's a lot of masking that goes into navigating public spaces with a visible disability/illness, too.

So...when everything's this constant battle for control—when you're forced to project strength every day regardless of your pain level—of course some people are going to find relief in stories where they're allowed to shut down. I think it's important to let disabled characters be vulnerable and overwhelmed and even dependent on someone else, because as often as disabled and chronically ill people are infantalized, so too are we expected to "overcome" our disabilities/illnesses through miracles of resilience and cunning. We're pushed to perform strength, cheer, and "normalcy" for the public, who find our disabilities "sad" and "uncomfortable." Every time someone refuses to put on a mask, or a relative tells us to simply get more exercise, or a politician rails against "wellfare queens," or a bus route gets cut or a bench gets removed or our doctors hand-wave our symptoms, our world reinforces the message that we are Too Much; that our needs are exorbitant, our very existence a drain on society. So many of us throw ourselves into self-sabotaging grasps at independence. We work ourselves far past our limits to prove we aren't a burden on society. We refuse help just to maintain that tiny sense of control over our lives.

I find it deeply comforting to read stories where ill and disabled characters are...allowed to be helpless, I guess. To break the fuck down and let someone else finally take the reigns for a while—to lift some of that burden off their shoulders. I love when ill and disabled characters trust someone enough to take off that heavy armor, revealing the pain and weakness beneath the facade they were forced to take up to survive, and are rewarded with warmth and reassurance and care.

At a certain point...is it not a little ableist in itself, to restrict a disabled, chronically ill character to one specific role? To essentially lock them out of a position where they're allowed to relinquish control and be taken care of?

In essence,

Disabled and chronically/terminally ill people are not a monolith. As I always say, what offends one person will uplift another. It's an uncomfortable reality, but there's really no such thing as perfect representation. I think part of intersectionality is being willing to accept that multiple things can be true at once, because everyone's lived reality is different. It's absolutely fine to prefer one trope over another. But if I find a fanfic offensive or uncomfortable, I can always click the back button with the knowledge that there's almost certainly someone out there who'll find that same so-called problematic content empowering. Whether fic writers prefer top Viktor, power bottom Viktor, bottom Viktor, switch Viktor, sub Viktor, dom Viktor, experienced Viktor, virgin Viktor, omega vs. alpha Viktor, and every niche in between...I just hope they go where their heart tells them and write what they want.

[strangersteddierthings]

[To read on Ao3]

It's Saturday evening and Steve is annoyed. He doesn't understand why everyone won't just stop asking if he wants to talk.

It'll be better for you to get it out of your system, Steve. (Nancy) Talking these things through really helped me, Steve. (Max) You know we're here for you, don't you, Steve? (Dustin) If anyone understands, it's us. Me. You know that, right, Steve? (Robin)

Isn't he allowed to have one damn secret to himself!? Robin did almost get him to crack because out of everyone, Robin would understand his ridiculous, almost overwhelming crush on Eddie Munson.

He's not keeping it a secret because he's embarrassed of his crush, but because he's afraid of rejection for the first time ever. Based on past experience, Steve has always been the one doing the rejecting. In fact, Steve would argue he's never been rejected before. Nancy and he broke up, and breaking up doesn't count as rejection. It's just a change in feelings. And Robin didn't reject him because she had told a half truth when they thought they were gonna die, and then came out to him when he confessed, and rejection also doesn't count if you were never a romantic option to begin with.

Eddie is the first crush he's had (that he's willing to, eventually, act upon) that he's uncertain about. Eddie flirts with him, sure, but he also flirts with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. He doesn't shy away from Steve's touch, but he rarely initiates it himself. Everything Steve tries to test, to gauge Eddie's interest, just falls flat, or doesn't work, or isn't enough to show if Eddie likes him romantically or as a friend.

Anyway, it's Saturday evening and Steve is annoyed. Annoyed because he knows that waiting for him at his own house is an ambush (an intervention, they'd called it) from his own supposed friends. Steve had just listened to them plan the whole thing over the walkie talkie.

When Steve pulls into his driveway, he's a little impressed at that fact nothing looks off. There are no extra cars, no bikes scattered across the lawn. The house looks dark, even.

When he goes for the door, it's unlocked, though, which is the dead giveaway. Steve sighs heavily before letting himself in. He doesn't bother to flick on the light in the foyer, just shrugging out of the Family Video vest and toeing off his shoes, leaving both in a pile by the door before squinting into the house.

It is dark, but he can make out irregular shapes, lightly illuminated by the light from the backyard coming through the large windows on the far wall. It looks like they've rearranged his furniture. He also hears the slight creak of the floorboards, from the kitchen. That would be Lucas, who Steve knows has been tasked with sneaking around and making sure Steve can't just bolt back out the front door (like he's ever actually run away from a confrontation).

They were very thorough with the planning. Steve knows where a majority of people are lurking, cutting him off from 'fleeing'. Lucas in the kitchen, to cut him off from the front door. El at the top of the stairs so he can't hide in his room. Argyle stationed in the hall that leads to the garage. Everyone else scatted throughout the living and dining room.

Might as well get this over with.

Steve makes it about halfway to the living room before a single floor lamp lights up. It illuminates Robin, who has turned his father's favorite chair around to face the front door instead of the TV, arm still up from where she'd twisted the nob on the lamp. "Steve. We need to talk."

"Buckley," Steve answers, calm as he can manage, surveying the room. Everyone else is just out of the line of light from this ancient lamp. He wonders how they managed that. Still. He knows they're here, so with as much confidence as he can muster, he looked directly at an out of place shadow and hopes he's right as he says, "you want to talk, too, I suppose?"

"How-" it's Dustin's voice that starts to speak and is quickly cut off with a smacking sound. Steve's willing to bet it's Max or Erica who slaps a hand over Dustin's mouth to keep him quit.

"Okay, so Dustin's here, too," Robin says, trying to regain control of the ambush but Steve's not having it.

He puts his hands on his hips and says in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the quiet house, "And Lucas, sneaking though the kitchen to the door. Argyle in the hallway, El upstairs. The rest of you are here, too. I heard the whole thing on the walkie."

"What! You were supposed to be at work!" Dustin yelps as almost every light flicks on at once. Each light switch has a person stationed at it. Steve can now see Jonathan and Nancy to his right, Dustin, Max, and Mike also to the right, but further into the living room. To the left, Argyle has made his was from the hallway, and Eddie (Jesus fuck, only this group of assholes bring his crush to the intervention about refusing to talk about his crush! (not that they know about the crush)), Erica and Will mirror the position of the others, almost against the wall to stay out of the light from the windows. He hears the stairs creak as El makes her way down.

"I was. It was slow. I got the walkie from my trunk to ask someone to save me from boredom just in time to hear your scheming," says Steve.

"We aren't scheming, Steve," Robin says, standing from the chair now and stepping closer. "We're worried. You don't talk to us."

"I talk to, like, almost all of you every day!"

"Not about important things!"

"I happen to think that discussing the newest releases is important. Tells me a lot about all of your guys' terrible taste in movies."

"Steve!" Nancy steps in now, "this is serious."

"It's really not. You are all making a big deal about this and it's not!" Steve says.

"Why are you keeping this from us?" Max pipes up, "if you can't talk to us about this, then who can you? We understand."

"Look, I know we've all experienced this.... issue, at some point, but that's doesn't mean I want to talk to any of you about it-"

"Issue he says! You can't even say it," Robin challenges him, matching his hands on hip stance, mirroring him.

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. This is getting ridiculous. Of course, he can't say it! He's barely gotten through his sexuality crisis and hasn't even come out to Robin yet! He wants to, really, but... "Listen. I appreciate that you are all so invested in this, but you need- sorry, no. I need you to let me do this at my own pace."

"It's been since '83! How much longer do you need!?" Dustin is looking at him like he's grown a second head and that-

What. Wait. What? Steve's brain screeched to a halt. "What."

"What what?" Dustin raises his hands, confused. "You need to talk to someone about what we all went though. The Upside Down! We all talk to you, but you don't talk to any of us and bottling it up isn't healthy."

Steve's arms go limp at his sides and all he can do is blink. They aren't- they don't think- Steve's brain hasn't restarted yet, which is what he blames for what leaves his mouth next. "Wait. This isn't about my crush on Eddie?"

A clatter and the sound of glass breaking, accompanied by Eddie's voice cursing follows that. Steve looked over to see that Eddie seems to have fallen back against the wall he was near, knocking a picture from the wall in the process. He's staring at Steve, though, eyes owlish and he looks like he's about to either faint or run away.

Steve's gut twists because neither of those were the reaction he'd hoped for (but they are the reactions he most expected).

"Your WHAT," Robin screeches and that brings Steve back to his brain.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He just. He just came out to everyone, all at once, in his living room. This is fine, this is fine. He can deal with this. The room and everyone (oh God, everyone) in it fades away as Steve puts one palm flat on his own chest, focuses on feeling his own touch, on the rise and fall of his chest, trying to remember how he draws breath usually. Normally he can pull himself back this way but it's so much, too much, everyone is watching him-

"Steve. Hand," El's voice is distant but he obeys, hand going out on instinct. El takes it and he feels someone else breathing deep. "Follow. In. In. In. In. Hold. Out. Out. Out. Out. Again. In-" El repeats and repeats, counting each second with a word, and slowly she comes into view, her hand held over his on Lucas' chest. El talks him through it as Lucas demonstrates because it's hard to give instruction and breathe at the same time. This is not the first time El's helped him through a panic attack, but it's usually Hopper who has to demonstrate the breathing for him.

She stops when he calms, allows him to pull his hand away from Lucas but not her own hand. She brings her other to clasp around his, holding his one hand with both of hers.

"Thank you," he whispers.

She gives him a nod, face still serious as she stands next to him.

Steve takes in his surroundings. His panic attack wasn't too long, thankfully, but enough that everyone has moved. He seeks out Eddie subconsciously and finds he's relieved to see that he's taken a seat on the couch, Will next to him all but tucked into his side. No one left, and Steve's glad for that, but they all look so uncertain and off kilter now, scattered across the living room. Robin is a few steps closer than she was before and looks like she wants to finish stepping forward, but not sure if she should.

"Um, thank you guys, for not freaking out while I was freaking out," Steve says, reaching out his other hand to Robin. She takes it and he pulls her into a half hug. "So, uhh, I thought I knew what this was about but guess I didn't."

"Of all the things to think we'd stage an intervention for, having a crush on Ed-someone is certainly not that high on our priority list," Robin snorts from where she's buried her head in his shoulder.

"Well, it makes sense now that it's not about- Maria said I should have talked to you guys sooner, like individually, but too late I guess."

"Who the fuck is Maria!?"

"Language, Henderson," Steve snaps on instinct. "She's my therapist."

For the second time tonight, Robin says, "your WHAT?"

"Therapist?" Steve repeats, but it sounds like a question even to himself because he's almost afraid there's a wrong answer here.

"I didn't know you were seeing a therapist, Steve," Nancy says, voice gentle in a way Nancy's voice really isn't usually. "Do you talk about- I don't know how to phrase this without prying."

Steve rescues her from the awkwardness of having to ask. "She knows about the Upside Down. Dr Owens introduced her after Starcourt. Why are you surprised by this?"

"Because we didn't know," says Dustin.

"I see Maria every Tuesday. How did you not know?" Steve asks.

"What do you mean how did we not know!?" Dustin shouts.

"Can you not shout at me?" Steve sighs. He needs to sit down, so he does. Just drops there, dragging Robin and El with him. Neither complains, though. "I've been going to therapy every Tuesday since '83. I guess it just became part of my schedule, so I don't think about it. And I did, like, actively hide I was seeing a therapist that first year so guess that was habit."

"Is this why you don't talk to us?" Robin's voice is quiet.

"Well, yeah. I didn't realize it was affecting you all so much that I didn't. I thought- I am talking about it. I told Maria about a nightmare I had just last week, I'm not bottling it all up," Steve reassures, "You all talk to me. I didn't wanna create some like, trauma loop where we just talk about how awful it was back and forth and never get, like, closure with it, so I didn't share back. I've just been trying to do for you guys what Maria does for me, but I'm not, like, qualified."

"We could all use some therapy," Nancy says in what seems to be a rather agreeable voice for the tone of the room currently, "but why were you the only one offered help after Starcourt?"

"Oh. Well. It was less Dr Owens offering Maria's service, and more my mom barely refraining from murdering Owens on the spot until he gave into every demand she had. Which, being fair to Owens, he was more than willing to help to begin with."

"Your mom spoke to Owens?" Jonathan speaks for the first time.

"Oh. Wow," Steve blinks, feeling a bit thrown. There's so much he's unintentionally hid from his friends, things that could have been helping them (like them talking to Maria instead of him, have any of them even been offered therapy?) but he's also realizing that they've made an awful lot of assumptions about him without talking to him. "So, wait, I need to know something. How did this come to happen?" He half-heartedly waves towards everything around him with the arm he has half wrapped around Robin.

"The intervention?" Max asks.

"Sorta? No. I get why you thought you needed to intervene, but I don't understand why you came to that conclusion without like, asking me things? All of you were like talk to us Steve we can help Steve we understand Steve but how did it not occure to any of you that I might already be talking to someone?"

It seems the only one brave enough to answer is the person who has known Steve the least, because Argyle says, "far as they could tell, who would you talk to that's not them, bro? Like, you come home to a big empty house. On bad days, Nancy can still cuddle up to her mom and just be held even though Mrs. Wheeler doesn't know what's up, but you're like, alone."

"I-what? What's the implication there?"

"Steve, we can count on one hand the number of times you've ever spoken about your parents," Nancy says, "I guess we all came to the conclusion that you were... you felt like you had to be alone in dealing with the trauma, like you're alone in this house. I mean, we dated for a year and a half, and I never even met your parents."

That's true, but it's because his parents were going through a rough patch and trying to work through his dad's... problem while also working on a big deal for the company. Steve's not going to pretend he knows how his dad's business works but it involves a lot of meetings in cities bigger than Hawkins. "You all mock me for being a rich kid, and then act... what, surprised that my parents actually have to run the company they own?"

"No. The only things you've ever told me about your parents was that your dad was an asshole and that you didn't want them to find out about beer at a party you threw!"

Well. That does paint his dad in a real bad light. "Well, I was younger and stupider when I said those things!"

"When the Russians drugged you, you made a comment. Something about only doing marijuana, dad," Robin says softly from his side. "it's kinda easy to draw the conclusion that your relationship with your parents might be negative at worst, absent at best."

Steve retracts his arm from around Robin, suddenly cold on the inside. He gently shakes off El as well and shoves off the ground so he's standing again, taking three steps back to be able to see everyone at a quick glance around. "I think it's best if we stop this here. I can't- I'm gonna say some shit I'll regret otherwise."

"Steve-"

"Robin," Steve cuts her off, feeling the need to defend his parents, who he loves so fucking much, from his friends. Anger rolls tight under his skin but he doesn't want to give in, so he goes cold instead. "I call my mom every night. They have a mobile phone my dad pays way too much for, so they can know I'm still alive no matter where they have to be currently. My parents are absent," he spits the word like venom, "because I begged them to leave after Starcourt and the only reason they didn't drag me out of here with them kicking and screaming is because I was 18 and legally, they couldn't! That's the only real fight I've ever had with my mom, you know. I told them they had to go because Hawkins is fucking cursed and I couldn't protect all of you and them and-" Steve clamps his mouth shut, swallows down the words. He's going to have to talk to Maria about his hero complex again (he thought he was getting better). No one says a thing in the silence, even though they all look like they want to. Steve takes a deep breath, trying to calm. "I'm going to go call my parents, because they're gonna start to worry, because they do that, if I don't call soon. Let yourselves out like you let yourselves in."

He doesn't quite stomp his way to the kitchen phone, but it's a close call. He could go up to the master bedroom and call privately but a part of him wants them to hear this conversation as they leave. He yanks the phone off the receiver a bit harder then needed and punches in the phone number he's got memorized now. It rings twice.

"Oh Steve, I was just starting to worry!"

"Hi mom. No need to worry. I'm, well, I'm not fine right now, but it's not any Upside Down nonsense."

"Oh, honey, do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not, uh, not right now. I just wanted to hear your voice. To tell you I love you, and I miss you. Dad, too," as Steve speaks he hears the sounds of movement, of shuffling down the hallway and the front door. Resolutely, he keeps his back to the kitchen entrance.

"We love and miss you, too."

"When will you guys be able to come visit?"

"Honey, do you need us? We can be on a plane in a few hours."

Steve smiles at that, and hopes she can hear it in his voice, "no. But, uhh, I wouldn't mind seeing you guys sometime soon."

"We'll make it happen. Hey, how about we have that barbeque you mentioned before. We'd like to be able to meet the people keeping you safe. I do wish the Byers still lived in town, I'd love to catch up with Joyce".

"Oh! I can't believe I didn't tell you! The Byer's are moving back. Oh God! Mom! Hopper's not dead!"

There's a fumbling noise, like perhaps his mom dropped the phone. Some staticky noise, shuffling sounds, and his father's voices comes through the phone, "Steve, your mother looks pretty pale, kiddo. What did you just tell her?"

"Jim Hopper's alive and kicking. The Starcourt Russians kidnapped him apparently."

A deep sigh and then his dad says, "We'll be home in two days, okay kiddo? Gonna want a full explanation of that, but I've got to go, your mom's going to faint -sit down, Stephanie- We love you."

"Love you, too."

Steve hangs up and turns around to see El, Will, and Eddie still lingering by the kitchen entrance. He's not as angry on the inside anymore, and it helps that these three didn't really pipe in and call his parents terrible people who don't love him. (okay, so he's putting words into everyone's mouths, Maria will frown at him hard when he talks about this, but he's going to allow himself to be a little petty right now).

"I am sorry for being part of this," El says, "I do not want you mad at me."

"Never, El," Steve strides forwards, easily pulling El into a hug. She's probably just worried for him because everyone else was worried, and not because she has some idea about what his parents are like. Honestly, El's probably never even thought out Steve's parents even once. "I'm not really mad at anyone. Just... frustrated, and upset, perhaps. We'll all make amends tomorrow, I'm sure."

El releases him after a moment and before she's even fully out of his arms, Will is pulling him into a hug just as deep. Steve's not sure why, he and Will aren't particularly close, but Will clings to him and makes this soft, sob noise as he presses his face into Steve's shoulder, and Steve's wrapping his arms around him on instinct, "Oh, hey baby Byers, it's all good."

Will shakes his head no and just sobs for a moment. Steve lets him, rubs his back after a moment, trying to be soothing. It's a long hug but not awkward. Finally Will pulls back, swiping at his eye with both his hands. "I- thank you, Steve."

Steve is bewildered by that, and it must show on his face, because he hears Eddie try and hide a laugh behind a cough. Steve says, "you're welcome?"

Will doesn't clarify. He just steps back and El takes his hand easily, and the siblings leave, presumably to climb into the back of someone's waiting car.

Which leaves him alone in his house with Eddie.

Eddie, who knows about his crush now because Steve blurted it out loud for everyone to hear.

"I'll leave if you want me to," Eddie says, like he can read Steve's mind, even as he leans against the counter next to him like he plans to stay, "but I- I don't wanna start throwing everyone else under the bus, but I really just thought this was a case of Hero Complex where you think you're only good for getting between us and danger and that we were all gonna try and like, show you how important you are to us all so you'd open up to us. I didn't even think about, like, your parents."

Steve believes that, so he huffs a dry laugh, "yeah. I'm sure you're idea of my parents are snotty rich people who look down on everyone."

Eddie's got the decency to be embarrassed about that truth, if his red face is anything to go on. "Sure, but like, I thought the same thing about you and that turned out to be wrong, so I can admit that. Also, I thought you were an asshole who always got what they wanted, and that's not really a bad parent trait, y'know? Caring about what your kid wants."

"Well, thanks for admitting to it, man."

Eddie nods, then looks away, towards the door. "Do you- should I leave? Do you even want me hear?"

Did he? "Yeah, I want you here. I kinda want Robin, too. I shouldn't have kicked everyone out like that."

"No dude, that was fair. But, uh, I can go chase down Nancy's car and see if Robin will return with me."

Steve does laugh, then, "no. We're so codependent as it is. I just... Robin's been here when I've called my mom. She's here all the time. I don't understand how she just... never picked up on it."

"You always call from the kitchen phone, or do you make it a private conversation? 'Cause Buckley and you are stupidly codependent, but if something's meant to be private, I doubt she's going to be eavesdropping on you."

That's true. And Steve knows he's being irrational. He never said anything, he knows he never even talks about his parents, that they're so rarely even in Hawkins these days, it isn't a farfetched idea to assume it's because he doesn't love them, or they don't' love him. That doesn't stop the hurt he feels for his parents. And a little for himself because, yeah, he never said anything, but also, they never asked.

They see their parents every day, have left their parents in the dark about the truth for reasons Steve doesn't agree with, but he'll never argue that choice with them, never assume they have a bad relationships with their parents for it.

"I had to tell my parents," Steve says, because he and Eddie are just standing in his kitchen in silence and he's thinking these things anyway. Might as well think out loud, "when Billy punched me unconscious and I woke up in my own damn car being driven by Max I just- what if I hadn't made it home to them? What if Billy had hit me one too many times, had beaten me to death? My mom was pacing the living room with worry when I did finally get home. They were supposed to already be on a plane to I don't even know where, but she was so worried about me that she stayed. She didn't even know about the Upside Down. Didn't know how close she'd come to losing me."

Eddie doesn't say anything, but he moves closer, to lean against the kitchen island, across from Steve.

"She was so fucking terrified when she saw me. Wanted to know who did it, what happened, where I'd been- she's never had to patch up anyone after getting a beating, so she tried to usher me back outside, to the car, a hospital I guess, but the thought of leaving the house was so overwhelming. After everything that just happened? I wanted to be home.

"I think she caught on to that. Instead, she pulled me into the bathroom and did her best to clean me up. I tried my hardest to hold it together but she- my mom just took my face in her hands, so gently, afraid to hurt me more," Steve mimics the motion, holding his hands out in front of him like he's cupping a face, "and just said you can tell me what happened, honey. No matter what it is. I love you so much. and I just- I broke down." Steve stops, sucking in a deep breath because just the memory of that night brings back the emotions. His mother's fear for his life. Her love for him.

"I told her everything. Just started talking and couldn't stop. And when I was done, a crying mess on the bathroom floor, she just... just sunk down beside me and held me as I cried. And the craziest part of all, she believed me. The next morning, when I thought for sure she was going to ask what kinda drugs I took to come up with that story, instead, she asked me if she could call Hopper. Wanted to talk to another adult about it," Steve swipes at his eyes, getting misty at the memories before continuing, "the only reason they aren't here right now is because I basically begged them to leave. To go grow their company, I'd said. I'd be here, and I promised to call every night, so they know I'm safe."

"Is that why you've never redecorated?" Eddie asks, out of left field, "'cause having their things around reminds you of them?"

Steve shrugs because he's not sure. "They told me I could change whatever. Make this house your own home, Steve my dad had said but, it's always felt like home, y'know?"

Eddie nods. "Not even a little tempted to change the wallpaper in your room? 'Cause it's pretty fuckin' atrocious man."

That makes Steve bark out a laugh, "ok, yeah, that's just me being lazy."

"Well, if you ever want help removing that wallpaper, count me in. The sooner, the better. How you can stand to look at it, and with those matching curtains, yikes," Eddie is grinning at him and Steve sees what he's doing. Distracting him from the heavy topic. Steve appreciates it. "I won't be caught dead in there until you change it."

"Oh? Hoping to be in my room sometime soon, Eddie?" Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, I did kinda just learn that my crush has a crush on me, so maybe I was hoping," Eddie gives a shrug, aiming to sound indifferent and aloof, Steve thinks, but he can see the grin Eddie's trying to fight from forming on his face, and the way his hand has gone to his hair, pulling some strands to hide that grin behind.

Something sweet and happy spreads through Steve's entire body. Steve opens his mouth to say something, he's not sure, but what comes out instead is a big yawn.

"Alright, bedtime for you I think," Eddie says.

Steve nods, because he is tired. The rollercoaster of emotions and events have worn him down. "You wanna stay over and watch terrible movies until we fall asleep?"

Eddie looks delighted to have been asked.

Today was a shitshow, and Steve knows he'll need to reach out to everyone and talk. Individually, because he's not sure he can handle everyone all at once again. But he needs them to know he was just angry and doesn't hate them all or something.

Tomorrow's got promise, though, so that's good enough.

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

[neocrias]

Two worlds apart

synopsis: After having some strange dreams about other dimensions, you take off on a journey to explore the nearby forest. What you hadn't expected was falling asleep next to a fairy circle and waking up to a very peculiar - and handsome - nymph close to you.

pairings: jun x reader

wc: 6k

aus: sweet as possible; star-crossed lovers

warnings: cursing; reader is referred to as a girl

Light...There's so much light. And a breeze, too. So soft, passing through your hair. Everything is so calm and apparentely good, but there's something missing and a strange feeling in your chest rises as you take a deep breath. Finally, a heat covers the light from where you laid, and all you can see is the pair of rosy cheeks, plump lips and a glowing skin hovering on top of you. That's when your heart fills up entirely: there's nothing to miss now. He's here.

You stand up in a hurry, feeling your heart pounding as a droplet of sweat runs down your temple. Your hand runs to your chest, sensing it rising and falling rapidly as you scan the dark room around you, getting each second more familiar with the well-known bedroom.

– Not this again… – You run your hands over your face, trying to recover from the fright that the dream so realistically gave you. An emptiness spreads through your body as quickly as the cold night and the small cottage seems smaller than it ever was. You look around, your eyes getting used to the darkness as the silhouettes of the furniture become clearer. – I need water.

You get up, looking for the simple kitchen beyond the walls of the small room. The ancient wood creaking under your feet as you tried vehemently to ignore the involuntary pain in your heart. Why do I always feel so bad after these dreams?

Why do I miss so much something that I don't know what is?

The water you were pouring into your glass almost overflows in the midst of your drowsiness and agitated state of mind, causing you to take a few steps back. Your head lifts again to the kitchen sink, looking beyond it and through the window that surrounded it. The impression of seeing a bright light amidst the darkness of the forest startles you for a few seconds, but the vision soon dissipates, leaving only a darkness too frightening to stare at for long. "Enough, this has to stop."

–And how's life as a reclusive hermit? – Ahrin, your best friend, asks over the phone, her voice slightly shaken by the audio.

– I don't know… I guess normal. – You answer, monotonously, popping another snack into your mouth as you absent-mindedly watch the TV on some uninteresting channel. – To tell you the truth, I've been having some strange dreams. I don't know if they're memories of when I used to come here as a child, but they always make me feel a bit sentimental.

– Girl… what if you're being haunted by your dead grandmother? What if she doesn't want you there? – Ahrin's voice is laced with humor and you let out a muffled laugh.

– I guess if my grandmother didn't want me here she wouldn't have left me this cottage in her will, would she? – You scoff, rolling your eyes.

– Yeah, so I think you're going crazy with the solitude and all the bush and forest around you. – She concludes. – “The Shining” ass type of thing. Please don't kill your wife and child.

– It's always so comforting to talk to you, Ahrin. – You ironize with a scoff. – I don't know… these dreams have been disturbing me too much, I always wake up with the feeling that something is missing. It's like I'm suffering. Ahrin, do you believe in…

But a loud noise suddenly interrupts you, making you look straight at the bookcase behind the television.

– Y/n…? Are you still there?

– I'll call you back, Ahrin. – You answer, hanging up. Getting up, you notice that a book from the last shelf has fallen onto the cottage's shag carpet, and you roll your eyes at yet another of the strange occurrences this house has provided you with.

Your life in the city used to be very stressful. The exhausting routine of working for a large company took all your time. And that's why, when your distant and reclusive grandmother passed away, leaving you the cottage where she had lived for most of her life as her only inheritance, you thought it was a great idea to take a few months off for yourself, quitting your job and living off small savings while taking some time to rebuild your life bit by bit.

However, life in isolation in the small cottage on the edge of the forest also had some stresses on a psychological level. At first, everything seemed perfect, but over time, constant signs began to terrify you: things falling, doors and windows opening and the repeated dreams - every night, they revealed themselves to you as something new, comforting you among the lights and breezes, until you spotted that mysterious figure with an undefined face and woke up, panting and with a feeling of enormous emptiness. Of course you tried to rationalize these events, but you couldn't help letting your superstitious mind take you to darker places, and at times you could swear you were being haunted by some kind of ghost or otherworldly creature.

Life without people was also a challenge: although you hated the crowded spaces of the city, and always refused to go out to big parties or restaurants full of people, being absolutely sure that you would love being able to be alone for a few months in the chalet, now this reality was turning against you, and the loneliness was starting to show. Talking to yourself was good, and a very common habit of yours, but sometimes you felt like you really needed someone by your side to listen to you, if only for a few moments. The loneliness was so widespread that last week you found an injured bird in your yard and didn't think twice about naming it, caring for it for days and crying tears when you had to return it to the wild. "I could have kept it a little longer."

Putting away your daydreams, you stood to pick up the book and return it to its original place, but something about the title startles you, giving you a very strange feeling: Fairies and Other Magical Beings, the letters say in spaced golden graphs across the thick green velvet cover.

As you looked at the book, a scene flashed through your mind.

– Grandma, what are fairies? – You asked as you looked curiously at the book on the top of the shelf. Your feet stretched as far as they could towards the curious artifact, but you still couldn't reach it.

– Ah, dear, fairies are very interesting creatures. They live in the forest and are very tiny. – Your grandmother's rough hand ran through your hair, messing it up a little. – But don't confuse them with the nymphs: they also live in the forest, but they are responsible for the elements of nature. There are the water nymphs, like the ondines, the air nymphs, like the sylphs…

– And the sylphs live in the forest behind your house! – You asked, excited by the subject.

– Of course they do. – Your grandmother's smile gradually grew, forming wrinkles around her eyes.

A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered this moment that had been stored in the back of your mind for so long. Your grandmother's smile, always a symbol of sweetness and affection for you, took on a sinister air of mystery as you remembered that day - as if she knew something you didn't, and was proud of it.

You shake the thoughts away, staring at the book in your hands for a while before opening it and scanning the chapters fiercely. Fairies. Sylphs. Elves. Elementals. Forests. Potions. Circles. Magic.

– Shit, am I being haunted by a… fairy?

– Okay, recap this for me, please… Do you think you have a fairy living with you? – Ahrin's voice resounded with laughter through the cell phone line.

– Yeah… A nymph, to be precise. – You answer, focused on carefully removing the fragrant apple pie from the oven. – They live in places like this, isolated forests. It's quite common, in fact, for people to see these apparitions in rural towns, really. Just google it.

– Yeah, yeah, it's all the same. Girl, are you okay? Do you want me to come and visit you? – Ahrin asks, starting to sound a little more worried and cautious. You roll your eyes at your friend's tone, knowing that you really were sounding a bit crazy with all that talk of magical creatures. For a few moments, you regret having told anyone about these daydreams: maybe you really were going mad because of the solitude in the cottage. Maybe that warm pie in your hands was another sign that you were crazy.

Thinking to yourself, you roll your eyes, frustrated at having let yourself go so far.

– Actually, there is a slight difference, but I won't bother you with that. – You finally reply. – I have to go, I'm busy in the kitchen.

With an “okay, bye” rather suspicious, Ahrin hangs up the call, and all that's left is the tortuous silence and the incredible smell of your baking. Tempted to eat the pie, you control yourself, leaving it cautiously on the small kitchen table.

– Now let's see if I'm right or going completely mad. – You whisper to yourself, staring at the pie with your arms crossed and a sudden, strange feeling that you're being watched.

Shrugging, you walk to the bedroom, ready to sort out some things on your laptop.

– No. fucking. way. – The words come slowly out of your mouth. – So it's true.

The half-empty pie tin stares at you with overwhelming irony. The leftover pieces of pie, cut in an imprecise and rounded way, no longer looked as tasty and lively as they did when they were first taken out of the oven: now, they looked almost stale. And absolutely devoured, in your own home, by someone who hadn't been you. But that was the least of it, of course.

You run to the bookshelf in the living room, placing your hands on the famous greenish book, endlessly searching through its pages without any kind of calm or order, almost making a few tears in the process.

“Fairies and nymphs usually accept gifts from humans, as long as they have been left willingly. Some of their favorites are baskets of fresh fruit, freshly-baked pies, pretty flowers or nectar juices. Be careful, though, because once a food or drink is touched by a magical creature, its fruitful and vital energy is taken away, and the food will no longer do anyone any good. Never consume the remains of a fairy or nymph.”

Your eyes go from the book to the rotten-looking pie, making you frown a little. You decide that the best thing you can do now is throw the pie away, being careful not to touch it any more than necessary.

Okay. Now you know what's been plaguing you for the last few months, but how do you stop it? How do you stop the dreams and get that crazy nymph out of your cottage?

“A good way to communicate with the fairies is to go to the places where they live: forests, fields and flowerbeds are good examples. Leaving offerings such as those mentioned above can arouse gratitude in these little creatures, thus guaranteeing you friends and companions who can help you when needed.”

– Good. – You sighed, dropping the book on the nearest table as you prepared in the kitchen to fill a basket with all the fruit, flowers and baked goods you could find in the little cottage. – Now I have to go into the middle of the forest to feed these creatures in exchange for a little peace. It's the height of it.

You looked up unconsciously, as if asking some greater force to help you. With the cloudy, cold weather outside, the urge to stay at home was great: but you had to do it. If it was going to guarantee you at least one peaceful night's sleep, without those strange dreams and the feeling of loss, then it was worth it.

A shiver ran down your spine as you surveyed the empty cottage one last time before closing the front door behind you.

The book, still open on the table, illustrated a very important last paragraph, which your haste had prevented you from reading:

“Be very careful with fairy circles. In dense woods or forests, it is common to find mushrooms planted in a circular shape, almost on purpose. These are actually powerful portals to the world of fairies and nymphs: and as tempting as it may seem to travel to another dimension, the ethereal world of nymphs holds far more magic than a human heart can bear. Never enter a fairy circle.”

You don't know exactly how many minutes have passed since you entered the dense forest, but the thin mist doesn't leave you much sunlight to guide you. It's the first time since you moved into the cottage that you've risked walking alone through the forest which, despite being isolated, still seemed full of dangers. You vaguely remembered walking among these same trees in early childhood, but you understood that a child's mind finds these natural mysteries much more enchanting than the troubled mind of a lonely young adult.

The cold wasn't tearing, but it was a little uncomfortable. The warmth permeated your skin without burning, but left an ominous reminder that it was all around you, and the air you inhaled went deep into your lungs.

You didn't have to go that far to deliver a basket to a bunch of hypothetical nymphs, but you wanted to make sure you wouldn't be bothered by any more strange beings - whatever they might be. So, when you reach a clearing after a long walk, you decide that's where you're going to stop and sit down to rest for a while.

– Okay, here are the fruits. – You grumble, holding out the basket to the empty space in front of you. – They're not very fresh, because it's not the season, but…

You shrug, feeling a sudden tiredness take over your body.

– Now, please, please, – you plead, putting your hands together in prayer. – Take these strange dreams away from me. I can't stand it any longer. There's something, here, – and your index finger travels to your chest, pressing lightly – that hurts every time I wake up.

But before you could complain any more about how uncomfortable it was, your eyes began to get heavier and heavier, along with your limbs. Of course, your rational side wouldn't let you sleep in the middle of the forest, but it didn't seem to be working, as if there was some kind of trance moving you towards it. Yes, leaning a little and lying down on the damp grass seemed the right thing to do. Naturally, that forest was calling you, and you could swear you heard a soft voice moaning some kind of deep incantation, guiding you as your eyes closed softly. And just like that, you fell asleep.

Without even realizing how many mushrooms surrounded you.

Light… lots of light. And sparkles through the light green trees, as if everything was shimmering. The slight rustle of leaves above you calmed you down. Everything seemed perfect, even the slight warmth of the sunlight above. It's when your eyes open a little wider that this light is dimmed, and all you can see are rosy cheeks and plump lips, hovering above you as your heartbeat increases.

"It's happening again, another one of those dreams that messes with me,” you think.

But as soon as you blink your eyes hard, hoping to wake up, you are faced with a new sight as soon as you open them wide: a pair of eyes. Brown. Dark. Deep under the light flutter of curious eyelashes.

You let out an exclamation of surprise and the air around you seems to speed up. The breeze, once calm, becomes desperate along with the pair of eyes above. The leaves around the clearing begin to fly around you and you finally sit down on the ground where you were lying before.

Your eyes search for the person you had never seen before, even though he appeared in all your dreams with his mysterious and unrevealed face. Your heart beats harder than ever and you bring one of your hands to your chest to try to stop the feeling that closes your throat.

But there was no one in the clearing apart from you - and, of course, the leaves flying wildly around you.

– I think she can see me. – A sweet, unsure voice practically whispers next to you, but there's no owner for that familiar yet distinctive sound.

– Stop being a coward, Jun. – A second voice joins the conversation, a little harsher. Your eyes scan the clearing, but there's no one there. A sense of dread runs through your body, chills running up your spine as you feel your head getting more and more airborne and your blood freezing.

– Who's there? – You take the initiative to ask, your voice shaking in the process. The flying of the leaves slows down for a few seconds, limiting itself to a few smoother glides.

– I don't think she can see us now. – The same second voice comments, and you quickly turn in the direction you felt the sound come from. To your surprise, the sudden movement of your torso brings you face to face with a new sight: a man.

You almost scream with shock, but something inside you stops you, and you find yourself completely dazzled by the sight: a young man with fine features, platinum hair and flowing white clothes was watching you carefully, leaning over your figure as you sat on the ground. Your eyes met and you finally understood. It was him. The boy who appeared in your dreams.

The rosy cheeks, the lips. It was all recognizable to you. His face was centimeters apart, but you couldn't feel his breath on you, and for a few seconds it seemed too unreal. Almost as if it was just that - a dream. Translucent and bright.

His eyes flickered in your direction a few times, but you just watched him in silence. For some reason, the apparition didn't disconcert you: on the contrary, you felt calmer than you had in months. Your heart still beats heavily, and something like nervousness didn't leave your chest. Something inside you told you that this was an important moment, but you didn't understand why.

– Who are you?

– You shouldn't be here.

You say in unison. The boy hesitates a little, unsure, and it's almost as if he's afraid to address you.

You look around. The leaves in the clearing have stopped fluttering and the wind no longer blows hard. Now, only a light breeze hung around, caressing your cheeks and hair.

– Where am I? – You asked emphatically, looking out at the unusually bright and ethereal clearing.

– In the realm of the fairies. A place highly unsuitable for humans. – The same harsh voice you heard earlier utters, and a dark figure beside you catches your eye, making you turn to face the new person in the clearing.

Another young man materialized in front of you. This one, also with delicate and beautiful features, but dressed entirely in black, with sharper eyes and a wry smile on his face. You feel like you know him, but you've never seen him before.

– We need to take you back. – The one in front of you says again, in a disappointed tone.

– So you're the ones living in my house? – You ask acquisitively and the two young men exchange guilty glances. The one in white arches his eyebrows, but the one in black just shrugs, unconcerned.

– You're the one who took me there, so… – The black one says, nonchalantly. – And Jun is just plain stupid.

– Sicheng… – The one in white warns, reproaching him.

– Jun… – The other imitates his tone, mocking his friend.

– Jun? – The name escapes your lips before you can think, and it sounds like a question. For a second, the name seemed strangely familiar, but now you couldn't understand where the knowledge came from.

– That'd be me. – He replies, gently, giving you a cautious smile. The young man extends his hand towards you and you accept it. As soon as your hands touch, a warmth spreads through your body and a shiver runs down your spine. There is no roughness in Jun's hand, and his touch is so soft that you hardly feel it.

You finally stand up, coming face to face with the boy. It's only then that you notice a subtle movement behind Jun's back, and you lean a little to see what it is.

Wings. Yes, he's a fairy.

– Air nymph. – Sicheng interrupts your thoughts, waving one of his hands in front of you to snap you out of your trance. – There is a difference.

You're startled - especially at the possibility of that strange being reading your thoughts.

– Sorry, it's involuntary. – He explains himself, again interfering in your thinking. – And also hella funny. – Jun arches his eyebrows at him, incredulous and impatient.

– Let's get you out of here. – Jun gently changes the subject. – Don't worry about him.

– Why do you appear in my dreams? – You pluck up the courage to ask. You didn't want to leave without answers.

Jun's eyes widen and an expression of surprise takes over his face. Sicheng follows him, looking extremely curious about the situation.

– For God's sake, Jun… What have you done? – Sicheng asked, turning to his alleged friend. Your eyes turn to the two boys alternately, trying to get some clue as to what was going on - and what they didn't want to tell you.

– What are you talking about? You were the first to interact directly with her! A human. – And Jun's tone was a mixture of accusation and forced contempt, trying to reproach Sicheng, who was unfazed.

– In my defense, it was her who interacted directly with me.

– I didn't do any of that! – You defend yourself, seeing the two pairs of dark eyes turn in your direction. Sicheng grinned mischievously arching one eyebrow in your direction.

– Are you sure about that, cutie? – He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You don't lose confidence, but you begin to wonder if you haven't actually interacted with a fairy in recent months, even indirectly.

And only then, paying attention to Sicheng's smug posture, do you realize that he doesn't have a pair of translucent wings floating behind him.

So he's not a nymph…?

– Touché. – He jokes before you can vocalize your feelings. The boy then uncrosses his arms, tilting his head a little before surrounding himself in a black smoke that gradually grew around him. From head to toe, feathers appear on his body as his form shrinks in size.

The transformation before your eyes makes you open your mouth in shock, but it all starts to make a little more sense when the man in front of you takes the form of a bird. And not just any bird: the crow you helped recover from an injury weeks ago.

Sicheng, in his bird form, displays some of his feathers ironically, and you finally understand the familiarity you felt towards him before. A feeling of naivety passes through you, unsettling you a little.

The little crow bends down towards you and, as his last act of cockiness, he takes off into the forest, without waiting for your reaction to his big revelation.

– Show-off. – Jun complains, watching the bird fly away.

– So, what do I do to stop you from haunting my house? – You ask, now alone with the nymph Jun. He turns, giving you a slightly affected look.

– That won't happen again. – He mutters and you can see a slight blush rising to his cheeks. – Now I'm going to get you out of here, come on. I'll explain on the way.

You shrug, and although it didn't seem like the safest thing in the world to walk behind a nymph through a strange, shimmering version of the forest you knew, there didn't seem to be many other options either.

– How did I end up here? – You begin, after a few seconds of silence. Your incessant questions didn't seem to affect Jun, who remained patient and focused on the trail in front of him.

– The fairy circle. – He replied, unapproachable. – The wheel-shaped mushrooms, basically.

– Ah… – You start to remember some of the blurs and how a sudden sleepiness came over you when you entered that part of the forest. – And can't we go back and get out?

– The entrance door is not the same as the exit in the fairy world. –Jun turns and smiles sideways.

Your heart squeezes at the nymph's smile, but you don't understand why. It was the same feeling as always with all those dreams, and you feel the urge to keep asking him questions until you finally understand what strange connection you had with him, or what kind of spell he was putting on you.

You are stopped, however, when you notice the familiarity of the place around you. A small stone path, a garden neatly planted under the blue sky and not interrupted by the green of the dense forest that surrounded it: this was it! Your house! The cottage!

As much as the idea of getting out of that world excited you, something dark flashed across your face in a matter of seconds: if you got home now, you would never have the answer to your questions, and you would never be able to confront Jun about his constant appearances in your dreams.

– We're here. – You exclaim dejectedly. Squinting your eyes slightly, the cottage seems strange. The colors are more vibrant, the paint chips that had faded at the edges of the wooden walls were now impeccably painted, the vines that used to climb up around the house were no longer there, and a soft yellow light was coming from inside the cottage, which emitted a thin smoke from the chimney that you were sure you hadn't left on.

– The fairy world is a parallel dimension to the human world. – Jun begins to explain as he notices your strangeness. – Many things are very similar, even the same, but they are just deformed projections of what you have. They are irreconcilable. – He lowers his head slightly, hiding his face so that you don't see him, but you notice his sad countenance.

– It's strange… Why do I feel like we've already met? – You have the urge to touch him, and the words are out of your mouth before you know it. Jun arches an eyebrow in your direction, waiting for some explanation of what you've just said, but nothing comes. Even you don't understand what's going through your head, and maybe that's just the effect of the shimmering translucence of this perfect, complicated world.

– I've been to your cottage a few times. – He begins, looking embarrassed. Jun takes the lead, walking to go around the house and continue on your way. – It's subtle, but sometimes what we do here in our world can affect yours a little, and vice versa.

– So you were the one who knocked things over! – You exclaim excitedly, picking up your pace to walk alongside Jun. Strangely enough, even the nymph's gait was light, and he often moved and you could barely notice much effort on his part, as if he barely weighted anything.

A shy smile grows on his lips, and he tries yet once again to hide his face from you in a shy manner. Jun scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable at having been caught, but you're willing to find out more. You lean in his direction, trying to get a glance of his eyes, but Jun just suddenly stops in his tracks, almost bumping into you at the sudden proximity. Looking right into his eyes, and standing so close to the nymph, a strange sensation passes through you, and it's as if you've overlapped the image of a much younger Jun in front of you.

You blink, trying to dispel the strange image, and all that remains are the familiar features of the boy in front of you. A shiver runs down your spine, and suddenly you feel an absolute but unfounded certainty that this was not your first time in the fairy world.

Jun lets out a mirthless laugh, having no idea what had been going on in your mind for the last second, and turns away from you, keeping walking smoothly and determinedly through the bright forest.

– Speaking of which, that pie was great. – The boy murmurs, almost inaudibly, but you hear perfectly. His lips move into a smile, which precedes a laugh.

–I knew I wasn't going crazy! – Jun follows your laughter, seemingly amused by your reaction. – How can you touch things from the human world?

You're curious again, and this time Jun seems a little more willing to answer you.

– As I said, the things here are copies of your world. – He shrugs his shoulders. – If you have a pie there, the pie appears here, especially if you make it with the intention of giving it to a nymph. It takes a bit of energy on our part, but we can access your world a little more easily than the other way around.

You make a sound of confirmation, understanding a little about the boy's explanation.

– Can you… watch us? – You ask, curious. Jun blushes at the implication of your speech, and nods slightly. His confirmation also makes you a little shy, and you begin to wonder how much Jun has seen of you in your daily affairs.

– I didn't mean to scare you. – Jun begins, sounding apologetic. – With the things falling and all. I guess I just ended up being a bit too curious, and clumsy too. I'm sorry.

He lets out a shy laugh and you follow him.

– No problem. – You raise your arm and lightly touch the boy's hand in a gesture of consolation. The touch sends shivers through your body when you come into contact with Jun's soft, delicate skin. Again, an image flashes through your head, along with a very strong sense of longing and tenderness.

All of a sudden, you realize that you can't leave the fairies' world. At least not without the answers you seek.

Jun seems to feel something similar, and slowly walks away, watching your facial expression with his eyes, searching for anything different. He tries to act normal, but it's clear that the spark between the two of you has reached him too, in ways you can't understand.

– Why do I dream about you, Jun? – You ask almost in a whisper. The trees around you have become denser along the way without you noticing, and now the world around you seems darker than it has ever been. The pronunciation of his name on your lips affected him, and you can tell by his wide eyes. The nymph stops in front of you and seems to question whether or not he should answer your question. He hesitates a few times, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it.

A soft breeze circulates, and you feel a little calmer. However, this doesn't stop your heart from beating uncontrollably fast. A dark shadow passes across the sky, startling you and Jun, who swallows dryly.

– I don't know much about human dreams. – He replies at last, focused on looking at the sky.

You realize he's lying, and are ready to question him once again when the same dark shadow passes over you, stopping behind Jun at an impressive speed, transforming into the human version of Sicheng you had met earlier and interrupting the conversation.

– I see you've finally arrived. – Sicheng explains, stopping beside Jun with his calculated gait, but not at all as light and subtle as the nymph's. – The portal to go back.

You squint your eyes, trying to understand what is so special about that dark part of the forest. Sicheng notices your gaze, and moves a little away from the two of you to show you with a wave of his arm something behind the dark trees in a clearing that had gone unnoticed by you.

Tombstones. Rocks. Stone angels. A cemetery.

The image wouldn't terrify you so much in the world you come from, but something about seeing that place right there, hidden in the middle of the forest, surrounded by such a sparkling and beautiful reality was unsettling on an inexplicable level. The pounding in your heart became a strong squeeze and a pain that you couldn't tell where it was coming from.

– A source of life as a gateway. – Sicheng explains. - And a den of death as the exit door. – He clicks his tongue, seemingly displeased by the morbidity of the place.

But you weren't ready to leave yet. You needed to understand what it was you had been feeling for so many months. You needed more time with Jun. You needed to see him and feel again that strange sensation that had been troubling you. You couldn't leave without understanding him.

Why was his presence so familiar? Why did his smile hurt you? Why did your heart beat so fast when he approached? What were you feeling?

– When a nymph loves a human, that person is condemned to a deep connection with them. – Sicheng said, without looking anywhere in particular. – Come on, it's time she knew.

– Sicheng, don't… – Jun warns, and for the first time his voice sounds less soft and more serious.

But the shapeshifter doesn't listen to his colleague and comes dangerously close to you.

– Thoughts, strange physical responses, dreams… – He lists, searching your eyes for every reaction. – That tightness in your chest, you know? All courtesy of our loverboy here. – He points at Jun, who knits his eyebrows together, disturbed.

Your gaze alternates between the two boys, and now they seem a little taller than before. Without you noticing his approach, Sicheng appears at your side and pushes you. He doesn't use enough force to knock you down, but only to make you unbalanced, tumbling to the side and finally into the gloomy clearing of the cemetery.

Just as you stabilize yourself, you're invaded by a sharp headache. The last thing you see around you is the despair in Jun's eyes before the memories flood back.

– My grandmother told me about you… You're a fairy! Look at your wings!

– I'm a nymph, to be precise.

– Ah, it's all the same!

– Actually, there is a slight difference, but I won't bother you with that…

Jun's smile lit up the clearing, and the cemetery no longer seemed as sinister as when you had accidentally wandered into it.

It turns out that childhood comes with a gift: curiosity. And spending the vacations at your grandmother's cottage on the edge of the forest after hearing thousands of stories about magical creatures definitely helped to feed it. When you got lost, you cried desperately, but you didn't expect another boy to appear: a boy with wings and a kind smile.

– Can we be friends? – You asked, raising your pinky finger towards Jun. He didn't seem to understand exactly what you meant, so you gently brought his hand up to yours, showing him how to cross fingers together. – There, now we'll be friends forever!

The memory causes a tear to involuntarily run down his cheek, and Jun seems to understand exactly what was going through your head, because his gaze goes exactly to the gravestone where you first met, more than ten years ago.

But that wasn't the only memory that flashed before his eyes.

– And then he broke up with me! – You finished explaining the story to Jun, who nodded calmly. You hid your head a little more between Jun's outstretched legs in the forest grass, feeling him stroke your hair with the greatest delicacy in the world while you tried to hide the tears forming in your eyes from him.

Jun placed his hand lightly on your cheek, turning your face so that you were facing him. Lying there on the grass, watching Jun above you and the blue sky that hung imposingly above him, none of your problems in the human world seemed to matter. Only he mattered, and now you understood why, at sixteen, every boyfriend you'd ever had had dumped you: you only had eyes for one.

The nymph leans over you, and the warm touch of the sun is overshadowed by Jun's equally warm closeness. You felt a refreshing breeze around you both, and some fallen leaves circled you in a slow dance in the wind before Jun's lips finally touched yours, transforming the whole world you had known until then into something new and far more beautiful.

The crying was now more aggressive, and you were sobbing. Your hands went to your lips, unable to bear the weight of the memory. In the midst of your confusion, Jun had approached you unbeknownst to you, and rested both hands on your cheeks, wrapping them around it tenderly.

– How could I have forgotten you after so many years? – The thought tortured you. There were so many memories with Jun, at so many different stages of your life, that now it finally made sense to feel the absolute emptiness you had felt over the last few months.

A large part of your life had been erased, but not your love for him.

Jun brought your bodies closer, sticking your foreheads together while he breathed irregularly, his eyes closed. You enjoyed the closeness for a few moments, trying to force your mind never to forget that moment, even though it already seemed to slip through your fingers like sand.

Finally, the nymph sighed deeply and brought your lips together with a ferocity that was unlike his usual delicacy. It was a desperate, thirsty, longing kiss. If you hadn't remembered Jun for all those years, and had still suffered his absence, you couldn't even bear to think how much Jun had had to be alone with the memories of both of you. His hands wrapped around your waist, gluing your bodies together in sync. Your hands squeezed the back of Jun's neck tightly, as if he was going to disappear in that instant and you needed to prevent him from doing it so.

The kiss was something new for you, but at the same time it was painfully familiar, and you could taste his tears between the two of you. Jun finally separated them, still holding you close, squeezing you for fear that you would leave.

– I missed you so much.

– So why did you let me go? Why did you make me forget you?

– I didn't… I…

– Humans and nymphs can't be together, Y/n… – Sicheng interrupted, also entering the cemetery. His words didn't say anything absurd, but you felt them like a knife in your chest.

It didn't matter. It would be different with you two. You and Jun could work together: you were born for each other.

A rebellious feeling overwhelmed you, and you knew that now that you finally had your love back, you wouldn't give it up.

But Jun's taciturn gaze, which never left his face, was affected by his friend's harsh words. You felt that he didn't think the same way as you, and that killed you inside.

– I had to do it. – He whispered so that only you could hear. – I couldn't take you out of your world, and I didn't want you to suffer… The distance helped, but when I realized that you'd gone back to the cottage, and were now living there… I couldn't keep my distance any longer. I was wrong and selfish. I never imagined that you would dream of me.

– No, I don't mind. – You exclaim, full of fervor. Deep down, there's a small part of you that understands that this was the best thing to do for both of you, but you didn't want to let him go for anything, especially not after spending so many years without Jun. – I'm not going back. I want to stay with you.

But Jun just held your trembling hand into his, gently bringing it to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there, without taking his eyes off yours.

– I'll leave you two alone. You know what you have to do. – You heard Sicheng's voice behind Jun, and the young man suddenly turned into a crow, flying away.

– Please. – You beg, letting the tears run free down your cheeks. Jun's grip on your hand tightens and his eyebrows draw together in an expression of deep pain. The nymph nods quietly, very subtly, and you feel your heart grow lighter.

– I love you. – Jun says in an incisive whisper, meeting your eyes in reaffirmation. He moves closer again, planting a kiss on your lips that is much calmer and more restrained than the last one, lingering for a few seconds next to you. – And I need you to live.

A push on your shoulder shoves you away, and you feel yourself fall. Your eyes widen as you take one last look at Jun, noticing the bright tears falling from his eyes, a mixture of guilt and pain

And then, darkness.

Light… there's a lot of light. An uncomfortable, painful, cold light.

– Oh my God! – A voice exclaims as you open your eyes with difficulty, feeling your whole body ache. – She's here!

Sounds of leaves rustling on the ground and flying through the air in a spiral around you wake you up, and the pain of the recent farewell attacks you again.

Two hands find you, gently holding your shoulders. For a few seconds, your heart stops beating in futile hope. When you look ahead, however, it is Ahrin's face that stares back at you in shock.

Your friend begins to cry, hugging you tightly. She drops the lantern she was holding to the ground, leaving the forest around you dark again, but not dark enough for you not to notice the circle of mushrooms surrounding you. The darkness, however, doesn't last long, and many other lantern lights appear, with hooded people approaching the two of you in the midst of the storm that was wetting everything around you.

– What are you doing here? How did you get here so quickly? Who are these people? – You ask, still holding your best friend who is bursting into tears.

– Quickly? Y/n, I haven't been able to talk to you for over two months. You've disappeared.

Your alleged disappearance into the human world had caused quite a stir. Although you had spent little less than a day in the fairy world, time had flown by much faster in your world, and it was only then that you understood why Jun had made such a point of keeping you away, even if it hurt both of you.

Living with him would mean giving up everything you've known so far - which you would do, for him - but God only knows what long-term effects the fairy world would have on a human. At least those were the thoughts that comforted you when you remembered Jun.

Since then, you've never dreamt of him again. Even if you wanted to, and even if you tried. You were afraid of forgetting him again, so you tried to communicate in every way.

– Fine, we'll try again tomorrow… – You huffed, letting your shoulders slump in disappointment as you looked at the dining room table. The apple pie seemed to stare back at you, completely untouched.

[queer-overwatch]

Hi!! Could I request maybe a Venture x Reader (Any pronouns will do) on like a museum date? I want Venture to yap.Please and Thank you. ( Also bless the both of you I needed more Venture content I was tweaking without them)

Venture at a Museum!

Aaa ty sm for the request!!! I love that idea so much- they are such a yapper I love them <3 also your welcome hehe, had to take thing into our own hands >:3 (also bc u didn't request a specific format (like hcs or oneshot) i just did a short lil oneshot, hope thats okay!) -Frisk

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"Look, look- they have a whole section on rocks! Kinda basic selection but it's still rocks!"

You never thought you'd be able to learn so much about rocks in one day, but it seemed like Venture had made it their personal mission to force as much information into your brain as possible. You didn't mind, really! It was always nice listening to them rant about all the cool stuff they found while walking around the museum you'd planned to bring them to, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"Augh, I love sedimentary rocks- they're my favorite! 'cuz sometimes they have like, little fossils in them and I'm like, "Woah! A cool thing in another cool thing!" and it's awesome! One time I found a trilobite fossil in a rock, it was so cool! I wonder if they have any here- that'd be so amazing! I wonder what they taste like-"

After spilling every single fact they could think of about the rocks on display, Venture drags you to a section of the museum dedicated to Egyptian history, though they mostly just seemed interested in the architecture of the pyramids. You really did try to listen, but you mostly just caught the gist of their long, long, long explanations- something about a Mastaba being like a sort of prototype to pyramids? You were just happy to see them so excited, even if you didn't quite understand what they were so hyped about.

"Oh, if only that British lady could go back to ancient Egypt and get the architects of their time to answer my questions! I'd give anything to be able to do that!" Sensing the slight disappointment creeping up on them, you decide to try and bring Venture elsewhere, not wanting them to spend any energy on being upset by what they can't do.

"Why don't we go look at the dinosaur fossils? I'm sure there's some mistakes in the descriptions that you can correct!" You take their hand, gently pulling them away from the long essay-like description of images of the pyramids that they were reading. Incising them with promises of being able to show off their intensive knowledge of dinosaur fossils, or fossils in general.

Venture perked up almost immediately, following behind you as they ready themselves to go on and on about their favorite dinosaur ever, the Deinocheirus! You tried to ask why it was their favorite ones, and all they said was something about it being "them fr fr" and having rocks in its stomach. You weren't too keen on questioning that one.

They take a large step so they're walking next to you, swinging your arms as you walk, "It's always been one of my biggest goals to find a dinosaur fossil! I really hope I do one day, if I did I could die happy!"

"Please don't die- I would be so sad if you died." You squeeze their hand, voice light as you joke with them.

"Aw but I wanna! I wanna be a fossil for future people like me to discover! When I do die I wanna be buried with a bunch of cool stuff! Maybe mess around with my bones a little, just to throw 'em off!" As you finally reach the fossil exhibits, they abandon you to run off and check over every. single. fossil. which while endearing, gave you a lot of running to do in an attempt to catch up.

"Finally! For once a museum that gets everything right! Well, everything as far as we know-" They stand next to one of the larger fossils, not anything you recognized as you take your place next to them, catching your breath.

"Wow, how impressive-" you wheeze, standing up straight and stretching out your legs as you link arms with Venture, trying to stop them from running off on you again.

They laugh, grabbing you by the shoulder and dragging you in the tightest hug you've ever received.

"Thank you, so, so, so much for planning this. And for listening to me talk about rocks so much, and for caring about me- and a million other things! I can't even remember everything you've done for me, but I know its a lot!" They let you go, still holding you by the shoulders, the biggest smile you've ever seen on a person splayed across their face.

"Of course-! I love spending time with you, you're well aware of that, silly." You laugh, grabbing their wrists and taking their hands off your shoulders, holding their hands as you admire the glow of excitement on their face.

"Welllll since you clearly don't mind, can we go to this other museum I found online next week?! I heard they have an area where you get to watch an hour long video on the story of Julius Caesar!"

[deathbxnny]

So we basically know from the game lore that jingyuan, blade and dan heng are like, ancient asf so what about how they'd be with an s/o, crush, love interest whatever who's the reincarnation of their past lover? Like the s/o doesn't remember them or their past lives but is still friendly and nice just confused on why this guy is pining after them lol how'd they go about wining them over?

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A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for the beautiful request! I absolutely love this idea!<33

Content: Fluff, mutual pinning(kinda), reincarnation troupe, a tiny bit of angst, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread!))

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》Jing Yuan

Is very upfront with his emotions, when courting you. He knows what you like and what to do to make you like him, so he'll definitely have you again in no time. With that said, he was delighted to see you again after so long. Ofcourse, he feels a pinch of sadness in his heart, yet quickly replaces it with the excitement of potentially making new memories with you in this lifetime again.

You're a little hesitant at first though, as you're a little baffled as to why such an important man like him was interested in you. But you still were intrigued by him and decided to give him a chance, which he knew you would. You were never able to resist his charms after all.

Will absolutely spoil you with everything he has. You can as much as glance at something and suddenly have it delivered to your door the next day by your dear General. He also takes you on luxurious outings, smiling in delight when he sees you smile and enjoy yourself.

He's just glad to spend time with you again and vows to protect you with his life once more, when you two finally get together.

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》Blade

He was honestly close to not approaching you, thinking he didn't deserve you anymore after what he had become. Yet he couldn't help himself, when you bumped into him and gave him the beautiful smile he missed more than anything in this world.

He'll be more slow with his approach, worried that he might intimidate or scare you off, if he's too fast or passionate. Will give you simple, yet meaningful gifts that he knows you'll like. It warms his heart to see you get so excited and happy about them too, even if they aren't anything special.

He takes you out on simple dates, always making sure you're okay with everything he does with you and that you'll have a great and fun time. Seeing you so calm and happy with him around heals a part of his broken soul. You always had that effect on him.

Is grateful to be your lover once more when the time comes and makes sure you know that. Spending time with you again is worth all the pain he suffered through and he'll value it for as long as it lasts.

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》Dan Heng

He was so surprised and even taken aback, when he saw you again. He was also hesitant to approach you, as you belonged to a past he wanted to forget. And yet, he couldn't stop his endless feelings returning for you. Therefore he decided to pursue you again and makes things right this time.

He takes his time with you, making sure you have feelings for him too, before he says anything about his. He always seeks you out during missions or breaks, always keeping you close one way or another.

He gifts you things he knew you would like, telling you that they reminded him of you. Watching your eyes light up and your face flush at his heartfelt words made it all so worth it.

Is so thankful, when you agree to be his lover once more. He holds you close, his heart thumping with excitement as he gives you a rare smile. He's glad, to have a chance at a better future with you now.

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A/N: Thank you again for this cute idea! I hope, it was okay!<3