#whatever that word for “humans seeing faces in inanimate objects” is

[doctor-croctor]

I sprayed my attic with foam recently and noticed that some foam that got on my old shoes looked like a skull, so i filled off the excess. I think it turned out pretty neat.

[captain-writes]

Marionette

Jimmy could deal with the toy jokes. He didn’t like them, but he could deal with them. Most of the time, at least.

It was the strings that threw him off. When he noticed them, it was during yet another argument with Joel during one of Jimmy’s few visits to Stratos. While the god went on about whatever thing he was complaining about now, Jimmy caught sight of a set of strings, tied to small loops at the ends.

“Jimmy?” Joel prodded, concern painting his voice as he didn’t get the reaction he expected out of Jimmy, in fact getting no reaction at all. The sheriff continued to stare at the strings with a blank look on his face.

“Sorry, that’s on me. I must be tired,” Jimmy tried to explain as he jerked out of the unresponsive state that he had been in.

Joel’s brow furrowed further, “You sure, Jim?”

Jimmy waved him off, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just, um, do me a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

Jimmy lifted a hand to point at the strings he had noticed, “Those strings, keep Hermes away from them.”

Joel looked in the direction that Jimmy gestured, blinking when he saw the item he was referring to. He didn’t remember putting strings there, which doubled the concern sitting in his heart. Something wasn’t right here.

“Jimmy, what?”

“In fact, don’t touch them directly yourself either.”

“Jimmy, look at me,” Joel commanded, grabbing the other man by the shoulders, “What’s wrong with those strings?”

Before Jimmy could answer, a young voice called out, “Daddy! What’s that?” Both men turned to look as Hermes approached them, his attention caught by the object of their conversation where it sat between them and the child.

“Marionette,” Jimmy breathed, slipping from Joel’s distracted grasp just fast enough to arrive at the item before Hermes.

Both father and son could see the fresh tear roll down Jimmy’s face as he seized the loops with both hands, the formerly inanimate object lifting to swirl around his wrists as other strings moved to tie around his throat and ankles. The light in his eyes died as he crashed to the floor as though he no longer had control over his limbs.

Joel thought back to the word Jimmy had last said with horror, realizing just what the sheriff had done and the fate that he had protected Hermes from.

Because that wasn’t Jimmy any longer.

Just a marionette waiting for someone to make him dance to their tune.

But Jimmy had been scarred along those same lines for the entire time that Joel had known him, leading the god to believe there must be some way to free someone from the strings that had stolen Jimmy’s will.

And it seemed like now it would be Joel, who had called Jimmy a toy for so long, that would have to prove him to be human.

[lasagnaboxlesbian]

my heads in heaven, my soles are in hell (let’s meet in the purgatory of my hips)

(PREVIEW) 90s AU where demon!Eddie walks into Steve's internet café

Rated: [T]

It was not an uncommon occurrence for Eddie to have a hangover.

Being able to consume drugs and actually feel the effects of them was one of the more bittersweet parts of taking up his human vessel. The start of the night tended to be the most fun with new faces and drinks all blurring into a symphony of colours. Slashes of light cutting through the grimy dance floor, past the crowd and whoever managed to pull Eddie into their orbit.

Letting people think they were the ones leading him to them was half the fun. The rest, well…

He clutched the side of his head, eyes squinting under the bright morning sun through dark sunglasses. Eddie still couldn’t find it in himself to regret last night. Or the last few weeks of exploring the city, one bar crawl at a time.

It wasn’t until he found himself stumbling into a metal chair that attempted to look around at where he was walking.

“Stupid little-” Eddie groaned, flipping off the inanimate object and cursing the fleshy bounds of his current state. He walked a few feet back to try and read the golden letters painted across darkened glass. 

HardCover Cafe (ft. The Dot Bar)

Huh.

Eddie hadn’t been in and around Indianapolis in who knows how long. That was the thing about never sticking around that long. Even after a few years the atmosphere becomes unrecognizable. Whether distorted by the memories of the past or by the expectations of the future, kicking around in his old stomping grounds usually meant that there was something interesting happening.

And this storefront called to him.

The outside maintained the same historical structure as the other storefronts, stained wood with golden embellishments. Eddie pulled on the brass glass door handle and heard a soft chime ring above him. He was first hit with the metallic sheen of sleek metal tables, contrasted against exposed brick lining the interiors. 

Each table had some kind of white box as a centerpiece, thin ropes leaking from parts it it, cascading onto some connection in the walls. A few people gathered around each of them, ooo-ing and aaa-ing at things that Eddie couldn’t see but was curious about all the same. There was a set of staircases at the back of the store, and Eddie could make out a few bookshelves tucked behind metal railings.

The call of some human’s name alerted him to the bar pushed against one side, polished wooden countertops, and a flurry of workers running behind it to make…

Eddie let the smell of freshly ground coffee hit his nose, the smog of the streets seeming to have vanished in the cozy space.

A coffee shop.

How quaint.

He could definitely use a good cup of bean juice at this early hour, although it wouldn’t hurt to poke around a bit. It was already weird enough to head into a strange place like this and see people this excited at ass o’clock in the morning.

Eddie was a curious piece of shit by nature, which was why he saw no problems with heavily leaning on some guy's shoulder to try to get a look at what was written on the boxes.

Flashing images, mostly of a document with a few growing rows of letters as the guy pushed down on the buttons in front of him.

Eddie watched with rapt attention at whatever this guy was inputting, until he noticed him stopping entirely.

“Do you mind?” The guy asked, a bright shock of blue eyes meeting Eddie’s.

“No, I don’t mind. I’m actually really interested to see what you were planning on talking to with-” Eddie grabbed the man’s shoulder to push him away from the written scripture, “Michelle.” A light, airy laugh bubbled out of him, “My, oh my, you saucy little thing” Eddie teased him, waggling his eyebrows at his mortified expression.

The other man blushed furiously, and Eddie took great glee in making the man stumble over his own words, frantically trying to delete what he’d written, only he was tapping the delete button once at a time, which left Eddie all the time in the world to continue reading.

“Hey- hey hey, man… back off.”

“Oh… there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Eddie roughly patted the guy’s shoulders, “Although… I was wondering…” Eddie waved his hands around the box, “What exactly this machine is. Seems like quite the thing to have you repeating such ungodly language at a public establishment.”

“Oh… uh… it’s a computer… y’know, and- and- email.”

“E-mail?”

“Yeah, well, um, I’m just going to-” and then the man dashed right past Eddie, running past the exit with the only evidence of him that dull chime above the door. A cool chill raked up Eddie’s spine at the fresh burst of air pushing through the café, and he hiked his leather jacket further up his shoulders.

Eddie turned to face the box, computer, carefully poking at the now dark screen. There was an odd buzz against his skin where flesh met machine, static building on his fingertips as he sat where the mystery man had once been.

The computer was on still, although the juicy letter the man had been concocting had disappeared. He tried to not let his disappointment slip though as he further assessed the machine.

Brows furrowed, he glanced down at the plastic board below him, squares with different letters attached, although he found it weird that they weren’t in alphabetical order.

With one hand, he pressed the ‘E’ button on the board down and had to contain the urge to jump at the sight of the screen coming to life.

Interesting…

The display was a stark white, with black text.

WELCOME TO THE DOT BAR

PLEASE INSERT QUARTER FOR ONE HOUR OF PLAYTIME

Such a shame that he rarely carried money on him anyways. It would’ve been nice to have snooped around the machine.

A hand suddenly came into his view, placed beside the box. Short bitten nails clung to fingertips adorned with a few golden bands, a clear tan line visible at the dip of the person’s wrist. Swipes of hair like brushstrokes against the slightly tanned hand. Tendons flexing with the loose grip on the table below them. Eddie felt magnetized to the new presence, following to where the origin of the ghostly limb had come from.

Turning his head to the side, he followed the lines of a delicate wrist turned to strong forearms, ending at the rolled sleeves of a white button up shirt pulled taunt over thick biceps. From under his lashes, Eddie stared at one of the most handsome men he’d ever laid eyes on, a shy smile framed by dark brows and beautiful brown eyes.

“I can lend you a quarter if you want to try out our systems,” the beautiful stranger spoke, nodding towards the coin slot by the machine. With his free hand, he placed it over his chest, a smile bright enough that Eddie almost squinted like he was staring directly at the sun. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Steve… Steve…

He let himself toss the name around in his head, testing the feel of it before letting it bloom against his palate, the taste of his name sinfully sweet.

“Steve, is it?” Eddie asked, voice lowering as the shock settled back into the ease of mind he was used to.

The man’s brows created a cute little furrow that Eddie would’ve killed to be buried in. “Yeah… uh, s’what I said…” he mumbled.

At the quick glance towards Steve’s plush, pink lips, and Eddie felt a mischievous smile curl against his own face.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

The stool creaked as he leaned further back, and for a brief, beautiful moment, Eddie felt the heat radiating off the other man, his head almost touching Steve’s shoulder.

And then Steve straightened up, leaving Eddie cold again.

But hopefully not for long.

“Y’know…” Eddie clicked his tongue. “I think I left my wallet at home.” Chipped black nails danced against the table, and he noticed Steve staring at them. “Wouldn’t it be nice if I knew a handsome stranger, willing to spare a quarter…”

The full fic will be posted on ao3 but I'll add the link here as well whenever it's up!! Title from w.a.m.s. by Fall Out Boy Loosely inspired by this prompt [x] and these videos [x] [x]

[helldenizen]

Here's a masterpost for John Doe so he can be a part of @smallartistocbracket

I'm sorry in advance for all my description and text, I'm god awful with writing text and whatever I made up is kinda difficult for me to articulate. If there’s something you don’t get from this description, or have some general questions about John Doe(or my other characters) you’re free to ask!

They are an eldritch being who despite their pretty grim nature, generally is pretty chill. What makes them quite different from other eldritch beings is that they developed a genuine interest in humans. This is also why they have a pretty consistent human body avatar, which they use to interact with people and just hang around in the deep forest of their realm.

His powers are “Delusion” and “Lost”(explanations for those under read more)

Some bullet point facts:

They use any pronouns, but prefer they/him.

They managed to befriend one human, who is a conspiracy theorist and cryptozoology enthusiast(and who is also my other OC: Irwing Pasternak)

Their favorite animals are maggots(and he's generally really like insects, bugs and worms)

Their current avatar body is 188 cm(6’2 ft)

John kinda doesn't understand the way humans communicate with speech properly. So their speech patterns and intonation are all over the place. He doesn’t use intonation on the whole sentence, instead he uses it on every single word. He uses different intonation for every word, and he also makes small pauses between words.  (and that’s apart from them obviously, not understanding some social norms , a.k.a. “things you aren’t supposed to speak with others about”)

Smile is kinda the “default” of his face. It’s also important that no matter the expression he makes, their mouth will always be kinda open.

More info(and art) under the cut:

There’s quite a lot of things I made up about him, but a lot of them are related to other characters and aren't polished enough, so I will write some essentials.

What’s his “Delusion” power?

John Doe is one of four “eternal lies” siblings, and his birth name is Delusion. Though the name doesn’t represent what they are as a whole. John “Delusion” Doe represents the way consciousness affects and interacts with itself. Reflection, Imagination, and everything physiological(and psychiatric) is in his prerogatory, no matter how exactly it affects someone. You can say they kinda “keep” all those things in reality.

What’s their “Lost” power?

But there is more. First, a little background. You see, in my made up universe eldritch beings either spawn into existence themselfs or they are created by another one. If an eldritch being decides to create another one it is expected to do so alone. And that's how it went until John Doe, they were created by two pretty different beings. That’s why he’s responsible for two quite different powers.

“Lost” power makes things, well, get lost. But it’s not just power, it’s kinda the way he “feeds”, and is similar to what is breathing for humans — they are constantly “doing” it, can control the rate and some other factors to an extent, but most importantly, they can’t just stop it.

What can get “Lost”? Everything: humans, animals, plants, different inanimate objects, even information. 

But very basically, getting “Lost”, is being sent to John’s realm, and the consequences of being there. You see, the more you’re in this realm the more information about you is being erased from existence. So even if you get out of there(which is possible), you can find out that your friends and family don’t remember and even legal documents regarding you. If you spend enough time in the realm you will start losing memories yourself, and the end result of this is that you stop existing altogether. Though it’s highly unlikely that you will survive long enough to enter that stage, because this “Lost” realm is pretty dangerous.

On how his avatar body is made

Oh…um…buckle up with this one. And I think this one can be kinda distressing (yea this one, not the whole “Lost” realm stuff). 

You see John can't just create a body for themself out of nothing, he must use something for it. And the thing is, he can only use something that is lost in his realm. If he wants to look human… well… while it is technically doesn't matter if someone/something is alive for him to "use their matter" John really doesn't like the idea of actively killing someone, so he just waits for them to die… and he uses human corpses… and, like, he can just overtake it or "stitch" body from several corpses, but he learnt how to deform body matter that he “owns” to some extent… their avatar body is like, a corpse amalgamation. 

So, basically, what I'm saying, is that his body tone appears purplish, for a reason.

John also struggles with keeping eyes solid because of this, so they don’t actually recreate human eyes with their form. Instead he either makes you see(makes you hallucinate, basically) purple and yellow irises in place of eyes or just normal eyes(that depends on the situation). But mostly, they just wear shades.

[casspurrjoybell-19]

TORN - Chapter 12

*Warning: Adult Content*   

Alpha Oasis Amador hated cooking and he always has. 

So, why did he find himself in the small kitchen of the Alpha wing, whipping up some grub? 

The answer was simple... his beloved was hungry.

Although Berlin Cahill desperately tried to hide it from him, it would take an idiot not to know that he was still hurting. 

Behind his soft-spoken and passive exterior, Oasis could tell that Berlin was struggling something great. 

At a tug-of-war with himself and the Alpha could not exactly tell which side was winning. 

So, he opted for the next best thing, to smother his little mate with as much love, support and care as he could until Berlin was able to stabilize himself.

Beep Beep

Oasis cursed underneath his breath at the smoke detector as he hurried to open a couple of windows, turning off the stove as well before grumbling underneath his breath at the sight of the eggs that he had attempted to scramble, now a charred mess and stuck to the pan. 

He waved his hands at the detector, trying to move the smoke away from it before quickly losing his patience and banging the thing hard with his hand, the plastic pieces falling to the floor as he cursed out the inanimate object under his breath.

After disposing of the soiled eggs and finally getting the smoke detector to shut the fuck up, his head whipped up at the sound of small feet 'pitter-pattering' on the hardwood. 

Dammit, he knew that the ‘loud-ass-thin’g would make Berlin come check what was going on.

However, his anger at the smoke detector quickly dissolved at the sight of his Angel, peeking his little blonde head around the corner before walking over, his hair an adorable disaster on top of his head from his earlier nap during Oasis’ meeting. 

Wasting no time at all,the Alpha walked over to his tiny Mate as he sniffed the air and turned his little button nose up in disdain.

"Ew... What happened in here? It smells so bad," Berlin gagged dramatically at the charred stench in the air, effectively giving away Oasis’ embarrassing lack of cooking skills. 

The Alpha embraced the small man in front of him tightly, his nose traveling slowly down the side of his neck as he growled against it playfully.

"I made you brunch but the eggs decided to burn themselves," he grumbled out, savoring the feeling of holding his mate in his arms before Berlin would pull away, as he always did.

"But thankfully, the orange juice and toast are still salvageable."

As if on cue, Berlin untangled himself from Oasis’ hold and shook his head this explanation with a soft giggle as he walked over to the barstools, hoisting his tiny body into one of the high-sitting chairs. 

The Alpha very reluctantly allowed him to do so, knowing that his comfort is much more important than his selfish instincts of always wanting him attached to his hip.

Berlin smiled at Oasis and rested his elbows on the counter, pursing his pink lips and cocking his head to the side curiously. 

"I'm beginning to think that you have zero skills in the kitchen," he teased, biting his bottom lip softly with another painfully adorable giggle.

“But we have fucking amazing skills in bed," muttered Oasis’ Wolf York inside of his mind with a deeply offended tone. 

Oasis rolled his eyes at his Wolf’s words before shutting him out of his consciousness once again. 

‘That bastard needed to get used to the fact that he can't be a horny jackass whenever he is around Berlin in his human form. Whatever he chooses to say about Berlin's wolf isn't my business but Berlin's human form is mine.’

"I've also never heard of eggs burning themselves," Berlin continued with a smile, pulling his shoulder-length blonde hair back into a ponytail and securing it with a mauve colored scrunchie. 

Oasis’ heart clenched as more of his Mate’s gorgeous face was revealed. 

He didn't think he’d ever grow tired of seeing it. 

"I've had a maid my entire life, so I've never needed kitchen skills," Oasis grumbled back, setting a plate of slightly burnt toast and a glass of orange juice on the table before him. 

"Eat up."

Oasis had to hold back a chuckle at the incredulous look on Berlin’s face as his eyes shifted up from the depressing plate to his Alpha Mate, and then back down.

"I-I'm afraid to eat this. I think that I might die," he whispered, staring down at the contents as if expecting them suddenly come alive upon the plate.

Before Oasis could even retort Berlin’s ridiculous statement, a red-faced Beta Ortiz came busting into the Alpha wing and stomped his way into the kitchen. 

Berlin jumped in his seat at the ruckus that the Beta made with his elaborate entrance, immediately hopping down from the barstool and running from the room as fast as his short legs could take him.

Berlin's exit didn't phase Ortiz at all.

It was obvious that he was throwing a tantrum as he stalked to Oasis’ fridge, slammed the door open and grabbed a bottle of milk before drinking straight from the jug.

"What the fuck man?" Oasis scolded, grabbing the milk jug from him, only to see that his eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been crying for the past few hours. 

No matter how sad he looked however, Ortiz had scared Oasis’ mate and that will never go down easy with him.

"You could've linked me to tell me you were coming but instead you barged in, scared away my mate and then come into my kitchen and drink my shit? What the hell is your deal?" Oasis yelled, harshly slapping the back of his Beta’s head with his last few words. 

Ortiz should know better than to show up in the Alpha wing unannounced, especially considering Oasis was ridiculously overprotective of Berlin at the moment since they'd just completed their bond.

The spaz of a man simply gawks at Oasis for a few seconds, his lips pursed, a thin film of milk coating them. 

His eyes narrowed, staring at his friend in an almost challenging manner. 

It seemed as if he was deep in thought before he simply pointed to the milk jug in Oasis’ hand, his hip poking out to the side in a sassy stance.

"Can I have that back? I'm kinda thirsty considering I just ran like 55 fucking miles," he stated, reaching out for the jug. 

He obviously was not catching the seriousness by his Alpha friend’s scolding just a few moments ago. 

That or he simply didn't care. 

Oasis scowled at Ortiz’ disregard, putting the top on the jug and sliding it across the counter in the opposite direction of him.

"Were you even listening? No, you cannot have the fucking milk back," Oasis yelled this time, rolling his eyes at his Beta’s stupidity before stepping around him and heading into the living room to comfort his shaken up mate. 

Oasis had to use all of his strength to resist from shoving Ortiz out of the way and running to his mate the moment he ran away but he tried to contain his anger, knowing it would only bother Berlin even more.

The sight that he was greeted with upon arrival in the living room almost caused him to crack a smile despite the fact that he was teeming with anger. 

Berlin's pint-sized body was huddled up on the far end of the couch, a pink blanket thrown on top of him like a child's ghost costume on Halloween. 

Oasis hates to say that the sight was absolutely adorable and hilarious when Berlin was obviously terrified but it honestly was.

"Angel... I'm here, I'm here," Oasis comforted Berlin, sitting beside him on the couch before pulling off the blanket and sliding his feather-light body into his lap. 

Berlin visibly hesitated for a long moment before relaxing into Oasis’ hold, wrapping his arms around his Mate’s neck tightly as he loosely placed his arms around him as well. 

‘It was almost unbelievable, how beautiful he was, as he relaxed a bit against me, my eyes raking from the top of his little blonde head to his soft feet.’

"'Oasis," whined the loud-mouthed Ortiz, the harsh sound causing Berlin to jump in the Alpha’s lap once more, burrowing away as if he was trying to plaster himself to him.

Not that Oasis was complaining.

A possessive growl tore through the Alpha’s body as he held Berlin tightly, his arms protective around him as Ortiz stepped into the room with the milk jug in his hand once again, looking like a drunk as some of the white liquid spilled from the jug and landed on the rug, soaking into the fibers. 

‘He is such a stubborn ass.’

"Woah, woah. Calm down big boy, don't need you tearing your own Beta apart," he held his hands out in front of him in a 'don't fight me' manner before he plopped down like a sack of potatoes into one of the black armchairs, taking a swig of milk when he settled down into it.

Beta Ortiz looked like he was exhausted, from what Alpha Oasis didn't know, as his legs spread open wide and the jug hung from two of his fingertips, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

"I just have a question. Kinda going through a crisis here..." he trailed off, running his free hand through his already disheveled hair as he sighed dramatically.

At that moment, Oasis was in no mood to help the little bastard that had chosen to trespass in his home and then scare his mate but his next words shocked the Alpha, causing his eyebrow to raise in curiosity.

"Dude... like... how did you know you were... gay?" he asked in a hushed whisper, looking around the room as if he didn't want anyone else to hear, even though there was only the three of them there. 

He leaned forward, elbows pressed into his spread knees as he stared at his friend unblinkingly. 

Ortiz was acting as if he'd just asked Oasis the secret of the universe instead of how he found out that he favored dicks over chicks with the way he was looking at him.

The Alpha felt Berlin peek out from his hiding spot in his neck at Ortiz's question. 

Oasis could feel his Mate’s curiosity through their bond but he could also sense his fear of his Beta. 

For what reason, he didn't know but he wasn't going to question his beloved's emotions.

"I've known that I was gay since I was little. But, where is all of this coming from, dude? And hurry up, Berlin is uncomfortable with you being here and frankly, I am as well," Oasis responded, trying to curb his urge to forcefully remove the male by threading his fingers through his mate's hair, rubbing his scalp comfortingly. 

Berlin let out a purr-like sigh at the attention and Oasis felt him relax even more in his grasp. 

"I... I think that I like dick..." Ortiz muttered, his eyes opening wide in panic before he stood up and began pacing back and forth, the jug of milk long forgotten as it sat next to his chair. 

If he paced any faster, Oasis swears his friend would wear a hole right into his carpet beneath his feet.

"But... I'm straight. I think?" he adds, scratching the back of his head before looking at his Alpha with a confused expression. 

"Even if I was, I'd be a... a top, right? That's what you gays call the one that sticks their dick..." he began to do a graphic gesture with his hands, as if he was going to play out his words as he said them.

"What is all of this about?" Oasis interrupted his inappropriate stream of thought, wanting to get this whole ordeal over with so that he could care for his shaken mate. 

But before Ortiz could respond with more whining, there was a loud, floor-shaking pounding at the door.

"FUCK. SHIT," Ortiz screeched, looking around the room like a madman, like he was trying to survey a spot where he could hide. 

Oasis rubbed his temple stressfully, keeping his other arm around Berlin, who was probably about to fall into a panic attack.

"Go open the fucking door, Ortiz. And when you do, let yourself out. You're annoying the shit out of me with your ridiculous questions," Oasis instructed in his Alpha voice, looking down in surprise when he felt Berlin hit his chest with his tiny fist and mouthed out the words 'don't curse' to him. 

It was a new feeling to be reprimanded by someone as tiny as a middle schooler but Oasis bit his lip, complying with his demand.

‘Whipped,’ his Wolf, York whispered tauntingly in his mind, rapidly slinking back into the shadows before he could snap back at him.

Ortiz stood there gaping like a fish for a long moment, staring at Oasis with betrayal in his eyes.

“If I die, it's your fault," he grumbled before stalking over to the door. 

He yanked it open with a murderous glare and Alpha Oasis raised an eyebrow at the sight of a tall, Asian male at the door, taller than Ortiz himself but still slightly shorter than himself. 

He had a nice amount of muscles that bulged from his tight Nike athletic shirt but the scariest part about him was his expression. 

The man's lips were set in a straight line and his eyes were unreadable. 

He looked as if he was ready to kill anyone at a moment's notice.

"If you run away from me again, I will chain you to my bed," the expressionless man stated before reaching forward and picking up Ortiz around his waist without so much as a grunt, tossing him over his shoulder a moment later. 

"You are mine. I advise you to remember that."

Ortiz screamed and kicked, pleading with Oasis to save him but the Alpha just smirked and thanked the Moon Goddess that she relieved him of his Beta’s annoyances. 

He was a good Beta but sometimes it was like having an annoying little brother that did nothing but steal your clothes without your permission and complain. 

He was Oasis’ best friend though and that he would not change.

Oasis supposes Oritz was freaking out about having a male Mate this entire time,and if my eyes didn't deceive him, it seemed as if he was going to be the submissive partner in the relationship. 

A smile broke across his face at the sound of Berlin giggling softly and waving at the Asian man when he turned around in Oasis’ lap.

"Oh, hi Corey," Berlin piped up before ducking his head back down when Ortiz scowled and flipped him the bird from behind the tall Asian man's muscular back.

Oasis couldn't even get angry at his friend, as Berlin was already sliding out of his lap and jumping up and down excitedly as he faced the door. 

It took all of the Alpha’s strength to tear his eyes away from his Mate’s jiggling bubble butt as he did so.

"You know him?" Oasis asked, slightly taken aback at the sudden change in Berlin's demeanor.

"Yeah," he giggled, turning around to face Oasis with a bright smile. 

"He's my big brother!"

                                                 ❦❦❦❦❦

After the ordeal with Beta Ortiz, Alpha Oasis was granted a couple hours of peace.

‘Well, relatively.’

Berlin sat in the living room watching television underneath his pink blanket, reverting back to his reserved and timid self after Oasis ordered brunch from the main kitchen for him. 

Suffice to say, the Alpha had given up on trying to cook something. 

Meanwhile he attended to pack duties, sorting out the last details for the few things that we lost during the attack and specifying details on a few alliance documents. 

It did not go as smoothly as he wanted however because he was constantly having to block out Ortiz from contacting him over mind link, as he couldn't seem to stop cursing him out.

"Alpha. Did you hear me?"

Oasis raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his dinner plate, tilting his head at his assistant Sam who'd pulled him from his thoughts before shaking his head.

”No. I didn't. Repeat it," Oasis nonchalantly replied, glancing around the room which was filled with loud chatter. 

During the vacation he'd specified that dinners were to be spent as time for the entire pack to come together, to break bread and form new connections among the newcomers.  

Oasis sat at the front of the room in a special section of the table for the higher ranks in the pack. 

Berlin sat to his left, subconsciously leaning against his lover’s bicep as he dozed off. 

However, the spot to his right reserved for his Beta was empty. 

He smirked at the thought that he was probably being punished by his mate for evading him for so long. 

‘Serves him right.’

"I said I think this retreat is going really well for the socialization of the pack. I'm glad you suggested it. Makes our jobs a lot easier, I'll tell you that," Sam stated, chewing on a string bean as she spoke.

Oasis’ attention was once again drawn away for a moment, this time to his mate as his head began to slide drowsily down my arm. 

He shifted Berlin’s body in his hold, wrapping an arm around his slender waist to lean him more comfortably against him while he thought about Sam's words. 

Lifting a green bean to his lips, he nodded slowly.

"Also, Oasis, please go easy on that boy," Sam sighed, setting her fork down as she looked at Berlin's sleeping form with sympathetic eyes, her tone somewhat suggestive. 

"I can only imagine what you've put him through today..."

"I am very much in control of my urges," Oasis snapped his jaw at her, not liking what she was insinuating.

"Mhm, whatever you say," Sam says, holding her hands up in surrender, a playful glint in her eye. 

"I'm just saying that some pack members were worried this morning when they saw him. They said he looked like. How did they phrase it?" she added, tapping her chin before her eyes lit up with recall. 

"Oh right, a baby deer!"

Oasis scowled as she laughs, taking a few more bites of green beans as she shakes her head. 

"So yeah, 'in control of my urges' my ass."

"Whatever," Oasis grumbled out, trying to convey an unconcerned demeanor but secretly taking notes to go a bit gentler on his fragile mate next time.

Berlin yawns in his sleep, lips smacking together adorably as he wiggles impossibly closer, unconsciously pressing into Oasis’ side. 

Delicious tingles ran up the Alpha’s spine as his Mate moves against him and he can't help but think back to the moment on the beach and the fireworks of sparks he'd experienced then.

His thoughts wander, the image of Berlin’s bubble butt bouncing as it pressed back on his length causing Oasis’ pants to tighten in all of the right places. 

He'd be able to hold back from mating Berlin since this morning but it was getting impossibly harder as the day wore on.

Although his tiny Mate may be done with his Heat, that didn't change the fact that Oasis’ instincts as a newly Mated Dominant Wolf screamed at him to fill Berlin to the brim with his seed every second of the day.

‘Very naughty thoughts.’

"Make sure the warriors switch out their watch at midnight for me," Oasis instructed Sam, pushing his seat back with his legs as he stands and gathers his Mate up into his arms. 

"Berlin is about to pass out, so I will be heading back to the Alpha Wing now. I want confirmation on my desk tomorrow morning."

Oasis didn't wait for her reply and simply exited the dining room, heading towards the Alpha Wing as he stared down at the angelic features of his beloved. 

He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the way Berlin’s bottom lip trembles when he is sleepy or how his perfectly wide hips sway when he walks past.

He's so tempting... so perfect.

‘So mine.’

The sound of loud moans broke through Oasis’ loving haze of his thoughts of Berlin, causing him to scowl in disgust as he realizes that he was walking past his Beta's room. 

He'd have to get his bedroom back at the pack-house soundproofed now that he has a mate. 

Beta Ortiz's groans of pleasure caused Alpha Oasis’ stomach to churn and he sped up his pace towards the double doors that signaled the end of the pack house and the beginning of the Alpha Wing.

"Osi?" Berlin whispered in a sleepy voice as he set him on his bed, grinning as he snuggled into the soft covers.

"Yes?" Oasis replied as he walked over to the closet to strip to his boxers.

"Can you undress me? I'm... I'm too tired..." he asks, his voice becoming more and more faint as his eyes fluttered close.

"Hell yes," Oasis grinned devilishly, accepting the offer without a second thought and damn near pouncing on the smaller boy.

"Wake him up. Let's get laid," howls his Wolf, York inside of their minds. 

‘How he keeps getting past the barriers that I put up to keep him at bay, I will never know.’

Oasis didn't even try to shut York up. 

He just smiled down at Berlin as he gently tugged his lover’s sweatshirt over his head.

He had to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep himself from passing out at the thought of seeing Berlin in his tight, pink swimming trunks.

[mirclealignr]

you’re safe | d.a

dmitri antonov x reader

requested by @delilahsroses for mystery drabble event with the prompt ‘you can cry, there’s no shame in it’ -> hope you enjoy :)

warnings; nightmares, demogorgons, injury, blood.

word count; 1000+

you hadn’t expected to leave russia with anyone other than who you’d come with and hopper, but hopper’s not so discrete russian associate had somehow bargained his way onto your little plane. he was entirely unexpected.

returning to hawkins to find it in ruins was a great shock to yourself and your company, to see thousands of cars fleeing over the town line with families in disarray, screaming and worrying about the traffic as if something might catch up to them. it seemed the russian prison wasn’t the only place plagued with beings not of this dimension.

after returning hopper to eleven, you drove down to your street, wondering if your house had remained in tact. it had not. your entire road had been demolished, houses barely teetering on the edge of a precipice, glowing red from whatever lay within the gaping chasm below. the house itself wasn’t much, but there was so much you held dear within that house—irreplaceable, priceless items. you tried not to harbour such sentimental attachments to material things, inanimate objects, but you were only human.

for the mean time, hopper had offered both you and dmitri (as he became known) a place to stay after he fixed the cabin roof more securely. you hadn’t the heart to accept the room eleven offered you, and instead slept in the living room with dmitri.

over the very few and hectic days you had known him, he had been charming, witty and rough. but you hadn’t paid him much attention until the journey home, when you felt as if you could allow yourself to think of anything other than survival. he had a pleasing countenance and a charming face despite his weathered skin.

he was a strangely peaceful sleeper, despite the hard floor he rested upon and the cold, poorly insulated cabin he slept in. he didn’t twitch or fidget, he didn’t rustle around, playing with his blanket or pillow—he was perfectly still.

you had not had peaceful slumbers in a long time, ever since hawkins become known as cursed. you often stayed awake until your body shut itself down from exhaustion and hoped your sleep would be so deep and impenetrable that the nightmares could not get in.

“y/n,” you heard a voice call, but it was distorted, like a broken record trying to play.

meanwhile in front of you was a demogorgon, ready for the kill, ready for the feed. he taunted you, stepping forwards slowly, knowing you couldn’t run away as the barbed wire wrapped around your body and pierced your skin, letting the blood that dripped from your wounds further intoxicate the beast before you.

“y/n,” you heard again. were they coming to save you? “y/n!” it was louder this time, more distinct, and you even felt yourself inclined to respond.

“y/n!”

you seized the hand on your face, gripping it tightly as you stared at what surrounded you, trying to recognise it in the cover of night. you followed the hand, up the arm and to its owner to find dmitri staring down at you in the darkness, his expression barely distinguishable in the low light.

“you were having a nightmare,” he informed you, “you’re in hopper’s cabin,” he added, noticing your anxious expression as you analysed the four walls that surrounded you.

your grip loosened on the man, sitting up and curling into yourself, and he rose from his knees to sit beside you on the couch. he didn’t say anything at first, simply laid a hand upon your shoulder to remind you he was there.

you felt tears brim against your waterline, a sign of weakness you had not let yourself display much anymore, for if you started you would never stop. always in such danger, you wondered when it would end and when crying wouldn’t feel so forbidden. a single tear disobeyed your orders, and slipped from your eye and down your cheek where you quickly brushed it away.

“you can cry,” dmitri whispered beside you, “there’s no shame in it.”

turning to the man beside you, who smiled at you like he knew all too well the burden you carried, unleashed an emotion in you that you had buried for so long it almost felt foreign. tears silently and quickly streamed down your face, each drop heavier than the last, eliciting from you a small whimper.

but dmitri said nothing. he didn’t smile or try to make you feel better, just watched you gently, like gazing at a piece of art with such a soft stare that it felt as it was really being admired.

“i get them too,” he confessed, “the nightmares.”

you shifted closer, peering up at him through your eyelashes, silently urging him to continue.

“they aren’t so bad after a while,” he assured you, “and it doesn’t get better if you avoid sleep,” he shot you a knowing glare, but it softened as he remembered his many sleepless nights, “but it will get better.”

“what if you’re not here to wake me up?”

“sometimes you have to save yourself,” he whispered, thinking back to the long nights he spent alone, both tortured and saved by his own mind.

you looked down at his hands, thinking over what he said, and reached out to hold one. they were rough, calloused, but they felt safe and secure.

“i can stay up with you,” he offered, stroking his thumb over your hand back and forth.

“i don’t want to trouble you,” you shook your head and declined his kind offer.

“it’s not trouble,” he countered, sinking further into the couch to let you know he was there to stay until you didn’t need him any longer.

“well, at least share the blanket, it’s cold tonight,” you stated, lifting the blanket up and nodding for him to come closer and share the warmth.

he smiled softly and obliged your request, shifting along the couch until your thighs touched and took the blanket from your hands to place over his lap. you stifled a laugh as he extended one arm along the back of the sofa with a playful smirk, mocking the stupid american movies. but as you rested your head on his shoulder and felt his breath against the tip of your nose, it didn’t feel like such a mockery, it felt real and genuine.

“you’re safe,” he whispered, knowing he could never truly mean it and that you would never truly believe it, but he said it nonetheless before he kissed your temple and lingered there for a moment.

and despite the chaos that lay outside your door, in that moment, you felt utterly protected from its wickedness.

- - -

library account; @mirclesjournal

[colorfulbard]

Hopelessly devoted

Summary: Things between you and Levi got weird ever since you saved him.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Warnings: Fluff and some angst(?)

Words: 4.6K

A/N: I got this idea from a tiktok a while ago, can’t remember the user. Yes, I know the title is very cliche, I thought it was cute.

~~~

The uncomfortable mix of sweat and blood was a common feeling most scouts got used to, but not you. To you, it was probably always going to feel bothersome like an itch you couldn't scratch. Not like anyone really blames you, even if the blood evaporated the feeling of it somehow always remained. With an annoyed groan, you grabbed the handkerchief from your pocket and attempted to wipe excess blood that remained along with sweet off your brow.

You sighed at the sight of your now dirty handkerchief and leaned back against the tree. It wasn't a good idea, but you decided to close your eyes even if just for a moment. Ever since the destruction of wall Maria, there had been no expeditions outside the actual walls. At the moment, all there was to do was figure out ways to plug up the holes and exterminate titans skulking around.

Those extermination missions have proven to be tiring considering the way almost felt yourself falling asleep. You shook off the sleep and opened your eyes to look down at the handkerchief again. There was quite a bit of blood on it now thanks to you. You stowed it away back into your pocket with a chuckle. He wasn't going to be too pleased to see the way you dirtied it.

"Y/N!"

You automatically stood at the sound of your name. Nearing your line of sight, you recognized someone from Levi's squad. You squinted to try and make out their appearance. Your eyes returned to their normal state when you recognized it to be Petra, making her way towards you at an alarming speed.

Your brows furrowed as she landed in front of you with a worried expression. "Is everything alright?" You asked, not giving her a chance to speak. It shouldn't be too much of a cause for concern considering Petra was always one to be a tad nervous, but something felt different this time.

After taking a quick once over of her, you noticed the edge of her cape was wrinkled. Most likely because she had been wringing it between her fingers. That was something you recognized to be one of her nervous habits. However, you'd never seen her do that during a mission. It was clear that whatever was happening was probably serious.

You placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting look as if to will her into talking. She seemed to appreciate it and took in a deep breath before speaking, "we got separated from the captain and can't find him anywhere," she said, choking up on her words.

You rose a brow at her. Levi was a smart man, he was most likely fine. Besides squads get separated on missions all the time, you were even separated from your own at the moment. Miche was usually never concerned when you did either way.

Petra should have enough faith in her captain to know that by now. "I don't understand..." You took a moment to think, "why is this a cause for concern?" You inquired.

"Before the expedition, we distracted him and I don't think he ever got the chance to do maintenance on his gear..." She trailed off as her words got caught in her throat. The edge of her cape was getting more wrinkled as the seconds passed.

"So, you think there's a chance it could've malfunctioned?" You asked. Your eyes couldn't help but widen in surprise. Even after being apart of the scouts for years, it seemed like there was a first for everything. Even if it had to do with someone as meticulous as Levi.

"I'm not sure," she responded, "I can't remember the last time he did maintenance on it." Her gaze shifted down to the ground as if to try and remember.

You nodded, "alright go inform the commander and Mike of the situation. I'll go and begin searching-" you grabbed your handgrip- "after that, join your squad and continue the search," you instructed.

Petra nodded, "we already sent Eld to inform the commander," she assured. She was about to pull her trigger until she turned back to you, "thank you, Y/N."

You gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her shoulder. "No problem and try not to worry," you said, "I'm sure he's fine, we just have to be quick." With that said, you pulled your trigger and jumped down once the anchor sunk itself into a tree.

Once your horse was in your sight, you reeled back your anchor and landed next to it. The landing wasn't your best, you stumbled a bit, but there wasn't time to think about that now. You quickly mounted your horse and kicked your feet back to coerce them into running.

It felt like you had stopped breathing the moment you were able to pull your thoughts together. In hopes of saving time, you hadn't even bothered to let yourself properly breathe. You'd have to thank Petra later for telling you, you knew she didn't have to, but it was still nice that she thought of you at that moment.

After taking a deep breath to expel the nerves slowly forming in your gut, you willed your horse to go faster. Clearly, the words you had said to Petra weren't currently working on you. It wasn't as if you had no faith in Levi. It was more so that you had no hope that fate would be kind to you at this moment.

Taking deep breaths wasn't helping all the intrusive thoughts coming up. You couldn't even blink properly without horrific images flashing behind your eyelids. You tried to shake them off and pushed forward. This was Levi you were thinking about, he had to be okay, right?

~

How troublesome could this expedition get? Not only did his gear malfunction, leading him to slam his body into a tree, but he also had a rough landing causing his leg to break. At least, he assumed it was broken, even if he could walk a little. Not that it mattered at the moment considering there was nothing around.

Even with all these odds stacked against him, Levi was never one to give up so easily. Which willed him into attempting to use his gear about five more times to no avail. He groaned under his breath in frustration, "damn it..." He grumbled.

As much he would like to put the blame on an inanimate object, there was no point. There was no one to blame, but himself. Levi had been apart of the scouts for so long, you'd think maintenance would be second nature to him. He should've been more attentive, even if his squad was hammering with dumb questions. So much for that being one of his more exceptional qualities.

Levi supposed he should count his blessings. So far, everything was quiet. That calming thought lasted for about five seconds before he heard a loud groan in the distance. His eyes widened to see a titan slowly making its way towards him. "Just my luck," he cursed at himself.

No point in sitting around like a wounded, helpless animal. Levi knew he still had a chance to survive, even if it was slim. He took his blades to prepare to hopefully kill it. The titan's eyes narrowed in on him at the sound of his blades being unsheathed.

"Shit, so much for thinking it was already looking at me." He knew it was a curse to think this, but could it get any worse?

As if the titan could comprehend what he was thinking, it began crawling towards him at an alarming speed. Levi grit his teeth as it grew closer and closer. "It just had to be abnormal, didn't it?" He asked himself.

Levi looked down at his legs and his posture slacked, no point in running. He wouldn't get very far and would have to deal with wondering when the ugly fucker would get it over with every second. That meant the only thing left to do was try and fight back. He gripped his blades and thoughts of why he was fighting came to mind.

The first thing was him being known as humanity's strongest, meaning he had a duty. No telling how everyone would react knowing their strongest soldier died. The next, everyone he had grown close to in the scouts. Just imagining their devasted faces brought a sour taste to his mouth. Lastly, you.

Levi was usually never one to get sentimental in moments like this, but he couldn't help it. If there was a chance these were his last moments, it'd be nice to be thinking of you. All of those private moments together just simply enjoying one another's presence. You truly were good to him, always assuring him that those moments were enough and that there was never a need for an actual date.

You knew how awkward he can be when it came to public displays of affection and never gave him shit for it. You truly were a blessing in his eyes. Too bad the last time he would ever see that blessing was in his memories.

Once the ugly thing came close enough, he reared his arm back to prepare to take out its eyes. However, it seemed like there was no point in even trying. The titan didn't even get a chance to come within six feet f him before it went limp.

"Levi!"

There it was, the familiar voice of his savior. You stood from your knelt position at the titan's neck with a wide smile at the sight of him. "You're okay!" You exclaimed in relief as you slid off the titan's body. Without even giving him a single second to process your being there, you wrapped your arms around him.

You sighed as you felt him squished against you. "I'm so glad," you whispered in his ear, "I thought I was going to be too late."

Levi brought his arms around you, not even fathoming how you were here. Call him a sap, but you almost looked like a guardian angel in his eyes when you peeked over that titan's head. His grip on you became tighter, happy to feel your familiar shape in his arms. He could gladly stay forever like this, had it not been for this fucked up leg. A groan came from him when he readjusted his footing.

You immediately pulled away at the sound and inspected him. "What happened?" You asked, worried.

He gestured to his leg which was limp. "Gear malfunctioned and I had a bad landing because of it," he explained, "but I'll be fine."

You furrowed your brows, something you always did when you thought he was lying about something. Levi poked a finger between your brows to fix them. "Don't look at me like that-" he began to unconsciously lean into you- "I'm fine. Just need to get back to headquarters."

You nodded and knelt down in front of him. The silence between you two was thick as he stared two holes into your back. "You're kidding, right?" He asked rhetorically. Even he had to admit to himself being carried on someone's back was slightly embarrassing, it made him feel like a toddler.

"It's either this or I can carry you in my arms like a blushing bride," you responded cheekily.

Levi swore he could feel you smirking even if he couldn't see your face. Nonetheless, he relented, it was better than dying at least. Getting comfortable on your back was easier said than done, his shitty leg definitely wasn't helping. Eventually, he got the hang of it and tapped your shoulder.

You gave a nod and stood up, albeit a little shaky, but you managed. Even after getting used to the weight of your own gear, pairing another along with Levi proved to be a challenge. You tried not to let it show, but a pained grunt managed to slip past your lips anyway.

Levi tensed on your back at the sound you made. "Alright let's try something else." He made an attempt to get off, but you tightened your grip.

"No way, I'm fine," you said, your voice rasping. You managed to grasp your handgrip and placed your finger on the trigger, "hold on, it's gonna be an unstable ride."

Levi relented at the sight of your determination and wrapped his arms around your neck. He braced himself as you immediately took off at the feeling of his arms. A few hiccups occurred during your flight, but you managed to land close to your horse without a permanent scratch.

You took a breather once Levi let himself off your back. You bent yourself back to get rid of the ache that was forming. Your little break didn't last long when you spotted Levi limping to your horse. You quickly grabbed an arm and put it over your shoulder to aid him.

"You know, I'm starting to think all that tea is giving you a little extra weight," you teased in an attempt to make light of the situation. You knew he had to be feeling useless at the moment. It always happened whenever he got hurt.

The only response you received was a pinch to your side causing you to squeak. "Ouch..." You whined while trying to soothe it by rubbing it.

"That's what you get for teasing your superior."

You gawked at him. "Wow, you're pulling out the superior card now?" You questioned, "Would you rather I tease you in other ways?" You wiggled your brows at him. He looked away from you and pinched you again.

"Shut up."

~

Things had been a little odd ever since that day and you were positive you were the only one who noticed. Levi was still out of commission, but that didn't stop him from fulfilling other duties. The only reason why it bothered you is that he was currently using crutches to move around. You were, however, put at ease when you were told his injury was only a hairline fracture.

All of that wasn't the biggest issue though. The issue at hand was Levi was practically hovering over you as if you were the one injured. He never made it obvious in fear of being called out by comrades. You, of course, didn't miss the way he followed you everywhere until he was called away to do something important.

His hovering only got worse whenever you were asked to assist in Hange's titan experiments. There was also the issue of him getting weird headaches at random times of the day. You usually caught him suffering from them when you returned from different errands. You tried asking what caused it, but not even Levi could figure it out.

After long deliberation, you decided it might be a good idea to get out for a little while. Some time away from everything scout related might be good for him. So, you dragged him along with you to Trost. Fortunately, it was one of your days off so there was no need to convince Erwin to give you one anyway.

Before Levi could bother resisting you had already forced him to mount your horse. You had to come up with a creative solution for his crutch considering it'd be uncomfortable for him to hold onto, plus you were going to make him hold your basket anyway. You managed to tie the crutch onto the saddle and sat behind him to hold onto him. You knew he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea considering he could've shoved you off him, even if he was injured. You smiled when he leaned back against you to relax if only for a moment.

The ride didn't take too long and you quickly dismounted your horse when you reached some stables. You hesitantly held out your arms to assist Levi but judging by the look on his face, he'd much rather fall. You held your arms up in mock surrender and let him dismount on his own, a little clumsily.

The marketplace was a little more crowded than normal. You glanced at Levi to see if he was okay, it seemed like he didn't mind. You linked your arm with his free one and smiled. It wasn't notable on his face, but you could tell by the way he gripped your arm that he was content.

Even if it was crowded, it was nice to see it more lively. After wall Maria was breached in Shinganshina, everyone in Trost had been put on edge. But now, everything seems to have returned to some form of normalcy. Not to mention, more people meant more merchants.

"Should we go see if we can find some new tea leaves?" You asked absentmindedly. Your eyes went from stall to stall, not even paying attention to where you were walking.

Levi hummed. "With all these merchants around there's a good chance we might find something new," he surmised, pulling you closer so you didn't bump into anyone.

You nodded, "well then, we better start looking."

There was so much to see you couldn't help yourself. You barely ever had a chance to walk through markets thanks to the survey corps. It was fun walking from stall to stall with Levi on your arm. It almost made you feel like an old married couple with no worries whatsoever. The thought brought a big smile to your lips.

You glanced at Levi who was busy observing various tea leaves. You knew your life with him wouldn't change with a ring on your finger, but you couldn't help thinking about what it would be like. You giggled as you thought being referred to as Mrs. Ackerman.

"Oi, what are you laughing at?"

You tensed, "uh, nothing important," you said in between nervous giggles.

He rose a brow at you but shrugged it off. Fortunately, his seriousness with tea leaves made him forget of your silliness. You knew he'd be here for a little while and proposed that you would go ahead while he took a moment here. He seemed hesitant at first but nodded nonetheless.

As you walked ahead, the stalls got more scarce. "Oh well," you mumbled to yourself. They were a lot more exciting near the front, which made sense. Too bad there wasn't anything more exciting or rare back here.

You took a final look around and decided to walk back to where Levi was. The sun was beginning to set, so it was best that you went back to headquarters now anyway. Before you could even take another step, something grabbed your basket and tugged you back.

You grunted and landed back against something hard. You glanced behind you and saw a man standing there, his hand grasping your basket. You rose a brow, "I'm sorry, did you need something?" You asked, slapping his hand away.

He yelped in response and frowned at you, "is that any way to treat a gentleman?" He asked.

"Well, when a so-called gentleman grabs a lady without her permission, yes," you responded, crossing your arms.

He chuckled at your words, "how cute-" he grabbed your wrist- "don't you know that ladies should use kinder words when addressing a man." You could feel his grip was tightening.

"I could've used cruder words than that, sir," you sneered, tugging your wrist free.

Your choice of words only did more damage and excited him. "Oh, how crude?" He asked while laying a hand at your waist, "wanna tell me?"

~

To Levi, it felt like no time had passed as he stood at the same stand looking over various teas. Looked like coming to Trost wasn't such a waste after all. He managed to find tea leaves he'd never tried and his favorite. Now all that was left to do was locate you and go home.

The longer he walked the more he began to wonder how far you could've gotten. He knew you had a tendency to wander, but he never thought you would've gotten this far. Levi practically made it to the end of the market when he overheard your voice.

"I'll tell you when titans fly!"

Levi blinked as he processed the words you spoke, that's definitely you. He rose a brow before he caught sight of you. You were currently fighting off a man who had a tight grip on you. He immediately frowned and got ready to toss his crutch into the man's direction. He stopped his actions when you kneed him in the crotch and elbowed his back when he knelt down from the pain.

You huffed and straightened your clothes. You continued to frown until you spotted Levi standing a couple of feet away. The frown melted away into a smile and you waved at him. "Levi, are you all done?" You asked, walking up to him and taking his arm again.

Levi couldn't help but blink at you again. You rose a brow at his silence, clearly wondering what was wrong. "You just kicked him in the balls without a second thought..." His words trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

You chuckled, your brow still raised. "Of course, what else was I supposed to do?" You asked rhetorically, "now, come on. Let's go home." Your grip on his arm became tighter as you began to walk.

Before Levi could even take a single step, he flinched and gripped his head. That same familiar ache came back and once again, he had no idea what the cause of it was. These headaches were becoming a nuisance and he didn't know how much more he could take.

He could feel you staring at him, even with his eyes shut tight. He just knew your brows were furrowed, concern shown on your features.

"Levi, are you alright?" You asked, laying a hand on his head.

All he could do was nod in response. The pain was still making his head feel like it was throbbing, but he didn't want to continue making you worried. So, he pretended everything was fine and peeled his eyes open. He noticed you let out a sigh of relief when he did.

Everything would be fine as soon the both of you returned to headquarters. Fortunately, everything felt like a quick blur while walking back towards the horse and riding back to headquarters.

The moment the horse stopped he didn't bother waiting for you to help him and jumped down on his own. Levi ignored the small twinge of pain he felt and walked to his room as if nothing happened. He hadn't even seen the concerned look on your face as he did.

Later on, at night, you thought you would be able to speak with him. As soon as you had gotten to your shared room earlier, he had holed himself up in the bedroom. You figured he wanted to be left alone for a little bit based on the headache he had earlier. But, now, you assumed he had enough time to himself and walked in with tea in hand. You thought you might get him to relax a bit with some.

"Levi?" You asked softly, shutting the door behind you. "Are you alright?"

The only response was a small grumble. You sighed and walked over to his side of the bed where he laid. You watched as he perked up a bit at the new smell, it was the new tea leaves he had bought. With a small smile, you placed the cup on the nightstand and sat next to him.

"Levi, talk to me." You placed a hand on his leg, "I'm worried. You've been in here since we got back in silence."

Speaking of, the silence was suffocating. He wasn't looking at you, you couldn't tell if he refused to or if the only way to soothe the headache was to cover his eyes. You sighed again and moved your hand from his leg to get up from the bed.

Before you could fully get up his hand caught yours, stopping your actions. You looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry..." He sighed while squeezing your hand. You rose a brow at his apology and sat back down. You remained quiet and waited for him to explain.

Levi's grip on your hand tightened as you watched him grit his teeth. You knew he was trying to find the right words to say. You moved your hand around to rub your thumb over his knuckles to soothe him. He seemed to slowly relax with the motions as he stopped gritting his teeth and became less tense.

The silence continued dragging on, so you decided to give him a gentle nudge to persuade him into talking. "For?" You asked.

Levi took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was nervous about what he had to say and you had no idea why. His grip on your hand tightened again. "For not being able to protect you," he admitted, "I'm so useless like this." He gestured to his leg.

Your eyes widened at his words. It took a moment for you to get over the initial shock, but once you did you grabbed the arm that covered his eyes to move it away. You don't know if it was moonlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains or your eyes playing tricks on you, but it looked like there were tears in Levi's eyes.

You ignored it for now and placed your hands on his cheeks. You called his name forcing him to look into your eyes. "You're not useless, please don't say that-" you began stroking his cheek with your thumb- "you never say that to me when I get injured, so, don't say that about yourself."

You lowered your forehead to rest against his. "You don't have to worry about me, I can take care of myself," you whispered. "Don't you have faith that I'm strong enough to take care of myself?" You asked.

Levi let in a shark intake of breath as he heard your words. He began to sit up causing you to move away from him. "Of course I do," he replied, "I just... Can't help it." His voice was strained as if it was painful to even say.

"I want to protect you no matter what." He was staring down at his lap. "But when I can't-" he gestured to his injury- "it hurts..." He laid a hand on his forehead.

Your brows furrowed. He was being so cryptic, it was hard to tell what he meant. You couldn't help but ask, "what hurts? Why?" You laid a hand on his cheek to make him look into your eyes.

Levi didn't answer as he stared into your concerned eyes. Based on the inner turmoil you saw in his own eyes, it was safe to say that he couldn't even begin to explain the feeling. You shook your head as a way to tell him that he didn't have to explain. A shadow cast over his eyes when you did.

You let your hand fall to your side and dropped your gaze to your lap. You didn't want to leave him alone with his thoughts tonight, but you weren't sure of what to do next. Fortunately, an answer came unexpectedly.

Levi leaned forward and rested his head against your chest, his hands were on your waist. You welcomed the unexpected affection but froze for a brief moment. Most of the time, Levi was never one to initiate intimate moments like this, but it always made you happy when he did.

You brought a hand to the top of his head when he spoke.

"I'm just hopelessly devoted to you."

You said nothing and continued cradling him close to you with no intention of letting him go. There was no way of knowing if either of you would ever find out what was wrong, but you knew you would find out together.

[crystalcow]

𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑢𝑠//𝑇𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑛𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒

Masterlist

!c technoblade x reader

Pronouns used: none specified!

Warnings: mentions of death, fighting

◤ ──┅┅┄┄*ೃ:.✧✲ﾟ*。⋆─── ⋆✩⋆

“If you hate me so fucking much..” He started before grabbing the Diamond sword out of his sheith, “Take this and stab me right here in the chest. Make the pain real!”

“I can’t!” I shouted back, staring right into his eyes as tears dwelled upon the rims of mine. The whole world felt as if it were spinning faster and faster the more we continued this conversation.

“Why not? Give me one viable explanation.”

“I adore you, yet I’m terrified of the idea of us..”

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

I paced around the quiet room, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt as I stared at the clock. Five minuets before schlatt and Quackity barge into the room expecting the papers to be done. The work I had scribbled down all night after Fundy spilled coffee over my previous documents.

Thoughts rampaged through my head as I looked back and forth, the small ticking noises driving me insane. It just sat there, the red dial moving every second making that obscure noise! It felt as if this inanimate object continued to mock me every single day.

I’m not crazy!

But this clock’s driving me senseless..

I jumped from where I was standing as the door handle started to jiggle, Quackity moving to my chair at the middle of the table. The room quickly filled up with the small cabinet consisting of, Tubbo, Fundy, Dream, Quackity, and finally Schlatt.

I hated the feeling of being belittled as I sat in the room with the two most powerful men on the server. Either one of them could just take an edge at it and kill me within a second, or he’ll even send someone to assassinate me instead!

“The pogtopians are making their moves quick, if we don’t act war will come upon us soon.” Dream adjusted the porcelain smile mask, looking from each of us in the room to the president. “I’m sure that none of us would prefer that ending..”

It wouldn’t matter.. No matter what they do, or how intimidating Dream and his men are, they will attack. This country was wrongfully stolen from them! If anything after working alongside of Wilbur Soot for years, he never backs down from a small challenge.

Plus they gotten Technoblade on their side. God the enemy has the one man I’m desperate to even catch an eye of! How inconvenient is that.. If anyone in this room were smart enough, I’d even go to the limits of saying they’re all against me.

Oh please

The Vice President couldn’t go a day without getting high in the back room, and their Secretary of State was a legitimate child! It’s as if this were all a came off chess or cards.. Our whole lives are just being played by two competitive humans, seeing which one can be knocked out first.

If they don’t play their cards right.. It ruins us instead. They aren’t the ones being called for checkmate, Nono our world crumbles down. But it’s how the game plays! Can’t really do anything about that.

I sighed, thankful that the dreadful meeting has finally come to an end. It seemed to have the same conclusion every time, find them and kill them. Yet it never seems to happen, now does it?

“Y/n, I have a job for you.” I sweeped my head over to the ram hybrid, carefully watching as he fixed and straightened the piles of documents laying on the table. “Yes Mr President?” I crossed my arms over my chest, a sort of protection for whatever comes next.

He hummed, swinging the little pengilum sitting there. It seemed to be worse then the clock somehow.. The four metal balls colliding with one another, never missing a beat. It was perfect harmony.

“I need you to follow Tubbo, gain his trust.” I was shocked to hear the words pile out of his mouth. Tubbo? He’s concerned about the sixteen year old who probably doesn’t have much on his mind, other then what’s for lunch.

“Do as I say, alright doll face? Tell me everything! Like a documentation.” My nose visibly crinkled at the pet name, nodding in agreement before finding my little target.

Of course he was friends with Tommy and them, but would he really ever do anything? But now I was curious. There’s never a false possibility unless it’s off put.

“Hey Tubbo!” I greeted after catching up to the surprisingly fast boy. “Oh hi N/n?” His response sounding more as a question rather then a statement. “I saw you looked a little down during that dreadful meeting, I was wondering if you wanted a little company?”

I took notice to his figure, easily spotting how he froze up. “Oh um, I’m alright. I’ll just be off taking a walk in the woods, ping me if you need something.” I raised a brow in curiosity as he scurried away far off from Manburg.

Maybe I was wrong..

Damn if I hate being wrong. A little personal ego thing I’m guessing. I trailed behind, ducking when he checked around. I was never usually the spy on the mission, mainly the attacker or a sort of spectator.

The sort of job like this certainly boosted my ego in a way. So I did what I was told countless of times to avoid in life.. Acting on a high!

We soon found our way to this stone cave way entrance, a sort of revine in the view. I let the brunette go down first before following after, making sure to take note at every small point and turn around the area.

Had this been where Tommy and Wilbur had been hiding out this whole time? A little daft if you think about it, good for safety tho. I traced around the stone walls, the touch texture against the tips of my fingers.

My breath hitched as a sword was placed against my neck, forcing me in a head lock position with my captor. “What the fuck are you doing here, and how did you find our coordinates.

Wilburs deep voice rang through my ears, confusion playing through as it sounded obviously different. It was sort of darker now, a maniacal pitch bucking in the back of his throat. “I followed Tubbo.. I was curious!”

He hummer unpleased, loosening his grip a bit before leading me deeper inside. I was thrown into a daft room, my head colliding with the back of the stone wall before sliding down.

“I swear Wilbur.. I mean no harm.” I pleaded, feeling a rush of blood escape from the back of my pounding head. The torch lights looked blurred as the room faintly started spinning from my injury.

I heard running and loud crashes, I leaned my head more into my knees trying to escape the blinding lights. Every noise and light around me seemed heightened, even a small whisper making me feel dizzier.

“Y/n? What the fucking hell are you doing here! I thought you worked for Schlatt?” Tommy shouted moving closer to me, making sure I didn’t have any weapons in my sheath. “Dont fucking remind me.” I muttered hiding my face further.

“I’m so sorry Wilbur, I thought no one was following me. They never do! This is the first time, I was sure that I couldn’t see no one.” Tubbos constant rambles and apologizes could be heard, muffled by the thick walls.

I heard a small groan and shuffling as a bottle was brought up to my lips, I willingly tipped it back as the soothing liquid fell down my throat. Atleast I knew it wasn’t any sort of poison, the taste of fresh cherry blossoms and honey imposing in my mouth.

Regeneration? My head was the only thing damaged, a health potion unnecessary for that sort of situation. I seem to always forget that these two know their bit about potions. Oh how naive I was back then, always underestimating everyone I came across.

Drug van my ass.

Once my vision had finally came back to me, I sat up looking around the bashful room. “So this is where you’ve been hiding out..” I sighed looking at the blonde, pity struck within my face.

“You can’t say anything. Looks love you haven’t got much better.” I pouted attempting to stand up, placing my hand onto the wooden table. The craftsmanship could’ve easily been better!they’re living in a revine, at least make it look nice.

Tommy joined me shortly after probably desperate for some news. “It’s sad to admit you aren’t wrong..” I waited for the Pat on the back, telling me ‘you can get through it’! Like every other sappy tale. But is it so hard for everyone to just believe this is sad society has come to?

“What’s with all the yelling.” I heard a third voice through the walls, curiosity getting to the best of me. I looked over to the blonde nudging his arm as I pushed my chair back. My hand stopped as it held the doorknob, a part of me scared to what stood on the other side of this door.

Oh god, I’ve surrcommed in a land of drugs and idiots.

I stood to look at what laid on the other side, my body froze as I stared out. He looked exactly the same.. no, maybe even better! I felt myself starting to tremble, seeing as if I don’t cling onto something I’d fall right to the steep floor.

“Hi Techno..”

◤ ──┅┅┄┄*ೃ:.✧✲ﾟ*。⋆─── ⋆✩⋆

Ehh I’ll think of making a part two with more context, but frankly enough I’m lazy.

As always! Request or ask anything and ask if you want to be on a taglist :).

[knowlesian]

OFMD Ask Game: 4, 9, 16?

favorite inanimate object (turning on hardmode for myself: no picking the most obvious and awesome plot related ones)

i’m gonna go with the teal earring! for a couple reasons, one of them not even plot related.

on the surface plot level, it’s just super adorable, and jim/oluwande kills me softly all the time forever. who knows if the show will circle back to this later, but i wouldn’t mind at all if they just leave it there— because no matter what chain of events anyone wants to decide they like best, it’s all perfection.

either jim met oluwande and went ‘hey, that very attractive man is wearing my favorite color’ and that sends me into the stratosphere, or when they met jim had a different favor color— or maybe no favorite color, because the revenge training life doesn’t lend itself to pondering favorite colors, and after spending day in and day out next to literally the best person on the face of this fictional earth ofmd has created, teal became their favorite color.

(or, hell: jim always loved teal, and jim bought the earring or encouraged oluwande to buy it because they wanted to see him in their favorite color! the possibilities are endless.)

but the thing that really makes it for me is the story vico told about how originally, jim was meant to clarify at the end of the episode that they lied, and that purple was actually their favorite color.

given the way jim and oluwande function as a bright mirror for stede and ed (and sometimes for ed and izzy) that makes a lot of sense. purple often stands for ed’s increasing willingness to be vulnerable and his slow movement to opening up, this is the episode with ed shedding the leather to just wear his purple top and jim is having their ‘if you want a glimpse into ed and stede’s future, look at jim and oluwande’s plot arcs because they are either doing the healthy version of whatever poor choices their narrative reflections are making/going to make and stand in as a signpost for where this show is going overall’ place in the narrative cemented.

but one of the cool things about tv (or any medium where a writer hands off their words to other human people) is that those people bring new life to something that hits different when it’s just those words, standing on their own without the nuance an actor can bring to said words.

jim’s favorite color actually being purple made perfect sense, in the version of the story that didn’t have vico and samson breathing new life into already amazing words— jim’s favorite color being teal is the only appropriate choice, now that those performances exist. the fact that they changed that original plan is a perfect example of how the best kind of tv writing needs to marry having an overall plan that doesn’t shift from day one so they can write towards it with oodles of flexibility and the knowledge that stories tend to shift and change as you tell them long-form. 

knowing what cannot be changed and what is absolutely up for grabs is one of those fine writer lines that sort of can be summed up as ‘bones stay the same, but you should def fuck around with with you stretch over those bones as you go’ but blah blah, more complicated and i can’t start talking about that or i’ll never shut up.

(finding out that the almost-kiss was also vico and samson being like, fuck it we know this is heading to us ending up together and this feels right is yet another perfect example of how good actors who are dialed into their characters are one of the best assets a tv writer has.)

FAVORITE ANACHRONISM hmmm, what haven’t i mentioned yet.

on a serious turn, i’m going to go with the use of phrenology; as a data point towards this being a purposefully alternate history, leaning on metaphor and rolling its eyes at the idea it can’t just use whatever has the most narrative crunch/is the most fun, it’s great.

as a thematic statement, it’s a fucking killer. i need to actually finish the weird white jesus post (it got... like, maybe a multi-part deal and also i ended up needing to do a bunch of extra research to solidify the details on stories i know the broader strokes for, so. SOMEDAY!) and it’ll probably come up there, but the beat i’m most obsessed with is the way phrenology rises for a lot of reasons, but motivationally is essentially an excuse to continue with the brutality of empire, in all its many forms; because one of the lies we like to tell is that nobody knew how horrific this all was.

they knew! like, everybody knew. some people might have denied they knew, to themselves or others, yet more went ahead and convinced themselves anyone not already white and civilized like they were white and civilized deserved what they got, and the details admittedly were often obfuscated, and paperwork and first hand accounts buried/destroyed, but people fucking knew.

so what do you do, when your empire— your life, your comfort, your power and status— rests upon illogical (and genocidal!) bullshit, and ‘god wants us to do this’ is sort of losing its societal oomph as bougie intellectualism becomes the newest mode of empire.

you make up new and even dumber race science, baby. it’s okay to keep a boot on the neck of basically the entire global south when science says they fucking looooove boot leather and anyway they're all like children and prone to criminality so really this is the kindest and best thing to do for them, and that the shape of their head is how you can be sure of that.

ofmd using phrenology is a very pointed middle finger to the whole ugly process, and i want to buy everybody on the team flowers.

aaaaand favorite joke i haven't mentioned yet. i'm gonna go with the whole DO THE PUPPET VOICE scene, especially since it culminates in nathan doing hilarious fucking improv and now i can say 'AND ME LEGS ARE STICKS" to myself and laugh forever.

[amiedala]

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 2: Not Leaving You Here

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: descriptions of violence, violence, there’s an interaction between the reader and a threatening man but it’s not that in depth and it ends quickly (but if that will trigger you PLEASE skip over it!! <3), descriptions that are sexual in nature

Summary: “You’re not fending for yourself on Corellia,” he says, and it’s abrupt. He turns back around, and you swallow a few mouthfuls of air because what are you supposed to say to that?

“I’m a big girl,” you chance, leaning forward, ever so slightly. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he counters, and you fall silent. Okay, then. Your heart does a backflip in your chest. He’s not leaving you here. From the way he’s refused to let you leave the Razor Crest on the last few locations in sketchy places, you have a sneaking suspicion he’s gotten accustomed to your presence, and maybe even that he doesn’t want you to get hurt. It sings in your chest. Either that, or you’ve unknowingly been kidnapped for the better part of the month, but, if you were being honest with that deep down adrenaline rush that follows him around, you don’t even care.

It takes three weeks, a shady bounty on Bespin, and a mistake on your part of epic proportions, but you finally get the Mandalorian to talk to you more than in passing. He’s a man of few words, this much you figured when he first took you aboard, but it is intimidating how much silence he lives in. You aren’t used to the quiet. Even when you flew through the stars yourself your commlink was always on, or you’d fiddle around with the dials until you found a station from the closest planet that could croon to you as you flew. Back on Yavin, you shared quarters with other families and other rebels when your parents left on missions, and even in their death, you would curl up with friendly faces or droids whenever you went to sleep. You liked noise. Noise was human. Noise made you feel real.

 If the Mandalorian didn’t have a death wish for every single droid he came across, you might have made the joke that he was one himself. He’s robotic, systemic in his silence. He only ever seems to speak when he tells you to move out of the way or how long he’ll be gone when he goes to collect his bounties, leaving you in charge of the kid until he returns.

 You have literally zero idea why you’re still here. Still, though, there’s something pulsing in you whenever you talk to him, think about him. There’s something thrumming at the same frequency that you’re tuned into simmering under all that beskar, you can feel it. You want to ask him if he feels it too, that low humming in his chest when you’re alone together, if you could ever figure out how to broach the subject. The first planet you touched down on after leaving Nevarro’s molten surface was Corellia. You had asked, quite begrudgingly, if this is where you got off, where he left you.

 The question seemed to evaporate in midair. You were both in the cockpit, him in the pilot’s seat, you a few feet behind him. The baby was sleeping in his crib, the floating egg hovering somewhere down the ladder. It was so quiet there. You weren’t even sure, for what felt like full minutes, if he had heard you, and you were about to ask him again when he slowly turned in his seat, the visor fixing on your face.

 His legs were splayed open. His lap was so big. You gulped, trying to slow down your heartbeat as he surveyed you, completely unyielding in his quiet.

 “No.”

 Your eyes narrow. “I can—I’ve been in worse places, before, it’s okay, I can work my way off Corellia. I know you have bounties to collect, and I know this was just supposed to be my ride off Nevarro—”

 “You’re not fending for yourself on Corellia,” he says, and it’s abrupt. He turns back around, and you swallow a few mouthfuls of air because what are you supposed to say to that?

 “I’m a big girl,” you chance, leaning forward, ever so slightly. “I can handle myself.”

 “I’m not leaving you here,” he counters, and you fall silent. Okay, then. Your heart does a backflip in your chest. He’s not leaving you here. From the way he’s refused to let you leave the Razor Crest on the last few locations in sketchy places, you have a sneaking suspicion he’s gotten accustomed to your presence, and maybe even that he doesn’t want you to get hurt. It sings in your chest. Either that, or you’ve unknowingly been kidnapped for the better part of the month, but, if you were being honest with that deep down adrenaline rush that follows him around, you don’t even care.

 You’ve seen most of the Outer Rim before, and you had gone to a handful of planets away from your initial home on Yavin, but this kind of exploration feels different. It’s wandering and collecting. You missed the feeling of being in the sky without having to trade it for shady deals to earn your keep, and sometimes the Mandalorian will let you drive. Only when he’s exhausted, or when you have a long way to go, but still. Sometimes. Most of all, though, you think he’s relieved that he trusts you enough with the baby and the ship when he’s gone. It’s a silent agreement. You didn’t realize being a glorified babysitter could ever be so fun. You love the little guy, the way he coos when he sees you, how his big eyes glow whenever the Mandalorian is around. Keeping inanimate objects—and frogs—out of his big mouth is a job in it of itself, sometimes, but you don’t mind.

 If nothing else, it’s a nice vacation, planet-hopping and watching the Mandalorian’s kid. You have no idea what he looks like under the armor—you heard stories of one that fell into a Sarlacc pit on Tatooine from your parents’ friends in the alliance, but that was it—but you know he’s supposed to scare you. Intimidate you, at the very least. He makes that easy, sometimes, to dwindle hours down just trying to guess what’s happening in his head under the helmet. One time, you nearly fried your hand on a rogue wire, and he pulled your wrist so hard out of the flame that you spun around 180 degrees, the wind knocked out of you.

 “You need to be more careful,” is all he says, but his grip lingered. Just for a second too long, but enough to make his reprimand deeper, more meaningful. And then you wonder, am I doing it again? Making something out of absolutely nothing? Still, it lives in your head, his tone, his voice, the way he grits out the words. It pops into your head when you’re alone at night, sometimes, when your mind is wandering to someplace filthy and you’ve let yourself count how many months it’s been since anyone but yourself has touched you.

 And then Bespin happens. It comes out of nowhere. You’ve come accustomed to the creatures that the Mandalorian brings aboard, the way that he tolerates their presence until they get too chatty, or try to spark up a fight, and then blasts them with a hiss of gas that captures their entire bodies in carbonite until he can return them to the Guild. You’ve gone back to Nevarro twice since you left it, where the Mandalorian collects more bounty pucks and informs you where you’re headed off to next. You still have no idea why you’re here, why he’s refused to let you walk out on him or the kid, other than maybe playing babysitter is a necessity for him. But that begs the question of what he did before you were on board; before he ever met you. He doesn’t like you asking questions. He doesn’t seem to like talking, just treats it as an annoying necessity, so you’ve long given up on filling the space with noise, as much as you miss it. When he leaves, though, you crank whatever music is playing on the local stations up to the max. You play old cantina love songs for the kid, grabbing the little green baby and swinging him around the ship’s interior, putting him on your jutted hip as you swirl around the cargo hold, murmuring the songs to him like your mother used to do with you. It hurts somewhere deep down inside, the ache that your parents’ death left, something you learned how to ignore long before you met the Mandalorian or the baby, but something about them both dredges it up in you.

 As unsure as your presence is here, though, there’s something even in this tin can ship that feels warm. You can feel it even in the silence, even when no one’s talking. It’s crept up on you, and you’ve stopped asking where your ride stops. The Mandalorian is in no hurry to kick you out it seems, and he’d tell you whenever your contract, whatever that meant, ended. So, you whirl around, hair falling loose around your face, too long and spiraling out from your braid. You’re so engaged in your opera to the baby that you don’t even notice the hiss of the doors as the plank disengages from the Crest. You have your hand in a faux microphone, belting out notes from a song that doesn’t even have words to get the baby to do his squeal and giggle, the noise equal parts air and glee, and you don’t notice that there’s someone entering the ship who is very much not the Mandalorian until it’s too late.

 You freeze. The figure in front of you is tall, much taller than you, with a grimace on his face and something rough and scarily alight in his eyes. He reminds you of the one that tried to pick you up on Nevarro, and that alone makes your tummy flip backwards. The gangplank starts to hiss and crawl back in towards the ship, and you pop the baby up closer to your chest, so your good hand is free.

 “This isn’t your ship.”

 The man grins, and you scowl back at him. You still don’t have a blaster, which makes you feel utterly useless, but you can fight. You learned how to hit and evade, both in piloting and in combat, and the baby’s egg is right behind you—if you tried, you could probably hold him off. Probably.

 “It could be,” he sneers, and you pull the baby’s head closer to your chest.

 “I don’t think so.”

 “What is a girl like you doing here, sunshine?” His voice is so deep. It vibrates as more words fall out, and that alone scares you.

 “Visiting a friend.” Another lie. One that probably won’t even deter him. It’s time to go into fight mode. You glance to your right, where the baby’s cradle is waiting, mouth open. Okay. You could swing him into it with one arm and move forward into a punch if you needed to. You place the baby in the cradle, giving him a look. He shuts it as soon as he’s in it, and you push it back into the corner. “You don’t want to meet him.”

 “Maybe I do.”

 Your eyes flick away from his, just a second, to survey what weapons he’s packing. It looks like a sword on his back, and maybe a knife strapped to his thigh. It’s a mistake: he takes your falter as an opportunity to move forward and advance towards you.

 “Don’t touch me,” you manage, as a large, meaty palm moves forward. A quiver breaks your voice down the middle. Okay, you’ve gauged the situation. The baby is safe in his egg. You can evade this guy’s grip long enough to force him into the corner, and you can hit the release of carbonite. You can do this.

 He’s big, though. You knock his palm out of your proximity, but he’s still coming. You try to duck him—stupidly, it was way too predictable, and his forearm slams into your stomach and knocks the wind out of you. Something desperate clenches inside you—the Mandalorian has only been gone for an hour, and he usually doesn’t return with the bounty until at least three. You have to defend yourself, and the baby, because no one’s coming to the rescue. On the ground, you groan, locking eyes with the armory on the other side of the ship. You could potentially slide through his legs and open the hatch—but then you both have weapons within reach, and you don’t trust yourself to get there in time.

 Your chest hurts. He’s looking down at you, now, leering, and you get up, shoving off the heels of your hands like you did on Nevarro. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the weight of being a relatively small woman traveling alone, especially since you’ve sort of joined the crew of the Razor Crest, and you forgot how dangerous the galaxy can be when you’re not in the pilot’s seat and you’re without your gun.

 “Relax,” the man says, and you clench your jaw down. “You can come with me, sweetheart.” You know he wants to hurt you. You can sense it, in the way his eyes are set, in the way he’s leaning towards you. You don’t want to give him the chance, but you don’t know what else to do.

 “I’m fine, thanks,” you manage, trying to step forward and not get boxed into the corner, but he takes the full weight of his palm and slams into you again, and you fly into the nook near where the Mandalorian sleeps. He’s got you fucking pinned, now. He’s moving forward, and the same giant hand lunges out in front of his hulking exterior, and then his hand is clenched against your throat and you’re being picked up off the floor, your feet kicking at nothing.

 “Let go,” you manage, using your fist to try and knock at something on his giant body. “Let go,” you repeat, strained, “I’ll come with you—please, just let me go, please—”

 The giant hand around your neck suddenly goes limp, and you think for a second that your sore excuse for a bargain maybe worked, until you feel blood dripping down your shirt and the man’s eyes go lifeless. Your ears stop ringing as your legs touch the floor, and your knees buckle as you gasp for air. There’s a body on the ground, blue blood pooling out all over the floor of the Crest, and the Mandalorian is standing at the entrance.

 “Are you okay?” His voice is quick, deep, low. You don’t even register he’s talking to you, at first. “Hey. Hey.” You realize, stupidly, that his hands are on you, hovering around your midriff. His gloved fingers are wrapped nearly entirely around the circumference of your waist, but he’s so hesitant with his touching. “Where are you hurt?”

 You stare down at the man, clearly dead, leeching blood all over the floor. There’s a knife the size of your leg piercing him straight through—his knife, you realize, the sword on his back that the Mandalorian stabbed him clean through with. “He’s dead.”

 “I don’t care about him.” The Mandalorian’s voice is terse, still low and desperate. It takes a minute, but you finally look up at him, register that his hands are supporting you, and slump into them. “Hey. Did you get cut at all? Where did he—what happened?”

 “Is that the bounty?”

 “What—no, no, the bounty wasn’t here. I was coming back when I saw this one in front of the ship. Where did he hurt you?”

 “I’m fine,” you manage, and the Mandalorian’s left hand moves from your back up to cradle your face. No, he’s not cradling your face, you realize, he’s cupping it, puckering your lips out with his grip. He’s looking at you, seeing if your eyes are unfocused, if you lost your consciousness. “He only knocked me around a bit. I’m fine.”

 “That was close.”

 You nod. It was. “It was,” you echo, and then your stomach clenches and you let out a low, deep groan. “I made a miscalculation—an overestimation in my own evasion skills, really, but I miscalculated how fast his arms were in comparison to my fight or flight reflexes. I’m fine—”

 “Don’t lie to me. Where did he hurt you?”

 This time, you gesture to your midriff, wincing as the Mandalorian moves his hand over your abdomen. “Ow,” you say pointedly, and he sighs, pulling you gently to the floor.

 “Stay here,” he commands, and you have nowhere else to go, so you obey, still gasping for air. He drags the dead body back down the gangplank, giving the guy a kick or two before he pulls the door back up. He shakes his hand free of the slick of blue blood, walks over to the baby’s cradle, and inspects him for any damage before he makes his way back over to you. “Stay still.”

 “Do you see me moving?” you ask, and it’s meant to be a joke, but he sighs, and suddenly, his hands are moving back towards your belly. Even through the gloves, you can feel how strong his hands are, how big they are in comparison to your torso. You gulp in air, your injured stomach doing backflips that aren’t helping the ache, but he’s right there, touching you, and it’s such a stark contrast to the way he’s acted around you that it’s intoxicating. Your heart catches in your chest.

 “Lift this,” he says, but hesitates long enough for you to pull your shirt up yourself, and the intention of the gesture after nearly getting choked out by the thug a few minutes prior makes your eyes spark with tears. “You don’t look like you’re bleeding internally. You…Your abdomen isn’t rigid enough for that.” He pauses, and his visor is trained on your bellybutton. Your own gaze frets back and forth between his helmet and his hands, and you realize what he’s looking at. There’s a jagged scar down the left side of your belly, leftovers from a knife fight back when you first started out on your own and accidentally got on a cantina bartender’s bad side.

 “It’s old,” you whisper. It’s obviously old, it’s scar tissue only a few shades darker than your skin, but he’s staring at it with such intensity that you feel compelled to explain it away.

 “Who did that?”

 You look up at him, again, his hand still resting on your belly, a featherweight compared to its size. It’s dizzying you. This is the most he’s ever consecutively spoke to you in the three weeks you’ve been aboard, and his voice is so vibrant, a baritone that lingers in the air long after it’s left it, even through the modulator.

 “He’s long gone,” you manage, and it’s not a lie. “It was years ago, really—”

 “Where else did you get hurt?” He interrupts, and it takes you a second to realize he’s referring to the guy he just killed, not the one from the cantina five years ago.

 “Just,” you say, gesturing a tired hand to your neck, “my throat.”

 Again, the Mandalorian falls into silence. His hand is still on your stomach, and the low thrum in your belly that pulses whenever he’s around is deafening. It feels like your ears are still ringing from being choked up against the wall, and you think if it were the Mandalorian’s hands doing the choking, maybe you wouldn’t have resisted so much.

 Maker, where the hell did that come from?

 You gulp as his free hand roams to the hollow of your throat, finger glancing off the necklace entangled in itself below your collarbone. You shiver, just once, as his gloved index finger traces the marks the intruder left behind. You don’t see them until in the mirror later than night, and they’ve faded almost entirely. You don’t know for sure what he sees, because even though he’s reflective on nearly every surface, light inside the Razor Crest is low, and you’re too distracted by both of his hands roaming two different parts of your body.

 “You’re breathing,” he says, finally, and a giggle escapes from your throat at the obviousness of his statement. “Now you’re laughing. I don’t think there’s any lasting damage.”

 “Thank you,” you say, fighting another one bubbling up in your throat, and you freeze again as he gently lifts your shirt back down over the injury, letting his finger on your throat trail off as he lets you go. Something shifts. Your heart is still galloping in your chest. “Thank you,” you say again, suddenly emotional. “Thank you for coming back…When you did.”

 He just pauses. You don’t know what he’s doing under that helmet, but you can imagine he’s looking at you. Straight at you. His silence is different this time, more vibrational. “Tomorrow, we’ll pick you a weapon out of the armory.”

 You do a double take. “I get one of your weapons?”

 “It’s not as safe on the ship as I thought it was,” he says darkly, and he extends a hand to you as you slowly, achingly, peel yourself off the floor. You pause sitting up as you digest what he’s saying. “You need to be able to protect yourself.”

 You look at him, and back at the baby, who started cooing at his side, and the Mandalorian picks his kid up out of the cradle without moving his gaze off you. “I’m…Am I staying on the ship?”

 He cocks his head. “You’ve been watching the kid on here, right?”

 You nod, then shake your head. “Of course,” you say, trying to explain the shift in your movement, “but I mean…am I staying here? Indefinitely?” You pause, then decide it’s been a hell of a day and you’re brazen enough to ask the next part of your question, “With you?” It flutters inside you, the boldness of the question, especially against the knowledge that you’re testing your theory—that he feels as right with you as you do with him, that when he walked into you, something cosmic happened.

 The Mandalorian looks down at you, almost entirely still. Before you can let your nerves get the best of you, he sighs, loose air exiting the modulator, and something sparks low in your tummy, deeper than your injury, and then he’s settled on the floor next to you again. “Yes.”

 You smile, wince at the gesture as your throat constricts, and then resume the position, ache be damned. “Okay.”

 “Can you make it up the ladder?”

 You slowly shake your head. “I think I’m sleeping on the floor tonight.”

 “You always sleep on the floor.”

“Not true,” you answer, shaking a finger at him. “Sometimes, I fall asleep in the chair. But yeah, I usually nest on the floor.”

“Nest.” The word is flat, even, but there’s something about the way he says it makes you want to giggle again.

“I need to be swaddled in things, usually, to fall asleep. And noise. Noise helps.”

He just stares at you. “Are you a Jawa?”

You furrow your eyebrows, completely lost. It takes full seconds before you realize he was making a joke. You laugh, again, and it hurts to bring a hand to cover your mouth, but you do it anyways. “I just like a little hodgepodge to sleep in. I don’t strip things for parts,” you counter.

“Obviously,” he says, his voice rich and deep. Something about the way he says it burns low inside you. This is the most the Mandalorian has ever spoken to you. This might be the most the Mandalorian has ever spoken, if how little he exchanged any language was indicative of how he’s spent most of his life. “Stay here.”

You smile again, because where else would you go, and he climbs the ladder. With how quickly he cuts his conversations short, you think he just decided he’s done talking for the day, and he’s going upstairs to set the ship on the next course, so you settle into the corner of the ship where you still are, just feet away from the alcove where he sleeps. You wonder what it looks like in there, if there’s only enough space for his hulking figure, or if you could shimmy your way into there next to him, your body pressed up against his in the tiny space—Stars, you’re letting your mind wander.

“No chance,” you whisper to yourself, despite the pull deep in your chest, that humming, that warmth that he gives you, despite how distanced he’s been from you. “Get it together.”

A moment later, shiny feet descend the ladder, and your water flask is pressed into your hand, and the Mandalorian has something in his hands. It’s a blanket, one you stole from the tiny medbay when you first climbed aboard. It’s unmade and he also has what looks like a small pillow in his other hand. He drops them, gently, at your crossed legs. “For your…nest.”

You smile, again, and if you tried hard, really hard, you could imagine that he was smiling under all that metal, too.

“Thank you.”

He nods, still standing awkwardly. “You should take the bed.”

You look to the closed alcove where his cot is, to him, and back again. “No,” you say, “no, that’s yours, and hauling myself off the floor right now is simply not an option. Thank you, though.”

He just stands there.

“Really,” you emphasize, even though the pull in your stomach wants very badly to climb in his bed and fossilize yourself in there, because he’s still standing there, talking to you, and you would trade almost anything in the galaxy for as many minutes as possible of this.

He sinks back onto the floor with you. The baby is now sound asleep in his cradle. You don’t know what to say next, but the Mandalorian doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere. Your belly still aches, and your throat feels raw, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. It’s warm in the crest, warm enough that you don’t need to swaddle yourself in the blanket, and you look down at your chest, the white tank top you bought months beforehand stained blue and black with blood and grease. You probably shouldn’t have blown your scarce credits that was going to get stained so easily, but you didn’t know you’d be living with a bounty hunter and his baby when you first got it.

“Where are we going next?” you ask, and you’re not sure how much time has elapsed. The Mandalorian doesn’t speak, and you think maybe he’s faded off into sleep, and you reach up, wincing, to pile your loose hair on the top of your head.

“You missed a piece.”

“What?”

He hasn’t even moved. “Hair.”

You fumble with your fingers until you find the rogue lock of hair, shorter from where you hacked bangs into it nearly a year ago when you had first lost your other ship. It’s hanging in your face, and you don’t reach to move it, letting it tangle with your eyelashes. You can feel his eyes on you, it’s burning a sudden and violent hole through you. Again, that spark low in your pelvis sings, and your breath hitches in your throat.

The Mandalorian barely moves, just extending his arm in the dark to tuck it behind your ear. You sigh as his hand brushes against your cheek, the gloves smelling like dirt and leather and something uniquely him. You feel his touch everywhere. And then his fingers are gone as quickly as they arrived, and you have to take the lingering of the touch he gave you as proof that it happened at all.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, and his voice through the modulator spirals deep into you. You want to know what it sounds like under the helmet. You want to know what a lot is like under the helmet. You want to argue with him, keep him talking, but sleep is calling your name louder than he’s speaking, and you’re sliding down the wall, trying to curl up in the most comfortable position.

The last thing you remember before drifting off is the Mandalorian moving quietly to cover you in the blanket he brought down, settling back into the dark quiet of his ship, pulsing not even a foot away from where you slept.

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 12

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin felt completely emotionally drained. Between being insulted by Ashryn and threatened by Rael, all he really wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide from the world for a little while. There was no part of him that was ready to face the alteon Emperor--to be judged and sentenced. Gavin wasn’t even sure he had the energy to plead his case at this point.

As much as he just wanted to run away, there was no escape for the human. He was trapped on top of a gigantic desk. The massive items nearby almost seemed to taunt him, reminding him of how small and insignificant he was in this dimension. “You’re pathetic,” the quill sitting in its inkwell a few feet away seemed to say. “You’re all alone,” Gavin imagined a massive roll of parchment sneer.

“Great, I’ve sunk so low I’m starting to imagine inanimate objects talking to me,” Gavin thought bitterly to himself.

Meanwhile, the alteon Emperor loomed over the human like some kind of divine monument. The man almost looked ethereal, as if he walked straight out of a storybook. His skin, which appeared nearly flawless, was of a cool brown color. He shared Rael’s long black hair, but rather than tying it back, the Emperor wore his down, with a few strands done into intricate braids. As seemed to be the case with all alteons, the Emperor’s eyes were of a striking, vibrant color. Those yellow irises were focused in on Gavin, holding him in their intense stare.

In terms of dress, the Emperor certainly looked the part. He wore a jeweled band around his head that appeared to be made of silver--which matched the metal that made up the leaf shaped earring that hung from one of his pointed ears.

With the Emperor sitting at his desk, it was impossible for Gavin to see a majority of the man’s apparel, but what he could see looked incredibly lavish. The tunic was of a deep blue color and was decorated with silver embellishments along the hemlines. No doubt the garment was made of silk or some other similar luxurious fabric.

“We have much to discuss,” the Emperor began as he looked down at Gavin. “But first, I believe introductions are in order.” There was no hostility in the man’s voice. Unlike with Ashryn, Gavin didn’t detect anything disdainful or accustatory in his tone. Instead, the Emperor seemed perfectly calm and polite; he even wanted to engage in civil greetings. “My name is Ailred. I am the son of Lyris, and the Emperor of Iaela,” he announced smoothly, the words clearly ones he had said many times.

Considering both Rael and the Emperor had introduced themselves without surnames, Gavin had to assume alteon’s didn’t utilize them in the same way many human cultures did. The Emperor had presented himself as the son of “Lyris” though, something Rael had not done. Were he in a better mental state, Gavin may have pondered why that might be, but given the circumstances he would just accept it and move on.

It took a long moment of Gavin just standing there frozen, shifting uncomfortably under the Emperor’s silent stare, before he figured out he was expected to say something. “He wants me to introduce myself,” he realized.

How the hell was he supposed to get himself to speak? This was maybe the very first time Gavin had zero desire to say anything. He didn’t trust himself anymore. The last time he’d opened his big mouth, he’d ended up with a giant hand slammed down beside him. Now imagine the consequences that could await him if he said the wrong thing to a damn Emperor.

At the same time, remaining silent was hardly an option either. Refusing to comply with the Emperor’s wishes could just as easily have frightening repercussions. Gavin really and truly was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

After a few seconds of internal panicking and frenzied thinking, Gavin spoke up. “My name is Gavin--uh Gavin Stone,” he managed to spit out. He tried to force himself to maintain eye contact with the Emperor, but every fiber of his being was begging him to look away from that intimidating gaze.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Gavin Stone,” the Emperor replied, giving Gavin a nod of greeting before turning his attention beyond him. “Rael, I trust you encountered no issues in retrieving Mr. Stone?” he inquired, reminding Gavin of the fact that his former captor remained in the room, just a few yards away.

“There was no trouble from the humans, your majesty; however I did run into some brigands in the woods who attempted to abduct the prisoner,” Gavin heard Rael explain from behind him. “The offenders did manage to escape, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies.” God, Rael almost sounded like a different person when he spoke to the Emperor. Not that Gavin had any real grasp on what kind of person Rael was. He’d learned that the hard way.

A frown developed on the Emperor’s face. “You did your duty in protecting the human,” he began. “What I’m more concerned with is the fact that these criminals were bold enough to attempt to interfere with Imperial business.”

“Greed can drive you to do some pretty stupid shit,” Gavin thought to himself bitterly.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the Emperor sighed. “I suppose we’ll need to increase the number of patrols in the surrounding woods,” he concluded. “I’ll also have you meet with Captain Saida later to coordinate a search for these would-be abductors.”

If Kaydin and his female associate were smart, they would already be getting as far away from the palace as possible. Gavin could tell the Emperor was serious about this, so if the two thugs didn’t get some major distance from the scene of the crime, there was probably a high likelihood they’d wind up getting caught.

“Now,” Gavin instantly felt the intensity of the Emperor’s gaze return to him, “you are here because you were caught stealing from an alteon diplomat while they were visiting the human realm, correct?”

Suddenly Gavin felt like he was back in elementary school, being forced to answer questions the principal already knew the answer to. The Emperor already knew what the human in front of him had done, and yet he wanted to see Gavin admit to it himself.

Biting back an exasperated sigh, Gavin gave a nod of confirmation.

“And you understand that because your crime was against an alteon, you were brought here to face judgement?” the Emperor inquired, continuing to watch Gavin with those hypnotizing yellow eyes.

Gavin nodded again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with giving non-verbal responses forever, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Not only because he didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing, but also because he wasn’t sure how he was meant to refer to the Emperor. Rael had called him “your majesty” earlier, but the idea of saying something like that sounded so strange to Gavin.

“I realize as a human you are unfamiliar with alteon customs, so allow me to explain the situation,” the Emperor started. “Typically, when I am called to judge a criminal, it is done as an official trial in which nobles and all involved parties are present.”

Gavin supposed that wasn’t altogether different from the trials back home. Of course, rather than having a jury of his peers, Gavin would be judged by the Emperor and the Emperor alone.

“However,” the giant monarch continued, “because you are human, the circumstances are different. I believe a large-scale event would do more harm than good in the long run,” he explained, folding his hands atop the desk. Gavin tried not to focus on them for long, because he and giant hands really weren’t on good terms.

While he was glad to hear he wouldn’t be subjected to some grandiose trial in which he’d be trapped in a room full of a bunch of alteons staring at him, Gavin wasn’t entirely sure alternatives would bode any better. If the Emperor had no one around to criticize his decision, he could be as cruel as he wanted.

“In the meeting which preceded this one, I discussed with my advisors various potential sentences,” the Emperor went on. “I also requested input from Ashryn, as he has some experience interacting with humans,” he added, looking at Rael when he said it.

Gavin suppressed a scowl. He was sure any input from Ashryn had been exceedingly negative. For whatever reason, the guy had it out for him--or maybe he just had it out for all humans in general for some reason.

“Ashryn’s position on the matter was that you need to be made an example of,” the Emperor stated, quickly erasing any doubt that that asshole had a vendetta against humankind. “His suggestion was that you be made a spectacle of, perhaps by placing you in a cage and displaying you in the front hall for visiting nobles and the like to view.”

An instant feeling of nausea came over Gavin. He felt absolutely sick to his stomach. Ashryn was beyond just a dick, he had to be some sort of sadistic demon. The suggestion that a living, breathing, intelligent creature be caged and put on show like some kind of zoo animal was abhorrent. Gavin could hardly even believe what he was hearing.

“Your majesty, forgive me, but doesn’t that seem a bit excessive?” Gavin heard Rael ask incredulously. What was with that guy? Not ten minutes ago he was yelling at Gavin and standing up for his alteon soldier buddy. Now all of a sudden he supposedly cared about what happened to Gavin? It just didn’t make any sense.

The Emperor gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, some of my advisors seemed to like that idea. They believe that if Gavin Stone isn’t properly made an example of, then more and more humans will think they can get away with crossing alteons.”

What was Gavin supposed to do? Should he try to stand up for himself, to excuse what he’d done? Would it even matter? He had committed the crime, that much was fact. So would any excuses even make a difference? He tried to read the Emperor’s face, to look for some kind of sign that he would be understanding, but the man had an expression that was virtually unreadable. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

-

Of course, of course Ashryn would advocate for some cruel, antiquated punishment for Gavin. It was obvious the guy had some inexplicable resentment towards humans, certainly more than Rael had ever had. He’d been of the opinion that they were inferior, fairly irritating creatures, but never would have gone out of his way to ensure they suffer. Ashryn, on the other hand, seemed eager to see Gavin endure the worst.

And what was worse? The Emperor hadn’t immediately dismissed Ashryn’s suggestion. How could he even consider it? Surely he would never subject even the worst alteon criminal to the humiliation and indignity that would come from being locked in a cage and put on display. Yes Gavin was human, but he was still an intelligent, sentient being. He didn’t deserve to be treated like an attraction.

But what could Rael do? He was in no position to question the Emperor; doing so would be suicide for the reputation he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to wonder whether the information that Gavin had in fact been hired to steal from the diplomat would impact the Emperor’s decision.

Gavin himself seemed pretty convinced that that bit of information wouldn’t change anything, so it was doubtful that he’d speak up about it. Rael wasn’t convinced. Surely if the Emperor knew Gavin had just been used by somebody else, he would be less harsh with the punishment he issued.

Rael couldn’t speak up about it. He had already taken a great risk with his previous comment. Continuing to speak out of turn in favor of a human criminal could end up reflecting horribly on him. The Emperor may begin to question his loyalty. Rael couldn’t put that all on the line for the sake of a human of all people...right?

The memory of Gavin’s fear-stricken face flashed through Rael’s mind. He cringed internally at the mental image. Gavin had clearly had some level of trust in him, the look of betrayal he’d worn made that much evident. When Rael had used his far greater size and strength to scare the human into submission, he’d shattered any trust that may have developed between them. He had taken the side of Ashryn, someone he hated, rather than risk his status by standing up for Gavin.

Yes, what Rael had done had been the right thing to ensure his reputation remained in good standing. But if it had been the right thing to do, then why did Rael feel so miserable about it?

“If you have something to say on the matter, you have my permission to speak up,” the Emperor told Rael, clearly sensing his hesitation.

“I can’t say anything, I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to risk it for some human!” one part of Rael’s mind insisted, but he was finding that voice was quickly becoming quieter and quieter.

While it was difficult for him to believe he could make such a profound difference, Rael couldn’t help but worry that what he said next could seal Gavin’s fate one way or the other. The Emperor was watching, waiting for a response. Rael had to make up his mind. “Yes, your majesty. I have information concerning Lady Elyth’s stolen ring.”

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Touch starved/ hurt reader - hcs or scenarios the turtles? Reader super cool regarding friendship, like funny and open etc etc, but if someone tries to do anything that implies a bit more regarding romantic stuff they are kinda like oop- no. Reader is kinda jumpy and just freezes when someone’s they like does any kind of affection ( blushes a lot, try to run away and avoid those situations) people have taken them for granted which has make them a bit cold and defensive in that area- they want to be more affectionate ( which they know deep down it’s what they crave) but it’s kinda they are a scared / angry cat? Please, hope this makes sense, thank you

( also regarding looks and gender I think you can go with they/them so everyone can see a look but if themselfs in the scenario, and if you are going to any kind of skin ship, make the reader extremely defensive over their arms and tummy pls, I do love hugs but if anyone touches my hips I’ll try to get away so fast omg sbbtjfjdkdksn and I will just close off momentarily, I absolutely hate it, I’m more on the heavy side ( talk and chubby ) and if anyone’s touches the “giggly” parts I get extremely upset ( because of how ppl havemade fun of it over the years) and I think the boys would be very “??? What?” To that reaction cuz they didn’t think it was some thing bad to have? ( like a more soft and chunky/chubby body) because they haven’t been exposed long enough to society’s judgment or beauty standards ( I mean they know about! The ones who would have read more about it maybe it’s Leo and Donnie, but what I mean maybe they have never experienced something like this - themselfs irl) Eitherway this ask is already so long omg I’m sorry and thank you, if it’s too much you don’t have to do it, have a good night/ day!)

Okay first of all I love you and I would die for you. You are a perfect human being and there is literally no one else like you. Your body does a damn good job of keeping all of your organs in place and that's what matters. If anyone tells you different you rock their absolute shit.

And don't worry, I understood the request perfectly so no worries on that, I've got a similar body type except I'm really short. But I'm also super defensive over being touched or having those parts of my body perceived, so trust me when I say you're not alone. We be vibing with this together.

Now to the writing!

TMNT Headcanons

Boys reacting to a touch starved/defensive reader

Michaelangelo

Look man, our boy here is body positivity central, he thinks you look amazing and he wants everyone to know it

As far as you two go he's your best friend, your homie, your main man

So of course he's gonna wanna show you off, why wouldn't he?

He doesn't think you'd have a reason to not be okay with it, you've always been playful with him and his brothers

So obviously there's some widespread confusion once Casey gets tossed into the mix

All Mikey had done was reach behind him and snag you by the waist to pull you over

That was all

The words "and this is my best friend, y/n" never got the chance to leave his mouth

He was definitely not expecting you to squeak out in protest and scramble away from him as fast as humanly possible

Your face was burning red and you were clutching your sides, desperately trying not to bare your teeth in defence

Mikey couldn't help but feel heartbroken

Was there something wrong with him?

You sent Casey an unenthusiastic wave before turning on your heel and basically running out

Leaving a very confused orange turtle behind you

When he finally managed to catch up to you later you rushed to explain why you'd reacted the way you did

You couldn't stand his expression when you explained that no- you didn't think he was disgusting and no, he hadn't done anything wrong.

But he did seem baffled at you telling him that it was because you hated being touched there.

"Look Mikey, I've got no problem with the whole contact thing but you gotta give me a warning or something before you go around grabbing me. Okay?"

He was 100% fine with that

Anything to make you comfortable

But you both got to the point of being able to laugh at your reaction to the turtle trying to hold your hand

"Seriously Michaelangelo, I have a reputation to maintain. How am I supposed to do that when you're giving me feelings?"

Donatello

It completely baffled him

By all accounts it didn't make sense

You threw around compliments like you were playing hot potato and for whatever reason you'd always find someway to playfully flirt with him

But the second one of his brothers suggested something other than the innocent friendship the two of you had you would shut down completely

And coincidentally those types of comments were made at the most inconvenient times

Nothing screamed awkward more than you going stone cold and standoffish over a piece of pie

Bubbly and excited one moment, tossing around those positive affirmations to your favorite people

And staring murderously at an inanimate object the next

You were like an unsolvable rubix cube to him

But he was determined to figure you out

"Y/N?"

You didn't appear to be busy, just sitting on the haphazard bunk in your makeshift area with a book in your lap

The others had gone out on patrol and you weren't sure where Splinter was at that particular moment which left you and Donnie holding down the lair until they got back

The perfect time to approach the subject

"Hey y/n? Can I ask you something?"

His voice always got a little louder when you were alone, less afraid of being overheard. You looked up with a smile

"Fire away Dove."

His cheeks flushed in surprise

"uhhhhh... whydoyounotlikeme?"

You set your book down and leaned forward to stare at him

"Elaborate."

And he did, god he did, he did it at the speed of sound of course, but you caught every word

let me tell you, this boys heart broke for you when you told him that you did like him

you really really did

but the thought of being romantically involved with anyone made you shut down

Donnie assured you that it was fine

he'd wait for you as long as you needed

Raphael

Look, Raph knows a thing or two about being self conscious

out of all of his brothers he's the one who worries about his appearance the most

but you- holy shit he thinks you're the most amazing, perfect human in the world

so when he finds out that you hate being touched and that thinking about relationships makes your skin crawl he doesn't know whether to genuinely cry for you or punch someone in the mouth

both is okay

You'd always been very bold with your words and sometimes you'd even joke that you couldn't even tell when you were flirting with him

it just slipped out

and hearing that even though you could pull that off as easy as breathing and compliment all of them endlessly but you struggled to be comfortable in your own body?

that was a lot to unpack in one sitting

but the longer he sat with you and listened to you talk him through it the more he understood

sure, it was horrible

and he wouldn't likely stop thinking about hurting the people who'd done this to you (there'd be too many to count)

but you had a way of making him understand things

it was his favorite thing about you

"Uh- you know y/n, I uh- personally I think you look great. Like- all the time."

plz insert awkward finger guns here

there, your playful smirk was back and you were wiggling your eyebrows at him

"Awhhhh... is that Raph I see having feelings?"

Leonardo

he'd done enough listening and reading to know how society treated people who it thought was different

and he hated that you'd had to experience that for most of your life

when it came down to it and he saw that you had become particularly hard on yourself he took it upon himself to check in with you

that's how you'd started meditating with him

and you'd found it quite relaxing if you were completely honest

Leo told you that meditation was the best way to connect with your body and understand it

you hoped that in time you would understand what he meant by that

but the positive affirmations were doing something, so you'd take it

he'd always encourage you when you couldn't yourself

and always jump to your defense when the others got a little to out of bounds with their words

you still would noticeably flinch when touched without warning

they were all working with that

and he still found himself saddened that you'd recoil back into your protective walls if anyone mentioned anything inherently romantic

but you were coming around

and he was endlessly proud of you for that

Alright I hope I was able to get down what you were thinking. This one definitely took the most contemplating out of any of the requests I've gotten so I hope you like it!

[totallyimagines]

Owari no Seraph reaction to your Periods

I have a whole comforting Masterlist in my drafts and I’ve still got a lot of scenarios and headcannons I want to do..and I have a lot of other Masterlists but it’s actually just to help me keep track of things because I’m super messy..I’ve been posting owari no seraph all week. Nothing is wrong — just got a lot of ideas for everyone in the anime

Warnings: Cowards, Menustration for Da vampires..of course, mostly just these men being afraid of you

That face..is so accurate for this situation — I don’t know what else is. He’s a little lost..but he knows the basics. Seriously, don’t cry around him (I.e dropping food,) — like he would literally look at you like come on..

I can see him being like the one that points out that your on your period because of your mood change or something..like I’m just sure he can tell and then he’s immediately like “oh shit..” If your mood swings are violent or if your just super mad, he’s afraid of you. You scare this man..who knew you had so much power in that small body — seriously, he called you Hulk one time because you got mad at the wall ‘hitting your body’ and started to square up with that wall. If your emotional, *insert eye roll* “you’re such a baby.” You dropped your box of chocolates on the ground? Big deal..don’t cry about it.

If your emotions are in between — anxiety.

Ok, he understands most of your emotional outbreaks though..not emotional — “Sensitive”.. I can see him being like tired of you crying but super understanding — either way..I think he’ll keep his distance if you start crying about something like food or just something that’s really dumb to him.

When your appetite changes: he’s more scared than that then your strength. When he sees you eat foods that I’m sure he wouldn’t dare touch.. just watches in fascination. Like, how do you eat that much ice cream without stopping? Or why are you eating ice cream and peanut butter? He would probably just be so scared of that, watching you eat a full box of pizza by yourself.

Cramps? Holy shit, are you ok? Once you’re bending over in pain, he’s honestly so worried. Although, he may look so unaffected by you doing this. He’s truly concerned. He’s more of the groaner when you have cramps. Because he doesn’t want you to be in pain in the middle of cuddles. But guren holds you tights so I doubt you will be able to really feel cramps during cuddling with him.

*Coward = 1

He’s so quiet when you’re on it..like he doesn’t want to say anything that will trigger you though but he can smell your blood though which also makes him want to avoid you..unless you want to have...No, ok.

He’s scared of your mood swings too, one second you’re crying and then the next you’re squaring up with your reflection for looking like you. If he wasn’t your boyfriend he would say you were crazy..I’m sure any normal person would right? He’s suprised by your increased strength too, you boxed a vampire for some ice cream — and you won, of course. Ice cream never fails to disappoint.

When he wakes up to you with blood in the bed, and it’s coming from you..he thinks he killed you. *violently shakes you awake* when you tell him it’s your blood — which I’m sure you’ll have to explain the whole blood process..you’ll have to change your own sheets because he’s lost. I mean all types of lost, he doesn’t even know what pads are.

Appetite Change? He didn’t notice..

Cramps? He just kinds of nuzzles into you, rubs your stomach and asks if you feel better. If he can’t help he’ll just follow your instructions. The leaning over in pain or you can’t move is really unnerving for him. He just doesn’t really want you to be in pain. Curse these Cramps. Their hurting you. He was probably convinced they were killing you at first.

Would probably want to do Menustration too? Your blood is just super tasty to her, just let her get a taste.

Doesn’t really care about your mood swings, she’s the same way. I’m sure she’ll probably encourage the mood swings making you take it on someone near you. So amusing. The strength that you have in that tiny body is unbelievable. When you fought someone over a box of twinkies and almost broke their nose..what do you humans see in food?

*She probably won’t even care when she sees blood in the bed. Unbothered.

Appetite change, she definitely notices that. Like your so hungry all the time or your barely hungry at all. She’s actually really uncaring about what you eat though, it’s not really interesting to her. Or she just doesn’t really seem to care about how much you eat either. She watched you gobble down that whole box of twinkies with ice cream..she’s impressed.

Cramps? She’ll get some servants to treat you to whatever that you need.

Crowley is probs(*definitely) up for menustration..your blood is tasty to all vampires. Like he’s so hungry for you know, smells your cycle before it even starts. Yes, he’s keeping track. Which is probably a bonus on your side if you have a vampire as your lover.

Mood swings? Crowley knows how to get you really upset to the point where you want to make a dent his face. The strength in that small body of yours is incredible. Crowley tried you one time, never again. If your emotional, he’s just so playful about it. Like, he’ll comfort you just by saying some sweet words and then everything is good again. Well, you stopped crying for now. Win for him. Ice cream and Chocolate and you almost killed a person for that? He fears you now. He’s learned to keep food out of the fights. You’ll go into beast mode for that.

When he wakes up to see blood in the bed..he begs for menustration. Like there’s no better way to clean it up..why not? He’ll pout but let up after like 30 mins of asking. If your comfortable with it, you’ll get the best eating out of your life. He heard sex easies up your cramps? So why not?

Appetite Change? Who’s she? Oh yeah, you eat a lot. Like seriously he really doesn’t care.. sort of just lets you eat whatever because it’s your body. Why not?

Cramps? He chuckles but helps, his laughing is sexy guys.. I think I’ll trade that out for cramps. He’ll cuddle you and rub the spot that hurts you the most. He’s actually so good at this actually. He may stay silent and it may get a little dirty. But his “massaging” is not that bad and it actually easies up intense cramps.

Ferid definitely wants Menustration. If you want oral, this is the way to go. If he gets blood and you get oral. Win - win. So this is actually the best way to bribe him with some oral sex. Well, if that’s if he didn’t already ask.

Mood swings? Laughs the entire time, no it’s not a chuckle it’s him down right laughing. He loves them, you can be so angry and emotional in just minutes and he loves them. You scared him with the strength though. I’m sorry but who fights someone for candy, noodles or just ice cream? And just so you can binge eat it. He finds this really interesting and amusing because vampires do the same. He’s never really seen humans fight for food..like that. Emotional mood swings, nuisance to him. He’ll comfort you but like it’s just not his thing. Finds it weird when you get mad at inanimate objects — it can’t talk..

When he wakes to blood on the bed and your still asleep..yes..he’s going to eat you out. You can’t question it. He just wants to be between your legs lapping at the blood. You’ll wake up to him doing that at least once. No blood is going to go to waste with him around. And yes, he knows when your period comes and goes.. the going part sucks for him especially if you didn’t let him taste it.

Change in appetite? Umm...He notices but chooses not to. He’s practically the definition, I see you but I choose not to. Like, he’ll watch you eat the food but won’t comment on it. As he should. Again, you eating doesn’t really apply to them. They don’t really care what you eat, yeah they may watch you but seriously they aren’t judging you.

Cramps? He can hold you or cuddle you. He’ll run you a bath too, no he’s not getting in. It’s for you. But that’s probably all he’ll do. He’ll read to you if that makes you feel better? Gets your painkillers though he’s not going to let you go without those especially if you have really bad cramps.

Stays....away. Well, half of the time most of the time he’s really comforting and everything. He still keeps his playful additude nothing else.

Mood Swings? He’s scared too, like you’re so powerful. You’ve become so scary, what happened to you.. to him.. you’re a nightmare that’s walking around for a few days and then right after your period you’re a bundle of joy. That’s probably why he’s scared.. you switch moods so quickly that he can’t keep up. You’re battling people for food? Are you crazy? Ok, he’ll count you as crazy if you battle someone for something so simple and small as chocolate. Yeah, but he’s there for the whole fight cheering you on. Emotional — he’ll probably cry with you and it’s probably over a scoop of ice cream you dropped.

When he wakes up with blood in the bed, he’ll go run you a shower first. And ask you to get up so he can change the sheets. He’ll probably join you later and he’ll get you a snack. But sometimes he’s not there so.. not much there.

Appetite change? You’re eating so much Ice cream without stopping. He just stares at you, awkwardly..dumbfounded. Then you’ll probably get on from him staring to much, it doesn’t break his process. In fact, he sits besides you and stares and puts his hand up to his chin. Stares, and Stares..and stares.

Cramps? Knows exactly what to do, you bending over in pain isn’t taking lightly by him. Even if you say you’re fine — he’s going to run you a bath water and make you feel better. Snacks? That he can do. He’s honestly so easy going with this and doesn’t make it such a problem.

Smirks.. ah, it’s that time of the month again. He just corners you until you give into trying the Menustration thing at least once. He’s so tempting. Sorry Lacus but there is way more to it then just Menustration, ok?

Mood swings? He’s not scared but he’ll watch you from afar. Like, you’re not scary from back here but up close — you’re scary. You don’t know wether to take that as an insult or compliment. All that strength though — how come you aren’t fighting battles? He’ll want to battle you over some chocolate, maybe some tug of war? Let’s just say — you won..chocolate beats everything. Emotional, *sigh*.. He’ll just watch you cry like, what else is he supposed to do? Yes, he seems so uninterested in this.

Menustration: Don’t let this boy tell you any different, he loves eating you out while doing this. He’s super lazy — yeah, yeah whatever. But he’s cutting corners just so he can get a taste of you tonight.(my bad, that was cheesy)

Appetite change? Again, doesn’t care. Doesn’t even stare. He might tease you with it.. holding it above his head. Which also didn’t end well, so he stop doing that. He totally call you vicious right after that.

Cramps? Lucas doesn’t really know much on that department. Another teaching lesson. He’s a little worried at the sudden pain honestly. Watching you bend over in pain isn’t what he’ll like to see when he comes home. Other days, you probably won’t even want to get out of bed and Lucas is right there. Asking if there is anything he can do to make you feel better.

That quick? It was just here last week.. what happened? Lost again.. just lost. He just doesn’t understand why you have this. He’s close to crying..

Mood Swings? Stays away..you’re scary. You’re always trying to box something such as the chair that you bumped into. He’s more than dumbfounded, the way that you’re talking to inanimate objects though makes him laugh. You’re seriously cursing out a stool? Emotional, he doesn’t do so good. He’ll comfort you like he’ll usually do. But he may not know how to really solve the problem so say goodbye to that delicious Oreo cookie you stepped on.

When he wakes up to blood in the bed, he’s not as lost because he already knows but he’ll stare for quite a bit before waking you up. And doing what you do when this happens. It’s either because your too embarrassed and he’s says he’ll do it or your on the verge of crying.

Appetite change? Can care less, you’re hungry then eat. He won’t even question you getting up late at night to eat. He’ll just let you leave from the cuddle session to go do whatever you want to. Late night snack sounds good to him, why not?

Cramps? He hates seeing you lean over in a pain every once in a while. He’ll do anything to try and make it feel better. He’ll get you some painkillers. And if your cramps are really bad, he’s not really good at comforting but he’ll do what you tell him. He knows you’re in pain so he won’t push your limits.

[prose-for-hire]

Life bites

Pairing: Oz x fem!werewolf!reader

Request: Oz? YES PLEASE! how about agirl who's also a werewolf, but sdhe hates her condition and is always shying away from others, that is until our sweet guy finds out and does all he can to help help and... feelings involved ;)

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Discussion and feelings of shame/guilt. Being a werewolf is described as being traumatic for the reader.

You hated the moon. Despised it. Cursed and swore blindly at it whenever you had the chance, or the ability to speak as it rose.

You were a werewolf. Not by choice. Although, you would be hard pressed to find someone who had become a werewolf by choice. You had been bitten one evening, you had been out later than your curfew. 

You blamed yourself for being out so late. For looking biteable and easy to take on without a fight. You were devastated when you realised. 

When you kept waking up in strange places, your mind spinning with part memories. Snapshots of horrific mutilation and blood. God, there was so much blood. Thick and rusted into your matted fur. Now, in your hair once you returned to your human form.

You were sick of taking showers with the water running red. Having to see it again made you have to relive the carnal massacre your demon side would partake in. Your whole body had wracked with sobs, masked by the shower.

Your family hadn’t understood. Had said your personality had almost changed overnight. That you were so angry and they didn’t understand why. So emotional and insular. You couldn’t dare tell them.

They couldn’t know, couldn’t be subjected to the danger. To the misery that had taken up residence in your chest. So you left home, trying to protect them. Drew into yourself. Trying to hide the shame that you felt. The shame that came along with your identity.

You had isolated yourself, moved to a new place. Sunnydale, it was called. There was a pull in your gut, you had been driving aimlessly and you just knew in your mind, body and soul that you needed to go there. To this town. For whatever reason.

You didn’t usually believe in fate, but you hadn’t believed in werewolves until two months ago so who were you to disbelieve?

You had lost your friends, unable to make new ones. You were more reserved around people, worried that your condition would get worse and become permanent. That you could hurt people. Infect them just by meeting their eyes as they spoke.

You folded in on yourself further, trying to be really small. Not taking up much space in public. You wanted to hide under the radar. You wanted, more than anything, not to be a threat to these innocent people.

You barely left your house, barricading the doors and windows before every full moon. You didn’t know how else to protect the population from yourself. It wasn’t completely effective. Sometimes you woke up in fields again, having broken out of the barricades.

You always woke up to your house having been trashed beyond repair. You had used to clear and replace everything but after the fourth month you had just left it. You still had a bed and a working sofa, so you decided you would be okay. You preferred hurting inanimate objects than living beings. The library fines were worth it, you decided.

You found yourself praying, calling out to every known deity. Trying to bargain with them. Assure that people wouldn’t have to suffer at your hand. You did this every day now.

You had started to frequent a library. It had an occult section. There was quite a large amount on werewolves. You were trying to figure out a way to stop it. A way to understand your condition. To manage it the best that you could.

You usually took all of your books and headed home pretty quickly. And this was what you were doing as you cut across the parking lot to get to your car.

What you didn’t see, as you had been watching your feet as you hurried across the tarmac was a guy. A cute guy at that.

You bumped into him and dropped one of the books you had been clutching to your chest. He had seen you around but you never stuck around long enough for him to strike up a conversation.

“Sorry, here” He picked it up and offered the book, before scanning his eyes across the front of the copy he was handing back. He half smiled at the irony. Werewolves.

“Oh, th-thank you” You stuttered, not accustomed to doing more than speaking to shop clerks when you had no other way out of it.

“Any good?” He asked, gesturing at the book.

“Haven’t read it” You mumbled, before becoming more and more evidently embarrassed. Oz stared, trying to figure something out. He opened his mouth as if to say something but you just nodded your thanks again and awkwardly shuffled to your car.

He watched you speed out of the parking lot, thinking a moment. Before shaking his head and carrying on to the record store that was next to the library. He couldn’t stop thinking about you though. Your demeanour. Your nervousness. He sensed something in you. And now, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about you, despite not even knowing you.

He asked around, describing you but nobody recognised you. He frowned but he couldn’t forget your startled face. He had identified something in you, a similarity. Or something that spoke to him anyway.

All he knew was that he was supposed to talk to you. But he had more pressing issues himself as the full moon loomed. He had to prepare for his own transformation.

However you did bump into each other again, only this time as werewolves. Both of you had somehow managed to escape from your confines. As if it wasn’t only the moon calling that night. It was the promise of the other. Of that spark you had felt but pushed down when you met him the first time.

The night was fraught, you only had flashes of snarling and horror. Of blood and rage. Of a guiltless carnage that waited for you to awaken in your human form.

The one thing that he could cling to, the only glint of hope in an otherwise dreaded destiny was those eyes. When he woke up, he remembered them. They were the same eyes you had glanced in briefly when you bumped into each other in the parking lot.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you until he found you again. He had waited. Knowing you would probably be bringing your books back. And he was right, he saw you walking towards the library.

You had returned with only one of the several books you had left with and it was half torn up. Deep claw marks meaning that the library was never a free service to you. He knew, his hunch was right. Those eyes, he couldn’t pull his own away.

It had been troubling him, he hadn’t stopped thinking about you. His heart ached for you, he saw how lost you looked. The panic in your eye when anybody came close to you.

“Hey, y/n, right?” He asked but you were trying to rush past him.

“I can’t stay”

“I thought maybe we could hang, there’s a great record store down by-” Oz wanted to speak to you, try to offer a hand. Some support. He had needed it when it was new to him.

“Really, that’s kind, but you don’t understand-” You stopped

“I understand more than you think” He tried to hint, looking at the ground before looking back into your eyes.

“You couldn’t possibly-”

“Full moon. The deer in the cemetery” He barely spoke above a whisper, he never really said much about his own feelings. His own guilt. Especially not to strangers. But he saw the way the shame bit so deep. The way that the only thought that replayed on your mind was horror. And pain.

The animalistic part of you scared you. You were lost. But the man in front of you, though appearing cool and disaffected on the surface – you could almost see into his soul. Through those eyes that shone, you saw him. You really saw him, the same wolf you had met the night prior. The meal you had shared before you ran through the streets. Leaving destruction in your wake.

You nodded. Unable to verbally confirm what you both knew. His words made you choke on a sob. Your hands moving to your face, your shoulders wracked with emotion. Tears welling and then streaming.

A hand slid along your back, soothing you despite him knowing you didn’t feel you deserved it. He saw the good in you. The way you kept going despite the weight around your neck. The heavy burden of guilt upon your back. You carried it around with you everywhere. It weighed you down. The only colour in your otherwise black and white world was red.

“Trust me” he murmured. But you could see that he was being sensitive to you, to the way he knew so intimately that you must be feeling. You nodded, a decision you would thank yourself for down the line.

He brought you back to his place. His tone was soothing and level despite what you were both discussing. You found yourself missing his touch from that slight touch of comfort you had received earlier. It was the most contact you had in such a long time.

When you were in his home, he spoke to you, explaining ways to cope. About letting people support you which was something he had always struggled with. He even mentioned things that he had researched and found out himself. About shutting yourself away, which you explained you already did at the expense of your entire house.

He saw you, truly saw you. In a way nobody ever had before. You were more human to him than anyone he had met and you sensed this from him. Together, to the onlooker you could just be a guy and a girl talking. Hanging out without a care in the world.

He shook his head at your admittance, concerned for you. For how wherever you looked in your home you must see the destructive part of your nature. Viewing yourself as a monster before a woman. He could almost feel your emotions as his own. You shakily shared experiences, ones you hadn’t dared to say out loud before. Spoke about other things, less serious.

You weren’t used to company, let alone speaking to people anymore. So that day you had been extremely emotional. Your voice dwindled into a hoarse whisper. But he knew about being quiet. Not having the words. He had been this way. Now he had grown to not mind what people thought.

You met him almost every week after this. Finally beginning to let someone in. You slowly got to know each other. In this time, his feelings for you blossomed. He even began to give you guitar lessons. Writing thoughts and lyrics together. He was giving you a way to express how you felt. You tried your best at it, it was very hard to verbalise how you felt. Which Oz got completely. As time went on, you mostly found yourself slowly looking forwards to this time spent with him.

One evening Oz called you out of the blue. He asked to meet you somewhere and you found yourself feeling something. That he wanted to spend more time with you. You couldn’t place it. But it was as if the pressure that you were so accustomed to was slowly dissipating.

You arrived and Oz showed you into the deserted room. It was a cage. Oz explained that him and his friend Xander had made it. Or, Xander had made it and Oz had claimed that he distanced himself creatively. In case you didn’t like it. It was sturdy and it matched his. So that you could be safe as well as everyone else in Sunnydale.

Your reaction was emotional. Of course you were grateful. This meant something to you. Oz was doing everything he could to tighten his grip on you. To pull you up from drowning in the guilt he was all too familiar with. You ran at him and hugged him. Tears shining in your eyes. You both almost overbalanced at the enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected this. You weren’t even sure where it had come from.

The first glimpse of something akin to hope. That you could carry on. That you could make sure no harm was inflicted by your hand. Or, sizeable canines.

You realised what you had done and pulled away. His complexion was tinged pink but he had embraced you with open arms. Neither of you said anything, but you both laughed a little under your breath. Smiling at the other.

You had never been this visibly happy. Your smile made your face light up. He wanted to see you smile much more often. He was about to tell you this, but Xander skidded in with an enthusiastic description of all the features the cage included. Oz went quiet and you both nodded along as Xander’s voice got more animated.

After a few months, you both agreed to wait out the full moon together. You were spending most of your free time together, discussing your thoughts. Emotions. Just sitting together comfortably. So, it made sense for this to be the next step in your relationship. Your cages were moved into the same abandoned warehouse space together. Sunnydale was full of spooky derelict buildings and people knew not to just wander into the one you had chosen.

You were monitored by his friends who were really very accepting of you. It was nice, being introduced to people that didn’t hate you for what you had gone through. People who would empathise and attempt to understand.

You and Oz had both started to grow closer and closer together. He was an incredibly considerate soul. He would do anything for you and he knew that you had a great affection for him.

He was going to ask you on a date, that wasn’t sitting side by side in a cage for the evening and passing the time that way. But for now, he was happy to spend this time with you.

Another month, another full moon. You and he were together again, looking at each other through the thick bars. You could communicate just through looking at each other now. Nonverbal communication made your silences always comfortable ones.

There was a level of intimacy in how relaxed you could both be together, even in this situation. Even waiting for the night to fall, a time where both of you felt so vulnerable. So concerned that something would go wrong with the cage. That you couldn’t contain it.

You reached for him through the bars wordlessly and he didn’t hesitate to move towards you. His hand stretching between the space. Your hands twisting like vines. Solidifying the nature of your connection. Of your unsaid feelings.

You could get through tonight, as you always did, together.

As your human forms disappeared, the wolves emerged. Pacing your cages. Longing to be together, whining that they couldn’t reach each other. Trying to escape, not just for the hunt. But for the touch of the other. As always happened.

When morning came and you could be unlocked, you went to get brunch together. It was the best part of the month, especially when you were safely caged away and nobody got hurt. You had an entire month stretching before you. You both became incredibly hungry in this period and the morning just appeared to glow with hope.

He had helped you want to live. Changed the bleak landscape of your existence into a sunny life you could actually imagine enjoying. Only with him.

You slid into your booth, the one by the window that you always did. He had helped you so much, but you hadn’t realised how much you had helped him. Today though, on this morning with the early morning sunlight filtering in, he told you. It came from the heart just like those lyrics he wrote so well. The ones he had played for you in those long afternoons you spent alone.

Your eyes shone and your voice was barely audible as you gushed about how much he meant to you. About your mutual adoration. Your words didn’t feel enough. You wanted to express all of these feelings you had for him in the same way he had so easily reeled off from his own heart. He had been nervous to reveal them, but you never would have guessed.

He smiled at the way you had opened up so much since you first met. He slid around the booth the sit beside you. His eyes moved between your eyes and your lips. He was nervous but your adoration for him shone through. You shared a knowing smile.

He leaned in and his lips brushed tenderly against yours. He never wanted to press you for more, just feel his wholehearted emotion. This one action said everything. He wanted you to be his. His girlfriend. You kissed back as his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your skull. Began to tangle softly into your hair. The kiss was so tender and sweet, you near melted into him. Your hand found his resting on the table as your lips moved against the other in such reverence. Your hand clasping his. You eventually reluctantly moved from this kiss. It made you feel like you were flying. As if you were walking on air. It meant hope. It meant him.

“Werewolves in love” He smiled, before landing a brief and incredibly soft kiss to your lips. He then slid back to his side of the booth as the waitress arrived with you food.

Neither of you could help smiling. The corners of his lips tugging into a smile that completely accentuated his features. He glowed. You were grinning across the table from him, unable to believe just how much your life could have changed for the better.

You were never going to be alone anymore. You had each other. You knew each other intimately.

[the-voltage-diaries]

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου - Lucifer x Diavolo

AO3 Link

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου: Greek for ‘My Polar Star’

Word Count: 1859

A/N: I don’t know what this is. All I know is that @simpingw0lfi3​​​​​​​ refused to do it, so I did. Of course, please don’t expect this to be perfect because... it really isn’t. 

Vote of thanks: @akaiiro-yume​​​​​ for checking and correcting all the grammatical fuck ups I did, making sure I didn’t stop writing this halfway and going through any mental breakdown I might have had instead for me. And, of course, @some-ikemen-snob​​​​​ for making sure this SCREAMED Lucifer energy this way and that. only for now, but ily both.

Devildom 14th February, 20XX Saturday, 7:57 PM

Dear Diary,

      I suppose I've never written a journal entry such as this in the past, for I haven't found either the desire or the will to task myself with writing my thoughts down in a manner wherein I speak to an inanimate object. That said, I have been told writing is, in a manner of speaking, therapeutic, and I believe I could do with some of that right now. It would be false to assume I don’t still harbour any inhibitions towards using my time in this manner, especially when I'd much rather be by Diavolo’s side. The very same Diavolo who, as a matter of fact, happens to be the subject of this writing session today. Strangely enough, and if I recall correctly, he was also the one who introduced - which is putting it rather mildly - me to the “art” of journal entries. I admit, I haven’t given this activity the kind of gravity which was probably expected out of me, but then again, today is a little different from the rest. I'm not entirely certain as to where to begin, but I do believe I have been told in situations like these, one should do whatever... feels right.

      Diavolo is... well, where do I even begin? He is the future of Devildom, as a few might call it - myself included. While he does appear to be quite the cheerful and at times careless lord, it’d be a lie to deny that he is just as wise and compassionate underneath that wave of buoyancy radiating off of him. Honest to a fault, but with his moral compass always pointing towards the best interest of those around him. I’ll admit, sometimes it proves to be rather difficult to believe that he indeed is a demon. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to compare him to the Polaris considering he does quite radiate the charisma from himself, shining admirably amidst a dark sea of onlookers. While in name he rules over all the demons in the land of Devildom, the right set of eyes won’t take too long to deduce the eloquence with which his fingers reach out to the soul of every single resident of the land, holding them together better than gravity ever bound humans to the earth. 

      Saying that is all there is to him would be a lie whiter than the wet snow, making its way to the tips of my fingers and sliding off gently onto this page. That, of course, doesn’t mean describing how I feel towards him is no herculean task. There are some cases when a language -  no matter the plethora of vocabulary it offers - just isn’t sufficient enough, and this certainly is one of those cases. For the time being, let’s just owe my lack of articulacy to the bond of mutual respect and trust Diavolo and I share, built over centuries upon centuries, braving the ravages of time, and even perhaps the less than pleasing antics my brothers tend to pull. But while the impression the ruler of all demons and I tend to emit may seem to be distanced by a careful degree of professionalism, I don’t believe anybody knows that that might not be the case. Even Diavolo himself. Doesn’t come as a surprise, really, for they simply can’t know.

      Why do I believe that to not be the case, then? Well, I would wonder why I felt so strongly about it had I not known the reason myself. The very same reason which is now a secret so surreptitious that I can’t help but consider burning this piece of paper once I finish writing to ensure it is never revealed to another set of eyes. Such dastardly is the nature of this emotion, tricking one into its delusive warmth, encompassing them with the belief that nothing truly is impossible, that what they feel might just be true and meaningful enough to be returned by the other they feel for, only to cackle with glee and turn away when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy it was believed to turn out to be. The very same emotion which in layman’s terms is apparently called... love.

      I’m not entirely certain I understand the extent of its exquisite existence myself, to be truthful. All I know is no matter how intensely I try to shut the door on its escaping fumes, it turns futile the second I lay my eyes on the man in question. While the rest of the known universe sees an omnipotent leader binding everyone together, making them sing the same tune in harmony, I see what I can only consider an anchor, grounding me, making it so that I can’t ever fall into the abyss of the darkness that breathes inside of me and float away. He is the quintessence of the best of what the world has to offer, with his golden eyes sparkling like stardust, weaving their ever-lasting magic into the hearts of whoever they come across - be it human, or demon, or angel - wrapping them in their never-ending warmth, letting them sink into the depths of benevolence they promise. His hair are the cerise of a raging inferno, sheltering beneath their canopy a quick, sensible, erudite mind. His smile is but a warm culmination of everything optimistic and positive, like a flame inviting moths to it, reaching out to give their innermost yearnings a hand to grab on to and never let go. Simply divine. And this is where the paths diverge, I suppose.

      They see a to-be Demon King, I see Diavolo.

      But alas, love is a fickle mistress. Getting too lost in the charm of her alluring arms will only result in a doom of them wrapping around your neck, enticing, until you realise their hold is tightening. Not to hold on, but to suffocate. I might have gotten so lost in that fiery gaze that I didn’t notice it start to crawl along my skin, leaving a charred, burnt path in its wake. The very anchor which I believed to be the one to ground me and hold me close etched itself deeper into the oceanic floor of delirium, drowning me. The threads of his stardust wrapped themselves around me and clutched hard enough to strangle. Before I knew it, the symphony of something meaningful became the cacophony of a nightmare.

      This red thread strung through itself earlier today the series of events I’d rather forget. I’ve known how I feel towards Diavolo for a while now, and I had been searching for an opportunity to come clean and let him know about it for the last few days. Not to say I hadn’t gotten said opportunities at all, but one could owe it to me being too prideful to admit I was finally opening up to the idea of accepting feelings and... emotions. Around that time was when Solomon let slip a few details about the significance of Valentine’s day in the human world as an annual occurrence to celebrate romantic love, friendship, and admiration, and with enough persistence, Asmodeus managed to convince Diavolo to declare the day as an official holiday. Just a few hours ago I walked along the empty hallways to Diavolo’s office, knowing him, Barbatos and I to be the only ones in the building, still choosing work over any form of inactivity. By then, I had talked myself into finally telling the most powerful of all demons about the feelings I harboured towards him. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was indeed a tad hopeful, wishing for the feelings to be returned. Once I reached the door to his private office, my hand settled above the smooth hardwood to give it a knock. And that’s when I noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. I heard a voice inside, other than Diavolo’s, and I took the liberty to glance inside, only for my hopes to come crashing down when the realisation struck me: I shouldn’t have done that.

      Inside his office, Diavolo sat in his seat with his mouth pressed against another, a hand trailing across the small face with dark green locks framing it with elegance while the other held on to the person’s waist, pulling him closer. My eyes widened when the smaller man of the two let out a muffled whimper, perched on Diavolo’s lap. Barbatos. I felt my heart squeeze out a pained croak at the sight, and even though every single nerve in my body begged me to move away and forget I ever saw anything, my legs didn’t move. They stayed glued to their spot on the floor even as I felt it crumble beneath my feet, just the way my eyes stayed on Diavolo. My lip trembled with a longing I never thought I’d experience when Barbatos intertwined his fingers with Diavolo’s, smiling into the kiss they shared, like the perfect harmony which was always meant to be. It was when Diavolo broke the kiss, eyes meeting the other’s and whispers of love and confessions floating across the room until they settled on my ears, that I finally felt the mask crack. The facade I had worked on for centuries to lay the foundation of crumbled as my fists clenched, letting myself have a moment of weakness when a lone tear of frustration, delay, anger, and self loathing dripped down my cheek. I looked up at the ceiling, a voiceless laugh tumbling across my lips at the cognisance that the Polaris I was reaching out for, shining proud in the middle of a dark, cloudless sky, was beyond my reach, and... never supposed to be mine. How far I could stretch, how willing were my fingers to make one last attempt to touch it’s light and bask in it - all of that didn’t matter anymore.

      I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking once as I tucked away whatever it is I was going to tell Diavolo in some corner of my mind, crushing the key with a hard snap of my fingers. My eyes found Barbatos again, glazing over with a heartfelt wish for him to find his happiness, at least. It was with one last aching smile towards Diavolo and a euphoric laugh spilling from Barbatos’ lips that I turned on my heel, shaking my head at the fate I was handed. Needless to say, I hold no malice towards either of them - they’re both precious to me, as much as I dislike admitting it.

      I believe I have shared more than what was required, and I shall burn this piece of paper lest anyone finds it. One might call it wishful thinking on my part, but I do pray that watching the last signs of anything I harbour towards the one who wasn’t meant to be mine from the start burn as the embers of the fire consume it whole makes me put a lid on my feelings once and for all, for they were never supposed matter. They weren’t supposed to exist to begin with.

      After all, only a prince deserves a fairy-tale with a happy ending, and I am no prince.

Lucifer.

[gyucore]

in the orb

pairing: trapped soul! beomgyu x reader

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, reincarnation au, supernatural au

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: implications of death, light swearing

— you were cleaning your grandmother's attic when you stumble upon an old glass orb that just happened to talk on its own

A cloud of dust scatters around the room after you drop the glass orb on a particularly dusty couch. You've lost it. You've definitely lost it. You're quick to cover your face with your sleeve, fighting back the urge to sneeze. The orb sits still on the couch as it should, a sheet of gray still masking its surface.

This was supposed to be an average weekend. Your grandmother had invited you to her house for some quality time together during your break, and you thought you'd offer to help her clean her mess of an attic, to which she was more than happy to accept. And right now, the sweet old lady was tending to her garden downstairs while you were up here, freaking out.

It's said that people often imagined hearing strange noises when frightened and alone. And you were in a dark and creepy attic at an old person's house. This could just be another case of the common I'm-so-lonely-I'm-starting-to-hear-voices scenario. It's simply wasn't possible for a dusty old orb to start talking when you pick it up. It's just not.

“Hello?” You call out, immediately finding yourself silly for even attempting to communicate with an inanimate object.

The dust in the room eventually settles, and yet still no response. “See, Y/N? You were just hearing things.” That conclusion seemed convincing enough. You felt the need to give yourself a good pat on the shoulder for going along with the sane route.

With that dilemma out of the way, your attention couldn't help but wander back to the large piles of junk occupying nearly every space in the vicinity. One could only hope for your grandmother to clean regularly. “Right, now back to work.”

“What work?”

“Oh, you know. Cleaning.” You answer its question from earlier.

You freeze, eyes wide, a chill running down your spine. There it was again. You weren't sure if you heard it right this time or was just hallucinating, but there was one way to find out.

Silence. You almost called it a day after considering that you were probably just tired and needed some rest.

Half a step outside the door and the voice spoke once more. “Are you still there?”

You pause, brows raised, and back still turned. Somehow, you didn't know if it was safe to face the big ball of dust just yet. “What do you mean? Of course I'm still here. This is my Grandma's house.”

Thank the heavens for modern technology and the invention of smartphones. Speaking of which, you fish for yours in the depths of your pants’ pockets. The voice recorder app should come in handy during times like this. You know, to confirm you're not crazy. With the app on, all you needed to do was have the orb talk again.

“Grandma? Oh! Then you're her grandchild?!”

“Uh, yeah?” The orb apparently knew your grandmother. Strangely enough, that was the least odd tidbit of information you obtained today.

“Her grandchild.. Wow, to think I'm finally meeting you! Or at least your voice?” The orb lets out a giggle and the more you heard it talk, the more human it sounded.

“Sorry, can you excuse me for a minute?”

Never in your life had you thought the day would come where you'd be excusing yourself from a conversation with some sort of decorative object but life has its ways. You were never a stranger to off days anyway.

“Oh, sure, uh, go ahead? I can wait.” The orb swiftly replies. For a second, you could swear something was moving from inside the orb after the light outside the window had hit a clear spot in the crystal.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room as you dash downstairs, taking your phone out and bringing it closer to your ear, replaying the recording. Sure enough, the voice was caught in the audio loud and clear.

“Holy shit. I'm not crazy.” An exasperated sigh leaves you as you slump back on the wall in disbelief. For a moment, you considered running away and warning your grandma about the cursed object, but part of you was curious enough to disregard the warning signs, and possibly risk your life by going back up there and approaching the thing. You decided to go with the latter.

“Are you back?” The orb asks once you've gotten close enough for it to hear your footsteps.

“Yeah. Just had to do something real quick.”

“I see.”

You wait for the orb to continue but it doesn't. It continues to lie on the couch lifelessly as if it hadn't been speaking to you in the past few minutes.

“Um..” You clear your throat, hoping to get another response

“Oh!" The voice from the orb seemed startled after hearing you talk. “How are you're still there?”

You frown. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well for starters, a talking glass orb isn't quite the public friendly concept you'd think it'd be.” It answers. Only now have you noticed that the orb had a particularly low masculine voice. “People don't usually stick around long enough to find out why I can talk in the first place.”

You blink. “Fair point. Though, I don't see the need for you to ask over and over again when I already said I was back.”

The orb chuckles. “You'd be surprised how many times people have reassured me of their presence only to leave halfway. Plus, I can't really see you right now to actually know you're there.”

“You can't see me?”

“The dust.”

“OH.” Not knowing what came over you, you immediately lunged forward and started wiping the orb with one of the dust rags you had lying around. It didn't take long for the thing to clear up and look like its old glorious self again. “How about now?” You ask, inspecting the orb as you hold it up.

“Better.”

It takes everything in you to resist dropping the orb on the floor when a glowing face of a man appears from the inside, smiling brightly at you. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

The man visibly panics, pressing his face closer to the glass. “Wait no! If you pass out now, I won't have anyone to talk to! I haven't spoken to a single person in decades!”

“But you mentioned my grandma earlier, I thought you—”

“She could never hear me, but I could see and hear her.” The man explains, his voice a little quieter than before.

You bring the orb down, still cupping it in your hands. “How is this possible? Are you a ghost or something? How did you get in there?”

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” He winks, resting his head on his hand. “Take a seat and place me down somewhere soft.”

This seemed ridiculous by all means, but you oblige. The couch should be soft enough, and so you place him down gently while you take a seat on the floor, making yourself comfortable. “You were saying?”

“I—” The man accidentally bumps his head onto the glass as he leans forward, chuckling as he rubs his head gently. “Ow. Sorry. I'm just so happy to finally have someone to talk to. You can't imagine how long it's been. How the world survived without a single soul hearing my heavenly voice for all those years is beyond me.” He cracks a joke and you couldn't help but laugh.

“It's okay.” You say, shifting in your spot. “Go ahead.”

The man nods, the smile slowly fading from his face. “My name is Choi Beomgyu. You can call me whatever you like. I had a friend once, and she was a witch. Oh— not the kind that you hear from stories, no. She was really nice and cared a lot about nature, her friends, and her family. That type of person, you know?”

You nod along, assuring him that you were listening, and he smiles again.

There's just something about his smile that just seemed so happy and endearing. Perhaps it had truly been so long.

“She was this ball of sunshine. And back then I was a pretty different guy. Our personalities might've clashed and we butted heads a few times but somehow we ended up becoming close friends.” A faint smile graces his lips before disappearing as quickly as it came. “But then I got involved with the wrong crowd.”

The statement piques your interest and you draw closer. Beomgyu notices this and tries to talk louder.

“Remember how I said she was a witch unlike the ones in the fairy tales? Well, there were also people who were exactly like those witches. The ones that used their knowledge and abilities for their own nefarious purposes.” Beomgyu continues, his hair slightly covering his face as he looked down. “Let's just say that I got myself in a situation where they ended up hunting me down for my soul.”

“What?”

He frowns. “My friend saw me being chased down the streets one night and helped. We both knew that even when together, we were too weak to go against all of them. They had us cornered in her home, and that's when we knew it was the end for us.”

Beomgyu's voice started to waver as he spoke and you were about to ask him if he was alright, and tell him that it was okay if he didn't continue but the look on his face when your eyes met was enough to tell you that he needed to do this. He must've wanted to talk about this matter for so long, you think.

“She.. pushed me towards her workroom, telling me that she'll keep me safe no matter what. I didn't know what she meant until she cast a spell on me and I passed out. The last thing I heard were her screams. I never found out what happened to her after that, and I can only assume the worst.” He shakes his head, trying to getting himself together in front of his new friend. “Next thing I knew, I was inside her old glass orb. I've been trapped in this thing for years with no escape. No one to talk to— forever regretting how I didn't stop her that time, and regretting getting in the way of those witches in the first place.”

His story nearly brings you to tears, and before you knew it, your hands were reaching out for the orb. “Beomgyu, I..”

“It's alright.” Beomgyu smiles. “In the end, the orb ended up in her younger sister's possessions.”

Your eyes widen. “You mean.. Grandma?”

“That's right.” Beomgyu chuckles. “Though she had never able to see or hear me, unlike you.”

“Oh. That's uh, too bad.” You smile awkwardly, releasing the orb. The two of you sit in silence for a while, both needing a little mental break after that.

Shortly, your attention was brought forth back onto the orb when you hear Beomgyu laugh. You find yourself chuckling along. “Entertained are we, Gyu?”

The laughter stops and his eyes shoot up at you. You hear him mumbling something incoherent before hesitating to speak. “No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head. “It's just.. It's kinda funny. I'm trapped here repenting for my whole life because of what I've done to her, or thinking about what I could've done.. but you know what? To be completely honest, I was starting to forget what she even looked like. But looking at you now, and hearing your voice..”

The idea popped up in your head and you weren't sure if it was even possible to begin with. But then again, you were talking to a soul inside an orb.

“You were easily granted access to the true nature of the orb, and are the first person to have ever done that without running away.” He kids. “Could it be?”

“I wouldn't count on it.” You tell it to him straight, getting up from your spot on the floor and dusting off your jeans. You knew what he was implying and there was no way that you were even considering yourself to be your great aunt's reincarnation no matter how ridiculous the situation already was. “I'll get back to cleaning. Feel free to talk while I do that.” You tell him before rushing to the other side of the attic, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You'll figure out what to do with him later.

Beomgyu watches you fondly. You had told him to not even count on the thought of you being the one he's been hoping for all these years but it was too late for that now. 

“Entertained are we, Gyu?” Her voice rings in his mind, and he shakes it off.

“How do you always manage to do such amazing things? I'd appreciate it if you'd stop stirring my heart.” Beomgyu's gaze rests upon your busy silhouette, and he smiles in content.

“It's nice meeting you again, Y/N.”