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secretsolarsystem · 2 years

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Uhh, we definitely need more of ex-jedi obiwan and Padawan anakin. It was so good!

How was the first time they met after obiwan left the order?

well if you definitely need more who am I to deny !!!!! thank you sm I'm so glad you enjoyed!!

there first time was very silly imo and you can read all about it in this 1.7k canon-divergent, padawan!Anakin, ex-Jedi!Obi-Wan, Anakin is underage but nothing underage happens I promise!!!, possessive Obi-Wan <333

(part one & part two)

–

For years – six, to be exact – since Anakin had been brought to the Temple and Obi-Wan had left, Obi-Wan hadn’t really left, not entirely. He still felt a responsibility to watching over the boy and ensuring his safety and well-being while making sure his training progressed successfully, like any good master would.

But Obi-Wan was not Anakin’s master, not really. Still, his master’s dying wish was to train the boy, so Obi-Wan did the next best thing as an outsider and kept an eye on him.

Which is how he found himself running around the lower levels, chasing a fifteen-year-old Anakin at what Obi-Wan deemed a reasonable distance: far enough away he wouldn’t be noticed, but close enough that he wouldn’t lose his padawan.

No, not his padawan; Mace Windu’s padawan. And Obi-Wan knew, now, that Anakin Skywalker must really be the Chosen One, because no average padawan could sneak out from under Mace Windu’s watch. It filled Obi-Wan with equal parts pride at Anakin’s capabilities and outrage at Windu’s negligence.

(Obi-Wan knew that in actuality, Windu was a very attentive and invested master, but that didn’t change the fact that his fifteen-year-old padawan was running around the lower levels unaccompanied. Well, he was accompanied by Obi-Wan, but Windu didn’t know that. Anakin didn’t know that.)

Even if Obi-Wan didn’t already know it himself, it was obvious Anakin hadn’t been down here alone before. He was bobbing and weaving through crowds, taking strange turns and lingering to see the strange and very much illegal substances being pushed. Obi-Wan was a bit torn, wanting nothing more than to yank on the collar of Anakin’s shirt and give him the lecture of his life, but also not wanting to do anything to impede on the look of wonder on the boy’s face.

Warring with himself, Obi-Wan kept following Anakin as he made his way around, endlessly curious and nervous as to where they’d end up. Only a few times did Obi-Wan have to deal with others interested in following Anakin, either using the Force to suggest they’d like to do otherwise, or resorting to knocking them out, if they were too relentless.

Suddenly, as Obi-Wan stepped around a large wookie to bring Anakin back into view, Anakin took a sharp right down an alley way. Sucking in a harsh breath, Obi-Wan quickened his pace, his heart racing. Anakin should know better than to be down here at night all alone, yes, but he should at least know better than to go down dark, suspect alleys, especially down here at night all alone.

Just as Obi-Wan turned the corner, Anakin pounced, slamming Obi-Wan’s back into one of the walls and holding his ignited lightsaber to Obi-Wan’s throat. Instead of fear for his life or even confusion as to what just happened, Obi-Wan’s first thought was: Good, at least he was smart enough to bring his lightsaber.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” Anakin growled, and with the blue blade at Obi-Wan’s throat it was intimidating, but Obi-Wan noticed the tremble in the boy’s limbs and voice, and found it endlessly endearing.

“My, you’ve grown,” was the first, stupid thing Obi-Wan said. The first, stupid thing he’s said to Anakin in six years.

Narrowing his eyes, Anakin pursed his lips and stood his ground. “Answer me!” he demanded.

“I will, but perhaps you could disengage your lightsaber first. It’s got me rather nervous someone could walk past us and become far too interested in what’s going on over here.”

Eye widening, Anakin took a step back, his lightsaber still engaged, but falling to his side. “Obi-Wan?” he said, barely audible. But Obi-Wan heard it. He heard it as if it’d been shouted directly in his ear.

“Disengage your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing around the sudden dryness in his mouth. Did Anakin really remember him? How? He was so young, it’s been so long-

Finally processing Obi-Wan’s words, Anakin disengaged his ‘saber and hooked it on his belt. “Obi-Wan?” he asked again.

Suddenly nervous, Obi-Wan nodded quickly. “Hello, Anakin.”

Then, more surprisingly than when he’d lunged at Obi-Wan only moments ago, Anakin sprang forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Obi-Wan’s waist. “Obi-Wan! It is you!”

Allowing himself a smile, Obi-Wan wrapped his own arms around Anakin’s shoulders. “I’m surprised you remember me,” he admitted.

Not pulling away, Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan with a frown (though, it was more of a pout, wasn’t it?), their proximity made more evident by Anakin’s height. He’s already so tall. How’d he grow so fast? And to think, I would’ve missed it…

“Of course I remember you. You and Master Qui-Gon saved me,” Anakin said with a fervor. “I kept asking my master where you’d gone, but no one would tell me – not the truth, anyway. Where have you been?”

Smile falling, Obi-Wan himself frowned. “What did they tell you?”

Rolling his eyes, Anakin pulled away from the hug, leaving Obi-Wan’s arms to dangle by his sides while Anakin crossed his. Looking down at the puddle he ran the toe of his boot into, Anakin shrugged murmuring, “Different things. Some said you left because of losing Master Qui-Gon. Some said you were kicked out for Falling. Some said you…well, different things.”

“Some said I what, Anakin?” Obi-Wan pressed through gritted teeth.

Sighing and still looking down, Anakin answered, “Some said that you were supposed to train me, and didn’t want to, so that’s- that’s why you left.” Shaking his head, Obi-Wan put his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and gave him a quick shake to get him to look up at him. When Anakin did, Anakin gasped. “Obi-Wan, your eyes-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupting, not caring that his eyes were probably bright yellow now, thanks to his outrage. “Yes, I was sad about losing my master. But I didn’t Fall, despite how I may look right now. And training you was not the reason I left. It was the opposite, actually.”

Frowning, Anakin tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He could tell Anakin the truth, that he left because without having Anakin as his padawan, he had nothing keeping him at the Temple. Not when his brush with the Dark lingered and made everyone around him uneasy. But…Obi-Wan didn’t want Anakin to use any of that as a reason to resent the Order himself. While Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to have Anakin as his own, he couldn’t be responsible for Anakin leaving his home and his family. He was so bright in the Force, and Obi-Wan couldn’t live with himself if he planted any seeds of anger or bitterness to dim that in any way.

“What I mean,” Obi-Wan answered with a sigh, bringing his hands in to cup Anakin’s neck, ignoring the way the braid tickled the back of his hand, “is that I did not leave because of you. I left because of me, despite you. And for that I am sorry, Anakin.”

Looking up at Obi-Wan with big eyes, Anakin asked, “Will you come back?”

Obi-Wan laughed, pulling his hands away to fold them into the sleeves of his robe. “With these eyes?” he joked, not wanting to say the truth: no, I never will, because I don’t want to.

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes with a smile. “They’re blue again.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan hummed, smiling. “For now.” Anakin smiled back at him, and Obi-Wan took a breath, steeling himself for Anakin’s reaction. “Now, young one, it’s time to go home.”

Mouth dropping open with indignation, Anakin sputtered, “But, Obi-Wan! I came all the why here, I want- I came to dance! And drink! To do fun, off-duty Jedi things!”

Laughing again, Obi-Wan took Anakin by the arm and began dragging him back towards his speeder. “I’m afraid that when you’re a padawan, you’re never off duty.”

Groaning, Anakin trudged along after him, his footsteps heavy. When they reached Obi-Wan’s speeder, Obi-Wan made sure Anakin was in before getting into the driver’s side, shaking his head fondly at the petulant way Anakin crossed his arms and stared out the window.

As they flew, Anakin finally spoke again, asking, “Why were you following me?”

Obi-Wan felt that saying “Because I spend every waking moment worrying about you and I watch you whenever I can, just to make sure you’re safe and to make sure I don’t miss out on you growing up” would come off incredibly concerning and creepy, so instead, he lied. “I saw you while I was out and thought I recognized you, so I guess I wanted to see if it was you.”

“Is that why you mind tricked and knocked out all those people?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could feel his eyes staring into the side of his face now.

Blushing, Obi-Wan swallowed down his embarrassment. “Is that a thank you?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

“I could’ve handled them,” Anakin scoffed, holding his head up higher. Obi-Wan laughed, and Anakin insisted, “I could have! Master Windu says I’m doing well on my forms.” Then, Anakin gasped, turning to grab onto Obi-Wan’s arm. “Oh, you won’t tell him where you found me, will you? He’d kriffing murder me.”

Pulling up just outside the Temple, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with a smile. “He won’t murder you, Anakin.” I might, if I was your master. After I made sure every part of you was intact and untouched. “But no, I won’t tell him. I have no intention of even speaking to him.”

Sighing with great relief, Anakin sank back into his seat. “Thank you.” Nodding, Obi-Wan unlocked the speeder. Taking the hint, Anakin got out and headed towards the stairs of the Temple. Before he reached them, though, he stopped for a moment before turning around and running back towards the speeder. Then, fidgeting by the driver’s side while Obi-Wan waited, Anakin asked, “Am I going to see you again?”

Smiling, Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, I think so. As long as you keep getting into trouble.”

Face lighting up, Anakin’s bright smile turned into a mischievous one. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Must you make me say that you should not get into trouble, especially not intentionally?” Obi-Wan said, biting back a laugh.

Shrugging, Anakin turned and made his way up the stairs. “Say it all you want, Obi-Wan, you’re not my master.”

He’d said it as a joke, Obi-Wan knew, but it still drove a dagger through Obi-Wan’s heart as he watched Anakin disappear inside the building. No, Obi-Wan wasn’t Anakin’s master, but it wouldn’t stop him from caring for the boy as if he were.

prompted fic collection on ao3

#anakin gets back to his rooms and windu turns on a lamp after sitting angrily in the dark all night #anakin's fuuuucked <3 #ask #prompt #my writing #obikin

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furiousgoldfish · 2 years

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system update #4 (triggers for lots of trauma mention)

Last update was very recent, and I talked about how my alters changed roles and the demon is now protecting me. This culminated into a lot of reveals.

The way demon was protecting me was so off and upsetting, I started wondering what the demon’s age was, because I couldn’t tell by their appearance. Their behaviour is overly childish, and I became worried that a child was trying to protect me, an adult, which is unacceptable.

I didn’t know the demon very well, they’re the last alter to come forward, and I now wondered what their origin was. I thought, at first, it was a demon, because it held so much desire for vengeance, so it had to be somewhat animalistic and primal. I didn’t pay a lot of mind to it, I didn’t think very hard on it. Now, I started suspecting it could have something to do with the fact that I was often called a demon when I was a young kid.

I researched the non-human alters and my suspicions were confirmed; this article explains in detail all possible origins of non-human alters, and some of it is indeed, being called a demon, being treated like an animal, being told you were possessed by a demon, being called a monster. And coincidentally, all of these things happened to me, under the age of 7. This meant, that the demon was rooted in a VERY young age and they are in fact, younger than my child alter! And on top of that, they’re stuck in belief that they’re a demon due to brainwashing for this entire time, and I didn’t notice!

I was immediately devastated, because even though I remembered the abuse, I just didn’t think it would leave such dire consequences; I was able to somewhat cope with the abuse as a kid, and have concluded early on that the person who did this to me, was sick and out of their mind, and I cut them off at the age of 11 (even though we were still living in the same house, I wasn’t talking to them.) And I also believed this abuser’s mental and emotional capacity to be so low, I could psychologically battle them even at the age of child. I convinced myself that I was stronger, as a child, than an insane adult person.

(tw for recounting trauma)

The abuser was my grandmother, and I was left alone with her, from the age of one, for extended periods of times. She is narcissistic, but also I believe she was capable of inflicting delusions on herself. For instance, she would convince both me and herself, that I’m not a child, but some kind of animal or a demon, who deserved to be beaten up, locked in the basement, humiliated endlessly, controlled and forced into labour. She would also throw rage tantrums randomly, where she would lock me in a room and chase and beat me, and afterwards, I’d be forced to comfort her and accept full responsibility for what she’d done, and apologize. Later on, she projected someone who died onto me, and expected me to replace this person and be a source of emotional comfort to her, which at the age of 6, I was hardly capable of; I would get beaten for failing to meet that expectation. Then still later on, I managed to move myself out of her room (where I was often locked up) into another room, and I was never forgiven; she would stand in front of my room and scream for hours, about how I was evil, how I was brought to this world only to cause her pain, how I was enjoying her pain, she’d blame me for everything that ever happened to her, to the family, to the entire world. She also called me animal names and the worst insults that I’ve ever heard of in my life.

This was of course, mixed with her crying about how much she loved me and how she sacrificed everything for me and how nobody will ever love me as much as she does and I’m her everything. So as a kid, I was confused. I didn’t know if love was just like that.

The screaming was impossible to block out, and I was becoming suicidal due to it, starting to believe I really was an existence of evil who only brings pain to everyone, and I wished to disappear. Then I realized the screaming was making me suicidal and that if I don’t do something, she was going to kill me. I cut her off and refused to speak to her. It took her one year to notice. She would simply make up whatever she wanted me to say, and continue the conversation as if I said that thing. I realized by this, that she didn’t love me. How would she not notice that I wasn’t speaking to her for an entire year?

When she did figure it out, she pressured all other family members to guilt me into speaking to her, and of course, everyone did come and tell me I was horrible, selfish, hurtful, abusive, heartless and evil for ignoring my ever so loving grandmother. I realized they would all have me die by her hand. I didn’t cave in. Grandmother was still beating me up until I managed to get so psychotic and numb, I started laughing at her while she was beating me, telling her I don’t even feel that, or that I like it. It freaked her out. She was superstitious, and a crazy child laughing manically at her, reveling in pain, was too much for her, and she quit beating me, since it wasn’t giving her any pleasure anymore.

So I felt like I dealt with that! Even though grandmother was extremely dangerous to a small child she could brainwash into anything, as soon as I had some mental capacity, I fought back! I was able to cut her out even though we were in the same house, I got her to stop beating me! And her projection of a dead person worked in my favour too, because she couldn’t handle it if I was openly telling her I hate her, it was causing her some damage, so she would back off.

But apparently, I didn’t escape that situation with no consequences. I mean, I knew I was extremely sensitive to people thinking I was evil, I also believed that if someone beat me, it was 100% my fault and I had to apologize to them (but my parents also agreed with that and also beat me and then told me I did that to myself, countless times, so it wasn’t just grandma building up that grooming). I was also weak to people hurting me then crying about it, since I was conditioned very young to comfort them and to apologize and take full blame. I did grow up believing that deep inside I was a monster; actually, it wasn’t until my adulthood I was able to grasp that I’m actually human. I had a moment where my brain just screamed at me ‘you’re a full human being, not an animal, not a demon! you’re just like everyone else! you have human rights!’ and it was a heavy thing to swallow, because it meant that a lot of things done to me were wrong, but I did it, I declared myself human, I took it seriously and learned some of my human rights and repeated them until I started believing it.

So I thought that was that, and that I was over it. I didn’t feel anything anymore about being beaten or called a demon, I thought that was just the past and the person who did it was not of a healthy mind anyway.

But, I was wrong. There was a part of me still stuck in there. Still believing they’re a demon, even taking a demon appearance and trying to act like a demon, trying to act strong and ruthless and dangerous. And even I fell for that act. I thought the demon was dangerous at first. I kept it asleep. I didn’t want to give it attention or to look into it. I neglected it. I didn’t notice all until me and the demon started interacting more, and even though they don’t speak, their actions were so childish and people-pleasing, I had to get suspicious and figure it out. I’m not just devastated, I’m livid!

To allow a narcissistic person to convince a child they’re a demon, and then a part of this child ends up transforming into one, and keeps being a demon for decades?! The grandmother, for who I have zero regards as a human being, she is still inside of my head, controlling how I see myself? Making my small child self act like a little demon, to please her delusions, to excuse her abuse? It’s still going on!?

And the worst is, I can’t even do anything about it right away! The demon flinches away from me at the very implication it might be something else, and not a demon, they’re extremely resistant to any kind of change! And I can’t blame them!! It’s so much less painful to believe that yes, I’m an evil demon, so of course I’m being beat up and locked down, I’m dangerous to humans! Of course I’m being treated inhumanely and like a dangerous animal, that’s because I am! The devastation of realizing that no, you’re actually a human child, being abused by another human, for no other reason than to satisfy that other human’s needs, and without doing anything wrong, without being any danger or threat, you’re being tortured and you’re helpless to fight back. That’s excruciating to be aware of! Of course the demon will fight me and do anything and everything to stop this realization from coming forward, and they’re a little kid too! They can’t even handle it!!

All I can do right now is let that demon keep their act and give them space and try to slowly get closer to them, with hope that they’ll also grow a little, get a bit more mental capacity, get unstuck, and realize it on their own. It could take years. I don’t know what else to do, the demon will cut me out if I push it.

I’ve been upset and sad for two days about it now, I keep having breakdowns about it, and I got sick. My ex-protector is talking to me a little now, and they seem willing to protect me emotionally, at least a little, and it’s a great comfort, because I’ve been feeling very lost without them. Demon can’t be a protector, they’re more badly damaged than I am, and younger and more helpless, and convinced they’re a demon. I’m so sad that this is going on and that I have to live with it for longer. I don’t want to believe that I’m a demon, just because I was exposed to a narcissist so early on and absorbed so much of their abuse. And for now I get no choice.

#did #trauma #narcissistic abuse #system update #osdd #demon alter #origins of demon alters #painful story #recounting past trauma

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changeling-rin · 2 years

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Gerudo here. The Links are once again magically confined somewhere. This specific place is a large cavern, about the diameter of an American football field long. They are standing on a sort of spider web structure, like an orb weaver's web but made of stone. It is a very precarious thing to be standing on, and anyLink who cannot balance will fall. Below the web is an abyss of an unknown substance. It is tar-like, a very dark bubbling purple, very similar to Malice. The sound of growls emanates from the tar. Anyone who falls off the web, falls into the tar, which is magical and will corrupt them. But they are not alone on the web. Several very strange, very large spider-like creatures seemingly made of the tar and bone, with glowing red eyes, are stalking them. When one is killed, another takes its place, endlessly. However experimentation reveals that not attacking the spiders nor experiencing strong negative emotions will result in the spiders not being hostile. The Links are aware that they will be kept there for five hours, at which point they will be retrieved and placed back where they were, without any healing or corruption reversal. Who falls in, who figures out how to make the spiders not-hostile, and what does Shadow do?

Now I will expand on the tar's exact effects. Because this actually has a fandom source (RWBY), I'll give a quick rundown of what it does. First of all, it doesn't kill people who fall in, weirdly. Magic. Not even if they breathe it in or swallow it. This particular version of corruption is essentially merging the corruptee with the Grimm, the monsters in the tar and on the web. The result being that the corruptee's skin and hair turn bone white, eyes are black with glowing red irises. So what's the "corruption" part? It also gives the corruptee an insatiable desire for destruction. Happened to RWBY's main villain. Also it gives them the ability to control and create the Grimm. So yeah. Same happens to anyone bitten by the spiders kinda like an infection. Also what happens after, especially with the ones who fall in? Because I refuse to believe nobody falls in in five hours. Also I'm insatiably curious. And I might write a fanfic about it.

Also I provided a time limit this time.

I'm once again a wee bit confused as to what, exactly, you're wanting from my input here, because it seems like you have a very definite idea already of how this plays out, but! I'll answer as I think you want

Those Who Fall In: Steam, Ocarina, and Realm. Steam's not the most physically capable Link, so he's bound to lose his grip at some point. Ocarina just doesn't strike me as skillfully coordinated, and Realm most definitely got lost and ended up down there on complete accident

Who Figures Out The Spiders: my money's on Wind, due to being on the more observant side, although Speck could also be a good contender

What Does Shadow Do: well he probably kills a lot of spiders, at first, before they figure out that they Should Not Do That. then he glares a lot. and then once they have the corrupted Links to deal with, he gets put on Defense Duty, because he's the most likely to be stabbed and not need medical attention for it

What Happens After: a major hole in a Link's given repertoire is that none of them are particularly good at spiritual cleansings. That's Zelda's forte, and none of them are Zelda. So the corrupted Links get bundled up and restrained as best they can, and then everyone troops off to find the closest Zelda to see if she can't purify whatever this stuff is.

(I have never seen RWBY and only have passing familiarity with the tar you're talking about, so I'll leave it up to you as to whether or not it can in fact be purified by Hylian magics. I personally think it would work, but I like happy endings!)

...although I do remember you saying something about the Master Sword being a cure-all in this situation? But in the interest of keeping it darker and angstier, in the way the I think you want, I'm going to say that the Master Sword needs to be used to... eh, mildly impale the victim for maximum purifying effect. Like, a very gentle stabbing. A vague sort of shallow slice on the arm will do. Otherwise people would be getting purified just by carrying it around on their person, and that seems a bit too easy for what you've described

#Changeling Answers #DL Questions #Anonymous Replies #Gerudo Anon #I worry about the emotional conveyance of text sometimes #sorry about this #All the DL Links #RWBY crossover AU #I've never seen it but I hear people were upset with season 5???#or something like that

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tuberculosis-bot-9000 · 2 years

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Alīka Muum’estu

AKA, Alexa play Surface Pressure from Encanto

@accursedkaleeshi

Sorry, this turned out way longer than I thought it would. (1750 words, just about)

Twarxii and Grievous’ first child was born in the late winter of 34 BBY. Dubbed Alīka by Grievous, she was an adorable little bundle of sunshine in an otherwise cold and miserable month. Her yellow scales were so bright, it hurt to look at her. Her personality seemed to reflect that sunniness, a sweet and inquisitive girl always hanging off the skirts of one mother or another. As soon as she could walk (which was early for a baby Kaleesh, aka a nightmare baby) she was always going somewhere. Life became a perpetual game of “make sure Alīka doesn’t wander out the door”.

Alīka grew up fast and she grew up big. Twarxii’s family has a propensity for making bigass children. Alīka’s uncle was none other than Bentilais san Sk’ar. You know, the lavender gargoyle the size of a mountain. Similarly, Alīka inherited those big girl genes from Twarxii. When all was said and done, Alīka was 10 feet tall and built like a goddamn space marine. As she grew, her daffodil-yellow scales dimmed and grew olive patterning, and she ended up less Cape Cobra and more particularly yellow Nile Crocodile.

When Alīka was 10, everything started going to hell in a handbasket. Sala’ma died at the fangs of a jungle cat. A year later, Grievous exploded and Uncle Sk’ar came out of the wreckage different. The moms were dwindling. Uncertainty and danger were creeping into the family like a pack of erkush. So Alīka did the only thing her eleven-year-old brain knew: she stepped up.

Dad just fucking Died. The Moms aren’t taking it well. Things are going to get worse. So she took her boundless energy and focused it on the family. If you needed help, Alīka was there ready to fix things. By the time a Mom heard about something, it had already gone through the filter of Alīka. Which meant it was something Alīka couldn't handle. Which was not great for her.

While her siblings became mechanical geniuses, proficient warriors, endlessly creative artists, and guerrilla saboteurs, Alīka became a jack of all trades. Master of none. She had a reputation for being smart, capable, strong, Alīka. Her need to help backfired spectacularly, and the worst part is she didn't even realize it. Ask Alīka for help. Go get Alīka. Where's Alīka, she can fix it.

Alīka became a study in the boiled frog principle. She was always going, helping, fixing, mending cracks, staunching the flow, being a shoulder to cry on. There weren't enough hours in the day for her. It was wake up, fix things, maybe eat something? Then crash for a few hours before it was dawn and the aseels needed feeding. Unlike with Ígira, there was no intervention when her mental health tanked. Things just got worse for her. Alīka was working her way into an early grave. Then, things changed.

In 14 BBY, when Alīka was 20, Bryaru announced that she was leaving Kalee to go fight those bastards who put Dad into a robot and made him fight wizards and vat-grown slaves. She'd be taking anyone who wanted to go. On the spur of the moment, Alīka said she'd go. This was met with a bit of confusion from the rest of the family. Alīka was many things, but an antifascist rebel wasn't one of them. And in truth, she wasn't really into it. She didn't harbor any feelings of vengeance for her father's pile of organs, nor did she have any strong ideals about freedom (beyond the standard Kaleesh "fuck you, you don't tell me what to do"). It was just... an escape. She felt like she was shackled to a slowly sinking ship, and here was Direct Action Mom offering her the key.

So Alīka became a rebel. It was strange, but Alīka was nothing if not adaptable. For the first few months, she got hilariously motion-sick every time she had to fly. But that passed, and she gradually got used to flying. In fact, she wasn't just an alright pilot, she was a damn good one. Something about streaking through the void or upper atmosphere in a razor-sharp wedge of a ship gave her a feeling of lightness her family never did. Maybe it was the zero-gravity.

Alīka left the Thrummer network after four years of serving with Direct Action Mom with her own tiny cell of rebels. They were pilots, all of them. They were known as the Talons of Lightning, a name borne from their habit of flying so fast and so erratically, their booster engines looked like bolts of lightning.

They were invaluable in the early days of the Rebellion. Their bright blue and yellow T-65 X-wing starfighters were often a joyous sight for downtrodden rebels and a continued annoyance for Imperial officers. The Talons of Lightning gradually filled out their ranks, operating as a mobile squadron of the best pilots of the Rebellion, helping out cells in need. Alīka would eventually become romantically involved with one of her fellow pilots, a female Twi'lek named Koyi'van.

Despite their success at disrupting Imperial efforts, the Talons of Lightning were not without their failures. They couldn't stay in one place for long, always on the move, lest the Empire catch up. The longest they ever stayed in one place was a year on a backwater, uninhabited swampy planet so far out of the way, it didn't even have a name. Alīka almost wanted to stay forever. But the Rebellion needed them, needed her. And it always came down to the fact that she was needed.

There were deaths. Deaths on missions, deaths outside of missions. Deaths from Imperials, from TIE fighter ion cannons, from thermal detonators, from dioxsis gas. From blaster bolts and vibroblades and whistling birds and even a lightsaber. More than once Alīka had to drag herself away from the deaths she left behind, unless she wanted to join them. The worst thing she ever heard, she was half a rim away and only heard about it six months after the fact. The Empire had snuffed out every single life on Oben in minutes, including her mother. Alīka nearly tore her astromech in half.

The Talons of Lightning moved to Kalee. Some were happy to be back, while others had never been. Alīka, for her credit, did her best to introduce the family to her crew. The remaining mothers were glad to see her, and many a tearful hug was exchanged. Her siblings gave her the classic sibling "sup" nod. Ígira tuned up her X-wing when she wasn't looking, took apart her astromech, and put him back together before she noticed. More important, Fyerri was there. The two siblings sized each other up. They both had new scars.

"So, I heard about Oben."

"Fuck, Alīka, that's the first thing you say to me?"

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"Sis, you changed."

"..."

"Kill that son of a bitch Sk'ar and put his skull right over the fucking hearth."

"That's what I wanted to hear."

The Talons of Lightning spent a few weeks on Kalee, showing off for the locals and eating a lot more than they were worth. Alīka introduced the family to Kovi'van, which got a lot of "Oooh, Alīka has a girlfrieeeeend". Alīka slipped into her old role as Alīka. Koyi'van had a moment of Damn bitch, you live like this? (worrying). When Fyerri struck out with the Storm Sirens, the Talons of Lightning went with them. The two groups spent a year together, butting heads sometimes, but always a devastating group as a whole. Eventually, Alīka gave Fyerri an oversized pat on the back with the orders to tell her when he found Sk'ar. Fyerri being Fyerri, he did not, and went and got himself killed by the violet menace.

Alīka really did tear her astromech in half after that one. She cried herself to sleep that night. It was her worst nightmare come true, time after time. She could have helped, but she didn't, and people died. Her family died. Despite the fact that Fyerri expressly did not tell her, despite the fact that nobody could have predicted the violence of Grand Admiral Thrawn, despite the fact that she was 10 years old and absolutely no match for a piinyur.

The Talons of Lightning followed their leader. And when Alīka decided that she'd finally land a blow that the Empire couldn't ignore, they agreed. For too long, they'd danced on the edge of the Empire, hindering but doing no lasting damage. So they set a new target in their sights: an Imperial weapons facility on Irkuum that was developing a hypermatter reactor. The same principle would be later used to construct the turbolaser on the Death Star.

The Talons of Lightning went in hard and fast, like always. The Imperial research facility was lightly manned by heavily defended. TIE fighters were scrambled to meet them. Shield generators went up but too late, they were already inside the perimeter. It was roughly 40 rebels versus a base's worth of TIE fighters, plus ground-based blaster turrets. The rebels were outmanned, outgunned, and trapped by the shield generator. It was quickly becoming a bloodbath.

And in the chaos, few noticed the bright yellow lizard woman covered in explosives heading straight for the reactor. Those that did were silenced with extreme prejudice. When they got to the reactor, it was simple enough to rig the entire thing to blow. Alīka and Koyi'van exchanged a kiss before the doors blew inward. Alīka dived in front of Kovi'van. A platoon of stormtroopers streamed inward, blasters at the ready. The room was deafening with the sound of blasters firing. When the smoke cleared, Alīka was more burn than flesh, but she was still breathing. Kovi'van had taken a shot to the thigh. The steady hiss of the blasters cooling hushed to silence and the blasters came up again. With a howl of primal rage, Alīka cleared 30 feet in a second. Her left eye was missing. She had most of one hand and none of the other. You could see clear through her thigh. And she still gave the Imps a run for their money. Blaster bolts were passing through her like they were tickles from butterflies. A portion of her skull went flying. Her jaw was hanging by one side. Her chest was a smoking ruin.

She stumbled.

She fell.

...

She reached for Koyi'van. Everything went white as the reactor blew.

.....

....

...

"Damn, kid, that was fucked up."

#hope you liek #star wars #general grievous #grievous #kaleesh #accursedkaleeshi’s giant awesome kaleesh family

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joanie-writes · 3 years

Text

Wicked

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.

Song: Wicked Game by Chris Isaak

John x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, cheating

Word Count: 2.4k

John had loved you for a long time. You had loved John for a long time too. But neither of you told the other, only dancing around each other, staring when the other wasn't looking, both sulking in sorrow when John got together with Abigail, and when you got together with someone of your own.

In the earlier years of the gang, John and you were inseparable, always causing trouble in and out of camp. But as the years went by, and you both realized your feelings for the other were more than platonic, you grew apart.

Truth be told, John did not think he deserved to be loved, he didn't know how to love anyway, so he wasn't about to break your heart by trying. You had always thought that John would laugh in your face if you ever admitted your feelings for him, so you never tried.

The closest you two had gotten to being anywhere near romantic was when you were both much younger, probably fifteen or so, and there may have been a drunken kiss.

"Come on Y/N, you can drink more than that!" John laughed, nearly doubled over at the sight of your wincing from the bottle of booze you had stolen from Uncle. "How does he drink this shit all day?" You coughed, taking another chug on account of John's teasing. You passed the bottle back to Marston, smiling at his wincing face as he took a long drink from the amber glass.

"Yeah, ugh, that is disgusting." He faked a gag, chuckling and regardless of his complaint, he took another sip. It didn't take long for the both of you to be a couple of messes, hiccuping and endlessly laughing, recalling the events of the heist that had taken place the other day.

Eventually, the mood calmed, just swaying gently in your drunken states silently. John spoke up abruptly, "Have you ever kissed someone?"

You looked over to him, your brows furrowed with confusion as to why he would ask that. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, you glanced at John's lips before answering from your spot beside him, laying in the grass, "No, have you?"

"Once," John answered, recalling the event from a few months ago. You hummed, wondering why he hadn't told you about that. John was looking down at you, his own nerves present, but tamed from the liquor. You only looked back at him when he began stroking your cheek, and slowly leaning down to connect your lips.

That night had come and gone. Never spoken about again. But John and you never really spoke at all anymore.

John dreamt of you often, waking up in a sweat next to the woman that all of his attention should be on, but his mind and his body could only think of you. It was almost a weekly occurrence that John would wake up painfully aroused next to Abigail, but she wasn't the cause.

He knew Abigail didn't deserve to be the other person on his mind, she was good to him, much better than he thought he deserved, the gang ridiculed him with that fact often. But it was like he couldn't help himself, especially whenever they made love, he actually had to bite his tongue to stop himself from gasping out your name.

Everyday John felt guilty about that, that and the fact that he didn't really think he was capable of love. He was terrible to Abigail and she didn't even know.

Nearly the same problems happened with you and your partner, and it was silly to think of how simple things could be if only one of you had to the guts to tell the truth. The gang never clued in either, although, you suspected that Hosea probably knew of your everlasting crush on Mr. Marston. But the rest of them remained in the dark, unknowing, and that's how you planned for it to stay.

Even more so when Abigail announced her pregnancy to everybody, there was a party. You spent that party getting as drunk as you possibly could, trying to distract yourself from the news. You weren't upset with Abigail though, never was. She was great, and seemingly great for John, you were upset with yourself. You knew you'd never have a chance.

Later that night, once the alcohol had done it's number on you, you laid with your significant other. And you made intense love, and during, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing from your eyes, sobs racking your body. You were sure a few other members of the gang had heard most if not all of what had happened in your tent last night. Arthur couldn't look you in the eye for a few days following.

As Abigail's pregnancy progressed, you slowly spaced out from the affairs of the Van Der Linde gang. You would spend anywhere from a day to a week out of camp, roughing it on your own, bringing back money, pelts, or food as an excuse most of the time.

When you were in camp, you spent that time apologizing to your partner for being away, and then apart from the group again, usually guarding the outskirts of camp. You didn't want to leave the gang entirely, they were your family, but you just couldn't bear to see the girl's swelling stomach, which carried the child of the man you loved.

In truth, John could hardly stand to see Abigail either, it ate away at his heart, made him feel like a terrible person. And much like he already knew he was incapable of the love that each of you deserved to have, he knew he wouldn't be a good father. The absence of his parents set him up for that in the start.

The gang's excitement for the baby had him on edge all of the time too. Every time somebody said anything to him about the baby, he couldn't string together anymore words other than, "Yeah." His fist clenched at his side as Arthur clapped him on the back while he said, "Little Johnny Marston, about to be a pa, never thought I'd see the day."

A successful heist usually meant a party, and wherever there was liquor, you or John couldn't complain. From your spot by the campfire, you could see Mr. Marston at the table, now by himself as Javier left. He drew in a breath from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke while glanced up at the night sky. You couldn't help but admire the handsome but rugged look about him, especially how his sharp features were highlighted by the light of a lantern at the moment. John looked up and right back at you, catching you both a little by surprise.

John didn't know if it was the liquid courage, or his poor decision making that caused him to stare back at you, hungrily, and tilt his head to the side of camp, encouraging you to follow him. He figured it was both. You were sure it was pure desire that made you comply.

You took a quick look around the party, it seemed busy enough to slip away for a moment to see what John wanted. You assumed it was some sort of lead he was offering you apart of at first. But that wasn't the case.

"It's a wicked thing y'know, how I can't dream of anything but you at night." John said, his voice somewhat hushed.

You looked at John, utter disbelief and confusion clearly showed across your face at what he had just said. After a second to think, you replied, "You are a wicked man, Mr. Marston." You said such a sentence with no malice at all, just like you were stating a written fact.

"Don't I know it." He answered, unable to pry his eyes away from your figure, and then from your lips. The motions that lead to your lips crashing together were blurred by want. John kissed you like a man starved, sparing no second to wrap his arms around your waist and grasping up your back as he brought you closer to him. Your mind couldn't help but flicker to the pregnant woman sleeping in his tent, and to your partner singing songs with the rest of the intoxicated group.

Pulling away for a moment, you asked, "What are we doing, John? This is-" Your question was long forgotten when John took the chance to kiss you deeper, grabbing at your backside whilst he moved the two of you up against a tree. There was no wondering from that point forward, no butterflies, just passion.

You tangled your fingers into John's black locks, tugging and moving your lips down to his jaw and neck, the quiet groan he made felt like it casted electric shocks down your body. You could feel his length firmly pressed into your leg, you broke away from him, giving him a look for permission. He nodded so fast he nearly gave himself a concussion. With a gentle hand, you slid down his torso, touching him through his pants.

John smiled, his eyes widening while he watched you lower yourself to your knees, then releasing him from the confining fabric. You attached your lips to the tip of his length, treating the underside with the motions of your tongue, and reaching a hand to caress his base. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hand finding it's way to the top of your head.

You took more of him into your mouth, moaning against the warmth and reaching one hand to his hip to support yourself. John clamped his teeth onto his lip, his breathing ragged as he tore his eyes away from you going down on him so skillfully, instead looking up at the forest's canopy above. A quick thrust of his hips surprised you, especially when his member his the back of your throat roughly, you pulled off to only lick up the side of his shaft in retaliation.

John mumbled an apology, looking down at you again and shuttering. He stroked your cheek bone with his thumb, moaning a bit loud when you took him back into your mouth again, moving much faster than you did before.

He let it go on a moment but when he felt the euphoria beginning to rise in his stomach, he stroked your cheek again, saying, "Ah shit, honey, stop. I want you now."

With a flushed face, you pulled away, wiping your saliva covered lips on your sleeve and standing up. John kissed you a few times, not as powerful as the first time but they were thankful kisses. He unbuttoned your shirt nearly all the way after asking, leaning you up against a tree trunk as he did. While his nimble fingers moved down the line of buttons, he left hot kisses on your exposed skin, leaving a blooming bruise on your sternum in the wake of his lips.

John undid your bottoms, and you took the liberty of throwing them off as fast as you could, reconnecting your lips afterwards. Still pressed against the tree, John lifted you up in his arms and gently lowered you down onto his length. You moaned at the feeling, your face hidden away in John's neck. John didn't have half the mind to tell you to be quiet, he was too focused on the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him.

The gentleness he began with did not last long because in no time he was feverishly thrusting into you, huffing and grunting in pleasure. Tearing yourself away from his shoulder, you looked onwards, the orange glow of fire from camp, and the distant backs of peoples tents made your skin crawl. God forbid anybody stepped out of camp, they'd pin you and John right away.

"L-look at me," John commanded, pulling your attention back to him while he slowed down some to look at you properly as well. "I've wanted this for so long, Y/N." He said, his cheeks a rosy red colour and the sweat gathering at his brow made him look so perfect, you thought.

After a whimper from you, you replied, "Me too, John, fuck you feel so good." John kissed you again, tongue and teeth as he pulled out of you suddenly and set you down, pulling you to turn around and brace your hands on the tree. You bit your lip in anticipation, the feeling of fullness warming you once again as John entered you from behind this time.

If it was even possible, he fucked you harder than he was before. John held onto your hips, watching you bounce back onto him with need. "Shit, you're so tight." John grunted, unable to pull a response from you, too distracted at the tightening knot in your body.

"C'mon, I know you're about to cum." He rasped, leaning closer to you as he whispered the sultry sentence into your ear. With a final thrust and a harsh smack to your ass, you were pushed over the edge. Your legs tingled wildly and John had to put his hand around your mouth to control the sounds you were creating.

He pulled you up and off the tree trunk, the hand that was over your mouth now wrapped around your throat, igniting another fire in you immediately after the first one was only starting to smoulder. John's thrusts faltered, grunting a final time before pulling out to finish on your behind. He took his hand off your throat and turned you around to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around him as he did up your shirt for you. You pulled away, only staring back at him now, and it was obvious that the both of you were starting to process what had just happened. Uncomfortable guilt made both of you uneasy but it was no match for the craving to do that a second time.

While you fastened your bottoms, John looked at you, and then looked back towards camp. That was the first time he had since he brought you out here. To ease himself, he lit cigarette, facing you again.

"That was wrong of us, John." You sighed, taking a drag of his smoke when he offered it.

"You did say I was wicked, Y/N, I guess you are too." He explained, leaving you with the rest of the cigarette and the impending doom of the consequences sure to follow this. Oh it is so strange what desire will make foolish people do.

#john marston x reader #john marston x gn reader #red dead redemption 2 #smut #rdr2 x reader #x reader #john marston #angst #forbidden love #forbidden lust #abigail roberts #gender neutral reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 john

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proxyoddo · 3 years

Text

The Right Approach

One-shot: Tech x gn!reader

Words: 2K

Summary: Tech hasn't slept for a few days, and you're worried about him. No one has been able to convince him to a bunk, but Hunter thinks you might be able to get through to the goggled trooper.

AN: This week has been kicking my ass, and I've not had much time to focus on Derecho. Part 4 is almost done and will come soon, but I felt bad because I haven't posted in a while. So, have this kinda cute fluff with Tech that I wrote trying to get my mind into writing.

(I am also shite at titling things 😅 )

Warnings: None, only fluff and snuggles.

It had been four days, and Tech had not slept. With the repairs needed for the console in the cockpit, he had been working endlessly to be sure that the Havoc Marauder would be at 100% working capacity before they next took off from Kamino. The rest of the Batch did what they could to help, but much of it was intricate - more than one hand would not help.

Currently you were standing outside the ship, staring up the steps ready to stomp inside and give Tech a piece of your mind. How did he think he would get you all off the ground if he ran headlong into it himself?

You heard a clunk and a curse from inside, coming from Tech. You frowned, and were about to take the first step into the Marauder when a hand firmly grasped your shoulder.

“Y/N,” came Hunter's voice, and you sighed heavily before turning your head to face him. “You know he won’t stop. Especially if you’re just going to just tell him outright ‘get your ass to bed’.”

“Well what the kriff are we supposed to do then?” you asked with a slight hiss, frustration getting the best of you.

Hunter fixed you with a sympathetic gaze, and shrugged sadly. “Eventually he’ll just pass out in there-”

“And break something while he’s at it? Hurt himself?”

“There was a 'but' in that sentence, Y/N,” Hunter said, smiling a little and giving you a push towards the steps. “You might be able to get through to him.”

You looked at him incredulously, causing him to actually chuckle.

“Tech likes having you around. He’d probably listen to you if you approach it the right way. And based on how much you also seem to care about him, I figure you’re stubborn enough to get him to a bunk,” he said, as if he were just talking about the clouds passing through the sky. You could feel heat rising up your cheeks. “And yes, before you ask, I’ve known for a bit. Heightened senses, remember?”

You cursed internally. When you had joined the squad as their combat medic, you had taken an immediate liking to Tech. And with time, it just grew. Certainly he could talk for hours, and sometimes it was difficult to keep up with his excited chatter, but he was an amazing man. Strong, insatiably curious - and even with his oftentimes hard, matter-of-fact tone - incredibly caring. You had flirted with him from time to time, sometimes not even recognizing it yourself until afterwards. But the trooper seemed to be none the wiser to your actions. Never stopped your heart from racing whenever your hands accidentally touched though, or if he gave you one of those rare Tech smiles. That must be how Hunter knew; he could literally hear the thunder of your heart when the two of you were together.

“You really think I can get through to him?” you asked quietly.

“Worth a try,” Hunter said. “Besides, the rest of the squad are also getting antsy. If I have to listen to Crosshair go on about knocking Tech out with Gonky anymore, I might have to hide the droid.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Crosshair likes to sleep in his bunk,” Hunter replied. “At this point he’d go to whatever lengths, I would imagine.”

You laughed, and nodded to the sergeant. He waved you on before turning away, likely to head back to the others. Turning and looking into the ship, you steeled yourself before going up the steps and stopping outside the cockpit.

“Tech?” you called.

“Yes, Y/N?” came his voice, seemingly bright as if he was actually still getting a regular amount of sleep.

“How… How’s it going in there?”

Another loud clunking sound and dropping equipment had you stepping inside, looking to find Tech on the ground under the console. The plastoid that normally covered his chest and back was gone, propped up against the wall next to the console.

“It’s going fine!” Tech growled, tossing something out of the compartment he was in giving you just enough time to skirt out of the way before it clanged against the wall opposite of him.

“Hmm, sounds it…” you muttered, before squatting down. He continued on whatever he was working with while you thought for a moment. “Hey Tech-”

“Y/N, please, I am attempting to get the comm frequencies on this damnedable thing working in proper order,” he said, and you could see him turn to look at you for a moment with a reflection of his goggles. “While the Marauder still has functional comm capabilities, the extensive damage from our last encounter with the Separatists has weakened the signal strength, which poses a threat to us while in the field which as you can understand-”

“I have a question,” you interrupted. He stuttered to a halt, and there was silence for a few moments before his hands appeared at the lip of the console and he pulled himself out. The words “sleep deprivation” practically screamed at you from the features of his face.

“Yes?” He seemed intent to answer whatever it was that you were going to ask, even if he had been frustrated a moment ago. Maybe Hunter had been right, and you could get through to him.

You swallowed a little, his tired face filling you with resolve. “What happens to someone when they do not sleep for 4 or more days?”

Tech frowned a little, before going into his answer. “Typically after 3 days of no rest, a person’s urge to sleep will get worse and they will begin to experience microsleeps. Perception is also significantly impaired, and reaching 4 days without adequate rest will continue to distort it. In some, the urge to sleep will become unbearable. It can result in sleep deprivation psychosis.”

You nodded along throughout his entire explanation without saying anything. When he finished, the two of you stared at one another for a few moments of silence.

“Oh,” Tech said with quiet understanding.

“C’mon,” you said warmly, standing up and holding a hand out to him.

Tech shook his head, and you briefly considered going to find Gonky. “I understand your concern, and though it is appreciated, I just need to complete one last thing with the comms before I believe they will be properly functional,” he said. Tech began looking around before his eyes fell on his datapad behind you on one of the seats, and pointed to it. “Could you pass that to me?”

You took the datapad in your hand, but didn’t hand it to Tech. He looked at you with confusion as you began to step away.

“If you want the datapad, Tech,” you began, stepping out of the cockpit, “you’re going to need to come and get it.”

You smiled a little when you heard him getting up from the cockpit floor behind you. “Please, Y/N, I need to calibrate it.” You ignored him, continuing to the bunks before crawling up into the one you usually slept in. You sat back on the bunk, back leaning against the wall, holding the datapad up next to your head.

Tech entered the room, looking even more tired as he stared up at you. “I’m unsure what you are attempting to accomplish here other than getting on my nerves.” You just smiled in response, waving the datapad at him. With a big sigh from him, you watched as Tech pulled himself slowly up to the bunk, and then knelt in front of you between your feet.

“Give it,” he said, losing any formality. You shook your head, waving the datapad again.

In any other circumstance, Tech literally crawling into your lap with a determined expression like he currently had, would have left you breathless. But your intent to get him exactly where he was now, reaching for the datapad and face so very close to your own, helped you keep focus. When Tech’s fingers firmly grasped around the datapad, you let go and leaned forward. Your arms wrapped around his torso and your legs around his, pulling him directly into your embrace, his chin hitting your shoulder.

“Y/N?” Tech tentatively asked, a bit breathless against you.

“You need to sleep, Tech,” you whispered against his ear, arms squeezing just a little tighter as he tried to move. You felt his sharp intake of breath and he completely stilled in your arms, tensely holding himself up. “Relax.”

“I… I need to-” he began, but his sentence was broken by a soft groan as one of your hands began to run up and down his back. A soothing motion, fingertips ghosting over his side as your palm ran along his spine. Your other arm moved under his, your hand reaching up to the back of his neck and gently running through the short hair found at the base of his skull.

You leaned your head gently to the side, pressing against his. “Please, Tech,” you pleaded, and you felt him begin to relax in your arms.

“Cyar’ika...” he sighed, and his voice was thick with sleep. His resolve gone due to your ministrations, he finally let his whole body slump against you, and he turned his face into your neck. You could feel his warm breath and cool goggles against your skin and you couldn’t help the small shiver that spread through your body.

“That’s it, Tech,” you cooed, loosening the grip of your legs so he could settle more between them. In doing so he slid down your chest a little, making you glad that at some point he had decided to discard his chest plate. You heard the datapad hit the bunk’s thin mattress as Tech's arms wrapped around you, pressing his face more firmly into your chest with a deep breath.

You felt a gentle warmth spread through you as you both embraced one another. You couldn’t help but smile down at Tech, and you gently reached up to carefully slide the goggles from his face before setting them down on the bunk near the datapad. It was mere moments before you could tell Tech was asleep against you. Moving carefully, you pressed your lips against the top of his head and leaned back again.

“Comms will still be there when you get up,” you said to his sleeping form, before closing your eyes and feeling a bit drowsy yourself.

It was a while later that you woke to the sound of someone entering the Marauder. You had no idea how long you had been asleep, and you opened your eyes slowly, looking about the compartment to find Crosshair standing there. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking at you with a smirk. He just nodded when he saw your attention was on him, and climbed into the bunk below the one you currently occupied with Tech.

Speaking of, the usually goggled clone was still sleeping soundly against you. You smiled before gently running your fingers through his hair, feeling him sigh and snuggle more into your body.

“Hey Cross?” you called out, careful not to be too loud.

A grunt of acknowledgement was the sniper’s response.

“...what does ‘cyar’ika’ mean?” you asked after a moment’s pause. Tech had said it earlier, but you didn’t know what it was.

You were met with silence, and you were beginning to wonder if Crosshair was actually going to answer you. You resigned yourself to mystery when he finally spoke:

“It’s Mando’an. It means ‘darling,’ ‘beloved,’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

You froze. Tech had called you that? A blush creeped up your skin, and you knew if Crosshair had been looking at you he’d see just how red you were in the semi-darkness of the Marauder.

“Th-thanks,” you said back, before looking down at Tech. You didn’t think you had ever seen the trooper look as relaxed as peaceful as you did right now, and you couldn’t help but smile. Leaning down just a little, you hugged him a little tighter.

“Cyar’ika,” you soothed, and smiled more as Tech’s arms squeezed you tighter as well in response.

#the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #gn!reader #tech x reader #tech x gn!reader #star wars #star wars the bad batch

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

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qslovebot · 3 years

Text

The Girlfriend: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer's girlfriend shows up to his work one day nine months pregnant

Pairing: Spencer x unnamed woman self insert?

Warnings/Includes: mentions of sex, pregnancy, mentions of breeding kink.

A/N: I was bored, so I wrote this. I don't actually know what it is. Emily Prentiss fanfic out soon.

The BAU knew Spencer Reid had a girlfriend. They were introduced at an event and everyone took their turn shaking her hand and joking around with her. She was quickly beloved by the whole team.

She discussed dressing goth in high school with Emily, conversed with JJ about the thrills of papercuts, talked about Twilight with Penelope, Derek teased her about dating Spencer and she retaliated by making fun of the time he thought he had slept with one of his coworkers simply based on the fact the woman knew his name. Derek was quiet after that.

Hotch asked her about her line of work and both him and Rossi were surprised when she replied, telling him she was a kindergarten teacher. Everyone had been expecting her to be a Doctor of some kind or some super-brained scientist. But she was artsy, witchy, and had fingerpaint under her nails.

Everyone loved her, including Spencer who was more than happy they all liked her, but a little anxious that someone would mess it up. As it turned out, surviving that event and heading home afterward led to a shower, then to a bed, then to a shower again.

That day was followed by more days, then two weeks before all the craziness kicked in. Spencer Reid, shy, sweet, young, had gotten his girlfriend of eight months- knocked up.

People at work asked how she was doing to which Spencer gave the answer. Told them she was good and happy and that they were doing fine, but was reluctant to tell them about her pregnancy. He himself didn't know why- he didn't even notice he wasn't mentioning it.

One day, Spencer made the mistake of taking the wrong bag to work. It wasn't a matter of memory, it wasn't a matter of a brain, it was the fact he and his girlfriend who was nearing the last weeks of pregnancy had identical bags and he accidentally took hers to work.

Spencer called her to bring it in to make the swap because he had a case to leave for in about an hour. Meaning... everyone was about to know about the pregnancy- but Spencer still had no idea that he hadn't told the BAU. It never came up.

She got herself in the car in a beautiful pale pink sundress that was part of her kindergarten teacher's vibe she hadn't let go of even on maternity leave. It had a v-neckline that was formed by the wrap of the fabric and cinched just above her bump to accentuate it through the dress. Pregnancy had been good to her, keeping her skin clear and glowing as well as her hair healthy and gorgeous.

So she walked into the BAU with Spencer's bag and the entire team had their jaws on the floor. They looked at her, nine months pregnant and wondered when the hell that had happened and how the hell Spencer hadn't said anything about it.

Penelope had spotted her first, watching her walk in with the bag and recognizing her from that event nine months ago. "Hey! Long time no-" she had come bustling over to say hi and only noticed the bump until seven feet away and it stopped her entirely. Spencer's girlfriend was a little confused, as Penlope choked on her words and blurted, "Nice to see you again!" As she bolted off to Derek Morgan's desk.

"Hey, Garcia, what's going on?" Emily inquired as Penelope rushed over to the bullpen work area, her cheeks red.

"Spencer's girlfriend- she's here, and she's very very very pregnant. Like 'any-second' pregnant." Penelope gushed. Derek narrowed his brows in confusion before all three of their heads swivelled to where his girlfriend had just walked in. Bag over her shoulder, hand on her stomach, she walked over to Spencer. Emily gasped and rushed from her seat to go tell JJ.

"Spencer's girlfriend is nine months pregnant!" Emily said, still in disbelief.

JJ shook her head, "There's no way. It's only been what, eight months since we last saw her? Spencer would have said some-"

"She's pregnant!" Penelope chirped, peeping her head into JJ's office. JJ got up from her seat the fastest she'd ever gotten up, stumbling with Emily and Penelope to peer out the door at Spencer taking the bag from her and chatting a little before he had to go.

Derek Morgan stood up and greeted the young teacher with a smile and friendly hug that avoided her bump. He congratulated her and then grabbed Spencer by the upper arm as Hotch and Rossi came down the steps to say hello as well.

Spencer was a little confused, being dragged around the corner to the briefing room by Derek. Emily, JJ, and Penelope went to go greet the girlfriend as well, but Spencer wouldn't be there with her. Derek shut the door, "What the hell man, you're going to have a kid?"

"Y-yes, actually. I thought maybe you'd known."

"How could I have possibly known, Reid? If you never mentioned to me or anyone else here that you'd knocked up your girlfriend, how would we know if we don't see her every day?" Morgan wasn't really angry, just a little pissed that Spencer never mentioned it. "I consider the BAU my family and when my family is going to start a family of his own, I would have liked to know. Congrats, man."

Spencer had no idea he hadn't mentioned it until now. The blind spots of a genius brain. "I'm sorry- wow, I really thought I'd-" Spencer was nearly in awe of how he might have missed mentioning this.

"Boy or a girl? Names picked out? Come on, now that the cat is out of the bag, I think you better fill us in." Derek gave Spencer an unexpected hug that nearly squeezed the life out of his body.

The BAU, though they had a case to leave for in thirty minutes, was all sitting around her. There was a small smirk from maybe not-so-shy Spencer when he knew that the team knew he had fucked his girlfriend well enough to knock her up. It was an undiagnosed, mild breeding kink, but he wouldn't dare speak of it.

She sat there, glowing, hands resting on her bump as the team interrogated her. Derek joined them as she and Spencer began to tell the team pretty much all of it so far. Spencer was having a daughter and they decided to name her Andromeda, after the constellation. Penelope was swooning, JJ was intrigued, Emily was still shocked to see that Reid was capable of both doing this and hiding this.

Hotch congratulated Spencer endlessly, Rossi pat him on the back. It felt good to finally have it out in the open, because there was something weighing on Spencer and until now, he didn't know what it was. Now the whole team knew he was going to be a father and that his sweet girlfriend had been fucked well, nine months ago. He still smiled when he remembered that, he ought to be hit in the side of the head.

Then again, there was a lot more in the open now. Really, forgive his bashfulness for slipping away for a moment.

tags: @meep-meep-not-in-a-jeep, @hotchnerundercover

#spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #cm #emilyprentiss #bau #fbi #spencer reid imagine #derek morgan #mgg

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Secrets and Lies

Summary: Patton is terrified Janus is cheating on him. He didn't think the reality would be so much worse.

TWs: mentions of/aftermath of sexual assault

Notes: human au, established romantic moceit

Janus was capable of a lot.

He was, without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to Patton. His tough exterior melted away every time he looked at Pat, his words sweet and gentle, eyes shining with so much love it left Patton breathless.

Janus made Patton smile, made him laugh, made him feel safe. There wasn’t a day that went by where Patton didn’t think about their first date, when Janus had shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over the younger boy’s shoulders, winking when Patton’s face went bright red.

He still liked to wrap himself in the jacket sometimes, months and months later. It was heavy, comfortably warm, and it smelled like his boyfriend even now.

The only thing that could top the feeling of the jacket was Janus himself, tall and warm and strong, wrapping his arms around Patton and pulling him to his chest. Patton would never feel safer than he did in Janus’s arms.

Janus had been the first good boyfriend Patton had ever had. The first one to be patient and gentle with him, to be open and honest, to feel like home.

Janus was capable of making Patton happy. He was capable of making him feel safe, like he belonged. Patton knew he would keep his heart safe.

He never thought Janus could be capable of cheating on him.

And maybe… maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Patton was misreading the situation completely, paranoid from past experiences, plagued with memories of past relationships.

Janus wouldn’t do something like that. Patton was jumping to conclusions.

But… but Patton had seen it. He’d seen the mark on Janus’s neck, not even close to faded, only visible for a second when his shirt collar slipped down when he leaned forward to kiss Patton.

The mark had been there, clear as day, and Patton knew for a fact he hadn’t been the one to put it there. Not when he’d barely seen Janus the last two days.

Patton hadn’t been mad about Janus being distant. He’d texted and said he’d be busy for a bit, apologizing profusely and promising to make it up with a movie date as soon as he could, and Patton had of course understood.

But now here they were, cuddled up on the couch after almost two days of not seeing each other, and Janus had a hickey on his neck he was clearly trying to hide with a long sleeved shirt.

Patton hadn’t said a thing. He didn’t know how, forcing back tears and ducking his head as his vision blurred. He rested his forehead on Janus’s chest so he wouldn’t have to see the mark again, squeezing his eyes shut as Janus held him.

Patton proceeded to spend the rest of the week crying.

Everything suddenly looked like a red flag, the crushing realization that Janus could be cheating, sending him into sobs. He’d had to leave class once, locking himself in a bathroom stall when the thought had been too much to bear.

He was being paranoid. He knew he was. This wasn’t fair to Janus.

But Janus had just… been so distant. He’d disappeared for almost two days, came back with a hickey on his neck, and now it was like he was barely there.

He was as sweet as ever, smiling at Patton and holding his hand, but he was around noticeably less. He kept canceling plans, skipping class, putting off dates.

He was only wearing long sleeves now, and when he and Patton had gone out to lunch the other day he’d been wearing a turtleneck, despite the heat outside.

And he looked… exhausted. Like he wasn’t getting any sleep.

Like he’d been up all night.

Well, that made two of them. It was hard to fall asleep when Patton had spent every night sobbing into his pillow until his alarm broke through the hazy fog settling around his mind.

When the weekend finally came, and Patton found himself lying against Janus’s chest on the couch in his dorm like every Saturday night, he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer.

He’d seen a couple more marks while they were getting settled, covered up and faded enough that Patton would never have noticed them if he hadn’t actively been looking. He felt sick to his stomach.

“Can I ask you something?” Patton blurted, stiffening at his own words. “Just real quick.”

Janus immediately turned off the show they were watching, and Patton’s heart caught in his throat. He knew it wasn’t true. He knew Janus would never. He was just being paranoid, and asking something like this would just upset his boyfriend- his boyfriend who was endlessly wonderful and loving and loyal.

He just needed to hear it. He needed an explanation for this week or he’d never be able to relax.

“Yeah,” Janus said, quickly sitting up and giving his boyfriend his full attention, smiling brightly like he always did when he looked at Patton. “What’s up, Pat?”

“Uhm.” He hesitated, clasping his shaking hands together, willing himself to just calm down and get this over with. “Are you… I’m really sorry for asking this. Please don’t be offended.”

Janus just blinked at him, smile dropping slightly. “Okay…?”

“You’re not… cheating on me,” Patton finally managed. “Right?”

Janus froze, and Patton forced himself not to take the question back. “I… what?”

“You’ve just… got a few hickeys,” Patton explained. “And you were gone for those couple days and you’ve been so distant and you just… you look so tired.”

Janus’s expression morphed into one of panic, eyes widening as he pulled at his shirt to try to hide any visible marks, and Patton’s heart started to sink.

“I…” Janus hesitated, and he looked terrified. “I- I just… I’m sorry—”

“Please don’t,” Patton said, voice barely a whisper. “Please don’t do that.”

“Pat, I’m—”

“I thought I was just being paranoid.” Patton’s chest hurt, like his heart was breaking apart piece by piece, the world crashing down around him. “I thought you were different.”

Janus was scooting away from Patton, eyes wide and welling up with tears. Patton didn’t understand why he was the one who looked so upset, like he expected Patton to lunge forward and throw a punch. He wouldn’t. Even after this, he’d never even think about hurting Janus.

Besides, he didn’t even have the energy to cry.

“I’m- I’m so sorry,” Janus stammered out, and the words made Patton’s heart twist painfully. “I’m… I can explain. Please just let me explain.”

Patton sighed, frozen where he was, staring down at his lap. He just wanted to go to bed.

“Ok,” he said instead. “Go ahead.”

Janus’s breath caught in surprise, like he hadn’t expected Patton to actually hear him out. Patton wasn’t even sure why he was. Maybe he just wanted to know why. He wanted to know if there was something he could have done for Janus to stay.

“I—” Janus took a breath, trembling and unsure. Patton could hear him crying. “There isn’t an excuse.”

“No, there’s not.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, I’m—”

“I can just go,” Patton cut in, his voice empty and hurt. “If you’re not gonna explain. It's fine.”

Patton felt the couch dip, listening as Janus moved even further away to press himself into the far corner of the cushions. Patton felt cold, his heart crumbling right in his chest.

“No, I just… I know you’re mad,” Janus said, and Patton scoffed. “And I’m not, I- I wasn’t… I promise I tried to say no. I promise I tried. I’m… I am so sorry, Patton.”

“What?” Patton’s head snapped up. “You what?”

Janus wouldn’t look at him, curled in on himself, breathing labored as he trembled and fought to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m not trying to make excuses, I swear.”

Patton’s heart was pounding in his ears, panic rising for a whole new reason this time. “You tried to say no?”

“I know I should have tried harder,” Janus said, words coming out in a desperate rush. “I know I should have and I’m sorry. I know… I know I ruined this, I’m so sorry.”

Patton couldn’t breathe, frozen where he was on the other end of the couch. “Jan, that’s not...you didn’t want it?”

Janus finally glanced at him, eyes fearful and unsure. “Of course I didn’t want it,” he said, but it sounded resigned and defeated. Like it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t make a difference. “I’m… I was dating you, I- I wouldn’t… I tried to say no.”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

“Oh my god.” Patton didn’t know what to do, realization dawning and bringing blinding dread along with it. “That’s… that’s not cheating, honey oh my god. I had no idea, I… that’s horrible!”

Janus flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, but he was talking again before Patton could continue. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry I cheated and I’m sorry I kept it from you, I just didn’t—”

“Jan…”

“I know you’re mad,” Janus said again. “And that I can’t- I can’t fix it. I’m not trying to make excuses but I didn’t want it. I… I guess that doesn’t… make a difference. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no I’m not mad at you! That’s not cheating, baby. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

Janus warily glanced up, holding himself in a shaky death grip. “I… I cheated on you. Why are you apologizing?”

“No you didn’t,” Patton argued. “You were forced into something you didn’t want. What if someone did that to me?”

Janus dropped his gaze, tears streaming down his face. Patton had never seen his boyfriend cry before, and now he couldn’t seem to stop. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t try hard enough,” Janus said, quiet and so broken. “I could have tried harder to stop it.”

“Oh, honey that’s not… you didn’t cheat on me, Jan. You were assaulted.”

Janus didn’t move, looking small and miserable, hunched over himself. “But I kept it from you.”

“That’s not something you just say at breakfast,” Patton said, forcing himself not to reach out despite how badly he wanted to. “And you never had to tell me if you really didn’t want to. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst.”

Janus just looked impossibly confused, and it was slowly breaking Patton’s heart all over again. “I don’t… I’m still sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Patton assured. “I didn’t know, I’m- I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s my fault.”

“No, baby,” Patton said. “It isn’t. It’s never the victim's fault. Have you...told anyone else?”

Janus shook his head, holding himself impossibly tighter. “No. He… he said you would leave if you found out. He said it was cheating.”

Patton felt something cold settle in his gut, anger he wasn’t used to threatening to spill over. He carefully pushed it back down, taking in a shaky breath.

“He? He… who, Jan?” He’d asked it as gently as he could, but Patton quickly backtracked when Janus tensed, eyes widening in panic, his breathing hitching and picking up faster than before. “Alright, that’s ok. You don’t have to tell me right now.”

Janus was shaking, still refusing to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “He… he said you—”

“You were being manipulated, Jan,” Patton said, quickly wiping away his own gathering tears. He could mourn for Janus later. “It’s not cheating, he lied to you. He's manipulating you into keeping quiet, honey.”

Janus shook his head, horribly unsteady hands moving up to run through and pull at his hair. “No it… I was with someone else and I hid it from you.”

“Someone assaulted you,” Patton carefully corrected him. “And you were scared to tell me. There’s a big difference.”

“But what if I could have gotten away,” Janus argued, desperate and scared. “If I- if I had just tried harder I could have. I was just… I panicked and I couldn’t—”

“Honey,” Patton cut in, as gentle and steady as he could manage. “I promise I'm not upset. Not with you. You didn’t do a thing wrong.”

He was upset that it happened, of course. He was furious, a deep protective rage settling in his chest. He’d give anything for a name, for a way to hunt down whoever had done this and wipe that manipulative smirk off their face.

But he wasn’t going to push Janus to tell him who it was. That could wait until after they’d both calmed down and talked it out.

When Janus spoke again, it was so quiet that Patton almost missed it. “Are you going to leave?”

“No,” Patton said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Janus’s breathing was still fast and uneven, but it was starting to slow back down just a bit. “I don’t… understand.”

“You did not cheat on me,” Patton said firmly. “You didn’t want it, and it wasn’t your fault that it happened. I’m not upset with you.”

“I- I tried to say no,” he said, like he still needed to explain himself. His breath caught again, released this time in a broken, terrified sob. “I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose but I still did, I… I thought…”

He trailed off, the rest of his words indecipherable around the ragged sobs clawing their way up his throat, Janus left to choke on his words and bury his face in his hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patton scooted closer, pausing when Janus froze, wide eyes flying to Patton’s hands. “Is it alright if I touch you? I promise I’m not angry.”

Janus still hesitated, struggling to breathe around his crying, eyes still glossed over with fear like he thought Patton could be lying, burying his anger until he was close enough to take it out on him.

Patton didn’t push, waiting patiently with a sad smile until Janus finally nodded. He closed the distance between them, slowly leaning against Janus’s side and carefully cupping his boyfriend’s face in his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, brushing away his tears as they fell. “It’s ok. I’m so, so sorry that happened to you, baby.”

Janus closed his eyes, face falling at Patton’s gentle words. “It’s… it’s going to happen again.”

Patton froze, the cold dread back with a vengeance.

“No it won’t,” he said. “We’re… we’re gonna keep you safe, ok? I’m gonna make sure this never happens again.”

“You can’t,” Janus choked out, and he sounded so small. “You can’t you- you won’t… you won’t be able to, I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Patton promised. “We’ll figure it out. The teachers will listen to me, we can go to administration.”

Janus scoffed in between sobs, shuddering under Patton’s hands. “Nobody will believe me, Pat.”

“I believe you.”

“And you’re the first.” The tears didn’t slow, and Janus’s breathing only picked up as he talked. “It’s fair, I don’t… exactly have a good reputation. Nobody’s ever believed me and nobody ever will. I gave up trying.”

Patton’s throat felt tight, suddenly wondering how many other situations like this Janus had been put in with no one to turn to. Was this not the first time? Had someone not believed him before?

“Well, you have me now,” Patton said. “And I believe you. We’re gonna get you help, ok?”

Janus didn’t look at him, exhausted and almost limp, the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent now that Patton could look at him closely. “I… alright. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Patton hesitated, hating himself for even considering his next words. But Janus would have to go back to his dorm eventually, and Patton needed to know it was safe to send him there. “Jan? It… it’s not Remus, is it?”

Janus’s head jerked up, eyes flying open as he pulled back, more shocked than afraid this time. “What? No, I- Remus is our friend. He wouldn’t- he would never—”

“I know,” Patton said, and he did. The idea had been ridiculous, stemmed from paranoia and overprotectiveness, but it was worth asking to know Janus would be safe in his own room. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, baby.”

Janus relaxed slowly, still rubbing his face with his sleeves, and Patton gradually gathered him back into his arms, shushing him gently, wiping his tears.

“It wasn’t Remus,” Janus clarified after a moment. “Remus would… he’d freak out and kill someone if he knew. You- you can’t tell him.”

“I won’t tell anyone you don’t want me to,” Patton said. “But we can’t just let this go, Jan. Especially not if you’re still in danger.”

Janus shuddered again, crying against Patton’s shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t want to keep doing this to you. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s not about me, honey. It’s about you. You don’t deserve this.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Janus said, cautiously reaching up to clutch at Patton’s back. “It was… I know it was selfish to keep it from you but I- I thought you’d leave and I couldn’t… I was so scared.”

“Oh, honey.” Patton held him, painfully gentle like Janus could shatter like glass. “You didn’t have to tell me. It was personal. I’m sorry I forced it out of you before you were ready.”

“He said I was cheating on you, I… I thought you’d hate me.”

“I don’t,” Patton said, running his fingers through Janus’s hair. “He was lying. I promise I don’t hate you, baby.”

He felt Janus tighten his hold, his boyfriend still trembling against his side. “Are we… still together? I understand if you—”

“Yes,” Patton interrupted before Janus could even finish that thought. “We are. I love you, Janus. Nothing has changed.”

“Oh,” Janus said, breathless. “I just- I thought… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Janus’s breathing eventually slowed, his sobs dying down as Patton held him, rocking him gently on the couch as the dorm gradually fell silent.

“I might skip tomorrow,” Janus muttered after a few moments. “I feel sick.”

“I’ll skip with you,” Patton declared. “Virgil’s out for the night, you can stay here. I’ll take care of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Patton said. “You can rest, baby.”

“I love you,” Janus suddenly blurted out, like he’d been working up the courage. “I can… can I still say that?”

“You can,” Patton said, moving to take Janus’s hand in his own. “I love you too.”

Patton went back to cupping Janus’s face, frowning as he gently wiped away lingering tears with his thumbs, lightly brushing the bags under his eyes. He kept one hand under Janus’s jaw, the other moving to run through his hair, moving it out of his face.

“You look so tired, baby,” Patton said, and Janus’s eyes slipped shut for a moment, his eyelids heavy. “Have you slept at all this week?”

Janus shook his head, and Patton leaned in to kiss his forehead when his eyes welled up with tears again. “I tried. I couldn’t get to sleep. Being alone wasn’t… helping.”

“Oh, baby.” Patton pulled back, reaching instead for Janus’s hands. “You can stay the night. I’ll help you get some rest, okay? We both need it.”

“You sure you’re okay with me staying?”

“Of course,” Patton said. “I want you to. Come on, let me help you to bed.”

Janus practically collapsed on top of his boyfriend by the time Patton guided them both under the covers, wrapping his arms around Janus’s back and letting him rest his head on Patton’s chest.

“I’ve got you,” Patton whispered, freeing one hand to play with Janus’s hair. “You’re safe. Go to sleep, baby.”

Janus was holding onto Patton like a lifeline, but he was sound asleep in minutes, his frantic grip loosening as he finally drifted off to sleep.

Patton’s own exhaustion from sleepless, stressful nights finally weighed down. Everything ached, panic and uncertainty lingering, everything dragging him down to sleep, begging him to just close his eyes and leave it behind.

He would fix this, he could promise himself that. He owed it to Janus to set everything right.

But he could do that in the morning. Right now, he could pretend everything was back to normal. He could hold his boyfriend, his wonderful, loving, loyal, boyfriend, and finally let himself sleep.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #human au #assault tw #rape tw #moceit #romantic moceit #writing #fanfiction

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imaginationjunkie · 3 years

Text

Dancing with our hands tied

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda soft

Thought of these songs while writing, so give them a listen while reading!

Note: Jason’s 25 and the reader is 21

I was always a fan of the over the top charity galas Bruce Wayne threw. The elitists in their flashy riches, extravagant decorations and endless varieties of food, and a certain Wayne brother in a suit. It was all very amusing to witness.

I felt like a princess walking down the stairs with Tim every time, who refused to ever get an actual date. So I’d been stuck being his unofficial date for the 5 years that I’d known him. Not that I minded much; he was my best friend after all.

I chose a simple flowy dress tonight, blood red in color, silky like water. The subtle eyes that followed me through the evening didn’t go unnoticed.

But my eyes followed just one sight. A sight that erupted the unwanted greenness of jealousy as I sulked in a corner, celebrating turning 21 recently with a champagne flute in hand.

I felt him before I saw him. Warmth soothed my skin at his presence, despite the fact that I was unfairly mad at him. It wasn’t like he was my boyfriend.

Easier to say than do, and thus all the salt in the world seemed to be in my tone as I spoke first.

“Where’s your date?”

Jason Todd’s eyes might’ve been cool blue, but the feel of them didn’t match the description. The side of my head felt like it would burst into golden flames under the intensity of his stare.

But they were the good kind of flames, the best kind of flames. It was almost miraculous, the way I managed to keep my calm.

“She bailed, something about her sick grandma,” was his soft response.

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the tone?” He leaned closer, hot breath teasing my cheek. Jason had gotten awfully bold since the first time we met, when he couldn’t even look into my eyes straight.

“Is it jealousy I sense?”

I tried to be subtle about my sharp inhale. Judging by the stutter of his lips as he suppressed a smirk, I failed.

But why hide anymore? I was never one to hold back anyway. “Yes, it is.”

It was my turn to take his breath away. I turned my head, challenging him with my stare. But I was too tangled in his game to play in charge. He had me, and he knew it. Right?

A smile filled with swirls of mischief and satisfaction designed his lips. Yes, he definitely knew it.

It caught me off guard, the unfiltered beauty of it. Of him. Watching Jason Todd smile, really smile, was not for the weak hearted.

“Then I think you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t a date. Just a friend.”

Eyes the color of a swirling blue sea, a face handsome enough to cause heartache. Why’d it take me so long to realize that I could never resist him? Not even in a million years. Not even if Ryan Gosling came offering himself to me.

A little too far?

Maybe, but it’s true. What to do?

I was just about to walk away from him, refill the empty flute of champagne to bring back sparkle to my uneventful evening. A large hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me.

“Let’s dance,” he said with the softness of tulle, pulling my frame closer to his larger one. Close enough to smell his cologne. Like a creep in the street, I subtly took a slow sniff of it.

It’d never stop amusing me, how a man who seemed as rough and rugged around the edges as he did had so much softness in him.

And smelled so. damn. good.

“M’kay,” I agreed, following as he led the way to the ballroom. Or so I thought.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” I inquired, looking back at the flashing dance floor full of people we left behind.

“I do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at me, still walking to God knows where with my hand in his.

“We literally just crossed the dance floor, where else on earth do you plan on taking me dancing?”

“Who said anything about a dance floor?” Jason smirked, coming to a stop in the garden behind the manor.

Even though it was off limits to Bruce’s guests tonight, the garden looked particularly beautiful. Strings of fairy lights decorated the flawlessly kept greens and flowers, courtesy of Alfred. The pool lights were on, and a surreal soft blue glow lit up the water.

It matched Jason’s eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Long fingers tilted my chin up, and a gasp reverberated the air as my eyes met the mystical view. Stars glittered the midnight canvas endlessly, and in the center of it all sat the full moon like a queen.

She was regal tonight.

My mouth was slightly open in awe, and Jason’s fingers on my chin softly closed it as he chuckled.

“I’m guessing you like the view?”

“Like it? I might as well marry it!” I exclaimed, eyes wide with glee as I gripped his shoulders.

“Dick used to bring his, ahem, lady companions to charm them back when I was Robin. I’d always barge in and interrupt to interrogate about the last woman I saw with him,” he laughed while recalling the memory.

“Did it work?” I smiled back and stood closer to him, the fronts of our bodies slightly touching. My hands had come down to rest on his chest now, and while my eyes were up roaming the sky, my soul’s attention was solely on him.

He shuffled with something in his suit pocket. “Did what work?”

“Dick’s method of charming the ladies?”

“Judging by the walks of shame Alfred and I had to witness every morning after each Wayne gala, yes. It very much did.”

I felt Jason put something in my ear, and finally looked down from the stars to his eyes in confusion. It was an airpod, and I watched silently as he put the other one in his ear.

“I promise I’m not a creep or anything, but I stalked your Spotify playlists and found one titled ‘dancing under the stars’.” He confessed. In a very un-Jason like manner, he looked almost sheepish.

He didn’t look at me as he pressed play and pocketed his phone. Almost immediately ‘Dancing with our hands tied’ by Taylor Swift came on, and he took my hand in his.

Tingles shot up the pit of my stomach as his free arm wrapped around my waist, fingers resting on my hip. We swayed in beat to the music in our ears, eyes on eyes.

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know,

The lords, and anyone who knew me actually, knew how big of a swiftie I was. The fact that he had put in the effort to pick the absolute perfect song to dance to had to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.

I was completely mesmerized. Guys like this only existed in the encasement of my stash of romance novels; but time and time Jason Todd had proved that idea wrong. Every one of his gestures, one after the other, seemed to catch me off guard more than the previous one.

“Wanted to do this since I was 17,” I breathed the fresh air in, craning my neck to rest my chin on his shoulder. This right here was all I needed to relax. This was my very own customized form of peace.

“Yeah, Tim let it slip when he got drunk on your birthday and started blabbing about how you’re growing up in front of his eyes,” he laughed and pulled back to twirl me.

I crashed back into his chest softly, grinning at his revelation.

“It’s so hard to believe you guys are best friends, that Timmy’s actually capable of having normal human conversations other than his usual nerdy blabber,” Jason continued, pulling me even closer to him while dancing.

No objections were made from my side as I obliged (obviously), staring up at his eyes.

They were like an oceanic maze, too easy to get lost in. Too dangerous to get lost in.

“He’s a good friend. Awfully robot-like at times though, and he always smells of coffee.” I breathed with a chuckle as the air around us got intense.

The gold of the fairy lights hit his eyes, making them shine brighter than the stars above I let my hands grip the hairs on his neck, watching carefully as he took a sharp breath in response.

If there was something Jason and my relationship, whatever that it was, didn’t lack, it was moments like these. Moments where we had a conversation with our eyes, expressing how much we wanted to kiss each other, how much we wanted to stay frozen in the present and relish in the feel of our undeniable chemistry.

It had been going on for way too long, and even Tim was getting tired of us not taking the leap of faith.

Initially he was pretty against it, but when he saw exactly how much I felt for his brother, his blessings for us suddenly started pouring in.

“Uhuh,” Jason hummed. An electric sensation buzzed the air around us as the chorus hit, and all the space between our bodies vanished. Butterflies went haywire in the places of my body he touched. He was everywhere.

But we were dancing Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied Yeah, we were dancing Like it was the first time, first time

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he harshly whispered, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with desire as he tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I do,” I whispered in response, knowing exactly what he meant.

His breath hit my lips, forehead fell against mine in a moment of desire and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

It was needy and rushed and a thousand other adjectives, but it was my most perfect kiss. It would always be my most perfect kiss.

Jason’s muscular arms encircled my waist as he pressed me up against him, gripping my sides and lifting me to stand on his feet. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and a sneaky stutter of a moan escaped my lips, earning me a groan from him.

Passion burned us under the cool night air as we kissed and kissed and kissed, all thoughts of oxygen forgotten in our haze of need.

But even our passion couldn’t defy nature. We pulled back to breathe in as much air as we could, but instead of diving back in towards each other’s lips like I expected us to, Jason simply stared at me with eyes that now looked navy from being hooded.

It was a stare of a few seconds that seemed like hours as his thumbs brushed the side of my face. The fire of need from a while back was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

We both tried to calm ourselves, but an unstoppable part of me leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“Wanted to do that since you were 17,” he said cheekily, hands tracing my back as we now let ‘Wonderland’ by Taylor amuse our ears.

“Liar,” I grinned. “You couldn’t even look at me back then.”

“Yeah, because I’d do this if I looked at you for more than 5 seconds. I had no plans of going to jail for getting handsy with a minor,” he replied, leading us to the wooden benches Bruce had installed in the garden a few weeks earlier.

I lifted a teasing brow, masking my shock at the fact that he wanted to kiss me even back then.

“And how’re you so sure I would’ve let you get handsy with me? For all you know I could have kicked you in the balls myself.”

“Don’t act coy, you could never stop staring at me when you were over,” he smirked, sitting down on the bench and pulling me to his lap.

I hesitated for a second, my brain getting lost in the fact that after months of banters and unbelievable tension, interruptions and two sided pining, I was finally in this position. Where we were able to be open about our want for each other.

Sensing my hesitation, his smirk dropped. “This is okay right?”

I snapped back to reality, taking his nervous expression in. Yes, this was real. And I wouldn’t waste a second of the time God gave me with Jason. I smirked and ran my fingers through his dark locks, making him close his eyes.

“Of course it is, just thinking about how long it took for you to man up and kiss me,”

“Excuse me, you could’ve-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. He responded almost immediately, putting his hand on my hip as I sat sideways on his lap. Unlike the first one, this kiss was sweet and slow. We were cherishing the night with it.

“About damn time, I thought all my teeth were gonna fall out due to old age before Todd here grew some balls,” the sudden voice of a certain sass filled Wayne interrupted us.

My magical night with Jason ended with him running after his kid brother Damian, teasing him about kicking his ass.

But that was okay, because I was happy. Jason was happy. The long wait for him, for us, was worth it.

Even though he gave off the impression that he couldn’t care less, I knew that the reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wanted Tim to be completely fine with us being a thing.

Alongside being friends with Tim, I became friends with his brothers and Alfred over the years. I knew of their nightlife, and everything that went on behind the polished doors of the Wayne Manor. I knew Jason well enough to know that his tough posterior and damn care attitude was just a facade.

Being with Jason wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I knew that too. He was reckless and intense, impulsive and careless.

But he was also sweet and passionate, and his love would brand you like a tattoo with it’s depth. I was willing to give my 110% to make it work with him.

Because even fairy tales take sacrifice and effort to get a happy ending. And I’d do about anything to make sure I earned mine.

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

I was trying to brainstorm the next chapter of The Face of My Father (it’s shaping up to be an interesting one guys!), when my room-mate shot up in bed and startled me.

Naturally, with LU on the brain and something weird happening when I was trying to lull myself to sleep, I was hit by inspiration. Thus, I settled myself down to write this 1,045 word piece of shit about the boys and their glowy animal eyes, and how it freaks the others out.

Enjoy!

(If you want to send a fic request at me, go on ahead! I have a list going, but I’ll get to yours in time!)

There is a rule when their group stays at an inn.

Legend, Time and Twilight must be roomed together.

This rule is not to prevent separation anxiety of any sort, nor is it because the three are especially compatible or that they get along.

No, this rule exists to spare Sky and everyone else from a heart attack.

The first time it happened, it was Time.

Wars had been on watch and had gone to wake the old man for his shift.

Everyone had woken up, even Sky, at the startled shout the escaped the Captain.

Time’s eyes glow in the dark. It’s not a normal glow either, not something that even makes sense. Time’s eye is royal blue, only a shade darker than Wars’ own melting stare, and though they’ve only seen Time open both of his eyes on a few occasions, they know that the other one is either pure white, or very faintly silver (Legend and Four have argued over the differences so many times that it’s gotten old).

But when Time blinked up at Warriors that first night, brilliant blood red was all that could be seen in the dim light.

Warriors has never taken the shift before Time since.

It’s a strange thing, to watch as Time’s blue eye fades to violet with the setting of the sun, and once the light of the world has faded, it shines brilliant crimson. It’s unsettling to most of them, and Legend was downright cowering the first time he saw it, very nearly ducking behind the other heroes as Time’s single open eye had flickered over to them.

They had been telling ghost stories, and now it seemed as if they were living one themselves.

The only one who didn’t seem phazed at all was Twilight. In fact, the rancher looked to be right at home with seeing crimson staring back at him when he addressed his mentor, Four would say that Twi was downright giddy the first time that he saw it.

No one knew why.

But then again, Twilight did the same thing.

It wasn’t red, and, like Time, they quickly noticed that it only happened when a light source was shining on the heroes, but Twilight’s eyes glimmered golden in the moonlight.

It took Hyrule drawing his blade o the rancher one night for them to realize just what that meant for the man, and while Hyrule had apologized profusely, it was clear Twilight was hurt, although he didn’t seem surprised either.

“It happens.” He assured the younger hero, big hands gently thumping against the traveler’s back in a show of comfort. “Don’t sweat it.”

Except it's hard to live with someone when the minute the lights go out their eyes glimmer the same color you would expect from a wild thing, or worse, an enemy.

Legend was found out last, whether it be because the Vet was always hiding under his long bangs or because his eyes were always cast in shadow, no one was quite sure, but all it took was Four tripping over the dozing veteran once before they all very quickly learned that Time and Twilight were not the only ones with odd eyes.

Legend had shot awake again, eyes blown wide and glimmering with gold and red both as he stared up at the smithy. (The fact that Legend had frozen in place would never fail to make Twilight chuckle and the vet flush in irritation and embarrassment in future weeks).

Most of them hoped with everything in them that it was just a trick of the light, something that happened only in this particular Hyrule. They were wrong. Every camp they made, every night, was haunted by five glowing eyes.

If you startled Time enough, five would become six, and silver would join the show.

No one really knew why it happened (Wild was desperate to find out, and he and Four had badgered the three for answers on multiple occasions), but it was immensely unnerving and made all of them rather uncomfortable.

Time always shrugged it off. A quirk, he claimed, something that had happened since he could remember, a thing he had imagined all Hylians could do.

Warriors swore Malon must be blind or half asleep by the end of the day if she hadn’t said something by now, but Time had corrected him with a chuckle, voice deep and rich with laughter as he informed them that Malon had teased him about it endlessly. “But it comes with the benefit of never losing anything in the dark, so she’s grown quite fond of it.”

Twilight and Legend however, neither would answer questions.

“You’re tired.” “Go back to bed.” and “Are you sure you aren’t imagining it?” and more had all been murmured by one or both a dozen times before, and every time they were asked the other would stare at his brother in confusion.

And then came the first time a portal had split them, and when the two finally emerged from the forest with Sky, Legend’s hair faintly pink in the firelight and eyes even redder than usual, it was clear something had changed, and it was more than the vet’s weird pink hair. From that night on, neither Twilight nor Legend said a thing about their shared quirk, simply sharing wicked grins across the fire that made Time’s own ruby gaze sparkle with mischief.

It was more than just slightly terrifying to have three men staring at each other like the slightest sound would send them ripping each other's throats out, but even so, there was mischief in their gazes and laughter in their eyes, even with the harsh looks they traded.

When they stayed at inns, Time, Twilight and Legend had to share a room.

Thank Hylia that the three took to each other so well afterwards, because if any of their brothers had to wake up to glowing eyes leaning over their beds when there were finally beds to actually sleep on, then somebody was either going to lose an eye, or their life.

Even heroes of courage are capable of getting heart attacks, and heavens knows how close they all came every time night fell and five glowing eyes started to shine in the darkness.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu twilight #lu legend #wolfie linked universe #bunny legend #hero's shade #glowy eyes #tapetum lucidum #fluffics #idiot writes crack #linked universe crack

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obae-me · 4 years

Note

Hi! If your inbox is open, I'd like to request a scenario with all (or any) of the demon brothers, + undatables reacting to a blind MC? Like, none of them expected to have a blind human and Devildom and they have to revamp everything to make it as safe for MC as possible. Can be she/her or they/them pronouns for MC. Bonus points if MC is extremely talkative and won't shut up lmao. Thank you!

I’m still learning how I best want to write the Undateables, so I’m sorry if they’re a bit lacking. This was really wholesome to write, thank you for your request! 💜

Lucifer

When first summoned down to the Devildom, MC looked more disoriented than he would’ve expected. “Where am I? Who are you guys?” They hadn’t managed to look at Diavolo yet, even while he was speaking to them. They already put him in a bad mood.

“Didn’t you learn its bad manners to ignore the people that are talking to you? Look at Lord Diavolo while he’s speaking.” Lucifer growled, leaving MC with an exasperated expression.

“I’m BLIND.”

Error.

They were blind?? Humans were so fragile that they could just lose their eyesight?? Permanently?! He’s already got several new grey hairs. He’d have to entirely change up the house, he’d need to have someone with them at all times. How would they read? How would they get school work done?

MC has to explain to him that they’ve been this way for a long time, so they can handle themselves. They’ll have to tell him about things they use to help them out, like a cane for starters. They’ll tell him later how they best do schoolwork, but he’s already busy contacting someone about a cane.

It doesn’t matter what MC says, he now feels obligated to keep them under his watch as much as possible. He’s responsible for keeping them safe after all, and he can’t feel relaxed until he can confirm that they’re okay.

Although he did find out that MC was as talkative and feisty as a human could be. If things went too quiet they’d quickly fill up the empty space with chatter. Not to mention anytime he, or any demon for that matter, went into demon form, the intimidation factor was lost. MC never budged. They didn’t mind standing up to him, which annoyed him greatly, but absolutely blew his mind. How such a tiny human, who didn’t have a major part of functioning, could easily stand up to a demon was beyond him.

When MC first asked if it was okay to ‘see’ him, he had no idea what they meant, but was curious to see where it would lead. He wasn’t aware that MC knew any magic. He didn’t expect MC to come over and gently touch his face, running their fingers gingerly over his features. MC politely asked if he could show his true self, and he agreed. MC drifted their way up to his horns, feeling the texture and shape. They had an expression of awe on their face, probably because they now knew that it was real, he wasn’t human. They struggled to find these supposed wings of his, and with one of his gloved hands, Lucifer took their wrist and guided MC along. They made a little gasp as the feathers brushed against their skin.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, his demon form was supposed to strike shock and fear into people. He was supposed to be respected. He was supposed to be above this. So how was it he was sitting here, MC running their hands all over him, and he was the one who was shocked and speechless. He hated how MC had lost their eyesight, but in this one moment he was grateful that they couldn’t see his reddened face with such an embarrassing expression plastered over it.

Mammon

“What do you mean they can’t see? It’s not that dark in the Devildom. Oi, human, just open your eyes, don’t you know how seeing works?!...Oh...Oooh...”

He had a less than grand first impression when he first met MC, and to be honest, it kept getting worse before it got better. He didn’t know when to shut his mouth. He tried asking Lucifer if they could get a different human, one that wasn’t broken. He must’ve somehow thought that whispering from only about a foot away would keep MC from hearing him.

He didn’t get a different human, he was stuck with them, and he was going to receive a particularly severe punishment that night for how poorly he treated MC. He was in a bad mood, not to mention out of his mind with panic.

“I don’t know what to do with people who can’t see? Can we fix ya? Surely there’s some magic here that’ll make you good as new!”

He tried spells, he tried potions, he even paid a fortune to one of the Devildom’s best doctors. None of his antics worked, and out of all the brothers, Mammon took the longest to process that this was how MC was. It was a part of them. They would be like this forever.

He’ll stay by their side constantly, escorting them by the arm and hand, talking their ear off about this and that to keep them distracted. It causes MC to laugh about it every time. Who needs a seeing eye dog when you’ve got a wonderfully trained seeing eye Mammon. Sometimes he would even pick them up to go up and down stairs if he felt they would be too dangerous.

Anytime they’re at any sort of store, MC will have to touch almost everything, and if their hands brush across anything they like, even if only for it’s tactile nature, Mammon will buy it for them at the drop of a hat. It’ll drive Lucifer a bit crazy over the fact that MC won’t ever have a need for most of the things Mammon buys, but he’ll not bother them about it if he sees it makes MC happy even just to hold it.

MC is super talkative, but it’s typically just to fill empty dark space and make things seem more comfortable, but when they’re with Mammon, they don’t need to say a word. He does all the talking, and MC’s grown accustomed to the sound of his voice. It’s so different from his other brothers, the mannerisms he uses and the slight accent to it. Mammon still doesn’t realize that, for this reason, MC can single him out among the crowds at RAD, or how Mammon can never seem to sneak up on them. MC loves how loud he is. No matter how quiet he tries being, MC can always pick him out of the darkness, for them, he’s always there. Mammon will never say it, but he loves how his human knows him apart from everyone else.

Levi

“Huh, so you don’t watch anime, what a typical normie.”

“I actually can’t watch anything, just for your information.”

Fatality.

He knows the concept of blindness from anime and manga, but it almost seemed as foreign to him as magic seemed to MC. Typically in the stories he saw, it was never permanent, always the cause of some curse or spell or even a fight! MC had gone through none of that, it was what it was.

He almost found it relaxing for a moment, because he felt a bit more confident in himself. MC couldn’t see what an ugly shut-in looked like. However, his moods were quickly dashed when MC tripped over an empty can he had lying on the floor. He caught them from falling but quickly went into a state of despair. He was a dirty trashy shut-in. Lucifer would later find that Levi now had his room clean of trash at all times, his floor spotless.

Levi would absolutely cry, and I mean cry, over the fact that MC would never be able to fully enjoy anime or manga or video games. They could maybe enjoy some Dubbed shows but it wouldn’t be the same. If MC hangs out with him, Levi will give them the full commentator experience. He’ll explain what’s going on in his games or shows in hopes MC can still enjoy his favorite form of entertainment.

The first time in his Demon form, MC stepped on his tail in attempt to get to his wings. He yelped in shock. MC was vastly confused. What was that? Where was his wings? Lucifer and Mammon had wings so where were his? He hated being compared to them like that. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t look nearly as intimidating. No he didn’t have wings, he just has this clunky ugly tail. MC grabbed his tail, making him turn bright red. They ran their fingers over his scales, petting it, pulling it out to see how long it was. MC endlessly talked about how cool it was, and how it felt amazing to touch. Lucifer and Mammon didn’t have a tail. Levi never felt envious of not having wings ever again.

Satan

He can’t believe his brothers didn’t know that humans were capable of being blind. They were extremely fragile creatures but somehow were heartier and more stubborn than they looked, capable of thriving despite everything they go through.

He didn’t know everything about being blind, since it never seemed to come up often enough for him to need to learn about. So you can bet that in just the first few days MC was there, he thoroughly studied up on anything he thought would help him.

He was surprised to find that there was a form of reading available for people who had lost their sight. He had never heard about Braille before this. As a demon who wanted to learn as many languages and reading forms as possible, he was angry he missed something like this.

He wasn’t as angry, however, when MC offered to help teach him how to read Braille if he helped them with their schoolwork and studies. The Devildom school was surprisingly accommodating but until Diavolo and Lucifer finished sorting things out, they couldn’t read any of their schoolwork.

He usually preferred silence, but he didn’t mind when MC would come in his room and feel comfortable enough to talk in detail everything that had happened that day. In return, he liked when MC would listen intently as his narrating voice filled up the room while he would read his favorite stories to them. He loved the way their face would crinkle when he’d attempt to voice a particular character. They put their hand on his chest and would beg him to do it again with a laugh. He’d attempt the line again, MC feeling the deep rumble in his chest. Reading would now not be the same without them.

The more he got to know them, the more the heat in his chest over their blank non-focused eyes grew hotter. How could they not see? How could someone like them be deprived of something like that? He couldn’t show them art, photographs, the beauty of the Devildom’s stars. MC assured him that it was alright, anytime they wanted to know what something looked like, they would ask him. Anything he described sounded like poetry. With him around, his words would be enough.

Asmo

Blind, as in they couldn’t see anything, see him?! His radiant shine? His picture perfect features? His allure? They wouldn’t see any of that? He was astounded. He was upset. He was dramatically depressed. He got over it pretty quickly, though, he’s very attractive yes, but all of his other qualities were just as attractive.

He’ll help tweak their uniform, he’ll buy them clothes that not only feel amazing, but look amazing. If touch is important to them, he’ll get them lotions, skincare products, anything they wanted to keep them well taken care of. Their hands will never worry about being dry.

He loves when MC touches his face to know what he looks like. He’ll use this as an excuse. “How do you know it’s Asmo? I might have put a spell on my voice, double check.” He’ll put his hands over theirs while they amuse him and feel the details on his face down to the bridge of his nose.

One particularly pleasant evening for Asmo, he goes on and on about new clothes he bought, and then brings MC into it.

“Right right? I think it’ll look ravishing on me, the color matches MC’s eyes.” MC smiles and states that they had forgotten their eyes were that color. Asmo sits there for a moment before shrieking, standing up so fast his chair falls over. “You don’t even know what you look like!”

Of course MC had a pretty general idea of what they looked like, but yes he was right for the most part. They didn’t understand why Asmo was so shocked about it. However, Asmo refuses to let this go, and he takes them to his bedroom describing MC down to the bone. He’ll tell them what their eye color reminds him of, the particular way their eyelashes curl, how their complexion looked under the moonlight. He’ll go on and on and on, not realizing that he’s never ever spoke so long about someone else before, so MC lets him continue. They’ve never cared about appearances before, but the way Asmo talks about them makes them cozy on the inside. He made them feel like the most gorgeous thing on earth.

They’ll then change it up, making Asmo close their eyes as they talk about all the things about him that they love. The way the air smells around him when he comes into the room. The way his tone raises up when he’s excited about something. The way his footsteps sound on hard surfaces. They adore how one side of his hair is longer than the other. They love his presence. Asmo is dumbfounded, no one has ever described him in that way before. He’ll melt and might call a doctor for this strange new feeling in his chest.

Beel

They can’t see anything? Can they at least eat?? Well then it’s not the end of the world. If MC had somehow been deprived of taste, he would’ve really been upset. Food doesn’t have to look great to taste great. Still, the fact that they couldn’t see made the Devildom even more dangerous, and he didn’t want anything to happen to them. He couldn’t let anyone get hurt around him, not again.

He’s among the most considerate of the brothers even though he’s not used to being around someone that can’t see. He’s real worried he’ll hurt MC, so he’s always extra careful. He’ll announce that he’s beside them even though they heard his footsteps near them and could feel the heat coming off of his body. He’ll always ask them first if it’s okay to touch them so he can help them out. He’s even extra wary about hugs at first, what if he just...breaks them even more? As time goes by he learns he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells.

He finds it a fun game to let them try to figure out what stuff he made for them before they eat it, more times than not, they figure it out. Then he’ll eat it with them, unnecessarily guiding the fork to their mouth.

If Mammon isn’t by their side, it’s usually Beel who’s next. If he’s not busy with sports or working out, he’ll stick around by MC wherever they want to go. However, it’s usually MC who stays by him whenever he sees something tasty to make sure he doesn’t run off.

MC knew he worked out, but had always envisioned him to be like a big teddy bear. It wasn’t until MC asked to feel him until they understood just how strong Beel was. Under his soft clothes, they felt his tough muscles. He was built like a brick, no matter where they felt him, his arms, his sides, he was completely different than they had expected. His face was soft at least. His hair fun to play with. In his demon form adored touching his horns, exclaiming that they were perfect for fitting doughnuts. He didn’t need to know that, now Lucifer’s going to have to question why in the world Beel has doughnuts stacked on his horns. His wings felt silky and surprisingly fragile despite how strong he felt everywhere else. They were sure they weren’t as weak as they felt, but it let MC know that Beel was still soft. MC couldn’t stop gawking over how big and strong Beel was, pretending to punch him in the gut even though they could probably punch him for real and he wouldn’t feel it.

All Beel wanted was to tell MC how strong he thought they were.

Belphie

At first, he couldn’t believe that, somehow, they had chosen someone who couldn’t even see to be a part of the program. He felt like this supported his idea that it was a terrible idea to begin with, but fortunately, he thought, this made it easy for him to manipulate MC’s actions. How guilty this made him feel, afterwards.

He’d stay silent and sneak around MC, feeling that it was best if they didn’t even know he was there. They knew where he was, no matter how hard he tried. They could follow his dragging footsteps as he lazily walked through the house. His sighs and breathing were also very distinguishable.

They didn’t start getting to know each other till MC was wandering through the house, trying to still burn the number of steps in their mind in this massive place. Their cane found a strange obstacle in the middle of the floor, something that wasn’t usually there. They poked it, it was surprisingly soft. They got down on their knees and reached over, feeling cozy clothes and skin. They found a face and traced it over. It wasn’t anyone they had memorized, so it must’ve been Belphie. Made sense that he was the only one crazy enough to sleep in the middle of the floor. They loved how soft he felt, softer than any of his other brothers. Even his hair was like a velvety down you’d find in a pillow.

They knew he had woken up from his nap. The little muscles in his face were twitching, and his breathing was strained. He was trying to pretend he was asleep, but MC just kept going. They traced down his slender arms to his hands. They were free of any callouses or cuts. They took his hand and grasped it firmly in their own.

“I forgive you, you don’t need to avoid me anymore, or pretend that you’re asleep.” They heard his breathing go still, and then he sat up.

“You knew?”

“I’m not as stupid as people think I am. I may not be able to see, but I can still figure things out just fine.” They gently whacked him with their cane. “So I know you’ve been sneaking around me.”

Belphie didn’t think they wanted him around, after everything he’d done. He was still surprised his brothers kept him around at the end of the day. He just sighed. Emotions were exhausting.

MC felt for his waist and then gave him a tight hug. They knew what it meant to be ashamed of you you were, of the things you’d done, but it didn’t matter. They wanted bygones to be bygones, and they wanted to learn about Belphie for who he really was, not what grief had made him out to be.

MC now finds a new lump in their bed every so often. A lump that moans when you lie on it apparently. Naps are pleasant with him around. MC loves sleeping with their hands in his hair.

MC can’t dream, not in the same way other people do, so Belphie does enough dreaming for the both of them. He’ll share stories of rippling meadows and drifting clouds. He’ll make sure they hear all sorts of pleasant things before they fall asleep. He hopes he can make it up to them.

Diavolo

Figuring out MC was blind didn’t come as a shock, he knew they were after all. He wouldn’t choose someone without knowing the important things about them, and having no eyesight definitely checked out as important.

Knowing him, he did this as a test. He was testing out how the brothers would react and if they indeed could keep MC safe. If a blind human could make it through an entire year in the realm of demons, it would be more than a major success for his program.

The more he got to know about MC, the more he grew close to them instead of just treating them like a test subject or a campaign plan. He loved how they weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest, and he also loved how he could spend hours with them, MC talking the entire time. It drove Lucifer wild, but Diavolo found it fascinating and fun.

“Is this what having friends is like? Amazing.”

He’ll have things all set up for them in a matter of days, having whatever accommodations they need to make their school life as easy as possible. Of course, this supposed ‘special treatment’ didn’t go well over demons who opposed the program. Some demons who disapproved didn’t have the courage to defy him directly at first, but now they were starting to scurry out of the sewers like rats. They headed straight over to Diavolo’s new ‘pet’.

They would abuse MC’s lack of sight to mess with them, stealing their things, purposefully knocking them around since they wouldn’t be able to tell who they were, but any demon who thinks Diavolo doesn’t see everything is sadly mistaken. MC tried standing up for themselves, but they could feel a tremendous and overwhelming presence behind them, larger than anything they had felt before. The demons would gasp, and the bullying would stop. Diavolo would put a hand on MC’s shoulder and they’d never be bothered again.

MC knew that this was the Lord of Demons, but they wanted to feel him in his demon form anyway, should he permit. He did permit, and at last MC was able to figure out this terrifying form of his. In his human form he was large, yes, but in demon form he was even bigger, impossibly big. Demonically big. His horns and wings were sharp and decorated in all manner of jewelry. The skin that stretched over bone to serve as his wings were littered with veins, and even just touching them allowed MC to feel the power pumping through them. He was intimidating yes, but after running their hands over his features, they were able to see how beautiful he was in his frightening glory.

Diavolo won’t tell them this, but they’re the only human who has ever laid a hand on him without immediately perishing or being subjected to torment. He’ll let MC do it again too, if they ever ask him.

Barbatos

The fact that he could’ve chosen a timeline where MC wasn’t like this is irrelevant. MC remained relatively the same throughout the different branches, blind or not. He does have control over time but mostly he’ll let time decide for itself, and he’ll take whatever MC the thread of fate decides to give him in this universe. No matter who shows up, he’ll take care of them.

He’s their secret shadow. MC’s working eyes. Diavolo always has him keeping tabs on them, keeping them safe whenever the brothers can’t. MC at first didn’t understand the whisper in the wind that told them to move to the side right before a demon blazed past. They were confused about the phenomenon of something wrapping around their leg to pull them down to the floor before an object whizzed above their head, causing something to explode behind them. It took MC until they finally heard Barbatos’ voice before it clicked.

When they asked to associate a form with that soft voice, he accepted, the normally even and calm tone just slightly more enthusiastic than normal. He had very wide shoulders and strong hands. Serving hands. Hands that felt almost familiar in a funny way, almost like they were hands that had pulled them away from an problem or two. His hair was longer on one side than the other, and they loved that. Even his demon form was intriguing. In every way that Diavolo’s presence boldly screamed, his aura clearly there, Barbatos was subtle. His horns were different than any horns MC had felt thus far. They were slender, bony, like two skeletal hands were reaching around his face to rest just above his forehead. Even his tail was different, splitting off near the bottom to have two controllable ends. He almost scared MC more than Diavolo.

Sometimes MC will talk to themselves alone in their room, filling up the silent space with their voice so it’s not as dark, not as dismal. Occasionally MC will feel like there’s someone there. Like there’s something nodding along with their ramble in the darkness as shadows quietly tidy up their room. MC will find their clothes folded in distinguishable piles. The floor clear of any potential obstacles. Their cane is easily accessible right near their bed.

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

Sometimes the shadow will answer MC back, quietly drifting across the room to touch MC’s cheek before disappearing like a whisper. The darkness doesn’t seem as lonely anymore.

Simeon

He’s definitely going to be the kind of person who says “There must be a reason if God intended it.” MC had heard that throughout their life too many times. Religious or not, they hated when someone took their life and their disability and summed it up to God’s works. Their life was theirs alone, it belonged to no one else. They have a hard time around this angel at first.

Like Barbatos, Simeon can be impossibly quiet, which makes it hard for MC to be able to tell if he’s moving around. The only giveaways are the sounds his cloak makes, the little diamond shaped decor making slight clinking sounds as he moves. It’s melodic in a way, which MC sums up to angelic grace.

He’s not all bad, though. Yes he does believe God has his hands in all things, but that doesn’t mean he pities MC. That he thinks any less of them as a being. It doesn’t mean he’s chalking up their life to a charity case. He’s actually very sweet and fun. He’s one of the only people besides perhaps Solomon who believes MC is stronger than what they seem.

MC will admit sometimes they absolutely love how much the demons coddle and pamper them, but it can get too much too quickly. So sometimes they’ll run off and hang out with Simeon. He treats them like a person, not like a disability, not like a fragile little flower, but...normal.

“Hello, Simeon here...yes, MC is here...stop screaming, they’re fine...we’ve just been talking.”

He’ll let them talk and talk and talk. He’s quiet himself but he loves to hear MC’s voice. How happy they sound when they share stories and discussions and things that happened during their day.

MC can’t get enough of him now, they love hanging around this angel. There’s no sun in the Devildom, but anytime they’re around Simeon, they feel the same rays of warmth the sunshine gives.

Simeon will never call MC ‘human’ sometimes God’s Miracle, sometimes a Godsend, more often than not, a blessing, but never just ‘human’.

Solomon

Yes, MC is blind, and? He doesn’t care what disability they do or do not have, he still finds them intriguing, and they’re his sole human companion in this place, a kindred spirit.

He’s also mischief wrapped in mystery, so he does his best to teach MC some simple spells to make their life a little easier down in the Devildom. Letting things they drop come right back into their hands, giving a shock to anyone who touches them that they don’t know, simple things like that. He did underestimate MC’s power, though. He may or may not have had seven demons at his door the next day when he learned that MC had accidentally dragged all the furniture in the living room towards them at a disturbing pace after they dropped a schoolbook. He did find it very funny, but taught them how to control their powers better.

MC also doesn’t realize how much magic Solomon uses for their benefit. Objects they feel around for sometimes drift towards their hand. They will magically walk over holes in the ground. If any little pesky demon even dares try to mess with them, they’ll find themselves cursed. He knows that MC has nine powerful demons and two angels looking after them, but he does his part.

When he finally does let MC touch his face, they’re disappointed to find that Solomon is very much in control of his expressions. They can’t get a reading off of what he’s feeling at all. They love anytime the brothers can’t help but let their lip quiver or their eyes flutter. Solomon stays blank, maybe letting them feel a smile on his face, nothing more. However, they are pleased to find not even Solomon can control his temperature, they can feel his cheeks get warmer by the second as they caress his face.

They run their hands though his hair and find that touching him gives them a strange sensation. It’s something akin to static, but without the shock. It’s wonderfully addictive and strange. It leaves their fingers tingling and their nerves vibrating.

Because of this sensation, MC has to touch him anytime they meet. Solomon doesn’t mind, in fact he lives for this. He’ll look over MC’s shoulder and give a small smirk to any of the demon brothers standing behind them. The expressions they pull make everything so much better.

Luke

He’s ready to fight every demon in the Devildom when he learns they’re blind. Everything bad comes from demons, so it had to be one of them, not even hours they had been there before they took MC’s sight!

MC had to calm down the small yapping angel and tell them that they had been this way for a very long time. It just happened, it was just life. He has a very hard time dealing with this.

“But you’re so nice and sweet and wonderful, why can’t you see?” Was he crying?

MC has to promise him that it is okay, there’s still plenty to enjoy in their life. Humans don’t have it easy but they learned to move on anyway. He still doesn’t understand how MC’s not an angel. He suddenly shakes off their supporting words because he’s supposed to be the protector, not a human! He swears to protect them no matter what, no demon will stop him!

He loves to hang out with them, making sure they’re away from demons every now and then for the sake of their soul. He makes sure they’ve been treating MC okay. Even if the answer is yes, he doesn’t care what MC says, he cannot trust demons. So he brings MC the sweets he made to make sure they get plenty to eat. (No, he doesn’t know they can’t live off of sweets just yet)

If he lets MC touch his face, MC cannot get over how soft and squishy this little angel is. He’s just as cute as he sounds.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

Text

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders.

"...Y/N."

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly.

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby."

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you."

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship.

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement.

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was.

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy.

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere.

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today.

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again.

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer.

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter.

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded.

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her.

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return.

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke.

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life.

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit.

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast."

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person.

"You're too good to me."

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time.

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head.

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond.

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy."

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this."

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you.

"Okay."

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in.

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care.

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple.

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy."

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over.

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips.

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes.

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again.

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again.

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics.

-------

The Second Anniversary

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction.

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss.

"Come on, let's go inside."

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house.

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today.

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us."

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there.

"Okay, we'll be there."

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return.

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much."

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter.

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now.

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something.

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other.

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone.

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely.

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend.

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh.

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

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