#also the fact his soft spot for children shines through

[glfry]

The scrapbook from Super Mario RPG. Reblog if you agree

[elysia-nsimp]

TWST Headcanons!

Hi everyone! This is the second post in the series where I share with y’all my headcanons for the twst characters.

On todays chopping block, the loves of my life, the fuckers that haunt my every waking moment, the Leech twins!

Alright, let’s get started! There’s a lot to cover, so let’s just touch on physical changes right now.

Both of them look less human, YIPPEE

Their ear fins from their eel forms show even in their more human form. (Floyd’s are broader and face outward, while Jade’s are thinner and face upwards)

Their yellow eye is brighter and constantly gives off a dim light (which gets brighter the darker it is around them)

Their lips and eyelids have a soft teal tint to them

The purple under their eyes is just a lighter variant of their dorm uniform makeup.

Both of them carried over the spots from their eel form in the form of teal freckles across their faces.

Floyd paints his nails! Sometimes Jade does as well.

We don’t really know if it’s canon or not, but the twins have pharyngeal jaws in the back of their throats like real life moray eels.

Great! So what does that all mean?

These changes are actually pretty straight-forward.

The twins revel in freaking people out. Floyd especially doesn’t particularly care how human he looks, so the both of them kind of alter how much of their Be Human medication they take to appear more or less human (they are absolutely not supposed to do this but there’s no major repercussions). All of the physical changes are just bits and pieces of their true forms shining through. They can appear more like they do in canon the higher dosage of their Be Human meds they take.

Any new abilities?

Yes, as a matter of fact! Let’s talk about them!

The twins are sirens, not normal merfolk like Azul. When they sing (genuinely), anyone in earshot will feel compelled to move towards them. They both use this just to mess with people.

Both of them can purr as well, as well as a lot of other more animalistic sounds (ex: tongue clicks either when pleased or in Hunting Mode, they’re very different clicks, a deep growl from the backs of their throats, soft chips when content, even a sound kind of like barking etc etc). These are all things they can do no matter what form they take. Also in Hunting Mode (TM), their pupils get thinner.

The twins are hermaphroditic, like regular eels, meaning they can change their sex.

Other things about merfolk culture that should be noted!

They don’t celebrate the same holidays we do. It’s more seasonal than specific days… except birthdays!

Gift giving is seen as a romantic courting ritual. Be careful when giving the twins gifts, because they might immediately assume it’s romantic unless you state otherwise… Floyd especially.

Biting is TYPICALLY an affectionate show from eelmers, especially if they make an effort to not break any skin. Cheek, hair, and hand biting are more platonic, while shoulder and ear biting are more romantic. Biting can also be a playful gesture (Floyd randomly bites Jade's arm when he's bored, for example)

They speak a whole ass other language in the Coral Sea, so the twins are multilingual.

…I’m not gonna say cannibalism is normalized… but……

Elvers (all children really) often huddle together like otters do to avoid floating away from one another. Most of the time, they have to hide in small holes between rocks if they don't have a structurally sound home to stay in.

Backstory

Wait, this wasn’t in my Jamil post! And correct you are, viewer whom I am 100% projecting onto! Jamil’s backstory didn’t change much, but we don’t really… know much about the twins’ backstory. Because of this… let’s just say I did a lot.

To be fair most of it is in relation to Floyd, rather than Jade, as I worked more on Floyd. A friend of mine does way more with Jade than I do, so assume my comments about Jade are references to that friend.

So I’m not gonna say the twins’ family is running a mafia… but….

Anyway, let’s meet their parents, Hitori and Mirai Leech. Hitori sure wants to be a good father, but he’s… not doing well. Mirai is also trying her best, but she’s doing better. The twins do not appreciate their father, but they love their Momma very much. :)

Eels can have clutches of maybe 10,000 eggs, so… imagine how many siblings they had! Many didn’t even hatch, some died after hatching… some may or may not have been eaten, but then, there were the ones that made it to childhood. There were several, really. More than just the twins.

The Leech family had to move often due to NOT mafia reasons, so they were nearly always on the move from one place to another. During their travels, some elvers would wander off and never return, some were hunted by bigger predators, some even gave themselves up so the rest of the family could eat. Everyone was always sad when they lost another, but it became so normal that the twins grew… mostly numb to it.

Once the family was solidified in one place, and… nearly all of the twins siblings were already gone, the elvers could actually start going to school. While Jade was rather solitary, Floyd was… Floyd, really. Always up and moving, clearly undiagnosed auDHD, unable to fully control his emotions, the whole ordeal. His parents got a LOT of notes from teachers and other staff that he was a PROBLEM at school.

This turned into evening arguments, groundings, lectures, all sorts of things. Floyd hated hearing “why can’t you be calm like your brother?” time and time again. He was trying, but it hurt so bad. It got to the point where Floyd tried to run away, like several siblings before him, on SEVERAL occasions. He was always either found days later, or dejectedly came home, hungry and wanting dinner… Jade worried one day Floyd would leave and never come home, but he always came home somehow.

Of course, the twins met Azul in elementary school and forcibly became friends with him then, but really, he was their only friend.

At one point, late elementary, Floyd had enough of all the nagging because of his behaviour. One day, Floyd just went dead silent. No one could get him to talk. Not his parents, not Jade, not Azul. This lasted YEARS. No one could truly figure out why he did this, as he wouldn’t… yknow. Tell them. Now, only notes of concern for Floyd came in from teachers. With each passing week of no noise from Floyd, everyone grew more and more concerned.

In late middle school, maybe a half a year before the NRC acceptance letter came in, Jade was talking to Floyd, hoping he’d get his brother to snap out of his silence, when Floyd suddenly spoke again. All he said was “Jade, I hate myself.”

It turned into a conversation about Floyd’s mistreatment—how he was jealous that Jade was so seemingly perfect, while he couldn’t do anything right, and how their parents had always wished he was more like Jade… Jade expressed similar feelings of inadequacy, which… turned into both of them crying while hugging the other.

Jade asked Floyd to make him a promise. A promise to never hide who he was, even if others didn’t want to accept it. It hurt more to see him force down every part of himself than anything else… Floyd agreed, saying he’d try.

That brings us to their acceptance at NRC, alongside Azul. Floyd needed a few months in their first year to fully recover from his habits, but without familial pressure to hold him back, he opened back up. That brings us to the Floyd we know and love today. Jade is incredibly proud of Floyd’s progress, actually, but he’s still scared that Floyd may disappear one day and he’ll lose it all.

Haha. Abandonment issues from both of them frfr.

Anyway, that’s the basics of the backstory… mostly from Floyd’s perspective (and off the top of my head). I may add more about Jade’s perspective if I REMEMBER more

Other headcanons

Assorted other stuff, as usual~

While both of the twins go by he/him, neither are cis. Floyd is genderfluid, Jade is agender. Floyd is also pan, while Jade is ace. They joke about how Floyd took all the gender and sexuality in the eggs.

These fuckers EXTREMELY AUTISTIC. Both of them. They’re so autistic it’s unbelievable. Actually they’re both ADHD/ADD as well. And depression

Floyd has BPD.

Concept from twistedblunderhand here on Tumblr, but Floyd especially is understimulated on land due to the lack of water pressure! The pressure gives the feeling of a weighted blanket, so it’s easier to reign in focus when underwater.

Their strand of black hair is actually a hair extension made from their mother’s hair. It’s tradition in her family to give a part of yourself, literally, to loved ones so you can always be with them, even when apart.

Floyd swaps sexes during his afab peers’ time of the month “so they don’t have to feel alone” in the all-boys college. Jade also swaps sexes from time to time for a range of reasons. Both of them hate it when the other does that because their scent changes drastically.

Jade keeps a journal of all his siblings who were lost over the years. Every single entry has their name, the age they were lost, and everything he knows or remembers about them, including any happy memories. The journal is one of his most prized possessions.

Floyd absolutely does not take notes in classes. Instead, his notebooks are full of drawings and sketches. He took up drawing to pass time on land!

The twins are used to being showered in gifts from “family friends” they don’t really care about on their birthday.

Floyd's hugs CAN be deadly, but he has a pretty good sense of his own strength. When hugging people he DOESN'T want to crack the spine of, he's very good at not hugging too tight.

Jade collects shiny trinkets :)

Jade has a major case of golden child syndrome in the worst way possible (for him, that is)

Because of needing to huddle together as elvers, both twins are rather cuddly once they've deemed you trustworthy. It's not a shocker for Floyd, but not many people really think of Jade as a cuddly type.

Also, if the twins like you, they may randomly appear to protect you from the most minor things, as something as simple as a limp or a sore wrist could mean death in the Coral Sea. Just know, if they're overprotective of you, it's likely because they (Floyd especially) have trouble distinguishing what's a major threat verses a minor threat on land.

^ Going off of the above, yes they will back off if you ask them too, but it will make them VERY anxious. If you don't like the overprotectiveness, you may have to assure them you're NOT gonna die from tripping over a rock.

And there you go! May edit to add more if I think of more, but until then, enjoy my headcanons of the Leech twins! BTW, I'm absolutely not demeaning any of the morally grey aspects of either character. Those are absolutely still a part of them, but since that doesn't really change with my AU/headcanons, I don't have much to talk about in regards to that.

[lov3rmir]

* . ` DANCING UNDER THE MOONLIGHT

★ ° * . ` summary ; kaveh loved parties, this a fact known to all of the kingdom. but his favorite are masquerades, unexpected meetings can happen very often.

★ ° * . ` mail ; i was listening to a masquerade playlist and idk it just wrote itself. Also expect reader to always be compliment in evry story i write (◍•ᴗ•◍)

KAVEH —

The soft sounds of instruments playing, flowery dresses twirling as the girls danced with their partners. Clinking of wine glasses as parents watch children as they play, dance and laugh. Masked individuals chatting with one another. Kaveh watch from the high balcony, sipping on a fine wine, his golden mask sitting atop his nose. He loved these event, a moment where everyone forgets their status hiding themselves behind mask.

The blond man smiles, sadly enough, he couldn't catch himself a partner. No matter what he tries, he couldn't find the right one. Many womens, men and whatnot sent a letter to him but he replied to none. Most of them looking for more than a dance, some for marriage, while some—braves one might he admit— wished to make their ex or partner, friends or rival jealous.

Kaveh was well-aware of his beauty, taking pride in it. To have beauty and brains is what any person desires. Despite it, he wished maybe one person would look at him, neither at his beauty nor brain but at him.

He longed for someone, wanted nothing more than a change of pace.

And you, oh you.

You were his much needed change. Kaveh spotted you enjoying your time in a corner of the ballroom. You looked beautiful with the light shining on you, your smile one of an angel, a mask made of the finest material. Kaveh knew of his flatteries but you, there was no need.

He kept staring at you for a long time, craving your beauty in his brain. Maybe he should paint you one day.

In his daydream, kaveh failed to notice your mutual stare at him. He wasnt the only one drawn in, you were just as much touched by him.

There was a need. Both of you craved for one another, minds wondering the feels of his hands, of your hair. Each other's touch. And thus lead to a secret meeting. Somehow, when you finally faced each other you felt as if this was the moment you waited so long for. He looked ethereal up-close. He was right, you looked wonderful.

You both giggled as you felt silly over all of this. “ all of this”, kaveh started, breathless “ feels ... good. ” he awkwardly cough. You chuckled at this, he was so cute. “ yeah? great. ” you laughed, and kaveh swore, he has never heard any angelic melody than your laugh. Red covered his entire face, from just a night with you he was smitten. Hard.

“ soo, ” he started. “ how about a dance, my love? ”

“ my love? I didn't take you for the one to use such endearment from the go. ” you felt your cheeks heat up from the name, despite your joking manners the word still left an impression on you. And of course, kaveh noticed. “ only for you. ”

The soft and muffled music from inside guided you through the dance, his hands laying on your waist holding you close to him. Yours around his neck. Both of yours eyes—covered by the masks— never leaving the other's, the moon shined its light on you. Rendering the moment more magical.

“ if only this could last forever. ” you voiced your thoughts. “ maybe it will, if you have the willingness. ” the blond replied. He seemed to hesitate over what to say, and you could feel his shoulders tense. You almost forgot, he was a prince and you just a baron's child. But still, you wanted to meet again. To have another moment just you two, and so you spoke. “ there's a place. Around the west of the forest, you'll find a lake with a waterfall. That lake is said to contain the dearest of your desires, only you must be ready to take a leap. ” you paused, watxhed his expression before continuing. “ under a full moon, who knows, maybe your desire will show up. ”

Kaveh eyes widen, he understood what you meant, and he was happy with that. “ i'm a man of many desires, how can you be certain the right one will show up?” his hands pulled you closer.

“ oh if i said, the magic will be ruined. No? ” you saw him lean down towards your lips. Inches before he could finally have a taste of you.

You pulled back. “ don't be too eager, for the lake to give you what you desire, you must be patient. ” you broke free from his gasp, putting the mask you held on in his hands. “ good luck, my prince. ” and you left.

Leaving him red and speechless. Kaveh looked up, a crescent moon adored the nkght sky. You were cruel, but he could wait. Kaveh smiled at the mask in hand. He'll wait.

©— lov3rmir. 2023— DO NOT REPOST !

★— ` @crownxie , @astronetwrk , @genshinology , @aeferkssr .... ` —★

[orjange]

sheepish

Rating: General Audiences Category: M/M Fandom: Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia Ships: Lukas/Python Characters: Lukas, Python Tags: / Words: 1,315 No additional warnings.

From 2018. short fic with mostly dialogue! there are some inconsistencies im not entirely happy with but i dont feel like fixing them since its so old

Summary:

Lukas realizes that maybe he had been striding the false path to love all this time. It was time for change.

They stop next to an old willow tree, as they'd agreed on just a few moments ago. Darkness had engulfed the sky, only letting through the soft shine of stars. In the distance there was chattering, the sound of carafe meeting carafe cheerfully and the flickering glow of torches. The fest Lukas and Python just left.

"So, Lukas…" Python breaks the silence suddenly. "What's so important?" The question lingers in the air a little. Lukas closes his eyes, the gears in his brain are overworking themselves. He is at a loss. He'd asked the other to come with him, to talk to him, but now he could not put his thoughts into words. Talking about whatever went on in his heart was new ground for him after all. It was not something to be taken lightly. Lukas takes a deep breath, his eyes open again, fixated on some spot on Python's face - just not his eyes. "I don't think I will ever come around."

Python looks at him, confusion written all over his face. It takes him a moment to understand. "Oh." He says. "Well, don't let it bother you. You'll find a girl eventually, we can't all be married at 25 or so." "No." Lukas shakes his head. "I don't think that will happen." "Eh? You ought to be more specific there, Lukas. I'm no mage, I can't read minds." "…I don't think women are for me, really." Lukas feels his knees give in a little. So unlike him. "So, like…" Python frowns, deep in thought. "You mean… Men are more, uhm, your objects of desire..?" Though his words almost feel like a jape, neither of them laugh. "I don't know, I mean - I haven't given it much thought." He had given it thought, to some degree. Ever since he met Python in fact. "If that were the case. If I felt attraction towards men…-" Python placed his right hand on one of Lukas' shoulders, a smile adorning his tired face. "Not like you'd be the only one." "I know that, Python. If it were any other way, I wouldn't be having this conversation with you, I don't think." "Ouch! And here I was giving my best trying to hide it…" "As Forsyth might put it, your best is only as little effort as possible." Lukas says with a grin and they both laugh, clearing the subtle tension in the air. Lukas can relax again now, at least a little. He still isn't used to how freeing it can be to talk to someone about whatever is bothering him.

Python lets out a big yawn. "How long were you holding that one in." Lukas asks, his everlasting smile back on. Python laughs tiredly. "Feels like an eternity."

In the distance, the sun is slowly lifting its head above the horizon, illuminating both of them. Lukas takes in the view a little, then looks over to the others and sighs. "The sun is already rising and they are still at it… I leave them for a bit and with me does their common sense, apparently." "Oh come on, you think they would've listened to you if you'd told them to stop? Drunk as they are?" "This may come as a surprise but I'm told I can appear quite threatening." Another sigh. "Oh, it was a mistake of me to allow mere children to drink. I should have intervened…" "Ack, Lukas, don't blame yourself for their decisions as if you are their father. They were an unruly bunch to begin with." "Hm…" "Also I am wracking my brain trying to see how you could ever appear threatening to anyone. Cold, sure, but you're tiny-" "I don't see what my size has to do with this." "I'm just saying." Python grins. "To me you are as threatening as a sheep in sheep's clothing." He adds, and pats Lukas head lightly. "Is that supposed to be a compliment…?" Lukas raises a brow, unsure what to make of this. "Sure."

"How. And why a sheep?" "Huh? Because of that saying, you know, a wolf in sheep's clothing!" "A 'sheep in sheep's clothing' is quite nonsensical." Lukas feels that it implies that he wears his heart on his sleeve, instead of keeping it locked up. It doesn't sit right. "Agh." Python narrows his eyes. The light of the rising sun is dancing on his blue hair and fair skin, Lukas can make out subtle freckles on Python's cheeks- "Does it matter? Sheep are cute." Lukas averts his eyes. "You're right. Sheep are cute." He wants to ask what Python thinks of him, but doubt gnaws at him. He fears rejection, he realizes suddenly.

Python turns to Lukas. "Have you ever touched a sheep's wool? As it was still on the sheep, I mean." "I don't think I have." "It's not soft as you might expect." Python says and absentmindedly runs his hand through Lukas' hair. "It feels rough, and it stinks… Unlike your hair." He is playing with one of Lukas' curls now. Lukas stands there, frozen. He can feel heat rushing to his face and he fears he was about to turn as red as his hair. He was ready to bury himself.

"Hey…" Python notices Lukas' reddening face immediately. His hand brushes against Lukas' right cheek. "…You're burning up, Lukas. Caught a sickness? That's no good." Lukas curses the sun for rising. Anyway, either Python was as dense as a brick wall or he was only pretending to be - it didn't matter. This was killing Lukas. "You look like a tomato, you know." Python pinches Lukas' cheek. "Ripe and ready for plucking." A snicker.

"You're challenging my patience, Python." Lukas struggles to keep his composure. Python apologetically takes a step back. "My bad, my bad." "…And I'm perfectly fine, just feeling a bit cold." Lukas manages to smile but it must seem awfully fake. If Python noticed, he didn’t mention it. "Let's go back then." Python points to where the others had started singing songs now, unbothered by the world. "Not yet." Lukas faces the horizon again, the sun is now further up and stronger sunlight falls onto both of them. The warmth of that light mixed with the icy breeze from the hills which makes the leaves on the willow tree rustle in calm waves is a sensation Lukas can't quite describe. He shivers a bit and looks over to Python who, Lukas realizes with a slight stinging sensation in his chest, is clearly staring at him. He wishes he had the ability to make some snide remark but instead he averts his eyes again quickly. This, an emotion he couldn't put into words, made him feel like an unknowing teen, and unbelievably foolish.

Without any warning, Python throws his right arm around Lukas. He's warm. Lukas almost falls from shock. He stares at Python, confused. "I can't let you freeze to death here just because the sunrise is so beautiful, you know. I think we'd all be pretty lost without you." Lukas smiles. "Maybe I should opt for long sleeved armor next time." "…Let's hope there won't be a next time." "Of course. I was speaking hypothetically."

Lukas allows himself to lean into Python, lost in thought. "You're a bit like a wolf." He says then. The other laughs. "Not a python?" "Of course not." Lukas frowns. "As majestic as they may be, pythons and you don't have much in common." Python hums. “Why a wolf then?”

Lukas thinks about this for a moment. “I haven’t given that much thought. I only realized it just now.”

“I kind of understand.”

“…You do?”

“It’s because of my handsome good looks.”

Lukas closes his eyes. “…Sure.”

Python laughs and pulls the other closer.

If he could only fall in love with men, he would be alone til death, is what Lukas had thought.

Now, he isn’t so sure.

[lenyul]

To Sir, With Love Episode 6: The psychological horror of family lunches returns

Cai Xiaotong tells Song that Dong’s relative is just pretending. He decides to confront Ma about this by dragging the pretender into an association meeting. This might be an intentional parallel to the first episode. Or maybe there are only so many ways (1 (one)) to drag someone into a meeting. But in the end it’s very he said, he said, she accused, he counter-accused, so it’s all just going in circles.

Well, if you can’t prove other things, try to charge them with tax evasion or other white collar crimes. Like sure, it would be nice to prove that he paid someone to pretend to be a relative, or that he is ordering the murder of people he thinks aren’t corrupt enough. But we only have evidence for embezzlement, so you get what you get and you don’t get upset.

It’s nice of Jia to confirm that these are the corpse mushrooms. Fun fact, after I watched this episode, I ate mushrooms in every meal for 3 days straight. It wasn’t intentional - and largely beyond my control - but the fact that I can still eat them really shows how much I love mushrooms. Unlike Li, who is currently having the worst time of her life. This scene is probably my favourite one so far in the series, I have a huge soft spot for the incredibly dramatic group meals gone horribly wrong. Li’s day keeps getting worse, as  she gets nightmares where Dong haunts her.

But not all is bad in Li’s life! Sure, her son definitely has to get married, and he definitely doesn’t want to. But she looked for an auspicious time, and found one a month and a half away! Surely things can’t fall apart in six weeks!

Chan is on her own here. Her husband says he’ll throw her out without evidence next time something happens. Her son won’t share the secret that could ruin his brother and put himself in a better position. Even Nuan says they should just learn to take the L. It makes sense that she would try to find someone who’s on her side, but she is still providing information that will help Ma kill Tian.

Jia kills the mushrooms with “fermented water”, which I’m sure doesn’t have any other effects, as she would mention them here (wink wink, nudge nudge). It’s a shame she didn’t do this sooner, because now Bua and Yang have some mushrooms and are eager to find out more about them. They only have good intentions, really, they want to find out why Li got sick from eating a tiny bite of the mushroom, when others are perfectly fine. But after literally no one they ask recognises the mushroom, they start to have suspicions that it might be connected to everything else that’s going on.

Tian and Yingpin are informed of the auspicious date, and they immediately oppose it. “Wow, the kids both think the date for the wedding is too soon. This means they are made for each other, and should get married on the next possible auspicious date” is the type of advanced logic that only parents who don’t care about their children’s feelings can pull off. They have a mini-after-meeting with Yang. Nangnoi really shines here, she tells Yang the wedding is the next day, and suggests a pretend-marriage (which I appreciate as someone who watched We Are Gamily at least 4 times, and has been waiting for this suggestion since episode 2). But this gets shot down by Tian, who knows that they would just be pressured for children. Yang promises to interrupt the wedding, and Tian thinks the hets are adorable, which he is very right about.

To prevent Yingpin from being trapped in a loveless marriage, Tian looks for the deed of her house. He almost manages to sneak it out of Li’s room when he gets caught. He then gets reminded that ripping up the deed - while it would be very dramatic, and he would look cool doing it - won’t have any actual legal effect.

The problem with accusing someone of fraud is that you might face some backlash in the form of them putting out a hit on you through your crush. We’ve all been there.

Next time, things get a lot more murdery, but also a lot gayer. It's very much a win-win situation.

[marahuyos]

anon asked: Im sorry, I don't know if you're open, if you aren't then feel free to ignore this :")

But if you are, this might be a random idea but can i get Diluc, Xiao and Childe's reaction when they learn that their GN! S/O has a natural skill to train slimes? I just think the vision of an adventurer reader constantly being followed by a small group of slime or them using them as pillows when they camp out is just too cute TwT

*:･ﾟ✧ this request is so cute hnnn i remember playing slime rancher a whole lot so this request makes me so happy <3

diluc x gn!reader, xiao x gn!reader, childe x gn!reader

tw: none

✧ Diluc Ragnvindr

• It was at your camp when Diluc found out about your natural affinity to garner slimes.

• Both of you just finished exterminating Abyss Mages in Windrise so you two ventured back to the Dawn Winery. The bad part is that it was nighttime, so you and Diluc had to make camp. It wasn't rare for you two to camp out, but it was the first few times that you and Diluc camped out together.

• You two act like an old-married couple but in the wilderness. Diluc fixes up the tent and prepares the ingredients while you start cooking. As much as you wanted Diluc to cook his signature steak, you settled for a hearty stew. Sometimes, if Diluc is feeling lighthearted, he wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your temple.

• These were the moments that you treasured. You know Diluc had a tough time showing emotion and you were proud of him for taking the step forward. The fact that you have his arms around you is also a bonus, though.

• You two enjoyed the moment together, feeling his warmth as you spooned his food into his bowl, you heard the rustling of grass. Diluc tensed, summoning his claymore as he placed himself in front of you. You appreciated the sight of his crimson hair and broad back if not for the fact that the monsters that showed up were mere slimes.

• You giggled when you heard Diluc's sharp sigh through his nose. You set down the bowls and touched Diluc's shoulder. "Let me handle this."

• He watches you in mild interest, watching you go near the slimes. He nearly stepped in when the three slimes are hopping closer but he froze when he sees you pet the slimes like they were dogs. The three little Dendro slimes cuddled up to you like puppies at you cooed at them.

• Diluc watched, flabbergasted at the sight. You looked so... in your element that he wondered if you did this normally. It was only a few conversations about slime training that you did do this normally and that you actually owned a ranch with a lot of slimes that you corralled by yourself.

• He's honestly impressed by how efficient your ranch is. Each slime is corralled depending on their element and the secretions that they emit are all sold to the people who need it, more specifically Albedo who never seems to not run out on slime excretions. Your entire ranch is perfect that he can't help but be proud of how much you accomplished.

• If you allow it, he also commissions you to get slime secretions specific for his drinks. He would be remiss not to use these slimes to the fullest advantage. Of course, he pays you always in full whenever he does and you giggle when Diluc gives you a knowing look when people compliment his newest concoction.

• If you roped in Diluc in ranching, he'd be a walking stick. He'd be so frozen on the spot that you had to bite your lip to prevent saliva from going everywhere when you laugh. It was funny to see the man use a vacuum only for the Geo slimes to hit his face. You're always there to bandage his scratched face and the excuse towards people and Kaeya is that he got stuck fighting a finicky Abyss Mage.

• But Kaeya ain't gonna let the image of a Geo slime slamming itself onto his brother's face go anytime soon.

✧ Xiao

• He found out when he was chasing off demon-possessed monsters.

• It was any normal night where Xiao has to purge the evil in the land of Liyue. Some Hilichurls, some Mitachurls, even the run-of-the-mill treasure hoarders causing too much trouble, Xiao continued on. During this night, he was busy chasing the last remaining Hilichurl, using his Anemo powers to keep up with it. He was at a much closer distance now, his arm tensing as he readied to plunge the monster--

• Plop plop! The sound of cryo slimes bouncing up towards the Hilichurl. In a comedic twist of fate, the slimes started clumping up to the monster, leaving it a shivery cold mess at it stopped itself from how cold it was. Xiao gently lowered himself on the ground, looking at the sight with a blank stare.

• Hearing the sound of footsteps, he brandished his spear, eyes flitting over to the perpetrator before it turned out to be you. You were holding a geo slime in your arms as more slimes followed you like puppies. Your eyes widened at the appearance of Xiao with his brandished spear and a Hilichurl getting cuddled to hypothermia by your cryo slimes.

• "Hi, honey?"

• It took you an hour, the first few minutes are you trying to pry Xiao from killing the slimes when they got too close to you, to show Xiao that you have a natural affinity to train slimes. You showed him your ranch and all of the slimes that you've trained so far. Xiao was like a confused cat, eyes widening at each new addition to your ranch. He has to confess on how obscure this talent was, even for mortal standards.

• Still, it puts his mind at ease when he knows that you're safe with a bunch of slimes at your side. Even with their soft bodies and brainless... brains, Xiao knows that they'll at least be a distraction for you to run away.

• But still, to see you so content with a dendro slime as a pillow, watching your relaxed smile... He wishes he had more to his thighs to allow you to sleep on him instead. He grits his teeth every time he has to look at your sleeping form, with a slime underneath your head looking just as content as you are.

✧ Childe

• Out of everyone here, I think Childe would be the least surprised considering at some point, his younger siblings tried to ranch slimes only to end up frozen and sitting next to the fireplace. After a stern lecture from both his parents and older siblings, he can't help but think that whoever would do the same thing would be way too idiotic--

• Oh wait, you do it? Childe thinks it's the cutest thing in the world! Disregard the admonished stares of his younger siblings, saying that he was a simp hypocrite. He loves it and you!

• He enjoys watching you tend to the slimes like they were your own kids. He's like a little kid, watching his older sibling do something cool. If you were able to squint, you could see a little bit of a glimmer shining in Childe's eyes as you teach him how to take care of the slimes.

• Regardless, he's an excellent student. He picks up on how to take care of slimes fast to the point that he could've been your permanent helper. He handles all the heavy lifting, such as moving heavy toys for the slimes to play with, the feed that slimes needed, lifting you up in the air and twirling you around like you two are newlyweds (honestly, the image of you two settling down in a slime farm seems like the best thing Childe could think of).

• If possible, he asks if you can expand your ranch towards Snezhnaya where his siblings can watch you work. He can practically see his younger siblings' faces as you taught them how to care of slimes amidst the freezing weather. Even when Childe has to walk off the jabs that they've done to his side for falling in love with a slime rancher, he's still thinking on what ring to get.

• Remember that he's a family man and he wants to settle down at some point. Sure, he has an insatiable bloodlust but when you came along, the hunger for violence dwindled down. Each time he sees you regard slimes like they were your own children, each time you slap slime secretion on his face to instigate a play fight, each time you kiss him when he comes back from his mission; all of those things made him remember that he wasn't Tartaglia or Childe. He was Ajax, with a light in his eyes and a bunch of slime children to wrangle.

• Of course, he's still a child at heart, so if he sees you getting comfy with a slime pillow, bet he's gonna yank that slime from under you and replace it with his thighs. His thighs are packin', at least better than Xiao's, and you can feel them tense if you run your fingers over them.

• This is why you lose precious sleep and have Childe do all your chores for you. And no he gets no payment in kisses.

[bread-writes]

I would like to request a Lookism one please

ok so:

The reader is like a single mom and after a couple dates eith either the lookism boys or girls she decides that she want's them to meet her baby (who's like idk 1 ig you can change it I dint mind) how eould some of them react to their s/o having a kid?

you can do what ever characters! (but can one of them be Vasco? You can have whoever else!)

OooO that sounds interesting!

I’ll be combining it with this request since it’s pretty similar.

Writing under the cut!

CW: Children, Single parenting, Mentions of abuse and kidnapping (mild)

Vasco, Samuel, Jake, and Sinu Finding out The Person They're Seeing is a Single Parent

Euntae Lee

he probably would’ve never found out you were a single parent until you told him

he just assumed that you were busy with your life

never questions when you had to leave a date early after getting a notification on your phone

after a few dates or so when you’re finally comfortable enough, you take him to see your child

inviting him to your home was easy enough, you suppose

he’s a little confused on why you’re insisting on meeting up at your home, but is actually very excited to see what your home life is like

is taken aback by the sheer amount of toys littering the ground

you apologize, clearly embarrassed by the mess

the babysitter turns to greet you, surprised and a little terrified by the man at your side

however when they see your interlaced hands, they understand almost immediately, excusing themselves after handing your child back to you

if Vasco was shocked before, he’s definitely very very confused now

upon seeing him, your child would freeze before whimpering and sobbing

dropping his hand, you coo at your child, gently brushing away their tears whilst gently bouncing them in your arms

“...Is that your little sibling?”

you softly shake your head, refusing to meet his questioning gaze

the gears start to turn in his head; from your early exits to the toys on the floor

this was your child

he’ll stare at you for a moment, his eyes shining brightly with an emotion you couldn’t quite name

he’s mesmerized by how quickly you were able to calm the child--your child and is captivated by pure amount of love your gaze holds

after your child calms down, they’ll stare at Vasco for a moment, protectively clinging to the fabric of your sweater

their gazes sends cold shivers down Vasco’s spine

would they hate him?

do they find him scary--

he’s broken from his thought as a small babble makes its way to his ears

your child reaches out to him, their grabby fingers grasping onto his clothes

he stills for a moment until you let out a soft laugh

he watches as you allow your child to latch on to him, the soft smile on your features sending butterflies throughout his stomach

yeah, he could get used to this

Samuel Seo

definitely one of the more suspicious ones when it comes to your secret 

he won’t question it as much if you tell him you’re okay or to stop being so nosey

but, to be fair, when have words ever stopped him?

he won’t do much, just a little digging

which lead him to the fact that you live with someone else

a someone that you’ve never told him about

however, that’s not the part that surprised him

what surprised him was that the other tenant was a minor; listed as your dependent

how he found this out, you’ll never know

he’ll confront you about this

you weren’t happy to see him snooping around in your life, but you eventually sigh before taking him to your house

the babysitter was surprised to see you back so early, but handed you your child nonetheless

Samuel’s eyes would flicker between you and the child, noting the striking resemblances between you and the child

unsure of his feelings, he would excuse himself before making his leave

to be honest, he’s terrified

he’s never been the best when it came to familial relationships

from a young age, Samuel was exposed to violence which blossomed into a few dangerous habits

ex: nearly losing it whenever he’s interrupted

he doesn’t want to project said habits onto your child and potentially lose you; the only one who’s been able to put up with him

when he comes by the next day, you raise a brow as you open the door but usher him in anyway

your child just stares at him and he stares back

it’s just really awkward until you step back in

you move to pick your child up only to be stopped by your lover

he bends down and picks them up underneath their arms, lifting them up lion king style before continuing to stare at them

“This is fine... I suppose.”

Jake Kim

like Vasco, Jake is an idiot who probably never found out you were a single parent unless you told him

there’s also the fact that he’s also extremely busy and wouldn’t question your random disappearances

the way he found out you had a child was actually an accident, really

you were just taking your child for a small stroll in the park when Jake spotted you

he was concerned as to why you were hunched over and what currently had your attention

as he approached, the light coos of your child began to fill the air, mingling with your laughter

a hand on your shoulder caused you to flinch, quickly turning to face the person

your eyes widen as your eyes land on none other than Jake, subconsciously trying to shield your child from your lover

when he sees the child the first thing that goes through is mind is whether or not you kidnapped this child

no, like, seriously

“...Did you kidnap a child?”

“Wha-- No! Why would I kidnap my own child?!”

it takes a moment for your words to sink in 

but when they do, Jake’s eyes are wide with disbelief and you’re covering your mouth 

your child only stares, unable to read the tense mood between their parent and the giant man

when Jake shakes himself out of his daze, he sighs

at first you think he’s mad at you

that is until his arms wrap around your waist and he nuzzles his face into your shoulder

you can feel his lips pull into a smile as he continues to hug you

“You didn’t have to hide this from me. I would still love you regardless if you had a child or not.”

Sinu Han

he strikes me as the kind of guy who would already know but would want you to be comfortable enough to share it with him

when you do, he’s over the moon

...even if it was just a slip of the tongue

he’s so charismatic that you won’t realize what you said until you see the gleaming smile breaking his face

“I’m glad you’re finally trusting me.”

you blink up at him, “You knew?”

he ruffles your hair his unwavering smile sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach

“Of course I knew!”

when you offer for him to meet your child he’s so happy he almost immediately dragging you to buy gifts your child

even if you tell him that it’s fine and that Big Deal’s already tight on funds he’ll insist that he buy a gift because this is your child, after all

yeah, Samuel’s definitely pissed with his sudden splurging, but says nothing to his boss

definitely doesn’t stop him from glaring at the pile of toys and onesies  Sinu bought for your child

Jake on the, other hand, is just concerned

he knows his boss could be weird at times...but was it really necessary to buy three versions of a single cat toy?

upon actually meeting your child, they just instantly click

almost as if they were his child all along

not going to lie, you were pretty jealous

but as long as the to people you cared most about in your life were happy, who were you to be sad?

i- uhhhhhhh I’m back??? Definitely not my best work... especially Samuel’s part, so if you aren’t satisfied with these feel free to shoot an ask! Again, so sorry for disappearing off the face of the Earth like that... 

Edit: LMAO NOT ME FORGETTING TO ADD TAGS FJDIHFJOIDKJFNODKL

[rumblelibrary]

Now that you are writing requests, I think it's only fair I send you a few after some of the ones you have sent me 😌 as you've said you were the original anon who requested Laszlo x Sapiosexual partner headcanons from me, I'm curious to see how you would write it. Take it in any direction you want to 😘

Thinking Alike [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Reader]

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Mention of physical violence, mild stalking, smut (yup, there it is!)

Author’s note: My first smut, something easy breezy to begin with. Laszlo is an awkward mess and I love him.

It was embarrassing for Laszlo at first, to admit a weakness, so bluntly. Such a vile thing to do for a man like him.He tried reasoning through it more and more, lonely men went often to prostitutes, John himself did and with the extraordinary result not be devoured by syphilis or other diseases.He didn’t hurt himself nor others in the process.

The first time he met you it was by accident, he was invited by one of his former patients to visit her at her university, nothing unusual, he remembered her well: Julia, shy, small, bent down and backwards by a family that abused her very being, that abused her mind, development and growth.But to see her now a young woman, studying literature at university, thriving in her life and taking her own choices, she even started an internship with Sara, that was something that made a man like Laszlo proud of his job.

Briefly: that day was a success for him: from the meeting to the lunch they shared, she showed in every given moment how she treasured everything she learned at the Institute and, even though hard times were not over, she felt like she was able to face them.Then Julia asked him to join her to listen to a lecture, assuring he would love it so he obliged as it wouldn’t be too bad to feel like a student again and maybe spark some new interest in him.So he did, he sat down and leaned his back on the seat, the soft scent of the woody desks and chairs taking over his nostrils. He remembered how he was at that age, hungry, unnecessary aggressive and lonely. He smiled to himself at the memory.Poor John, still there to look after him and trying to give him a minimum of social skills.

Then the room fell into silence as you walked inside, your choice of clothing a white shirt and a burgundy skirt, a pocket watch on your side. A simple style, you wish good morning to the class and don’t indulge too much into talk.And there is where the unexpected happened.You open up simply, a picture, a quote. The description of man as William Blake: poet, engraver, prophet.To transcribe your words would be similar to the conflict of any man that ever found himself in the duty of writing, or better, transcribing a sacred text.The way you spoke, the way you held everybody’s attention, the way you moved back and forth or wrote on the chalkboard. The passion surging by your words digging into his flesh and bones, every cell into his body surging into an agonising desire to hear more. The way your words balanced, how you managed to go from interesting facts to more detailed ones, from hard critical informations to conceptual ideas.That was the beginning of something new, his brain wasn’t able to move past the thought of you. Literature wasn’t his field, but he felt like you were the spring of all truths. So it begun. He brought the books, he came to the lessons. He thrived in every stolen moment he got with you, he sulked when somebody caught your attention, even more if it was to make some silly comment or question, he adored the way  your hands traced shapes into the air symmetrically, it triggered him to wonder if you ever studied dancing, the pose of your fingers always so balanced. He learned every micro habit you had: the way you always looked at your pocket watch when it was almost half time throughout the lesson, how you changed pin in your hair every day, the way you tucked your reading glasses in your shirt only to then look for those when in need to read. His favourite moments were the ones when everybody was leaving the class and he could see you relax on the chair, gift little smiles around as you collected our belongings. Your presence was by now his safe place, those two hours he spent a the university were the only moments he felt free, even if unseen.

Until the day he was getting into the class to find it empty and you alone there.“Regular students got a card saying the lesson today was cancelled” you said and his heart sunk into his chest “I would be mad to have someone sneaking in my classroom, but I had the feeling to have seen you before”

He gulped down as you were so close by now, he could guess your favourite perfume.You handed him a book, his book with his picture inside followed by his name in cursive letters.

“What does an alienist says about my course?”

“I say, your dialectic is what many of my patients would need in order to survive”You were surprised, eyebrows raising and a slight tilt of the head, you expected to find him guilty and ashamed, surely he was, but that answer was bold.

“And you? Do you find solace in my dialectics?” He took a moment before staring up at you, you didn’t realised how tall he was by seeing him always sat in the back, but you noticed him at every lesson. How couldn’t you?An handsome, elegant grown man hiding among those twenty something, the walking stick giving away always his calculated late entrance in class, his eyes always on you digging holes.

“Constantly”His answer surprised you, you expected to confront him and send him away and now you’re torn between the feeling of cradling him in your arms and, what? “I could forgive you for a lunch” He smiles, his eyes shining “I know the perfect place”

That lunch became one of many lunches.Every time you had lesson he would wait for you and you’d share a meal.To open up to him felt almost too easy, but he was an alienist, that was his job. He also opened up with you, you shared books, and interests and long chats. He wrote you cards and you wrote back to him, he sent you his articles and you sent him yours. He asked for books to introduce children to literature and you visited the Institute helping him in the task in exchange of some entry level books about psychology. Lunches became dinners, long walks became longer, soft smiles became him offering you his arm to walk together. You were starting to develop some tenderness for him, you always wondered what he was thinking and what he would opinion over this or that, you craved to confront your opinions and Laszlo wasn’t feeling any less drawn to it.It was beginning to become difficult when you started to visit him in his dreams, he would dream of you in ways he didn’t dare to speak up about. Only the way you talked when you grew passionate about something gave him a sense of tension, a deep desire going through him as he touched his thigh with his sweaty palm to ground himself. You felt like he was growing distant, unaware of how he was growing somehow closer. Closer to the point he couldn’t resist you anymore, hide behind simple touches of courtesy, to feel your hand only when gloved, stare at every little stand of hair move unruly on your neck while you spoke so highly of any topic. It was unexpected the time, while sharing some impressions on a recent article, he put his  hand flat over the page and leaned in capturing your lips in a sudden but awaited kiss. You kissed him back realising how such a simple gesture meant so much to you. Your hand followed up resting on top of his still hiding the page from you. His lips soft, his beard tickling you lightly as your eyes shone.When he pulled back, only because in need to breathe not else, he looked at you but you smiled at him brushing your nose lightly against his making him break into a smile.  The happiest smile.

“Do you even realise how foolish is that?”

“Are you calling me a fool?” He growled at you. Yes, he followed a potential murderer across the city, got himself beat up, but he was alive and now he got more informations.

“I dare to say I am, loud and clear Laszlo”He frowned deeply, you calling him a fool?

“Take it back”

“No” “I said” he grunted as he breathed heavily through his nostrils  “Take it back” You never saw him this mad but you didn’t oblige his request, he made you sick worry and hid all this madness of crime cases from you through all this time, not even once he mentioned this …what? A hobby? Desire for adrenaline? “A man that doesn’t stand up to his own truths is a fool to me” you said coldly “all this time spent to talk about nonsense and you’re working on solving crimes? Who is the man that I know then? Does he exists only when Dr Kreizler is without a case? There’s even a real interest in what you ever said to me? Or you just needed a distraction?”

“Don’t you dare to contradict me, I am no liar”You smirked, by now he was close, almost threatening even if you know well he wouldn’t ever hurt you. “Then what are you?” He froze, his eyebrows furrowed, what should he tell you? That he loved the way your brain worked? That every time you bounced ideas back and forth he felt aroused? That you provoked in him a thirst for more, more knowledge, more passion, more life. You let out a breathy chuckle as he didn’t answer now, you were sad and disappointed. You indeed believed you had found your match and not another double faced man.You picked your coat and left his office even if your heart was shattering on the inside and begging you not to leave like that.You spent two weeks apart, two weeks in which his spot in the classroom was empty, both of you ate alone, walked alone, lived alone. An emptiness that was so heavy it felt like the sky would break under the weight of it. But he couldn’t think of you, the case was on, the victims were falling one after the other, and yet he couldn’t think clearly. Before just thinking of how you’d think helped him, but what about now? He couldn’t reach for you. You were right, he hid part of himself to you and he couldn’t ask you to risk your life or spend nights and days exploring the dark sides of human nature, even though your sensibilities and introspection would have made you the most valuable asset in any research. He locked himself in his office getting high on tea and pacing the room back and forth talking out loud trying to gain back the process you two formed together, the chemistry, the balance of thoughts. Until your voice reached to him. “What if it is not anger the motif?”You leaned against the doorframe staring at him, you gave up your anger.  You were there for him. He stared at you like he wondered if you’re even real. “How did you come in?” “I said I was from Miss Howard” “So you can also lie” You chuckled “Only for a good purpose” You moved inside closing the door behind you as you took off your coat and hat, you moved closer to him offering him your hand, palm up.He stared at your eyes, there wasn’t much to add.He put the eraser in your hand as you cancelled the chalkboard from all his previous work. What happened next was pure magic, clarity spreading through the space, every fact double checked by the two of  you as now the facts spread in order, clear, in a linear way, nothing was left to causality.You two closing each other’s sentences, you handing him books and him handing others back to you, papers, scattered pencils.Even you wearing his glasses by accident and handing those back as you reached for your own.It was a frenzy, a dance, a song. “So if this is a scheme…” you begin “…the killer will strike again on Friday” he concludes. You stare at him, a big smile creeps over your lips wide, you can save a life, it is only Monday now.He leans in holding onto your hadn’t with his left hand, but you’re just mimicking him as your lips collide. “How can you be like this? How can you be so perfect?” He groans against your lips not able to part from yours but to praise you. “We are” you correct him “we are perfect, together” he nodded slowly as you were completely right. He let you pull him on the sofa where he slept so many nights when he was too tired to go back home, a very cold and empty home. He took his time, he stood in front of you undoing those clothes he so carefully studied during your lessons almost to the point to know each item of your wardrobe. As you undressed him you realised how you never minded his arm or to help him undo his shirt, you found it poetic, you always found beauty in him, you saw it like a punishment due to something more special given to him.The poet Homer had to be blind in order to sing the war of Troy, Laszlo had to lose an arm to be able to see through others. So there you were, completely deprived of your clothing as he still conserved his bottom half, staring at each other’s eyes before he leaned his forehead against yours, shifting angle then to meet your lips with his. “Don’t, I waited enough” you whispered to him as his left hand between your legs to caress your folds with his fingers triggering a shiver down your spine. “I am the doctor here” he murmured as his fingers moved so smoothly over your slit gathering some wetness and spreading it together before pushing a finger inside you.

“I also am” you whispered back, voice shaking, even if a doctorate in literature doesn’t give you much of a position in this moment while standing helpless with him fingering you so nicely. “I know, it makes you even more beautiful” he assures to you digging his head in the crook of your neck nipping and sucking over your skin slowly adding another finger.You whined not able to move away from his fingers teasing your insides, and yet not what you were looking for. You pared your lips in a silent moan as he shook your hips making you grind slowly following his touch “I don’t want to play Laszlo” you begged “we have all the time to fool around, I missed you too much” “You can’t always use your words to boss me around like this” He smirked as he pulled his fingers slowly out of you, too slowly for your taste, he did it like you had all the time in this word, his fingers brushing over you inside, slowly slipping out covered in your wetness only to trace your clit with their tips.

He pulled back sitting down on the couch like a king on his throne, parted legs and back slightly slouched, while staring at your naked form in front of him moving his left hand to undo his pants as you approached. “You’re a vision”His whisper slowly pulling you in when you straddled him once his erection sprung free slowly guiding him to brush against your entrance. You looked up at him gulping softly before lowering yourself onto him. You stared at him as his eyes fluttered closer and you shook your hips a little trying to reach for the most comfortable position, he was thick stretching you deliciously and that little hint of pain only making it feel more complete, more needed, meant to be. A moan leaving your lips as you gasped for air, his weak right hand moving to rest on your thigh.You observed him as the desire was clouding your usual reasonable and efficient brain, his left hand grasping your hips when you begun moving on top of him. The pace erratic at first before the instinct kicked in, no more witty remarks needed here, you couldn’t make up your mind now.He groaned, his soft gasps and growls being the best sounds along with your moans, two reasonable intellectuals now lost into the simplest and most natural of the acts.Your hips yanked and lost control for a moment as his hand moved to touch your clit “So sensitive” he cooed, you were a mess of feelings, his head bowing down over your chest grasping your nipple between his lips. He teased and sucked, making all his fantasies real, finally touching and feeling you, your shivers due to him, your pleasure and pain completely in his hands.You gasped as he sucked too hard, he seemed to know you more than he knew himself and maybe it was true. He spent so much time watching you, studying you, indulging in every little reaction you had. His eyes dropped down between your joined bodies, he was mesmerised by the shapes your hips were tracing, just enjoying the view of himself sinking inside you filling you up completely, your wetness so evident making the whole process terrifically easy.

“You’re close” he sentenced “you’re so close” If you weren’t close you’d be after he said you were, like he decided it.His left hand leaving your clit as he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you down over him. Now it was up to him as your mobility was restricted, he begun moving his hips up holding you down, he kept going so hard slamming inside you as he held you still with just that arm, the pleasure that his ruthless moves caused to you doing the rest. You couldn’t hold back any more, your moans getting lost into throaty sounds as your orgasm washed over you. 

But he wasn’t done, he kept going as you rode down your orgasm until he tugged you down one last time filling your body, a little yelp of pleasure leaving your lips as you got so full of him and your eyes fluttered lightly because of such a raw basic feeling, that fullness that was proper of a basic instinct you felt rooted into you. If you were reasonable and aware you’d be worrying about things like consequences and having to talk about the future. But you weren’t any close to it.You rested against him gathering air back in your lungs as he moved his hand on your lower back  slowly moving it up and down, his right hand’s thumb brushing over that same thigh in the smaller and sweetest gesture of attention. You shifted slightly after few moments to look at him slowly touching over his cheek with your fingertips. “Truth for the wise, beauty for the heart” He said, paraphrasing Friedrich Von Schiller, an author you used a lot in your lectures. “Truth for the wise, beauty for the heart” you repeated. That little motto became your code, the way you reminded each other the duality you were blessed with: your bright minds and your unfiltered passion. And you’d use it from time to time. You’d write it to each other’s notes. It was your “I love you” before the love word was even pronounced.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra Let me know if you want to get added <3

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if... Family Portrait

(Excuse me while I DIE because the art deity @cacodaemonia​ was so incredibly kind to create a What-If version of the Fearsome Four pic that Davarax took before he was ripped away from them. Well, here you have the Devoted Dad, Mama Bear, and their Fearsome Five! The cuteness, the adorableness, the PERFECTION is killing me! Davarax’ and Dulcy’s smiles (his slightly slanted grin and her big happy one, aaaah) and their hair (I worship the floof!) and their eyes (So kind, how??) and their armour (sessayh!) and... *flails* All of it!! And sweet, adorable, big eyed Corin, still a little more timid than his rambunctious siblings... PERFECT, I SAY! And to think this is what Corin could have had... Well, in the What-if, this is what he does have!)

A hundred years ago, I promised Davarax’ POV when Dulcy was kidnapped. Apologies for the unforgivably long wait, but I hope the fact that it was meant to be four pages and ended up closer to thirteen can make up for it a little?

-

What If... we saw it through Davarax’ eyes?

Davarax lowers Zurf to the floor with his grip on his wrist instead of slamming him to the ground like he usually does after managing to flip him over. Letting go, he then backs up, lifts his hands into the air to acknowledge the roar of approval from the other seven Mandalorians present in the training room and nods at the mix of praise aimed his way and the mockery flying Zurf’s way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Belitz calls out, gesturing for everyone to settle down while he walks towards Davarax. “What was that, Davarax?”

Grinning, Davarax starts backing towards the exit. “That? That I believe was a win.”

“Since when do you coddle your opponent?” Belitz demands to know and follows, trailing after the scent of possible juicy news like a Corellian hound. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m not allowed to be in a good mood?” Davarax drawls, still grinning, still backing up.

“I’ve experienced you in a good mood.” Belitz states. “This is not you in a good mood. You in a good mood is merely spraining bones instead of breaking them. This? This is something else. What happened?”

Davarax snorts amused. He will die before he tells them anything.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it? The outsider.” Pagyle shouts from the other side of the room. Her voice soaked with glee. “She’s got you soft.”

Finally reaching the exit, Davarax does an extravagant bow. “I win. I leave. See you tomorrow, losers.” And then he flees, laughing out loud at the wave of questions and suggestive howling that follows him.

They are right and they are wrong. Wrong, because Davarax ‘is’ in a good mood. Extremely good mood. Honestly, he’s drunk on happiness. And his sparring partners are right, because he does owe the glow in his chest and the smile on his lips to Dulsissia.

Davarax can’t stop himself from bringing up the memory of her looking at him with open affection, the sensation of her fingers braiding with his, as well as the lazy bliss of just having her close and feeling her breathe. And that was just the memories from last night.

He’s never felt anything like this for anyone before. He’s never met anyone like her before.

Over a year with him on a different planet and yet Dulsissia had waited for him. Davarax doubts she knows how much her messages had helped him through that year. She has no idea how many times he replayed those holos during the moments when the darkness curled up in his chest from missing her and his other three kids so much he could barely breathe. How he dreaded what he would come back home to. Every day he woke up thinking that would be the day he learned he’d lost her.

Davarax had believed her when Dulsissia said she’d wait, but life happens and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had found someone else… but she didn’t. She kept the children safe, handled life in the Covert like she’d grown up there and welcomed him back like she had missed him every bit as much as he’d missed her. If anything, it seems like her feelings for him were even stronger.

It gives him hope. Maybe one day, please let it happen, he’ll be able to defeat the demons from her past, rebuild the trust Macero Valentis had shattered, and take his helmet off for her.

Davarax’ happiness lasts until there is a knock on his door, hours later as he’s about to get ready for the day’s training session with the children, and he opens it to find Corin and Din looking up at him with almost identical anxious facial expressions.

“Is… Is my mom here?” Corin asks in a thin voice.

Davarax frowns. “No?” It’s late afternoon, a time she usually spends with her son, and he hasn’t seen her since she left his room last night. “Why are you asking?”

Corin fidgets. “Me and Din were working on a project with Barthor. Mom was supposed to come pick me up, but she never showed. A-and when we went back to my room, she wasn’t there either.”

Unease instantly coils around Davarax’ heart. There is no way Dulsissia would forget picking up Corin. She wouldn’t. If something came up, something so serious it couldn’t wait, she would have asked Davarax or someone else to bring a message to Corin and make sure he was okay.

Something is wrong.

-

Corin and Din already look horribly nervous and as Davarax doesn’t want to upset them further he keeps his thoughts to himself. He clears his throat and tries to sound calm. “Okay, listen…” Davarax tries to think and not just react. “I’ll ask around. She probably got caught up in something.” He considers his options and gestures the boys inside. “You two wait here. Okay?”

Sniffling, Corin seems to be very much aware of the seriousness of the situation and simply stands there, head lowered, until Din places his arm around him and leads him into the room.

Davarax takes a step out but pauses to look back at the boys. “And, uh, don’t touch the weapons.” While he trusts them, he also can’t ignore the fact that there are explosives in his room strong enough to send them all to Mandalore That Was.

Din nods. Corin merely sniffles again.

Davarax rushes towards the people he knows Dulcy has the most contact with. Decco hasn’t seen her all day, neither had the next one he asks, but then he gets his first lead.

“I think she went above?” Ayah says, shrugging. “I saw her walking down the hallway with that basket of hers this morning.”

This makes the unease grow stronger. Davarax stalks towards the stairs and enters the city above to set course to where he knows she usually sets up her little stand to sell her cookies.

The sun is shining over Nevarro, the HUD lists the temperatures uncomfortably high, so it shouldn’t be surprising that few people are walking around, but it still fuels Davarax’ unease and makes him wonder if something had scared people indoors. He pauses for half a second when he turns the corner and sees she’s not there. Dulcy is not in her spot. There’s not a single soul in the street. His heart drops. Cold sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. She’s not there! But, his eyes focuses on the ground, but there is ‘something’ there…

Walking over, Davarax kneels down. He reaches down and brushes some sand away so he can pick up what had caught his attention.

It’s a piece of a cookie.

Staring at it, Davarax swallows down his ever increasing sense of doom and forces himself to look around on the ground. He sees more pieces. Like someone had dropped a bag of them on the ground and then stepped on it. His heartbeats feel like punches inside his chest. Fear. Raw fear. What had happened here?

“Are you looking for the nice cookie lady?” A voice asks.

Davarax looks up and sees a scruffy mercenary standing a small distance away, leaning against the wall next to him and munching away on a cookie with the few teeth he has left. Davarax stands up and drops the piece he had been holding. “Yes. Have you seen her?”

The mercenary nods, chewing thoughtfully. “She was her earlier.”

“Did you see where she went?” Davarax asks.

“The Imp took her away.” A different voice replies. It’s another mercenary. She has a small bag of Dulcy’s cookies hanging from her belt, next to grenades and what looks like small bones. She has more teeth than the other guy. A lot more teeth. Sharp ones.

“What Imp?” Davarax presses on, refusing to acknowledge how panic is starting to set in. He’d told Dulcy she was safe. He’d told her not to be afraid of going into the city because they’d know if Valentis showed up. Had Macero Valentis taken her away?

“An officer.” The first mercenary replies. “He had a whole bunch of those stormtroopers with him. Nothing we could do.” A slight frown settles between his eyebrows. “Seemed like she knew him.”

Davarax closes his eyes, forces himself to stay calm despite being horrified and enraged at the same time, then he exhales and opens them again. “Did you see where they were going?”

“The army base.” The second mercenary informs him. “I hope you find her. She’s nice.”

Thanking them, Davarax heads below again and finds the one responsible for supervising the information coming in about the Imperial movement on the planet. It is another test of his willpower when he learns that he wasn’t warned because he’d told them to keep an eye out for someone who asked around about Dulcy and Corin or the arrival of a man by the name of Macero Valentis. No one had asked around about Dulcy and Corin,  and Davarax had said nothing about a Vecon Valentis. They also inform Davarax that Vecon Valentis’ ship had left in a hurry hours ago.

Seething, Davarax barely resists unleashing his anger on these idiots, who probably weren’t too concerned about the safety of an outsider, and he stalks off to the one with the power to do something about this nightmare.

His sister.

-

Stepping into the Forge, smacking his hand on the button to close the door, Davarax does not kneel down. His heart his thumping like crazy. Dulcy is okay. Yeah, she’s okay. Dulcy is tough. She can handle herself until he can get to her. Please let her be okay. She has to be. Davarax yanks off his helmet. “The Imps got Dulcy.”

His sister pauses in her work, the golden helmet turns and her expressionless t-visor looks at him. “I was just informed.”

Davarax takes a step forward. “We have to go after them.”

There is a moment of silence and then she lowers her hammer and sets it aside. “No.”

Blinking, Davarax did not expect that answer. Okay, she had not been thrilled about Dulcy from the second he’d brought her home, finding her weak and whimsical, but he’d taken it for granted that she’d resent Imps taking someone under her protection. “Why not?”

“She’s an outsider.” His sister replies. Her voice is as emotionless as her helmet. “She’s not a Mandalorian. She’s not a Foundling. She’s not of this Covert. I will not risk the lives of our people for her. That is not the Way.”

Now Davarax is the one who needs a moment of silence and then he finds his voice again. “What about her son?”

“The boy is your Foundling.” Is the flat reply. “According to your reports, he shows promise as a fighter.”

Davarax nods thoughtfully, knowing there is no way he can change her mind. She’s not someone who changes her mind. He should know. “I will make arrangements that he’ll be taken care of if I don’t return.” He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” Now there is a hint of sharpness in her voice.

Davarax stops, stares at the door and tries to sort out what he’s feeling. It’s like there is an imploding star inside his chest. It’s hard to breathe. “I’m going after her.”

“You are not.” That is an order.

“I am.” Davarax turns to face his sister again. He can’t lose Dulcy. He won’t. He refuses!

“You are staying here.”

“Or what?” Davarax snarls viciously, stepping forward, hands clenching and pure rage burning in his eyes.

She lifts her hands and removes her helmet. Her dark eyes and strong cheekbones, her hair that mix of brown and red, so similar to their mother she could be her twin. There is no mercy in her gaze. “You are staying here, brother. You are not going after her. She will lead you to your death.”

Davarax does not back down one inch. She was always meant to be the one to follow in their parents footsteps and he was to be her general, but this is an order he will not obey. “I love her vod. There is only one way you can stop me and you know it.” She is going to have to beat him unconscious and he will fight her with everything he’s got. “Try it!”

Her eyes narrow a tiny bit. For her, that is a huge red flag, revealing just how angry she is. Despite her detachment to most things, Davarax knows she loves him. She lets him get away with so much, stuff no other Mandalorian would dare to try under her rule, and she will knock him out if she thinks it will save his life.

But he will never forgive her if she stops him from saving Dulcy, his heart and future, and his sister must know this because she simply puts her helmet back on and turns away from him.

She won’t stop him, but he’s on his own. It hurts, but he’s not surprised.

Davarax puts his own helmet back on and walks out of the room.

-

Davarax is shaking. His head and his heart is in complete chaos.

He’s dreading what Dulcy is going through. Guilt is ripping him apart. She’d trusted him and now she is being brought back to the man who had almost ruined her and her son. Macero’s temper must be terrible, judging by how terrified she’d been when she thought he’d found them due to that lone stormtrooper, and Davarax can barely breathe when thinking about what the man will do to her if he gets his hands on her.

Davarax fights air into his lungs. Focus. He cannot undo what has happened, he needs to focus on what he can do. He needs his weapons and he has to explain to Corin what has happened and...

Davarax marches back to his room.

“Uncle Vecon…?” Corin goes pale as a sheet. His eyes fill up with more tears and his little frame start to tremble. “He’s… He’s going to take mom back to father. And he’s going to be sooo angry…”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle hold of his shoulder and makes the boy look up at him. “Corin, listen to me, I won’t let that happen. Understand? I’m going to get your mom back. I promise you.” Corin looks up at him with complete trust despite the fear in his eyes. So young and yet painfully aware of the horrors his father is capable of. “You promise?”

Davarax nods, struggling to hide how much he wants to kill Corin’s father. The Galaxy would be a better place with one less monster in it. He pulls the boy in close and hugs him. “I promise.” And he fully intends to keep that promise. “But for me to do this, I need you to do me a huge favour.”

Nodding, Corin absently wipes a runaway tear from his face. “Okay.”

“What do you need us to do?” Din asks, ready to be Corin’s support pillar and Davarax feels a stab of pride as well as affection for the boy. His brave Foundling. Despite the horror he went through himself not too many years ago, Din doesn’t hesitate to support his friend. Like a true Mandalorian.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Davarax doesn’t want to mention the possibility he might not come back at all. They are worried enough. “I need Corin to stay with… a friend of mine until I get back.”

Din lowers his gaze, knowing Davarax is not talking about his parents as they have made it clear they do not like outsiders and consider Corin very much as one. “I’ll… come along. Make sure he settles in.” “Thank you.” Davarax says. He’s not entirely thrilled about what he’s about to do, but it’s his least bad option out of a bunch of worse options. “Corin, let’s go by your room and pick up some stuff for a couple of days. Okay? We have to hurry.” Corin nods, meek and affable. He’s horribly pale and looks heartbreakingly shaken, but he is holding himself together despite having lost the person who means the most to him. He’s stronger than he knows, Davarax muses. One day that boy will grow up to be a powerful warrior.

They pick up some clothes and Corin’s datapad. Davarax notices a small pile of Din’s clothing lying on a chair in a corner and wonders just how much time the kid spends with Dulcy and Corin. Then they make their way down the hallway and head towards a door he really does not want to approach.

Davarax pushes the button to signal his presence. He doesn’t want to use the comm system and risk being shut down.

Nothing.

Sighing, Davarax pushes again. He doesn’t have time for this. Every second wasted means that Valentis guy dragging Dulcy farther and farther away and closer to her former husband.

Finally the door slides open and Davarax forces his spine straight. “I need a favour.”

A heavy silence follows before there is a slight shake of a blue helmet as if to reboot his brain before he’s able to speak. “You. You are asking Dez Vizla for a favour?”

Corin and Din exchange looks behind Davarax and he can almost hear what the kids are thinking. Why on earth would he bring Corin to Dez Vizla?

Well, Barthor’s parents would never agree to take him in. Neither would Din’s parents. And while the Saxons would say yes, he’s not entirely sure Corin would survive that. Decco’s illness causes days when she has no energy and might soon end her days all together. The Fighting Corps are constantly on the move and its members have no stability for a child. Dez Vizla may be an uptight and pompous jerk who likes to talk about himself in the third person and unfortunately treats his son like an adult instead of a child, but he rarely leaves the Covert, guards his wards with his life and will never turn his back on a Foundling in need. Plus, in his quarters, Corin will also have Paz to look after him day and night. Hopefully the stay won’t be for too long, but at least Corin will be safe and cared for.

“I need you to look after Corin for a bit.” Davarax says, trying to sound calm and confident.

Dez snorts a haughty laugh. “What?” He shakes his head again, still struggling to believe what he’s hearing. “You want… What?”

“Dulcy got snatched by Imps. They took her away.” Davarax explains in a tight voice, trying hard not to upset Corin. “I’m going to get her back.” He switches to Mando’a and hopes Corin doesn’t understand what he’s saying next. ”This is serious, Dez. I need your help. Keep him safe?”

Dez stares at him for a while, entirely still and unreadable, before he finally sighs and takes a step to the side to let Corin enter. “Get inside, boy. Now.”

Corin freezes, panics, and looks up at Davarax. As expected, he responds badly to Dez’ rough personality. Davarax is about to speak but Din beats him to it.

Din gives Corin a light nudge. “I’ll come with you. It’s okay.” He sends Dez a challenging look.

Dez snorts again, amused by the glare, and gives a nod. Fine. Din can come too.

Relieved, Davarax sees the two shuffle into the Vizla quarters and tells himself it won’t be the last time he sees them. He’s going to get Dulcy and then they will all be together again.

-

Davarax grabs his weapons and as many grenades and explosives as he can before he sets course for the Razor Crest. His heart is still thumping so hard he can almost feel it battering against the inside of his breastplate.

If Macero Valentis is a monster, his brother might be too. What if he has hurt Dulcy? What is she thinking about right now? Does she think Davarax has abandoned her or does she find comfort in the knowledge that he’ll come for her? Is she afraid? She’s tough, no doubt about that, but courage is not the absence of fear. Only a fool would not feel fear at times. And the mere thought of her being afraid burns Davarax’ heart like acid.

Lost in a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, Davarax doesn’t hear the voice calling out his name and is a bit startled when someone grabs him just as he’s about to step outside of the Covert. Snapping his visor over, Davarax is surprised to find Paz there.

“Is it true?” Paz says, breathless and agitated. “Dulcy’s gone? The Imps got her?”

Davarax exhales. “Yeah…” He has to gather himself and appear calm once again, not wanting to worry Paz either. “But I’m going to get her back. Don’t worry. You just make sure Corin is okay.”

Paz gulps for air as his agitation increases. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No.” Davarax blinks when the boy bolts by him and stalks out of the Covert. “Paz! Paz, get back here.”

Marching towards the Razor Crest, Paz doesn’t slow down. “I’m coming with you!”

Davarax curses and trots after him, trying to persuade him to go back. Paz makes it all the way inside the ship’s cargo hold before Davarax loses his patience and grabs his arm.

“Paz, I don’t have time for this!” Davarax makes Paz’ visor focus on him. “Dulcy is in serious trouble. These Imps are dangerous.”

“I can fight!” Paz snaps back at him, his voice both angry and shaking.

“I know you can fight.” Davarax reassures him, a little impatiently. “But you are not coming with me. Go home, Paz. Look after Corin. And the others. Go!”

“No!” Paz shouts, but his next words are soft and broken. “She has to come back. She has to.” He struggles to keep speaking. “She’s always so nice to me. To all of us.”

“I know…” Davarax whispers. Paz had been abandoned by his birth mother all those years ago and now he is ready to rush into battle and get himself killed to avoid losing Dulcy. The only woman who had cared enough to act like an actual mother to him. “I’m going to get her back, Paz. I promise. But I have to go now.”

“I’m going with you.” Paz repeats in a stubborn reply.

Sighing, Davarax knows more words are pointless. While the helmet hides Paz’ face, he knows the boy well enough to hear in his voice and read from his body language when he’s too determined to be persuaded otherwise. “Go home, Paz.” He tightens his grip on his arm and drags him out of the ship, kicking and screaming.

Paz’ fury is frightful and Davarax is fairly certain if the boy had a weapon; he would have shot Davarax when he lifts the ramp and blocks him out of the ship. He might not forgive Davarax for this, but he will be safe and alive. And that is what Dulcy would want too.

Dulcy…

-You and Corin are safe here, he’d told her.

She had trusted him when he’d said they’d know if there was danger nearby. He’d told her those words because he’d believed them too. He’d failed to take idiocy and dislike towards outsiders into consideration. The idiots hadn’t meant for any harm to come to her, they just didn’t put any effort into the safety of an outsider.

She’s okay. Dulcy has to be okay. Davarax will get to her long before Macero Valentis does. He will. He won’t fail her, or the children, not as long as he breathes. Davarax had given up on having a family of his own beyond what time he was allowed to spend with his treasured troublemakers and he had settled for being a provider for other families instead, but then Dulcy entered his life and everything changed.

Davarax’ hands shake as he starts up the Razor Crest, driven by red hot fury at the ones who had taken Dulcy away and cold dark despair at the thought of her surrounded by enemies.

He’s going to get her back.

-

Going after the Imp ship is part guessing, part experienced calculations and part luck. There is no way for Davarax to know their exact route or destination as he has no clue where Macero Valentis is currently located, but he knows which routes are most commonly used by Imps ships as he tends to avoid them like the plague and he has contacts to ask along the way.

It feels strange to deliberately enter areas where he is bound to meet Imp ships.

Constant attacks has left the Imp army jumpy so there are a couple of ships who take his presence and him scanning them the wrong way. The Razor Crest has to make a run for it several times and ends up with scorch marks on her hull, but that’s not enough to make Davarax stop.

He can’t.

Eventually Davarax manages to lock on to the one moving against the stream of Imp ships and with single-minded determination as if there is some place it needs to be and as fast as possible. He can’t be sure, but his heart tells him he’s found his prey and Davarax always trusts his instincts.

Unaware of baring his teeth like a furious beast and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up, Davarax can only register one thought: the hunt has begun.

Food and sleep have become a distant memory on this trip. When did he eat or sleep last? Yesterday? The day before? He can’t remember and Davarax doesn’t care. He simply keeps pushing the Razor Crest and himself to catch up with the Imp ship before it reaches the clutches of Macero Valentis.

Eventually he does catch up with the ship.

Others tend to shake their head at Davarax’ attachment to the Razor Crest, but he knows what she’s capable of and how to us her strengths in ways that his enemies never expect. People underestimate his ship all the time and Davarax hopes they continue to do so – as it makes his victories all the more sweeter and drastically reduces the risk to his life and his ship’s safety.

When the Imp ship slows down, for whatever reason, Davarax goes for it.

Setting loose two decoys with signals meant to impersonate much larger ships than the Razor Crest, Davarax gives a powerful boost with his engine before powering down and hoping the forward momentum will bring him to where he needs to go; the landing dock on the Imp ship’s left flank.

It’s a move he’s only done twice before and he succeeded once, but Davarax decides to risk it.

Dulcy is right there. In that ship. And Macero Valentis is not, or there would have been a second ship to accompany them. There is still time to get her back.

The Razor Crest does not fail him. She slides through the darkness, under the Imp ship’s radar and drowsy attention, their arrogance brought on by them thinking themselves superior in every way can be quite helpful, and once she’s powered back up it only takes the gentlest of nudges to make her move up to where she can latch on to one of the boarding docks.

Davarax is on his feet before the attachment to the other ship is deemed secure by the Razor Crest’s sensors. Three blasters and an unseemly amount of explosives join his arsenal hidden in his armour.

It’s time to put all of his concern and anger into his weapons.

He goes for stealth at first. He needs to know where they are keeping Dulcy. And while Davarax knows he’s a skilled fighter, he’s just one man and this ship is crawling with soldiers. He needs to be clever about this and not let his anger rule him.

He’s told Din countless times to control his anger instead of letting his anger control him, and this is one of those situations where that could be the deciding factor of the outcome of the mission.

A drowsing guard is yanked around a corner and asked for information, but the guy isn’t much help and is left hidden inside a service closet. He is soon joined by two more.

It’s the fourth guard that finally gives Davarax the answers he is looking for.

Dulsissia Valentis is indeed on this ship. They are keeping Dulcy two levels below this one, in the last cell on the left side of the prison corridor. And there are plenty of guards.

There is no way he can get to her without being detected.

Davarax lets the guard fall to the floor and draws his blasters. Controlling your anger also means to know when it is time to let it loose.

It’s time.

-

It kind of becomes a red haze after that. Davarax makes his way through the soldiers and guards, using blasters and grenades and his flame thrower to remove them from his path, and every step brings him closer to Dulcy.

Nothing will stop him.

Nothing.

He plants several bombs in strategic places, aiming to injure the ship’s engines and computers as well as draw attention away from himself. Once that is in place, Davarax moves towards the door leading below and gets ready.

Davarax triggers the first two bombs. The ship shakes and groans and he heads below to face the minor army placed there to guard their precious cargo.

The first Trooper he sees standing there spins around at the sound of him and freezes with surprise.

Davarax fires his blaster and moves on to take down the next before the body has hit the floor. He triggers more bombs.

The ship’s siren starts blaring. It howls its long and loud warnings on all floors.

After that, blaster shots hits Davarax’ armour, shrapnel from enemy grenades and his own stabs at him, fists and bots do their best to hurt him, even a blade or two slices through his jacket, yet he keeps moving forward. He won’t stop unless he’s dead.

A well placed grenade takes out the light on the entire level, but instead of darkness his HUD has to adjust to the backup-lights flickering on and off as it appears the electrical system itself has taken damage.

Endless amounts of guards try to stop him. All of them visibly confused as they were under the impression that they are being invaded by a large group of enemies and all they see is one Mando. They soon are too dead to appreciate the lesson Davarax is teaching them: do not mess with a Mandalorian’s family.

Davarax removes a couple of soldiers trying to kill him with a well-aimed grenade and he turns a corner to see what he’s been looking for; the prison corridor.

“He’s here!” Someone shouts in the distance.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” A voice snaps. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!”

More soldiers rush forward to protect the owner of the voice.

Davarax removes obstacle (soldier) after obstacle (more soldiers), ignoring everything except his mission. He’s so lost in his anger and battle-haze that he’s not prepared for when he suddenly sees her there. Barely visible through the smoke and blaster shots sent his way, there is no mistaking her.

Dulcy.

Some obnoxious Imp officer is standing next to her, his one hand grabbing her arm and the other holding a blaster muzzle to her head. The officer looks scared. She does not. Her eyes are wide with surprise, yes, but her mouth softens into the faintest of smiles. Her hair is almost as wild as Raga’s and for some weird reason she’s wearing a fancy teal dress that probably costs more than the Razor Crest.

It would have eased Davarax’ anger, soothed the fire inside him, quenched his thirst for blood, seeing her standing there… if not for the blooming bruise on her face. There is a startling discolouring of the delicate cheekbone he’d trailed light fingertips over in a wordless display of love not too long ago...

Unbridled rage explodes inside Davarax. He’s going to rip Vecon Valentis apart!

Completely indifferent to the shots fired at him, Davarax merely keeps stalking towards Dulcy and the soon-to-be-dead-Imp, killing anyone who gets in his way. He’s so angry he can barely breathe. How dare they hurt her?!

-

A trooper jumps out of room next to him, blaster raised, but Davarax slams his elbow into the helmet so hard it shatters. He then pulls out a vibro-blades and throws it through the air and takes down the one guard left standing next to Dulcy and the Imp officer.

The red lights are still flashing, sirens are blaring, there is thick smoke in the air, and Davarax is finally standing in front of Dulcy and Vecon Valentis. The Imp now looks downright terrified.

“Don’t, Mando.” Vecon warns. “I will shoot.”

“Not if he kills you first, Vecon.” Dulcy says. She’s keeping her gaze locked on Davarax, unfazed by Vecon’s threat and the pain of her bruised face. His brave Dulcy. His heart. His light.

Not bothering to even look at Vecon, Davarax grabs the man’s hand holding on to the blaster and squeezes and twists it until he drops the weapon with a pained yelp. He’s mesmerized by Dulcy’s complete lack of fear and solid faith in him. She even uses the moment Davarax disarms her captor to break free and spin around to stand next to Davarax instead.

“Tell Macero I’m never going back. He will never see his son again. And to leave me alone. And if he comes after me or my family again, I won’t ask nicely to be left alone. I will kill him.”

‘My family’. She said ‘my family’. It might be wishful thinking from Davarax’ side, but her choosing those words instead of just saying ‘me or my son’, it almost sounds like she means… him and the children? The anger deflates as wild hope floods Davarax instead and he glances over at the amazing woman next to him.

Dulcy is glaring at Vecon, who is bending over into an awkwardly twisted position due to the grip Davarax has on him, and she looks magnificent; beauty and fury. And there is no hesitation or trace of softness in her threat. She means it, she will kill Macero, and Davarax loves her even more.

“Tell him yourself.” Vecon sneers.

Davarax is distracted, entirely focused on Dulcy, and he pays the price. The Imp moves and a sharp pain follows as he drives a blade into Davarax’ side. Grunting, Davarax reacts instinctively; he draws his blaster and shoots.

Vecon Valentis is dead.

Dulcy doesn’t care. She seems indifferent to the man being killed and her being deprived of the chance to do it herself as payback for her bruised face. All she focuses on is getting to where the blade is planted deep in Davarax’ body. “Oh. Oh no. What-”

They have to leave. Now. The blade hasn’t done lethal damage but Davarax knows he won’t be able to fight for too long with this kind of injury. Blood-loss will weaken him. He yanks the blade out and grabs her arm to redirect her frightened gaze to his t-visor. “We have to go.”

She nods, a little stunned but ready to get out of there. Good.

Picking up Valentis’ blaster, he hands it to her. “I need you to cover my back, Dulcy. Can you do that?” Blood is seeping through his underarmor and a burning pain is spreading. No time to deal with it as more guards are on their way for sure. He needs her help if they are going to make it.

She nods again. Worried, pale, but determined. She’s got his back. Just like he knew she would.

He loves her so much.

Together, they move, battle and make it back to the Razor Crest.

Stumbling into the cockpit and over to sit down in the pilot seat, Davarax brings the engines online and detaches them from the Imp ship as quick as possible. The bombs he’d set off earlier was to confuse the troops onboard and Davarax hopes they have caused enough damage to the engines for him and Dulcy to make their escape.

The Razor Crest does a slow turn, rolling over, Dulcy buckles herself into her seat, and with a strained shake of her entire hull; the Razor Crest gives a mighty kick and races off into the darkness.

-Run, Davarax pleads the ship. -Run as fast as you can, old girl. If that beast recovers enough to come after us, we’re all dead. So I need you to run with everything you got. Run!

And, again maybe it is his wishful thinking, Davarax swears he feels the ship give an extra burst and her speed increases even more as they race towards safety.

-

Only after forty three minutes and seventeen seconds of pushing the engines to the limit of what they can take, plus non-stop checking the radar to see if someone has decided to chase them and finding nothing, only then does Davarax dare to ease up and let the Razor Crest slow down while he leans back and exhales.

Adrenaline and stress leaves his body while exhaustion moves in.

This is also when Dulcy unbuckles herself and appears by his side to with an anxious expression on her beautiful face and her hands hovering a little undecidedly over his torso as if she can’t decide where to touch.

Her own bruised face appears forgotten to her. Davarax feels how guilt viciously collides with the relief of having her back. He reaches out, pulls Dulcy close and hugs her tight. “Are you okay?” Her bruised face is bad enough, more than bad enough, but what if… He will never forgive himself if...

“Yes, but you’re not.” Dulcy replies, too relaxed to be lying and she tries to push him away. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt, Davarax. I have to-”

Feeling her in his arms, alive and warm and there and forgiving him his failure, Davarax couldn’t care less about his own injuries. He can’t even feel them. All he can feel is her. All he cares about is her. The thought of letting her go after nearly losing her forever hurts. “In a moment.” Davarax’ throat is snared up so tight he has to whisper. “Please.”

And his heart shatters entirely when this incredible woman shivers, once, then wraps her arms around him and hugs him back. Davarax eases her over to sit on his lap where she curls as close to him as she can manage and he holds her as close as he dares.

He’d nearly lost her. This fact will haunt him for the rest of his life; a life he cannot imagine without her. She brought him out of his half-existence, comforted his children when he was unable to and Davarax had started to wake up in the mornings with hope instead of guilt and weariness.

Despite the ordeal she has been through, Dulsissia ignores her own hurt and says that they need to tell the Covert Macero will come for them so they can flee, but Davarax isn’t too worried. They have fought all kinds of governments before and won. He alone had taken on a Destroyer and gotten away with it today, just imagine what his entire Covert could do to a man stupid enough to challenge them.

Dulcy is not convinced, but they compromise and then her focus shifts to his injuries and that is something she will not compromise on. It’s odd to have someone care. Nice, but odd. He’s always tended to his injuries himself.

She fusses about his wounds and notes how Vecon held the blade all wrong to do fatal damage. His girl knows how to stab someone properly. His heart glows with pride.

Dulcy refuses to use the cauterizer and tries to order him out of the pilot seat. As much as he loves her authoritative voice, Davarax declines. He needs to keep an eye on the radar, just in case.

Another compromise is made and she ends up sitting on his lap while tending to his injuries.

It’s no big surprise when she asks about her son.

“Scared out of his mind that he’ll never see his mother again.” Davarax sighs, running his hand along her arm in an absent-minded caress. “When we get closer to Nevarro, I’ll try to reach him.”

“And the rest of the kids?”

That actually makes Davarax laugh a little “I had to physically wrestle Paz off the ship when he heard I was going. If he had a blaster, he would have shot me.” His hand rounds her shoulder and moves up her neck to cup the side of her face. “They’ve all been desperate to get you back. Like me.” It feels almost too good that she’s back. He did it. She’s here. He didn’t fail her again.

“I’m sorry.” Dulsissia mumbles, gently patting down the edges of a bacta patch on his stab wound. “I didn’t see him before it was too late. And then I just wanted them away from all of you.”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle but firm grip on her wrist, halting her movement, making her look at his visor. “This was not your fault. This was all them. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dulsissia doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that without me stumbling into your life, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“Without me barging into yours, I wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s true.” Davarax replies, gently caressing her wrist. “I wouldn’t be with you. My days wouldn’t bring happy memories instead of feeling guilty all the time. I wouldn’t come home to my kids smiling instead of crying, hiding away while being terrified for their lives or without a voice because they have been screaming themselves hoarse.” His hand moves up to brush the back of his fingers across her bruised cheekbone, feeling the guilt gnaw at him again. “That’s worth more than bleeding for, cyare. That’s worth dying for.”

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia takes a hold of his hand and moves it down to press her lips to it. “Other than the love I felt for my son, I didn’t know what love was until I met you.” She shivers. “Don’t talk about dying because it feels like tempting fate and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Then, maybe, if you feel like that, would you…” Davarax says, tensing up a little. He had asked her to marry him and she had said no. It’s just… He wants them to be together, forever, so badly. He wants to be able to take his helmet off in front of her. He wants to kiss her lips and feel her hands on his face. He wants her to see his smile and how happy she makes him. He wants… What he wants doesn’t matter. As tempting as it is to ask her to at least reconsider, he won’t. He had asked and she had said no. Davarax is going to have to respect that.

Dulcy kissing his hand snaps him out of his thoughts just before she asks; “Would I what?”

Davarax exhales and lets go off his dream. He then tilts his head and tries to divert the conversation. “Would you let me compliment you on the dress? It’s lovely. And really brings out the colour of your eyes.” Vecon Valentis might have been a jerk, but looks to have had a sense of fashion.

Laughing, Dulsissia shakes her head and goes back to focus on cleaning and bandaging him up. “Thank you. I kind of like it myself. Impractical, but pretty. I was thinking about keeping it.”

“I think you should.” Davarax drawls, toying with the thin shoulder strap to distract himself as well. “Definitely.”

-

When Davarax finally manages to contact the children over the comm system, it’s both a relief and painful torture. Relief in that Corin gets to talk to his mother, hear her voice and know she is safe, same with the other children, but Davarax is also tortured by guilt upon hearing their distress and knowing he is to blame. He had said Dulcy was safe and she had been ripped away from them.

His heart aches the most, however, when Dulcy, his sweet Dulcy, makes sure she hears the voice of every child to reassure them all, like the amazing mother she is. It makes him want to collect every neglected child in Galaxy and bring them to her so they can feel happy again too.

In the five hours it takes for them to return to Nevarro, Davarax persuades Dulcy to return to his lap and merely drowse in his arms until they land. It feels so good to hold her. He will happily share her with the children when they get back home, but for these hours, knowing everyone is safe, he will allow himself to be selfish and savour every second where it is just the two of them.

Stepping inside the Covert, Corin is in his mother’s arms before the door has closed behind them. The boy is clinging to his mother with desperate determination, eyes squeezed tight and his entire frame shaking. Dulcy is struggling to keep from crying and she’s stroking and kissing his dark hair, his cheeks and his forehead. It’s the kind of open affection that Davarax can only dream about...

Which means he is not prepared for Din running over to wrap his arms around his waist and burying his face to his stomach with a half-choked sound. His grip is frightfully strong. Surprised and humbled by the rare display of affection, Davarax runs a gentle hand over Din’s hair. While Din has eagerly soaked up every hug and encouraging pat Davarax has given him, this is the first time he has initiated a hug. It almost feels like Din had been equally scared of losing him as Corin had been about losing his mother. That… It’s…

Glancing over at Dulcy, trying to blink away the fog that appears to be assaulting his eyes, Davarax sees Raga and Barthor have joined Corin in her embrace. It seems wrong that Din should have to settle for him so he gently ushers the boy over to Dulcy as well and loves her even more at how quickly and naturally she includes Din with the others.

It would be perfect if only… Davarax’ heart sinks as he sees Paz standing there alone, arms crossed,  older than his years. He’s not been the same since the battle at the new Covert. It’s a part of growing up as a Mandalorian, but it still hurts to witness. Yet another thing he can’t protect them from.

Lost in thought, Davarax is then again not prepared as Dulcy unleashes Corin, Raga and Barthor in his direction and they all throw themselves at him with gusto. Davarax grunts at the impact when Raga actually jumps at his chest, Barthor smacks into his left hip and Corin to his right, Din’s arms goes back around his waist, all of them grabbing a hold and hugging him. Din laughs while Davarax staggers a step backwards and tries to pet each head, support Raga to prevent the little space-monkey from falling and not dislodge any one of them at the same time.

Dulcy walks over to stand in front of Paz. “No hug?”

“Kids first.” Is the stern reply.

She simply pulls him close, hugs him even closer and whispers something. Something that has Paz relax and hug her back. That woman must surely be a Jedi witch…

But Davarax doesn’t get to linger on the sight or speculate on her magical powers as he’s quickly distracted by Raga climbing up to perch on his shoulder and he has to support her with one hand while Corin decides to hang off his other arm, using him like a swing like he’d done during their initial meeting back on that smoke-covered planet. Din actually laughs.

“Maybe we can head inside?” Davarax asks, his voice a little strained under the children enthusiastically mistaking him for a playground.

Dulcy looks over at them and smiles like the angel she is. “Yeah, let’s go.”

-

They walk towards Dulcy and Corin’s room. She reminds him of the need to warn the Covert about the danger of Macero Valentis, but Davarax is in no hurry to see his sister just yet. And Davarax does not believe for one second that Valentis could be a threat to the Covert. If the foolish man was to try to attack, they would eat him alive.

Inside the room there is a whirlwind of exchange of information. Dulcy is as curious about how Davarax had been able to find her as the children are about what had happened to her. Corin gently touches the bruise on his mother’s face with agonized tenderness.

“It still sucks that Davarax had to go alone.” Raga states angrily. “He even had to defy ‘her’ to do it!”

Startled, Davarax doesn’t want Dulcy to know he’d raised his voice to his sister. “It’s late.” He states, stealing their attention away from Raga’s words. “You kids should head home.”

There is nothing but disappointed faces among the children, but there is one who looks downright… depressed. “Can…” Din clears his throat, shifts his position awkwardly. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Corin nods. “He has bad dreams, mom. He dreamt the droids got you.”

Davarax’ heart clenches. He knows how tormented Din has been by the memory of how his birth parents had perished. He’s seen the raw fear in him whenever the boy sees an android. And when Dulcy sends him a pleading look, Davarax isn’t difficult to persuade. Sighing, he nods and starts to contact Din’s Mandalorian parents via his vambrace. “I’ll ask them” And they will say yes. He won’t settle for anything else. The boy needs a little cheering up after all this.

That triggers a landslide of requests to stay as well. Davarax adores those kids for how Raga meekly promises to behave and Paz finally reverting to his real age by demanding to stay if she gets to stay, yet Barthor’s quiet resignation awakens the anger in Davarax.

“My mom will never let me sleep over.” Barthor scoffs with bitter conviction.

Davarax feels his eyes narrow. “Want to bet?” Barthor is one of his kids. If Barthor wants to join the sleep-over, then Barthor will sleep over as well. He is just about to press the final button to contact Din’s parents when his beloved witch strikes again.

“How about… we all spend the night in Davarax’ room?”

Davarax’ face snaps up to stare at her. She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d slapped him across his bare face with a fish. “Say what now?” Nobody said anything about them sleeping over in his room, with explosives in every corner and the memory of Dulcy’s soft whimpers in his bed.

Din lights up with utter delight. “Oh, can we?”

Davarax clenches his jaw, Dulcy gives him the sweetest smile of fake innocence, and he folds with a heavy sigh. As if he can deny her or these kids anything. “Just… let me talk to your parents first.”

As expected, Din’s parents give their permission without much trouble. They trust Davarax.

Davarax fears he suffers permanent hearing damage after connecting with the Saxons and quickly blurts out his question.

There is a moment of silence before Raga’s mother states: “Anything she breaks, I’m not paying for it.”

“It’ll be on me.” Davarax replies, and then she starts screaming at either her husband or her sons and he just shouts his goodbye and disconnects.

Dez is a problem because of course he is. That man thrives on being difficult, especially around Davarax. If Davarax states something obvious, Dez will disagree just because he said it.

“A sleep over? Are you kidding me? My boy has put on the helmet. He doesn’t do kid stuff like that. I will not have you make my son soft, Davarax.”

“Dez…” Davarax has to take a deep breath and not lose his temper. “It’s a sleep-over. All his friends will be here. Don’t be such a hard-ass. Let the boy have some fun.”

“We are Mandalorians. We don’t do fun. Fun doesn’t make you into a great warrior.”

“A little fun never harmed a kid. He’s a kid, Dez. Helmet or not, he’s still a kid. Let him have this.”

“He should be training.”

“He is training. Every day. That boy is dedicated and you know it. He’s among the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Let. Him. Have. This.”

They bicker back and forth for a while and eventually Davarax manages to wear down the cantankerous man by a combination of nagging and bribery. It’s worth it when he can give Paz the thumbs up to show he’s allowed to stay as well.

And yet Dez Vizla is nowhere near as frustrating as Barthor’s parents. There is no room for negotiations, no compassion or empathy, just a stubborn ‘no’. Davarax tries everything. He flatters, he tries to bride, he tries to reason with them, he even gets dangerously close to pleading, but it doesn’t work. They won’t budge. They will not allow their son to have one simple sleep-over.

And that is when Davarax turns mean. Dangerously mean.

Thirty seconds later, he can give a very surprised Barthor a thumbs up.

-

That is how they end up gathering all there is off mattresses and blankets and pillows and march over to Davarax’ room. After hoarding and hiding away his weaponry, Davarax helps to arrange their haul all so his kids can be comfortable before he steps up next to Dulcy. “The kids are set. You take the bed. I’ll, uh…” He scouts for where he can fit on the floor, have a good view of the door in case of danger and be close enough to the kids to keep an eye on them as well.

“You and me are sharing the bed.” Dulcy states, as if it is the most natural thing in the world and her words doesn’t hit him in the gut like she’d fired a slugthrower. “The bed is for old people. Like us.”

“I said I was sorry.” Barthor groans. “Let it go.”

“Never.” Dulcy snaps, then she sends Davarax, who can’t stop staring at her, a puzzled look. “What?”

What? She’d just said they would share a bed, a bed with sinful memories, with the kids in the room and she’s asking him ‘what’?? Davarax shakes his head and looks over at the kids again to calm his stuttering heart. She can’t be that oblivious, can she? Well, he can handle this. He can-

“And would you mind taking the armour off?” Dulcy continues to torture him. “You can, inside the Covert, right?”

Closing his eyes, wondering what he’d done wrong to deserve this sweet punishment, Davarax manages a tiny nod.

He handles it like a champ. Davarax removes his armour, settles himself on the bed closest to the door to keep an eye on it and the children to ensure they are safe. Din often has nightmares and might need calming down, though he currently looks quite comfortable between Corin and Paz. Davarax got this. He can handle this.

Dulcy curls up next to him and rests her head on his chest.

He… He’s got… got this…

After a while, Dulcy lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to have to breathe eventually, you know.”

“No.” Davarax declares. She’s too close and too tempting for him to dare to breathe.

Dulcy giggles and that catches Corin’s attention. He pops his head up and asks what is so funny. If only he knew. Of course Davarax’ evil witch isn’t content with tormenting him solely by being this close to him. Oh no. She hoists herself up on her side and places her hand on his stomach. Her fingers dig gently into the fabric of his shirt and making it slide across his skin in a deliberate caress. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep”

Oh. Oh, this means war. Davarax reaches down and grabs a good handful of that divine behind of hers. He grins and savours her strangled squeak like the finest battle trophy.

Corin’s head pops up again. “Mom?”

“It’s fine, Corin.” Dulsissia takes revenge by prodding two fingers next to one of Davarax’ wounds

He jolts with a muffled grunt. Oh, she is really pushing her luck right now...

Corin’s head goes down again.

Davarax’ takes a firmer grip on her behind, hitching her abruptly closer, so she places a hand to an unharmed area on his chest to push herself away. Davarax counters by using his other hand to grab the one she has to his chest and removing it before pulling her even closer. She squirms to free herself while they both struggle to muffle their laughter. Davarax can’t believe this is happening. He wasn’t this childish even when he was a child.

Paz’ helmet comes up and he lets out a very annoyed; “SHHH!”

Davarax and Dulsissia both withdraw their hands amidst quiet laughter.

“Sorry.” Dulsissia stutters through choked giggles.

“Yeah, sorry.” Davarax adds, struggling hard to silence his own snickering.

Grunting, still very much annoyed, Paz lies back down again.

As the laughter calms and a warm peace settles in instead, Dulsissia finds Davarax’ hand. She takes it, lifts it up to hold it between their chests, and smiles as their fingers begin their slow, pointless dance of just touching and braiding and feeling like they had done that very special night.

Looking at her face, seeing the warm affection in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks and the trust in her features, Davarax considers just how lucky he is. How the smallest change in the past might have lead both him and Dulcy on very different paths. How he could have never known the happiness he’s feeling now.

Coincidence or fate, he doesn’t care, it had brought him and Dulcy together and nothing is ever going to tear them apart.

Not his sister.

Not Macero Valentis.

Not even a nightmare of a mercenary who specializes in collecting trophies...

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Love Bites’ Vampire!Saeran Choi Drabbles

Hello! This is one of my slightly belated pieces for @mysme-rbb, which I worked on with the very, very talented and sweet @amagicalduckling <3 Their art is so beautiful and I’m honoured to have been paired with them for some Saeran pieces! Please check out @amagicalduckling for more of their beautiful artwork, they are criminally underrated!!  Tw: mentions of blood, biting, vampirism, rough kissing Will be under the cut after Ray!

Vampire! Ray Drabble

Ray was melancholic by nature, you knew that, but you’d never had been able to guess why it if hadn’t been for that fateful night in the garden. He always did such a good job of hiding his fangs from you and brushing his hair over his ears so you couldn’t see their slightly pointed tips. He always kept his distance as best as he could, never coming too close into your personal space. You’d assumed it was out of respect and the nervousness of overstepping the boundaries, this idea was always aided by the fact that he usually looked a little bit strained whenever he was in your company.

The way you came to find out about Ray was because you had foolishly pricked your finger on a rose that he had been trying to show you outside. With the beautiful arrangements only being illuminated by moonlight, it had been difficult to see what you were doing, and you’d placed your finger directly onto the little spike and yelped in pain. As soon as you had pulled your hand back, to indicate what had caused you to cry out, Ray had immediately brought his own hand up to his mouth and feverishly covered it. You were confused and thought that perhaps Ray was sensitive to the sight of blood, but it was when he turned to run from you that you saw the white, iridescent fangs peering from behind his lips. You saw them, and he knew that you had. Ray ran at top speed away from you, leaving you with the drop of the blood slowly dripping down the side of your finger.

You felt a little lightheaded from the sight and had to stumble your way over to the bench, a… vampire? Surely, such things like that didn’t exist. They weren’t real. They were myths. Folklore. Children’s horror stories to tell before bed. And yet, as you considered Ray, really thought about him, you realised how quickly it all added up. He was so pale, sickly looking even at the best of times. You’d thought that the prominent blue veins on his neck and wrists was a result of his pasty complexion, but that was clearly not the truth of the matter. It also occurred to you that you never really saw him during the day, but he had always excused this fact as he must work arduously long hours and the only time he could find to get away and visit you was into the early hours of the night. While you supposed that there was at least some truth in that statement, it didn’t help the fact that it aligned with what you thought could be coming into fruition. Was he really a vampire? Had he been trying to hide it from you for all this time?  

And those fangs. Those could not be denied. They were the teeth of a predator, a hidden threat that he had tried so hard to keep a secret from you. So many questions raced through your head, and yet all you could worry about was where Ray was. He had left so quickly, clearly a bit distressed. You felt somewhat guilty for your own carelessness, but how were you to know? There was no way you would have guessed what was really happening here at Mint Eye. You had only been here to test a game, for crying out loud.

Suddenly, you felt anxious to be alone in the gardens at night, especially without Ray. Even if he was hiding something this serious from you, he was still the only person that you had gotten to make yourself friendly with. Well, in his case, more than a little bit friendly, but that was besides the point in that moment. You stood, trying to find your way through the maze of flowers and get back to your room but with little success. As you turned the corner, you spotted a figure at the other end of the path and it caused you to cry out in surprise, maybe slightly even in fear. It was Ray.

You’d never thought that the sight of Ray would ever frighten you, but as he stood there, pale and gaunt surrounded by the red flushes of rose petals, you had to wonder how you hadn’t realised it sooner. He looked guilty, and scared. So, so scared. You put your hands up to him slowly, asking if he was okay, but instead of receiving any sort of reply about his own wellbeing, Ray flurried out several apologies at you. He averted his gaze downwards, as though he felt as though he was no longer allowed to look at you directly for what he was. You stared at him as he spoke, focused on the slight protrusion of his sharp teeth over his lips. It was obvious that he had practiced speaking without making them visible, so you could only really see them if you were already looking for them.

‘Ray… It’s okay.’ You whispered, coming a little bit closer to him. He took a step back, moving his back up against the roses further so that he was surrounded by them. If it had been at any other moment, you would have taken the time to think about the fact he looked like a delicate portrait right then, the passion of the red surrounding his pale frame. But alas, you did not have that luxury.

‘It’s not! I scared you, oh how could I ever forgive myself! How could you ever forgive me for this! I should have been able to show more restraint… My savior was right, she’s always right…’ He replied almost frantically, to the point where you weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you or telling you his own inner monologue.

‘M-My Savior said that I’m not strong enough yet, which is why I find… you difficult to be around. I want to be around you always but- she says you’re too tempting for someone like me.’

‘Too tempting…?’ You asked, a slightly unsure as to what he meant. That was, until he gestured to your bleeding fingertip, and it suddenly made more sense to you. ‘I don’t mind if you… want to be around me. I want to be around you too.’ You added, attempting to phrase it in the same way that he did, since he was clearly skirting around using certain vocabulary. It made you realised that there was a good chance that Ray was unhappy about the fact he wanted you in such a way. If he allowed himself to get too close, he would inevitably bring you pain.

As you stepped closer to him, you watched as he reached his own leathered hand towards his mouth, anxiously biting onto the tips of the fabric. He wasn’t just chewing it, he was really biting it, to the point you were worried he might hurt himself.

You were suddenly moving quickly down the path towards him, ‘Ray! Please, stop that. It’s okay! I’m not scared of you.’

‘I’m scared that I might hurt you!’ He almost wailed. You knew that there was an obsessive nature to Ray, which walked hand in hand with his melancholy, but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you like this. For the most part, he was tender-hearted and sensitive. Of course, he had room in that heart for hate, but yet, so much more room for sensitivity.

‘You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.’

‘Please, be more careful with who you award your trust to. I don’t deserve it.’ He replied, but pulled his own glove away stiffly, since he didn’t want to worry you any further. At such a distance, he had nothing to distract himself from the pull he felt towards your blood.

‘If you want it, take it. I don’t want to see you be so strained over this. I don’t know what’s happening here at Magenta, but I know that you’re good. And kind.’ You were at his side, offering your hand to him. Initially, he tried to move his body away from your hand and cover his teeth again with his hand, but it was evident that he was growing more and more needy by the passing second. You tried to assure him that it was okay and reached out a slightly shaky hand to his cold cheek. ‘And I want to help you.’

After a few moments of tentative consideration, he took your offer. Ray watched your eyes as he held your finger in both of his hands, as though it was something fragile, delicate even. He hesitated before bringing it to his own lips, the thin line of dark red suddenly giving a burst of colour to his otherwise exceedingly white pallor. He gently took the blood that was already at the surface of your skin, closing his eyes as he did so, but you couldn’t decide whether it was out of shame or whether it was to savour the moment between the two of you. You gasped as you felt the sharpness of his teeth graze against your skin before he let the tip of them bite into your soft flesh, producing more of the red he was so desperately craving. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, but your heart was still racing, nonetheless. When he was done, he pressed a single, sorry kiss into the palm of your hand and apologised for hurting you, adding that he was undeserving of your pain as he wiped the rest of the blood away with a handkerchief out of his pocket.

‘I’d rather be hurt a thousand times over than for you to have to suffer even once…’ He whispered into the darkness of the garden. Not that he would feel bold enough to tell you, but Ray undeniably saw the poetry in tasting your blood. He’s ashamed of what he is, but he relished in the fact that you were willing to share such a vital piece of yourself with him like this. He entirely made a mental plan to carry the handkerchief with him at all times, as a token and reminder of this newfound connection with you.

Vampire! Suit Saeran Drabble 

Meeting Saeran was an experience unto itself, let alone processing the surprise you received in how differently he treated you and himself. Saeran doesn’t hide what he is in the same way that Ray did, he acts proud of it. A shining example of what Mint Eye could offer to people with the Elixir, but only if they were strong enough to deserve it. He’s the strongest Believer and the strongest Vampire produced from the Elixir, The Savior said it herself. She called him her ‘One True Offspring’. When you had asked what that meant, since Ray had never mentioned anything like that to you, Saeran had angrily snapped that firstly, he shouldn’t have to answer your questions and secondly, it meant that he had been turned using The Savior’s own blood in the Elixir given to him. That meant that he was special, and better than anyone else there. He repeated that a lot, but you were never quite who if he was saying that to you or to himself but he clearly made an attempt to believe it, at least for his own sake.

Saeran carried himself around Magenta so differently to Ray, you heard his footsteps from down the corridor when he wanted you to know to anticipate him and yet you never heard him when he suddenly appeared behind you. He was most definitely choosing when to make his presence known and when he wanted to startle you from standing silently around a corner. Saeran certainly disproved to you the lore that Vampires needed to be invited into rooms in order to gain entrance, as he came in whenever he pleased. He never hid his fangs either or tried to cover his ears either with his unkempt hair, if anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention that could be brought to them by smirking at you or asking if ‘you like what you see, Princess?’ You could feel the anger in his voice, he was practically dripping with a rage that he did not know how to release properly. It weighed on his shoulders, and somehow seemed to push him in on himself to the point where he was constantly forcing himself to stand taller, to be louder so that he would not be entirely consumed by it. The atmosphere he carried was tense, to say the least. It seemed to make him paler. Saeran’s dark undereyes were no longer something a simple goodnight sleep could fix; they were almost bruises of their own. Purple, sunken.

While he was not lacking for blood in the same way that Ray had suffered without, it appeared that Saeran was overworking himself to the point that the added sustenance did little to actually aid him, so he kept on coming back for more and more each time. He appeared at any hour of the day or night, which suggested that he was no longer really sleeping, or if he was he was only sleeping for very short amounts of time, and it was really showing him his face. You were sure his appearance must have sat somewhere between Dorian Gray and his portrait, beautiful yet rotting. The way he felt on the inside was slowly, yet surely, manifesting itself. He was so capable of kindness, and yet he never allowed himself to admit to it. If Saeran didn’t have his cruelty, he didn’t have anything. He needed to hold onto it to hold himself together as the Persecutor.

His kisses were rougher too, leaving your lips feeling puffy, tender, and always breathless. He seemed to thrive on the fact he could make you feel so weak, as though it was precisely your weakness that gave him the strength he needed to carry on this strained life he led. He’d sneak up behind you frequently, with the confidence that Ray never quite found, and bury his face into the side of your neck, running rough kisses along it until you sigh against him from the touch, not even bothering to move your hair out of the way as he did so. Even as he kissed you like this, he’d taunt you for enjoying his touch so much in comparison to Ray, who barely ‘had the guts’ to touch you freely. Saeran would lift up your finger to show him the tiny bite impressions that Ray had originally left, only to have Saeran go over them more harshly with his own bite, before moving back up to your throat.

He dragged his fangs along the thin skin of your neck, so you knew it was coming, before promptly biting you. He doesn’t try to be delicate like Ray, and he’s more likely to take too much blood and leave you feeling woozy. He’ll take as much blood as he wants, really. Once you inevitably faint in his arms, he’d usually carry you back and placed you on the bed, but only so he can reprimand you for being such a burden to him. He’d never admit to anything else, especially not to feeling bad about pushing you to your limit.

‘Heh… Don’t look so happy with yourself, your blood tastes like shit anyway. I should go and find someone better, someone sweeter.’ He smirked before laughing, his eyes alive with a frantic excitement. He still had a small steak of blood running down his lips and onto his chin, which he promptly wiped away onto his black suit sleeve without releasing you from his unwavering gaze.

There were times when he’d suddenly stop laughing and looked at his blood-covered hand in disgust, before dragging that same gaze over towards you. He’d look at the redness on his hands and try to wipe it away, even after it dried and would not budge without soap and water. Saeran would still furiously rub his skin against the fabric of his clothes in a vain attempt to wipe his slate clean. You were never able to decipher what Saeran felt in the moment that he decided that ‘play time’ was over, but he never seemed happy about the outcome of the collision the two of you had found yourselves in, even when he was the one that instigated it. He’d half-assedly throw a bag of food from the kitchen at you, telling you that you ought to be grateful for having such a kind master for feeding you, before promptly turning on his heels to leave and slamming the door shut.

He was complicated, that was for sure.

 Vampire! GE Saeran Drabble 

Saeran had been through so much, and yet he was coming out stronger and stronger from it each day. He had a lot to process, about himself, the things that had happened to him and the things that he has done to other people, especially to you. Saeran had a difficult time accepting the he hurt you. He understands that he did it and he has accepted the fact that he did it, but somehow his heart never wanted to believe it. No matter how many times you told him he needed to forgive himself for it, Saeran knew that he never could.

He tried to make it up to you in every way that he could think of. He was so loving, so caring. He always served your food first, gave you extra helpings and always made dessert for afterwards. His food was always so well made, filled with all the vitamins and minerals that your body could have possibly needed and always tasted like he had been cooking his whole life. He’d even try to feed you the last few bites if you’d let him, just to make sure that you’d gotten enough food. It’s sweet, and he does it out of care, but there’s a part of Saeran that does it because he feels as though he needs to make amends to your body for the way he treated it.

He’s not keen on drinking your blood, he feels as though he’s taking advantage of you and doesn’t enjoy the fact that he has to hurt you to be able to do it. He’d looked into alternatives that he could try, such as blood banks or from animals, just any means of supply that didn’t involve hurting you. It didn’t work out very well and in the end it started to do him more harm than good, so he usually just tried to wait for as long as he can in between biting you. And even then, he waits for you to offer because he doesn’t want to pressure you into giving up so sacred for him, Saeran would much rather have himself suffer than to make you feel any sort of uneasy around him.

He was a lot more considerate and knowledgeable about the outside world nowadays, and would look into various ways of making it less painful for you: the most effective one to date being numbing creams. He’s not a fan of the chemical taste of the cream in his mouth, but he would happily deal with it if it was for your sake. While he did still have a preference for your neck, because it felt a little bit more romantic to him, Saeran would always give you the choice on where you wanted him to bite. He knows it’s not his body to dictate, and if anything, he actually wants you to put some more of your own rules in place about it. He’d be more than happy if you wanted him to do it somewhere less visible so that you could hide it from people. As long as you weren’t hiding your actual relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind. He’s very understanding of the fact that sometimes it is a little awkward to have marks like that in public and that you didn’t want to answer questions from strangers all of the time.

He was very gentle with it, making sure to apply the numbing cream beforehand and to avoid any particularly sensitive spots while never biting too deep. Saeran never took more than what was absolutely necessary either, even if you told him that it was okay to do it. You figured that he always remembered the time that Saeran would make you faint after taking too much blood, and that it must weigh on his consciousness heavily. Telling him to take more than the bottom-line wasn’t something you frequently told him to do though, since you already knew he was restraining himself and trying to put some boundaries in place for your own protection, so you didn’t want to push him. He cleaned the area after drinking from it and pressed a little patterned band-aid onto it and sealed it with a kiss, just for good measure. It really didn’t sit right with him that he had to hurt you like this so he tried to make amends for it wherever he could.

He always wiped his mouth before he kissed you, since he thought it would be rather cruel to make you taste the blood that you had just willingly offered up to him. You’d find the taste unpleasant anyway, even if Saeran enjoyed it. Saeran was rather poetic at the best of times, but it was especially true when he was feeling a little bit drunk off of your love (and blood). If you ever asked him what your blood tasted like, he’d write you a verbal essay on how sweet it is. It’s intoxicating to him and it always had been, even when he was both Ray and Saeran. The two of them were so confused by their sudden feelings and this undeniable pull towards you that neither could escape from. If you let him, he’ll probably even get a little bit cliché with how he feels like he’s reached some form of enlightenment by your blood being the thing that can kept him alive, along with how he can feel your love beating through his veins and giving him strength. Sometimes you can’t help but cringe at some of the things that Saeran says, but he means it in such a sweet way that you find it even more affectionate.

In times like this, Saeran was so adorable and kind-hearted. He generally felt a bit bad about himself, since he knows that he can’t ever become a human again as a result of his time in Mint Eye, so you have to make the extra effort to love him in this moment. You cupped his face with both of your hands and told him how precious he was to you and that he is, and always will be, the most important thing in your life.

Vampire! Unknown Drabble

There were no words that allowed you to accurately describe Unknown. He was exactly that. You never quite knew what he was thinking and for the most part he definitely relished in that fact. His actions were unpredictable, and he barely seemed to keep a routine for too long, lest someone figured it out and learned to predict his moves. Everyone walked on eggshells around him out of fear and uncertainty, and he seemed to enjoy it. He found it humorous, even. He enjoyed taking you by surprise in particular, it was his main form of entertainment. You were a toy for him to play with when he got bored.

He was sort of what you expected a modern-day vampire to be, look-wise and attitude-wise. His attire was certainly a change. It felt as though he was trying to actively reflect the anguish he felt within, but at the same time, it was an external threat. A threat that if you got too close to him, you’d be in danger of getting hurt yourself. The spikes were enough to ensure that, even if Unknown wasn’t. He reminded you of Saeran, but you could tell that there was a stark difference between the two of them. Unknown rarely displayed anger in the same way that Saeran did, it was certainly there, but it wasn’t as explosive. Sometimes it was cold, warped, and vindictive underneath layers of you weren’t sure what. Like Saeran, he made little attempt to hide his fangs or ears, but he didn’t necessarily show them off unless he was actively trying to taunt someone. It was more as though he didn’t care about them until they were of use to him. At which point, he’d smirk and release the sharpened canines: a spark of excitement in his eyes inviting you closer, to dare test him.

When he wanted to feed from you, he’d summon you to wherever he is rather than coming to see you himself. After all, you were a failed experiment who couldn’t even do your job of talking to the RFA correctly; being an assistant was the best job you’d be able to manage, so he told you that you ought to be grateful for it especially since Magenta wasn’t in the habit of keeping ‘useless’ things around for very long.

He was usually desperate when he called for you because of the long hours he forced his body to endure, even throughout the daytime when he’d naturally be sleeping. He entirely believed that because he’s strong, he wasn’t allowed to feel anything except for that strength, so he had to keep himself at the same standard of work every single day in order to maintain it. He’d burn the candle at both ends and then continue trying to light the wick. When you thought of him, there was always one particular instance that came to mind when he had no choice but to display an element of weakness to you, and it enraged him. He had been out on a recon mission for The Savior and had over-exerted himself in the process, sustaining an injury. He had crashed into your room afterwards, panting and holding onto his bleeding wound, drinking enough blood in one go that he’d made you  back onto your bed with light-headedness. He hadn’t done that since, and rarely pushed you past that point, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to dance with the limit of it. He’d say it was because he preferred to tease you with it, to savour what belonged to him, even though you knew it wasn’t his only reason for taking it slow.

How he bit you depended on what mood he was in, but his typical go-to is to have you sitting on his lap while he’s at his desk and facing him so that he can pull you towards him by your hips, making sure that your collarbones are already level with his mouth. He shouldn’t have to do any of the work, he wanted you already in position for him.

Unknown’s hands were roughly on your shoulders, both pulling you towards him and holding you steady. He bites first, kissed later. There’s little warning to feeling his teeth, except for the second or so beforehand where you feel his hot breath fan over you, just before you feel the sharp break of that skin underneath. Sometimes he’d hover for a few seconds longer than usual because he sought the thrill of you not knowing when the pain was coming. He has a preference for the neck and collarbones, not that he’d never explain why to you but, simply, he doesn’t think he should have to anyway. You’d have laughed at the cliché nature of it, but you’d rather he kept it to the same area instead of spreading it all over your body. That being said, he had bitten your thighs a couple of times when your neck had been a little too sore for him to drink from there, when the skin needed time to heal.

Unknown swapped between biting and kissing at your neck, making his way up towards your mouth to continue the blood-tinted kiss there. Each time you tasted the metallic tinge on your tongue, it left your breathless, but not as much as the bite he’d leave on your lower lip did. You wouldn’t admit it to Unknown, but those kisses were some of your favourites that you had shared with him.

Not only did he leave your skin with actual bites, but he made point of littering your throat with lovebites each time too. As though the real bites weren’t enough for him, Unknown always had to go one step further with his act of possession over you. It was a cocky game, in his own mind, he needed to show that you were his and that no other Believer was permitted to look at you in the same that that he did.

When he was done and needed the wipe the blood away from his face, he’d wipe it straight onto the back of his hand. He’d make no effort to properly clean it until he went to wash his hands, it didn’t seem to bother him.

 Vampire! Savior Saeran Drabble 

It’s ironic, to Saeran, that crosses and biblical imagery did nothing to inhibit a Vampire, especially considering how linked the two aesthetics were. They truly went hand in damned hand. Mint Eye had always been steeped in Catholicism, as it was the core religion of the previous Savior, but as Saeran was forced to take the throne, he had not made any changes to those principles. He had been taught to instil and swallow those same beliefs in himself as they had been handed to him, even if they were not truly his own. He had been prepared in such a way that he would be able to take over Mint Eye when he had truly reached the peak of his strength and was intended to forge a new way for the organisation.

You had been bathed, dressed, and summoned to the throne room, where many Believers and the Savior in question were already gathered. You’d heard whispers that you were going to be cleansed, but the atmosphere you found yourself in did not seem to fit the one you associated with a cleansing. However, The Savior had yet to conduct a ceremony of his own since taking the throne and you started to fear that, perhaps, you were to be the leading spectacle. You walked between the Believers, as you were told to kneel before Saeran.

He was so lifeless in comparison to the Saerans you had once encountered before him. He was so sad, empty. At the very least, Ray’s melancholy had an element of hope to it, but as The New Savior stood before you, there was little more than a shell of the man that you had come to know. Your interaction with him was limited, but it was so plainly obvious to you that he was just being used as a pawn, a pawn in disguise of the King. It seemed distinctly sacrilegious to have a vampire dressed in religious garments, but you supposed that Saeran had probably not received a choice in either of those matters.

Another Believer came up from behind you and asked for your wrist, which he then wiped over with disinfectant fluid before presenting it to The Savior. Saeran reached out his hand to grab your arm, pulling it towards him. He was silent as his teeth suddenly found their way into your wrist, but he barely took more than a small mouthful of blood. Even with your arm in his grasp, Saeran said nothing and continued to just plainly stare ahead into the masses, occasionally throwing glances in your direction.

‘Are you ready for the next initiation step?’ He asked. You could still see your blood in his mouth, the thin line of red providing a stark colour contrast to the rest of his chilly pallor.

‘Yes.’ You replied.

Once done, he turned and pushed the red Elixir bottle towards you, tilting it into your open mouth. It was lukewarm and overwhelmed all of your senses with the metallic taste of blood and chemicals. It burned. Tasting blood like this felt so wrong. You felt it fill your mouth and you forced it down your throat swallow, gasping for air as soon as it passed. Was that… his blood? In the same way that he had been given his Savior’s blood?

You were asked to stand as Saeran took another step towards you. You tried to watch his eyes, looking for any hint of the life that Ray and Saeran had once brought to them, but The Savior in front of you had clearly managed to subdue that hope. Or rather, he had been forced and conditioned to abandon it.

Almost sombrely, he pressed a small kiss against your lips; causing you to once again receive a fresh taste of blood. Except this time, it was the remnants of your own that had been left on his own tongue. There was little free affection in his kiss, and it appeared to be more about the process of the initiation rather than anything to do with kindness or tenderness. It only lasted for a second or so and was nothing intimate, ending almost as soon as it had begun. He pulled away first, placing the bottle that he had been previously holding back onto the throne room altar.

You were hugely aware of the fact that you were still being watched by an entire room of people and felt so exposed, so seen. It was uncomfortable to have to wait there for it to be over when you would have much rather have had this be a private affair: not that you had been warned in advance anyway.

He pressed his bloody lips against your forehead, leaving a red stain against your skin. Saeran then reached a cold hand towards your face, dragging his thumb across the bloody kissmark and smearing it into the shape of an eye. A baptism.

Vampire! SE Saeran Drabble

He was trying. Saeran was really trying. Being around people was difficult, well, everything was a little difficult for him. It was taking all of his energy to adjust and process things, so you rarely saw him during the day. He was always pretty low energy and spent the majority of his time asleep or alone, with you only ever really catching glimpses of him at night. You guessed that it was at least a good thing that he was catching up on the sleep that he had deprived himself of for so many years, even if it meant you rarely got to see him.

Saeran didn’t really talk to anyone anyway, only you and his brother. That is, whenever he can be bothered to talk to Saeyoung as he often complained that he’s too tired for conversation. He usually didn’t have the energy to talk to his brother that much because of how hyperactive the other was. Saeyoung understands that Saeran needs time, even if it hurt him to not be able to pull his brother close after all of those years apart. Irreparable damage had been done where they would need years to repair it. There were even a few tense moments where Saeran had thought that Saeyoung was taunting him, or not trusting him, by wearing his crucifix necklace. Of course, his brother tried to explain that that was not the case and that Saeran wasn’t affected by religious symbols anyway, but it still seemed to annoy him. Eventually, Saeyoung stopped wearing his necklace and kept it in a drawer next to his bed, feeling as though the faith he believed in was probably redundant now that he knew how it had been tainted by the people he trusted.

Saeyoung had offered to let Saeran drink his blood before, as a way of making reparations to his twin, but Saeran flat out denied it: saying it would be disgusting to drink from him. He also threw in the comment that Saeyoung’s blood would taste ‘like shit’ because of his diet anyway, which was entirely understandable. Neither of you could fault Saeran for that.

Saeran felt rather conflicted and tentative about drinking your blood, often feeling pangs of guilt for how he previously treated you as Unknown. He often waited right up until he was pretty desperate before letting on that he was in need, and you’d have to realise on your own that his tiredness was not just coming from social exhaustion. He probably wouldn’t ask, so you’d have to offer.

When it happened, it usually happened in the same way with Saeran turning you around so that your back was facing him and you couldn’t look at him. He already felt some sort of way about biting you in the first place so the last thing he wanted was to have to look into your eyes as he did it. He felt more comfortable like this, and he felt as though he could take his time rationalising it a bit more when he wasn’t being watched. ‘Don’t turn around.’ He said tiredly. He sighed, clearly feeling a little awkward but not wanting to rush into it. It would be in this moment where he thought about how roughly he used to do it to you and wonder where he had gotten that confidence from. Truly, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Saeran placed his hands onto your shoulders, pausing right above where he was going to bite for a few seconds, letting his hot breath fan over you until he finally broke the skin. He wasn’t as rough as he used to be, and it was quite obvious how much he had been restraining himself by how quickly he drank. ‘Sorry.’ He whispered under the wight of the guilt. He always sounded like he was crying when he did this, even if you didn’t see any tears fall. You placed your hand on top of his own just to let him know that it was okay. Saeran wasn’t one for words, so he appreciated the support even if he didn’t tell you that directly.

He sat behind you for a few moments while he calmed down, his thumbs ever so slightly rubbing circles into your shoulders; a rare sign of intimacy from him. He doesn’t kiss you in that moment for a number of reasons. He felt parasitic, and he didn’t want to tie that emotion to affection. And yet, undeniably because he doesn’t want you to see him for what he is. Saeran carries a lot of shame, especially when he’s feeling so vulnerable as he does when he’s in that state. He wiped the blood from his lips onto the back of his sleeve, but would change his jumper shortly afterwards because it made him feel dirty to even look at. Saeran didn’t want to sit with your blood on him, that was cruel to the both of you.

You’d often find that he’d leave you a little gift the next day but would claim to not have any knowledge of it. It was always a little thing that only he would think to bring you, such a small flower from the garden or one of his snacks out of the kitchen.

[attllhak]

Flora’s Musings

So, here’s the WingAU fic I mentioned. It’s the first one I wrote and features the fun trope of “The Unreliable Narrator That Is History”, which I had a lot of fun with.

I, don’t have a tag list for this AU at this point. So, this part is just my preamble I guess. So, preamble over, here’s the fic.

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Zelda ran her fingertips between her shoulder blades. She tried not to think about what wasn’t there.

Her wings would come in, she hoped, no she knew they would. They had to. As the princess fated to stop Calamity Ganon it was her duty to unlock her sealing powers, face him, and earn her wings.

It was why she was down here now, in the hidden and secret library they’d excavated. No one cared about this area of the castle, but Zelda loved it there. It was so full of knowledge, and there were records about the Queens and Princesses of the past, ones who had wings themselves.

It was certainly a good excuse to hide down there and do research.

There weren’t many documents on the founders of Hyrule, but she’d translated a few of the ancient texts and had learned much. Apparently her powers came from the fact she was descended from Hylia herself! There were exactly three paintings of her down there, and all of them were old and weathered. Two, one of her alone and one next to her husband, the first King of Hyrule, who was holding the Master Sword, his own wings giving him away as the first of Link’s incarnations, were so old almost all of the colour was gone. The last one, however, had been tucked into a book and, protected from the elements, retained some of its colour.

The goddess reborn had gold wings, bright and shining and as beautiful as everyone expected them to be. Her Hero, however, had red wings, a bright crimson with soft gold flight feathers. What was more, this painting seemed to depict them in their downtime, the goddess still dressed up and all, but leaning over the edge of her throne. Her Hero sat on the dias and leaned against the throne, and was messing with something in his hands that the goddess seemed to be watching, though age obscured what it was. It was entirely unprofessional and sweet, and it made Zelda happy. It made them seem less like untouchable figures of pure good and more like real people. She liked that they were people too.

There was only one picture of the next Queen, and it was so old and weathered that Zelda was scared to touch it lest it crumble into dust. This queen had smaller wings, though Zelda couldn’t tell what colour they were supposed to be. Her Hero was there too, and he had four wings, and Zelda couldn’t be sure but it almost seemed like each wing was a different colour. She couldn’t find any other record of these two, and so she’d taken a picture of the image on the Sheikah Slate to preserve it. This painting was important.

One of the Queens came from the point in history called the Split, a strange period of several thousand years where very different events happened at the same time. They had, through the records in the castle libraries and the temples across Hyrule, figured out this Queen had lived three different recorded lives. Regardless, she always looked the same, or similar at least, in all of her lives. She was a warrior, and her wings, indigo and white and flecked with gold, were always held in a way that showed pride.

Her Hero wasn’t always with her, in two of her lifetimes she ruled alone. In one of them, her Hero had died trying to fight Ganon, and was buried with wings wrapped about him, as was traditional for Heroes and their Queens. The Queen had been Princess then, the books say, and was only 17. I made Zelda uneasy, Link had turned 17 just a few months ago, and her 17th birthday was fast approaching. To think the Hero of Time could die at 17 made her worried for her own Hero. The next of the two he just, wasn’t there. There was no record of the Hero after he defeated Ganon, he just vanished without a trace. Zelda still wanted to know why. The last life gave the most information on the Hero, but he wasn’t listed as a Hero at all. There was no fight in this life, just peace and a failed arrest. As far as historians could tell, this was the most accurate life of hers, but Zelda wasn’t so sure. After all, she and the head of her Royal Guard both had wings. Something had to have happened. These were the only records of the Hero of Time where his wings were visible. A beautiful metallic copper, with darker bronze flight feathers. He seemed to keep them close to his body, like he didn’t want anyone to pay attention to him or them. He apparently married a farm girl in this life.

There were different heirs in each of these lives. For the first life the Queen was a fighter, one with all kinds of magic at her fingertips. Her wings were pink and red, and when she spread them a little bit of gold could be seen at the base of them. This was a Queen who never shied away from the many, many issues her people faced. And many issues there were, records argued whether the number of quests her Hero went on was five or six or twelve. He seemed grumpy in every painting, but after seven-ish quests Zelda would be too. His wings were pink, a million different shades at once. He also seemed to prefer long tunics or dresses to pants. Apparently he didn’t like pants.

After them came a pair of Queens. Zelda initially thought they were cousins, but apparently one was the other’s ancestor, as bizarre as that was. Only one of the two had wings, a soft amber or honey colour, a safe, warm brown. The Princess didn’t have wings, but was no less important if the records and paintings were to be believed. Their Hero didn’t look like much, but his wings, a deep, dark green with earthy brown flight feathers, told of his heroics enough that his looks didn’t have to. Records said he married the Princess, but they never had children, instead helping the Queen raise her bastard twins as a group. Zelda wondered if perhaps the three had all been together, so to speak, and the twins were actually his.

In the second life, there was only one heir, a woman who was named ‘Tetra’ and not Zelda. Her wings were blue, with red separating the blue from gold flight feathers. It was a beautiful colour. Her Hero was usually pictured at her side, his silver tipped sea foam green feathers shining next to her. Those two were always painted outside, and usually on a boat of some kind.

Following the timeline that was decided to be ‘true’, the Queen following the Queen of Three Lives was her great-granddaughter. Her wings, sleek and graceful, were solid black save for the lowest layer of feathers, which was a soft golden-orange colour. Her Hero was hardly ever at her side, history said he spent most of his time in his home village or on assignments for the Queen. Zelda didn’t know if they didn’t get along, or if he hated the city and castle, or why it was that he was never around his Queen, but there was only one painting of him next to her. His wings were big, wide and strong, a range of soft oranges with a rare black feather scattered across them. He also wore a strange charm on a rope around his neck, but no one seemed to know what it was.

The only other Queen, save for the one from 10 000 years ago, was one with a story so outlandish that historians debated on whether or not she was real. She always held a sword or bow in hand, and her wings were either spread for flight or held in close for combat. They were gold, with white flight feathers that seemed to go indigo at the base of each feather. Black flecked the gold, making it obvious she was a fighter. Her Hero was always with her, his wings out behind him, flared up in a show of pride or confidence, a rallying cry for his troops. They fought in a war, so the records claimed. His wings were gold, shiny silver spots scattered over his wings, not dissimilar to the stars in the sky, that made his wings look like they glittered. He was beautiful, as was his Queen, and it was clear that the two were very close.

There weren’t any records on the wings of the Queen 10 000 years ago, nor her Hero, and Zelda didn’t know why that was. Perhaps those records were lost when the Sheikah split. It was unlikely she would ever know.

Zelda didn’t know when her wings would come in, and some days she feared they never would. It was a comfort at least that Link’s wings hadn’t come in yet either.

He found her a few hours later, bringing her a blanket and some food. He sat with her and politely signed a request for her to read to him. They read all through the night, and Impa found them the next morning, Zelda leaned over the desk with her head on her arms and Link leaning on the side of her desk, head tilted back and drooling. She left them there.

When the Calamity hit and she didn’t get her wings she felt like such a failure, especially since Link’s wings had just broken skin a few moments ago, greyish brown wings that were still all fluff coming through the slits in his tunic designed to accommodate them.

She sat next to him in the Shrine of Resurrection, just before they sealed it. His wings were still small, they had never had the chance to come in fully before he fell. She reached over and brushed hair from his face, watching his relaxed features and ignoring the burns on the rest of his body.

“Don’t worry, Link,” she whispered. “I’ll make sure they’re all safe until you wake up,”

She marched on the castle then, staring down the Calamity and ready to give everything she had to keep him at bay.

She reached forward, holding her hand out to the monster and ready to fight. She could feel the triforce on her hand burn in response, her body spilling a radiant golden light. The monster dove for her, and she held her ground, eyes open and ready to stand and fight.

A push on her shoulders, then the pressure bursting and wings spread out behind her.

Blue and white feathers sat on the ground where she was moments before.

(---)

Link stepped into the castle, tiny wings fluffed up in anxiety and nerves making them quiver. He paused as he moved towards the heart, lifting one foot.

Under his boot, was a pair of blue and white feathers, perfectly preserved from when they fell there 100 years before.

[cj-sparkss]

blue butterfly -

request | Hii! Can I ask for a request, where the reader is childhood friends with eren, mikasa and armin and has been in love with eren for awhile, but she had a feeling that mikasa also had feelings for him, so she kinda ignored her feelings (reader's kinda a nonchalant and calm person so not many people are able to read her emotions?) not knowing that eren also had feelings for the reader. Then somehow Mikasa found out about reader's feelings and had a conversation with eren and *poof* some fluffy confession from eren or something.😅😅Btw i love every single one of your fanfics and I am so glad I found your account. Arigato!!❤

eren’s masterlist:

a/n | this was a great idea! lol i don’t really know what i did here but i hope u like it! warnings | none. category | fluff wc | 3.1k+ pairing | eren jeager & gn!reader

the soft breeze blows away in the background, ruffling the virescent and tattered leaves on the old bark wooded tree. the jays are chirping their famous musical songs from the sky, the golden sun shining upon the grassy field below. 

“hey, look at this!” the golden-haired boy softly nudges your side with his book, bringing your attention back to him. he scoots closer to you, close enough so that you can clearly be able to see the book set in his hands. with a slender finger, he points to a certain image on the page, the paper noticeably old and worn out, slightly a yellowish-brown, the corners of the material curling up and inwards. 

looking down to where his pointer finger is directing to, you see a black and white photograph of a peculiar insect. you tilt your head, as if changing your perspective would help you understand it better.

it’s... a butterfly? but this one is different. the wings almost look like they have fur, the antennas white and black, almost flawlessly painted in stripes, as if manmade. 

“armin, what is this?” you lift your head to look at the boy, a puzzled expression on your face, but also a curious one, eyes pleading for him to tell you more.

armin looks at you with those bright blue orbs, eyes filled with flaming wonder and excitement, painfully happy that you want to know more about what he’s showing you. “well you see, this is the-“

“armin!”

the both of you snap your heads in the direction of the voice. walking across the grassy area are mikasa and eren, eren being the one to call out armin’s name. he’s is waving his hand, a bright toothed smile plastered on his face. mikasa is beside him, a tiny smile on her face as well. 

“hey guys!” armin gleefully waves his hand at the duo, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. mikasa and eren trot closer to the both of you, taking a seat across from you and armin on the grass. eren sits back in front of you, stretching his legs out to the side, extending his arms behind him to hold himself up, while mikasa sits cross-legged in front of armin. 

a soft breeze blows over you guys. eren’s gaze wanders to yours, and he smiles softly at you, turquoise orbs glowing. “hi.” 

you smile back. “hi.” 

“what are you looking at?” mikasa asks, curiously gazing at the thick book in armin’s hands. 

“oh, this!” armin beams, setting the book down on the grass in the middle of the four of you, the page still set on the mysterious butterfly he was showing you earlier. once again, he points to the image on the page, circling it. “i was going through it earlier, and i stumbled across this page. it’s a butterfly.” 

“it looks interesting.” eren points out, tilting his head to the side. you and mikasa nod your heads in agreement. 

“well, that’s because it is.” armin looks up, eyes glancing over each of your faces before pointing directly at the butterfly.

“you see, it’s called palos verdes blue.” he positions his pointer finger on the wings. “it’s wings are fuzzy, they look brown when they flutter closed. but when they are open, it’s a mesmerizing shade of blue, almost silver. it’s one of the rarest butterflies in the world. unique” 

“wow”, you mumble under your breath. besides the photo not being in color, you can see its beauty simply through the page.

you’ve always been a sucker for armin’s new findings, you find them almost as fascinating as he does. 

“it’s beautiful.” mikasa says. 

“it is.” eren seconds. 

you all sit in silence, admiring the picture, and simply just the world around you.

you glance over at eren, who is now looking up into the sky. his eyes are lost in deep thought, brows furrowed together, plush pink lips slightly parted.

you look at the way the breeze slightly blows his brown hair, length ending slightly below his jawline. you look at the way his emerald orbs shine brightly in the sunlight, and how his eyes seem to remind you of the butterfly armin has described. they're both beautiful. 

and you once again come to a realization, one that you have come to many times before. you’re in love with eren. and every day since you were children, you seem to fall even deeper. 

you turn your head, and then what you see makes your stomach sickeningly churn. mikasa is also staring at him. and the look in her eyes — you get the same one too — you think it’s more than just a look of fondness. 

you have gotten this feeling before. when you see eren and mikasa a little too close together, when you see the stolen glances from across the room that no one else noticed, you can’t help but feel… jealous? 

is that it? maybe. probably. but you’ve never shown it. at least, you thought you did.

but over time, armin has seemed to notice. he noticed when you stared at eren for a little while longer than you should have, noticed how you always seemed to stumble over your words when he got too close, despite the years of friendship. noticed how you cared about him, in a way different from how normal “best friends” would care about him. 

and yes. you have thought about confessing. many, many times in fact. but anytime that you would get the stomach to confess, you looked to the side, and mikasa was there. right next to him. always. 

you don’t blame her. if you could, you would get close to eren as much as you could too. you just wish you were in her position, taking care of him when he got hurt, the one to fuss over him whenever something bad happened. 

you’re pretty sure she loves eren too, maybe even more than you do.

so you decided to ignore your feelings. ignore the way your stomach seems to twist and turn whenever he gets a little too close to you, ignore the way your heart sped up when you two happened to touch for a few moments. ignore the way you longed to kiss his lips every time he spoke.

you assumed it was just for the best. 

but mikasa on the other hand, seemed to notice the way eren would be staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. she noticed the way he always seemed to end up next to you, trying to get as close to you as he could. the way his head always seemed to shoot up when your name was mentioned in a conversation, and the way he had a light blush on his face whenever you gave him one of your bright smiles. 

she noticed the way he always seemed to be happier around you, even if it was just the subtle hints. the brighter smile on his face when you were around him, the chirpier moods when he knew he was going to see you soon.

she also saw you, the way you endlessly pined after him, subtle but not. mikasa saw it all. 

and when she saw this, she was happy.

you weren’t wrong, she does love eren. but not in the particular way you think, she loved him like family. and as his family, and yours as well, mikasa wanted nothing more for you guys to be happy, together. 

and so a plan was formed. 

“hey armin, could i talk to you for a moment?” mikasa asks, motioning her head behind her while placing her hands against the ground to push herself up.

armin looks up from the bug he was admiring on the ground, nodding his head. “oh, uh, sure.” he pulls himself up, following after her. 

you furrow your eyebrows. that seemed a little secretive, calling only him out like that. 

“we’ll be right back.” mikasa says, walking away to the distance, armin trailing close behind her.

you wonder what they’re doing, but you're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear shuffling beside you, and then a body plops down on the grass next to you, taking armin’s previous spot. 

“hey.” 

“oh, hi eren.” 

he smiles softly at you, scooting a little closer to your body. gently, he rests his head on your shoulder, leaning into your neck. “how was your day?”

you stiffen at the sudden contact. the touches, the considerate words, it hurts to be so close to him, yet he so far.

sighing, you relax again, looking down at eren and reaching to brush’s a strand of hair out of his face. “it was okay, how was yours?”

“good, now that you’re here.”

you smile. always the charmer.

he continues, “what do you think they’re talking about?” 

you shrug your shoulders, eyes landing on their standing figures in the distance. “don’t know.”

“armin, we have to get them together already.” mikasa says, fidgeting with the red scarf laced around her neck.

“that’s what you wanted to talk about?” armin asks, tilting his head to the side with a quizzical look on his face. “i don’t really think we should get involved with that…” he trails off, blue eyes looking to the side.

“we have to”, she asserts. “this has been dragging on for too long. i’m tired of seeing eren mope around when they're not around.”

armin rubs the back of his neck, looking at mikasa with a hesitant gaze. “but, if we did, how would we even get them together?” 

“tonight.” she takes a step closer, placing one of her hands on his shoulder. “i have a plan.” 

armin raises an eyebrow. “a plan?” 

mikasa nods. “all i need is for you to tell them to go to the beach a little after sunset, when the moon’s out.” she gives him a pointed look, stepping to the side. “can you do that?” 

he sighs. “what exactly are you planning?” 

“i’m going to get eren to confess.”

“how?” 

“easy. i’m going to convince him until he complies.” 

she’s being awfully brief, and armin doesn't know if he should ask more information on this so-called ‘plan’, or just do what she says. 

he thinks. he wants the both of you to get together, to be happy. it’s about damn time in fact. so, if mikasa has a plan, it’s probably a good one. 

he takes a breath.

“i’ll do it.” 

“you’re going to confess. tonight.” 

“what do you mean i’m going to confess? what are you even talking about?” eren takes a step back, a light blush dusted across his cheeks. 

it’s almost dark out, the sun just about setting. eren and mikasa are by the same tree the four of you were at earlier. 

“you’re going to tell them your true feelings. you have to.” she sighs, closing the distance between her and eren once again. 

eren knows what she’s talking about. 

he shakes his head, a frown on his face. “i don’t think now is the time to confess. i should wait until-“

“no. if you don’t tell them now, i’m going to tell them for you.” 

eren panics, eyes widening in fear. “wha- mikasa, you can't do that!” 

“watch me.” her voice is strong, not faltering, not a single trace of a joke within. she’s being serious. 

he sighs, “but… what if they don’t feel the same way? we’ve been best friends for years, and this might ruin everythi-“

“eren.” mikasa places her arms on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “you shouldn’t be worrying about that. here… we never know when our last breath is going to be. don’t waste your time on the what if’s. just do it.” 

he looks back at her, registering her words in his brain. she’s right. he can’t waste more time. he shouldn’t. he loves you now. 

“how should i do it?”

“just say what you're truly feeling. as long as you can do that, you’re fine.”

eren takes a breath, softly placing his hands on her wrists, removing her hands from his shoulders. “when?” 

“when it’s dark out, at the beach. they’ll be there.” she gives him a small smile. that was easier than she thought. “good luck.”

you’re walking through the beach, feet touching the fine-grained sand. you gaze around, admiring the cerulean waves splashing quietly in the distance, the moon glowing from above in the sky. your mind wanders, and you wonder why armin had told you to come here tonight. he was being vague, and you don’t know what’s going on. 

stopping right in front of the water, you admire its beauty. the way the moon lights up the area, providing a dim source of light. how the stars are spread across the dark dome, white specs shining from above. you think back to the butterfly that armin was talking about. “palos verdes blue…” 

eren approaches the beach, and there you are, right in front of him. your back is turned to him, your front side facing the water. you seem to be heavily focused on the water, lost deep inside your own head. 

he takes a deep breath, his nerves beginning to rack over him. he thinks back to the years you both have spent together.

he doesn't recall any memories of you hinting that you might love him as more than just family. and if you did, he didn’t catch it. 

he sure does hope like hell though, that you might love him back. even if it’s just in the slightest. 

mustering up his remaining courage, he begins to walk over to you. 

you fail to hear the footsteps approaching you, still stuck in your thoughts. you don’t notice anything until eren is right next to you, standing tall as the wind blows his hair. 

“hey.” 

you turn to look at him, his gaze already set on you. 

you’re confused. why did armin tell you to come here tonight? and why is eren here? 

“hi eren.” you greet, a little skeptical. you turn so that you’re now facing him.

silently, you stare at his features, secretly admiring him. you look into his bright and bold turquoise eyes, still intense as ever. maybe even more this particular night. the dim moonlight is highlighting his skin, his soft brown hair shining.

you desperately fought the urge to reach out your hand and put them in his hair, to tangle your fingers in his locks, as you’ve always wanted to do.

eren stared back at you through thick eyelashes, heart hammering in his chest, he’s almost sure you could hear it.

he’s scared. scared that you might not feel the same way. scared to see your reaction to what is about to be his confession. but mikasa was right, he has to do it now. 

at this point, he’s certain his heart is going to beat out of his chest, but he has to take the chance.

you smile, tilting your head in confusion. “eren? what are you doing he-”

“i’m in love with you.” 

eren interrupts you in the middle of your sentence, greatly surprising you. you did a double-take.

did you hear that correctly? did he say that he’s in love with you? your brain is on fire, trying to decide if you heard those last words right.

“... what?”

he takes a step closer to you, closing most of the space between your bodies. he studies your facial expressions carefully, trying to decipher your reaction. 

“i’m in love with you. i have been for a while.” he pauses, taking another breath, emerald orbs never leaving your face. “since we were children, i’ve always admired you. how you’re always there for everyone, how you never hesitate to help someone, even if you need help yourself.”

you aren’t even aware that you left your mouth wide open, and eren takes your silence as a cue to continue on. 

‘just say what you’re truly feeling’ mikasa’s words ring around in his head. here goes nothing.

“your beautiful. so damn beautiful. amazing, kind. funny, smart. you have always been there for me, since i could remember. you never left my side. and you don’t know how happy i am to have you stand by me. you make me so happy. everyday. you make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me feel good about myself. you’re all i ever think about.”

wow. you don’t know what to feel.

all this time, you’ve been thinking that eren didn’t love you in the way you loved him. but he did.

“but, what about mikasa? is there really nothing going on between you two?” you look down, staring at your feet. 

“look at me.” eren steps closer to you, placing his hand underneath your chin, gently bringing your face up to look at his. “remember the butterfly armin was talking about?” 

you nod your head. 

“well, it reminds me of you. unique...”, he lowers his head.

“special…” his voice is down to a quiet whisper now, only to be heard by your ears. he brings his head down, the tip of his nose coming in contact with yours while his gaze moves down to your lips for a brief moment, before returning to your eyes. he’s so close to you now, his body heat radiating off of him, surrounding you in warmth. he continues. “beautiful…” 

his hot breath fans over your lips, as you look up at him with wide eyes, lips parted in anticipation. eren places one large hand on the side of your face, cupping your cheek. “can i?” he asks quietly. 

still unable to form any coherent words, you give a small nod, and eren takes notice of the action. 

without wasting a second, his plush lips connect to yours. his lips are sweet against yours, tasting and savoring every touch. after the initial shock wears off, you melt into the kiss, fluttering your eyes closed. he tilts his head to the side, deepening it. 

after years of just imagining what your lips taste like, eren finally got to feel them against his form himself.

happy, he smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

this is nice. 

after a few moments, you pull away to catch your breath, chest slightly rising up and down.

eren’s thankful that it’s dark out, or else you would have been able to see the intense blush on his cheeks.

he rests his forehead against yours, a lazy smile plasters on his face. “nothing is going on between mikasa and i.” he places a soft kiss on your lips once more. “i love you. always have, always will.” 

beaming, you tackle eren in an eager hug, resting your head against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat, beating erratically against your face.

the only thing you can hear is the faint splashes in the background, water bumping against the shore. 

“i’m in love with you too, eren.” 

and in that moment, it’s only the two of you against the world. 

“do you think it worked?” armin asks mikasa, bright blue eyes looking at her with wonder. 

mikasa nods, a small smile planted on her face. 

“i know it did.” 

[writingindulgence]

Illumi x F.Reader - Expectation

Pairing: Illumi x Female Reader

Story tags: Arranged marriage, typical Zoldyck behaviour, angst-ish, heavy manipulation, ILLUMI, unhealthy one-sided dependence : ) my guy just toxic

3,200+ words and why? I don’t even like the dude. Also, two points of view.

The sound of fancy porcelain tea cups clinking against the glass table is soothing, along with the warm rays shining on your face. Times like these are what you are thankful for. The smell of purposely picked flowers, arranged to please the eyes. Not the stench of trash dumped for the sole convenience of other countries. Colourful butterflies and bees, instead of flies and disease ridden rats. A home cooked meal ready for your consumption rather than scraps of rotting food that you more often than not nearly died for.

Kukuroo mountain is infinitely more beautiful compared to Meteor City.

“(Y/n) dear, it’s unbecoming of you to make noise with your tableware,” a powerful feminine voice chastates your mistake. The woman sitting opposite you is none other than Kikyo Zoldyck. Or as she forces you to call her, mother.

Your heart flutters in relief, an apologetic expression weaving onto your face. She must be in an agreeable mood since her fan hasn’t struck your hand. Sometimes you are let off with a warning if she spots a blunder on your part. Sometimes, she resorts to physical punishment. It always depends on whether or not a family member said anything to ruin her day. In fact, any matter concerning Killua will set her off in a positive or negative direction.

Just like Illumi whenever you bring up his younger brother.

“I apologise mother, I’m too excited because Illumi is returning,” you proceed to take a sip and this time around, gently settle the tea cup down.

A content hum comes from her direction, her visor flashing for a split second. “Oh (Y/n), you’ll make such a good wife one day.” She picks up a fork gracefully and stabs it into the cake she asked for from the family cook.

The compliment ignites a multitude of feelings in your chest. It spreads out, only one thought in your mind.

How immensely grateful and happy you are to hear it.

Many of your friends from when you were young, starved to death. Some were beaten up by other desperate residents. Others lost their will to fight, a state you threaded on a magnitude of times.

Being taken away by the mafia one day was what gave you back the spark, a life in the city no more out of your reach. Until you figured out what type of work they wanted to sell you and other kids for. Stories from the older girls back in Meteor City came rushing back.

Your bloodlust and instinct to survive are what happened to change your life for the better. Out of all the line-up of children, you were selected by the Zoldycks. Instead of being the pet of some old pervert, you found a home within the assassin family.

There were many times when you felt like giving up. When the training you went through was worse than simply dying. However, you promised yourself to never throw away the chance you received all those years back.

You were indebted to the Zoldycks.

Hearing words of encouragement from one of the people you looked up to the most brought tears to your eyes. You wiped them away with your thumb.

Mother is a role model to you. It helped when you found out that she originates from Meteor City too. In a sense, it is easier to place yourself in her shoes and strive to achieve what she did. Being an amazing assassin, wife and mother.

A sudden scraping of a chair brought you back to the presence, startling you into a defensive pose. The knife under your sundress clasped in your hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Kalluto coming out from behind the bushes, his paper fan also ready for action.

“My Kil, what is he doing?! Quick, we have to stop him. Kalluto go call for Milluki right now!,” she orders shrilly before running into the mansion.

Without hesitation, you rush after her. It is expected of you. A nagging feeling in the back of your head also foreshadows that whatever is going on, it will have dire consequences if not stopped.

Killua is in the foyer, being kept idle by the servants. But not for long. You can see the irritation growing on his face, his muscles tensed.

You’ve known Killua since he was a baby, having been inducted as a future family member when mother was pregnant with him. There’s no doubt that if something wasn’t done, it would lead to a messy aftermath.

A few seconds after you make it inside, Milluki shows up and the servants are all dismissed.

“Kil, my little Kil, what’s wrong? Why did I hear that you’re leaving to take the Hunter’s Exam?,” mother’s voice is aghast, the idea of her favourite child abandoning the nest filling her with pain.

You too are taken aback at the news, a protective sensation coursing through you. Your fingers flex at your side.

“It’s boring here and I heard that the Exam is difficult so I’m going to test my skill,” he shrugs her worry off and spins his skateboard. Your heart begins to pound uncontrollably.

Hearing the disrespect, Milluki steps up and lashes out at Killua. “You brat, what’s with that arrogant attitude you-,”

“Stop that!,” mother’s voice sharply cuts him down.

She begins pleading with Killua to stay, her voice cracking multiple times. It pains you to watch someone you respect growing so desperate.

Killua is too young to understand what he’s putting the ones around him through. Of course, a rebellious phase is healthy-

A prickly discomfort surges through your head and you clutch it. Your unexpected movement grabs everyone’s attention. You try to brush it off, not wishing to be a burden.

It isn’t expected of you to be one.

“Killua, you should stay here. The world is a dangerous place,” your words try to reach him. “Illumi is coming home today,  why don’t we-”,

“I don’t want him around! Just leave me alone,” he angrily interrupts. The air grows heavy. Heavier than it’s been since the beginning.

Mother gasps in shock at his behaviour since Killua never really yells at you. Yes, he gets annoyed as much as any other kid but when he shouts, he doesn’t really mean it.

It’s expected of you to coerce him into calming down.

“You’ve changed during the past few weeks (Y/n), after Illumi came back before leaving again. Anyway, I will kill you all if you try to stop me,” Killua promises in a cold voice, his blue eyes a piercing ice.

This rouses an onslaught of insults from Milluki and a mix of agony and happiness from mother.

However, you’re currently stuck in your own mind, reflecting on Killua’s comment. It is true that during the past three weeks you doted on him more than ever before. Usually you try to split your attention between him and Kalluto when you have free time. What changed?

Nothing should have changed, Killua is the priority of the family.

A high-pitched scream echoes around the foyer and your clouded head awakens. The sight in front of you freezes your blood and it takes immense strength not to bite your tongue.

Mother is kneeling down on the ground, her hands covering her bloody face. Before you can take a step, Milluki rages and charges at Killua. The young boy bounces back and proceeds to plunge the knife into his older brother. Milluki curses and grabs his wound.

On impulse, your hand is already equipped with a knife and you’re ready to protect yourself as well as mother Killua.

Killua mistakes your movements as an attack and strikes his own knife across your arm. A long gash appears on your skin, the blood seeping out moments later. You take in the pain as punishment. Punishment for letting it get this far and failing.

You’re a failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.

Taking the chance to escape, he kicks his skateboard up and runs out.

And you were helpless to stop him.

*

It’s been a while since Illumi has been back home on Kukuroo mountain, his previous mission requiring him to travel across multiple locations. The target was a cautious person so they moved from place to place, leaving lousy decoys. That did not impede Illumi at all, it was simply an inconvenience at worst.

After all, nervous-wrecks are the ones who put their emotions out on display. They are the first to slip up due to the fact that they care about others.

Which is concerning because Killua is at a stage where he is showing his rebellious streak more often. It is crucial that he can snuff it out before his dear brother falls further down the slope of idiotic fantasies . In which case, it is a slight relief that (Y/n) is here. She tries to keep Killua in check in a subtle way instead of hanging over his shoulder or perpetuating his moody behaviour.

Though the last time he visited there were hints of her growing soft and losing her devotion of raising Killua to be the next head of the family. He is ashamed to confess that it irked him to some degree. It’s expected of her to put her desires down for what he wants. And he wants Killua to be the next head.

Even so, he thought that he dealt with this the last time.

However, imagine the surprise he felt when his mother came wailing to him, begging him to follow her little Kil to the Hunter’s Exam. To think that instead of a joyful family reunion, the news of his stray younger brother reached his ears before anything else.

That won’t do.

Currently, it’s close to midnight which is the time (Y/n) comes to his room to say goodnight. Why she even bothers is beyond him. The effort of keeping up with formalities could be used for better activities. It’s already indisputable that they are arranged to marry in the future at the request of his parents, so there is no reason to be close together in any romantic sense.

In fact, Killua will succeed as the head which is why there is no point in thinking about his own future.

A sigh leaves his mouth.

There is only one positive outcome that came out of this whole arrangement. He has an extra set of eyes and he’s sure that she will listen to him without question. All he has to do is play into these formalities and she’s wrapped around his finger.

An affectionate hug here, a tiny smile there...Normally he’d be concerned that a future Zoldyck , even if not by blood, would be so easy to deceive. However, since every carefully planned step is coming from him he’s not surprised in the slightest.

It’s expected of (Y/n) to be loyal, just as much as it’s expected for Killua to take over the family business.

The wooden clock hanging opposite his bed strikes 12 but there is no sign of (Y/n). She never runs late.

The fact that she hadn’t even greeted him when he came back is also unusual. Normally she’d be pacing in front of the entrance door but today his mother took over that role. He heard that she got injured by Killua but (Y/n) has experienced worse so what’s the fuss?

It’s not his problem, he’ll just take a bath before bed. She’ll come running eventually.

~

Illumi’s right arm is beginning to grow numb. He hasn’t moved from the water in over an hour. Not because he needed a break to relax, taking time off for yourself is inefficient. No, he hasn’t moved because he’s been waiting for the familiar steps and hesitant knock to come from outside his room.

Discerning who someone is from the sound of their footsteps and how they carry themselves is second nature to any professional assassin. For instance, Milluki hovers in one spot when walking while Kalluto creates soft patters with his toes.

On the other hand, (Y/n) always shuffles her feet forward just before his door. It takes her approximately 2 seconds to knock when she’s unsure, 1 second when she’s in a normal mood and 0.5 whenever she has news deemed worthy enough for him to hear. Reading the mood of someone before they see you face to face is important.

Coming to terms with the fact that today she won’t pay him a visit, he steps out of the bathtub, water dripping down his naked body. He throws on a plain black bathrobe and leaves the bathroom. Giving his bed a quick-over, he walks out the door.

Guess it’s time for him to pay a visit instead.

If he actually bothers and gives it some thought, it’s not a mystery as to why he hasn’t even seen her shadow today. She’s ashamed. Ashamed of being a failure for letting Killua go.

Her scrambled mind is most likely trying to piece together what she should say. How she should ask for forgiveness and repent.

He wonders if she’s starving herself or if she’s contemplating about going to the self-confinement room.

Normally he’d push her into whatever she makes up but a stick approach by itself won’t be enough. There needs to be a push and pull factor involved if he wants her to listen to him unconditionally.

And what better way than to appear before her, disheveled and still wet in his robe? She’ll jump to conclusions.

Further guilt will set in, how she unnecessarily worried him by skipping the usual goodnight. His state will continue feeding her imagination, connecting unrelated dots to make her believe that he cares for her.

Truly, a puppet and its real master.

Soaking footprints follow behind him on the floor, the dim candlelight making them difficult to notice. He knocks once before letting himself in and shutting the door, back turned to the only other person inside.

A small gasp penetrates the silence and a rush of steps follow suit, stopping just behind him.

“Illumi, welcome back,” (Y/n) is the first to speak. He stays silent.

A nervous shuffle. “Is..everything okay?”.

The voice quietens downs the more she speaks. That should be enough for now.

He turns around and looks down at her concerned face, with no emotion of his own. Her eyes widen a fraction after registering his condition. Before she can open her mouth to question him further, Illumi crinkles his eyes and smiles.

“It’s nothing. I was just worried since I didn’t see you today,” he gazes away, giving her enough time to fix her expression. It’ll be harder for him to get her to open up if she thinks that he sees through her lack of control.

“I missed you too-,”

Presumptuous to think that he missed her.

“-and I’m sorry for not saying anything. I just…,” she stops right before confessing her shortcoming.

He doesn’t provide her with any more time to compose herself, a full day is already generous. Grabbing the door handle he gives it a slight tug but her hand shuts it and pulls his sleeve. That’s new. (Y/n) rarely takes the initiative.

He allows her to drag him over to the bed, slightly curious about her next move. Is she trying to entertain him as an apology or simply trying to put distance between him and the door?

Both tactics aren’t half bad when it comes to simple targets.

He sits down on the covers and analyses her.

A long white nightdress, face ready for bed, barefoot, and a long knife wound going up her arm.

A shred of pride for Killua’s work passes through his head but he doesn’t showcase this. If by any chance she spotted the look, it would demolish the picture he wants to paint.

(Y/n) kneels down in front of him and takes his hand into hers. It’s warm, though not as soft as it used to be. Her breasts rest atop his knees.

His attention migrates from the sudden action to her face, looking for answers. He made sure that she will only expect affection coming from him, not the other way around. It would be too tiring to keep up a loving demeanour- no, scratch that. It wouldn’t be tiring but the expectations would eventually rise and it would result in less time spent on bringing up Killua.

Oh, he zoned out.

(Y/n)’s eyes are full of regret and desperation, the hand holding his trembling just enough to tell him that today’s event is eating at her. Is she waiting for him to say something?

Finally after what feels like an unprecedented amount of time, the scene unfolds.

Her smaller hand pulls his to her face and rests it against her cheek. The second his skin touches hers, he detects slight heat radiating. She must have not treated the cut. The knife was probably dirty too, Killua slacks off in that regard.

“I’m sorry for being a failure, I’m very sorry Illumi. I have no excuse,” the apology flows out of her mouth, bottom lip quivering. The pain of looking at someone she disappointed forces her eyes to shut close. Her free hand latches onto his thigh and she digs in before continuing.

“You can slash my other arm as punishment. Or hang me upside down in the self-containment room,” she throws out. “But please, please don’t give up on me. I can do better Illumi”.

And as if to prove how determined she is, her eyes open up again, staring deeply into his own. Unwavering. Confident.

Though the thumb that he has under her jaw gave the hammering pulse away.

1,2,3. 1,2. 1,2,3.

He stretched out the silence, pretending to ponder over his answer. The unsettling emotions influencing her thoughts will prove beneficial when he flips her assumption around.

He removes his hand from her cheek and moves the one on his thigh to her side. (Y/n) adopts a look of relief, believing that he agreed to her conditions of punishment. What he’s about to do is infinitely more cruel though.

She catches her breath when he follows her example and kneels in front of her. He pulls up the sleeve of her nightdress that’s slipping down before grabbing her shoulders, gently.

“How can I not give up on you when you give up on yourself,” he lectures her, peeking down at her wound. Make the target question their actions.

An expression of remorse adorns her face, a downward tug of the mouth.

He pulls her in, arms encircling and resting on her lower back. The material of the nightdress is light enough for him to make out the feeling of skin.

“Though I won’t give up on you.” Affirmation and a moment of reassurance.

One of his hands travels deliberately slowly up to her neck. It rests on the back of her head, fingers entangled in her hair. Illumi locates the present that he left her the last time he visited and pushes it back into her head. It has moved slightly out.

This prompts (Y/n) to hug him in response, her previously hanging arms now resting comfortably around him. Good, as for the finishing line.

“Though your failure is a disappointment, I know that you will not repeat the same mistake, because you

love me, right?”.

Her head moves to rest between the crook of his neck, nodding in agreement. She doesn’t ask him if he loves her.

It’s expected of her not to.

[pinkoptics]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

4. Dancing

(Soooo it’s almost October… but that’s okay, right?)

Who wants some Dadneto feels? Who wants pining Erik?

If you do you’ve come to the right place!

Charles is nanny to Wanda and Peter, who’ve lost their mother, Magda. Erik is living a half life as an overworked single father, feeling the loss of his wife. Charles brings them back to life. This is the moment Erik realizes he’s desperately in love with Charles.

This exists in the Nanny Fic verse, but stands alone as a sort of prequel. You don’t have to have read Nanny Fic for this to work.

~2300 words

*

Erik knew the exact moment his heart had gone into free fall. One second in time when everything had crystallized, when notions and feelings that had been vague or easily ignored all shifted into place and could no longer be so easily denied.

Everything had been hard for so long, work especially, or completely, as work was virtually all he did. His entire existence boiled down to a desk, in an open space office, downtown. He got to work early, always early, trying to eek out the extra time needed to get caught up, even though he never quite succeeded in doing so. The day was spent in a haze of stress and tension, trying to meet unmeetable deadlines, and failing. He, and the rest of the team, would get scolded like school-children, belittled, until all the metal in the office vibrated imperceptibly. Imperceptibly because he needed this job— the stable pay, the incredible benefits, the mutant friendly culture. In the end, they all stayed late, too often, too late, to make up for the aforementioned deadlines. Overtime? Never. It was their fault, their incompetence, after all.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It was no way for anyone to live, because it wasn’t a life. It was an existence, maybe, barely, but not a life.

Wander and Peter deserved so much more.

Every day he missed his kids. It was an ache like a stone in his shoe, but lodged instead in his heart, and he could see no way to remove it. Quitting, finding something else, it wasn’t an option, not in this economy. So the ache was always there. Always always always. When he finally did get home, he was tired. So fucking tired. He tried. He really did. He rallied as best he could for them but, at best, they got half of him because he was living a half life. Worn down, worn out, nothing left.

They had already lost one parent.

Magda.

Forever.

They barely had half of the other.

At least they had Charles.

Thank god for Charles.

His gratitude for the man and everything he did for him, for the twins, was staggering.

He shouldn’t have been able to afford a full day nanny/tutor after the education system had shut their doors on two young, volatile, mutants who couldn’t control their powers. Charles had swept in and hadn’t balked, like every applicant before him, at what Erik could pay. It was such a non-issue, Erik hadn’t looked a gift horse in the mouth, and had hired Charles on the spot.

Every day since, he had left them in Charles’ capable hands and, every day since, he had come home to bright smiles and happiness, to little people bursting with the need to tell him what adventures they’d gone on that day. There was joy, laughter and stability in the Lehnsherr household again. How could he be anything other than staggeringly grateful?

That’s all it was, gratitude, or so he told himself, until he couldn’t any longer.

When he ran his powers over his watch that lightning-strike evening, he was getting home around what should have been the tail end of dinner time. Charles stayed when needed, Charles cooked, even though contractually he was obligated to do neither. Erik paid him overtime, of course, but each day the clock ticked past 5:00 he half-panicked that when he finally made it through the door, Charles would throw his hands up and say ‘enough is enough,’ balking at yet another 12 hour day and justifiably disappearing from their lives forever.

Erik thought they would be seated at the table, finishing up— once again finding himself missing dinner, missing that precious time where he could talk to them, share a meal, share their day. If it had been a bit earlier, if he’d been on time, he usually found them finishing up their studies. Though he’d seen both many times already, he never failed to boggle at his kids sitting politely to dinner, or engrossed in whatever lesson Charles was offering that day. His kids — Peter especially — sitting. Engrossed. Learning. Sitting. They’d come farther, faster, under Charles’ care, than they had in an entire year at school. He was a miracle worker.

Today, however, he saw neither. They weren’t eating dinner, as expected, or even watching TV, as they did if he was particularly late. They were…

Dancing.

Well, Wanda and Charles were dancing, Peter was moving around the room erratically, random bursts of his incredible speed, that sort of resembled dancing, if you squinted. The control was itself incredible and something he never could have dreamed of before Charles. It was also incongruous because the music was— a waltz? Or, something like it. Erik wasn’t particularly versed in ballroom music.

Wanda and Charles, unlike Peter, were dancing in time to the music, in the proper way. Wanda was perched atop Charles’ feet in the manner small children sometimes did. She was smiling up at Charles with bright eyes, and Charles was smiling back with just as much warmth. The reddish glow that signified the use of her powers was escaping from her hands, though she didn’t seem to be using those powers in any way he could discern. She just seemed… happy.

“1, 2, 3, 4. Yes, just like that Wanda, you’re doing splendidly!”

Her smile got wider.

They turned about the cleared out living space and he came into Wanda’s line of sight. “Papa!” She leapt out of Charles’ grasp and surged toward him, tackling his long legs hard enough to knock him back a step. “I’m learning how to be a Princess, a real princess! Like they have where Charles is from!”

Peter stopped just short in front of him, after another burst of extreme speed, startling him back another step. Erik wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it. “I’m the court jester!” he announced, proudly.

Erik laughed, “Of course you are.” The warmth of their happiness began to chase away the weariness, the cold ache ever present in his chest, and replaced it with something else.

“We had a tea party!” Wanda went on and gestured to the kitchen table, where the remains of little tea sandwiches, cakes and biscuits were strewn about, along with a teapot Erik didn’t recall owning. “It was so fancy!”

Peter speeded to the table, knocking into it, and nearly upended the contents. He picked up a tea cup. “We held it like this! It was so silly.” He held out his pinky finger in that cliched way.

“Watch me dance!” Wanda all but plowed back into Charles, who winced as she stepped back onto his feet with just a bit too much force. He bore it in stride and picked back up where they had left off. “Do you see, Papa? Do you see? I’m dancing just like a princess.”

Erik reached out and stroked her hair as they passed. “Du bist eine Prinzessin, Bärchen.”

Peter began “dancing” erratically again. “I didn’t want to be a prince.” He crinkled his nose in distaste between bursts of speed. “Jesters are way cooler than stinky princes.”

Wanda did not respond but held her head higher, more haughtily.

Erik felt suddenly, wildly, close to tears.

As they made another pass, Wanda gasped and released Charles, lunging at Erik again. “Papa! You and Charles can be the King and Qu—” Her face screwed up in momentary confusion. “—King. We can have two Kings, right?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

With that settled, she went on. “Then, the kings should dance too!”

Erik’s eyes immediately flew up to Charles’, who looked just as taken aback by the sudden suggestion as he.

“Oh Bärchen, I don’t think—”

“Papa, the kings have to dance too!” It was a statement of inarguable fact. The sky is blue, the sun shines every day, the kings must dance. Peter stopped to nod his agreement.

Erik sidestepped. “The king could dance with his princess.”

That earned him 5-year-old exasperation. “Why don’t you want to dance with Charles? That’s silly. He can teach you. C’mon Papa!” She physically nudged him in Charles’ direction. Catching Charles’ gaze, he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “It appears Princess Wanda has spoken.”

Charles’ face was alight with amusement. “Yes, it does appear that way.” He straightened his shoulders and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, sire?”

That hand was warm, when Erik placed his own on it, and soft. When those same hands settled on Erik’s upper back and waist, the heat seeped through the thinness of his dress shirt. He hadn’t been this close to anyone, hadn’t been touched, not since… All at once he wanted both more and less, to fall forward and pull back.

Charles was no less beautiful this close up— blue eyes still sparkling with amusement, a quirk to his very red mouth projecting the same emotion, a loch of his unwieldy hair falling playfully across his forehead, a sprinkle of barely there freckles across his nose. There should have been flaws. With their nearness, Erik should have been able to pick them out, but he couldn’t find a single one.

“Papa!” Wanda jolted him back to the room. “You’re not dancing!”

So they weren’t. Feeling very caught out, warmth rose to his cheeks. Blushing? Was he blushing? Erik didn’t blush.

“Have you waltzed before?”

“No.”

“Like this.”

Charles was gentle. He lead with authority, but

somehow managed to be gentle at the same time. It seemed to sum up everything he had learned about the man, watching him nurture his children back to life. After a few awkward steps and bumping knees, Charles’ lead was easy to follow and Erik found himself gliding across the floor in no time at all.

“You have a natural grace,” Charles murmured, as they turned about the room.

“Hardly. You’re an excellent teacher.”

“No.” The word was said with surprising firmness. “You’re very fluid, you feel the music. Musicality like that cannot be taught. Not easily. Certainly not this quickly.”

Something burned in Erik’s chest at the words, at the sincerity behind them. The feeling took a moment to recognize, but it was pride. When was the last time he’d felt proud about anything he’d done? The warmth spread, trickling outward from his chest, from where Charles’ hands were still pressing against him. Could he feel it too, through the small, open space between their bodies? He felt like he could.

Around them the kids danced too— Peter in his manic way, Wanda with an invisible partner.

He wanted to drop his forehead to Charles’, wanted to disappear in his warmth, his kindness, his care. Experiencing this small taste of it, he suddenly, desperately, wanted more— wanted to be the object of the same support, encouragement and comfort his children received. A nanny no longer, but a father to his children, a partner to him. All at once, he could see it so clearly, what it would be like if Charles didn’t leave at the end of each day. If he stayed, if they were…

Oh god.

To not be alone in this.

He couldn’t think the word.

To be whole.

He shouldn’t think the word.

To be a… family.

In that moment, he wanted it so badly he could scarcely breathe. He was gripping Charles too tightly now. He knew he was. But, he couldn’t stop. It said everything he couldn’t and absolutely shouldn’t— please don’t go, please stay, please be here with us.

We love you.

I love you.

The clarity of it was striking. You’re Charles. I’m Erik. I love you. Please stay. Now. Always.

Striking, real, clear, but terrifying.

He let go. Too fast.

“Are you all right?” The concern on Charles’ face deepened the ache that had taken hold with such fierceness in his chest.

He wasn’t. He hadn’t been. Not for a long time. But, for an awful moment, he thought that he could be. With Charles, he could be. “Fine,” he ground out, unused to losing his composure so completely. “I’m fine just… tired. It’s late, isn’t it? I’m sure you want to be getting home.”

Was that…? No. He was projecting. Surely, he had not seen a fleeting burst of disappointment in Charles’ features. The man was nodding. The children were protesting.

“You know I’ll be back tomorrow.” Charles chided as he bundled them into a group hug which Erik had to restrain himself from joining.

“Can we play princesses—”

“And jesters!”

“—again tomorrow?”

“Of course, your highness.” Charles stood and gave them both a bow. Wanda giggled and curtsied in return. Peter bounced. “Until tomorrow then.” His gaze flicked from the children to Erik. “Have a good night, King Erik.”

Erik swallowed. It was painful. “And you, King Charles.”

When he was gone, Erik was half nibbling, half tidying the remains of the tea party, trying to ignore the prickling behind his eyes, trying to dispel every last feeling Charles had provoked, trying to banish every last thought and box up every last ridiculous hope. Wanda sat at the table watching him. She did so with eerie quietness for awhile. So lost in his own thoughts, he startled when she finally broke the silence.

“I like Charles, Papa. Do you like Charles?”

The way she looked at him, boring into his soul and past his defences in a way entirely too reminiscent of her mother, he knew the answer was in someway important, someway meaningful.

“I— yes, Bärchen, I like Charles.”

She nodded and having apparently received the desired response, she hopped off her chair and went to pester her twin.

Somehow he knew the word they had both meant wasn’t like, but love. A word neither of them dared say aloud. The people you loved, especially when you loved them most… they didn’t always stay. They could be taken and it hurt in a way you could never fully heal from. Maybe if you held back, maybe if you didn’t give it all, maybe they wouldn’t go.

Erik gave up on his tidying and slumped into one of the kitchen chairs.

He couldn’t be with Charles.

Could he?

*

If this has perked your interest in the original fic here is the link to Nanny Fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898845/chapters/29467485

8 chapters. Unfinished. Not abandoned.

[lordabovehelpme]

Spooky Day- Din Djarin x Reader

(Lovely moodboard by the amazing @jedi-jesi !!!)

Request: For dfwl, what if one of the kids ask din and reader about their childhood. Like this is gonna be a little sad bust fluffy, also I just wanna know more about tiny din and tiny paz adventures in dumbas*erry or even dins happiest memories back when his parents were alive? Thankyou!! Its probably gonna be a lil sad but hopefully not TOO sad yknow. Thankyou so much!!I love your writing

A/n: Yess, tiny Din and tiny Paz are my favroite little bros! I love writing for them. Hope you enjoy! 

This is the next part of my Days Filled with Love Series, you can find the first part here. :) 

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

“Mommy?” Myles hushed voice wakes you from your slumber.

“Hmm?” Opening your eyes, you look over to the side of your bed.

“I had a bad dream. Can I snuggle?” He doesn’t even wait for your response before he lifts the blanket and crawls under it. Lifting his fathers hand from where it drapes across your waist, and tucking himself into your side.

You wrap your arm around him and slowly comb through his curls. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head and turns around to face your body, then places his own arm where your husbands had just been.

“Okay, just try to go to sleep then.”

A groan falls from the mandalorian as he stirs. His head lifts from where it was tucked into your chest. One of his eyes lazily opens and finds your son at your hip.

“What’s wrong bud?”

“He had a bad dream.” Using your other hand, you pull him back into his spot and silently beg for the two of them to just go back to sleep.

He murmurs out a “oh” but you can tell it hadn’t really processed in his tired brain.

“Mommy, can you hold me?” Myles voice is quiet and uneasy, whatever was in his dream obviously has shaken him.

“Of course.” Pushing your husband over onto his back, much to his dismay which he signifies with a loud groan, you roll and wrap both arms around Myles, pulling him close into your arms. He sighs happily and squirms a little, trying to find the perfect comfortable position.

You press a kiss to his shaggy curls and give him one last squeeze before settling down and trying to fall back into your slumber.

A loud sigh comes from the man behind you. When you give no response, he sighs again, this time making it louder. Waiting a few minutes, he does it a third time.

“Oh my goodness, you big baby.” Smiling, you giggle, “Did you know that your father could be so annoying?” Myles grins and shakes his head. “We better give him some love of his own before he sighs away all his breath.”

Myles crawls over your body and plops down in between you both, rolling over yet again, you grab him and settle in just as you were, expect this time facing the brooding mandalorian.

“Daddy come snuggle.” A soft smile works its way onto his face and he shuffles over. Pulling not only Myles, but you into his own chest and wrapping his arms around you both. He rests his head on top of your own and this time gives a content exhale.

“Everyone happy now?” Two murmurs of yes grace you and you can’t help but grin. “Good, now let's all go back to sleep.”

***

Pans and dishes clank together, signifying someone moving around in the kitchen. The faint scent of pancakes waft into the open door of your room.

Opening your eyes, you try and place where you are and what is happening. The sun shines in and dances off of the snow. Myles is still tucked into your side, a small spot of drool on your shirt, and his hair tousled and messy.

The spot where you husband usually lies is empty, but still slightly warm. He must have just got up. Slowly, you shift away from your son, making sure to not wake him. Little snores fall from his lips and it’s almost like someone had shrunk the mandalorian in his sleep. You pull the blanket back up over him and leave the room.

Walking down the stairs, you lean against the doorframe in the kitchen. There Din stands, flipping pancakes while grumbling to himself. Those godforsaken grey sweatpants hang low on his hips and the muscles in his back ripple everytime he flips one.

“Hello handsome.” Biting your lip, you try to hide your smile.

He turns around and immediately walks over to you, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Dad! Are you making pancakes?” Reeza stomps down the stairs and if no one was awake, they sure are now.

He gives you one last peck before breaking away. “Yeah, wanna help me?”

“Yeah!” He picks her up and holds her on his hip, letting her flip the pancakes when they are ready.

Myles walks down the stairs and behind him, Grogu follows. “Good morning you two.” Picking Grogu up, you press a kiss to his forehead before letting him walk off to the table. You lean down and take Myles into your arms, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “Do you feel better today?”

He nods, but doesn’t let go of you. “Thank you for letting me sleep with you.”

“Oh baby, you don’t need to thank me. What kind of mother would I be if I wasn’t there for my strong boy?” He stays clutching the back of your shirt for a little over a minute before releasing you and sitting down at his seat.

Walking up the stairs and into the nursery, you are met with the soft breaths of Tobbi and Isabet. It’s almost like she knows you’re here because one of her eyes opens and peers up at you before her arms reach up. Her legs kick out and a little grunt falls from her lips.

“Good morning little girl.” Picking her up and placing her in your arms, she smiles up at you. “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today?”

“Mama!” Giggling, you tickle her stomach before going to change her diaper.

“There we go, feel better?”

“Mama!” Her little arms lift and her hand reaches out to you. Smiling, you press kiss after kiss to her face, basking in the loud laughs she gives you.  

***

After feeding both the twins, you take them in your arms and walk back down to the kitchen. The three kids as well as your husband sit at the table, stuffing ungodly amounts of pancake into their mouths.

“Mommy! You’re back!” Reeza exclaims with her mouth full of the breakfast food.

“Hey! Don’t speak with food in your mouth.” Din glares at her. “And you, stop playing with your food.” He says while pointing at Grogu. The child only coos while dropping the piece of fruit he was levitating in the air. Smiling, you shake your head.

“Daddy can you tell us a story?” Reeza asks, this time without food in her mouth.

“Yeah one with Uncle Paz!” Myles adds on.

“Hmmm. Let me think.” He reaches out to you and practically begs with his eyes for you to hand him one of the twins. Smiling, you give him both and sit down to eat your own breakfast.

“Oh, I know. One time, Paz and I were about fourteen and we had stayed out late one night wrestling. The walk back to the covert was not far, but it was a little bit of a trek. However, it was now super late and they weren’t any lights.”

“I thought you said you guys had curfew?”

He looks at you and quietly says, “We did.” Looking down at his children he continues on with his story, “Anyway, we started walking back and I have no idea how this came about, but we started joking about how we were escaping zombies.”

Now you really start to laugh. “Zombies?” Reeza asks. Myles snickers as he looks down at his fruit bowl.

“Again, I have no idea where this came from. But as we were walking and the longer we were joking about these zombies who were chasing us, the more we started to believe it. So now we are becoming more anxious and we start picking up our pace. It comes to the point where we are running back to the covert. We’re looking back and forth expecting to see these zombies around every bush and tree.”

He breaks off to laugh himself, eyes crinkling in his joy. “We were almost to the covert, in fact we could see the lights from inside. But one of the leaders was waiting outside for us, because we were going to get in trouble. However, in our panicked minds we saw him as a zombie. So when he walked out from behind a tree to yell at us. We jumped and Paz screamed. We held onto each other and we both started to square up. When the leader tried to ask us what was wrong, he moved closer to us. Paz, in his fright, punched him right across the helmet.”

All of you break out into hard uncontrollable laughter at the thought. “Wait so what happened?”

“Let’s just say that we both can agree that we never want to clean a covert bathroom again.”

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

Next Part: Valentines Day

I hope you guys liked it!!! As always, feedback is mega appreciated! 

Love you all, Lordy :) 

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty​ 

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- just give me a holler and I’d be happy to do it! :) 

[startanewdream]

Mia

Summary: It’s not really an unplanned pregnancy if you planned it once - even it was twenty years ago, right?

Or the road leading to James and Lily’s baby number two. (Part of the Jily Lives AU)

Note: To be edited later with a link to AO3 as soon as this gets a title. Edited with the link to AO3 if you prefer. Also, this time there is mention of Sirius and Remus being alive because after the last one, I felt guilty.

Warning for... mentions of sex. That’s how babies are made after all.

_________________________

They are in bed, Lily’s head over his chest while he caresses her hair, both still recovering their breaths when she first talks about it.

'How do you feel about another?'

James raises his eyebrows.

'I don't know if I should be happy you enjoyed so much you already want more or if I should be concerned you are not satisfied, Lily'.

'What? No -' she giggles, turning in bed to stare at him, her auburn hair floating around her. 'I meant about another child'.

James is silent for a few seconds, considering it.

'So that means you are not satisfied'.

She rolls her eyes, but James can see the amusement in her face.

'In bed with you, yes, I am', she assures, placing a soft kiss on his chest, over his heart. 'But about kids, I've been thinking about it'.

James bits his lips.

'You know how I feel about it', he whispers.  'I hated so much being an only child that I found myself brothers as soon as I could'.

'Yeah and you did propose to me mentioning how you would like a house full of kids - enough to fill a Quidditch team, if I remember correctly'.

'I was babbling, afraid you were going to refuse me! You know you can't use someone's desperate proposal against him'.

She smiles softly.

'So you don't want a bunch of children?'

He touches her hair once more, keeping his eyes on the auburn strands, and it comes to his mind that he would like a child with that gorgeous hair of her.

'I do. Maybe not seven, but I don't want Harry to be an only child. It's just -'

He doesn't finish, but James knows he doesn't need to. Harry is just fifteen months old, an unplanned child in the middle of a war they are not close to winning and, truth be told, if James and Lily had more sense, they would not have one child, let alone another one.

And there is the fact that their only son is already too much involved in this war.

'Hey', she cups his face. 'Let's plan together'.

There is a pleading tone in her voice, and he knows that what Lily is asking is hope - for better days, for a time where they can have more children without worrying about what will happen to them.

He looks back at her and when their eyes meet, his heart beats faster. It should be silly considering what they were doing minutes ago and how he possibly cried in very colourful words that he loved her, but this is one of those moments where time seems to stop and he realizes, with a wave of electricity running through his body, with a certainty that leaves room for no doubt, that he loves her with all he has.

That’s why they are together, that’s why he asked her to marry him. Not because he feared for the future, not because he was desperate to enjoy as much time with her as they had left.

But because he loved her since what seems always now, and he won’t deny any hope for Lily, not when he's been living on it.

He kisses her softly.

'Let’s plan’, he agrees. ‘I think… maybe four kids would be nice. Two boys, two girls'.

She smiles.

'Well, we can't plan that'. Then Lily throws him a knowing look. 'You are thinking about forming a new group of Marauders, aren't you?'

He smiles unabashedly.

'Just think about family photos. Each one of our kids dresses as one of the Marauders. It would be the cutest thing ever'.

Her eyes shine, seeing beyond him.

'It would. Fine, four kids. We will need a bigger house'.

'We can expand the house, you know. My dad always said he thought of creating a new wing here; there is plenty of land'.

'Two rooms to begin with. They can share until they are older'.

‘Sirius always slept in my room when he came over’, James remembers fondly. ‘We almost burnt the house once or twice, I must warn you’.

‘Consider me warned. Petunia and I had separate rooms, but when I was younger -’, she pauses suddenly, and James can see the concern on her face. ‘What if they don’t like each other?’, she whispers.

‘They will’.

‘You can’t know for sure, I mean - you see how Petunia is with me. And Sirius can’t even talk about Regulus, what if -’

‘You are worrying too much, Lily’, he says gently, kissing the top of her head. ‘Maybe they will best friends, maybe they won’t. But I’m sure they will be family no matter what’.

She looks thoughtfully, but after a minute she nods.

‘What about next year? Harry will be two, it’s a good age gap’.

‘It would be nice. We can start practising now if you want’.

‘I thought we already did’, Lily winks at him. ‘But we can repeat tomorrow’.

‘Halloween fun?’, he smirks. ‘Will you be wearing a costume?’

‘Only if you do - and no, your antlers tiara doesn’t count’.

He pouts, making her giggle and kiss him until his expression relax.

‘Hey, Lily’, he calls her, his voice resounding with the hope he associates with Lily. ‘Let’s have another child’.

___________________

When Harry is five and he starts Muggle school, it comes to James that his son has been lacking other kids in his life. It’s not that he is lonely - he couldn’t be, not with James and Lily always there for him, not with the almost daily visits from Sirius and Remus, but he suddenly wishes there were more children in the house.

Now, he can’t count on Sirius or Remus to help him with it - both of them seem to avoid relationships like the plague, though for different reasons -, so he rounds Lily while she is in her office preparing a potion.

‘James?’, she calls surprised, when his arms embrace her from behind and he kisses her exposed neck (James loves when Lily is making potions because she keeps her hair on a bun and he has a weak spot for her neck). ‘This will explode if I don’t stir it’.

‘Let it explode’.

‘It’s a Draught of Living Death, we will turn into zombies if -’

‘Let’s make a baby’.

That makes her take her wand to freeze the potion and turn to him, with a funny smile.

‘Is that a weird way of asking for sex? If so - you used better lines before’.

‘No, I mean, sex is good too and most necessary, but I mean it, Lily. Let’s try for another kid’.

Lily blinks.

‘Why now?’

‘Why not now? Harry is still young, we are definitively young, what’s keeping us from having more?’

She bits her lip, thoughtful, and James feels suddenly dismayed.

‘Unless you don’t want anymore?’

‘It’s not that, I want it - it’s just, with everything that happened -’

‘I know, it slipped out of my mind too. But now, we are living in this peace for a while…’

‘But it won’t last, will it?’, she whispers as if she feels guilty of even thinking about it. ‘Dumbledore says he isn’t really dead and when he returns -’

‘Maybe he will stay hidden forever, maybe he is too weak to try anything’.

She smiles sadly.

‘Every time I look at Harry’s scar I know that something will happen, James. That’s not a normal scar, that means something, and I get scared’.

‘Hey’, he hugs her. ‘As long as we are together, we can face anything - didn’t we prove that before?’

‘Yeah, but - is it fair? To put someone innocent in the middle of our mess?’

‘It was not fair with Harry, but we managed. We can do it again’.

‘James…’

Lily looks at him and James sees she is not convinced, not really; he knows Lily enough to understand that she is rational - she likes to think first, whereas James is always the more impulsive. They complement each other. He takes her to fly, she remembers him to come back to the ground.

And he understands what she means, even if he wishes things were different.

‘You are right’, he sighs. ‘At least for now, until we see how things really are’.

She smiles, touching his face with fondness.

‘I want it, I really do. Don’t forget it’.

James kisses her hand on his face.

‘I won’t. In fact, if you want to start practising now -’

____________________

It’s just because the house is empty now that Harry is off to Hogwarts that the subject returns; they don’t exactly talk about it. James just sees Lily is not taking her potions anymore - they look at each other, understanding passing between them (one of the benefits of being married for over ten years) - and then suddenly and simply as that they are trying.

It feels a little weird to actually hope for once that something comes out of their moments together, but it’s Lily. He forgets everything when he is with her, focusing on just enjoying her company and touches and how they made each other feel.

But time passes and nothing happens. It’s been only three months, it’s nothing unusual, and Lily mentions seeing a doctor when the owl comes to tell them how someone jinxed Harry’s broom on his first Quidditch match.

That doesn’t seem like a good sign.

When they return home months after, in June, after seeing Harry all bandaged in the hospital, after hearing him talking about coming face to face with Voldemort, they don’t say anything. He buys the herbs for Lily and she is not surprised when he gives them to her.

There is no need to talk about it.

____________________

Most of the time their lives are full of things happening and Harry is always at the centre of a storm, so when James thinks about it, Lily was right. He can’t imagine facing dementors and going back to the Order with a young child to be cared for.

He can’t imagine how their child would be a target, how vulnerable and defenceless their child would be, without a love protection, without a prophecy somehow binding its fate. They made the right choice of postponing their second child.

That’s the rational part of him that suddenly vanishes the moment he sees Lily holding baby Teddy Lupin in her arms for the first time, that cute fat baby that giggles at her, closing his eyes for a minute - and then his blue hair turns as red as hers and his eyes are bright green.

It’s like a mini-Lily and suddenly James wishes more than ever that this war is over soon - or that it had never even begun because he can see that other life, the one where there was no Voldemort. Instead, James and Lily’s lives are filled with more children, happy shining kids whose worst problems are passing their school exams and not surviving. The life he always wanted for Harry.

His eyes meet Lily’s and she smiles at him, offering him to hold Teddy. It’s been forever since James held a baby, but he still remembers, not really forgetting all these nights he took care of Harry. Teddy is a quiet baby, smiling at him too, his hand raised to try to grab his glasses.

‘He is perfect’, he whispers, looking to Remus. His friend is beaming - James understands that happiness that comes with holding your child for the first time, with seeing that miracle in the shape of a baby that you swear to protect with all your heart.

‘Of course he is’, Tonks says cheerfully, while Remus hugs her, holding her close to him as if he doesn't believe he gets to be this happy.

James understands the feeling of living that light bright moment right after coming out of the darkness. There is nothing like that.

He returns Teddy to Tonks when he starts to whimper for his mother, and then he looks at Lily.

Her green eyes are filled with longing for a life they promised themselves they would have, and also a little bit of hurt. How did they lose sight of their dreams?

They both know the answer but it's not a comfort.

Later, when they apparate back to their hiding place - a sorry little apartment where they pretend to be a normal boring couple -, they don't wait to turn out the lights and they don't say anything before their lips are meeting, and it's desperate and harsh as it has not been for a long time.

Somehow James feels like they are making up for a lost time that won't go anywhere and that they can't retrieve anyway.

It doesn't matter.

When they first married all they had was their love and dreams. They still love each other and for those dreams - they will accomplish them.

________________

They never speak out loud but somehow in the aftermath of the last battle, it feels right that they get a new beginning just as everyone else is having.

It’s all about rebuilding - Hogwarts, then the wizarding world - the Ministry, the Aurors, organising a system that was clearly outdated - and their home. It's a long process and in the middle of it, they forget about worrying, about planning; they just go with the flow and somehow it works without they even meaning to.

Lily has this weird expression on her face, one that seems to mix disbelief and amazement as she turns to him one morning and says as if the most natural thing:

‘James? I think I’m pregnant’.

That’s the first difference from their first time. Now he is the one that leaves for the pharmacy while Lily prepares a potion - they will test twice, just to be sure - and they are together while they wait for both tests to tell them if her feelings were right on the spot.

They are.

There are two lines on the muggle pregnancy test and the potion turns blue and suddenly like that they know they will be parents again.

She hugs him then, her eyes filled with tears of pure joy, laughing when she sees James is really crying now.

‘I love you so much!’, he declares brightly, kissing every part of her face that he can (but with care, because a pregnant Lily always seems fragile to him, no matter the fact he knows this is not true). 

And it feels that this is what he should have done the first time, when she first told him about Harry. They should be happy and only that. No worries. That’s the second difference.

There are parallels too, James thinks. Harry’s shock at the idea his parents will have a baby reminds him of Sirius’ reaction as if he can’t possibly understand how that happened (somehow, despite running into them a couple of times, Sirius still got shocked with the fact they made sex). Lily is as sick as in her first pregnancy, so the first months are mostly spent at home too.

And just like back then, Sirius comes to visit her every day he can, careful to bring her anything she may want to eat and offering massage to her feet that Lily doesn’t need to, but she enjoys anyway.

‘I can still see my feet, Padfoot’, she replies teasingly, lying lazily on the couch of the living room while Sirius' hands work their magic on her right foot. James winks at her.

‘Just enjoy, Lily. He is trying to get into your good graces. He wants to be named godfather again’.

Sirius nods unabashedly, grinning at her. 

‘Remus is the next in line’, Lily says, shrugging. ‘But keep with that massage and we will think about you if baby number three ever comes’.

‘Still without a name for baby number two?’

‘You need to stop calling young Prongslet by numbers’, James scolds without any malice.

‘We are not calling Prongslet either, James’.

‘Of course not, Lily. It will be Elvendork’.

Lily rolls her eyes.

‘Not this again’.

‘It’s unisex!’

They indeed refer to their baby as Elvendork just because it’s easier than calling “it” or “baby”, and Harry throws confused looks at them, looking concerned that his new brother or sister will really be called that, though Lily assures him this won’t happen.

But the truth is that they really have not decided on a name, haven’t even discussed yet seriously until they return from the doctor with the news it’s a girl (James cried with this news just as he cries every time they go to the doctor and he hears the baby's heartbeat or even that shape in the ultrasound that it's not really discernible).

They are on the bed, with James looking wondrously at Lily’s now round belly and imagining their little girl (maybe that mini-Lily he once thought of, maybe a little Harry, maybe a little James - it doesn’t matter, he already loves her), when he whispers: ‘We can’t call her Elvendork’.

Lily throws him a surprised look.

‘Oh, no! Poor Elvendork!’

He is too enamoured with her to retort.

‘Did you think of any names?’

‘I have a list of names’, she admits. ‘But none of them feels right’.

They go together through her list; there are beautiful, weird and creative types of names, but as Lily said, none seems to fit yet.

Of course, they don’t lack ideas. Everyone seems to have an opinion.

Sirius is all for the stars, of course (but James thinks he is teasing, though some of them sound nice), and Harry suggests female heroes.

‘What about your mothers?’, Remus suggests, when he and Dora come over for dinner. Lily is sitting on the couch, playing with Teddy. The boy is four now, and he seems fascinated by Lily’s big belly - he had been too young when Fleur was pregnant with Victoire, so this is the first time he is really seeing a pregnant woman and understanding what it means.

Teddy already refers to the baby as his little cousin, sounding proud and excited to meet her.

‘Rose would be a good name’, Lily muses, but still it doesn’t seem to be what she is looking for.

At this time, with only a month away until their baby is born, James considers they are hoping that looking at her face will be enough after the birth - if not, he will just cry the first name that comes to his mind when they sign her birth certificate.

He only hopes he manages not to sign Elvendork. Lily would kill him.

‘I wouldn’t go for Euphemia’, he declares, shrugging.

‘As someone who has an outdated name, I second that’, Dora says, grinning at him.

But Lily looks at both of them with her brows furrowed, and James knows there is something on her mind. She doesn’t say anything until they are alone later.

‘You know, I think Remus might have the right idea’.

‘Liked Rose after all?’

‘No, actually, I thought about your mother’.

Thinking of his mother brings to James that smell of fresh-baked pie, the warmth of her hugs - she had always been there for him, to listen and to guide him - and not just him. She had been a mother to Sirius too and even to Lily in the few months they had together before she passed away.

He smiles softly.

‘I miss her, but Euphemia is not - ‘

‘It doesn’t have to be Euphemia. Your father called her Mia, right? We can do something like that’.

‘Mia Potter?’

‘I thought of Amelia. And we could call her Mia, for short. Like Teddy or Ginny’.

‘Mia Potter’, he repeats, savouring the words.

‘Amelia Rose Potter? In honour of both grandmothers?’

James beams, hugging Lily and letting his hand feel her belly. ‘I love it’.

The baby seems to like it too, because in the next second Lily is wincing and James feels the baby kicking.

‘You know what, Lily? I think Mia will be a great Quidditch player too’.

She sighs exaggeratedly.

‘I only wish she could wait to start training when she is out’.

_____________________

Because fate sometimes is funny, Mia Potter is born on Halloween Night and the first time James holds her he is wearing an antlers tiara that he forgot to take off and that no one warned him about.

Later he will probably hex Sirius when he teases him about it, but right now he just sits next to Lily on her hospital bed, and she beams at him despite her tiredness.

‘We did it’, she whispers, sounding amazed, and James understands the feeling. They are in their forties, they lived through two wars, they raised a magnificent young man and here they are holding their second child, a tiny baby who seems unbelievably perfect in every sense.

One minute, James thinks. Let us enjoy this one minute, just a little.

When the minute is over, he returns the sleeping Mia to Lily’s arms and goes to open the door. Harry is pacing in front of the door, looking agitated as James felt all during the labour, even though he never left Lily’s side.

‘So? Can I see my sister now?’

‘And my goddaughter?’, Sirius pops in, grinning. James laughs.

‘It’s Remus’ goddaughter, and, yes, you can come in. She is sleeping’.

They get around the bed, with Sirius hugging Lily and declaring her the most amazing woman in the world (‘Are you drunk, Padfoot?’ ‘Yes, I was nervous! ‘You won’t hold Mia until you are sober’), and with Harry touching the thin strands of dark hair on his sister’s head, looking at her as if it’s the most precious thing he has ever seen.

James thinks he was wrong about that selfish minute he spent alone with Lily and Mia. Seeing Harry and Sirius cooing about the baby, he realizes this is the kind of one minute he wishes to have more in his life.

‘Do you want to hold her?’, Lily offers, and Harry nods, unable to look away. He sits on the chair right beside the bed and James helps him hold his sister. She wakes up, crying, and for a moment Harry seems to be in panic until he raises and swings her softly, just like he used to do with his godson.

‘Hi, Mia’, Harry whispers. ‘That’s ok. There, there. I’m your big brother, you see? I’m here for you’.

There is a soothingly effect on Harry’s voice and after a few minutes, Mia seems to relax indeed, her crying turning into a sob that seems to be more because of the unfamiliar world she is now in than anything else.

‘She has your eyes, Dad’, Harry says, smiling. James looks back at his daughter and, more than the hazel colour that looks a lot like his, he sees the way she seems to be curious about her surroundings as if she wants to see all the world has to offer.

Mia has indeed his eyes.

____________________

Mia is three when Ginny calls her and Mia comes with an expression of guilt that tells James she has done something she shouldn’t. That doesn’t really surprise him. He saw his daughter running with Teddy and Victoire and whenever those three are together, something always seems to happen.

Most of the time involving some kind of petty mischief that gives James very much hope for his daughter.

‘It was not my fault’, Mia declares, looking sheepish. 

‘I am sure it was Teddy’s’, Harry says, sharing a grin with James, because whenever they are discovered, Teddy always declares himself to be the guilty one, even though James can see exactly when it was Victoire (with her exuberant ideas) or Mia (with her direct-to-the-point ideas), clearly feeling it’s his role as the older of them.

‘It’s okay, Mia’, Ginny assures her tenderly, offering her arms and Mia doesn’t hesitate to go sit on her lap.

Mia loves her parents, adores Harry but it’s Ginny that she worships. Like with the broomstick: Mia learnt to fly at one like Harry, who gave her her first broom, but it was just last summer when they took her to watch a Quidditch game, where Ginny had scored sixteen goals that Mia had declared she wanted to be a Chaser when she grew up.

James had shaken his head in fake dismay at the fact his daughter had not been impressed with his Quidditch skills, but he didn't really mind: any reason he could to spend afternoons flying with her was good for him.

'We have something to tell you', Ginny says under Mia's concentrated look. Lily exchanges a smile with James; they already know, but hearing it again just makes them happier than words could describe. 'You are going to be an aunt'.

She blinks.

'Like you are?'

Ginny smiles.

'Do you know what an aunt is?'

'I know that Vic calls you Aunt, but Teddy calls you Ginny'.

'Well, I am Vic's aunt because Vic's father is my brother'.

'Like Harry is my brother'.

'Yes, so you are going to be an aunt because Harry will have a son or daughter'.

'Oh!' she looks at his brother, clasping her hands. 'With whom?'

'With me', Ginny explains while everyone laughs. 'Harry and I will have a baby'.

'Oh. Like Aunt Fleur had Dominique?'

'Exactly'.

'I like babies', Mia declares. 'Where is the baby? I want to meet him!'

'In a few months. He or she is still… not ready'.

'Oh'. Mia seems upset, then she shrugs. 'Can I play outside until then?'

Ginny laughs and places a kiss on Mia's cheek.

'Sure. We will call you when it's ready'.

'Mia', Lily calls, sounding amused. 'Do you know how Harry takes care of you?'. Mia nods. 'That's what an aunt does too'.

'Can I take the baby to the park too?'

'When he is older', James assures her. Mia smiles, her hazel eyes sparkling.

‘I will be the best aunt ever’, she declares, and then she is running outside (Mia can’t walk - she only knows how to run), back to Teddy and Victoire.

James watches her through the window, talking excitedly to them, probably telling them all about her news.

'I think you will have a handful with them in the future'.

'Me?', Harry laughs. 'If McGonagall doesn't retire by the time your child and grandchild are both in Hogwarts, I will be surprised'.

______________________

Mia’s name came from @blitheringmcgonagall cute amazing stories of Mia and Monty Potter, and the final scene is some sort of answer to @dear-james​ ‘s prompt of James and Lily knowing about James Sirius (to be properly answered some day, I hope!)