#mantel-tree

[dress-this-way]

Christmas Tree Decorating Ideas + Trends for 2023 - Jenna Sue Design

[thequietabsolute]

:: scenes from a blustery walk in northern England 🏰

[thenixkat]

Probably one of the biggest things that influences the ecologies, agriculture, and economics on Aran is the fact that there are giant fucking dragons that eat rock, ore, and crystals living under the surface of the planet that surface to either supplement their diet with vegetation and meat or to poop.

The poop mounds and latrines of these giant wyrms are full of so many minerals and good organic soil as well as lumps of metals and gems.

The richest centaur herds tend to have a wyrm latrine someone on their territory that they mine for fertilizer, gems, and metals. And they tend to keep wyrms frequenting their territory by leaving offerings of milk and cheese at wyrm holes. 

[navajopearls]

SUNFLOWER CHRISTMAS TREE

[mrsterlingusa]

Christmas Mantel

[gkbfact]

कीड़े अधिक ऊँचाई से गिरने पर भी जीवित क्यों रहते हैं?

यह पता चला है कि यह कीड़ों के शरीर के आकार और वायु प्रतिरोध के बारे में है। पहले कारक के अंतर्गत कीट के शरीर का सतह क्षेत्र है। जैसा कि आप जानते हैं, बढ़ते क्षेत्र के साथ, हवा के प्रवाह के प्रति शरीर का ललाट प्रतिरोध भी बढ़ता है। जब कोई पिंड गिरता है, तो गुरुत्वाकर्षण उस पर कार्य करता है, जो द्रव्यमान और मुक्त गिरावट के त्वरण से निर्धारित होता है। कीड़ों का द्रव्यमान, एक नियम के रूप में, कई…

[cecilepages]

Living Room Formal in San Diego Example of a mid-sized classic formal and enclosed living room design with brown walls, no tv and a standard fireplace

[zaynmajor]

Formal - Traditional Living Room Example of a mid-sized classic formal and enclosed living room design with brown walls, no tv and a standard fireplace

[visionify]

San Diego Backyard

[macrolit]

The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century.

As voted on by 503 novelists, nonfiction writers, poets, critics and other book lovers — with a little help from the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

NYT Article.

*************

Q: How many of the 100 have you read? Q: Which ones did you love/hate? Q: What's missing?

Here's the full list.

100. Tree of Smoke, Denis Johnson 99. How to Be Both, Ali Smith 98. Bel Canto, Ann Patchett 97. Men We Reaped, Jesmyn Ward 96. Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments, Saidiya Hartman 95. Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel 94. On Beauty, Zadie Smith 93. Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel 92. The Days of Abandonment, Elena Ferrante 91. The Human Stain, Philip Roth 90. The Sympathizer, Viet Thanh Nguyen 89. The Return, Hisham Matar 88. The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis 87. Detransition, Baby, Torrey Peters 86. Frederick Douglass, David W. Blight 85. Pastoralia, George Saunders 84. The Emperor of All Maladies, Siddhartha Mukherjee 83. When We Cease to Understand the World, Benjamin Labutat 82. Hurricane Season, Fernanda Melchor 81. Pulphead, John Jeremiah Sullivan 80. The Story of the Lost Child, Elena Ferrante 79. A Manual for Cleaning Women, Lucia Berlin 78. Septology, Jon Fosse 77. An American Marriage, Tayari Jones 76. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin 75. Exit West, Mohsin Hamid 74. Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout 73. The Passage of Power, Robert Caro 72. Secondhand Time, Svetlana Alexievich 71. The Copenhagen Trilogy, Tove Ditlevsen 70. All Aunt Hagar's Children, Edward P. Jones 69. The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander 68. The Friend, Sigrid Nunez 67. Far From the Tree, Andrew Solomon 66. We the Animals, Justin Torres 65. The Plot Against America, Philip Roth 64. The Great Believers, Rebecca Makkai 63. Veronica, Mary Gaitskill 62. 10:04, Ben Lerner 61. Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver 60. Heavy, Kiese Laymon 59. Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides 58. Stay True, Hua Hsu 57. Nickel and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich 56. The Flamethrowers, Rachel Kushner 55. The Looming Tower, Lawrence Wright 54. Tenth of December, George Saunders 53. Runaway, Alice Munro 52. Train Dreams, Denis Johnson 51. Life After Life, Kate Atkinson 50. Trust, Hernan Diaz 49. The Vegetarian, Han Kang 48. Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi 47. A Mercy, Toni Morrison 46. The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt 45. The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson 44. The Fifth Season, N.K. Jemisin 43. Postwar, Tony Judt 42. A Brief History of Seven Killings, Marlon James 41. Small Things Like These, Claire Keegan 40. H Is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald 39. A Visit from the Goon Squad, Jennifer Egan 38. The Savage Detectives, Roberto Balano 37. The Years, Annie Ernaux 36. Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates 35. Fun Home, Alison Bechdel 34. Citizen, Claudia Rankine 33. Salvage the Bones, Jesmyn Ward 32. The Lines of Beauty, Alan Hollinghurst 31. White Teeth, Zadie Smith 30. Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward 29. The Last Samurai, Helen DeWitt 28. Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell 27. Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 26. Atonement, Ian McEwan 25. Random Family, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc 24. The Overstory, Richard Powers 23. Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage, Alice Munro 22. Behind the Beautiful Forevers, Katherine Boo 21. Evicted, Matthew Desmond 20. Erasure, Percival Everett 19. Say Nothing, Patrick Radden Keefe 18. Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders 17. The Sellout, Paul Beatty 16. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Michael Chabon 15. Pachinko, Min Jin Lee 14. Outline, Rachel Cusk 13. The Road, Cormac McCarthy 12. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion 11. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz 10. Gilead, Marilynne Robinson 9. Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro 8. Austerlitz, W.G. Sebald 7. The Underground Railroad, Colson Whitehead 6. 2666, Roberto Bolano 5. The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen 4. The Known World, Edward P. Jones 3. Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel 2. The Warmth of Other Suns, Isabel Wilkerson 1. My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[spilladabalia]

Lizgizzad - Mantell

[0oolookitsme]

But Baby, It's Cold Outside

Type - One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - None, just some tooth rotting fluff ;)

A/N - Y/n blushes so hard in this one I was legit smiling while writing the ending lmao. Hope you guys like it just as much! <3

MASTERLIST | Please rb to share!

Y/n was on her knees on the carpeted floor, her hands stacking things up on the Christmas mantel that she had been set on decorating since she'd opened her eyes this morning. Her knees hurt because of the hardwood floor, but it was better than having to bend down while standing up, nevertheless.

They were surprisingly late to decorate for Christmas this year because of their prolonged stay over at Anne's for a while. After all, Anne wanted the see her daughter-in-law who was pregnant with her grandson or granddaughter -- and Y/n was starting to feel more and more deprived of a mother's love by each day, making Harry take her to Anne.

She had put Harry to work currently with fluffing up the Christmas tree's leaves, and to decorate it with the string lights they'd bought just the day before. He was crouching just about beside her, facing her with the tall tree standing between them.

"I swear, this tree has got me working the hardest I ever have," Harry joked, wiping the sheen layer of sweat on his face. He chuckled when Y/n shook her head, laughing at him and not at his joke -- but he didn't need to know that. "So dramatic," he heard her murmur under her breath, knowing that she meant for him to hear it.

"I'm the one who's dramatic?" He questioned her with a touch of accusation to it. "You're the one who's been up my arse this whole month with 'let's do this, let's do that'!" Mimicking her, Harry smacked his hand on the tree and hissed in pain when a thorn pricked his finger.

A smirk appeared on Y/n's face as she continued to mess with the order of stuff she'd stacked up on the mantel. Shrugging, she said, "that's what you get for teasing me."

Herry scoffed instead of saying anything and went back to fluffing up the tallest bit of the tree. His armpits were moist with his sweat but he wouldn't even dare to think about putting out the crackling-fire in the fireplace. He might be a naturally warm body, but Y/n definitely wasn't.

Whether it was summer, or winter -- her body was never found to be hot. Hell, even when she took off her fuzzy socks last night her feet were freezing cold. And, with the baby growing in her body, Harry wouldn't even let Y/n remove the thin blanket he had wrapped around her frame when he woke up at the first ray of sunshine and realized that it had started snowing.

"H? Will you please bring me those mini-Christmas trees?" Y/n asked him, turning to give him some puppy-eyes but caught him watching the snowflakes on the windowpane instead. Tilting her head and joining him in looking outside, her lips stretched in a smile.

The snow fell soundlessly, drifting down like white and fluffy cold crystals. It brought an essence of magic in the world, falling softly into blankets that cover the landscape. 

"...'course," she heard him mumble, and turned just in time to catch the smile he passed her with a glint in his eyes that she'd come to recognize as admiration. Though she wasn't sure if what he was admiring then was the snow, her, or the 7-month baby bump.

In the time that Harry went to pick up the set of trees from the kitchen island, Y/n dropped the blanket from her shoulders, feeling too hot suddenly. The room had grown too warm for her current liking, and as she sat down cross-legged on the floor to give her knees some rest, she wished for Harry to be back by her side.

She slipped back on her bottom until her aching back hit the leg of the sofa and rested there. Patting the spot next to her, she invited Harry to sit beside her and whined internally when he passed her a knowing look and brought back the blanket with him. "Open the window if you're going to make me wear that blanket again," she told him pointedly, passing him a smile to tell him she didn't mean that behaviour seriously.

"But baby," Harry looked at her with a desperate look on his face. "It's cold outside!" he told her, wanting to open the window himself but he simply denied to because he couldn't have Y/n catch a cold. He sat down, spreading his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

He draped the blanket over both of their legs, making sure her bump is also covered. Leaning in, he pressed his lips on her pouted ones, smiling in the midst when she wouldn't back away.

Y/n reached for one of the kid's books that she'd been reading to learn some stories she could tell her little bundle of love when they were old enough to whine to her for just one more story. With some trouble, she caught the book on the sofa behind her and opened it, keeping it tilted just in case Harry wanted to join her.

But Harry was rather busy idly playing with her free hand, and as she continued to read, she felt him raise her hand up and press a kiss into her palm. Her cheeks, that were already rosy because of the cold, had now turned a shade of raging red and Harry couldn't help but cackle at that.

Y/n slapped his arm, an embarrassed smile dressed on her lips. "Stop it," she hissed, unable from removing the bashful smile on her mouth when Harry kisses the back of her hand the other time around. She turned her face away so that he couldn't see the cherry-red tint on her face, her mouth trembling because of the shy-giggle she was working hard to keep in.

Harry loved seeing the smallest gestures affect her in ways that she couldn't even control. Sputters of laughter kept falling from his mouth and when she didn't turn to face him after some while, he couldn't help but grab her chin and make her look at him.

Although she had shut her eyes tightly, the apple of her cheeks still suffused with a shade of pink that he decided was his favourite from now on. "C'mon!" He laughed when she wouldn't open her eyes.

He had only started getting such exquisite reactions out of her since he put a baby in her, and God, he would put another one in there if she would keep making him lose his mind like this.

Suddenly, a yelp flew out of his mouth, and he flinched away when she pressed her icy foot flat on his calf.

"Oh my god," he laughed with a surprised expression on his feet. "Baby, how the fuck are you so cold, still?" He shouted with laughter, his heart bursting with love when she started laughing profusely with her head thrown back. He, somewhere in the midst of it all, had stopped laughing, gazing at her instead.

But when Y/n didn't hear him laughing along with her, she opened her eyes only to find him looking at her as if she'd had hung stars in the room for him; and Harry swore her eyes were genuinely glittering and shimmering with something he was sure the poets would call love.

[webslinger-holland]

Best Pilot in the Galaxy | Tech from The Bad Batch

Summary: During a mission, Tech has a hard time allowing his ship to be driven by someone else.

Warning: slight angst and argument

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader Pilot

Type: Oneshot

The Marauder was sitting on a world in the Outer Rim called Cassander. It was a lush, green planet with a few major bodies of water. However, most notably, the planet was growing in population and had recently become Ord Mantell's most competitive trading rival.

The ship was nearly empty, except for a singular pilot sitting in the cockpit. She was not the rightful owner of the ship, but had been assigned this mission with the group of rouge clones that did own the ship. The squad was located somewhere in the capital city nearby, attempting to steal the package in which they had come for. The pilot waited patiently for the pickup call.

Now, the pilot had been waiting for nearly two hours for the call to come through the comms. She did everything she could think of to pass the time, which included rummaging through the squad's belongings. Though she didn't find anything of value.

The gonk droid made a noise as he waddled into the cockpit. The pilot went through the ship's log, seeing all the planets the squad had recently visited. Their last stop happened to be Ord Mantell where they were assigned this mission in particular.

"Y/n! Come in," Hunter's voice sounded desperate over the comms. She quickly jolted forward in her seat, pressing the button to relay a message back.

"Read you loud and clear," Y/n responded. She began clicking buttons on the control panel, preparing the ship for liftoff.

"We need a pick up. We've been compromised," Hunter explained. He was panting on the other end of the line, which probably meant they were running.

"What part of stealth mission is so hard to understand?"

"Just hurry. We don't have a lot of time. They're sending air support," Hunter warned her.

"Oh great," Y/n scoffed sarcastically.

"I'm sending you our coordinates," Tech interjected over the communications.

As the Marauder departed off the ground, the landing gear retracted back into the ship. The wings moved downwards as the ship was angled towards the sky. The engine roared to life; the ship began flying towards the rendezvous location.

The workers from the trading post were shooting their blasters at the criminals running away from them. They tried to keep up with them, firing relentlessly as they got away with some of their own goods.

It was Wrecker, Hunter, and Tech who were carrying the heavy cargo in the form of a shipping container. Normally, it would take four guys to carry the cargo, but since Wrecker was so strong, he was able to carry the left side without help. Behind them, Echo and Omega fired shots back at the workers. They covered them as the rest ran as fast as they could.

"Whatever is in here, it better be worth it." Wrecker grunted, dodging the blaster fire.

"As long as we get paid," Hunter responded.

The small squad continued running through the vast forest, maneuvering around trees in hopes of using its coverage to their advantage. They came into a clearing with the workers getting closer each second. All of the sudden, a cliff came into their view which caused them to halt in their place.

"Where's our ride?" Echo asked desperately. He peered around his shoulder with his gun still raised.

"There!" Omega pointed into the sky.

The Marauder rounded the corner of the mountain, coming into their line of view. It flew over to the edge of the cliff to meet them. The ramp lowered to hover right by the cliff, allowing the squad to climb aboard the vessel.

The blaster fire was beginning to hit the sides of the ship. The squad fired back, striking a few of the workers down. Once everyone was aboard, Hunter slammed the button on the side of the wall so the ramp was lifted.

"That's everyone," Hunter shouted. "Get us out of here!"

"Roger that," Y/n said.

Pulling a lever, the thrusters sent a powerful volt back which propelled the ship forward rapidly. By steering the ship, Y/n directed the ship back into the mountain range. She could hear the air support coming up behind them. She took a sharp turn to deter them.

The sharp turn caused each member of the squad to loose their footing and grab something nearby to steady themselves. Carefully, Tech quickly made his way into the cockpit. He leaned over the back of the pilot's seat, resting his hand on the panel for support. He hadn't taken the time to remove his helmet.

"That is sufficient," Tech announced to the pilot. "I'll take it from here."

"A little busy here," Y/n stated instead. She turned the wheel to the left, taking another sharp turn which made everything in the ship turn that way. And Tech ended up leaning a little into her.

"Wrecker," Tech ordered. He moved to sit in the co-pilot seat which was where Echo usually sat. "Get to the tail gun."

There were at least six smaller ships following them at this point, firing as many rounds as possible. The Marauder swayed to the left and right, expertly dodging each blast aimed at them. In the tail gun, Wrecker got into position before firing back at the ships. He managed to hit one of them, but it wasn't enough to bring the ship down.

Back in the cockpit, Tech began pressing a few buttons on the control panel. The pilot glared at him through the corner of her eye, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. She maintained her grip on the sides of the wheel.

"Transitioning controls back to co-pilot," Tech announced. He went to press the final red button, but she swatted his hand away. "What are you doing?" Tech demanded an explanation.

"I know how to fly," Y/n said through gritted teeth. Her eyes were still facing forward as she focused on the task at hand.

"I never said you didn't," Tech informed her. "I am simply stating that I am ready to transition controls back to me as I am more capable of flying this vessel than you. It is my ship after all," Tech said as a matter of factly.

Hunter rolled his eyes in the background. He knew it was pointless to argue over the comment.

"You weren't hired to be the pilot for this mission," Y/n argued back. "I can get us out of this."

With that comment, one of the blaster fires struck the right wing which caused it to catch on fire. The two of them peered out the window, spotting the trail of black smoke falling behind the hit.

"You were saying?" Tech replied. He gestured to the damage done to his ship. She rolled her eyes at him.

A few more ships began trailing behind them. They began firing more shots towards them. There was no way one ship could take the whole fleet down.

"Uh guys," Wrecker announced from the tail gun. "We've got more incoming."

Ignoring the comment, Tech quickly transitioned controls back to his wheel before the other pilot could protest. He gripped the wheel harshly, moving the wheel to take a sharp left hand turn. The ship was forced to swerve around the side of the mountain; a few of the enemy ships crashed into the sides as a result. She switched controls back to her wheel, taking a right hand turn. The ship weaved around another mountainside.

Behind the googles of his helmet, Tech squinted his eyes in slight irritation. He changed controls once again. He quickly grabbed onto the lever, pulling it backwards so the thrusters gave another jolt of energy. Now they were flying a little faster.

Nevertheless, another blaster hit managed to strike the back of the ship. The Marauder jolted forward from the force of the blast. The two pilots lurched forward in their seats. The others continued to hold onto things for support.

"You aren't doing much better," Y/n replied snakily. She reached forward to press the button once more. She turned the wheel as far as she could, which caused the ship to completely turn around. She pulled the lever for the extra push.

"What are you doing?" Tech exclaimed. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Down in the tail gun, Wrecker began firing at the ships flying directly in front of them. With his expertise, he struck down three ships. Those ships exploded into a million pieces, fierce flames erupting around them. The Marauder flew through the fire without taking damage.

The enemy ships needed to turn around before continuing their chase. They quickly swerved their ships. Once the ships were facing the right way, the thrusters kicked in for that extra power. And the enemy continued their pursuit.

"I will only say this one more time," Tech's modulated voice spoke through his helmet. He turned to face her in his seat. His eyes looked angry behind his googles. "Relinquish controls now."

"Over my dead body," Y/n challenged him. She didn't take her eyes off him.

In the background, Hunter and Echo seemed to raise their eyebrows at the two pilots. They looked between them, half expecting one of them to cave in and go back to flying the ship. But neither of them faltered.

"Uh guys," Omega interrupted them.

Both of them directed their line of attention back towards flying the ship. With a quick maneuver, they managed to dodge the mountain they were heading straight for at the last second. A few more ships crashed into it.

"You're both going to get us all killed if you don't figure something out," Hunter shouted behind them.

Reaching forward, Y/n went to press a few more buttons, but Tech swatted her hand away this time. He went ahead and pressed his own buttons. He was punching in the coordinates for their destination.

"You are not the best pilot in the galaxy," Y/n claimed. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. He kept putting in the coordinates.

"Hardly a measurable cause," Tech said with a roll of his eyes in annoyance.

"You haven't made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs," Y/n added. It was like she was insisting that it could be measurable.

"I have a theory that it can be done in twelve," Tech stated as a matter of factly.

"I highly doubt that," Y/n chuckled at the comment.

Suddenly, Y/n pressed the wheel forward with all of her might. The ship began to descend down at a rapid pace, shifting into a nose dive position. The ground was growing closer and closer with each second. The enemy ships following right behind them, firing non-stop.

Both Hunter and Echo were holding onto panels behind them. The force of falling forwards was pushing them back. They were unable to move.

"You have to pull up--" Tech ordered in a slight panic.

"Oh for the last time," Y/n shouted over him. "I know what I'm doing!"

At the last possible second, the wonderfully skilled pilot pulled the wheel into her chest so that the ship was pulled up. It was so close to touching the ground, but it missed it by a hair. The last two ships crashed into the ground, exploding suddenly and sending debris flying.

Now that the threat of the chase was finally over, Y/n could relax in her seat a little. The rest of the squad was completely silent, realizing that she had managed to get them out of the situation with little damage in the end. Beside her, Tech kept his eye on her since he was still angry with her.

The Marauder started to climb in altitude, shifting towards the edge of the planet's atmosphere. It finally passed through the atmosphere, flying through space. The stars throughout the galaxy sparkled as the planet grew small and smaller. It was now all behind them.

"Are the coordinates to Ord Mantell in?" Y/n wondered. Her voice was so much calmer now. Her shoulders slumped at her sides. But she refused to make eye contact.

"Yes. They are in," Tech informed her softly. His eyes softened behind his helmet. He studied her carefully, trying to figure out what she was thinking in that brain of hers. He quickly shook it off, directing his attention back towards the void of space in front of them.

Without thinking, Tech and Y/n went to reach for the lever to send them into hyperspace. Their hands grazed each other's with neither of them being any closer to the lever than the other. They both awkwardly pulled their hands away upon contact.

"I'm sorry," Y/n muttered under her breath.

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for the situation they just came out of or the situation that just occurred with the lever. Nevertheless, she reached for the lever once again, pulling it back to send the ship into hyperspace.

Back at Ord Mantell, the Bad Batch went back to Cid's Parlor. They stood on the other side of her desk, having just delivered the cargo that she paid them to retrieve. She peered into the package, checking to make sure everything was there.

Behind the group, Y/n stood there in total silence. Her eyes were trained on the floor as she shifted in her place awkwardly. She waited for their boss to address them.

Beside her, Tech stood about an arm's length away. He glanced at her through the corner of his eye, taking note of her odd demeanor. He raised his finger and opened his mouth to say something to her, but he was rudely cut off.

"Looks like everything is here," Cid announced. She closed the cargo container. She began rummaging through her drawers, collecting the correct amount of credits to pay both parties.

Now Y/n went to take a few steps forward and made her way through the members of the squad. She stood in front of the desk. Her boss went ahead and placed a handful of credits in her hand.

"That is your cut," Cid told her. She handed the rest of the credits to Hunter. "And here is your cut. I'll call you when I have another job," Cid claimed.

There was a brief moment of silence in the room. Cid went to cross her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at the company of six standing in front of her.

"You guys work well together," Cid said honestly. "You should work together more often."

In response, Y/n breathed a scoff under her breath. The boys turned their heads to look at her, slightly surprised at her reaction. She shook her head in denial.

"Yeah. Like that's ever going to happen," Y/n rolled her eyes at the notion.

Without hesitation, she spun around on the heels of her feet in order to head towards the door. She purposely bumped into Tech's shoulder a little too harshly. She left the room with the door closing behind her.

"What's wrong with her?" Cid scoffed. She looked at the rest of the squad for some form of explanation, but none of them said anything. "Fine! Be all quiet and mysterious. See if I care," Cid said.

By the time the Bad Batch left Cid's office, Y/n was nowhere to be found in the bar. They went to sit down at the bar so they could order drinks to celebrate another successful mission. They sat in complete silence, thinking about what transpired during the mission.

"Where do you think she's gone?" Echo wondered.

Though they never pulled missions together, the Bad Batch knew that the pilot worked for Cid and was stationed at Ord Mantell. They had seen her quite often over the past few months. They had grown familiar of her. And now they worried about her.

"The odds are that she returned to her flat," Tech explained. He pushed the bridge of his googles up to be more secure on his face. He kept his focus on his data pad.

"Probably," Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "But it's late. Which means it's dark out."

"Astute observation," Tech claimed sarcastically. He gave a single nod, but didn't take his eyes off his data pad.

"And she's walking back to her flat...at the edge of town...late at night," Hunter further explained.

"She will be fine," Tech stated. He knew where he was going with this. "She is always saying how she can take care of herself and doesn't need our help. Why would that change now?"

The other members remained silent. They turned their heads to take quick glances at one another. With a silent agreement, Hunter rose to his feet and went to stand by Tech. He roughly grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him out of his seat, much to his dismay.

"Go find her. Make sure she gets home safe. And apologize to her," Hunter ordered.

"I do not see why I have to be the one to apologize when I did noth--" Tech began. He was quickly cut off.

"Tech," Hunter said in a warning tone of voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, showing that he meant business.

"Fine," Tech said in defeat. "I will apologize."

With some hesitation, Tech grabbed his helmet and fitted it over his head. He began making his way towards the door of the parlor, leaving the rest of his crew behind. He walked through the deserted streets of Ord Mantell, passing a few shady people in the process.

Now Tech knew that she lived near the edge of town because she had once mentioned it during a conversation. Besides that, Tech really didn't know where to look and simply hoped he'd bump into her before she got home so he'd know she was safe. He passed by a few alleys, peeking through each one briefly.

The Marauder was parked in a hanger bay only a few blocks away from the parlor. Just as Tech passed by the hanger, he heard a familiar voice coming from his very own ship. He backtracked by taking two steps backwards. He peered into the hangar bay to glance at his ship.

Stepping into the bay, Tech tilted his head to the side in slight curiosity. The right wing of the ship began to move downwards until it lay completely horizontal. A few seconds later, Y/n began descending down the ramp with a toolbox in hand. She walked over to the wing of the ship.

Upon seeing her, Tech sharply inhaled. He felt the back of his throat close up and his shoulders tensed at his sides. He hesitantly took a few steps forward, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

Reaching upwards, Y/n placed the single toolbox onto the flat surface of the ship's wing. She proceeded to grab onto the wing before hoisting herself up onto it. She climbed to the center of the wing to assess the damage inflicted in the crossfire.

At this point, Y/n had no idea that he was also in the hanger bay with her. She opened the toolbox, rummaging through to find the right tool. The damage done to the right wing was a massive gaping hole with burnt edges from the fire. It would eventually need a panel welded to cover it up again. But for now, she focused on the internal repairs.

Thankfully, from the assessment, nothing major had been hit. A few bolts had gotten loose and a few parts needed to be replaced. She focused on that for now.

After grabbing a socket spanner, Y/n leaned down to place her arm into the gaping hole of the wing. It went so far down that her chest was practically pressed against the surface of the wing. She used the spanner to tighten some bolts.

"What...are you doing?" Tech decided to finally announce his presence. He stepped forward until he stood in the light coming from the opening of the hanger bay.

Upon hearing that familiar voice, Y/n only rolled her eyes to herself. She continued her work as she preferred to focus on repairs rather than on him. She grunted softly, making sure that first bolt was nice and tight.

"What do you want Tech?" Y/n wondered. She pulled her arm out of the hole to assess her work. She didn't even bother to glance towards him, knowing he would have sent her a look of disapproval for working on his ship.

Slowly, Tech began to lower his gaze to the floor. He contemplated his next words carefully, fighting the urge to lash out at her for meddling with his ship. He liked things to be a certain way and would have much preferred if he did the actual repairs. Now Tech didn't want to fight with her so he changed his approach.

"I analyzed that you left the parlor on your own and thought it would be better if I accompany you back home," Tech explained. She huffed at his answer.

"I've told you before," Y/n began. "I can--"

"Take care of yourself," Tech finished. He adjusted the lenses of his goggles though he still wore his helmet. He noticed how she fell silent. "Yes, I've gathered that much."

"Why are you really out here?" Y/n wondered. She went to lean down again in order to tighten more bolts.

"I...could ask you the same," Tech replied slowly. He honestly felt like this was the first civil conversation they had ever had.

"I wanted to make some repairs on your precious ship since it was apparently my fault," Y/n claimed. Her tone sounding a little harsher now. She tightened two more bolts in the process.

"That is not what I meant," Tech interjected. He took a step forward. He gazed up at her figure perched on the wing, attempting to reason with her. "I was...caught up in the moment. Shouldn't have said those things," Tech confessed quietly.

"Well, don't worry. As soon as I finish up these repairs, I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again," Y/n responded.

For some reason, Tech couldn't combat a response to her comment. He simply nodded his head understandingly. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the ground and allowed her to finish her repairs in silence. He thought for some time how he could fix this relationship since it wasn't his strong suit. Fixing things was more his style.

"Blast," Y/n's voice pulled him out of his train of thought. He glanced up at her.

The sleeve of her blue flight suit had gotten in the way of her repairs. She had rolled her sleeves up to keep the material out of her way, but the sleeves continued to fall back down to her wrists every time she placed her arm in the hole. She pulled back and rose to her feet.

Without hesitation, Y/n's hands flew to the top button of her flight suit. She began to undue the buttons in which she revealed the black tank top underneath. All the while, Tech studied her carefully as her nimble fingers worked steadily. His pupils dilated behind those goggles of his.

Upon reaching her waistline, Y/n had stopped unbuttoning and shrugged the suit off her shoulders. She tied the sleeves around her waist. She dropped to her knees to continue working without the distraction of her clothes getting in the way.

Slowly, Tech raised his hand to the side of his head and clicked the bottom to save the recording to the drive. He records everything and he was certainly glad he recorded that. He wanted to revisit the recording later for his own 'research' purposes.

"There," Y/n sighed. She sat back on her knees, wiping her dirty hands on the pants of her flight suit. "Repairs are finished."

Naturally, Y/n began to pack away the tools she used and placed them back into the box. She closed the lid of the toolbox, tossing it over the edge of the wing for it to land on the ground with a thump. She then proceeded to jump down off the wing of the ship, landing a little hard so her knees buckled slightly.

Just like she promised, Y/n had every intention of leaving the hanger bay so that they'd never have to see her again. She went to walk away, but just as she passed beside him, Tech reached out and grabbed her forearm. She halted in her steps.

Neither of them could look at each other. She felt his gloved fingers digging into her bare skin, but not hard enough that it would leave marks. She slowly turned to look at him, but he kept his head down.

"I...really came here to apologize," Tech confessed. When Tech lifted his gaze to meet her face, he saw how her eyebrows went up in slight surprise. It definitely caught her off guard.

"I see," Y/n thought about his words carefully. She shifted her balance from one foot to the other. "So all those things you said back on Cassander where just...what?"

He closed his eyes, seriously regretting everything he said. "Like I said earlier, in the moment, I was incredibly frustrated with you."

"Because I wouldn't give up the controls?" Y/n said flatly.

"No, because I recognize that my levels of dopamine are elevated when I'm around you and I distance myself from you in order to prevent that from happening,” Tech confessed before he could even stop himself.

But now, hearing what he just said, Tech quickly averted his gaze away from her. He was thankful to be wearing his helmet so she wouldn't see how bright his cheeks had gotten. He released his grip on her arm, letting it fall back down to his side.

For once, Y/n actually understood what he said. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at this sudden confession. She definitely did not expect him to blurt out his emotions that night, especially after their fight on the ship. She knew better than to tease him at a time like this.

"I-I don't understand why," Tech said rather sadly. That was the first time that he'd spoken those words out loud.

What broke her heart was the tone of defeat laced with his words. It told her that he'd been wrestling with these foreign emotions and thoughts for some time. He didn't know how to react around her and so he acted with defense. He pushed those feeling away, fighting against it.

Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her hands to the sides of his helmet. She went to remove his helmet slowly, revealing his face to her for the first time today. She tossed the helmet to the side without a care in the world, but he still refused to meet her gaze.

"You are probably repulsed by me," Tech began. "From the way I treated you and the words I said to--"

But Tech wasn't able to finish that sentence. Because Y/n had taken his face in her hands and leaned upwards to press her lips against his own. He froze in his place.

His eyes were wide open in surprise. His hands were elevated on either side of him because he didn't know what to do with them. He could feel the softness of her lips still against his own. Before Tech had the chance to process what was happening, Y/n pulled away from him.

The two of them were standing so close together; the chests being pressed against one another's. Their breath mingled as their noses bumped together once or twice. He glanced down at her lips because he wanted nothing more than to taste them once more.

His hands found their way down to her hips with one hand sneaking around her lower back. He pressed that hand into her back which brought her body even closer to his. She released a small gasp.

"Apology accepted," Y/n whispered to him. She played with the edge of the plastoid armor on his chest. "And I'm sorry for the way I acted towards you."

"Why cyare?" Tech wondered. He raised his hand to the side of her face, tucking a single strand of hair behind her ear. He held his hand against her cheek.

"I should have given up the controls. You are the better pilot and it is your ship," Y/n explained with a shake of the head.

"I am not the better pilot," Tech stated firmly.

There was a moment of silence between them. "I can't make split second decisions and calculations like you do when you're flying."

"Well, I've never done the Kessel Run." Tech argued back playfully. He smiled down at her. "At least, not in twelve parsecs."

"Fourteen," Y/n corrected him. "I did it in fourteen."

"Fine. Fourteen," Tech caved in.

Slowly, Tech tilted his head to the side and began to lean down with every intention of kissing her again. But the two of them were interrupted when someone cleared their throat over by the entrance of the hanger bay. The two of them quickly pulled apart and turned to face whoever had interrupted them.

The other members of the Bad Batch stood looking at them near the entrance of the hanger. It was initially Hunter who had cleared his throat to garner their attention; he stood with his arms folded across his chest just as a disapproving father would. Beside him, Wrecker and Omega were practically squealing with each other. They couldn't contain their excitement. And Echo averted his gaze in an awkward manner.

"Care to explain yourselves?" Hunter hinted. He glanced between the two of them with a playful smirk on his face.

"I think they finally confessed that they like each other," Wrecker interrupted. His words coming out louder than anticipated. He nudged Echo who stood beside him.

"You think?" Echo glanced at him.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Omega smiled at them.

Meanwhile, Tech quickly collected his helmet off the ground and placed it over his head once again. He hoped it would cover the blush creeping up his neck to his face. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of the taunting from his brothers anytime soon.

"Well boys. It looks like we got another member on our crew," Hunter said slowly. "Welcome to the Bad Batch."

[mrsterlingusa]

Christmas Mantel

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter five

“camouflage so you can feed the lie that you’re composed.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: descriptions of fear and violence, alastor is going through it, victorian inspired flustered pining, flirtation but vaguely threatening, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.3k

author’s note: apologies if this is a little mellow, but i figured it would be a nice change of pace considering the last couple chapters have been kinda tense. and if i’m being honest, i’ve been feeling inspired by some of my cozier writings - it’s about time some of that energy made its way here! lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It had been a long night. 

Despite how hard you tried, sleep came in small doses that only served to make you more restless. The sounds you heard in Alastor’s room rang in your ears as if they had never stopped. It had been guttural and animalistic, but unmistakably him. Cold dread sank into you as your mind lingered on what happened, the terror in you not yet subsided.

His bath was drawn and you had just finished lighting the candles on the fireplace mantel, but sensed a shift in the air when you began turning down the bed. Dismissing it at first as a draft or just a lingering trace of Alastor’s general spooky energy. That shadow of his was always up to something. If only that had been the case.

The fit of rage that came from the locked part of Alastor’s suite was so deafening and sudden that for a moment you were disconnected from yourself, until it all came crashing down on you like a wave in a storm. You fell to your knees and tried to catch your breath, your heartbeat pounding in your throat so violently it felt as if you’d choke on it. Mixed in with the howling was the clear sound of destruction, but of what, you couldn’t be sure. Absently, you thought of a tree being felled, but dismissed it as shock.

Snarling, thrashing, ripping.

It seemed never-ending and you were frozen in place, though desperate to be anywhere else. As the shock began to fade, a separate fear sank in: what if he found you here? Yes, he had sent you up here in the first place but this was… vulnerable. You found yourself on both sides of the coin. If you stayed here, he’d either harm you by accident or on purpose, neither of which you wanted.

Your arms were shaky but you managed to start crawling towards the door, not trusting your legs to be strong enough to stand. That would have to wait for the hallway. With every inch of progress you made toward escape, the cacophony from the other room began to fade, soon replaced by ominous, heaving breaths. Shit. He was winding down…

Panic gnawed at you, urging you forward, and you hissed at the sting of a rug burn blooming on your knee. A small price to pay. Whatever Alastor could do to you would be far worse. Instinct kicked in and you rose to your feet, nearly rolling your ankle as you closed the gap and pulled the door open. You were turning to close it when you saw him. 

Even in the relative safety of your bed, you felt your breath picking up, chest tight. It was an image you’d soon not forget, if ever. Alastor stood in the doorway of the connected room, his shadow huge and glowing green, looming behind him, both of their faces wild. Blood was running down the sides of Alastor’s mouth and he was dirty and unkempt, his eyes were their usual red but with a mania you hadn’t seen in him before. He was still panting, his body shaking in the doorframe with each breath from the strain.

Every hair on your body stood on edge as your blood turned to ice, feeling his menace even from your place just beyond the door. You should have just closed it or ran away but you were paralyzed in his gaze, barely managing to breathe in his stifling presence. His mouth opened but you didn’t hear whatever he said over your pounding heart. Before you could register the movement, Alastor’s shadow materialized in front you, leering down with a ghoulish, fanged grin and shrieked in your face. Its cackle echoed off the walls as you fled.

The clock in your room chimed and you shuddered against the early morning light seeping in from behind your curtains, the pit in your stomach hardening.

It was time to get up. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You had gotten yourself ready with as much time to spare as you could allow, knowing you’d need it. The door to Alastor’s room had never been a welcome sight but today it was downright threatening, practically daring you to knock as your knuckles hovered over it. A shaky breath escaped you as your arm fell to your side. You couldn’t do it. Not yet. 

It was hard to decide which fate was worse: being late or being here at all. Not that you were late, but he wouldn’t know that you’ve spent the past ten minutes fretting outside his room (with ten still to go). So yes, late is what you’d be if he so chose. As for showing up in the first place, considering the circumstance, he might wonder where you found the nerve and not in a way that’d be rewarded with praise. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Fuck it, you thought, inhaling through your nose as you steeled yourself, bringing your closed hand back up to the door. It wasn’t your best, but you managed a couple decent taps. And waited.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor didn’t sleep often, but he was unable to fight the wave of exhaustion that bore down on him after the adrenaline from his outburst wore off. Though to blame it all on that would be skirting the truth. Ever since the battle with Adam, things haven’t exactly been going according to plan for the Overlord. The scar on his chest and broken microphone a constant reminder of how close he had come to a true death. 

He would never admit it, as he barely could even to himself, but being without his microphone was becoming truly unbearable, picking away at his self-image as each day without it passed. It pained him like a phantom limb and despite several attempts so far to mend it nothing had worked. Another blow. If the others had noticed him without it — which they definitely had — they had wisely kept their mouths shut regarding its absence in the weeks that have passed since the assault.

The problems just seemed to compound on each other. Losing to Adam, breaking his mic, the Vees knowing about all of it, Rosie forcing you on him, you killing Donny, which in turn put him right in the palm of Valentino’s hand. Valentino, for fuck’s sake! Even in his deep state of sleep Alastor’s brow furrowed, clawed hands puncturing the sheets as his subconscious worked through all of this again.

But before collapsing into bed, there had been clarity. If there was anything in the world one always had control over, it was perspective. And while things could surely be going better, Alastor had definitely suffered through worse in the past. These were just… growing pains. Any and all who underestimated him now would regret the day they ever crossed his path. The Radio Demon chuckled, still sleeping, with the scent of smoke slowly coaxing him back to consciousness.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Something was wrong. Alastor normally opened the door within seconds of your arrival, but minutes had passed since the third round of knocking. Maybe he wasn’t there? It wouldn’t be shocking for him to have gone somewhere, considering the night before. But something inside you didn’t feel satisfied with that. There hasn’t been a single morning so far that Alastor hadn’t set up some kind of task or errand for you just to press your buttons. Would he really have missed an opportunity to lay into you about seeing him like that last night?

You found yourself gripping the door handle. There’s no way it wouldn’t be locked, right? Then again… who would ever be stupid enough to walk into Alastor’s room without permission? It was a double-edged sword of sorts; his ego and other’s audacity. A nervous laugh escaped you as the knob turned in your hand, easily as a knife through butter. Apparently you were stupid and audacious, pushing the door open just enough to poke your head in. 

“Oh shit,” you groaned, clenching your jaw.

The room was dark, save for the candles that were burning low on the fireplace. It was a miracle it hadn’t gone up in flames. You bit your lip, considering your next course of action. You’d just snuff the candles and get out of there. He’d never have to know you had been here alone.

You made your way to the lounge area where the fireplace was and got to work extinguishing the candles with the snuffer, pleasant-smelling smoke wafting in the air as you made your way down the mantel. You were just about to put the last one out when you heard a low chuckle somewhere behind you, the snuffer nearly slipping through your fingers at the shock from the sudden noise. 

Cold sweat prickled your forehead. He was in here. Your eyes scanned the darkness, squinting, eventually settling on the bed. All you could see was a lump of duvet, his form indiscernible underneath, but it was the only place he could be. If seeing him lost to rage had been bad, catching him whilst asleep was much worse. There was no doubt that plenty of people had seen him the way he was last night, it had just been your first exposure. But you knew there wasn’t a single soul in Hell who had ever seen him sleeping, and you didn’t want to find out what the consequences would be for that transgression.

You turned back to the mantle, saying a silent prayer to be able to leave before he woke up as you snuffed the final candle. A sigh of relief escaped you as you gave a quick look over your shoulder, Alastor seemingly undisturbed, and began to tiptoe towards the door. You welcomed the coolness of the brass doorknob under your fingers, freedom blossoming in your chest.

“And just where are you off to?”

Your shoulders scrunched up and you faltered, the authority in his voice undeniable despite being coated in sleep. He was destined to always get the best of you, wasn’t he? You straightened and turned to face him, feeling slightly off-kilter at the image of Alastor sitting up in bed. Eyes having adjusted more, you could make out messy hair and the drowsiness that still clung to his eyelids. Somewhere in the worry, the word cute settled in your mind, followed quickly by a scolding. You didn’t have the luxury of admiring him when he was undoubtedly preparing a verbal lashing for you.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said, clearing your throat a little as your eyes moved away from him, flustered. It was hard to keep your mind straight seeing him like this, something you didn’t think would ever be an issue. “The candles were still burning, so I just came in to put them out. I’m sorry I woke you up, I’ll come back later if you need to sleep more.”

He hummed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the action so innocent and foreign it made your pulse spike. How was this the same man you had seen last night — or any day since you first met, for that matter? In this moment he just seemed so… soft. It was disarming, to say the least, and you were doing your best to keep your wits, finding it to be a more difficult task than expected. Even with how uneasy you were for fear of being in trouble.

“You’ve caught me in quite the compromising position! I don’t believe anyone besides my mother has ever seen me in bed,” he said soberly, pinning you in place with his stare just as he had the night before. He was clearly not pleased, but the wrath you had been expecting wasn’t there. The filter in his voice dropped. “I expect you back here in fifteen minutes. With coffee.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you returned you found Alastor staring off into the horizon, sitting at the small table on the balcony in his housecoat. You were very familiar with it, usually picking it up off the floor or the back of a chair, but never had you seen it worn. You also noticed he had combed through his hair, but there was still just a hint of unruly bed head that remained. The tingle crept back up your throat and you swallowed, needing to focus on keeping your expression neutral. His ear twitched at your approach but he didn’t move to look at you until you were setting down the coffee, reaching out for his mug with an un-gloved hand. You had never seen his hands before, you realized, the high collar of your dress suddenly feeling too tight.

He inspected you, the cogs of his mind working as you stood there, and you tried not to fidget. You’d like to take his dissatisfaction with as much grace as you could muster. A minute passed before he finally smiled, the familiarity of his expression a relief despite the calculation you knew was behind it. 

“Have a seat. We need to talk.”

You don’t say, you thought apprehensively, but did as you were told and sat across from him, folding your hands in your lap. You felt like you were trapped in the most vexing cycle possible of deja vu.

“You have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, don’t you?” he jeered, chuckling into his mug as he took in the quick flash of shame on your face. He could be speaking to quite a number of things now, and you felt the scorch of a blush spread up your face. “Did I frighten you last night?”

He seemed pleased to think so, his close-lipped smile triumphant as always, and he wasn’t wrong; he had scared you senseless. You pursed your lips, turning the question over in your mind as you considered your response. “Yes,” you said tentatively, drawing it out. “Of course I was. I hardly slept, if that’s what you want to hear. Though I think this is scarier.”

Alastor tossed his head back, laughing heartily after you motioned at him with your finger. Seeing him in his housecoat and pajamas — and slippers?! Your nails bit into your palm as your mind went momentarily blank, and you feigned a cough as an excuse to turn your face away. This was beginning to feel worse than if you had walked in on him naked. It was so much easier to remember his authority when he was in his usual pomp. This felt way too intimate, borderline domestic, and it was making you restless.

You found yourself wishing you could be impaled on Vaggie’s spear as his laughter died down, the look he gave you now heavy-lidded, provocative, and smug. Without meaning to, you had played into stroking his ego. Perfect.

“I didn’t realize I was such a horror in the morning! Though to be fair you ensnared me, so I never stood a chance,” he sulked, letting out one of the most melodramatic sighs you’ve ever heard. “But once the fear wears off, I hope you can appreciate what an honor it is to bask in my presence like this. There are some who would kill for the privilege, you know.”

He gave you a wicked smile over his mug then, yellow fangs radiant before disappearing behind his lips as he took another loud sip of coffee. Something about the way he said it gave you a thought almost too absurd to consider but… he couldn’t be… flirting? Alastor always had an air of playfulness, which normally conflated with his twisted, sometimes sadistic, sense of humor. It was very possible that he was trying to lure you into a state of vulnerability just to knock you down a few pegs. He had been so upset last night. How was he in such light spirits today? A pattern that was beginning to exhaust you. You couldn’t — wouldn’t bite.

Besides, you had been fully prepared to be punished this morning. And within a matter of hours you had managed to see him in not one, but two very private situations. Though last night’s tantrum was something he probably felt no shame in as it could be perceived as a show of strength. Which, for the record, you were fairly certain you had been witness to a meltdown. But managing to walk in on him sleeping? If there was anything you thought he’d consider a killable offense well… that had to be near the top of the list, right?

“Well it’s certainly not something I ever thought I’d see — nor had I planned to,” you said, absently running a hand through your hair as you worked up your nerve. Here goes nothing. “But in my defense, the door wasn’t locked and you told me not to ever be tardy, so I don’t see how this is completely my fault. And anyway, now we’re even. We’ve both been in each other’s room without permission while the other was sleeping.” 

Or had he forgotten? You wouldn’t comment on the rest.

Alastor hummed pensively, the expression on his face almost impressed as he laced his fingers together to rest his chin. “Ahhh, there’s that cheek I’ve grown so accustomed to! Good morning, Sylvie.”

You bristled, but reciprocated with a sigh of defeat. “Good morning, Alastor.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The rest of the morning passed without incident, a welcome reprieve from recent mornings. After getting past the incident from last night and this morning, Alastor had finally told you about Charlie’s wish to have you join in on daily activities with the other residents. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t gratified at how nervous you seemed at the change in your routine, though it didn’t surprise him. Adaptability wasn’t quite your strong suit; you were a creature of habit.

When you had asked about what happened with Angel Dust last night, well… he told you all you needed to know for now. His meeting with Valentino was none of your business, anyway. Above your pay grade, he had joked, earning a nice glaring pout in return. As if it wasn’t enough fun teasing you, your scent was especially floral when you were embarrassed, almost akin to cherry blossom. A fact he would be keeping at the forefront of his mind.

As Alastor gave himself a once-over in the mirror, he caught sight of the bed behind him, now made to perfection. He had never paid you much attention while you were cleaning, typically preoccupied with grumbling at the news and nursing another cup of coffee. He laughed a little recalling how meticulous you were when it came to making the bed. You took it rather seriously; he had never seen your face so set in concentration as you went back and forth to ensure the top sheet was even before tucking it in. Whether that was by choice or duty, he knew it was his fault, but he didn’t mind. Why argue with such great results?

In fact, he was nearly tempted to sleep more because of how you attended to the task. Though he didn’t remember much of what happened in his cool-down the previous evening, he could still feel how secure he had felt under the taught sheet. Combined with the weight of the duvet, it was as comforting as his mother’s embrace. So it was no wonder he had slept as hard as he had.

Though it was a bit troublesome that he hadn’t known you were in his quarters until the candle smoke had woken him up. But seeing you trying to hide your unease as he lounged around in his nightclothes had been a worthy trade.

Satisfied with his appearance, Alastor took a deep breath and sighed, donning his trademark grin. It was time to see what that pestilential fool of an Overlord wanted.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold