#so i’m not just blindly accepting whatever it’s saying

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

i hate that i’m consuming new media atm but i feel like i can’t say anything on here bc it has some problematic content and i’m worried i’m gonna be judged for it

[nejibaby]

crush culture

Pairing: Wakasa Imaushi x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Description: everybody knows about your crush on wakasa, including the man himself.

The art of subtlety is a skill you have yet to acquire. With that said, everyone you know is able to read you like an open book.

In the recent chapters of the book that is your life, it says that you have feelings for your friend, Wakasa Imaushi.

You know it.

Benkei knows it.

Takeomi knows it.

Shinichiro knows it.

Even Wakasa himself knows it, as embarrassing as it sounds.

Though technically, they’re all assuming you like Wakasa, but without your confirmation, it’s just that: an assumption.

Even though your feelings for him are indeed true and definite, you refuse to admit it to anyone out loud. You won’t allow them to tease you more than they already have.

But for whatever reason, you could tell that the founding members of the Black Dragon gang are conniving with each other to somehow get you to confess, which is a real mystery to you, because what is there to gain from it?

You know he doesn’t like you like that, and you’ve already accepted the fact that heartache comes with continuing this friendship with him, so what’s the point? Why risk a perfectly good friendship over something as trivial as your crush for Wakasa?

Unless…

No, you refuse to go down that path. There’s a reason why Hope is in Pandora’s box in the first place.

You click your tongue and focus on the task at hand, which is sterilizing Shinichiro’s wounds.

“What happened this time, Shin? Did you instigate a fight? Got ambushed? Flirted with a taken woman?”

Shinichiro grunts. “‘S not important.”

You scoff, dabbing the disinfectant harder to his open wound.

“Ow! That hurts!”

“You should’ve known better than lying to my face,” you mumble.

“Don’t worry about it. It really isn’t important.”

“Shin, you have a black eye,” you deadpan. “And you were limping when you got here. I’m pretty sure whoever did this intended to hurt you.”

He doesn’t refute your claims. He just waits until you’re done patching him up.

“Thanks,” he says after you murmur you’re done. He stands to his full height and starts walking towards your door, but you grab his wrist before he can even cross your room.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home?”

“I don’t think so, mister,” you frown. “Stay here for the night. If you aren’t going to tell me what really happened, you’re going to sleep here and wait ‘til morning before you can leave. I’d rather have you spend the night than have you ambushed again.”

Shinichiro sweats, and you can tell he’s about to turn down your offer. “I—”

You glare at him. “No ifs or buts! Now go lay down in bed and sleep or else I’ll knock you down.”

There isn’t really much he can do to sway you when you’re this upset. So he lays on the other side of your bed and patiently waits for you to fall asleep before slipping out of your place.

The next day, someone knocks on his door. He sluggishly walks towards it with his eyes closed, and opens it without a thought. “Mmh?”

“Waka really did beat you up, huh?” He hears Benkei laugh at him.

Shinichiro groans without even putting effort into opening his eyes. He just walks back to his bed blindly and slams his body to it.

“Ah, did you knock out in an alley somewhere last night? I went to check up on you but you weren’t here.”

With sleep laced in his tone, he murmurs the tale of how he went to your house to get his wounds treated and how you won’t allow him to leave your place in the middle of the night.

He almost falls back to sleep with the lack of response from Benkei, but he jolts awake when he hears Wakasa gritting his teeth and saying, “You what?”

He swiftly stands upright and gapes at a fuming Wakasa. He internally curses himself for not bothering to open his eyes earlier and for running his mouth.

Wakasa Imaushi is jealous enough of him and his closeness to you as it is, and hearing what had just happened makes him want to punch Shin’s face again.

“Nothing happened!” Shinichiro is quick to clear it out, but Wakasa’s not hearing it.

“Quit going behind my back!” Wakasa is seething and Benkei is holding him back from attacking their leader. “You know damn well we have something going—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

You’re leaning against the door frame with your arms crossed.

Wakasa pulls away from Benkei’s grip and scoffs. His anger quickly fizzles down at the sight of you.

Shinichiro, on the other hand, sighs in relief at your impeccable timing. He decides then and there that you’re his savior.

Benkei eases the awkward air. “Shin and Waka were just… play fighting. Yeah, play fighting…”

You turn to look at the two men with a questioning look, and find them nodding at you.

You roll your eyes. Wakasa is an awfully good liar. Unfortunately for him, Shinichiro is terrible at it. So you naturally don’t believe them, but you decide it’s better to leave it at that.

“Whatever,” you frown at them. You then sit on Shinichiro’s bed and point a finger at Wakasa. “You better go easy on him. He was already limping last night. I don’t think a night’s worth of rest would be enough for him to recover.”

Wakasa hides the way he’s clenching his fists inside his pocket. He hates how he can’t quell his jealousy no matter how hard he tries. So he opts not to say a word. He just keeps his eyes on you.

It’s unnerving.

But he’s so pretty, it leaves you breathless.

You look away from him when you feel the heat creeping up your neck from the intensity of his gaze.

You’ve always been like this with him. It’s impossible for you to keep eye contact with him longer than necessary without being flustered.

You can almost hear Takeomi snickering and whispering “The Wakasa Effect” by your ear, even when he’s not around.

“Well, anyway, we just dropped by to tell you that Takeomi wants to celebrate our win against that puny gang the other day at the bar downtown,” Benkei says.

Despite not being a member of the gang, Benkei tells you, “You can come along too.”

Without any other plans for the day, you suppose you can join them. “You pickin’ me up, Shin?” You ask.

Shinichiro averts his eyes quickly, only to meet the glare of Wakasa. He clears his throat, “Uh, I can’t! I still have to drop by somewhere else. But I’m sure Waka can drive you there.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from calling Shinichiro a traitor. And you have to acknowledge that it takes a whole new level of self-control not to strangle him for putting you on the spot like this.

Wakasa hums. “You sure you wanna ride with me?”

Your real answer is a big red NO. You’re pretty sure you’d combust on the spot if you’d be that close to him. In all honesty, you’d very much prefer to be swallowed whole by the earth over that.

But perhaps this would be a good chance for you to try and desensitize yourself from him, hence you find yourself croaking a “Yes, Waka.”

He smirks at you and you feel your entire body shutdown.

With that, Benkei drags Wakasa out the door and leaves you with Shinichiro in silence.

For an entire minute, you could only blink owlishly at the space where Wakasa stood. And when your brain finally recovers from his lethal attack, you pounce on Shinichiro, screaming, “How could you?!”

a/n: part 2???

feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[2amcheese]

I am queer.

Whatever your associations with the word, I am it. I was queer when the little boys called Mary queer at the beginning of The Secret Garden, in that old fashioned way that meant strange, I was queer when I found out the modern definition, I’ve been queer and queer and queer for years and years and years. 

I’m a trans guy. I don’t think I’m a trans man, or a trans boy. I can’t find those words in me, a concrete definition of what a male should be. I’m a trans dude. A trans guy. A concept of casual masculinity that I dress myself in for comfort. I’m tired of labels.

My mom always complains about kids and their labels. I think some labels are fine, when you shed them like a dress when it no longer fits. I don’t like labels that choke you out and force you into their boxes, which are always just too small to be comfortable but not too bad to leave. I think some labels are an abusive relationship. That’s why I’m not a trans boy. Too many expectations to fulfill the role of “boy,” I tried it once and I can’t fit into the box, even though I tried. I tried so hard.

When I look for queers on the internet they’re often separated by label. LESBIAN SPACE. GAY MEN ONLY. WLW DNI. I feel like a floater, hopping from planet to planet, like I was born out of an asteroid in the queer galaxy, never really belonging anywhere. I belong in the galaxy, I can feel that in my bones (which come from stardust) but a planet, a label, eludes me.

I am bisexual, but only in the loosest sense of the word. I don’t know if I find anyone sexually attractive but people of any genders can look good to me. My first crush was a boy and now I’m dating a girl and I don’t know if I have a preference. There are very few bi spaces and even fewer I feel I belong in--I am fundamentally not a bi girl, but have no experience with being a bi boy and all the stigma that comes with being a homo- or bi-sexual male. I feel disconnected from the concept of gender, discovering myself by avoiding feeling bad instead of seeking feeling good. 

My head is complicated. There is anxiety in there and the burden of being labeled as “the smart kid” in first grade. There’s so much in my head I can’t think straight--though my girlfriend likes to say that I can’t do anything straight. I know who I am but not what I am or how to fit in in our dimorphic world. I feel like I’m blindly feeling around for something, trying to map out a path to me by feeling the spikes and cutting my hands and going the other way. That’s less of a metaphor than I wish it was. 

I have found acceptance but not belonging. I have support but no concrete identity. The world wants so badly to categorize me so it can understand me and I don’t know how to explain that I am just me. The thing that is me is not any of these other things you wish it was. I guess my journey is less about finding a label that works, and more about learning to live label-less. I need to learn how to identify as me instead of whatever label they wrap around my neck. For now I think I’ll stick with queer. To quote The Greatest Showman; “I am brave, I am bruised, this is who I’m meant to be. This is me.” 

This is me. Queer. 

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes- four

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood drinking, creepy cab driver

word count: 3.2k

three | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21​ @unaxv​ @mal-adaptive-dreams @elizacusi-blog

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Ping. 

Ping. 

A groan rips through her body as she blindly searches for her phone while it vibrates on the coffee table. Reaching across to the table, her upper half falls off the couch with a thud and another groan (this time one of pain) rings out. The phone ceases its dance on the table when her alarm stops and she just slides off the couch entirely in her sleepy state, laying on the floor in a heap of blankets as she opens her phone. As she guessed there are missed calls and unopened texts from Bucky but the text that isn’t from him stands out. 

Bravery should’ve been her last name for attempting to steal her away for a date the same night that Bucky had one planned. Well key word is had and since it is no longer on the books, accepting an invite from Yelena doesn’t seem like the worst idea she has ever had. A certain recent ex would be the worst idea she’s ever had but that’s a story for another time. At the moment, responding with “sounds good” as she struggles to stand amidst the blankets to get ready for the day are her only tasks in mind. 

Blackbear streams from under the bathroom door along side steam letting her know that Jessica is also getting ready and will probably make them both late if Sunny doesn’t demand she get out right now. 

“Jess!” she calls but gets no response. 

“Jess!” she tries a little louder before pounding in the door, “Jessica Lee Reyes get out of the shower! Other people need hot water too!”

Her laugher overpowers the sound of the water and music as it all comes to an abrupt stop and she swings the door open. 

“Calm your tits. I was literally about to get out,” she says as she slides past Sunny, a fog of steam following after her, “Did Bucky ever stop texting you last night?”

“Uh yeah,” Sunny’s voice is barely audible thanks to the fan but Jessica still hears. 

“Thank god. I almost blocked him for you. I really hate that guys can’t take a hint sometimes.”

“Yelena texted me though. She either is really lucky or knew that I canceled on him because she wants to go out tonight.”

Before she disappears entirely into her room,  Jessica freezes with glee at the mention of the blonde’s name, “Oh she did? And what did you say?” “Yes.”

“Thank Jesus! I’m so glad you’re finally starting to put my hard work to good use.” “Yeah, yeah whatever,” sarcasm is not uncommon with her but it’s extra thick when Jessica is around and even more so when it comes to debating Sunny’s love life. 

“I’m dressing you and you have absolutely no say.”

Sunny chuckles to herself while she strips off to get into the shower. Only god will be able to save her from whatever outfit Jess has in mind for her. 

The moment they had ended their second shift at 6pm, Jessica all but dragged her back to her apartment to get ready for her date with Yelena. She may not have been freaking out about it outwardly, every fiber of her being is on fire with anticipation of what the night has to bring. All Yelena told her was that she’d be there at 7 and that they’d be going out, other than that, she is in the dark and at the mercy of Jessica’s interpretation of ‘going out’. Her definition included putting Sunny in baggy black cargo pants and a black corset because “what’s hotter than the big pants and little top combo?” as she put it. 

“As hot as I might look, do you really think this is appropriate? Going out could mean so many things and wha…”

Jessica presses a finger to her lips, “I know Yelena and when she says going out, she means clubbing so this is… actually maybe you’re right. I think you need a skirt instead, ya know small bottoms, small top is better anyways.”

She leaves Sunny at her vanity staring at her reflection as she searches for that one skirt she swears will be the perfect addition. The woman at the vanity on the other hand, is mentally tearing herself to bits as she inspects every inch of herself that can be seen in the mirror. No matter how hard she tries, Bucky comes flooding back to the forefront of her mind as she looks over the makeup Jessica put on her. It’s simple, bordering the clean girl look and something she isn’t used to seeing staring back at her. It makes her wonder if she had tried harder, would she be getting ready for HIM instead? 

“Oh for the love of god,” she mumbles under her breath. She never even kissed him and this is the hold that he had over her? One close encounter and she’s consumed by him? Shaking her head to shake him from the inside of it, she picks up the lip gloss Jessica used earlier and reapplies it. The shiny gloss catches the vanity light and glitters, cheering her on and boosting her ego. 

“Found it!” Jessica calls from the closet and comes back to her with a pale pink mini skirt, “What do you think?” “I like the pants better.”

“Ugh, you’re boring but have it your way,” she flings the skirt behind her with a chuckle, “You are going to wear heels though.”

“We’re going to a club not to the Met Gala, I’m sure my air jordans will be perfectly fine.”

“Why won’t you let me live through you? I’ve always wanted to go out with Yelena and it’s only fair that I get to style you since I set you two up.”

Sunny whips around to face her, “You dragged me to a party after I said no and then left me alone with a grade A douchebag only to be saved by Yelena. I would, in no way, call that setting us up.”

“I got you there and you met her only because you went so yes, yes I did set you up thank you very much.”

Before Sunny can get a retort back, the front door opens and Yelena’s voice rings out, letting them know she’s here. 

“Do you ever lock you door, Jess? It’s really not safe,” she says, appearing in the doorway and leaning against the frame. 

“I knew you were coming so I left it unlocked.”

“I know you better than that, you forgot but good try,” she chuckles at her failed attempt to cover up the truth before settling her eyes on Sunny, “You look good, голубка. Are you ready?”

She can feel her friend vibrating with excitement from behind her at the nickname and turns to her date, nodding and standing up. It’s the prime opportunity to smack her ass so Jessica takes it as she says, “Good luck. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

She sends her friend a nasty death glare while her date and her laugh manically like little school girls at her expense. Yelena is quick to stifle her laughter with a smirk when Sunny brushes past her on her way out of the room. This is an even better opportunity to look at her ass as she walks away which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jessica. 

“God you’re no better than a man,” she chides while cleaning up the remnants of their get ready session. 

“Says the one who slapped it.”

“Go have fun and don’t bring her back until tomorrow morning,” Jessica sends her a wink as she slides off the frame and goes in search of Sunny who is muttering to herself as she searches for her purse. 

“Looking for this?” 

Quickly looking up, she spots Yelena holding her missing purse with a cat like grin and eyes glittering as they take in every ouch of skin her outfit leaves out. Nodding she takes it from her and slips into her leather jacket, still feeling the heat of her date’s gaze on her. It’ll either make for a torturously long night or a far too quick one if she keeps up the way her green eyes leave chemtrails across her skin. 

Clearing her throat, she says, “I’m ready if you are.”

The smirk doesn’t leave her face when her eyes make their way to Sunny’s, “Of course голубка.”

She offers out her own leather clad arm to her before leaving Jessica’s apartment and lecturing her about never locking her door. 

“The boogieman is going to get you one of these days!” is the last thing Jessica hears while the door is shut and the two woman leave the apartment complex. 

Their walk downstairs and out onto the street is filled with the normal small talk; how was your day, any funny stories, what’s your favorite color, you know the usual things. Sunny wants to ask if she knew about her date with Bucky but bringing up a rival suitor is definitely not the best idea when on a date. If Yelena does know anything about it, she doesn’t give it away and avoids saying his name when talking about her job. Come to think of it, she’s rather vague about her job description in general and only mentions how it’s boring and how she works with her sister, Natasha. It’s a given that she does work in the criminal world to some degree if she knows Bucky well enough to crash one of his homes but Sunny isn’t about to pry that information out of her on the first date. 

The standard creepy cab driver does nothing to assuage the idea that she’s a criminal. His lewd stares and borderline harassing remarks causes her to keep a protective hand on Sunny’s knee. She can see her free hand itch to reach for something hidden under her jacket the entire ride but it never leaves her lap. Several times Yelena had to interrupt him mid-sentence and even threatened to get out without paying if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. She would have or pulled the gun tucked against her side if Sunny hadn’t squeezed her hand to ground her. 

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

The murderous glare softened the moment it left the cab driver, “The moment you’re uncomfortable, we’ll get out, okay?”

The nod of confirmation wasn’t enough though for her, “I need you to say it, голубка.”

The air left like it had been sucked out of her lungs with the simple demand but she managed to mutter back “I promise I’ll tell you if I am.”

Satisfaction from both her reaction and her words, she keeps a tight grip on Sunny’s knee and rubs small circles into the inside of it. The simple action is burning through her pant leg, trailing upwards as she has struggles to maintain a calm and collective exterior. 

Once at the club, Yelena tosses the cash at the driver and gives him a side eye deadly enough he keeps his eyes trained in the road in front of him. She makes a mental note of the license plate number to follow up on hum after their date is done. As her sister always said, the scum of this world cannot go unpunished and his time will come. However now is not that time and the woman tugging gently at her hand reminds her of the task at hand; dance the night away with the vision of a woman next to her. 

“What is this place?”

“Oh,” Yelena starts as she leads her towards the entrance of the old brick building, “It’s called Strigoi, a friend of mine owns it.”

“That’s an interesting name,” Sunny muses as she flashes her id and award winning smile to the bouncer before following her inside. 

Anything she might have wanted to say gets stuck when the club’s red lighting bathes over them as well as the interior of it. Unlike most other clubs, the floor has booths scattered throughout with platforms occasionally raising above to provide brave club goers a stage to demonstrate the courage bought by alcohol. The bar is backed by a wall of mirrors while the signature red lights cast a devilish glow on the matching mirror shelves filled with expensive liquor. Beyond everything is the DJ stand where dark synth music streams dramatically from. 

“Who exactly owns this club? A vampire?” Sunny whispers to Yelena, half joking while also hoping her earlier suspicions of Peter aren’t true. 

She doesn’t answer with words but instead with a deep laughter that vibrates into Sunny’s chest as well as they weave through the crowd towards the bar. A familiar voice catches her attentions when Yelena stops at the edge, leaning over to order drinks for him. Only a few seats down is the Peter Parker she’d hoped to never see again with the same girl from the kickback turned party. The red ambience makes it difficult to see much of him but yet there is another flash of something when he smirks down at the party girl. In his hand is a short glass of thick dark liquid and if Sunny didn’t know any better, she’d assume it’s blood. Obviously that’s insane and no one is drinking blood so she tears her stare away and looks to Yelena who’s already looking at her in puzzlement.  His arrogant chuckle draws her attention to him and it clicks; Sunny had spotted him in his natural habit and of course, is confused by it all. 

“I can have him kicked out if you want,” she says while handing Sunny her drink.

“Nah leave him. He’s not worth the hassle.”

“For you, any hassle is worth it.”

“Wow already laying it on thick I see. Think you’re going to get lucky?” she chuckles as she takes a sip of whatever Yelena ordered for her. 

The blonde woman shrugs as she scans her face, “Now that you mention it.”

She rolls her eyes at the suggestion and tugs on her arm to lead them away from the bar. Spotting an empty booth among the crowd of people is no easy feat however it’s not up to Yelena’s standards because she shakes her head and points to an area that’s roped off with even more bouncers guarding it. 

“Did you really think I’d bring you to a club and not sit in the VIP section?” and when she doesn’t answer, she continues with her playful teasing, “Cat got your tongue? It’s okay, голубка, what I have planned doesn’t require any talking.”

Behind the ropes and bouncers, lounges Bucky with Steve and Peggy, short glasses filled with the same thick dark liquid as Peter’s. That intoxicating smell drifts in amongst the waves of other club goers’ smells and has him narrowing his eyes at nothing and everything at the same time, searching for the owner. Peggy whispers something to her husband, red lips mere inches from the shell of his ear. Steve glances to his blue eyed friend and chuckles in agreement with what she said. 

“Find your companion for the night?” he taunts while taking a sip from his glass, the dark liquid leaving a slight film on his tongue. 

“No,” Bucky states plainly as he sets his glass down on the table before them, “She’s here.”

Peggy snorts, “You already have her smell memorized? I see her almost everyday and I barely know it.”

“For the safety of your child, I hope you’re joking,” he says while standing and walking towards the bouncers. 

In his absence, she turns to Steve, “Do you?”

“Have her smell memorized? Only enough to know the difference between the staff though. I wouldn’t give any thought to him right now, he’s all fired up over her, that Lycan woman from last night, and Alix.”

She huffs in response which earns her words of reassurance from him. Meanwhile Bucky is instructing his men to keep a close eye on Yelena and especially Sunny. When he returns to the booth, he doesn’t sit right away and takes his glass from the table. Yelena’s voice echoes past the music and noise of the club, letting him know that he is about to face confrontation no doubt. She spots him before Sunny can and she does what she can to guide her away from that booth much to his dismay and pleasure. Her efforts to distract her fail and Sunny sees Steve, giving him a small smile which falls when Bucky comes into her view. The trio pick up on parts of what she’s whispering angrily to Yelena, “What… he… here? You….me….was going to be….”

Yelena, although, hears every word loud and clear, “What is he doing here? You didn’t tell me he was going to be here.”

“I didn’t know he was there. I’m sorry if it makes this,” she gestures between the two of them, “awkward. We can go somewhere else.”

“No this is ridiculous. He can’t fucking ruin everything,” she runs a hand over her hair and takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward. It’s just… a little complicated I guess.”

Yelena’s ring filled hand cups the side of her face, tilting her hand to look at her, “Nothing’s changed. Trust me I know how complicated things are when it comes to him but I won’t hold it against you if you don’t against me.”

“Ya know,” she takes a step closer, closing the distance between them, “We could just ignore him. This date is between you and I, he is not involved in any way.”

“I like the sounds of that,” Yelena whispers back as her hand shifts down to cradle her jaw, her thumb ghosting over her glossy bottom lip, “You’re going to get me in trouble if I’m not careful.”

Sunny smirks against her thumb, “Why do you say that?”

“I think you know why,” she leans impossibly closer, “Can I kiss you?” Her eyes flicker down to Yelena’s mauve lips, nodding ever so slightly before they meet in one small kiss only to be drawn back in and devour each other in the middle of a crowded club. 

Having watched the whole exchange, his body tenses as her smell shifts when the kiss deepens. Jealously bubbles in his veins and the only thing stopping him from ripping Yelena to shreds is Steve’s hand on his wrist and Peggy’s reminder that “she is not yours. Stand down.” Rather than give into his animalistic urges to destroy, he settles for his usual scowl, hooded eyes trained on the couple in hopes that he can will them apart and her into his arms. His self control doesn’t last long and he’s marching over to the women in no time. 

“Yelena,” he gives her a curt nod, “Sunny, I need to talk to you.”

Neither is able to protest before he is dragging her towards a closed door hidden from view by more guards until now. Yelena shots Steve a lock of contempt as she approaches their booth, “You two are absolutely no help. Why didn’t either you of stop him?” “Do you really expect me to get in between him and what he wants?” Steve says expectedly as they all know no one is stupid enough to do so. 

“A heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you’re on a date with the woman he’s interested in.”

[jflemings]

I have a few hcs/questions about Piper:

Piper going to Jessie and not R for things (something small like doing her hair or asking her to help tie her shoes) and R being really happy that Piper is accepting of Jessie but also a little sad cos that’s her baby and she used to just come to R for those things

Piper going to camp with Jessie instead or R for whatever reason (maybe Jessie’s camp is in the UK/Europe for once so it’s shorter travel for Piper)

Piper making 2 Mother’s Day cards at school (one for R and one for Jess) and Jessie is just in absolute tears - like sobbing - and Piper is like what’s wrong??? And Jessie is just like I’m so happy and it’s a big family cuddle day/weekend

Jess and Piper catching on that R is feeling stressed/tired/ill etc and forces a cuddle day where R does absolutely nothing and is just looked after by her girls

1. i have gotten another ask about this so it’ll be a fic :)

2. canada are set to play england in a friendly in london so piper stays with jessie whilst you go with the matildas. the kit crew make a mini fleming jersey for piper and she loves it!! she walks around so proudly in it and with jessie and your permission, the media team do a video where piper interviews jessie.

it goes a bit viral and everyone is melting at the way piper and jessie interact with eachother because although she isn’t biologically jessie’s, they are eerily similar.

piper clings to sabs and cloe through camp and a lot of great candids come out of it.

piper follows bev around like she does jonas or tony and every so often bev just blindly hands her a snack or a drink whilst yelling at the girls on the pitch. piper is completely unfazed by this because of how tony is on the sidelines.

the first thing piper says to jordyn is that she reminds her of rapunzel because she’s got long blonde hair and she’s pretty. she then asks if she’s got a pet chameleon.

jordyn and her boyfriend dress up as rapunzel and flynn rider for halloween that year, it’s adorable

3. sam and kristie take piper the friday night before mother’s day weekend because you and jessie hadn’t had a date night in soooo long. sam lets her have dino nuggets for dinner and choc chip ice cream for desert as long as piper promises to get into bed at the right time.

they draw and colour and sam puts on alvin and the chipmunks because she’s never seen it ???

kristie then pulls out a plastic tub full of craft supplies and sam is like ??? where the fuck did that come from ????

“you had nothing here for her so i got her some crafts”

“when?????”

“like a month ago”

“where did you put the box”

kristie is in disbelief because the box is kept in the back of their closet underneath all of sam’s coats that are hanging up, there’s no way she hasn’t seen it

sam does one of those paint by number things and kristie suggests making you a mother’s day card and piper immediately is going through the different coloured paper and the fancy scissors and stickers that she can use

she hands a piece of pink paper and a piece of yellow paper to kristie to fold and kristie asks her if she’s gonna make you two cards

“no silly, one’s for mama and the other is for mummy”

piper decorates yours with butterflies and jessie’s with ladybugs

the next day the two of them go to the florist to get you both a little something whilst sam heads to the bakery to grab you a cupcake each (she offered to just make them but kristie knows she can’t cook, let alone bake to save her life so store bought was the best option)

sam drops piper back home with a smile on her face. you open the door puzzled but spot the gift bag with the flowers and know that something’s up

sam leaves and piper rushes into your bedroom where jessie is putting away clean laundry with a big smile on her face, carefully putting down the bag and getting out the flowers to hand to jessie

jessie just assumes the flowers are for you because the two of them had planned something for you for mother’s day but then piper stomps her foot

“open the card!!!!!”

you walk into the room just in time to see jessie open her card whilst piper gives you yours

she’s tearing up and piper quickly becomes concerned and is worried that she doesn’t like the card. jessie assures her that she loves it and that she loves the little ladybugs she drew on the front

the three of you spend the day together, going for a picnic like originally planned and cuddling in the big bed watching movies. jessie cooks your favourite meal and gives you a necklace that piper had helped pick out and a good travel mug since you’d been meaning to get another one for ages

you look at her sheepishly and pull out a book that she’s been wanting and a photo of the three of you in a nice frame. it’s from piper’s fourth birthday party when she was blowing out the candles. you and jessie are sat beside her and there’s a clear shot of macca, alanna and caitlin in the background stuffing their faces with party pies

jessie tucks piper in that night and then comes back out into the living room balling her eyes out because she wasn’t expecting any of today. it wasn’t her first mother’s day with you and piper but she still had plans to make it all about you, so for piper to make her a card and think about her made her really emotional

you two spend the night cuddling until it’s time to go to bed and it’s the best nights sleep jessie’s had in a long time

4. jessie catches on that you’re ill as soon as you wake up. you’re groggy and don’t seem to be all with it as you trudge around the bedroom looking for your slippers that are sat by the door like they always are

she just watches you though to make sure she’s not overthinking it. you’d played a pretty rough game the night before and it had rained all week so maybe it was all just catching up to you

she knows she’s not overthinking it when piper climbs up onto her lap at the dining table

“what’s wrong with mummy?”

“you noticed that too, huh?”

“is she sick? she was coughing last night when she put me to bed”

that’s all jessie needs to hear before she’s dragging you back to bed and tucking you under the covers before literally throwing piper onto the bed next to you. piper giggles as she lands and ticks herself under the covers and snuggles up next to you just as jessie comes back with some medicine, a bottle of water and a cup of tea.

you protest because piper starts preschool regularly on the following monday and jessie can’t get sick either because she can’t miss training. neither of them are having a bar of it and force you to cuddle with them.

you fall asleep in less than half an hour after jessie turns on a documentary about safari animals. piper follows suit quickly and falls asleep snuggled in between the two of you. jessie isn’t a napper but she also falls asleep combing her fingers through your hair

[justanotherkpopstanlol]

Not a one time thing part 2

Ghostface! Aemond Targaryen x reader x Ghostface! Jacaerys Velaryon

Word count: 2,358

Part 1 can be found here

CW: porn without plot, cussing, slight dubcon (?), oral, squirting, threesome, Jace, Aemond, pure filth, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), praise (what can I say, I’m a fool for praise), breeding kink (not explicitly mentionned tho), aftercare, food (not sexual tho lol), mentions of Alys Rivers, Criston Cole and Jason Lannister, mentions of murder, next part we get into the killing hehehe

The warm, bright light of the sun filtered through the gaps of the blinds that covered the windows. The rays hit your face, shifting little by little until they hit your face. Your eyes open, only to shut and squint at the light hitting them directly. Your hands blindly reach to either side of you only to find it vacant of any occupants but yourself. Your eyes shoot open and you prop yourself onto your elbows. Aemond and Jace both were’nt there and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at their lack of presence. Your lips form into a pout briefly, you stretch as far as your limbs allow and get up. You find your top and shorts from the night prior neatly folded on the bedside table. Putting them on, you head downstairs towards the kitchen.

As you enter, you are immediately greeted with the sweet smell of crepes. You look to see Aemond at the stove and Jace setting up plates at the kitchen island. Jacaerys notices your presence first and smiles widely at you.

“Good morning, pretty girl. Did you sleep well?” He asks, walking over to embrace you and planting a kiss on your temple. You reminisce in his warmth and nod as he holds you tight against his chest. Aemond, noticing the interaction, beckons you over to where he stands by the stove. He hugs you with one arm and kisses your cheek in greeting. You could feel the love radiating off of the two and it made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. This was true happiness, this was home.

Once the crepes are made and all the toppings imaginable added (including but not limited to whipped cream, chocolate syrup and your favorite berries), you three sit at the island and eat your breakfast, sharing memories of when you were all younger (the good ones at least). Gradually, the conversation takes a turn when Aemond brings up the events that occured the night prior. He gently calls your name.

“This morning Jace and I were talking, my love. I know that I had said this was a one night thing but I wish to leave that decision up to you.” Just as he had the night before, he chose his words carefully to not overwhelm you. There was much to think about, if this becomes a regular occurence what happens to you and Aemond? To you and Jace? Yes, it is true you enjoyed all that occured, it is true that no matter how much you love Aemond that you love Jace just as much.

“The choice is yours, we will accept whatever you choose. Take your time, take all the time you need. We can wait, sweetness. I’d wait forever if you asked.” Jace’s words tugged at your heartstrings, they were so sweet and kind. His words that taste like honey and instantly calmed the pounding of your heart. It dawned on you, your answer. What you really want is right in front of you and now you have the chance to have it all, so why not take it? Fuck tomorrow, anything could happen tomorrow but what you really need is this with both of them, today and right now.

“I want this,” You began, voice quiet and shaky as Jace and Aemond take one of your hands in their own. “I want to be with both of you. I love both of you.” The words seem to echo loudly, as if everything else was on mute and your voice was the only thing to be heard for miles and miles. Jace moves the hand not holding yours, tilting your face towards his own, he leans forward. Slowly, carefully, he looks into your eyes with an underlying question and you nod. He bridges the gap and kisses you softly, just as the night before. He kisses you and doesn’t stop, never speeding up and never slowing down. It’s just as gentle and sweet as the night before and much like his words, the kiss tastes like honey.

Aemond gets up to clean the island and washes his hands then returns to you and Jace still locked at the lips. The two of you part, panting and this is all deja vu. This is just like the night before yet different somehow. Aemond turns you to face him, your lips swollen and face flushed. He thinks you look so beautiful like this, panting and pupils blown so wide they nearly cover the entirety of your irises. This was a view he prided himself on being the only one able to witness but now he shares it with Jace. He doesn’t mind though, as long as you’re happy.

It’s moments like these when he wishes he had both his eyes, so he could behold your true beauty in all its grandeur. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly and releasing it. He takes in every small detail he can, admiring you in a way that didn’t have you shying away from his gaze for once. You held his gaze, admiring him too. From his beautiful blue eye to the milky white of the other, the long scar you always thought so beautiful running straight through it. His pretty lips, his sharp features, they all had you swooning. Running out of patience, you surge forward. Your lips meet in a kiss more fiery than the one you shared with Jace, Aemond’s tongue poking out asking for entry. You grant it and his tongue tangles with your own, exploring your mouth.

Jace’s hand finds its way at your ribs, just beneath your breast, and makes its way to the hem of your top. He takes it between his fingers and slowly drags it upwards, lace trim skimming your nipples ever so slightly. You and Aemond break away from the kiss and as you catch your breath, he takes the waistband of your shorts. Just like Jace, he slowly slides them down making sure to brush your clit with the waistband. The sensation made you inhale sharply, you still felt sensitive from the night before. Jace’s hand goes between your legs, moving one to spread them apart. His fingers find their way between your fold, caressing them lightly and you let out a moan. Aemond picks you up and places you on the counter of the island, the cold surface making you jump and gasp. The pair smile in amusement and Jace brings his hand to play with your clit.

“So wet baby.” He comments, kneeling in front of you. He begins to kiss your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to where you needed him most. Meanwhile, Aemond holds one of your hands in his own and leans in to kiss you. The two of you lazily makeout, you moaning occasionally, as Jace inches towards you pussy. He stops right by your folds, causing you to whine in protest against Aemond’s lips. He smiles at the sound and makes eye contact with you and Aemond before you’re pulled into a kiss once more and Jace licks a strip upwards with his nose brushing your clit. His hands place your legs over his shoulders, holding the open as he leaves kitten licks on your core. You let out a whine, reaching towards Jacaerys’ head and pulling on his hair which makes him groan. The vibrations send a jolt up your core, Aemond pulls away. He wants to hear you, your sounds making him harder than he already is.

Jace moves his tongue to play with your clit, biting and sucking, two of his fingers inserting themselves into your pussy. It clenches, squeezing Jace’s fingers tightly which makes both of you moan. Soon after, he adds a third finger and moves them all at an incredible pace. You clench again, loudly whining out as Jace helps you ride out your high. He keeps going, unrelenting, and you feel the overstimulation in a painfully delicious way.

You babble incoherently and squirming from Jace. He pulls another orgasm out of you, this time squirting everywhere. It gets all over him and Aemond but they don’t seem to mind at all. Jace removes his fingers and wipes his face on the sleeve of the hoodie he is currently wearing. He pounces upwards, taking your lips in his and pushing his tongue inside your mouth making you taste yourself on him. One of Jace’s hands is on the back of your head and the other holds your own that holds the island counter in a death grip. Aemond’s hand finds purchase at your clit, slowly dragging his fingers up and down. You moan out loud, pulling on Jace’s hair again which in turn causes him to let out a groan. All you could think about was this, as though all other thought and rationale has escaped you and the only things you can focus on are Jace and Aemond. It was too much and not enough, never truly enough.

Aemond detaches his fingers from your clit, you whining against Jace’s lips. The scene was all too familiar, you know exactly what happened before and what’s going to happen now. Just as expected, one of the two picks you up bridal style and carries you to your bedroom although you’re too far gone to know exactly who. Your eyes were closed, almost too exhausted to continue and yet you felt so hot down to your core. It was like an insatiable hunger, an unquenchable thirst and a great desire that roots itself deep within your very being.

The next thing you feel is you being placed gently on the bed, the silken sheets slightly cool and so soft against your skin. Then Aemond and Jace sit on either side of you on the bed, Aemond moving your head over to face him. He smiles, Jace removing your clothes, his movements much more rushed than the night before. Aemond caresses your hair, moving a piece away from your face and a dopey grin adorns your lips. Jace smiles too, having discarded his own clothes, and lines himself up to your entrance. Slowly, he inserts himself inside inch by inch and the stretch felt so deliciously pleasurable. He waits a few moments and begins his thrusts, gentle at first but they increase in speed and grow harder. He rams into you intensely, the loud sound of skin slapping filled the room.

At this point, your head was in Aemond’s lap and his fingers were rubbing your clit in time with Jace’s thrusts. This was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the two made you feel so good and only really cared for your pleasure. Jace grunts loudly, seemingly close and so are you.

“Doing so good for me baby, always so perfect. My pretty baby, my sweet angel.” He says, voice raspy and out of breath. You moan out loud at the praise and that spurs him on, he speeds up even more and just a few thrusts later you both orgasm. He rides out the high, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of your swollen pussy. He groans at the sight, throwing his head back. Aemond pushes Jace away who then takes to laying on the bed beside you. Aemond sits between you legs and kisses you, his now bare cock rubbing against your sensitive folds which causes you to let out a long whine. You were overstimulated and him rubbing against your pussy didn’t help.

Aemond pushes in, taking your legs and placing them over his shoulders as he begins to ram into you. He has been patient enough, he want you now. He wants to feel you clench around him and he fucks you into the mattress, pace so rough that it hurts. You’re so overstimulated that you try to push him away, placing your hands on his chest, too sensitive to continue. He takes your hands in one of his and holds them by the wrists above your head, his other hand once again finding purchase at your clit. He rubs the nub harshly, fast and hard just like his thrusts, and your back arches off of the bed. You come hard, squirting once more all over him, covering his pelvis and abdomen in your fluids. He keeps going, thrusts much slower and more gentle this time, filling you up and pushing both his and Jace’s cum back into you.

When Aemond finally pulls out, you’re stuffed full and the sight makes him let out a satisfied ‘hmmm’. He collapses on top of you, both still catching your breaths as Jace goes to bathroom and brings a damp cloth. He nudges Aemond who moves over to your hand, bringing your head to his chest while Jace cleans you. You whimper and move away from Jace, body twitching from the sensitivity. He shushes you, letting out ‘my good girl’ and ‘you did so good for us, baby’ and ‘I love you’ as Aemond holds you close and rubs his hand up and down your arm in comfort. Jace goes to toss the cloth into the laundry basket and returns. Both boys lay on either side of you, Jace spooning you with your head on Aemond’s chest. Just as the night before you mumble out an ‘I love you’ to both boys before drifting off. All the boys can do is admire you, the sun hitting your face just right so it won’t bother your eyes but at the same time enough to give you an ethereal glow. The boys drift off too, first Jace and then Aemond. They were content like this, they both love you and you love them.

They would kill for you, they already had done that in fact. They killed Jason Lannister for perving on you and making you uncomfortable, they killed Aemond’s ex Alys Rivers for making you insecure and harassing you and they even killed Criston Cole for threatening you when Aemond introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. They would kill more too. In fact, they already had their sights set on their next victim.

As always I hope y'all enjoyed. Lmk if you want to join the taglist by sending me a message or commenting cause I don't use the form anymore 💀💀

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Introducing Crewel’s Daughters 

There’s been a lot of reiterations of the Crewel daughter reader and I think it best to set the record straight. All of these versions have generally the same background but from there they have favorites and attitudes aligned with their origins. So here they are:

Original Crewel Daughter 

You are the amalgamation of Regina George and Tanjiro Kamado. With big glasses and fashion above all others, you woo others with your bluntness and confident will. Your childhood friends consist of Vil, Azul, Leona, and many others in counting. You got around as a kid. 

Typically the focus of most asks you’re not one for the backseat; you like being the captain. Often keeping your yandere suitors on their feet while trying to pin you down. Esteemed leader in the Princess Academy you're taking their world by storm with your favor of the icy principal and ruler over your seasoned veteran of a godmother. Even the staff seemed to regard you with respect as you strut alongside your father in the halls of Night Raven.

“My name is (Y/n) Crewel, don’t forget. You’ll want to cry it when I serve your punishment.”

Half-Fae Crewel Daughter

You are not nearly as…loud of a presence as the original mostly because you're just occupied with bigger things. Like learning about your fae side from the Diasomnia crew. You don’t know anything about your fae heritage so it’s a given that you listen blindly to whatever they say which is often to the detriment of your father. You love him very much but you're beginning to love your Diasomnia family just as much if not more.

“Don’t worry papa! I’ll always love you I’m just learning a bit more about myself.” 

Half-Fae Leopard Crewel Daughter

Almost the exact opposite of the basic half-fae. After you were rejected by the Diasomnia crew when you hoped to search for your forgotten roots you’ve turned to the only one understanding of your justified hatred of them. Enter Leona Kingscholar who resonates with you on so many levels. Forget waiting for Diasomnia’s approval. You overblot, attacking the Diasomnia dorm when you finally come too they try to apologize but you most certainly are not accepting it. Instead, you’ve got the original’s strut with Savvannaclaw students happily being your minions. You and Leona are tight whether that’s platonically or romantically it doesn’t bode well for anyone who gets in your way.

“Come on Leona let’s blow this popsicle stand. I can’t stand to be around these dweebs anymore!”

Restoration Crewel Daughter

With the backing of your half-fae heritage, you’ve been granted the power to restore objects and buildings. Interested in architecture and retouching techniques you become the school’s underpaid handywoman. Shy and nonconfrontational you prefer to silently work on the school without anyone bothering you. But nonetheless, you’re a magnet for the Night Raven students. Especially Malleus who really appreciates your unique magic and your love for the old. Your godmother from the princess academy is plenty more seasoned but instead of the typical goody-two-shoes; she’s got quite the temper. Which usually takes the place of your own anger.

It takes a lot to get you mad but when you do you’ll have plenty to say. Otherwise everyone’s enamored with the quiet andnerdy  daughter of Crewel.

“W-well I’m just glad you took care of those gargoyles for so long.”

_____________________________________________________________

And Crewel in all versions loves you dearly whether you're playing a spiteful villainess or the altruistic hero he knows you are his pride and joy. And he’d sooner hex some student than deprive you of what you deserve which is everything.

“My precious pup, I’ll give you the world if you asked it.”

[n0irrrr]

REISS MENTAL ASYLUM / 14

【 shingeki no kyojin / mental asylum – alternative universe, modern setting 】 『male!yandere!various x male!prettyboy!reader』 summary: Finally! You have been given an opportunity to work at Reiss Mental Asylum- your job hunting hasn’t been great, so to hear you got an opportunity made you excited. At the beginning everything seems normal- but without noticing, some people began to get obsessed with you. warnings/tags: DARK/HEAVY THEMES. Non-consensual themes; sexual assault, touching, drug use, rape attempt. Home invasion, yanderes, obsessive behavior, murder, blood, explicit content, sexual thoughts. Somnophilia at the end! masterlist

notes: someday i will rewrite this whole cringe thing and feel better about it, LOL. but i hope there's enjoyement in this chapter.

１３

「lazy afternoons」

“Yes, Porco, I’m okay.” [name] chuckled softly. “I will stay over a friend’s house, so there’s no need to worry about me.”

Porco snorted loudly, obviously making fun of his lie. [name] pouted at such reaction. “A friend’s house? Exactly who? You have no friends, you loser."

”H—Hey! I do have friends!!” He felt childish, and he could tell Porco was having fun by proving him he was a lonely loser. “I have many!!”

”Really? Haven’t seen you go out a single day without the same fucking guy.”

"They are just... secretive. AND busy!"

"Busy... of course." Porco's tone changed, but [name] couldn't put more attention thanks to his migraine. "If everything goes well here, we'll have a talk, you and me. It's important."

"That sounds serious... is something going on?"

"Just... take care of yourself in that disgusting place, man. Tell Victor—"

"Vincent!"

"Whatever his fucking name is, to stay with you. With what you told me, I..." Porco couldn't continue. [name] heard some grunts on the other line— was he embarrassed?

[name] grinned. "I care about you too, Porco."

"Shut up. I'm hanging up." [name] could tell he was flustered, but silenced his laugh.

"See you soon!"

"Lock your doors and windows."

"Will do."

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

After the call ended, [Name] let out a grunt. He hid his head within his covers as he remembered Mike’s words about him getting sick. The man was a witch—or maybe a wizard? Either way, he was right. Or at least, his nose told him the future, somehow.

[Name] hadn’t felt dandy when he got to his apartment the night before. He knew getting out of the car by himself wasn’t possible, and Levi, knowing this, helped him as he did before.

He had a bad stomachache and an urge to throw up again; but thought a good night's rest was enough to wake him up and make him feel better. Unfortunately, the moment his alarm interrupted his sleep, he felt the worst way possible.

He also had a fever. He was 100% sure. The cushion was already disgustingly wet from his sweat, along with his pillow, but his sudden weak body didn’t let him get up. Not even when he felt the need to puke. So poor [Name] had to stay put and try to calm himself if he didn’t want to make a disgusting mess in his room. He didn't know how much time had passed since then.

Even if his whole body felt weak and disgusting, [Name] tried to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. Yet, the moment he got up, he almost fell— if it weren’t for his nightstand, his face would have been kissing the floor, with blood being a plus. It was then that he accepted his defeat and called Margaret to notify her of his absence. She had replied, saying she had been waiting for his call since Mike mentioned his condition yesterday. The poor sick just sighed, thanked her, apologized, and hung up.

He was ready for another bad sleep when the phone on the nightstand rang. His eyes couldn’t identify the caller since his vision was a bit blurry, but answered blindly. The moment the voice in the other line spoke, [Name] miraculously surpassed an embarrassing yelp from coming out.

“[Name], it’s Erwin. Good morning, first of all. I’ve been notified of your absence for today. Is everything alright?”

“O—Oh, uhm, y—yes! Ah—! Sorry, good morning!” It was obvious [Name] wasn’t in the right mind. He couldn’t think clearly, and his head felt like it was burning. His words slurred a bit.  “I just got a bit of a fever— nothing I can’t handle, heheee…” What a fast man Erwin was— did he call him the moment Margaret notified him?

”Is that so? How are you feeling?”

”Everything is good! I’m fffine, really!”

There was a moment of silence on the other line, making [Name] a bit anxious. Was he angry? Upset? Did the think this was a lie?

“I see. Also, don’t worry about today’s schedule. Everything’s covered, alright?”

“O—Ok… and, uhm… sorry about today… I didn’t meaan to get sick…”

[Name] heard a chuckle from the other line. ”Don’t worry about that, [Name]. It’s not your fault— something like that can be rearranged when you feel better, so don’t overthink it.”

After saying goodbye, [Name] let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.

The silence filling his room let his mind wander about the frightening man. He had felt the intense gaze on him everywhere he went. The sick male wanted to believe something else but a feeling of desire filled those blue eyes. The thought only caused him to grip the bedsheets harder, his face feeling warmer and his thoughts messy. He wanted to turn a blind eye to it, but it was too obvious. The man was bold!

But… would it be wrong, though? To accept the date fully? At the moment, it felt like an obligation—a must. [Name] didn’t feel particularly happy about such a thing. Neither when Zeke wanted to use him to do such dirty play to Erwin. Now, it didn’t feel that bad; it was just embarrassing. He laughed light-headedly as he pictured Erwin on a date with him—maybe eating strawberry cake? or just chuckling at whatever they were talking about…

The imaginary moment lulled him slowly, blinking lazily at the ceiling. Maybe a good sleep in another place would make him feel better…

But a knock on his door interrupted him, startling him. The sound only made him grunt— he didn’t want to get up… but he did nevertheless. Of course, as his mind wasn’t in the right state, he took his blanket with drawings of frogs with him. He breathed heavily as he tried not to stumble too much. When he got to the entrance, he opened the door right away while his mind ignored how Porco scolded him about how he had to look into the peephole first before answering the door. Living in this godforsaken apartment was dangerous; serial killers would love to pick a stupid victim here, he said.

He blinked lazily, not really recognizing who he was staring at. Until he abruptly stood straight with a yelp, realizing it was Levi at his door, looking as happy as ever. [Name] couldn’t be more embarrassed by how he looked right now: a blanket with cartoony frogs on it, his oversize T-shirt with his favorite cartoon, and his shorts. His hair was a mess, his face was warm, and his eyes fought to stay closed— it was more to say that his bruises were on display too.

Levi, amused by the display, raised a brow. “It looks like nose man was right.”

Still, [Name] didn't know what else to say. He stood there, dumbfounded.

“Are you making me stay here all day or what? Have some manners.” The ravenette spoke in irritation, but with no malice. After all, it was known by now that his scolding was just for fun. Well... sometimes. This was enough to wake [name] up from his embarrassing episode. He quickly opened the door with incoherent mumbling and stood aside, letting Levi inside.

He felt dizzy; what he said sounded more as if he was barely keeping it together. “I—I didn’t expect you here!” He cringed at his own wording, trying to save himself: “I mean, I don’t mean you can’t come in! It’s just that I— Weeell—”

“I didn’t expect myself here either, but since we all know you don’t know a thing about self-care, here I am." The ravenette spoke sternly, his eyes narrowing into a sharp critical gaze as he observed the apartment.

“Buuuut… There was no neeeed…” The amount of talking made him even dizzier, as he stumbled backwards a little bit. Levi just raised a brow, expecting another lie.

“Stop being stubborn and sit down.” The ravenette placed some plastic bags on the table and emptied it. He took out a canned soup, and [Name] could smell fresh vegetables from the other bag.

He stared dumbfoundedly at the contents, then at Levi, then at the bags, then at the man again. The ravenette stared him back and spoke as if he was talking with an idiot: “You don’t have anything in your fridge.”

[Name] stayed in silence, processing the words from him. Then, he stood straight as he stared in embarrassment, eyebrows furrowing. “How do you know that?!”

“Because that’s you.”

[Name] didn’t know if to take that as an offense, so he avoided the ravenette’s gaze and looked defeated.

Levi didn’t care, it seemed, since he changed the subject. “What have you been doing before I got here?”

“Hmn… nothing…?” [Name] sighed and blinked lazily. “I wanted to take a shower, since I’m all sweaty… but I didn’t have any energy, and I thought I would feeell—”

“Oh, you will,” Levi stated, while crossing his arm as he tried to think, “you will get that shower. You look like a pig.”

“You are meaaaaan…” it wasn’t as if [Name] was in his right mind anyway to think of what he said, “I’m going to fall… I can’t go… and I feel sick,” he tightened the froggy bedsheets around him even more— he just wanted to fall asleep again.

“No.” Levi spoke sternly, harshly taking the cover off of [Name], causing him to gasp. “You will get that shower, so better get up and show me where the bathroom is before I take the sink to shower you.”

The ravenette took [Name] from the back of his shirt, forcing him to stand up. [Name] couldn’t help but comply, secretly glad he didn’t have to walk alone anymore as he guided Levi to the bathroom. It could seem like a careless action or touch by Levi, but he was sure [Name] wouldn’t fall even if he tripped, since the grip on his collar was strong enough.

He just didn’t want to touch sweat.

Levi was a bit grateful the bathroom was in decent shape after seeing such living room. It was small, with some corners and part of the sink and bathtub colored in oxidation thanks to the time. The mirror had some marks on it, along with the flooring having some ruptures. In Levi's mind, he couldn't stop repeating how horrible this place was. Or rather, how disgusting this whole building was.

He ordered [name] to steady himself with the sink while he filled the bathtub with not-too-warm water. Complying with a soft okay—! [name] allowed Levi to work, a little embarrassed when he noticed Levi’s narrowed eyes glaring at how slowly the water came in. If he was bothered or irritated, he didn't voice it, nor did [name].

In whatever silence they were in, Levi broke it off with a blunt order as he returned to his spot beside [name], taking his collar again. "Take your clothes off."

"U—Uh..?! That's sooo straightforward!!" raising his voice, [name] could feel his face getting warmer. "I—I can't do that in front of youu...!"

"Then should I throw you fully clothed in the water? Or should I undress you myself?"

[Name] felt a little bit of dread at the thought of Levi letting go of him. If he did, [name] didn't trust himself to remain standing.

"O-Okay, okay! Just... please turn around," he said his request with as much gentleness as he could have, eyeing Levi with a pleading look. The ravenette frowned as he stared at the sick idiot for a couple of seconds with cryptic eyes before giving in. Sighing in relief, [name] used Levi's shoulders to steady himself as he undressed clumsily. A few times [name] tightened his grasp on Levi's when tripping with his own clothes, only noticing his strength when the ravenette grunted or let out a remark.

"D—Don't turn around yet! Just... step backwards a little bit, pleease..." Carefully, [name] stepped inside the bathtub with a hum as his skin met the tepid water. It was just then, with water just under his chest as he hugged his legs, that he realized how hot he was. He involuntarily sank his whole body into the water, humming at the now-comforting temperature. He quickly retreated to his original stance when he remembered Levi was waiting for him. "...okay, you can turn around..."

"Finally." Levi took a small stool that was behind the sink and placed it beside the bathtub, sitting down. He rolled up his sleeves and took the shampoo, placing some on his hands. "Close your eyes," he commanded before rubbing the shampoo on [name]'s head, massaging the scalp.

It was actually relaxing on [name]'s part. He thought Levi would be rougher, but his hands were gentle. He could hear himself let out a content hum while his shoulders eased and he rested his chin on his knees.

“Bend over a bit.” Levi asked in a gentle tone this time, taking the soap. Just when [Name] obeyed and Levi was ready to lather him up, he noticed a lengthy burn scar on [Name]’s back, more so on the left side. It didn’t look… severe per se— boiled water, perhaps? Levi could tell fire didn’t cause it.

Whoever it was or whatever caused it, Levi continued to bathe [Name] with other thoughts in mind. It seemed the idiot had forgotten, since he didn’t say a thing about his silence.

“Sorry you haave to do aaall of this, Levi…” [Name]’s voice cut his dark thoughts off. “I’m very sorryyy,”

This time, it was Levi who sighed. “I told you yesterday, didn’t I, idiot? If I don’t do it myself, I will be in a bad mood all fucking day. And I have enough with those shitty glasses at work.”

[Name] giggled, “a mooore of bad mood?”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Levi warned him, but he didn’t sound hostile.

[name] talked about everything and anything. He looked content even if Levi gave hums or half answers when being asked something. At some point, [name]'s voice got lower and lower, until he fell silent. The ravenette was unsure if he had fallen asleep, but seeing his shoulders go up and down slowly made him sure.

Just seeing him like this, in this godforsaken place, rotting away... made him feel something he didn't want to say out loud. He just felt irritation.

[name] seemed asleep. Before waking him up, Levi gently caressed the scar on his back and wondered the reason for this act of dominance. Confusion, or perhaps anger, danced in his mind—not exactly for the scar per se.

He retreated his touch and got up, speaking louder to wake [name] up.

"Oi. Wake up. You can't sleep yet." As he took a towel, he signaled him to stand up to dry his body. He noticed how groggily the [hair color]-haired stood up, with eyes closing every two seconds and not even complaining about being seen naked this time. Levi quickly wrapped [name]'s body without much of a glance. His arm went around [name]'s waist to guide him out of the bathroom and to his room, as [name] vaguely told him where it was.

Surprisingly, his room wasn't a mess. Everything seemed in order and clean, to Levi's somehow relief. Levi asked him for clean clothes as he helped [name] sit down on his bed, but [name] was unable to answer because of his sleepy state. The ravenette grunted as he snapped his fingers in front of [name]'s face, making him jump in surprise and barely waking him up.

"Clothes... Ah! Right there, Levi." The ravenette opened the wardrobe and took the first thing he saw, which was another oversized T-shirt with, this time, a picture of a fat cat, and a pair of shorts. He couldn't stop himself from raising his brows in amusement at such choice of designs, almost wanting to make a remark about it. Yet, it wouldn't be as rewarding to see [name]'s groggy state acting stupid like his normal self. He threw the shirt over [name]'s head, the sick completely out of it to even complain about it.

Levi crossed his arms. "Answer—should I dress you or are you capable?"

"Mhm...? Oh, yeah... I caan..." [name] yawned, lazily taking the shirt. Levi had never seen such clumsiness before as he observed how the idiot missed the biggest entrance for his head to one of the arm’s. And then he looked pretty content about being trapped in the smallest hole, as if he had done a splendid job.

“You look stupid.” That was the only statement Levi could spit out before helping him with the t-shirt. His next objective was the shorts, but [Name] seemed to quickly snap out of his dazed and quickly stutter slurred words Levi couldn’t understand, but could decipher by [Name]’s stupid, embarrassed expression. As always, he asked him to turn around.

“You need to eat.” Levi stated as [Name] finished, turning to him once again.

“I want to sleep, Levi.” The sick idiot tried to lay down on the bed, but Levi’s grip on his shirt stopped him.

“Before that, you will eat.”

“But I’m sleepy…” [Name] tried to ‘charm’ Levi by blinking and staring pathetically. The ravenette narrowed his eyes.

It didn’t work. “But I don’t care. Get up.”

All of this felt like Levi was taking care of a child. Or perhaps a cat. A clumsy, useless cat whose life was only to destroy things and be a nuisance.

[Name] complied. Although this time he didn’t try to not be an annoyance, because his body felt heavier and his words didn’t make sense. Levi knew he needed sleep, but he couldn’t let him, still. Or he just didn’t want to. He couldn’t deny that painful, tired face made him feel better.

He instructed [Name] to patiently wait on the couch, since at least he had some mercy on him and didn’t let him wait on the chair while Levi chopped some vegetables for the food.

The sounds of the old TV and the low snores from [Name]’s filled the room, leaving Levi in a barely peaceful moment.

As he put the ingredients into the pot where he had filled it with the soup, he went to sit on the chair while observing [Name], who waited for the food to be ready.

The idiot stayed asleep, with no care or worry about who was with him. Has anyone broken in? Levi wondered.

The lock looked cheap and easy to break, but Levi instantly knew this idiot would open the door before looking, even if he was in his sane mind. A strong lock or a fancier building wouldn’t change that.

If Erwin hadn't taken a liking to him, where would he be? Dead inside a dumpster, maybe. Or perhaps in a job barely making the minimum wage. Or suffering under someone’s orders. Well, it wasn’t as if his situation was any better, in such a filthy place. Erwin had his reasons to hire him, but he didn't share them. What he couldn't hide from Levi was the acts of devotion he had for the assistant; how his blue eyes stared with such... affection? No. Erwin wasn't like that. Something vicoius hide beside that caring-boss facade. 

Speaking of that, who was this guy? Levi felt even more disgusted by the place as he took another look around. This whole building was rotting. Either way, Levi could observe [name]’s attempt to ‘hide’ the mess—pictures. One with him and friends? Perhaps family; a younger [name] with a dog; another picture of him, a guy looking irritated with a black-haired girl... Pretty ordinary pictures.

There were a few small plants, too. A book on the table beside the couch; keys hanging on the wall—were those small paintings? Levi could distinguish between what seemed to be the ocean and a sunset; in another painting, there were frogs in a pod.

[Name] was just like he imagined: a mundane person that he wouldn't usually take an interest in. How could he? This clumsy guy was easy to control, easy to overpower, had naive ideas, was dense... Then why this sudden attention? To someone so insignificant? He could understand Erwin's motives and even that four-eyes son of a bitch, but not his own. Levi found this irritable.

Maybe he liked to imagine how he would tangle his fingers between [name]'s hair, seeing his expression of satisfaction only for him to pull and see that face of being hurt: that pout, teary eyes, that slight frown meaning that he's going to cry... Or just harshly grab that jaw to hear him squeak once he takes his hand away to see the marks he made on that pretty face.

That face…

Levi narrowed his eyes.

That stupid face.

The reminder of the food interrupted his nightmarish thoughts. He went to check and realized it was ready. Without any permission, he took a bowl from the drawers—which didn’t have much—which, particularly, was blue with painted sheep. Levi couldn’t really believe how childish this guy was—hmn? Was that a mug with painted cats…?

Levi served the food. Even when he made lots of noise, the sick idiot didn't even move. The caretaker got in front of him and stared him down—[name] looked exhausted. His expression wasn't a comfortable one*; his body looked tense, and he was sweating.

He looked disgusting.

“Wake up.” Levi grabbed the front of his shirt with no gentleness.

[Name] barely woke up groggily, with his eyes barely opening and closing. From his mouth came words with no meaning, not even pying attention for the man.

Levi made him sit down while he ignored his pleas for him to stop. “Food’s ready. Wake the hell up.”

“Buuuut… I’m asleep…”

“Now you’re not. Get up.” [name] resisted. Levi gritted his teeth, and in his eyes reflected an anger that made [name] shiver. “Get the fuck up, or I’ll punch you until you die.”

“Ok, Okay! I’mm uup—!” Even with slurred words and a weak mind, he knew Levi didn’t make jokes. The thought of Levi acting like a beast made him gulp.

“Huh…” [name] looked at the table, and then at the couch. “Can I eat on the couch…? I don’t want to sit down…”

Levi tightened the grip on his collar. The sounds from the TV weren’t helping his temper much, since an annoying money TV game was on and fueled Levi’s annoyance with him.

The caretaker only pulled him forcibly. “No. You will sit like a civilized, mannered person, not like a pig. You will make a mess if you lay down.”

[name] didn’t dare say anything else. He sat down, like a good boy, and looked at his food. It looked good, actually. The nice aroma reminded him of the hunger in his stomach, as it immediately growled. [name] took the spoon, ready to eat it all.

But, just as expected, [Name] was unable to even feed himself accordingly. His sloppy movements, thanks to his sudden sleepiness, made him unable to hold the spoon properly, messing up the table and dirtying his face. Levi grunted, disgusted once again and more annoyed.

With a harsh move, he took the spoon from [Name]’s shaky hand, surprising him with it. But before Levi could feed him himself, he took a napkin and, with not much gentleness, cleaned [Name]’s face. Whimpers and soft complaints left [Name], but they went to deaf ears. Just as Levi finished, he clicked his tongue at his own exasperation.

“Open your mouth. I will feed you like the child you are.” Levi harshly took [name]'s jaw while he guided the spoon to his mouth. [Name] felt ashamed at first, desperately staring anywhere but Levi's eyes. The ravenette didn't like [name]'s childish behavior, as his grip on his jaw tightened. [name] jumped, opening his mouth with teary eyes. "Why don't you just obey? Always doing what you should not be doing." Levi's never softened his grip, perhaps as a punishment for being disobedient.

This kept going in silence until [name] felt full. A gentle touch on the hand with which Levi gripped his jaw was enough for his caretaker to abruptly stop and glare at him directly. [name]’s body tensed. "I'm—I'm full..." The stare he got was enough to make him shiver. Why were there times when he could speak to Levi normally, but in times like this, Levi unnerved him?

It didn't help when he stared like that. And the way he silently got up, took his bowl, and began doing the dishes didn’t help at all. Was he angry? Did he do something wrong?

Well, whatever. He felt sleepy again. The food had helped him feel comfortable, in some way.

“Dhankss for the food, Levaa…” His eyelids felt heavy.

A grunt was the only answer. [name] slowly began to drift away, dreams taking his mind. His arms rested on the table, letting his face rest on them. The soft silence from the dishwasher lulled him.

This time, Levi didn't say anything else. Instead, he knew he felt a hand caress his hair before shaking his shoulder, but he could be wrong, after all.

“You are asleep already.” Levi’s soft voice sounded far away, even if he was next to him. His strong arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him to the bathroom again.

[name] couldn't open his eyes anymore. His body felt automatic—he just felt Levi’s hands on his mouth, brushing his teeth gently. Did he dream all of this, actually?

He didn’t even remember walking to his bed, but he was already under the covers. Levi’s hand rested on his forehead, and [name] could barely see his usual frown. The sick idiot couldn't help but close his eyes again, but once he opened them again, something cold was resting on his forehead.

Levi said something, but [name] didn't understand.

“That feelss goood…” [name] smiled contently. He chuckled softly. “You are a great nurse, Mr. Levi.”

Levi didn’t like that, since he flicked a finger on [name]’s forehead. [Name] whined, the eyes of betrayal stared at Levi’s face, who glared back. [Name] pouted.

“Not nice…”

“I’m not nice.” Levi changed the cloth to a colder one, by [name]’s relief.

“You are.” He closed his eyes again.

“Not.”

“Just rough sometimes. But you are nice.”

Levi didn’t answer, but it was enough for [name] to look content. A frown formed on Levi’s face while he sat down beside [name]. He took the mug off the nightstand, which [name] didn’t even notice, and waited for the sick idiot to react. “Take a sip.”

“What’s…?”

“Ginger tea. Take. A. Sip.”

[name] chuckled like an idiot while Levi helped him sit down. Levi’s hand on his back and how he helped him take small sips brought him some type of comfort. The feeling of being taken care of was… nice, even if he knew Levi didn’t like the whole idea. Any other type of comfort in his life was Porco; he would be lying if he didn’t feel happy having someone so… caring and trustworthy around him. Knowing he was away made him sad.

“I… don’t waant mooore.”

Levi stopped without much to say, and left the mug in its previous place. He told [name] not to lay down since he could feel like vomiting again. He changed the cloth again before his hand stayed on his forehead to not let the cloth fall down. [name] opened his eyes tiredly to admire Levi. Well, what else could he do?

Levi sure was a handsome man. Or did he confess that to himself because he was not in his right mind? Well, he didn’t admit that out loud…

He felt lightminded; perhaps that’s why he felt bolder to say things.

“You are scary sometimes.” Even though the statement wasn’t a positive thing to say, [name] smiled like an idiot. “Veeeeery scary…”

Levi narrowed his eyes.

“Buut even scary, you look good!”

Levi didn’t react— not openly, at least. “And you look dumb, but that doesn’t give you any favors.”

[Name] chuckled. Levi helped him lay down again.

“I’m sleepy.”

Levi removed the cloth and rested his hand on [name]’s forehead to feel his temperature. [Name] hummed contently as he felt Levi’s cold fingers on his warm skin. Without much thought, he gently moved Levi’s fingers over his closed eyes. He felt more comfort.

“Migraine?” Levi asked.

“Hmn…” [Name] didn’t have more energy to give a detailed answer.

“I left pills on your nightstand.” Levi said, “Take some.”

“No… I’m… tired…” [name]’s eyelids felt heavier, and he couldn’t help closing them.

Levi didn’t like being contradicted, but he kept silent. Perhaps he was tired because of him, or just annoyed. He grunted but didn’t say further. The room fell into silence. Levi stared at [name]’s face, who rested quietly. As he saw nothing else bothering him, he got up and spoke loudly for [name] to hear. [name] opened his eyes tiredly when he got up from the bed.

"It's time for me to go, then." Levi was ready to leave, but he felt something pulling his hand before he began to walk away. He turned his head just to see [name] staring at him with pleading eyes, almost looking like a child scared of the dark.

"Nooo... don't leave me, please," he pleaded. "Stay with me..."

"I can't. Go to sleep."

"But, Levi, I'm scared of being alone... Please, just stay with me this time, pretty pretty please?"

Levi stared, again. With holding hands still, [name] blinked slowly with his long eyelashes, making his plea more "captivating.” Levi wanted to punch his face.

“No.”

“Pretty pleasse…” [name] tightened the grip on his hand.

Levi actually thought about it this time. Perhaps [name] was going to fall asleep, since he looked too tired. “Five minutes.” He answered before sitting down again in the same place, while ignoring how content and happy [name] stupidly looked. Silence filled the room again, but speaking wasn’t necessary for both of them this time.

After such peace, the phone rang. [Name] grunted at the interruption of his sleep, but quickly took the phone before missing the call. The frown that was plastered on his face changed to a soft smile as he answered. Levi narrowed his eyes at such change.

“Hi, Vincent.” [name] replied. “I’m good. Thank you for calling.”

What a good friend.

“It’s fine. Actually, Levi came to—”

Levi snitched the phone out of his hands. Vincent’s voice only fueled his irritation, as his worried questions were heard from the other line.

“What a nice, worried friend you are, Mr. Guard.”

Vincent didn’t answer at first. “Mr. Ackerman, good afternoon.”

Levi could notice Vincent’s change of tone. Well, the feeling was mutual.

“No need for such cute calls for your boyfriend.”

“If I’m worried about him, then I’ll call.”

Levi gritted his teeth. *“*How daring.”

Levi noticed Vincent was going to make a remark, but he shut himself up before spitting it. The ravenette smirked slightly. At least such guard knew who he was talking to. Due to the lack of an answer, Levi kept speaking.

“You asked, he answered. This is all you’ll get.”

Vincent seemed to rile himself up. "He doesn’t—” But Levi hung up before Vincent could finish. He slammed the phone with such force, that made [name] jump at the noise.

Levi stared knives at the phone, not paying attention to [name]’s stare.

“You don’t like Vincent.” [name] looked at him timidly, speaking softly. Levi did look furious at the call— but [name] was sure Vincent wasn’t the type of person to look for problems. What did make Levi so angry?

“Is that a problem for you?”

[name] frowned. It… wasn’t a problem, but he didn’t like seeing his friend— or confidant? being treated so harshly. He knew Levi could see that, but he knew how Levi acted. The people in the asylum could be really… spiteful. Either way, the reflective thoughts only soothed him—he was more than tired. Levi waited, but the question was left unanswered. Instead, it was met with soft snores coming from the idiot.

He had fallen asleep at last.

Levi glared at him—how could he be sleeping so comfortably with him in the room? Leci here, acting like a good guy only fueled his anger. There had to be a reward for this absurdity. He didn’t comprehend his own feelings—their meaning. After all, he hadn’t needed them in a long time, if ever. [name] made him repulsed by such foolish emotions.

How bitter you are.

[Name] didn’t mean to last in that place, but Erwin and four eyes sought any ways to protect him from all evil. Even so, they themselves were worse than the subjects. Levi laughed bitterly internally every time one of them couldn’t hide their desire to possess such a good-for-nothing assistant. He couldn’t understand wholly, but now he saw why. But ‘liking’ him? It wasn’t that. It was something else, but Levi still couldn’t comprehend. He should, soon enough.

Levi glanced at [name], waiting for the moment to move.

And, just when he noticed [Name] fell into a deep slumber, the devil returned.

Levi couldn't stop himself. There was just this urge.

Shifting his body slowly to not interrupt his companion's sleep, facing him. He stared at [name]'s body; how his chest moved according to his breathing, how his lips slightly opened as gentle, barely audible snores came out of his mouth—his long eyelashes, his relaxed, cute expression... only for him to see.

Levi's hand slowly moves under [name]'s shirt, gently caressing his warm stomach. He moved his touch on [name]'s waist this time, grabbing and squeezing part of the flesh not too harshly. The ravenette waited for a response, but just as he was met with silence, he continued his secret exploration in quietness. This time, he rested his head on the crock of [name]'s neck, smelling his scent. His hand explored the flesh a bit more daringly, slowly crawling his way to reach [name]'s chest, the tips of his fingers exploring the flesh cautiously.

This time [name] whimpered softly, his body shivering for one second. The ravenette waited for any other reaction or complaint, but [name] remained in his slumber with a troubled expression adorning his face.

Levi smirked.

What a reward.

[bigsnaff]

Months pass in Nayos, and Cyna experiences a taste of revenancy, to her great chagrin.

I hold nothing for you in my heart but hate.

The words don't phase Cyna – she's known this man, this ghost of Ascalon, Merlish Cendigg, for little over a few months. What power do his words have to her? As though they were new to her ears? But she knows that every little word he breathes against her breaks down whatever thin veil of camaraderie that builds. Every time they fought together, every drop of blood spilled of their foes between them. 

It wasn't forced upon her; she had accepted the spear from Isgarren of her own will, though perhaps at the time she didn't fully recognize the weight of it, the value, or the burden. The events preceding their entrance to Nayos were rattling to her mind, a rushing wind past her ears. She accepted the weapon blindly. But now she knows it was more than just another tool like the Heart of the Obscure.

In Nayos, Cyna steps back for once and allows herself to be the one commanded. A foot soldier once again, an expendable sword on the frontline. It's almost a relief to leave the consequences to someone else for once, as Peitha orders her blade here and there — until the guilt weeds its way back into her mind, and she looks over to the ghost at her side and knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

She finds humor in the fact that the otherworldly being who wormed her way into her mind was more amiable than the human from her own world. Though whether that amiability is born from sincerity, she didn’t yet know. In truth, she didn't know who she trusted more. She had slaughtered enough Kryptis at this point that, had it not been in self defense, it could’ve been considered genocide — and Merlish, of course, had witnessed his kingdom’s fall at the hands of her race.

Both of them had enough reason to level her.

She and Merlish are alone so often. She carries the spear with her closer than she carries her blade. Clusters of crystal grow from it with each swing, with each thrust of her power forced through it, though she could not control it. She stands as sentry at the edge of the Ward’s camp, watching as he pries the crystals off the spear and crushes them to dust in his palm. She doesn’t stop him. The spear harbored his soul; was it not an intrusion upon his being? She felt foolish.

“I’m sorry,” she has the gall to say, somehow, though it will happen again and again. The glow from his presence reaches farther than the meager light of the embers of her campfire. It's brighter than the ghosts she would fight in Ascalon, and she wonders why. “...I can’t help it.”

“Then you’re weak,” he says simply, without emotion behind the words. It’s meant to just be a statement, Cyna thinks. But still a low growl rises from her chest. She’d been uniquely patient until now. 

“It’s different magic than you use.”

“The fundamentals of all magic begin and end the same.” He says, holding up the last of the crystals between his fingers. His glow catches within it, scattering it like a prism. She closes her eyes against the influx of memories.

“I’ve been dealing with it for years. It’s dragon magic. Don’t act as though you understand,” she tosses back, and it’s the first time yet that she’s ever heard him laugh. It’s louder than she expected, but there's little joy behind it. He twirls the shard between his fingers as she watches mist waft off him like flames – the mundaneness of the action contrasting so starkly against what he was.

“Wayfinder–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“...Commander — strike with a hammer with as much force as you like, but aim.” He crushes the final crystal in his hand, releasing the fragments to the wind. She huffs. It's hardly a lesson. But he's more pleasant than she recalls him being in a while, so she refrains from adding fuel to the flame. Instead she looks away and watches the red leaves of Nayos trees dance in the wind.

Cyna hadn’t pondered as much on Ascalon as she likely should’ve — though she had grown up in Grothmar Valley, distant from the epicenter of Ascalon’s fall, even when she and her warband migrated south to battle the Dragonbrand, the ghosts seemed no more to her than another environmental hazard. During then, she instead turned her focus toward the ever-growing disaster that plagued Ascalon’s East --- not the echoes trapped in endless reverberation. She grinds her teeth at this thought. They were people, once, though hatred shared between their kinds. It’s bizarre to imagine the ghost before her there. Though she had met much older beings, there’s something about Merlish that seemed inherently… antique.

She has watched Merlish as executioner, in her mind’s eye placing herself into a time that she had not yet set foot into the world, when fear and hatred ruled Ascalon, and remarks upon the sorcerer’s savagery. Surely he fought the charr as fiercely as he did the Kryptis. Was he so unlike the ones he claimed to be beasts? The rage in his eyes? Was he so unlike her? 

Angry, trapped in a prison of their own making.

The thought pulses in her head. She turns her gaze back toward Merlish and clenches her jaw. He stares back. To Isgarren, maybe, Merlish had become just a tool, a means to an end. But he wasn’t a slave. More than an echo. She bows her head to him. “...I don’t want to keep you.”

He flares at the suggestion alone, “I am not yours to keep.” 

“I know.”

He spits, “you're a fell beast. You and your kind. Good that the gods cursed me so, that I might not end all of Tyria in my bloodlust for you.”

“You have what you want. Isgarren doesn't withhold you anymore. You are bound to no one.”

He steps within inches of Cyna's face. A fury in his eyes that never dies. Ascalon eternally burning. “Foresight is scarcely a blessing as said. My own folly is my jailer.” 

Cyna shoves away a rising growl. As if she, born centuries later, was the mastermind behind all of his suffering. For all he claims that foresight is a curse, she wishes she had enough to not humor him for so long. “Then break the chains.”

“I hate you,” he whispers aloud, but she hears the words in her mind as well, louder, deeper. He doesn't allow the barrier between them to fall. Like Ascalon’s Northern Wall, he rebuilds it, again and again. “For all that you've done, you personally, Commander, I loathe you so. I hold nothing for you in my heart but hate.“

She's known this man for little over a few months, she's watched him spill blood of demons with relative ease, and yet, he steps toward her, blinding spear in hand, nothing between them, and he doesn't touch her. For all that he claims he hates her, he doesn't take the advantage, the vengeance. He never does.

“I’m not too fond of you either,” is all she returns, uncaring.

Merlish's furious expression remains steadfast — but he steps back from her, supernatural flames tempering. Soon, his spirit dissipates as the spear in his fading hand glows brighter and then spins itself to her. She catches it with one hand and scoffs. The ghost has gone to his room and locked the door.

Cyna closes her eyes and leans her weight against it. Tomorrow, they march to the Midnight King's coliseum, and she wonders if he hates the Kryptis as much as he hates her.

[mysticbewitched]

It’s funny how you just made the post on how your perception has evolved because I literally deleted tumblr app today and continued reading The Law and The Promise and came to the same epiphany. None of Neville’s books shows how limitless we are apart from that one (to be fair, it’s just the tip of the iceberg). That is his last book as far as I’m aware, which says a lot . This book literally has a success story of a woman (lives in San Francisco) who imagined herself to be in her daughters home (in England) and imagined seeing her daughter. Her daughter turned to her, made eye contact and looked frightened and then she snapped out of the “imaginary” scene. Then the mum got a letter like a week later telling her that her daughter had seen her and she thought she was dead and had seen a ghost so her husband told her to send a letter to her mum straight away. Same day and time the mum imagined herself in her daughters home, the daughter had physically seen her there too. I never knew Neville spoke of these limitless acts but he truly evolved and so have you. He even writes about how imagination is not only within but without too and that they’re not separate and that imagination (consciousness/awareness) is “God” and all things exist because of imagination (consciousness /awareness). Whatever we become aware of we make real then and there. If only people would persist in its reality regardless of what seems otherwise, would they experience the full expression of it. There’s successes in that book that show you people who have been in the face of what seemed like they would never get their desires but returned to their imagination and had their desire fully expressed then and there.

I completely agree with you and everything you said. It's absolutely wild to me how so many people who claim to be loyal followers of Neville's teachings distort his work out of shape and spread around misinformation which others blindly accept on their journey.

What we truly are as awareness is indescribable, incomparable, infinite, and simply unmatched. We are the very source of creation itself, and it's such an incredibly beautiful realization to come to after drowning in a deep, endless sea full of ignorant misinformation for so long.

I'm grateful that I came to this realization of the true self and I was able to evolve in my beliefs just as Neville evolved on his journey. It's a beautiful metamorphosis to me.

I have heard that story about the daughter freaking out when her mother appeared to her out of nowhere and it never fails to amaze me every time I am reminded of it. All things are possible and that's only the tip of the iceberg as you said.

There was also a story from this one guy where Neville was once in two places at once which freaked the guy out and he couldn't understand how that was possible. I was floored when I first read about all of this and I thought of how funny that one guy's reactions must have been at the time.

Check out the story here.

You should also check out the story of this one woman (Louise Berlay) who manifested seeing her deceased son appear to her in her bedroom because she wanted to see him again and she was hellbent on manifesting to see him again after his death.

You can find that story here.

I recommend for everyone here to read The Law & The Promise. It's one of Neville's best, it has wild success stories, and it's simply incredible.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Here's To The Future - Part 6: Reunion

Summary: The war’s over. That should be cause for celebration, except the wrong side won. Things begin to change quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Midnight to realize something’s not right among the clone army. She should be glad the war is over, but the threat of her losing her boys is all too real. She did swear she would do everything she could to keep them from being separated when the war ended.

She’s not going to give up on that promise. Even if it kills her.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: ANGST, violence, slight injuries, ANGST, Crosshair being a dick, Hunter being an asshole, ANGST, inhibitor chips, light medical stuff, oh and ANGST

A/N: I was gonna wait to post this until tomorrow, but I got too excited and have to post it now. This is it, the big moment. The part where things really change. This is really where the canon divergence begins to take place. Is it improbable? Yeah. But the whole point of Fanfiction is to make the improbable, probable. So here. Enjoy.

Also I need to stop making Hunter such an asshole.

< Previous | Next > | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” 

Midnight doesn’t turn around, keeping her gaze at the half buried starfighter she’d discovered. “I wasn’t thinking of anything.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” Hunter says, coming to stand next to her. 

“No, you’re just impossible to lie to.” 

“Midnight,” He sighs, turning to face her. “It’s not worth it.” 

“Why not?” She turns on him in disbelief. “We know what it is. We know how to fix it now, and we have a place to fix it. This is the only chance we have.” 

“And how do you plan on doing it?” Hunter asks, getting visibly angry. 

“Draw him out.” Midnight says, looking back at the starfighter. “Get him here. Then get him inside and remove the chip.” 

“We can’t risk drawing half the Imperial Army here.” Hunter argues. “Not with Omega.” 

“That’s why you’ll be long gone before I get back.” Midnight says. “If it works, I know where to find you.” 

“And if it doesn’t? When Crosshair shoots you on sight, then what?” 

“He won’t.” Midnight pushes. “He could have killed me. He could have shot me in the head or in the back on Kamino, but he didn’t. He shot me in the leg. Why? Why wouldn’t he take the shot, unless he’s still in there deep down? Hunter, I have to.” 

“What about us?” He steps closer to her. “What about your promise to Omega? Do we mean so little to you?” 

Tears prick her eyes at his words. “You mean everything to me. You know that. But he does too. I won’t accept that he’s gone for good. I have to try.” 

“What you’re thinking of doing is impossible.” Hunter says. “You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

“He’s right, you know.” Tech says, walking up to them. “The chances of your plan succeeding are very low. For starters, you can’t even be sure Crosshair will be the one sent after you. Then you have to figure out how you’re going to get him inside the ship. He won’t just follow you blindly.” 

“Midnight, why can’t you just let him go?” Hunter asks. 

“How can you let him go?” She counters, shoving his shoulder. “He’s your brother. He’s part of this family too.” 

Before he can respond, their comms beep, Echo’s voice coming through. 

“Hunter, Tech, we were spotted by scrappers.”

“Wrecker’s in pursuit. He says he has it under control.” Omega says. 

“That’s not comforting.” Tech says. 

“Echo, get a visual.” Hunter says. 

“I’m on it.” 

****

It takes nearly all afternoon to gather the bodies of the scrappers that had been watching them. Wrecker carries in the last one, adding him to the pile of cuffed scrappers. 

“Rex warned us about the scrapper patrols on Bracca.” Echo says. “We should leave.” 

“In our present situation, we need money.” Hunter argues. “And we have a chance to make a lot of it right here.” 

“Ha! In this dump? How?” Wrecker asks. 

“Tech, what’s the potential haul inside this cruiser?” Hunter asks. 

“My scans indicate the armory and artillery bay have not been fully off-loaded. The dianoga must have kept the scrapers away.” 

“Just a few of those weapons should clear our debt with Cid.” Hunter says. 

“We’re soldiers, not arms smugglers.” Echo argues. 

“There’s no Republic for us to rely on anymore.” Hunter says. “We’re presented with an opportunity here. We have to take it.” 

“I would also add that the intel from the bridge’s central system has the potential to be worth far more than any weapon.” Tech says as Hunter puts on his helmet. 

“Not to me.” Wrecker scoffs. 

“Tech, get to the bridge.” Hunter says. “Get the power online and whatever intel you can gather.” 

“Uh, what do we do about them?” Omega asks, motioning to the scrappers. 

“We’ll grab what we need and be gone before they even wake up.” Hunter says. 

“I agree with Echo.” Midnight says. “We don’t know how long they were watching us. What if they alerted the Empire?” 

“We’ll be in and out before then.” Hunter says, a little too confidently. “Besides, I thought your plan was to draw out the Empire.” 

“Not like this.” She shoves his chest as she walks past him. “You don’t have to be a dick.” 

She makes her way back into the cruiser, silently seething as she makes her way to the munitions depot. Hunter is really starting to get on her nerves. Sure, her plan was a bit far-fetched and insane, but it doesn’t involve anyone but her. If the Empire showed up here right now, it would be disastrous. 

But, at the same time, it would be easier if Crosshair came here without having to draw him out. That would remove one step of her plan. 

Wrecker pries the door to the munitions depot open, all of them entering. Midnight shines her torch around, spotting crates stacked haphazardly around the room. She follows Echo, looking through crates of blasters, ammunition, and explosives. The lights suddenly flick on, making her squint in pain. 

“Some warning would have been nice.” She groans, rubbing her eyes. 

The comms beep, Tech’s voice coming through. “The power’s back on.” 

“Yeah, we can see that.” Wrecker says. 

Midnight rounds a stack of crates, finding Wrecker snuggling a proton torpedo. He kisses it, her arms crossing as she stares at him. “I feel like I should be insulted.” 

Tech calls Omega to the bridge, the young clone running off. Hunter and Echo approach them, Hunter pushing a holocart with a crate on it. 

“With a haul like this, Cid will owe us for a change.” Hunter says. 

“If we’d left with Rex, we wouldn’t have to owe Cid at all.” Echo counters. 

“He’s on a different path than us.” Hunter says. 

“Hunter, we’re soldiers. What other path is there?” Echo asks, pushing the cart closer to Wrecker. 

They continue looking through crates, loading up explosives and ammunition.

“Hunter, we’ve got company.” Tech’s voice comes through the comms. 

“Is it more scrappers?” Hunter asks. 

“No, it’s the Empire.” 

They all share a look. 

“Grab the rest of the munitions, then meet us at the bridge.” Hunter says before running out of the depot. 

They finish gathering the weapons, heading through the maze of hallways.

“This is a bad time to say ‘I told you so,’ huh.” Midnight says as they race to meet the others at the bridge. 

“How many troopers are we talking about?” Echo asks as Hunter, Tech and Omega meet them in the hallway. 

“Three attack shuttles worth.” Tech says. 

“We already got what we came for. Let’s get to the Marauder.” Wrecker says. 

“They’re already on board the cruiser. We need a covert way out.” Hunter says. 

“They’ll do a forward-to-aft sweep. We can alternate corridors.” Echo says. “Come on.” 

They head down a hallway, Omega taking Midnight’s hand. Midnight squeezes it gently, keeping the girl close to her as they creep through the quiet hallways. It’s too quiet, even the normal creak of metal she’d gotten used to is absent.

“Talk to me Tech.” Hunter says. 

“I’m trying to tap into the reg’s comms so we can monitor their movements.” Tech says. 

Something bangs in the distance, Hunter motioning for them to stay still as he shines his flashlight down the hallway. 

He shuts off the flashlight. “Someone’s coming.” 

They duck down a hallway, taking cover behind the crates of ammunition. The squad of regs walks right past them, not even bothering to look down the hallway. 

“I’m in.” Tech says, his datapad beginning to chatter busily from the reg’s comms. 

“All squads.” Crosshair’s voice comes through the comm. Of course he’d be here. “Push the targets towards the hangar. We’ll pin them down.” Midnight’s breath catches in her throat. It’s been so long since she’s heard his voice.

“Aren’t we headed to the hangar?” Omega asks. 

“Not anymore. We’ll cut through the artillery deck.” Hunter says. 

They head towards the deck, finding it empty. The decaying roof creaks ominously, like it might drop at any moment. 

Suddenly one of the doors opens, troopers entering. They’ve been caught. Crosshair must have expected their movements. He would be able to. He knows them well. 

“Stand down.” One of the troopers orders. It’s a female voice behind the helmet. She must be a member of the nat-born squad Tarkin had spoken of. The one Midnight was supposed to be a part of. 

Midnight, Omega, and Hunter get caught in the open, the others ducking behind the cannons. Midnight keeps Omega close, her blaster drawn and ready. The door they’d entered in opens, more troopers filing through. Midnight doesn't have to see his face to know who it is in front. She can tell just by looking at him. 

“Tapping our comms to track our movements?” Crosshair says. “So predictable.” 

“Nice to see you too, Crosshair.” Wrecker scoffs, sticking his head out from where he’s hiding behind a cannon. 

“Look at you all, scavenging like rats.” Crosshair sneers. “How pathetic.” 

“Why come after us?” Hunter asks. 

“You’re traitors.” Crosshair answers, motioning for the troops to move. They get closer, tightening their formation around them. 

“Crosshair, wake up.” Hunter says. “You’re being controlled by an inhibitor chip.” 

“He’s telling the truth.” Omega says, stepping forward. “The Kaminoans put chips in all the clones. Remember what I told you in the brig? You can’t help it.” 

Crosshair takes half a step towards Omega, Hunter putting himself in front of her. 

“Aim for the kid.” He says, the troopers lifting their weapons. 

Midnight turns her back to Crosshair, facing the troopers behind them, sticking Omega between her and Hunter. Midnight can’t believe what she’s hearing. Crosshair wouldn’t...would he? Then again, this isn’t Crosshair. It’s his chip and whatever the Empire has done to him. 

“Your issue’s with me, not her.” Hunter says defensively. 

“I suggest you drop your weapon.” Crosshair says, just as the cannon beside them goes off, knocking them to the side. 

Midnight begins firing at the troopers, taking out those in front of her in their surprise. The entire deck shakes as the cannons go off, the roof above them creaking ominously as bits of it begin falling with the force of the cannons. 

The third cannon goes off, the roof dropping. Midnight barely has time to cover herself, ducking out of the way of the falling debris. They use the distraction, running for the door. A trooper blocks their way, firing a flamethrower at them. Wrecker tosses the proton torpedo at the trooper, sending them flying back. 

“Direct hit!” He cheers, and they keep running. 

Except Midnight. 

She stops, turning to look at the rubble. Crosshair is under there somewhere. This is her moment. With them scattered and focusing on the guys, this may be her only chance. With Crosshair out of the equation, their entire chain of command will be in confusion. The guys can get out, get off the planet to safety. 

Maybe she’ll reunite with them eventually.

She turns around, skirting through the debris. She finds him easily, already on his hands and knees. She draws her blaster, pointing it at him. 

“So, you’re the only one brave enough not to run.” He coughs, staring up at her. 

“No. I’m the only one dumb enough to take a chance on you.” Her hand is trembling just a bit. She has to move fast. “I’m sorry.” 

She fires, stunning him. 

She digs the stim shot out of her pouch on her belt, injecting it into her neck. She’s glad she thought about grabbing it just in case. The drug works quickly, pumping adrenaline through her body. She bends down, dragging Crosshair up. She slings his arm around her shoulders, beginning to drag him from the artillery deck. 

He’s heavy, but she won’t give up. Not now. Not with this perfect moment. She won’t get another one.

She fires at the recovering troopers, grunting a bit as she drags the unconscious Crosshair through the halls. Tears prick her eyes as her comm beeps. It had taken them this long to realize she was missing. 

“Midnight, where are you?” Hunter’s stern voice comes through. 

“Go.” She grunts, making her way towards the med bay. “Get out of here. I’ll see you soon.” 

“She’s going after Crosshair.” Hunter growls. “Midnight, give it up and get your ass to the ship.” 

“I’m sorry, Hunter.” She says, leaning against the wall for a second, catching her breath.  “I can’t leave him.”

She shuts her comm off, adjusting her grip around Crosshair before moving forward. 

She fights her way to the med bay, the surgery pod still powered on. She barricades the door, locking them inside. She knows it’s only a matter of time until they regroup and come looking. It won’t take them long to break through once they find where she is. 

She still has to try. 

Her arms are shaking as she lifts Crosshair onto the table, tears already starting to fall. She pulls off his helmet, looking down at his face. It feels like a lifetime since she’s seen him. Many, many times she’d dreamed of him there, right in front of her. Now he is. 

She traces a finger down his cheek, his face looking so relaxed in his unconscious state. 

She can’t stand here forever, though. She needs to get moving. She doesn’t have forever. 

She shoves the emotions and her thoughts aside, letting her fingers do the work as she copies what she had seen Tech do on the console. 

It feels like a lifetime as she waits. She has no idea if this will even work. For all she knows, the Empire did something else to him, something to make him so ruthless. So...evil. She has to try, though. She’s not willing to give up on Crosshair, even when the others are. She’ll fight every last trooper left just for this chance. 

The machine finishes, the bed sliding out. Midnight rushes to his side, putting a hand on his cheek. He’s still warm, still breathing. She shakes him gently, needing him to wake up sooner rather than later. “Crosshair?” 

She grabs an injector from her belt. A bacta shot, one of their last. She injects it into his neck, her fingers shaking. The stim shot is wearing off. She can feel the energy draining. If she has to help carry him out...she’s not sure she can. 

“Crosshair, I’m so sorry.” She whispers, tears dripping onto his armor. “I should never have left you.” 

She doesn’t know if he’ll be changed when he wakes. For all she knows, this was completely useless. For all she knows, he’ll shoot her as soon as he wakes up. 

Something bangs against the door, her heart jumping into her throat. They’ve found her. They’ll shoot her on sight. She has no doubt about that. 

“Crosshair?” She says, listening to the banging at the door. It’s only a matter of time before they break in. 

At least it will have been worth it to see Crosshair one more time. 

His eyes flutter, a groan leaving his lips. She stares down at him, meeting his gaze as his eyes slit open. She cups his face, her breath shaking as she feels him again. It’s been too long. Far too long. 

“Crosshair?” She whispers, staring down into that familiar glare. His hand moves, grabbing the blaster from her belt. It happens quickly, her eyes screwing closed in anticipation. She’s failed. It was all for nothing. 

The blaster rests on her shoulder, the recoil pushing back against the joint. Two shots, the sound loud in her ear. It’s ringing a bit, her skin prickling from the proximity of the shot. 

“You should watch your back, little girl.” 

The words pull a sob from her lips, her arms blindly seeking him out. He’d said those exact words during her first mission with them, when he’d saved her from getting shot in the back by a droid. She buries her face in his neck, his arm wrapping around her. 

“We need to move.” He says, gently pushing her away. “Your stupid decision may have cost us an exit.” 

She wipes the tears, sniffling a bit. “Crosshair...I-I don’t-” 

“Save it.” He snaps, groaning as he pushes himself up from the table. “This won’t be easy.” 

“It never is.” She says, handing him his rifle. 

She slings his arm around her shoulders, glad he can at least keep his feet under him. She leads him from the med bay, stepping over the two bodies in the doorway. She can practically hear Hunter screaming at her, berating her for this, but she’d deal with that later. 

“This way.” He says, directioning her. 

They weave through the hallways, dodging troopers. They turn a corner, Midnight’s blaster drawn. They come face to face with Hunter and the others, Hunter’s blaster pointed right in her face. She takes a breath, letting out a shaky exhale as she drops her blaster to her side. 

“Crosshair.” Hunter says, staring at the trooper leaning against her. 

“I did it.” Midnight breathes, her entire body shaking. “His chip is gone.” 

“We need to keep moving.” Crosshair says, not acknowledging them at all. 

“We can’t trust him.” Hunter says. “He’ll give us away as soon as he gets the chance.” 

“He killed two of them already, Hunter.” Midnight argues. “Why can’t you believe me?” She asks, feeling tears prick her eyes once more. 

“We need to figure out how to get out of here.” Echo says, trying to draw their attention to more pressing matters. 

“They’ll be regrouping.” Crosshair says. “This may be our only chance.” 

“We can’t trust him.” Hunter says, eyes narrowing at Crosshair. 

“Hunter, it worked. His chip is gone.” Midnight says. “You have to trust me.” 

She can feel his stare through his helmet. He’s mad. He’s beyond mad. 

“I can’t.” He says, turning his back on her. 

His words hurt, far deeper than anything he could have done. Tears prick her eyes once more, his words like a knife to her chest. He may as well have stabbed her. 

“We can cut through the engine.” Tech says. “Slip out and take the long way back to the Marauder.” 

“There’s a squad guarding the ship.” Crosshair says. “They’ll be expecting you.” 

“We can deal with them when we get there.” Wrecker says. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Crosshair and Midnight take the rear as they slip through the halls, heading straight towards the engine. Hunter's words keep playing over and over in her head. She knows getting Hunter to trust Crosshair is going to be hard. She just hadn’t planned on Hunter losing his trust in her as well. 

It’s not like she doesn’t deserve it. 

They make their way through the engine, staring at the valley of debris below. There’s not an Imperial Trooper in sight, but they also have the issue of getting out of the engine. It’s way too far to jump, and they have nothing to help them get down. 

“Wait-” Hunter says, holding out a hand. “Get down!” 

They duck just as one of the attack shuttles flies over, firing at the engine. It rocks violently, throwing them all off their feet. Dirt and rust rains down around them, but it also hides them from view, giving them a moment to regroup. 

“Now what?” Wrecker asks. 

“They know where we are. It won’t take them long to regroup now.” Hunter says. “Stay low. Double back.” 

They run back into the engine, but it begins to clang, something above them whirring. 

“What is that?” Omega asks. 

“Sounds like the engine is coming back online.” Hunter says. “But that’s not possible, right?” He looks to Tech. 

“Technically it is.” He says. “I restored the ship’s main power core when I accessed the central system which means the engines can be activated.” 

They shine their torches up at the engine, the metal around them shaking as the engine begins to power on. 

“They’re cornering us.” Midnight says. 

“Of course.” Crosshair says. “We were sent with orders to terminate you.” 

“How much time do we have?” Echo asks. 

“I estimate less than two minutes.” Tech says. 

The engine ignites, the air around them being sucked up around it. The hair on the back of Midnight’s neck stands up, her skin prickling at the proximity to it. 

“What do we do?” Omega asks. 

“What about Plan 7?” Wrecker suggests. 

“Plan 7 has nothing to do with this situation whatsoever.” Echo says. 

“Well, well you think of something!” He says, adjusting his grip on the crate of explosives he’s been carrying. 

“Can we use the explosives from the armory to disable the engine?” Hunter asks, spotting the box. 

“It won’t cause a large enough reaction to affect the thermal chamber. But if we place a series of charges around this cone, we may be able to break away from the cylinder while destabilizing the core.” Tech says, shining his light around the area in front of the engine. 

“Break away? You mean fall? All the way down?” Omega asks nervously. 

“It’s that or be incinerated.” Echo says. 

“Everyone take an explosive.” Hunter says. “Tech, Omega, up top with me.” 

They all grab explosives, planting them around the cone. Wrecker lifts Midnight helping her place hers as close to the top of the cone as she can reach. They all get as close to the front of the engine as they can, the core beginning to heat up as the engine engages. 

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker says. 

They all duck, Hunter covering Omega as Wrecker detonates the charges. Despite their bracing, they’re thrown against the ground as the cylinder begins to fall, the engine dropping as the cylinder breaks free. They hang on for dear life, Hunter barely catching Omega as she falls as the cylinder tilts upright. 

They scramble for better holds as the cylinder tilts, beginning to fall over. It’s all for nothing though as the cylinder snaps, breaking off into two parts. Midnight hits a body as the cylinder rolls, not caring who it is as she holds on for dear life. 

The cylinder settles, the body she’d been clinging to beginning to move. She pulls away, dragging herself to her feet. She feels bruised, her skin sticky from sweat and the heat of the engine. It’s Hunter she’d been clinging to, him and Omega having been separated from the other four with her. 

“You alright?” Hunter asks Omega as he pulls her up, looking around at where they are. 

“Hunter, we landed on the port side. What’s your status?” Echo’s voice comes through the comms. 

“We’re by the engine, and we’ve got company.” Hunter says as two of the attack shuttles fly overhead. They barely have time to duck as the shuttles fire at them, luckily managing to miss them. “Meet back at the Marauder.” 

They take off running, not wanting to wait for the shuttles to double back. 

The trip back to the Marauder feels far shorter than it had the previous day. Perhaps that’s just the last of the adrenaline pumping through her body. She’s exhausted and at her wit’s end. The stress of the two days is beginning to get to her, but they’re not out of it yet. There’s still the squad of troopers Crosshair had warned would be waiting for them at the ship they have to worry about. 

They creep up to the edge of the ship where the Marauder’s hiding, peeking over the edge. There’s the squad alright, but they’re laying on the ground motionless. 

Midnight doesn’t like this. Not one bit. 

“What happened to them?” Omega whispers. 

Hunter holds a finger up, pushing himself up onto the platform. Omega and Midnight follow, Hunter creeping up to one of the troopers. 

“Someone’s here.” He says, kneeling in front of the trooper. “This isn’t the scrappers' handiwork.” 

“Wasn’t much work.” 

All three of them look up at the voice, Midnight’s blood running cold. There’s a lanky figure standing in the doorway of the Marauder. She knows that voice. 

“Omega, get behind me.” Hunter says, the young clone doing as he says. 

The lanky figure makes his way down the steps, a service droid following. Midnight gulps as she stares at the blue face, the red eyes. She remembers him, clear as day. It’s been many years since then, but she’ll never forget him. 

Cad Bane. 

“I’ve taken down so many clones over the years.” Bane says. “Once you figure out one, the rest are easy.” 

“You’re in for a surprise.” Hunter says. 

“I doubt that.” 

“He’s a bounty hunter.” Omega says. 

“Ain’t you smart? The kid’s got it all figured out.” Bane says. 

“You’re in trouble now.” The service-droid says. 

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. 

“Son, that’s confidential information.” Bane says. “Now hand her over.” 

“She’s with us.” Hunter says, taking a few steps forward, motioning for Omega to get back. “She’s not going anywhere.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” Bane says, taking a couple steps forward as well. “For you.” 

Midnight’s own hand reaches slowly towards her blaster as Bane and Hunter stare each other down. Her heart is pounding in her throat. As much as she wants to hate Hunter, she knows his chances of winning this are slim. She knows she’s not going to win this either. 

“Hunter, don’t do it.” She says quietly. “You’re not going to win this.” 

It happens quickly, both of them drawing at the same time. Hunter’s shot goes wide as Bane hits him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and onto the ground. He’s still, body falling limply. Midnight can only hope his plastoid has taken most of the damage. If Hunter’s dead, then taking the risk to save Crosshair will have been for nothing. 

“Hunter!” Omega cries in horror, Midnight’s own cry getting caught in her throat. 

Midnight catches Omega before she can run for Hunter, pushing the girl behind her. Her blaster is drawn, pointing right at Bane. His own blaster is holstered, obviously not having thought about her being a threat. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t little Midnight.” Bane says, looking her over. “Getting yourself into things too big for you, just like your mother.” 

“Don’t you dare speak about her.” Midnight hisses, tightening her grip on her blaster. 

“I was there, you know. The night she died.” Bane’s hand begins to move towards his blaster again. She should take the shot. Take it now before it’s too late. “I might have been able to save her...but she was always more trouble than she was worth. I hope you’re not the same.” 

The shot hits her in the chest before she even realizes what’s happened, her body falling backwards. She’s unconscious before she even hits the ground. 

Taglist:

@amyroswell, @dangraccoon, @hunnythebee, @lokigirlszendaya, @kriffingmeshla, @storm-breaker7, @burningfieldof-clover, @6oceansofmoons

[faememes]

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Change names/titles/pronouns as needed!

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰

"I know it's a horrifying situation, but you can't fight every evil in the galaxy."

"She can order me to my death, and I will go. And she knows it. As far as I can see, she will always pick Naboo, and I will always pick her."

“Evil? I've fought evil, and it was easy: I shot it. It's apathy I can't stand.”

“We are brave, Your Highness.”

"My hands are yours for as long as you need them."

"I don’t know what I’d do, I’ve guarded my heart against everything for so long, always aware of the dynamics and the flow of power. I’ve been lucky to find so many people who understand that and give me that space. I’m afraid that if someone breaks through, I’ll let them, and it would be catastrophic."

"I’m not sure I want to mix politics and family, but I suppose it depends on a great many things."

"Everyone who has ever seen you has underestimated you, haven’t they?"

"I know, you can like something even when you know it’s not going to last."

"I encourage them to, I am small. I carry only a single blaster. And I’m usually wearing something much less practical-looking than these."

"You can take mine to the ship, too, you little blue snitch."

"It doesn’t make any sense! She wouldn’t just die. And an empire? Headed by Sheev Palpatine? Nothing about this makes sense!"

"All’s fair with standard programming."

“ Any path can be a poor one if it goes blindly in one direction.”

“My hands are yours.” 

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥

"Whatever happened next. However, it was recorded and remembered. She was entirely on her own."

"On a dusty world with two bright suns, a little boy looked up from his work and saw an angel."

"What I learned was that I'd rather be second to you than first to anyone else.''

"I can order you to your death."

"And I would go."

"I can't be that dedicated to you."

"The girl in the white dress was going to be Queen, and she was ready."

"And yet you are always second best, at everything you've ever tried."

"The girl in the white dress was never going to be Queen, but she was ready."

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞

"There’s a lot to be said for being yourself. Not everyone is meant to be a shadow."

With all respect, Senator, that is exactly why you sent someone like me on this mission. You don’t approve of violence, and you never will. I admire that, and I have accepted it. All I ask in return is that you accept that I am the person you send when there’s the possibility of... aggressive negotiations."

"When you say it like that, it sounds terrible, but at the time, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I still can’t."

"You told me once that when you gave your heart to someone, it would be a disaster, I should have known you weren’t exaggerating."

"It’s just always so thrilling. We never stop to work anything out because we’re always stealing a moment alone together or crashing into the next mission."

"It sounds romantic."

"Just like old times."

"You’re angry. That doesn’t bother me. I’d be angry, too, if she picked you over me."

"She was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, but right now, she defied description."

"My hands are yours... please don’t ask me for them again."

[sunriseverse]

prompt request: pangzi pouring hot water on xiaoge's bare chest, revealing his tattoo, but in the GAYEST and most TENDER way you can manage it.

i am SO late filling this prompt but hopefully this is sufficiently gay and tender.

-

The thing about tombs is, the getting in is easy enough—oh, sure, there’s the requisite amounts of traps, awful things that would give those unaccustomed to this sort of life creeping, crawling nightmares—; it’s the getting out that’s the tricky bit. All those dukes and barons and what-have-you never much minded people coming in—rather, they have always been more concerned with making sure no one gets out with their funerary treasures in tow. There’s a reason why tombs are known to be full of corpses, and it’s not just the ones originally buried there. The Iron Triangle, though—they’re about as used to this as can be, all considered; when you spend the better part of your life in tombs—Pangzi and Xiaoge—or studying the notes of someone who did—Wu Xie—, you gain a sort of long-suffering acceptance for whatever bullshit they throw at you.

Which is why Pangzi is only complaining mildly as they make the last leg of the hike out of this place. “Don’t they know how to build a better tomb,” Pangzi says, trying to peel the muck and waterweeds drying uncomfortably on his skin off from an unfortunate run in with a pond, water beetles, and far too many bones on the bottom of it. “What, are all of the architects stuck in the fifteenth century? What sort of Yuan bullshit…”

“Yes,” Wu Xie deadpans. “It’s from the end of the Yuan period, didn’t you spend two days reading over my shoulder while I was researching?”

“Semantics,” Pangzi huffs. “Xiaoge, don’t you think there’s far more muck ponds in tombs than there should be?”

“Mn,” says Xiaoge, forging the path ahead. He, if it’s possible, is even dirtier than Wu Xie and Pangzi combined, probably because he got trapped beneath the two of them when they fell through the false floor, an event that had led to Pangzi, trying not to panic, as they fished around blindly to drag him to the surface. It’s not an experience he’s keen on repeating. His hair is slicked down against his skull, dull brown with mud, and his hoodie is probably beyond saving at this point. He’s taken off the strap that holds his sword, opting instead to hold the sheath in his hand. Out of them all, that sheath is probably the least affected—the black and gold is as lustrous as ever, unmarred by any crackling brown dried mud.

It’s unfortunate that they’re pretty far from the house, so they’ll have to make camp for the night once they get out, and continue along in the morning, but as luck will have it, it’s shading into summer, and when they breach the entrance—well, side entrance; the main entrance has locked itself up tight as a clam—, the air is almost balmy, a welcome change from the underground chill of the tomb. Wu Xie, who spent the past few days pouring over maps, confidently takes the lead and takes them to a small creek, where they set up camp, including a fire and a decent excuse for a meal made of dried, sealed food that had managed to escape the muck, some foraged greens, and a lucky rabbit. Once Wu Xie finishes his portion, he lets out a wispy sigh and says, “I’m going to sleep. Wake me up when we leave.”

“You’re going to sleep like that?” Pangzi says, gesturing at him—grey mud dried at the edges of his face where he hadn’t been able to wipe it off, his shirt crinkling and shedding grey matter as he moves, his hair, the faint wave of it lost as it clumps together.

Wu Xie raises a brow. “I’ll survive,” he says. “I can take a shower once we get back.” With that, he fishes out the—somewhat affected—bedroll from his pack and rolls it out far enough from the campfire so as to avoid the heat and brightness, and promptly turns on his side and goes to sleep. Pangzi meets Xiaoge’s gaze across the campfire where the other man is quietly finishing the last of his food, and can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips, mirrored in the way the corners of Xiaoge’s eyes gentle as they brush over the sleeping form of their third.

Xiaoge, though—Pangzi knows him well enough to recognise the slight stiffness in his motions, the lack of a wince where, in anyone else, there would be one. Xiaoge may not complain, but Pangzi knows he doesn’t enjoy being dirty like this. For a moment, he considers just dragging Xiaoge into the creek, washing off together, before he catches sight of the pot over the fire again and has a better idea.

He washes the pot and the bowls under Xiaoge’s patient gaze, and then himself. When he brings the pot back to the fire, full of water, Xiaoge tilts his head in silent question. “You can’t keep walking around like that,” Pangzi tells him, and gently tugs at the hoodie half glued to his frame. “The top, at least—I’m not going to make you walk around without any pants.”

“No,” Xiaoge says, and there’s mirth in his tone. “Not that far.”

“Aiyah, Xiaoge’r!” Pangzi scolds, hitting his shoulder gently. “Quit running your mouth and take off your clothes.”

In the end, though, rather than Xiaoge taking off his clothes, Pangzi winds up doing it for him—half because of the way the clothes stick to Xiaoge’s skin too much for him to easily get them off, half because—well, sue him, he likes having his hands on Xiaoge in gentle, mundane ways like this. The zipper goes, and Pangzi gently slides the hoodie off his shoulders, then his arms, then helps him get his undershirt off as well, the grey of it almost disguising how dirty it is. Once he gets to skin, it’s to find that not even the clothes have managed to save Xiaoge, and he lets out a quiet sigh. “Aiya,” he murmurs, and reaches to dip one of the bowls into the pot of water and gently pours it over Xiaoge’s shoulder, gently scrubbing at his skin with his fingertips to get rid of the filth. Xiaoge stays remarkably still, head bowed, and beneath his fingers, Xiaoge’s skin slowly heats.

It doesn’t take long for Xiaoge’s tattoo to begin to show up, and Pangzi can’t help the way his fingers hesitate to touch it. To his surprise, though, Xiaoge’s hand comes up to gently press his hand to the skin, and Pangzi can’t help but shiver slightly at the intimacy. The time it takes to fully clean the dried muck off of him isn’t long, but it feels like a small eternity—breath caught in his throat, heart pounding beneath the cage of his ribs, hard enough that he’s half convinced Xiaoge can hear it. When the water runs out, Xiaoge’s skin washed clean, he can’t help but gently draw his fingers across the lines of the qilin, feel the gentle beat of Xiaoge’s heart beneath his skin. Without thinking about it, he duck his head and presses a kiss in the wake of his touch.

For a moment, Xiaoge tenses beneath the touch, and he almost thinks he’d misread the atmosphere, before Xiaoge lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, body relaxing, and Pangzi can’t help but smile against his skin.

It doesn’t go far; they’re both tired, and the woods are no place for any sort of intense activities, but when he raises his head, Xiaoge meets his gaze with dark, luminous eyes full of a fond heat, and Pangzi can’t help but reach out to cradle his jaw, kiss his cheeks, his nose, his lips. Xiaoge’s fingers bury themselves in his hair for just long enough for them to exchange lazy, unhurried kisses—Xiaoge’s lips soft, his mouth warm, head tilted so they fit together, nose pressing against Pangzi’s cheek. When he draws back, they just stay like that for a few, long moments, before a yawn cracks Pangzi’s jaw. “Bed,” Xiaoge says, decisive, and Pangzi can’t help but smile as he allows himself to be herded across camp, the fire put out and the bedrolls unrolled next to Wu Xie’s, the last memory before sleep that of his lovers on either side of him.

[dumbwhoreprincess2]

Fantasy: Turn me into a bimbo against my will 💕

Rough draft - excuse errors etc. pls like/reblog if you enjoy.

I’m walking down the street late at night. It’s quiet. No one is around. Except you. You’ve been watching me take my nightly walk for weeks and decided you just have to have me for your collection of fuck toys. I’m already blonde and dress like a slut. You see my potential. You’ve planned and scheduled my whole transformation. All that’s left is to kidnap me. You follow me silently from the shadows waiting for your chance.

I stop at a crosswalk and pull out my phone checking my IG notifications. You laugh to yourself “Dumb vapid whore. You’ll love being my living blow up doll.”

You see your opportunity and you take it. A bag goes over my head and tightens at the neck. I scream and flail out blindly as you quickly handcuff my wrists and wrestle me to the ground. I squirm underneath you and feel a pinch in my arm. The sedative won’t take long now. You cuff my ankles and stand me back up.

“It’s okay toy don’t be scared. I’m going to take care of you.” you whisper as you drag me down the street my screams quieter and quieter. I go limp in your arms and you carry me over your shoulders to your car and toss me in. I fit perfectly in the trunk.

You take me home and lay me on your bed unconscious. Remove the restraints and pull off my clothes. You notice a wet spot on my panties “Silly slut. You loved being captured huh?” You grope me and examine my body. And of course, pull out your cock and make my wet pussy useful.

The next few weeks? Months? Are a blur. I barely remember any of it. In and out of consciousness. Sometimes I have a moment of clarity and scream and beg you to let me go. You just pat my head and tell me not to worry. I remember bits and pieces of doctors offices and voices.

“This has to be the last one. If I get caught I’m going to lose my license.”

“I’ll pay you double than what you charged last time.”

“Fine.”

I gather you have lots of money. Enough to pay off surgeons to help you fulfill your fantasies. I still have no idea what you’re doing to me. Sometimes I’m afraid. Sometimes I feel you rub my clit and I give myself over to it. I hear voices, I assume they’re recordings, convincing me to turn my brain off. To accept my purpose as a whore. They tell me I’m dumb. I’m just holes. I should obey whatever you say. I’m starting to believe them.

You decide I’ve healed enough and there’s no need for the sedatives. It’s time for my reveal. You dress me in a hot pink g string thong and matching barely there bra. You slide pink pleasers onto my feet and fasten a pink studded collar around my neck and hook a leash to it. My hair and make up are done by professionals as I slowly start to wake up.

I open my eyes wake as reality starts to sink in. I’ve been kidnapped! Drugged! Raped! I lock eyes with you.

“Who the fuck are you?!” I demand, the words seemingly muffled.

“What is this! Let me go!” It doesn’t sound right. It’s hard to talk.

“Shhhh.” You press you fingers to my lips.

“Don’t you want to see what a pretty doll you are?”

“What do you mean?”

You stand me up and use the leash to pull me over to a full length mirror. I gasp in horror.

My tits are fucking huge. Each one nearly bigger than my head. The biggest implants that could possibly fit on my body. My lips are so full of filler I can barely close them.

“Don’t worry. They will be even bigger one day. We’ll swap the implants out for expanders and the filler will need replenished periodically. It’s up to me how many syringes you will get.”

“What have you done to me?!” I yell tears welling in my eyes.

“Don’t cry whore.” You snap, yanking the leash.

“You’ll ruin your pretty make up.”

I glance back in the mirror. My blonde hair is now platinum with curled extensions down to my waist. Nearly white against my freshly spray tanned skin. My make up is perfect but the sultry smoky eyes make me look like a slut. My ass has been altered too but not as dramatically.

“A small BBL for now. Have to leave room for progress or I might get bored of you.” You wink.

My waist is smaller and I observe small lipo scars. Above my ass is a tramp stamp that reads: Property Of (Y/N) along with a barcode.

“It pulls up an Amazon listing for a plastic blow up doll. Clever right? $25.99. Fucking wish you were that cheap you dumb whore.”

You pull the leash forcing me to follow you down the hall. I stumble trying to walk in the pleasers.

“Time to meet the others, bimbo. You’ll be hypnotized and trained until you’re as brainless as them in no time.”

You unbolt a door and take me down a set of stairs. Around the corner everything turns pink. Pink carpet. Pink walls. Pink furniture. There are life size Barbie boxes lined up against the wall. I gasp as I realize what’s inside them. 5 women who look just like me! Huge tits. Duck lips. BBLS and tiny waists. All dressed in various pink outfits. They’re tied inside the boxes their wrists pinned as if they were twist tied into the packaging. They’re all moaning and have a Hitachi magic wand tied between their thighs.

“Morning orgasm time.” You state.

“Time for you to earn yours slut.”

You unzip your pants and pull out your huge cock. You push me to my knees and grab my hair like pig tails on either side of my head.

“Suck it cunt!”

I can’t stop myself. My pussy starts to drip and I eagerly take your cock in my mouth. A switch turns off in my brain. I’m a bimbo slut. A doll. A toy. A puppet. Soon enough I’m gagging and choking on your cock my drool dripping onto my giant fake tits.

“Welcome home dolly.” You say as you force your cum down my throat.

Hope you enjoyed. I humped my pillow while writing this and made my panties all wet. Wish I was sucking cock as a pretty big titty bimbo rn 💕

—

BONUS ending:

As you cum down my throat I see something from the corner of my eye. A 6th girl separate from the rest. She’s like the rest of us with big tits and lips but she’s pale and her hair is dyed dark. She’s caged, naked, and wearing a plastic pig nose on her face. Along with a pig tail and ear head band. My eyes go wide and I try to push you off.

“What’s the matter doll? Don’t you want to play?”

I point behind you.

“Who is that?”

You laugh.

“Oh dolly that’s just piggy.”

You grab my cheeks together and squeeze my face. Getting up in my face as you whisper in my ear.

“Don’t disappoint me doll. Disobey enough times and you’ll be my disgusting fuck pig instead.”

[earianne]

If I had spent half as much of the time I did numerating about a “beautiful natural, pain-meds-free birth, in a golden hot tub in the middle of a mountain surrounded by goddesses” (as social media will have you believe - more on that later) instead on postpartum, maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m being “hit by all the things, all at once?” (r. 1) as one does when one has a baby.

Before getting pregnant, I did a whole lot of C-section-Avoidance Preparation. Social Media promises that if you “do this! It’ll only cost you $$ to find out what this is!” and get past all the gate-kept secrets that You, too! can have the perfect, “beautiful natural, pain-meds-free birth, in a golden hot tub in the middle of a mountain surrounded by goddesses.”

Okay, but if you’re broke, you can try and drink this, eat that, practice these meditations, do these stretches, and learn all there is to know about the nuances of maternal medicine so that you can “stand up” to the doctor and nurses who will certainly usurp all power over you! Oh, and if you don’t have this birth, it is entirely your fault or that of your doctor’s.

I had a moment when I did blame myself and my doctor for the way my baby was born. It was hard to accept a major abdominal surgery & birth all at once!

But, as it happened, there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. And it saved both of us from a very dangerous situation.

I’m not saying I followed my doctor blindly - there was indeed a time that I stuck my heals in the ground and it was good I had! However, doctors have years of experience, education, training - and me? Although I know myself and my body and I do have a strong intuition, I am no match against the strides modern medicine has made in maternal health outcomes over the past 50 years. At some point, I had to let go of the Social Media Knowledge I had collected and trust my very skilled, very educated, very trained, doctor.

What I could have spent more time studying and preparing for was the marathon that is having a baby.

A marathon that starts off with no sleep, outside the home, with the need for time to heal and recuperate.

A marathon where, in the place I live, doctors are not keen to be found. Yes, you can seek out help for specific issues, but you don’t have monthly check-ins from an expert like you do when pregnant. You don’t have books and pamphlets handed to you about what to eat or do or what to expect.

It’s hard.

I thought my baby would sleep 12 hours through the night and have 1-3 long naps without me needing to hold her. During that time, I would do what I normally do (whatever that was, months ago). Now, I sit here hurriedly typing my thoughts as a way to journal because I don’t have a free hand to write, pen to paper, anymore. I make the decision to take a rest or read my book while I’m holding my sleeping baby.

My freedoms were so blissfully unaware of their demise.

To be clear: I love being a mother, I just wish I hadn’t social-media’d away all of my pregnancy to a moment in time when I would have to rely on medical professionals anyway and instead spent it preparing to be the mum I wanted to be.

r.1 ↓

[afraidparade]

Fluff is great and all but I wanted to make a request for some Lufa hurt/comfort. No pressure the ofc.

i hope you will accept some in the form of writing 🙏

(faust gets injured, luka's the one who's hurting. BIG juicy faust lore in this one)

"High Pain Tolerance"

Word count: 3650

Content warnings: physical injury, scars, trauma, mentions of abuse, mentions of death

_____________

“Yup. That’s dislocated.”

Luka’s face froze in expressionlessness. He tended to be a rather stone-faced individual, but there were notable dissimilarities between his usual calm and whatever it was that he felt in that moment. Namely the way his lips parted slightly (despite the fact that he wasn’t breathing), and the pale, sickly complexion his skin took on when he realized what he’d done. 

It had happened before — neither of them were particularly clumsy, it was just a risk that came with cohabitating alongside someone of a vastly different size — where Luka hadn’t been paying attention and accidentally knocked Faust off the surface of his desk with a casual, careless movement. He’d love to say that his protective instincts frequently sprung him into action, that he could flawlessly and heroically catch the falling demon in his palm whenever he was in danger, but truthfully, his reflexes weren’t all that fast. The only thing he could do was hiss out a curse and keep himself from toppling out of his own chair while he assessed the state of his roommate. 

To Faust’s credit, Luka had noticed on numerous occasions just how sturdy he was for his size. The handful of times he’d fallen before, he ended up a little disoriented and sore, sure, but aside from him barking at the human for being so oafishly careless, the tumble didn’t seem to result in much else. So Luka wasn’t sure what was different about this time. Maybe the angle at which he hit the ground? Or perhaps he’d blindly shoved the little imp with more force than he realized? Either way, Faust’s shoulder was clearly swollen and quickly turning a dark reddish hue.

“How—“ Luka had to pause and close his mouth and swallow, since his throat had gone bone dry, “How do you know it’s not broken?” His mind began to race at the possibility. What would he even do if it was broken? It’s not like he could check a three-inch demon into a hospital, and Google could only help with so much. 

Faust stared at the joint for a few seconds in thought, tapped it lightly, then winced as he attempted to move it. “It’s just not,” he concluded, his eyes flicking back upwards to meet Luka’s. Upon seeing that his companion didn’t seem fully satisfied with that answer, he huffed a sigh and added, “Look, let’s just say I have a lot of experience with this. It’s just dislocated, trust me.”

Just dislocated. Just dislocated. As if that diffused the situation entirely! As far as Luka could tell, this was the worst injury he’d been witness to in their time together. And he caused it. It was sinking in now. Slowly, more noticeable signs of distress became evident on Luka’s features. His brows furrowed and his eyes began to widen, and while he’d managed to resume breathing, all of his inhales were shallow. 

“W-what do we do? How do we treat it?” he asked in a trembling voice. For every bit as panicked as Luka seemed, though, Faust seemed wholly unbothered. Mildly annoyed, if anything.

“What do you think, genius? We just pop it back into place. It’s a pain in the ass to do it myself, but luckily you’re here to help me out. Just don’t be too rough with it, or it’ll actually end up broken.”

No way. The thought alone nearly made Luka black out. 

“I can’t do that!” Luka quickly rejected, his voice cracking with anxiety. Faust actually seemed surprised by this sudden outburst, as if his request had been as inconsequential as fetching a bandage to put over a tiny scrape. The demon had experienced Luka’s nonchalant whims plenty of times in the past, so maybe that bewilderment was justified. But this was just something Luka couldn’t do. “I’m– I’m too big, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t risk hurting you.”

Faust scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Luka felt nauseous. He knew it was meant as a playful jab, but it made the reality all too clear in his mind. He hurt Faust. This happened because of him. Faust acknowledged that. He said it out loud. He blamed him. Was that it? Had he destroyed nearly a year’s worth of trust? Would Faust forgive him? Would Faust leave him?

“Alright, whatever. You’re clearly too much of a wimp for this sort of thing, so I’ll just…” the imp’s voice trailed off as he straightened his back and brought his good hand to the wrist of his limp arm, then bit down on his lip with disquieting anticipation. 

Luka’s blood went cold. But once again, his reflexes were far too slow. “Wai—“

Faust yanked the arm up and pushed back, then with a strained yelp and sickening pop, he stumbled forward a bit before dropping to his knees. “Fuck!” he hissed, gripping the wound that was now stained with an even angrier red. He took a moment to catch his breath, wincing every now and then as he tested the limits of how much he could move his arm in its current state. All in all, it was a marked improvement from how it had been a moment ago, but would certainly take several weeks to heal fully. Once he settled down again, Faust appeared no different than his usual, crabby self. “Shit, that hurt more than I was expecting. But maybe if a certain someone hadn’t thrown a fucking crybaby tantrum, I’d—“

Upon looking back up, Faust nearly bit his tongue from how quickly he forced his mouth shut. He knew Luka could get moody every now and then, but even still, the amount of times he’d actually seen the man cry could be counted with just one hand. Evidently, he could now add another finger to that count.

It started with a sniffle, a sharp intake of air as his body instinctively attempted to suppress the phenomenon, then when his eyelids quivered and his vision had gone completely blurry, he overflowed. Tears began to fall freely as strained sobs escaped the back of his throat, each one doubling in intensity from the last. His hands wavered and his fingers curled spastically, trapped between the decision of reaching for Faust, wiping his own face, or curling into tight fists on his lap. He stayed there, wobbling and weeping, unable to bring himself to do much else. This messy, desperate, speechless, fragile Luka was unlike anything Faust had experienced before. And the sight of his adoring caretaker shaking from his own bawling — the sheer helplessness he felt in that moment — wrenched something in Faust’s chest that hurt far worse than his shoulder. 

“Wh– why are you crying?” the demon stammered, clueless as to how he should even begin to diffuse the situation, “I’m the one who—“

“I know!” Luka choked in a tone Faust had never heard before. He almost sounded…angry. But somehow, that bitterness didn’t feel as though it was directed towards him at all. Luka took in a shaky breath, forcefully quieting his tone. “I know you’re the one who got hurt. But I’m the one who hurt you. And- and even when I had a chance to make up for it, I couldn’t help you, I just…”

“Luka, for fuck’s sake, I was kidding! I’m not upset over a stupid accident, so calm down,” Faust tried. He didn’t exactly have experience in comforting others, but from the few times his human companion seemed to be in need of a reality check, remaining objective and sticking to his normal, crass self usually worked the best. He hoped the same would hold true this time, because truth be told, he didn’t have a Plan B. “Look, I’ve dealt with a lot worse, so I have a high pain tolerance. I already told you I’m used to this sort of thing, right? So—“

“But you shouldn’t HAVE to be!”

There was a heavy silence after that. Faust didn’t have a response. Truly, he had no idea what to think, let alone say. Sometimes the disparity between the two’s upbringings became all too great. And sometimes it slipped Faust’s mind that Luka didn’t even know the half of what he’d seen in his homeworld. Or what he’d done. As the arrhythmic hiccuping attempted to subside itself, the smaller man could only turn his gaze to the floor and realize he’d dug this grave all on his own. He felt utterly useless. 

To say that Luka calmed down would be a severe overstatement, but at the very least, he managed to get his breathing under control. His eyes were still glassy, bloodshot, and sullen, while his gaze remained unfocused. It took a long time for him to come back from whatever daze he’d become lost in, but when he did, his voice was hoarse and painfully, heartbreakingly small.

“I’ve seen you cry over some really stupid things, Faust. But you never cry for yourself.” 

Faust clenched his teeth. “So what?”

“It’s hard to watch, that’s what,” Luka replied, some of the agitation from earlier returning to his tone, “Why do you treat yourself as if you’re something expendable?”

The small, black claws of his good hand pressed so deep into his palm that Faust wouldn’t be shocked if he ended up breaking the skin there. But his voice stayed uncharacteristically level, almost resembling a convict under interrogation. “It’s what I was taught,” he answered simply.

“Then you should be mad to the point of tears about that, too.” 

This time, there was no response. Sensing that the other had run out of manufactured responses for now, Luka took in a deep breath and continued, “Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what you’ve been through. And I’m not going to ask you about it, either. But I do know there’s something keeping you trapped in the past, and it’s doing something horrible to your mind. And not being able to…to help you, it’s such a scary feeling. I guess what happened just now was a result of not being able to handle that feeling anymore.”

Faust felt both a searing hotness and a hollow emptiness at his core. Was he supposed to apologize? He didn’t know what he’d be saying sorry for, so was there any point? And what did Luka know about fear? Real fear? That was about the only emotion Faust reserved for himself. So why did Luka bother wasting his own fear on such a pathetic cause? What a stupid, naive, all-too-human endeavor.

“I know I’m speaking out of turn here, and I’m sorry about that. I went and made your getting hurt all about me. I’m pretty lame, huh?” At this, the faintest smile pushed past the wet streaks on his face. “Though if you’d allow it, I’d like to make one more selfish request. Do you think you could put a little more trust in me, even if it’s just a fraction? I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’m the stupid idiot that pushed you off the desk in the first place, but until you finally get sick and tired enough to leave, you’re sort of stuck with me. And for as long as it’s the two of us, I want you to feel like it’s just that: the two of us. You’re not as alone in this as you think, okay?”

Ah.

What a miserable hypocrite he was, Faust realized, thinking he wrote the book on fear and being afraid. He didn’t understand it until now, but that burning emptiness inside of him did have a name. It was a new kind of fear to him: a fear built on hope. Without realizing it, that seedling of hope that longed to be happy, to be safe, and to be with this human whom he had grown…mildly attached to, had flourished and now branched into every fiber of his being. For once, Faust felt like he actually had a future. And nothing terrified him more.

He let out a slow, steady breath. One step at a time. Not to mention that during all this, Faust’s shoulder only began to throb more and more. “…For the record, I already thought you were lame,” Faust muttered, not quite smiling, but in a tone far from hostile. “So then, can I ‘trust’ you to help me make a sling?”

———

It didn’t take too long to gather the supplies for a sling, as well as some ice to apply to the injury. Both parties used the time to collect themselves individually, and after Luka had rinsed his face off and Faust pondered the nature of the other’s request, they reconvened at the scene of the incident. The sling was simple enough to craft out of an extra scrap of thin fabric Luka kept from one of his previous sewing attempts, and although the edges were too small for the human’s fingers to work into a knot, Faust made quick work of it using his uninjured hand and his teeth. Yet another display of his frighteningly extensive experience with this sort of scenario, but this time, neither commented on it. 

“Are you able to take off your shirt? It’ll make it easier to see where I should put the ice,” Luka asked as he finished bundling a small lump of crushed ice in more leftover fabric.

The smaller nodded, catching the hem with his fingertips and tugging it upwards. It took quite a bit of wriggling and finessing, but eventually the demon was successful in sliding the garment over his arm and off his body. While Faust casually tossed the shirt to the side, thinking nothing of the motion he’d performed countless times in the human’s presence, Luka’s movements faltered and his stomach tightened. Now that the other’s back was exposed, he was reminded of the countless scars that marred the flesh there. Hundreds of discolored, thin gashes that overlapped each other in straight lines — some short, as if he had just been grazed, and others long, stretching nearly the entire length of his back — that appeared to have never healed quite right. That sinking, spiraling anxiety that sent him over the edge before came back to gnaw at his insides, but Luka reminded himself that he needed to focus on Faust’s wellbeing for the present moment. Unfortunately, it seemed like he had that realization just a second too late.

“Is something wrong?” the smaller asked, looking over his shoulder to see what the hold-up was. Upon seeing Luka bat his eyes in surprise and avert his gaze as he stammered for an answer, Faust sighed and faced forward again. “You’re worried about my scars?”

Luka frowned shamefully, but after collecting himself, he moved to position the makeshift ice bag on the swollen wound. “Sorry,” he apologized softly, pressing the fabric against the bruised flesh with a light touch, “I know that’s off-limits.”

Faust flinched as the stinging cold caused the entirety of his arm to throb, but after the initial shock subsided, he remained still and allowed Luka to apply a bit more pressure. A soothing numbness soon took the pain’s place. “No, it’s…fine.”

In the silence that followed, Faust furrowed his brows. Trust, huh? Well, he was already small, injured, and virtually defenseless. What was just a bit more vulnerability?

“…You know that I was a soldier. Or, that I at least trained to be one,” he began slowly. He didn’t need to turn around to sense Luka’s quiet surprise. “I, um… Actually, maybe this isn’t the best time to—“

“No,” Luka interjected, urgent but soft, “Please. If you’re comfortable with it.”

Faust swallowed. It didn’t look like he could back out of this one, so he continued after a brief pause, “You might find this hard to believe, but even in a world that’s…well, more me-sized, I’ve always been kind of small.” There were certainly several things Luka could have said about that. But he didn’t. “I’d always been the smallest demon in my platoon, from my very first memory of enlistment to the time of my, er, departure. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why they didn’t just label me as a runt at birth and kill me then. Maybe I just barely passed the acceptable threshold, or maybe it was someone’s idea of a sick joke. I doubt I’ll ever find out.”

“Anyways, it’s not like I was a pushover just because I was a little short. I trained like hell to catch up with the rest of my platoon, but it’s like my body just had a limit I couldn’t ever push past, no matter how hard I tried. And I fucking tried,” he added with a noticeable bitterness. “Demons are all born at the same level, but once they gain more power, they become bigger and stronger. We call those ‘High Ranks.’ And for every group of ‘Low Ranks’ — that’s what I am — one High Rank acts as their commanding officer and oversees their training. That’s where K… m-my platoon leader comes in.”

Faust swallowed dryly, his posture having gone stiff and his tail coiling in a tight spiral. Luka flashed a concerned frown, then bent forward slightly and gave his companion a light nudge. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, “We can stop if you want.”

Upon hearing his roommate’s voice, Faust allowed himself to breathe and release the tension that had gathered in his muscles. He reminded himself of Luka’s affirmation that he wasn’t alone anymore, and managed to reel his mind back to the present. 

“No, I’m good. It’s just not the greatest memory, y’know?” the tiny imp replied with renewed determination. “So…that High Rank I mentioned, he was pretty strict on everyone, but he had a method of training that relied on the weakest link. With every regiment, we would all train with the knowledge that whoever ‘he’ determined to perform the weakest would, um…” Faust swallowed, briefly weighing his options. He was already sharing an overwhelming amount, so maybe it was best to spare certain details from this story. “...Receive punishment. Brutal punishment.”

He reached to hug himself with the only arm that could manage to do so, grazing the edges of a few scars with his fingertips. Maybe it was the memory, or maybe it was just the cold from the ice pack, but he swore he could feel them aching. 

“I-it wasn’t me every time. Sometimes someone else would fall behind, and I’d be left alone for a while. But…for better or for worse, they wouldn’t last very long, if you know what I mean. I don’t know how I did. Maybe all that extra training was good for something, or maybe he just wanted to keep me alive to…”

He inhaled sharply, cutting off the thought. “So, yeah. That’s basically the long and short of it. Now you know where my scars came from.”

Luka stared forward, speechless. Honestly, he wanted to cry again, but he wouldn’t. Faust didn’t need to deal with that twice in one day. He just didn’t know what else to do. He had wanted to learn the truth so he could help, but now that he knew it, he’d never felt less sure of what to do or say. Just how horrible had things been in Faust’s world? Were they still like that? How many demons like him were experiencing the exact same trauma at that very moment? The questions and uncertainties were maddening, but with the brittle thread of knowledge that Faust had finally been willing to open up to him, Luka kept himself together. 

He opened his mouth to say something, reconsidered, then closed it.

“Don’t tell me ‘I’m sorry’ or some stupid shit like that,” Faust sneered over his shoulder. His sour disposition brought the air of familiarity back to the room, which Luka welcomed readily.

“I wasn’t going to,” he replied.

“You were,” the smaller drawled, waving a hand through the air, “You’ve got that sad, dopey look on your face. I don’t wanna hear it though. None of that has anything to do with you, and pity pisses me off.”

Luka laughed through his nose. While it was frustrating to see Faust dismiss his problems before, this felt different. Not quite dismissal, as much as acknowledgment and acceptance. That was a start. 

Seeing as the ice had turned into more of a slush at this point and began to make quite the mess on his desk, Luka collected the small bundle into his cupped hand and began making motions to stand up. “Alright. How about a ‘thank you’ then?”

Faust looked up, confused frustration evident on his features. “For what? Telling you my sob story? I don’t want to hear that, either.”

The brunette shook his head. “No. I had a feeling that would upset you as well, so not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of a ‘thank you for not giving up,’” he said through a smile, “Maybe you think the reason you’re still alive is due to dumb luck or some sort of cruel conspiracy, but I think it’s because of your own perseverance. You’re just too stubborn to die.”

Luka stood fully and began exiting the room to discard the ice pack and tidy the small mess he’d made in gathering materials, but paused by the doorway to add one more statement to his previous sentiment. “Every choice you made that kept you alive eventually brought you to me. I couldn’t think of anything to be more grateful for.”

Faust couldn’t do much but stare at the empty doorway, even long after Luka had left. He swiped a hand across his face, stared down at the droplets that accumulated there, and huffed a short, incredulous laugh. After all that, this was what made him cry?