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cleaning-has-its-benefits · 11 months

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This month I decided to be more self indulgent.

So, this is a follow-up post to one from some time ago, that one about that shelved fic of mine about the last stranger. I thought of a possible ending to it and since it wasn’t leaving my mind I decided to write it down. I went with the most angsty route for this one, also I wrote this in one go so there isn’t much editing.

Tw’s for self-harm, suicide (kinda implied) and violent imagery.

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His steps made no sound as he walked through the Vast Forest, not fast, not slow, reaching into his bag, touching the different objects inside and choosing, mindlessly, which one to place next, his thoughts elsewhere.

First, it was The Wisest. She was given the cruel punishment of years-long solitude, completely secluded from the world, with nothing to hear, nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to taste, nothing to touch… How is a mind supposed to handle that? How is a ‘self’ supposed to remain in such situation? All for simply trying to help. The sage’s sorrow does not come from the wisdom itself, but from knowing the dangers, the consequences, the preventions and solutions, yet being shushed by those they meant to help, for their help is ‘inconvenient’… Her demise was our first lesson.

He placed a red bottle cap on the ground.

Second, it was The Oldest. He knew an ancient time, he grew with The dreamer. He listened to The dreamerwith fondness, near-sighted… or was he? He smiled at us, like he smiled at those before us, like he smiled while crunching the bones of our tiny, minuscule, insignificant selves. A millenary being, surrounded by fleeting, disposable beings… The beast was an example, a down-scaled model, easier to understand for us. Embodied our reality and foretold the end… but we could predict it already.

He placed a red puzzle piece on the ground.

Third, it was The Favorite. It stood were the paths of complacency and defiance diverged. It stood, and never moved, a paw on The dreamer’s head, while he hugged it’s fluffy belly. That was all it was meant to do, a plush meant to be hugged. All it wanted was for The dreamer to be serene, yet it stood, hoping for someone to help him better than any of us could. In the meant time, it would be a blanket, for The dreamer. But it wasn’t enough, so it became a pillow fortress. But it wasn’t enough, so it became a shield of cotton. What is a shield of cotton supposed to accomplish?

He placed a red knife on the ground.

Rule of three, The Guardian’s fate was no surprise.

He looked down at the bright red knife, stopping his walk. The knife did nothing while he looked at it. Tainted in so much blood, yet it didn’t do anything when he crouched and picked it up.

All his friends were killed with this knife.

He wielded the knife and it didn’t do anything. It was harmless in his grip.

One by one, they learned to see death reflected on the blade.

He grazed the sharp edge with his index finger. It was so sharp it cut the skin that so lightly touched it, and when he pressed a bit more, it easily cut through the flesh, drawing blood.

“Ow…”

Is this the pain they felt?

One by one…

Murdered.

With this knife.

He got up and sent the knife flying against the ground. “Murderer!”

The knife bounced once before helplessly laying on the ground again. All insults died in his throat as none were enough to convey the rage he felt and, with a swift movement of his hand, black vines broke out of his skin. Mid air, they grew thorns and he sent them down against the knife to hit relentlessly. Like whips, they were designed to tear flesh at high speeds, but all they did was rise a cloud of dirt. The attack was brief. The vines retreated into his arms and he let the dirt in the air dissipate.

Not a single scratch on the knife.

Black roots separated the ground and wrapped around the knife, tighter and tighter as they retreated back, ready to kill by suffocation either from their sheer force or from being buried underground. Before they could finish the job, he dismissed them. Not all of them left, as the knife had cut a handful. Just a matter of how sharp it was, it didn’t have the will to cut.

The knife remained as shiny as before.

Stubborn, just like his owner.

That didn’t save your owner, however.

This time, a single vine slid out of his sleeve. Akin to a snake, it made it’s way towards the closest tree. It climbed the rotten trunk to the first branch in it’s path, which it circled thrice before heading down for the knife, not as a vine anymore, but as a rope. It wrapped around the knife’s handle, tying itself into a noose. He pulled and the rope snapped in half, one retreating back from were it came, the other tightening the knot around the branch.

The knife swinged lightly with the wind.

He watched his work, the rage giving way to the numbness of before.

I hope you suffered. I hope your stubbornness made you suffer until the very last second.

The knife didn’t care. It didn’t care about the fate of it’s owner. It didn’t care for it’s sharpness or how many had been killed with it. It didn’t care for the screams of pain from the punished, nor The dreamer’s wailing echoing all around the decaying world, for what seemed like an eternity.

He had tried it all, from covering his ears to screaming his lungs out, the wailing just wouldn’t quiet down. It was maddening, but what could anyone do but tolerate it?

…His guardian dog isn’t around anymore, is he?

His nails digged into his palms.

The dreamer kept crying.

He made a sharp turn in the first direction his intuition told him to and set off, in a race to find him. It was impossible to locate The dreamer by hearing, the wailing equally loud everywhere, so he relied on pure instinct, his feet hitting the oily ground from where few patches of pale grass still remained. He ran pass sick trees with low, weak hanging branches, the rot reaching the leaves.

The dreamer let out a ear-piercing scream.

Why don’t you shut up?! You choose this, you and no one else! My friends warned you time and time again and yet you never listened, and now you force everyone to hear your whining?! I’ll show you what it feels like to be silenced! Who’s gonna show the face for you, now? Do you even remember how to defend yourself? You better learn quickly, I’m not letting you run away this time.

He imagined how The dreamer would react when he spotted him. He’ll lift his face from his knees, a pathetic mess, Whatever emotion there was in his eyes won’t matter, as his entire being will be overtaken with dread. The dreamer, as always, will try to run away, but a simple root in his path will be enough to make him trip. He won’t even lift a finger, roots are all he needs. The dreamer’s cries won’t make it far while buried.

The dreamer kept crying. His sobbing was hard to understand, but from time to time he managed to form words. He called the names of his loved ones, so far away, asking for their help, relief for this immense pain, a solution for this mess he had gotten himself into. Yet, none of them answered, none of them could hear the screams inside his mind. He was alone, even in his ideal world.

The image stopped him right on his tracks. The hatred that had driven him barely some seconds ago vanished completely. Disbelief at his own behavior took it’s place.

I’m… This is not what I’m supposed to do. I can’t attack Sunny, I’m supposed to help him…

The dreamer kept crying. The world he created kept falling apart all around him.

But how was he supposed to do that? How was he supposed to help? What could he do? His friends couldn’t accomplish anything in six years, what could he manage to do in… he didn’t even know how much time was left. Hours? Minutes?

…This was the perfect chance. With Omori gone, they could talk with The dreamer directly and with all the patience they might need, with all disregard for the ticking of the clock. No need to speak in short messages, carefully selecting each word to not set him off… It was the perfect chance.

Just… why had to be him, out of everyone? Why was this chance given to him…? Maybe one of his friends could have… managed to… anything. All he could think about was guiding The dreamer to the truth, but if he was crying like that, then surely he knew everything.

He didn’t have a clue on how to help The dreamer at this point… nor he was sure he wanted to. His friends and him knew the path The dreamer choose would end like this, and if they knew, The dreamer, deep down, had to know it too. He’s just facing the consequences of his actions at last.

…What would his friends say if they heard his thoughts regarding The dreamer? Could he even call them his thoughts, or was The dreamer’s self-hatred influencing his way of thinking? They warned him this was likely to happen… Were this hatred and rage actually his?

At some point he had began to rub his own arms, but it took him a while to notice. It felt nice. He kept doing that, while thinking on what he should do, what he was supposed to do, the point of his existence. Questions with blank answers.

What is one supposed to do when the world was about to end? When in any second now, everyone would die?

‘do whatever you want,’ his friends had said. When thinking of ‘should’ gave no guidance, maybe changing the wording would help.

What would he like to do in his last moments?

What would be of his liking?

What did he want?

He kept rubbing his arms. They felt a bit less cold.

A hug.

He just wanted a hug. Someone to give him a hug, he didn’t ask for more… but he would be grateful for a hug and a few words of comfort. What words? ‘you did what you could, all of you. Simply, the stakes were against you from the start. The chances of success were low then, and just kept getting lower. This situation was beyond your hands. You did what you could.’

He let out a shaky sigh. “We did what we could…”

Yet, it was the end of the world and he would face it completely alone.

He stopped rubbing his arms. He had to clean his tears instead. He cried silently, just like his friends had taught him to.

“Why d-did it all have to end like this…?”

He tried to cry silently, but there was no way to stop his sobbing, the more he thought of his solitude. From his creation to his death, he had the same yearning: a friend. Just one. Just one person in the entire world that he could feel a bond with. Just one person to accompany him now. Just one…

That was when he heard the whistle.

‘Locate, then run,’ was what his friends had instructed him to do in these situations. With the state of the Vast Forest, it was easy for him to spot three colorful figures: a Kel, an Aubrey, and a Hero, but only in appearance. It wasn’t the first time they had encountered him.

The Kel was quickly approaching, running full-speed, in that overly efficient way that made one wonder if he even remembered what it was like to run for simple fun. The Aubrey followed close behind, wielding her bat, which looked like it was used recently. The Hero stood still, watching him, analyzing every single movement he might made, to command accordingly.

There were a few seconds of advantage at his favor, before the Kel was too close to escape from him, crucial seconds, that he had to use wisely, specially now that he was alone and the others couldn’t do the relay-trick for him and confuse the chaser… but getting away from those three was always so complicated, so tiresome…

The Kel kept approaching.

No way he could run away from him now.

The Kel kept approaching, with that unnaturally-wide smile of his, teeth tainted and eyes bloodshot.

It was a bit scary… but on the surface he was still Kel, maybe a bit on the inside too, that goofy and easy-going friend who always brightened everyone’s day with his occurrences.

Kel was getting nearer, running so fast, he must really want to reach him as soon as possible!

He turned his way, to face him fully. The dark purple eyes met his bright ones.

Kel ran towards him, and Basil, too, ran towards him.

“My friends! You found me!”

Basil was so happy! He laughed, tears of joy distorted his sight. The end of the world was a scary thing, but with his friends- if he could be with his friends the last seconds of his life-!

Kel was so close him now, Basil could see he carried Hector in his hand! He wiped his tears with his forearm, extended his arms towards his friends and closed his eyes. “I missed- I missed you so much!”

His friends would rescue him from this nightmare.

Finally, he could go back home.

#ideas that i'll never finish or even start #omori stranger #<- originally I wasnt going to tag but I did for the 4 people that read my last post and might be interested in a follow up #or maybe not #hopefully my anxiety wont nag me too much about it #this was supposed to be a short thing but ive spent the last two days writing non stop #im beat #its going to be 2am here soon #anyways #people have been talking about stranger more often lately #im happy for him!

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infitsovermisfits · 2 years

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(SMUT) Tiny Swords Part 4 -Eddie Munson x (AFAB) reader

This is a smut chapter- if you are under the age of 18 please don't read it. Be safe on the internet, ok?

AN: as much as i wanted this fic to be my longest ever, i don't think anyone would want to sit through 20k words of my self indulgent rambling SO i have decided to split it in 2. (i also think the sheer length of this fic caused my laptop to crash which was scary :P) I've been working all night to get this finished before 8am (because that's when vol2 comes out for me), it's currently 6am and I'm staring at this like yeah... nah... split it ;P /gen

AN: Thank u so much to anyone leaving comments on my work, i see them all and try to reply but it means a lot and is v validating having people compliment ur work ;-; u are all too kind, and very big simps, which works out for me too <3 /lh

WARNINGS: SLOW, AFAB reader, female bodily autonomy, reader uses they/them pronouns, reader wears make-up, reader smokes, smoking, smoking indoors omg (!), chocking, marking, temperature play, public sex, thigh riding, safe sex, brief mentions of previously bad sexual experiences

11,390 words

Waking the next morning, you let out a groan- the summer's sun was already bright in the sky, peaking in through a window you had forgotten to close and shut the blinds on the following evening. It was hitting your eyes unpleasantly, prompting you to shift your face away from the light, though you only found yourself scrunching your nose at the feeling of Eddie's hair tickling your face. With a small noise, you moved so your face pressed into the warm skin of his neck instead. He stirred beside you, shifting so he was facing more towards you as you touched your lips against his neck, pressing a small kiss into his skin. Your arms moved out to curl around his arm, hugging it close to you, and after a moment, you heard him sigh your name, lips touching the top of your head to press a kiss against your crown,

"You awake, baby?" His low morning voice asked, making you smile lazily against his skin. You began registering other sounds- the faint chirping of birds and a dog barking somewhere outside, the quiet metal music playing from beside you, Eddie's body rustling the sheets as he shifted a little to get comfortable. His arm left your grasp momentarilly, only for you to feel it wrapping around your shoulder and pressing you impossibly closer to him. His delicate fingers skimmed your bare shoulder with a gentle touch, and as you grew more aware, you realised he was plucking the chords along to AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' playing from the radio. The warmth of his body radiated pleasantly against yours, and you let your hands splay against his chest, fingers resting over the tattoo he had over his heart. His head shifted slightly, and his lips touched your forehead, "Sweetheart," He said in a sing-songy way, causing you to exhale air out of your nose in a slight laugh. With that, you moved a hand to rub at your eyes, before opening them and meeting his warm, brown gaze, "Hello," He greeted,

"G'morning Eds," You mumbled, moving to let your your arms and your legs stretch. Your spine to curved, lifting off of the matress as you stretched your back. With a satisfied sigh, you let your body drop back on the bed, hands closing into fists as you continued to rub the sleep from your eyes with a yawn yawned, "Damn Eds... No breakfast in bed?" You teased, glancing over at him. His eyes weren't fully open yet, but he was watching you with a loving look in his eyes that made you grin and a warmth fill your heart. You twisted so you could lay on your front, half on top of him. You set one hand over his chest so you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm, while you set your other hand under your chin. Eddie chuckled softly at your comment, before sliding his hand under yours and moving it up to his face, kissing your knuckles,

"I have you," He said, and your rolled your eyes, wiggling your fingers in his grasp, "You're all I need,"

"I'm not food, Eds..." You said with a smile,

"I'm not food, Eds," He mimicked, causing you to laugh again, only to be interrupted by a yawn, "I like it when you call me that," He said,

"I'm glad," You said quietly

"Mhm," He hummed, voice cracking as it was still raspy and thick with sleep. He sighed, letting go of your hand so it fell back on to his chest only to move it delicately against your face, shifting the hair that had fallen in front of you behind your ear. You let him caress your face, your eyes drooping shut at how peaceful this was, even almost falling asleep again, until his hands came to rest on your cheeks. You lazily opened them back up, meeting his large brown eyes, "Still tired, hmm?" He asked, and you hummed softly in agreement, "Mmmh... Well, I can help you wake up, if you want?" He offered, and you blinked at him for a moment, confused,

"Oh," You smiled slightly in understanding, laughing softly as you moved one of your hands to touch his,

"Took you a while," He smiled, and you rolled your eyes as your fingers slotted between his. You tilted your head, pressing a kiss against his palm,

"Shush," You huffed, "It's too early,"

"Mhhh- never," He smiled, moving one of his hand from yours to touch your chin with his fingers, "C'mere," He whispered softly. You didn't need to be convinced, your body seemingly moving by itself until your lips planted themselves on his. You sighed into his mouth, hand coming to rest on his neck, gently tracing up and down with your fingernail as you lazily moved your mouthes together.

The kiss began slow and sweet, delicate and non-demanding. You were both still too groggy to fully move. Eddie moved his hand up so his fingers came to play with your hair, while his other held your chin in place. You hummed into his mouth, tongue poking out to lick at his full lips asking for entrance. Graciously, he parted his lips for you with a smirk.

It was still early in the morning- you had the whole day to yourselves. But this was nice. Waking to gentle moans and hums as he caressed your bare skin and you gently ran your nails over his tattoos... If you could wake up like this every morning... You probably wouldn't get out of bed until late into the day and waste a lot of time making out, or having sex- but at least you'd be having a good time. And that's all that mattered, right?

"Did you sleep okay?" You pulled away to ask him, smiling as you breathed heavily. His own deep breaths fanned against your face from the still close proximity and he only smiled at you as you caught your breaths,

"Yeah- of course I slept okay," He said,

"Good," You murmured, sitting up to pull the shirt you wore for the night above your head, throwing it away somewhere, leaving your torsoe bare,

"Come back here," He whined, one of his hands trailing to your thigh and playfully squeezing your skin, "You're too far from me," He fake pouted. With a small laugh, you closed the small gap between you and kissed his frown away. Now more awake, you found the kiss became sloppier and messier. Moaning into his mouth, you found your hips beginning to undulate against him to find any sort of friction to soothe the growing arousal pooling between your legs. Soon, breathlessly, you pulled away from his lips, enough to breathe,

"Fuck," He hissed, kissing the corner of your mouth as an indication for you to tilt your head up. Eddie wasted no time moving his mouth to your bruised neck again, wetly kissing and sucking your reddened skin. He hummed against you, making you shiver and moan as your hand moved down to his dick, finding it already hard. He moaned, muttering your name into your skin and gently biting you- not hard enough to leave a mark but just for you to feel his teeth against your skin. As you began to lazily stroke him, his mouth latched on to your boobs, setting his mouth on your nipple and sucking,

"Fuck- Eddie," It was your turn to moan his name, hissing as his teeth gently bit down on your nipple. With another moan of his name, his hand slid down your body, between your legs, collecting the wetness and spreading it up your clit. He rubbed slow circles as his head moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention as your other, and you let out a breathy laugh at the feeling of his hair ticking your chest. You felt the curl of his lips against your skin as he moved his hand down from your clit, rubbing over your folds to coat his middle finger in your wetness, before dipping it inside your pussy,

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you're so wet," You could hardly think now that he was slowly moving his finger in and out of you at a slow pace. You moaned sharply, hand stilling and squeezing the base of his cock as you let your head fall back into the pillows, panting,

"Yeah-" You breathed, "Fuck, Eddie, I need more," You managed. He moved his head back up from your chest to crash his lips against yours roughly, moaning as your hand resumed the leisurely up and down movement on his dick again. You stayed like this for a few moments, touching each other, breathing and moaning into one another's mouthes before you got too impatient, "Please," You whispered into his mouth; you could feel his smirk against your lips,

"Gimmie a sec," He mumbled breathlessly, before reluctantly detaching himself from you and shifting to get his bag and grab a condom. You coudln't hold back the dissapointed sigh at the loss of contact, but quickly found a solution by setting one hand over your breast. Laying back into the pillows, you tweaked your nipple between your fingers with a grin, your free hand travelled down between your legs, spreading the slick that had gathered there from your heavy make-out session and beginning to rub slow circles against your clit as he had before. Your hands weren't the same as Eddie's: rough and calloused from years of playing his guitar, but they'd do for now, "You want me to just sit back and watch you, sweetheart?" You heard Eddie ask, causing your eyes to open sharply. He was watching you with a wolfish grin as he tore the packet open, so you quickly pulled your knees together and glared playfully at him,

"You're taking too long, Eds," You say amused, your hand resuming rubbing the slow circles, "I'm getting impatient," You tease as he moves forward, putting his hands on your knees and pushing them apart so he can settle between your legs. Your hand continues to rub desperately as he leans down and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. You hope he'll stay there longer, though all too quickly, he ventures down to press opened-mouthed kisses to your nipples, sucking and biting to elicit moans from you, before kissing the hand still moving against your clit,

"I'm here now," He hummed, carefully moving your wrist away from you and pressing a kiss to your clit and making you smile. At first, you come to rest your hand in his hair, playfully tussling it, before gripping it a little harder than you intended and hissing as he flattens his tongue against you,

"Fuck me," You moaned, breathing heavily as you moved your hand to his cheek, touching it. He gave your clit one last suck, which made your hips buck and a wide grin to spread over his face at the reaction he got out of you. Before he could go any further, you whined, moved your hand to his chin and pull him up to kiss you, "Fuck me, Eds," You hissed into his mouth, shifting your hips a little and wrapping your legs around his waist so he'd push against you. You both moaned at the contact of his dick rubbing against your folds, and impatiently, you began to buck your hips against him,

"You're gonna kill me, babe," He muttered, letting out soft moans into your mouth, which you eagerly swallowed,

"Please fuck me, Eddie," You begged impatiently, moving your hand down to his cock. You tilted your head away from him to look down at your bodies, carefully lininging him up against you and sighing as he pushed inside you, "Jesus-" You moved your head back, exposing your neck for him to lick and suck at again,

"Mmh," He hummed, kissing your skin, "Not quite," He smiled, moving his head to look at you again and grinning. You rolled your eyes, releasing a breathy laugh as he moved his hands to your face, gently moving the hair away,

"Eddie?" You said softly, sliding your hands over his shoulders, "I love you," You told him, smiling as he kissed your lips gently,

"I love you too," He said, moving to kiss you again as he slowly began thrusting into you. This kiss was breathy and broken up by soft moans and whispers of the others name, gentle 'love you's', and praise. Your nails dug into his back and shoulders as he set a slow pace. One of his hands trailed down to your leg, caressing the skin up to your hip before gripping the tender flesh to helping your movements. You moaned into his mouth as his other hand trailed down to your sensitive neck, lightly applying pressure and making your eyes roll back at the feeling,

"You can squeeze harder," You mumbled, and you were surprised he understood what you were saying. Pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, he lifted his head to look at you,

"You sure?" He asked as you lazily opened your eyes and nodded your head, moving one of your hands to wrap around his wrist,

"If it's too much, I'll squeeze," You assured him, and he nodded. At your request, he slowly increased the pressure against your throat, causing the moans bubbling up to turn into soft gasps. Speeding up his thrusts ever so slightly, you heard him groan, muttering your name and a few curses as your walls tightened around him briefly. A grin spread across your lips at the sound of the ragged breaths and groans escaping his mouth,

"Jesus, you're so tight," He hissed, sucking hard on your neck. The feeling of his tongue against the side of your neck, sucking at your sensitive flesh; his rough hand applying just enough pressure to your throat to lessen the air flow; his chest brushing against yours delightfully; and his cock moving in and out of you at a steadily quickening pace, very quickly pushed you over the edge. Unintentionally, your hand squeezed his wrist as you came, nails digging into his skin. He quickly released your neck, shifting his hand down to play with your nipple instead. Your back arched as a loud moan left your lips, drowning out the soft music and making him grin against your skin, "You're so good for me," He murmured, and as you opened your eyes, blinking hard, you found your vision blurry and spotty, still coming undone. You let out a small laugh as he continued to suck on your neck, his thursts growing more shallow and sloppy. His lips left your neck, breathing against the wet skin and making you shiver.

Quickly, you put your fingers under his chin, directing his lips to yours as you kissed him hard, moving your hips against him to help him reach his peak too. He moaned into your mouth, hardly able to keep kissing you back the more you moved against him. As you moved your hand from his face to the back of his neck, you dug your heels into his hips to push him in deeper, and moved your hand to your thumb could press against his neck. He hissed your name, before tilting his head to bury it into your neck as his hips stuttered inside you and stilled for a moment with a deep groan, gripping your hips hard. It hurt, but you welcomed the pain gladly, breathing heavily and gently caressing his hair as he shuddered slightly against you. Closing your eyes, you lay back, feeling completely relaxed.

As you calmed down, slow, deep breaths steadying your racing heart, you regained your sences. Eddie had practically collapsed on top of you, arms loosening their grip so he could caress your skin absentmindedly, tracing random patterns against your body. You smiled in recognition of the Slayer song faintly playing beside you, humming along with the riffs between the bridges,

"Eds?" You asked after a moment,

"Mhm?" He hummed into your skin, the vibrations feeling pleasant. You smiled more as he pushed his face closer to you, his hold on you tightening as he caught his breath,

"Is this 'Raining Blood'?" You asked, and felt the smile on his lips widen. He pressed a gentle kiss to your neck again,

"Someone's learning," He said, muffled by how close he was to you, and you laughed softly, feeling him chuckle along, "Mhh... I didn't hurt you, did I?" You heard him ask, and he was soon sitting up to look down at you, slipping out and inspecting your neck curiously for any damage,

"No," You said quickly, "It felt good, Eds," You gave him a reassuring smile as he brushed the hair away from your face, "I think I might have done more damage to you," You said with a frown, grabbing his arm to help you sit up. He took hold of your hand and helped you, frowning,

"How?" He asked curiously, "You didn't hurt me at all," He assured you. Unconvinced, you took hold of his bare hand, inspecting the crescent indentations around his wrist, "Those'll fade," He said. You gave him a look, but the feeling of his lips quickly pressing to yours and his hand moving to hold your cheek caused you to smile again, "I like waking up like this," He murmured into your mouth,

"I liked it too," You said, sighing as you reluctantly pulled away, "Sad we can't do it every day though," You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder,

"We've got four days though," He reminded you, feeling the gentle weight of his head leaning against yours,

"Four more days," You repeated to yourself. With a sigh, you sat up again and looking at him. Momentarily, he was distracted, staring out of the window at your garden, giving you a perfect view of his side profile. You could see the hickeys you had given him yesterday peaking through his mane of hair, and it made you smile- knowing he was yours and you were his... It caused a happy warmth to flow through your blood, spreading through your entire body and finally waking you completely. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand in your own. That drew his attention back to you, causing him to turn around and look at you, lips quickly smiling at your loving expression,

"What?" He asked softly, and you only shook your head slightly, thinking for a moment, before meeting his eyes again,

"Good morning, Eddie," You said simply, and watched as he grinned, teeth showing. He closed the space between you, placing a quick kiss against your lips. You felt drunk- you could hardly feel them after your prolonged make-out session,

"Good morning to you too, my love," He said, leaning his forehead against yours. You sighed softly, kissing him back lazily and letting your eyes drift closed as you enjoyed the moment together. When he hummed and gently nipped on your bottom lip you smirked, managing to pull away and give him a grin, "What?" He smiled as you sat up,

"What're you doing?" You asked amused, as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your bruised neck,

"Kissing you," He said, and you rolled your eyes, shifting away from him,

"You've kissed me plenty," You teased as you stood, stretching your arms above your head and glancing around for the shirt you had discarded. You liked wearing his clothes, and frankly, Eddie preferred seeing you in them better,

"I haven't kissed you enough, babe," He corrected, and you could hear the grin on his lips as he left the room to use your bathroom. You turned the music from the radio up and walked to your vanity mirror, inspecting the red and purple bruises on your neck for a moment before grabbing a hairbrush to try detangle your messy hair. Glancing over, you found yourself momentarily distracted as he re-entered your room. He had changed to put on a fresh pair of pants- dark blue with two rips at the knees- though he was still shirtless. His hair was messier than usual, and you couldn't help but smile as he found you again,

"You want some coffee, Eddie?" You asked as you tied your hair up,

"Of course, babe," He smiled as you walked by him, entering the bathroom and taking the time to clean yourself up. You also took the opportunity to change into clean underwear, though you didn't bother with a bra. Walking out, rubbing your neck gently, you met him at the stairs and found he was holding his lighter up to the cigarette, lighting it. He tucked it away as you joined him so he could take your hand in his, before walking with you down the stairs, "Where's that cat of yours?" He asked as you laughed,

"First thing on your mind this morning's my cat, huh?" You asked, letting go of his hand as you entered your kitchen and got two mugs,

"I'm just curious," He shrugged, leaning against the counter near you and stretching his arms out before him. He glanced around the couch in your living room, then scanned the chairs in the kitchen, "She's not here?" He asked, a small frown on his lips,

"I let her out for the night," You said,

"You what?" He asked surprised, and you turned from where you were getting the coffee ready to look at him. He raised his brows to stare at your surprised, "You let- what if something catches her?" You smiled softly at his concern,

"Relax, Eddie, she's got claws to defend herself with-" You twisted your foot to show him three scratches on the back of your leg, "-Or let me know I haven't fed her fast enough," You joked him, smiling, "She'll be alright. She's fast- besides I'm kinda supposed to? She doesn't use the litterbox and if she destroys one of my mom's plants, I'm never gonna be allowed to stay home alone again," You glanced at the coffee maker, smirking as Eddie grumbled something under his breath, "Go open the garden door; I bet you anything she'll be running to you in no time," You said amused, moving to the fridge to grab some creamer.

With a huff, he pushed himself off from where he was leaning, put the cigarette back in his mouth before dissapearing behind you. Faintly, you heard him attempt to open the door, cursing as he found it locked. You laughed softly, turning to lean your back against the counter and watch him as he unlocked the door, disappearing outside momentarily. You smiled more as you heard him quietly beginning to talk to Clara, cheerily greeting her and asking where she had been for the night. Her gentle meows and loud purrs could soon be heard. God, he hadn't even had his coffee and he was so cheerful...

You turned back to finish with your coffees and smiled as you heard him attempting to sneak up behind you, whispering to Clara things you couldn't make out. You stifled a laugh at a loud meow she let out,

"No, shh- be quiet," He responded, and you covered your mouth with your hand as she meowed quieter, "Yeah alright- that'll do," You grinned now, adding creamer to your coffee, "Attack!" You heard and felt movement against your hair. Turning your head, you saw him holding your cat as she swatted at your hair as if it were a toy, catching it in her paws and attempting to bite it,

"Oh gross- she has stinky breath," You stuck your tongue out, swatting back at her with your fingers, though careful she couldn't get you with her claws,

"Don't be mean to her- Clara, your breath is... Bad, it's bad, ew," You laughed as he set her down by your feet, which she immediately went to rubbing up against,

"It's cause she only eats that nasty cat food- of course it's gonna stink," You said, putting away the creamer and fetching her food that you had opened yesterday. She meowed impatiently, "Yeah, we get it, Clary- God you're awful for eating this," You cringed as you dug the contents out with a knife and threw the empty tin away,

"You should get her something gourmet- she likes fish, right?" You heard Eddie ask from behind you, accompanied by the sound of a glass clinking. You nodded, "Get her like... Sardines or something," He said,

"Sardines?" You asked amused. Eddie nodded, moving to stand by the sink so he could tip the ash from his cigarette in there while he sipped on his coffee,

"As a treat!" He said as you moved over to him, grabbing your own mug and taking a long sip,

"For what, Eddie?" You asked, amused,

"I dunno... Being a cat?" You laughed softly, shaking your head, "Surviving the cold night alone? Why does she need a reason to deserve a treat?" He took a few sips of his coffee,

"Treats are usually given as rewards," You said, looking up at him. He hummed, setting his mug down,

"Or, sometimes treats are just nice things one person can give to another," He said, smiling at you. You smiled back, before narrowing your eyes suspiciously,

"Eddie..." You said sceptically,

"What?" He asked innocently, grinning as he shifted from beside you. He had stubbed the cigarette out and threw it in to your trash, before moving forward to the door he left open, holding his mug,

"Are you hiding anything by chance?" You asked sceptically, though grinned as you followed him out onto the porch of your garden and made your way to the two deck chairs outside, setting the steaming mug on the table and settling into one of the chairs,

"Me? No," He lied obviously with a grin, sitting in the vacant chair with a small sigh. You watched him shift around and produce the pack of cigarettes and his lighter again,

"Uhuh," You smiled, sighing and relaxing back in the chair and shutting your eyes, enjoying the gentle warmth of the morning sun glowing on your face. For now, it was warm and pleasant, but you were sure by midday the heat would get to you. You could still hear the music faintly playing up in your room through the open window, followed by a few clicks of a lighter, and a hum from your boyfriend. Opening an eye, you shook your head as he offered you an unlit cigarette, before putting it back in his box and taking the lit one from between his lips and settling it between his two fingers.

The air was lovely and still surprisingly cool, and you could faintly smell that it'd rained the night before at some point. The grass was also covered in minuscule water droplets that glowed in the early sun. Opening an eye to glance at your boyfriend again, the scent of cigarette smoke filled your nose as he exhaled a long breath. He looked so serene; so relaxed as he sat next to you in the dingy chairs- though they were nothing compared to his throne in the Hellfire Room, he still appeared somehow royal to you. His beauty was something you'd always appreciated- looking at him was a pleasure in itself. He was just very appealing to look at,

"Are you gonna keep staring?" You heard him say, those plump lips moving around the cigarette as his arms moved above his head in a lazy stretch, before he sunk more into the chair. His lips curled into a smirk as he caught you staring, and instead of looking away, you simply set your elbow on the arm rest and your chin in your hand, gazing at him,

"Hmm?" You hummed with a smirk, glancing down briefly at Clara, who had now emerged from your home and rubbed herself against your legs. You leaned a hand down so you could pet her head, which she appreciated with a loud purr, before walking to Eddie and standing close to him, meowing to get his attention. He smiled, scracthing her head on one side, causing her to tilt her head towards him,

"I asked..." He smiled, taking another drag and tilting his head slightly so he could breathe the smoke into the air, and not your face. Clara got quickly distracted by a bug of some sorts, running out into the wet grass to chase after it quickly, "If you were going to come here or if you were gonna keep staring at me?" He raised his brows, moving to rest his elbow on the side as you were and point to you with the cigarette. You smiled softly at his comment,

"There's no room," You murmured, glancing out at Clara, now hunting something in one of the apple trees. He smiled,

"Yeah, there is," He said lowly, causing your attention to fall back on him. Moving his other hand, he gently pat his leg, indicating for you to come and join him. The gesture made your eyes widen slightly as heat spread through your body, quickly settling in the pit of your stomach. As if on auto pilot, you found your body standing and setting the almost finished mug of coffee on the table near his,

His eyes followed you as you crossed the short distance, reaching his free hand out for you. Carefully, you glanced down at his lap, and watched as he moved his legs closer together so you could straddle his lap. His hand curled around your waist to pull you closer to him, smiling wider,

"There you go," He whispered, looking over you now perched on top of him. Your arms slid over his shoulders to anchor you down, "Hello," He greeted softly, moving the cigarette to his lips and inhaling one final time,

"Hey," You replied, setting your head on his shoulder. Eddie hummed softly, as his grip around your waist tightened. Behind you, he dropped the cigarette, letting it fall to his feet. Under you, you felt his leg shift as he stamped it out, "You better pick that up before my parents get back, Eddie," You warned, lifting your head up to look at him,

"I will, babe," He assured you, moving a hand up to gently caress the side of your face, rough fingers gently gracing your skin and making you hum softly,

"I'm being serious Eds, don't forget," You said, raising your brows. You moved your hand up to his, holding it and smiling as you twisted your joint hands so you could kiss the back of his. His smile only grew at your actions, "My parents will start thinking I smoke," You said softly,

"Right, right," He said, nodding his head, "Cause that's so awful," He said playfully,

"It really is," You said, and watched as he rolled his eyes, though quickly focusing his gaze back on you. You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, smirking and laughing at the eye contact. You focused on his hand, beginning to play with his fingers as he hummed along to the Metallica song playing in your room. Gently, you splayed your fingers out against his, pressing your hands together, marvelling at the difference in size, "It's so strange without your rings, Eddie" You commented softly,

"Hmm?" He asked. As he glanced back at you, eyes opening so they were half-lidded, he glanced over your face, before looking at your hands. He smiled, shifting his fingers so you could join your hands together. He squeezed yours, "Left them upstairs if you miss 'em so much," He said,

"I can get them for you later," you said, "I think I saw my earings there too," He hummed, moving his hand from where it was resting on your waist up to touch the shell of your ear, delicately tracing down to the lobe with his finger, finally setting his hand against your neck,

"I really like those earrings," He announced, and you smiled bashfully, rolling your eyes to look away from him, "I'm being serious, sweetheart," 'Sweetheart' was the one term of endearment that meant a lot to you. And it wasn't because you were jealous of his guitar- that was stupid. You were simply aware of how much love he had for the instrument and how much he cherished it. When he called you his 'sweetheart', it never failed to remind you how much love he had for you, "You should wear them more often," He suggested, letting go of you and leaning his back against the chair and clasping his hands together- a position he would often take in Hellfire as he waited for the party to make a decision. He was observing you, eyes studying your face and neck ,

"Think so?" You asked softly, causing a small smile to appear on his lips,

"Definitely," He commented, "You should make them 'your thing'," He grinned, moving his hands down to your bare legs, which caused you to jump slightly, startled, "What?" He asked amused, though stilled the movement of his hands,

"Nothing," You said quickly, "I just completely... Forgot I wasn't wearing any pants," You whispered, smiling at him. He simply laughed at your statement, and you grinned as you swatted at his shoulder, hand coming to rest over the bats flocking on his forearm, "Shut up, Eddie!" You hissed,

"But it's funny," He grinned, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing gently so gasped, shifting further up in his lap. You squeezed his arm back, digging your nails slightly into his skin, "What?" He asked again with a grin,

"My neighbours are gonna see...!" You hissed at him,

"Don't they know I'm here?" He asked, raising his brows,

"Yeah, I told my parents that you'd be coming over sometimes," You rolled your eyes, "They gave me this big long talk about responsibility and taking care of myself and all that other stupid shit," You explained with a sigh, "And then they forced me to go to both the neighbours and tell them I was 'sorry if I played the music too loud'," You said,

"Mention me?" He asked, and you smiled,

"Uhuh- warned Old Man Jenkins all about my super metal boyfriend and his freaky, devil-worship music," You joked, "And the fact that I'd be having sex everyday," You added playfully,

"Nice," He laughed, moving his hands slightly so that his pointer fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear, touching your bare skin. You gasped, slapping at his hands,

"Eddie!" You hissed, glancing around at the tall fences wearily, before glancing up at the dark windows of the neighbouring houses, "Not here- ah!" You yelped as his lips attached themselves to the skin on your neck, kissing and sucking gently,

"If you're gonna leave yourself open like that, what do you expect me to do, babe?" He murmured into your skin, and you sighed softly, letting your eyes fall shut,

"I don't..." You sighed softly, moving your hands to slide into his hair, gently gripping it. You licked your lips, smiling softly and tilting your head to guide him to where you wanted him,

"Don't what?" He muttered against your skin, nipping gently at it but not enough to create new hickeys. Just enough to have you pleasantly sighing his name and squirming in his lap, "Talk to me," He said in a sing-songy way. You sighed softly, swallowing back a moan,

"I don't think that... That it's a good idea to do this outside," You managed, before gently setting a hand on his shoulder to push him back a little,

"To do what outside?" He asked as he leaned back, grinning at you. His large brown eyes were lidded and darkened with desire, and his mouth was fixed into a lazy grin as you glared at him playfully. He always looked so pretty- it was easy to forget how annoying he could be sometimes when he looked at you like that, though you still had some mind to think twice,

"I'm not fucking you out here," You hissed, and he grinned softly at you,

"Is that so?" He asked, feigning obliviance, "Cause it looks like..." He trailed off, gaze flicking down your body, and you glanced down with a slight gasp. You hadn't realised you'd been lazily undulating your hips against his leg so you were essentially humping him, and you quickly stilled your movements, blushing,

"Shit," You hissed, only for his hands to grip your ass again and pull you closer,

"I didn't say you should stop," He said amused, looking up at you. You met his gaze and opened your mouth slightly, but nothing came "What?" He asked, loosening his grip on your hips,

"We are outside," You hissed out with a smile, "What if the neighbours see us having sex?"

"We aren't having sex, though," He smirked, "Go on," He said softly, watching you. You blinked for a moment, glancing around cautiously, "Besides, don't your neighbours have, like... Jobs and work? Or... Anything better to do than look out into your garden?" He asked, moving a hand up to touch your face gently. There was some truth there- and you couldn't deny it made you increasingly more aroused at the idea of getting caught doing anything in public,

"I guess..." You said uncertainly, watching him quietly. He stared back up at your face for a few moments, before smiling,

"If you're really that uncomfortable out here, we can go back inside to finish this somewhere else-" He said, "-Just say the word and we'll go, sweetheart," He said softly, and you couldn't help but smile at how thoughtful he was. He could be annoying, but knew when to drop it with you in situations where you generally got uncomfortable or anxious. He even moved his hands off of you, setting them on the arm rests and tapping his fingers to the song upstairs. Suddenly, you felt overcome with emotion, eyes filling with happy tears, and you let out a small chocked laugh as you closed the space between you two and kissed him gently,

"Eds, why are you this fucking sweet?" You smiled as you pulled back to look at him. He only smiled back at you, swiping the tear rolling down your cheek away with his thumb,

"Because I love you," He told you honestly, "I just want to make you feel good, you know that, babe," He smiled as you laughed again, causing more tears to fall down your face, "Babe," He whined, "You're gonna make me cry," He said playfully, as you moved your own hands to wipe at your face,

"Sorry!" You apologised quickly, sighing, "I'm ruining the mood, aren't I?" You asked,

"Not at all," Eddie said quickly, gently moving his hands to rest back your arms, "You're fine," He assured you as you calmed down, shaking your head, "So? Do you want to go back inside? We can finish our coffee," He offered,

"No, no," You assured, "I'm okay with... Staying out here," You smiled,

"Are you sure?" He asked,

"Yes," You nodded, "Yeah. I'm fine. Just got a little overwhelmed with all the love," You said playfully, grinning as he laughed,

"Of course," He smiled, leaning forward to gently kiss you, "You just let me know if at any point you do want to go inside, okay?" He told you, to which you nodded appreciatively. You gently touched his cheek as you looked into his eyes,

"I love you, Eddie," You said softly, and when he smiled, his eyes appeared to sparkle in the early morning light. He said your name, very gently, whispering it to you, before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear,

"I love you too," He murmured and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow; Eddie's lips were always so soft and delicate though you could feel the gentle pin-prickles of his facial hair brushing against your face. You only smiled wider at the gentle tickles against your skin. It wasn't long before you felt the brush of his tongue against your lips, and you gladly opened your mouth to him.

Once again, you began to gently move your hips against his leg, sighing into his mouth at the pleasant feeling spreading through your core and sliding your hands from his face down to touch his neck and grip at the back of his hair, pulling him closer. One of his hands stayed pressed to your neck while his other moved to grip your ass, helping you move against him. It surprised you to hear a groan from the back of his throat, which only prompted your hips to move harder against him,

"Fuck," He breathed into your mouth, and you let out a small breathy laugh as you pulled him back to your lips so he could swallow your own moans as they grew louder,

"Christ, Eddie," You murmured, breaths turning into pants as he shifted his head to kiss your neck. He hissed softly and you felt him grip your thigh, the sound of the chair squeaking under your movement filling the peaceful air,

"Little too eager, hmm?" He hummed, though continuing to help your movements against him. You whined softly, as he sat back to watch you with a grin, "Weren't you worried about being too loud-"

"Shut up, Eddie," You hissed at him, moving your head back to his and moaning as you kissed him sloppily. He only chuckled against your mouth as you ground your hips desperately against him, chasing your orgasm down quickly, "Fuck- oh my God," You breathed, moving away from him to breathe,

"Are you getting close?" He asked, and you felt him squeezing your hips again. You could only nod, before letting your head drop down to his shoulder. One of your hands slid down so you could claw at his back, whilst your other found his chest, placing it over his heart. By now, you were teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and without thinking, you sunk your teeth into his skin as you came on his thigh.

Eddie hissed beside you, muttering your name followed by praises and gentle kisses being peppered to the side of your face. You breathed heavily, movements slowing down until you found yourself only trembling in his grasp. He had moved his hands to delicately trace his fingers up and down your back, while his other moved to play with your hair. Under his gentle touch, you felt like falling asleep again. With a sigh, you detached your mouth from his shoulder, and blinked slowly at the teeth marks you had left behind, shining, wet with your saliva,

"You did so well, my love," He breathed, pressing more kisses to your face. You felt one of his hands moving to gently tilt your chin to face him, followed by the feeling of his plump lips on yours. You hummed into the kiss, and pulled away slightly,

"Look at your shoulder," You breathed, blinking again and reaching out to trace your fingers around the mark,

"It'll heal," He murmured, reaching a hand up to touch the indents in his skin, before smiling, "How do you feel?" He asked,

"Good," You smiled at him, "Really good," You said,

"Good," He smiled, moving to kiss your forehead gently, "We should probably get up now though," He said, his hands still gently caressing your skin, and you really wanted nothing more than to fall asleep into him, "Get you cleaned up," You hummed slightly and sighed,

"Yeah, I guess," You breathed, shifting off of his lap and gasping softly, "Oh...!" You stared at the wet stain on his leg,

"It'll wash out," He said quickly, standing with you, "Don't worry,"

"I'm-" You blinked, "That's so embarrassing, oh my God-" You laughed slightly,

"Nah, I don't think so," He said, taking your hand in his. You winced softly at the pain in your stiff, trembling legs, "Besides, I have other pants I can wear," He winked at you and flashed his teeth in a smirk, and you rolled your eyes,

"It's still embarrassing, Eds," He said, huffing as you walked inside,

"But our coffee!!" He whined, and you glanced back at him,

"Our coffee?" You glanced at the two mugs, before your eyes flicked to the cigarette butt still on the ground, "Your cigarette," You glared, poking his chest with your finger,

"Wh..." He turned his head, hair swinging sharply after him as he looked in the direction of where you were pointing, "But that- hey!" He grinned, feeling your hand slip from his as you disappeared inside, laughing to yourself,

"I have to shower!" You yelled after him, smiling as you moved inside,

"Hey!" He called your name, making you turn to look at him. He was standing in the doorway to your garden, "Can I join you later?" He asked, and you grinned, grabbing and holding on to the railing of the stairs,

"Of course, Eddie!" You yelled after him, quickly running up the stairs. You made your way to your bedroom, grinning to yourself and touching your heated face as you moved to reset the tape, turning up the volume so you could hear it over the shower water, before moving to close the window in your room. Smiling softly, you grabbed fresh clothes for yourself and glancing at Eddie's bag on the floor at the foot of your bed, remembering his words from earlier before you'd... Jesus fucking Christ, you prayed you weren't too loud...

A treat... Was there something he wanted to give you? Your found yourself lost in thought as you exited your bedroom. You faintly heard Eddie him shuffling around downstairs, followed by soft murmurs. You also could barely make out the meows of you cat, Clara, indicating she was back inside. He really did love this cat of yours...

Thinking about it, Eddie mostly got along well with your whole family- sure your siblings could be overwhelming but that's just how children were. Eddie seemed to have the natural charm and friendliness to get along with them, and if you were too busy helping your mom with dinner, he'd distract them from you two by playing with them. Considering he'd become a master at making things up on the spot, thanks to Hellfire and DnD, your youngest siblings where constantly in awe of him. And though he'd constantly remind you he wasn't a babysitter, you'd tease him about it regardless.

The 'mostly' part came with your parents. Your mom warmed up to him the more time he'd spend over at your home, eventually seeing him as just a kind boy who was in love with her oldest child- ever the romantic. Your dad was more... Cold. Believing in the whole satanic-panic bullshit, he took one look at Eddie and made his opinion clear- he didn't want a satanist in their home, corrupting your mind. His trust for your boyfriend only began to build up awfully slow, though seeing how much happier you appeared with Eddie, and the fact that you always made curfew on time helped. Though you were sure he still saw Eddie in the same negative light most of Hawkins did, he at least tolerated him.

With a gentle sigh, you let the warm shower water wash over your naked body, clearing your head as you let your tense shoulders droop. You found yourself smiling fondly about the memories of Eddie earlier this morning,

"Sorry, I got a little distracted by your cat," He said, appearing almost out of the blue. You turned sharply, feeling cold air hit your warmed skin. The smile on your lips grew as he joined you, arms wrapping around you as he pulled you under the warm stream of water,

"I was just thinking about you, Eds," You told him, causing him to chuckle softly as he kissed your wet cheek, snaking his arms around your waist and squeezing you gently,

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, "Only good things, I hope," He said, looking down at you,

"Actually it was terribly awfully bad things," You joked, moving so you were standing close to him under the warmth, grinning as you watched his hair as the water rained over it,

"That's a shame," He said, amused, grinning as you reached up your hands to toy with the damp strands,

"Why?" You asked,

"I only think good things about you, darling," He said, kissing you gently. You smiled against his lips, letting your hands slide up his arms and come to rest on top of his shoulders. Your fingers danced over the bite mark on his shoulder and you felt him return the bite, sinking his teeth gently into your bottom lip. You laughed softly, pulling away from him and grinning as he moved his head to try and follow after you, "Come back," He whined quietly, moving a hand to your cheek,

"Mmh, I stepped in here to wash myself, Eds," You said, putting a finger on his nose. You laughed softly as he wrinkled it playfully, and you removed your hands from his shoulders, reaching for your body wash,

"You're no fun," He huffed, and you smiled at the feeling of him sliding his hands around your middle and resting his head on your shoulder with a huff, before turning and pressing a kiss to your neck,

"We've got four days," You reminded him in a sing-songy way, and felt him smile against your skin, "There's still time for fun," You said, turning your head to look at him. He simply smiled and kissed you,

"I guess," He sighed, and straightened, grabbing the body wash from your hands and smiling, "Allow me, sweetheart," He said softly.

Showering took you a while, finding yourselves too focused on one another's bodies, lost in deep kisses and soft caresses. Though, as the water grew cold and caused you to shiver, you were forced to get out. You did manage to get clean, though how long it'd take you to fuck around again and need another shower, you didn't know. Your thoughts travelled to earlier this morning and a small smile spread across your lips as you dried your body and got dressed. It felt good discovering something new about yourself but your nerves got the best of you and you begun to overthink nervously. What if your neighbours did see you? How the hell would you lie to them about... That?

"Eddie?" You looked at him through the mirror once you set the hairdryer down, "Do you think anyone heard us?" You asked with a small frown, "Outside?" He shrugged,

"Maybe, maybe not," He said, joining you as he pulled a Mötley Crüe shirt over his bare torso and sighed as he leaned in closer to the mirror to inspect his hair, "Why? Nervous you ruined your reputation with your neighbours?" He smirked,

"Well yeah," You frowned, "And like... I don't want them to blab to my parents," You sighed,

"Hey," He said softly, shifting so he was facing you and moving closer, taking your hand in his, "It'll be fine. Even if they heard, we can just pretend like we didn't hear anything," He smiled, "Deny, deny, dency. Put the blame on wild animals. It'll be okay," He smiled. You sighed, feeling slightly reassured, before glancing at your reflection,

"I prefer just denying," You said, glancing back at him in the mirror, "So we take that to the grave?" You said amused, watching as he grinned and moved his head to kiss your cheek,

"Yep. It'll be our dead body, babe" He said playfully, causing you to laugh as you hung up your towel for it to dry and moved out of the bathroom, walking downstairs- fully clothed this time. You heard the hairdryer turning on again, drowning out the soft hums escaping Eddie's lips. You sighed softly, deciding to make some sort of breakfast for you both, feeling hungry now. You placed two slices of bread in the toaster and looked into your fridge, looking over what you could eat with the bread. You decide on just regular sandwiches, quickly making them and eating the bread as you waited for Eddie to get down. You glanced down at the freezer and absentmindedly ran a hand over your neck, grimacing at the feeling the hickeys left in their wake.

You truly didn't mind the marks- they were called love bites for a reason, right? But you could admit, this time, it was a lot, and you were worried about how well they'd fade in time for your family to get back. Once you finished eating, you grabbed an ice cube, balling it in your fist to warm it up slightly, hearing the soft cracks in the warmth of your palm as you took a seat on the dining table. From where you were sitting, you could see your reflection in the microwave. It was an impractical mirror, but reflective nonetheless. You could see the dark marks and shivered pleasantly as you pressed the ice to your skin,

"What're you doing with the ice?" Eddie asked curiously, appearing in the kitchen doorway and leaning against the door frame, watching you. His hair was significantly more puffy than usual, though he looked refreshed,

"Putting it on the hickeys," You shivered, looking back at your blurry reflection as you rubbed the cool cube on your bruised skin, "Trying to help 'em go down," You said, glancing over at him. Feeling a droplet of water run down your hand, you quickly brought it to your mouth and swiped your tongue to lick it off, without thinking twice. Casting a glance to the side, you noticed the dishes were beginning to pile up; you'd have to clean them soon, though any thought of work quickly left your head because suddenly, Eddie standing close to you. You squeaked out in surprise as his hands snaked around your waist, travelling under your shirt and pressing against your skin. His lips quickly latched on to your cooled skin, licking and sucking the cold water that had built up there, smiling against it, "Eddie..." You said in a playfully-warning tone, turning to smile at him as he took the ice from you,

"Lemme help," He murmured, pushing your hair out of the way and pressing the ice to your skin. With a small gasp, you nodded your head, and let your eyes fall shut as he moved it down to the dark spots, "I can see them better than you anyways," You could hear the smile in his voice, but barely registered his words as you could only focus on the feeling of the ice gliding along your neck, "And I can't let you have all the fun by yourself, can I?" He smirked,

"Mmmhh," You hummed, tilting your head to give him better access. His other hand was resting on your hip and gently drawing circles on your skin, and you reached out and grabbed his arm to steady yourself as you started to sway slightly,

"You okay?" He asked, and you felt the ice shift down your neck, water that had melted spilling down your chest and falling beneath the fabric of the shirt you were wearing. You nodded, biting your lip and letting another small hum escape your lips, "You like this...?" He said with a suprised infliction to his tone. You bit down your lip, moving your head away from him in embarrassment and letting out a small laugh,

"It just feels... Nice," You said, moving your hands to touch your wet neck and looking up at him. Considering some time had passed, and as you had predicted, it had gotten warmer; the ice served two purposes. His eyes were slightly wide, and his pupils were dilated again. He glanced down to the ice numbing his fingertips and shifted it in his hands. His lips curled up into a smile as he watched you,

"You like this," He stated again, and you rolled your eyes,

"God Eddie- yeah," You said not facing him and moving to try and get another piece of ice for yourself so you could just do it yourself. Before you could get far, you found him grabbing your wrist,

"Woah, hey," He said, still smiling, "I'm not making fun of you, baby," He assured quickly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as you sighed, looking up at him, "Let me finish doing this for you,"

"I can do it by myself in the mirror, Eddie," You assured, but he made a small noise of protest that you laughed at, "Eddie-"

"Let me," He whined, and you laughed again, shaking your head,

"Fine," You sighed, "If you insist," knowing how whiney he could be if he didn't get his way. Although it was endearing, it could also be incredibly annoying. So giving in, you humoured him, "I'll let you lather me in ice," You said playfully, making him smile,

"Now that's what I like to hear," He said, before nodding his head towards the table, "Up there, sweetheart," He said, and you squinted at him playfully,

"Back here you mean?" You teased, but obliged, moving to hop up on the table and situating yourself comfortably on the surface,

"You look nice up there," He said, moving over to you and kissing your lips happily, "Besides, you weren't complaining about that yesterday," He teased,

"You gave me nothing to complain about, love," You grinned, before gasping as the ice touched your neck again, "Mmmh-" You hummed, opening your mouth slightly and tilting your head back. You felt him nudge your legs open, situating himself between them as the ice glided smoothly over your reddened skin,

"Wish I knew about this sooner," He said, moving to kiss your jaw gently. Luckily, you were still coherent enough to have the mind to swat at his shoulder playfully,

"No more hickeys in obvious places," You warned, tilting your head so you could look at him,

"But they look so good on you," He gave you a small pout, holding the ice still against your skin and making you shiver at the sensation,

"You like marking me up?" You asked breathily, the spot the ice touched growing numb, gently prickling your flesh with pain. Eddie's eyes flicked from the melting ice in his hand to your face, and you grinned at the look in his eyes,

"Yeah," He said, and you moved an arm around his neck to try to draw him closer, enjoying how much his voice dropped, "You look pretty like this," He breathed, almost whispering. You only smiled at the comment, wanting to say something but gasping and letting out an involuntary moan as he slid the ice up to the spot on your neck he loved to bite and suck- the spot that always made you moan when he did so, "Fuck," He hissed, kissing your jaw before detaching his hands from you and tugging off the shirt you had put on. A few droplets of water had trailed down your neck to the space between your exposed breasts and glimmered against your skin almost too enticingly. He hummed, one of his hands quickly gripping at your breast before his head dipped, tongue darting out to lick up the water from between them,

"Eddie- fuck!" You gasped out, head falling back as you leaned back on your arms. The feeling of his tongue licking up your body and neck, sliding against the cold wet skin and mouth spreading into a grin as he laughed breathily, caused your body to shudder. His lips soon captured yours, tongue sliding over yours hungrily- the ice long melted in his warm hold,

"You taste nice," He murmured playfully into your mouth, and you laughed, pulling away as he pressed kisses to your cheek,

"It's just ice water," You said,

"It's on you though," He said playfully,

"God, you're so-"

"Charming?"

"I was going for adorable but sure- that works too," You teased, and he smirked at you, "But-" You pressed a hand to his chest to stop him before he could lower his head down to your neck again. Suddenly growing nervous as he gave you a confused look, you searched your head for excuses as to why you didn't want to have sex with him right now. The truth was you just showered. You didn't want to get sweaty and, well, wet, again and have to clean up, "We can't uh..." You swallowed nervously, "Not now," You tried,

"Alright," You exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. Of course, Eddie Munson wouldn't be angry that you were denying having sex with him- he would never pressure you to do something you didn't want to, you knew that,

"It's only because-" You started trying to explain yourself,

"Hey," He said softly as he handed you your shirt back so you could put it on, "You don't need to explain yourself to me," He said softly, moving to kiss your cheek once you were clothed, "You're fine, sweetheart," He said, and you felt like crying again. Before you could say anything else, he turned his head and moved to your sink, "We should stop neglecting these before they pile up," You watched him, a little shocked that he had somehow read your mind from earlier, but... Elated with how well this went.

Very quickly into dating Eddie you realised this relationship was much different to any other you had been in. With Eddie, it felt like he actually fucking cared about you, like he wasn't with you for just status or sex. Not to discredit the sex- holy fuck was it he the best you'd ever had. Actually enjoying yourself during the act and laughing together instead of being used for someone else's pleasure? There truly wasn't a minute with him that you didn't feel complete love and adoration for him, and from him. The fact that you could say no and he'd respect you and offer to do something else without whining about it? Sure the bar was low, but he proved he could really step higher,

"Hello," He said with an amused chuckle as you moved behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle to hug him gently, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades. You could feel their gentle movements of his body as he cleaned the few dishes in the sink, and they managed to soothe you. As he spoke, you smiled softly, sniffling and not realising you were crying till now, "You okay back there?" He asked, and though you could still hear the smile in his tone, there was a twinge of worry lacing his words together,

"I just love you a lot, Eddie," You breathed, moving your head to press a kiss to his clothed skin, and shifting to let go of him as you heard the water turn off. He dried his hands quickly, before turning and enveloping you in a hug, "Sorry-" You said, sighing as more tears slipped down your cheeks,

"It's okay," He assured, lifting a hand up to help wipe them from your face, still smiling, "I've got you,"

"Yeah," You laughed softly, "God-" You huffed, frustrated, "It's just that-"

"You've just got a lot of emotions, I know," He smiled, kissing your forehead gently, and you sighed, relaxing into his embrace and wrapping your arms around him again, pressing your face into his chest, "Hey," He said softly, making you look up at him, "How about I treat you to something today, hmm?" He offered, "We can go for a ride and get some ice cream at the Dairy Queen?" He offered,

"The nearest DQ's way out of town in Franklin," You said,

"So? I've got gas," He assured you, and you sighed softly, shaking your head with a small smile, "C'mon. I'll get you a sundae," You laughed at that,

"I'm fine with the parlour we have here," You said softly, "But thanks for the offer," You said, looking up at him,

"Aw, c'mon. Just the Hawkins Ice Cream Parlour, really?" He said, "I wanted to treat you," You huffed playfully,

"There's the treat-talk again," You noticed, poking his chest playfully. The chain of his necklace peeking out slightly from under the shirt he wore, and you skimmed a finger over it with a smile, "I'm not a pet, you know," You said playfully,

"I didn't say you were!" He said quickly, "I'm just trying to do something nice for you, baby!" He grinned, causing you to laugh, gently pushing him away. You moved to leave, only to feel him grab your hand before you could get too far, "Hey, come back here," he said, pulling you back into him. You laughed again, standing in front of him and looking at him expectantly. Gently, he set a hand on your cheek, while the other came to rest on top of your hip before he kissed you,

"Mmmh," You hummed against him, gently resting your hands on his arms, "What's this for?" You asked- you didn't want to start crying again. He simply smiled at you, looking over your face before sighing contently,

"I just love you," He said your name, and you felt the gentle prickle of tears in your eyes again. God damn it. With a small laugh, you shook your head,

"Eddie, you'll make me cry again," You teased, reaching a hand up to your eyes dramatically,

"It's true though," He said, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I love you," He murmured into your skin, and you smiled as you hugged him tightly again,

"Hmm," You hummed into his chest, "I love you too- but we can't keep standing in the kitchen and telling each other how much we love each other," You said,

"Why not?" He grinned, although reluctantly let you go, "Gimmie a good reason," He teased,

"You promised me a date and ice cream?" You reminded as you began walking from the kitchen,

"Shit, why'd I do that?" He said playfully as he followed you, and you couldn't help but laugh at his joke,

"I thought it was because you loved me," You teased, taking a step up the stairs,

"Oh, right," He smiled, grabbing your hand again before you could move further up the stairs and holding on to your neck as he leaned up to kiss you,

"Mhm," You hummed as you parted, taking the hand on your skin in yours and leading him up with you, "I gotta get ready to leave- shouldn't take me too long," You assured,

"That's okay. I always find a way to entertain myself," He said, sighing as you let go of him once you made it into your bedroom. You made your way to the vanity table, stepping over his bag that had been carelessly left at the foot of your bed,

"It better not involve me," You said with a smile, "I gotta concentrate on covering up all this," You touched your neck as he took a seat at the edge of your bed. You watched him from the mirror, and at your words, he quickly turned his head to look at you touching your neck, fingers sliding over the marks he had left. He simply grinned, flashing his teeth at you,

"I think you should just leave them. I don't think anyone will care too much... Or you could wear like a tonne of necklaces," He said playfully, causing you to laugh loudly and reach for the concealer, "Why're you laughing? It's a great idea," He said,

"Shut up, Eddie," You grinned, sending him a slight glare through the mirror, "It's a terrible idea," He sent you back a wink, and you only sighed as you focused on making sure all the marks were covered up,

"I didn't say anything," He grinned, and you simply gave him another glare, before focusing on your task. As he went quiet behind you, you gave him a few looks through the mirror just to check up on him, though for the moment, he appeared to be fascinated by the rug on your floor. He then began humming something to himself, bopping his head with whatever song was stuck in his head. The cassette players tape had run its corse and was silent now. He then crouched down, unzipped his bag and dugh through it. You focused back on your reflection in the mirror, getting lost in your task for a few moments,

"Shit," You heard from behind you, causing your head to perk up. You had just finished applying make-up to the large, purple bruises littering your neck- if someone looked up close, they'd see something was up, but otherwise, you looked fine. You started doing your usual make-up on your face, but stopped, curious with what he was up to...

#eddie munson st4 #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things 4 #stranger things season four #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #joesph quinn #joe quinn

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zee-the-zebra · 10 months

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So @emilyrox tagged my in this and it's literally the best ask game.

Three Favorite Ships: Depends on what I'm hyperfixating on at the time. I have mostly two constant favorites with one always revolving in the third spot.

EiTeru/KaguE (Eirin Yagokoro/Kaguya Houraisan from Touhou): My beloved. My OTP since I fell in love with Touhou and will stay that way forever. The sheer devotion, the friendship that became more, as well as the lengths they will go for each other makes my heart melt.

XZero (Mega Man X/Zero from the Mega Man franchise): While seemingly unintentional, XZero is one of the best written romances I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing. From close friends, to lovers, to literally transcending death for each other. They have my heart.

Zhongluc (Zhongli/Diluc Ragnvindr from Genshin Impact): The eptiome of non-canon self indulgence. Will it ever happen? Only in my fics! What I love about them is how much they parallel each other as well as the phoenix/dragon motif. That's why they're canon to me.

(Credit to @gloomylilfox for the beautiful fan art)

First Ship: Easily ZeLink (Zelda x Link). But more specfically because I love Wind Waker so much, TeLink (Tetra x Link). With Tetra being the pirate with a heart of gold and this Link being the normal kid turned fighter, they were great together. I also loved the "accidental hero" vibes both their stories had and they way they both grew.

Last Movie: Spider Man: Across the Spiderverse. I think this meme says it all.

Okay but for real, not only is it a wonderfully done story with amazing themes and commentary, it is also a true masterpiece of the arts in every sense of the word. Every frame is a work of art, everything so lovingly crafted, the music matching perfectly, the characters in both design and story. Even if you're not a superhero fan GO WATCH IT.

Currently Reading: My WIP for Two of a Kind Okay but for real, I'm actually rereading an wonderful XZero fic called "Fallen Saivor" by my friend @oofitsbethi (who is also an amazing artist). It's essentially a canon-divergence retelling of the Mega Man Zero series that centers on X opening himself up again to loving, trusting, and leaning on the people who cherish him. All while the world falls apart around him and his husband, Zero.

Go read it. You won't regret it.

Currently Watching: YouTube. Just a lot of YouTube. Specifically I've been watching a lot of Utaite mashups. My current favorite is this one of Angel.

Currently Eating: Pretzels

Currently Craving: Nothing really. But I'm always in the mood to eat strawberries.

Woo! That was so much fun!

Tagging: @ushizaki-urumi @aardvark-123 @justcallmemrc, @mithclearwell and anyone else who wants to give this a shot!

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marisakage · 3 years

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Home is where the Heart is

One thing that I give big props to Mihoyo is the brilliant way they incorporate tropes. They introduce the characters as one-dimensional then expand them. Thanks to how realistic their portrayals are, they seem human. They all come from different upbringings and circumstances. These two elements shape the characters to become relatable and engaging.

Luke is an example of this case because he is such a trope-y character. He embodies the childhood friend trope super well.

At first glance, some people wouldn't bat an eye on him, writing him off as a boring character. Given that Luke is the childhood friend, his arc should be very predictable. But little did they know that we are not dealing with a typical otome game.

With that said, my essay will delve into why I adore Luke and Rosa's dynamic. I am 100% biased towards this ship, and I feel so strongly about them.

SPOILER DISCLAIMER since I will talk about some of Luke's unreleased cards!

Luke is Rosa's childhood friend, but his arc is so entangled with the main story route. The NXX drug that the team is currently investigating may or may not be behind the death of his parents as well as his shrouded background. He's the person who's directly involved with the problem that the NXX members are dealing with at hand. Marius is investigating because of his missing brother Giann. Artem is doing whatever he can to uncover the truth behind his mentor's disappearance. And Vyn is just there unless he's got some reason that's yet to be revealed.

That leaves Luke as the person who is indeed directly involved with the issue itself. The drug has greatly affected Luke, reducing his lifespan to just three years.

This ordeal puts Luke in an agonizing and harsh situation as he's been struggling with an inner conflict ever since. His conflict being Rosa.

He woke up in the hospital room by the sheer will of living (Rosa indirectly saved him), surrounded by his fellow mates who turned out to be dead.

Luke's “I will become the God of Death” line which took place in his Lost Gold route conveys a whole new meaning.

Imagine waking up and being the only survivor in a room full of deceased people who once were your teammates. Luke must have felt extreme guilt. He would definitely think he robbed them of their lives hence the God of Death title. It also does not help that he is often associated with Crows -a symbol of death in many cultures.

All this time, he regarded himself as such -a being who is undeserving of living, much less next to his crush. It is the reason why he took a while to appear in front of Rosa. His guilt and self-loathing are what disabled him from indulging in his time with her. If he could disappear, he would easily do it. And he did it once in his Shape of You card; when he prayed to the Land God to take him away from Rosa and to make him disappear from her life.

Luke reappeared again because he had unfinished matters to deal with, a.k.a the mystery behind the drug and his parents' background. He wants to use his remaining time to pursue the truth and look after Rosa before he is gone.

His conflict comes into play when he realizes that the drug effects are irreversible and that his impending death is coming nigh. He was at a loss when it came to Rosa.

Must he be selfish and choose to stay by her side until his time is up?

Or must he disappear from her sight so she doesn't get hurt?

Luke was torn between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do, and he came to these two paths without confronting Rosa about them. He was in a complete dilemma.

He shouldered all of this weight on his own for a long time. He eventually reappeared again in front of Rosa, much to his dismay. The moment he saw her, his resolve wavered. With each passing second, his longing to stay with her grew bigger.

His tendency to overthink and to be overly overprotective stems from the conflict with which he is struggling. He doesn't wish for anything bad to happen to Rosa. Because if that were the case, he would hate himself for it. Some people think that Luke is treating Rosa as an inferior, a weakling. Someone incapable of holding her grounds. But that is wrong.

These people fail to see the helplessness of this guy. He feels worthless, hopeless, pessimistic, and very undeserving of being near Rosa. But he also feels responsible for Rosa's protection despite only being granted a short amount of time.

Nothing about this screams inferiority/superiority complex. It's Luke's helplessness that's screaming and ripping him apart.

The fact that he won't be by her side in three years. The fact that he has to bid her farewell in three years. The fact that he has to entrust her to some other guy in three years. The fact that he is unable to support her in three years. Knowing all of this shatters his heart. It's gut-wrenching.

Imagine the pain he felt this whole time. Luke missed out on eight precious years that could have been spent with Rosa. And to make matters worse, he now has a ticking timer above his head reminding him of the fragility of his life and the cruelty of losing everything before his eyes. This whole issue not only has affected him but also Rosa. She is a direct factor in this.

All of Luke's cards; regardless of how the timeline works; are pretty much tied. Each card focuses on Luke's character as well as his relationship with Rosa.

In Timely Rescue, we get to witness the overbearing nature of Luke's overprotectiveness and how it started to get on Rosa's nerves.

In Among the Great Blue, Luke reminisced about his past with Rosa and her parents. He has been raised as if he were a member of the family. Luke felt both blessed and grateful in that regard. Because of that, he thinks that as long as he is a part of Rosa's life; he mustn't care about where he stands. Because of his condition, Luke accepted that crossing the boundaries with her is futile. He would rather keep their friendship until his days are up. What's poignant about this is that Luke made it clear that he gave up. He came to terms with his reality before long which is utterly sad and devastating.

On top of that, moon jellyfish only live up to three years which parallels his lifespan. The expression Luke had when he talked about them was so heart-wrenching.

"Life is short, and one should enjoy every second of it" hits right in the feels considering Luke's situation. The line is also a bit ironic because he did not abide by it as shown in his Iridescent Heartbeat card (Which I will talk about in a bit.)

What's also bitter about Among the Great Blue is that Luke is in so much pain; both physical and emotional. Yet, he tries to hide it all through lying. Luke is an expert at concealing his pain. He would go out of his way to bury everything that might expose his situation as shown in Moment of Danger and his personal story.

Luke is such an enigmatic person. There is still so much that we don't know about which serves as an interesting juxtaposition of being the character we're supposed to know best, but we also know so little about.

His Shape of You card revealed a little more about Luke's past and how much he struggled to stay with Rosa.

He got shunned by her relatives for always being around her. He is an orphan, and the only people he interacted with are Rosa and her parents, so it's only natural to be attached to them. They were his only family. But others didn't take that too well and started dissing him.

That pushed Luke to pray to the Land God. He prayed to disappear from the face of the earth and everyone's memories if it would make Rosa feel better. No child deserves to go through that.

Fortunately, Rosa reached out to him and rescued him from falling too deep into the pits of darkness.

That card not only touched on Luke's past but also showcased a new side of Rosa.

When Luke ran off somewhere to catch the thief, Rosa felt helpless and desperate to find him. She had the feeling that she might lose Luke once again. Never to be seen. Never to be found.

Rosa's position in this card is understandable because she went through this twice. She almost lost him the first time when they were kids. This accident made her dread going to any festivities.

And the second time is when Luke unofficially left her side and went to the Capital upon turning 16 years old. He didn't contact her as much for eight years. You can only imagine the melancholy that she felt. She even refused to visit Prague simply because it doesn't feel the same without Luke.

Shape of You managed to give yet another layer to Rosa. Rosa isn't just your typical, strong, and level-headed protagonist.

She went through a lot and has endured so much by herself without anyone's support. (personal story ch2)

However, Rosa is an emotional person who has doubts and fears. She has problems and conflicts. Rosa is almost always concerned for Luke.

The moment he is away, she would immediately start panicking.

Because if she were to let go of him this time, what would happen to him? What would happen to her?

She is just as dependent on him as much as he is on her. The feeling is mutual. Luke and Rosa cannot be away from one another because they have been inseparable for so long.

“Rather than wanting to be by her side forever, I hope to protect her forever. No matter if I am still here, no matter in what form.” No words can describe just how heart-breaking this line is.

Radiant Sunlight was about re-creating memories that both Rosa and Luke have missed. For example, the graduation day that Luke could not attend. The card proves that it is not too late to make new memories together. It offers a positive perspective in contrast to Luke's pessimistic one.

Inner Sanctum was a cute love story of an elderly couple. The card showcases how the couple never gave up on one another.

No matter how much time has passed and how much their health has declined, the couple will always treasure each other's presence. Their love for one another grew stronger despite the flow of time. Love is a boundless feeling as it transcends time.

Inner Sanctum conveys a positive message: Even if you've hit rock bottom and you feel like there's no way out, someone is waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. Luke has been in a hopeless situation for the longest time, but someone is out there for him. Someone is waiting for him with open arms to hold him. All he has to do is to reach out for the light.

The lyrics of the song that Luke hummed are heartfelt yet sad.

“When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up

In the morning when the day is new?”

Not only do they describe Luke's feelings, but they also hint at the shackles holding him back. But his response to the lyrics was very hopeful.

“I believe that there are no ifs between the two of us. I will make it all come true.”

Perfect Partner had Luke and Rosa work on a case that had a bittersweet conclusion. Timing often plays a role in relationship success. Something that could have easily been a miss had Luke and Rosa not met after eight years. The conflict of the case was due to miscommunication. Both parties could not clear the misunderstanding because they kept missing each other. I can't help but think that it could have been a possible outcome for Luke and Rosa had they not met in time.

In Iridescent Heartbeat, the relationship between them took a step forward, and it developed even further. Everything that happened in that card occurred for a reason.

Luke's pessimism and overprotectiveness took a turn for the worse, almost ruining the whole date. Rosa's patience ran super thin as there's a limit to everything. And clearly, Luke has crossed the line with how overprotective he has gotten.

Time is of the essence, yet Luke wastes it by brooding over the what-ifs:

"Should I take the safest shortcut so that Rosa doesn't get hurt?" "Sticking to this activity is better than doing bungee jumping cuz we might run into accidents."

Luke's thoughts have clouded his reasoning. He believes that counting every step he takes to ensure Rosa's safety is the right thing. But by doing so, their date has quickly turned into a sour one. Luke's behavior makes sense as mentioned before.

But this is where Rosa comes into play. She grew tired and sick of his tendency to overthink things since Timely Rescue. She is not going to stand by and watch the guy decays as he ponders over every single thing that concerns her. That is just a waste of precious time.

Luke's going the extra mile to guarantee her safety at the expense of his fun and her fun.

If Luke is not having fun, then what is the point of the date?

If he can't even do whatever he wants to do, then what is the point?

Life is too short to be wasted on trivial matters such as "possible accidents". Accidents are bound to happen.

Humans are prone to get injured, to trip over, to get hurt. We don't have plot armor, and we are definitely not bulletproof. If things happen, then let them happen. Let them become a part of their experience, part of their memories. So that someday, they can look back at that time and laugh at how silly they were. That is why I find his line in Among the Great Blue quite ironic. He is not sticking to it.

The whole interaction between them proves that Rosa is not afraid to step up and speak her mind. She refuses to stay idle when things are going wrong. She definitely doesn't stand looking at Luke not enjoying himself because his happiness is her happiness.

The story was beautifully connected to Timely Rescue and other cards. It displayed a realistic quarrel between two people who had clashing views.

Luke still hasn't decided to confide in her about his condition yet, and he is still very hesitant whether he should be with her or not.

Rosa was kept in the dark the entire time. Despite that, she could tell that something was off with him.

They resolved the issue through communication which is a primordial element in any couple's road to happiness. Without it, you and your significant other won't last at all.

Rosa is an honest person, and Luke's overprotective trait bothered her so much because he has crossed the line several times. Not only was he restricting Rosa's freedom but also his freedom.

The whole ordeal gave huge character development to Rosa. She looks out for Luke and is greatly concerned over him as well. Luke is not the only person who is busy thinking about her. Rosa also does think about him, and always has been.

The card portrayed a healthy relationship that runs into issues and solves them through communicating.

Luke listening to her and feeling extremely blessed to be by her side was the cherry on top. He understood her, apologized to her, and he promised he won't cross the line again. Her reassuring words held some weight because you only live once. Why would anyone waste their time instead of enjoying themselves?

To Luke, it hits him harder because it involves time which is something intangible and not everlasting. He absolutely shouldn't waste it, especially in his case. He should spend every single minute of his life doing the things he likes, hanging out with the people he loves, and making new and timeless memories with them.

Rosa ended up teaching him a lesson about life and how valuable it is. The way she snapped at him as she ran out of patience and as her frustrations grew all the more obvious has only rendered her as more than a third-dimensional character. Rosa is too real. Too realistic. She has the most natural and wholesome interactions with Luke, and that says a lot about their relationship.

Moreover, his Lost Gold route expanded his character even further. We get to witness his Raven side first-hand. A side that he is ashamed of showing.

But because of the whole ordeal in Timely Rescue, he decided not to cross the line. He made up his mind and showed her the side that he's been afraid to reveal all this time. A side that developed over those eight years. Rosa witnessed it, and her reaction to it was genuine as well as sweet. She immediately figured out how ashamed he was. And she also understood him and his predicament. Because of his job, he has to be harsh to his suspects. And as Rosa stated, she prefers Luke to be ruthless to protect himself rather than get hurt because of his kindness. Rosa has embraced all of Luke's sides and accepted him the way he is.

Granted, Luke said: "I will become the person that you like", but Rosa doesn't want that. Rosa wants Luke. The genuine person with all of his flaws and all of his strengths.

His response to what she said was so sweet. His embrace and his Thank You were so emotional and meaningful. Luke was afraid he might disappoint her with how much he changed. So, her reassuring words were such a relief to him. Nothing beats being wholeheartedly accepted by your significant other.

Rosa has always felt that the person in front of her is no longer familiar. She thought she always knew him. But the truth is she did not. Rosa has been feeling this way since day one of their reunion. And she openly expressed that in several cards like Alluring Gaze, Xmas Card, Among the Great Blue, to name a few.

Despite her lingering doubts, Rosa still accepts the person who is standing in front of her. Luke might have changed, but Rosa is willing to hold onto him and never let go. She is ready to embrace that unfamiliar figure of his because she loves him.

Her resolve to see past the distance that separated them had never faltered. That is because Luke means much more than that.

Xmas Card revealed that Luke has been hiding from Rosa for a while. It personally pains me to see him run away from her. This card adds more to how much he struggled with himself. Luke wanted to meet Rosa as soon as he came back. He wanted to share all the experiences and the stories that he had in the past eight years. He wanted to confide in her about everything. But, Luke was unable to do so. On top of his illness, he is ashamed to talk about his work as an agent. God only knows what kind of misdeeds he did. It saddens me to know that Luke has been through so much for the past eight years, unbeknownst to Rosa. He has been in many perilous situations. He got so wounded that he does not need an anesthetic to treat himself. Luke grew numb to the pain which is messed up. He got tormented for the longest time. (personal story ch3 and 4)

Luke has been exposed to danger at a young age which explains why he hates seeing Rosa go through the same path.

That also explains why he was so against the idea of her joining the NXX team in the main story.

In RRG, Luke and Rosa's relationship took a shift and started to progress. Rosa felt bummed out because she thought she knew Luke best but realized that those eight years made him seem foreign to her. Her desire to know all of him and get close to him has been made clear in that card. Rosa seriously started looking at Luke. Her feelings slowly and steadily started surfacing and taking shape.

The whole card was incredible. From us finding out more about Raven to them acting like parents (to Xia Xia) to Rosa getting all emotional over Xia Xia's departure. Rosa's nightmare also proves that she refuses to be apart from Luke and that she is determined to hold onto him because he might slip from her at any moment. A sentiment that she has expressed since Shape of You. Rosa also figured that Luke has been hiding from her for so long, fearing he might bring her trouble. She got upset because she always wanted to be by his side no matter what.

Despite the dangers that Luke may face because of his work, Rosa wants to support him however she can. She is worried about him, and she hates that his life is always at stake, but she has decided not to get in the way of his dreams. Instead, she would bear the brunt with him. They will both go through ups and downs together, hand in hand.

The promise that they made is very precious because it shows just how much they care for each other.

"I promise I will do my best to not compromise myself.

In every minute and every second, I will choose the way that makes me happiest to live.

In every minute and every second, I will remind myself to avidly pursue everything I yearn for.

I definitely will not make this person in front of me, who supports me, feel unhappy or not blessed."

This promise is important because Luke always puts others above himself, and Rosa had enough of that. She wants him to be happy and to think of himself before others.

I would like to take a moment to talk about Luke's design. He is often seen with many gadgets. One of them is a camera.

His camera helps in capturing the moments, turning them into memories that transcend time itself. Luke is still coping with how short his lifespan is. Hence he wishes to savor the beauty of this world by saving every moment in his camera. Because surely, those moments will outlive him, never to be forgotten.

I like how Luke is the owner of an antique shop. An antique shop consists of items that are desirable because of their age, beauty, rarity, and personal emotional connection. These items represent a previous era or period in human history.

Luke as an antique shopkeeper is just so fitting because it feels like he is gathering all sorts of stories and memories connected with each object in his tiny little space to preserve them. After all, they will persevere against the flow of time. An ability that Luke would have liked to possess to put an end to his misery.

Luke seems to be associated with crows which are a symbol of death. But that symbol represents more than that.

Rosa often thinks of Luke as a free-spirited person, unshackled by any constraints. She firmly believes that he deserves to be free like the birds.

"I hoped that I could also protect Luke, this eagle flying high with his wings spread, and his smile that was as warm as sunshine."

Her impression of Luke has always been that of an eagle spreading his wings in the sky. He represents freedom to her. Seeing Luke restrained by his shackles hurts Rosa to no end. Luke should not be in a cage. Luke should be flying high in the sky. That is where he belongs.

Rosa wants to protect that within her power because he deserves to be happy.

Not only has it been mentioned in the Electrifying Night card but also SoTT.

In SoTT, Luke worships the birds because they soar high in the blue sky. They are the symbol of freedom. But in this story, the roles are reversed. Rosa is trapped in a cage (society conventions) while Luke reaches out to release her. Luke is willing to give up on his freedom so that Rosa can live the way she always wanted to.

“I pray that you will continue to live bravely onwards, as you had described.”

Luke would do anything to see Rosa be happy, even at the cost of his freedom. That is the weight of his sacrifice.

On an unrelated note, Luke's design in SoTT is very self-contradictory and interesting:

His mask is that of Anubis; the God of Death, whereas his necklace is that of Ankh; the symbol of eternal life.

Going by that analogy, the necklace that was given to him by Rosa represents life. Despite being on the verge of death, Luke managed to live thanks to her.

Honorary Mention:

Looming Nightmare is such a lamentable story. But looking past that, there's a lot of foreshadowing regarding Luke and Rosa's relationship.

The ruby and the sword made a cameo in this card.

Ruby symbolizes romantic love. It brings happiness and passion. It is said to inspire devotion and faithfulness within a romantic relationship.

This symbolism depicts Luke's overflowing feelings towards Rosa.

Because the ruby's hue is close to the color of blood, which carries oxygen to all parts of the body, the gemstone also represents vitality and vigor.

As for the sword, it symbolizes power, protection, authority, strength, and courage; metaphysically, it represents discrimination and the penetrating power of the intellect.

It is a symbol of knighthood and chivalry which is very fitting for Luke.

“Passion is the sword of love that pierces through the wall of fears that hold us back.” Lewis Howes

Based on the game's poster art, Luke might also become Rosa's weapon when her ideals will be put to the test.

This card proves yet again just how much both of them are willing to sacrifice for one another.

Granted, it is romantic but it is just as foreboding. Because of his desire to meet Rosa and be with her, Luke was easily deceived by the witch. In this case, not only did Love blind him but also drove him to his death (and ultimately Rosa's death). A tragic ending.

On a side note, we get to see a very wholesome moment between them at the end of the card.

They always find comfort in each other's company and it's simply heart-warming.

I just love how close and intimate they are even before they started dating.

Their relationship is dynamic since both parties are willing to sacrifice so much to ensure the other is happy. Their love for each other is very pure, selfless, and unconditional. Not only that, but they are also characters with so much depth to analyze. Rosa and Luke are such layered individuals, and it is such a treat. There's more to these characters than what meets the eye (especially Luke)

Luke's personal story focused on the entire three-year issue. Episodes 1 and 2 were angsty enough. But Rosa has sprinkled some of her optimism which also plays as foreshadowing to the anniversary card.

The story behind the escape room puzzle is a straight nod to Luke's whole conflict.

Sphinx/Aaron purposefully planned this so that Luke would have enough balls to confess everything that he has covered from her.

Rosa's answer regarding the escape room's story is an indirect answer to Luke's confession. She insisted that even though your lover might someday disappear, the time spent with them is far more valuable than being apart from them.

Their entire existence brings them joy. So why would anyone be away from their source of happiness?

Luke took it personally because he resonated with the whole story.

At that point, Rosa does not know a thing about his illness, yet her answer hits Luke's very core and being.

The anniversary card was the culmination of several events throughout their story.

Luke's confession happened because reality has slapped him right in the face. He always thought of his short lifespan, but he never considered the possibility of losing Rosa before his eyes.

Rosa is selfless, almost to a fault. Episodes 3 and 4 displayed how she would readily put others above herself. She would easily risk her life for someone else. The incident that almost scarred her gave Luke the last push to finally come clean and confess everything.

For the first time, he revealed everything that he buried for years. Rosa's reply was just as emotional and just as groundbreaking. Everything; from their confrontation to them breaking down into tears to the starry sky in the background turning their childhood place (their old house) all the more intimate to their longing and desire burning in their eyes to them not even needing to utter another word because they yearn to fill each other with warmth; was perfection. The build-up was impeccable. I was a sobbing mess by the end of it.

The music box (Luke's gift) that emanates a rainbow is a throwback to the double rainbows that they saw in Iridescent Heartbeat.

Legend has it that if you keep following a rainbow, you will find a buried treasure underneath it. And as corny as his line may sound, Luke indeed found his treasure (Rosa) a long time ago. It's a whole circle back to the key in his necklace. A gift that was given by Rosa when they were kids.

The music that Luke has picked had so much significance. And the decision behind it was both melancholic and symbolic. His explanation is enough to let us know that Luke went through hell and back for Rosa. Luke was in emotional turmoil the entire time, suffering by himself. But not anymore. Because Rosa's answer gave him hope. It gave him a reason to keep pushing forward.

When Luke talks about the future, he either uses ambiguous terms like always and forever or becomes pessimistic, knowing he only has three years left.

But it all changed when they started dating. Luke wants to make up for the eight years that he and Rosa have missed out. It neither sounds like an intangible dream nor a regretful mourn. Luke now has more belief in the future and is slowly overcoming his insecurities as they fall in love.

His concept of forever is no longer limited to the three years written in health reports. That concept became the longest time he spends with Rosa. And it's just overflowing with hope compared to how incurable he thought he was.

"So, I’ve decided. If the road ahead is fated to be covered in thorns, then I will grow with you by your side, no matter what comes at us, traversing this bumpy road fearlessly."

Luke's arc is a whole self-love journey. It is about finding yourself amidst all the darkness and hopelessness. It is about being hopeful in the face of despair. It is about living tomorrow to the fullest as if your life depended on it. It is about appreciating and treasuring those who have always supported you. Be it family, friends, or your significant other. It is about cherishing the time you spend with your loved ones. It is about being selfless and chasing after your happiness no matter what the hurdle is.

Luke's arc is a journey that taught him and Rosa many life lessons. They both grew together, went through many hardships, and are maturing together. They are learning to compromise and to adjust to one another. And that makes their bond even more beloved.

Luke no longer needs to shoulder all of the burdens by himself because now he has someone else's shoulder to lean on. Rosa has Luke's shoulder to lean on as well.

It's a journey of self-growth and self-love for both of them.

Rosa and Luke are more than just childhood friends. They are more than just a couple. They are soulmates.

Two individuals who got each other's backs no matter what life throws at them. Their bond is so precious, so dear.

What Luke and Rosa have is special. And watching them grow together is such a sight.

People believe that they are canon. But even if they are not, I am convinced that they will always find each other because they are soulmates.

Credits: @tiramisiyu for the amazing translations!

#tears of themis #luke pearce #xia yan #rosa qiangwei #marius von hagen #vyn richter #artem wing #lu jinghe #otome game #otp #i love this ship so much #ramblings #mihoyo #spoilers

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kyleoreillysknee · 3 years

Text

The 3rd Option: Part 1

GIF Credit: kingkinnaman

Pairing: Rick Flag X Original Female Character (Chiyo)

AU: Everybody Lives (eventually)

Word Count: 753

Rating: PG/T - for suggestive themes and imagery

Tagging: @vonschweetz

A/N: I saw the movie yesterday and Von keeps indulging me. And yes this was the only way I could think of introducing the story.

Series: Part 2 & Part 3 & Part 4

Sitting beside Nanaue in the yard was the only time Chiyo ever felt a sense of peace in the penitentiary. His blood was different, flowing in a rhythmic pattern that was easy to predict. His heart was large and so it's pumps were louder and able to drown out everything else. She had no idea what he got out of the arrangement, she wasn't even sure he was aware of the habit. And it left the two monsters out of everyone else's way.

A shadow fell over her face, darkening the hazy orange landscape of her eyelids, causing them to crack open. Harley was grinning at her like a cat with a canary and it made her frown.

"Don't be such a sour puss before I even say anything'!" Harley pouted, already clasping her hands around Chiyo's wrist and tugging upwards, "we need a tie breaker."

Now standing, Chiyo let herself be dragged away but not before turning back to wave at Nanaue, who was occupied with watching the clouds and didn't notice. As they approached a table, she couldn't help but sigh as Boomerang and Blackguard kept raising their voices over each other.

She didn’t focus on what they were saying, the world being consumed by the furious heartbeats and rushing of blood. The sensation of ventricles flaring and the sheer mass of arteries nearby was singing, near screaming, to the dark parts of her mind that salivated at the urge to let it all go. Flashes of being consumed by the eruption of scalding crimson waves pushed her miles away for seconds at a time. It would feel delicious. Toeing the precipice of it all being too much, she felt warm hands approach over her shoulders and cover her ears.

Chiyo’s eyes reflexively shut, which made her notice the wetness running down her cheeks. Never tears, but blood dripped down her chin, a warning to everyone around that her powers were hungry. As she focused on the steady pulse encompassing her, her hand moved to tap at the impromptu earmuffs. Rick stepped away from her, passing a disappointed glare across the entire table.

Before the tension of kids getting caught in the cookie jar overflowed, Chiyo wiped at her cheeks and looked at Harley with a tired gaze, “tie breaker for what?”

The shadow of guilt evaporated from her face and Harley was back to her usual self, bouncing over to latch onto Chiyo’s arm and leaning in conspiratorially, “who has the bigger dick? Boomie or Blackguard?”

Chiyo simply stared between Harley and the rest of the table all staring back at her expectantly. Harkness had the gall to wink. From beside her, Rick let out a single syllable of a question before sighing and dragging a hand over his face. Unfortunately, that landed him with Harley’s attention, whose grin grew wider with an idea.

“Or! Mista America’s Finest?” Harley watched as both Chiyo and Rick flushed at the realization, with Chiyo quicker to recover and sport her usual scowl.

“If I do this, you’re leaving me alone for the rest of the week.” Chiyo held out her hand with her pinkie finger up and sighed as Harley giggled while hooking their fingers in promise.

Approaching Boomerang and Blackguard, blood ran down her cheeks once again as the world became red. Touching the two men’s necks, she suppressed a shudder at the temptation of controlling them. Harkness let out a goofy chuckle once it became clear how she was able to evaluate them while Herntz swore and squirmed in his seat.

She removed her hands and cleaned her face before looking at Harley and deliberately avoiding eye contact with Rick, “Boomer.”

The winner let out a cheer as Chiyo tried to disengage with the group only to be snared by Harley, “You only did 2 of the 3 options.”

“I answered the original question.” She shouldered past everyone in a huff, returning to Nanaue’s side.

From across the yard, she watched Rick scold Harley, who never learned her lesson. As their eyes met, Chiyo ducked her head, suddenly intensely interested in the line of ants nearby. She only looked up once she heard the door to the yard slam shut and watched Waller approach Rick from the door’s window. From the squaring of his shoulders, she could tell it was a new assignment.

“Bored.” Nanaue grumbled around one of his fin-finger-things digging around his teeth.

“Not for long.” Chiyo replied, standing up as the guards began ushering them back to their cells.

#My writing #Rick Flag #rick flag x oc #rick flag x reader #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag imagine #rick flag fic #the suicide squad fanfiction #the suicide squad fic

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doctorgerth · 3 years

Note

Hi. First of all, congratz for the event yaay, you're a great writer! And, if it was not taken yet, I'd like to request something for the NSFW list, prompt 13 (Polyamory) with the top 3 being: Kid, Killer and Law. Gender can be what you're most comfortable with. Thank you very much <3

a/n: I- I have no excuse for this. I lost all self control for this one, I’m so sorry 🙈 I hope this doesn’t come off as hella self indulgent lmao thank you for all your sweet words, anon! hope you enjoy <3

prompt: BOX B - ⒀ Polyamory

pairing: Kid x F!Reader x Killer

word count: ~670

You supposed it was inevitable to catch feelings for Killer when a spontaneous threesome, at the time a humorous suggestion made by your boyfriend, quickly developed into a recurring activity.

He was the opposite of Kid in notable ways when it came to sex. Kid was unrestrained, a wild storm of brutal thrusts and aggressive affections as he fucked you senseless until making an utter mess of you. Killer was more relaxed, quietly taking his time with you as he grew accustomed to your body and pleasures. By no means gentle as it was rather impossible for a man of his heavy build to be, but still, the feeling of his calloused hands caressing your skin, thick fingers squeezing lightly around your neck was strikingly soft when compared to Kid’s bruising grip.

Yet, the more the three of you found yourselves entangled late in the night, the quicker you realized the two best friends were subtly teaching one another how to fuck you best; trading expertise until you were unsure of what either of them were truly better at. You almost felt guilty for somehow earning the best of both worlds, but when Kid and Killer discovered their insatiable desire to conquer you together, it was pointless to think about anything else except succumbing to the immense pleasures they so easily brought you as a pair.

“Such a good girl.” Killer’s fingers tangled in your hair, new-found confidence laced in his low tone, “You like having two cocks in you, huh? Pretty little slut.”

You whimpered around his length as he forced himself deeper inside your aching mouth. Slow and careful in typical Killer fashion, but you still ended up gagging from the sheer girth that your constricting throat struggled to accommodate. There was a sadistic grin on his smeared lips as he hummed with satisfaction at your choking, hardly releasing you to catch your breath before he was shoving himself back down with a strong hand on the back of your head.

“Fuck,” Kid groaned from behind you as he struggled to push back in, “She’s squeezing me so fucking tight.” He rolled his hips slowly into you, matching Killer’s controlled bobbing of your head, and kneaded into the flesh of your ass as he encouraged you with uncharacteristic saccharine to, “Ease up, baby, let me in. Wanna fill up your sweet cunt.”

Another of your moans around Killer’s throbbing dick had his head falling back against the headboard as he stifled his own moan with a sharp exhale through gritted teeth. Even through your teary vision, he looked so unfairly pretty. The veins in his neck protruded as he panted for air, sweat cascading down his tanned skin as his hips snapped rhythmically into your mouth for friction. You felt your heart flip in your chest when his head lowered, soft blue eyes studying you with unwavering adoration as his thumb wiped tenderly at stray tears as if he wasn’t hindering your breathing with his thick cock lodged in your throat.

Kid bent down to trail kisses along the length of your spine, breathing filthy praises against your damp skin as his fingers dug crescent-shaped marks into your right hip while he continued rutting unfathomably deep inside your fluttering cunt, “We making you feel good, doll? You ready to cum for us?”

You pulled off of Killer’s cock with a slick pop as you gasped for air, sputtering out a hysteric, “Yes, yes, please! I love you!”

Your eyes were screwed shut as you resumed sucking off Killer and met Kid’s thrusts enthusiastically, the bubbling white hot heat quickly enveloping you. Meanwhile, Kid and Killer exchanged a brief, stunned look as your three words hung thick in the air while they chased their highs with you; their heads swimming as they realized your three little words weren’t meant for just one, and they were surprisingly accepting of it.

This was beyond subduing primal urges after all. This was love in its rawest form.

tag list: @kaizokuwritings @mariegeoise @lofi-coffee @pinkhatlizzy @ro6inante @some-piece @ochizokulevy @fueledbyapplepi @kaizoku-pirateking @pirate-shrimpi @luxiditea

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#doctorgerth #doc writes #2000 follower event #2 year anniversary #milestone celebration #prompt event #box b #ficlet #ns.fw #one piece x reader #kid x reader #killer x reader #kid x reader x killer #f!reader #anon

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 10-12

Masterlist

Time for a Freaky Friday situation, an Isekai situation, and a fun family trip! And what’s a fun family trip without helping your uncle who is trapped in an attic and trying to raise a cat with your half-brother/uncle/whatever whose in your father’s body? Dear Grandfather God… get MC some help-

Let’s pick up where we left off last time with MC and Belphie >:)

“No need to be nervous, I won’t bite.” Belphie tapped his knuckles against the door he was leaning on to emphasize his point. “And I can’t on account of the magic door.”

“Why…” MC began before straightening their posture and clearing their throat. “What are you doing up here? I was told you were in the human world.”

“As you can see,” Belphie sighed. “I’m not. I’ve been stuck in the attic since before you got here.”

“But why?”

“Lucifer.”

MC narrowed their eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He locked me up here, rude, right?” Belphie’s carefree tone heavily contrasted how tense his shoulders were as he leaned oh-too casually on the doorframe. “To cut right to the chase, I need your help.”

“My… help..?”

“Yep. I need you to get me out of here.” Upon seeing MC’s scandalized expression, he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Calm down, I’ll explain.”

Belphie began his explanation. “So, Lucifer and I got into a little brotherly spat that got blown out of proportion, it was really all a misunderstanding. I want to be able to have a civil conversation with Lucifer that isn’t marred by my… prison.”

“Mammon told me that you opposed the exchange program, and that’s why you got sent to the human world.” MC said quietly. Ugh, they almost cursed themselves out then and there for all the muttering they were doing. They weren’t some guilty child!

Belphie had a look on his face that MC had seen on the five other brothers. The look that always preceded one of the brothers calling Mammon a scumbag, a moron, an idiot, or something equally nasty. The look quickly disappeared as Belphie gave MC a halfhearted shrug.

“I was, yes. But I couldn’t care less about that now.” Belphie waved his hand in the air like he was waving off the whole issue. “It was my bad, really. I was being unreasonable, and I got pissed.”

“What exactly do you need me to do to get you out of there?” MC asked, clenching and unclenching their fist to get the tension out.

“I need you to undo the spell holding the door shut. If you were anyone else, I’d be asking you to make pacts with my brothers in order to override Lucifer’s spell and open the door,” Belphie’s eyes flashed again. “But you… you can just use some of your magic, can’t you? I assume Lucifer passed some of his power down to you?”

MC stiffened and took a step back from the door. “How did you-”

“MC, I’ve lived with Lucifer for over five thousand years, I know his magical signature as well as I know my own, and yours is too damn close to his to be a wild coincidence. And,” Belphie gestured at MC. “You look and act like a mini him. It’s cute, honestly.”

MC frowned, cute?! MC wasn’t cute! But that was a… decent explanation..?

“So,” Belphie took a step back from the door. “Put your hand on the door, and try to open it. You might feel some magical resistance but if your magic is similar enough to Lucifer’s you might be able to open it without any difficulty at all.”

MC reached out, then hesitated. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

“MC, you’re my brother’s kid. I don’t want this dumb fight between me and Lucifer to break my family apart. Besides, it’ll be nice to have you as a part of the family too. I don’t want to sully that by being stuck up here.”

Part of the family? MC’s eyes practically sparkled. A real part of their new family… they looked up at Belphegor and nodded.

“Okay, here I go…” MC tentatively placed their hand on the door.

It began to burn at an intensity that nearly made MC scream and collapse on the spot. Their hand was glued to the door as the door’s spell seemed to crawl its way up their arm. MC countered with the biggest burst of their own magic they could possibly muster.

The blast of bright blue that slammed into the door made it creak back and forth slightly, but the spell held its ground.

MC snatched their hand back and stared expectantly at the door. They swayed on their feet slightly as they looked up at Belphegor, who tapped the door. When blue sparks met his hand, he frowned.

“It didn’t… it didn’t work… I’m…” MC paused before they apologized, they didn’t have to. They tried their best, didn’t they? They just needed to get a better hold of their magic. “I’ll get stronger, I’ll get better at magic and then I’ll come back and open the door.”

Belphie sighed in relief and smiled at MC. “Thank you, MC. You’re really helping me out here, you’re sweet.” Belphie then crouched ever so slightly to get to MC’s level, and smirked conspiratorially. “You know, all powerful demons need snacks to recharge their magic, right? Mammon has a massive stash of candy that he thinks is secret hidden in one of the potted plants in the planetarium. You didn’t hear this from me though.”

They gave Belphegor a small smile. “I’ll get you out soon, okay?”

“I trust that you will.”

———

Disgusting.

That was the one thought that permeated through Belphegor’s mind when he first saw MC.

The thought remained throughout the entire first encounter, and the feeling of roiling nausea only grew when MC’s attempt to break Lucifer’s spell failed spectacularly. Belphie tried as best as he could to follow MC’s retreating form down the attic hallway, but his vision was limited.

A half demon. Truly Lucifer had fallen from whatever grace he still had left from a time where his youngest brother actually respected him.

A half human child. Did Lucifer truly have no self respect? A proud high ranking demon, the second strongest in the entire Devildom, in fact, had a half human child.

How monumentally stupid.

Belphegor was no stranger to half-demons, he had been alive far too long to have never come across one. A few hundred years ago they were much more common, running around the human world wreaking havoc and scurrying around the Devildom like scared mice. The duality always made Belphie smile. They may have been beings of pure terror in the human world, but their demon half could never compare to real demons in the Devildom.

Asmodeus held the unofficial record for most half demon children, obviously. As much as Belphegor absolutely detested humans, he couldn’t exactly fault his older brother. Asmo was the Avatar of Lust after all, and the Avatar of Sloth of all people couldn’t judge him for indulging in his sin every once and a while.

Hell, even Satan and Mammon occasionally had children pop up in the human world. The difference, the thing that made all the difference was that they never brought their… spawn home. They never brought their half-human little monsters into his home.

What gave Lucifer the right to do so? The right to bring that into Belphegor’s home? One of the beings responsible for the death of their sister. His sister. Did he not care about that at all?!

Belphegor collapsed onto the bed in the attic, ruffling his hair and shutting his eyes.

The brat couldn’t even break the door.

The thought almost caused Belphegor to laugh. The little brat couldn’t even break the door.

He cracked up, muffling his laughter with his hand. The child was Lucifer’s and they couldn’t even fully break the door. My my, how the mighty have fallen. It had taken over three months for Belphegor to even get close to being able to get into that little brat’s head to call them up to him, and they couldn’t even break the door?

Belphie’s borderline hysterical laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation stopped abruptly as he looked around the room. Something-

Someone was glaring at him.

His eyes instinctively darted to the door, the most logical conclusion was that the brat had snitched and Lucifer was at the door. But the hallway was empty. The feeling of being watched made him shudder, then stiffen. He tilted his head and sat in silence. No sound, just the familiar smell of…

The Celestial Realm.

Belphie dragged a hand down his face and growled, lying back down and clamping his eyes shut. He needed to sleep.

So, that was the first problem MC had to face that month, the second was the fact that Satan snuck a cat into the house and he and MC were co-parenting it in secret. The third problem was Satan was still acting like a massive dickwad. All this fighting wasn’t good for baby Detective Toe Beans!

After receiving the “Lucifer got so mad he gave birth” talk from the other brothers, MC could have had their own rage-baby then and there.

I have never regretted typing a sentence more, but anyway, MC was on a warpath to find Satan.

‘Calm down,’ MC thought to themselves as they walked down the hallway of the HOL. ‘Don’t overreact, maybe this is all some big misunderstanding.’

The demon they were hoping to find was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. Satan gave MC a half nod and barely acknowledged them.

“Hi Satan!” MC chirped, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

After being so coldly snubbed, MC stood in the hallway completely motionless, until of course the little voice crawled its way up their spine and nestled in the base of their skull.

‘Who does he think he is?’

MC squared their shoulders and started after Satan, resolute in their totally non-suicidal goal of chastising him for his behaviour.

“Satan!” MC threw his door open and crossed their arms, the room was a complete mess of books and loose papers as usual, the Avatar of Wrath himself was sitting on his bed with his nose in a book. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” Satan drawled, not looking up from his book. That stupid encyclopedia must’ve been the most interesting thing in the god damn universe for Satan not to look up and see MC seething with a kind of pure rage only preteens we’re capable of. “Walking into people’s rooms without knocking is rude, you know. Let’s talk about that.”

“Honestly can you not be a smartass for a few seconds and just fucking look at me?!”

The sudden cursing got Satan to raise an eyebrow and look up. “What do you want, MC?”

“I want to know what the hell your problem with me is.” MC said, attempting to keep their voice as level and calm as possible. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you since I got here, and you’ve been nothing but a massive jerk!”

“Did you ever stop to think that I just don’t like you?”

“For what reason? What did I do?!”

“You look exactly like him!” Satan finally snapped. “Another Lucifer prancing around the house like they run the place!”

“So to you I’m just another Lucifer..?” MC asked, then let out a humourless laugh. “Are you… are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re pegging me as another Lucifer? You?”

Satan bristled, his eyes began to flash green, MC’s own eyes had begun to show a slight blue tint. “What are you implying?”

“I’m ‘implying’ that you, Satan, the one who was born of Lucifer’s wrath, calling me a copy of Lucifer is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.” MC snarled, almost every fibre of their mind was screaming to transform and teach Satan a lesson, but they held back. “You hate Lucifer, anyone with two brain cells can see that, but you don’t see how stupid you’re being?!”

In an instant Satan yanked MC up by the front of their shirt and let out a low growl. “Do you want to repeat that, half-breed?”

“You’re being an idiot.” MC’s bratty, teasing tone couldn’t fully hide the boiling anger that was just beneath the surface. “You think you have the right to demand that people see you as different from Lucifer, yet you don’t grant me the same courtesy.”

With that, Satan’s demon form was out and less than a second later so was MC’s. The half-demon’s foot shot out and hit Satan right in the knee, the Avatar of Wrath staggered backwards slightly which allowed MC to back away until they felt their back hit a pile of books.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, daring the other to make a move, when the door to Satan’s room slammed open. There stood enemy number one, Lucifer.

“What the hell are both of you doing?” Lucifer hissed, his eyes flicking between Satan and MC.

“STAY OUT OF THIS!”

With Satan and MC’s combined shout, books began to shoot off the shelves and off the tops of piles. The books whizzed around the room, crashing into things and making the room even more of a mess.

“Both of you calm down!” Lucifer growled, both Satan and MC turned to shout at him again.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

Quick as lightning, a book shot towards MC, time seemed to slow as the spine of the book brushed past their nose as they stumbled out of its way. MC was out of the book’s path, but now it was speeding directly towards Lucifer.

Satan, most likely desiring to protect his book from Lucifer-germs, dove forward to grab the book while Lucifer prepared to catch it with an outstretched hand. The moment the two touched the book a blinding flash of light engulfed the entire room, leaving everything completely still.

Huh, well that happened. Argument paused, gather everyone.

Satan and Lucifer switched bodies… coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool-

Wait why are they staying in MC’s room?!

Lucifer (in Satan’s body) pulled the “you live under my roof you follow my rules” card, and MC got to work ordering a tent on Akuzon. Their tent, their rules.

“Satan! We have a bit of a problem with you agreeing to stay in my room with Lucifer!” “And what’s that problem, MC?” “Uh, I don’t know, THE DETECTIVE.”

Satan completely forgot that they were hiding a cat from Lucifer. Whoops!

When Lucifer stomped out of MC’s room later that day holding the cat the two knew they were screwed.

MC and Satan had to compromise their dignity and beg Lucifer to not take away their poor kitty. Lucifer just grumbled that he’d deal with this when he got back into his own body.

Body switching shenanigans were abound, Mammon and Satan were working together to make Lucifer look as ridiculous as possible without breaking any of the ground rules everyone laid out.

This all culminated in getting Mammon hung from the ceiling.

That night, MC tried to ignore Satan and Lucifer’s sleep talking, but it was a fruitless endeavour.

The only good part of that arrangement was the fact that Bean refused to snuggle up to Satan while he was in Lucifer’s body, and Lucifer didn’t want the cat near him while in Satan’s body, so MC got all the snuggle time with their favourite kitty.

While Bean’s intense purring was adorable, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Lucifer and Satan’s rampant sleep talking.

“Fuck you Lucifer…” Satan in Lucifer’s body mumbled. “Gonna fuckin rip your head off…”

“Diavolo you can’t just get me another dog…” Lucifer in Satan’s body grumbled before letting out a snore.

MC rolled their eyes and looked at their cat. “Can you believe this shit, Bean?” They whispered.

Bean responded by pawing at MC’s face. What a big baby with such cute widdle eyes omigoodness what a baby baby-

Having enough of that tomfoolery, MC gently placed Bean down on their bed, and tiptoed out. They ended up doubling back to their room and grabbing one of their books.

Sneaking up to the attic a second time was much easier than the first attempt. It had been a week since their first encounter with Belphie and MC thought that he might want an update.

“So yeah… that’s what’s happening right now.”

Belphie appeared to be suppressing a laugh as he nodded and cleared his throat. “Mm… that’s… very unfortunate.”

“It’s not that funny.”

MC and Belphie stared at each other for a few seconds, before both of them broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Okay,” MC relented. “It’s kind of funny…”

“So, any updates on the plan?” Belphie asked, MC responded with a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, almost everyone has welcomed me in with pretty open arms, so I don’t think they’d question it if I asked them to come up here and get you out.”

“Almost everyone?” Belphie tilted his head as he leaned on the wall next to the door.

“Yeah… um…” MC quickly looked away and pursed their lips. “Satan… you know?”

“Ah,” Belphie’s usual lazy smile reappeared. “Satan’s going to be a tough one to win over. You know why, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucifer told you?”

“No actually,” MC mumbled. “Mammon, Beel, Levi, and Asmo did.”

Belphie’s eyes flashed for a brief moment, like MC had just offered him a present, but it was so quick MC barely took notice.

“I’m guessing he must be keeping a lot of stuff from you, huh?”

MC crossed their arms and shrugged. “Kinda… I guess. He kept you being in the attic a secret, he’s keeping the reason the Grimoire is in the Underground Tomb a secret…” MC frowned as all the strange little secrets began to come to light. Their father’s practically fanatical loyalty to Diavolo, the reason for the Celestial War, the reason no one talked about Lilith…

“Hm,” Belphie sighed. “It sucks that Lucifer doesn’t really tell you anything.”

“Mhm…” MC looked down at their feet, until they remembered the other reason they went up to visit the attic. “Oh! I brought you something!”

They held out the book to Belphie, carefully sliding it between the gaps in the door. “It’s a manga Levi recommended to me, I read it and it’s awesome! I thought you might be bored up here, so I brought it up for you to read.”

When Belphie took the book he stared at it like it was a completely foreign object, then his features melted into a smile. “Thank you, MC.”

“Right!” MC smiled proudly. “I’ll work on my magic, and on my relationship with Satan, then I’ll bust you out of here!”

Belphie chuckled and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck, kiddo. I believe in you.”

The seeds of discord were planted and the local attic cowboy was being one hell of a gardener. I need to stop typing take my phone away from me.

When MC left the attic, the first thing they heard was Mammon crying in the stairwell. It seemed that even the HOL’s ghosts were annoyed with all his whining.

“MC… help meeeeee…” “You’re hanging there for a reason, Mammon. I’m not going to disturb your punishment.” “MCCCCCCCCC!”

Don’t worry, MC did some sick maneuvers and cut Mammon down! Hooray!

“You now owe me a life debt.” “Wait what-” “We’re fixing my and Lucifer’s relationship with Satan.” “…kid if you smoked the weed in my room just tell me, I won’t be mad.”

No dear uncle Mammon, MC was not high on the devil’s lettuce, they were high on the power of family!

Time to fire up Doji Magi!

Obviously MC wasn’t the protagonist, everyone was trying to woo this random generic anime character (tm)

It wasn’t going good for anyone other than Levi. MC wasn’t even allowed to properly participate because Lucifer didn’t approve of his child getting involved in this degenerate anime stuff.

Too late Luci-goosey, your kid was a weeb long before they came to the Devildom

Of course, come graduation day, things got much more fun.

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” MC screamed with delight as they swung a folding chair at an oncoming monster.

Mammon was having decidedly less fun as he dealt with his share of the monsters that had suddenly spawned into the game. “MC what the hell are ya talkin’ about?! This is crazy!”

“Can both of you shut up?” Lucifer said as he calmly snapped a monster’s neck. “Get to the roof, all of you.”

“This was very well foreshadowed I’m very impressed.” Satan said, Levi nodded enthusiastically.

“I know! All those hidden lore bits were so fun to find.”

“Wait, lore?” Mammon asked, he turned to MC. “What’d we miss while we were in fake detention?”

As the group continued to make their way up the steps to the roof, downing monsters left and right, MC turned to Satan and laughed. “You’re absolutely drenched right now.”

Satan smirked and flicked some of the monster goop onto MC. “You don’t look any better.”

“Ew!” MC stuck out their tongue and leaned to the left, looking behind Satan. “There’s a monster behind you by the way.”

“Ah,” Satan turned and punched the monster so hard in the forehead that its skull caved in. “Thank you, MC.”

The rooftop was filled with significantly less monsters than the rest of the school, and it uh… oh… hm… gamer instincts were tingling.

“Hey, this is a lot of negative space…” Levi picked a medpack up off the floor. “And an odd collection of healing items…”

“Where’d all the enemies go..?” Mammon asked tentatively.

“Better question,” MC piped up. “Where’s the music?”

Right after those words left MC’s lips, the door to the rooftop burst open, revealing a very familiar three headed doggo that MC and Lucifer so adored. It was Cerberus! Who looked positively murderous!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Mammon shrieked and hid behind Levi.

“Oh… that’s what all the dog imagery meant.” Satan said. “I thought it was odd that all the books in this school’s library had something to do with dogs.”

“Yeah! Aw, it all makes sense now!” Levi exclaimed.

“Cerberus,” Lucifer stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Sit.”

Cerberus, did not in fact, sit. He instead growled like a monster truck, and the acidic looking drool that was falling from his gaping jaws was an indicator that the giant pupper was quite hungry.

“Uh… bad dog?” MC offered. With that, Cerberus charged forward.

Mammon, Levi, and MC dodged to the left while Lucifer and Satan dove to the right.

“Shit! How are we supposed to fight Cerberus!?” Levi squeaked.

“Maybe we can- SATAN WATCH OUT!”

Cerberus had decided to ignore Lucifer and rush straight towards the fourth born, whose weapon of choice had just decided to break, and MC had a sneaking suspicion that Satan wouldn’t be able to punch all three of Cerberus’ heads at once.

“CERBERUS!” Lucifer shouted, causing everyone to freeze in place. “YOU LAY A HAND ON MY BROTHER AND I WILL [Hello, this is the narrator, Lucifer has asked that I censor what he said because he doesn’t want this to end up reflecting badly on Diavolo].”

It was thirty seconds into the very vulgar threat before Levi thought it would be a good idea to cover MC’s ears. Game-Cerberus whimpered and sat down, much to the utter amazement of everyone.

“Wow, I can curse in Latin now!” MC chirped.

“MC, you will forget what you heard.” Lucifer sighed.

“Of course, father!” MC said sweetly, they then leaned over to Levi. “Noooooot.”

Yay, the fam’s out of the game! L!MC and Satan both agreed that Cerberus would never in a thousand years listen to either of them and they should just depend on Lucifer to deal with their homicidal pupper.

Good news, in the days after the game, glasses related thefts went down 100%! Also, pranks relating to Lucifer’s coffee being turned into vinegar went down 83%!

Satan was chilling out :D… but Lucifer still had a speech to give and he was not about to trust the guy who filled the house with cats once.

It was time for a visit to the human world to go find a witch!

“Come on! I wanna see the horsies!” Mammon whined, hanging off of Lucifer in Satan’s body like a petulant little kid. The actual kid rolled their eyes and snorted.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, Mammon.” Lucifer said. “You want to see the horses so you can find the one you’re going to bet all our money on.”

“Of course I wanna see the horse I’m gonna bet on!So can we gooooooo?!”

Satan in Lucifer’s body finished off the last of his gelato and scoffed. “No, we’re not going to bet the house on the ponies, Mammon. We’re going to spend it on-”

The high pitched shriek that left MC caused everyone to whirl in their direction as the half demon jumped up and down and frantically pointed at a sign. They were clearly trying to sputter out some kind of explanation of what had them so excited, but no one could understand a word.

“MC, calm down-”

“It’s the musical!”

“What-”

“I’ve watched so many analysis videos on this! Father! Father! The music in this is supposed to be insane! I wanna see! I wanna see! You gotta let me see!” Every single word was punctuated by MC jumping up and down to the point that Lucifer was actually concerned their wings might pop out and they’d take flight.

Right in the middle of one of their jumps, Satan caught them and held them up in front of Lucifer. “Oh dearest brother of mine, your poor spawn wants to see the show- hang on it’s this one?” Satan did a double take at the sign for the show. “Now I actually want to see this.”

Lucifer finally shoved Mammon off of him and got a good look at the sign, at least two out of the three people he was travelling with had taste. “Yes, we can watch the show.”

“Yay!” MC clapped their hands, then noticed their feet weren’t touching the floor and turned to look at Satan. “Uh, Satan, you know you can put me down, right?”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Satan said as the group began their walk towards the theatre. “It’s fun having you up as a half-human meat shield.”

“Hey!”

A distinct interest of MC’s had been discovered by the rest of the group that day when they started rambling and explaining the intricacies of musical theatre and opera to a very confused Mammon. Lucifer and Satan exchanged amused glances as MC continued to rapidly explain increasingly more confusing parts of music.

“So that’s the main difference between recitative and an aria,”

“Uh huh…”

“So technically Hugh Jackman is wrong in his explanation that Val Jean’s soliloquy in the movie adaptation of Les Miserables is recitative because it’s more of an aria because Val Jean is basically screaming about his emotions.”

“Hugh Jackman? Wolverine?”

“Yeah, Wolverine. Anyway back to leitmotifs-”

MC’s animated explanation continued all the way until the four were sat down in their seats and the show began. Mammon, of course, started fully weeping whenever anything sad happened. It was intermission when Lucifer and Satan finally had enough of it.

“Mammon…” Satan rubbed his temples and glared at the sobbing second born. “I swear, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to strangle you…”

“Do it like the Phantom of the Opera.” MC offered.

“What?” Satan asked.

“Lasso noose.”

Mammon loudly blew his nose and shoved popcorn a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Musical theatre is so fuckin’ weird…”

MC 🤝(being a musical theatre nerd) 🤝 Lucifer

So after the play, they hopped on the train and MC and Mammon stuck their heads out the window to baa at some nearby sheep. The sheep responded, Mammon and MC can speak sheep confirmed.

Of course, Mammon went off and got involved in the murder of the very witch they were trying to find.

“Only one version of events is ever true!” Satan proclaimed to the three unfortunate bastards that were also involved with the crime.

Lucifer looked from the dead body that was covered in a tablecloth, to MC. He made an awkward attempt to cover their eyes, but even he seemed confused by the action.

“Father, it’s fine.” MC lightly moved their father’s hand away and pulled something out of their brand new bag. “Satan, here!”

MC held up a Sherlock Holmes cap. “It’ll make you look more like a detective.”

“Thank you, MC.” Satan put the cap on and turned back to the crime scene in front of him. “I’m going to solve the shit out of this.”

Hearing those words come out of Lucifer’s mouth even knowing that it was Satan saying them made Mammon forget he was being accused of murder and laugh like a maniac. This did not help MC and Satan’s “Mammon’s not crazy” case.

MC and Levi had spent a week playing Danganronpa nonstop, MC was ready for this!

After clearing Mammon’s name, the ghost of the witch showed up and told the gang to solve her murder and she’d undo the body switch curse.

“The killer is, YOU!” MC and Satan pointed at the culprit with flourish.

“You have no proof!”

“I’m afraid we do in fact have proof.” Satan smirked triumphantly. “The other two suspects were too far away or standing up,”

“And the knife entered the body at a downward angle,” MC continued. “The only person close enough to stab the victim like that is you.”

“So suspect number 3,” The two said together. “You’re the dumbass who did it!”

“Did they rehearse this?” Mammon leaned over to ask Lucifer.

“No idea.”

Yay! Murder solved! Time for the life lesson!

“If only I had trusted him to be my apprentice…” “oh wow what a convenient life lesson, right father? Right Satan? Trust?”

“…” “…”

Satan and Lucifer got poofed back to normal and everyone got to go home. Lucifer, like in canon, lets Satan give the speech because he learned that he needs to trust his brother more and have a little bit of faith.

The speech is a success, and life returns to normal, but better. Satan and MC build up their relationship and after a few weeks, it was like the stuff from the beginning of the year never happened.

The attic was Belphegor’s favourite nap spot, though at the moment, Belphie didn’t want to sleep in the attic. He had been stuck up there for the past four months, and the only form of social interaction he had was sporadic chats with Lucifer or the half-human.

He must have been going completely mental up there because he was actually wishing he was talking to the kid, at least the brat was nice to him…

“Belphie!”

The cheery voice of the little “angel” echoed down the hall, Belphie found himself smiling at the sound, at least before he realized what he was doing. MC appeared at the door, practically bouncing on their toes.

“Belphie Belphie Belphie!” MC waved their DDD in the air.

“MC MC MC.” Belphie repeated. He leaned against the wall next to the door and yawned. “Nice to see you again, any updates?”

MC flicked through their DDD and gave Belphie a thumbs up. “I’ve been practicing my magic and stuff, but that’s not what I’m up here for.” They held up their DDD to show Belphie a picture.

“Beel’s team won their game-thing!”

The picture showed Beel in his team uniform eating an entire pie with a medal around his neck, the rest of the brothers and MC were posed for the picture around him. “I have no clue how this sport is supposed to work or what the rules are, but apparently he won, so that’s good!”

Any traces of Belphie’s half decent mood vanished as he looked at the picture. Everyone seemed… really happy. Levi, Asmo, Satan, Mammon, Beel, all of them, looked happy. Happy without him…

“That’s… great, MC.”

—————

Belphegor truly didn’t think he’d pity the human he vowed to kill. MC was literally a mixture of everything he hated, humans, Lucifer, Diavolo’s stupid exchange program… but yet, Belphegor felt pity.

The way MC lit up when they talked about the fun things they had done with the brothers and the other exchange students, how they went up to the attic to keep him company when they had a spare bit of time… they did all of that without knowing that Belphegor despised them. It was honestly pitiful.

Though, the Avatar of Sloth’s feeling of detest had somehow lessened. The little half demon had managed to get their hooks in him. Unfortunately for them, it only made Belphegor’s blood boil more. His brothers adored that little brat, it was plain to see. The half human had won them all over, like half of MC’s ancestry wasn’t responsible for the death of their little sister.

Belphegor narrowed his eyes as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had been stuck up there long enough to have counted every knot in the wood, every nail and plank, and every spider that managed to crawl through the cracks. The familiar feeling of guilt began to twist in his stomach. His sister died because Beel chose to save him. He should have been more careful… he shouldn’t have taken her to the human world…

‘It’s their fault.’ Belphie tried to push any and all thoughts other than that out of his head. ‘That human killed her. If they had never met she wouldn’t have died.’

Repeating that over and over did not expel the roiling feeling of guilt that crawled its way up Belphie’s spine and constricted his ribs.

“I hate you…” Belphie growled. MC was the reason for all this, weren’t they? They were the reason he wasn’t with his family, they were the reason they could be happy without him, yet even repeating his declaration of hatred like a mantra didn’t make the guilt go away. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!”

A sudden sharp yank on Belphie’s ear made him lurch upwards and look around the room. Nothing.

It was a childish gesture, wasn’t it? A sharp pull to his ear, a habit he knew all too well belonged to…

It belonged to…

…

Belphegor needed to sleep.

———————

Sup my witches, bitches, and bastards, we’re reaching the exciting part :D the part you angst hungry sickos (affectionate) are waiting for! ✨ lesson 16 ✨ next time, we’re doing the buildup, then after that, ANGST COUNTRY BABY!

Reblogs are very appreciated!

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Satan #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me MC #obey me! headcanons #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! satan #obey me! belphegor #obey me! leviathan #Obey me Fic

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kojinnie · 3 years

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AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good)

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

#aot #snk #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #aot modern au #levi ackerman #hange zoë #erwin smith #modern headcanon #lawyer erwin smith #professor hange zoe #accountant levi ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #kojin writes

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kingofkingdom-archive · 3 years

Text

So Much Like Stars - Part ONE

Pairing: Boba Fett x Fem!Reader

Part ONE (read part two here!)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’ve known nothing but snow and cold wind your whole life. When a mysterious hunter arrives at your village, you find yourself drawn to him.

Warnings: Explicit sex, p-in-v sex, vaginal fingering, breathplay, power dynamics/power play, royalty kink (?), dom/sub dynamics, naked female clothed male, come marking, unprotected sex, mentions of death (no character death)

Word count: 8.2k+

A/N: This fic is entirely self-indulgent. No one asked for it, but here it is. Boba Fett fucks and we all know it. Or maybe you disagree, in which case you’re wrong. Anyway, enjoy! As usual, there’s no use of Y/N here and please heed the warnings before reading.

Across the windswept, snowy plain, you watch as the ship approaches its landing. It slows, rotates, and then lands face-up on the flat expanse. It’s maybe a kilometer and a half away from the outlook you’re perched on; your binocs are old, no longer reading distance, so the best you can do is guess. The wind blows the snow towards the east, blurring the landscape into obscurity for anyone without a trained eye.

Your cloak, woven from the heavy fur of the Kintur that roam your planet, keeps the driving wind from seeping into your bones. Every inch of your skin is covered, from your leather boots and thick leggings to your goggles and well-worn face mask. You carry a pack, as you always do, to which are strapped your net-shoes that allow you to traverse over massive snowdrifts. At your hip is an old Republic-issue blaster and at your side is your staff, which often acts more as a tool to clear paths and knock snow from tree boughs than anything else.

This planet is nearly uninhabited save for the village you were born in. Seeing a ship is rare, and it’s even rarer to see one that’s unaffiliated with a galactic government. You take note of its location and strain to see if you can spot the pilot as he emerges, but you have no such luck.

You sigh, the wind whistling in your ears, the drifts of snow shifting and growing around you. Father will want you back soon. The newcomer is undoubtedly going to head towards the village, and you’ll need to be there when he arrives. You stow your binocs away in your pack and unstrap your net-shoes, attaching them quickly to your boots.

The trek back is one you’ve managed countless times before - that doesn’t make it any less dangerous, but the sheer cliff faces and howling, punishing winds are not strangers to you.

Your village is small by the standards of other planets in the galaxy, from what you’ve heard (the Elders’ stories of Coruscant never fail to amaze you), but in your eyes it’s vibrant and bustling despite the harsh climate. There’s almost always a tavern with its lights on and music flowing out, a friendly face and warm hearth never far.

It’s located in a secluded valley between towering mountains, out of sight of the vast plains from which the mountains seem to erupt without warning. There are no foothills; only flat land interrupted by harsh terrain. It’s very easy to find death in the mountains, but they have sustained your people for generations. Hunting is your main source of food, whether it be the Kintur that also provide their hide or the massive snow-bison whose fat and bones keep your diets regulated. In the warm season water flows endlessly - the streams that run from the mountain peaks are known to have healing properties, and often they seem to glow with a supernatural shimmer. There is a small mine some distance from the village where many men work, and though the job is a dangerous one, the mountains never run out of the ores you need.

Your people’s existence is not especially complex, but they are tougher than most. The landscape requires it.

You arrive back at the stone walls surrounding your village and greet the gatekeeper, a man who recently inherited the job from his father.

“Hello, Isrwill.” You plant your staff next to you and lean on it, taking your weight off of your feet. “Have you heard anything of the visitor?”

The man nods. He’s about a decade older than you, but underneath the goggles and mask his face is youthful, eyes kind and always merry. “Savakya returned not long ago. She says he will make it here within the hour.”

“Did she say anything of his appearance?”

“Only that he wears armor, and a helmet. She could not make out any features, other than that he’s shaped like a man.” Isrwill leans back against the wall.

“Ah,” you reply. “Well-dressed for the weather, then.”

He shrugs. “Yes, but also well-dressed for battle.”

You can hear the concern in his voice. The question is one you’re sure your whole community is asking: what has brought this foreigner here?

“Thank you,” you tell him, and he nods while pushing the gate open.

Once inside the walls, you remove your net-shoes as well as your goggles and immediately head toward the building where you know they’ll bring the stranger. Your father will already be there, conversing with the Elders and with the Committee to prepare for whatever news or needs this foreigner might have. There are protocols in place for such an event, but they haven’t been used in your lifetime. As you walk to the meeting-house, you try and recall the words you studied so long ago, when your father taught you your people’s laws and customs.

The meeting-house is constructed of solid, ancient wood, imported from a forest planet and stark against the gray stone that most of the village’s homes are built from. Inside there is a massive hearth cut from a single stone, the fire inside it already raging. In the center of the main room there is a curved table; on one side sit the Elders, on the other, the Committee. At the head sits your father, next to your empty seat.

“You made it safely, my child,” he greets you when you arrive, a swirl of snowflakes following you in. Smiling, you pull down your face mask.

“I always do, father.”

He smiles from his place at the table, giving you a look. “That does not mean I do not worry.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you lean over to kiss him on the cheek. The other people at the table chat amongst themselves, though you can feel the undercurrent of unease at the visitor’s imminent arrival.

You walk around to take your place, setting your pack, staff, and outer layers near the hearth to dry. You are left in a long-sleeved, high-neck shirt and tunic over your leggings, your hair done up in its usual braids. Usually you would go home and change into something more suitable for Committee business, but there was no time.

You turn to your father, who sits next to you with all the grace and poise befitting a benevolent leader.

“Isrwill told me the stranger is arriving soon. Do we know any more?”

He nods, though he doesn’t look entirely pleased. “Yes. From what Savakya described, it seems he’s a Mandalorian.”

The name isn’t familiar to you. “Is that a race?”

“No.” Your father leans back in his chair. His arched brows bely a concern that is rare to see on him. He strokes his white beard, staring off into space. “The Mandalorians are more of a culture, a people. I’ve only ever heard stories of them. They say they are fierce warriors, and that many of them are bounty hunters by trade.”

That’s odd. You frown, confused. “Bounty hunters? Why wo-”

You are interrupted by three sharp knocks on the doors. Beside you, your father calls out “enter! ”, and the doors swing open.

Two village men, two of the strongest of your people, flank a man clad in armor. His helmet has a T-shaped visor with a short antenna, and on his back is a rifle. You take note of the blasters strapped to his hips as well as something that could be a weapon at his knee.

Isrwill was right. Well-dressed for battle.

You sit up straight and keep your eyes trained on the Mandalorian. Though you are a member of the Committee, you are also well-versed in how to use a blaster, perhaps the best trained of any at the table. You are also a protector of your fellow Committee members, the Elders, and most importantly, your father.

“What business brings you to our planet, Mandalorian?” Your father’s voice is stern, strong in a way you hope to emulate when you inevitably assume his role.

“I am in search of a bounty, your excellency.”

The hunter’s voice is deep and slightly muffled through the helmet’s vocoder. He sounds weathered and rough, though you imagine that’s life as a man who fights and kills for a living.

“Sir will suit me just fine,” your father tells him, a hint of a smirk in his voice. “As for your bounty, it is highly improbable that any individual has survived outside of our village longer than a day. There is no stranger here but you.”

The Mandalorian sighs, looking down at the floor and then back up again. “I’m afraid I disagree, sir. The tracker isn’t wrong. He must be hiding somewhere in the mountains.”

Your father shakes his head. “Those mountains are impossible to pass without a guide. If he was there, surely he is dead by now.”

Though you can’t see his face, the hunter’s helmet is surprisingly expressive. He looks at your father for a long moment, and then glances around at the other people at the table. His gaze finally lands on you.

You set your jaw and stare back, unintimidated. A man with guns does not scare you, no matter how he tries.

“Alright,” he says, but you suspect he is not satisfied with this information. “Might I at least inquire about some lodging for the night?”

Later that evening, you find yourself in your favorite tavern, sitting in your usual booth, watching the townsfolk mingle and chat. Your drink of choice is a fermented ale that is produced in the warm season and aged for consumption outside of those short couple of months.

No one pays you any mind unless they’re a close friend or they have news. They know to leave you alone, to let you sit with yourself as you prefer to do.

You’re watching a young couple you grew up with dance to the music when the tavern’s door swings open. You glance over at it but do a double take when you realize who stands in the doorway.

The hunter.

Around you, conversation quiets as everyone takes in the stranger. His helmet scans the room, like he’s looking for someone in particular. Internally you scoff. The bounty would never show his face here, he’d stand out too much amongst your people.

The hunter’s visor stops moving, aimed directly at you.

Kriff, you think, taking a swig of your drink. He wants information, and he’s not going to give up quite as easily as he did with your father.

The Mandalorian walks into the room, headed directly towards your booth. People watch, heads turning to track the stranger’s movements across the floor. His steps are heavy, intentional, large frame imposing as he approaches you.

Certainly a man built for survival. For conflict. If he were a different person, you might find it attractive.

He stops when he reaches your booth, looking down at you just as you stare up at him, brow raised.

“This seat taken?”

You shake your head and gesture to it. “Not at all.”

From the corner of your eye you can tell the rest of the tavern’s patrons are watching, waiting. As the hunter sits, you wave your hand discretely, telling them to return to their conversations, to each other.

The noise picks up again.

“You’ve got some influence here, princess.”

The name both rankles and sends a shiver of something unwanted down your spine. Now that he’s closer, knees almost brushing your own, you really get a sense of how intense this man’s presence is.

A warrior, to be sure. None would debate that.

You narrow your eyes at him. “We are not the subjects of a king, hunter.”

He scoffs, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the booth. “Forgive me. What are you to them?”

“I do not see how it concerns you.” The words are harsh but your face remains neutral. Your father taught you how to deal with men like this - how to steel yourself against posturing, against prodding, against teasing.

The Mandalorian chuckles. “I just like to know who I’m talkin’ to. No need for the theatrics.”

You don’t respond. He’s the one who approached you - you have no desire to get in his good graces.

He sighs, glancing over to the wall at your left, his right. “I’d never heard of this planet before the tracker brought me here, much less your people,” he tells you. It’s not a surprise.

“That’s how we like to keep it. We stand no chance against something like the Republic or the Empire. Our only means of survival is staying under the radar.”

His visor is trained directly on you, staring, studying your face. You stare back, wishing you could somehow get a sense of what he looks like underneath the mask.

“How long have your people lived here?”

You know it’s not because he’s genuinely curious. Your mind is buzzing with all the different reasons he’d have for asking - he wants to know how familiar you are with the landscape. He wants to know how well-established your system of governance is here. He wants to know if you know how your people arrived.

He wants to know how vulnerable you are.

“Generations. Since before the Elders’ grandparents were born. Memory of our arrival here has been lost to time.”

He tilts his head. “Is yours the only settlement on the planet?”

You nod. As far as you know, anyway. Attempts have been made to reach out, to try and see if any other peoples live in the outer reaches of the landscape, but none have returned successful.

The Mandalorian hums. He glances over into the tavern, at the other patrons and the bartender. You watch as the bartender, a woman a few years younger than your father, uses a rag to clean out a cup, but you can tell she’s watching your table from the corner of her eye. When she notices the hunter’s helmet turn towards her, her eyes flit up to you, then over to him.

The hunter waves, as if to signal that he wants something. The bartender glances back at you and you nod. She sets down the cup and begins walking over.

You look over at him. He’s already staring back, chin tilted down like you’re a riddle he’s trying to solve.

“What can I do for you, sir?” The bartender’s voice does not waver, but it’s tense nonetheless.

He gestures to your drink. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

The bartender nods and leaves. You take a sip of your ale, finding comfort and clarity in the warmth it brings you.

Across from you, the bounty hunter shifts in his seat, removing his gloves to reveal a pair of calloused hands. You glance down at them and follow their movement as they reach up, thumbs curling under the bottom of his helmet, and lift.

The hunter’s weathered face greets you. He’s a man, like any other, like you expected him to be. His brows are arched and dark, but the rest of the hair on his head has been burnt away by something that left scars across the crown of his head and his face. His eyes are cold, haunted, calculating as they look at you.

He sets the helmet on the table with a thud .

“You’ve seen death,” you observe, holding his gaze with your own. “Been close to it.” His brown eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, princess.”

Ah, you think. He underestimates me. He thinks you’re the coddled daughter of a village leader, fed by the kindness of your people and adored for your status. You raise an eyebrow and take another swig of your drink, smirking into the amber liquid.

You set the cup down on the table. “There is more in those mountains than snow and wind, hunter.”

He doesn’t move, save for a slow blink. “Tell me, then.”

You sense movement from the corner of your eye - the bartender has returned with his drink. He nods to her in thanks and she gives a tight smile, glancing at you before hastily returning to her station.

The hunter takes the cup and brings it to his lips. You watch as he takes a sip, swallows, and his eyes widen. A small cough forces its way up and out of his throat.

You smile at him, a hint of a grin that curls the corners of your mouth.

“A bit strong for you?”

He glares over the rim of the cup and pointedly takes another swig. He sets the cup down, large hand dwarfing it.

“What is in those mountains?” His voice has gotten lower, rougher, like you’ll be intimidated by a show of verbal force.

“Nothing you’ll concern yourself with,” you reply, refusing to back down. “Unless you want to encounter your own mortality again.”

“I am perfectly fine with a bit of a scare.”

You bark out a laugh. “You wouldn’t survive an hour out there without a guide. And no one here will take the job, not when the options are either a fruitless search for a dead body or a shootout between two criminals.”

He leans forward, face pressing close to yours, warm breath blowing across your cheeks. His nose is inches from your own.

His voice drops to a low murmur. “I didn’t come here for a bounty, little one.”

Your brow furrows and you draw back, pressing your shoulders against the cushioned stone behind you.

“Word has got out of a large deposit of kyber somewhere in this system. The Empire has not yet caught wind, but soon they will.”

You don’t recognize the name of the material he’s referring to, but you do recognize the Empire and know exactly what something like that might mean for a small, defenseless village such as your own.

It’s much different than a simple bounty hiding in the mountains.

“Why didn’t you tell the Committee this?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know if this is where the deposit is. I didn’t want to cause unnecessary concern, especially considering the… size and scale of your village”

You purse your lips and lean your head back, staring up as you consider this development. This man has come in search of something you aren’t sure exists, and if it does, it means certain death for you and your people.

You look back down at the man across from you. “Then why did you decide to tell me? You’d have been better off going to my father with this information.”

He huffs out a chuckle, then grabs his drink and takes a swig. He sets the cup back down and rests his arm on the table beside it. “Because I need a guide, little one. Someone with knowledge of the terrain, who I won’t have to watch out for. I’m willing to pay handsomely.”

The dots begin to connect in your brain. You raise a brow at him. “I have no need for your credits. They’re next to useless here. Besides, how can we know this - this kyber is there at all?”

“Is there anything unnatural about the mountains? Anything that would point to something powerful within them?”

You frown, thinking on it for a moment. All of the ores found in the mine are naturally occurring, the creatures that live on the peaks are all native, and the --

It hits you. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and your heart rate increases. A falling feeling in your stomach takes the sensation from your legs for a moment, ice cold and burning all at once.

“The water.”

The Mandalorian tilts his head. You glance around to make sure no one’s heard you. Everyone in the tavern seems oblivious to the two of you, despite their stares earlier.

“We have to leave,” you tell him, fishing a couple of coins out of your pocket and depositing them on the table. “We can’t discuss this here. Come with me.”

Hastily you stand, taking your cloak from its hook on the side of the booth and pulling it on. The hunter follows suit, sliding his helmet back on and looking around the room.

You start towards the door, heavy footsteps following behind you.

You bring him to your home, the only place where you know you won’t be interrupted. You live in a small building tucked in a quiet corner of the village, between a storage silo and the village’s north wall.

Inside, the hearth has been going all day, fueled by coal and snow-bison waste chips. There are four rooms; three downstairs and a bedroom upstairs. You bring the Mandalorian to your study, where the fire roars and there’s a few soft chairs and a couch to sit on. He takes a seat on the latter and removes his helmet, watching as you search your bookshelves for something.

“Care to tell me what you meant by ‘the water’?” He slouches, thick thighs spread over the couch cushion.

Your eyes follow the movement of his legs for a split second. It’s supremely distracting, how inviting he looks right now. You glance up at his face and see a small smirk on his lips. A blush colors your cheeks, caught in the act of looking. To hide it, you turn back to the bookshelf, scanning the spines of your books.

“In the warm season there are streams that flow from the mountaintops to the valley. It pools in an area not far from here and forms a small lake, not much more than a pond, that freezes over once the cold sets in again. For centuries we’ve brought our sick and dying there to be healed.”

The hunter hums. “And it works?”

You nod, turning to look over your shoulder at him. “I was brought there as a child. I would have died of the fever had it not been for the water. Our Elders drink if regularly after they reach a certain age, once they haven’t been killed by the elements.”

“Are you saying your people live longer because of it?”

You pause. That has never crossed your mind, since using the water’s magic has always been normal to you, a yearly practice like any other. “I don’t know. How long does man usually tend to live?”

“It depends,” he says. “I’d say a hundred years at most.”

That has you taken aback. You look over at the bookshelf again - this is life-changing, world-shattering information. Dread begins to settle in your chest, like everything you thought was real is a lie.

The hunter leans forward, hands on his knees, concern etched on his scarred face. “How long do your people live, little one? How many years?”

You inhale and look over at him. “Hundreds. A thousand, if we’re lucky.”

“Kriff,” he swears, leaning back with a hand over his mouth and nose.

Turning back to the bookshelf, you resume your search to calm your racing mind. You find the book you were looking for, a collection of stories gathered by your family over generations.

“Here,” you say, sliding the book out of its place and taking it over to the hunter. He scoots over, but only slightly, so when you sit next to him you’re tucked snugly between him and the arm of the couch. His thigh is warm against your own and you get chills down your neck when he shifts to put his arm behind you, around your shoulders.

You clear your throat and open the book, letting it rest on your legs.

“There are a few accounts that speak of the water,” you tell him, flipping through the pages until you find the one you’re looking for. It’s half a page of writing, the other taken up by a crude map of the mountains.

“The waters are life-giving,” you read, tracing along the words with your index finger. “They shimmer and glow in the sun when it shines upon us. The source is deep within the mountain, covered by ice and snow in the cold season. No one has seen the source of the waters and survived. Many have tried. It lies in the heart of ongrol territory.”

“Ongrol?” The hunter’s voice is deep, low in your ear. You look up at him, absentmindedly biting your lip between your teeth.

“Yes,” you reply. “A vicious species of massive snow lion. It’s rare to see one and live to tell the tale. I’ve only ever seen their prints.”

He hums, eyes flitting across your face as he studies you up close. “How large are they?”

You shake your head. “We can only guess, but certainly bigger than this building.”

The Mandalorian nods, his eye contact with you intense and unwavering. You meet it head-on, the warmth you feel in your bones spreading into your thighs and your ribs and your --

You blink and turn back to the book. The map is shaded to indicate the creatures’ territory, with a dot to indicate the general location of where the source is thought to be.

You point to an area just outside the shaded region. “This is as far as I’ve been. I can get us to the source - it’s the ongrol that are the problem.” You look back up at the hunter. “You’re sure the kyber is what’s causing this?”

He nods. “It’s one of the most powerful materials in the known universe. Little else could heal your people the way it does.”

“How do we hide the signature from others, to keep them from finding it?” The unspoken question there hangs in the air as you speak; how do we protect ourselves from attack?

He furrows his brow, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I’m still trying to work that part out, little one.”

That does not do much ease your anxieties, but you have to accept it for now.

You close the book with a sigh and stand to return it to its place on the shelf. When you turn back, the hunter has placed his other arm on the back of the couch, spread out like a king on a throne.

He looks comfortable - at home, here in yours. It’s unlike you to bring a stranger into your dwelling and not feel uneasy about it. Yet here he is, and it’s like he belongs right there on your couch, armor and all. You cross your arms, observing him.

“Do you know the name Boba Fett, princess?”

You shake your head. “No, I do not.”

He smiles, like your answer pleases him. “It's mine.”

Boba. The name is unusual, but it suits the man before you.

“I’d tell you mine in return, but I’ve grown fond of the names you’ve chosen for me, Boba Fett.”

A deep sound pushes its way out of Boba’s chest through his throat - half a chuckle, half a growl. He gives you a once-over with his dark brown eyes, like he can see right through your thick base layer and loose tunic. You watch as he does so, trying to calm your nervous breathing. His gaze is so penetrating, so intense, that after a moment you have to turn away from him, towards the fireplace.

The orange-blue flames dance in front of you, warming your face even further. A mirror hangs above it, but your eyes are focused on the hearth.

You hear Boba shift behind you, metal on fabric. “Tell me, little one,” he says. You can sense him moving closer. “Do you have any suitors, here in the village?”

The question makes your heart race even faster. “No.” You refuse to look at him, knowing that what you see there will render words impossible. “I’ve not had any interest in them.”

“But have men tried? Asked to court you?” He’s right behind you now, the warmth of him nearly matching that of the flames in front of you. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You can see his shadow from the corner of your eye.

“Yes,” you nod. “They have tried.”

Boba hums. His hands come up to gently, but firmly, rest on your shoulders. He slowly smooths his gloved palms down your arms, taking them from being crossed over one another to resting loose at your sides.

You risk a glance up at the mirror in front of you. He’s already looking at you, eyes locked on yours. You meet his gaze and dip your chin ever so slightly, so you’re staring at him from beneath your lashes.

A ghost of a smirk dances across Boba’s lips. He breaks the eye contact and you watch as he looks down at the nape of your neck, one of few exposed pieces of your skin. His right hand brushes your hair from over your shoulder onto your back, gathering the long tresses together. The women in your village grow their hair out as long as they can, not only to use for braids, but also to keep warm.

Boba’s fingers brush lightly against you, the rough material of his gloves a contrast to the smooth skin of your neck.

“Why haven’t they been successful, princess?”

You clench your jaw. Boba looks back up at you, his hand resting across your nape, fingers curled ever so slightly. The feeling of it makes your thighs tremble, your core responding to this silent, easy display of authority. It shows on your face, how much you like this, and you know Boba sees it.

“None of them could give me --”

Your words are cut off by Boba’s hand snaking around your neck, firm grip tightening around the column of your throat. You gasp, a soft, breathy noise, and the man behind you chuckles. His thumb and forefinger press into your jaw, forcing your head up, though your eyes are still locked onto his reflection in the mirror.

You choke out the rest of your sentence. “-- Give me what I need.”

“Is that so,” Boba murmurs, the words a deep rumble in his rough voice. He presses just a bit tighter, and your eyes flutter closed in response. “I think I know just what you need, my dear.”

His words burn through you like fire on wood, like a cold wind rushing through an open window. Your legs grow weak and your hands grapple at him, trying to find something to hold onto. Your left hand catches on the gauntlet covering his arm and you draw it around, so his arm covers your hip and his hand rests possessively on your lower stomach.

“What a pretty thing you are,” Boba mutters, sliding his hand lower on your front until his fingertips brush your mound. You let your head drop back against his shoulder at the feeling of him cupping your most private of areas, like it’s his, like it’s always been his. Your legs shift further apart to make room for his wide palm. “A stoic princess who desperately needs someone to take care of her.”

You whine at that, at what he’s offering you. It’s true; of all the eligible men in the village, not one has taken you to bed and been able to let you fully cede control to them. They see you as a leader, as someone not to be messed with, as someone to be respected above all else.

“Oh, yes,” Boba hums, curling the fingers of his left hand into your cunt, hooking them into you through your clothes. “They might follow your orders, little one, but you’ll follow mine.”

It sounds like paradise, letting him have you like this. You nod against the armor on his chest, movement limited and head growing dizzy thanks to the hand around your neck. Boba presses his lips close to your ear, his large body now curled around yours.

“Listen to me, sweetheart.” The pet name makes you melt against him. “I am going to go take a seat, and then you’re gonna take your clothes off for me. Can you do that?”

You open your eyes and there he is, in the corner of your vision, gaze dark and full of heated promises. You study his face for a moment, memorizing his features while he’s close like this, and then you nod.

“Yes, Boba.”

“Good,” he tells you. He then moves his hands away, and though you mourn the loss of his touch, knowing what’s to come keeps you patient.

He turns, walks back over to the sofa, and sits. He spreads his legs as he did before, arms on the back of the couch, watching you.

Boba looks so much like a king in that moment that it makes you want to bow before him, to prostrate yourself like you aren’t the daughter of the Chieftain. To worship him as he demands.

The thought crosses your mind as your fingers begin to unwrap your tunic, taking the woven material from its intricate adornment on your body. You feel a blush rising on your cheeks at the implications - what would the village think of their leader’s daughter, the one to assume his role in the future, imagining such things about a stranger?

Your mind wanders, racing, thinking of seeing him upon a proper throne, all silent confidence and heated gazes from behind the visor of his helmet. Maybe he’d bring you there, show you off to a court, hold you in his wide palms like a treaty. Set you upon his lap like a rare trophy from your far-off snow planet. You’d wrap your arm around the back of his neck and listen to his dealings while he kept a firm hand on your upper thigh.

Dignitaries and crime lords alike would watch, whispering, unable to look away.

It thrills you, to have these secret desires.

You deposit the tunic on the floor next to you and toy with the hem of your top, pulling it out from where it was tucked in your pants. Boba’s eyes zero in on the strip of skin that is revealed as you raise the shirt higher, higher, and higher, until in one motion you’ve slipped it over your head and off entirely.

He stares at your chest and it makes you smile. Men will be men.

Feeling emboldened by the way Boba is looking at you, you turn around and hook your thumbs in the waistband of your pants. You slowly slip them down your hips, over your thighs, and past your knees, bending over as you do so.

Behind you, you hear shuffling. You toss the pants to join the tunic and shirt and turn to see Boba’s codpiece and gloves removed, his hand shoved down the front of his pants.

“I’m enjoying the show, little one,” he says, and waves at you with his other hand, even as you begin to see movement at the crotch of his trousers. “Continue.”

You smirk, a sly thing at seeing the effect your bare form has on him. You tuck your fingers under the band of your bra and pull up. Your arms block your view of Boba’s face as your breasts are revealed to him, but the hungry look in his eye once you can see him gives you a good idea of it.

“Kriff,” Boba swears, jerking himself faster, rougher. The sight of it makes your breathing become heavy, the labor of it causing your chest to heave. His eyes drop from your face to your tits - somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed like you might usually.

You just feel wanted. It’s intoxicating, that he wants you for you , not your title.

There’s only one article of clothing left on your body now. You turn around again, your back to him, and take the front hem of your underwear in your fingers. Slowly, almost teasing, you slip it over your hips, arching your back and pushing your ass out towards Boba. The underwear slips down your thighs until it falls to the floor.

You straighten up again and look over your shoulder at him. He gestures with his free hand, a ‘come here’ motion that you’re all too eager to follow.

“Beautiful kriffing body,” he murmurs as you approach. He reaches out and puts his hand on your hip, fingers curling into your ass cheek. His eyes stare at your mound, at the patch of hair there. “Bet you’re already wet for me, huh?”

He glances up at you. You blush, watching as he removes his hand from his pants and snakes it in between your legs, calloused fingers feeling the evidence of his effect on you. His fingertips catch on your clit, rubbing and feeling and stoking the fire within. You moan wantonly, comfortable in the privacy of your home.

“You are. Kriffing soaked. Just begging for my cock, aren’t you?”

His words make your pussy clench just as he slips one of his thick fingers into you, surely spreading his own fluids across your tight, hot skin. The girth of it forces a whine out of you, brows furrowed, and your hand flies down to hold onto his as he fucks you with his finger. Your other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, gripping his armor.

“Look at you,” he mutters, baring his teeth as he watches you writhe on his hand, using his thumb to rub your clit just so. Your mouth drops open in pleasure, sparks shooting down your legs and up into your belly at the feeling.

Boba hums, circling his thumb and flicking it over your puffy, sensitive nub. “What would your people think if they saw you moaning like a whore for an old man, hm?”

Your legs turn to jelly at the force of the arousal that hits your cunt. You sway forward, knees buckling, and Boba catches you as you fall.

He uses the hand on your ass to guide you into a sitting position on his lap, so now you’re straddling him, bare chest pressed to the cool metal of his armor. You tuck your face into his neck and revel in the feeling of a second finger teasing at your opening.

“You like that, little one?” His words cause his throat to vibrate, and the deep tone draws your lips in to kiss at it. Your nose brushes against the underside of his jaw as you move from kissing to licking, getting drunk on the taste of his sweat on your tongue.

Boba groans, sliding the second finger into your cunt with ease. You sigh, blowing cool air across the skin you’ve just wet with your tongue. “You do.” He runs his free hand up your thigh, holding tight to the firm muscle there, toned and strong from a lifetime in the ice and snow. “So desperate for my cock.”

You nod, though your lips hardly leave his neck. “Please, Boba,” you whisper into his skin, pressing yourself as close to him as you can get.

His fingers still their movements within you and you whine. Boba shushes you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from pouting when he pulls his fingers from your pussy. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and leans back.

“I want you on your hands and knees, princess. Right here on the couch.”

You nod frantically and there’s not a moment of hesitation in your haste to follow his order. You arrange yourself next to him, forearms propped on the arm of the couch and your knees keeping your ass aloft in the air.

Boba turns and positions himself behind you with ease, half standing with one foot on the floor, his other leg bent and kneeling on the cushion.

He may call himself an old man, but he’s got the physicality of someone half his age. It makes the spot between your legs hotter and wetter just to think of it. Your cunt throbs for him.

You look over your shoulder and watch as he reaches into his pants, hand spreading your wetness across his dick, and your eyes widen as he draws it out from the confines of his trousers. Your gaze zeros in on him; he’s thick and long, just as you suspected, and every inch is one you want to feel as deep inside you as possible. Honestly, it makes sense - you’ve always heard that the men with the most to make up for do so in their personalities.

Men like Boba don’t have to compensate, which makes them all the more attractive.

You glance up to his face. He’s smirking down at you, eyes traveling down to your ass, pushed out and open for him. He runs a hand along the soft swell of your rear, caressing you like you’re precious, like you’re prized.

“I could get used to this,” he tells you, guiding the head of his cock to notch at your opening. “Seeing a future queen all bare and ripe for me.”

Your eyelids flutter as you feel him press in further, deeper. The sight of him kneeling behind you, fully clothed while you’re naked as the day you were born, sends a wave of arousal through you. Your brain doesn’t even register what he’s called you, how wrong he is, because you can’t think of anything beyond his dick.

“C’mon, Boba,” you whine, his slow pace driving you mad. “Fuck me like you mean it, old man.”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is almost non-human with the way it reverberates around the room. His hands dig into your hips and he thrusts , unrelenting and rough, spearing you onto his thick cock until his balls slap your clit. You choke out a moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how perfectly full you feel.

“Ah,” he grunts out as he immediately sets to fucking you roughly, deeply. “The little princess does want to be treated like a whore.” His words are accompanied by the lewd sound of his cock moving in your wet cunt, his hips slapping against your own. You moan, loud and uninhibited, unable to conceive of shame or propriety.

For your whole life you’ve been looked up to, treated as both fragile and untouchable.

Boba Fett fucks you like you’re nothing more to him than a pet.

He snarls his words into the air. “Woulda fucked you there on that table in the cantina, shown the whole village how well you take me.”

You keen, arching your back further to give him a better angle. He runs his left hand up your side, gripping your waist and pulling you back onto his cock in time with his thrusts. He’s deeper inside you than anyone’s ever been - you’re beginning to think men in your village must be small, or maybe Boba’s just unnaturally big, because you think you can feel the head of his cock bruising your cervix.

The thought of him taking you in the tavern has you clenching down on him even tighter. Maybe you would have gotten on your knees for him, hid beneath the tablecloth and kept his cock warm in your mouth.

“That turn you on, princess?” He slows his thrusts just slightly, drawing out so he can slam back in with even more force. You cry out, nodding, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Of course it does,” he grunts, and you can feel the crest of your climax steadily approaching as he speaks, letting yourself get lost in the fantasies he’s bringing to life. His thrusts speed up again, rough and brutal, just as you need.

“You were just waiting for someone to -- ungh -- come along and fuck all the thoughts outta that clever little head, weren’t you?”

You whine, because he’s right - your normally sharp, observant brain has been put out like water over a fire. Boba leans forward, placing his hand on the arm of the couch next to your elbow, and brushes his lips against the back of your neck. It changes his position enough that his cock hits you just that much deeper, pounding against that elusive sweet spot deep within your cunt.

“Kriff, Boba --” You barely get the words out, your voice hoarse and strained and your mind turned to mush. “So -- so big.”

Against your ear, you feel more than hear him chuckle. His teeth catch on your earlobe, hot breath skating down the side of your face.

“Yeah? You like having my big cock in your tight little pussy?”

You keen, high-pitched and desperate. “Please, Boba, I’m gonna --”

His teeth trail down the side of your neck, biting firmly enough to leave a trail of red marks across your skin. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he leans up again so he can grip your hips more firmly.

“Gonna come, little one? Go on --” his words trail off for a moment - or maybe your hearing fades out as the crisis within you rises to its limit. Right as you’re on the edge, your face flush with sensation and your cunt fluttering around him, his rough voice fades back in.

“-- wanna feel you, princess. Come for your king.”

You have no choice but to do as he says.

Boba’s words scratch that small, hidden itch in your brain you’d taken a glance at earlier. Your mind whites out for a split second, as blinding as a snowstorm, before you return to yourself.

He’s still fucking you. Using you. Oversensitive and trembling, your senses absorb the world around you - Boba's hands on your hips, the scrape of his armor against your thighs, the crackle of the fireplace somewhere over your shoulder.

The rhythm of Boba's cock inside you, chasing the same high you'd found moments earlier.

You moan, pushing back, encouraging him to find his release. A glance over your shoulder gives you the sight of his eyes focused on where he's thrusting into you, lip curled, a drop of sweat trailing down over his jaw.

Boba glances up at you and smirks, though the flash of teeth makes it more of a sneer. "Where do you want me, princess?"

A serene smile crosses your face and you pretend to think on it for a moment, lazy in your post-orgasmic haze.

"On me," you reply. "Wherever you want."

He grunts, looking back down, and thrusts a few more times, deep and bruising. As soon as he pulls out you mourn the loss of him, the fullness inside of you, but you're rewarded with a vision unlike any you've seen before. Boba takes himself in hand, and with a loud groan, cums across your ass, his spend dripping down your thighs and onto your pussy lips. He covers you with himself, marking you up.

Once he's finished, Boba runs a hand through the cum on your skin, pressing firmly and rubbing it in.

"Been wanting to do that since I saw you in the meeting hall, little one."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed at the thought of it. What a scandal - the Chieftain's daughter falling for the stranger, the first foreigner to visit the village in living memory.

Behind you, Boba shifts off of the couch. He stands beside you and then you register that he's moving you, strong hands arranging your limp body so he can pick you up. One arm slips beneath your knees and the other under your back.

"Bedroom's upstairs," you murmur.

He brings you there, tucking you into bed carefully and then turning to undo his armor. As you watch him methodically remove each piece, you get the feeling that you're privy to something rare. Though you're sleepy, your eyes remain open, intent on keeping this memory clear.

The thought crosses your mind that this man must know so much of the universe. He's probably been to hundreds of planets, has hundreds of stories.

You've only ever known snow and wind.

"Boba?"

He's just finished with the last of his armor when you speak. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to you and puts his hand on your side.

"Yes, princess?"

You gaze up into his eyes, dark but soft when looking at you.

"What's the most beautiful place you've ever been to?"

He smiles at that, letting out a soft chuckle. "I've been to so many places that it's hard to keep track, little one."

You pout. He moves to settle into bed next to you, under the layers of fur and fleece that keep you warm.

"You must have a favorite," you insist, curling up against him, head resting on his bicep.

He's quiet for a minute, thinking. You wait, though sleep threatens to pull you under. Boba's words lull you out of the beginnings of your slumber.

"I think you'd like Naboo," he tells you. You've read about it, about their system of governance. You can't recall seeing any pictures or illustrations, though.

"It's very green," he explains. "There's meadows and forests everywhere. Their cities are vast, the buildings beautiful in themselves. I traveled there with my father when I was young."

You want to ask more, to learn about this place so different from anything you know. Your mind is racing with imaginings when you fall asleep, cozy and warm against Boba Fett.

In the night, your dreams glow as bright as the sun.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fucks #mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #boba fett x female reader #female reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

Post rule of wolves, about Zoya and Nikolai being soft with each other in one of the many moment of hardship they face. Zoya gets a letter that unsettles her and leans on Nikolai to face more of her demons and move on. I love how Zoya is slowly learning to open up and face her wounds, and how Nikolai is there to catch her. Feedback are always appreciated, so much love to you all

the blood in our veins - ao3

When the sound of leaves crunching under someone’s steps reached her, Zoya did not startle. She knew Nikolai would appear at some point, as he always did, as if he could sense her despair. Or as if someone played the snitch on my escape, more likely. He was the only one to have the key, beside her, and the only one to know she would take refuge here. For a moment, she lingered on what a strange sight she was making; a steel spined harpy perched amongst the wildflowers, her kefta smeared by dirt and pollen, her eyes trained on the ground and a sprout in her hands. She felt his intense gaze on her, his worry. The scent of his skin; Nikolai always tasted like salt and sunburnt skin, like the sea.

“Who ratted me out?”, she asked. He lowered himself toward her, brushing a kiss on her head before kneeling beside her on the ground.

“Tamar”, he answered, “told me you got a letter and dismissed the meeting.” More like run away from it. She would have to thank Tamar for her regard.

Zoya clicked her tongue. A letter. Her hand went in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Nikolai. She sensed his concern turn into outrage. Zoya knew it was a matter of time before Sabina reached out to her. After all, her daughter had just become the queen of Ravka. There was no hope left in her heart that her estranged mother would not try to exploit this particular advantage. As long as she was not dead, she supposed. Which, as far as she knew of, could very well be. As it turned out Sabina was not the one Zoya should have been wondering about.

“It’s a long list of arrogant pleading. Get to the end”, she instructed Nikolai. Zoya glanced at him and saw him shook his head with a sigh when he came to the last lines.

“Zoya – “, he tried, his tone insecure, weary of what was the right thing to say. Was there a right thing to say when you lost a father you had already wiped from your mind? The word lost probably was not even fit for the situation.

“He’s been dead a couple of years, apparently. She did not even bother to say how.”

There was no grief left inside her to tug at. No sentiment to pull and mourn over. Nothing left for them, for him. There was just a void lurking next to the well inside her, in which so many stones had tumbled. It was not endless anymore; it stopped right beside her, where Nikolai’s light flooded in through the cracks in her walls. Zoya tried to look for something to hold on to, something to guide her over this empty sea of nothingness. No love, no regret, no pain. The sorrow in the well had always been for Lilyiana, for Lada. For David, for the Grisha, maybe even for herself. A monument to her solitude. None of it was dedicated to the two young people who had given her breath. Yet she felt the void, like it had form and claws that pierced at her heart. Its fingers tied around her throat, squeezed the air out of her lungs.

“I thought maybe I should plant something for him, too. I – I don’t know.”

She murmured. Her voice came out more frail than she had desired to, more vulnerable. Nikolai moved closer, his shoulder brushing on hers. She grasped at that touch that anchored her on this moment, that prevented her from losing herself.

“I don’t know what the Suli ritual is.” The defeat in her tone sparked a flicker of injustice. It was supposed to have been over; the child that did not look back on a wretched church was supposed to have grown. Such restless waters she had had to navigate. How does one separate hatred from fear, love from abandonment, rage from regret?

“We could find out.”

“There’s no time. There’s no time anymore.” To know him. To understand. To take the child in her hand and protect her in an embrace. Faintly, in the distance, Zoya felt Nikolai’s hand on her back, his lips landing again on her cheek.

“Why did you choose this?”, he asked, bobbing his chin at the sprout she was holding, at his light blue blossoms.

“I’m not sure”, she sighed. “When I was very little, there was always a glass of forget-me-nots on the kitchen table. My father used to bring them from the fields at sundown. He stopped before my sixth birthday.”

Zoya never knew what they meant. Her mother told her they were the colour of their eyes, weaving them in her hair. She had felt like a princess in a fairytale, with a crown of blossoms.

“Inej told me the Suli have a saying about love. Her father says that you would know a boy truly loves you when he brings you your favourite flowers. I figured that is why our house was full of them, at first. Maybe these are for both of them. Maybe I should bury my mother too.”

What a sombre, depressing thought, she half expected Nikolai to say. Instead, he just reached for her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her in silence. So she forced another sentence out, one that stung to admit. “I thought I did that already the moment I set foot in the Little Palace. I thought they could float away like a river in the sea, instead I just built a dam that feels dangerously close to shatter.”

The quiet stretched on. “I don’t know what they are”, Nikolai admitted. “Your favourite flowers. I don’t know them.”

She moved her gaze to him and wondered what he was seeing. If he had already grown tired of her, of her dark moods and brooding tendencies. Those fears clutched her heart on her worst nights. Was he catching the sheer sentiment in her eyes, the fire that burned for him inside her? How she grasped at his voice like it was the thread that tied her to safety, to belonging? Whatever her failings were, Nikolai’s look never wavered. His certainty, affection. He was the one keeping the dam from falling, keeping her from breaking.

“You told me once I could be branches without blossoms and wait for the summer to come. The way you love…it’s not the fleeting beauty of petals. It’s the strength of roots.”

She spoke before having the chance to think about her words, not sure what she had wanted to convey, pressed by an unfamiliar urge to let him know. Saints, Nikolai was rubbing off on her. His eyes sparkled and he looked taken aback, a fond and surprised smile tugging at his lips. Zoya let his warmth creep into her, before moving back to look at the flowers still resting in her hands.

“I don’t have a favourite one. I like them all.”

Nikolai nodded, his fingers lingering in her hair, brushing through them. “Good to know. See? You are not such a difficult person after all.” Zoya heard him move beside her, sensed his fingers draw away. He gently pulled the plant in front of her. “Let me do it for you”, his voice soft, caring. Let me carry this weight for you. Her hands dug into her kefta, clinging into it as if it could make her remember who she was.

Nikolai pulled his gloves away. She snatched them from him, huffing impatiently. It really was an unnerving habit of his. “Would you stop with these? You do not need them around me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Don’t take it out on my gloves”, he grinned at her. Yet, she caught the shadow sweeping through his eyes; the darkness Zoya had never wanted him to hide. He worked in silence, moving the terrain away, placing the sprouts and watering them. Zoya stood still, one hand clung to her kefta, the other tightened around his gloves, watching him as he took care of her garden for her.

“My mother was loud”, she said abruptly. Water leaking from the cracks. Nikolai’s gaze swept toward her as he kept going. There was no other person she could tell this to. Stories needed to be told, She had learned. “Sabina kicked and screamed her way into our misery. She shouted her wrath; she broke the ceramics on the floors, spewing spite. She weaved sweet lies that stuck like sap into my ears, before wiping my tears as I stood in a ridiculous ruffled dress.” Zoya sighed, seeing her memories flash in her mind. She did not want to feel this. She did not want to know. But Juris’ wisdom was unforgiving. “Her frustration, her selfishness. Everything was like thunder. Maybe that’s where I take it from.” A dry laugh escaped her lips, as she forced herself to say what she knew had been the truth this whole time. “My mother was loud. Yet, it was my father’s silence that broke me. That was what carved the hole inside of me. The way he let everything happen, his head slumped on his shoulders, his mouth shut. The emptiness of his affection. It gave me the guilt of not being enough, of not being worthy.”

Zoya kept going, averting Nikolai’s eyes. “Yelling is easy to counter. It enrages you, fires you up, picks at your pride. Silence is different; it cuts you slowly, drains your blood drop by drop, renders you powerless. How do you fight a wall made of nothing?”

His gentle touch moved to her jaw, tracing the lines of her face, grounding her to earth.

“I feel it. I can see it.” Every word she got out seemed to force a split into the void. Warmth flood in, rage went out, passing through her like a blade. The dragon's eyes had opened, whether she had wanted it or not. She felt like drowning. “How unprepared they were. How powerless. The hatred that grew around their souls like thorn wood. It’s the same they have set upon me. I do not want that. I do not want this to be their legacy for me.”

Legacy. What was hers, in this life, and what was theirs? Zoya had Sabina’s eyes, Suhm’s wavy black hair. It gave her comfort to think her pride and her strength came from Lilyiana. Her wind and lightning was born from the making at the heart of the world. What, then? What had they been like, when they were just a boy and a girl in love, dancing under the moonlight? She had shrugged her name as if she could be born anew. Tossed the memories of them as if she could build a new life. That she supposed she had done, at least. Even with this new name, this new life, something of them still remained. The poisoned blood in her veins if nothing else. She could not cut them open and change it, and she had spent her life feeling it flow like a curse through her.

“I cannot go on hating them.” The words were spoken as a shameful confession, as a defeat. As a realization too, however. Nikolai laced their fingers together, making her relent the hold on the kefta.

“Perhaps we should not hate them”, he said, careful and gentle. “Maybe the secret is that we need not pass judgment over them. Maybe the secret is to forgive them.”

Zoya shook her head at Nikolai’s relentless goodwill and optimism. He had forgiven his mother that day in Os Kervo. He had forgiven the one who was not his father, he had delivered his punishment and moved on. And Zoya? She did not have any forgiveness left in her. The hatred, though. Whatever remained of it, she guessed she could try and leave it here, with the blue blossoms thriving from the earth like forgotten hope.

Their legacy might have been just thorns, storms, and thunders. It might have been just the spite that had threatened to rot her insides. Still, it was an inheritance she could find the strength to relent. She could keep their eyes, their blood, Sabina combing her hair and Suhm telling her a goodnight story in his arms, even if she did not miss it, even if she did not remember what that felt like. Zoya was not Nikolai, she was not golden nor kind. She could not justify their weakness; she could not pardon both the screams and the silence. Maybe you could let go, though. She wasn’t sure if it was Juris’ voice or her own to cut through the mist of thoughts. Zoya bleeding in the snow. Zoya crying on her own. Let go.

The dam had broken, but the dragon queen did not drown. Hours could have passed, or minutes. Nikolai had put his jacket on her shoulders, the fabric thick and warm. He had not spoken anymore, just sat with her in the quiet as the sun disappeared. At some point, when the chill had started creeping in her bones, he had tugged her up and walked her to her chambers, dismissing the Heartrender twins who stood guard on her door with a wave of his hand. Zoya had let him handle her, leaning in his touch. Only when the lock clicked, she had let herself release her breath, slumping in her favourite velvet sofa. The crackle of the fire was comforting. Nikolai had called for tea, murmured something in her ear she did not remember. He had sat on her desk next to her, working through some documents while she got back to herself. The familiar rhythm of their quiet caught on, enveloping the room, soothing as a cold cloth on an open wound.

Time did not matter anymore. Zoya had the cup in her hands, the fire in front of her, and Nikolai’s jacket still curled around her. His scent was tight on the fabric. It lulled her into a silent calm, along with the rhythmic pounding of her heart, the sound of Nikolai’s pen scraping the paper, of his hands scribbling, the muffled huff of his breath. Peace washed over her in a tide.

“What is it like?”

Zoya suddenly spoke, after what felt like an eternity. The tea had turned cold. She kept her look trained on the fire. Nikolai stilled, relenting whatever piece of work he was doing, arching a brow at her. The question was vague, at the very best. “Not being an only child”, she added. Now his attention peaked on her.

He shuffled back the papers on her desk, got up and came to her. Moving her feet away, he eased himself on her sofa, letting Zoya stretch her legs over him, resting his hands on her calves and leaning his head on a cushion. His careful look never left her face, turned thoughtful as her question travelled his mind.

“I adored my brother”, Nikolai started, slowly, “Worshipped him. Loved him with every fibre of my being. Until I did not anymore. We were not bound, or tight, and well – we all know how that turned out. It was an embarrassment and a weight, more than an anchor like I desired him to be. And I did desire that a lot.”

Zoya looked at him. She left the cup on the nightstand; as soon as her hands were free, Nikolai snatched one of them in his. “And Linnea?”, she asked. An affectionate smile curled his lips.

“Linnea is…different. I feel the kinship – and not just because we both have a soft heart for ships. I know she is me, for some part, and I am her. She’s more grounded than me, more quiet, more practical.” He brushed a thumb over her palm, tightening the hold. “I guess that’s why she likes you. I am quite scared at how much you two get along, frankly. And she has this creative, restless energy, she is charming in her own silent way, brilliant. Sometimes it’s like I’m looking inside some sort of distorted mirror. In some life I may have had if I took a different path.”

Yet, the choices they had been forced to make forged a solitary childhood for them. A lonely boy looking for sounds to fill his deafening silence, a vengeful girl screaming her rage over lost love. Had they been choices at all? When had they stopped being their parents’ sins, and had they become their own? How long can you blame a mother’s failings, how long can a daughter or a son be defined by rage and guilt? Zoya could see the same query behind Nikolai’s eyes. He spoke again, tentative, a vulnerable edge to his voice. The lonely boy, looking for hope in the vengeful girl.

“I want her to know me. I want her to care for me, to be honest. I feel protective of her. I feel like I cannot wait to show her every wonder I know of. The wonder of life, of adventure. The wonder of romance”, he managed to wink at her, “I wish to be for her the brother Vasily never was for me. To make up for lost time. This is idiotic, right?”

He huffed at the end, as if he could dismiss the intense desire for a family that still haunted him; there was a slight plea in his look, darkened under the dim light of the fire. Zoya felt an ache in her throat, and she knew there were tears in her eyes. She could feel them clouding her sight. They belonged to the little raven-haired child that silently cried alone in a corner, in all her nightmares. It was not a cry for grief, but one of deluded wanting. She leaned in, brushing some golden strands from Nikolai’s face. He was looking at her like she was his light in the storm, even though he had just been the one to pull her back from a devouring pain.

“We should have her here more often”, she said. Nikolai wiped one of her tears away. “We should have them here more often. Linnea and your father. You deserve to have this family, Nikolai.”

Nikolai stopped his hand on her neck, grinning wider at her.

“Zoya, I already have one.” She frowned at him.

“I hardly count as a family. I am just me.”

“Then I’ll have two. So long as you stop referring to yourself as just you.” Zoya rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. He started fidgeting with a loose silver bead on her kefta’s cuff. Another unnerving habit of his, the way he always snatched those away. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I wasn’t an only child. I would have had someone to shield and someone to shelter in. To give me purpose, I suppose.”

A little brother, a little sister whom she could watch grow up and think how much better than her they were, how much softer, how much worth preserving. Though it had not been like that, for Sabina and Lilyiana. It was best not to linger on what ifs. She huffed and shifted, suddenly nervous; time to face this problem head on. “You think I should help her, right?”, she asked, knowing damn well what the answer was. Needless to say, Sabina’s letter pleaded for Zoya’s support, lamenting her misfortunes, and praising her daughter’s victories. Especially the gifts she could share. Even if she had not stated it, Zoya was sure that a jewel or two would be just fine. Greedy and hollow like she remembered.

“I think you should do what makes you comfortable.” Zoya shot him a threatening glare, and he chuckled. “Fine”, Nikolai added, “but don’t kill me. I think you’ll keep the weight on your chest as long as you do not help her. I think maybe it would bring you some peace to do it. Still, I support whatever decision you make.” He marked the last words, and she knew he meant it.

“I don’t want to be the bearer of my mother’s misery.” Zoya despised herself a little while admitting it. An exasperated grunt erupted from her as she threw her hands in the air. “How can I feel responsible for her?”

“I guess that’s the curse of being a daughter. You can’t relent the blood in your veins, not anymore that you can ignore the good heart that thrived inside you behind all of your spite.”

Maybe the secret is that we need not pass judgment over them. Maybe the secret is to forgive them.

How she loathed when Nikolai was right. It made him insufferable. And unfortunately, he was right most of the time. Unbearably reasonable. He smirked, as if he could read her thoughts and sense his victory.

Zoya might have been an angry and unloved little thing, but that was not what she was anymore. She had been a soldier, a general, a loyal friend. She was a queen now. And most certainly not alone, she thought, gazing at the confident ball of sunshine seated next to her. Had this happened before the war, before knowing Nikolai, her crueler and colder heart would have prevailed and she wouldn’t have thought twice on this, burning the letter along with her sentiment. The beaming boy had definitely rubbed off on her.

“I can not forgive her, or them. I do not have it in me. And I cannot forget, not for now”, she said, cautious. That was what Lilyiana had always desired for her: to release the hold on her anger. For her, she could try. “But I can start by letting go. We can find her work in a factory, with a salary and some retirement money. I can provide her with a dignified life. That is all I can do. I will not get a letter from her anymore; I will not grant her audience or listen to her words. Someone will have to deal with this.”

Juris roared inside her, clearly displeased. Hush, you lizard. How irritating of him. Be a dragon, bide your time and stop harassing me. Enough progress for today. Nikolai, on the contrary, smiled at her with relief, nudging her closer.

“We will arrange it.” He let her rest her head in the crook of his neck, curling his arms around her. “Do you think you can close your eyes and rest for a while now?”. His voice was already coming from afar, as she inhaled deeply in his skin and her lashes fluttered closed with exhaustion. Zoya wished her days as queen would become less tiring, and she also wished they could always end in Nikolai’s safe hold. Her mind fell silent; the last thing she heard was his whisper hovering around her. “I got you, Zoya.”

Zoya could still be a daughter, could take the raven-haired child in her arms. Daughter of the wind. She could still be whole, worthy, and loved. We see you. She could be at peace. The world went black; yet, it was not dark.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Christmas Specials: Angel

CW: Implied past parental death, referenced past torture/noncon, memory loss and grief

"It, it should be an, um, a, a-a an angel," Chris says, gazing up at the star on top of the tree. It gleams a warm yellow to match the special lights that wind through the branches, the soft smell of pine and wood. The ornaments weigh it down, a multitude of old childhood things Nat brought with her twenty years ago, plus new ornaments added over time by every rescue who has lived here through Christmas and even a few who didn’t.

Chris picked his out at Hallmark with Nat last week. He chose a little cardinal on a snowy tree branch with a scarf and earmuffs on. He doesn’t know why. But he runs one finger over the top of its little head in thought.

Nat, crouching down by the bright red, gigantic rubbermaid with Christmas Ornaments + whatever else written on the lid in big black sharpie letters, looks up. “What?”

Chris keeps petting the little porcelain cardinal with one finger, staring up at the star. “Why isn't it, um, an, an angel, Nat?”

"Not sure exactly. I've always done a star," Nat replies, carefully choosing a small ornament shaped like a horse in mid-gallop, covered in elaborately carved and painted Western tack. She slips the little hook into the small metal ring on the horse’s back and hangs it in an empty spot on the tree, smiling.

She looks over to see an expression of something like upset on Chris's face, his eyebrows furrowed, bouncing uncertainly on his toes. "It, it should be an angel," He repeats, insistent. “It, it should be. Um, an… an angel. A star isn’t-... isn’t, isn’t right. It should be, be, be-be-be… should be-, an, an angel.”

His voice drops a little, and he picks at the hem of his oversized t-shirt with one hand, rocking a little until Nat puts a hand to his shoulder and he stops.

"Chris, is this bothering you? That it’s a star?” Nat and Jake meet eyes where he's hanging garland along the mantle, knowing later Nat will go all-in on her Midwestern roots and pull out the Christmas-themed baskets to decorate it.

“It’s not right,” Chris says, even more firmly this time. He shakes his head, rocking again, forward and back. “It’s, it’s always supposed to be, to be angels.” He makes a soft sound of frustration, hands moving up to his hair, twisting into the copper, yanking hard. “Supposed, supposed to be-”

Nat takes his hands in hers and gently lowers them again, pressing his palms into his stomach. “Tap, Chris. Don’t pull your hair out, please. Let’s do the ones that don’t hurt, okay?”

He doesn’t answer her, but he starts up the familiar movements of his fingers, finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and he doesn’t go for his hair again. “Angels,” He mumbles. “Should be a, um, angel on the, the, the tree. Didn’t have a tree the, the last time, we were-... gonna go, go get the tree after Thanksgiving, it, um, it was-...”

The room is perfectly still as he falls silent, rocking harder.

"Did you-...” Nat is quiet for a moment, deciding where to take this line of questioning, what is the safest way to ask. “Are you… used to angels, Chris? Did you have an angel tree-topper as a kid?”

He’s still a kid.

He’s still so young.

Chris isn’t looking at her, still rocking a little, looking up at the star, gnawing on a chapped spot of skin on his lower lip that he’s already managed to make bleed this week. He pinches his finger and thumb around a few pine needles, releasing their scent even more strongly into the air. "She, she always did angels,” He whispers.

Then he winces, cries out in pain, and the moment's gone, along with the memory. They hold him through the headache until it passes, through his tears, but he’s never able to explain.

Within a half an hour he’s forgotten he ever mentioned angels at all, forgotten anything but the awful spike of pain the headache brings on the heels of any thought or memory they aren’t allowed to have.

She refuses to be frustrated - this is a common part of memory recovery in rescues, how things seem to come and go, slipslide through their minds. It’ll come back, sooner or later. She has to believe that - and that even if it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter, they still deserve the new memories to be their own.

Every time he walks past the tree, though - as Nat’s presents for her rescues start to build up, and she takes each of them out to find gifts to give Jake and their fellow rescues, too - his eyes don’t linger on the somewhat haphazardly wrapped boxes.

They go to the star.

She gives Jake a few twenties from her wallet and tells him to go shopping. He sheepishly pulls out the small red box he’d already bought, five steps ahead of her when it comes to Chris as usual.

They wrap the box together.

On Christmas Eve, Nat insists on cooking, while Antoni hovers nervously around her and offers, time and time again, to do whatever he can to help. She refuses, but lets him set the table before having Jake take him outside to sit down with a drink and watch the Christmas lights. It seems to calm the part of Antoni that needs always to be serving, the part they are trying so hard to get him to drop.

Chris wanders through the dining room on his way, getting himself some lemonade in the kitchen and giving her a hug. Krista is moving into her own place in the next month or so and she heads out onto the porch, too, making the most of her last few days in the house. Even Leila, quiet watchful thoughtful Leila, finds her way out there, too.

Which leaves Nat in the kitchen putting together everything she remembers from her own childhood.

It’s a feast.

Beef tips out of the oven with gravy and thick, chewy noodles, little sausages in a crockpot with grape jelly and barbecue sauce, corn casserole more like savory pudding than anything else, scalloped potatoes that have as much cheese as they do actual potatoes, a salad to pretend anyone’s getting nutritional value out of this, queso dip that comes cheap out of a glass jar with tortilla chips, chopped fruit tossed with sugar… this one day each year, Nat lets herself indulge in what she grew up with, what she misses about home.

Once it’s all ready, she calls them back in. She watches Chris’s eyes widen as he enters first, seeing how she’s pulled out the extra eaves to extend the table, the sheer weight of the food that has taken her three full days of work to put together, the seasonal plastic tablecloth and placemats under every single plate.

“Chris, you’ll sit right here,” She says warmly, putting her hand against the back of one of the chairs.

He moves immediately - then hesitates, going still, glancing over his shoulder back at Jake, who smiles back, reassuring. When his eyes go back to his seat, Nat watches him tapping on himself, soothing his sudden jangling nerves. Not grabbing at his hair or scratching himself. Good sign. “Nat, what’s-... what’s, what’s that?”

She moves away to give him space. “What’s what, honey?”

“The, um, the… the the, the box. On my plate. What, what is it for?” He’s trusting, her youngest rescue, like all of them and yet even more than most. He wasn’t meant to have thoughts or skills outside the horrors that he was held for, didn’t develop himself enough to run, he hadn’t gotten a sense that his world wasn’t right enough to develop his own sense of self. That started here, in this house, under Nat’s protection.

She doesn’t take this responsibility, to help him mold himself into someone he will want to be, lightly.

He’s trusting, but in this moment, he’s unsure. She wonders how many times he has been given gifts that hurt, that were designed to hurt.

“One last thing for the tree. Open up and find out.”

“But, but Christmas is, is um, is, is tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey.” He loves when she calls him that, every endearment - except sweetheart and darling, and those she has gathered were weapons, once, used against him - and he flushes, looking down and smiling a little, red hair drifting over his eyes. “I never take my tree down before New Year’s. One year I got it late and we kept that sucker up until Valentine’s Day. Go ahead and open the box.”

His fingers are so long and delicate, as he carefully works up the tape that keeps one end of the box closed. Slipping it open comes easily enough, working the styrofoam packing on the inside out is a little more difficult. The squeak of styrofoam against cardboard makes him grit his teeth and Nat herself winces.

But then it’s out, and he lays the square of crumbling white styrofoam down on the paper, carefully lifting the top half away to reveal what it was protecting inside.

His eyes widen, and he reaches out, touching a rough-edged tinsel halo wrapped around a wire, running one finger down from the top of a porcelain forehead to the tip of a gently wrought nose, the cupid’s-bow lips, rounded hair. He looks up at Nat as his fingers find the stiff, scratchy fabric of the figurine’s cream-and-gold robes. “An, angel? Nat?”

“For the tree, Chris. You said you wanted an angel.” Nat moves back to lay a hand in the center of his back, and he leans to the side, his head tucking into the crook of her neck like always. “Jake and I figured opening one present on Christmas Eve wouldn’t be so bad. D’you want to put it up?”

“Yes,” He says, in a low soft voice. “She, um, she, she… she she… she always had angels, on the, um, the tree.”

“Chris, can I ask?” She rests her chin atop his head, his fine soft hair tickling her skin. “Who is she? Who are you talking about?”

He shakes his head a little, like shaking water out of his ears. “I, I don’t know.” It’s a confession, admission of guilt, more than an answer. “I don’t, don’t, don’t know who. But… but I know she had, had an angel, she said she bought it when, um, when when I was a, a, a a a a baby…”

Mother, then, most likely. She and Jake make eye contact, and he nods, stepping out of the room to go write it down. Every single memory, no matter how slight, could help them put enough together to find whoever might be looking for him out there. And it gives Dr. Berger a place to start delicately working out what is hidden under all the scar tissue in their minds.

“She threw it, it, it away,” Chris mutters, eyes closed. “With, with everything else.”

“Your mom did?”

“No. Some... someone else.”

“Well, let’s get the angel up there, then,” Nat says gently, as Chris slides his arms around her waist. His voice is going ragged, and she needs to pull him back from the edge before he tips over into the light. “Then all you hungry people can eat.”

“Aren’t you, you hungry? You’ve been cooking all, all, all, all all day.”

“All days. But no, I’ve tasted a little of everything already. Come on, then-”

The door blows open in a bluster of wind and Kauri steps in, cheeks red from the hint of chill in the air, blue eyes warm and sparkling. He looks better today than he did last week - Nat wonders, briefly, if he’s been staying with someone, instead of trying to sleep in park bathrooms or the cold. “Am I late for dinner?”

“Not at all, Kauri. Will Keira be joining us?”

Keira does not consume, comes a muffled voice from inside Kauri’s backpack. He grins and drops it in the entryway, unzipping to take the Roomba out and set it on the coffee table where visual sensors can take in the tree.

He glances back at the rest of them, and asks brightly, “What’s for dinner? Smells… huh.” He pauses, looks at the table. A strange look passes over his face, like a man seeing someone he knows but can’t quite place. “It smells really good in here.”

“I should hope so. Can you help Chris switch the star on the tree out for this? It’s brand new.” She picks the angel up out of the styrofoam and Chris grabs it from her, moving into the living room with it held in his hands like something infinitely precious and breakable.

Something so easily lost.

“Cool, an angel.” Kauri cocks his head to the side. “Why’d you get that?”

“Because,” Chris says, with earnest sincerity, and a little sadness. “It’s always, um, supposed to, to, to be an angel. It was always a, an angel before.”

Kauri - and Jake, who reappears shortly after to give his many inches of height to assist them - helps Chris get the angel light up on the tree, warm glow emanating from its robes, and Chris declares it better, now.

He murmurs to himself, “She’d, she’d like it better with an angel.”

No one asks him what he said, or to elaborate.

By the time he’s on his second helping of dinner, he’s forgotten that the thought ever passed his mind.

But Nat hasn’t.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain

#whump #christmas specials #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #memory loss #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #rescued whumpee #trauma recovery whump #natalie yoder: here to help the rescues #referenced noncon #brief and vague but still #grief tw #vague parental death reference

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