#the flowers aren’t BLOODY THOUGH

[ghoularaki]

Hello! Can I ask for yandere scenario with Mikey in which he and the darling made a childhood promise that they would get together/get married if neither of them end up finding a partner till they reached a certain age? To poor darling unfortunately never really had any luck with boys for some "unexplained" reasons and well the time is finally up and it came time for Mikey to collect his prize.

teddy bear

tw yandere mikey, bonten arc, noncon, mikey typical violence, possessiveness, forced marriage, marriage imagery/kink, dollification, hint of strength kink, unprotected sex, kidnapping

requests are CLOSED

It all started in elementary. An innocent era where time wasn’t much of a concept you could wrap your little brain around. Anticipating the relief of summer, not knowing how much you would regret wishing the months away. 

On a sweet spring day is when you met Mikey. A period before he went by said name, before gangs and despair. It was just you and him under the flourish trees, colors swirling in the world. 

“Manjiro,” he introduced with an outstretched hand and a tooth filled grin. 

You responded with your name with a shy demeanor, not used to such brightness. Clasping his hand to yours—so chubby and small—time before his hand could engulf yours. 

You two were instantly attached to the hip. If you were present, so was Mikey. Adults tried their best to separate you two in fear of stunted social growth, but anytime someone would detach your hands, tears spilled from Mikey’s eyes. You never saw a boy cry so much.

Though one day he stopped crying, stopped smiling so fully. It was that day, flowers waft in the air, he made such a silly promise. The exact age is fuzzy when he asked the damning question, but the words stay imprinted in your mind. “Hey y/n-chan, if we aren’t married by the age of 27, let's just marry each other.” The words were saccharine.

You had giggled at the question. At the time, neither of you understood the weight of marriage. And so, of course you agreed. 

“Pinky promise?” He raised his hand, pinky extended.

“Pinky promise.” You twirled your finger with his. Bound together. 

It all started in middle school. No blaring red signs wacked you in the face as you were always on the more reserved side. Boys never really did approach you especially when Mikey gained a name for himself. Though this never did bother you, at first. You were content with following him around like a lost puppy. This is when you met his less than savory friends. They weren’t mean, but you never really cared for swollen fists and bloody smiles. 

You knew it was best to avoid gang business for your sake and Mikey’s. He despised when you got involved. If anything you learned the hard way. It was when Takemichi (or Takemitchy as Mikey not so cleverly named him) arrived. He always loved to give those he adored nicknames, you were not an exception. His doll, he called you. The name made you huff, you were anything but. 

“That’s why you’re my doll. I don’t mind if you are roughed up, I will always fix you back up again.”

The words made your face so hot you could cook on it. 

He wasn’t wrong though. One too many incidents was the reason, you were forbidden to join any Toman meetings anymore. 

Calling upon his loyal followers, he stood above everyone else as he usually did. You sat at the top stair of the shrine, Draken standing right next to you. It was when Valhalla had not wavered and fallen. Kisaki was still at large.

It wasn’t much, but you so happened to get in the crossfire of Baji betraying Toman. An elbow to the face was all it took for Mikey to see red. He was silent. A deadly silence likened to a still sea right before whirling, twisting waves. 

He could have killed the man if it wasn’t for your laugh. Fuck, did it hurt and sometimes you could feel the phantom pain, but god was it fun. The adrenaline was addicting. You simply shot the blood from your nostrils and smiled crimson. Mikey was reminded of the time you ate cherries together, the red meat stuck between your teeth. You never looked so beautiful.

Since then, Mikey never let you go to another meeting. Instead he and Draken would walk you home before treading back. You kicked up a fuss at first, but with a glare from Mikey quickly shut you up. 

What Mikey wants, Mikey gets.

It truly started in high school. The death of Kisaki never sat right with Mikey. It haunted him. He wasn’t the same man he was from before. He was more subdued, angrier. Though you clenched your teeth in what could be mistaken for a smile.

You two started to drift. Mikey was falling and trying as you may to catch him, he twisted his body out of your arms. 

The skin that attached you two to the hip had rotted and collapsed. You became quite lonely for a short period, but that was quickly fixed. Without the intimidating presence of a whole gang backing you up, you were a whole lot easier to talk to. For once, a boy showed interest in you. Genuine, true romantic interest. Not the brotherly love Toman offered. 

In the down time before class started, you had been staring out the window watching the leaves decay into bright oranges and yellows. A knock on your desk startled you out from your daydreaming. Stood before you was a boy, a grade above you, the same grade as Mikey. He was tall with inky black hair and a puppy-like charm to him. He honestly reminded you of a German Shepherd. A blush adorned his cheeks as he asked you for your email. 

Just as shy, you offered your phone to him. Charms clicked together as you had plenty hanging off the flip phone, mainly of Kuromi and MyMelody. With a promise to shoot you a message, he sauntered back to class, obviously giddy. You felt the same. “OMG was the Y/n-chan asked out?” A classmate asked.

She was right across from you, watching the whole thing. You two weren’t particularly close, but you enjoyed her company.

You hid your face in your hands at the banter. She started to poke your arm as she giggled and you kicked your feet in excitement. 

Turning to her, you also giggled, “damn right I did.”

Others in the classroom observed the display you two created, also surprised at the boldness of their upperclassman. 

Though word spread fast. In the end, you received no reply. You tried not to be disappointed, but it was the first time a boy showed interest in you and he didn’t even have the decency to message you back. 

About a week later you saw him roaming the halls. He strangely seemed more subdued, no longer so puppyish. When he locked eyes with you, the boy scurried away. You were stunned, perplexed. 

All you could do was stand there, the gaggle of students brushed up against your still body. Leaning against a window of a classroom a few feet away, Mikey watched with blank eyes. Shivering at the innate reaction of being stared at, you caught Mikey’s gaze but he offers no acknowledgement of your locked eyes. He simply slunk back into the classroom.

Never in your life have you felt fear for Mikey. Sure, cautious as sometimes it felt like he was one inconvenience away from breaking something, but never fear. A girl at your age was scared of a cracked phone screen, asshole boys, missing an assignment, what to do with your life after high school, not your life. Mikey would never hurt you, right? As the days dwindled, you were less secure in the possibility he would prove you right. 

Taking a hint was never your forte. Forgoing whatever the blonde tried to communicate to you with silence, you chased after your upperclassman. The final bell had rung and you were quick to stuff your books in your bag as quickly as possible. You didn’t know much about him besides his name was Yokio and he was in the same class as Mikey. Racing to the upper level, you just hoped Mikey or Draken or really anyone from Toman wasn’t there as well. 

Luck had been on your side. In the classroom alone was Yokio, gathering his own supplies slowly. He looked up at the sound of rapid footsteps. His puppy dog eyes wide in what could have been terror. Snapping back to his bag, he fastened his pace.

“Yokio, why didn’t you message me back?” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you wanted answers.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taken?” Was what he snapped back.

You scoffed out a laugh, “Taken? Who told you that bullshit?”

When he looked back at you, there was ire in his eyes and now you gawked closer there was a cut on his lip and he favored his left leg. Coming for answers, only left you with more questions. 

“Don’t act stupid, L/n, we both know you aren’t.” 

Your face twitched, perplexed. He slung his bag over his back and limped past you, subtly pushing you out of the way. 

“Go ask your fucking gangster boyfriend,” he seethed in your ear. 

You glanced up at him to which he ignored and made his way down the hall. Watching his form shrink, your knuckles almost bursted through your skin with how hard you were clenching your fist. It didn’t take a lot to piece together what was happening. How stupid were you for it to take this long to click. 

Stomping down the same path Yokio went down, you now had a different target. And you were pissed. 

It wasn’t a shock to see Mikey still on school grounds in the same lot that he met Takemichi surrounded by other Toman members. Today it was him, Draken, Mitsuya and Takemichi. Not caring about the audience you stomped right up to Mikey and pushed him so hard, he stumbled. 

“What the fuck!” You screeched.

All the boys’ eyes widen, never once have you lost your cool. Not like this. And more surprisingly, you were able to make the Invincible Mikey topple over. There is something to be said about a scorned woman. 

It had been ages since you talked to your old friends and you had thought you left off on good terms. Apparently not if Mikey is spreading a rumor you two were dating. 

You shoved again—this time Mikey didn’t move an inch, “who the fuck do you think you are?”

He was quick to grab your wrists, swallowing your delicate bones. You tried your best to squirm away but it was futile. 

“How about let’s talk about this civilly,” Draken butted in. For a violent man, he sure did hate inner conflict. 

“Yeah let’s talk civilly about the fact he’s spreading rumors that me and him are dating,” you seethed towards Draken but kept your sharpened gaze on Mikey. 

“You guys aren’t?” Takemichi squawked. Mitsuya elbowed him, muttering that he wasn’t helping. 

Mikey kept your gaze and said plainly, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

You scoffed, attitude dripped from your posture. He still had his hands on you and you finally ripped yourself from him. Biting your inner cheek, the taste of blood grounded you. You weren’t being crazy about this and you weren’t going to let Mikey dismantle you like this. 

“Then why did Yokio said to me, verbatim, ‘go ask your fucking gangster boyfriend?”

“Oh you’re on a first name basis now?” He was avoiding the question. 

Mikey slipped his hands in the pockets of his baggy pants. His posture screamed aloof. Though the way his jaw ticked showed he was growing irritated. Whatever friendship that was left was burnt out like a used match, never to relight. 

And you told him just that. 

The air shifted to something colder, sinister. He straightened his back to stand taller. For his short stature he made you feel puny. 

“Care to repeat that.” He was about to march to you, but Draken gripped his upper arm. The taller man shook his head to his leader, his bestest friend. 

“Alright let’s just leave this for today. We can talk about this more when we all cooled off, got it?” Ever the middle man Draken was, but you didn’t care.

“Sure,” you said and turned around. They all watched you walk away. Mikey knew he fucked up but at this point he didn’t care. You didn’t mean what you said, you were just angry.

You didn’t show up to school that day or the next or the day after that. You had transferred to a school in Osaka. 

The world had not been kind to Mikey. Maybe it was an act of karma or maybe he was simply cursed. The day you left was the final fracture in his glass heart. It all fell down after that. He pushed away his friends, lied through his teeth that he needed space. From his hands he built an empire of the most feared gang in all of Japan. Toman was nothing more than a childish dream.

The world was at his disposal and he thirsted for power. Yet, at the top, it was lonely. Some days he missed you, his friends and other days he resented both. How dare you leave him. He spent years trying to find you, but disappeared into thin air. You didn’t even have any social media from what he could find. It left him bitter but a smirk still crept up. Smart girl. 

Mikey was sure whatever luck he had, had run out years ago until Sanzu barged into his office. He nearly shot him for coming in so unmannerly, but kept the gun down.

“I found her!” His voice was boisterous, elated.

Sanzu honestly couldn’t give two shits about you, but whatever made Mikey happy he felt tenfold. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s back in Tokyo apparently to visit a dead relative,” Sanzu responded.

He waltzed further into his office and leaned up against the desk. Spying down at Mikey from underneath his nose, he watched the boss stare off with no indicator what he was thinking. Honestly, it was always hard to figure out what Mikey contemplated. Whatever you thought he was going to do, he did the opposite. 

“Prepare the room.”

Sanzu grinned so hard that his scars creaked. It was about to get fun around here again. 

Coming back to Tokyo was one of the dumbest ideas you have ever had and you were aware of that. You were precautious. Every step to instill your safety, you implemented it. You never used social media, you limited your internet access, kept inside, made sure not to stick to a schedule and stay the fuck out of Tokyo. Despite this, life happens. 

You knew your grandmother was growing old and it came to no surprise she passed away. If it was anyone else you would have lied to your family that you were too busy to come back home, but the thought of your grandmother’s grave barren left you weak enough to buy a bus ticket. 

It was true you were so busy you couldn’t even attend the actual funeral, only able to visit where she was put to rest a day later. You were sure your uncle would still be there as he was her caretaker. The thought of being exposed, out in the open with another person gave you comfort. Though very little as your uncle didn’t even own a knife. If someone came you were both screwed. 

You tried your best to toss the idea away. It had been years since you seen him and you were sure he had long since forgotten you by now. But, that small part of your brain itched and dug in that he doesn’t simply forget his possessions. 

No matter what, this was going to be an in and out operation. You will leave some of her favorite snacks, wish her goodbye and take the next train far, far from here. Maybe you could convince the rest of your family still in Tokyo to come to the countryside with you. The air was always better in Murakami. 

A polite voice on the intercom told you that your stop was coming up. The bus came to a slow stop as it sank to let the people on and off. Lifting yourself off from the uncomfortable seat, you picked up your small bag. Thanking the bus driver, you jumped off to be greeted to the cool, night air. You made your way to the graveyard, it was about a 10 minute walk from the bus stop. If you calculated it right, you had less than 20 minutes to visit her and catch the next bus. You honestly wished it was a shorter time period as being outside for that long of a period left you anxious. 

Clutching your bag, you walked briskly to the site. Maybe you could find a populated shop to reside in until the bus came. The more people, the better. The streets were sparse but enough that made you feel at least some at ease. Keeping your hood up and head down, you had headphones but nothing was playing. Again, you were doing everything to ensure nothing bad will happen. 

In no time, you were at the gravesite. There was no one here. A chill rushed down your back. Fuck taking your time, at this point you will overhand throw the snacks at her grave and high tail out of there. Seething, you abandoned the idea, knowing she would have beat you to kingdom come in the afterlife for doing that. 

“In and out, in and out,” you mumbled to yourself as you nimbly strutted. 

Pulling out packaged strawberry mochi and taiyaki from the pocket of your oversized hoodie, you were careful to place it down near the other snacks surrounding her grave. At least she wasn’t hungry. Slapping your hands together, you whispered, “I’m sorry this will be the last time you will see me. Maybe in a next life we will see each other again.” 

“Awww, how sentimental, Y/n-chan,” a sickly sweet voice chewed out. 

Snapping your head up, you see the second to last person you wanted to see. There in an obnoxious pinstriped suit and hair the same color of your grandmother’s gifted mochi was Sanzu, in all his unsettling glory. 

In your paranoia, you had kept tabs of Toman that then turned into Bonten. Even going as far to sneak onto less than savory websites to keep tabs on the gangsters. There wasn’t much, but you knew enough to fear the man before you. Back in the day, Sanzu was a fly on the wall, he was kind of just… there. 

But here, he was a neon sign of danger. You were in Tokyo for less than two hours and he was able to pinpoint your exact location. Curling your lip up, how naive you were to think what was in the past stayed there. 

Sticking your hands back in your pockets, you thumbed the knife stashed away. Your form pivoted towards Sanzu, staring him dead on. You weren’t going to be intimidated by this pastel troll. 

Eyeing the gun he grasped in his hand, Sanzu was flippant with how he scratched his head with it. 

“You don’t know how happy I am for your stupidity,” he mocked you.

You swiftly ignored the taunt and glanced at somewhere to run. There was a path a little further away that would lead you away from the bus stop but would bring you back to population, hopefully. Just as you were about to jump over the graves, Sanzu shot the ground where you would have landed. A scream bellowed.

You flicked your bouncing eyes to him. He must have been fucking insane to shoot out in the open like that. Sure the gravesite was empty but there were people nearby. Clinging onto the hope someone heard and would be nosey, you shook as Sanzu’s expression dropped. 

“I know I just called you stupid, but let’s not be hasty,” he raised his gun to you, “come with me with no complaints or I will bury a bullet in your fucking thigh. You’re lucky Boss wants you alive.” 

“Eat shit!” you frothed and made a run for it.

Having the advantage of his lanky form, Sanzu was quick to grab your hair before you could even move an inch. Hissing, you grappled onto his hand only for him to shove you away. You collapsed on the ground and grabbed the knife from your pocket. Flicking it open you were about to dig the blade into his calf when he pistol whipped you so hard your head bounced off the concrete. Blood poured from your head down into your bleary eyes, darkness crept in. 

“He never said, you can’t be hurt though. Dumb bitch.”

Whimpering, you winced at the light that pours and invades your eyelids. Flinching from the sudden light, you squinted as you looked at the window disturbing your sleep. It ebbed in slowly before it came rushing in. Everything fucking hurt, especially your head. You attempted to bring a hand up to touch the offending part only to be met with resistance. No, not resistance, you couldn’t move at all. 

Panic started to set in as you attempted to swivel your head to see where you were. The only thing you could move were your eyes and the slightest twitch of your fingers. Tears bubbled out as you sobbed in complete and utter terror.

A pathetic “help” lept from your throat but you might as well whispered it. Looking around with minimal movement you had, you saw you were in a pristine white, canopy bed. It was similar to the one you had in your childhood, the same one you shared with your favorite doll. The canopy was lacey along with the rest of the bedding, at least it was soft from what you could tell. 

Whoever tucked you in, had to courtesy to leave you in somewhat warm clothes. Glancing down at your body, you were clad in the same material as the bed. It was a sweet ivory, similar to a very short wedding dress. It looked and felt expensive. 

Just as you caught your bearings, the door was swung open. Whatever calmness you attempted to instill ranaway as the last person you wanted to stood in the door. With all your might, you willed your legs to work. All you could do was wiggle your toes. If Sanzu sent a shiver down your spine, you might as well abandon your whole nervous system as Mikey only stared at you. 

Your chest hitched, terrified of what was going to become of you. The man said nothing as he slunk further into the room. He looked completely different from the last time you saw him. His skin lost whatever tanned hue he had in his youth, his hair just as pale. His eyes were darker somehow and bags heavy underneath them. He also looked skinnier but you didn’t let that fool you. Even if he was skin and bone, Mikey could take out a hundred men. 

He planted himself next to you. Sitting on the edge, he leaned over to stroke your frozen cheek. His palm quickly became wet. 

“Oh my dear,” his voice was sweet, but his grip turned hard, “how stupid do you think I am?”

Your lips puckered out as he didn’t stop squeezing you until your jaw creaked. “Stop,” you breathed out. 

If Mikey wasn’t so close he wouldn’t have heard you. He leaned over you until you were nose to nose. “You think you are in the position to make commands?”

Locking eyes with you, he continued, “Do you know how long I have waited to see you again? You won’t run away again and I will make sure of it. I am bound to you and you to me. I mean we promised that didn’t we?”

Your brows furrowed before it hit you. That fucking childhood promise. He was still hung up on that?

“You… you’re insane,” you tried to put malice in your voice but it was so hard to move anything. 

“In sickness and in health,” he replied with no mirth. 

Pulling away, he climbed further onto the bed. Spreading your legs, he sat himself in between them. Truly panicking now, you tried to rip your ankles from his grasp but alas your muscles didn’t even twitch. 

“Please,” you begged, “don’t do this to us.”

Mikey laughed but it was hollow, “so there is an us now? I thought you were done with me since high school.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We can be friends again, just don’t do this!” Working the words around your mouth was difficult and the headache was getting worse. 

“I think we have passed the point of being friends. I have waited my whole life for this and I’m here to collect my prize.”

Your eyes widened at the realization of the date. It was April twenty-eighth, two weeks since Mikey’s twenty-seventh birthday. You were doomed. 

Mikey ignored your internal crisis. His deft hands trailed down the outline of your curves until he met the hem of your dress. Slowly he lifted up the little gown until it was under your breasts. All you could do was whimper as you watched him take and take. 

He curled down to place a kiss on your tummy that was a phantom sensation. “My pretty doll,” he whispered into your skin. 

Fingers crawled back down until they met your just as white panties. He propped himself back up and used both hands to delicately tear the fabric away. A stuttering breath echoed in the room as he stared at your exposed pussy.

“My pretty, pretty doll,” he repeated. 

Subtly you tested again how much you could move, as he took his time to undress you like a present, the more sensation you gained in your limbs. Not enough to run away, but enough to retaliate. Knowing it was futile, you refused to give in so easily. 

Just as he was about to lean back down to plant feathery kisses on your pussy, you reared back your leg and kicked him in the face with all your might. 

It wasn’t enough to break his nose, but enough for blood to pool from it. Mikey lifted himself back up and locked eyes with you. As the blood dripped down to his lips, he licked it away and quirked an eyebrow up at you. An ‘what was that supposed to do?’ was written all over his face without even anything being said.

“You never knew when to give up, did you?”

With that, he pulled your hips up further onto his lap and bent your legs to your chest. Whatever gentleness he had was gone. His fingers ran up and down your exposed slit. You squirmed but he clenched down on your thighs until your circulation was cut off. Seeing you were done moving, he used one hand to hold you down and the other to pull down his pants and underwear. 

It was hard to see his cock from this angle and you were honestly scared to see what was about to force its way into you. Mikey crowded you so all you could see and smell was him. 

“I was going to work you through this but you just had to be a brat. It's okay, we have all our lives for me to show how much I love you.”

He tapped his cockhead against your hole, a silent warning. Fuck it stung as he bullied his way into your cunny. Tears bubbled up again as he carved his way inside you. For such a short man, his cock was long and thick. 

It could have been hours or minutes until his hips met yours. You never felt so full in your life. Clawing at the sheets, you felt yourself start to relax. Mikey seeing you were finally calm enough, he gave little thrusts. You moaned at the feeling. 

Taking the hint, he started to cant his hips. He slowly pulled himself out until it was just his tip and then slamming back in. A scream was punched out of you. Mikey laughed at the chain reaction. Putting more of his weight on you, his hand left one of your thighs to cradle your neck. It wasn’t enough to cut off your breathing but enough to keep you still. 

Mikey kept this rhythm of fucking into you like you were nothing more than cocksleeve. Keeping you close he rambled, “my doll, my possession, my thing, mine.” He seethed out the last word. 

The constant budging against your womb wiped your mind blank. At this point you just wanted to cum even if it was at the hands of him. Sensing you were both close, Mikey let go of your thigh to rub your clit. You moaned out at finally being stimulated. 

Mikey groaned out as you clenched down on him. “Fuck,” he moaned as he was coming up there with you.

After a few more pumps, he came right into you. Being filled with his cum spiraled your own release, shaking and whimpering. A few more spurts came out as you clenched down one last time. Mikey collapsed right on you, not removing himself from you. 

“You’re finally mine,” he breathed out relieved. Still coming down from the high, you spat, “I will never be yours.” 

Mikey slithered his hand across the mattress to come caress your right hand to his. Metal clinked against metal. Turning your head, you saw a ring on both your hands.

“My stupid doll, my naive wife.” 

#yandere mikey #yandere mikey x reader #yandere manjiro sano #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev #yandere manjiro x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #tokyo revengers smut #viruses #dark.web

[lg-123]

Come Back- Xavier Thorpe

Summary: After days of ignoring Y/n to focus on Wednesday and the monster after it attacks her, Xavier realizes she’s gone.

Warnings: death, xavier is a bad boyfriend

masterlist

Xavier sat at Y/n’s bedside every day since she was attacked. She was the first victim, and despite being able to heal herself, the damage was undoing all her body did. Xavier had just told the girl he loved her, he then had to watch her run into his arms, bloodied and broken. He was devastated, blaming himself, saying “It should have been me.”. He was angry at the fact that she had snuck out to see him, he had asked her to. 

It had been two weeks since her attack and in that time Wednesday Addams had taken Y/n’s place, not that Xavier noticed. Enid and Yoko would visit Y/n daily, they weren’t sure if you could hear in a coma, but they talked anyways. Enid shared all about her time with Ajax and the date they soon would share. Yoko spoke about how Kent had sabotaged their boat during the Poe cup and if she had been there, she could have controlled the kelp to stop him. Neither of them had spoken to Xavier about Y/n though, assuming he had been going just as much as them. Y/n wasn’t getting better and there were days the nurse wouldn’t allow any visitors; her body was too weak.

It soon hit a month and Xavier had not realized he hadn’t seen Y/n in a while, but she was on his mind constantly. Wednesday had somehow convinced the boy that together they could stop the attacks and catch the monster and its master. The girl grew weaker and weaker, and the last time Yoko visited, she cried on the way out, she knew her friend was almost gone. Y/n’s parents wouldn’t visit, they weren’t the best people and Enid knew, so she made sure to tell Y/n how proud she was and that she loved her every day. The nurse finally told Enid that it was almost time, Enid’s heart broke and she sobbed into Ajax’s arms that night.

Ajax and Enid surrounded the girl. She had hit her lowest point and the nurse told them it was time. Enid was angry that Xavier wasn’t there, Wednesday had said they were going out in search of the Monster. Ajax was also angry at his best friend, there was no way he would leave the girl he had pinned over for 2 years all alone. Enid was holding Y/n hand, a small ivy of flowers left her palm and wrapped around Enid’s wrist. His phone dinged and the nurse looked at him. He just nodded and stepped outside the curtains. Xavier was calling.

“Dude where is everyone?” Xavier spoke, he could hear what sounded like Wednesday’s voice in the background.

“What the fuck Xavier. You know what’s going to happen today and you chose to be with a girl you met last month. What the fuck is going through your head, she can’t fight any more and you know this is the best thing. So why aren’t you here?” The gorgon was pissed. 

“Ajax what are you talking about?” Xavier questioned, his heart dropping as he stepped away from Wednesday.

“The nurse told us all last visit, remember? They are taking Y/n off life support.” As soon as Ajax finished, he heard cursing on the other end of the phone and what sounded like sobs.

‘Has it- has it happened?” Xavier’s heart broke, he was struggling to breathe. He thought back onto the past month and realized he had not seen Y/n. He hadn’t seen the nurse for updates, he didn’t know she was this bad. He started hyperventilating as he pictured Y/n all alone. The girl he loved. He looked at Wednesday who had a confused look on her face and became angry at her, she had taken him away from Y/n and it was all his fault.  He thought he could save her.

“It’s happening now.” Was all Ajax said back.

Xavier took off down the hall, leaving a confused Wednesday to wonder why he was crying. He had never run so fast, pushing people out of the way to get to the infirmary. When he arrived, he burst through the doors, at the back was Ajax, in his arms was a sobbing Enid.

“No no no-” He mumbled out, he pushed the curtain open and there she was. She looked peaceful; a flower crown had formed around her head. “No- come back, please come back.” Xavier grabbed her hands, bringing them to his face. A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he knew she was gone. “Come back.” was all he whispered out. He put his head down on the bed, holding her hands, hoping she would wake back up and squeeze his.

“Why?” Enid questioned, her eyes were puffy, but she still glared at the boy. “Why would you leave her all alone, you said you loved her but here you are, running around with Wednesday.”

“I was trying to catch it, I thought I could save her.” Xavier mumbled out, he looked at the girl he loved, and he grew angry at himself. “I should have been here; I should have fucking been here. What is wrong with me.” He began to sob into his hands. 

“You’re right. You should have.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x y/n #wednesday show #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #enid sinclair #ajax petropolus

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; alastor

requested by ; anonymous (08/03/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; alastor

outline ; “Excuse me, I don't know if requests are still closed but would it be okay to ask relationship headcannos about Alastor??”

warning(s) ; some references to canon-typical levels of violence from alastor, but mostly fluff!

there are an innumerable amount of reasons as to why it’s damn near impossible to get close enough to alastor to form a romantic relationship with him, but even after you have somehow managed to gain his trust and admiration to the point that he wants to court you things don’t get any more straightforward — arguably they only get more complicated the longer you’re an item

he’s nothing short of a gentleman with you and insists on taking things slow and going about things the ‘traditional’ way (or as close to traditional as one can get in hell) — and that can mean anything from holding doors open for you (either himself or through his shadows) or lending you his coat when you seem cold, to aggressively shutting down/intimidating the afterlife out of anyone who approaches you with intentions he deems inappropriate or delivering you your enemy’s severed head in amongst a gift basket of flowers and baked goods (courtesy of rosie as he’s not much of a baker himself)

he uses a mixture of french and english pet names for you depending on his mood — think along the lines of such terms of endearment as ‘my dear’ or ‘ma chèrie / mon chèri’ — and for his own part he’d rather you just address him by name unless you’re in private and he’s in a very good mood (well… a good enough mood to actually respond to being called something like ‘dearest’ or ‘honey’ instead of outright ignoring you until you actually say his name)

he frequently remarks about how much his mother would love you, how happy she’d be to see him settle down after all of this time, and how he wishes you could meet her — those moments are when you get to see a more human side of alastor, his smile softening to something more nostalgic and genuine as he speaks about one of the few people he truly cared for during his life

he’s not the biggest fan of physical affection in general and will only really partake in it on his terms, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t show his love for you through other means — in fact, as far as he’s concerned, his affection for you is shown as clear as day despite his own dislike for being touched

gift giving — though his gifts aren’t always the most traditional, alastor does tend to go out of his way and get you things whenever he’s out and about. sometimes that means picking something up from the tailor that he knows you’ll just love, or bringing you a box of baked goods from rosie’s emporium whenever he goes to visit her, and other times that means fetching you ‘trophies’ from the people he’s dealt with on your behalf (sometimes they’re extremely fresh and bloody, other times he actually makes an effort to clean and dry them — it’s 50/50 regarding how much cleanup you’re gonna need to do), but no matter what he’s always happy (proud, even) when he presents you with your gift — and even prouder if he comes back to your place of residence later on and sees that you’ve put anything on display (well, the stuff that can be displayed anyway…)

quality time — you’re the person whose company he actively seeks out the most, even if that just means sharing a space as you each go about whatever task you’re doing at the time. of course there are the dates he takes you on (he is a gentleman, after all, and he makes an effort to woo and wow you whenever he has the chance), but the majority of your quality time is spent in the hotel or his recording studio: going about your chores together, hanging out in the common area and overseeing the group activities charlie has planned, sitting side by side and reading or eating in silence, having your meals together, talking about whatever comes to mind when the mood allows it, or just sitting with him in his studio in silence as he broadcasts his show for all of hell to hear

words of affirmation — he’s not the most talkative person, especially not when compared to someone like angel dust or charlie, and is generally more of a listener/observer in most of his daily interactions, but with you he does make an effort to keep up conversation and ensure that you know just how much he appreciates your company. of course he always makes sure to compliment your newest hairstyle or outfit change, especially if you’re dressing up to accompany him to a meeting or another such formal event, but his affirmations go beyond just shallow praise and you get to see much more of that when you’re alone or in the brief moments where nobody is looking your way when you’re with others. for example, he’s always quick to reassure you of how deeply he admires and cares for you (as much as he’s capable of doing either, anyway) by insisting that it takes a great deal to catch his eye and that by merit of being the radio demon’s lover you must be spectacular, no matter what your insecurities may say.

acts of service — again, regardless of his more disturbing proclivaties, alastor is a gentleman and will go out of his way to ensure you’re well taken care of and that any and all unnecessary stressors and discomforts are swiftly and painlessly (for you) removed from your life. sometimes this can mean him fetching you (shockingly well made given his usual diet) breakfast in bed when it’s clear you didn’t sleep well the night before or having his shadow servants do your bidding for the day so you don’t have to worry about overworking yourself in his absence, but it can also translate to actions that are much more aligned with his terrifying reputation — for example, torturing anyone that opposes you (like an overbearing boss or annoying neighbour) into silence and compliance with his whims

alastor is also a generally very protective and territorial partner who isn’t above getting petty and passive aggressive towards anyone who tries to interfere in your relationship — and then if they don’t get the hint and back off immediately (or they attempted to cause you harm) he’ll start getting outright aggressive and make sure that they understand just how much they fucked up by trying to take what belongs to him

related to the above point, but alastor also has a nasty possessive streak to him and will heavily monitor all of your external relationships (both just by sticking by your side whenever he’s able, and also by ensuring you always have one of his shadows by your side when you’re apart) — he’s more lenient with your friendships if you happen to be with someone he explicitly trusts (like rosie or nifty) or someone that he knows wouldn’t dream of interfering in your relationship (like charlie who is too nice for her own good sometimes) but otherwise you can expect him to be extremely judgemental and passive aggressive with the people in your life that you’re close to (especially if they happen to be someone who distrusted him immediately… like vaggie)

this side of him can be managed with a lot of patience and compromise from you, but it’s never going to go away completely so you’re going to have to get used to that side of him early on

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor x reader #alastor fluff #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor fluff

[myir0nlung]

MEET ME BACKSTAGE..

hobie brown

IN WHICH, hobie sneaks backstage at a concert to chat up the lead singer of the band..

reader has no gender

“Right, thank you once again for being a fabulous crowd, goodbye!”

The small crowd of about 500 people roared with cheers and whistles. You couldn’t help but grin as you and your band mates walked off stage. Your drummer, Chaka, was buzzing with excitement.

“That was sooo cool! I know it’s only like 500 people but you it’s still so cool! They were cheering and some were singing songs and yeah, you know all that stuff?” Chaka exclaimed. She was a bit daft but it was alright, everyone still loved her. Your bassist, Sam, wrapped their arm around Chaka’s shoulder and pulled her in for a side hug. The three of you walked down the hall to the small lounge. Chaka was excitedly chatting about some punk guy in the crowd.

“He was like really scary looking but I just know he’s super cool with his close friends. You know what I mean? Yeah you should. Anyways..”

Chaka blabbed on about this mysterious punk guy to Sam as you arrived to the “lounge.” It wasn’t truly a lounge just a few beat up sofas with a coffee table in the middle and tech equipment littered around. Though your band has never had a lounge to go to after a gig so this was like luxury. A group of 3 guys were sat on a couch. They were so obviously just looking to hook up with one of you guys. It made you roll your eyes, but Chaka seemed delighted that people had come back here to talk to her. Sam mouthed to you “I’ll be watching her tonight” before following her to the couch. You just sat on a different couch and flipped through the magazine left on the coffee table.

It had must’ve been at least 15 minutes since you’ve sat down. The guys seemed a bit bored as Chaka chatted about which lipgloss she should use whilst Sam tried to deny the advances of some other guy. You leaned further into the couch, like you wanted to sink into it. The urge to leave was strong but where would you go? All your equipment still needed to be packed up. Suddenly the couch dipped next to you, causing you to jump slightly.

“Didnt meant to scare ya love..” A sort of deep voice spoke. You looked over to see.. a punk guy? Wait.. was this the guy Chaka was talking about? He slung his arm behind the couch and gave a grin.

“Say that show was bloody fantastic hm? Got real talent, all of ya.” He kicked feet up onto the coffee table, the thud from his boots earning Chaka’s attention. She gasped (very loudly) and pointed to him. Hobie laughed at her surprise.

“He’s the one I told you about…!” She (not so quietly) whispered.

“Aren’t I charming?” He teased. Chaka giggled and gave you a thumbs up.

“Make a friend (Y/N)! It wouldn’t like, hurt. Not at all!” She grinned and turned back to the men, who were eyeing Hobie next to you. Sam eyed him too, their eyes narrowed with their eyebrows furrowed.

Silence filled the space between you.

“So.. do you want my autograph or something..?” You questioned.

“Not at all love. Wouldn’t mind it if ya offer. Just thought you looked lovely on stage.” He shrugged at his words.

“Top tier performance. Would’ve been throwing flowers at you if I had em.” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, covering your mouth to muffle it. Hobie grinned at your reaction.

“Trying to chat me up and I don’t even know your name.” You teased, but you didn’t know if it actually came across that way. You weren’t too experienced at doing this type of him, Chaka was.

“I like your style doll, the names Hobie. Hobie Brown.” Hobie introduced. You were about to say your name but he waved his hand in a way to tell you to not speak.

“Already know it. Wouldn’t be a true fan if I didn’t eh?” He had a shit-eating grin on his face.

You couldn’t help but grin back.

“Well well, if your such a big fan you wouldn’t mind leaving this place with me? Those creepy guys aren’t working their charm on me.” You tilted your head over to the guys who were trying to get closer to Chaka and Sam. Hobie raised an eyebrow at you.

“Trusting a stranger so easily? Didn’t your mum teach you ‘stranger danger’”. He teased. You rolled your eyes playfully.

“If I end up dead it’s better than being here.” You acted a little grossed out by the guys, just for dramatic effect.

“Well then come on love, I’ll take ya to my gig now. You wouldn’t mind playing guitar again tonight would ya?”

part two?

#spiderman atsv #atsv #spiderman x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown atsv #across the spiderverse

[kadextra]

q!Forever & q!Bad, comedy and tragedy are two sides of the same coin

(little meta rp analysis & appreciation)

Comedy and tragedy- complimentary concepts when it comes to the dynamic that is these two characters.

Their lore together is truly like a soap opera to me in the way it operates, entertaining in how goofy it is- I laughed so much during interrodate. They had a whole elaborate musical prank war over a stolen gun (which neither of them even had, they’re just too dedicated to the bit.) The first thing they say to each other after q!Forever returns from the nether is “You look terrible!” 💀 and my guy gifted a bloody chainsaw as the flower of the day to q!Bad in purgatory 1 which was happily accepted.

Even when the characters show attraction for each other, it’s usually through some ridiculous romcom thing. q!Forever is in love with q!Bad dressed as pink barbie and thinks photos of her are the best gift a person could ever receive?? 🤨 q!Bad daydreams about q!Forever as a lobster with blonde hair and a six-pack??? brother be projecting him onto larry the lobster from spongebob squarepants dude what is wrong with them 😭 sometimes I wonder how they’re able to do all these bits in improv and take it seriously, it’s impressive

The characters are not normal, their relationship is not normal, it cannot be viewed normally. the ccs know exactly what they’re doing in creating whatever *gestures* this is, and it’s amazing. over the top, cute, played perfectly for comedy

But the characters aren’t just that, you can’t have them without the inverse 🎭 like a punch to the gut after all the sillies, they really know how to do tragedy well.

I very much look forward to whenever they’re at the top of their angst game, bc they both LOVE to make their cubitos suffer. to an insane degree. My god these two can’t go 3 days with their characters experiencing some peace and joyful whimsy, they *must* rp their ocs actively dying, horribly diseased, going crazy

And they go hard with it. I’m very serious when I say multiple times during the lore I’ve had to get up and walk away to calm down because it was too intense. super special shoutout to the q!Forever first happy pills arc stream & October 1st q!Bad psychotic breakdown stream. I’ve never been so shocked as I was watching those live, the stamina to do highly emotional rp like that is actually nuts. some of the most angsty mfs on this server fr (the #1 spot goes to quackity though. hey maybe i’ll make a tierlist)

So when Bad & Forever bring the best of their angst ability into serious rp interactions together that Aren’t comedic…? we are in for a treat. that talk they had right when q!cellbit died to the code, the richas rescue mission, the election, voting arguments, post-ron kidnapping, colorblind test/therapy, flower of the day. many scenes that are seared into my mind, but none is more so than The Happy Pills Proposal. goosebumps whenever I think about it… the scene ever. the way it was framed, the lines they said, how it had tense, chilling buildup before a literal explosion. how are these people capable of doing the most silly things and then turning around to stab us in the heart 50 times

So you bet I’m crossing my fingers for a meeting between @v@ & q!Bad. Forever is absolutely killing the role so far. If q!Bad gets involved I can already taste the glorious angst…. since he has specific traumatic experience in also being possessed, & having killed his possessed friends in another life. he recalled the memory when talking about how to save q!Forever last night. fun! *shaking*

anyways that’s all :D love these characters, I had been wanting to do a little meta appreciation post for a while so I thought why not now ^^

#qsmp #qsmp forever #qsmp badboyhalo

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: Clan of Three

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 7.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, massive injuries, some wholesome moments, sad as fuck father-daughter moments, massive angst, PTSD

------

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all,” Gideon turns around looking at his fellow warlords, “Long Live the Empire!”

“It is time to retake our home world….I need volunteers from both tribes.”

“I will go.” “I will go.” “I will go.” “I will go.”

“Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?”

“We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.” They lower their heads slightly bringing a hand to rest over their hearts.

“I will only wear a dress on Naboo. I was told that it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. And there are lakes and waterfalls and fields of flowers and planets as far as the eyes can see. So if you want me to wear a dress it has to be on Naboo.”

“With the uncomfortable shoes?” He asks and you smirk, “We’ll see.” The two of you stare at each other a silence falling over you two its two magnetics coming together. His hand covers your eyes the other pulling off his helmet then his lips meet yours.

“Look, I have no idea what that boy’s intentions are, but…I do know that he would be lucky to have you.” Din says and you lift your head up looking at the older man, “Really?” You ask and he nods and it grows silent once more before you speak up.

“Do you feel like everything is going right that it’s meant to go wrong?” You voice your fear for only him to know, “Every time we get close to winning something horrible goes wrong,” Your tone gets slightly frantic all the possibilities making you more nervous.

Din grabs your shoulders making you look at him, “I promised you I was never leaving you and I’m not. Ever.” He reassures and you nod before he pulls you into his arms just holding you there. His chin rests on the top of your head nothing is said between the two of you but you could tell he meant every single one of his words.

“I love you, dad…” You say and he freezes slightly before his arms squeeze you tighter to him, “Love you too, kid.”

“Those aren’t Mandalorians.” You call out as they immediately take fire, ambushing you all, “They’re Imperials! Take cover.” All the Mandalorians take cover firing at them.

“It’s an ambush!”

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place,” He says, and you are unmoving. Moff Gideon was back. He finds delight in seeing the horror and pure terror in your expression as the Mandalorians behind the blast door has no choice but to watch. “Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from beskar alloy,”

“Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers.” He orders and Bo-Katan slams her fist against the glass.

“No!” the Klaxon alarm blares as the Interceptors and Bombers are activating, “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.”

“Kaz, get up. Kaz, kriffing get up and fight. Please stop! Please don’t do this…I’ll do anything please don’t I beg you!” You shout as he takes in your features one last time though tear-filled and bloody you still look beautiful in his eyes, “Kaz, please get up!”

“I love y-” The blade cleaves through his body as a scream of anguish rips through your throat.

“None of this would have occurred if you had accepted. He’s dead because of your actions, princess.” Gideon mocks you as you’re sent into a spiral sobs racking your body and hyperventilating from the shock that has taken over.

You didn’t deserve happiness…you would never love again. You had nothing left in you to love. Your happiness, your love, and yourself had died right alongside him held in his arms with dead promises to visit the far-off planets you dreamed of.

You were in a daze as the commandos practically dragged you through the halls, and you didn’t hear Din’s shouts, didn’t hear anything it was a blur until you were brought into a room and you’re dropped to your knees and chained to the floor. It repeated in your head like a broken melody, his face…his beautiful face draining of life.

“I love y-” Drain of tears as you felt no emotion, you didn’t feel sadness, loss, anger, sorrow, anything. It was empty. The doors before you open up but you barely acknowledge it glance up and seeing Gideon enter removing the beskar helmet and holding it to his side a malicious grin on his face.

“Where’s the fight, dear princess? That fire….that rage… not going to get your revenge?” He taunts standing before you and you gaze up at him, your eyes red and puffy your throat strained and dry from your sobs and screams.

“Just kill me already…I have no use for you.” Your voice is dead and flat and he chuckles his hand grabbing your chin your lifeless eyes are forced to look up at his wicked gaze, “Oh but that would make things so much easier for you wouldn’t it? Be reunited with your Mandalorian..” He rises dropping your chin and your head drops down.

“Get comfortable you’ll have front-row seats to witness the purge of your people and end the Mandalorians once and for all.” He says and your empty heart feels a twinge of worry for your family scattered across this base.

Din’s mind was running wild since the ambush seeing Moff Gideon had escaped the New Republic, seeing Kaz die and you getting taken away. Your screams and cries burned into his mind. You were fallen down a rabbit hole he barely got you out of the first time this worst. The two commandos force him down a hall and he shoves against one of them and then kicks his foot against the wall having them all stumble away from him. Breaking free from one of them flipping the other as he grabs the vibroblade cutting his bonds at his feet and quickly stabs the commando closest to him. Dodging the blaster fire that hits his beskar armor sudden heat against him from the flamethrower as he grabs their wrist slamming it to the ground. Pulling him into a chokehold and snapping his neck as a cable wraps around Din’s neck pulling him back he struggles as he sees the blaster in the commando's hand. It’s suddenly grabbed and destroyed,

“No. No. No. No. No.” Grogu presses the vocal button and Din stabs the commando with the blade the two hitting the ground. Gasping for air as Grogu sprays a bacta spray in his face as he tries waving him off coughing with his tied hands, “I'm okay. I'm okay…help me up,” Grogu pulls Din to his feet before holding his wrist out, “Will you cut me loose?’

Pressing the button gives a ‘yes’ and frees him from his restraints and he rubs his wrist, “Thank you for your help. Grogu, I'm going to need you to be brave for me, okay?” The small child babbles, “We can't keep running. If we don't take out Moff Gideon, this will never end. We have to find your sister as well. You with me?” A yes comes from IG-12 and the two make their way through the base to find and finish off Moff Gideon and save you.

In the cave system escaping from the following commandos, a transmission comes through Bo-Katan’s comms, “Bo-Katan, come in.” “Received. Where are you?” She sighs in relief glad to hear him alright.

“We're safe. I escaped. I've got the kid,” He says and her worry picks up slightly only hearing one kid with him, “And Y/n where is she?”

“I don’t know, I’m looking for her…I'm going after Moff Gideon. Do you have a location?” Din explains and Bo-Katan sighs leading her people through the caves, “No. We are under attack. I have to get the troops to safety.”

“Understood,” Din says moving through the halls followed by Grogu,

“Stay safe.” Bo-Katan responds their contact broken as the Captain calls out to them, “If we escape to the surface, I know where we can hole up.” He explains and they all take off to the surface. Bo-Katan worries for the people around her, her small family in Gideon’s base, and prays Woves gets to the ship before the Imperials do.

You hear the doors open behind you as Gideon stands before a large hologram map, “Sir, the fighters and bombers have launched,” A commando says, “Their capital ship will soon be destroyed.”

Gideon is silent before speaking up, “But the Mandalorian has escaped.” Your heavy head perks up slightly upon hearing the news. Din had escaped. He was moving through this base. The whirring of Gideon’s armor as the Commando looks at him waiting for orders,

“Shall we engage?” The helmet is put on Gideon and you hear his modulated “No, I'll take care of him myself.” A hoarse chuckle comes fills the room and the commando stiffens Gideon is silent as it starts soft until it’s the only thing he can hear seeing your head shake. You look up at him the blood mouth and chin dried the hollow look in your eyes having a spark of malice.

“You’re dead…he’s gonna kill you.” You rasp a huff of laughter in your tone and you hear the whirring of his armor as it curls into a fist, “You won’t even last a minut-” A beskar-infused punch across your face sends you on your side. Stars fill your vision as you try to calm the queasiness that fills you. Glancing back up at him seeing double him. Gideon looks seeing the indifference despite the split brow and the quickly forming bruise on your eye.

“Gar oyay cuyir jaon Gideon..” (Your life is over) You whisper venom in your voice and he uncurls his fist before stepping back, “Prepare her for the Mandalorian’s arrival.” Gideon orders and you see the doors before you slide open and out step three guards dressed in red armor each holding intimidating weapons. Gideon backs away as one of the guards pulls over a  chair. Creating slack in the chain on the ground before shoving you to the seat. You don’t get time to adjust a fist knocking the wind out of you with a punch to the gut. You curl inward but your hair is grabbed pulling you back up as a fist bashes into your face blood spills to the floor.

“You’re….you’re all..going…to die..” You wheeze out your head hanging a river of red coming from your nose and mouth, your body crying out in pain but you weren’t going to let them see. You feel one of the guards behind you seize one of your arms and you feel the strain as it’s forced to bend unnaturally, “No…no…no no!” A snap fills the air producing a scream from you as your elbow snaps and you lean forward heaving in pain. Tears and blood blur your vision, fire runs through your body as the broken limb is let go of. Gideon turns away leaving the room the sounds of your screams and begging as the torture begins rings through his head. You were going to be a great present for your Mandalorian.

Din moves through the halls skillfully followed by IG-12 controlled by Grogu, “R5. Come in, R5,” Din calls through his comms and a beeping response comes through from the surface, “I need you, buddy. You're gonna have to scomp into the base and get me the location of Moff Gideon's command center.” Hesitant beeping makes Din sigh as he peeks around a corner, “I'm sorry, I don't speak Binary. I'm counting on you.” Moving throughout the base avoiding commandos he calls back out to the droid, “R5, how are those schematics coming?” A schematic of the base appears, “Got it. Good job, buddy. That's the command center. The communications log says that's where he operates from. That's where we're goin'.” Din points at the blinking dot representing the command center on the hologram map.

“Ready?” He looks over at Grogu who coos, “Stay close. Let's go.” With only his skills Din moves through the halls before reaching the hall leading to the command center with barrier shields stopping any from entering, “The command center is down there. I don't have any weapons so this might get messy. R5. There are some barrier shields. I'm gonna need you to deactivate them one at a time.” The droid beeps understanding his assignment, “On my command. Got it?”

Din peeks around the corner seeing the multiple rows of guards he would have to take one, “Deactivate the first shield.” The red shield comes and Din rushes forward throwing a swing at the guard closest to him sending him to the ground and kicking his leg out hitting the other one. Grabbing the guard getting up barely dodging a blaster fire that kills the one in front of him. Spinning him to deflect the attack with the dead guard’s shield he pulls the knife from his belt while throwing it. It lodges into the other's neck and Din rushes forward to grab the blaster but the guard falls back into a drop disappearing.

“R5, next shield.” Din calls out as the second barrier opens controlled by the droid his two enemies armed with electro-riot batons and shields. Rushing forward kneeing on in the face sending him crashing into the barrier and quickly deflecting the attack from the guard behind him bringing him to the ground. Grabbing the baton jamming into the space between armor from the guard in front of him then spin kicks the other off the ledge. Picking up the shield now with a weapon and defense steps forward to the two awaiting guards behind the shield.

“R5, next shield.”

Slamming the shield against one guard against their blaster fire, jamming the electric baton into the knee of one guard brings him down shielding himself. Attacking his chest as the guard grunts hitting the ground and Din stabs the baton in his helmet electrocuting the guard to death. Grabbing the blaster firing at the guard and getting to his feet, the two fire and shield against one another, “R5, next shield,” Din calls out firing but no response comes through, “R5, next shield! R5!” Din yells into his comm blocking another blow as the smoke from the blasters fills the area.

“R5, next shield.” The last barrier opens and slides through the smoke tripping one of the guards grabbing the blaster. Spinning around to stand firing at the guard that fires but it hits Din’s beskar armor. Killing the guard before moving towards the unarmed one trying to rise up but he quickly pulls the trigger. The air is fresh with gun residue the adrenaline in the bounty hunter’s blood fading with the trail of bodies. Grogu peeks around the corner seeing the aftermath and Din motions him to come over. “R5, good job, buddy.” Din compliments the droid as he hears beeps coming from the droid.

Opening the door reveals a long hallway covered in tanks that line the walls. Din and Grogu slowly creep through the halls before Din holds his hand out stopping the child, “Wait here.” He moves to a control table trying to figure out the information. He hears a whimper from the child as he looks frightened by the clones, “That's not Gideon. Those are his clones.” The small child looks at the tank holding a sleeping clone of his former captor. Its eyes snap open producing a cry as Grogu stumbles back while handling the droid. Din presses certain buttons tampering with the controls as the console begins beeping and powering down,

“Let's go.” The two rush escaping the room as an alarm goes off the tanks exploding water spilling out as the doors close behind them. Din turns away from the doors and Grogu and the air leaves Din’s body as his legs become stone. The room lay bare no Gideon in sight but a chair and a familiar figure hunched over blood surrounding the person. His body rushes forward whipping around the chair and his heart drops but also rage fills his body as he stares at the young girl. You were covered in blood, your injuries he couldn’t tell where they started or where they ended. One of your arms hung limply at your side still restrained but he saw the odd angle and cringed. His hands shake slightly as he cups your face and you seem to react to the touch as you murmur your eyes blinking up trying to see, one of your eyes was quickly turning black and blue.

“Kaz…” Your voice is hoarse and weak and his chest burns at the thought in your state of pain and exhaustion you thought he was someone who was long gone.

“Kid…it’s me,” He tries to keep his voice calm pushing back the blood-soaked hair away from you, “I’m gonna get you out of here.” A sudden blaster fire barely misses you both and Din is forced to pull away both him and Grogu hide behind some walls. The mechanical footsteps clank against the ground as Din holds the blaster between his hands.

“My clones were finally going to be perfect,” Gideon’s rage-filled voice surrounds the room, “The best parts of me but improved by adding the one thing I never had. The Force. I was isolating the potential to wield the Force, and incorporating it into an unstoppable army. And you smothered them before they could draw their first breath” He hisses and Din could feel the fury coming from him. A hitch of breath as a mechanical whirring fills the air and a choked gasp fills the air.

“So I’ll take the breath from who you care for,” Gideon growls tightening his strong grip around your throat. Din whips around firing at Gideon but the blaster bolts bounce off his beskar armor does make Gideon release you your head dropping as Gideon fires a missile at Din. Dodging the attack he charges at him with his jetpack the two being pushed into the hangar entering combat. Gideon hurls Din aside as he collides with a large crate quickly receiving beskar-fueled punches in the gut and the face rattling the bounty hunter. Grabbing the Mandalorian by the chestplate hurling off to the floor before launching another attack on him. Din rolls out of the way right as Gideon slams a fist into the ground denting the metal floors.

The sounds of battle from the hangar rage on and in the air as Mandalorians fight against the imperials for their homeworld. Everything was painful just breathing hurt, you wanted it to all fade away praying it would all just stop. A metal hand gently pulls up your face and you felt a cooling sensation across your face as you slowly force your eyes to open seeing the arm of a droid and the small green child. Grogu coos as the healing medicine sprays across your face and he pulls away and you wince feeling something jab into your leg a small burning sensation.

“Grogu…” You whisper and you hear the ‘yes’ come from the child as it moves away from you and you hear the whirring sound and sparks coming off you. Whatever healing spray had made your face grow numb but whatever was put into your leg, you felt your heart rate beating faster and the surge of energy in your limbs. You hear a crack of metal and something falling off as you slump forward falling off the chair unable to hold or catch yourself. You hit the ground with a groan and you hear the loud cry from Din as you see through blurry vision him on the ground the same red armorer guards around him. You hear footsteps pass by you as your heartbeat becomes the only thing you can hear as you force yourself onto your back.

Din groans in pain as the blade is brought deeper into his armor when a voice comes through, “No, no, no.” Din sees Grogu’s angry expression as he slams his fist on the voice button. The three Praetorian Guards pull away now a new target as they force the child back into the command center.

“No!” Din cries out the fear of seeing another one of his children hurt as he scrambles to his feet. A missile hits him directly at his back sending him to the ground but he back on his feet with the urgency to save them when a fibercord whip wraps around his neck dragging him right back to Gideon as the doors close putting the Imperial Guards with both his defenseless children.

You hear the fighting that had entered the room and the cries coming from Grogu as you see flashes of fighting but too weak to stand up. Get up. They are going to kill him if you don’t fight. He’s going to die because of you. You roll over to your side a loud groan coming from you drawing the attention of one of the guards as they come over to you. Your limbs shake with pain as you push yourself with one arm up to be on your hands and knees. A sharp kick to your ribs knocks you back down with a cry as you gasp for air. Don’t stop…stand up. Pushing yourself a strained grunt comes as you return to your knees another kick knocks you back down landing on your back as you try to get air. You can’t do it…you’re too weak.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper tears falling into your hair as the guard stands above you the spear in his grasp.

“Get up…” A voice calls out a whisper the feeling of home flooding your veins, “Come on mesh’la you have to fight.” His voice is like a medicine that heals all wounds. You feel the gentle touch on your skin a caress down your face as he leans down a kiss placed on your forehead. You see the guard raise up his spear to deliver the killing blow it all happening in slow motion.

“Get up.”

The weapon swings down stopping just before your chest a mere hair away when a force stops him. The guard tries pushing down more but is unable to move his body frozen in place. A choking fills the air as he grabs his neck releasing the staff before a large crack fills the air. Din enters the command center having left Bo-Katan to fight against Gideon to see one of the guards collapse to the ground and you laying on the ground beside the body. The others are about to attack Grogu with Din fires his blaster at one of them. The two quickly dispose of the guards together with Din’s combat and Grogu’s force abilities. Din checks over the child when he hears a groan coming from the other side of the room. His head snaps over seeing you on your feet though shakily and Din rushes over his arm wrapping around your waist and holding you up.

“Kid! I’m sorry…maker this is all my fault..” He whispers as you barely register his words looking towards the hangar and seeing Bo-Katan and Gideon fighting. “You stay here. I’ll be back.” You groan in protest before he forces you back to the ground against a wall to sit.

“Gideon…he has to-” “I know…I know you can’t be moving alright.” He says before your left in that room once again but the second he’s gone your hand is clawing at the wall to bring yourself to your feet. This was your fight just as much as theirs and you were going to make sure Gideon was dead.

Bo-Katan spins the Darksaber disarming the electrostaff from Gideon’s grasp but he sends a mighty punch sending her sliding across the ground. Bo-Katan pushes herself to her feet as Gideon pulls off a weapon from his belt and a howl fills the air as a brilliant orange glow reflects on the black beskar. “Hand over the Darksaber and I will give you a warrior's death.” The warlord demands. Rushing towards him with a yell sabers crash against one another as Bo-Katan launches a renewed attack striking him in spots but it has no effect on the beskar armor. However, Gideon is an indomitable force grabbing Bo-Katan’s hand midswing the two holding the Darksaber. With a crush from his gauntlet, he destroys the ancient weapon bringing the female to her knees. The broken hilt lies on the ground as he rips her helmet off kicking Bo-Katan to the ground as she slides toward the edge.

“The Darksaber is gone. You've lost everything,” Stalking towards her taunting the failed Mandalorian, “Mandalorians are weak once they lose their trinkets.”

Bo-Katan rises to her knees a smirk on her face, “Mandalorians are stronger together.” A sudden blaster bolt strikes Gideon from behind and he quickly turns seeing the Mandalorian firing at him. Exchanging fire as Gideon is drawn towards the edge blocking the attacks with the saber. Firing from his wrist Gideon strikes down Din multiple times though shielded by the beskar still stuns him. Bo-Katan slides protecting him using her shield. The hangar shakes sparks flying in the air as the hurtling imperial cruiser descends on the base. Bo-Katan rushes forward with a warrior cry as Gideon raises the saber when he’s thrown back and smacks into the ground. The deactivated saber is released from his hand and Gideon tries to grab it when it’s pulled past him into a person’s grasp. Gideon looks towards where the weapon went the true fear that runs through him. Blood soaks her dirty clothes the broken arm limp at her side, how she was standing after the beating she received he wouldn’t know, in her working hand, the deadly weapon ignites producing a brilliant orange glow.

Gideon raises his blaster firing it at you but with quick reflexes, they deflect hitting him back as he stumbles back towards the edge. You keep trudging forward blocking his attacks as he grows closer and closer to the ledge. He rushes forward to attack you when a blade goes straight through the gap in his chest plate and stomach. A hitch in his breath as the blade digs deep staring into your gaze the haunting look in your eyes.

“This is the non-diplomatic option.” You grunt ripping the saber out as debris rains down the ship crashing into the hangar. Arms wrap around you pulling you to the ground as you are shielded from the inferno hearing Gideon’s screams. You expected the heat from the flames to incinerate you opening your eyes and seeing the barrier all around you the flames and destruction not touching you. Din and Bo-Katan lower their arms from shielding themselves as the three of you look at the small child before you protecting you all. Lowering the Force bubble the flames go from around you as Grogu plops down exhausted from the use as the three of you stand up viewing the destruction. The base is in shambles the flames and smoke from the attack, your gaze moves to where Gideon stands nothing there burnt to ashes. It was a lightweight feeling knowing he was truly dead the battle finally over. With so many lost and many that never saw the end of the journey there were necessary but heartbreaking so you could win.

A cave once left abandoned the light from natural fluorescents the torches empty now lit. The banging of drums fills the tunnels only growing louder reaching the mouth of the cave. Banners of clan signets as clan heads line the path a pathway of torches leading to the steps of water. “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors..” The Armorer speaks to the small boy a shallow bowl in her grasp, “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors..”

“That I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor…” "That I shall walk the Way of the Mand'alor…”

“And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.” The crowd watches as the boy recites the creed. It had been months since his first try at joining the Creed and now he stands in the water speaking those words heavy in his heart with the loss of his father, “And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

The Armorer kneels down scooping up some of the living waters pouring on the beskar helmet as he rises to stand, “This is the Way.”

Ragnar nods repeating the words, “This is the Way.” The crowd of Mandalorians from the Children of the Watch repeat the words. Ragnar steps away rejoining his clan as a Mandalorian in silver beskar armor holding a small infant reaches the steps. Placing the child on the step before the water and the man entering the water slightly.

“Grogu is my apprentice.” The once-bounty hunter gestures to the small child, “He is no longer a foundling. Add him to the Song.”

“He is too young to speak so he is too young to take the Creed.” The Armorer shakes her head as the child babbles proving her point, “He must remain a foundling.”

Din is silent looking at the child that looks sad at the news, “If his parent gave permission, couldn't he then become a Mandalorian apprentice?” The Armorer is silent before nodding, “Yes, but his parents are far from here…if they are even alive.” Her words hinted at some underlying solution. The man looks at the child before speaking,

“Then I will adopt him as my own.” The small child looks up in surprise at the news and the Armorer accepts this decision, “This is the Way.” She says and the man repeats the words.

The female Mandalorian turns to face the crowd of Mandalorians, “Let it be written in Song that Din Djarin is accepting this foundling as his son,” She turns looking at the child now adopted by the man, “You are now Din Grogu, Mandalorian apprentice.”

“This is the Way.” The Mandalorians chant and she holds her hand up silencing them, “You must leave Mandalore and take your apprentice on his journeys, just as your teacher did for you.” The Armorer explains and Din nods, “This is the Way.”

The child now legally under the watch of Din babbles cheerfully and in the depths of the waters before them, a creature stirs almost sensing the change. Din grabs Grogu bidding farewell to the Armorer and other members of the tribe. From the corner of his eye, Din sees the flutter of a cloak as they disappear from the living waters. A lone girl viewing the spectacle many troubling thoughts running through her.

Hidden in the shadows watching as the Armorer and Bo-Katan stand before the Great Forge with the Mandalorians from both fractions watching their leader. The Armorer produces a torch passing it to the woman who moves holding it over the forge. The flame ignites the gas the Forge of their people relit after years of remaining dormant. The clanking of the vambraces creates a synchronized rhythm as Woves starts a chant, “For Mandalore!” “For Mandalore!” “For Mandalore!” The fractions brought together their planet back with the rightful owners as they chanted for their victory but also for those they had lost and their sacrifice would not be in vain. Bo-Katan looks over the crowd a wide smile on her face seeing her people together once again but she catches the gaze of a lone figure not in Mandalorian armor. The cloak and mask hid the still healing injuries but she could see the tired eyes that watch the excitement of the people around her but she lacks any. Bo-Katan could see the defeat in them none of this was a victory in their eyes too much loss and the pain was too great to think of the positive. Their eyes meet and she could tell the look in their eyes and what it meant. No words needed to be spoken as the figure disappears in the crowd that she couldn’t keep up. Bo-Katan tries to keep a smile for her people but it cracks just slightly with the information she knew.

Returned to Nevarro where this whole journey began Greef claps his hand on Din's shoulder, “The people of Nevarro appreciate all you've done, Mando.” Pulling a small chip and holding it out for him, “I want to give you this deed to a cabin just outside of town where you can lay low with your new family if you choose so. Between adventures.”

Din accepts this gracious gift nodding in thanks, “Thank you.” Greef chuckles kneeling down to the small child on the steps, “And that goes for you too, Din Grogu.” Greef stands up noticing the third person apart of their group missing, “And where is the other one? I was certain she would stay with you all unless she’s with that Mandalorian of hers. I certainly like him as a partner.”

Din sighs shaking his head, “She’s here just…going through a lot. I’m giving her some space.” Din looks around the city. This was their new home to reside in while Din works as a personal contractor for the New Republic. “The boy…Kaz, he didn’t make it.”

Greef’s expression drops, “My condolences…well be sure to send her my apologizes for her loss.” The air was tense and it seemed to remain that when they had left Mandalore, even going to the Adelphi base, to even here. He was giving you the time you needed, you were still healing from your injuries refusing any medicine that would require you to be unconscious. With no choice but to respect your decision giving you the best he could get but just time would heal all wounds. While the physical wounds may leave scars that would soon fade the ones on your mind and heart would never.

“And I have a gift for you as well.” Din breaks the tension and appears from the crowd the newly reconstructed IG-11, “Greetings, citizens. I am IG-11, your new Marshal. Your new Marshal of Nevarro.” The crowd cheers as their new Marshal greets them all.

“I am here to serve and protect the citizenry. I am at your disposal and serve at your pleasure.” Greef laughs seeing the familiar droid, “There we go.”

Days on Nevarro settled into your new home a place for Din to relax for now before the New Republic called for him. During these times spent making the cabin home, Grogu enters school and gets to grow up. It all seemed well in this home the other missing piece was yourself. Din felt like you were a ghost, your injuries had healed up but you were hesitant with this place he had reassured multiple times was yours. A room that was strictly yours, getting you new clothing, having home-cooked meals, and even trying to get you to go out into the city and have fun and be young again. It was the opposite though he felt like he was pulling teeth and you would only do these to soothe his worries but he still saw the hollowness in your expression, the mask you put up, and weak smiles. He saw your body thin from the lack of food, rushing into your room hearing your screams at night from the memories that plagued you, the dark circles under your eyes from forcing yourself to stay awake to avoid being trapped inside your mind. Give her time he kept telling himself but time wasn’t helping and it all seemed to build up until the thinning string finally snapped.

The sun was beginning to set and Grogu was playing with the small ball of his in the living room as Din finished up dinner placing it off to the side to cool off. “Come on kid,” Coming over scooping his son up, “Let’s get your sister.” Grogu babbles still playing with the ball as they move to the front of the house where a small pond lies. Din had set up a small chair beside the door that he normally kicks back and watches Grogu play. By the pond resting against a tree right by the water there you sit knees tucked under your chin, your focus on the rippling water as frogs and small fishes swim around.

“Kid!” He calls out and you slowly look away meeting his gaze as he stands by the threshold of the house, “Dinner come.” He says and he sees the hesitation on your face as you turn looking back at the water. Din sighs coming towards the tree to get you to come his pace slows to a stop when he notices a bag beside you that looks fully packed.

“Kid…” He calls out hesitant about where this conversation could possibly be going. You were dressed in the clothes that you hadn’t worn since the battle on Mandalore, the cloak wraps around you as you continue staring at the waters. Din waits for the words he fears seeing the expression on your face the pieces coming together.

“I can’t stay here.”

And the air goes thin as his fear becomes a reality. His grip tightens on Grogu slightly as he looks down on you as you start up again, “I can’t just live here happy while he is seen as nothing but a sacrifice for that planet.” Din knew who you were talking about as your voice tighten up and you look up blinking away those tears.

“I know you’re hurting you just need time…I know it hurts now-” Din tries reassuring you but when you looked at him he felt his chest twist as he stops speaking. You had already made your decision and it was just more painful than you saying the words.

“I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. I’m…I’m not like you or the kid…I don’t know what to do anymore…I tried and I tried so damn hard. But I can’t close my eyes without seeing him…” You hold back a cry as you swipe at your sniffling nose, “I’m not telling you to give up this place you deserve a home to settle and be happy but I…I have lost everything all my life…everyone I have loved has either died or left me. Everyone except for you…” You say looking at Din and you feel the anguish coming from him and the glassy look in Gorgu’s eyes.

“I’m so scared of being alone and I don’t want to lose you but sitting here I’m reminded about how I’ve failed all of them.” You say with a shaky breath before looking away from him whispering your fear. “How I might fail you.” It’s a painful silence that is filled with distress and sorrow as Din is told the troubles you’ve been dealing with all this time, even before Mandalore, since your childhood.

“Please don’t try to stop me.” You beg him and it’s so quiet you thought he left but when you look up at him he’s still there. This would have to be the hardest thing to go through and experience. You were so used to people leaving you or the small chance at happiness…love being ripped away from you. It was worst being the one to leave when you knew how much they cared for you…loved you.

“Can…” His voice cracks slightly, “Can you at least stay for dinner?” He speaks in a mere whisper and you hear the sadness in his voice. If he wasn’t wearing that helmet you would see the tears streaming down his face. The tears you tried keeping in start sliding down your face as you hold a fist to your mouth holding back choked sobs. Taking a shaky inhale as your throat is thick with tears,

“If I stay I’ll never leave…” This breaks both of you as you swipe at your tears standing up, “i’m sorry..” Grabbing the pack and slinging it over your shoulder not before grabbing an item from it and holding it out to him in his freehand that isn’t holding Grogu grabs the small object seeing the cloaked binary beacon.

“If you ever need me…no matter where in the galaxy,” You clear your throat pulling up your sleeve and showing the matching one of your wrist, “I’ll find you.” It’s a promise that while you may be lightyears and planets apart you would always find your way home. Back to him… Din curls his hand around the object as he looks at you...his daughter. It’s silent as you step forward rubbing your fingers between Grogu’s ear as he gives a coo and you lean forward pressing a kiss on his forehead. Looking up at the beskar helmet that does nothing to hide his emotion and he raises a hand swiping away the stray tears before pulling you into his chest. You feel the shake of his chest as he cries and you bit your lip to stop yourself from breaking. Held in his arms until you had no choice but to pull away for your sake if not you would never leave.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…ad” (I love you…daughter)

He memorizes everything about you, from your hair to your nose, your mouth, the crease between your eyebrows, the weariness in your tear-filled eyes, every detail. For a moment he was back on Arvala-7 looking down at the bright-eyed girl as she held his knife demanding answers. How times had changed? You weren’t a quarry or some cargo, you were his daughter from the beginning even if he didn’t realize it. Though blood is not shared you were his daughter and he was your father and nothing would change it.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…buir” (I love you…dad)

The words repeated back before you turn away and walk towards the ship. Tears flow like rivers down your face as you grow further and further from Din and Grogu. You hear the small cry from Grogu that makes you bite your lip to hold back your sobs as you reach your X-Wing. You throw the bag into the cargo compartment as R4 beeps sadly from his droid port. Pulling yourself onto the wing entering the cockpit as the canopy closes and you start up the ship. Your eyes betray you glancing at Din who still stands by the pond holding his son as he watches you. Your gaze holds for a second before you are the one that breaks contact as the ship powers up and dust kicks up as the ship begins to take off. 

Din stands there watching the ship depart staring until you are a dot in the sky and even after you’re long gone probably in hyperspace he stands there. It wasn’t until Grogu made a noise of sadness but also needed to be fed that he looks away. His limbs are shaky but filled with carbonite as he forces himself to enter the home not before looking at the beacon in his hand that beeps showing the connection between the two were still active. Din turns back looking up at the sky and the large galaxy that lies before himself. He wasn’t sure how long it would be until he sees you again but you three would be reunited again.

As a Clan of Three.

A/N: It's over. OH MY GOD! I started writing this series in January of 2021 and it is now August of 2023. I'm extremely grateful to everyone who has read this series and enjoyed it. I'm so proud of all the time and work put into it and the plenty of tears shed writing this. Literally, this series wouldn't exist without the support of you guys and the amazing story that is The Mandalorian. You all are incredible and thank you so much for reading and sticking for the ride.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three #clan of three series #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

[azulashengrottospiano]

SUMMARY: edgar contemplates you.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: i cried three times while writing this idk!! also this got away from me hello 2k words??? SPOILERS FOR EDGARS ROUTE EVERYWHERE OK YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

TAGLIST: @vivislosingitagain obviously and @vioisgoinginsane meow!! @jade-s-nymph asked to be tagged too after learning i cried over this HE;PPL

Edgar isn’t sure what to make of you. Even now, even though you’ve decided to stay in Cradle with him, throwing your things and your only way back home into the rabbit hole that took you here, he finds himself wondering why you did that. You want to stay with him, that part is obvious enough, and you’ve always been so earnest with what you think that he has no reason to doubt you. But even so, he holds onto the hope that you really do want to stay, that you want to love him and you’ll choose that every day for as long as you two shall live, and that this isn’t some dream that he’ll inevitably wake up from and be forced to go back to the way he once was.

There’s an ache in his chest when he thinks about how he tried to use you, how he only viewed you as a tool. You always tell him that doesn’t matter now, that he’s done more than enough to prove that he cares for you in ways that far surpass viewing you as a tool, but some nights your words aren’t enough and he wakes up in a cold sweat, visions of the Magic Tower and his long-imprisoned uncle flashing in his mind. He finds solace in you, your arms around his waist and your face pressed against his back, and on those nights you wake up with his forehead pressed against yours so he can see your face first thing in the morning. You always know why he’s facing your way, and you always ask if he wants to talk about it.

By morning, Edgar is usually okay. He’s gone through night terrors enough to be able to chase them off on his own. He doesn’t want to burden you with things that he did to hurt you, actions he took that led to your suffering. It would be horrible to complain when you were the victim in that situation, and he doesn’t want to be horrible to you.

But all it takes for him to break, to crack just a little, is you taking him into your arms, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, letting him know that he can talk to you about anything, anytime, and that all he needs to do is call because you will always come, no matter what. And for the first time in a long, long while, Edgar feels like he could cry.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t, but with every passing day he feels like he can be more honest with you. The sun rises above the horizon and dips below it, day after day, and you’re still here. You still bring him pastries you made and jellybeans you picked up from his favorite candy shop when you run errands. You still bring him a blanket when he falls asleep at his desk because he is working too hard, and you always pull up a chair right next to him so that when he wakes up, the first thing he will see is still your face. You still sing his praises when he spars, you still shine down on him with that beautiful smile when you run into his arms. You still place sticky notes on the wall above his desk, reminding him to take care of himself and that his favorite pastry is in the fridge if he needs any food while you’re away. Your notes form a mosaic of love and care and sweetness above the space that he used to slave away in. Now, because of you, instead of a desk full of paperwork signed by bloody hands, it feels like sitting on a fluffy cloud overlooking a flower-speckled meadow.

Edgar doesn’t know how he can even begin to repay you for what you’ve done for him. He knows without a doubt that he will love you every day, for as long as his soul will allow. Promising to love you with his heart isn’t enough, he thinks, because his heart could stop beating any day and a love that dies like a heart is no love at all.

You’re the most special person in his life, without a doubt. For far too long he thought his love wasn’t enough, that it wasn’t worthy, and yet you’ve tried (and are still trying) to convince him that it is. You cradle his hands to your chest and you say they’re warm, you kiss his scars when the memories hurt, and you allow his bloody hands to touch and hold you. You’ve allowed him so much, you’ve spoiled him rotten, and he couldn’t go on living without you

 He doesn’t know what pulled you into Cradle, but he prays to every star in the sky that whatever leads you here doesn’t change its mind. Whether it’s fate or just you (beautiful, radiant you), if you were to slip from his grasp, he doesn’t know what he would do.

And so, when you come back from running errands with a sleepy stumble in your step, when the sun dips beneath the sky, when your eyes and fluttering shut and you can’t stop yourself from yawning, Edgar catches you. His eyes are soft as he takes you in, your fingers curling around his bicep as you smile. Your head falls against his chest, and you allow yourself to slip into his embrace, your ear right against his heart. An explosion of emotions swell from within him, starting from the very pits of his stomach and blooming into a beautiful flower as they hit his heart. The happiness he feels, just holding you, knowing you trust him enough to let down your guard around him, fills him with the greatest joy he's ever known.

“Welcome home, dumpling.” he teases, voice soft and quiet as he brushes your hair away from your face, “Had a rough day?”

“Mhm.” you answer, nodding. Your hair scratches against his shirt, and his heart pitter patters in his chest, “Jonah ran me ragged.”

Edgar tsks, swooping you up into his arms. He’ll have to let Jonah know not to get too overzealous with his love, even though he knows all too well how easy it is.

It’s familiar, carrying you to bed and falling asleep at your side—in fact, Edgar knows it's never been easier. Waking up the next morning is just as easy, and even though he wishes he could stay there till the afternoon, he gets out of bed and gets ready before you can convince him to come back.

He’s out the door before you open your eyes.

The day passes like any other, with him running around headquarters and organizing paperwork, starting the occasional sparring match with Zero or one of his soldiers just so he doesn’t get bored. He makes sure to go into town and get the present he wanted to get for you, his heart set on giving it to you by the end of the day. He’s sure you’ll love it, and he’s certain this is what he wants.

He just hopes you will want it as well.

By the time he gets back to headquarters, it’s time for dinner. You’re waiting in the dining room for him, two dishes placed in front of you, and he delights in the way your smile glimmers when you see him. You perk up completely at the sight of him, and it's enough to fill him with butterflies.

You really are too sweet to him.

Dinner passes in the blink of an eye. He talks about his day and you talk about yours, observing your hand gestures and facial expressions like they’re the most interesting thing in all of Cradle. No, even more so—they’re the most interesting things in this world and the next and the next, because no matter how many worlds and universes there are, they wouldn’t hold a candle to the person who found him at his darkest and dragged him out with their own two hands, allowing him the mercy of clawing at their palms and grasping for their wrists and crushing their fingers when the darkness latches onto him and tried to yank him away from the light.

The walk back to his room is quiet. He can tell you’re sleepy, your hand wrapped around his wrist loosening and tightening every few seconds. It’s cute how you walk side by side but still insist on holding onto him. It makes him feel so loved, even when he opens his door and lets the two of you in and you have to let go.

“You seem excited about something, Edgar.” you comment, slipping your arms out of your shirt and changing into your pajamas.

He snickers to himself, shooting you an indifferent smile. You can read him so well, better than anyone else, and wow he really loves you.

“You’re right. I picked up a little gift for you while I was in town.” he says, coming closer to where you stand, tired from the day's events and in your pajamas but looking so, so lovely.

He cups your cheeks, and that hand slides away when he drops on one knee.

Your hands fly to your mouth, covering your gasp when he pulls out a small black box and presents it to you. Your eyes are already watering, and even though he wants to wipe your tears he knows those are the happiest tears he’s ever seen.

“When you first fell into Cradle, I couldn’t have imagined what you would end up becoming to me. You’re my everything. I love you more than anything, and you’ve given me more love than I ever could have hoped for. Marry me, and we can spend our days happy and in love for as long as we both should live.”

My precious Alice.

Your yes is so loud he’s certain you just woke up half of headquarters as you throw yourself into his arms, crying into his shoulder as he slips the ring on your finger. You clutch it to your chest like it's something precious, like it's something you can't bear to lose, and Edgar clutches you in much the same way.

His suspicions are confirmed when Jonah kicks down the door, looking frantically into the room to make sure you’re safe (and Edgar knows he only came for you, his now fiance, because he knows full well Edgar can defend himself.) Zero comes soon after, lured by the commotion Jonah makes after learning you two are engaged, and if Edgar didn’t know any better he’d say Zero is just as happy as he is.

Leave it to his student to always look out for him. It seems sometimes Zero becomes the teacher himself when it comes to Edgar’s happiness.

If there was any sleepiness in your eyes it's gone now, especially when Jonah orders everyone into the dining hall for a celebration. Tears gather in his eyes but he doesn’t let them fall, not even when you point them out and ask if Jonah is okay and he snaps that he’s fine, that he’s just tired and that the two of you screaming ruined his beauty sleep. Neither of you comment on his choked-up voice or his sniffling. You know that’s what's best.

The chefs are all too happy to bring out the alcohol (which lures Kyle from his office, who then offers you his sincere congratulations even though he’s very much out of it.) And before you know it, it’s like nighttime hasn’t fallen and most of Cradle isn’t asleep, because you’re with the man you love and all of his friends and everyone is smiling and laughing and it makes you tear up again.

You had no idea your happiness would make people so happy. You had no idea your shared happiness could make everyone this happy. You had no idea you two had so much influence on other people’s lives, even though it seems silly to comprehend it now when you’ve changed everyone’s lives in some way just by being here and loving one of their own.

You were part of a family now. A huge, dysfunctional, reckless, loyal family.

Edgar’s lips find your cheek and he kisses you like it’s the first time. You turn to him with watery eyes and he smiles at you, the crinkles around his eyes and in his brow making your heart pound.

“Thank you for saying yes.” he murmurs, “I love you so much.”

He kisses you, in front of everyone, and you cling to his collar like you want him to stay there forever.

Because you do, and you always will.

Because your love is felt with your whole soul, and if it died with your heart it’d be no love at all.

#auburn's fics <3 #auburn talks ikerev <3 #edgar bright #ikerev edgar #ikerev edgar x reader #ikerev edgar bright #ikerev edgar bright x reader #edgar bright x reader #edgar bright fluff #ikerev edgar fluff #ikerev fluff #ikemen revolution #ikerev #gn reader

[pastrydragon]

What do the rogues smell like? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I know you probably asked this as a joke but I thought deeply about it anyway so here you go!

Riddler:

Lemon and lavender soaps.

Edward's dad was a hoarder and so Edward has a thing about his space being clean.

when he got his first apartment he kept it obsessively clean and as a side effect of this the place always smelled like the lemon and lavender cleaning products he'd scrubbed the place with.

And since this was the first place Edward ever felt safe, he ended up associating those scents with safety.

So all his soap and cleaning products to this day are either lemon or lavender scented, so he inevitably ends up with a near permanent air freshener like scent.

Scarecrow:

Pumpkin pie now but used to smell like chemicals.

Harley got him a basket of pumpkin spice everything as a gift for his birthday one year after he developed a toxin variation that was particularly pungent and he wasn't gonna waste perfectly good hygiene products!

And he has a genuine love for pumpkin taste so he keeps cans of it around to put in his pancakes every morning.

So yeah, The Master Of Halloween smells like thanksgiving.

You can still smell the chemicals if you get close though.

Mad hatter:

“Iris Poudre” by Frederic Malle, he doesn’t care that it’s a women’s perfume, he wants to smell like a sexy flower garden and everyone else can mind their own business.

Under the perfume he smells like whatever tea he drank that day and possibly like whatever sugary treat he baked to go with it.

Unless he's been in his lab all day, then he smells like metals and plastic.

And once in a blue moon when he needs to do some intense testing, cool ranch Doritos.

Except he never brings food down there with him so how....?

Mr. Freeze:

His condition causes him to have a permanent fresh snow smell which he was pleasantly surprised by.

Like the other scientists on this list carries a kind of "laboratory smell" with him.

His suit smells... weird. Like you can smell that a person was there but there's no sweat smell and its honestly a little off-putting. Luckily he cleans it very regularly.

He used to wear “Angel’s share” by Killian because Nora has good taste and wasn’t gonna let her husband smell like detergent and nothing else.

He'll start wearing it again when she wakes up.

Penguin:

“Tobacco Vanille” by Tom Ford mainly. The man wants to ooze class.

He also wears it because he always has a cigar after his lunch and dinner so he needs to wear something he knows won't clash scents with his Arturo's.

And if you're thinking that smell is strong, that's on purpose.

Oswald has a small group of birds in his atrium that he cares for personally out of affection, and because of that if you get right up close to him you’ll smell bird cage. Not great.

He might also smell like seafood after meals but not really in a bad way, more in a "Well fuck, now I'm craving Red Lobster!" way.

TwoFace:

“REPLICA jazz club” Because before he was Twoface he was a snazzy lawyer who wanted to smell like how big band music sounds.

There's also the medicine he puts on his acid burns which smells exactly how you’d expect it to.

The two mixing together isn't unpleasant but it is a bit confusing to get a whiff of if you don't know who it's coming from.

It smells kinda like an expensive hospital room.

He might also smell like Bloody Mary's if he's had a bad day.

Harley:

“Tutti Fruity Candy” by Bath and bodyworks

Unless she’s going to one of Oswald’s fancy parties, Then she wears “Into The Night”…. Also by bath and bodyworks.

She also smells a bit like bubblegum.

She smells like how a slumber party feels I think.

Just smells like fun!

Catwomen:

Has accumulated an impressive collection of expensive perfumes as gifts from various gentleman friends over the years and uses them almost at random so literally no one knows until she shows up.

She also smells a bit like cats.

Poison Ivy:

ROSES

Like a very aggressive rose smell.

Like you aren’t allowed to wear rose scented perfume in Gotham because it makes people try to evacuate the area.

Ivy could smell like any flower she wanted of course.

But who doesn't love roses?

Bane:

Harley strikes again and got him Dr. Squach products because he's Mr. manly man and she thought it was funny.

He shares John's "waste nothing" philosophy and used all of it, then bought more because he liked it.

His favorite scent is alpine sage but he changes it up sometimes.

He also smells like 24 hour fitness, because obviously.

He might also smell like peanut butter protein shakes.

Bookworm:

Musty dusty book smell.

He smells like a socially awkward moth eaten carpet.

He smells like an old arm chair with a cat sitting in it.

He smells like cocoa butter because he is an ashy bitch who needs to be moisturized.

Please buy him some cologne.

Killer Croc:

Waylon's home may be in the sewer but his home also happens to be beachfront property, so he smells like ocean mainly.

With all his free time between heists and such, Waylon often takes on elaborate cooking projects with a focus on BBQ and smoking meat. Which means he smells like a plethora of kitchen spices, smoke and herbs.

Maybe it's the alligator skin, maybe it's the jackets he wears, but he always smells a little like leather.

So the entire effect is "Bar and grill by the ocean with those really nice leather booths"

Please make him into a cologne.

Music Meister:

He avoids scented products to avoid irritating his respiratory system in any way.

So He just smells like a clean human.

Possibly lemon and honey from trying to soothe those vocal cords with weak tea.

Joker:

Is also a basic bath and bodyworks bitch, he wears “Among The Clouds”. 

He does class it to the roof for formal events though and switches to "English Promenade 19" By Krigler.

If you catch him without any scent on he smells slightly acidic and some other rogues would describe him as smelling "sickly". He's not physically sick as his doctors can attest, in fact his chemical bath raised the PH across his body so he can't even get most diseases anymore.

Because of this he can tend to overdue it on the scent to hide the sickly and chemical smells.

Like Jervis, Joker often smells like his baking projects. (Except the project is almost exclusively some sort of pie.)

#pastry writes #headcanon #batman villains #batman #gotham rogues #batman rogues #edward nygma #riddler #scarecrow #Johnathan crane #jervis tetch #mad hatter #mr freeze #victor fries #nora fries #penguin #oswald cobblepot #twoface #harvey dent #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #catwomen #selina kyle #poison ivy #pamela isley #bane #bookworm #Killer croc #waylon jones #music meister

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@hpsaffics feb 5 - flowers & chocolate - 1k words - cw: mentioned oral sex at the end

aka beautiful, happy, older wifeys <3

When Sirius opens the front door it’s to the smell and sounds of cooking. Garlic heavy in the air, curry and spice. Lentils, fresh rosemary, the radio chiming in the background and Remus’ voice humming along sweetly as she presumably shuffles around.

Sirius smiles to herself as she slips out of her loafers and makes her way farther into the cottage barefooted, the old hardwood floor warm under the soles of her aching feet. She should have gone to yoga with Remus on Sunday instead of taking a four hour hike with Harry and the dogs. She’s not in her late bloody twenties anymore as opposed to her godson. But alas, the things you do for love, right?

It’s pleasantly warm inside, air crispy with oxygen but mellow warm from the afternoon sunshine beaming in through their old windows. The plastic is crinkling in Sirius’ palms as she saunters down the hallway, the chocolate and flowers she picked up on the way back from work and Sirius smile widens in anticipation of presenting the gift to her wife.

She presses her lips together, deliberately keeping quiet so that she can peek around the doorframe first and take her love in as Remus thinks she’s still home by herself. Well, apart from Macy and Squash, of course, which Sirius already greeted outside when they spinted down the front yard to welcome her, tails wagging in elation.

Sirius is careful to lean around the edge slowly so as not to attract any attention by the sudden movement and immediately her heart does a little spin inside her ribcage. Feels a little fuller, possibly overflowing with adoration.

Remus has her hair pulled back into a low, lazy bun, a smaller strand at the front has slipped out and it gleaming golden grey in the sunlight streaming in from behind her. Her lips are pursed and her head is bobbing lightly to the music—fucking precious. Only clad in a form fitting black halter top, tied into a loop at the back of her neck and a pair of bulky linen shorts that could be mistaken for striped boxers at first glance but Sirius knows better. Knows they’re soft from wear and comfortable but still something nicer, something Remus would categorise as ‘chic’. Sirius looks again, closer, and notices the gleam of something bright red and lacy under the pants that make the corners of her grin tug into something sharper. Make her want to fall into giddy giggles and pull Remus into her and kiss her breathless. There’s no bra—Remus doesn’t do those and Sirius is all the happier for it, blessed with easy access for a lifetime—the nipples of Remus’ big breasts visible through the sheer cotton top and Sirius’ mouth waters as she gapes at the freckles trailing over the round skin and down her wife’s cleavage like some pervert. Well, she thinks she’s earned the right to ogle like that after 30 plus years though.

It doesn’t take much more incentive for Sirius to step out of her hiding spot, “Moony, sweets, aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing to ever grace this planet.”

Remus looks up from her cooking, eyes rolling and lips pulling into a smile despite herself. Sirius thinks it’s cute that she still tries to make Sirius believe she’s not swooning at her antics every single time without fail.

Her wife lays down the cooking spoon and meets her halfway unhurriedly, laugh lines wrinkling her eyes and then her hands come up to pull Sirius into a kiss by the cheeks. Her own hand snakes around to the small of Remus’ back, tugging her close and then there’s a happy hum. Lips not quite open but not closed either and it has a bit of a wet smack to it when they pull apart—it makes Sirius irrationally ecstatic and she beams at her wife toothily.

Remus snorts, bumping their noses, “What have you done now, Black?”

Sirius shakes her head in faux disappointment, “Lupin-Black, my love, you should remember by now! It’s nearly our 20 year anniversary.”

Remus pokes her in the side with a rigid index finger and Sirius squirms, snickering. Bony fingers drive through the short, black curls on Sirius’ head, blunt nails scratching over her skull and eliciting a shiver from Sirius that she feels als the way down into her toes.

She sighs and Remus kisses her again before she nods over Sirius’ shoulder, “What’cha got there, baby?”

“This?” Sirius purposely rustles the plastic, “Oh, just a little gift for the most wonderful, breathtaking, awestrucking, fascinating—”

“A-huh.”

“—spectacular, terrific—”

“Oh, wow.”

“ —kind, beautiful, incredible—

“Laying it on thick.”

“—smart, stunning—”

“Oh, we’re not done yet. Got it.”

Sirius sucks in a breath,  “—magnificent, mind-boggling woman in the world.”

Remus nods along in mock-indulgence but Sirius can see the blush crawling into the freckled apples of her cheeks. Makes her want to take a bite out of her.

Instead, she gives her one more quick peck and then extracts herself from her and steps back to hold out the Lindt pralines and colourful mix of tulips.

A precious smile pulls onto Remus’ rosy mouth, blinking at Sirius through her lashes and voice low when she mumbles, “Thank you so much, baby. I love them.”

She places the gift on the kitchen counter next to them and pulls Sirius into another kiss, thumbs caressing her cheeks. Sirius feels like she could do another 4 hour hike right now, high on endorphins and adrenaline.

When she pulls back Sirius feels a little hazy in the best way and the way only Remus can make her feel. Her wife cocks a brow at her, palms sliding down to settle against her waist, “You already saw the panties, didn’t you?”

Sirius blinks, lips stretching into another grin, “Yup.”

Remus scrunches her nose at her in a childish manner and Sirius laughs.

“So are we having dinner first or can I take the free time slot to eat you out?”

Remus bites onto her bottom lip, long lines in her cheeks from smiling, “It’s gotta simmer for about thirty.”

“Perfect,” Sirius winks and then tugs her in the direction of the living room for the sofa.

#wolfstar #lesbian wolfstar #OLD LESBIANS OLD WRINKLY BEUTIFUL LESBIANS #female sirius black #female remus lupin #old dogs #i had a vision about older fem remus in that halter top so it had to get out #hpsafficfeb24 #hp femslash #femslash february #femslash #genderbending #femslash feb 2024 #lune’s tiny fic #sapphic wolfstar

[edosianorchids901]

A Spring of Love

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "celebratory hug"

“Ooh, did you see the butterflies?”

“Yup,” Crowley said without looking up from his trimming. He’d seen plenty of butterflies already. “They were mobbing me while I was planting flowers yesterday.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Aziraphale said in his dreamiest tone. “I should like to be mobbed by butterflies.”

Crowley snorted and trimmed another scraggly branch off the bush. “No, you really wouldn’t. It was like something out of a horror film.”

“Crowley, you old silly. Butterflies aren’t horrifying.”

“They are when they cover your face so thoroughly that you can’t bloody see.” After a wary glance around for more butterflies, Crowley moved back and studied the bush. He clipped one more bit for symmetry’s sake, then grabbed his cane and hauled himself upright. His hips screamed in protest about the time spent on the ground today, but it had been worth it. “Now, we gotta make sure we really tackle the horror show of weeds. I can’t believe the state of this garden.”

He headed for one of the flowerbeds, but Aziraphale caught his arm. “My dear, we’ve been working for hours, and it’s awfully warm today. Let’s go to the shade for a bit.”

“Nnnnh.” Biting his lip, Crowley cast a longing look at the tangled mat of weeds. “But I gotta make progress.”

“You have in fact made plenty of progress.” Aziraphale tugged on his arm again, not quite hard enough to pull him completely off balance. “And you can make more after a break. But really, my dear. Can’t we enjoy our new garden?”

“I am enjoying it,” Crowley said stubbornly, lodging his cane on the edge of a stepping stone so Aziraphale couldn’t budge him. “I’m enjoying fixing the damn thing.”

“Well, perhaps you could take a break from that and enjoy simply looking at it for a bit, with me?” Aziraphale put on the big pleading eyes and pouted a little. “We’ve been working so hard on moving in and remodeling and ‘fixing’ the garden that we haven’t had any time at all to celebrate!”

Crowley hissed, and the pout intensified. Well. It looked like he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. “Okay. Fine. If you insist, you bastard.”

“I do,” Aziraphale said happily. He tugged on Crowley again, and this time Crowley yielded.

They retreated under the dappled shade of some really pitiful birch trees that Crowley was thinking of tearing out. Their new cottage was in a terrific location, no close neighbors at all, and right by some beautiful walking trails. It did have a downside, though—mostly, that it hadn’t been the slightest bit maintained for decades.

He raked a critical gaze across the garden, cataloguing everything that he still needed to do. Weeding for sure, plus more trimming of virtually every bush and tree. Should probably just rip out everything in the flowerbeds he hadn’t touched yet, honestly. They were a tangled mess, and he had so many transplants that he could definitely just—

“Crowley.”

“Hmm?” Crowley asked, mentally planting new flowers.

“You’re supposed to be enjoying looking at the garden with me, not plotting the demise of half the plants.” Aziraphale collided with his side in an enthusiastic hug, and Crowley steadied himself with his cane. “It’s celebration time.”

“Is it?” Crowley wrapped his free arm around Aziraphale, trying and failing to downshift his mind. “Thought we already had that last week when we did the whole toasting thingy. To our new home, so on and so forth?”

“Well, yes. But one hardly needs to be restrained to celebrating a momentous occasion once!” Expression warring between bliss and an attempt to keep pouting, Aziraphale squeezed Crowley tightly enough that his ribs ached. “We ought to celebrate all the time. Ooh, we could celebrate every week! Weekly anniversary of moving in.”

“Er. Normally, I’m all in favor of celebration.” Crowley struggled against a smile as Aziraphale kissed his shoulder. He turned to nuzzle into the light fluffy curls, unable to resist his angel’s affection. “But weekly anniversary celebrations seem a little bit excessive. Wouldn’t have any time to fix the place up if I was stopping all the time for drinks.”

Aziraphale kissed his shoulder again. “You stop all the time for drinks anyway. These would just be celebratory drinks, just as this is a celebratory hug.”

“Is it?” Crowley had almost gotten completely distracted from the garden, but a flash of color pulled his attention back. “Whoops. Looks like we’ve got a celebratory butterfly, too.”

“Oh, do we?” Aziraphale twisted to look, not letting go of Crowley. The butterfly hovered in front of them, and Aziraphale cooed at it. “Oh, how lovely. See, my dear? Nothing like out of a horror movie.”

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale’s petulant tone. Then he stopped smiling. “One might be innocent enough. But there’s not just one.”

A horde of butterflies descended, fluttering around them. Crowley hissed and shook his head in a vain attempt to dissuade them from landing on him. One perched on his nose.

“Ohhhh…” Aziraphale gave a delighted wiggle. “Isn’t that the most delightful thing? The butterflies love you, my dear!”

“Terrific. So, between you and the butterflies, I’m never gonna get anything done again.”

“Oh, don’t be so sulky.” Chuckling, Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder and watched the swarm of butterflies. “They just want you to enjoy the moment, as I do.”

Crowley briefly considered whacking the butterflies with his cane, and decided against it. He leaned into Aziraphale’s embrace and sighed. “Right, right. For now, you and the butterflies win.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #art #ace omens hugfest 2024 #disabled crowley

[juneknight]

My heart goes out to you rn 💞 I'm going to tip the shit out of you I just get nervous about my account ever seeing the light of day 😬

So kind of a specific one, but could you do a situation with the boys where the reader feels unattractive bc she doesn't think she looks feminine enough? Possibly ending in some NSFW comfort 👀

(I'm afab and I've had two people assume I'm a boy in the last month bc I have a short haircut, feeling a little sensitive about it 😅)

Thank you so much if you have tipped or when you tip. Every penny is so appreciated. Also, as someone who has shaved her head a few times, I felt this!

About this: steven grant/ fem!reader, talks of femininity vs masculinity, some innuendo at the end, pretty soft and sweet with a hint of toppy Steven.

Reader gets a haircut and feels instant regret.

*

Steven isn’t supposed to check his phone at work. Donna takes the sale of overpriced stuffies very seriously (though she didn’t seem to care when Steven told her about the nuances between depicting Bastet with rounded ears vs pointed ears), and if she catches Steven even using his phone to check the time, she threatens to send him walking. But Steven’s phone has buzzed thrice in his pocket, and he knows that it is you. 

No one else messages Steven; no one but you. For a while he just daydreams about what your messages might say. What little update might you have sent about your day? Are you asking what the two of you should have for dinner? Perhaps you’re even sending something of a more personal nature, something that will have Steven rushing to the loo to cool himself off. You’ve done that once before. 

Maybe you’re even sending pictures. You had just gone to get a haircut that morning. If it had given you a confidence boost, Steven would gladly reap the benefits. Nothing drove him wilder than when you were so clearly appreciating your own allure…gods, but he has to look. 

Glancing around to make sure that Donna isn’t looming like a cloud about to rain on his parade, Steven works his phone from his trousers and sees that each message is from you. No pictures, though. 

I made a mistake. 

Five minutes later: In a foul mood. Called off the rest of the day. Be careful on the bus ride home. 

A half hour ago: Bring something home for dinner? Xx

Steven frowns. Not quite any of the things he had imagined you might be saying. What sort of mistake had you made? Something at work? He knew that fouling up and pissing Donna off could put Steven in the most dismal of moods. Well. He made a silent vow to pick up your favorite take-away on the way home. Maybe even flowers. Or—

“Better be the bloody King calling you, or I’ll ban phones on the floor altogether,” Donna says from behind him, giving him a proper jumpscare.

*

Three hours and twenty-three stuffies later, Steven slips through the flat with fragrant Italian food under one arm and a bouquet of mostly-non-wilted roses tucked between the crook of his elbow and his side. 

“Hellooo,” he calls lightly, a hint of trepidation filling him when you aren’t immediately visible. He sets his flat keys aside and puts the take-away and flowers on the kitchen table, eyes scanning the flat for you. You aren’t curled up in your armchair (the one right beside his). You aren’t lounging on the loveseat watching the a documentary on the latest anthropology hot topic. You aren’t curled up in b—

Ah. You are. Except…

“Darling, are you hiding from me?” Steven wonders, looking at your figure completely obscured beneath the blankets. The blankets don’t move, though he hears your sigh. “Oh gods, she’s dead.” 

Steven throws himself beside you on the bed, tossing an arm over your figure and dragging your blanketed body towards him. He presses his face into the crook of your neck (or possibly your armpit, difficult to tell beneath the thick coverlet) and lets out a showy sob. Immediately your figure snorts, struggling against him. Steven yelps and jerks away. 

“Come out, you Osiris, freshly raised from the grave—” 

His breath catches. 

You have cut all your hair off into a short, modern style. It isn’t at all like anything you’ve done in the past, and it isn’t anything like what you had hinted you planned for the stylist to give you at the shop earlier that morning. 

“Oh, darling. Be still my heart. You look amazing!” 

Something passes over your face, some shadowed, vulnerable crack in your strong veneer. Your hand lifts, patting at the hair softly. “Do you really think so? Be honest.” 

“I do! Not that I think I could ever feel otherwise, but you look incredible.Was this your mistake? Did the stylist take a little too much off the top?” 

“No–no this is what I wanted her to give me,” you admit, wiping at your nose gently. Steven sees then that your eyes are red, a little swollen from tears. “I thought that it was going to make me feel so…badass. And it did! But then at lunch the waiter said, Yes, Sir, when I asked him if I could have another glass of iced-tea, and then a coworker pulled a face and said that I was so brave and it was far too masculine for her taste and I just…this isn’t what I wanted.” 

Steven scoffs. He rolls onto his back and opens his arm, making room for you to wiggle up against his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Your hair smells like the posh shampoo and conditioner they use at the stylist you go to, when he kisses the crown of your head. 

“That’s bollocks. Poor waiter must have been blind—I don’t want to imagine all the dishes he was breaking in the back. And too masculine for her taste? Well it’s a bloody good thing it’s not her hair, nor her taste you’re trying to appeal to! You know, I have half a mind to go to work with you tomorrow and tell her what’s what—” 

“Do you mean it? I’m not too boyish, like this?” 

Steven softens even further, running a hand up and down the length of your side that he can reach. “No. I don’t buy in to all that, love. Hair is just hair, long or short or anywhere in between. It doesn’t change who you are. You get to decide what’s feminine or not, and to hell with anyone who thinks otherwise. But if my two-pounds helps at all…you know I’m only attracted to women. If I’m attracted to you more than any other woman—what’s that say about you?” 

“That I am the most womanly of womans,” you say with a wet little laugh, wiping at your eye. 

“I mean it,” Steven says lowly. Moving his hand from your side to your back, he rolls you onto him until your chests are flush together, relishing in the weight of you against him before you sit up, straddling his thighs. His eyes move over you: your hair, your features, your clothes. All of the pieces that come together to create a picture of the woman he loves. “You drive me mad, you know that don’t you?” 

A little breathless, you shift against his lap. “I think I can feel it.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I think I’d like to kiss you.” 

You lean down, one hand against his chest, feeling the firmness of his pecs through the kitschy short-sleeve dress shirt he had donned underneath his jacket that day. His kiss is already hungry, the way Steven’s kisses usually start: a little desperate, a little like he is afraid you will stop kissing him any moment. But then he relaxes, licks languidly into your mouth. Beneath you, his cock hardens the rest of the way, and you can’t help but shift against it, working til it is in that perfect spot dead center between your legs. 

“I love you so much,” you murmur, trailing kisses down his jaw and into the juncture of his neck. 

Suddenly there is a bright burst of tension on your scalp as he grips your hair and tugs you back away from his neck, a gasp slipping from your swollen mouth. His eyes are dark, the pupils huge, liable enough to swallow you whole. 

“Still plenty for me to grab on to, isn’t there?” Steven breathes. 

You let your eyes flutter shut as he tugs again, feeling the ache all the way down between your thighs. 

“Better make good use of it…” 

#steven grant x reader

[montywithchildhoodtrauma]

SAMS & MAFS Incorrect quotes because... I don't know at this point

Old Moon: cocks gun and points it at Sun Go to Bed. This is no longer a request, This is now a Threat.

Old Moon: You spent money on THIS?? Old Sun, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

Earth: Words ending in 'ie' just sound so adorable. Like cutie, sweetie, cookie- Moon: Eyy, homie! Eclipse: But then there's cootie… Monty: Die.

Harvest: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated! Bloody: Killed without hesitation.

Lunar: Kinda sad* Are you a cuddler? Bloody: We a machine of death and destruction. Lunar: Harvest: …Yeah, we cuddle.

Harvest: What if Cinderella was a baking slave instead of a cleaning slave, and her name was Mozzarella? Bloody: Don't ever speak to me again.

Puppet: Don't have a bookmark? Try ketchup instead!! Lunar: What makes you think I read?

Earth: Are you coming to bed? Monty: I can't. This is important. Earth: What? Monty: Someone is wrong on the internet.

Harvest: Bloody! This soup is flaccid! Bloody: LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MEAN?!

Lunar: Is anyone going to tell me what's going on in here?! Eclipse: It's kind of complicated, but Monty- Lunar: Got it. Forget I asked.

Sun: About to do something incredibly stupid Moon: I know I can't stop you, but I won't let you go by yourself.

Monty: What if mayonnaise came in cans? Foxy: Well, that would suck because you can't microwave metal. Lunar: Good morning to everyone except these two people.

Sun: Well Moon, I have to say, I'm really disappointed. Moon: Well, you didn't HAVE to say it. You could've just thought it.

Earth: We’re all in this together. If one of us falls, we all fall. Nobody is expendable on this team. Harvest: Sounds fake but ok.

Foxy: Good morning! Sun: Is it? Is it really?

Harvest: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. Harvest: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. Sun: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that? Harvest: Ominous positivity.

Eclipse: I think I mostly want to see what happens when this whole place breaks apart.

KC, pointing a camera at Rays: There they are, our sweet baby. Rays, holding a cigarette and a beer: What-?

Eclipse: Don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be crying all day.

Bloody: is throwing stones at KC's window KC: You have a phone for a reason, Bloody! THUD KC: DID YOU JUST THROW YOUR PHONE AT MY WINDOW?!

Rays: Where are you going? Monty: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way.

Lunar: Do you have any skeletons in your closet? Old Moon: Literally or figuratively? Lunar: I have to specify?

Lunar: working in a flower shop and minding their own business Bloody, storming into the store and slapping $20 on the counter: HOW DO I PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVELY SAY “FUCK YOU” IN FLOWER???

KC: Answers phone. Hello? Moon: It's Moon. KC: What did they do this time? Moon: No, it's me, KC. It's actually me. KC: What did you do this time?

Lunar: .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- (translation: I'M SORRY) Sun: What's that? Lunar: Remorse code. Sun: I'm even angrier now.

Harvest: Next time I'm at the pet store, I'm gonna take a hamster and drop it in the scorpion cage. I wanna see what a hamster's face looks like when it goes, "oh, fuck."

Moon, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks. KC: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

Monty: Dom or sub? Sun: I guess Domino's, since I don't go to Subway that much. Don't see why you'd put them in the same category though.

Foxy, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe? Sun: Yeah, sure. A few minutes later Sun: Here you go. Foxy: Sun: Monty: Why am I here?

Sun: is effectively running on 5% battery* Is the pink panther a lion? Moon: Say that again but slower. Sun: I don’t get it. Moon: He’s a PANTHER. Sun: Is that a type of lion? Moon: No, it’s a fucking panther. Sun: googles panther They aren’t pink? Moon: AND LIONS ARE?!

Sun: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Earth: Several traffic violations. Lunar: Three counts of resisting arrest. Monty: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Moon: Also, that’s not our car.

#sun and moon show #sun and moon show lunar #Sun and Moon show Eclipse #Sun and Moon show Kill Code #Sun and Moon show Nice Eclipse #sun and moon show bloodmoon #Sun and Moon show Earth #Sun and Moon show Monty #monty and foxy show

[saltymongoose]

AHH OK CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE YAN JORGE AND CHURCH HCS?

Yes, I can and I shall. Enjoy! ;)

General Yan!Church and Yan!Jorge Headcanons

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, mentions of blood.)

> Church and Jorge are not the types to be hidden in their affections at all. Once they start feeling strong affection for you, it’s obvious to everyone in the vicinity, which is of course how they found out about each other’s “thing” for you. Jorge couldn’t ignore how Church insisted that you were the only one besides himself who could handle his gear or tune his weapons, and similarly, Jorge’s own increasingly affectionate treatment of you was hardly subtle. Even when they started to become a bit more intense in their actions, the heightened focus on showing you their love was mirrored between the two. 

> To everyone’s surprise, this just became another thing for them to sort of bond with each other over, instead of causing the infighting they assumed. In the G03LM’s minds, it made total sense; of course the other would love you, not loving you was just plain stupid. Plus, they operate on the same wavelength most of the time anyway, so their bro liking the same person is fine with them. There’s no one else Church or Jorge would rather share you with, and as it happens, this is what really eggs them on to make you know just how much they both care for you.

> Neither are really the type to do typical romantic gestures like give you flowers they picked or write soliloquies to describe your beauty, but they do flirt with you a lot. You’d swear that “good lookin’” was practically another name for you now with how often Jorge purrs it to you in a greeting, and then there was the rare “sweetcheeks” from Church. They aren’t exactly the most flowery terms of endearment, but then again, neither of them seemed the type to do that to begin with, so you were still surprised.

> In fact, they call you those so often that they almost caught on with other grunts as well. But attempts to make those nicknames a regular thing were quickly stopped by none other than Church and Jorge themselves; it was their thing with you, and only theirs.

> (Jorge paused from cleaning his gun when he heard one of the other technicians call out to you with his name for you. He leaned down to them and grinned behind his mask when they shrank back a bit. “Hah, that’s real funny pal. But if you call them that again I’ll crush you.” Point taken.)

> Jorge also lavishes you with praise and compliments constantly, for the most simple of actions and when you least expect it. He’s particularly fond of this way of showing affection to you, and he considers it his mission to make you know how much he loves everything about you. Everything from the way your brows furrow when you’re confused to innocuous things like the precise way you prefer your coffee and the way you look so focused when working. Although sometimes his comments can be weirdly specific. For someone who you assumed didn’t know that much about you, the fact he can list off certain more intimate things he knows about you so offhandedly is a bit unnerving.

> (It’s just because he spends a lot of time looking at you, but you didn’t know the true depth of it. It was easy to keep it secret, with how hidden his gaze is behind his mask.)

> For the record, Church also compliments you, but they’re typically shorter and more blunt. He’ll just state that you’re really pretty as though it’s a universally known fact, which it is in his mind. He’ll also fight anyone who says otherwise, but he’s always itching for a chance to pummel someone on your behalf, so it’s something you’re kind of used to now. It’s weirdly flattering regardless, but you try not to encourage it too much.

> Jorge and Church also give you presents frequently as well; usually weapons and other trinkets as “battle trophies” from grunts they faced in combat, oftentimes still bloody. You’re grossed out a bit by just how much gore they track into the building whenever they find something new to gift you, but seeing them perk up proudly whenever you thank them for it makes up for it. They seem so happy whenever you show an ounce of gratitude for their presents, punching the air and fist-bumping each other when you simply smile at them while holding whatever they gave you. You might even say it’s cute, although using such an adjective for the violent mercs seems a tad inappropriate. 

> (Half of the time you’re not even sure what to do with the things they bring you, but now you have an entire wall full of weapons and armor pieces from them. It’d be useful if you ever need to get into a fight, but you’re just a technician.)

> (Of course, you don’t know how many of those special things are from people who were once threats and were foolish enough to pose a threat to your relationship with them. They really should’ve known better, it’s not like Church or Jorge had tried to hide what you were to them. Hopefully the rest of your coworkers would take a hint from the red they tracked in, and the missing presence of some of the people you shared a shift with.)

> They drop any and every conversation they have just to make you a part of it once you enter the room, including important mission briefings from Sheriff. (Oh well. He just has to get that you’re more important.) You’ll also find yourself physically close to them more often than not; it’s common for you to have to try to ignore how they crowd in on your space whenever they catch sight of you. It’s not like you work with them often - you’re not exactly a mercenary or field worker - so when they decide to spend virtually all of their downtime around you, it’s very noticeable.

> They’re also quite touchy with you; you’re going to be picked up by one of them and bear-hugged at least once every day, and luckily they are very gentle with you, so you never have to worry about being harmed by their armor or squeezed too tight. They’d rather die than hurt you, so their grip on you is always soft, and when they nudge against you with their masked face (their version of a kind of kiss, unbeknownst to you), it isn’t hard enough to cause any damage. If they had it their way, you’d always be in their arms, and they even try to take turns with it just to be fair.

> (As an additional bonus, if you’re snuggled up in Church or Jorge’s embrace, no one bothers them and tries to get you away. It's the perfect way to keep you all to themselves, and their loud purring shows just how pleased they are about this.)

> Church is definitely the quieter of the two, but also the one more likely to rough someone up if they affront you in some way. The other members of MERC know better than to get too close to you now, since attempts to be all buddy-buddy with you (or god forbid, flirt with you) were shut down by the mohawked G03LM’s fists. Literally.

> (With how often Church was around you, he got pretty good at reading you. So when he heard you laugh uncomfortably and snapped his attention to you to find one of the other grunts leaning way too close to you for even your taste, he was quick to get rid of the problem. It’s the least he could do, for someone he adores so much.)

> You’ve had a talk with Church about, well, massacring your coworkers whenever you happened to take an off day (at least he’s polite enough not to do it in front of you), so he’s not likely to hurt them too badly now. But it just so happens that Church also knows that you can cause a lot of damage that doesn’t lead to death all the time, which some might even consider worse.

> (Sheriff is now more concerned than ever about healthcare costs for MERC. Perhaps he can cut another deal with the Nexus Core?)

> Jorge is more the type to just threaten the other mercenaries, but he isn’t above getting physical along with Church to break a few (many) bones if he thinks the situation calls for it. Which happens more often than not, if you’re not in their vicinity.

> (They’d honestly be offended if you thought they’d forget the way that prick Sheriff just hired was giving you googly eyes. The little twerp just has to learn his place, and as your partners, there’s no one better to teach them.)

> Despite how they will deliberately target the others in your faction when they know you won’t be around, they still want to show off around you. There’s always an open invitation for you to observe their training, and Jorge is always quick to remind you of this. When you do watch them fight, they naturally put a lot more effort into fighting. They already love the thrill of it, but feeling your eyes on them just invigorates them like nothing else.

> If it weren’t for the fact that the two are so dangerous, the fact that you have them completely wrapped around your finger without knowing it would be funny to everyone else. Anything you even mention once will be noted by them, and while they might not be the most efficient at fetching it/completing some task you need finished, they’ll find some way to fulfill your wishes. Even if it means threatening asking someone else to do it for them, or going to the very ends of Nexus City and fighting through hoards of random bandits and zeds to bring back a single tool you’d simply like to have someday, they’ll do it happily. And of course, they’ll be chatting with each other the entire time about how cute you are, and how they can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize what they’ve done for you.

> Both of them routinely refer to you as their partner, and they mean it in every sense of the word. Ever since they fell for you so hard, there’s no one else Church and Jorge would be willing to go to for tune-ups and other jobs that needed more technical expertise present. But they also mean it in the romantic sense as well. In their eyes, they’d already made it explicitly clear to everyone else that you were together. They just need to go a step further to get you to acknowledge it as well. Plus, you’d never outright rejected their advances before, so they just know you return their affections. Maybe you’re just shy about it compared to them.

> It doesn't matter to them how long it takes you to understand and eventually officially requite what they feel because Church and Jorge are willing to work at this for however long is needed. They're not going to quit when they know they're so close to having you completely and being able to show you all of their love to its truest extent. Besides, they're G03LMs; Church and Jorge can be brought back from whatever form of the afterlife Nevada has for as long as needed. If they can fight off death itself, then no one stands a chance at taking you from them, so your being with them is completely inevitable. That's all there is to it.

#tw: yandere #tw: violence #they are actually surprisingly tame for yanderes tbh #my writing #yandere madness combat #yandere madcom #yandere church #yandere jorge #church x reader #jorge x reader #madness combat x reader

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. xxi.i)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: nsfw

a/n: it's my birthday and it's julia's birthday and it's everyone's birthday! :)) due to my busy schedule, i'm going to start splitting up longer chapters into two more regularly so i don't have to keep y'all waiting 5ever. anyway. enjoy. and happy birthday, julia.

pt. xxi.i, horned poppy

“I’m afraid he’s taken a leave of absence and sent John Paul Jones in his place. Will that do?”

White lilies. Ugly things.

“Well, these are nice aren’t they?”

I looked at Annie and then back at the flowers. A small card stuck out from amidst the ivory petals.

“Well, don’t just stand there and gawk at it. See who it’s from, hm?” Annie nicked me on the arm with a knuckle.

I sighed and grabbed the card. “White lilies are funeral flowers.”

The flowers had arrived while I was on my morning school run. Bounteous lilies in a fine crystal vase. Expensive. But…deathly.

“You are a snob, Julia,” Annie sniffed. “You should be grateful he thought of you at all.

She was right about that. I had to be grateful that John remembered me on my birthday at all. I had to take it as a good sign.

I unsheathed the card and read it aloud. “Happy birthday, Julia. With love.”

Annie’s eyes bulged. “With love?”

I flushed. “It’s just an expression.”

“A very strong expression,” Annie grumbled.

While outwardly I remained calm, inside I was reeling. Love was not a word John and I had exchanged. Even “like” would have felt  too strong to utter though everything between us would point to at least “like”.

As if sensing my spiraling, Annie floated toward the door to the outside. “Come on, laundry doesn’t dry itself.”

I followed her outside and sighed. 28 years old. Another birthday in another home that wasn’t my own with a family that wasn’t mine. One that I wanted to be mine more than I should have allowed myself to want. 

Annie and I went to work on hanging the wash. Time dribbled by easily, approaching the next hour. A September breeze shifted all the dresses hanging from the clothesline; a row of ghosts wafted in the morning light.

My fingers were starting to ache from pinching clothespins over and over. Bloody dryer was on the fritz, leaving Annie up to her chin in wet laundry and nothing to do with it but hang it out on the lawn. The poles hadn’t been used in eons, as made clear by their chipping white paint.

And while the chore was a bit pedantic, it was also meditative. After the first line, I’d found my rhythm and technique, how to hang up tartan skirts, socks and knickers, blouses with tiny, undissolvable stains hidden on the collar.

Anything to distract me from the date.

“Help me with this, would you?”

Annie was trying to straighten out a damp bed sheet with her small wingspan.

I smiled and wandered over, taking one end from her and spreading it as far down the line as it would go.

“That bloody machine…wasting all my time.”

Hearing Annie curse made me giggle. “Repairman should be here sometime this week.”

“Laundry doesn’t stop for a repairman, does it, Julia?” Annie said with a sigh. She clipped a pin to her end of the sheet, then one in the middle. “Blast, I don’t have another one.”

“I’m afraid I’m out too.”

She grunted in annoyance. “Hold on.”

Annie skittered away before I could say another word, leaving me standing there with the wet sheet in my hand, its dampness dripping down my arm, underneath the cuff of my jumper. I tilted my head to the side and sighed, looking up to the sky. It was slightly overcast, but the peeks of sun through the clouds were generous and brilliant.

My birthday always was more introspective than I liked it to be, especially as I got older and remained unmarried. This being my first birthday in several years without Nick in my life, I was starting to wonder if maybe I should have just gone along with him to Paris and forgotten the whole lot of my freedom. I might have been engaged by now.

Now, now, Julia, you know that’s not what you want.

Nick so rarely crossed my mind since I’d ended things. Even more so once John became the object of my fantasies and affections.

I leaned into my hip. “Come on, Annie, my arm’s getting tired.”

I was met only with silence.

I groaned, my head dipping back.

Get on with it, then.

I dropped the sheet and marched over to one of the pairs of socks I’d hung, clasped the two of them together on one, and then returned to hang up my end of the sheet.

But just as soon as I clipped the end of the sheet to the line, the opposite side fell to the ground. I huffed, marching back over to hang up that end. I scanned the ground for the pin, finding it under the drape of white, pinned it back up and sighed. A job done.

Then, the other end fell.

I stared at the fallen sheet and started to laugh. This was getting ridiculous. I went back to the opposite end, pinned it up and –

The telltale flumf of the sheet falling on the other end.

I turned on my heel, laser-focused on the fallen sheet.

That was too many coincidences in a row. “Annie…” I said with a sly smile. “Are you being clever?”

I ran back to the end and pinned it up. Again, the other end, fallen.

“You think I don’t get enough cheekiness around here with three little girls, eh?” I snuck back to the other end. Instead of pinning it back up, I grabbed the sheet and poked my head around the other side.

No one was there.

“Oh, come on. This is ridicu –” I flipped around just in time to catch the shoe of my tormentor as they hid behind the curtain once again.

And that was not Annie’s shoe.

My heart pounded. My mind must have been playing tricks on me. I could have sworn that it was John’s shoe.

“John?”

Silence. Just the waving of the sheet in the wind. Taunting me. Reminding me what an idiot I must be to think for a second it would be John.

Still my heart stayed in my throat. I crept back to the other end of the sheet. “If you’re playing a trick on me…”

You’ll what? Leap into his arms and beg him to never leave again? Be realistic…

I grabbed the end of the sheet and took a deep breath. “I swear to god, I’ll –”

Two arms enveloped me from behind, absorbing me into a tight embrace. I screamed and squirmed, but before I could see who my laundry ghost was, their lips told me, pressed against mine in a tender, familiar kiss.

John .

My body broke into goosebumps as my heart soared toward the sky. Weightless, wrapped in his arms, I had to believe this was some fever dream. I pushed a hand against his chest, drawing myself away to see his face, make sure he was really real. “John, what are you doing here?”

If I hadn’t been totally infatuated with him before, I was certainly infatuated now. His darling smile, prickling at the dimples to see me had me swooning and the glimmer in his eye made me melt. A lethal combination to a girl trying to remain sensible. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“You – mm –” John interrupted me with a kiss. “ – know it is. But you wished me happy birthday on the telephone last night and –”

“That’s not nearly the same as wishing you a happy birthday in person, is it?”

I gaped, totally unable to comprehend what was happening. “This can’t possibly be happening.”

John grinned. “Aren’t I real enough for you?”

None of this felt real. John was touching me, kissing me, like some sort of dream I’ve had in the weeks since he’d left. “Yes, yes, but I really don’t –” I sighed and closed my eyes to get my thoughts straight. “You came out here to see me?”

John nodded.

“For my birthday?”

He nodded again. I brushed a lock of his hair back and tucked it behind his ear, grinning unbelievably wide. “Really?”

John threaded his arm around my shoulder, pulling me near again for what seemed like another kiss. His nose grazed mine as he whispered into my mouth, “Julia, you mustn’t be so surprised I came home to celebrate your birthday.”

But I was. Unbelievably surprised. Even more than that, I was surprised by his charisma. I’d noticed it coming more and more forward since Montreux, since we fell into each other’s arms. Now, though, it was heightened. Nearly theatrical.

“Now you two have ruined a perfectly clean sheet!” Annie yelled from the house.

I flushed and pointed at John. “His fault!”

“I should have known you’d be a snitch,” John teased, unrolling us from the sheet. “She should be grateful it’s not ruined in other ways.”

I gaped at him. “John.”

John grinned mischievously as he balled up the sheet. I still couldn't believe he was right in front of me. “Come along, dear.”

I followed at John’s heels, trying desperately not to spend too much time looking at the way his trousers squeezed his backside. “Where are we going?”

“A surprise.”

“At least let me change,” I argued, pulling at the cuffs of my sweater.

“No time,” John smiled over his shoulder and grabbed me by the hand. “You look perfect for our purposes anyway.”

I didn’t think so. I’d thrown on a frock and tried to cut the chill with a ratty old sweater that I’d acquired at the farm, an inheritance from dead Uncle Donal. Not to mention a pair of old leather boots that needed a good shining.

John and I waltzed into the kitchen where Annie was waiting with a hamper in her hands. “Alright, be good you two.”

I stared at the wicker hamper as she held it out toward us. “Where were you keeping that?”

She shrugged, a sly smile to match John’s on her face.

“Thank you, Annie dear,” John said, taking the basket and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“You made that for us?” I asked in shock.

“No, I made it for the Queen of England,” Annie said with a roll of her eyes. Her sass turned into a smile. “Go on, birthday girl.”

I could barely believe it. The woman who’d admonished us for so much as kissing was now encouraging us to venture into the wide world together. I threw my arms around her neck. “You knew everything, didn't you?”

Annie chuckled and patted my back. “It was all him, I just aided and abetted, alright?”

“Julia, come on!” John called from the front hall.

I felt dizzy with joy as I ran through Warren House and out the front door, only to be gob smacked again by the sight of a darling Rolls convertible, which I was able to identify by the ornament on the hood. “What is this?”

John dropped the basket in the backseat. “You like it?”

“Is this yours?”

“Oh, God, no,” John said with a scoff. “I got rid of mine years ago. Borrowed this from Bonz. So, we have to be good.”

I smiled and approached the car carefully. “I’m even afraid to touch it.”

“Oh, well a lady should never have to touch the car,” John said, opening the passenger door for me.

“Thank you,” I said with a genteel look over my shoulder.

He was so smug as he shut the door behind me. And I’d allow it, considering everything he’d done to surprise me this morning. If it all ended right here and he said this was all there was, it would have been enough.

John rounded the car and leapt into the driver’s seat without opening the door as if he was some sort of Hollywood dandy. “You ready, then?”

“Who are you and what have you done with John Baldwin?”

“I’m afraid he’s taken a leave of absence and sent John Paul Jones in his place. Will that do?”

I reached over and grabbed his chin. “You smarmy, little –”

“Prick?”

I smashed my lips against his as answer. Yes, obviously.

John sighed into my kiss as if tension from all the work he’d done was melting away just at my touch. What a far cry this all was from our first meeting. Him hiding his identify from me, trying to be an average widower.  Now, here he was, flashy and bold, strutting around like a peacock.

I was charmed. I won’t lie.

Breaking the kiss before it went too far, John straightened up. “Alright, one more thing.”

“John, no more things. No more surprises,” I said.

“Just a little thing.” He reached down and tapped the glovebox. “In here.”

I took a deep breath and opened the glovebox as John slid on a pair of aviators. Handsome arse. Burnt orange flashed from inside the glovebox. “No.”

John didn’t reply, revving the engine.

“No, John, this is –” I snatched the small box and admired the small Hermes logo. “Please, this is much too much.”

“Just open it would you?”

I lifted the lid and undid the wrapping paper as John swerved the car out of the driveway and down Warren Lane. Inside was a silk scarf, decorated with periwinkle loops and golden birds.

“Since I wouldn’t let you cut up the curtains,” John said. 

I lifted the scarf out of the box, watching it flutter delicately in the breeze. “I hate to even think of the absurd amount you paid for this.”

John smiled. “Put it on, Julie Andrews.”

“Ah, you're Robert in John’s clothing, are you?” I started to fold the scarf into a kerchief shape for my hair.

Wordlessly, John turned on the radio. A jazzy melody wafted through the speakers.

I delicately knotted the luxe fabric at the base of my skull and peered into the wing mirror. With my bare face and frumpy sweater, I didn’t feel like I was a girl who belonged in a Rolls with a silk scarf in her hair. However, when I felt John’s hand on my knee, I knew I just had to accept that this was my reality. He nudged me closer to him. “Let me look at you.”

I flipped around to face him, smiling maudlinly. “The hills are alive…” I lilted.

John grinned. “Looks perfect with your eyes.

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek, teeny bristles of hair against my lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome darling.”

Where had this smokey-voiced, Casanova come from? Had Bonzo given him some midland pointers? Maybe Pat had really pulled all the strings. Or was this the man John was far before the broken heart?

I bade myself not to think about it too hard and to enjoy it. It was my birthday after all.

“Where are we going?” I asked, tucking my chin on his shoulder as we mazed through Crowborough.

“Well, we’ve got a hamper courtesy of Annie and you’ve got a kerchief ala Fraulein Maria, the Alps perhaps?”

I smacked him on the arm. “Cheeky.”

“Always.”

I couldn’t ignore how wonderful he smelled. How much I’d missed him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it also heightens the senses. And everything about his touch, his smell, the way he looked…

Made me absolutely feral.

“I thought I’d take you down to the shore. Is that alright with you?”

I smiled. “I haven’t been to the shore in years.”

“Obviously you’re overdue for a visit then.”

“Yes,” I replied, the open road curling out before us. “Yes, I am.”

The shore at Normans Bay was nearly an hour’s drive, but the time ticked by quickly at John’s side. We had much to catch up on, things we couldn’t get from our nightly chats. Closeness, the kind I could only get from hearing his breath through the phone.

We didn’t have to talk. It was that simple at this point. The radio crooned, the English countryside plowed by, and we simply existed in the same space.

It was as close to love as I had felt the entire time I’d been falling for him. Dangerous. Unavoidable.

“Seems like old times…” the radio sang.

“So how’d you sneak away?” I murmured to John.

“Having you to walk with…”

“Zeppelin’s four members, isn’t it? All I have to do is throw a fit now and then, disappear, and then I’m welcomed back with open arms. Can’t get on with only three.”

“Seems like old times, having you to talk with.”

I pushed my face into his shoulder. “You didn’t tell anyone you were coming here to see me, did you?”

“No, of course not. They’d have a field day with that.”

Acceptable, especially based on the way I’d asked the question. Still, I would have loved to have been sung from the rooftops.

I moved back to my side of the car and leaned on the door, letting the wind whip through my hair and kerchief. “This was quite a surprise, John.”

“That was my goal.”

I grabbed the hem of my skirt. My legs felt light as arousal crept up my thighs. “I’ve missed you.”

“You know I’ve missed you, Julia.”

I had been trying to understand all this time if our relationship was more than just physical to John. And now, here I was, struggling not to feel turned on. My body hadn’t expected him. I was taken off-guard, each and every part of me.

John leaving was like a withdrawal from my system, the way it felt when I went from doing cocaine everyday after school to hiding myself on the farm while I was with child. Shakingly needy. Touching myself in the late hours, the early hours, the in between hours.

Now, here he was in the flesh.

And we’d already gone far too long without touching each other in the deepest ways.

I curled my fingers under the hem of my skirt and spread my legs.

“Julia…”

“What?”

“You know what.”

I pulled my fingers further up my thigh.

John fiddled with his glasses. “God dammit, Julia. You want me to run the car off the road?”

“I’ve barely done anything.”

John took a deep breath. “I can fucking smell you from here.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.”

The car abruptly veered off the road into an embankment. I nearly screamed before realizing John was responsible for the change in direction. He ripped the keys from the ignition and dived toward me, pressing me up against the door, lips on mine, ravenous lips, tongue ripping into my mouth. I braced myself, one hand against the headrest, the other against the dash.

His sunglasses knocked up against my face. He trembled to grab them throwing them onto the ground without another thought.

I wrapped my leg around his hip, pulling him flat against me. My entire body bucked against him, his touch utterly enthralling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“I was trying to be good,” John growled, moving his lips to my neck.

His teeth sunk into my skin. I let out a long sigh in response.

“I was going to wait,” he went on.

John’s hands slid from my calves and up my thighs, jerking my skirt up to my waist.

“But you and your fucking…” John shook his head like he’d just been hit with an anvil. “God almighty, Julia, I can’t control myself around you.”

I bit my tongue through a smile. “You never have to control yourself around me.”

John pushed my panties down (also not attractive, to complement the already dowdy outfit), then ducked under my skirt, his mouth sealing tight to my center.

My head dipped back toward the sky, jaw falling open as I welcomed his lips to my groin. I could barely even calculate the things wrong with this situation. In a car on an open road, a convertible with the top down, an employer with his children’s nanny.

A continued dance between secret and broadcast. This was the thing that plagued me while I was away from John.

But while I was with him, it drove me fucking mental.

John moaned into my dripping core. I jerked in response, hooking my hands over the window well at my shoulders. “Oh my god…”

His tongue slid from my perineum up to my clit, snaring the sensitive pearl with a snap of his lips.

My body seized, then collapsed again. A whimper, a moan, a breath.

I felt a drop of rain square between my eyebrows and was immediately snapped out of my reverie. I could only think about Bonzo’s car. The leather interior and anything else that might be ruined by the rain. “John, it’s –”

He locked his hands under my ass, pressing his mouth harder to me.

I bucked again. “John, the –“ A few more drops of rain. More suction of his mouth. “Please, we have to – oh god, I have to –”

John’s mouth was unyielding. I had to give into him. The warmth of his mouth, the cool kiss of the rain, the same amount of opposition that had been in our dynamic since the very beginning.

I grabbed onto his shoulder as best I could. John moaned once, twice, three times, each one building, shaking my sense free until the orgasm trembled free. I keened, raindrops tumbling onto my tongue, down my throat. “John, please,” I begged, gripping his jacket. “John, I need –”

John reemerged from under my skirt and slid up the length of my body to catch my mouth in another longing kiss. I tasted myself on his mouth.

Fit perfectly in the cradle of my legs, John rested, catching his breath against me. His fingers curled around the door. “Fuck,” he growled. “What do I do with you?”

“That. Again and again, please.”

John coked his head against my chest, smiling lopsidedly, a sheen across his lips and cheeks.

The rain intensified, from a drizzle to a steady cadence which finally snapped John back into gear. “Shit, the top.”

“I’ll help you,” I said, dragging myself out of the car and into the rain.

Like a sketch out of a Marx Brothers movie, we managed the top of the Rolls about halfway before it stuck. We switched sides a couple of times, trying to figure out what we’d done wrong, until John realized the fucking thing was automatic and went up and down with the push of a button . “How do we keep up with these newfangled gadgets, eh?” he asked, settling back into his spot with a damp squelch.

“It’s alright, you old fuddy-duddy,” I cooed.

“Says the girl celebrating a birthday.”

“Twenty-eight, over the hill, I know.”

“Well, it’s a very beautiful hill.”

I smacked him on the arm. “Drive, you.”

We set back off on our trajectory to Normans Bay, quickly leaving behind the patch of rain we’d been hit with for cooler temperatures and wider blue skies. The closer we got to the sea, the more I could smell it in the air and eventually, see it in the distance.

“Oh, wait, wait. I have to pull over,” John remarked.

“What for?”

The car rolled to a stop one more. He nodded back over his shoulder toward a flower cart at the side of the road. “Flowers. For you of course.”

I screwed my forehead together. “More flowers?”

John’s forehead matched mine in confusion. “What?”

“You already got me flowers. You sent lilies. This morning.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Didn’t you?” I asked.

John shook his head slowly. “No, I didn’t send you flowers.”

“Then who…” I trailed off, my heart beating with anxiety. “Please don’t joke with me, you didn’t send me those flowers?”

John half-smiled. All of the charisma he’d rode in on, suddenly caput. “I know I’m not the only man who admires you, Julia.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was still horrified to think of who could have possibly sent them. It was a short list, but none of the options were desirable. Nick Westerling being the first three names on the list.

John hurried off and fetched a spray of wildflowers from the seller. I watched through the wing mirror as his coat and hair whipped in the wind as he handed over a generous couple quid for the bouquet. He returned as quick as he’d made off, bashfully handing over the flowers. I took them with much more tenderness than I’d received the lilies this morning, pressing my nose into the fragrant spray. “You mustn’t give me anything more.”

He merely smiled.

Before he could start the car for us to finally make off to Normans Bay, I leaned over and slid my lips across the lobe of his ear. “You’re the only man I care to be admired by. I promise.”

John gratefully accepted my kiss, leaning back in his seat, a hand against my waist. I grabbed a yellow poppy from the bunch, remembering the poem from our Flower Fairies book. Only grows on the seashore. I tucked the flower in his hair. “There. Now everyone will know.”

He flushed, laughing bashfully like a schoolboy. “Damn this long hair.”

“I think it’s darling,” I said, sitting back in my spot.

John looked me over, considering each and every part of me. The yellow flower over his ear added a warmth to his face blush couldn’t seem to encapsulate on its own. Then, he smiled, put the car in gear and took a deep breath. “Next stop, Normans Bay.”

And though I laughed and sang along on the radio, I held my tongue back from what I really thought. That I never cared if we ever got to the shore at all. I could die happy in this moment.

Not even noon and this was already, most certainly, my best birthday to date.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @digitcc, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side, @thepinklovewitch, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @montereypopgroupie, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54, @leveeisbreaking (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

#john paul jones #wildflowers #led zeppelin #julia morgan #wf #john paul jones x oc #jjj

[nought-shall-go-ill]

My belated piece for the @jilymicrofics January prompts. Day 15: “effort”.

Lily Evans is nine years old when she first considers it must be a lot of effort being her friend. 

She doesn’t have many. Not like Petunia. She’s bright; her teachers like her. And it’s not as if the kids are mean. But it’s hard to befriend the girl who is in and out seeing “specialists”. And she starts to fall behind: doesn’t know who the newest bands are or what the latest hand-clapping games might be. 

And then there’s the “weird stuff”. Her parents tell her not to do it, but it’s the only thing that keeps Esther and Margot around. 

Besides, she loves “the weird stuff” and that doesn’t take any effort at all. 

***

Two months into their friendship, Lily asks Sev if it’s an effort to like her, to be her friend. He scoffs and says something like “being around you is effortless”. To prove his point, he conjures a flower from a single blade of grass, handing it to her. 

She smiles, a big toothy grin that shows off her missing molars. She loves that about their friendship. They don’t have to hold back. They can practise their “weird stuff” — their magic, she learns — without a care in the world. 

But, if she’s honest with herself, there’s some things that do take effort with Sev. His foul temper. His disdain for anything Muggle related. His tendency to (as Petunia says) put her up on a pedestal. 

It’s not much, but it’s a lot of effort for a 10 year old. 

***

Sev says it won’t take much effort at all to make friends at Hogwarts, but Sev is wrong. 

The other girls in Lily’s dorm all seem to know each other. They all support the same quidditch team and fancy all the same pureblood popstars. It takes a lot of effort — a lot of studying hair braiding and potions for perfumes — to keep up with them at all. 

They let her sit with them as an acknowledgment of her efforts. Even offer to paint her nails or “sleekease” her hair from time to time. But they always choose each other first. Always sit with one of the other girls in class and forget to fetch her for dinner. 

Lily would put in a lot less effort if only she could see more of Sev. 

***

When Lily returns from her first year, she discovers it’s a lot of effort to exist back home too. 

Her parents are kind, emphatically so, but they understand so little of what she talks about that she finds herself having to dumb down more and more of what she says. And then there’s the war. She can hardly mention that, can she? Her parents would withdraw her immediately if they knew. And then she’d have to put in a huge amount of effort trying to fit in in a world where she doesn’t below.

Instead, she finds herself editing her words carefully, making sure they understand and stay on the right side of awe. 

It’s a lot of bloody effort, and Petunia still hates her.

***

By third year, Lily discerns that having enemies takes a lot less effort than having friends. 

She’s still editing herself for her dorm mates, trying to fit in as best she can — even when they can’t seem to give her the time of day. Yet she finds it so easy to speak her mind to those pesky boys.

James Potter and Sirius Black: they’re the worst of them. The ones whose pranks border on cruel and who she will happily call out on their loutish hypocrisy. 

It doesn’t take much effort, because in their odd sort of way, they seem to see her as an equal. They hold back when she warns them. Sometimes they even stop all together. It feels easy to interact with them even though they aren’t anything close to friends at all. 

And it feels good, putting in some effort for those who are unable to stand up for themselves. 

***

Eventually, her efforts pay off and Lily finds a group of Muggleborn friends across Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. 

They’re not close friends. They will never make the effort to track down her son or remember her much after the war. But they are her friends, nonetheless, and they share cigarettes with her and let her borrow vinyls over the holidays. 

One girl in particular is fond of her. A small mouse of a girl named Mary from the year below who is a crack hand at Arithmancy and says she fancies Remus Lupin. 

It doesn’t take much to be friends with Mary and the others at all, but then Mary is attacked and it’s just all too much effort again. 

Some of the group stay friends with Lily, but they’re wary at best. They say her friendship with Sev makes them question her values. She can’t say she blames them. 

And just like that she learns it’s even more effort to keep friends than make them. 

***

In the midst of everything, Lily learns that it’s definitely less effort attracting “male friends” in her fifth year of school. 

Of course, they’re not really friends. Or, rather, that’s not what they want to be. Not in the end.

They make the effort to get to know her, of course. Tell her fun jokes and make empty promises about the things they will do. As friends, just friends, they say. 

But then they always lean in for a kiss or give her ultimatums that she can’t morally abide by. 

Some of them refuse to take the hint too. Telling her they fancy other “broads” in one breath and then saying she’s “leading them on” in the next. 

It’s a lot of bloody effort not to hex their bollocks off. A lot.

But it all pales in comparison to the effort she puts in in the final months of her friendship with Sev. 

He’s fouler than ever. Grumpier. Terser. She wants with all her mite to blame the Gryffindor boys. Their teasing has gotten too much. He has every right to be suspicious of their fellow students. 

But that doesn’t excuse the rhetoric she catches when he thinks she’s not listening. It doesn’t excuse the people he’s started to hang around when he’s not with her. 

It wouldn’t take much effort not to be friends with them. The Slytherins are awful, no doubt about it. But not all of them are baby Death Eaters. Not all of them spew hate like it’s graffiti on a bathroom wall. 

But Sev wants the power of their friendship. And it’s taking too much effort to convince her friends otherwise. It’s taking too much effort to convince herself otherwise. Let alone him. He doesn’t listen. Not anymore.

It’s a relief then — in many ways — when it finally happens. When he stops making the effort to have a half facade of decency in front of her. 

It feels like a weight off her shoulders. It feels effortless really not being his friend. And she can’t even muster the effort to miss him much. 

***

Even with Sev gone, making friends doesn’t get any easier. Most of those she has at school leave after OWLs and the ones left behind are fair weather at best. 

Lily tries her best — in defiance of her ex-best friend’s beliefs — to immerse herself in the Muggle world, getting a job at the local pub in the summer before her sixth year. 

But it’s even more effort than being in the Wizarding world. 

Later, when she’s just words in an obituary, Lily will be described as “popular”, “outgoing” but that’s not how she feels at the Cokeworth Arms. She’s awkward and conscious of all her tiny mistakes, and the barmaids clock her as “different” straight away. She knows even less how to talk to Muggles now than she did as a child, and despite her efforts (her religious watches of Top of the Pops and careful inspections of Jackie magazine) the girls don’t even become casual friends. 

She still makes the effort anyway. Tries to crack jokes to make them laugh and talk to them about the goings on in their lives. It’s a lot, and they barely reply, but it’s a lot less effort than what she has to put up with at home. 

***

Being sisters with Petunia is like avoiding spikes while walking on eggshells. They’ve never really gotten on well, at least, not since Sev came into the picture, but Lily, for the sake of her parents (for the sake of the little bit of family she has left) has always tried to be cordial with Petunia, even when her sister is most cruel and belittling towards her. 

It takes effort for Lily to hold her tongue, to not show Petunia a piece of her mind for all the scathing remarks she makes. And sometimes she finds the effort slipping, and she laughs when Petunia does something stupid or makes a mistake. 

Most of the time though, it’s an exhausting tightrope maintaining civility, and it comes as a relief when Petunia announces her decision to move to London when she turns 18. 

It is almost effortless for Lily to see her off.

***

Becoming friends with them, to Lily’s surprise, is effortless. Despite everything she’s ever thought about them, they accept her entirely for who she is — so much so that even she starts to too. 

She can’t remember who she befriends first, or if in a strange sort of way, she befriends them all at the same time. Remus from extended Prefect duties. Peter from gobstones in the Great Hall. Sirius through a shared seat in Transfiguration. And James through their Potions partnership, their shared concern for Remus, the way they’re often the last ones left in the common room.

It is effortless to start hanging out with them, to laugh at their jokes and cry at their heartaches. And their friendship gives her gumption, the confidence to call out the bullshit she sees from the Slytherins and even the hypocrisy of some of her remaining Muggleborn friends.

Of course, they aren’t perfect. They’ve grown from the bullies they were, it’s true — but Sirius still has his vicious streak, James his ego, Remus is cowardice, Peter his fickleness. Yet Lily finds there’s so much effort looking for perfection. And she’s just happy that, after 17 years, she has friendships as easy as this. 

***

What surprises Lily most though, is how effortless it is to fall for him, and then, subsequently how effortless it is to be with him. 

He talks a lot, and she finds that she can too, finally discussing her passions without worrying about any efforts needed to please anyone. 

He teaches her how to ride a broom and she tells him all about the Muggle world, and neither mind the effort it takes for each to learn. 

And when they finally go public — after months of shared moments in secret — it feels effortless to fit by his side, just like it feels effortless to be the head girl to his head boy, two warriors in the war. 

In that final year of school, with James Potter by her side — despite the war on, despite the many people who would wish her dead (not all of them death eaters), despite taking the hardest exams of her school days — life has never been easier. It’s almost effortless.

***

Once she leaves Hogwarts for good, Lily soon learns that effortlessness is short lived. 

James and her have their first “proper” fight a couple of months in. He wants to take a mission that seems near suicidal, and it takes all the effort she can muster not to beg him to stay. He goes, and she cries all evening. He promises he’ll make the effort to understand next time. 

Then there’s all the little things he does when they start living together. The forgetting to shut the toilet lid. The socks all over the hallway. The way he leaves little romantic notes in the biscuit tin and how she is too scientific to write equally eloquent ones in return. It’s a lot of effort living with another person. 

Staying cordial with Petunia is another effort too. One that eventually isn’t even enough anymore. The last time she sees her sister is at the latter’s wedding, during which Petunia's husband takes every opportunity to criticise James and Tuney avoids Lily at every turn. Petunia doesn’t even make the effort to come to her wedding. 

It’s ok. If anything it’s a weight off her mind. Most of Lily’s efforts go on the war anyway. She puts her all into the Order. Facilitating medical care. Concocting potions for the injured. Taking some of the most perilous missions to save her friends and loved ones. And in those tiny moments of victory, the efforts seem worth it. 

And in the midst of war and effort, Lily has the happiest time of her life. The most fulfilling time of her life. Life with James may not be as easy as it was at school, but his cooling presence, the laughter he brings to the room, makes all their efforts to maintain the relationship (and then the marriage) worth it. Life with the Order may not be sunshine and daisies, but the friendships it brings, the bonds it forges and the world they just might bring about makes it worth it.

And then he comes along. And he’s tiny and wonderful and loud and he doesn’t sleep, and he coughs up his milk too often, and it takes so so so much effort to look after him, but he’s worth it all. He’s worth all the effort she can muster. 

So, when they find out about the prophecy, the life destined for him, Lily doesn’t even question the efforts needed to keep him safe. She knows she will do it. He is worth it. Their little family is worth it. 

And though life may be far from perfect, Lily finally learns at 20 years of age that life may always take effort, but that there are some things, some people — Harry, James, the Order, maybe even herself — who are worth all the effort she can give. 

#jilymicrofics #<3K #Jily #jily fic #james potter #lily evans #angsty angst #this wasn’t meant to be so late #it was meant to just be a fun thing I did after work on the train aaaaa

[wri0thesley]

Imagine the church doing a virgin sacrifice for Barbatos though (certainly not caused by him whispering in their dreams and suggesting the darling he’d had an eye on, of course not). And they dress you up in fine white silks that flow in the wind, and you can’t get away from them (possibly have no where to go if you’re poor and have no family. If the church had taken you in) And before you can be sacrificed, Barbatos himself shows up and whisks you away somewhere secluded that only he can get to. Aren’t you so grateful he saved you from that awful fate? And he’s so gentle and sings so sweetly that you begin to forget your doubts that he might have caused all of this to happen to begin with.

barbatos is not a cruel god.

so you don't understand why the church elders are insisting this is his will; to have you in sacrificial white silks with a blindfold about your eyes, to lead you to the highest part of starsnatch cliff and to let the wind take you (to let your body plummet to the ground, surely to be smashed bloody and broken on the rocks below, for although you have some faith in the archon's love, you cannot see him saving you from this fate when the elders have been so insistent your virginal blood is the only sacrifice that will do.

you make peace with the thought, despite terror in your veins - and as, solemnly, you are urged forward to step off the grass and into nothingness - you are surprised to find the scent of crisp apples, soft laughter against your ear, the wind cradling you as gently as a butterfly.

barbatos strums his lyre for you and sings sweet, adoring songs. peppers your face with gentle kisses that tickle like a breeze, professes to you adoration beyond all measure - and carefully, carefully, does not speak of the church beyond cradling your cheek and saying; "am i not lucky to have rescued you?"

. . . but it eats away at you. for barbatos had never asked such things of the elders before, and they had no reason to wish you ill. he comes back to you from days spent wandering in monstadt (he keeps you in a careful little clearing in the middle of nowhere, where the animals greet you and nose against you and the weather is perfect, where the cecilias bloom year-round. he tells you that you can wander freely, but . . . there are crisp apples hanging plump and glossy from the trees, a sparkling clear stream. no dangers would encroach upon this territory; why would you go out into the unsafe world?) and laughs as he tells you he whispered into the ear of flower merchant to give the children windwheel asters to play with, that he toyed with the dreams of the rich landowner who has grown greedy with his profits til he saw the error of his ways. if barbatos had wanted you so badly - what would have stopped him from whispering dreams to the elders, to ensure he got the sacrifice he wanted and too, to ensure they would feel indebted to the god who saved them from pain and suffering as their body lay twisted beneath a cliff--

but barbatos kisses you sweetly. barbatos touches you teasingly, makes sure you cry out his name with nothing but pleasure soaking your words, brings gifts of flowers and fruit and sweet wine and calls you, in his compositions 'pretty companion of the anemo archon, most beloved of all, they who hold love's dominion in their sweet hand' . . .

even if barbatos has made this happen; has twisted your life to suit his own ends - is that really so bad? are all denizens of the nation not subject to the whims of their ruler, in the end? and better barbatos, drunk with love, than barbatos, drunk with envy and anger and frustration that his plan did not come to proper fruition--

you kiss him back.

#VNJDNJKFVKFVJND agahagaha #yandere venti #not sfw text #yandere for ts #genshin impact posting #yandere genshin impact #not sfw implied #dark content for ts #nat.txt