#( blinks i… mm am i intimidating ? )

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine

AN: Hi my loves! So, this is the first installment of a oneshot series and I hope you’ll like it! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: The first ray of sunlight holds many promises.

Word Count: 2844

You were no stranger to the feeling of inadequacy.

For you it was around every corner; impossible to get away from at least for the last couple of years. Even now, in the clothes you had borrowed from your best friend in an attempt to look more formal and serious, you couldn’t help but feel way out of your element.

Yet in your humble opinion, the very intimidating mansion you were currently gawking at didn’t make this any easier.

Your heart was slamming against your chest as you tried to keep your breathing under control, your tongue shooting up to wet your dry lips, then you looked down when you felt a tug on your sleeve. Theo stared up at you with wide eyes, making your heart clench but you managed to give him a bright smile despite the fear clouding your mind, and crouched down to get to his eye level.

“Hey bean,” you said, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s going on?”

“What if they don’t like me?”

You gasped and pressed a hand over your chest, feigning shock.

“Are you kidding?” you asked. “They will absolutely adore you. I myself am more worried that they will love you too much.”

He blinked a couple of times in confusion. “Too much?”

You nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “And then I’ll have to fight everyone in there to get you to myself every weekend.”

That managed to make him giggle and you pretended to be offended, narrowing your eyes.

“You don’t think I could take them down?”

“Can you?”

“Why yes I can,” you said, sticking your nose in the air. “I just don’t like to brag about it because that’ll scare people off, you know?”

He smiled wide and you pinched his cheek, then turned your head when a pretty girl with gloves on her hands cleared her throat.

“Hi, I’m Rogue,” she introduced herself. “New enrollment?”

 “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “Yeah, hi.”

“Professor is expecting you, please follow me,” she said and you stood up, then took Theo’s hand and followed her into the building.

The interior of the mansion was as gorgeous and intimidating as it was on the outside. Theo looked like he was nearly hypnotized -which made sense, your apartment had to be the size of a simple storage room in this place- and he stared at the ceiling with his mouth hanging open, his eyes darting around.

“I feel like you should know that because of the new policy Professor will need his parents’ signature in order to enroll him,” Rogue said, making you snap out of your haze before you cleared your throat.

“Um, I’m the parent.”

That made her pause only for a moment and she pulled her brows together, looking between you and Theo.

“Oh, sorry about that!” she said. “I just assumed…”

“No no I get that a lot, please don’t worry about it,” you assured her quickly, waving a hand in the air. “I had Theo the first year of college and—”

Never got to finish that year or the rest.

“As I said, I get that a lot.”

She gave you an apologetic smile, then stopped in front of a door.

“Wait a moment please,” she said, knocking on the door before stepping inside and Theo tugged at your sleeve.

“It’s so pretty here!” he whispered and you tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat, then smiled at him.

“Isn’t it?” you whispered. “It’ll be fun to go to school here huh? The brochure said they even have a maze!”

“A maze?” he asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Like in the movies?”

“Mm hm, just like in the movies,” you said. “And a lake!”

“Where is the lake?”

“I don’t know yet but they’ll show you,” you said and frowned when the thought hit you. “But you’re not going there without a teacher, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he said as you hooked your pinky with his and the door opened again.

“You can go in,” Rogue said and you thanked her, then turned to Theo.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” you asked and entered the huge office to see the man in the wheelchair behind the desk.

“Hello sir,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts as you approached him to shake his hand, then took the seat across from the desk.

“Hello,” he said with a calm smile. “I’m Professor Charles Xavier, we spoke on the phone. Y/N, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure,” he said. “I take it you’re here to enroll your son as we spoke?”

You nodded your head, fighting the urge to bite at your nails and took Theo’s file from his other school out of your backpack, then put it in front of him so that he could examine it.

“He’s um, he’s really good at math,” you said, stumbling over your words. “I don’t know if that’ll be helpful here but he’s—he’s very good at a lot of classes really.”

“I must admit, he is going to be the youngest student here and the fact that his power has shown itself this early on…” Professor Xavier trailed off, your stomach doing a painful flip. “We will have to work hard, but I’m confident that we can guide him and teach him how to use his abilities for good.”

You nibbled on your lip, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“I know it’s a boarding school but he’s not used to being away from me and I’m not used to being away from him,” you admitted, “You said on the phone that the students’ weekends are free?”

“Of course,” he said. “Some of our students only stay here on weekdays to attend their classes, and they spend their weekends with their parents.”

You let out a relieved breath. “Okay. That’s nice to hear.”

“I know you’re worried,” he said, his voice completely calm and soothing. “It’s very normal to be worried but trust me, you’re making the best decision for him.”

“I know,” you said, trying to convince yourself and him at the same time. “I’ve done a lot of research and—and I want him to be safe and this place seems like the best place to teach him how to be safe.”

Professor Xavier pulled out a paper from his drawer, then pushed it in your direction with a pen.

“We only need your signature,” he said and paused for a second. “That is if the father…?”

You shook your head.

“Not in the picture, sir,” you said as you signed the paper, your heart beating in your ears. “Um, it’s just me and Theo.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, I promise you that Theo will be in good hands, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, putting the paper back on the desk and fixed your hair with a shaky hand just so that you could keep yourself busy, and Professor Xavier offered you a small smile.

“You can always contact me if you have any other questions,” he said. “I’ll talk to Theo after Rogue gives him his tour, and I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Thank you, have a nice day.”

“You too.”

When you walked out of the office, you caught the sight of Rogue talking to a tall man with tousled dark hair, but you couldn’t see his face since his back was turned to you. For a moment you considered letting Rogue know that you were out, but figured it would be rude to interrupt, so you approached Theo who was patiently waiting for you.

“Alright bean,” you said as you crouched down to look him in the eye, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, desperate to keep the tears at bay at least until you were back in the car and Theo couldn’t see you. “What day is it today?”

“Tuesday.”

“And then we have…?”

“Wednesday, Thursday and Friday,” he said, counting with his fingers and you nodded your head, holding his fingers together.

“And on Friday I’ll come and get you, okay?” you asked him and he pursed his lips, then pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Just three days.”

“Just three days,” you repeated. “But before I leave, you need to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll tell me all about how pretty this place is, in detail,” you said. “And how much fun you have. So you kind of have to see everything here and have fun, promise?”

“Promise.”

“And the signal?”

He smiled, tapping over his heart three times and you did the same.

“See? I feel it,” you told him. “When you do that, I’ll do the same even if I’m not here. Okay?”

“Mkay.”

 “Ready for your tour, Theo?” Rogue asked and he looked up at her, then turned to you and you pulled him into a tight hug, then smothered him in kisses as he let out an embarrassed whine.

“Mommy!”

“Okay okay, sorry,” you said with a small laugh, then adapted an overly serious expression and held out your hand. “A handshake then?”

He let out a giggle, then shook your hand and you forced yourself to smile, then stood up and straightened your back while he made his way to Rogue. Theo waved at you and you waved back, but as soon as he turned the corner with Rogue, your shoulders dropped.

Okay.

It was fine.

It was going to be just fine.

 “New enrollment?” a deep voice reached you and you looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see him better.

It was the same man who you’d seen talking to Rogue just now and God, he was so handsome. If your mind wasn’t numb with anxiety, you would have stood there and gawk at him for a good minute, but perhaps your worries were for once working in your favor. His intense gaze raked over you, making your cheeks burn and your heartbeat speeding up, and a small smile curled his lips as if he could hear it.

“That obvious?”

“Just a little,” he said as your hand shot up to pinch your bottom lip, his gaze following the motion.

“People don’t get killed or maimed here, do they?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Not on weekdays.”

“Great,” you said after a beat, offering him a weak smile. “Thanks. I’m gonna go on a limb and say there’s a reason why they didn’t put you in the welcome committee?”

That made the corners of his mouth twitch and he nodded in the direction Theo had walked away from you.

“Isn’t he a bit too young to have powers?”

“Funny you should ask that because I repeated the same question over and over again until I cried myself to sleep last night,” you pointed out and scrunched up your nose when he tilted his head. “Sorry. My jokes get a bit grim when I’m stressed.”

“You look like a very relaxed individual.”

“Do I?”

“Not really, I’m convinced that you’re having a heart attack right now.”

You blinked a couple of times in confusion before the idea hit you and your jaw dropped, your stomach doing a flip.

Right. He—

Everyone here had powers.

Well if there was anything more embarrassing than making bad jokes in front of a very hot man, it was that when the said hot man could hear your heartbeat. You managed to close your mouth and shifted your weight, your hand shooting up to your mouth again so that you could bite at the hangnail on your thumb nervously.

“Yeah that’s kind of my factory settings,” you managed to mumble. “I generate enough stress to light up a whole city.”

He hummed, his unwavering gaze making your heart skip a beat and as always, your brain took it as a sign for you to ramble about absolute nonsense.

“I’ll be a very rich person the moment they find a way to monetize stress,” you stated. “Which should be any day now, and I kind of have a list prepared for that day; the first thing I’m gonna do is probably cry because knowing me—I cry like all the time, I cried this morning and I will probably cry when I get to my car after this but— but then I’ll buy one of those very expensive coffees, I don’t know if you’ve tried them—”

“Logan, Storm wants to see us,” someone called out from the end of the hallway, cutting through your rambling but he didn’t even look at the owner of the voice. Instead, a small smirk curled his lips as if he was amused with your nonsense and you swallowed thickly, biting at your thumb again.

“I’m Logan by the way,” he said and you raised your brows, then nodded fervently.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, lowering your hand. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

The silence that fell upon you felt like it would explode your head so you cleared your throat, throwing your shoulders back.

“I should—I should get back to work before I get fired,” you stammered, jerking your thumb over your shoulder and took a step, then turned around on your heels. “But um, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said, his voice completely calm unlike yours and you shot him a tentative smile, then made your way out of the hallway, then walked out of the building as fast as you could as if someone was chasing you.

“Oh I’m an idiot,” you sang to yourself, drawing out the last syllable like an opera singer while fished your car keys out of your backpack, your heart still beating in your ears. “I’m an idiot, I’m such an idiot…”

 The moment you got in your car, you heaved a sigh and pressed your palms on your eyes but your head shot up when your phone started ringing. You unzipped your backpack to grab it, then tossed the backpack back in the passenger seat and checked the screen to see your best friend’s name. You let out a breath, then touched the screen and took it to your ear.

“Julie, I’m an idiot I think,” you greeted her and she paused for a moment.

“Hello to you too sunshine,” she said with a laugh. “What happened?”

“Well the good news is, Theo liked the school,” you said, looking out the window at the mansion. “But I miss him already. Do you think—”

“You’re not changing your mind about this, we talked about helicopter parenting,” she said. “It’s going to be good for him.”

“Right.”

“Is that why you’re freaking out?”

“Not really but I will cry about it,” you pointed out. “Tonight I’m guessing.”

“Didn’t expect anything else, I’m bringing drinks to your place,” she said. “So? What is it then?”

“There’s a very, very, very attractive man there,” you murmured and she hummed.

“Just so I get it clear, how attractive is he again?”

“Very.”

You could practically hear her grin. “Good.”

“It’s not good!” you whined. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“It’s a part of your charm.”

“It really isn’t,” you said and looked down at your clothes. “And I look like a tax collector.”

“People other than tax collectors wear white shirts, we’ve been over that.”

“He thinks I’m a tax collector who can’t form a logical sentence,” you said, slipping a little in the driver’s seat to lean your knees to the steering wheel and she scoffed.

“Not really, he probably thinks you’re a—”

“We’re not calling me that,” you cut her off, making her laugh.

“Fine.”

You pinched your lip between your knuckles, then heaved a sigh.

“Theo will be okay, right?”

“He will be more than okay because he is going to be surrounded by the people who can in fact teach him how to use his powers, something you can’t do,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a little help, sunshine.”

You clicked your tongue, still keeping your gaze on the mansion.

“So let me guess,” she said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “This very very very hot man is tall.”

“Yes.”

“Looks cocky.”

“Uh…”

“And older than you.”

You blinked a couple of times, pulling your brows together. “How did you—?”

“You have a type.”

You drummed your fingernails on the steering wheel, then heaved a sigh.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I…I doubt I’ll talk to him ever again and you know, with Theo, I just don’t have the time for anything else right now.”

“I’m going to convince you otherwise but I’m going to need drinks for that.”

You breathed out a laugh, then checked the time.

“Gotta go,” you said. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yep, love you!”

“Love you too!” you said and hung up, then tossed the phone on the passenger seat and started the car.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “I’m so gonna get drunk tonight.”

[2] - Summer Breeze

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: yes I'm being irresponsible.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

‘So sorry I’m running behind. May forgot her wallet’. You reread Peter’s message for the fifth time and check the time under the bubble. More than forty minutes ago. He has to be close. 

You thought of checking but you don’t want to pressure him. Besides, he is doing a favour by bringing you to Stark Tower to let you use the space with him. You turn and pace along the wall, out of the way of the New York pedestrians who wouldn’t even notice if you got underfoot. 

You thought of waiting in the lobby but that’s too much. You focus on breathing. You feel alright for the moment, but a few times, you’ve reached for your inhaler just out of habit.  

“Hey,” a voice draws you out of your mounting anxiety, bringing you back down to just above neutral. “Door’s open, you know?” 

You face Bucky as he holds open of the many glass doors. 

You nod and teeter on your heels. “I know, sir. Just waiting.” 

“Bucky,” he corrects you. Like last time. Oops. “Waiting on the kid?” You gesture affirmatively again. He waves you over casually with a gloved hand, “come on. I can get ya into the lab.” 

“Mm, ahem,” you clear your throat, it’s getting tight. You get closer as the noise of the street makes it hard to hear your own thoughts. “That’s nice but I said I’d wait here.” 

“Busy,” he comments and his eyes roll around derisively. “Should be out here on the street. Let the kid know you’ll be upstairs.” 

There’s no arguing with him, not that you would ever dare. You’re not afraid of him. Maybe intimidated but who doesn’t make you feel small. No, he’s Bucky Barnes, an Avenger. You have no ground to tell him no. Besides, he’s being nice even if his tone remains mostly indifferent. 

“Thanks, s—Bucky,” you muster a tight-lipped smile. 

He holds the door and you flit in ahead of him, your wool jacket flapping and brushing against him. He follows. You hurry ahead then stop short as you realise you don’t know where you going. As you do, a man in a suit huffs and nearly knocks you over with his arm. 

“Watch it, little girl.” He sneers. 

“Hey,” Bucky catches him by his tie, “what’d you say to the lady?” 

You spin around in shock, rubbing your arm at the suddenness of it all. 

“N-nothing, I--” the man blinks in fear. “Nothing, she just got in my way.” 

“You knocked into her and you can’t say sorry?” Bucky pulls him closer, glaring at him with a furrow of his nose. 

“N-no,” the man shows his palms, “no.” 

“Look at her. She’s half your size, pal. You think she could hurt you?” 

“No, no, look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” The man sputters. 

“Not to me,” Bucky slides his hand down the man’s tie and pulls him like a dog on a leash toward you, “her.” 

The man blanches and gulp, “look, miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I shouldn’t have... I should look where I’m going.” 

“Good boy,” Bucky’s snarl comes close to a smirk as he lets the man go and taps his cheek lightly. “Go.” 

He shoves the man by the shoulder and you bat your eyes dumbly. You watch him go as Bucky looms close. You look at him and reach for your bag. You unzip the pouch at the end of the thin strap and pull out your inhaler. You take a puff. 

His expression softens, “oh, is that me?” 

You shake your head, “too many people.” 

“Ah, right,” he points toward the elevators. 

You follow him as he bulldozes through the bodies and pushes the button. You stop beside him and fidget with your inhaler. You peek over at him again. He looks down at you and you wince. 

“Sorry... I...” 

“People usually only stare when I got the arm out,” he shrugs. “I got something on my face? Damn beard catches.”  

Brushes his fingers over the thicket of hair across his jaw. You shake your head again. 

“S-sorry. I... I...” you sniff as the doors open and he beckons you ahead of him. You scurry on and he follows as a slow pace. He spins and jabs the buttons.  

“Thanks for... for helping.” 

“Not at all,” he says. Silence rises with the elevator. He coughs. “You know, I had a buddy with ashthma. Still my buddy but he don’t got the asthma no more.”  

He snorts. You mull his words. You think know who he means.  

“The stuff or whatever... got rid of it?” You ask meekly. 

“Yeah, the stuff. Serum. Poison,” he scoffs. 

“Oh,” you hum. 

“Guess I take it for granted. Never had to worry about much of the being sick part. Sister did. Yeah, she used to always have something,” he clicks his tongue. “Tell me when to shut up.” 

“No, no, I wouldn’t... wouldn’t ever,” you stutter. 

Another lulls fills the elevator as it opens, but the tension remains trapped inside. He points you out first and waits to trail after you. You come out onto the floor. You vaguely recognise some of the acrylic decor and the stiff looking chairs but you don’t know where to go. 

“Left,” he directs you with a gentle caress down your sleeve. “Easy to get lost when you don’t waste your life here." 

You let him guide you. You’d lose yourself without him. It’s exactly why you’d been out on the street.  

That reminds you of Peter. You reach for your bag again and pull out your phone. You check for a message. 

“Kid standing a nice gal like you up?” He asks. 

You flinch, “uh, no, his aunt... there was an emergency.” 

“More important than you, huh?” He pivots and presses his finger to the keypad. The door opens. 

“I don’t... I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.” 

He looks at you, his eyes narrowing, “you’re not a big deal?” 

“No, waiting isn’t... isn’t that bad,” you stammer. “Uh, thanks, again.” 

“Well, you know, in my day, we treated ladies with respect. Let me know if the kid needs a lesson or two,” he taps the doorframe. “I’ll check in, just in case.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know I don’t,” he says. “Go on,” he nods through the door. 

You don’t hesitate. You enter the lab with another thanks, eager to have some time to yourself. You go to the table and untangle your knapsack. You look back just as the door starts to slide shut. You only get a glimpse of his eyes before he’s blocked out by the metal barrier. You can feel his gaze staining you. 

You know it must be all in your head but he is so intense. Not as angry as last time but still... a lot. 

[minarinnn]

I saw your requests are open! Could you do Hanma Shuji (any format is fine) where the reader accidentally calls him daddy?

content/trigger warnings: daddy kink, pet names, slight sadism, p in v, afab! reader, praising, mentions of breeding

“DADDY?”

your mind was a haze as you slowly woke up. you groggily opened your eyes, still feeling the lingering effects of a wild night out with your friends. you rolled onto your side and groaned as you saw that your boyfriend, shuji hanma, was lying next to you

shuji was a tall, intimidating man with a muscular build. he was known for being a bit of a troublemaker, but you couldn't deny that his strong and protective demeanor was one of the reasons you were drawn to him

you snuggled closer to shuji and buried your head in his chest, taking comfort in the sound of his steady heartbeat. as you drift back to sleep, you accidentally let out a soft moan, accompanied by a whispered "daddy"

shuji instantly woke up, a stunned expression on his face. "daddy? hm, i like the sound of that" he just looked at you with a slight smirk on his face. as the realization of what you just said sinked in, a wave of embarrassment washed over you. you blushed deeply and began to fumble with your words as you tried to explain yourself. "fuck" you mumble, feeling your face heat up "i didn't mean to call you that, it... it just slipped out"

he placed a hand on your hip and pulled you on top of him. your pantied arousal rubbing against his dick. you could feel the intensity of his eyes, a shiver running through your body

"you didn't mean it, princess?" he pouted, his hands rubbing your ass and his gaze clouded by pure lust. your mind froze in shock for a moment, your face now burning brighter than a tomato. you felt as if the world had stopped moving around you and you could only focus on the man in front of you

you couldn't didn't respond to his question, your mind going blank under his intense gaze. you were now straddling him, your face mere inches from his own

shuji tilted his head to the side and raised one eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "cat got your tongue?" he teased, his voice low and throaty. his hand rested on your hip and you could feel the heat of his touch searing your skin

you blinked slowly, trying to process what was happening. your heart was racing and your breath was quickening. he pulled you closer to him and his lips found yours, his hands tangling in your hair while a moan escaped your lips

you wasted no time in letting him into your mouth. your tongues swirling around each other while your hips grind on his hard cock, earning a few low grunts from him. his hand makes its way to your cunt, pulling your panties to the side and dipping two of his fingers into your soaking sex

you moan into the kiss, his long fingers reaching places yours could never. you love the feeling of them curling into you just perfectly. making you see stars every time he does scissor motions with them, stretching you out so good for him

you’re so caught up that you don’t even notice when he slips his fingers out of you and begins to rub his hard on on your clit, sending shivers of pleasures through your entire body

“can you moan that f’me?” he panted out, a cheeky grin plastered on his handsome face. “moan- mm,, what out?” you asked, a heavy arousal clouding your mind and your needy cunt desperate for his cock to pound into you. “daddy” he giggled, turning you over so now he’s on top of you “call me daddy while i breed you, ‘kay?”

your eyebrows furrow in embarrassment. “i am not calling you da- ahhh” your sentence was cut off by shuji ramming his entire length into you. the feeling of your walls clenching down on him almost making him cum on the spot. he loved the way your cunt sucked him in and he loved the way your brows furrowed in pain

his thrust were slow but rough, making a choked moan escape your lips every time his balls smacked against your ass. “c’monnn, say it baby” he cooed, his thumb caressing your cheek. “mm, you’re out of mmgh your mind” you spoke, feeling his thrust getting faster everytime you protested

“i’m gonna have you screaming it when i’m done with ya’” he giggled. his thrust were deeper and faster and you could feel his tip kissing your cervix ever so roughly. drool coming down the side of your mouth while you bit your lip as hard as you could, desperately fighting to urge to give in and call him what he wants

the thumb that rested on your cheek made its way to your bottom lip, pulling it down, removing it from the grasps of your teeth. “let me hear those pretty noises, princess” he smiled

the moans left your lips immediately, moaning his name non stop while your nails scratched his back. “say it, c’monnn, say it” he whined, feeling yours and his orgasms close

“fuck,, please daddy” you moaned out, finally giving into his desires. his shit eating grin only widened while his thrust roughened. “fuck that’s so hot,, say it again f’me, c’mon darling” you couldn’t help but fall to his charms and begin chanting out the word ‘daddy’ like a prayer

"just like that baby...there's my good girl, just like that”

© MINARINNN 2023 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 9﹕✦﹕┈・୧

Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Makeup Sex

event masterlist

itachi uchiha of the leaf. a name so praiseworthy and intimidating that you never get used to his wife's stature. oh, also, the hokage of konoha. what makes things worse, is his hectic schedule and his apparent business.

he had forgotten your anniversary this time, you didn't remind him the entire time when you ate breakfast with him, even though Itachi could tell you were behaving differently. your responses were cut short and he could feel the familiar pang of rage and sadness your voice held which he couldn't quite put a finger on. “is something the matter? my dear.” he asked, biting his lip when you shook your head no. something’s definitely the matter.

it clicked him mid lunch, oh no— his braincells all rioting against him. “how foolish of me.” he hums. disappointed at himself and facepalms. the very first thing that came into itachi’s mind was letting everything go last moment, give it in the hands of his advisor. then, the next thing was your favorite peonies. itachi himself fetched it from the yamanaka store, while ino tried to tease him about it… there was no point because itachi was guilt laced. the hokage attire attracted attention but itachi couldn’t care less at this point.

a knock to your door broke you from your haze, you got up, sighing and walking towards it. “you?” you blinked, watching a very flustered itachi get inside, hug you and then lean in, kissing you passionately. “mm, i love you, wishing you a very happy anniversary sweetheart. apologies, sincere apologies that it slipped my mind.” before you could open your mouth to say anything, itachi pecked your lips over and over and over. “please forgive me.” he kneeled on, looking up at you with doe eyes. “i know i am not the best husband angel, but please forgive me.” the sincere apologies that erupted from him made you giggle. “alright, i forgive you itachi.” you couldn’t stay mad at him for long after all.

“let me make it up to you.” a low grunt escaped him as he leaned closer, fingers intertwined around your pretty little throat, slender, perfect fingers pressing onto the sides & observant eyes eating at every tender gasp while you were pinned against the wall. itachi’s curious lips found their way to your sweet spot, oh how perfectly you moan for him & reward him. such a good little angel.

uchihas love hard, uchihas are territorial & uchihas are one, heartthrob of a kind. when itachi nibbled onto your sensitive neck, breaking the skin & marking you with purple hickeys, your fingers languidly pulled off the rubber band of his loose ponytail. “you smell mesmerising, i wonder how far gone i’ll be once i see you bare.” itachi mused, it took him a lot of time to be this open with you. sharing his lewd thoughts and feelings with the adoring siren glare.

“go on,” you leaned in, taking off his hokage robe first. itachi was impatient, moreso than you. the sound of fabric being torn apart echoed into your ears as he ripped off your clothing, picking you up against the counter that was just near to the entrance, neatly decorated with antiques you and itachi shopped for yourselves whenever you got time. that’s what you love about the silly little place you call home.

“what’s to stop me from not ravishing you here and now, angel?” itachi smirked, leaning in and letting you feel the build up of his intense emotions probing at your heat. fuck you wanted him bad.

“want you right now.” you pouted, pulling him close to feel more of his semi against you, “want you so bad.” you didn’t waste anytime bratting up, or pretending to be hard to get.

“of course sweetheart. i will give it to you. you’re my one and only after all.” itachi flicked your forehead with an amicable smile, spreading your cunt lips and thrusting into you, careful but harsh. the position impacting your g-spot instantly as a choked whimper erupted from the depths of your throat, intertwined with his needy groan. “agh- you hug me so tight.” he mused, not letting you have a lot of time to get used to him & thrusting into you. one of his palms placed beside your head, leaned against the wall.

“you are mine, everything about you is mine. every fibre of your being is mine.” itachi growled carnally almost, leaning in and eating your moans apart with fervent kisses. it wasn’t before you felt the familiar twitch inside your needy pussy. “shit, m’ close..” you whined out, clamping hard around his girth.

“happy anniversary angel, go on. show me your love.”

[izvmimi]

cw: college au!nrc. sfw.

you've been reciting ancient protective spells under your breath for the past minute, even though these are not within the scope your Defense Magic examination, and rather are just spells malleus has taught you, spells you're not exactly sure you have the power to perform, but trust will protect you in your time of need just as you trust him.

malleus sits across from you - rather, slumbers - head propped up by the palm of his hand. you glance up at him when your timer goes off; it doesn't appear to wake him, and he remains perfectly still like marble, not unlike the gargoyles and grotesques he's so fond of.

"malleus," you whisper.

his eyes snap open at the sound of your voice and he blinks at you, waking up in seconds. you smile, and lean over, tapping his forehead with the feathered end of your quill.

"mm?"

"you fell asleep," you tell him.

"i was not asleep," he denies. you tilt your head.

"so what were you doing with your eyes closed?"

"resting them."

"ah. of course." you chuckle to yourself, then look back at your time which gives you exactly ten more minutes of rest before you return to your books. malleus has perfect scores in this class and thus does not bother studying, but you need him to teach you even though he often teaches you above and beyond what you need to know, and sometimes is hard to follow. lilia, in fact, is a far better teacher, but he is unavailable today, and malleus would have tagged along anyway.

just as a refresher, he says, but you know it's because he likes to be around you.

malleus shifts his positioning then runs his hand through his hair before taking the list of objectives and poring through it again. most of the concepts are checked through at this point, save a couple.

"talismans," he says out loud. you nod.

"can't remember what they were usually made of in the 14th century or what their specific categories are," you murmur. he opens his mouth to start another monologue, but you raise your finger, grinning.

"not now, i have 8 minutes left of relaxation."

he smiles, letting his hand close around your whole hand which surprises you and makes you withdraw, warmth in your cheeks.

he chuckles as you look away at him, then leans in, resting his chin on his hands folded on the table. like this he looks like he's studying you more than any exam subject, and while you're used to him looking at you like some ornate furniture or fine jewelry at times you have to remind him he can't ogle you like that.

"what are you thinking of?" you ask instead.

"i find talismans silly," he says out loud. "simply be more powerful than the ill intention that targets you."

this makes you laugh out loud.

"of course, you'd say this mr. dragonborn," you joke. he looks genuinely surprised now which makes you laugh even harder.

"what do you mean?"

"just because power oozes from you doesn't mean everyone can be as naturally intimidating," you remind him. you lean in as well, mirroring his action, elbows and forearms on the table. "some of us are touchable."

unblinking, he gazes into your eyes.

"you aren't intimidated by me," he reminds you. "plus you're very vulnerable and carry no talismans."

"i am intimidating, but it has nothing to do with magic."

he blinks. "ridiculous. you are the most harmless person i've ever met."

something about this warms you but you try not to let him get to you.

"my tongue is sharp even if i have no power to back it up," you tell him. "it's a different kind of fear i strike in the heart of others."

malleus looks as though he'll ask you to stick out your tongue literally and prove it, but instead he shakes his head.

"you're honest. if you words hurt, perhaps they have some score to settle with themselves."

you pause, letting the words sink in, your heart suddenly light as you breathe in. malleus doesn't intend to flatter you, but you feel validated in a different way. suddenly you are too aware of how close his face is to yours, and you rise up to sit properly.

the timer will go off in twenty more seconds. malleus senses your sudden retreat.

"perhaps the concept of a talisman is not silly."

you've pulled your notebook back in front of you and lifted your textbook, a small barrier against him. there is no spell you can whisper under your breath to defend your heart, you realize, so you attempt to focus on something else.

"you think so?" you ask. you don't mean to sound disinterested, but if he reminds you of the soft parts of yourself again you might forget how to return to your protective shell.

"mm. perhaps in some ways i can be that for you."

you look up at him, and your mouth opens and closes.

"malleus, you are not an object i can carry around with me."

"but if my presence can ward off evil from you, wouldn't that be such a wonderful thing?"

you can feel your shell cracking still. just then, your timer goes off, and you let yourself exhale.

he's still watching you carefully as you turn the page.

defense magic.

how does one guard their heart?

[whimzeee]

Audaciously Yours,

Ramazith tower has ten billion stairs.

At least that’s how it feels to a pair of drunk fools leaning on one another while trying to climb them.

It’s late evening, perhaps a bit too late to be proper. Dinner lasted into the night and was served with one glass too many of the finest wine Dammon had ever tasted. At the hands of the three siblings he had been hosted like royalty that night. After Cal and Lia had called it a night, Rolan and Dammon stayed a bit longer. To have a conversation they could no longer pretend wasn’t needed.

They had both needed a drink or several to get through those nerves. One more so than the other. And the effect shows plainly; Dammon’s fingertips are a bit numb, but the entirety of Rolan’s legs seem to be that way.

He has Rolan’s arm hooked around his shoulders in the dimlit staircase. His warmth slumped against him. Arm around his waist, hand on hip. He’s not sure if the purple blush on Rolan’s face comes from the wine, or from the words they’d exchanged at long last. It’s no less pretty either way.

“Nearly there,” he encourages gently.

Rolan pauses, huffs an annoyed breath. “I am going to figure out portals…if it kills me.”

“Before these stairs do?”

“Mm.” Rolan glowers, but from the way his eyes blink, it seems less a glare of frustration and more just that he’s trying to see clearly. Were Dammon sober, he’d have stifled the snicker that bubbles up. He’s too tipsy to catch it in time.

Rolan’s sharp gaze is blunted and slow as he turns the glare on him. Maybe it would have been scary if he hadn’t started laughing too.

“Alright,” he slurs, gesturing loosely forward. “Laugh at me all you’d like, if you get us up these…damned steps.”

“I’m sorry,” Dammon giggles. “You’re just so...intimidating when you’re sober. It seems silly now.”

“Am I?” Is he…pouting?

“No,” Dammon corrects quickly. “Perhaps not after all.”

Rolan’s arm has begun to slip from his shoulders, so he hefts him higher—closer. Rolan's body curves to fit into his own and Dammon feels his face warming.

“I was the one intimidated,” Rolan mutters quietly. “You won’t believe how nervous I was. Still am, honestly.”

This is a brand new side of him. Rolan’s never been so honest. It’s always pomp and face, lace and ruffle when he talks. Always so concerned with decorum. Never just…real. Real like the friction between them as they lean drunken on each other in the small hours of night.

“No need for that,” he soothes, and pulls him up one more step. “It doesn’t need to be scary.”

Many missed steps and poorly stifled giggles later, they finally pour through the door to Rolan’s room. Dammon looks about with a mix of giddiness and trepidation. It feels like he’s not supposed to be here, somehow. But he is. For the first time.

It’s sparser than he’d expected. Cozy, but minimal. Organized so neatly it barely feels like a bedroom at all. But for a few books and two standing picture frames on the nightstand, one would hardly know whose room it was at all. A standing three-pronged candelabra next to the purple-quilted bed holds three perfectly un-melted lit candles, even though they must have been burning all night. Ah, right: Archmage Rolan. Downstairs he has a chandelier whose crystals lit up in different colors with a wave of his hand.

Dammon hauls the Master of Ramzith Tower's ragdoll body over to the bed and eases him down to sit. He takes this opportunity to get a closer look at the portraits. One is of Rolan and his siblings—gods help them trying to get Cal to sit still for that long. The second is quite older, faded and creased in some places. It depicts an older tiefling woman he doesn’t know, with a baby in her arms and a very young girl at her side, her hand resting on top of the child’s head. He recognizes the girl's horn shape, shared by the woman.

In the state Rolan’s in now, Dammon knows that if he asked he’d easily get an answer. So he doesn’t. It feels wrong. Like cheating at chess.

Rolan’s staring blearily at nothing, his head drooping. Dammon can’t help but smirk, biting his lip to keep from laughing at him any further. “Here,” he says gently, kneeling in front of him. “Let me help.”

Rolan’s eyes focus as he watches the blacksmith take his boots off for him. Unlaces them neatly and slides them off one by one with painstaking gentleness. When he’s finished, he’s a bit startled to see how big Rolan’s eyes have gotten, how he stares at him in…well, shock, really.

“Um… Was that okay?”

“I.” Rolan shivers, breaking the gaze as he feels suddenly self conscious. “Yes.”

No one has ever done something like that for him. So small but…just. Taking his shoes off for him. No one has ever.

“Are you. Sure?”

Rolan covers his face with his hands and falls backward onto the bed, flopping like a limp fish.

Dammon’s eyes peep over the side of the bed before he rises up onto his knees, leaning on the bed with his elbows. He observes Rolan quietly, waiting, but he doesn’t say any more.

"You've gone very quiet very quickly. Are you alright?" His smile fades to the touch of concern. "Not feeling sick are you?"

Rolan stares up at him like a first-time stargazer. His wide, shining eyes striving to focus.

"Rolan?"

"Mm. Mnyes."

"Did you hear the question?"

“Hn. 'F course."

Dammon waits, then huffs a laugh. "Would you care to answer it?"

"...I'm not sure."

"You're not sure what? ...Not sure you're going to answer or not sure if you're sick?"

"Right. Yes. You understand."

Dammon chuckles again, hanging his head. "Ohh, I wish I did."

Rolan catches his laugh, humming a lazy giggle as his sharp teeth flash in a manner he'd never allow sober.

Dammon takes a moment to admire it until it fades, Rolan's eyes slipping closed and his breath falling into rhythm. There is the faintest tug of disappointment in his heart, like when the top edge of the sun dips out of sight. He pulls himself to his feet and reaches down to lift Rolan’s legs, turning him rightways on the bed. He carefully places his head onto a pillow--fine downfeathers. Rolan must have been miserable on the road. While pulling a blanket over him, Dammon has the quite sudden thought that he wouldn’t mind doing this every night for the rest of his life.

For a moment, he waits there, staring at the gentle peace in Rolan's sleeping face. A thousand daydreams float through his buzzing mind. His hand twitches with the impulse to reach out and brush that stray lock of hair out of his face, but he's just sober enough to hold it back.

He'd better leave while he still has that much self control.

Before he can move two steps, he hears a short gasp, and Rolan snatches his wrist with surprising speed.

"W-what—"

"I am, actually," Rolan's voice tumbles over itself; he's more drunk than Dammon thought.

"Am...what?"

"I—yes, I'm. Feeling ill, actually, yes."

Dammon may have been concerned, had he not recently learned that Rolan is a terrible liar. His smile spreads slowly, like a new candle wick that must melt before it lights.

He sinks to his knees by the bedside, leaning on his crossed arms on the mattress. Rolan’s grip moves to his bicep and won’t let go. "Quite stricken, are you?"

Rolan swallows. "Terribly."

Dammon leans closer. His eyes glow in the candlelight. "Then I can hardly leave you all alone, can I?"

He can practically hear the perfectly fitted clockwork gears that power Rolan's mind grind to a halt. He looks for a moment as if he really is ill, the way his face pales and breath quickens.

"St…you must stay with me."

"Mm. Seems I must."

Despite having just insisted on it five seconds ago, Rolan shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. "No, no, of course not. It wouldn't be proper. Not proper at all."

Dammon's mild eyes sweep over Rolan as if he's never held such fondness before.

"Never much cared for what's proper," he smirks, gently prying Rolan's hands away from his face. "Unless you do."

"..."

"Would you like me to stay, Rolan?"

"Well...but. It wouldn't be..."

"But would you like it?"

"...Yes."

He smiles. So bright Rolan's eyes close against it. The hand that grips his is heavy and solid. The heat it stokes in Rolan’s chest going to make cinders of him. Once the fire hits him he’ll change shape—and does he want that? He won’t survive the night. Morning will see him darken again, made brittle by cold water. It’s not going to turn out. He’s sharp and thin and riddled with impurities. No matter how careful the hands that strike him, he will break beneath the hammer.

He jumps at the sound of Dammon’s voice. "Can you sit up a moment?"

Rolan opens his eyes just enough to glare. "Nn. Why."

"So I can take your hair down for you."

Rolan's squinted eyes go wide an soft. How is he going to say no to that? He tries to sit on his own, but because he is never one to miss an opportunity, he begins to roll and tilt toward the edge of the bed.

"Oh--gods, don't fall." Dammon catches him quickly, arm around shoulders. Rolan's entire body freezes. His face is buried in the crook of Dammon's arm, he can smell warm steelsmoke and hearth. And...rosemary. Has he used cologne?

It's too soon that Dammon pulls him back to balance, sitting him up properly. Rolan sways in place, hoping the cover of being drunk is enough to explain the starstruck glaze in his eyes.

Rolan must bite his tongue to stop himself making an absolutely unacceptable sound when he feels Dammon's fingers thread through his hair. Sharp, careful nails scrape the base of his neck and drag upward along his scalp. The violent shiver that overtakes his body is about as controllable as a sudden rainstorm in summer.

"Sorry," Dammon laughs, and begins to pull away.

"Oh don't you dare stop."

A pause, another small breath of laughter. Rolan wishes he was sober, so that he could memorize that beautiful sound in vivid detail, be sure that he could recall it at any moment he chose for the rest of his days.

With a touch so delicate as to belay fear, Dammon carefully pulls his hairtie free and shakes loose the wiry, tangled locks. With no comb nearby, he uses his claws. It's not the touch of a smith, but rather a jeweler, precise and delicate and no more than needed. So gentle. So unbearably delicate. Torture.

He wishes he’d grab a fistful and pull.

Rolan sucks in a breath and even he is surprised at the volume of the smack that comes from his hands against his own face. He's gone mad. He’s out of his godsdamn mind. He's terrible.

Dammon instantly lets go, flinching back. “What!” he pulls on Rolan’s shoulder, trying to get a look to see if he’s hurt himself. “Are you—wh-why—”

Rolan groans and flops back onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow instead. “T-thank you, that’s quite enough!” he panics.

Completely bewildered, Dammon reaches toward him, but hesitates.

He said it didn't need to be scary, but. It is. It’s still so new between them. Fragile and uncertain without structure. A seedling too delicate to bear weight just yet. It's only ten minutes ago they've confessed to feeling something more. Dammon wants this, he’s sure, but he’s painfully aware that he has no idea what he’s doing. How fast to move. And Rolan…deserves the best, after all of it. He deserves joy. Dammon wants to abandon caution and explore this newness, but more than the thrill of it all he wants this—the idea of them—to give Rolan something safe. It needn’t be painful, uncomfortable. It needn’t intimidate either of them.

“Wait here a moment,” Dammon says, his voice calm and soft. He pulls the blanket back to Rolan’s shoulders then steps softly away.

Rolan stays frozen in place, listening over the sound of his own pounding heart as Dammon leaves the room. Once he hears him on the stairs, Rolan sighs, cursing himself under his breath. The mess this man has made of him…shameful. Shameful, the way he’s acting. Drunk. Ridiculous. He’s driven him away now.

No. He said wait. Rolan does. He listens for the creak of the stairs, inexplicably desperate. He's felt this way before, hasn't he. He almost forgot being six. Listening for footsteps on the stairs.

“You won’t come back, will you.”

Out loud, he’s said that. Gods. How pathetic is he going to show himself?

Rolan opens his eyes, staring listlessly at the empty doorway. If he focuses hard enough, he can still feel the ghost of careful hands on his shoulders. If he concentrates, he can remember the warmth and weight of their sides pressed together, that hand gripping his hip ever tighter. Rolan wanted more. Still does. But it wouldn’t be…proper.

Gods. Who cares?

He doesn’t want to care. About appearance. About pretense, impression, fronts. How things are supposed to be done. Dammon doesn’t seem to. He loves that about him, admires it. The most genuine person he’s ever known. Never pretentious, never a liar. Like himself. How can he claim to care for him and yet lie to him—posture in front of him with lavish gifts and braggart peacocking in his big fuckoff tower?

It’s all he’s ever known: display. No one cares for you as you are. No one looks twice at you. No one ever gave one fuck. They struggled for so long. So long. The people most important to him in the world went hungry and abused, all the time, because he wasn't anyone. Couldn't do a damn thing for anyone. He’s better now. He pulled them out of the gutter. He’s worth something now. Isn’t he?

So why isn’t he coming back?

Rolan stares at the photos on his bedside table. He feels his eyes stinging.

“Dammon,” he calls, because he’s drunk, because it’s not fucking fair that he’s alone again. There’s a sob in his voice, anger. No dignity whatsoever. He doesn’t care. “Dammon!”

There are hurried steps in the hall, and Rolan regrets it instantly. Dammon appears in the doorway, alert, a steaming mug in his hand and a small towel draped over his forearm.

“Just here,” he assures, all soft worry and attention. “What’s wrong?” When Rolan doesn’t answer, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling gently. “Did you think I’d left?”

“No,” he lies. Because that’s all he fucking knows how to do. He groans at himself, shaking his head so that it starts to spin again. “Maybe…”

“I won’t.” He drapes the damp cloth over the back of Rolan’s neck. It’s cool but not cold and feels wonderful. “Not until you want me to.”

Rolan pouts up at him, disgruntled. “Where did you go?”

“To borrow Cal’s kitchen. Apologies to him.” Dammon reaches for the cup, little white steam rising from inside it. “Here.”

He helps Rolan rise, not really sitting up but at least leaning on an elbow so that he can take the cup. Inside is a light amber liquid which he only questions after he’s had a sip. “…Bitter. What issit?”

“Hangover killer. Smiths don’t get the next morning off. Dad set me up with the recipe; never failed him once.”

Rolan takes sleepy sips of the draught, grimacing throughout but refusing to put it aside. In the softness of the scene, Dammon sits by his side with his elbows on his knees and gazes at him.

“What are you smiling at,” grumbles Rolan, his face going darker again.

Dammon laughs softly, his eyes going shy as he turns them downward. “Only thinking.”

“…I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to share what about.”

“I’d answer anything you asked me.”

Rolan’s heartbeat is doing all sorts of wacky little tricks today. Before he can get hold of himself, Dammon continues, “Thinking how I’ve never had someone to make tea for. It’s nice.”

Rolan wants to tell him he’s the same, that there’s never been anyone in his life he’d wanted to care for so tenderly. To take off their shoes for them, carry them up the stairs, sit by their bedside until they feel safe enough to sleep again. He wants to. Instead, he says, “You’ve got a…unique idea of what tea is.”

Dammon smiles. The picture of patience.

“Thank you,” Rolan adds, so low it’s barely audible.

Dammon takes the empty cup from him, leaning across toward the nightstand to do so. It brings him quite close to Rolan. And when he begins to move away, something in him ignites—cold fire, frightened and desperate. He strikes out and snatches a handful of Dammon’s shirt collar.

Dammon’s startled, but his voice is slow, steady. Hardly a whisper. "...I meant it. I won't leave."

He's...not just talking about right now. Is he. Rolan feels himself start to tremble. So does Dammon.

“Are you alright?”

Rolan shakes his head, dismissive. “I’m fine, just. Feel a bit…dizzy, suddenly.”

“Mm…I might know the feeling.”

Their faces are so close together now, he can smell the sweetness of Dammon’s breath washing down over him. Peach and white wine. Moonlight from the window wages quiet war with the candles inside and their graceful clash drapes the room in flowing shadow. Rolan’s head spins trying to make sense of it all. He feels like they’re in another realm. A dream. Where maybe it’s not as frightening to reach out and touch whatever is hidden from light.

He does. His fingers are clumsy as they tilt Dammon’s chin and turn upward his eyes. Bluegold, like the sun breaking through a long winter’s frost.

"Did you mean what you said to me," he murmurs, his eyes flaring brightly with ache. "Would you take it back?"

Dammon holds his stare. "There's still time, you're saying?"

Rolan feels himself about to cry. He’s so afraid. So exposed. It’s here where they cut away the lifeline, or follow it back to safe ground. His voice shakes, only a whisper. "Still time. Should you have doubts."

Slow, gentle, Dammon slides his fingers beneath the palm of Rolan's hand. You'd think it was carved of precious stone, the way he cradles it so carefully. He raises it to his own face, presses it against his cheek and holds it there. Firm enough to impress his feelings, loose enough that Rolan could pull away.

"No there isn't," Dammon says, and turns his face into Rolan's palm. His lips press the softest kiss into it, a fragile thing, a clockwork butterfly that flutters so small and vulnerable inside the cage of his fingers. And then Dammon folds his hand into a fist.

"And no I wouldn't." His gaze is that of a prisoner looking out from between bars. He repeats what he’s said, nails shut his last window of escape. “Rolan. I care for you in a way I’ve never felt before. I don't know what it is exactly, yet. But I'd like to find out. And what I do know...is I want to feel like something special to you. Something you can use. I want to be for you what I’ve never been for anyone. No one has ever known me that way. I want it to be you.”

Rolan’s breath has abandoned him. He’s whimpering to get it back. His every nerve alight and shimmering like the weave. When he strikes out to grab the back of Dammon’s neck, electric tendrils spark out from his fingertips, unbidden. His eyes are glowing with white light. How swiftly, how easily he surrenders the run of himself.

Before reason can stop him, before sanity can intervene, Rolan wrenches Dammon close and crashes their lips together like tide on shore. What’s left of the wavebreak spills from his eyes, shut tight, brows arched and desperate. He feels Dammon tense, hesitate…then curl toward him. His mouth opens to his tongue and his head rocks in rhythm with the sudden seastorm.

Rolan feels as though he may faint. And like he'll never rest again. He feels awful, and ecstatic, and pathetic and happy and free. He could drink the ocean Dry.

Dammon’s hand snakes around his side and rests in the small of his back. Rolan arcs up toward him, his hands curling around the curve of his skull where it meets his work-tensed neck. Rolan lets himself explore the finely chiseled curves borne of every hammerswing he’d ever struck. The muscles so hard, sinew like braided iron cords—and yet the skin above so delicate soft.

Dammon breaks for breath.

“Rolan,” he mutters, keening, urgent. “S…stop.”

It takes a painful few moments, but Rolan does. He rips himself away with a delirious moan and buries his face instead into Dammon’s neck. His breath rasping hot and ragged. "I'm. Ngh. Sorry."

“It’s just…” Dammon sounds just as overcome. “Not that I don’t…but. You’re drunk, is why. I can’t.”

“Yes,” he whispers, teeth grinding together so tightly that they squeak. “I. Forgive me…I-I don’t know what…I.”

“It’s alright.” His hand grips the back of Rolan’s shirt, the other cupped behind his head. “Shh. Nothing’s wrong.” Dammon laughs, incredulous, giddy and tearful. He plants a kiss into Rolan’s hair, just between his horns. “Far, far from it.”

He clings to Rolan while a thousand fireflies buzz inside the hollow of his chest. He’s never been so happy, he thinks, not in all his life. Rolan is shaking, shrinking into him to try and hide. Though he’s more than a little worried, Dammon is nevertheless glad for the chance to be his haven. Honored. And he doesn’t aim to fall short of the role.

He lays the two of them down in the soft quilts, holds him against his chest. Rolan is beyond speech. For long minutes that stretch into hours, Dammon hushes him softly, repeats assurance and affirmation of safety and peace. Whether because of this, or simply from being so overwhelmed, Rolan eventually sinks below the still pond of sleep.

For a long time, Dammon stares at thin air in a wide-eyed daze. He can hardly believe…it plays over and over in his mind. He keeps still, daring not to move a muscle. He fears to wake him. Fears to shatter the wild dream they’ve fallen into. Gods above. All the fucking hardship. All the loneliness. Done. All of it behind them now. Rolan…

Rolan.

He loves him.

…Oh, gods. He needs to process this. Calm down. But his mind is spinning and he’s so emotionally exhausted, but there’s no chance in six hells he’ll get any sleep tonight. Maybe that’ just as well. He'd been invited for dinner. It would be a wild disrespect to sleep off Rolan’s wine, in Rolan’s house, in Rolan’s bed. On his first proper visit to Rolan’s home. A measure of guilt creeps into the bliss. He's always so concerned with appearances. What would his siblings think? …What would he think, more importantly, if he woke and found Dammon beside him?

As much as he'd like to get lost in the pretty dream of waking up at his side every single day to smiles and sleepsoft kisses...perhaps this time, it’ll be kindest to spare him the morning after. The last thing he wants is to imperil this…this miracle he’s just been given. He’ll wait a while longer, make sure Rolan won’t wake in the night and feel abandoned, and be gone by tomorrow. Tomorrow he will rise and run straight to the tabernacle to thank Tymora. Hells, tomorrow he will sing praise to every god he’s ever heard the name of. But tonight belongs only to himself and Rolan. To him…and the one with whom he is fully, irredeemably, fervently in love.

Audaciously.

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 25: Exploring Ships

Summary:

After a chance meeting with the illustrious Malleus Draconia, Jamil and Azul begin to explore the holographic halls of Ignihyde's booth where they end up striking a deal with the Shroud brothers.

Word Count: 6,005

Notes:

Finally updated this after so long!

If you're an old reader and you're still following this story after all this time, I appreciate you a lot! 💖

To any new readers who might be here, welcome! I hope you like it! ^_^

Jamil glances at his watch as they walk across the school grounds. “Oh, looks like Ignihyde’s booth is open now. Do you wanna check that out first? The library is closer, anyway.”

“Sure, why not,” Azul shrugs. “I have been looking forward to seeing those projections you mentioned.”

Jamil nods, leading the way to the library.

A few quiet seconds pass, and Azul looks at Jamil thoughtfully. "What do you think Malleus could possibly do to me? Does he have such a reputation here that you think he might harm me in some way?"

Jamil sighs and fidgets uncomfortably with his uniform. He didn't think Azul could read his silence so well. "It's more like I don't know enough about him or Diasomnia to gauge how trustworthy they can be. Their dorm's always been the most mysterious out of all of us."

"Then perhaps you can come with me, if he ever does invite me to hang out. I'll make sure to introduce you as my boyfriend so there aren't any misunderstandings." There's a playfulness in his voice, but Jamil can tell that he means it.

"Huh?" Jamil looks at him in surprise and nervousness. "Oh, er... I wouldn't wanna intrude. He could get peeved about me suddenly being there when he hasn't invited me specifically…” He pauses to contemplate. On second thought, perhaps this would be for the best. He wanted to know Malleus more, and this was his opportunity. “You know what? All right, I'll come with, as long as you're okay with it.”

"Of course I'm okay with it. Why wouldn’t I be?"

Jamil feels his face warm at the sincerity in Azul’s smile, and he looks away to fidget with his cuffs. “What did you and Malleus even talk about? What sort of topics was he so avidly fond of while chatting with you?”

"He told me about their mascot, the Eastern Dragon. Then he talked about his fondness for ruins, and he corrected me when I called a grotesque a gargoyle," Azul says in amusement. "Apparently he could sense the traces of Blot on me, which was a little unsettling in an embarrassing way, but it's fine now," he shrugs.

"He said he could smell the ocean on me, and he knew I'm a merfolk, which brought up his desire to see underwater ruins. I mentioned that there are such shipwrecks in the Coral Sea, as you know, and he asked if I could show him around someday. He even offered to shift into his dragon form for that tour when he sensed my hesitance to be in my merform," Azul chuckles shyly. "Then he asked if I had any interests that might seem mundane to others, like his gargoyle fascination, and I told him that I collect coins. And the conversation ended with him asking whether I'd visit here frequently, and he gave me the pearl and told me to keep in touch. He called me brave for not being intimidated by him, and said something about wondering how far my bravery can go, but I think he was merely joking," Azul smiles.

Inside his head, Jamil was practically quaking.

Malleus was making moves way too smoothly and quickly than he expected, even when their starting topic had been a strange one.

"... Wait, you collect coins?" Jamil asks, blinking out of his shock.

"Mm-hm," Azul nods. "I first saw a gold coin in an old shipwreck. It caught my attention because we didn't use such currency underwater, and at the time I didn't know what it was. But the engravings were beautiful, so I kept it. And I still collect rare coins, especially those with elegant designs that they don't reproduce anymore—" he stops and smiles sheepishly. "I'm not boring you with this, am I?"

"Not at all," Jamil reassures him, finding this side of him honestly cute. "How many do you currently have?"

"Twenty-eight, though only a handful of them have particularly intricate designs. Most are only valuable because they're no longer in circulation, though that isn't to say that they don't have a certain beauty still. I acquired more than half of them in my hometown, because at some point shops had started selling them as novelties and tourist attractions.”

Jamil hummed thoughtfully. “Would you be interested in coins from other countries?"

Azul nods. "Of course. I currently have several, though none from the Scalding Sands. So if you ever come across one and wish to be relieved of its burden, you know where to find me," he smiles. “Do you have any obscure hobbies that I don't know about?"

"Window-shopping and guessing item prices without looking at their tags?” Jamil playfully shrugs.

“Then I'd like to go window shopping with you sometimes,” Azul says with interest. “Perhaps you could teach me a few shopping tricks.”

“Sure, after Halloween Week we could hit up some shops in town.” Jamil wonders if it was normal for him to feel excited about doing something so mundane with Azul. He's beginning to realize that any activity was something to look forward to as long as it was with him. He cleared his throat to dispel the butterflies in his stomach. "Anyway, I think I have some coins in my room that'd make for a happy addition to your collection. Kalim would definitely have some, too. Are there a lot of princes in RSA, by the way? I'm a little curious about the school's ratio of average citizen to VIP."

"Yes," Azul nods. "Only very few are direct heirs like Rielle and Malleus, though most do come from royal lineages and still carry that title by law. We don't refer to them by their titles at RSA; Headmage Ambrose always encourages us to see each other as equals. The royals don't necessarily outnumber us average citizens, though there are also a large number of students descended from nobility despite not being royal."

"Interesting. Here in NRC, we've got a few nobles, too, but we don't exactly employ an 'everyone-is-equal' mantra. Instead, we operate under a meritocracy, and noble titles don't earn respect unless you've got the skills and power to back it up. Those who are Prefects are appointed because we've either bested the previous one in a duel, became appointed by the previous Prefect, or possessed the closest qualities to the Great Seven our dorm is based on.”

"Oh?" Azul looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "And how did you become Prefect, Mr. Viper?"

"I defeated the old Housewarden in a duel by catching him off-guard after he underestimated me." Jamil explains, proud. "He's a Fourth Year now so you'll probably only see him around during certain school events. He said he was planning on passing the title to me, anyway, but I knew I wanted to show everyone else why I deserved it."

Azul smiles at him proudly. "And you do very much deserve it. No wonder your residents respect you so much. Do you think if I had been your dormmate, we would have gotten along?"

Jamil chuckled. "That would depend on first impressions, wouldn't it? I feel like the first time I'd notice you is if you suddenly collapsed from a heatstroke one sunny day in the dorm. And I would think, 'Wow, why'd they sort a merman to a dorm this hot?'"

A laugh bubbles out of Azul. "I'm guessing you don't have any merfolk residents, then? Hm, I wonder how it would be when I tutor your residents after Halloween. Would it still be as hot around that time?"

"The weather doesn't really change in Scarabia no matter what season it is on campus. We have the weather fairies Crowley enlisted to thank for that." Jamil falls silent for a moment to think. "But perhaps I can call in certain favors with the Headmage to get him to lessen the heat around the dorm whenever you visit. It'd be a real bummer if our tutor's health and comfort was compromised in any way, no?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble the Headmage and an entire dorm just for my sake," Azul says. "Perhaps I can keep borrowing that spare dorm uniform, and we'll see how it goes. Or I can try to see if I have more breathable or thinner shirts, and maybe I can wear those in Scarabia. What do you think?"

"Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. The honorary dorm uniform will always be there for your use whenever you need it," Jamil smiles, still planning on getting those favors from Crowley. “We're almost at the library. What do you think Ignihyde dressed up as?"

"Hmm," Azul hums thoughtfully. "Would robots be too on the nose? I'm guessing they incorporated advanced technology in their costumes."

"Heh," Jamil chuckles. "Yeah, robots seem like a thing they'd go for, but then Ortho would only have to celebrate as himself and that's no fun now, is it?”

They reach the library, which was bustling with guests. Jamil opens the door for Azul and they find themselves in an elaborate dark forest.

Trees loom above them as a cold mist fills the interior. It was as if the library never existed.

"GYAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!" shouts an Ignihyde student, clad from head to toe in black armor one would see on a knight, the helmet a large pumpkin with blue flames emanating from the inside. "YOU'VE CROSSED INTO THE DOMAIN OF PUMPKIN HOLLOW! STEP FORTH IF YOU DARE!"

Azul looks in fascination at the sprawling dark trees, and at the elaborate knight costume with the flaming pumpkin head.

"Wow," he breathes. "This is amazing. It's like another world entirely. And those costumes look so realistic. What's Pumpkin Hollow?" he asks Jamil.

"Beats me," Jamil shrugs. "I think Idia said it was a movie or something."

"YOU DON'T KNOW PUMPKIN HOLLOW!?" The knight attending the entrance gasps, before muttering. "Talk about uncultured… BUT NO MATTER! YOU SHALL BE LEAVING THIS PLACE SINGING ITS PRAISES OR RUNNING FOR THE HILLS! FOR THE MORE YOU UNCOVER THE SECRETS THESE WOODS AND THIS TOWN HOLD, THE MORE YOU'LL FIND THAT YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK TO THE WAY THINGS ONCE WERE..!"

"Awww, are you supposed to be some sort of scary creature? You look SO cute!" says one of the guests, holding onto the arm of her date.

The Knight sputters. "Wh— FALSEHOOD! THE KNIGHT IS FEARLESS AND FEARSOME AND IS IN NO WAY CUTE! N-NOW STOP LOITERING AROUND AND GET A MOVE ON!"

Azul smiles in amusement and turns to Jamil. "What kind of knight am I, then? A fearsome one or a cute one?"

"A cute one,” Jamil says easily. “Especially if you don't have your helmet on. C'mon, let's take a look around."

Walking through the winding path, sounds of bats flying or an owl hooting fill the area. A carriage even makes its way by, much to the delight of the visitors, who leap out of the way.

Jamil stays in place, telling Azul "Watch this," before the carriage harmlessly passes through them and continues on like they weren't there. "That's what I meant when I told you Ignihyde was using projection mapping," Jamil says quietly, moving to tap a tree. His hand passes through it. "Pretty cool, right?"

"Definitely," Azul grins. "They really must be a dorm of technomagic geniuses. There is so much potential in this kind of 3D mapping. Recreating historical sites for Magical History classes, setting up obstacle courses or various terrains for Knight Class, architectural planning, the possibilities are practically endless…" he says as he slowly walks forward and looks around.

"You are correct, Azul Ashengrotto!" Ortho flies towards them, his robot suit decorated like the Knight costume. "And my brother has especially ensured that this 3D model is a perfect replica of the forest in the movie Pumpkin Hollow! Down to the last moss-covered branch!"

"Hello, Ortho," Azul greets him. "It's lovely to see you again."

"Likewise, Azul!" Ortho says cheerfully, then turns to Jamil. "I am happy to see that you two have gotten closer." He floats towards Jamil and circles him once, stopping in front of him.  "Based on your dilated pupils and elevated heart rate as you watched Azul look around at our booth, I see that you have gained even more affection for him, and you are happy about it this time~! I am so glad to see the both of you here," he spins and floats upward, clapping his hands together.

"Ah, yes. Of course you'd notice. Yeah, Azul and I are… together now,” Jamil shifts on his feet, feeling his ears warm at saying the words out loud.

"Ugh," a voice sounds from behind a patch of thick woods. Ortho looks over at it in worry.

"Actually, can you two help me?" he asks. "My brother's going through a lil' bit of an artistic crisis right now."

"Idia?" Azul frowns in concern. "Why, what's wrong?"

Ortho gestures for them to follow him as the crowd dwindles away from their spot. Passing through the patch of woods, they find Idia sitting in a desk in the middle of a small clearing, glaring at the holographic screens right in front of him.

From the screens, voices of the visitors in different parts of the library can be heard.

"Look at this gorgeous light show! The way the colors undulate is so magical and romantic!" a woman's voice is gushing.

"I can hear birds chirping. It's like we're really in a forest! So relaxing,” a man says in response.

"Look, don't those pumpkin vines projected on the bookshelf look like they're making a heart?" another visitor states to their partner.

"Where, now? Oh! You're right! That's so cute!"

Idia scowls, tapping an agitated finger against his desk. "Ugh... 'Romantic'? 'Cute'!? Are we even looking at the same foggy forest?! It's just like the highly-regarded horror movie Pumpkin Hollow! It's CLEARLY meant to be scary." He turns to Azul, Jamil, and Ortho, looking for fellow sympathizers. "The vines only LOOK like a heart by sheer coincidence! And it's NOT a 'light show'. It's projection mapping. Get it straight, people!"

The holographic screens continue to talk:

"Ooh! A jack-o'-lantern just popped out to talk to us."

"Awww, how precious!"

"Gah!" Idia groans, lurching back against his chair in pain. "You normies and your indiscriminate gushing! If you're all so into cute stuff, what are you doing in a dark library full of books? Go home and make trendy food hack videos for MagiCam, or whatever it is you casuals do!"

"You did a brilliant job with the place, Idia," Azul says in encouragement. "If you want to make it scarier, perhaps add some ominous music and holographic wild animals? Though I must say that your booth is already quite impressive, and the visitors love it, regardless of whether they find it scary."

"But they're liking it for all the wrong reasons!" Idia hisses. "It's an embarrassment to the Pumpkin Hollow community! What if this is how people learn about the franchise and they build up this whole idea that it's a bunch of cute and fun nonsense!? It would be a disservice to the original film, and an offense to film aficionados everywhere!" He suddenly stands up. "Yup. That's it. I'd be better off shutting this whole operation down!"

"What!?" Jamil blinks in surprise. "You can't just do that!"

"The state of the booth is up to the Prefect's discretion in the end, and I was the one who came up with all of this. That means I can be the one to put a stop to it before it gets any worse."

Ortho, meanwhile, looks a little sad but says nothing.

Azul exchanges worried glances with Jamil.

"Wait, Idia," Azul steps forward. "Are you sure you want to do that? If you shut this booth down, then people won't know about Pumpkin Hollow at all. It's only the second day of Halloween Week, can you really give up so early? What would other fans of the movie say when they find out that you had the chance to spread awareness about that incredible film to hundreds of people every day and you didn't? I haven't seen the film but, did any of the characters there give up a mere 10 minutes into meeting an obstacle?"

Idia pauses and gives a wary look at Azul. "No, but the characters who didn't give up got cut down and died a horrible gruesome death."

"Azul has a point, though," Jamil crosses his arms. "How can you call yourself a true fan of the movie if you're giving up just 'cause a few visitors don't see it the way you want them to yet? That just means it needs more tweaking, right?"

"Not a true fan?" Idia grimaces. "Look, I get what you guys are trying to do, but ain't it just better if we call it quits now before we crash and burn and inevitably regret this choice for the rest of our dumb lives?"

"Ah, that's a shame," Azul laments. "And here I was hoping for the Pumpkin Hollow experience. I was looking forward to it as soon as your residents in costume welcomed us."

"Oh no!" Ortho adds. "Can you really refuse a request from a potential fan, Big Brother?"

"And Ortho seemed to be enjoying the booth too; he was so happy earlier. And now, well, I don't think I've ever seen him so sad," Azul looks at Ortho pointedly.

Ortho floats down and hovers a mere inch from the ground, hanging his head despondently. "I very much wanted to experience Pumpkin Hollow on Halloween with my brother. We watched the film many times, and you always told me that on Halloween we'd get to experience it ourselves, right, Big Brother?" He looks up at Idia with the most impressive puppy eyes that Jamil had ever seen. Are those tears pooling in his eyes? How?

"You promised that we'd get to share Pumpkin Hollow with our friends and everyone else, right?" Ortho adds.

"Agh, Ortho, you know I can't say no to you, but…" Idia falters. "I… well… Fine. I'll keep the projection mapping on, but I'm gonna need an outsider's point of view on how we're gonna make this scarier while staying true to the movie's integrity."

Ortho gasps. "Like a movie night tonight of Pumpkin Hollow followed by a brainstorming session?" He excitedly turns to Jamil and Azul, clasping his hands together in plea. "Can you pleeeeeeeease make time to do this and help us out? Brother and I already know what Pumpkin Hollow is."

"And you guys started it," Idia mumbles. "I think it's only fair if you follow it through, or I'm backing out for real."

"Tonight?" Azul looks worried. "I'm not sure if I can stay the night for the second consecutive time…"

"Please, Azul!" Ortho zooms over and takes Azul's hands in his. "My scans show that you're still recovering from an illness, and it has been scientifically proven that a state of happiness speeds up one's recovery! Oh! And hugs! You can cuddle with Jamil while we watch the movie and you'll feel better!"

Azul's face turns a shade of pink. "Um…"

"Right, Jamil?" Ortho turns to him.

Jamil smiles. "Sounds like a plan to me. Ortho can even help persuade your Headmage. He's been pretty successful so far."

"Hang on, you guys are a thing now? Barf." Idia sticks out his tongue.

Azul turns to Jamil in mild surprise. Then looks at Ortho who's still holding his hands and looking at him imploringly with those puppy eyes.

He sighs and relents. "All right. But I have to let Rielle know later. You'll help me talk to Headmage Ambrose?" he smiles playfully at Ortho.

"Yes~!" Ortho soars in the air again and does a backflip. "I have the research prepared to back us up!"

Ortho begins talking to Idia about where they can watch the movie and who else they can invite.

"I don't suppose you have any clothes I can borrow?" Azul mutters to Jamil. "I've been wearing my uniform for more than 24 hours already and I need a shower."

"Sure, you can… borrow my clothes," Jamil answers, only realizing what he was saying halfway through the sentence. The very thought dusts his cheeks red. "We, er… We share the same size, anyway."

"Thank you so much, you two!" Ortho happily informs them, holding a stamper. Meanwhile, from behind him, Idia sighs in defeat and gets ready to put his own helmet on. "I'll show you everything this place can offer and give you both the stamps you so rightfully earned!"

Idia starts to lead them around the booth.

"I guess we're watching a movie tonight," Azul says to Jamil. "Have you been to hangouts with the Shroud brothers before?"

"Never," Jamil admits. "I rarely see Idia around, and Ortho usually only shows up to do errands for Idia. There wasn't really much opportunity for friendships to be had. Why? Feeling nervous? Excited?"

"Honestly, right now I'm more worried about asking Headmage if I can stay the night here again. I'm already not used to not doing any work at all, and now it's like I'm taking two full days off. Somehow I feel like I'm being neglectful by spontaneously staying out of RSA."

"Hey, you're not being neglectful," Jamil reassures him. "After everything you've been through, I think a few days of break is more than needed. If you want, I can also go and vouch for you. I've been the one encouraging this to begin with."

"Thanks, Jamil," Azul smiles.

Idia tours them around, showing the details he directly replicated from the movie, even Easter Eggs that he claims not all fans have spotted to this day.

His costume is impressive; the hinges on the armor are silent, but there's a realistic clink of metal every time he steps. The entire armor looks heavy, but Idia doesn't have a hard time moving in it at all, even if he barely does any physical activity as far as Jamil knows.

The air-conditioning seems to be on full blast, making it feel like a cold dark winter's night deep in the forest, the flaming pumpkin heads providing illumination.

They reach the end of the tour and Idia turns to them.

"You both better show up later for movie night and help me brainstorm afterwards, or I'm shutting this whole thing down," Idia says. "Walking around just made me realize how cutesy the visitors still see this place," he shakes his head. "Seriously, how can I work under these conditions?"

Ortho swoops in and takes Azul's booklet. "Let me know if you have any preferred snacks for movie night!" he says cheerfully as he stamps it. "I have uploaded my contact information to your phone." He returns the booklet. "And congratulations on your new relationship!" he says loudly, causing a few visitors to turn their heads and look at them.

Jamil flinches at the strangers' attention and puts his hood up as he says, "Okay, cool, bye."

He hastily tugs Azul out of the library.

"Are you alright?" Azul asks in concern as they walk out of the building.

Jamil sighs in relief and takes off his hood. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine... Just not good with public attention."

Speaking of the public, a large crowd seems to be surging around Sam's shop, which is near to the library enough that one can easily see whatever might be going on.

"Whoa, this is a lot of visitors..." Jamil mutters, noticing who exactly is getting surrounded. "Hey, hang on. Is that Ruggie getting mobbed?"

"It seems so," Azul says. "Let's check on him, in case he needs help."

As they approach, they can hear Ruggie saying something to the crowd, though it's a bit hard to understand the words above the chatter of everyone else.

"Whoa, hey, no seriously! I'm not a werewolf, I'm a hyena!" Ruggie's protests fall on deaf ears as the visitors surrounding him ask for pictures or inquire how realistic he's made his costume. The other Scarabia members seem to be watching this in amusement.

The guests aren't doing Ruggie any harm, but Jamil can sympathize with the aversion to this sort of spotlight, so he grimaces in discomfort as he watches the scene unfold.

Someone almost bumps into them, and they stop just in time to see that it's Leona, carrying a bag of snacks.

"Oh, hey." Leona nods at them. "Ashengrotto, right? We met at that stupid royal summit last year."

"Yes. Hello, Your Highness," Azul says politely.

Leona cringes. "It's just 'Leona', dude. Don't be weird." He turns to Jamil. "I thought you didn't like getting tangled with royals? This guy is more involved with royals than I am," he jerks his head in Azul's direction.

"Well, he technically isn't a royal, anyway. And even if he were, he's worth the extra trouble," Jamil mutters. "I have a feeling you know how that feels, don't you?" He gestures to Ruggie. "Leaving him for the vultures at the moment?"

"He tried throwing me under the bus first," Leona nonchalantly shrugs. "Don't worry. I won't let it get too far. Crazy crowd, though, huh?"

"Oy! You know I can see you guys from here, right!?" Ruggie complains from afar.

Leona smiles playfully at Ruggie and gives him a wink before turning back to Jamil. "Nice booth you got there, Viper. Where're you headed off next?"

"Thanks." Jamil amiably replies, ignoring Ruggie. "We're off to your booth next, actually... Right after I get a waffle from Sam." He glances at Azul. "You wanna get one, too?"

Azul hesitates for a moment. "I don't usually eat sweets but… alright. I'm on a break, anyway," he gives a small smile. "Who makes those waffles?"

Jamil returns the smile. "Sam himself. They're pretty good. They got some kind of jam in them that reminds me of raspberry, but something else I can't get a grasp on. Don't think Sam's interested in divulging his secrets. If you're worried about the calories, we can just buy one and split it."

"Aww, such a sweetheart," Leona teases, keeping his gaze trained on Ruggie.

"Are those snacks for your residents?" Azul gestures to the bag that Leona is carrying.

"Hm? Yeah, they deserve it after building our booth the way it is now," Leona answers, still watching over Ruggie. "Don't tell them it was my idea," he adds.

"I'm sure they know, anyway," Azul says with a smile. Then he turns to Jamil. "Look at that, you and Leona are quite similar in being Prefects. You don't expressly show how much you care about your residents, but they still know, and they admire and respect you for it."

Jamil and Leona share similar looks of disdain.

"You saying it out loud is a lil'..." Jamil clears his throat, embarrassed. “Anyway, we're gonna head in,” he says to Leona. “Catch you around, I guess."

As they're about to step into the Mystery Shop, one of Jamil's residents runs out and presents them with a waffle. "Here you go, Prefect! No need to get in line inside because whew! It's a battle in there!"

Jamil stares at him in surprise before taking the waffle. "Have you… been listening to our conversation?"

"Hm? Oh, not me! But I heard word from the others!" he gestures to the other Scarabia members, who give the couple a wave. "We just want to give you both a great experience with the booth! Now be on your way and have fun!"

"Oh, thank you very much," Azul smiles. "I hope you're not having a hard time handling all those visitors. Do you need any help with crowd control?"

"Nope! Not at all!" he shakes his head vigorously. "Just enjoy yourselves out there!" he adds with a grin.

These guys are being embarrassing, Jamil thinks to himself, but nods. "Okay, but if things get out of hand, text me, all right? Don't pretend things are fine for our sake."

"Of course, boss!"

"Geez, they're like a bunch of kids sometimes, I swear..." Jamil shakes his head as they walk along, then he  offers the waffle to Azul. "Wanna take the first bite? You can try and guess the ingredients, too."

"Oh, all right," Azul takes the waffle and admires its design for a moment; a golden brown crow with red jam peeking out through the crust like a jewel on the crow's chest. He gingerly takes a bite, and looks thoughtful as he chews it. "Butter, strawberry jam, and a bit of cinnamon? And perhaps some eggs in the bread." There's some jam on Azul's lips and his tongue flicks out to casually lick it clean.

Jamil stares at the gesture for a second before quietly taking a bite himself, understanding what Azul meant with the ingredients. "Think we can make Sam another judge in the cooking competition?"

"I don't see why not," Azul smiles. "Though there seems to be a growing audience for the competition; I'm getting a little nervous," he says playfully.

"Come now. I didn't see large crowds stop you from defeating me at Quiz Bee before." Jamil teases.

They split the waffle into two equal halves, enjoying the treat and intermingling with the crowd until they find the large stadium rising up in the distance.

"For a dorm full of jocks who didn't seem interested in a celebration, they really went all out for Halloween," Jamil admits, walking through the main entrance to find the entire area submerged in water and sand, resembling a secret island cove surrounded by walls as a large broken pirate ship sits at the side.

Savanaclaw members donned in pirate garb greet the guests coming in with a mighty "Yargh!!!", and they begin to coast around the beachside of the clear blue waters.

"We were shocked when we first saw this for booth inspections,” Jamil adds.

"I'd never seen a shipwreck on land before," Azul says in interest, gazing at the ship. "Actually, this resembles the wreck where I had found my first gold coin. In hindsight, that was probably a pirate ship."

A burst of green light stops them in their tracks, and Malleus appears in front of them.

"There you are," the fae smiles at Azul. "Thank the Seven for my good hearing. How fitting that you would mention your coins, Ashengrotto." He takes Azul's wrist and lifts it, putting a large silver coin in his open palm. "I remembered that I had that among my possessions," he says proudly, gently letting go of Azul's wrist. "I asked Lilia, and he confirmed that such coins were used as currency at the beginning of my grandmother's reign, and have long since stopped circulation even before I was born. I would like you to have it."

Azul stares wide-eyed at the dragon engraved in the middle of the coin, surrounded by indecipherable text that Jamil vaguely recognizes as fae dialect.

"Your Highness, I can't possibly just take something this valuable," Azul tells Malleus.

The Diasomnia Prefect frowns. "I have told you already, there is no need to refer to me by my title."

"Malleus," Azul corrects himself. "At least let me buy it from you."

"Nonsense," Malleus shakes his head. "You are my friend, and that is my gift to you. Perhaps you will think of me whenever you see it," he smiles, gazing in Azul's eyes.

Jamil stares at Malleus in bewilderment, so do a bunch of other people who just watched this guy materialize out of nowhere.

Jamil decides to clear his throat, "Ahem! Um, hi, yeah. I'm here, too."

Malleus looks at him. "Viper. I see you've met Ashengrotto as well. Did you find him at your booth like how I found him at mine?"

"I met him a little bit earlier than that, actually," Jamil answers, squinting at Malleus. "He really must have taken your attention for you to go out of your way and get him a coin."

"Indeed," Malleus smiles. "He indulged me in my talk of gargoyles and grotesques, and it seemed only fair that I give him a token of my appreciation as soon as I took my break from my shift at our booth." He looks at Azul. "Have you figured out how to use the pearl yet, Child of the Sea?"

"Not yet," Azul says, seeming more relaxed now that the initial shock has worn off. "I don't suppose you can just tell me how to use it?"

"Ah, now where would be the fun in that?" Malleus says playfully before looking at Jamil again. "And how did he catch your attention, Viper? To my understanding, you are one of the more elusive Prefects."

"It involved a bit of physical coercion on Floyd's part," Jamil answers, making himself relax a little. He doesn't wanna make the conversation weird by being tense. "Then we ended up talking and, well, Azul took me by surprise."

Malleus seems interested, and he turns to Azul. "You really are something else. I must get back to my booth now," he leans forward to be eye-level with Azul. "But I very much look forward to seeing more of you. Ashengrotto~." The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile, and his eyes are twinkling. He vanishes in another burst of green light, provoking small gasps and stares from the visitors passing by.

"Is that part of the attraction?" a teen visitor asks a Savanaclaw member.

"Ugh, no. In fact, it should've been part of the attraction to jump on that lizard intruder! Next time he comes here, we'll be ready for him!"

Jamil ignores them and raises an eyebrow at Azul. "He's being quite forward for a 'friend' you just met, huh?"

"I suppose, although several of my schoolmates approached me that way, especially after Rielle and I started to clear up that we're not dating. People tend to be intimidated by those directly in line for a throne, and I think they got less intimidated of me when I said that I'm not dating a crown prince, and they were more inclined to start a friendship," Azul shrugs obliviously.

"Uh-huh," Jamil says, unconvinced. "And how did those friendships go?"

"They didn't really last, now that I think about it," Azul furrows his eyebrows. "We're acquaintances now, at most. Our interactions just became scarce over time. Though Malleus seems to be more active than the others in maintaining a friendship. I certainly hadn't expected him to try to find me so soon after we had just met, and with a gift, at that." He looks curiously at the coin in his hand.

Jamil glances down at the coin too, suspicious. "Gifts from the fae are quite powerful. I gotta warn you to be cautious in how you deal with this guy. They can also be dangerously temperamental, so I hope you won't be digging yourself a hole with your friendly nature."

Azul smiles softly at him and nods. "I'll be careful, thank you. Do you want to check this coin to see if there's anything suspicious?" he holds it up.

Jamil narrows his eyes and casts a spell to glean any magical enchantments cast upon the coin, whether a curse or a blessing.

The coin isn't enchanted at all, it's just an ancient piece of silver with some engravings. There are faint traces of fae magic on it, most likely from being passed around as currency for centuries, but even their madols now have magical traces from being passed around. And that's it.

Jamil sighs. "Well, it's safe, that's for sure…"

Malleus certainly likes to move quickly, though. He should probably just straight-up tell him that Azul's not available.

But would that sound too possessive? There's still a chance that Malleus really just sees it as a potential friendship.

Jamil decides to push the thought aside for now, and they make their way towards the pile of gold surrounding the ship.

<- Chapter 24

Chapter 26 ->

(Masterlist)

[drippingheart]

The fresh feeling of spring and with it, the newest path taken created in a sorcerer's journey through life, already faced a hurtle! Had he been thirteen or, perhaps, even thirteen, a flush caused by second hand embarrassment would have coloured his cheeks. While Getō Suguru was not expecting a party to be thrown in his honour, surely there would have word and a meeting about the newest hire; it was a decision which would effect everyone especially in an institution so starved of personnel. Owlishly he blinked. Once, twice, slowly — contrasting the solemn appearance he carefully curated.

Had the elderly Principal of Kyoto's Jujutsu Technical school not been one of the most intimidating and severe persons Suguru had ever come across, he would have believed he was duped. Meetings were had and a contract of employment had been signed, so there was no jest at foot. It was cruel however — to keep Kyoto's employees in the dark while simultaneously isolating it's newest employee; a kid grown man who just wanted a fresh start. Was that too much to ask for? Old habits were hard to cull.

Difficult for Gakuganji to demonstrate the slightest bit of professionalism and kindness, and difficult to Suguru to not press the calloused pad of his thumb against the crease between his eyebrows. Fully aware the action was childish, rather it reminded him of being a child, he did not maintain the position for long and hand dropped to his side with ease. Broad chest inflated with a deep inhalation though it was not meant to be dramatic; he was merely gathering his patience as he once more donned a very polite smile, just barely sincere the second time around.

── ❛ This is how things are like around here, mm? I've taken residency in the teacher's quarters; I am a Kyoto's newest professor. ❜

Suguru had not spotted any signs of other faculty while moving in, at least their physical form. He knew most people liked their privacy and the separation between work and a home life despite how all consuming hunting curses was. Suguru had no other options and with hardly any hobbies and no friends to occupy his time, living on campus was truly his one and only option. Just as hunting curses consumed the life of the ivory-haired prodigy, Suguru saw no other life as one of the few special grade sorcerers.

── ❛ You'll have to teach me the ins and outs of this place, Iori-san @incantat1ons. ❜

There were several meanings in that sentence — the hot spots around Kyoto, the troublesome students, the politics among the adults . . Irori Utahime was still around after all the years, so that must have meant Kyoto was doing something right? So Suguru hoped.

── ❛ I should prep for classes, though I've only been here once before . . ❜

Cherry Blossoms signify the beginning of another school season. The commute to Kyoto during this time was easily a favorite. The weather at its most ideal, the colors as they pass through the wide window of the moving rail feel like being bathed in peace. Every day during this time emitting fresh, renewing energy as if to serve as a cleanse. Life’s small blessings. 

The sliver of a break, personal time to recoup and create lesson plans and training for new and returning students given by the institution was wasted on her. Curriculum was completed and stored in her designated work bag upon the second evening. Utahime had spent the remaining time attempting to waste it. Engaging in activities that were mundane, painfully human. Browsing shops for ingredients to perhaps remember the no longer familiar taste of home. Knitting and embellishing fabrics for clothes she would never wear because she did not want to risk being perceived by other sorcerers or students in a way other than respectable, modest instead of modern. The way she had been brought up and raised. The way deemed proper and correct. 

Utahime does not know how to appear assimilated. Cursed technique manifested in her early youth, she was no longer permitted to engage in the same circles or activities as regular human beings. Her ability to see and interact with curses brought with it danger and alienation. Therefore, Utahime had no friends, no emotionally enriching connections until being enrolled in Jujutsu High. In light of being picked on and teased by her peers for being unable to act her age and participate in teenager activities, Utahime quickly discovered it was because she did not know how to. Or what exactly constituted those concepts. 

In her years of going from student to teacher, she had still struggled with stable footing. There were instances she would stand upright, willing and wanting to tackle a curse or unkind words aimed at her character. These times would make her spine grow taut and her fist ball up, fingernails biting in the delicate skin of her palms. Yet, when she prepares for retaliation, it is as if all her words have been churned in her brain and leaked down to her mouth, stuck to the sides of her cheeks to avoid her lips.

It makes sense that she is designated support. She is not strong but she can make others stronger. It provides her with a purpose, a value of some kind. It is fortunate that her abilities can merge with most any sorcerer. Sometimes, she loses sight of herself. Sometimes, she sits or lays and her mind reels over What Ifs? Sometimes, they’re the better kinds. The ones where she’s praised and considered imperative to the world of sorcery. The ones where her peers smile upon seeing her- Not because she’s awkward and fumbling and hilariously uptight, but because they would revel in her amplifications, they would want to be partnered with her, they would see her as a genuine friend.

On the opposite side of the coin however, she wonders how life would have been if she was born with this ability that wasn’t beneficial to others or important to the school. Would she have been discarded? Used as bait or an emergency, flippant recharge. She imagines a dismissal from her duties, cast aside and forced to be anything other than what she knows. How the outsiders would know she isn’t right. How they’d stare at her with beady eyes. How their whispers would linger on as she turned from them or walked away like a cloud of smoke. 

It is okay though. The commencement of colors and fresh air, pink and white petals falling from trees has started. It is Spring and school is back in session and Utahime is here to stay. She can breathe some more. Steps are firm, head is held high, the white lengths of ribbon in her hair flow behind her like a faltering halo. She is where she belongs.

But not where he does. Energy bubbles within, thickly like boiling tar. Nose crinkles, a scent that is not necessarily pungent or overwhelming yet slightly recognizable in a reformed way as if it evolved overtime. He stands before her, taller and stockier than she remembers but his features aren’t as soft as they used to be. Utahime gapes during his show of respect and sincerity. Comically, the sorceress looks around as he does so. She doesn’t feel the stark and pricking flare up energy that she would feel when Gojo’s presence was near. She does not hear the poorly quieted snickering of his person either. Getō Suguru is before her and he is both nothing and everything like she knows.

❛ Has something happened?  ❜

Words fall from sugar sticked lips with haste.  If Gojo Satoru was Tokyo’s strongest, Getō Suguru was their Golden Boy. He should be there, working beside the best and brightest pupils to encourage the next and following generations of them. To be here in Kyoto is either a bad omen or a good fortune. Though, as perceptive and adept at information as she is, Utahime cannot tell which it is.

❛ I didn’t know you were coming to visit our campus.  ❜

[criceofpain]

cat-eyed | park jongseong

summary: you loved the makeup looks jay were getting from his stylist so you had to do one to him yourself... before he takes things to another level.

pairing: idol!jay x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2417

warnings: mentions of natural phenomena (storms/typhoon), cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, usage of pet names, minimal impact play

Park Jongseong had the most beautiful eyes in the whole planet.

At least that’s what you think. You had a strange affinity for those beautiful brown orbs ever since you’ve seen them up close. The way his eyelids perfectly gave them their shape, and the way his eyelashes fluttered whenever he stared at you or something else had made them a wonderful pair you swore you wouldn’t get enough of. It was your most favorite part of his whole face.

As much as you love seeing them bare and puffy whenever you wake up beside him, you loved–no, adored them with accessories and adornments of any kind. His signature sunglasses and brushed-back hair look was your greatest waterloo, not to mention his smokey eye makeup everytime he goes onstage for music show performances. They made him look like he was a different person–someone so alluring yet dangerous as if he was Medusa turning Engenes into stone statues if he stares at them long enough.

With these thoughts came the idea of his stylist noonas doing all of these eye looks for him–them dabbing their fingers all over his face, and you couldn’t help but sometimes wish you were a stylist yourself. It’d give you more time to spend with your busy man, maybe go on quick dates without having to think about privacy. Unfortunately, everyone’s eyes are on him and his members, so you’d often spend time alone. 

Now, you and Jay are both huddled up in your bunk bed after his music video shooting, the very spot being his retreat whenever he finds himself at the peak of exhaustion. Your hands are on his hair while his arms are snugly wrapped around your waist–just the perfect sleeping position on a rainy afternoon.

“Jjong.” you mutter, looking over your shoulder to see if he was asleep or not.

“Yeah?” he immediately responds, letting you know that he was awake for a while. “Need help with something, Y/N?”

“Let me put makeup on you.”

He blinks at you, taken aback by the sudden statement. “Suddenly?”

You toss slowly to face him, giving him a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. “I've been wanting to work on my eyeshadow skills, love. You've got such beautiful eyes to put some colors on.”

Flustered, he bites the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a chuckle or a smile. He never knew you loved his eyes so much. “I appreciate that, sweetheart, but what's all this for?”

You shake your head. “This rainy weather is seriously weighing me down and I could use some activity at home. Would you like to be my model, Mr. Park?”

“Damn, princess.” he mumbles, cupping your cheeks with his hands and squishing them. “As long as it doesn't require aegyo, I'm in.”

You squeal, rushing to grab your makeup bag after pulling away from your boyfriend’s hold. He stares at you with amusement as you lay out your brushes, slightly intimidated at the same time because of how much you were bringing out in the tiny bag.

“Okay, we've got our blending brushes over here… some highlight brushes… more brushes for the smokey eye because I'm a hoe for that look—”

“Ooh, Y/N’s gonna go all stylist noona on me now, huh?” he teases, scooting closer as you clip his hair away from his face. “I'd love to see you try.”

“Come on, Jay! You know I love the smokey eyes on you.” you protest as you gently dab some primer on his lids. “Makes you look like a sexy black cat.”

“I'm allergic to kittens.” he replies, and you can imagine him rolling his eyes through his eyelids.

“What does that have to do with anything?” you reply whimsically, proceeding to put some brown eyeshadow on him. “You're so fucking handsome right now.”

“Oh, yeah? Am I?”

“Mm-hmm.” you nod. “Now will you open your eyes for me, love? Wanna see how it looks so far.”

He obliges, slowly lifting his eyelids only to be welcomed by a sight that causes his jaw to slightly drop.

You were looking doe-eyed at him, lips slightly parted, cleavage peeking out of your neckline, and ass jutted out. He instinctively gulps, trying to hold back a groan and stop a potential hard-on to form a tent in his sweatpants. On the other hand, your clueless self ponders whether or not you've achieved the eye look you were going for. 

“Nah, not quite yet.” you mutter, clicking your tongue after. “Close them back, please?”

He sighs in defeat, lowering his eyelids so you can continue with the final adjustments. I could've stared at her for a little longer. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” you answer, slowly climbing up to his lap for a better view of his eyes. “Stay still for me, yeah?”

Fuck, did she just climb on my lap? Jay sucks in a breath as he fights to move a muscle. He didn't want to ruin whatever masterpiece you were making; he didn't want to pop a boner at the wrong time, either. The fact that your breasts were slightly squished against his chest didn't help, most of all. He was doomed.

“And we're done!” you chirp, causing him to open his eyes. “You wanna take a look?”

“Definitely.” I definitely want to pin you against this fucking mattress right now. “Show me.”

You tilt your mirror to the perfect angle so he can see the final product. In awe, he lets out a chuckle. That sound alone was enough to tell you that you did a good job. You loved this man so much.

“Fuck, that looks so Future Perfect, babes!” he comments, discreetly gazing at your figure through the reflection of the mirror. “I think I'm ready to perform with my muscles out now.”

Flattered, you plant a kiss on his chapped lips. “I'm glad you liked it, but we gotta do something about those lips. They're as dry as the Sahara.”

He doesn't say a word as you grab a lip balm from your bag, but flinches upon hearing the lid pop open. He silently watches as you aim the balm to his plump pair, taking you aback as he grabs your wrist, therefore stopping you in your tracks.

“I don't want anything on my lips except your lips, Y/N.” he says firmly, “Kiss me instead.”

“Oh–” 

He cuts you off with a soft press of his lips against yours, slowly progressing into slow, open-mouthed kisses as he goes. You respond with a low hum as he runs a hand down the dip of your spine, all while grabbing the balm away from your hold. With your hands making their way to his hair, you deepen the kiss as you finally figure out what he's up to.

“Mmm…” you mewl softly, pulling away from his kiss with a pop. You spare a few seconds to stare at your work of art, and you swear you could've creamed your panties then and there–it felt like you were making out with the Jay of ENHYPEN in the backrooms of Music Bank right now. “It's exactly what I had in mind.”

“Is it?” he grins slyly, tracing circles along the supple skin of your stomach and eventually pulling off your top. “Oh, baby, I think I need to warm us up. It's getting cold outside.”

“Please, Jay…” you beg as he deftly unclips your bra, latching his mouth on your hard nipple. “I'm not gonna be able to touch you for days.”

He pins you down the mattress, hands above your head. A chuckle leaves his lips as he feels your hips squirming against his boner. “Let's make this count, then.”

The sound of the heavily pouring rain accompanies that of Jay's wet lips against your skin. He wastes no time traveling down south, licking and sucking on your stomach and thighs. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel his hand slowly tug down on your panties. 

“Fuck.” he almost feels himself drooling at the sight of the wetness that was pooling in your panties. “Already?”

You groan out, not wanting your boyfriend to drag on and tease. “Can you blame me? It was your fault for being so hot—ah!”

You look down to see his tongue already latched on your clit, fingers slowly prodding in your pussy. His siren eyes stare straight at yours, making you involuntarily clench as he strokes you roughly. A string of moans leave your mouth as he moves his tongue and fingers in various ways–incoherent mumbles of pleasure and excitement.

“I take it I'm doing this just right, hmm?” he teases just before he fully sucks on your clit.

“Ah! Fuck… more…” you cry out, squelching sounds filling your ears. 

He happily obliges, intensifying his actions that were to eventually lead to your first orgasm of the night. You instinctively clench your legs around either side of his head, which he secures with his strong arms. Heck. His biceps felt like steel enclosed in velvet against your thighs, and the way they were flexing didn't help with your already fucked-out self.

“Wanna cum…” you whine out between shallow breaths, feeling the knot inside you wait to let loose. “Pretty please, love… m’gonna cum!”

“Right, cum all over this face, baby doll.” he replies, rubbing the wetness from his fingers onto your clit. “Let it go, c’mon.”

With a final stroke of his thumb against your clit, you release all over his face and he hastily laps up your juices clean. You take another look at his face. With sweat glistening on his forehead, lips tucked up in a lopsided smirk, and eyes brimming with hunger and lust, he was all ready to make you his and only his for the night.

“You're a stunner from up here,” he comments, eyeing your naked body up and down as he pulls his sweatpants away, cock springing out of its confines. He then leans down to prop an elbow on either side of your head and gives your lips a messy peck. “My pretty little baby… are you sure you're ready for me?”

You confidently nod as you feel him coating his whole shaft with your wetness, to which he lets out a small chuckle. “I want all of you, my Jay.”

With that, he effortlessly slides himself inside your pussy, stretching and filling you to the hilt. Your hands latch onto his shoulders, moaning out his name as he hits your most sensitive spot.

“Ah… mmm… this feels like our first time.” you whimper as he gets himself moving on top of you. “So fucking good…”

“I know how much you like it rough, darling.” he whispers teasingly, leaving harsh hickeys along your neck as his thrust gradually picks up its pace. “So much, yeah?”

“So much—ah!”

He cuts you off with a series of hard, heavy thrusts. “Use your words properly, baby.” Thrust. “I wanna know what my baby wants.”

“Ha… want it rough and hard, love.”

“Good.” he coos, the telltale action of him swinging your legs over his shoulders making your heart race. “Just tell me when I have to stop and I'll do so. No buts and ifs.”

He proceeds to ram himself inside you, not caring whether your screams were waking up the neighbors next door or his phone was restless with missed calls and messages coming from his manager. It was just him, you, and the heat of the moment.

You can feel every inch of him as he goes balls deep inside you, and you're desperately holding onto the sheets of your bed in hopes to keep yourself steady, but to no avail. Your boyfriend doesn't look like he's slowing down at any time as a heavy hand lands on your ass cheeks with a sting.

The storm grows stronger as your climax approaches nearer. Jay’s hips snap fast and hard against yours and the way his hands were moving all over your body made it even better. The way your eyes rolled back to your head as he tweaked the position a bit has him going haywire.

“Fuck, you're so tight around me.” he sighs on your ear, thumb rubbing your clit as he drives himself deeper and harder. “You missed my cock that much, huh?”

You nod in response. “I can't believe I won't be seeing you for another week.” you grumble, back arching as he hits your sensitive spot again.

“I know, I know,” he replies, his free hand groping your breast harshly. “Let me make it better for now, yeah? Cum all over me like the good girl you are.”

“Ah—yes! Almost there, please!” you almost scream out as the sensations of his cock inside you and his hands on the most sensitive parts of your body send you into a state of euphoria.

With a final thrust, Jay triggers your orgasm which also triggers his shortly after. He mumbles a quick “I love you” as he feels your legs shake against his body, feeling a little lightheaded after all the work he has done.

“I love you more.” you say in between pants as he pulls out and lays you flat on the bed. “Ah, that feels a lot better.”

“I'm happy it does.” he replies, cleaning you up with a towel he found somewhere in your bed. “You want a shower?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Just promise me you won't put me in standing O’s or something. We gotta clean up. I feel sticky.”

“Alright, princess.” he chuckles, scooping you up from the bed and into the showers.

“Will you be gone by the time I wake up?”

“No, you won't be waking up alone tomorrow morning.” he mumbles, tucking you in your blanket as he kisses your forehead. “I'll make you breakfast.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Yeah, I promise.” Peck. “Oh, and about the eyes?”

You look up at him, noticing how he still has the makeup on. “Mm-hmm, what about ‘em?”

“I don't think I can have them in any other way.”

You giggle, kissing his eyelids one last time before finally letting slumber take over the both of you. He puts you back in the same position as you were in an hour ago—snuggled up enough to keep each other warm on a rainy afternoon.

The privilege of looking at his beautiful eyes before you close your eyes to sleep was yours, and you're happy it is.

a/n: YAYYYYYY finally a fic! this was heavily inspired by jay's stage makeup (which i'm a hoe for) and how those colors in his eyes turn him into a different person onstage (peep the photo i used) 👀 this is for all the jay hoes AND for the current non-jay hoes who are currently swerving from lane to lane. mwah.

NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs @puphee @hee-pster @heeshalo @forjongseong (send an ask or a dm to be added!)

© criceofpain on tumblr, 2022

[thepenultimateword]

Can you continue the werewolf snippet? It was really good!

Part One

Villain immediately wrenched their eyes off the sleeping Hero, snatching the crochet throw blanket off the back of the couch and tossing it haphazardly over them.

"Mm," Hero moaned. Villain peeked through their fingers just in time to see the face scrunch and their eyes squint open. They rose dazedly on their hands, shaggy blonde hair sticking up all over their head.

"What in the--" they mumbled, blinking around the room. They pinched the hem of the blanket confusedly in their hand. Their eyes roved up to where Villain huddled on the couch, and they froze.

All signs of sleep disappeared from their eyes, and they looked down at themself once again, this time with more panic.

"What happened? Where am I?" Hero wrapped the blanket closer. "What did you do to me?"

"Excuse me?" Villain cried, on the verge of hyperventilation. "You were a dog!"

Their gaze shifted involuntarily to Hero's brawny barrel chest, not exactly hidden beneath the wide holes in the crochet pattern. The Hero noticed at about the same time and folded in upon their knees with a blush.

"Just give me some clothes!"

Villain scrambled back to their bedroom, tearing through drawers until they found the biggest t-shirt and pair of sweats they owned. They presented them to Hero by awkwardly shoving them into their chest.

"Bathroom's down the hall," they mumbled, averting their eyes toward the opposite wall. The vigilante shuffled out of the room as nothing more than a fuzzy shape in their peripheral, and as soon as they were gone, Villain collapsed onto the sofa.

Hero always made them feel small and insignificant, but now more than ever they felt like a fool. Everything they'd done last night with that dog, cuddling it, scratching its head, talking to it, and all along--The person they were doing that too-- Ugh! They grabbed their hair in their fists. They wanted to disappear!

Why couldn't they have one thing, just one thing, that Hero didn't come along and ruin? They were already the most hated person in the city, now they couldn't even let them have a pet. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, they could go adopt another dog. But they didn't want another dog. They wanted that dog. And that dog wasn't even a dog! The nauseous edge to their stomach became more intense. Had Hero been laughing at them all night? Had it all been some elaborate trap to humiliate them? It seemed a little far, even for Hero, but you never knew with those hotshot vigilante types.

"So."

Villain jerked their head out of their hands and up toward Hero. The shirt stretched taught around their shoulders and the sweats ran up to the middle of their calf, but they stood with their hands on their hips, confident as ever.

"Care to tell me what's going on?"

"What?" Villain sank back against the sofa. The Hero's half-lidded gaze intimidated them, but they pasted on a murderous glare to hide their discomfort. "As in you don't know?"

"I don't retain memories of the Wolf on a full moon. I highly encourage you to be honest."

"Or what?"

Hero merely rolled their shoulders back, gaining a couple more inches of height to stare down their nose from.

"You tried to rip my face off," Villain snapped. They hated how much that stupid hero flaunted their size. They hated more that their intimidation tactics worked on them. They wouldn't say they were afraid of Hero, but tussles with them got messy, and Villain could go without a punch to the face this early in the morning. "So, pretty in character for you."

Hero's eyebrows knit together. "But it's usually not aggressive."

"Whatever, you're like King Aggressive."

"Did you do something to it?"

"Weeeell..." Villain drew out awkwardly, suddenly remembering the exact circumstances. "I might have...in the heat of the moment...thrown a rock..."

Hero scoffed. "Of course you did."

"Hey!" Villain stood up on the couch cushions. "You were the one stalking me! If anything, you should get yourself under better control."

Hero grabbed Villain by the shoulders. Even standing on the couch they were half a head smaller. Ridiculous. They cringed a little beneath the hero's firm grip, but they bore their teeth anyway.

"I don't think you understand how lucky you were," Hero said in a low voice. "The Wolf usually doesn't pose any danger, but when it's attacked, it is not forgiving."

Villain swallowed. "What stopped you then?"

Hero sniffed the air. "Probably that vanilla peach spray."

"Huh?" Villain tugged out of Hero's hands with furious blush.

"Well, you're always wearing it. The Wolf probably smelled it, something in its subconscious recognized you, and it backed off."

Villain wasn't sure what was stranger, that Hero had sniffed them now or that they'd apparently sniffed them on many other occasions. Or maybe it was the dog-wolf-thing senses kicking in. Which reminded them of the first thing they should've asked.

Villain cleared their throat. "Ok, my turn for a question. What are you? You're not actually a... Er...a..."

"Werewolf?" Hero finished.

"Yeah," Villain murmured.

"Welcome to the strange and beautiful world of the supernatural. It's all real. Congratulations. Now I really need to know what else happened last night?"

Villain hated that. How they always bowled over everything they said like their issues were so much more important.

"Oh," Villain responded blandly. "You mean like digging in my garbage and drinking out of my toilet?"

Hero's took a step back, and Villain gloried in the look of unadulterated horror marring their perfect features. It was so rare that the hero was caught off guard, but that was worth the wait. Villain was going to replay that expression in their head for months to come.

"A-anything else?" Hero said, significantly less obnoxious.

"No! I ran into you in the forest, you tried to kill me, we hit it off instead, I brought you here, you made a mess, and we both fell asleep. The end. What do you even want from me?"

Hero visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry," they said much to Villain's surprise. "You can imagine how...unnerving it is to go through a whole night without remembering anything about it. I've also never woken up in someone else's house before.”

Villain bristled, feeling inexplicably attacked by that statement. "If I hadn't brought you with me you would have woken up naked in the forest, and good luck getting out of there without anyone seeing you. So you’re welcome."

"Er...yes. Thank you." They paused, running a hand through their thick, messy tangles. "The Wolf must like you."

A zing ran up Villain's spine, and they nearly toppled over the back of the couch trying to put some more distance between them. They didn't like the sound of that. Better to twist it with sarcasm. "Ok, what is up with that? 'The Wolf'? You mean the wolf that is also you?"

"Oh, no. I'm not the Wolf. Or, I am, but...it's complicated." They grimaced, and a raised eyebrow from Villain made them continue. "You see, situations like mine can be emotionally confusing. Weres have a part of them that they can't control. The easiest way to deal with that is to separate it from ourselves. Make it its own entity. I am not the Wolf and the Wolf is not me, even if we do share a body. That way... That way if the Wolf does something awful, it's not on me. Because I know I never would have made that choice."

Hero shuddered a little, and Villain wondered if the Wolf had ever done something bad enough to warrant such a tactic. From their earlier conversation, it seemed likely.

"You won't tell anyone about this, will you? Because if you did no one would even believe you. You'd only seem crazier than they already think you are."

Villain sighed. "I wasn't planning on it, so you could have done without that last part."

"Oh."

An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them like fresh-drawn taffy. For two seconds, Villain had thought Hero might be alright after all, but of course, that arrogant streak would carry with them until the day they died.

"I'll return these next time we fight," Hero finally said, motioning at their clothes.

"Take your time."

Hero nodded, turning in a circle, not unlike what the Wolf had done before plopping down on the carpet, until they located the front door. They pointed at it, raised an awkward goodbye/thank you hand at Villain, and before the situation could get any weirder, hurried out.

As the door shut behind them, Villain let out a long breath, sliding down the sofa back, off the cushions, and onto the floor. The apartment felt a little too empty.

They missed their dog.

Part Three

[daevastanner]

Nyx and Catrin Archeron Berdara - pt. II

Nyx can’t breathe when he sights Catrin Berdara. He can’t form words. His mind reels and he drinks in the sight of her.

She has skin like the moon of the Night Court and the hair piled high atop her head is the color of Autumn Court Ravens. And her eyes… Her eyes are like the pools of Summer Court.

But most beautiful of all are the shadows that skitter about her shoulders and twine around her tucked in wings.

Beautiful, is all he can think.

A shadow nips at her ear, and then… she’s looking at him.

Look, singer, they whisper to her.

And similarly, when Catrin spies Nyx, her breath is stolen from her. She can’t bring herself to look away, even as Emerie and Morrigan’s sons congratulate her. Even as Cassian hands her a glass of wine and presses a rough kiss into the crown of her head.

Gods, she thinks, he must be Nyx.

He has the blue eyes of his mother, and the golden skin and blue-black hair of his father. The cut of his jaw and cheekbones make him appear as though he is carved from stone.

He’s quite leanly built compared to his father. He has strong shoulders and powerful wings, but there’s a sort of boyish lankiness to his form. But Catrin suspects beneath his finery, she’d find much evidence of his past training in Windhaven.

But why is she imagining what’s beneath his finery? And why can’t she stop staring at him? Why can’t he stop staring at her?

Her feet carry her across the room, and it seems like the entirety of their family unconsciously parts to clear a path so she may reach him.

Nyx also feels like a puppet. His feet moving of their own accord towards her as well.

His throat is thick and he doesn’t know why.

Catrin’s eyes sting for some unknown reason and her shadows hum a song that she can’t quite make out.

And they arrive before one another, staring at each other in silence.

Catrin is rarely without a quip on her tongue.

Nyx is hardly ever lost for words.

So he holds out a hand. “You must be Catrin.”

She smiles at him, accepting his offered hand. “Yes, and you must be Nyx.”

Pull yourself together, he thinks, trying not to stare too closely at the shadows that dance about her bare shoulders.

He gives her a roguish grin. “Always nice to meet a fellow Carynthian.”

Catrin’s laugh is soft, she grimaces at him. “Mm, yes. But not quite a Carynthian in the same measure.”

Nyx arches a dark brow at her.

Catrin shrugs, teal eyes dancing. “I heard it took you two attempts to beat the Blood Rite.” She points a finger at herself. “First try.”

The laughter that spills from Nyx is not forced. It has been some time since he’s been spoken to in such a manner. Catrin chuckles with him and he notices how it scrunches her nose.

“You’re just as competitive as your mother,” Nyx grins.

“Mm, do I detect a hint of fear, my lord?”

Nyx blanches. “Oh, don’t. Don’t call me that”

Catrin angles her head. “Am I to believe the male who has spent nearly twenty years dedicating himself to learning what a good High Lord is, resents the title?”

“I resent it from my friends.”

“I’m a friend already, am I?”

“I make it a point to be friends with any shadowsingers I meet,” Nyx says smoothly.

Catrin scoffs. “And what’s in it for me? This friendship.”

And Nyx resorts to the casual arrogance he always adopts when he feels out of sorts. “You get unlimited access to my good looks.”

Catrin’s cheeks color, but her smile remains quietly amused. “And here I was thinking that no ego could surpass your father’s…”

“I am his son,” Nyx replies, picking at some invisible piece of lint on the shoulder of his jacket.

Catrin takes a sip of her wine and Nyx clears his throat, trying to dredge up more words for this stunning, witty, intimidating female.

“So Carynthian Champion. Valkyrie in training. What’s next for Catrin Berdara?”

Her eyes light up and Nyx’s heart stutters. He forces himself to blink through the haze and he makes himself listen instead of marveling at her beauty.

“I plan to apprentice for my father,” she says, lifting her chin a fraction.

Nyx hums in approval. “So you want to be a spy?”

“Spymaster,” she corrects.

Nyx’s brows raise. “Interesting. You’d steal the role from your father…”

“He would pass it to me,” Catrin corrects. “When he was ready. When I am ready.”

And he can’t help but undermine her… just a little. He sees his father and mother duel wits constantly.

“If you are ready,” he retorts.

She’s silent and Nyx feels his stomach plummet as he realizes he may have messed up.

But she squares her shoulders, and snorts. “Don’t make me laugh. I’ll be ready.”

The edge of Nyx’s lip quirks up as their silver tongues begin a dance. His quick and cunning. Hers measured and cutting.

“Are you always so braggadocios, lady?”

“Hm, is it bragging if it’s a fact, my lord?”

And he laughs again.

As they continue to exchange barbed remarks, Rhysand catches sight of them.

He notices that Nyx is wearing his father’s rakish smile, but he also recognizes another part of himself in his son’s eyes. The eyes he shares with Feyre.

Quiet fascination. Astonishment.

And the High Lord wonders to himself: Could they be…

But it’s a ridiculous thought. One born from him seeing his son again. Just because his son is enjoying himself with a female doesn’t mean they are mates.

But Rhysand feels a pair of eyes on him, and when he follows the source, he finds Azriel is looking at him.

His brother jerks his head at Nyx and Catrin, and Rhysand shrugs with a half-smile.

But Azriel doesn’t match his amusement. He regards his shadows, and his eyes flash.

Rhysand peeks inside his mind, tilting his head.

What? Rhysand asks.

Azriel replies: I’m not sure.

You don’t think…

No…

But there’s something uncertain in Azriel’s answer…

A loud snort followed by a burst of laughter, draws Rhysand’s attention back to his son.

Catrin has a hand pressed to her chest, as she snickers.

And Nyx is quietly beaming, into his wine glass.

No, Rhysand thinks. Friends.

And then he hears his mate in his mind: So were we…

It’s far too early for them to know anything. For all they know, after this night Nyx and Catrin may never speak again.

But there is something undeniably charged in the air around Nyx and Catrin. Something both ancient and new.

Part 3

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 25 - The Family Dinner [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Family time can be chaotic.

Sharing secrets was difficult, but sharing secrets about one’s past was quite possibly one of the most difficult things that a person could do with who they loved. You knew how difficult it was for Spencer to talk about his past with you, but he stood by his word and told you absolutely everything, with nothing to hide. By the time you finished that conversation, it was almost dawn and yet you didn’t feel tired at all.

After that night, something changed but it wasn’t a bad change like Spencer feared.

You felt even closer to him, if such a thing was possible. In the following week, your relationship was better than ever-

Well.

Until now.

“I don’t believe this,” you shook your head, “I just… I refuse to believe this. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t even want to believe you’d put yourself in harm’s way and betray me like this. I get that you have no regard for your happiness, but doing this?” you ran a hand over your face, “This is too much, Spencer. You have no idea what you’re walking into, what kind of danger that’s going to be waiting there to ruin you!”

Spencer just raised his brows, then looked between the two ties he was holding up.

“So that’s a no to the blue one?”

“No to this whole thing!” you let out a groan, falling back to the bed, “No to this dinner with my family nonsense!”

He chuckled at your dramatics as you huffed out.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re worried about the wrong thing?” he asked, “You’re also meeting your father today.”

“But we know my father is a sadistic cruel demon sent to earth to make everyone’s life miserable,” you pointed out, keeping your eyes on the ceiling, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my father isn’t the only dangerous person in my family.”

“It’s just a dinner.”

“No, that’s what they want you to think,” you insisted, sitting up in bed, “Before you know it, they invite you to our place by the lovely countryside, and you’ll walk in thinking it’s just like any other place, there are wolves howling outside and-“

“Why are you giving me the plot of Dracula right now?”

“Because that’s what they are!” you exclaimed, “They’re like vampires! Have you ever wondered why my sister was named Mina? Dracula’s Mina!”

“Your mother loves horror books?”

“Spencer you can’t ignore the signs!” you insisted as he started tying his tie, a small grin pulling at his lips, “They’ll- they’ll suck the life out of you! By the time the dinner is over, you will be begging to see the sunlight again, and you will never be able to. Figuratively speaking.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve already met all of them,” he said patiently and you felt your heart melt, “In case you forgot.”

“Yes, and do you remember how that went?” you asked, “Nolan threatened you, my mother treated you like she was going to hire you and questioned you about everything, and Mina… Mina is a warning by existence.”

“Kenzie was nice though.”

“Yeah, she’s the only good person in our family,” you muttered, then turned your head when you felt his glances on you. “What?”

“Nolan is a part of your family?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you scrunched up your face and grabbed your lip liner and lipstick to walk to the mirror, uncapped it and started applying it, “I’m going to have a billionaire stepfather who looks like a puppy around my mother— that’s not the point.” You put the lipstick into your purse and went to sit down on the bed again while he ran his fingers through his curls as if trying to keep them under control, “I just don’t want you to change your mind because my family doesn’t know how to act normal.”

“Change my mind about what?”

“About this,” you motioned between you and that was more than enough to make him turn his head, his brows furrowed. “I love them, but they’re going to be overly prying, overly dramatic, overly….everything and the next thing we know—“

“That’s never going to happen,” he approached you to crouch down so that he could look at you better, then reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, “That’s why you were so nervous about this?”

You pursed your lips, heaving a sigh and shrugged silently.

“Do you remember what you said to me a couple of days ago, that night?” he asked, “How trust works both ways?”

“You already know almost everything about my past.”

“That’s not it,” he shook his head, “This is about our present, and future.”

“Or lack thereof,” you commented dryly, making him chuckle.

“Do you seriously believe that?”

“They can be a little intimidating.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you, “And no matter what happens tonight, or on dinners to come with-“

“Social vampires.”

“With your family,” he corrected you, “It won’t change anything. I promise.”

You cupped his cheek, running your fingertips over his slight stubble and he turned his head to place a kiss into your palm, nuzzling there.

“Fine,” you murmured, “Let’s go see my sadistic demon father then. Should be enough of a practice for tonight.”

                                              ***

When you and Spencer got to the prison your father was held in, Luke was already by the hallway, waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said, “He’s going to be ready in five.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And don’t worry, after you guys are done here, I’m taking him to bullpen and he will leave at 7 p.m. latest. Rossi promised, even if there’s a dead body he’s gonna attend the dinner tonight.”

You looked up at Spencer, “Wait, there was a possibility of you not attending if someone ends up dead?”

“I mean if there’s a case…”

“Please don’t kill someone so that you guys can avoid this dinner,” Luke pointed out and you made a face at him, “We took you off our suspects list way too soon.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and one of the guards opened the door.

“He’s ready.”

“I’ll be behind the glass if you two need anything.” Luke said and Spencer squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you everything would be alright.

“Come on,” he coaxed and you nodded, then took a deep breath and entered the interrogation room, Spencer following you. Your father looked up, then raised his brows.

“Oh look at you two, together again,” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest not to show how nervous you were. You took your seat across from him beside Spencer, and crossed your arms.

“John.”

“Dr. Reid.”

“So that’s why you haven’t had the time to come and see me lately,” your father motioned between you, “I can hardly say I approve but…”

“Oh that’s good. I’d probably kill myself if I did something you’d approve of.”

“Honey, you’re surrounded by CEOs and businessmen, and you went for an FBI agent?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with-”

“How much do you make monthly?” he asked, turning to Spencer, “I mean, I need to make sure-“

“Oh shut up, will you?” you cut him off, “He’s going to be hearing all that nonsense and more tonight, I don’t need this from you too.”

“Tonight?”

You and Spencer exchanged glances and he shrugged slightly, as if telling you to continue. A small smile pulled at your lips and you turned to your father.

“We’re having a family dinner tonight,” you said, “Naturally it doesn’t include you, so there’s one good thing about this bullshit, I guess.”

“Well, if it doesn’t include me you could hardly call it a family dinner.”

Your smile widened and you clicked your tongue,

“Nah, Nolan is going to be there so we’ll be fine. The whole family is there.”

Your father frowned, “Nolan?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, mom’s boyfriend.”

A silence fell upon the room as he stared at you for a couple of seconds,

“Your mother has a boyfriend now?”

You hissed in a breath,

“You’re right, boyfriend doesn’t exactly cut it,” you said, “He’s going to propose, so I guess we could call him mom’s future husband-“

“You’re lying,” he cut you off and you tilted your head.

“Am I though?”

“She wouldn’t get married,” he shook his head, “No way.”

A laughter escaped from your lips, “Why not?” you asked, “Because she loves you?”

“Yes she does.”

“The last time I checked, she called you a monster and was hoping you would die as soon as possible,” you stated, “Barely a love story.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” he said through his teeth, “Your mother and I were in love, Petal. We still are, regardless of divorce, or this.” He motioned around the room and you blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap your mind around it.

“Jesus, you really are delusional.”

Spencer muttered your name to remind you to be careful, but you shook your head, keeping your eyes on your father.

“I’m pretty sure Nolan could buy this whole prison,” you motioned around, “I should suggest that, as a wedding gift.”

“They won’t get- hold on,” your father said, “Did you say Nolan? Nolan Yates?”

“Mm hm.”

“Nolan fucking Yates is going after my wife?”

“Ex-wife who hates your guts,” you corrected him and he gritted his teeth.

“I knew it,” he spat, “The first time I saw him at that gala, I saw the way he looked at your mother. They’re not getting married.”

“Okay then you lunatic,” you scoffed “I guess you need something to have delusions about while we’re out there moving on—“

It happened in a flash. One second you were talking, the next you were cut off as your father jumped on his feet, Spencer pushing you out of your chair to behind him almost automatically.

Then, something in Spencer’s eyes shifted.

He grabbed him by the arm, twisted it and slammed him down to the table in front of you, making you cover your mouth, your heart beating in your throat as the door opened with a bang and Luke and two guards came in.  Luke was the first to pull Spencer off of your father, telling him to let go while one of the guards grabbed you and pushed you out of the room before he made his way to your father still trying to get out of the handcuffs and lunge at them as if he was a man possessed. They dragged him out of the interrogation room to what you assumed was the hall that led to his cell while you stood still by the wall, trying your hardest to snap out of it but your mind was almost foggy.

“Excuse me,” you managed to say as you made your way to the bathroom, your hands still shaking. Thankfully no one was there, so you rested your palms on the sink, taking a deep breath before you turned on the tap, holding your hands under the ice cold water.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “It’s fine. You’re fine. It happens, you have a fucked up family.”

You rolled your shoulders back, that crazy light in your father’s eyes flashing in your mind before you shook your head, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice reached inside as he knocked on the door, “Can I come in?”

Your heart was still pacing in your chest but you cleared your throat.

“Yeah,” you called out and he stepped inside, his lips pulled into a thin line as he offered you a small smile.

“Hi,” he said gently, still keeping his distance, standing by the now closed door. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, crossing your arms, adrenaline still pulsing through you, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“Huh?”

“That you had to see that,” he said, “I know I shouldn’t have slammed him down like that, but when he lunged at you, I just…. I saw red. I understand that it was hard to watch and I apologize—“

“Hold on,” you cut him off, gawking at him “You’re apologizing because you stopped that psycho from lunging at me?”

Spencer frowned as if he was confused at your own confusion, and nodded.

“Yeah. Human mind is very complex, so even if you think you hate him, it could’ve been difficult for you to see him hurt, not to mention it was me who did that. Jung has a theory that states—“

“Spencer,” You interrupted him again, “Lock the door.”

His frown deepened but he did as you asked, but he didn’t get to ask why when you walked to him and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes. His hand cradled your head, a sigh of content escaping him but he pulled back when you grabbed his tie to loosen it.

“Wait, here?” he asked, “Y/N, this is a bathroom.”

“Yeah, I’m aware?”

“Do you have any idea how unsanitary this place probably is?”

“Oh, very unsanitary,” you stated, “On the other hand, though…”

You shrugged your shoulders and pulled your silk blouse over your head, so that he could see you in your bra. He stared at you for a moment and he swallowed thickly, his eyes snapping up to yours when you giggled.

“You make a good point,” he muttered before he pulled you into a kiss and walked you back to the sink.

                                                ***

Unfortunately, the rest of the day wasn’t that fun, especially when it was time to get to your mother’s house for the family dinner. You had insisted on picking Spencer up from work after you were done at your work, so that you would at least try to change his mind on the road again, but when you actually arrived to your mother’s place, he still looked like he wanted to do this.

“Last warning,” you said as Spencer looked up at the house, then twirled the flower bouquet in his hand, “Not too late to change your mind professor.”

“I’ll be fine, come on,” he offered his free hand and you took it, then both of you climbed the stairs to the front door.

“I’m a little nervous, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“You hummed the Darth Vader theme for the whole road,” Spencer reminded you, “I had a feeling you were nervous, yeah.”

“Abandon hope all ye enter here,” you quoted Dante as you both reached the door and Spencer scoffed a laugh.

“Ah we went from the den of vampires into the gates of hell, then?”

“Yeah! As Dante would put it, to a place we come where nothing shines.”

“I doubt he envisioned this when he was talking about the circles of hell.” He rang the doorbell and you let out a small whine, looking up at the dark sky.

“There are worse people than me out there,” you said as the footsteps came closer, “Why am I being subjected to—“

“Spencer!” your mother greeted him as she opened the door and you frowned.

“Since when do you answer the door?” you asked and she shot you a look before smiling at Spencer.

“Hello Ms. Knight.”

“Welcome, both of you!” she gasped at the flowers, “For me?”

“Oh—yes, of course.”

“They’re lovely, thank you!” she said and took them from him, “Come in, come in!”

“No I’m serious, did something happen to Tina? You never answer the door.”

“It’s nice to see you too sweetie, I see we started our dramatics on the way.” she kissed your cheek and you smiled.

“Hi mom.”

“Let me put these in a vase.”

“Spencer!” a gleeful scream rang in the hallway as your mother went to the kitchen and Lily threw herself at Spencer who crouched down as soon as he saw her “Hi!”

“Hi there! Whoa, you’re very strong!”

“Just in time for bedtime,” Kenzie walked into the hallway with a wine glass in her hand, “Hi guys.”

“I told mommy you’re a magician! And grandma, and Nolan too!” Lily counted with her fingers, “And I told them- I told them you can make coins disappear, and that you can do magic with paper, and then—“

“Bug, breathe,” you said, “Also, where’s my hug?”

Lily hastily rushed to you to hug you, then turned to Spencer as if she wasn’t interrupted while he just watched her with a fond smile on her face, listening intently to everything she was saying, and that warm feeling spread through your stomach again.

“And then I told Bobby I know a superhero, then he told me superheroes can’t be magicians but he’s wrong! Do you use magic to catch bad guys? Because if you do, I can help you with your superhero name!”

“Alright, auntie time.” you lifted her up into your arms as Spencer straightened up, “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t,” Spencer shook his head, still smiling, “Please, I… she’s amazing.”

“Lily,” Kenzie said, “Bed time, come on.”

“Can you show me a magic trick please and thank you?” Lily said breathlessly and Spencer let out a laugh before turning to Kenzie.

“Is that okay?”

“Sure thing.”  

Spencer took out a coin from his pocket and held it in her sight, “Alright Lily, this is just a coin, right?”

“Don’t let him trick you,” you whispered to Lily who giggled, then nodded fervently after checking the coin.

“Yes.”

“Okay, keep your eyes on it,” Spencer showed it to her one more time before he put it into his palm, closed his palm and when he opened it, the coin was nowhere to be seen. Lily gasped, her jaw dropping and you couldn’t help but smile at her expression, her eyes shining with awe. You pressed a kiss on her cheek as Kenzie took her from you, and she let out a whine.

“But you all will have fun here!” she murmured, pouting and you heaved a sigh.

“Lily I can assure you, no one will have fun here.”

“Don’t be like that,” Kenzie shot you a look and smiled at Spencer. “She didn’t intimidate you, did she?”

“She tried,” Spencer said as you wrapped your arms around his torso and he kissed the top of your head, “Didn’t exactly work though.”

“For some reason,” you grumbled and Lily waved at you.

“Night night!”

“Good night!”

“I’ll see you later bug!” you said and entwined your fingers with Spencer’s, then pulled him to the dining room where Kenzie and Nolan were talking. Before you could even greet them, the sight of the dinner table caught your eye and you gawked at all the food there, your mother was definitely out of control and this was the proof of it.

There was enough food for a small army.

“Oh God please don’t tell me we’re going to have live music too,” you muttered and Mina raised her brows.

“Yeah, you might want to lower your expectations,” she shot a fake smile at Spencer, “But then again, that seems to be the theme of tonight. Hi Dr. Reid.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring at her and of course the jab didn’t escape Spencer’s attention, but he chose not to respond with the same sarcasm.

“Hi again.”

“Welcome, Dr. Reid,” Nolan smiled, “Y/N.”

“Hi Mr. Yates.”

“Nolan.”

“So this is where you grew up?” Spencer asked you as you led him away from them towards the library, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “Right over there me and Mina got into a fight and she pushed me into a vase.”

“Ouch.”

“Spent the next ten minutes begging me not to tell mom. Over there,” you pointed at the corner, “Used to be this huge Christmas tree every year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and we used to have another room next to this, dad’s study, but after he was arrested and we all figured out how evil he was, mom grabbed a sledgehammer and smashed the—“

“Dinner is ready!” your mother called out and you heaved a sigh.

“Just saying, we could just tell them there’s been a murder.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” he smiled at you fondly and you shook your head, Kenzie entering the living room again.

“I’ve been called stubborn before.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he joked as he kissed you on the forehead and you turned to your family who was slowly taking their seats around the table, then both of you approached the table to sit down as well.

“I’m so glad we decided to have this dinner,” your mother clasped her hands, “It was about time, wouldn’t you say?”

Spencer smiled at her after thanking the maid who was filling his glass, “Thank you for inviting me Ms Knight.”

“Y/N was trying to make him change his mind,” Kenzie sang and your mother tilted your head.

“Spencer, I promise you we’re not as bad as my daughter tries to make you believe.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad,” you defended yourself, “I’m just saying you might be a little too much.”

“Define too much.”

You gawked at her and motioned at the table, making Spencer chuckle silently beside you.

“I really appreciate the effort you put into this,” he added, making your mother smile.

“Why thank you, Spencer,” she said and turned to Nolan, “Honey, Spencer works for the BAU as you know, you should introduce him to your friend.”

“Your friend?” Kenzie asked.

“The head of FBI,” Nolan said, “That’s a great idea. He might also help you in any position you want in the bureau.”

Spencer blinked a couple of times, as if he was at loss for words, then cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said “I already- I already have the position that I want though.”

“Ah for the future,” Nolan waved a hand and your mother sipped her drink.

“Yeah, now that it came up,” she said, “What are your future plans?”

“Mom,” you said warningly and Mina leaned back, looking between you with a smirk on her face.

“It’s just a question, don’t be so nervous,” she commented and Kenzie arched a brow at her.

“Mina.”

“No it’s okay,” Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, “I um… I think I’d like to focus more on teaching.”

You lowered your glass, “Hm? Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I mean I do love BAU, they’re my family but seeing murders every single day, seeing all those victims, it becomes too much sometimes. But I love teaching already, so I think I will do that. In the future, I mean.”

“Oh how lovely. How about something other than your career though? In your future, would you say you’re planning to have chi—“

“New topic,” you cut her off quickly, “I saw dad today, and he knows you two are dating now.”

Your mother frowned but Nolan reached out to squeeze her hand, “It’s okay, he would learn eventually.”

“He actually thinks he is in love with you,” you told your mom and she scoffed.

“Please don’t say that, we’re eating,” she said, “I don’t want to feel nauseous.”

“It’s actually understandable that he’s under that disillusion.” Spencer said, making all of you turn to him, “Especially people in his situation, they feel this need to hold onto some outside world that’s waiting for them to get out of their minds. In a way, he hopes that because if he feels cut off from here, he will probably crash down. It’s very common in people who are imprisoned.”

“Well he can hope all he wants, I never want to see him again.”

“I’m sure Y/N doesn’t want to see him again either, but she’s not that lucky, thanks to FBI. What do you think about that, Spencer?” Mina asked, and Spencer looked at her.

“I think that’s a decision left to her.”

“Is it though?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mina I need you to remember what I was like when we had dinner with Kenzie, and return the favor.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up.”

“Y/N!” your mom gasped and Mina tilted her head.

“Ah well, excuse me if not all of us are in a forgiving mood unlike you.”

“None of that!” your mother said, “Both of you, honestly…”

“Spencer, you strike me as a whiskey guy,” Nolan said, attracting his attention, “I purchased a bottle of limited series in an auction in London the other day, would you like to try it after dinner?”

“Sure,” he nodded fervently and you held up your hand.

“I want to try that too. And what about that rum you were talking about the other day? Is it here too?”

“Sure thing.” Nolan snapped his fingers, “In fact, I know a great distillery, why don’t we visit there after dinner?”

You lifted your head, “That could be fun. Where?”

“Costa Rica.”

Spencer looked between you, “You—um, you want to go to Costa Rica after dinner?”

“We could take the jet. We’d be back before the dawn, obviously.”

“People,” you cleared your throat, “Has no one read the normalcy manual I e-mailed you the other day?”

“Yes but the manual said we could talk about drinks.” Nolan said and Spencer turned to you, frowning.

“Normalcy manual?”

“I just thought it’d be useful for tonight.”

“Oh it was very useful,” Mina commented, “Especially the footnote about murders, even if it was unnecessary. No one will joke about murder Y/N, we don’t want your boyfriend to arrest you again after—“ she was cut off as Kenzie kicked her leg under the table, and Spencer pursed his lips, as if he still felt guilty about that.

“I wasn’t in the city,” he said calmly, looking her dead in the eye, “I came back as soon as I heard, I was trying to get her out when you got there.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” you said, “Mina , stop it will you?”

She didn’t even look like she heard you, “Get her out? Ah so that’s why I walked into that interrogation room when she was being hounded by your team?”

“Okay!” Kenzie said loudly, throwing the napkin on the table, “I’m so sorry, I just remembered something about Lily’s school that we missed. Babe, can you come with me to the kitchen for a moment please?”

Mina huffed out and put her glass down, then pushed her chair back and followed Kenzie to the kitchen.

“Honestly….” you downed your drink and motioned for another one but then Spencer squeezed your hand under the table, as if trying to assure you.

“I bet you miss the serial killers right now huh?” you mumbled and he tilted your head, humoring you.

“Drinks are better here,” he admitted and you tried to smile before you grabbed your cigarette pack from your purse.

“I’m gonna go to the backyard for a moment to smoke,” you said and your mother shot you a look.

“It’s dinner time, Y/N.”

“It’ll take like five minutes, tops,” you said and pushed your chair back, “I need some fresh air anyway. Spencer?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he said and followed you down the hall until you reached the door to the backyard, opened it and stepped outside.

It was a silent night, as silent as it could be in the middle of the city. You looked up at the stars as you lit your cigarette, then heaved a sigh and leaned back to Spencer’s chest when he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I apologize on her behalf,” you said and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to,” he muttered, “She has a point. I should’ve… I should’ve been there, in that interrogation room.”  

You looked up at him, then reached up to run your fingernails over his slight scruff while he lowered his head to press his nose into the crook of your neck, nuzzling there.

“Spencer, you need to stop blaming yourself,” you said slowly, “I mean it. I don’t blame you for that at all— and….you know Mina. She just turns into someone else when it comes to protecting the family. She doesn’t mean it, not really.”

He nodded silently and you combed back his hair with your fingers, making him heave a sigh.

“This is nice,” he muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“So are you ready to admit that I was right?”

“Hm?”

“I said you would regret it, do you regret it yet?”

“The dinner?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head “No.”

“Why not?”

His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to your neck, “Because you’re here.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours and you stubbed your cigarette before you turned to him. He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but stare at him under the dim lights of the backyard before you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his.

“God, I love you so much,” you said, making him smile, “Thank you for being here and… I don’t know, going through this absolute torture. I know it’s a lot.”

“Hey,” he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” his voice was silent, almost hesitant, “To make you happy. You know that, right?”

You could feel the burning in your eyes and you sniffled, your heart skipping a beat before you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. The rest of the world felt like it disappeared as you swayed from side to side, inhaling his scent and you pulled back.

“I know now,” you wiped at your nose, clearing your throat and he pushed your hair behind your ear.

“Good,” he grinned, “Glad we cleared that out.”

Someone knocked on the door and you turned your head to see Mina as she opened the glass door.

“So about earlier,” she leaned sideways to the doorframe, “Apologies and remorse, etc.”

“That means she’s sorry for what happened earlier,” you said helpfully and Spencer scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, “I get it. Trust me, I felt exactly the same when I saw the tape, but I was trying to get her out with minimum damage.”

Mina nibbled on her lip, eyeing him up and down.

“I guess,” she said, “But just so you both know, mom and Nolan are actually planning a weekend trip to Costa Rica. It’s like what happened with Kenzie all over again, only there’s two of them now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered and Mina nodded at Spencer.

“Yeah so you might need to tell them you have murders to solve during the weekend Sherlock, because they’re not going to listen to us.” she said and Spencer looked down at you.

“I’ll be there in a second,” you said and he pressed a kiss into your hair before making his way inside. Mina lingered there for a moment, inspecting her fingernails in a complete nonchalant manner.

“I guess I could trust you to know what you’re doing,” she said, “Just make sure he doesn’t screw you over, okay?”

You raised your brows, then clicked your tongue.

“Kenzie said no sex unless you apologize huh?”

“She meant it too!” Mina whined as you walked past her, letting out a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” you shook your head with a smile, making your way to the dining room. “All of you.”

Chapter 26 

[firebird-inkheart]

Intention vs. Interpretation

pairing: the idea of us (pre-relationship, Bats and Ellen edition, ft. additional characters) word count: 3496 a/n: there are many benefits to being plagued by silly little thoughts

+++++

“If you stare any more intently I am going to assume you’ve been possessed by a dog and ask if you desire a treat.” Deanna peered at her over the edge of the magazine, one thin eyebrow slowly rising. “Or perhaps you are in need of a walk?”

“Oh you’re hilarious.” Ellen angled herself marginally away from her coworker and slumped in her chair. “Now I’ve been possessed by a dead fish. Feel better?”

Deanna’s nose wrinkled. “Fish stink bad enough when they’re alive. If you’re a dead fish I’ll need to call the janitor to come remove you before you irreparably contaminate my workspace.”

“Really feelin’ the love here De.”

“Feel it more quietly then. And stop staring while you’re at it.” With an air of finality she disappeared behind the magazine again.

Groaning, Ellen shrank even lower in her seat. With a pitiful little push she began a lazy revolution. It was a slow day. There hadn’t been many errands to run, the phone calls to take had barely trickled in, there was no extravagant event to prepare for. The only excitement she had to cling on to was this week’s installment of the company’s creative works magazine. To say that she was eager for her friend to finish reading was an understatement.

Deanna sighed and set the magazine on her lap. “Let me guess: Your only experience with being published was a couple short stories or poems in a high school magazine.”

She stopped spinning and righted herself. 

The corners of Deanna’s eyes crinkled, her mouth twitching with the beginnings of a modest smile. “It’s a different ball of nerves, being published in something so uncontrollably public, isn’t it?”

And just like that, the tension, the restless energy, it flowed out of her. It never failed to amaze her just how good Deanna was at disarming others. Cool, collected, measured― Deanna Sterling was an immovable object. Often such stern resoluteness led people to think she was just a frigid bitch, and there were times when that was actually true, but it was only one facet of her. When people weren’t busy being intimidated by her steel spine, they’d find she could be pleasantly understanding and, above all, kind.

Ellen lightly shook out her hand. “Honestly I’m still in shock my submission was accepted on the first try. That doesn’t feel like something that should just happen, you know?”

“Mm, yes, our publishers can get ridiculously anal about what goes into the magazine,” Deanna agreed, nonchalant. “But I believe you’ve potentially brought something striking and fresh that those vultures couldn’t resist. From what I’ve read so far I have to say, you are very....”

The phone rang. They both flinched, though only Ellen had something colorful to say about it, uttering a long string of swears under her breath. Deanna leaned over and examined the blinking light, noting that it was a direct line from the office. Before she picked up the phone, she glanced back, flashing a small but prominently sharper smile, and finished saying:

“Bold.”

A strange mixture of feelings rose with that statement and she couldn’t pin down how it really made her feel. Bold? How good was bold? Was it something to be nervous about? Proud of? Was it an accomplishment or an expectation to forever be held by? The restlessness returned and her hand curled loosely, moving back and forth in an attempt to shake it off. 

“Yes sir, I’ll send her in.”

The phone met the receiver with a heavy click and Deanna smoothly swung back around. Without any preamble, she said, “Mr. Nagel would like to see you.”

Something unpleasant pitted itself in her stomach, turning all other, more uncertain feelings into a single, solid, dense mass. The only outward expression she allowed to note her discomfort was a slight frown.

“Did he say what for?”

Deanna shrugged and waved her off. She picked up the magazine and purposefully covered her face. 

“Just knock and let yourself in.”

Her eyes narrowed. Turning on her heel, she grumbled, “Feelin’ the love De. Feelin’. The. Love.”

Her and Deanna’s station was not far from the big boss’s office, only perhaps a two minute walk if she really dragged her feet. Too soon she was staring down the big, polished wood doors. Sighing, she knocked quietly before letting herself in.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Nagel?”

Ellen kept her back to the door as she pushed it shut, fingers hovering over the cool metal of the handle. She ignored the urge to latch onto it, to be primed to yank the door open and flee back to her colleague’s side and return to the lighthearted pestering and banter.

It wasn’t that Mr. Nagel was menace, but as he was her boss, discomfort was a thing that came naturally while being in his presence. And given how.... Well behaved... he had been last time, to put it perfunctorily, Ellen wasn’t keen on another conversation with him any time soon. 

Mr. Nagel lowered a magazine― the magazine ―he had been reading, laying it out on the deep mahogany face of his desk. The glossy pages reflected the light, black border contrasting against the white body while small, italicized text marked it; a scripted tattoo. Mr. Nagel tapped on a corner of the page. His face was stoic, reserved. So it was the business side of him she was dealing with, then.

“Congratulations on your first submission being a success.” He leaned back in his luxury chair, only a faint twitch of his mouth indicating that he actually meant what he said. “And before you say anything, no, I did nothing to make that happen. I meant what I said before about the work determining the reward on its own.”

She nodded slowly. Was that all? No, it couldn’t be. Why would he call her here just to congratulate her? That could have been an email.

Steepling his fingers beneath his chin, Mr. Nagel looked at her expectantly. “Tell me about the subject of your story. The muse to your inspiration.”

Her mind was spinning, just a little. “My muse?” 

“Yes. You didn’t call your subject by name, but it was clear who you spoke of all the same. I want to know: Why the Batman?” he elucidated.

“Oh. Oh, um, well.” Perhaps it was just her, but the room was starting to feel a little too warm. She rubbed at a spot behind her ear. “Batman is... He’s doing something no one asked him to. He goes out into those streets each night to fight crime in ways that the cops can’t and often won’t. People say he’s fighting a losing battle, or that he’s just another lawless menace out to make things worse; he scares everyone.

“And I’ve seen the menace everyone spoke of; his violence and anger scared me. But I’ve also seen the careful way he held a child, how human it was for him to be uncertain when presented with a fragile little life. He’s so awkward in his concern that it makes him stiff and unapproachable but it’s there. It’s there.”

She paused to catch her breath, to acclimate herself to the euphoric rush in her veins that always appeared the more passionate she became. It was definitely getting warmer now.

Throughout the course of her rambling Mr. Nagel had righted himself to lean over his desk once again, a curious expression overcoming the usual impassiveness. His chin rested on top of crossed fingers, the corners of his mouth occasionally twitching, eyes slightly narrowed as he assessed every little detail. She tried to not let it get to her.

“Batman, he― He is trying to help. He’s just... struggling to define what that actually means to him.” Ellen let out a slow breath and gestured limply at nothing. “And in the meantime he continues to go back out, doing thankless work. I just...”

Mr. Nagel nodded, as if everything she said had brought a blurry image into startling clarity. He glanced down at the magazine, skimming over the page, then nodded again.

“I had found it intriguing and peculiar all at once that you would submit something like this, and now I believe I understand why.” He looked up, rather satisfied with whatever he had deduced. “Love letters are crafts of yearning and unrivaled passion, delicate and deep works that confess the heart’s desires. That you would write one to the masked vigilante is brave and compelling.”

Ellen opened her mouth intent on thanking him for the praise, only to stop short as everything he said fully registered.

“Pardon?”

A love letter? He thought her work was a love letter? To Batman? 

True confusion flitted across his face as he watched her edge towards combusting. A small frown appeared. “It is a love letter, is it not?”

“No!” she practically gasped. “No, it’s― I wrote a letter of gratitude! I wanted to thank him! Batman’s out there, trying to do something right in this messed up place, and no one acknowledges it. He saved my neck once, so I was just.... I was just trying to pay it forward, let him know someone’s in his corner and― and―”

It was her. It was definitely her that was getting warmer, not the room. She was practically boiling at this point, so utterly flustered by the implication― no, the assumption! ―that she had feelings for Batman! Her! Having feelings for―!

She was beginning to feel alarmingly faint.

“I see,” Mr. Nagel said, quite calm. “There was something rather romantic about your prose that I simply assumed that was the intent, forgive me.”

“It― It’s fine.” The words barely managed to find their way out without sounding too strangled. 

It was absolutely surreal to see her boss at a loss. For a moment they merely eyed each other, gauging the situation and how awkward cutting it off would be if they disengaged at that exact moment. And then he bit the bullet.

“Congratulations, again, on your successful submission.” He flipped the magazine closed. “You may go now.”

Without needing to be told twice, and barely remembering to mumble a thanks, Ellen fled the room. She beelined it for her desk, not a hint of grace following her clumsy self as she collapsed into her chair, buried her face in her hands, and groaned.

Deanna said nothing, never one to pry into office affairs, especially ones that concerned the boss. She allowed Ellen to have a moment for her― pity? embarrassment? agony? ―party, before moving on as usual. 

“I finished reading your little, ah, letter.”

Oh. Oh no.

Nervously, she lowered her hands to stare at her coworker. The grin on Deanna’s face was terrifying.

“So your type is tall, dark, and dangerous huh?”

“No!” The denial was too quick and Deanna looked insufferably smug. Ellen wished she could melt out of existence. “I did not write about my feelings for-for Batman! I mean, I did write about some feelings and yes they regarded him, but they were feelings of gratitude! A thank you! I wrote a thank you!”

Foot, meet mouth. Every word was just a little more depth added to the hole she had apparently dug for herself. 

Deanna didn’t appear entirely convinced, though the level of teasing in her tone dialed down significantly as she conceded, “I did catch a lot of thankfulness in the undertones, but your prose was so emphatic that I couldn’t help but interpret it as romantic.”

Damn herself and her stupid need to write such flourished and drawn out prose.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she protested weakly.

Deanna nodded understandingly. “I know, I know. But you’re going to have to start rolling with the punches on this, because I’m sure I won’t be the only one interpreting your words that way.”

Terrific.

Turning the seat towards the desk, Ellen slumped over. Her forehead hit the cool wood surface with a resigned thunk, followed by a pitiable moan.

Another moment of companionable silence followed as Deanna returned to her work. The soft clack of typing bridged the gap between them. A pleasing little sound that had always been relaxing to her, Ellen started to loosen up some.

A pause, and she glanced at her friend from the corner of her eye. There was a subtle smile pulling at Deanna’s red lips. She snickered. An alarm went off in the back of her mind.

“I never pegged you as one for being into leather.”

“Stop!”

+++++

Bruce stared at the the magazine Alfred had placed before him. Creative Works: Amorevolous, Edition #63. Produced by Nagel Industries. The company Ellen worked for.

He looked up at Alfred, a little confused, a little curious.

“Consume something other than the latest murder mystery for once,” the older man answered rather blithely. “I believe pages 23 and 24 might strike your interest.”

The older man chuckled to himself and promptly wandered off. Bruce squinted at his butler’s receding figure before turning his attention to the magazine once more. Casually, he flipped it open and began skimming the table of contents. What could possibly be so interesting about pages 23 and 24?

For the Guarding Shadow, E. Ritchie....... 23, 24

(He wasn’t sure what stole his breath. The initial anxiety of being acknowledged in any capacity? To be alluded to as his other self? Or was it simply because it was her?)

Swallowing past the strange new lump in his throat, he carefully turned to page 23.

For the guarding shadow who prowls the realm of deep night. For the beating heart concealed beneath the mask. For the fighter, for the brave. 

For you I write.

Dedicate.

Believe.

For you, for you, for you I hope you see.

(And he was lost to the pull of those words.)

+++++

Several hours later the Batman stood on a familiar fire escape, kept to the shadows, away from the warm light peeking from a half curtained window. He had debated (agonized) the merits of coming here, whether it was a good idea or not. Part of him was tied in reluctance, afraid of what might change if he saw her now. (Part of him struggled to break free of that reluctance, to see her in the way she somehow had seen him.)

She sat at her small collapsible table, laptop awake, new word document open and ready. And blank. It had been that way for the last ten or so minutes. Ellen hadn’t moved much either, merely staring at the screen. Was she writing in her head instead? Or were her thoughts preoccupied by something else? (Someone else?)

The lump in his throat had come and gone throughout the day and now it had returned with a vengeance. He swallowed past it, feeling horrendously uncertain as he reached out and lightly tapped on the window.

Ellen jumped. She always did. And when she turned around she looked positively frazzled. In an instant she was on her feet and at the window, pulling it open. Warm air flowed out of the apartment, temporarily easing the biting chill outside.

“Hey,” she murmured, breathless. For brief moment she swayed, head bowing with another winded exhale. (The lightheadedness would pass quickly, as it always did. As she would always tell him. Even so he reached out a hand to steady her― Only to quickly withdraw as she righted herself.)

“You should really give yourself a moment after standing up,” he quietly admonished.

She made a noncommittal sound and slid out onto the fire escape. “So everyone keeps telling me, but I just move without really thinking about it half the time. If it hits bad then I’ll be regretting my decisions after I pick myself off the ground, same as always.”

He frowned. Surely that wasn’t a healthy way to handle things. Not that he had much room to judge given how much Alfred had to nag him to do something as basic as eating.

Ellen leaned against the opposing railing, arms folded snugly across her chest, ankles crossed over one another. She bit her lower lip and ducked her head just enough that she wasn’t looking directly at him. “Pretty sure I already know why you’re here, but uh, what brings you here?”

No more beating around the bush then. 

(The anxiety was an endless ebb and flow welling up within him, but he needed to draw this hard line in the sand.)

“Your letter.”

(That enthralling letter.)

A sharp intake, tension stiffening her shoulders― With one hand she reached up to rub at her eyes before shifting the motion behind her ear. She looked like she wanted to run. (Like she was preparing to take a hit.)

“In hindsight I think I fucked up,” she mumbled, effectively cutting him off before he could do the same to her. He waited quietly for her to continue. 

“I love writing exaggerated prose. It’s what I was known for in high school, what I hope I’ll be known for in this big wide world. Making people feel to think, and think to feel―There’s nothing more satisfying.”

(And she was succeeding, even now. He had done nothing but ruminate on those words since he had read them. Again and again and again. Each time like a hand plunging in his chest, to grasp his heart with foreign heaviness, to make him think even more. Again and again and again.)

“But after today I just―,” she shook her head, “I got so much crap from all my coworkers because they took it to mean that I was― that I was in l-lo―”

Her head turned more towards the shadows but not before he caught sight of bright red splotching her face. She cleared her throat.

“And then it hit me earlier that for all the trouble that letter was causing me, it’s bound to cause you even more. You’re a guy that’s wrapped up in danger, you can’t be bothering yourself with stuff like this when you’ve got a city to look after.”

“So why did you write it then?”

(Why did she make him feel?)

Ellen finally looked at him. “I wrote the letter because you inspired me. And in turn I hoped I could do the same for you.”

He froze. “I... inspired you?”

Had there ever been a time in his life when someone had told him that? He couldn’t recall; not as Bruce Wayne, an heir of tragedy, and definitely not as Batman, menace of the night. 

(It felt... nice.)

A tiny smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, you did.”

“I was under the impression that you weren’t fond of how I operated.” He folded his arms and leaned a little further into the shadows.

“I may have plenty of opinions on your methods, but that doesn’t mean I dislike your intentions.” There was a pause while she debated with herself what to say next. And then, suddenly quiet again, she added, “Or you.”

(And that felt good, too. Really good. The realization startled him.)

“Ellen―” Her name fell so easily off his tongue and all at once he was at a loss for what to say. 

She pushed off the railing and moved a step closer. Softness caressed the timbre of her voice. “You chose a path that gets very lonely; you’re a fighter, you’re brave, but you’re also just one man. You inspired me to write because I wanted to inspire hope in you. To tell you that your work is not nearly as thankless as it may seem.”

For a moment he only dared to breathe. Ever since the night his world had fallen apart he had felt like a failure. Useless. Growing up he had become a bitter, solitary creature constantly at odds with himself; always so angry with what little he could and couldn’t do. And when he donned the mask he had told himself it did not matter if every person were against him, as long as they were afraid he would manage. 

It was exhausting.

(‘For the beating heart concealed behind the mask.’ a traitorous thought whispered to him. And his heart was beating no matter how hard he tried to deny it.)

And he was moving. Away. Away from the warmth, from the light. Away from her and the words which spoke so easily to things he had long since thought died within him. (He could blame it on the city. That he had work to do and no more time to spare. But the truth was much more simple, and simply put, he was scared.)

He hesitated before the drop. 

“Thank you.”

And then he was descending, returning to the night. He paused once his feet hit the ground, daring himself to look up, to look back. Ellen still lingered on the fire escape.

The Batman looked away. As he stalked back into dark’s gaping maw something small took root in his beating heart.

(Something... amorevolous.)

+++++ +++++

a/n:

Amorevolous: affectionate; loving

[taestefully-in-luv]

hiii, part 1, number 5 or 9 with Jin pleasee 😊

Prompt: “I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips.”

Pairing: Jin x female reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: heated make out, breast play, oral (female receiving) Vaginal fingering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heat is almost unbearable this July afternoon, the sun coming down on you in such a way that has your hairline dripping with sweat. You can no longer tell now though, not when your body is plunged under water in this cool, cool pool water.

Jin invited everyone to his beach house for a weekend getaway, your close friends piled in one little house on the shore. It’s exactly what you need, if you are being honest. Your boyfriend���well, ex-boyfriend—just dumped you, you’re behind on rent and you just got kicked off a major project at work. You need a break, you deserve a break.

The sun’s rays come down in blinding waves and you do your best to protect yourself and your skin. But it is almost impossible and unavoidable—your freckles. Your friends make fun of you lovingly but you still find yourself insecure. The one who makes fun of you most though? Jin.

“Oh man.” He leans down at the edge of the pool, getting a look at your wet face. “I think I see a new one.” He pulls out an imaginary notebook, “Number 324…” he pretends to write in, then he’s looking at you with a goofy smile.

“Ha-ha.” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up and out of the pool. “Good one, Jin. Really.”

“I thought so.” He shrugs before he is stepping back to give you some space. “You usually respond a little more lively though.” Jin crosses his arms out in front of him. “Everything okay y/n?”

“I never respond lively.” You deadpan, you walk towards a chair and grab the towel and wrap it around your body. You feel yourself grow irritated.

“Hmm.” Jin pretends to think, “No, something is off.” He then wipes his goofy grin off his face and looks at you softly. “Is everything—”

“You know what?!” you throw your hands up, “No! Everything is not okay.” You huff out, walking closer to him. You catch the attention of Hobi and Yoongi who are sitting nearby but they don’t butt in.

“Work sucks, I am hoping I don’t get kicked out of my apartment and Eun broke up with me over text and you!” You place your hands on your hips. “You keep making fun of my stupid ass freckles!” You stare up at Jin with hard eyes and you see something flash across his.

“Eun broke up with you?” He mumbles, “Over text?” “That’s all you are taking from that?” You roll your eyes again, “Ridiculous—”

“And your freckles aren’t stupid…” Jin’s eyes slide to the side as he straightens himself.

“Yeah, right. I’m going inside.” You flip your hair behind your shoulder and spin on your heels to head inside the beach house.

Hobi and Yoongi give Jin a look before Jin is throwing up his hands in surrender.

“What?” He whines.

“Instead of acting like a middle school boy, being mean to his crush, you could just—” Hobi gets cut off with just a look from Jin.

“Look, I’m working on it.” Jin complains, “Fuck’s sake.” He makes his way inside the house, trying to follow you. But you aren’t in the living room or the kitchen or your bedroom. So you must be in the main bathroom. Jin walks up to the door and notices it’s cracked open, he can see you through the crack and watches as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

You look frustrated. You drop the towel to the floor and stand here, observing your body in the reflection. Your purple bikini wet and sticking to your skin, your hair wild and messy, your freckles on full display. They aren’t even that noticeable, you think, but they are there.

Your eyes fill with sadness as you stare at yourself and Jin wonders what’s going through your mind. You admitted you are having a hard time but he doesn’t know what he can do to make you feel better. He didn’t mean to make you more insecure, he loves your freckled skin. He just…ugh.

Jin creaks open the door, startling you. He walks inside and shuts the door before he is leaning against the wall, just eying you. You start to feel woozy underneath his gaze, Jin always has this switch. Where he is lighthearted and goofy but then he can turn into this warm, slightly intimidating person who you want to…no, you shouldn’t think that.

“Your freckles…” He whispers, “I really do like them.” Jin admits softly, his arms crossed against his chest.

“Jin—”

“I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips.” he leans away from the wall and walks closer to you. You stare up at him with slightly shocked eyes.

“What do you mean?” You stutter out and he grins at you.

“Isn’t it self-explanatory?” Jin steps even closer now, you feel yourself getting backed into the bathroom counter.

“You want to…touch my skin…with your lips?” You mumble, not entirely sure what Jin is getting at.

“I want to kiss your freckles.” He places his hands on either side of you on the counter. “Kiss your skin.” He leans closer into your space.

“Are you okay with that?” he asks, his breaths hitting your nose.

You gulp, trying to swallow down his words. Jin is Jin. He’s your friend, he’s…well, he’s Jin. You would be stupid to deny how incredibly handsome he is and how he makes you feel. But Eun only just broke up with you…but maybe you need to get over him.

“Where would you kiss first?” you ask quietly. “There’s options.”

“Your nose.” He says quickly, like he didn’t even need time to think, like maybe he already thought about it. “You also have a little mole on the corner of your lips, I was thinking maybe there too.”

“Jin…” you call out for him breathlessly, the idea of him kissing you beginning to shake up your world.

“Yes?”

“You’d be surprised where I have little freckles at…” You raise a brow at him and smirk. Jin feels his swim trunks tightening around his crotch at your words.

“Is that a challenge?” Jin breathes out more roughly. “For me to find them.”

“You can only search with your lips though.” Your hand reaches up to touch his chest, it glides down his stomach making him tense.

“Deal.”

Jin wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close as his lips find yours. His full, puffy lips move against yours roughly, almost in desperation. But it feels exhilarating. You can’t recall the last time someone has kissed you like this.

Your hands rub against his chest and stomach while his hands find your ass and he picks you up, sitting you down on the counter. His lips never leaving yours as he devours you. You moan, parting your lips and Jin takes advantage to slip his tongue in, playing, dancing with your tongue.

Jin’s hands travel up your back until he is untying your swim suit top, it falls off your body and Jin immediately throws it to the side. He pulls away from you to admire your bare chest, his breathing unsteady as he reaches out to touch you.

“So beautiful.” He whines. “How are you so beautiful?”

You can’t help but feel shy in your position plus his sweet words…has Jin always made you feel this way?

“Have you always thought I was beautiful or is this new?” You find the courage to say and Jin looks at you with a soft, tender expression.

“Always.” He says slowly, “Is that weird?”

“No…” you admit between long breaths, “Just because you find me pretty doesn’t mean you—”

“Yes, it does.” He cuts you off.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say?” you tease and Jin walks between your legs.

“I like you y/n.” He takes your hand in his and rubs your thumb with his. You blink up at him repeatedly until you nod your head slowly.

“Okay…” you gulp. “I don’t know how I feel…” you admit. You wish you could tell him you like him too but your breakup is too fresh…but you…”But I don’t want to stop.” You gesture between your bodies and he smirks down at you.

“Take your time, y/n.” he tells you softly, “But yes, I don’t want to stop either.”

Then he’s leaning down and catching your lips for a long kiss. His tongue slips past between your lips and swirls against your own, you moan out, loving the feeling.

He hands squeeze your breasts, his thumb rolling over your nipple making you groan. His hands slide further down your body until he is dragging off your swim suit bottoms, he slips them off one leg at a time, exposing you.

“Can I make you feel good?” he starts lowering himself to your exposed pussy, “Please?” he quietly begs. “Want to taste you.”

You quickly and frantically nod your head in approval, Jin smiles up at you and lowers his head into your heat.

His wet, slippery tongue finds your clit immediately. He starts flicking his tongue expertly against it, your whines and whimpers filling the small room. He sucks on your bundle of nerves before you feel two fingers sink into your hole, you gasp out when he starts to slowly thrust them inside you.

“Mm.” Jin moans into your center, his tongue lapping you up. You feel your body become more and more tense, you feel the build up starting to happen.

He continues to lick at you over and over, while his fingers fuck you quickly. His long fingers reach places you never could—Or Eun for that matter.

Your moans get louder and louder as he gets closer to bringing you to orgasm. He curls his fingers making you see stars, his hot, wet mouth on your pussy has you closing your legs around his face as you start moving your hips up and down, fucking his mouth.

“Oh Jin!” You scream out, you feel the tension snap and you are coming all around his tongue. You continue to ride it out by rubbing your pussy against his tongue with your hips.

“You taste amazing.” He says, you loosen your legs around his head and he begins to pull back from you. His face glistening with your juices and you love to see it.

“You were amazing…”

“I wonder how you would feel…coming all over my…” Then Jin looks up at you, “Maybe one day I can find out.” He settles.

“Maybe you can.”

[toricrypticice]

The Golden Scarred

CHAPTER TWO (Lingering Desolation)

Three days later

Hunter felt hot and sticky. He had woken up feeling more out of it than usual, with a loud ringing in his ears and a sour taste in his mouth. He had attempted to change his bandages but even the slightest touch caused immense pain, almost identical to the night he-..

betrayed Belos.

The panic about the night was an easy excuse to leave the bandages untouched, with the fact that he really didn’t have enough bandages left anyway to wrap himself properly. The last few days hadn’t gone as planned. His body only seemed to hurt more as the days went on, making it hard to fall asleep and impossible to stay asleep. Either way he was completely drained.

Hunter sniffs shivering as he pulls his cloak closer, sweat dripping down under the mask as he walks. He was looking for food again. He had tried to make the sandwich last, he really did but leaving food out in the wild was bound to attract animals. Fighting squirrels for a sad, soggy crust of a sandwich really wasn’t worth it. Hunter had also attempted to go into town to find food but he found it crawling with scouts. Scouts that worked for Belos. Scouts who were posting his wanted scroll everywhere they could. Scouts that would turn him in before he even had a chance to redeem himself. Just the panic of getting caught and having to face Belos after everything he’d done.. Hunter decided it was best to just check the woods and hope for the best. Sure he wouldn’t find any sandwiches again but there at least had to be Slazberries or something right?

He had been walking for a good hour and much to his dismay he hadn’t found anything and another boiling rainstorm was approaching fast. At least that's what his- Er The Palisman told him. Hunter leans against the staff panting softly, his vision blurring and shifting around him. He was severely exhausted. Rascal tweets softly tilting his head causing the male to chuckle softly waving his hand.

“No no I got this.” The Palisman seemed unimpressed before it twitters again, flying up to help look. Hunter suddenly felt more grounded and aware as his eyes widened, his head snapping up. “D-Don't leave!” his voice was slightly desperate as he felt an immense wave of panic in losing his only friend. Hunter bites his tongue shamefully at the sudden outburst. He knew he shouldn’t get attached.

What would Belos think?

Rascal flutters back landing on his shoulder tweeting softly.

And yet Hunter let’s out a breath, relaxing his shoulders. The small bird nuzzles against the males cheek. Maybe he could talk to Belos and convince him otherwise about Palisman? I mean they really weren’t so bad right? Rascal was Hunter's.. Friend after all.

Maybe-

Hunter coughs harshly softly into his hand gritting his teeth.

“I think I hear a trespasser! ooooh! which means more friends for me, oh hoot!” He hears someone hoot happily. Hunter's eyes widened as he gasps slamming his back against a tree to hide feeling his head spin.

Oh Titan.

No one could see him like this!

So uncomposed.

A traitor.

There was no possible way for him to fight like this.

He peers out, narrowing his eyes, his vision slightly distorted and blurry before focusing. He didn't see any guards, odd. He lets out a strangled yell as something suddenly wraps around his leg, pulling him upward causing him to gasp in pain as he falls to the ground easily. Hooty smiles hovering above the male. Hunter grips his side in pain curling in on himself. It was the creature from a few days ago he took note.

“Hiya golden guard!” Hooty had heard so much about the prodigy from Lilith. He was supposedly a spoiled brat and nothing more. Belos’ right hand man. And yet?..

Luz had mentioned she had seen the boy out here in the woods.

Hooty tilts his head confused as he sees the blood stained young male.

Hunter grips his staff growling in pain and now anger, He quickly focuses his energy and zaps a few feet away standing.

“AH!” He shouts loudly as his side suddenly pulses badly from the small exertion. He clenches his teeth, gasping as he almost falls over, his vision blurring badly as he pants tiredly leaning heavily on his staff. Just that small spell alone was enough to exhaust him. So much for not showing his weakness to his foe.

He needed to get out of here, there was no way that he would win this fight. HIs head felt fuzzy and it was getting harder to focus. All he wanted was to sleep.

Hunter glances behind himself as the owl creature starts to move forward.

“Hey Luz will never believe-!” Before the demon could finish Hunter broke into a run away from the area. Lightning cracks overhead and the male gasps looking up to the sky before boiling rain starts to slowly drizzle down.

“NoNoNoNo” Hunter whimpers helplessly as he pants, closing his eyes tightly, his lungs burning. Why did everything have to be against him? Why did he have to end up here? Why did he have to ruin everything? He breaks into a harder run as he hears the creature call for him. No, he needed to get away. Get back to the cave. No one else could see him like this, what would Belos think?!

Just Get back to the cave.

Get back to-

*BAM!*

He slammed into something hard, knocking him back he stumbled before tripping over himself dizzily and finally falling over, wincing as his whole body flares with pain. His head swam slightly making him nauseous. He growls in pain and anger. What had he hit?

“Ow! what the heck?” A whined voice followed by a gasp “Golden Guard”

Hunter blinks back tears as he looks up, seeing none other than Luz the human standing there with a magic shield above her head protecting her from the boiling rain. The human had been walking the woods everyday since she saw the male. She didn’t understand. Why was he here in BonesBurrow to begin with? And why was he hiding in the woods? Had they been watching her? She needed to know.

Hunter's eyes widened.

No.

Anyone but her.

She’s the reason he was in this mess to begin with.

Another wild “witch” using forbidden magic.

He quickly stands almost falling over having to use his staff for support, his vision wavering as his head spins.

“S-Stay back Human!” He slams his staff down in some sort of intimidation although he was struggling to hold his composure. Luz stares in confusion and shock.

There stood the Golden Guard.

Bruised.

Bloody.

Shaking as he held his staff in a tight grip, almost scared.

The rain drips down causing him to hiss lightly. Hunter didn’t have time for this. He grits his teeth before coughing into his hand.

“Are- are you alright? -..What are you doing out here in the woods?” Luz asks softly, standing firm, narrowing her eyes at the male. Hunter takes another step back leaning heavily on his staff, her words seeming to echo. Hunter growls holding a hand to his head. Staying awake seemed to be getting harder and harder as his vision blurs again.

No he mustn't show weakness.

His breathing came out a bit ragged. “Look, let's get out of the rain.” To this Hunter's head snaps up in surprise, the motion making his vision swim. “I can help you” she extends a hand smiling, to which Hunter lets out a loud agitated scoff. He couldn’t trust her. He snaps angrily.

“I don't need your help!” The yell was followed by a loud intake of air as he staggered dropping his staff to which Rascal immediately flitters up tweeting worried. He tries to grab the tree next to him only to fall to the ground with a loud thump, his head slamming on the roots beneath him as his vision darkens. “Mm” he pants, feeling exhaustion start to take over.

He was so tired,

so cold.

His body felt so,

so heavy.

The noises around him seemed to fade.

Would it matter if he just rested for a bit?

He was useless after all.

No longer needed…

No one would notice..

Maybe he could finally-

“EDA!!!!” Hunter's head spun as the shout startled him. He peels his eyes open slightly, hmm had he moved, or rather was he moving? When had he fallen asleep? His vision blurred but he noticed the owl house coming into view feeling sleep start to take over again. No he couldn’t, not around the enemy. He needed to stay awake but no matter how hard he was struggling it wasn’t working. He pushes against the human slightly in a feeble attempt to get away.

Rascal flittered around the Human that held Hunter squawking worried. The Owl Lady runs in from the kitchen. Hunters eyes become too heavy for him and he slowly falls asleep much to his own dismay.

“What happened, did Hooty get into my apple blood again?-” Eda’s eyes widened as she sees Luz holding one of the Coven guards. “Why do you have that?!” Eda yells in distaste. Luz carefully lays the male on the couch, Rascal landing on his shoulder. Hunter groans slightly in his sleep. Luz carefully removed the mask, eyes widening before she quickly looks away gagging. She hadn’t been prepared for that. The young males left eye was almost fully swollen shut, blood stained his face slightly. There were a few scratches and burns on his face. A slash on his nose and a busted lip. But the worst was a giant gash under his eye, the area oozed slightly and was badly bruised.

Owl lady winces at the sight of the young male. “Yikes. King, get the first aid kit!.” There was no answer. Eda sighs heavily running out of the room to find what she needed.

….

When Hunter started to wake up he heard voices all around him, talking in a hushed tone. “Looks...Bad infection…..magic...but..” Only able to get bits and pieces of the conversation. He slowly peels his eyes open letting out an involuntary whine as his eye throbs from the action. He felt sick to his stomach as he shivered, his vision blurring.

“Oh good you're awake.” Luz hums. Hunter sits up almost instantly upon hearing the voice, letting out a loud growl of pain. He holds his side as it flares distressfully. “Hey be careful” she lays a hand on his shoulder to which Hunter flinches back slightly before glaring her down.

“I'm fine! Why am I here?” Hunter demanded angrily, his eye throbbing at the stress as he swats her hand away annoyed. His head still swam slightly thumping with every word. He remembered trying to run away, he didn't remember agreeing to come to the Owl House.

“Hey I’m just trying to help you” Luz snaps back slightly, frowning as she rubs her hand before pouting at the young males stubbornness. She had so many questions and by the looks of it none of them were going to be answered.

“Last time I checked I didn't ask for your help!” He retorts, breathing a bit heavily as he stands, a few beats of sweat dripping down his face. He felt dizzy and still rather tired but there was no way he could stay here. Luz frowns angry now, she says something under her breath in Spanish about stubbornness as she clenches her fists slightly before she lets out a sigh trying again.

“Look Hunter please you aren't well” Luz tries her tone trying to stay sweet but Hunter can sense her slight agitation with him. He had always been good at reading other people. Working for Belos over the years will do that to you. He always had to make sure to know exactly what to say and what not to say in front of the male. He wasn’t welcome there. He wasn’t welcome here either. It seemed he wasn’t really welcome anywhere.

“I’m doing just fine.” Hunter grumbles as he starts to open the door, clenching his teeth, feeling his legs wobble as he holds his side. Luz huffs loudly, the other witch couldn’t take care of himself clearly by the looks of it.

“Let us help you!” She grabs his wrist quickly to keep him from leaving but what Luz doesn’t expect is for the soft pitiful whimper to leave the male as he flinches back badly. The male to sharply turn around and back against the door in an attempt to get away from the female. The once great Golden Guards shoulders to suddenly start to shake as it slowly became impossible for him to catch his breath. Luz’ eyes widen and she let’s go quickly, her eyebrows furrow worried. “..Hunter?” She whispers softly not wanting to scare him worse. Hunter moves back quickly looking like a deer in the headlights, his back slamming against the door harshly as he shuts his eyes tightly. His body was shaking slightly as he pants a bit heavily.

Hunter could hear his heart racing and he felt like he couldn't breath. His hand moved to his chest as his heart pounded and he pants.

No no he couldn’t panic!!

not here!

not now!

And especially NOT in front of the human!!!

God did he have to be so!

so..

Weak!

Hunter chokes as he tries to breathe, tears starting to blur his vision, his hand gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

WEAK…

So useless!!

So—

“Oh how you disappoint me Hunter... “

Belos' voice echoed in his being. Hunter gasps loudly, wheezing as his eyes widen in a panic upon hearing the males voice.A few tears finally escaping his barrier and dripping down his cheeks. Luz watched as the Golden Guard lost all of his composure, seemingly trying to catch his breath as he shook. He looked terrified as he lets out a pained whimper. Luz couldn’t help but stare for a moment, stunned. Hunter looked… like a frail child. Nothing like how she had ever seen him. She sighs, slowly reaching out to which Hunter immediately recoils, putting his hands up shakily blocking his face, desperately pleading in terror as he sees his Uncle advance towards him.

“No No p-please I'm sorry Uncle! i-I can do better please i-!”

Luz gasps a bit softly in surprise. She’d never seen the male in such a state, she hesitates before putting her hand gently on his shoulder. Hunter inhaled sharply, eyes wide as he freezes looking up at the concerned human slowly starting to realize where he was and what just happened. He catches his breath steadily. The gentle physical touch being enough to bring him down from his panic.

“R-Right…” he breathes out looking down, embarrassed and angry at himself “a-another episode” his voice wavers as he blushes laughing nervously. Only having had a panic attack like this once before.. And let’s just say Belos was not happy and it did not help the situation he had been in.

Rascal tweets moving to the young males shoulder. Hunter gasps in surprise, before slowly smiling sadly at the small bird, carefully petting the Palisman. “s-sorry it won’t happen again” He sighs, keeping his eyes down as he apologies to the Human. This only made Luz more worried. “Just let me leave, it’s best for everyone” He felt so stupid having cried in front of Luz.

How Pathetic..

Hunter wipes his face as sweat slides down into his facial cut causing him to wince. He couldn’t help but wonder why the owl house was so hot anyway. He wanted to get back to the cool cave again.

“Hunter what happened to you?” Luz asks suddenly, to which Hunter's eyes widen slightly glancing up before looking quickly back at Rascal.

. “I-“ Hunter starts before going quiet biting his lip as he rubs his arm uncomfortably. He was embarrassed about everything but the human was bound to find out anyway, right? He sighs defeated.

“I messed up..

Ruined everything that I had- I just ..” he pauses looking angry “ I screwed up!” he snaps as he takes the wanted poster from his pocket practically throwing the crumbled piece of paper at the human feeling dizzy, he grabs the door for support. Rascal flies up tweeting anxiously. Hunter sighs heavily “I tampered with forbidden sources. I lied. I spoke out of turn. I failed the Emperor and when you fail. Well. you outlive your usefulness, although he does want me alive which means maybe i still have a chance to redeem myself” he couldn't help but laugh painfully as he shrugs “But anyway just do what I assume you will. Turn me in and -“ Hunter stops as Luz stomps her foot

“Belos in such a monster!”. Hunter flinches at Luz’ sudden anger in slight shock looking almost worried before he shakes his head at himself.

“Wait-What? No- no I failed, it's my c-consequence he’s just doing his job. Belos is a great emperor. If I hadn’t tampered with wild magic none of this would have-” Hunter was cut off by a loud scoff from the doorway

“Kid that dictator is no hero” Eda frowns sadly rolling her eyes. Hunter looks over wanting to argue but he doesn’t, this was Eda the owl lady after all. And anyway Belos was just a merciless man that's all… right?.

Yeah.

This was normal.

Hunter screwed up and needed to be punished. All normal parent and kid things.

And yet his mind wandered back to the night.

When Belos attacked him.

When he had tried to..

Hunter's hand moves to his abdomen to where he was struck as he looks a bit distant.

“N-no but he-..he cares” Hunter's voice was angry and didn't sound all too convincing. He steps back stumbling feeling a bit hot, “uncle just, just-” his uncle's icy stare flashed in his mind. Hunter shudders slightly looking down before he nods, sighing. “Right.. right ”

he was nothing to his uncle now..

He would have to redeem himself all over again to be in his uncles favor,

“It’ll be okay” Luz’ voice was soft as she started to guide him back to the couch, noticing him stumble slightly trying not to use her for support. “You have a place here for now” she offers

“I don’t want a place here” Hunter mumbles in annoyance to which Luz pouts.

Hunter sighs, leaning back on the couch with a frown looking away. His body felt a bit numb and sore all at the same time. He was tired, so tired. He notices Eda point to the kitchen causing Luz to sigh standing.

“I’ll get you some food while Eda takes a look at your wounds” Luz smiles, humming as she claps her hands.

“Wait what?” Hunter nervously glances at the Owl Lady gulping.

[jingyismom]

Happy birthday Lan Jingyi!

word + mood prompted minithreads part 1:

river + sleepy

The sun is high and insects buzz all around their boat. It's too hot to be anywhere right now, but Jingyi supposes the river isn't the worst place to be. He squints up at the disciple steering them.

"We're not gonna hit any rapids or anything right?"

She shakes her head with only a slightly pitying look. Jingyi ignores it. How is he supposed to know river topography? He's not a fish.

Mm. Fish.

"Sizhui, are you hungry?" 

Sizhui does that thing where he is Not Rolling His Eyes. "No, Jingyi, I am not hungry half a shichen after eating."

Jingyi sighs. It's too hot is what it is. He yawns.

"Well if there's no excitement and no food, I'm taking a nap."

Nobody says anything. He takes this as enthusiastic support, and stretches out against the side of the boat.

"Wake me when something interesting happens."

"With Jingyi asleep, how could anything be interesting?" Sizhui deadpans. 

Jingyi lets his fingers trail in the cool water, smiling. He reaches back to lazily flick droplets at his friend and listen to the quiet, indignant sound he can't keep from making.

"Such a good point," he says. "Wake me when you miss me."

There's a beat of silence. 

"Then don't go to sleep."

Jingyi huffs into his sleeve to hide his embarrassed flush.

"Can't hear you. I'm asleep already."

"Apologies."

Jingyi can hear the grin in his voice. It's nice. He sleeps. 

~

ramen + anxiety

The dorm is far too quiet, and it's driving Jingyi out of his mind, but he knows he can't put on music and do calculus at the same time. It just doesn't work. Not that his brain and calculus work all that great anyway, but the point is, he's trying. Really, he is. 

His phone buzzes and he grabs it so fast he almost fumbles it across the room. It's a text from Sizhui.

"What are you eating?"

Jingyi lets his head drop to his desk. What time even is it? Like 6?

He checks. It's 9pm.

"Ramen," he types back, defeated. It's all he has.

Or at least, he thinks he has a packet left. He's not sure. He's been too busy to keep track. Between classes, and training, and service hours liberating old ladies' cats, he's hardly had time to breathe. And now he has a test, not a quiz, a TEST, and it's tomorrow MORNING, and he doesn't even know what he's doing with half the material.

And it's 9pm. And he /thinks/ he has ramen. He may just starve.

He stares at his textbook for another interminable period of time until his phone buzzes again. It's Jin Ling, this time.

"come downstairs. bring ur miserable ramen."

Jingyi shoots out of his seat and throws on a sweatshirt. He's not entirely certain he wants to deal with whatever Jin Ling has in mind but it's better than sitting here staring into space. He grabs the ramen and half runs downstairs.

The teeny tiny kitchen is full of people. Sizhui is chopping vegetables. Zizhen is boiling water and heating oil in a pan. Jin Ling is sitting at the table, arms crossed, bowls and utensils and more packets of ramen spread like tarot in front of them. 

"...Hey," Jingyi says, a little overwhelmed.

"Hey!" Zizhen calls, jiggling the pan as Sizhui throws something green into it. "Heard we're having ramen?"

Jingyi sinks into the chair across from Jin Ling.

"Yeah,” he says, grateful beyond words. "It was all I had."

~

rabbits + longing

"You shouldn't slouch," says Sizhui, "you're supposed to be setting an example."

Jingyi motions vaguely at the little disciples filing off the practice field, then leans his head on his fist. "They're not even looking."

"Hm."

It's disapproving sound. Jingyi glances at him sidelong.

"What, no speech?"

Sizhui gives a little shake of his head.

"Am I too pathetic for dignity? Is that what you're saying?"

Sizui frowns hard. "No. Of course not."

"I am," Jingyi insists. 

He sprawls on his back along the low wall on which they're sitting. "I'm pathetic. I can't think. I can't eat. I can't even teach basic sword forms. Sizhui, how am I supposed to be a person anymore."

"Jingyi," Sizhui pleads. 

"No, I'm serious. All I can think about is-- is his hair. And his smile. And you know, you know how sometimes he just-- he smells like rain? How does he do that? I'll never even know because he hardly knows I exist. How am I supposed to exist?"

Sizhui sighs. Deeply. 

"I don't know what to tell you. I wish I did."

"I just--" Jingyi breaks off, horrified by the crack in his voice. "Oh fuck, I just really...I want...I don't know."

Pressure builds in his chest, familiar over the last few weeks. He feels like he might burst. He presses his hands to his eyes, determined not to cry over this. Well, not again.

"You know, Hanguang-jun would say that the world itself is enough to live for, even when it's hurting you."

Jingyi peeks at him out of one eye. "Did he say that? When?"

"Last year," Sizhui says, looking at his hands.

He doesn't have to say more. Last year was especially hard for Sizhui. An extended family trip with his undead cousin helped, but really, how much can something like that improve things? 

"Well, if Hanguang-jun said it..." he says, wry. It's a common refrain, but not entirely reassuring just now. "Still, I--"

"Hanguang-jun!" Sizhui says, standing.

Jingyi scrambles to follow, straightening his rumpled robes. "Hanguang-jun."

HGJ is striding toward them out of the trees. Jingyi hasn't seen him alone since Wei-qianbei came back. He hopes everything is still okay.

"Sit," he says when he reaches them. They sit. HGJ stares at them, then glances around the empty field. "Behind the wall, on the ground."

Jingyi exchanges a glance with Sizhui, but they both clamber over it to sit behind. HGJ walks around it, stately, and then goes to his knees in front of them.

Jingyi stares, breathless, absolutely certain they're about to receive some great cultivation secret, perhaps even the key to immortality. HGJ is so serious, and careful, and has never asked him to join him somewhere private before. This is it. It's happening. He doesn't know what it is but it's happening right now.

"Be careful," HGJ says. "Do not frighten them." 

Jingyi nods. He'll be so careful. He doesn't know who not to frighten but he'll work on it-- he's generally not very intimidating anyway, it should be fine.

HGJ leans toward him. He extends his arms.

And deposits two small, round, perfectly white bunnies in Jingyi's lap. 

"H-- Hanguang-jun?"

Jingyi stares at the creatures. They're warm, and look very soft. They seem sleepy.

"When you feel better," HGJ says, "Sizhui will show you where they live."

Jingyi looks up at him, at the serene expression on his face, and his earlier resolve crumbles. 

"Th-thank you Hanguang-jun," he says, wiping tears and snot off his face.

"Mn."

HGJ stands and takes his leave. Sizhui pats his arm. The bunnies nuzzle his hands.

~

affection + congee

After one of the most miserable nights of Jingyi's life, the rising sun shines into his eyes. He rolls over and pulls the blanket over his head. Everything is awful. His head hurts. His face hurts. His throat hurts for some reason? He can barely breathe.

He feels like a boiled cabbage. He knows he should be getting up, Hanguang-jun will expect him to be at breakfast with everyone else, but he just can't. Not yet.

He pouts to himself, whimpering pathetically as he pictures Hanguang-jun’s disappointed face. He can't survive it.

He hears the door open, and forces himself upright, trying not to list to the side.

"Up, 'm up," he says, and tries to get out of bed.

He can't really see out of his watery eyes but he assumes it's Sizhui come to collect him.

"Aiyo, get back in bed you little nuisance, your thumping around will wake the whole inn," comes a different voice entirely. Brisk hands push him down and pull the covers over him. "That yao really did a number on you, huh? Who's ever heard of a sinus infection curse?? Bad luck."

"Not luck," Jingyi says, mulish. "Pushed Jin Ling out of the way."

"I know, I know," Wei-qianbei goes on, and Jingyi thinks he might be dreaming what he says next. "You were very brave, we all saw. Jin Ling is grateful."

Jingyi frowns. "That doesn't sound right."

Wei-qianbei chuckles. "Just take it. And this, here, it'll help you feel better."

A spoon appears in front of his face, full of something pale.

"Wei-qianbei," he says slowly, "is this...your congee?"

A snort. "No. Hanguang-jun made it, just for you."

Jingyi blinks up at him. "He did?"

"Mhmm," Wei-qianbei nods, his mouth pressed tightly closed.

Jingyi has a feeling he's being made fun of. He pouts, but takes the spoon and puts it in his mouth.

"Wow. Good."

"Of course it is, I made it."

Jingyi gapes. "You--"

Wei-qianbei ruffles his hair. "Someone had to take care of you and I drew the short straw. Eat up, and you /will/ feel better, alright?"

"...alright." Jingyi concedes. It seems to be helping already, somehow. "I will."

"That's a good little duckling."

Wei-qianbei laughs at his grimace and pats his shoulder.

"You look more like yourself already."

~

part 2 of these minithreads posted in a reblog later today <3