#Brain… focused… on the thread

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

I can’t stop making lace

[rawliverandgoronspice]

trying to assign instruments to gerudo characters for thralls' soundtrack. Nabooru is getting the sitar so far, as I think she's good at representing the gerudo side that's closer to the Wild Era in terms of long-term vision for gerudo prosperity, not to mention that it works great for a more laid-back character; though Iftaah could also get that aspect, even though her perspective is a little bit more desperate and a little less actually strategizing about diplomacy and commerce in the way that Nabooru's is... not sure I have nailed down the perfect instrument for her yet though? Maybe a duduk, for its plaintive quality and capacity for softness? But I don't know, I feel like there could be something better out there. Saeruk and flamenco guitar seem pretty great fit for the versatility of the instrument, both harsh and defiant, playful at times, but also extremely sad if needs be, and the fact that she represents more the "older" kind of gerudo works well with more hispanic/romany inspirations. And then there's Aveil, who I feel represent the best the connection of the gerudos to their land, and I'd love an instrument that really represents that. Still looking for that one.

There's a bunch of fun things for Ganondorf that can be done, but I think he'll get... bigger instruments, in general. And church organs are quite versatile too it turns out. :) I like the marimba from his first phase boss battle, but it's a little too... I don't know, I feel like it lacks the roundness and depth and imposing quality that we could get with other picks. But Ganondorf so far has about *eight billion* leitmotifs going on with what I have selected for him (him and Ganon's, as they are... not exactly separate entities in the story, but sort of, it's kind of weird), so it might be more a case of actual melody rather than instruments, or maybe on top of instruments that swap in and out depending on what we want to invoke...

Sorry, rambling, but I would really love to compensate for my lack of voice actors with a pretty meaningful stab at the soundtrack. I feel like I kind of have to honestly. ;;

[amischiefofmuses]

.

[docnefarious]

"My New Years resolution?"

"About 1080p."

"BAHAHA! NO, I'M KIDDING!"

"It's galactic domination."

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x medic reader, where you might as well be the sun to them)

The phrase started as a whisper.

It drifted through the base like smoke curling around corners, impossible to pin down but impossible to ignore.

“Here comes the sun.”

It bounced off walls, passing lips in hushed tones, slipping into conversations as a half-joke, half-omen. At first, the 141 didn’t pay it much attention. Soldiers had their quirks, their superstitions- rituals to keep them sane when missions dragged too long and they smelled more blood than earth. But this one stuck.

Price furrowed his brow the first time he heard it. Ghost only tilted his head slightly, filing it away. Gaz grimaced and muttered something about troops getting weird ideas. Soap, though- he took notice.

He’d caught it more than once before a mission, said like a prayer or maybe a warning. He’d asked around, but answers were vague. “You’ll know when you see it.” That’s all they’d tell him. It irritated him to no end.

Then the mission happened.

It was supposed to be a clean extraction. A quick in-and-out, but things went sideways fast. Soap had been covering the team’s six when the ambush hit. A sharp crack split the air, followed by the searing pain in his side. He hit the ground hard, blood soaking into the dirt, a familiar, burning ache travelling through his body.

“Soap’s hit!” Gaz’s voice barked through comms, panic threading through the static.

“Pull him out!” Price ordered.

But the line fizzled and died. Soap’s world narrowed- gunfire, shouts, and the taste of copper in his mouth. He couldn’t hear the others anymore. The ground felt colder than it should have. He pressed his hand against the wound, but it was bad. Really bad.

This is it, he thought. This is where I die.

The edges of his vision blurred. He barely noticed the figure sprinting toward him until a flash of bright red and orange, a blazing fire, pierced through the smoke and haze.

Like the sun.

You hit the ground beside him, all motion and precision, your gear unlike anything he’d ever seen. Bright red and orange covered your tactical vest and helmet- colors that didn’t belong in a war zone. Colors that should’ve made you a target, a dead woman walking.

But instead, you looked like salvation.

“Stay with me, Sargeant.” You said, voice sharp and steady. You weren’t panicked- not even a little. It was comforting.

Soap stared, wide-eyed, as your hands worked quickly to stop the bleeding. He should’ve been paying attention to the pain, to the gunfire, to anything else- but he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“What the hell are ya wearing?” he rasped, because that was apparently the only thought his brain could form.

You didn’t look up. “Bright colors make it easier to spot me. Medics don’t have the luxury of hiding- we have to be seen when it counts.”

“It’s bloody ridiculous.” he muttered- and then sucked in a sharp breath as you tightened the bandage.

“Maybe,” you said, finally glancing at him. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”

Soap’s heart stumbled. Your eyes were sharp, focused- but there was something else there too, something warm. Something steady.

Here comes the sun.

It hit him all at once. That’s what the others meant. It wasn’t just the colors. It was you. The way you moved, the way your voice cut through the noise, the way you didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Stay awake, Sargeant.” You ordered, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a single smart remark.

Much later, he woke up in the med tent, groggy but alive, and immediately found himself staring at you again.

You were restocking supplies nearby, your bright gear an almost comical contrast to the sterile white walls. The moment you noticed him looking, you crossed the room.

“You’re awake,” you said, checking his vitals. Your voice was softer now, calm and patient. He felt like he could melt. “Good.”

“You’re real.” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “What?”

“Thought I was hallucinating.” He gestured vaguely at your vest, a grin cracking on his lips. “I mean, look at ya.” Lovely. The sun has never looked better.

Your lips twitched, like you were holding back a smile. “I get that a lot.”

Before he could come up with anything else to say- anything remotely smooth- the tent flap opened.

Price, Ghost, and Gaz stepped in, their eyes immediately landing on you. And for once, Soap wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

Gaz blinked. “You’re… bright.”

“Easy to spot.” You said, beaming.

Ghost stared at you for a few seconds longer, peering, before he spoke. “…You’re the sun.”

Price studied you for a long moment as well, then nodded like something clicked into place with a sigh. “Makes sense.”

You, on the other hand, looked confused and unsure, tilting your head once more in the way kittens do.

Soap couldn’t stop staring. He barely even heard the others talking, answering your confusion. All he could think about was how you’d shown up when he thought he was done for- and how you’d looked like a fiery star in the vast expanse of a cold, dark sky.

You glanced at him again, eyes sharp and warm all at once, lips quirking in a delicate smile while Gaz talked with you.

Here comes the sun, he thought.

(… would it be possible to cradle the sun, such warmth, in his hands?)

Part Two

[orangetintedglasses]

( also I described it as an actual net (or web) in one thread and that does still apply-- things as minute as vibrations can get caught in that range and disturb his senses, drawing his attention. That's more or less when he's very specifically focused on finding something, though. )

[fleurvi]

Secret Talents | Arcane Women

Request for arcane women discovering you have a hidden talent.

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characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: Ambessa's is suggestive

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Ambessa Medarda - Dancing

She's sitting there in her chair, eyes fixed on you as your body moves to the music Ambessa picked specifically for you. You take care in each movement. The extensions of your arms and legs draw her in. She has a drink in one hand as the other, empty hand awaits your approach. Her eyes scan your body as you walk towards her, gaze lingering on your hips. When you had agreed to give her a lap dance, she had no idea how enticing you would be.

You kick a leg over her lap, body rolling directly in her face, and you see her hand twitch with eagerness. She keeps her hand at her side though, giving you time to work before she completely loses her patience.

“You didn't tell me you could move like this. I'm impressed. Should we test how flexible you really are?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman - Sewing

Caitlyn comes to see you after training, muttering to herself about the noticeable tear in her trousers. You wait until she removes the trousers and asks her to pass them over to you while she changes into pyjamas. You reach under the bed for your sewing kit and find the right thread colour. Caitlyn joins you in bed, curious as to what you're doing. When she sees that you're sewing up the hole for her, it warms her heart. It's oddly domestic and makes you feel like an old couple that's been doing this for years.

She's quiet as she watches you work, wondering where you learned such a skill. You pass her fixed trousers back over, telling her they're good as new, and she checks your work, thoroughly impressed.

“This is pretty good. How long have you been sewing? I've got a ton more clothes you can fix for me.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson - Puzzle Solving

Being married, Grayson enjoys having some kind of domestic peace. A cozy break from her dangerous job. When she comes home from a rough day to see you sitting at the kitchen table, whizzing through a puzzle book, she feels a protective instinct bubble in her stomach. She wishes she could frame this moment and keep it forever.

She leans over your shoulder, watching as you clear through a page of riddles. You get the answers faster than she could've thought, and she admires your deduction method that you messily jot down in the empty spaces. Your intelligence is a trait of yours that she values highly.

“You should come and work for me. Your brain is incredible, you know that?”

Mel Medarda - Piano

Mel is a fan of the arts, whether it be musical, theatrical, literary or visual. When she finds a book of sheet music among your belongings, she asks you to play for her. She leans on the piano, watching as you play for her. The focused look on your face is adorable, and the natural way your hands move among the keys is enchanting. Your musical talents fuel her own creativity.

Mel asks you to play for her while she paints. Knowing you're playing for her inspires some of her art pieces. If you ever want to pursue music professionally, you have her full support. Until then, your music will stay her sole artistic muse.

“Can you play that piece again? It's my favourite. It reminds me of us.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika - Singing

Sevika's got a soft spot for you. She catches you singing when you think you're alone and stays until the final note. She makes sure you can't see her at first. Then, she makes herself known when you're finished. She lets you know how much she likes your voice. It's like a moment of peace for her.

She asks you to sing for her when you're alone after a rough day. Your voice is like a warm blanket over her. She doesn't want anyone else to hear you though. She's selfish and wants to keep you all to herself.

“You're like my personal little songbird.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi - Art

She finds a sketchbook of yours with cute doodles in it and asks you to replicate the designs on her gauntlets. She keeps any pieces of paper, folded napkins or fabric that you happen to scribble on. When it comes to more serious and larger pieces, she's relatively well-behaved. She watches you work, uncharacteristically quiet, as she focuses on your movements. She struggles to shut her mouth sometimes, but she really likes seeing your final products, so she behaves.

She brags about your talents and shows off what she's kept of yours. She wants everyone to see how amazingly gifted you are. Anything she finds that has an indicator of your drawing makes it into her personal collection.

“Hey baby, I got new gear. How about you pretty it up for me?”

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thank you for reading!!!

my requests are open!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[syluriar]

drying hair - sylus x mc reader

sypnosis: literally just sylus drying your hair because he's whipped for you.

a/n: just had this cute thought of sylus drying your hair because for me personally i'm not a fan of it, and that's just one of the reasons why sylus would do it for you, other than that he loves the hell out of you. also not proud how i eneded this, writing has been a bitch latley because my brain won't work with me :( also no grammer check because i'm TIRED.

contains: mc!reader. sylus teasing you but you tease him back. call back to grassland romance. you thinking on your feelings for sylus. just bascially fluff.

word count: 1366

“Can I dry your hair, sweetie?”

It was a simple question, but it made you freeze and look at Sylus, who was towering above you from your seasted position at your desk, hair dryer in hand and ready to go. 

Curiosity filled you at his offer, and other times you would have followed it, bothering Sylus until he either revealed why or you would do your own investigation. 

But your arms were already aching from the towel drying, and you really did want to relax today after a grueling day fighting Wanders and filling reports. You had planned the rest of the day for ultimate relaxation and the only thing that would make it worse was drying your hair, a process you had to admit was not enjoyable for you.

So if you can get out of it, why not? 

“Ok,” You give him a nod. “Sure.”

And Sylus looked…absolutely delighted. His eyes shined and his smile was pure and you pondered why he’s reacting that way to do something for you, then again could you really be surprised? He’s made it known that he is at your beck and call, anything you want he’ll get you. You’re positive that if you asked him that you wanted a specific food item that can only be obtained within it’s country, Sylus would get it for you the next day. 

Those gestures still made you nervous as you weren’t used to such things, but at least now you graciously accept them instead of telling him off and refusing his gifts. Now it was cheeks burning and heart pounding, and your still quite puzzled on how your feelings for him have changed.

You forget about the hair dryer until it’s turned on in his hands, the buzzing pulls you our of your thoughts and focuses on the man now behind you. His free hand threads through your damp hair, fingernails just grazing your skull and you hold back a shiver of delight at the touch. 

“Hold still now, kitten.” 

The warm air hits you like a gentle breeze as Sylus starts the task, his fingers gentle as they part your hair to reach every part, the dryer not staying in one place too long to avoid a burning sensation on your skull. 

With your hands empty, your fingers fidget together, unsure of what to do. You have the twitch you squirm which you fight against, so you keep your eyes down, focusing on the flower pattern on your silk nightgown, another gift from Sylus.

You hear a chuckle lined with amusement that spreads embarrassment through your body. “Head up, sweetie.”

You can imagine the look on his face, that teasing smirk with creased corners at his eyes that holds mirth. You swallow and push back your fluster as you raise your head, your eyes promptly looking back into the mirror and ranking over the state of your hair, only to catch his own staring back at you.

They’re enchanting, like ruby gems that only shine for you. Flowers dead in a field that will only bloom in your presence, something poisonous that is only sweet on your tongue. The way he looks at you was as if you were the only thing that existed in the universe, the way they radiate and all the emotions they hold just for you is…exhilarating. 

A silent gasp leaves your lips when you notice how long you’ve been staring at Sylus through the mirror, and how he’s been staring back. His hand slides from your hair to your bare shoulder, his touch sending a shock of electricity through your body. 

“You’ve been staring for a while, kitten. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You push the comment, trying not to let him get under your skin. “Just making sure you know what your doing. Messing with my hair isn’t something you should do.”

“Oh?” He’s teasing again, that damn smirk back on his lips. His eyes leave yours as he threads his fingers through your hair again. “I assure you, sweetie, that I would never mess with your hair, or don’t you remember what I said back in the Grasslands?”

“I like your hair.”

Of course you remember that, you remember everything that happened when the two of you were transported to another place, either back in time or another universe, your still not quite sure, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. It was a turning point for your relationship with Sylus, where you allowed the two of you to go closer and accepted that your feelings towards him were growing. 

“...I remember.” Your cheeks burning as you admit it - remember it. His fingers grazed through your hair like he’s doing now. “I also remember you saying that you would work on your braiding skills.”

He hums, which isn’t as off-key as his singing, thankfully. “But to do that I would need a lot of time practicing on your hair to honor my skills.” He looks back at you through the mirror, catching your still eyes. “Would you give me your permission, kitten?”

You imagine it, days of Sylus’ fingers combing through your hair as he braids the threads, tutorials playing as he watches intensely, pins and all sorts on your desk to hold his work in place. You imagine yourself, helping him through it all, teasing him when he’s stuck and cheering him up if something goes wrong.

It feels nice, domestic even. 

You can’t help but smile at it, your stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of doing such things with Sylus. 

“I would.”

He gives a huff of amusement, but the smile on his lips is pure and real. Perhaps he’s been thinking of such things with you, and it makes you feel giddy. 

He goes back to drying your hair and you close your eyes, finally relaxing. You allow yourself to sink into his touch as his fingers comb through your hair, enjoying how gentle and peaceful it makes you feel. 

“All done.” Sylus clicks off the dryer and you open your eyes to look at yourself in the mirror, ranking over the state of your now dried hair

You hum. “Not bad for your first time.”

“I’ll take that,” He chuckles. “Though like I said before, I would need to practice more on you to get it right.”

“You have permission for that as well.”

“Good.” 

His fingers are back in your hair and your amazed how at ease it makes you feel, giving him permission to touch your hair more might be better for yourself rather than him. 

Though you wonder…

You turn and look at him, redness on your cheeks as you retort. “As long as I can do the same to your hair.”

He looks surprised by your words and it makes you feel smug as you don’t get that reaction often. But he finally smiles and cups your cheeks, bringing your face so close to his that his nose brushes against yours. “You can do that and more to me, sweetie. I’ll never say no to you.”

Now your sure your a blushing mess, if not by your burning cheeks, then certainly by your pulsing heart that your positive Sylus hears. 

God, how does this man make you feel this way so easily? 

To hide it all you tease him back. “That’s a pretty big statement to say Sylus. Never say no to me? I wonder how far I can go with that.”

“I look forward to finding out, kitten.” He replies before leaning back, but not before booping your nose. “Now it’s time for bed. I remember a certain someone saying they were going to sleep early to improve their health.”

You don’t even get up from the chair as Sylus has you in his arms in seconds, a squeal of surprise leaving your lips as he carries you to the bed, laying you down gently and settling down beside you.. 

“Rest now.” His arms wrap around your waist, holding you to his chest as you cuddle under the silk sheets. “We have fun days ahead of us, so make sure not to be tired once they come.”

[cognitiveoverload]

Welcome back (Front Man / Hwang In-Ho x reader)

summary: When In-ho returns from the game, he wants to see his lover fall apart under his touch.

tags: secret relationship, established relationship, fem!reader, pregnant!reader, soft smut

note: I know, I know, a lot of you don’t want kids (including myself) so we don’t want stories where reader is pregnant, but this time she is because of reasons. Can be read as a standalone, but here’s the first piece.

When you see In-ho approaching the control room on the camera feed, you don’t hesitate to turn on your heels and head to his private room where he will most certainly go to change into his usual Front Man attire. You need to see him, you need to exchange at least a few words with him before you lose your mind for good.

You’ve been needy, clingy even, ever since you found out you are pregnant. And him? He’s been overprotective in return, doing whatever he has to to make sure you’re safe and comfortable. The way he softens around you has always been something you loved, but he definitely took it to another level lately.

And sure enough, the moment he steps into the suite, his eyes fall on you, maybe a shade darker from the need that fills his mind, and he closes the gap without much hesitation. It’s so nice to feel his arms around you again, so you bury your face into the crook of his neck and let out a long sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper to him.

He leans back to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips as he does so. “I told you there’s no reason to worry.” Before you know it, he grabs your hips and turns you around so your back is pressed to his chest, and when he kisses the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “Are you both okay?”

The best you can do is humming in agreement, because the way he runs his hand all over your body is close to making your brain malfunction. His hand slowly slips under your pants, his thick fingers teasing you as you melt into his touch. Your skin is on fire from desire, but you know he has to stop, there’s no time to play now.

Just as you expected, he lets out a sigh and pulls his hand away. “I need to get dressed, Gi-hun has to be captured alive,” he tells you as he lets go and goes to the bed where you already prepared his clothes.

You blame your raging hormones for the way you’re staring at him. When he takes off the dirty t-shirt and tosses it on the floor, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from making unholy sounds, because his body is a work of art you want to look at all day. The moment his eyes lock with yours, he lets out a quiet chuckle and keeps going as if nothing happened.

He knows what’s on your mind. He always does.

Soon he heads into your direction, mask already in hand, and stops for a brief moment to give you a quick kiss on the lips. “Stay here. I’ll take care of a few things, then come back to you, okay? I promise I’ll make you feel good,” he says, and you believe that he’ll keep his word.

The quiet of the room that’s left behind is nerve-wrecking, this is why you head to the computer in the office to take a look at the camera feeds, just to make sure you know what’s happening to him. It’s good to stay in the loop, because who knows when someone dares to ask you questions about such little details. In-ho would step in, of course, protecting you as always, but there will be times when you have to defend yourself alone.

Even before he showed you his face for the first time, the two of you had been working in perfect harmony, with him focusing on the game running smoothly, and you taking care of minor issues that didn’t need his attention. Sometimes these two threads intertwined, but it only made the pair of you more efficient.

Your jobs didn’t only require your attention at the time of the games, the preparations and reports afterwards were equally important, and you had a much bigger role during these times. The old man trusted you, so In-ho decided to trust you too, and he complimented you several times to your surprise, even guided you at the beginning until you learned everything.

It was some time before the old man’s death that he sent you your new uniform. When he called you to explain, he said you couldn’t wear that black jumpsuit with the square mask forever, and since the both of you had more responsibilities after what happened, it was only natural to give you a look that would be in sync with his. After all, you were partners now.

There was a tension between you, but not the bad kind, it was more like an invisible string that pulled you closer to each other, and you both found yourselves looking at the other more often. When one of the VIPs made a move on you during your second game, he stepped in to inform him he needed you to be focused on your job, essentially saving you from that disgusting moron.

Strangely, the old man knew about the unaddressed connection between the two of you. When he was on his deathbed, he asked the both of you to come see him, and while you brought your mask with you, In-ho decided to show up without it, so in the end, you put the mask away and let him take a better look at you for the first time.

That’s when the pull became stronger, when he began to invite you to his place for a drink, saying he just wanted to talk about work. More often than not, you found yourselves talking about anything but work, though, and things turned in a different direction eventually as you gave into that spark between you.

Once he’s done and headed back to you based on the route he picked, you lie down on the bed to stretch your limbs and close your eyes for a second. Despite him promising something more exciting than just lying in bed, at this point you are so tired mentally that all you want is snuggling up to him and enjoying the quiet of his room.

The door opens when he finally arrives, but he only shows himself after a few minutes. He left his coat and mask behind, and even poured himself a glass of whisky that he now places on the table near the wall. He looks down at you with a smile, but instead of giving you a kiss, he moves to the foot of the bed and wraps his fingers around your knees.

Your heart is pounding from the anticipation, because you can tell what he’s planning to do now. His eyes give away what’s on his mind, the way they are focused on you, hungry and determined, his brain probably going through each step he carefully planned one last time. Spending days apart isn’t new, but considering what he experienced there, you aren’t surprised that he seems this starved.

Before you know it, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, then kneels down as he painfully slowly moves his hands up your thighs. You prop on your elbows to get a better look at him, and you meet his gaze that’s fixed on your face as he moves to unbutton your pants, then carefully pulls it off of you along with your panties.

Once he throws them away, his lips press a kiss on your left knee, then moves up towards your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where you desperately need him. He knows exactly what strings to pull to make you beg, and you don’t disappoint him, you soon start to ask him for more, even if you’re not in the right state of mind to know what exactly it is that you want.

In-ho lets out a laugh, seemingly enjoying the way you’re already falling apart for him, and when he rubs his thumb over your clit, you reach out to him, your fingers grabbing his hand that’s resting on your stomach to hold you down. “Having fun?” he asks you before his lips brush along your folds, his tongue darting out for a moment to tease you.

You try to move your hips in an attempt to get more, but he pins you to the bed with ease. It’s getting painful, really, the way he’s messing with your head, even though he knows how much you need him. “Please,” you ask, your voice nothing more but a thin, whining sound.

“Is this all you’ve got for me?” he mocks you, then pushes a finger inside you. The moment he hears your moan, he pushes in another one, fucking you slowly, enjoying the way you’re once again trying to move your hips to meet his moves. “I love how sensitive you’ve been lately, and how easy it became to push you over the edge. Like when I do something like… this,” he says hoarsely before curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot.

Just as he said, it’s enough to push you over the edge, and it feels so good, so different compared to the orgasms before you were pregnant. And he doesn’t stop, now that he knows you’re a little too lost in your head, he decides it’s time to push you to the limit, pulling out one more from you, just until he hears you beg him to fuck you, because you’ll go crazy if you can’t feel him inside you soon.

Been there, done that. More than once.

And he knows you love this private game the two of you play in the safety of your home or private quarters. It’s just one of the things you love about him, the way he wants to claim you by making sure no one else could ever compare to what he can give you. He’s ruining you in the best possible way, and you would be a fool if you didn’t thank him for that.

[mead-iocre]

Can't Pay the Rent | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: can't pay the rent trend

warnings: none x

word count: 1.1k words

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

You angle the camera, making sure it was just right. Pressing the record button, you quickly shift the flower vase so it was covering most of your phone screen from direct view.

The "telling my partner I can't pay the rent this month" prank.

You've seen this thread floating around tiktok and you've been tempted to try it ever since. It was a silly little trend, harmless, and fun.

And you couldn't wait to try it on your girlfriend.

Straightening your back again, you try to look nonchalant, curling your knee to your chest and leaning back into Leah's side. She was currently laser-focused on the footy on screen. Not a lot can distract Leah Williamson from a game of football, so it gave you enough time to set up the camera without the blonde noticing. There could be a tornado outside and Leah wouldn't notice until the screen turns off because of blackout.

Out of habbit, she raises an arm, curling it around you and snuggling you closer into her side. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she presses a quick kiss to your temple.

You wait a beat, taking the opportunity to stare at the woman beside you. You look at her, entranced by the way the light falls across her profile, kissing the edges of her hair. Blonde locks brush against her cheek as she pushes her hair back, letting out a frustrated huff at whatever is going on on-screen. Blue eyes—so soft, yet sharp with intention. Her clever brain was most likely analysing plays. Her lips, just slightly parted in concentration, are rosy from the amount of times she would bite them.

You catch yourself staring a little too long, pressing your lips together to try and hide your smile. You will yourself to get into character, putting your past manifestations of being a Hollywood actress into fruition. Now was your time to shine.

"Hey, Lee..."

She hums. Her hand comes up from behind you, fingers instinctively running through your hair. She doesn't look at you though. Her eyes are locked on the screen in front.

You poke her side.

Usually, she would catch your finger and playfully bring it up to her mouth to give you a gentle bite, but all she does is shift away from you.

You pout.

Poke.

"Baby, stop. I'm watchin'"

You poke her side again. "I need to talk to you, Leah"

Her face changes immediately after hearing your words. The blonde frowns, eyebrows already furrowing in concern. Surprisingly, she turns her face towards you.

That was quicker than you thought. You thought you needed to poke and prod longer than that. On the inside, you were practically preening at how attentive your lover is. You hoped the camera was catching all of this.

The football was now an afterthought seeing as how she is blindly feels for the remote beside her. She presses the mute button, tossing the remote back on the sofa beside her.

She turns back to you, her face focused.

"Sounds serious," Leah shifts so that her thigh was pressing against you knee. She brings her other hand over, rubbing your leg, all her attention now on you. "You alright, baby?"

"Yeah-- I just--" You pause for dramatics, like how you've seen all the actresses do.

Letting out a big sigh, you press your Summer Friday coated lips together as if you found it very hard to let the next words out.

"I can't pay the rent this month."

For a moment, all your girlfriend does is stare at you. You part your lips, prepared to repeat what you just said in case she did not hear you the first time, but then she speaks

"...the rent?"

You nod, empathetically, as if you were truly troubled by this revelation. "Yeah. I can't pay this month"

Leah just stares at you for a moment. She blinks a few times, the furrow between her eyebrows growing deeper. Her expression was one of genuine bafflement, and if you weren't careful you would've cracked then and there.

"...we don't pay rent? I bought this flat."

Now it was your turn to pretend to look baffled. You exaggerate it slightly, tilting your head to the side. "okay but I still can't pay..."

Suddenly, the blonde turns her entire body towards you, mirroring your position. She takes a deep breath, the one where you know she was about to lecture you about something very important.

"Baby, you have never paid rent," She says slowly, emphasising her words. While a rarity, you still recognised the sight in front of you. Leah was a hundred percent in captain mode right now.

She squeezes your thigh, her eyes crinkle slightly by the corners. Her voice softens, all full of affection, "in your life."

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, she lets out a small chuckle. "I'm surprised you even know the word "rent"'

You fight the urge to smile. It was hard to be serious when Leah had that goofy expression on her face. The one where her eyes are serious, but one corner of her mouth is tilted upwards, as if fighting her own smile.

Schooling your expression, you continue your performance of a lifetime. You push the hand still drawing patterns on your thigh away. "Lee. I'm serious."

"and I'm bein' serious too, princess” Your girlfriend cups your face, squeezing your cheeks into a pout. Her eyes drop to your lips like they always do. "because why would my girl be paying rent, huh?"

"I used to pay our mortgage" She emphasises, sneaking a quick peck on your lips, unable to resist loving on you. "and besides, you cry at the sight of numbers when they're not printed on a receipt"

You sigh, still keeping up the charade. You hoped she didn't notice your twitching lips.

Although Leah was right though, you weren't the best with numbers-- even during school. As far as you were concerned, the only numbers you were concerned about is the number of shopping bags you could fit in the car. "Maybe next month I could--"

"Fuck no." She laughs, bellows more like it. She pulls you to her, throwing herself back on the sofa and pulling you along, so you were essentially on top of her. A very familiar position.

If this continues, the footage might not be allowed for public consumption.

"Baby, I'm not making you pay rent-- ever. The only thing your pretty little head needs to worry about is what bag you're gettin' next" She rolls her eyes playfully at the last bit, but you know she means it.

"besides...you can pay me in other ways"

You raise an eyebrow at her, mirroring the growing smile on her face. You knew exactly what she is implying.

She cradles your cheek, craning her neck up so she could whisper in your ear. "Why don't you go put on that pretty pink set you bought the other day-- with the lace garter and thigh highs..."

Yeah, this video is not getting posted.

oh to be platonic housemates with a hot football player (who also happens to notice when you’re wearing new underwear) x

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[wafflefries13]

Home is Where Our Heart Is (Yandere Twisted Wonderland X Reader)

Summary: There's a rumor going around that Crowley found a way to send you back to your original world, and, well, the boys aren't taking the news well.

AN: First time writing yandere stuff. I originally wanted to have this out near Halloween to keep with scary stuff, but as long as it gets done eventually, right?

Cros-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Can be read as romantic or platonic, possessive and obsessive behavior, spying, conspiring to poison, fighting - physical and verbal, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

“There’s something important I want to tell you guys,” (Y/N) said. 

Ace and Deuce lifted their heads to look at her. The four of them, (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce, were all huddled together on the floor of the alchemy classroom, heads bent low as they worked on untangling long threads of manticore mane hair, the most recent punishment from Professor Crewel for some misdemeanor they probably deserved but still complained about. 

“What’s up?” Ace asked. He grinned wickedly. “Did you fall through another rotten part of the floor at Ramshackle and need saving again?” 

(Y/N) scowled as she swatted him with the back of her hand, without any real malice behind it. “No, and shut up. Maybe I won’t tell you.” 

“Ignore him,” Deuce said, picking at a particularly stubborn knot. “What’s up?” 

(Y/N) hesitated. “Actually, now might not be the best time.” 

“Is it that thing you were talking to Crowley about?” Grim asked, gnawing at the hair. “Pah! Gross.” 

“Keep that out of your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been. And yeah, that. Now that I’m thinking about it, though, it might just be easier to tell everyone all at once.” 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other. “Everything okay?” Deuce asked slowly. 

(Y/N) shook her head. “Oh, yeah, fine. Just kind of important, I think. And I’d rather do it all at once. Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Actually, I think I’m going to have a big dinner this weekend, invite everyone over. Ease the blow, maybe.” She chuckled mirthlessly at a joke only she knew. 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other again, jaws tense and rising panic building behind their eyes. Their minds raced in tandem, putting together the puzzle pieces of the piecemeal information (Y/N) had told them. Something important involving Crowley, something she would want to keep on the down low until she was able to confront everyone at the same time. The Headmage himself didn’t really seem to carry especially important information. Considering all the work and responsibilities he dumped on (Y/N), they often wondered what exactly he even did at Night Raven College. But there was one thing he had supposedly been focused on since the beginning of the school year: finding a way to send (Y/N) back to her original world. But that couldn’t be it, right? There was no way the bird brain had actually mastered interdimensional magical travel, right? And, even if he had, there was no way (Y/N) was actually just going to up and leave, right? 

Right? 

The room was quiet for just a beat too long as the two Heartsabyul first years communicated silently. (Y/N) looked back up, her eyebrows scrunched together in worry. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ace cut her off with his signature troublemaker smirk and said, “Ooh, so mysterious. You sure you don’t need saving again? You have that bad habit of throwing yourself in danger every chance you get.” 

With that, the tension was broken. (Y/N) swatted at Ace again, laughing. They chatted aimlessly as they continued their tedious work. But, the moment (Y/N) lowered her head to pull tangled hair from Grim’s claws, Ace and Deuce looked at each other again, faces set and serious. An agreement passed between them. They were going to need help. 

~~~

“But did she say she was leaving?” Jack asked, voice tight but trying to remain calm. 

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek were in the quad near the wishing well. Other students milled around, going to clubs or studying, their voices drifting meaninglessly around the small group. Epel was pacing, fists balled at his sides, gnawing at his lower lip. Ortho stared, unmoving in that way that reminded people that he was in fact made of metal and wires and not flesh and blood. Sebek was standing soldier straight with his chin up. His mouth was pulled down in a frown, but that was so often his standard expression that only someone who knew him well would be able to see the actual distress on his face. Jack’s foot tapped restlessly, hands clasped together so tight his knuckles were turning bloodless. 

“No,” Deuce said. “Not specifically. But what else would she be talking about, you know? We don’t keep secrets from each other.” 

“But we don’t know anything for certain,” Jack said. “Maybe we-” 

“This is bullshit!” Epel shouted. Several students walking by startled, hurrying away with their heads down. His accent came out strong. “She’s just gonna up and leave? After everything? Everything we’ve done and been through? Did none of it matter? Does she not even care about us?” 

Deuce winced. “I mean, I guess she misses home-” 

“We’re her home!” Ace hissed. “Epel’s right. She doesn't belong back there, whatever that place is.” Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair and tugging. “Well, what are we supposed to do? Keep her here?” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Sebek said. The others turned to him. He was looking off in the distance, eyes unfocused. When he felt their gaze, he turned back to them, blinking twice and clearing his throat. “Ahem, I only mean that Lord Malleus has grown rather fond of (Y/N) these past few months, for whatever reason. As his retainer, I couldn’t bear his distress if such a close friend were to vanish with no way of contacting them.” 

“Lord Malleus,” Ace said. “Sure.” 

“I would anticipate that the Prefect's absence would cause a rise of at least 75% in stress levels at Night Raven College. Accompanying this would also be an increased chance of Overblot by a minimum of 35%.” Ortho put a hand to his temple as his eyes flashed with calculations. “40%. 43%. 50%. 60%.” 

“Right, right, we get it,” Epel said. 

“Alright, we just need to think this through for a second,” Deuce said, standing and holding up his hands. “We can just explain, right? (Y/N)’s a good person, she’ll hear us out. We’ll just explain why we’re worried and, and…” 

“And what?” Epel said. “You think we can somehow convince her to stay here?” 

“Prefect (Y/N) technically doesn't exist in this world,” Ortho said. “She has no records outside of Night Raven College, no citizenship or birth certificate. Outside of the Night Raven College campus, she’s not even a ghost.” 

“So,” Sebek said, eyes going glazed over again. “It would be simple for her to disappear from the rest of the world.” 

A heavy silence fell over them. Immediately, everyone’s mind went to the same place, formulating a plan with the same end goal. Their hearts began racing as they started conjuring up ideas and methods of execution, solutions for technical problems that might arise. (Y/N)’s  reaction to these plans didn’t particularly matter at the moment. After all, it would all be worth it in the end, right? 

“Okay, wait, hang on,” Jack said, trying to quiet his racing thoughts and the dark places they were going. “We - we need to think this through. It’s not like we can just kidnap her or anything.” “You’re right,” Deuce said. “We’ll need help. If we want to pull this off we need resources.” 

“We’ll need people to back us up,” Ace agreed. “Getting her somewhere in the first place is the easy part, but we wouldn’t want to scare her for too long, you know? If we can convince her we know best it’d be easier in the long run, right?” 

“Lord Malleus has access to many fine manors in the Briar Valley,” Sebek said. 

“All the way to the Briar Valley?” Epel said. “Isn’t that place still hostile against humans? We can go to Harveston, it’s in the middle of the mountains. My uncle has a hunting lodge out there, it’d be perfect.” 

“The Isle of Woe is also an isolated location,” Ortho said. “And it would be much easier to keep (Y/N) under surveillance.” 

“Wait!” The others went silent, watching Jack. 

“Jack,” Ace said. “We’re either all in this together or not at all. Come on, how many times have we needed to save (Y/N)? How many times has she had to save us?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Would you really be okay with never seeing her again?” 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shut tight. They waited with bated breath for him to speak. Finally, he sighed. “Leona has resources. He has people, power, money. And I know he would want to know about this too. We’ll need other people to help with this. If she just suddenly vanished without warning I can think of several people who would look into it. And if they find out we planned something without them it would just make things more difficult.” 

The others smiled, relieved that one of the hardest people to convince was unequivocally on board. 

“Okay, so,” Ace said, clapping his hands. “We need a plan. Anyone have a good idea?” 

The others were quiet, the holes in their initial imagination growing bigger and bigger. 

“Well, no,” Deuce said. “But I know someone who might.” 

~~~

The atmosphere in Octavinelle always walked the tightrope between cool and calming and cutthroat and calculating, but maybe that had more to do with the first year's previous experience than the actual building. 

“Well, well, well,” Azul said smugly, leaning back in the plush chair in his office. “I didn’t expect to see you both back here so soon.” 

Ace and Deuce squirmed in their seats, trying, and failing, to look nonplussed by the looming Jade and Floyd. 

“Of course,” Azul continued. “I’m more than happy to assist any poor, unfortunate soul who should need my help. For the right price, of course. But, well, we’ve been through so much together, I’ll even give you a discount! What can the Monstro Lounge do for you today, boys?” 

Ace cleared his throat, warily eyeing Floyd’s wide grin. “Actually, there’s something we could do for you.” 

Azul raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.” 

“We think (Y/N) is going back to her world,” Deuce spit out, cracking under pressure. “We have a plan, well, kind of a plan, we’re coming up with ideas, but we know she’d be better here, happier here, we just need time to convince her, you know? So we, Ace and me and the other first years, we’re wanting to keep her here, maybe not at NRC but somewhere, until we can convince her, make her see reason. And we thought, we know you guys like her too so we thought you would want to help or-” 

“Shrimpy’s leaving?” Floyd said. His face was scrunched in confusion. Even Jade looked surprised, wide eyes and hand curled in front of his mouth. Azul had visibly paled, so much so that they worried he might faint. 

“I-” Azul’s voice cracked.

“That’s quite the rumor,” Jade said, covering for Azul. “I could see it being very damaging if it was spread around in malice.” 

“It’s not a rumor,” Ace said. “She basically told us yesterday.” 

“Shrimpy’s leaving?” Floyd repeated. His face flashed from confusion to hurt to anger. Without a word, he snapped up, stalking to the door. He threw it open so hard it cracked against the wall leaving an indent from the knob in the plaster. 

“Floyd!” Jade called after him. 

“No!” The other twin snapped. He barreled through the Mostro Lounge, patrons and waiters jumping out of his way with wide and appropriately afraid eyes. 

“Floyd, wait!”

“No!” 

The others caught up with Floyd halfway to the mirror portal to the main campus. Jade caught Floyd by the elbow, ducking in a practiced way when Floyd’s other elbow swung back. 

“No!” Floyd shouted again. “She’s not leaving! You’re lying!”

“See?” Ace said, waving his hand in Floyd’s direction. “You don’t want her to leave either! But no one’s going to like it if you just go up there and start freaking her out!” 

“We’re telling everyone,” Deuce continued. “Well, not everyone, but the people important, you know? We’re planning a meeting to figure this out. We can’t let (Y/N) leave. We can’t.” 

Floyd had calmed down enough that there wasn’t an immediate danger of a fight, but he was still seething. Jade still kept a tight grip on his brother’s arm, but it was more to anchor himself than keep Floyd from sprinting away again. 

“A plan,” Azul said. “You need a plan. Or, perhaps, a certain magical way to prevent (Y/N) from doing something… inadvisable.” 

“Yes, exactly,” Deuce said.

“We know it might be hard to get (Y/N) to sign one of your contracts given what’s happened before,” Ace said, giving Azul the side eye. 

“But we need every resource we can pull together,” Deuce finished. “We’re setting up a meeting tomorrow. We can count on you guys being there, right?” 

The three merpeople looked at each other. Unspoken conversation passed between them, the benefit of having known each other for the majority of their lives. 

“I’ll start drafting a contract immediately,” Azul said, golden light flourishing around his hand as he kicked up his signature spell. 

“I do believe there are certain species of mushroom in the nearby forest that could induce temporary paralysis,” Jade said, smiling slyly. “It might be worth it to have the Mountain Lovers Club take an unplanned execution.” 

“Hey, if nothing else,” Floyd said. “I’d love to give Shrimpy a big squeeze.” 

~~~

A pair of Pomefiore students were walking down the hall of their dorm, mindlessly chatting. They both froze as they heard a scream, followed by a loud crash. They crept to one of the sitting rooms, nudging the door open just enough to peek inside. 

Vil, their fearless, elegant, always poised house warden screamed again. He picked up a vase, at least one hundred years old and filled with beautiful hard to cultivate lilies, and threw it against the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. Reclining in one of the plush purple velvet chairs was the vice house warden Rook. His posture didn’t betray any concern or stress at Vil’s outburst, but the smile stretched across his face caused shivers to run down the spines of the two observers. Rook was tightly holding an arrow, his quiver at his side, tapping the sharper than usual point. Epel stood off to one side. He was hunched over, something that usually would have earned a scolding from Vil. He was carving an apple with single-minded determination, stabbing the soft flesh and discarding pieces with a flick of the wrist. Somehow, the stillness from the rambunctious farm boy who would jump at any chance to throw down was even more intimidating than if he was coming at them fists swinging. 

The two students looked at each other before quietly closing the door behind them and rushing from the scene. Knowing the penchant for chaos NRC students had, whatever was going on was way beyond their pay grade. 

Vil roared again, unending a long coffee table. It flipped twice before landing upside down, the papers and decorations on top fluttering in disarray. Vil took heaving breaths, facing a vanity on one side of the room, tightly gripping its sides as his nails carved tiny divots into the soft wood. He took one last deep breath, straightening and smoothing out his hair. He turned around, only a slight red flush any indication he was in distress. 

“Alright,” He said. “Rook, my book.” 

Rook jumped up, retrieving an intricately decorated purple and gold tome from where it had fallen. He handed it to Vil like a supplicant offering a sacrifice to a vengeful god, head slightly bowed and hands outstretched. 

“What are you looking for?” Epel asked. 

“I’ll know when I see it,” Vil said, not looking up. He flipped through the vellum pages. “A sleeping potion would be a temporary solution, at least as an easy way to secure her to another place. An Iron Stake spell is a possibility, but that would only secure her to one specific place and cause illness if she left the designated area, so that would be too restrictive. A potion to induce Hanahaki. If we can convince her she has a magical based illness, then she would need to stay somewhere she could receive magical treatment.”  

“We were wanting to gather everyone in one place,” Epel said. “To come up with ideas.” 

Vil scoffed. “As if half of those fools can even look farther than their own nose. I don’t trust anyone else to treat this issue with the delicate hand it needs.” 

“Perhaps,” Rook said smoothly. “But we must consider that our dear Trickster has made a place in the hearts of many others. And while your methods would obviously be far superior and much more beautiful, we can’t discount the interference of well meaning interlopers.” Rook gave Epel a wink as he skillfully directed Vil into cooperation. 

“Hmm,” Vil hummed, snapping the book shut. “Unfortunately, you have a point. Very well. Epel, we will attend this conclave. If nothing else than to emphasize that we know what’s best for (Y/N), despite what those uncultured miscreants might think.” 

Epel set his apple down, stabbing his knife upright. He grinned wickedly. “Absolutely, House Warden.” 

~~~

Jamil was cooking. Which, in itself, wasn’t that unusual. Jamil cooked all the time. Special meals for Kalim to ensure nothing was tampered with, feasts for the almost weekly Scarabia parties, just to have something other than the repetitive cafeteria fair. But whatever Jamil was doing now caused the gathered Scarabia students to stay out of the kitchen, watching in concern from their hiding places around the door. 

Jamil was staring straight ahead, not paying attention to the incredibly sharp knife in his hand. He methodically chopped fruits and vegetables, not paying any attention that they were already in minuscule cubes, juices dripping down the counter to pool at his feet. A pot on the stove was close to boiling over. Even the fridge had been left open, cold air escaping into the warm room. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Kalim asked, seeing his dorm mates crowded around the kitchen entrance. He sniffed the air and smiled. “Ooh, Jamil is cooking something good! Are you all waiting for it to be ready?” 

“Uh, House Warden?” One of the students said tentatively. “I think you should check on Vice House Warden Jamil. He seems…” 

“Stressed?” Someone offered. 

“Distracted,” Another said. 

“About to Overblot again,” A third muttered under their breath. The boys around him shushed him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll see what’s up!” Kalim said cheerfully. He waved them away, coming into the kitchen with the same happy-go-lucky free spirit he did everything with, not noticing the warry looks the departing students gave him. “Jamil!” He greeted, slapping Jamil’s shoulder. “What’s up?” 

Jamil barely flinched, still looking at something in the far distance only he could see. “(Y/N) is leaving.” 

“Hmm? Do we have a vacation coming up?” 

“No, she’s leaving.” 

Kalim’s smile started to falter. “Is she transferring or something? Like to Nobel Bell College?” 

“No.” Jamil slammed the knife down, lodging in the cutting board. “She’s leaving. Leaving Night Raven College, leaving Sage’s Island, leaving Twisted Wonderland, leaving m-” He cut himself off. With a sharp pull, he yanked the knife out of the board, sliding over a sweet potato to dice. “She’s going back to her world. Crowley must have found a way. Ace and Floyd told me at basketball practice today. They’re organizing some sort of meeting with the others to talk about it. Whatever good that will do.” 

“Oh.” Kalim blinked, thinking. “That… would be bad.” 

Jamil laughed dourly. “That’s an understatement.” 

Kamil smiled again. “Well, that’s fine. You can fix that easy, right?” Jamil stopped, turning to Kalim with a quizzical look. Kalim tapped his temple next to his eye. “You know, with your unique magic! You can just tell her not to leave, like you did with me.” He didn’t say it with any malice, not blaming Jamil for their past misadventure. 

“I…” 

“Oh, come on,” Kalim said, jumping up and coming over to Jamil, leaning against the counter and plucking at the desiccated food. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of it. I know Snake Whisper doesn't last for too long, but if we bring her to one of the Asim chateaus, you know, maybe in the middle of the Scalding Sands desert, you can just recast it whenever, right? Oh, unless that wears you out too much. I bet we can find another way to keep her around while you recover though!” Kalim popped a date in his mouth nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just suggested kidnapping and hypnotizing their friend for an undetermined period of time. 

“You…” Jamil started, trailing off. He laughed, shaking his head. He turned down the stove on the boiling pot, scrapping the chopped vegetables into a bowl, and kicked the fridge door closed. “Well, if I have your permission, then who am I to argue?” 

Kalim just smiled, eating another date. 

~~~ 

Idia was typing so fast his hands were practically a blur. On his multi-monitor computer setup, footage from the multiple hidden cameras around campus zoomed by as he searched for specific information. He gnawed on his thumb nail. 

“And you’re sure she said that?” He asked Ortho, resting in his charging station. “The Bird Brain found a way for her to go back-” He almost said ‘home,’ but that word didn’t feel right when talking about you. This was your home now, right? It was. It had to be. “Back to her original world?” 

“Prefect (Y/N) was speaking to Ace Trapolla and Deuce Spade, so I didn’t hear her exact wording or was able to monitor her vitals for evidence of deception,” Ortho said. “But she had invited us and the others involved in the various Overblot incidents to dinner this Saturday, which aligns with the announcement they said she wanted to make.” 

Idia kept clicking, following (Y/N)’s movements the day before she dropped a bombshell on Ace and Deuce. The world sped by at 10x speed on the screen. Idia’s hair sparked with red and orange as his concern, rage, and betrayal simmered underneath the surface. 

He slowed the replay speed down as (Y/N) approached the Headmage’s office, meeting Crowley outside the door. There wasn’t any audio, Idia cursed himself for not installing that feature ahead of time. (Y/N) indicated the office and Crowley held the doors open for her with a flourish. He cursed again that he hadn’t managed to sneak any cameras in the office. 

Idia sped up the footage again, scrambling when (Y/N) and Crowley left the office only a few minutes later. He would have thought a conversation about her possible return would have taken a lot longer. Crowley dramatically mimed wiping a tear from his masked eye, shaking her hand with both of his. As they were speaking, Professor Trein and Professor Crewel both walked up. Crowley waved them over, animatedly speaking to them, waving at (Y/N). Crewel patted her head while Trein gave her a warm smile and nod. Idia could just read Crewel’s lips as he said, “Good luck, pup.” 

‘Good luck’? Why would she need good luck? She had all the luck she needed if she stayed here. How else would you explain all of the incidents that had happened all year while still escaping unscathed? You would only lose that luck if you went somewhere else, somewhere far, too far, away. 

Idia bashed his hands against his keyboard, his fire-like hair engulfed in red, hitting the keys to pause the video. The video had stopped on a shot of her face, smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners, hand up in a silent goodbye. 

No, not goodbye. Not if he could help it. 

“Ortho,” Idia said. “Send a message to Mom and Dad. We’ll need a guest room set up.” 

~~~

“And you told Azul before me?!” Riddle raged. 

Ace and Deuce cringed back, subconsciously guarding their throats in case Riddle unleashed his unique magic. 

The two first years had corralled Riddle, Trey, and Cater in one of the tea rooms at the Heatslabyul dorm. While Riddle had already started the impromptu meeting annoyed, there were rules for setting an assembly, priorities quickly shifted. 

“Riddle,” Trey said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “Would you want (Y/N) to see you like this?” 

Riddle flinched back at Trey’s statement. He forced his shoulders to relax, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “One, two, three,” He began counting. “What’s he doing?” Deuce whispered. 

“Counting,” Riddle said, voice still steely. “To try and calm my nerves so I don’t do something you’ll regret!” 

“Don’t you mean ‘something I’ll regret’?” Ace asked. Deuce glared at him. 

Riddle smiled coldly. “Yes, you will regret it.” 

“Cater?” Deuce asked. The ginger-haired boy was humming tunelessly, tapping on his phone what a vacant look on his face. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course,” Cater said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because (Y/N) might be leaving and we’ll never see or hear from her ever again?” 

Cater only stared at him, blinking, eyes lost in a thousand yard stare. He suddenly perked up. “Oh! That reminds me. (Y/N) and I were going to go to the Glass Slipper Gala this summer! It’s pretty much impossible to get tickets to the actual event, obvi, but there are all these side parties where people dress up for the theme that year. Totally Magicamable and sups adorbs.” He lifted his phone and took a selfie, retreating back into his own world as he kept tapping on the screen. 

“I… think he might be in denial,” Trey sighed. “It is a big change, I suppose.” 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Ace said, spreading his hands. “It doesn't have to be! When we meet up with everyone tomorrow night-” 

“Everyone?” Trey asked. “The more people involved in this, the more likely it is to get out of control. Especially with the, uh, strong personalities we have here.” 

“So,” Ace said. “That’s why we’re telling you guys now. We’re obviously the best people to handle this. Sure, we let the other dorms think they’re in control, but that’s only the first part of the plan. You got to appeal to their egos, you know? And after that…” 

“We swoop in with Heatslabuyl style and save the day!” Deuce finished. 

“We all know she likes us best, anyway,” Ace said, leaning back with a confident grin. “And if we ‘save’ her from whatever those guys have planned, say we need to lay low for a while…” 

“Then she not only depends on us,” Trey said, picking up the thread. “But she’ll also feel indebted to us.” 

“And if anyone else tries to swoop in and make a nuisance of themselves,” Riddle continued. “She’ll be hesitant to trust anyone from the outside.” 

“What’s that saying?” Deuce asked. “A gilded cage is still gilded?” 

“Not exactly,” Trey said. “But, I’ll admit, it has the making of a good plan.” 

Riddle humphed, hands on his hips. “Well, then, we don’t have very long. We need a strategy going into this meeting. Here,” He arranged parts of the tea set around the table, assigning each of them to one of their cabal. “We can use this to start visualizing a scenario.” 

“Maybe we can wear matching outfits,” Cater said dreamily, still off in his own world. 

~~~

Leona leaned back against the tree, crossing his arms behind his head, eyes closed. “So?” He said. His tail twitched restlessly beside him, the only sign of agitation. 

Jack frowned. “So? So (Y/N) might be leaving and never coming back. We have to do something about this.” 

“So, if she wants to go and throw away everything she has here, everyone who cares about her, everything she’s built, fine, go ahead. No skin off my nose.” 

Ruggie’s ears were flat back against his head. “You’re such a liar.” 

Leona cracked one eye open, glaring. “What was that?” 

Ruggie jumped to his feet, gnashing his teeth. “Don’t just sit there and pretend you don’t care! Don’t act like this isn’t your fault! You act so laissez-faire all the time, like you don’t care about anyone or anything. You just push people away, you’ve pushed her away! And now we’re all paying for your inferiority complex!” 

Leona lunged at Ruggie so fast Jack’s eyes couldn’t even track it. One second they were a yard apart, Leona pouting with not a care in the world, Ruggie standing, fists clenched tightly at his side. The next they were tumbling over each other, Ruggie snapping his teeth at Leona’s obviously superior strength as the House Warden held him down. Jack watched in shock, torn between wanting to pull them apart and respect for his seniors. 

Leona pushed Ruggie face first into the dirt. Ruggie still snarled, letting out short breathed barks like an angry cackle. Leona hefted him up by the back of his shirt, biting down hard on the scruff of Ruggie’s neck. Ruggie immediately went limp, like a rag doll in the hands of a petulant child. Leona dropped him, standing over his still body and huffing hard. 

“You,” He hissed. “Don’t get to challenge me. You don’t get to tell me how I’m meant to react. You have no idea how I feel, about her or anything else.” 

Ruggie looked over his shoulder, glaring daggers, but said nothing. 

“I-” Jack started. His voice caught in his throat in a lump at the withering look Leona gave him. “I told the others you would be able to help. No one is doubting you’re a good leader,” His eyes cut to Ruggie on the floor, who scowled but said nothing. “We all know it. We also all know you care a lot more than you pretend to.  You’re clever, an amazing strategist, and you have abilities and resources none of us could dream of. Be honest with yourself. After everything that’s happened, after your Overblot, would you really be fine with (Y/N) disappearing?” 

“And do you really want Malleus scooping her up? You know he will.” Ruggie mumbled. 

Leona stalked around the glade, ears back and tail thrashing. He ground his teeth, fangs cutting into his lower lip. He roared, hand striking out, claws raking across a tree to leave deep gashes. He huffed, straightening and turning around. With little effort, he picked Ruggie up by the back of his vest and set him on his feet. 

He looked at the two of them, face set in determination. “Alright. (Y/N)’s not going anywhere.” 

~~~

The sky around the Diasomnia dorm cracked with green lightning. Students ran for cover, dodging torrents of hail, sleet, and needle-like rain. Dark clouds swirled around the spiky towers of the dorm, threatening to turn into tornados. 

Silver, Sebek, and Lilia trailed behind Malleus, futilely trying to catch up with his long strides. Lilia hopped up and quickly flew in front of the dragon prince.

“Now, just a moment, Malleus,” Lilia pleaded, hands up. 

Malleus evaporated in a cascade of green sparks, reappearing several feet behind Lilia, continuing his determined march without a pause in his step. Lilia sighed and rolled his eyes, catching back up with the two knights in training. 

“We don’t know for sure if she’s leaving,” Silver said, trying to act as a voice of reason. 

“What other conclusions would you draw from that?” Sebek snapped. “His majesty deserves to have every piece of available information to make the best decision for all involved.” 

“Which is why we need to slow down and think things through.” 

“Are you doubting Lord Malleus’s desition making skills in the time of crisis?” 

“She shall be kept in the highest room in the tallest tower deep in the heart of Briar Valley,” Malleus said, almost to himself.  “I’ll lock her in shackles of gold, give her a collar of diamonds and pearls, line her cage with velvet. No one shall take my child of man from my side, be it herself or any one else.” 

They looked at each other, quickening their step. 

Just as Malleus was reaching for the front door, ready to burst through to the mirror room, Lilia jumped in front of him, arms splayed wide. “Hold it!” He shouted. “Hold everything!” Malleus frowned, crossing his arms and glaring. Lilia put a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath. “Honestly, I can’t keep up with you young ones anymore.” 

“I suggest you think carefully about what you say next, old man,” Malleus said coldly. 

“And I suggest you think carefully about the consequences of your actions, not to mention those around you. Really, do you think any of us want to see (Y/N) leave? Of course not. That’s why Sebek came to tell you in the first place. He trusts you enough to know you would be able to deftly handle the situation. And if you would stop to think for a moment, you would realize marching up to Ramshackle, spells blazing, would only create a rift between you and our dear Prefect, yes?” Malleus pressed his lips together, obviously still annoyed at the interruption, but understanding Lilia’s perspective. “As the future ruler of the Briar Valley, you need to learn how to handle matters with finesse as well as brutality. You don’t want to show (Y/N) a darker side of yourself, right? She already thinks the world of you, we all know that, don’t we, boys?” Lilia motioned Silver and Sebek, who nodded. “Simply telling her what you want and expecting no resistance might, well, damage her option of you, however misguided she might be.” 

“She is misguided,” Malleus said. “And a wayward subject needs a firm hand to direct them.” 

“But (Y/N) isn’t a subject,” Silver interjected. He had to stop himself from physically taking a step back at the sudden heat of Malleus’s gaze. “At least, not yet. It’s like… Frogs. Remember, Father?” 

“Frogs? Oh, yes! How clever, Silver!” Lilia said, clapping his hands. “If you put a frog in a pot of water and slowly turn up the heat underneath it, the frog won’t realize the water is boiling until it’s too late.” 

“So, acclimation?” Malleus said. 

“Exactly!” Sebek said. “That was our original plan! We keep her here just long enough to convince her this is the best place to be. And, of course, who wouldn’t want to stay in your glorious presents, Lord Malleus?”  

Lightning continued to crackle across the sky, but the deluge had reduced to a mild thunderstorm. 

“I will not lose her.” 

“Of course not! None of us want to, we would never dream of it!” Lilia said. 

Malleus closed his eyes in thought for a moment before turning to Silver and Sebek. He called their names and they stood at attention. “I have a list of ingredients I need before this… meeting. I trust you will be able to procure them for me quickly.” He manifested paper and a quill pen from the air, the list writing itself midair before tearing in half and splitting between the two knights. They left with a salute. 

As they went to search, Lilia hummed, floating next to Malleus. “That is quite the potion you want to brew.” 

“Reassurance and reinforcement,” Malleus said. “In case someone wants to try and make things difficult for us. After all, dragons are naturally jealous creatures.” 

~~~

They congregated in the House Warden’s meeting room under cover of night. It was all cloak and dagger, literally in some cases. Tensions were high, the atmosphere in the room could have been cut with a knife. The House Warden’s took their seats around the round table, the others standing dutifully behind them. 

Everyone looked at each other with suspicion. Why should they have any say with what happened to (Y/N)? They weren’t as close to her, didn’t deserve her as much as the other party. They would only hurt her in the end. ‘No, our plan is the best,’ Each group thought. Although they had originally arranged to create one master plan with every dorm involved, the meeting quickly descended into shouting voices, a cacophony of accusations, declarations, and split tensions. 

The din only subsided briefly when the door to the meeting room was opened. Sebek and Silver both held one door open for Malleus to stride through, looking for all the world like the crown prince he was. Lilia floated behind him, giving a small wave as they entered. 

“Oh, dear,” Lilia said. “I hope we’re not too late.” 

“Not at all,” Riddle said through clenched teeth. “We were just discussing what we should do at the dinner tomorrow when (Y/M) makes her announcement.” 

“There is no discussion,” Azul said. “We need to make a move before that! I’ve drafted a contract that would-” 

“Again with your contracts,” Jamil interrupted. “And how exactly are you planning on getting her to sign it? She’s not as easy to trick as some more gullible people.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “Don’t act so high and mighty! Everyone on campus knows that we’re her best friends!” “That’s right!” Deuce said. “We only brought you all in as a courtesy. We should be the ones who decide what happens next!” 

Arguments broke out again, everyone talking over each other, spells aching to be slung. 

Malleus took his seat and watched the growing chaos. He swept his eyes over the tables, taking in the faces of all involved. For a moment, he was touched. You had truly ingrained yourself in the lives of everyone present in such a short amount of time. They were all willing to do so much for you, risk everything, all for your benefit. And you didn’t even realize it. 

But, of course, his love was the purest of them all.  

Cooly, Malleus plucked a vial from his front pocket, setting it on the table without a word. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for their reactions. As the participants took note of the new object, talk dwindled to silence. The air went still as every eye focused on the small bottle Malleus set on the table. It was no bigger than three inches tall, frosted glass, with a ball shaped stopper. A light pink liquid sloshing around inside, seeming to swirl completely independent of any outside influence. It glowed slightly, casting their astonished faces in a sickly sweet light. 

“A love potion?” Vil said breathlessly. 

“That is… highly illegal,” Riddle said. 

“I’m sorry,” Malleus said. “I thought we were looking for solutions.” 

“And besides,” Lilia added cooly. “Isn’t everything we’re discussing now highly illegal?” 

“Can you even call it illegal for a person who doesn't legally exist?” Jade thought out loud. 

“Hang on,” Leona said, standing. “A love potion would only work on the first person she sees after she drinks it. What are you trying to plan here, lizard?” 

Malleus looked down at Leona. “It would be best if she were to be with the one who is able to take the best care of her. Unless you’re suggesting you could do better?” 

“I think,” Vil interjected before Leona had a chance to start another fight. “What Leona is saying is that we all care deeply about (Y/N). That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it? And if she were to be, let’s say, connected to only one person, it might defeat the whole purpose of us coming together to find a solution to our mutual problem.” 

“If it’s the first person she sees,” Kalim said. “Well, we’ll all be together for dinner anyway, right? Is there a way we can have her see us all at the same time?” 

“If Prefect (Y/N) is standing at the head of the table,” Ortho said, holding his hands out to visualize the situation. “Then it is possible to have multiple people in her field of vision at the same time.” 

“Hang on,” Trey said. “I know we’re talking about essentially  kidnapping here, but isn’t a love potion a little extreme?” 

“Maybe we could consider that a last resort?” Idia said. “Especially since we’re already planning on trying to convince her to stay in other ways.” 

Malleus plucked up the vial and tucked it back into his pocket. “If that is the general consensus, I’ll agree for now.” 

“For now,” Leona echoes with a glare. Malleus smiled pleasantly at him. 

The introduction of the ultimate ultimatum seemed to cool tensions in the group. Eventually, a tentative agreement was reached. Of course, whether or not everyone would actually follow that agreement day of was up for debate. The factions retreated to their dorms, waiting for the next day with both trepidation and anxiety-riddled anticipation. 

~~~ 

(Y/N) felt like something was off. On the surface, everything was normal. Well, as normal as it could be for this particular group of magic students. Everyone seemed to be chatting pleasantly enough, sitting around a long table (Y/N) and Grim had pulled into the Ramshackle guestroom. But, the more she paid attention, the more stiff everyone came across. She felt like everyone was watching her, that there would be a group pause whenever she spoke. It made goosebumps spring up on her arms. 

She supposed it might have been a general reaction to her sudden invitation and the announcement she had said she wanted to make. She thought she should have found out a better way to tell everyone at once, maybe something that would have caused less stress. She had hoped that having good food and good company would make this less stressful, for her and them. But, possibly aside from Ruggie and Grim both scarfing down whatever they would get their hands on, almost everyone else seemed to be picking at their food. 

‘Well,’ She thought. ‘No time like the present.’ She stood, shivering a little when everyone’s head snapped in her direction. Even if she already had their attention, she still cleared her throat to prepare for her announcement. “Hello! First, I want to thank you all for coming! I know everyone values their day off, so I appreciate you all taking the time to come see me.I also wanted to say how much you all mean to me. I came here with nothing, no idea how I got here, no magic, obviously. And I’ll admit there have been some really intense and scary moments, but I’ve been able to get through everything thanks to all of you. And I wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anybody else. I’m so happy I got to meet you all.” At this, her voice cracked a little, eyes going misty. Grim jumped into her arms and she pulled him close in a tight hug. “Right, anyway, sorry, I’m getting sentimental. So, as I’m sure you all know, Crowley has been looking for a way for me to go back to my world since I came here. And the other day, well, I told him to stop. I’ve decided I’m going to stay here, in Twisted Wonderland. I know it will be hard, and to be honest, I’m not really sure how a lot of it will work out. But there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

All was silent, a spring coiled ready to snap. Then, Cater burst into tears. 

“Cater?” (Y/N) asked, worried. She rushed over to him and he slung his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. 

“I-I thought-thought that you-” Cater tried to say through sobs. “I’m so happy!” 

And with that, the room relaxed. A collective breath was released as everyone finally seemed to come back to themselves. 

With the tension finally broken, (Y/N) felt her shoulders relax. She wasn’t totally sure what reaction she was going to get, it definitely wasn’t what she was expecting from Cater. For the past few days she felt a heavy miasma building over her, a sense of dread that kept building but she couldn’t find a source for. As she watched her friends chat, passing plates between each other, clinking glasses, she smiled. She should have known there wasn’t anything to worry about. After all, she had everyone here with her. She knew she could always trust them to have her back. 

After the party meandered to a close, (Y/N) made the rounds of saying goodnight to everyone as they got ready to leave. Although, as they might say in her world, it definitely felt like a ‘Minnesota long goodbye.’ Everyone was lingering, coming up with just one more thing to talk about, putting on coats only to take them off again, wondering out loud if she was really sure she didn’t need help cleaning up, and it was already dark out, would it maybe be easier if they just stayed the night? People seemed to linger tonight, an extra touch on her shoulder, a hug just a second longer than usual, a turn on phrase that hid something (Y/N) couldn’t see. But, considering the tense atmosphere at the beginning of their dinner, she tallied it up to whatever strange mood had taken her friends. 

(Y/N) puffed out a breath as Ace unexpectedly crashed into her back, throwing his arms around her to pull into a backward hug. “Geeze, (Y/N)” He whined without any real heat. “You sure know how to make something dramatic, huh? Got us worried something bad was happening for a while.” 

“Don’t be mean,” Deuce said. He smiled. “Seriously, we’re really glad you’re deciding to stay, though. You’ll let me know if you need any help, yeah?” 

“You’ll let us know,” Ace clarified. (Y/N) missed the glare that passed between them. “Speaking of, next time you - Ack!” Ace was cut off with a heart-shaped collar suddenly appearing around his neck, Deuce sporting a matching one, his eyes downcast and lip wobbling. 

“You’ll have to excuse us, (Y/N),” Riddle said, tugging at Ace’s collar. “These two are late for a lecture on causing unnecessary panic.” With Trey comforting a still misty-eyed Cater and Riddle dragging away the other two first years who waved goodbye with resigned compliance, they departed into the night. 

“Thanks for having us,” Jack said. Ruggie’s arms were piled high with plenty of Tupperware loaded with leftovers. Leona stood behind, trying to look disinterested, but keeping a sharp eye on anyone who tried to get too close to their conversation. 

“Of course! I’m glad you guys could come. I was just thinking - Oh, Ruggie!” (Y/N) gasped, reaching out for the red circular mark on the back of Ruggie’s neck. “Are you okay?” 

Ruggie’s hand shot up, covering what suspiciously looked like a bite mark. From over her shoulder, Leona shot him a glare that could turn a man to stone. 

“Oh, yeah, fine!” Ruggie said quickly. “Yeah, just-”

“Just doing something stupid,” Leona cut in. “That won’t be a problem in the future, right?” 

Ruggie’s ears went flat as he narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, you got it, House Warden.” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to ask if everything was alright between them when Jack cut her off. “We’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N). If you have any trouble now that you’ve decided to stay, you can always come to Savannahclaw first.” 

(Y/N) blinked at the sudden stoniness of Jack’s voice. “I’ll… Keep that in mind. Thanks, Jack.” 

As she waved them off she felt a familiar prickle at the back of her neck. With half a second to spare, she quickly sidestepped, dodging Floyd’s incoming hug. He stumbled a little bit, turning to glare, but the effect was ruined by the wide cheerful smile on his face. 

“Shrimpy~” He said in a singsong voice. “You’re not trying to escape me again, are you?” 

“Again?” She said. “What-” 

“What my brother means to say,” Jade said. “Is that we’re very happy we’ll continue to be blessed with your presents.” 

“Sure,” (Y/N) said. “I’m happy, too.” 

“And of course,” Azul continued smoothly. “If you happen to have any difficulties settling in, we would be more than happy to assist you. Why, I’d even be so inclined to offer our services at a discount! For old times sake.” 

“Or,” Jade said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. “You could just move to the bottom of the sea with us.” 

“You would get used to the cold,” Floyd said, wrapping his arm around her other shoulder. “We could just squeeze you real tight to keep you warm.” 

“Thanks for the offer, guys,” She said, shrugging out of their constricting embrace. 

“If you want to stay somewhere warm,” Kalim interrupted, grasping her arm and pulling her into him. “Why won’t you come to Silk City? I bet my family would love to meet you! Right, Jamil?” 

Jamil had an unfocused, faraway look in his eye, only snapping back when Kalim said his name. He moved to put himself between them and the Octavinelle trio. “Right,” He said. He tilted his head down, hair falling in a curtain to separate them from the rest of the room, Kalim’s hug tightened as his smile sharpened. Jamil met (Y/N)’s eyes. “(Y/N), look at me for a second. I-”

“(Y/N)!” She was yanked out of Kalim’s tightening constrictor hug into an equally smothering embrace, heady with the scent of lilac and apples. “There you are! I’m so happy to see you!” Epel continued. He was using that formal voice, pitched higher to emphasize his naturally cute appearance that Vil had been training him in. 

“Oui, mon trickster! We couldn’t bear to leave without complimenting what a wonderful party you put together!” Rook continued, snatching her out of Epel’s arms into his own.  (Y/N) was starting to get dizzy from being thrown in between people so much. As Rook took her full attention, Epel sneered at the Scarabia duo, sticking out his tongue before melting back into the perfect picture of polite sweetness. 

Vil interrupted (Y/N) getting smothered with a gentle but definitive touch on her shoulder. “I can’t tell you how pleased your decision makes me, (Y/N),” He said. (Y/N) sometimes forgot that outside of NRC, Vil was ranked as one of the most beautiful people in the world, a five-star actor and model. At this moment, with him looking down at her with every ounce of that carefully cultivated deminor, it took her breath away. She would have done almost anything he asked of her at that moment. Which was exactly what he was banking on. 

“I’d love for you to consider spending the summer in the Shaftlands with me. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be all alone here on campus, and I could use an assistant during filming.” 

“Or,” Epel said sharply. “You can come with me to Harveston! We could always use a couple extra hands in the orchards. And you know my grandma would love to see you again. You liked it there the last time, right? She’d be so disappointed if she didn’t get to see you.” 

“The Hunt family always love visitors!” Rook added. 

“Thanks, guys,” (Y/N) said, twisting out of their grasp. They snatched at the air where she was, fixing their faces back to pleasant smiles when she turned to face them. “I appreciate it. I’m not really sure what it’s going to be like when the school year is over, but I’ll let you know!” 

“If you’re talking about traveling,” Ortho said, taking her hand and pulling her over to Idia who was stabbing at his tablet, eyes darting as she came over. “You can come with us! The Isle of Woe is unlike anywhere in the world! And we’ve got a ton of cool tech that Idia’s been working on, right, Idia?” 

Idia stuttered to life, pressing the tablet to his chest to hide the screen (Were those images of the rooms around Ramshackle?). “What? Oh, yeah, sure! It’ll be better than the last time, probably. I could probably convince Mom and Dad to get you an internship.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m half as smart enough to know anything about all that stuff you guys work with. It’s all sci-fi as far as I can tell. But I wouldn’t mind visiting, if that’s okay! I’d love to be able to explore everything when we’re not worrying about Overblot Phantoms. Uh, sorry.” 

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for something that’s true,” Sebek said, stepping up, shoulders back, hands clasped tightly behind him. He and Idia exchanged knife-sharp looks, Idia’s hair sparking red at the edges. Ortho quickly swooped in, giving their goodbyes and pushing Idia away. 

Sebek’s eyes trailed them with military precision as Lilia swept in to distract (Y/N). “Oh, I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me!” Lilia said, exaggeratedly sniffing and whipping an invisible tear from his eye. 

“We know it might be hard to adjust,” Silver said. “But we want you to know that we all care about you and we’re more than willing to help.” 

“And we do mean anything,” Lilia said. “You should definitely come to us first, okay? No need to waste time on anyone else.” 

“‘Waste time’?” (Y/N) asked. 

“What Father means is,” Silver interjected. “We want you to know you can rely on us. With making sure a big change, there’s bound to be some uneven footing. You’ve proved you’re more than capable over and over again, but still…” His hand drifted out, trailing along her sleeve, before catching himself and snatching it back, gripping the hilt of his magical baton tightly. 

“We should go,” Sebek said. He looked sternly at (Y/N). “Don’t do anything stupid, human.” 

“I try every day.” 

~~~

The night air was warm as (Y/N) stood on the front steps of the old house, waving goodbye as her guests departed for the night. As much as she loved to see them, she admitted to herself that it was kind of nice to finally have Ramshackle to herself for the night. Well, herself plus Grim and the ghosts, but whatever. Malleus stepped out next to her. He nodded at his dorm mates, giving them a look that (Y/N) missed. 

(Y/N) stepped back inside, starting to pick up plates and leftovers. Malleus stood in the doorway, horns brushing the top of the doorframe, unmoving except for his eyes which tracked her. 

“I’m glad you came,” She said, stacking plates. “I mean, I knew you would, but I’m still happy.” 

“Of course,” Malleus said, fully stepping into the room. “I would come whenever you call.” 

“Sap,” (Y/N) teased. She paused, plates clinking against each other. “I’m glad I’m staying. And I’m glad everyone is so willing to help. I mean, I know we’ve all been through a lot together here, but this is a lot all at once. It’s kind of scary, you know? There’s so much basic information about this world that I still don’t know. I mean, I’ve been pretty lucky that I’ve been able to visit so many places like going to everyone’s hometown and everything. But it feels like everyday I learn something totally new that rearranges my whole perception of the world, and everyone else just treats it like normal. I…” She trailed off. “You know Rollo and I have kept in touch? He asked if I would come visit during spring break. Fluer City is supposed to be beautiful that time of year, but I think it’s probably beautiful any time of year. He’s tried to convince me to transfer to Nobel Bell College a couple of times, but I told him I like it here too much. But Professor Crewel said he might be able to get me an internship at a fashion house there, did you know he used to be a designer? Anyway, it’s something that doesn't need magic, so it could be a good fit. And now everyone is offering me a place to stay after graduation. Hey, maybe I’ll do a full Twisted Wonderland tour! I’ll have to start figuring out where I’ll be after school anyway, right? A degree from Night Raven College might be prestigious, but not having any magic can only get me so far, you know? I’ll need to take whatever opportunity I can get.” 

Malleus froze, turning her words over in his head. He stepped forward. “You work so hard, dear Child of Man,” He said. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Please, sit, you deserve a moment of respite. Here, drink this.” A mug of some steaming and sweet smelling drink appeared in Malleus’s hands. He pressed it into hers, insistent. 

“Oh, thanks, Hornton,” She said, taking a long sip, not noticing the slight pink sheen of the steaming liquid.

[please1mistress]

FASHING IMAGE WARNING

COVERT HYPNOSIS AHEAD

Let's face it, you are reading this because the flashing image caught your eye and you saw under it that there may be some hypnosis that is covert. If you aren't aware of it, hypnosis is a heighten sense of awareness where the mind becomes more suggestable and sometimes that can happen as you read something that draws you in deeper and deeper as you focus on the words. It's like the mind's magical mystery tour. Imagine your brain as a bustling city with thoughts zooming around like cars in rush hour traffic. Now, enter hypnosis: it's like a traffic controller who steps in, slows everything down, and directs your attention to a scenic detour. It's this state of deep relaxation and laser-sharp focus that allows me to suggest new traffic routes in your brain, helping you change habits, relieve stress, or even find lost keys in the sofa of your subconscious.

Hypnosis isn't really SLEEP, though some might think you're just snoozing with style. And forget the old pocket watch swinging; today's Hypno-Dominants are more likely to use soothing words and imagery, not bling, to guide you into this trance state. So, while you won't be barking like a dog at the snap of a finger (unless that's your thing—no judgment), you might just find yourself embracing that deeper submissive part of your mind. The part you want to hide from others, after all, you have fantasies, and fantasies lead to desires, and desires lead to needs, and needs become wants, and wants become wishes, and wishes become dreams, and dreams become patterns, and patterns become repetitive, repetition becomes hypnotic, and hypnotic becomes habits, and habits become beliefs, and beliefs become reality, and reality becomes your new self.

You deeply want to relax and focus on my words. In a world where distractions abound, focusing on my words can sometimes feel like trying to thread a needle on a rollercoaster. But fear not, for the power of focused concentration is within you. Just, Imagine your mind as a magnifying glass, intensifying the sun's rays to ignite the fire of understanding. With each word, you're building a bridge to your desires, one brick at a time. So, let's put on our metaphorical hard hats and construct the cathedral of this hypno-fetish that I know deep down you have, where every word is a stained glass window, illuminating the mysteries of your fetish. Remember, when you focus on my words, you're not just reading; you're in a light suggestible state, where I can easily manipulate your mind on a deeper level.

Each image you scroll past on tumblr, implants a small suggestion in your mind without you being aware of it, so it's easy to RELAX and read my words here as you FOCUS deeper on your real desire to submit and give a dominant like myself deeper control over your thoughts and desires on this epic quest for submission and pleasure, with each sentence a step on the path to enslavement. Happy focusing!

[amischiefofmuses]

New character headers for threads so far. I know they're not all centered the same but I'm tired and it won't be noticable when they're not all alongside eachother so I'm not too bothered. P proud of how they've come out though!!

[capquinn]

Perfekt | N. Hischier

summary: When Nico’s composure slips in the heat of the moment, his soft English praises give way to raw, unfiltered Swiss German pairing: nico hischier x reader content: smut, p in v, super vanilla, MDNI word count: 2.3k note: disclaimer: an english to swiss german translator was used. apologies for any incorrect translations <3 ↪masterlist

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“You’re not speaking English anymore,” you whisper against his lips, your fingers threading through his damp hair, nails lightly scratching against his scalp. The way he exhales, a shaky, uneven breath, sends a shiver through you.

Your lips trail away from his, moving to press soft, lingering kisses along his cheek and jaw, the faint stubble grazing your skin. He stays still, his body taut as though every nerve is focused on where you’re touching him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

He’ll start in English, his voice calm and steady as he murmurs soft, sweet praises against your skin, like he’s savouring every inch of you. It’s deliberate, grounding, the kind of control that makes your heart race because you know exactly what it’s building toward.

But then his composure starts to crack. And when it does, it’s like a switch flips. His brain defaults to the language he grew up with, the one that feels the most natural when he’s overwhelmed and raw. It’s instinctual, spilling from his lips like a confession — Swiss German phrases so soft and quiet, they’re more exhaled than spoken. At first, it’s just a word here or there, low and rough, but as he gets closer, his control slipping further, the floodgates open.

“Mein Gott,” he breathes, the words tumbling out unbidden, barely above a whisper. My God.

His hips roll into yours with a steady, deliberate rhythm, each thrust deeper and more purposeful than the last. His chest brushes against yours with every movement, the heat of his body pressing into you as his lips graze your temple. His hands grip your hips, firm but reverent, like he’s anchoring himself in the feel of you beneath him. The drag of him inside you, the way his body moves against yours, is consuming, leaving you breathless with every deliberate grind.

“Perfekt,” he groans, the word slipping out rough and broken, his fingers tightening on your hips as he pulls you closer, deeper.

The muscles in his shoulders flex beneath your touch as your hands trace the line of his back, your nails leaving faint trails against his damp skin. His rhythm stutters, then quickens, his control slipping through the gaze of pleasure.

“Du fühlsch dich so…” You feel so… He doesn’t finish the thought, the rest of it lost in the way his lips brush against your temple, his movements growing more desperate.

“So schön,” he murmurs, the words tumbling out instinctively, his accent thick as his hips roll again, drawing a gasp from your throat. His hand slides from your hip, skimming the curve of your thigh, lifting your leg higher around his waist. The shift changes everything, his next thrust angling perfectly, hitting that spot that makes your back arch and a cry fall from your lips.

His lips find your jaw, trailing down to the curve of your neck, his breath hot and ragged as his pace grows more desperate. You feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles strain as he chases the heat between you, the flood of Swiss German spilling from his lips in a stream of reverent, unguarded words.

And then your voice cuts through the haze, soft and breathless as you murmur his name, your fingers curling in his hair. It’s not loud, but it’s enough to make him pause, his rhythm faltering until he’s completely still. He bottoms out in you, hovering above you as his forehead presses to yours, his body taut and trembling as he tries to catch his breath.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice husky and rough, his accent thicker now, like he’s too lost in you to even attempt to smooth it out.

His eyes meet yours, the flicker of uncertainty mingling with the heat still burning there. His chest rises and falls heavily, his breath warm against your lips as he waits, his hips still locked in place, his body pressing into yours like he can’t bear to pull away.

You tilt your head, your lips curving into a teasing smile before pressing softly to his. The kiss is warm, unhurried, your mouths moving together in a way that feels both grounding and electrifying. It’s a tender nudge against the tension humming between you, and you feel him melt into it, his grip on your waist easing slightly as his other hand shifts to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You’re not speaking English anymore,” you whisper against his lips, your fingers threading through his damp hair, nails lightly scratching against his scalp. The way he exhales, a shaky, uneven breath, sends a shiver through you.

Your lips trail away from his, moving to press soft, lingering kisses along his cheek and jaw, the faint stubble grazing your skin. He stays still, his body taut as though every nerve is focused on where you’re touching him.

When your mouth brushes over the curve of his neck, he exhales sharply, the sound low and rough. His hand tightens on your waist, his thumb digging in just enough to leave a ghost of pressure that makes heat coil low in your stomach. His hips remain still against you, but the tension radiating from him is undeniable, his restraint holding by a thread.

“Am I?” he murmurs, his voice rough, his Swiss accent thick as his lips curve into a faint smile.

You pull back slightly, your lips leaving his neck, your eyes searching his face. His are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you like he’s trying to gauge your reaction.

You nod, your lips brushing over his jaw again, lingering just long enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble against your skin.

“You are,” you whisper, voice low and warm, your fingers curling against the back of his neck, holding him close.

His breath hitches, his chest pressing harder against yours, and his thumb stills on your waist for a moment before resuming its slow, deliberate circles. His forehead lowers to yours, his breath mingling with yours as his other hand threads into your hair, his touch light but purposeful.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice thick and unsteady, his lips brushing yours as the word falls from him. “I didn’t even notice… Sometimes… I just forget.”

His hips shift slightly, a subtle movement that makes your breath stutter, but his pace is deliberate, almost cautious now. His lips ghost over yours, close enough to brush but not quite pressing, like he’s holding himself back.

“Why are you apologising?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper as your fingers trace the line of his jaw.

You feel the tension in his muscles soften beneath your touch, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to steady himself.

His lips twitch into another small, sheepish smile, the kind that makes your heart ache even as heat pools low in your stomach.

“Because I know you don’t understand,” he says quietly, his tone tender, raw. “I want you to know what I’m saying.”

Your breath catches at his words, your body arching instinctively against his, your lips brushing his in a fleeting, teasing kiss.

“I don’t care if I don’t understand,” you murmur, your voice steady despite the tremor in your body. “I want to hear it anyway. I want you.”

Something shifts in his expression, his eyes darkening as he lets out a low groan, his grip on your hip tightening. His thrusts slow further, each one deep and deliberate, and his forehead presses against yours as he whispers, “du bisch so schön… so perfekt.”

The words spill from his lips like a prayer, his voice raw and trembling, and though you can’t translate them entirely, the meaning is unmistakable. Beautiful. Perfect. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to reality, says everything.

“More,” you whisper, your nails dragging lightly down his back as your body arches into his, chasing the heat of him. “Say more.”

His lips brush against yours, not quite a kiss, just a shared breath as he obeys, his voice breaking on every word.

“Ich lieb dich… so sehr. Dass ich ned gnueg vo dir becho chan.” I love you… so much. I can't get enough of you.

Your legs lock around his waist, the motion desperate, pulling him deeper, harder, as though you’re trying to fuse every inch of him to you. He groans at the sensation, the sound raw and guttural, vibrating against your lips as his hips snap into yours. His movements shift, losing the slow deliberation that marked the start, replaced with something more primal — driven by need, by the way your body arches into his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

The drag of him is relentless, each deep, deliberate roll of his hips stealing the air from your lungs. Your nails rake down his back, leaving faint trails that make him shudder against you, a breathless curse spilling from his lips in Swiss German. His forehead presses to yours, the damp strands of his hair brushing your temple, and the shared heat between you makes everything feel sharper, more electric.

His hand moves down your side, fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to anchor himself. When he reaches your thigh, he grips it firmly, pulling your leg higher up his waist, opening you to him in a way that makes you cry out, your head tilting back against the pillow.

“You feel — mein Gott — so gut,” he groans, his voice broken and low, his accent thick as his lips trail from your forehead to your cheek, then down to your jaw. He bites down gently, just enough to send a spark of heat through you, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

The way he’s moving now is relentless — deep, grinding thrusts that have you clinging to him, your body trembling beneath the weight of him. Every drag of him against you feels like too much and not enough, your own moans mingling with his as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

“Perfect,” he whispers against your pulse, the word rough and reverent. His hips slam into you again, dragging another gasp from your lips, and the sound seems to push him further. “You’re so… mein… Du machsch mi verruckt…” My… You're driving me crazy…

His fingers flex against your thigh, gripping tighter as his rhythm becomes erratic, fuelled by the way your body responds to his every movement. It’s desperate and consuming, each roll of his hips pressing deeper, every breathless moan and whispered word unraveling both of you, piece by piece.

Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve alight as the tension coils tighter and tighter with each deliberate grind of his hips. It’s overwhelming, the heat pooling low in your stomach, building to the point where it feels like you might come undone at any second. His name falls from your lips in a breathless plea, the sound broken and desperate, and the way his eyes darken in response sends a fresh wave of fire coursing through you.

Nico’s movements become more frantic, less measured, his rhythm faltering as he chases the same edge threatening to pull you under. His hand tightens on your thigh, his grip firm and grounding, while the other slides beneath your back, holding you flush against him. His chest presses to yours, the damp heat of his skin against yours making it impossible to tell where you end and he begins.

“You’re so—mein Gott,” he groans, the words spilling out unbidden, raw and guttural. His forehead presses against yours, his breath uneven and ragged, his lips brushing yours with every shaky exhale. “Ich cha nöd… I can’t—ich cha nöd länger.” I can’t… I can’t last much longer.

The crack in his voice pushes you closer to the edge, the desperation in his tone mingling with the tension winding tighter and tighter inside you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling, your legs tightening around his waist as your body arches into him.

“Ich wird nöd,” he gasps, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s searing and all-consuming. I won't.

It’s messy, desperate, his teeth grazing your lower lip before he presses deeper, stealing every breath you try to take. His hips slam into yours harder, his movements erratic and frantic now, the rhythm unraveling as his control slips.

“Ich liäb di… so sehr,” he groans against your lips, his voice breaking with every thrust. I love you… so much.

Your body tightens around him, the tension snapping like a taut string. A cry tears from your throat, raw and unrestrained, as pleasure floods through you, molten and all-encompassing. Your back arches off the bed, your legs trembling as you clutch him closer, every wave of release leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him.

The way you fall apart in his arms undoes him completely. His name tumbles from your lips, fractured and needy, and it pushes him over the edge. His hips stutter, driving deep one last time as a guttural groan escapes him. His body shudders against yours, his forehead dropping to the crook of your neck as his release rips through him, consuming him in its intensity.

“Mein Gott,” he breathes, the words trembling against your skin as his lips brush over your shoulder. “Das isch mis meitli... Braves meitli.” That's my girl… Good girl. His voice cracks on the last word, thick with emotion, and his arms tighten around you like he can’t bear to let you go.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your mingled breathing, ragged and uneven, filling the quiet room. His body stays pressed to yours, heavy and warm, his skin damp against yours as he holds you close. His hand strokes over your thigh absently, grounding himself in the feel of you, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to your shoulder and collarbone.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes meet yours, raw and unguarded, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch all over again. His thumb brushes over your cheek, a faint, tender smile curving his lips.

“Du bisch perfekt,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm, his accent thick and the words carrying the weight of his love. You’re perfect.

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, the heat between you still crackling like embers, even in the aftermath.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “ME AND MY HUSBAND WE’RE STICKING TOGETHER.” ── .✦ ( this just a brainrot drabble of bruce wayne && mrs. wayne because I’m obsessed with this mini series ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: i love infecting this type of brain-rot into you guys omg like genuinely it’s a slight problem i have to stop for a while because it GETS to a point😭😭, anywayss here i guess 🧍🏻‍♀️tags: (bruce wayne x fem!reader/batmom)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

The lights of Gotham’s grandest ballroom sparkled like stars fallen to earth, casting an ethereal glow over the sea of designer gowns, sharp suits, and dazzling jewelry. The annual Wayne Foundation Gala was in full swing, a spectacle of wealth and power that captured the city’s fascination every year. Reporters lined the velvet ropes outside, cameras flashing as Gotham’s elite ascended the marble steps of the historic venue.

But tonight, all eyes were on you and Bruce Wayne.

When the two of you arrived, the murmur of the crowd outside turned into a roar. The whispers started almost immediately, a ripple of surprise and intrigue as the media scrambled to capture every angle of your entrance.

You walked beside Bruce, your hand resting lightly on his arm. Your gown a masterpiece in midnight blue satin clung to your frame with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly, the fabric shimmering faintly under the streetlights. The diamond earrings you wore caught the light with every step, but it was the confidence in your stride and the warmth in your expression that truly captivated the crowd.

Bruce, ever the enigma, looked every bit the part of Gotham’s most eligible billionaire and bachelor. His tailored black suit was immaculate, and his usually reserved demeanor seemed to soften when he looked at you. It was a subtle thing the way his gaze lingered on you as you ascended the stairs, the faint smile tugging at his lips—but the cameras caught it all.

The tabloids were going to have a field day.

Inside the ballroom, the air was heavy with the scent of fresh roses and expensive champagne. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, their light refracting in a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished floors. Bruce guided you through the throng of guests, his hand firm at the small of your back, as if silently promising to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of questions.

And they came, as they always did.

The whispers were relentless as you mingled, weaving through the crowd like threads in a tapestry. Who was she? Where had she come from? How long had she and Bruce been together? Speculation about your background and your relationship with Gotham’s most elusive bachelor flooded the room.

“She’s stunning,” someone murmured behind a raised champagne flute.

“But where did she come from? She’s not one of the usual socialites,” another voice responded, tinged with curiosity.

Bruce ignored the comments with his usual stoic grace, but you couldn’t help catching fragments of the conversations as you moved through the room. You were used to the scrutiny, though. Being with Bruce meant living under a microscope, and while the attention could be suffocating, you’d learned to wear it like armor.

“Smile,” Bruce whispered into your ear as the two of you paused near a towering floral arrangement. His voice was low and teasing, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “You’re doing great, make sure to keep your eyes focused on the camera’s slightly.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, offering him a wry smile. “I wasn’t aware I was being graded.”

He laughed softly, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting gesture of reassurance. “You’re acing it.”, “really? Am i bruce??”

── .✦

Despite the intensity of the evening, Bruce never strayed far from your side. His presence was a constant, grounding you amid the whirlwind of flashing cameras and probing questions. Every time a journalist approached, Bruce would deftly redirect the conversation, shielding you from anything too invasive.

But the media frenzy outside was relentless. The headlines were already being written:

"Bruce Wayne’s Mystery Date Stuns at the Wayne Gala"

"Who is Gotham’s New It Girl?"

"A Love Story in the Making? Inside Bruce Wayne’s Relationship with (your name) Wayne"

As the night wore on, you found yourself on the balcony, stealing a moment of quiet away from the crowd. The cold air bit at your skin, but the solitude was worth it. Bruce joined you moments later, his jacket draped over his arm. Without a word, he slipped it around your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric a welcome relief from the chill, you weren’t gonna lie you got why every celebrity seemed to ‘hate’ paparazzi && fame.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft in the quiet.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the city skyline. “Just needed a breather. It’s… a lot.”

He leaned against the railing beside you, his expression thoughtful. “They’ll talk. They always do. But none of it matters.”

You turned to face him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I know. It’s just… overwhelming sometimes, not used to this kind of attention..”

Bruce reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping them in his warm grip. “You don’t have to face it alone,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

For a moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just the two of you, standing under the Gotham sky, the distant hum of the gala forgotten. And as Bruce pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, you realized that no headline, no rumor, no amount of scrutiny could ever overshadow the quiet, steadfast connection you shared.

Inside, the gala continued, the music and laughter spilling out into the night. But out on the balcony, you and Bruce found something far more valuable peace, however fleeting, in each other’s company.