#I don’t think i would have batted an eye

[hxney-lemcn]

Mine, Only Mine — Mr. Crawling, Gap, Silvair, Chopped, Hugeface, and Scarletella x gn! reader

summery: how jealous do some of the Homicipher boys get?

tw: unhealthy relationships (Mr. Hugeface & Scarletella)

wc: 1.2k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Crawling

❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did. 

❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special. 

❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap

❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3

❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?

❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair

❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.

❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.

❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped

❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye. 

❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.

❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface

❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.

❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation. 

❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella

❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?

❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella. 

❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.

[wonton4rang]

kinda giggling and twirling my toes at that "is your gf single" post... leehan..

can you do maybe like reader making bnd jealous like that (as a joke and just bcuz ur horny)

also can i be 💫 anon

Hiiii, first post after a while !! And ofc, welcome home 💫 anon 💜💜💜

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jealous much ¡!

pairing: bnd x reader.

warnings: some +18 for the legal line, jealousy (well, duh)

summary: how would bnd react to you making them jealous as their gf (as a joke ofc)

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sungho; he is honestly a little bit easy to trick, not because he’s dumb but because he believes in you too much and takes for granted everything you do/ say cause… why would his pretty gf do anything to harm him? so when you faked texting and laughing for over ten minutes, turning your screen off when he tried to peek and laugh w u, he got worried, pouting and feeling a little betrayed, not even because he thought you were cheating but because why were u laughing at something without him??? “payback’s a bitch, huh?” you said to him and only then he understood what this was about. he was too busy playing to help u earlier and now that he wanted to be w u, it sucks that he couldn’t :’)

riwoo; a furious blush is already visible on his cheeks when you come out of the dressing room with that tiny skirt, giving him and the other men waiting for their girls a twirl that made everyone in the room stare, yeah, no. he quickly stand up and pushed you back into the small room, looking at you for a few seconds and letting out a sigh when he noticed the smirk on your face. “you’re just horny, aren’t you?” his face so close to yours that you felt his breath against your lips “gonna have to wait a bit for me, baby, we don’t want everyone to hear you moaning like a bitch, right?” And you just LOVED when sanghyeok talked to you like that, his naughty smirk making you feel warmer than you were. You changed so fast istg u were eager to get home now.

jaehyun; a bitch, he didn’t even let you breathe when he was already taking you to the other side of the house, not even talking to you when you played innocent and asked “what’s up with you?”, he would take you to a bathroom and close the door, the music of the party being dimmed by it and would say “do you think is funny when you flirt with my friends in front of me?” , “would you prefer if I do it behind your back?” he was speechless. but soon so were you, your lips were attacked by your boyfriend and you could feel his desperation to get to you, to show you how angry yet passionate he was. you followed the kiss and it soon turned to something else, your pussy starting to leak right when he pulled out, you looked at him confused and he just laughed at you before saying “think it through before doing this type of things again” and you bet you will cause wtf.

taesan; this one doesn’t bat an eye in public tbh, so it was a bad move to try to make him jealous by talking wayyyy too much w sungho and neglect his attempts to join the conversation. he eventually stopped trying to join and just listened, feeling a little bitter by the way you kept laughing and joking with his hyung. wtf were u doing? So when you both got home, you really thought everything was unsuccessful, you just wanted to trigger something in him to get a little action, if u know what I mean. Oh well, you certainly did because next thing u knew was him trapping your body against the wall and looking down at you for a few seconds before laughing in disbelief “if you wanted to make me feel angry or jealous, you succeeded. Now, why?” He spoke in such a low tone, his eyes piercing yours and his face almost expressionless, almost because that hint of something you couldn’t discern was there, “I didn’t-” , “yes, you did. but I think you could explain it to me better in our bedroom, I’ll be waiting” and oh my, u shouldn’t do this again but you certainly will cause he fucked you so right and so deep and nice that your body was craving for it even though you just had it.

leehan; certainly the worst boy to try and make jealous. First things first, he does not get jealous over boys who are uglier than him (which is most boys, btw), he is not insecure at all and he trusts you so he knows that you wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt him. Which is why he is laughing at your attempts to look serious while “flirting” with jaehyun, not even him is believing your act. But leehan would let you play the part, signaling you to join him later by the pool just to spread you open and eat you out like a mad person, he has always got a fixation with your pussy and the fact that you were intentionally trying to make him jealous just turned him on like a flame. His tongue would do wonders, you sitting on the edge of the pool and trying to keep it quiet because there were still people inside of the house, your legs were resting on his shoulders and he was inside of the pool just having the best time of his life while he ate u out, fingered your cunt to make you cum faster and sloppily licked your cum when you finally finished on his tongue. Did you fail to make him jealous? Yes. Now, did you fail your main quest which was getting him to help u out cause u were horny? Hell no.

woonhak; i feel like woonagi would get frustrated because he could easily believe that he would lose you, he might think “she’s my first gf, maybe i’m not a good bf” or something like “maybe I’m too young and dumb for her” but no, he was perfect and you soon noticed that he was feeling down instead of being stimulated into kissing you to mark his property. So you stopped, getting close to him and explaining what you were trying to do, he got mad at the beginning but then he just opened up about how he felt and you both worked it out. Did you get your kiss? Ofc, you guys kissed all night and ended up getting under his sheets while cuddling until the morning.

[chai-berries]

Okay maybe it's the seasonal candles and chilly weather getting to my brain but clingy reader x clingy Abby would go so hard omfg. They're both so needy it makes everyone around them sick, constantly attached at the hip and smooching foreheads/cheeks. My OC has a matching kitty and puppy onesie with her 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I need Abby so bad it's not fair 😭

anon,,, you are so real for this. as someone that is single but has a “wifey” coffee cup stored away for later, i totally agree with clingy abby x reader

i thought of some things that abby x reader do that all of your friends would totally roast you both over:

— matching holiday sweaters…

— she wears one of your specific brands of hair ties on her wrist just in case you need it. i’m talking those spiral ones. and she doesn’t even wear them, she just has it on her at all times *insert manny making a whipping noise*

— you guys are often late to morning meet ups with friends because y’all are cuddling in bed. or having sex but most of the time it’s abby wanting to be the little spoon

— you guys both love quality time together, doing different things. like you could be working on art or catching up a show and abby will be right next to you working on sudoku or reading a book. you don’t talk much unless something interesting comes up. but that doesn’t mean you aren’t in a tangle of limbs on the sofa

— one time abby left a big hickey on your neck and you didn’t notice till you came back from the bathroom

“did you mean to make the hickey look like a heart?”

“no, wait lemme see”

*sees*

“holy shit… that’s hot”

— when you miss her but she’s not around or is busy, you will find one of her sweatshirts that she’s been wearing around the house and put it on. it smells so deeply of abby that you can easily cocoon yourself in the scent. abby discovered you do this when she was looking for her college crew neck sweater and found you wearing it while taking a nap

— you also often take her long socks. you know those nike crew length socks that she buys in bulk? yeah you love to wear them in the winter and abby thinks it’s adorable when you come shuffling into the bedroom, in comfy clothes from head to toe

— you both find so much comfort in each other's arms that even at parties when one of you is having a conversation with another person, the other will come up and silently ask for a hug that turns into a standing cuddle. it’s so normalized in your close friend group that no one bats an eye when abby comes over to you and wraps her body around yours all while you continue talking, softly petting and kissing her head and hugging her tighter when she moves

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Your Favorite Flavor - pt3

modern!aemond x fem!dealer!reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Aemond and you have been talking nonstop and he makes the trip to come visit you. By the end of his visit you two are closer than he ever thought possible. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, smoking, drugs(weed), face riding, fingering, spanking, oral(f+m), p in v, unprotected

Authors Note: idk when i’m ever gonna get over this man and it’s a touch concerning ! n e ways this is cute and filthy again x

Word Count: 5.6k

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The semester is still a couple weeks out and Aemond has never been more excited for exams so he can go home and see you again. He texts you when he has any moment of spare time and everytime he sees the three little dots his heart races. On late nights when his roommate is out he FaceTimes you for hours and listens to you whine that he’s not next to you. 

“And you say I’m the one who pouts.” Aemond chuckles as you groan and roll over on your bed. 

“Shut up, almond.” you glare at the screen filled with his face. “I think you should come visit me.” you mumble and he grins. 

“Why?” he smirks and you scoff. 

“Do you need an excuse to come see me? You’re the one who begged me last time.” you purse your lips and he relaxes back into his bed. 

“Mm, I think I’d like to hear you beg for me.” he watches your cheeks flush. 

“I’m sure you would.” your voice doesn’t hold the steadiness you’d like it to. 

“I’ll wait.” he chews on his lip with a smile. 

“Aemond,” he hums at you saying his actual name for once. “Please Aem,” you push your bottom lip out. His heart races as your tone “You don’t even have to stay the whole weekend. I just want you to make me come and smoke with me.” you bat your eyelashes at him. “Please,” you whine and he groans and he’s already mentally packing his bag. 

“What will I get out of it?” he raises his brow, enjoying that he’s teasing you for once. 

“Anything.” the word spills from your mouth quickly. “Kisses, head, you can keep me in bed the whole time if you want.” his eyes darken watching you get worked up. “I won’t call you almond all weekend.” he throws his head back and laughs. 

“I don’t believe that for one second.” he purses his lips. 

“Are you coming or not?” you pout. 

“Ask me nicely one more time.” he watches as you move from the bed and prop the phone up and you get on your knees putting your hands in front of you. His breath catches watching you stare at him from the ground. 

“Aemond please,” your whine has his cock starting to harden. “Please come take care of me. I want your- 

“Hey Aemond.” his roommate walks into the room and Aemond turns the volume down. 

“Let me call you later.” he looks down at the phone with flushed cheeks.

“Wait wait, is that your little girlfriend?” Aemonds eyes widen at his words and is about to hang up the phone. 

“You can properly say goodbye to me. Do not hang up on me.” you purse your lips as he looks down at the screen and back to his roommate.

“That weed you gave me was some of the best shit I’ve had. I don’t mind being displaced if you leave more baggies.” he chuckles before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a snap. 

“You told him I’m your girlfriend?” you smile nibbling your lip. He groans, throwing his head back. 

“No, I,” he shakes his head. “I just,” his brows scrunch not knowing what to say and he feels his face heat. 

“Oh baby almond.” you coo much to his horror. 

“You said you wouldn’t call me almond.” he whines and you chuckle. 

“Then come make me stop.” you challenge. “Almond.” you watch his nostrils flare and you giggle. 

“I’ll pack a bag and be on my way within the hour.” he gets up and grabs an empty bag. 

“What about your Friday class?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“I haven’t used any of my absences yet, I’ll be good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” you nod quickly with a smile. 

“Okay. Drive safe, almond.” he rolls his eyes and hangs up the call. 

Aemond tosses his phone to the end of his bed and gets up throwing clothes into the bag. He goes to the fridge and grabs some of your soda to bring to you. His roommate comes out of the bathroom and looks at him packing his bag. 

“You good?” he falls back onto his bed. 

“I’m gonna be gone for the weekend.” Aemonds tone slightly clipped, remembering his words of his ‘little girlfriend’.

“Can you pick up for me from your girl? I can send you money.” Aemond sighs and nods his head zipping up his bag. 

“Yeah just send me the money and I’ll grab it.” he stands and offers him a smile. 

Aemond gets to his car quickly and tosses his bag in and starts it up. He sends you a text and starts his drive. He drums his fingers on the wheel with a ridiculous smile on face. He doesn’t care that it’s the middle of the night and he can’t wait to have you in his arms again. Time flies as he drives and soon he’s back in town. He calls you once he’s five minutes away and you answer with a sleep thick voice. 

“Aem?” you hum and he bites his lip. 

“I’m about to pull up.” he hears the blankets shuffle. 

“I’ll meet you outside.” you mumble and hang up the phone. He pulls into your driveway and sees you open the front door and wait for him on the porch. He grabs his bag and walks up to you and you wrap your arms around him. 

“You look so sleepy.” he hums, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. 

“I am.” you pout up at him and tug him into the house. You shut the door and lock it before pulling him upstairs. He follows you into your room and you grab his bag and toss it to the floor. 

“Get back into bed. I’ll be there soon.” he scoots you to your bed and starts to kick off his shoes. You watch him from under the blankets as he pulls his shirt off and pushes down his pants. You lift the blankets and he crawls into bed next to you and you curl against him and his arms wrap around you.

“I missed you.” you mumble and his arms tighten. 

“I missed you too.” he presses his lips to the top of your head. He looks down at you and sees your eyes shut and smiles as he closes his holding you closer. 

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Aemond stretches out as he feels a soft tickling at his neck. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist as you start to kiss at his neck with more fervor. His hands slip under your shirt as you kiss up his jaw. You press your lips to his and squeak as his hands travel down and squeeze your ass. His hands trail between your thighs, smiling that you're bare and he starts to pull you up his body. 

“Aem,” you giggle as he keeps scooting you up. “What are you doing?” you bat at his hands. 

“Trying to get you to sit on my face.” he smirks as you flush on his chest. He rubs circles into your thighs trying to coax you a little higher. His fingers slip under your thighs and lift you quickly and you gasp as he sets you on his mouth. “Just like this.” he kisses each of your thighs before pressing his lips against your bud. 

His hands travel under your shirt and travel up to your breasts and begin to tweak your nipples. His tongue softly licks at you and you whimper softly above him. His lips encase your bud and you tremble holding onto his arms under your shirt. Your hips start to softly rock against his mouth and he starts lapping at you faster. 

“Please yes,” your pleas are breathy and he pinches your nipples and you mewl above him. His hands sliding down to your hips and he starts to grind you against his mouth. He watches your stomach flex and tighten and his tongue flicks even faster. He hears your quick gasps and pulls you closer against his mouth. “Aemond,” your nails dig into his arms as you come across his face. He lifts you off of his face and takes in your flushed face. 

You lean down and smash your lips to his. You kiss him desperately holding him tightly as he rolls over to hover above you. He can feel the absolute need pouring off of you as you whine into his mouth. He lifts up and chuckles as you pull him back down against you. He goes to lift up again and you wrap your legs around him holding him tightly. “Please,” you whine arching up into him. 

“Gods you’re so needy today.” he chuckles watching you squirm beneath him. He laughs as a pout forms on your face and he kisses it away. You sigh, burying your fingers in his hair. “What do you wanna do today?” he hums against your lips. 

“You.” you reach up and press your lips to his. 

“I was thinking I could take you out somewhere.” he pulls back and looks down at you. 

“Almond, are you trying to take me on a date?” you smirk up at him and watch his cheeks flush. 

“You said you wouldn’t call me that all weekend.” he purses his lips as you continue to giggle. “Get up and get dressed.” he untangles from you and watches you pout in the pile of blankets. 

“Where are you dragging me?” you throw your shirt at him and he turns to you with dark eyes. 

“I want to surprise my little girlfriend and take her somewhere. So get up and get dressed.” your breath catches at his tone causing your cheeks to heat. You nod and walk over to your closet grabbing out clothes. He watches you get dressed and smiles to himself that you actually listened and looked flushed. He pulls his pants on and grabs the bag with your soda. “I brought you these.” he hums and you turn to him tilting your head. 

“Almond.” you coo grabbing the bag. He’s had enough of the nickname for the weekend and stalks over to you grabbing your chin making you look up at him. “Hm?” you blink up at him. 

“I’ve had enough of you calling me almond.” he glares at you as you smirk. “I mean it.” he flares his nostrils. 

“Mm do you almond?” he dips his head down to yours. 

“If you say it again I won’t let you come for the rest of the weekend.” he watches your eyes widen in shock. 

“That’s no way to treat your ‘little girlfriend’.” you purse your lips squinting your eyes at him. 

“It's no way to treat your boyfriend calling him ‘baby almond’.” he waits for your response as he watches your cheeks flush. 

“If you wanna date me you need to ask me out.” you tilt your chin up higher. 

“If you wanna date me you need to stop calling me baby almond.” he raises his eyebrow to you. 

“So is little almond okay? Or what about my little almond joy?” he exhales deeply looking up at the ceiling. 

“Your little almond joy is getting ready to put you over his knees.” you smile getting excited seeing this side of him. “I don’t want to hear anything else. Finish getting dressed so I can take you on a date.” he purses his lips as he grabs his bag to find a shirt. 

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Aemond stares at you from across the table unbelieving that he’s in a staring contest with you at a cafe. You rest your head in your hands and stare at him unblinking and he mirrors your movements. The waitress drops off the drinks and you mumble a thanks still staring ahead at Aemond. You know this will make him terribly mad but you have no plans on losing. You kick his leg under the table and he blinks at you, baffled as you start to giggle. 

“You lose.” you say triumphant before grabbing your glass and sipping your coffee. 

“You cheated.” he shakes his head, grabbing his drink. 

“The only rule you said was no blinking. Don’t be such a sore loser, little almond.” he chuckles, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Baby brother?” Gods that’s a voice he wasn’t expecting to hear. He watches your face soften as Helaena approaches your table. “What are you two doing?” she nibbles her lip with a knowing smile. 

“He begged to take me on a date.” you look up at his sister with a grin. “How could I say no to sweet baby almond?” you slide your eyes to Aemond and see him clench his jaw. 

“Moms gonna be mad you didn’t tell her you’re in town.” Helaena looks at him and he groans. 

“Don’t tell her.” he looks up at her with pleading eyes. 

“I won’t if you tell me how long this has been going on.” she gestures between us, chewing her lip to hide her smile. 

“A couple weeks. He’s terribly obsessed with me.” his eyes snap to you as you joke with his sister. 

“How could he not be?” she laughs. “Don’t fuck this up.” Helaena hisses at Aemond. “Okay well enjoy and I’ll text you somewhere nice to take her.” she tosses over her shoulder as she makes her way up to the counter to order her drink. 

“What did I say about ‘baby almond’?” he watches you try and fail to stifle your laughter. 

“I mean technically I said ‘sweet baby almond’.” he starts to tap his rings against the glass as he stares at you. You recline back into your chair as you look at him pouting.

“Aemond if you want to woo her you need to speak and not just stare at her like that.” Helaena approaches our table once more. He slides his eyes up to her, pursing his lips. 

“Everytime I try to talk to her she teases me.” he offers me a pointed look and Helaena and I giggle at the same time. 

“That means she likes you, loser.” Helaena whispers in his ear and pats his back. “Ugh you two are cute.” she sticks her finger in her mouth jokingly before she leaves the cafe. His phone dings and he pulls it out looking at what Helaena’s suggestion is. 

helaena: *sent directions* 

Aemond clicks it and groans at her stupidity. You  snatch the phone from him and bark out a laugh and he takes his phone back with red cheeks. You pull out your phone to message Helaena. 

you: Gods you should see him blushing at ‘Poundtown’ i literally have tears in my eyes buuut tmi? we’ve already been there 🫣🤭 

hel: i figured 😭 he was far too happy when he came back from picking up from you 🙄 

You look up and see Aemond frowning at you with red cheeks. He doesn’t want you to see him as just Helaena’s little brother that you occasionally fuck. You put your phone back in your pocket and reach for his hand across the table. He places his hand in yours and you wrap your other hand around it too. 

“I’m sorry.” you say softly and he scrunches his brows. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” he shakes his head feeling embarrassed for showing his feelings on his face so openly. 

“I am enjoying my time with you today.” his eyes search yours. “As much as I love you between my thighs, it’s nice to go out.” your words are so soft and the way you’re holding his hands has his heart beating faster.

“Any amount of time you spend with me I enjoy. No matter what we do.” its your turn to flush at his words.

“Careful baby almond. Your massive crush is showing.” he rolls his eyes, squeezing your hands tightly.

“You think you’re hiding yours any better?” he raises a brow. “You were the one begging last night and whining about how much you missed me.” he loves watching your cheeks redden at his words.

“You’re the one who drove to me in the middle of the night.” you watch his smile grow.

“You still haven’t thanked me. I come all the way down here just to hold you and make you come and what do I get? Relentless teasing.” you chew the inside of your cheek as you chuckle.

“Thank you for always being so desperate to get between my thighs.” you watch him flare his nostrils.

“Gods you’re being a brat today.” he shakes his head at you. 

“I am not.” you glare at him across the table.

“Oh, but you are.” he smiles watching your cheeks flush. You huff and rise from the table and start towards the door, smiling as you hear his chair scrape on the ground. You push open the door and start to walk down the sidewalk until he pulls you back against him. You look up at him with that pout that drives him crazy and he buries his fingers in your hair tilting your head up for him. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you today. He’s ready to pull you down an alley and take you against the bricks. 

“I thought I was getting my sweet baby almond today, not pouting Aemond.” he watches your lips turn up and he tilts your head further up. 

“Yet all you’ve done today is tease me.” you bite your lip at his tone. 

“No.” you try to shake your head but his fingers won’t give. You look up at him waiting for him to do something. You want to see if that authoritative tone earlier was just a show or if he would back it up. You figured teasing him relentlessly was the best route, you’ll either be on your knees apologizing with your mouth or over his knees like he said. “Baby almond.” you coo.

“Let’s go.” his hand leaves your hair and wraps around your wrist pulling you. You pull him back and he turns with a glare. “Walk to the car or I’ll drag you.” his voice low. 

“I don’t believe you.” you purse your lips and he chuckles. His grip tightens and he starts to pull you to the car. You see his jaw flex as he starts to pull you faster. He pulls the door open for you and looks at you expectantly. 

“Get in the car.” you take your seat and he has the door clicked shut a second later. 

“Where are you taking me now, almond?” you turn to him with a smile. 

“Home.” his tone excites you. 

“Why?” you whine and he slides his eyes to you turning on the car. 

He shakes his head and pulls the car onto the road. You take his hand and he can’t stop the small smile on his face as you twist his rings. A low groan comes from his lips as you take one of his fingers into your mouth. You brush your tongue against the digit and Aemonds breathing deepens. He pulls his finger from your mouth and pats his hand on your thigh leaving it there. The rest of the ride is silent building promises of what’s to come. 

“Is anyone home?” he turns to you when he pulls in the driveway. 

You shake your head and he gets out of the car and is pulling you out of your side quickly. You unlock the door and he ushers you inside and is dragging you up the stairs. Once in your room he tugs you over the bed and your heart races in anticipation. He sits down and looks up at you with a smirk. 

“Take off your clothes.” your breath catches at his words. He nods at you, raising an eyebrow. You slowly peel off each layer and he leans back and watches you. He can not wait to absolutely ruin you once you're in his arms. He holds his hand out for you to come to him and you slowly walk to stand in front of him. “Gods look at you.” he hums, sliding his hands from your waist down to your hips. He brings one of his hands down hard on your ass and watches you bite your lip and scoot closer to him. He repeats the action with his other hand and you let out a small whimper. 

“Please,” his eyes darken and he guides you over his knees. You squeeze your legs shut and he chuckles trailing a finger up your slit. He smiles as his finger slides through your dripping center while you squirm beneath him. His other hand comes down on your cheek as he slips his finger into your core. “Aemond,” you whine as he starts to pump his finger. 

“Hm?” he brings his hand down again on your cheek as he slips a second finger in. He watches your legs curl up as he starts to slam his fingers into you. He spanks each of your cheeks again and the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard fall from your lips. Aemond listens to the sounds you make to be sure you’re still enjoying yourself even though he can feel your squeezing his fingers tightly. The sounds of your pleas and wetness cause his cock to throb and he pulls his fingers out needing to have you right now. 

“No, please,” you grab for his arm and he chuckles at your desperation. “I’ll be good.” you whine and he groans at your words before lifting you up. 

“I know you will.” he pushes you onto the bed and you lift your ass into the air for him. 

He pulls his clothes off and he watches you spread your legs wider for him. He brings your hips to him and he swirls his tip around your wetness. He pushes in slowly clenching his teeth at the feel of you wrapping around him. You grip the sheets as he starts to snap his hips into yours. When his hand lands on your cheek you fall apart around him moaning loudly. 

“Fuck.” Aemonds fingers dig into your hips continuing to push into you. 

His pleasure builds at your small whimpers and gasps that fill the room along with the sounds of your wetness. You push your hips back into his and he lands his hands onto your ass again. His hips falter as you pulse around him whining his name. His fingers dig into you as his high washes through him. He collapses on the bed next to you and you move to lay against his chest. 

“So you’re done pouting now?” your taunt comes out breathy. He flips you over and you look up at him nibbling your lip as he hovers above you with dark eyes. 

“You’re not done with your attitude.” you squeak when his fingers slip back into you. When his thumb swipes across your bud you tremble. You arch up into him and he chuckles leaning down above your lips. You reach up and he pulls his head back watching you pout. He curls his fingers watching your face scrunch with pleasure the faster he moves.

“Aemond, please,” you gasp, holding onto his arm. “Please,” the word goes straight to his cock once more. He chuckles as your pleasure coats his fingers and pours out of you while you cling against him. He pulls his fingers out and slams into you and your breath catches in your throat. “Yes, Aem,” your eyes roll back as he hammers into you. 

“Fucking perfect.” he grunts and you claw into his back when his fingers circle your sensitive bud. A loud cry falls from your lips as your pleasure explodes through you. Your toes curl as he slams into you while spilling his pleasure into you. He rests his forehead on yours as you both pant. “Anything more to say?” you shake your head clinging against him. 

“Please,” you pull him down to your lips. He slowly presses his lips to yours and when his tongue slips into your mouth you sigh. He rolls you both over and has you rest against his chest as his fingers caress your skin. You whimper into his mouth at his soft touch and he kisses down your neck. 

“I’m gonna take you dinner tomorrow. You’ll be nice and you won’t call me almond.” he sucks softly on your neck and you nod holding onto him tightly.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Today Aemond has seen how much you’ll allow him to get away with. Everytime you nod your head at a suggestion his heart races. You didn’t even protest when he picked out your shortest, flirest dress for you to wear. You simply smiled and paired it with long socks that made his eyes darken. Not even when he pushed his fingers into your panties on the way to the restaurant, you just put them in your mouth after you came all over them. 

“Fuck your like a perfect little doll today.” he groans watching you clean his fingers as you both sit parked outside of the restaurant. 

“After the way you fucked me yesterday you can have anything, Aem.” you bat your lashes at him and he groans. He gets out of the car and goes to your door and offers you his hand. He leads you into the dim restaurant and you lean against him as you wait to be led to the table. 

“Are your cheeks still sore?” he dips down and whispers in your ear. 

You gasp as his hand squeezes against your ass before wrapping around your waist. You look up at him with pleading eyes and he leans down to press his lips to yours. He chuckles at your pout as he pulls back. You’re both led to a table and he pulls out your chair for you. He sits across from you and you smile looking at his relaxed features. 

“You are so handsome, Aemond.” you reach your hand out for his. You haven’t called him almond all day and he refuses to admit he misses it the smallest amount. “So cute when you blush.” he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth. “I wish you didn’t have to leave in the morning.” your soft words surprise him. 

“I don’t want to leave either.” he rubs his thumb across your hand. “I’ll be home in a couple weeks.” your frown causes his chest to tighten. 

“I know. I’m just going to miss you.” you don’t care how needy you sound. “I know we’ll call and stuff but,” your frown deepens. 

“I mean there’s no reason we can just switch driving to each other every weekend.” he nibbles on his lip. “It’s not that far. Unless that’s too much and- 

“I would like that.” you nod your head quickly. “A lot.” you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. 

“So you’ll come up next weekend?” he searches your eyes. 

“I’ll be there on Friday when you get out of class.” you squeeze his hand. 

“As my girlfriend?” he knows there’s a flush on his face as he waits for your answer. 

“Or your perfect doll.” you offer him a playful smile. 

“Both?” his eyes darken. 

“I suppose I could do that for my boyfriend.” you watch a smile spread across his face. 

The waitress takes your orders and you spend the next couple of hours in a sweet bliss enjoying each other's company. When you get home you push him back onto your bed and roll at your desk. He watches you walk back to him and he just wants to lay you out in the bed and devour you. 

“Here.” you crawl into bed with him and lean against him. He lights the blunt and passes it to you. Your eyes become lidded as you both smoke and you start to look at him with such intense need. “Finish it.” you hum and slide down his body to settle between his legs. He looks at you with flushed cheeks as you start to unbutton his pants. 

He groans as you wrap your fingers around him and free him from his pants. You suck his tip into his mouth and watch his chest heave. He brings the blunt to his mouth and watches you lower your mouth. He sighs feeling your soft lips wrap around him and he curses as you hollow your cheeks. You look up at him and he groans, putting the blunt in the ashtray. 

“You’re fucking perfect.” Aemond rasps down to you.  You start to bob your head faster and he tosses his head back. His hips jerk and you follow his movements and his fingers tangle in your hair. With the way you’re looking at him his stomach starts to tighten as you bob faster. You bring him to the back of your throat and he groans, pulling your hair as his pleasure flows into your mouth. You hum around him swallowing his pleasure as soft moans fall from his mouth. You slowly pull your mouth off of him watching his face twist with pleasure. 

“Come up here.” you slowly crawl back up the bed and he smashes his lips to yours. He pulls your dress up and rubs his fingers across your soaked panties. “Lay back on the bed.” he smiles against your lips. He pushes the sleeves down your arms and tugs the dress down to expose your chest. His lips attach to one of your nipples and he quickly flicks his tongue across it. He takes the peak between his teeth and chuckles as you squirm beneath him. His other hand is between your thighs teasing you above your panties. 

“Aemond please,” your hips chase his hand. He listens to your soft pleases as he licks across your chest to your other nipple before swirling around it with his tongue. He smiles feeling your panties getting wetter as he teases you. He harshly sucks your peak into his mouth and you whimper above him. He rises and leaves your chest glistening before he slides down your body. He presses his lips against your panties watching your thighs shake beside his head. 

He flicks his tongue against your covered bud and your chest heaves. You grind against his face and he chuckles and slides his tongue down to your core. He pulls back and looks down at you. Your pouted lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed. His eyes slide to your chest and your hardened nipples that he wants to put between his teeth again just so he can hear those soft cries. He then looks at your panties that are soaked just for him. 

“Touch me, please.” his eyes snap up to yours at your plea. “Please, Aem,” you’re begging for him. You, his girlfriend. His head spins and he pulls off your panties. He throws your legs over his shoulders as his mouth attaches to your core. He groans being greeted by your dripping center. “Yes,” you cry arching off the bed. His hands push your dress up more to dig into your waist. You fall apart as his tongue lashes against you. He slowly pulls back watching the pleasure still course through your body. 

He brings his lips to yours and you hold him against you. He pulls back to tug his clothes off and helps you do the same. He lays back into bed and pulls the blankets over you both as you cling to him. He smiles to himself that you didn’t call him almond all day and now you’re officially his girlfriend who’s curled against him. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You sit in bed with a frown as you watch Aemond pack his bag. He walks over to you with a shirt and slips it over your head before bending down and pressing his lips to yours. You try to pull him back into bed but he pulls you out of it. You purse your lips walking over to your dresser to grab a pair of sweats. 

“My roommate wants to pick up.” Aemond hums walking over to you. You hand him a couple baggies and he sends you the money. You hand him an extra baggie for himself regardless of his protests. “You don’t have to.” he stuffs them into his bag. 

“I want to, almond.” his head snaps to you and sees your smirk. 

“Don’t start this right as I’m about to leave.” he flares his nostrils as he slings his bag over his shoulder. 

“Start what?” you tilt your head. He shakes his head and your hand slips into his as you lead him downstairs and out to his car. He pulls you against him and presses his lips to yours. 

“I will see you on Friday.” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Please drive safe and text me when you get there.” you press your lips to his once more. He gets in his car and you watch him as he backs out of the driveway. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

me vs saying two more parts again bc i already started pt4 and it won’t be the last chap that’s fs

ur fav flav taglist: @echos-muses @sinistersnakey @uwuuness

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

[satellite-evans]

The Artist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: sometimes, an artist is far more interesting than the art itself.

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, angst? Anthony not being able to mind his own business, briefly mention of parents passing away

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Lady Danbury’s soirées were the heart of the social season—part chessboard, part battlefield, where every glance and whisper held strategic importance. Benedict Bridgerton, however, approached such gatherings as an observer rather than a player. He found the art on the walls more captivating than the posturing of the ton.

Wandering through Lady Danbury’s grand halls, Benedict stopped before a painting of a turbulent sea, his thoughts briefly drifting to his own half-finished sketches. A voice interrupted him, sharp and vibrant.

“It’s ambitious, but overworked. The sea churns, but the emotion feels... manufactured.”

He turned to see her: a young woman standing a few steps away, her posture poised yet unguarded. She wore her beauty with an effortless confidence, her eyes a vivid storm of intellect and intrigue. She wasn’t like the other women at the ball, fluttering fans and batting lashes. She observed the world with precision, as though she’d already decided it was hers to command.

“An intriguing critique,” Benedict replied, his interest piqued. “Though perhaps the chaos was intentional. Sometimes life demands a lack of restraint.”

Her gaze flicked to him, assessing. “Chaos is compelling, but it must be tempered with truth. This, Mr. Bridgerton, is a performance.”

“You know my name,” he noted, smiling. “You have the advantage over me, Miss...?”

“Y/N,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And I find that knowing one’s audience is the first rule of any conversation.”

He inclined his head. “A lesson I’ll remember. Tell me, Miss Y/N, are you always this direct?”

Her lips curved into a subtle smile, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned back to the painting. “Do you sketch? You look at this piece as though you’re searching for something beyond the surface.”

Benedict blinked, surprised by her insight. “I do, though I’ve yet to create anything worth showing. You?”

“I paint,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But my work isn’t for the ton’s galleries. Some things are too personal to display.”

“Now you’ve made me curious,” he said, stepping closer. “What would it take to see one of your pieces?”

She tilted her head, her gaze teasing. “Persistence. But I should warn you—I am not easily impressed.”

Benedict smiled, already intrigued by the challenge. “Good. I prefer earning my victories.”

Before she could respond, Lady Danbury’s voice carried through the hall. “Ah, Benedict, I see you’ve met Miss Y/N. And what do you think of her opinions? Sharp as a rapier, aren’t they?”

Benedict glanced at Y/N, his expression warm. “Quite sharp, indeed. But rapier wit is vastly preferable to dull pleasantries.”

Lady Danbury chuckled. “I agree. Well, don’t let me interrupt. Though, Y/N, your brother Charles is looking for you. Something about the carriage.”

At the mention of her brother, Y/N’s composure shifted slightly. “Thank you, Lady Danbury. I’ll find him shortly.”

As Lady Danbury swept away, Benedict offered Y/N a small bow. “Will you grant me the honor of a dance before you leave?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes glinting with amusement. “If you’re persistent enough.”

Before Benedict could craft a suitably clever reply, a deep voice broke through the moment. “Y/N, it’s getting late.”

Both turned to see a tall man striding toward them, his posture commanding yet measured. He was dressed impeccably, the weight of responsibility apparent in his expression. His resemblance to Y/N—sharp features and the same striking eyes—was unmistakable.

Charles stopped beside them and inclined his head politely toward Benedict before addressing his sister. “The hour grows late, and I believe Lady Danbury is beginning to hint that the soirée is winding down.”

Y/N offered her brother a cool yet affectionate look. “You always did have an impeccable sense of timing, Charles.”

Benedict, recovering quickly, stepped forward with a polite bow. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Benedict Bridgerton.”

Charles’s gaze sharpened slightly at the name before he returned the bow with measured precision. “Charles Y/L/N, Earl of Whitestone.”

Benedict’s eyebrows lifted in recognition, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Whitestone? I believe my brother, Anthony, has spoken of you. He mentioned you were recently elevated to the title.”

Charles gave a brief nod, his tone guarded but civil. “Anthony and I have known each other for some years. He’s a good man, and an excellent Viscount.”

“As I’m certain you’re an excellent Earl,” Benedict replied smoothly, sensing the protective edge to Charles’s demeanor.

The corner of Charles’s mouth twitched upward, though he remained composed. “I do what I can, though the title comes with its share of burdens. And you, Mr. Bridgerton, seem to have a knack for engaging my sister in conversation.”

Benedict chuckled lightly, inclining his head toward Y/N. “Your sister is an extraordinary conversationalist, my lord. I find myself quite fortunate to have made her acquaintance tonight.”

Charles’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who appeared unruffled by the exchange but wore a faint smile of amusement. “Fortunate, indeed,” Charles said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe it’s time to depart. Y/N?”

Y/N turned back to Benedict, her expression unreadable but her tone cordial. “Thank you for the discussion, Mr. Bridgerton. Perhaps we’ll meet again, should the occasion allow.”

Benedict bowed, his tone warm. “I certainly hope so, Miss Y/N.”

As Charles and Y/N walked toward their waiting carriage, Benedict watched them leave, his thoughts lingering on the sharp wit and quiet allure of Y/N.

Charles, walking slightly ahead of his sister, cast a glance back toward Benedict, then murmured to her, “He seems taken with you.”

Y/N’s lips curved faintly as she replied, “Let him be. I’m hardly an easy conquest.”

Charles smirked faintly, his tone fond but serious. “Good. Just remember, Y/N, you’re worth far more than simple flattery and fleeting interest.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze forward but her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

The clatter of carriage wheels echoed faintly as Charles and Y/N made their way back to their townhouse. The dim glow of gas lamps illuminated the streets, casting fleeting shadows across Charles’s pensive expression.

“You like him,” Charles remarked, breaking the companionable silence. His voice was even, but his words were laced with a quiet observation.

Y/N glanced at her brother, her expression unreadable. “He’s intriguing. Sharp-witted. But liking someone, Charles, is a luxury I can ill afford.”

Charles leaned back in his seat, watching her carefully. “Luxury or not, you seemed more yourself tonight than I’ve seen in months. There’s no harm in entertaining the idea—provided you remain cautious.”

Y/N’s gaze softened at her brother’s concern. “I appreciate your vigilance, my dear Earl of Whitestone. But let’s not rush to paint him as either hero or villain. Men of his world are not often held to the same scrutiny as women of ours.”

“True,” Charles admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But Anthony Bridgerton isn’t one to speak highly of a man without reason. If his brother is half as principled, I’d consider him worth the risk.”

Y/N’s lips twitched at his words. “Risk, indeed. But enough about Mr. Bridgerton. We’ve our own affairs to manage, and I’m certain our tenants won’t care for my musings about art or charm.”

Charles nodded, though he noted the faint pink flush that crept up her neck as she turned toward the window.

As the Whitestone carriage disappeared into the darkness, Benedict stood at the edge of the Danbury estate, his gaze lingering on the path where Y/N had vanished. The warmth of the evening had cooled, but he hardly noticed the chill. His mind replayed their conversation—the sharp wit in her words, the spark in her eyes when she spoke of art, and the measured grace with which she had danced around his charm.

“Y/N,” he murmured softly, as if testing the sound of her name. It felt as striking as the woman herself, an enigma he couldn’t easily solve.

Lady Danbury’s sharp voice startled him from his reverie. “Well, Mr. Bridgerton, if you plan to stand out there all night, you might as well help me escort the remaining stragglers to their carriages.”

Benedict turned, an easy smile masking his contemplative mood. “I was merely enjoying the view, Lady Danbury. Your soiree is, as always, a triumph.”

Her keen eyes narrowed with amusement. “And yet your gaze was fixed on the road, not my ballroom. That young lady certainly left an impression.”

Benedict didn’t deny it. “She’s remarkable,” he admitted, more to himself than to Lady Danbury.

“Be careful with that one,” the older woman warned, though her tone was fond. “She has depth. And depth demands substance in return.”

Benedict inclined his head, her words sinking in. As much as he relished the challenge, he realized he wanted more than a fleeting encounter.

The ride home was a quiet one. Benedict sat in the carriage, the sounds of horses’ hooves a steady rhythm that gave his thoughts space to wander.

He’d encountered many women in his time—clever debutantes, bold widows, and those who wore charm like armor. But Y/N was different. There was a quiet power in her deflections, a vulnerability hidden behind her sharp observations.

His mind lingered on her smile, fleeting yet warm, and the way her brother, Charles, had watched over her like a hawk. Benedict respected that protectiveness—it spoke of loyalty, of family bonds he deeply valued.

When he finally reached the familiar halls of his family home, the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the soft rustle of wind through the trees outside. He retired to his room, but sleep eluded him.

Instead, he sketched—rough outlines of Y/N’s features, her poised stance, the energy in her eyes as she critiqued the painting at Lady Danbury’s. Each stroke of charcoal carried with it an urgency, an attempt to capture the essence of someone who refused to be defined.

By the time dawn’s light began to filter through his window, Benedict set the sketch aside, his resolve clear.

“I’ll see her again,” he murmured, more determined than he’d been in years.

The following morning, the Bridgerton family gathered around the long dining table, sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Despite the sumptuous spread of fruit, fresh-baked pastries, and piping hot tea, all eyes were on Benedict.

“Who was she?” Eloise asked bluntly, buttering her toast with unnecessary vigor. “Lady Whistledown was positively tantalized.”

Benedict sighed, taking a deliberate sip of tea. “Good morning to you too, Eloise.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Daphne chimed in with a knowing smile. “It’s not every day Lady Whistledown dedicates an entire paragraph to your exploits.”

Anthony leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow raised. “Y/N Y/L/N, wasn’t it? I believe her brother, Charles, is the new Earl of Whitestone. Solid reputation, though he keeps to himself since inheriting the title.”

Benedict nodded, setting down his cup. “The very same. I had the pleasure of speaking with her—she’s sharp, insightful, and refreshingly candid.”

“And beautiful?” Colin teased, his grin wide.

“Extremely,” Benedict replied without hesitation, earning a round of laughter.

Anthony’s amusement faded slightly as he regarded his brother with a calculating look. “Charles is an old acquaintance of mine. We crossed paths during the early years of our titles. A good man, but fiercely protective of his family. Tread carefully, Benedict.”

“Always,” Benedict said, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of determination.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass of Whitestone’s modest garden, a sketchpad balanced on her lap. The cool breeze carried with it the faint scent of lavender from the nearby hedgerows, mingling with the crisp aroma of her graphite pencils. The gardens were her sanctuary—a reprieve from society’s endless noise and expectations. Today, her focus was on a half-finished drawing of a willow tree bending gracefully over the garden pond. Yet, as much as she tried to focus, her thoughts drifted back to Benedict Bridgerton.

She had replayed their exchanges from Lady Danbury’s soiree countless times in her mind. His words had been genuine, his curiosity sincere. Yet it was his gaze that lingered in her memory—the way his eyes softened when he listened to her critiques of the art, as though he truly saw her and not just another face in the crowd. Y/N frowned slightly, annoyed at her own vulnerability. He’s intriguing, certainly, but so are countless men who wander into my path. Why should this one matter more?

Her pencil faltered as the sharp rap of a knock echoed from the front of the house. She stilled, curiosity piqued. Guests were rare at Whitestone, and Charles had already mentioned he expected no visitors today. She heard the muffled creak of the door opening and the low rumble of her brother’s voice, but the words were indistinct. Setting her sketchpad aside, Y/N rose and dusted her hands off on her skirts, wandering closer to the house with light steps.

Inside the parlor, Charles extended a firm handshake to Anthony Bridgerton. The Earl of Whitestone and the Viscount Bridgerton cut striking figures in the modest room, both exuding a commanding presence, though Anthony’s was tempered by a composed air of diplomacy.

“Viscount Bridgerton,” Charles greeted, stepping back to motion him inside. “This is an unexpected visit.”

“I thought it past time we caught up,” Anthony replied with a faint smile, his eyes sweeping the room briefly before settling back on Charles. “Though I must confess, my errand isn’t entirely social.”

Charles raised an eyebrow as he led Anthony toward the parlor’s armchairs. “I assume this has something to do with your family’s estates bordering mine?”

“In part.” Anthony seated himself with practiced ease, but there was a guardedness to his tone that Charles didn’t miss. “The other part involves my brother, Benedict.”

Charles stilled briefly, his expression giving nothing away. “Ah, your brother,” he said smoothly, taking his own seat. “I must admit, he did make an impression at Lady Danbury’s soiree.”

Anthony’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “So I’ve heard. I trust my brother behaved himself?”

Charles smirked faintly, folding his hands over his knee. “Mr. Bridgerton was... eager to engage my sister in conversation. Though I’m not sure she was as willing to reciprocate.”

Anthony chuckled, but his tone shifted, his words laced with sincerity. “Benedict speaks highly of your sister. It’s rare for him to show such genuine interest, Charles. He’s not one to court frivolities.”

Charles leaned back, his gaze sharpening. “You understand, Anthony, that Y/N has had her fair share of shallow suitors. She’s cautious, and rightly so. My priority is ensuring her happiness and protecting her from anyone who sees her as a fleeting amusement.”

“Benedict doesn’t play such games,” Anthony replied, meeting Charles’s gaze head-on. “In truth, I’ve never seen him take such an interest in anyone. Your sister seems to have stirred something in him—though, knowing Y/N from your stories, I suspect she hasn’t made it easy for him.”

Charles allowed himself a faint chuckle. “No, she certainly hasn’t. Y/N is not one to be charmed easily. But it’s clear your brother is determined, which could either work in his favor or cause him considerable frustration.”

Anthony inclined his head, his expression softening. “Benedict values substance, as I’m sure Y/N does. They may both surprise you.”

Charles studied him in silence for a moment before offering a measured nod. “We’ll see. For now, I’ll judge him by his actions, not his words.”

Y/N lingered just beyond the doorway, her heart racing at the snippets of conversation she managed to overhear. Charles’s voice, steady and firm, carried faintly through the air. He’s defending me, she realized, a pang of gratitude swelling in her chest. Her brother’s protectiveness had always been her shield against the pressures of society. Yet, there was another voice—smooth and commanding.

The Viscount Bridgerton.

She had never met Anthony before, but his reputation preceded him. To hear him speak so highly of his brother was... surprising. Benedict’s charm had seemed effortless, but perhaps it ran deeper than she had assumed.

Careful not to draw attention, Y/N eased closer to the edge of the doorway, curiosity getting the better of her.

Anthony’s final remark, “They may both surprise you,” was met with a soft clearing of a throat. Both men turned to see Y/N stepping into the room, her expression poised but her gaze quietly assessing.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said with a faint smile, addressing Anthony. “You must be Viscount Bridgerton. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

Anthony rose immediately, his movements fluid and respectful. “Miss Y/N,” he greeted, his tone warm. “The pleasure is mine. I was just remarking to your brother on your keen sense of discernment. It seems Benedict wasn’t exaggerating.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smile deepening. “He spoke of me?”

Anthony’s smile mirrored hers, though he chose his words carefully. “Indeed. Rarely have I seen my brother so animated in recounting a conversation.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to Charles, whose stern expression had softened, before settling back on Anthony. “That’s high praise coming from you, my lord,” she said lightly, though her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Perhaps I should be flattered—or cautious.”

Anthony chuckled, gesturing toward the chair opposite. “Flattery or caution—either is warranted. But if I may, Miss Y/N, Benedict is many things, but insincere is not one of them.”

Y/N seated herself gracefully, her expression thoughtful. “Then it would seem your brother and I have much in common,” she replied smoothly, though her mind raced. What exactly has Benedict told him?

As Anthony and Y/N exchanged polite conversation, Charles observed his sister closely. Her tone was cordial, her posture poised, but he knew her well enough to detect the subtle sharpness in her gaze—a warning to anyone attempting to pry too deeply. She wasn’t rattled by Anthony’s words, but she was undoubtedly calculating her next move.

Anthony, for his part, seemed at ease. His diplomacy was well-honed, his remarks layered with subtle reassurances. Yet Charles couldn’t help but feel the quiet tension in the room. Anthony was here not simply to visit a friend, but to ensure Benedict’s intentions were made clear—or perhaps to defend them.

“I find it intriguing,” Y/N said, interrupting Charles’s thoughts, “that you’ve taken the trouble to visit us, my lord, when your brother has already made his interest known. Surely, you trust his judgment?”

Anthony’s brow arched slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do, Miss Y/N, though it would be remiss of me not to learn more about the woman who has managed to hold my brother’s attention.”

“And have you drawn your conclusions already?” she asked, tilting her head.

Anthony leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but not intrusive. “Not entirely. But I do know this: my brother is a man of passions—art, creation, and the search for something meaningful. He finds those qualities rare. I suspect he believes he’s found them in you.”

Y/N’s composure didn’t falter, though her chest tightened slightly at his words. Her response was deliberate, each word measured. “An interesting theory, my lord. I wonder what he might say if he were here to speak for himself.”

As the conversation unfolded at Whitestone, Benedict Bridgerton was oblivious to his brother’s bold intervention. He sat alone in the Bridgerton family’s drawing room, a half-finished sketch resting on the desk before him. It was an abstract piece—a hazy rendition of the way the light had played across Y/N’s face as she’d described the painting at Lady Danbury’s soiree.

Frustrated, he set the pencil down and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t seen her since the garden farewell days ago, and the memory of her enigmatic smile lingered like a half-finished melody. Every word she had spoken felt deliberate, each glance calculated. Yet, for all her guardedness, he had glimpsed something more—an intensity that matched his own.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the sketch with a mix of irritation and admiration. What is it about her that has me so utterly undone?

The door creaked open, and Colin poked his head inside, his ever-mischievous grin firmly in place. “Still brooding over Lady Y/N?”

Benedict scowled, though there was no real malice behind it. “I’m not brooding.”

Colin stepped inside, uninvited, and plucked the sketch off the desk. “Is that so? Because this,” he said, waving the paper, “tells a rather different story. Don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over one of Anthony’s sermons.”

Benedict frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Colin flopped onto the settee, clearly enjoying himself. “Anthony’s gone to Whitestone, hasn’t he? To visit Y/N and her brother. He practically ordered Newton to saddle the horse this morning.”

Benedict shot to his feet, his voice incredulous. “Anthony went to Whitestone?”

Colin’s smile widened. “Oh, yes. Didn’t he tell you? I’d wager he’s there now, making some long-winded speech about Bridgerton honor and the seriousness of your intentions.”

Benedict’s fists clenched, though it was more out of frustration than anger. “Of course he would meddle,” he muttered, pacing the room. “I don’t need him playing matchmaker.”

“Perhaps not,” Colin replied, his tone light. “But I suspect you’ll thank him in the end. Anthony may be insufferable, but he has a way of clearing obstacles—even those you’re too stubborn to see.”

Benedict ignored him, walking around in the room furiously waiting for his brother to come home. He did not need Anthony meddling with his business when even he didn't have the chance to visit you or buy you flowers. He prayed that his brother didn't scare or intimidate Y/N in any shape or form.

Back at Whitestone, Y/N’s mind churned as Anthony’s words settled. The sincerity behind them was disarming, but it also raised questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

She glanced at Charles, who was watching the exchange with his usual stoicism. Her brother was protective, and she valued his judgment, but she also resented feeling like a piece on a chessboard. Why should my life’s direction hinge on the machinations of two Bridgertons?

Y/N straightened, her voice breaking the charged silence. “You speak highly of your brother, my lord. But I can’t help but wonder if his interest is shared equally by the rest of your family. Surely a marriage, that you keep mentioning I might add, between a Bridgerton and an earl’s sister comes with certain expectations.”

Anthony’s expression didn’t falter, though his gaze turned contemplative. “You’re right, Miss Y/N. Family expectations can be... formidable. But we Bridgertons tend to weigh them against the matters of the heart. My brother is pursuing you not for duty, but for something far greater. That is why I came—to assure you that his pursuit is no fleeting fancy.”

Her breath caught for the briefest moment before she composed herself. “And yet you speak for him instead of letting him speak for himself. Tell me, viscount Bridgerton, is it a tradition of your family that the elder brother visit first before the man himself came here to court me or are you just more excited than Benedict?"

Anthony’s smile turned faintly amused. “Perhaps. But as the head of the family, it is not a tradition, but my duty to do so."

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the Bridgerton drawing room, where Violet sipped her tea, listening to Eloise debate some pamphlet on societal reform. Colin, seated nearby, was making a show of writing letters while sneakily trying to eavesdrop.

Suddenly, the front door opened with a sharp creak, followed by the heavy sound of deliberate footfalls. The atmosphere in the house shifted.

“Anthony,” Violet remarked, looking up from her teacup as her eldest son entered. His expression was stony, his movements clipped.

“Anthony, you look—”

Anthony!" Benedict’s voice roared through the house, heavy with fury.

"Benedict," Anthony greeted cautiously, straightening. "What’s the meaning of this outburst?"

"The meaning?" Benedict spat, his voice echoing through the room. "You went to the Whitestone estate without even telling me. You had no right!"

Violet, startled by the commotion, stood. "What’s going on here?"

"Ask your eldest son," Benedict said bitterly. "Apparently, he’s taken it upon himself to play matchmaker or, worse, guardian of my personal affairs."

Anthony’s jaw tightened, though he remained outwardly calm. "Benedict, I was only acting in your best—"

"No!" Benedict interrupted, his voice rising. "You were acting in your best interest, Anthony. Or, at the very least, what you think is best. You didn’t consult me, didn’t even think to ask what I wanted!"

By now, the household was gathering in the hallway, drawn by the shouting. Eloise whispered to Colin, "This is far better than the last novel I read."

Anthony’s patience began to fray as he stood taller, his tone hardening. "I went because I thought you might care for her, Benedict! And if you do, it’s only natural to ensure the family is suitable."

"How dare you presume to know what I care for!" Benedict snapped. "And what of her? Did you think she’d appreciate you barging in, uninvited, to assess her worth like livestock? I don’t even know if I care for her, but now I may never have the chance to decide for myself because of you!"

Anthony’s face fell briefly into guilt before he rallied. "I wasn’t trying to ruin anything. I was trying to protect you—"

"Protect me from what, Anthony? From a young woman with a talent for art and a brother navigating his new title? Or perhaps from the whispers you always seem so terrified of?"

"You don’t understand," Anthony said sharply. "These things matter. Reputation matters. If you pursue her—"

"Stop!" Benedict’s voice was loud enough to make the rest of the family wince. "You don’t get to make this about reputation or family honor. You didn’t even think to come to me first, and for that alone, you’ve overstepped!"

Violet interjected, her voice firm. "Both of you, enough. This shouting is unbecoming."

"Unbecoming?" Benedict scoffed, his anger undiminished. "What’s truly unbecoming is my brother meddling in affairs that are none of his business!"

Anthony took a deep breath, his voice dropping but still heated. "I went because I thought it was for the best, Benedict. If I was wrong, then I apologize. But don’t act as if I’ve committed some great crime for trying to protect my family."

Benedict shook his head, his jaw tightening. "If you wanted to protect me, Anthony, you should have come to me first. You should have trusted me to handle my own life."

Without waiting for a response, Benedict turned and stormed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming behind him reverberating through the house.

Benedict rode hard, the crisp autumn air stinging his face as he left Mayfair behind. The rhythmic pounding of his horse's hooves against the packed dirt offered little solace, the anger from his fight with Anthony still churning in his chest. The thought of his brother making decisions about his life—his relationships—without so much as a conversation left him fuming.

The horse slowed as they approached Hyde Park. Benedict hadn’t meant to end up here, but the vastness of the greenery and the relative quiet of the park seemed preferable to the confinement of Bridgerton House. He dismounted near a cluster of trees, tying his horse to a low branch.

Wandering through the park, Benedict eventually spotted a familiar figure seated beneath a sprawling oak tree. Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass, a sketchbook balanced on her knee, her brow furrowed in concentration as her hand moved deftly across the page. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice his approach.

For a moment, Benedict simply observed her. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on her face. There was a peacefulness about her that pulled at something deep within him, a stark contrast to the chaos of the morning.

He cleared his throat softly.

Y/N jumped, her pencil jerking across the page. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide before recognition dawned. “Mr. Bridgerton!” she exclaimed, a hand flying to her chest. “You startled me.”

“I apologize,” Benedict said quickly, stepping closer. “Startling you was not my intention. I... Well, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, let alone you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, though there was a trace of humor in her gaze. “Hyde Park isn’t precisely secluded, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Touché,” Benedict conceded with a small smile. “Still, I seem to have a habit of interrupting you.” He gestured to the sketchbook in her lap. “May I?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. Then, with a resigned sigh, she handed it over. “It’s not finished,” she said quickly.

Benedict took the sketchbook, his eyes scanning the page. It was a study of a fountain in the park, the water captured mid-flow, the surrounding trees sketched with delicate precision. “This is remarkable,” he said sincerely. “The way you’ve captured the movement of the water—it feels alive.”

Y/N flushed at the compliment, though she tried to mask it with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s nothing special. Just practice.”

“Your modesty does you no justice,” Benedict said, handing the sketchbook back to her. “This is more than practice. It’s art.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, but she said nothing, her eyes dropping to the sketch.

They sat in silence for a moment before Benedict spoke again. “I owe you an apology, Miss Y/N.”

“For startling me?” she teased, though her tone was light.

“For that and...for my brother’s intrusion at your home earlier today,” he said, his voice more serious now.

Y/N looked up sharply, her expression unreadable. “You knew?”

“I only found out after the fact,” Benedict admitted, frustration seeping into his tone. “Believe me, if I had known what Anthony was planning, I would have stopped him.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t unsettling to have the Viscount Bridgerton show up unannounced, but your brother was respectful.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” Benedict said firmly. “He had no right to involve himself. Whatever this is,” he gestured between them, “it’s our business, not his.”

A flicker of something passed through Y/N’s eyes—surprise, perhaps, or even approval—but it was gone before Benedict could decipher it.

“Your brother’s actions are understandable, though,” she said finally. “Family often feels entitled to protect us, even when we don’t need their protection.”

“‘Entitled’ is the word,” Benedict muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

Y/N tilted her head, a trace of amusement creeping into her expression. “You sound angry.”

“I am angry,” Benedict admitted, though his voice softened as he continued. “Not just because Anthony went behind my back, but because I... I don’t want anyone to think I need someone else to make my decisions for me. Least of all you.”

Her brows lifted at his candor, and a small smile played on her lips. “I think I can decide what to think of you, Mr. Bridgerton, regardless of your brother’s interference.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around them. There was an openness in Y/N’s gaze that felt like an invitation, though to what, Benedict wasn’t entirely sure.

“May I sit?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N gestured to the patch of grass beside her. “Be my guest.”

Benedict settled himself beside her, leaning back against the tree trunk. The tension that had coiled in his chest all day seemed to ease in her presence.

“Do you often come here to draw?” he asked after a moment.

“Whenever I can,” Y/N said, glancing at the fountain in the distance. “It’s one of the few places in London that feels...free.”

“I can see the appeal,” Benedict said. “There’s a tranquility here. A sense of space.”

“And yet you seem restless,” Y/N observed, her eyes studying him intently.

Benedict chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “I suppose I am. My family has a way of...complicating things.”

“Families tend to do that,” Y/N said lightly.

He turned to look at her, a question forming on his lips, but he hesitated. “Do you...” he began, then stopped.

“Do I what?” she prompted.

“Do you find it hard?” he asked finally. “Being the person others look to? Shouldering the weight of their expectations?”

Y/N’s gaze grew distant, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her sketchbook. “I think we all bear expectations, whether we like it or not. The trick is deciding which ones matter and which ones don’t.”

Benedict nodded, her words striking a chord. “And have you decided?”

Her lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. “I’m still working on it.”

They fell into a companionable silence, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the faint splash of the fountain. For the first time that day, Benedict felt a sense of calm.

Perhaps, he thought, this wasn’t such a terrible day after all.

( part 2 anyone?)

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 3

<---- Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ---->

[Ao3]

So sorry for the wait! My ribs are really tender right now so I took an extra day to avoid moving my arms as much.

This is mostly a lot of introspective word-vomit (and adorable Mr. Crawling!) Have fun and enjoy!

When you woke up the next morning, bleary-eyed and limbs heavy, you didn’t quite register the weight on your stomach until it moved, long strands of hair falling directly onto your face and into your mouth.

“Pff–” You spit out, eyes blinking open to see your brand new companion looking delightful and far too energetic for whatever time in the morning it is. 

“Hello!” He greeted happily. “You ∎∎∎!” 

“Good morning…” You manage to groan out, gently pushing the brunt of his weight off your chest and watching as he rolls to your side.

You sigh, taking a few spare moments to fully wake up before hauling yourself up, carefully unwinding the gray arms wrapped around your body. Your morning routine was quick, methodical, and you hardly realized when you finished draping your futon on the balcony to air out until you approached your now-empty tatami mats and only saw Mr. Crawling sitting down patiently. 

You… weren’t quite sure what to do now. Breakfast, maybe? Do ghosts need breakfast? You don’t recall ever seeing Mr. Crawling eat anything at all during your short amount of time together, but maybe that was because his world was a barren wasteland. You certainly saw other evidence of human-eating ghosts in his world. 

Would his behaviors be similar to all those myths and legends– or at least to his fellow ghosts? Getting… human flesh to feed him wouldn’t be easy, if he liked it at all. But, you’d much rather him feast on someone else rather than on your own flesh if your hunch was right. You doubt he’d do much else than nibble at an unimportant limb, but you also never experienced a grumpy Mr. Crawling– or any version of him that wasn’t incessantly pleasant and sweet. He could go crazy, and you, the idiot who housed him and let him cuddle up against your vital organs, would be first in line to his stomach. 

That won’t do. You made it out of a near death-match once already. You’re keeping yourself and your lovely prize of a companion safe and happy. Even if it means having to go elbow deep in blood. While somewhat chilling, the thought bringing up those unfortunate memories, you find it easier to think about knowing that the blood would be from someone you don’t even know. 

An unimportant stranger. A stupid stranger.

Well, finding a person would still take some time. A part of your mind wanders back to the mountains where numerous people are said to have gone missing throughout the year– something to do with another ghost wearing a raincoat and umbrella. An urban legend, but one that’s pretty widely believed in these parts of the city. You don’t find it to be true– after all, you’ve been stuck there before and came out perfectly fine each and every time, so it must be other peoples’ lack of survival skills that killed them out there.

Which was great, honestly. You’d be able to chalk everything up to a nonexistent being. People wouldn’t bat an eye at a nice, young, and good-looking person such as you wandering around in cute looking clothes and ‘empty’ hands. Harmless. A naive adult who was curious and ‘stuck close to the trails.’ You could do that. Besides, it would only be for a few hours every… few weeks, maybe? You imagine harvesting human flesh to be something like cattle– one body would last a very long amount of time in the deep freezer.

Yeah. That would also fit into your schedule, so it all works out. The tedious part would be just finding a loner you could convince to take a run through the mountains to prove their bravery or some random trait like that.

Well, that part can always come later. For now, it was time to settle your needs.

You were hungry, and so you went off to your kitchen after giving Mr. Crawling a brief pat on the head, digging through your fridge for anything you could make.

Your fridge was still full of fresh foods from a grocery trip taken before your whole descent into that world that shall-not-be-named, and it was almost offensive at how nothing really seemed to care about your disappearance, but you could take it out on the food once it gets on a plate. 

You fished out some eggs, rice, and random toppings, combining it into one mixed up bowl and placing it on your floor table as you turned on the television.

A quick offer of a mouthful of your food to Mr. Crawling resulted in his curious face sniffing and staring closely at it before taking the bite– and swallowing it after a few swishes in his mouth. No chewing.

Huh. So, he liked raw eggs? 

You got up to grab two more, swiftly taking your seat on the floor cushion and holding one up in front of his face.

He smiled, inspecting it somewhat. “Object eat?” He asks, poking delicately at it.

You nodded. “You want?” You asked, making a move to show him how the egg was part of the stuff he had eaten.

When he nods, you crack the egg against the counter, holding it above his mouth, ready to break it open. He was briefly– and rather adorably– confused at the action, but opened his jaws wide, showcasing rows of razor sharp teeth.

You didn’t need to pass biology class to know that they indicated a very carnivorous diet. 

You cracked open the egg, letting it drop into his mouth and watching, with mild repulsion, as he swallowed it whole, looking happy and satisfied as he licked his lips.

Well then– raw eggs would tide him over until an actual meal (if he even needs one). Good to know. 

His mouth opened wide once again as you discarded the shell and cracked the second one open, letting it plop into his mouth and go down the hatch.

That was actually kind of fun. A few years ago, you briefly considered getting chickens of your own until you realized just how many eggs a small flock of 3 could produce in a week. Mr. Crawling seems to be an excellent excuse to get some– not after moving out, of course. Well, you doubt anyone here would care if they spot some fluffed up feathers every now and then.

After that brief breakfast, you steeled yourself to continue your normal everyday activities– as if nothing happened.

And you also needed to make an elaborate lie about where you were the past day. You had no doubts that, if you told the truth, you would  be shipped off to an institution and have your companion exorcized within the next 24 hours.

___________________________

Your friends, very concerned, simply would not stop asking you questions and berating your decision to split off from the main group– as if they hadn’t dragged you to the bravery challenge against your complaints.

There were 5 people you needed to comfort. And, there will be about 15 people you’ll need to apologize to for your inability to work– paired with the cordial, expensive gifts and handwritten letter to your boss begging not to be fired. 

Annoying, annoying, annoying.

You patted Mr. Crawling’s head as you searched up the nearest sales. 

At least he was cute. Like a little, loyal puppy. He was so low maintenance outside of his potential human-flesh needs and his desire for attention– which you could most definitely work with. It was nice and relaxing being with him, not having to worry about all the tiny societal rules you had to follow with everyone else. And, now that you were back in your own world, it felt refreshingly nice having someone depend on you instead of it being the other way around. 

You had power here. And it was nice.

“You mad?” Mr. Crawling ask, cheek pressed up against your neck as he looked over your shoulder at your laptop screen, fingers flicking through ads and discount codes with sharp tap tap tap’s that indicated your irritated mood.

“Me not mad you,” You mumbled, hand reaching up to play with his hair. It was nice and soft now, your conditioner having worked its magic. 

“Humans.” You muttered, not particularly in the mood to elaborate.

“Humans?”

“Mhm,” You hum, gently rubbing soothing circles into his scalp and watching, satisfied, as he leaned more of his weight against you.

So, so cute. You couldn’t get enough of him.

<---- Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ---->

[Ao3]

[palomita-de-la-sangre]

Concept design for Azriel 

I tried to stick to canon but also do my own thing. For his eyes I gave him an iris mutation that does not affect sight. forgot what it’s called There are many different kinds of hazel eyes so I gave him two. The top of his ring finger rotted away and the burns of his right hand lick up more to his forearm. The prosthetic was a gift from either Mor or Cass since I don’t think he would buy himself accessorys. His left hand has at least one finger nail missing. Also Ilyrians have human ears apparently, but they’re supposed to be a fairy, demon, bat hybrid things so I gave him little bat ones instead.

And like with Emerie his design is inspired by ethnic groups in the Middle East. I based him off Yemenis people who are mostly Arab or Afro-Arab. It doesn’t come across but I also took some inspiration from Kurds which are not Arab but rather Indo-European.



[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 14

Here we are again at the end. I'm sad to see this one go. It was a real challenge to see if I could write heavier smut and the answer is "eh, so-so". There should have been more nudity and sex in this thing than there was, but after the fight with Tumblr over the stripper tag I just gave up trying to even tag things properly anymore. Because of the fucking purity police.

But this gets racy. As racy as I get.

So thanks for one hell of a ride!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve flopped on their sofa with a whine. “Robin... dancing with him just the two of us is going to kill me. I just know it.”

Robin looked over at him from the kitchen with an impressed eyebrow. “You know who to blame.”

“Chrissy,” they said together.

“If she had been dating you,” Steve huffed, laying lengthwise on the sofa and putting his right arm behind his head, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hey!” she protested. “There is no way that that literal goddess is ever going to date a peon like me.”

Steve lobbed a pillow straight at her head. “Only one of us gets to mope at a time, and it’s my turn. Plus you aren’t a pee-on or whatever it was you called yourself. I bet she thinks you’re hot.”

Robin came over with the two bowls of stew she had reheated and handed one to Steve, who promptly sat up straight so she had a place to sit.

“There is no fucking way,” she huffed around a bite of carrot. “Did you see the way she danced with the new Wrath? Micaela has all the right moves, who would want me when they could have that?”

Micaela looked like a Greek statue come to life. She perfect olive toned skin, deep brown eyes and the perfect pout to her lips. She was also married to a guy named Paul, who did construction for a living and didn’t care about the stripping as long as it made her happy.

“I’m pretty sure Paul would take issue with that,” he huffed. “Besides, I’ll make a bet. I’ll ask her tomorrow if she thinks you’re hot and when I win, you have to do laundry for the next month.”

Robin shrieked in outrage. “There is no way, Mr. Clothes Horse that I am going to wash that many clothes for a month.”

“Oh so you agree,” Steve said batting his eyelashes, “that you know she thinks you’re hot?”

She began sputtering and squawking, finally she settled down with her stew and very mumbled, “Curses foiled again.”

Steve kissed her cheek and turned on “Unsolved Mysteries”.

“This show was creepier in the eighties,” she huffed. “Now most of the time it’s just supernatural shit. Robert Stack would appalled.”

Steve waved her off, “Shush! I want to hear about the Chicago Moth Man.”

~

Steve bounded up to Chrissy the next day, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey-ya, hot stuff!”

Chrissy threw her head back and laughed. “What’s happening, yourself, you goober?”

“So...” he began, rocking back on his heels and then back on his toes, “so I have this bet with Robin. If I win she has to do the laundry for a month and if she wins, I have to tell Eddie I like him.”

“Oohh,” Chrissy said, rubbing her hands together, “I almost want to see you lose so you have to tell him. What’s the bet?”

“That you don’t think she’s hot. I said you do, she thinks you don’t.”

Steve smirked as he saw the complete indecision warring on her face. “Damn it.” She stomped one foot dramatically. “That’s really not fair, Steve...”

His grin widened and he knew he had won. “I’ll tell you what, you let me win the bet and I’ll have you help choreograph a dance that will knock all of Eddie’s clothes right off.”

“Tell Robin that not only do I think she’s hot,” Chrissy said returning his grin, “but also tell her to be ready next Tuesday at seven, because I’m taking her out on a date.”

Steve gave her a fist bump and walked away, back to where a very anxious Robin stood, twisting a cloth napkin to death.

“I win,” he said smugly, “and you have a date on Tuesday at seven. Dress nice, but not fancy.”

Robin sputtered and stammered. “I would have thought at the very least she would have gone my way if for the very reason one of you to boneheads needs to say something because even long time regulars are starting to notice the friction between the two of you will light this place on fire.”

“Oh I totally bribed her,” Steve said, smirk never faltering for a moment, “I told her she could help choreograph a dance to actually seduce Eddie.”

“You are so smug,” she said through gritted teeth, pinching his cheek. “I don’t have anything to wear, you know this right?”

Steve waved her off, smacking her hand away. “Go on a shopping trip, it’s not like you’re broke. Hell, we’ll go tomorrow before work. Make you the prettiest butch lesbian there ever was.” He patted her cheek firmly. “Now, I’m going to go shake my ass.”

He walked off as Chrissy walked up to her. “Hey, gorgeous,” she purred, “I’m assuming Steve told you about our date?”

Robin nodded, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you thought that about me.”

Chrissy leaned over the counter, putting her boobs on display. She played with one of Robin’s many necklaces. “I thought that when you got hired, sweetie. This is just me finally taking the plunge.”

She licked her lips slowly as Robin’s cheeks turned bright red, causing her freckles to really stand out.

“Oh.”

Chrissy chuckled. “Such a pretty little thing. I think you have me a disadvantage, Robin.”

“How’s that?” Robin asked, amazed it didn’t come out as complete gibberish. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn’t even see straight, every fiber of her being was focused on that single point of contact where Chrissy had a hold of her necklace.

“You’ve seen me naked and covered in chocolate sauce,” Chrissy purred, “and I was curious to see if that was on offer.”

How Robin didn’t immediately devolve into a complete buffoon, she had no idea. “Never on the first date.” She almost squeaked when she realized the words that had just come out of her mouth. That’s it. This wasn’t Hellfire Club, this was Heaven. She had died. Clearly.

“Duly noted,” Chrissy said, straightening up. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

Robin nodded and Chrissy waved goodbye over her shoulder. Joe who was the head waiter and her boss patted her on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it too personally,” he said with a huff of laughter. “I’ve seen lesser lesbians turn into gibbering hound dogs when she does that. She’s just a softy, really, she just also loves to blue screen the hell out of potential dates.”

Robin turned to him. “Why is that?”

“Because she wants to set the expectation that she is a stripper,” Joe said with a shrug. “She’s good at her job and she isn’t going to quit for anyone. So if she goes super sexual out of the gate and the person doesn’t mind it, then she knows it’s a safe bet.”

“Oh.”

That made more sense than it didn’t. But now she had figure out how to date the hottest woman Robin had ever met. No pressure.

Right?

~

To say Steve was nervous would be an understatement. He was about to turn an already sexually charged dance between him and Eddie and turn the dial all the up to eleven. He’s not even sure if it could be called “simulated” sex, when they were both going to get naked for a crowd, but it was definitely going to be something.

He had been slowly ramping up the tension between him and Eddie with each week and it was the last Saturday of the month and he was about to blow something. Eddie’s mind or his fucking job.

He really, really hoped it wasn’t his job.

They did their trio dance and Lilith slunk off stage, leaving behind Lucifer and Samael. The looks they were giving each other could have set that stage on fire. Steve was already most of the way red and his wings were tattered. It would not take much for Samael to fall. And fall tonight, he most certainly would.

Steve started out slow. He wanted to make Eddie come to him. He ran his hands all up and down his chest. One hand went up to his throat while the other dipped to press the heel of hand against his aching erection.

The moaned he released was not faked.

Both hands touched his cheeks and then dug into his hair, his hips thrusting out. The audience was hooked but the person he wanted was Eddie.

Lucifer watched with hooded eyes as Steve made love to himself. Then the water fell on Steve’s head and he ripped off his top. The wings were skeletal now, the last bit of feathers having been washed away with all the white.

He was standing there in red boots and g-string, head back and chest out.

The growl from Eddie was primal and Steve wasn’t sure if it was Lucifer or Eddie who made the sound.

But it didn’t matter, it did the job.

Eddie stalked across the stage and pulled their bodies flush together. He lifted one of Steve’s legs up and unzipped the boot, gently pulling it off. That leg went tightly around Eddie’s waist and he did the same with the other leg.

Soon Steve was only wearing the g-string, completely wrapped around Eddie, who was still fully dressed.

With his hand firmly on Steve’s back, Steve lowered himself backwards, arching his back, like those Renaissance painting of fallen angels and deposed saints.

With his free hand Eddie ripped off the harness with the wings tossing them aside to be picked up by one of the other dancers. Then that hand slid over Steve’s chest, down to the front of Steve’s thong and ripped that off as well.

The gasp from the audience and then the roar when Eddie tossed at them was loud.

Not that Steve could hear them over the rush of blood to his head. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely due to hanging upside down or the fact that the only thing that separated him from Eddie was the leather pants he wore as Pride.

Steve wrapped both arms around Eddie’s neck and began to grind against him.

Eddie forcibly set him down and pushed him away.

Steve had nothing to worry about because he knew this was part of the dance and turned toward the patrons.

He danced, reveling in his now naked form, showing off and simpering to the crowd. Then he’s yanked back, into Eddie’s arms.

He smirked and pushed Eddie away, turning back to the crowd. Eddie yanked on his arm again but instead of pulling him close, he pushed him to ground.

Steve stared up at him, propped up on his elbows as he scooted away from Eddie, toward the edge of the stage.

Eddie pulled on his tear away leather pants, leaving him only in the black combat boots he wore.

He stood, straddled over Steve and then knelt on one knee, running his hands over Steve’s torso and then pushed him all the way to ground.

Steve’s arms came up and his hands roamed over Eddie’s legs and ass. Eddie’s other knee hit the stage with a loud thump, causing the audience to jump. They were that enthralled with what was going on on stage.

Eddie slithered down Steve’s body and they both moaned together.

Steve was no longer sure where his body ended and Eddie’s started. It was like they were one.

Eddie stood up and as he straightened, he flipped Steve so he was on his stomach. He knelt back over Steve’s prone body and lifted his head by his hair. Steve knew to rise with it so it didn’t actually hurt, but fuck it was sexy as hell.

And the crowd thought so too.

Steve rose on his arms, stretching his back, like a mermaid pose, head back. Then he went straight down again slapping the stage to make it sound harder than it was.

He rolled over and looked up at Eddie. Eddie beckoned him to him and Steve followed, hypnotized. Entranced.

They danced together, their bodies moving as one.

Then with the dying beats of the song, Eddie dipped Steve, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

The audience went...well wild was too tame a word. Feral. They went absolutely feral.

Someone handed them garters for them put on and get money stuffed into. Once all the money that was stuffed the garters and thrown on the stage was gathered up, Steve and Eddie stumbled into Eddie’s office/dressing room.

Mouths and hands everywhere as they tried to touch as much as possible. As they were already naked or mostly there all it took was a quick tumble onto the sofa and they were really going at it.

“Baby,” Eddie huffed. “I was so hard, I almost came twice.”

Steve moaned underneath him. “Only twice? God if I didn’t have an ex-boyfriend who liked edging me I would’ve come several times.”

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows to look Steve in the eye. “We going to unpack that later when we are both sane again, but for right now I need to see you come!”

“Deal!” Steve cried as Eddie ground down.

The sex was short and explosive, as they had been turned on pretty much from the get go.

Eddie collapsed against Steve’s cum covered chest causing him to let out a pained huff.

“Where the fuck did you learn to dance like that?” Eddie complained. “Have you been holding back on me?”

Steve chuckled. “I had Chrissy help choreograph that in exchange for getting her a date with Robin.”

“That sneaky little minx,” he said with a fond shake of his head. “She is in so much trouble for that.”

“Hey,” Steve protested. “It worked didn’t it?”

There was silence for a beat.

“It did work, right?” he asked shyly.

Eddie raised his head to look him in the eye. “I guess that depends on your end game, if I’m honest.”

“I’m in love with you, Eddie,” Steve said his voice shaking just a little with the raw emotion of it all. “I want to take you dates, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know how you take your eggs so I can make you breakfast in bed. I want it all, with you.”

Eddie sat up and pulled Steve with him. “I want that too. I’m love with you, too. I’ve always been attracted to you. You’ve been nothing but kind to Chrissy, you defended my club against Nancy and Jason, you made it possible for me to really turn this club into something really special. It was good before you came, but you made it great. Of course I want to be your boyfriend, Stevie. I’d be upset if you didn’t want that, too.”

Steve surged forward and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Okay.”

Steve really didn’t feel like walking through the throng of people waiting to get paid, so Eddie loaned him some clothes.

When Eddie opened the door everyone cheered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Just remember I’m still your boss. Speaking of which, let’s get you people paid.”

Jeff and Chrissy came forward the locked box and the tip jar. Eddie counted the money, but instead of Steve on the other side of the desk like he used to do, Steve sat on the corner of the desk watching Eddie work.

After everyone had gotten paid they all shuffled out except Robin, Chrissy, and Jeff.

“Nice to see you two finally worked it out,” Jeff said with a huff of laughter. “I was about to embarrass the hell out of Eddie if something didn’t change by tonight.”

Eddie shuddered. “Glitter and stickers. So many stickers.”

Jeff grinned broadly.

Robin handed Steve a bag. “This has all your stuff in it, like your clothes, wallet, cell phone, and keys. I don’t want to see you home until sometime tomorrow.” She cocked her head to the side. “Mainly because I’m making out with my girlfriend tonight and really don’t want you there.”

She winked at him and then grabbed Chrissy’s wrist and hauled her out of there. Chrissy squawked and wave goodbye, yelling her congratulations over her shoulder as she was dragged along.

“And that’s me out of here, too,” Jeff said jutting his thumb at the retreating pair. “I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

Once everyone was gone, Steve smiled down at Eddie.

“Tomorrow,” he said wistfully. “I like the sound of that.”

“I like the sound of an infinity of tomorrows,” Eddie replied.

“Me too.”

They kissed again and walked out to their cars. Steve followed Eddie to his apartment, and just like in the rest of Eddie’s life, just never really left.

Soon he was spending most of his time over there, sometimes for sex, but mostly just being himself.

One Tuesday night when they were curled up on the sofa, Eddie asked him to move in for real.

“I’d really like that,” he murmured against Eddie’s lips.

Steve thought back to that fateful day when Robin came home from getting the job at the club, telling him that a dancer position just opened up and they were desperate. He hadn’t really stripped in a long time, the stripper-cize classes excluded. Those really weren’t the same thing as actually stripping.

But money was running out and he was out of options. So he auditioned using that silly song, hoping to stand out just enough to get the job.

And it instead changed his life.

“I love you, my little devil,” Steve purred.

Eddie’s returning smile was blinding. “And I love you too, angel.”

They kissed happily in their ever after.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE!

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup @micheledawn1975

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @garden-of-gay

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @novelnovella

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen the ‘Bruce brought dick in to stop him killing Zucco” is fun

You know what’s more fun

The fact that Dick Grayson is the fundamental opposite of Jokers one bad day

Because he was 9 and insane

Jokers “all it takes is one bad day” meet Dick Grayson also terminally insane but in the opposite direction.

(“I had a bad day not a fan, it’s illegal now”

“Chum murder is already illegal”

“Yeah in the eyes of the law, but who follows that! I’ve decided it’s illegal for people to have bad days”

“You have to follow laws Dick. You have to”

“Says the man getting shot at by the cops bc he dresses as a giant bat monster and fights crime using ancient martial arts”

“Hnnng”

“Anyway it’s illegal now, people suffering I have decided and I’m adorable so what I say goes!”

Bruce pinching bridge of nose “Dick you can’t save everyone and change every person you meets life”

“How about! No!”

“Di-“

“Great talk Bruce! Bye bye now!”)

Like when I say Dick Grayson was the crazy Robin I don’t mean he was aggressive or cruel

No I mean this man would not be out of place in Lewis Carol’s Alice in wonderland.

He’d see all the insane shit in Gotham and go ‘that makes perfect sense’ and continue on his merry way

Like he’s the type of kid who when he’s mad at Bruce for sidelining him on a fight against the joker (and making him fight Harley)

Will pull out a chessboard, grab Harley Quinn and go “I win, you get arkhamed you win we fight”

“Kid-“

“I have a gymnastics competition coming up and I wanna show up this douche in my class- you are not breaking my legs before then. Sit down. Play chess”

“Shit kid why didncha say so”

Why does he wanna fight the Joker who will objectively injure him far more throughly

“Well it’s simple math, I grew up in a circus, I like clowns, he is the biggest disgrace to clownery I’ve ever seen bet he didn’t even go to clown college. Doesn’t even have any iconic makeup, he just has toxic waste skin?? Like not even eye makeup or a red nose?? If you wanna do thematic crime do it right? Anyway it’s my legal obligation to try at any given moment to reck the embarrassment to all things goofy and funs shit.”

—————

Bruce looking for his 9 year old ward who was kidnapped as Robin

Dick hanging upside down on semi sentient vine gesturing wildly at poison Ivy who is nodding empathically

“And the water here is not normal!! Like how do you grow plants! I used to have to take care of plants all the time and now if I water them they rot! Like right in front of me!!? And I feel so bad but?? It’s water?? Please drink it?? Mr plant”

“Oh yeah it’s because of all the toxic ace chemicals in the water, you have to triple filter it. Honestly Robin I’m disappointed, your plants should be drinking the same water as you”

“ they do tho!”

“You…drink… Gotham tap water? Batman lets you drink Gotham tap water?”

“Well no… he always tells me to use the filter but I like the tap water!! Sometimes it’s fun colors and spicy”

“oh… oh that explains so much about you..”

“No he just came like that.”

“Oh HI B I was asking miss Dr.ivy why my plants keep dying”

“Robin don’t consort with villains”

“Miss Dr. Ivy you’re a doctor right”

Poison Ivy who is violently amused “PHD not MD but yeah I am”

“So you’re smart”

“Yeasss”

“Cool!…. What does consort mean?”

————-

Annoys the riddler by going with the most out of pocket technically true answer

Think “a sparrow with a shotgun”

———-

Makes the Jokers goons laugh, louder than the joker. Even while under threats of death by sufficiently wacky murder plot

———-

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 75

Yellowpaw, Sandpaw, and Stormpaw are apprenticed to Asterblaze, Spikecrash, and Clammask.

[Image ID: Yellowpaw, Sandpaw, and Stormpaw are apprentices. Sandpaw says, "Do you think Thunderpaw is impressed?" Under Yellowpaw, it says LEVEL UP! YELLOWKIT → YELLOWPAW, NOISY → COLD. Under Sandpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SANDKIT → SANDPAW, SELF-CONSCIOUS → LOYAL. Under Stormpaw, it says LEVEL UP! STORMKIT → STORMPAW, KNOW-IT-ALL → CHARISMATIC.]

(Yellowpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, cold, quick to make peace)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

Honeybuzz helps the three star-blessed apprentices.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, Wolfpaw, and Anchovypaw watch Estherfern talk with a Dark Forest spirit. Under Honeybuzz, it says + NEW SKILL: GOOD TEACHER.]

---

Honeybuzz cupped his paw around one of the many plucked mushrooms that formed the unholy circle. He sniffed at the herbal mixture that sealed the pickings together. A few strands of black and red fur clung to the wet earth that lined the edges of the muddy den. The constant rain of the last four days made the ground slick and sent water dripping from the root-lined ceiling. Anchovypaw, Wolfpaw, and Weevilpaw stood outside the den, heads close together as they peered inside. The rain glued their pelts to their skin.

“And you’ve known about this for how long, Anchovypaw?” Honeybuzz asked. He absently batted at his wooden necklace, the freshly plucked cicada wing glistening with raindrops. He pointedly sat outside of the circle, mud sinking into his thin fur.

“Only a few days,” Anchovypaw admitted. “I didn’t want to say anything until I could come back here, but there’s even more ichor here than there was when I first found the den.”

“You should have told us sooner,” Weevilpaw huffed with a glare so sharp that, had she had her sister’s ability, Anchovypaw would have frozen stiff.

“I wasn’t going to scare anyone if I didn’t have to!” Anchovypaw huffed. A sharp flick of his tail sent a stream of water flying over Weevilpaw and Wolfpaw’s backs. “It could have just been where the beast that killed Weedfoot went to die. I only waited a few days! It took me that long to get away from Halibutdusk!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Honeybuzz promised. He squeezed around the apprentices, squinting as the rain splashed his eyes.

“Now we know someone else has been here,” Wolfpaw pointed out. 

“What is it, Honeybuzz?” Weevilpaw asked. She moved further into the den, eyes locked on the circle.

“You remember my lessons on channeling StarClan?” Honeybuzz said, shivering. “It exhausts power StarClan wasn’t planning to use, but the immediate and physical communication can justify an absence of subtle signs and assistance.”

“But we don’t use mushrooms,” Weevilpaw said. She poked at a mushroom, making it roll out of its spot. “We form a circle of cats, not plants.”

“But do you remember when you met Terracottafoot?” Honeybuzz sighed. “I asked them to tell you about last Harvest Moon, and some of their knowledge of the Dark Forest. Newtstream, their mentor, taught them about channeling Dark Forest spirits using a circle of mushrooms.”

“Someone’s summoning Spirits of Shadow,” Wolfpaw gulped.

“Who would be that mouse-brained?” Anchovypaw growled. His claws left gouges in the mud. “We all remember the Shardling. Who would want to bring something like that back?” Anchovypaw looked like he was going to be sick. Wolfpaw rubbed against Anchovypaw’s side. “You were right, Weevilpaw. I should have destroyed this den as soon as I found it.”

“Then they would have made another one,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “No, we need to find a trusted warrior to watch this den. They can wait until the culprit visits again. Waspdawn or Puddlewhisper would do well. I trust them.” Weevilpaw’s soaked fur prickled. Her eyes widened, locked on something Honeybuzz couldn’t see. Her mouth dropped slightly, breath catching. 

“Out, out!” Weevilpaw hissed, lunging past Wolfpaw. She scrambled into a thick bush, still bursting with summer life. Wolfpaw and Anchovypaw were instantly at her side, following her into the shadows. Honeybuzz stumbled in after them, sharp branches poking his ribs.

“Who did you see?” Anchovypaw whispered just as the shrubbery on the other side of the dark den shifted. Bicolored eyes glimmered through the mid-morning haze.

“Estherfern?” Honeybuzz gasped as the older cleric stepped into full view. Estherfern carried a ball of fur in her jaws, the same red and black colors Honeybuzz found in the strange den. Her fur on her cheeks drooped like heavy leaves. She strolled into the shadows, ignorant to her spies.

“The Shardling almost killed her kits,” Anchovypaw growled, his rage making the leaves shake. “Why would she deal with the Dark Forest?”

“Keep listening,” Wolfpaw whispered. “We might find out.” Estherfern placed the furballs in the center of the circle. Her cool gaze settled on Weevilpaw’s disturbed mushroom. Honeybuzz grit his teeth. Estherfern carefully nudged the mushroom back into its original position. She sat in the den’s entrance, back to Honeybuzz and the apprentices.

Estherfern declared, “I call upon the spirit of Hawthornstealer, banished from StarClan for murder in the name of his kits. Despite your sins, your assistance is required. Return to the Clans, if only for a moment. Speak to us.”

“Do you see that?” Anchovypaw whispered, pressing into Weevilpaw. “Do you see that?” Honeybuzz squinted. The circle was still. Suddenly, Weevilpaw gasped. She bit into her paw to muffle her shock. Honeybuzz braced his heart for whatever the star-blessed apprentices saw.

It began as a shift in the mud, like water in a pot at the first stages of boiling. The ground around the fur offering darkened. Black sludge bubbled out of the mud and lapped up the fur balls like medicine. The sound of its formation reminded Honeybuzz of paws trapped in thick gunk, pulling out of the mess with a sucking slurp. It leaked from under the mushrooms and collected in the circle’s center. The ichor pulled itself upward like drops of water falling from the ceiling, perverting the pull of the earth. A subtle red glow illuminated the den.

“It’s finally working,” Estherfern gasped as the ichor took shape. It lifted itself high like a cat arching their back. It clung to the ground at four points that slowly took on the details of paws. A claw-like tail sprouted from its back. The ichor bubbled and bulged into a muzzle. Two glowing red eyes erupted from the spirit’s face. StarClan help them all.

“So you are Estherfern,” the spirit said. Its voice was as sticky as the mud from which it was born, dissolving into the sound of the tumbling rain.

“Hawthornstealer?” Estherfern asked. The spirit blinked slowly, its eyelids like a mudslide. 

“Why do you call?” the spirit groaned.

“Oilstripe and Lavendertwist told me your story,” Estherfern explained. She inched closer, back still stuck in the rain. “You killed an elder to ensure more food for your kits in a famine. You would have done anything for them. StarClan doesn’t seem to have the power I need. I’m hoping you can help.”

“Explain.”

“My kits are sick, and RippleClan can do nothing to help them. One of my daughters is going deaf, the other is half-blind. And now my only son has issues of the head, issues the mediators are simply bandaging, not fixing.” Was she talking about Brightpaw? Spikecrash had asked Honeybuzz and Troutpool about any relaxing herbs the young tom could take before the Gathering, something to ease the panic that overtook him when too many cats surrounded him. It was manageable. There was no need to resort to such extremes.

“You are searching for a cure.”

“I can’t let them struggle like this. How can I fix them?” The spirit stared at Estherfern silently, the rainfall burning into the background of Honeybuzz’s mind. The only sign of un-life in the spirit rested in its long, slow blinking. Even Estherfern, collected as she was, twitched under the spirit’s unending, blank stare.

“I…,” Anchovypaw whispered, “I don’t think that’s the ghost of Hawthornstealer.”

“Why not?” Wolfpaw whimpered.

“It’s too empty,” Anchovypaw groaned, struggling to find the right word. “Weedfoot’s stories said Dark Forest ghosts looked like themselves. Even the Shardling looked a little like Autumnstar, isn’t that what Downstar told us? This thing doesn’t look like anyone. It looks like a shadow."

“We may have the power,” the spirit finally coughed through its thick ichor. “We need help.”

“That’s what I expected,” Estherfern sighed. “What sort of ritual do I need to perform? Is there another spirit I should talk to?”

“Your children were destined to develop these afflictions,” the spirit gurgled. “Their destinies must be replaced. Replaced with another’s.”

“Elaborate.” 

“The eyes of the clear sighted.” The spirit’s red eyes shone like a flickering fire. “The ears of the cautious listener.” Its pointed ears flicked, their first movement since the spirit’s arrival. “The tongue of the charmed.” Its black teeth peered out from muddy lips. “Three sacrifices. Three kits.” Estherfern stilled. Honeybuzz’s heart sank. Despite her standoffishness, despite her argumentativeness, Estherfern was part of the Clan, her kits were part of the Clan. How could she throw that away to fix what didn’t, what couldn’t be fixed?

“We’ll stop her before she begins,” Anchovypaw growled, inching a paw out of hiding. StarClan asked for Estherfern. Why would they send for her if she could be swayed like this?

“Offer the dead—”

“No.” All four hidden cats perked their ears high. Estherfern stood, tail rippling slowly as she stared the spirit down. The spirit, to Honeybuzz’s continued shock, flinched.

“No?” the spirit spat.

“What do you take me for?” Estherfern scoffed. “You think I’m so blindly devoted to a cure that you can turn me into a murderer? A sadist for the sake of my children?”

“You want them cured,” the spirit growled. Its paw lingered at the edge of the circle. “This is how you cure them.”

“And what happens when I do?” Estherfern asked, tilting one ear in a shocking taunt. “I know how your land works, the rules of your afterlife. They will go to StarClan some day and learn what I did for them, if they do not find out in life. They will despise me for what I have done.”

“But they will be cured.”

“Furthermore, I know the creatures that inhabit your Dark Forest.” Estherfern walked around the circle like a hunter. The spirit never turned its head, face stuck in a sneer. “It is the home of murderers and scoundrels. I would surely arrive there after my own death were I to kill three innocents for you. You would condemn me to eternity without my children.”

“You’ve already been damned, Estherfern. You brought forth the Skin N’ Bones that slew your deputy. You are the cause of your Clan’s suffering. Do you believe StarClan will forgive you for that?” A Skin N’ Bones. Of course. Nothing else would have injured Downstar like that. Nothing else would have devoured Weedfoot alive. Estherfern stopped. The calculated and callous look that always hung in her eyes cracked. Honeybuzz could almost see Estherfern’s soul drop. “Why give up now? You’re too far gone. Your children are not. Why summon us if you were not willing to do whatever it took to fix your kits?”

“I will not have them hate me!” Estherfern rounded on the spirit, lips curled tight. “I will not have them curse my name!” She shook her head low. “I will find a different cure for them. I will find another way. I send you back, spirit, back to your dark wanderings, where StarClan’s light does not reach.” Estherfern reached for one of the mushrooms. Her paw breached the circle.

“No!” The spirit dug its fangs into Estherfern’s paw. Ichor dripped into her fresh wound. She pulled back, ripping more of her skin in the process. 

“I respect what you did for your kits, Hawthornstealer,” Estherfern hissed, licking her paw. “I realize now, however, that where you could put aside your kits’ emotions for their futures, I cannot.”

“We,” the spirit growled, voice dissolving, “are not Hawthornstealer.” 

The spirit’s legs melted like snow. Its form dissolved and splashed about in a massive sticky pool. One by one, the mushrooms rolled into the ichor and vanished under the writhing mass as though falling into a great black hole. The ichor bubbled and squirmed as though in a death rattle. It leaked from the confines of the circle and coated the den floor. Estherfern backed up, back paws slipping on the soaked grass.

Weevilpaw raced out of the bush before Honeybuzz could react. She threw her full weight into Estherfern’s side. The two clerics tumbled into the shrubs. In that moment, the ichor exploded. It sprayed the walls of the dirt den and shot into the rain in an endless cascade. More ichor escaped the den than could have possibly made up the spirit in the circle. As it flew into the forest, large clumps tumbled to the side like wayward drops from a massive wave. The glops tumbled and sloshed against the wet ground before launching through the trees and out of sight. More and more of these glops scrambled away until finally, finally, the spray slowed. A long black trail led out of the den, which was now nothing but ichor and goop. 

Honeybuzz, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw crept out of hiding as Weevilpaw got off Estherfern. Mud coated half of her brown pelt. The ichor stunk like rotting flesh and mushrooms.

“How long have you been there?” Estherfern asked, slow to her paws.

“Wolfpaw, you might have to freeze me,” Anchovypaw growled, claws out. “I’m a whisker’s length from killing her.”

“Anchovypaw, no!” Weevilpaw stood in front of Estherfern, paws skidding. “She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She was trying to help her kits. We can’t blame her for that!”

“But the Dark Forest…” Wolfpaw gulped. With the puff in her fur dissolved in the rain, she seemed half her size.

“It is full of dead cats, not unlike StarClan,” Estherfern huffed. She stepped around Weevilpaw and faced down the furious crowd. “All I wanted was a way to cure my kits, something you’ve shown you cannot do.”

“Estherfern, you weren’t talking to a dead warrior,” Honeybuzz groaned, almost stepping on the ichor trail. “That was a Herald. Their entire purpose is to trick the living into allowing Spirits of Shadow into the territories.” His gaze lingered on the forest. He could almost hear the half-formed monsters slurping across the grass, taking their true, cursed forms.

“You heard her!” Weevilpaw huffed. “She wasn’t going to listen to the spirit. She was going to destroy the circle.”

“She didn’t commit murder,” Anchovypaw scoffed. “You did well, Estherfern. You did the bare minimum.”

“Is it your fault?” Wolfpaw muttered, voice almost lost in the rain. “Did you get Weedfoot killed?” Estherfern stared into the ichor-soaked den. 

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. 

“She didn’t know, Anchovypaw,” Weevilpaw snapped. “She’s a good cat!”

“She didn’t care about killing anyone, she cared about what her kits would think,” Anchovypaw growled. “How can we trust a cleric who doesn’t care if you live or die?”

“I trust her,” Weevilpaw huffed, pressing into Estherfern. “Even though she’s strange.”

“Weevilpaw,” Honeybuzz sighed, jumping over the ichor, “take Anchovypaw and Wolfpaw and go back to camp. Just go to the medicine den and wait for us.” 

“What are we going to do with her?” Anchovypaw asked.

“Leave that to me,” Honeybuzz said, shaking his head. “Now go. Stick together, and hurry. We’ll follow you soon.” The apprentices hesitated, all glancing at one another. Weevilpaw was the first to break; she joined Wolfpaw and nudged her onward. The sisters ran toward the coast. Anchovypaw followed, his burning eyes digging into Estherfern as he vanished into the foggy trees.

“It seems I underestimated the vigor of the Dark Forest’s supernatural entities,” Estherfern hummed, cleaning the mud off her injured paw.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Honeybuzz hissed softly.

“Of course I do,” Estherfern snapped, curling her lips. “You love to tell the story of the Rippling Ashes. They ventured into the Dark Forest, they had Newtstream’s advice. What made my own approach so wicked?”

“Because it’s dangerous!” Honeybuzz groaned. “Because channeling Dark Forest souls, even when they want to help, clears a path for Spirits of Shadow, and they don’t care about any of us. They’re born to hunt. This isn’t worth it.”

“If your kits were sick, wouldn’t you do what you could for them?” Estherfern growled with a large thrash of her tail. “You can’t fix them. I thought the Dark Forest could.”

“They don’t need to be fixed!” Honeybuzz yowled, throwing his whole height up to glare down at Estherfern (who, unlike Rapidleaf, would not cower). “They aren’t dying, Estherfern! They can adapt! I’m sorry I can’t cure Thunderkit or stop Brightpaw’s anxiety, but they’ll be fine!” As Honeybuzz yowled, the first crack appeared in the sky, striking through the gray clouds. Thunder echoed far overhead. Estherfern stared at the growing storm.

“What’s out there now, do you think?” Estherfern sighed.

“Dog-cats, forsaken prey, honeybites…” Honeybuzz muttered, spine itching. “There may even be monsters we rarely see, ones we don’t have names for. We don’t want to know everything that’s out there now.”

“This is something we can fix,” Estherfern huffed. She marched around Honeybuzz and stood on the roof of the wicked den. Jaw tight as her bit paw moved, Estherfern dug at the soaked grass. Her pelt was more mud than fur. Chunks of earth tumbled into the den. The sopping ground folded in on itself like a wave. Estherfern rolled away as the roof of the den fell and covered the sticky, stinking ichor. Grass stuck to Estherfern’s underside. Honeybuzz hurried to her, helping her away from the crumbled remains of her sins.

“We can,” Honeybuzz gulped. “We can fix this.”

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Anchovypaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 10, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Sandpaw and Spikecrash arrange time for Estherfern to see the kits she worked so hard to “fix”.

[Image ID: Estherfern faces Thunderpaw, Wolverinepaw, and Brightpaw.]

---

Estherfern didn’t belong at such a lively celebration. The sumptuous food, the well-rehearsed performances… Harvest Moon was as grand as RippleClan claimed it to be. Every Clan gathered as the sunrise poked through the trees, preparing their stews and games and performances. But it was a holiday to drive off Spirits of Shadow. What good would it do to have their herald nestled in the safety of the firelight?

“Spirits of Shadow hate charms,” Troutpool explained as she tucked a cat’s wood-carved face into the boughs of a low-hanging pine. “AshClan spends a lot of time carving these trinkets, and all that care under StarClan’s protections makes them especially useful in warding off danger.” All the clerics roamed the edge’s of the great clearing with baskets of charms and other concoctions to protect the five Clans. Estherfern carried RippleClan’s heavy basket as Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw prepared the defenses to Troutpool’s instruction.

“How many do we have to place?” Weevilpaw asked, shoving a charm as far into a bush as she could reach.

“We’re covering this entire corner,” Troutpool explained. “We don’t want to leave any openings for spirits.” Estherfern nearly broke the charm in her jaws with how tightly she grit her teeth. She quickly passed it to Honeybuzz.

“Estherfern!” Two figures slipped through the massive crowd. Spikecrash and Sandpaw walked side by side, mentor and apprentice in sync. Sandpaw’s gaze wandered throughout the clearing, taking in the sights of all five Clans for the first time.

“You want to speak to me?” Estherfern asked. While her tone made her question sound casual, the brown priestess hid her surprise deep. She didn’t talk to many cats outside of the medicine den. Why would two of the Clan’s mediators want her? Did they know the real reason why Honeybuzz reported a surge of spirits in the Clan? The reason it was too dangerous to leave camp alone? Why all five Clans, not just RippleClan, now had a newfound fear for their lives? Had Honeybuzz not lied for her, Estherfern would have told the truth and accepted the consequences, yet why he kept it secret, Estherfern didn’t know She glanced at Honeybuzz, but the young gold and white cleric focused on his charms.

“I’m hoping we can borrow you,” Spikecrash explained. “Troutpool, do you still need Estherfern’s help?”

“We’re just placing our wards at the moment,” Troutpool explained, reaching into Estherfern’s basket. “We could finish without her if you really need her.” Estherfern carefully slipped the basket off her neck.

“Thank you, Troutpool,” Spikecrash sighed. She flicked her tail for Estherfern to follow. It seemed no one cared if Estherfern actually wanted to speak with Spikecrash, but who was she to refuse? She trailed after Spikecrash and Sandpaw, heading over to the ovens. Clammask and Stormpaw worked with Drumtooth and Thunderpaw, laughing over an unheard joke as they tended the fire under a massive pot of stew.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an invasion of privacy,” Spikecrash began, her scarred flank lifted high in a long stretch. “Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw spoke with me a few days ago and said you were having some difficulties with your kits.” Estherfern narrowed her eyes.

“If we’re going to discuss my kits,” she sighed, “maybe you could tell me why no one told me about Brightpaw’s meetings with you?”

“So you do know about that,” Spikecrash sighed. “Brightpaw is an apprentice now, Estherfern. We aren’t pressured to tell you anything he didn’t want you to know.” 

“If he’s sick, I want to help him,” Estherfern huffed.

“Why do you think he didn’t want you to know?” Sandpaw scoffed. “Look how you acted with Wolverinepaw and Thunderpaw.” Oh if only he knew just what Estherfern had done for them. What the Dark Forest wanted her to do.

“I’ve only ever tried to help them overcome their own limitations,” Estherfern said, her sharp stare ricocheting off Sandpaw and muting his confident words.

“That’s why we wanted to show you a few things,” Spikecrash explained. She waved a paw toward the oven where Thunderpaw and the other RippleClan cats gathered.

“The only goal of tonight is to have a better stew than WheatClan,” Drumtooth explained, shooting a friendly sneer at WheatClan’s oven and their large pot. He licked the surface of the stew and smacked his jaws. “It’s good, but it’s missing something.” Thunderpaw copied her mentor. Her face squirmed, thinking hard. She then made a strange motion with her paws; balancing on her back legs, she brought her paws close to her mouth and wiggled them as they moved away.

“I know this one,” Stormpaw chirped, completely focused on Thunderpaw. “If the wiggles are the sea… seaweed! That’s seaweed!”

“Yes!” Thunderpaw squealed. The two young apprentices cheered and giggled at their success, bunting one another

“AshClan borrowed our basket of seaweed,” Clammask explained, nudging Thunderpaw. “Grab some for us.”

“Grab seaweed,” Thunderpaw laughed. She quickly swiped the air like she was dragging a mouse out of hiding, then made the ‘seaweed’ motion again. Stormpaw mimicked the dragging motion as Thunderpaw hurried to AshClan’s oven.

“Why is Stormpaw learning Clan-sign?” Estherfern asked her mediator companions.

“Because Thunderpaw’s teaching her,” Sandpaw chirped. “Whenever Thunderpaw gets back from her sign lessons with Mummichogleap, she practices with us apprentices. Most of us are learning a few words so Thunderpaw isn’t left out.”

“And you want to learn?” 

“Thunderpaw makes it fun!”

“You can’t expect the whole Clan to learn this second language.”

“No one does.” Spikecrash touched her tail to Estherfern’s shoulder.. “But there are cats who want to make the effort. They can translate for those who don’t know. It puts pressure off Thunderpaw. She can miss what someone said, but she’ll have friends and family who can let her know.” Thunderpaw trotted back to the oven with a few long strips of seaweed. Clammask tore the seaweed into stew-sized chunks, showing the apprentices how to curl their paws just right. Thunderpaw seemed… happy.

“Now if you’ll follow us over here…” Sandpaw purred, strolling around the Leader’s Stone. Estherfern followed, tail a bit higher than before.

Brightpaw, Ravenpaw, and Vervainpaw sat with a gaggle of apprentices from the other Clans. They lounged about, chatting and laughing. Brightpaw nodded along to an apprentice’s story, his flank stretched out like frog legs. Ravenpaw relaxed on top of him, oohing and awing over the tale.

“I don’t know what your birth place thought of disorders of the mind,” Spikecrash whispered, brushing against Estherfern once more, “but like most disabilities, you can learn to live with them. There was a great gathering of warriors and codekeepers here at the new moon, do you remember? Brightpaw managed to befriend these apprentices during the visit. They invited their friends and littermates to chat today, and Brightpaw is happy to spend time with them. His mind is likely lying to him right now, but he knows ways to manage that. He could overcome his anxiety naturally some day, but that’s a minor part of who he is.”

“I know that,” Estherfern huffed. “He loves to play with Rabbitjoy’s paint supplies. He’s sensitive, and loves his sisters with all his heart. I’ve only ever wanted to help those traits shine.”

“That’s not how Brightpaw sees it,” Sandpaw scoffed under his breath. The comment hollowed out Estherfern’s chest. Before she could respond, two brown blurs shot past the Leader’s Stone with a horde of apprentices and young warriors at their tails. Wolverinepaw and Yarrowpaw led the crowd to an open spot within the festivities. They studied their followers like leader and deputy, the sunrise framing their profiles.

“We’ve got until after sunhigh to prepare!” Wolverinepaw cheered. 

“Are we going to let some dusty old bones beat us?” Yarrowpaw cried.

“No!” the young crowd yowled joyfully, already shoving and jumping over each other.

“Let’s show them what the new generation can do!” Wolverinepaw called. Her followers cheered, yowling to the high branches. They scattered throughout the clearing and split into sparring groups. They steadied their stances and wiggled their flanks. With sheathed paws, the youth of the Clans launched into training, trading blows and careful bites. Slushpaw lingered near the edge of the training grounds, cheering the others on.

“Slushpaw!” Sandpaw yowled to the older mediator apprentice. “What are they doing?”

“Well,” Slushpaw laughed, trotting up to Sandpaw, Spikecrash, and Estherfern, “Yarrowpaw and Wolverinepaw were arguing with Darkkick and another old warrior about what was a better trait in a fight; youth or experience. Suddenly all these other cats started joining in, and now the senior warriors are going to have a big mock-battle with the apprentices, plus some warriors who haven’t attended a Harvest Moon before.”

“And Wolverinepaw’s participating in this?” Estherfern huffed. She searched for her daughter in the crowd. She found Wolverinepaw rolling about with Yarrowpaw in the middle of the mess. Yarrowpaw shoved Wolverinepaw’s head into the dirt. Wolverinepaw snapped her jaw around Yarrowpaw’s leg and pulled her onto her shoulder. Yarrowpaw laughed as Wolverinepaw took her place on top of the older apprentice.

"She's as capable as any apprentice her age," Spikecrash assured Estherfern.

"She seemed so insecure during her ceremony…" Estherfern muttered.

"Wolverinepaw?" Spikecrash chuckled. "I don't think so. From what I've heard, she thinks she's strong enough to take on an actual wolverine."

"She didn't choose a role in time, though," Estherfern pointed out.

"Because she wanted to do everything!" Slushpaw laughed. "I talked with her right up to her ceremony. She had a new role in mind every day!" Oh. Had Wolverinepaw's sight not come up at all? Surely her decaying vision would make it hard for her to fight. Yet she kept up with Yarrowpaw, tumbling across the clearing with abandon. Had Estherfern's kits always been so sure of themselves? Surely they wanted cures. How else could they survive in a world that showed no mercy to the weak? In the cat-minded human's den, if you couldn't match up to the others, you wouldn't eat. Three of Estherfern's brilliant kits would have died in that awful place. Except…they weren't there anymore, were they?

"Can I guess what's been going on?" Spikecrash asked. "You've been so focused on a cure in their future, you've ignored how they are in the present. When's the last time you talked to them about something, anything but their health? Have you talked to Foampaw or Boughpaw at all?" Estherfern glanced from one kit to another. Their faces glowed with holiday glee. Did they ever glow around Estherfern anymore? When was the last time she shared a meal with them?

"Spikecrash," Estherfern muttered, her pride burning her words, "I need you to teach me something."

A short time later, Estherfern approached Thunderpaw and the RippleClan stew. The bounties of the ocean danced in the broth, specially prepared for that oh so exciting celebration. Thunderpaw stared eagerly into the stew while Stormpaw and their mentors talked with other caretakers. She spotted her mother and her eyes grew big and calm, mimicking Estherfern's eternally serene expression. Estherfern's heart did not carry that serenity as she approached her bold daughter.

"Do you need…" Estherfern said hesitantly. She awkwardly sat on her hind legs. She held out one paw, pads down, and angled the other on top of it, claws out. Thunderpaw's eyes sparkled at the sign.

"Help," she whispered as Estherfern quickly returned to a natural position. Thunderpaw made the sign with ease, quickly hopping from her hind legs and back. She ogled Estherfern, her thoughts not caught up to reality.

"I want to spend time with you," Estherfern explained. It felt like someone carved her pelt off, leaving her exposed. "I want to share your stew with you and your littermates." Thunderpaw blinked slowly. It took her so long to reply, Estherfern was about to repeat herself, just in case her pounding heart muffled her words.

"Do you want to learn the sign for littermates while the stew finishes cooking?" Thunderpaw gulped. The tip of her tail twitched wildly as her earlier joy bloomed across her face once more.

"If it means time with you," Estherfern sighed.

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Troutpool: 36, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Spikecrash: 50, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Drumtooth: 23, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Thunderpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice,

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

(Clammask: 69, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Brightpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Wolverinepaw: 7, female, warrior apprentice, compassionate, always asking questions)

(Yarrowpaw: 10, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

(Slushpaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, wise, quick witted, bats at string)

[whimsymosaic]

hi! your swap au looks really interesting, i like your style!

i have (maybe dumb) questions:

- how did the girls die in this au?

- is crystal in love with niko? (or how this aspect works in this au)

- can you explain the meaning of niko's pins? (i think i understand, but still would love to read the explanation)

- what is niko's "cricket bat"? it kinda looks like shepherd's crook

- since the cat king started edwin's sexual awakening, what's the crow king's role in this aspect here?

- was charles possessed by a demon? was edwin possessed by dandelion sprites?

Omg YES I will answer these! So:

How did the girls die?

Crystal was a bit of a bitch in life. Her and her “friends” thought it would be really funny if they tried summoning a demon with her as a sacrifice. It did NOT go as planned and after 70 years in hell Crystal had time to reevaluate her life decisions. Maybe she did deserve to be in hell? (Not necessarily but this was her mind set)

Niko found it difficult to find faults in people and because of this became friends with the wrong crowd. She stopped them beating some girl up- racist asswholes and in return for stoned and died of hypothermia in the woods. Luckily though there was a Crystal to sing to her as she fell asleep for the last time.

Is Crystal in love with Niko?

YES. Ngl I thought they were gay in the show, but turned out that sadly what I interpreted as Crystals gay awakening was a parasite. :(

But sorry yeah Crystals a bit too focused on the I’m such a terrible person and I need to make up for it and it’s not till Portstown end does Crystal go. Oh! Lesbian? But as soon as she does it’s not soon before she confesses on the steps of hell.

Nikos pins

I thought 80s Niko would be a big activist for rights so I looked up the meaning of some of them.

Peace sign seems self explanatory, the pink triangle is for gay rights, the hearts just a heart and the eye real represents police brutality. Please say if I’ve gotten any of them wrong but I think that’s right.

Nikos bat.

Ok so like forgive me but it is meant to be a hockey stick. It’s just I was half way through the crow king comic and forgot the name for orange I could not remember what a hockey stick looks like and just went: “candy cane? That’s probably right”

Crow king

Omg so I wanted to keep the og relationships from the show but obviously swap all the dynamics due to the swap. The crow king is head over heels for Edwin, following him from New York to portstown end because unlike cats, crows don’t stay in one place for too long. Edwin does not know Monty is the crow king, he never really believed in ghosts or the supernatural despite what Charles told him. However he is good friends with “Monty”

Due to his mischievous nature Monty goes “you like a girl? Hehe tell her you love her, here I’ll pretend to be her and we can practice!”

Meanwhile a heavily repressed Crystal is horrified that she can’t leave portstown end until she confesses to her best friend of 30ish years. Counting crows it is.

Is Charles possessed by a demon?

Yep! I’ve decided to swap David with one of his “friends “ from school so basically I get to make him up, but he’s a dick. He claims to be a psychic too and helps him find the ghosts Charles had become friends with. Charles never kisses-calling him Henry- he never kisses Henry but idk maybe Charles hugs him or sm and Henry goes heh time to get possessed! And then he throws away all of Charles’ memories. Dick.

Does Edwin get possessed by the sprites?

Yep! He goes to the woods looking for dandelions because Charles always said they brought good luck, and boy did Edwin miss Charles. After this maybe he could finally move on. (He’s lying to himself) unfortunately Edwin stumbles upon some bad dandelion sprites and one near death experience later his hair is white and the Charles before him isn’t a hallucination. Also ghosts are real holy shit.

These were fun to answer so much!

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 5: Honorable Intentions

“So how does Spite feel about Illario?”  “SPINELESS. WHINY-” “About how he feels about most people.” “And that is…?” Taking his coffee from the counter, he sipped it slowly before responding.  “Impatient.” “Even me?” She batted her lashes. “Do you ever think he’ll just get fed up and-” “Why don’t we talk about something else, mm?”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: With both Spite and Rook keeping him on edge, Lucanis looks for distraction in meal prep...

Word Count: 2.6k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! warnings: I use the word cock ONCE. (sorry) Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Aunt Viama stood barefoot on the couch, peeking through the window nervously. 

“Viago, take Fiamma to her room!” She hissed, “Dante, what is she doing here?”

“Relax, she doesn’t bite. It’s probably a contract,” said Fiamma’s father, as the two children snuck to their favorite eavesdropping spot in the hall and exchanged a look.

“Are you kidding me? My sister’s been in the ground one week! You’re grieving! We’re grieving!”

He motioned her aside and opened the door, ignoring her objections.

“Caterina, to what do I owe the honor?” He beckoned her inside with a polite gesture.

Calm and collected, the First Talon entered the den, her cane tapping against the wooden floor. A boy, roughly Fiamma’s age, clung to her coattails as she walked. Lucanis trailed behind them, his head bowed. 

“I’m sorry to trouble you during such a painful time, Dante,” she kissed him on each cheek in greeting, “but my grandson has gifted your daughter something that was not his to give away.” 

“What did you do, Fiammetta?” Viago demanded, pinching her arm.

“It wasn’t me. It was Lucanis!” she whispered, slapping his hand away and running to her bedroom. Throwing herself under her bed, she retrieved one of her mother’s old hat boxes and pried off the lid, sifting through her trinkets in search of the opal. The sound of Caterina’s muffled voice carried through the wall from the next room.

“I encourage my grandson to steal whatever his heart desires, if he can get away with it, presuming he’d go after sweets or knives. Instead, he takes books and gems.” She huffed. 

“The makings of a good Crow,” Dante said. “An eye for knowledge and beauty.” 

Caterina made a noise of disapproval. “Any other would have been inconsequential, but this one…has history. I was having a new setting made for this one and he swiped it before I could get it to my jeweler…”

With a pounding heart, Fiamma carefully took out the gem and cradled it in her palm one last time, before she closed her fist around it, stashed the box back under her bed, and shuffled into the den.

“Miss Caterina.” She straightened her posture, extending her hand. “Please don’t be mad. Lucanis just wanted to make me feel better.”

Dante’s mouth fell open in surprise as Caterina bent down and plucked the opal from his daughter’s hands. His eyes widened as she held it in the light, examining it. “Is that…”

“Yes.” Caterina retrieved her coin purse from inside her coat and slipped it inside. “You are a very honorable girl, Fiammetta. My grandsons could learn a great deal from you.” 

Behind her, Lucanis raised his head, his brown eyes heavy with embarrassment. “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, Fiammetta.”

“Nonsense, Lucanis. She isn’t in trouble for your oversight.” Caterina snapped.

Fiamma’s father crouched beside him. “It was a kind gesture, Lucanis.” He said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you meant well.”

Caterina nodded. “I apologize for the intrusion, Dante. My deepest condolences…but if you don’t mind lending me just a bit more of your time, there’s some Crow business I’d like to discuss.” She glanced around. “Is there somewhere we can chat?”

Dante rose to his feet. “Of course. I’ll have Viama put some coffee on.” He turned to Fiamma and kissed the top of her head. 

“Why don’t you take Lucanis and Illario to play with Viago? I’m sure he’s not far...” her father murmured, frowning with gentle disapproval as his gaze drifted toward the shadow in the hallway. 

As the adults departed, Viago emerged from the hall, nudging Lucanis with his elbow and gesturing towards the front door with a subtle tilt of his head. With a shameful look, Lucanis tore his eyes away from Fiamma’s and followed her cousin outside. 

Charging forward, the youngest Dellamorte seized her hand, shaking it a little too hard.

“I’m Illario.” He said earnestly. “Can I see the rest of your house? I bet it’s not as big as my Nonna’s!”

Fiamma blinked, her gaze moving past him to the door as it shut behind the older boys. Forbidden from leaving the house without her father’s escort, she had no choice but to stay behind.

“Um…sure.” She said, trying to hide the disappointment in her tone. “Do you like art? My papa has lots of paintings in his office.”

Illario grinned, giving a charming bow, as if reenacting something he’d seen an adult do. 

“I like whatever you like.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Not even a dragon attack could close the Treviso markets. The following day, they opened as usual, with a nervous undercurrent of chatter among the merchants. Lucanis browsed the stalls, taking the opportunity to shop while Rook slept in. Viago and Teia had already left to handle Crow matters at the casino, and he needed some time to clear his head.

Spite’s unpredictable nature gave him an aversion to sleep these days, and thanks to Rook, he wouldn’t have slept last night even if he wanted to. Lying on Viago’s couch, he stared at the ceiling, struggling to dismiss the images her words had evoked as his cock strained uncomfortably against the front of his trousers. Worse, Spite took a maddening amount of delight in Lucanis’ discomfort, and even more so at Rook’s mischievousness. It worried him - how would Spite react to Rook the next time he took control? He couldn’t risk sleeping, couldn’t risk Spite climbing into bed with her when she was inebriated, vulnerable, alone…

“MAYBE ROOK WANTS YOU IN HER BED. SPITE IS JUST HELPING.”

He shuddered and deposited a few gold coins in a merchant’s palm, wrapping up his purchase and heading back to Viago’s apartment. If he was lucky, Rook would wake with a nasty hangover and have forgotten the entire evening.

Upon his return, the house was still quiet. Lucanis deposited his groceries on the counter and lit the stove, setting a kettle of water atop it, before venturing down the hall to knock softly on Rook’s door. He cracked it open, knowing if he let her sleep any longer, she’d be furious at him for not waking her. 

Through the gap, he watched her lift her head, brushing her tousled hair from her face to look over her bare shoulders at him. Her white sheets slid down, settling just below the curve of her waist, and he shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. Holding them over her breasts, she squinted at him and rolled onto her back. 

“Lucanis?” She muttered, shielding her eyes from the light pouring in through her windows, “What time is it?”

He averted his gaze, preferring to stare at the sun than endure this any longer. 

“Midday.”

She jerked forward. “Why did you let me sleep so late?” 

“I thought you might need it.” He said, turning back to the hall, “Get dressed and come get some coffee. I’ll make breakfast.”

Lucanis moved with measured steps, his eyes glued to the floor until he reached the kitchen. He prepped Viago’s glass coffee maker, admiring the craftsmanship, and pulled out a cutting board, peeling and mincing several cloves of garlic. 

Rook wandered in soon after, hair freshly brushed and clearly having capitalized on the availability of her old wardrobe. She wore a lace-necked blouse, a crow brooch pinned at the base of her throat, and a pair of loose, black trousers. Around her shoulders, she had draped a velvet purple cloak that fell just above the soles of her leather boots. 

He glanced up with a raised eyebrow, then returned his focus to the tomato he was coring.  

“I made coffee.” He said stiffly. 

“Of course you did.” As she went to pour herself a cup, her hip brushed against his. 

“SMELLS LIKE LAVENDER AND CITRUS BLOSSOM.”

He cleared his throat, picking up another tomato. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Morning hangover aside?” she sat down across the counter from him and took a sip from her mug. “I appreciate you trying to relieve me of some of my guilt yesterday, but let’s keep the vintage away until after we’ve killed a few gods, hmm?” 

He smiled, letting a huff of air escape from his nose. “Of course.”

“How did you sleep?” 

“Fine.” He lied, dicing a bell pepper while admiring Viago’s kitchen knives. They were sharp enough to make a clean kill if they needed to. Maybe that was the point.

“Can I help?” She nodded towards the stove. Did she remember a single thing she said last night? Was she toying with him? Or too embarrassed to bring it up? 

“YOU BRING IT UP!”

“The pan should be warm enough. You can oil it.”

She stood and rummaged through Viago’s cabinets, retrieving a bottle and uncapping it. “So how does Spite feel about Illario?” 

“SPINELESS. WHINY-”

“About how he feels about most people.” Lucanis scraped garlic and onion into the sizzling oil, adding an assortment of spices. 

“And that is…?”

He incorporated the tomatoes and a dash of cream, stirring as he tried to ignore her curious gaze over his shoulder. Taking his coffee from the counter, he sipped it slowly before responding. 

“Impatient.”

“Even with me?” She batted her lashes. “Do you ever think he’ll just get fed up and-”

“Why don’t we talk about something else, mm?” Lucanis suggested, pulling out one of his market bags and retrieving a few eggs. He steered Rook aside, placing his hands on her shoulders so he could reach the stove.

“THE COUNTER. SHE’D LIKE TO BE BENT OVER-”

“Oh. Sure.” She returned to her seat. “Thanks for making me breakfast.”

“It’s not entirely unselfish. Viago has a nicer kitchen than the Lighthouse does.” He said, breaking the eggs into the stewed tomatoes.

Rook rested her chin on her hands. “True.”

“Is it nice being back?” Lucanis asked, removing the pan from the stovetop and dividing its contents across two plates. He gave her one, then took out a baguette and sliced off a few pieces for them to share. 

“In some ways. When I was on Viago’s bad side, it wasn’t always so nice.”

Lucanis settled beside her, mopping at his eggs with his bread, letting the yoke bleed into the tomatoes. 

“I might still be on his Viago’s bad side. Who knows?” Fiamma said and took a bite of her food. She uttered a soft moan of pleasure, and Lucanis dropped his silverware. Rook remained oblivious and continued eating. 

They finished breakfast in silence, the hallmark of a well-prepared meal, and Lucanis rose, picking up her plate and mug and taking them to the washbasin. They needed to get out of here, for more reasons than one. 

“I told you, Viago is used to picking up after me,” Rook said with a grin. 

So she did remember last night. 

“If he has a good side, I’d like to stay on it.” Lucanis said, scrubbing the dishes clean. Rook joined him near the sink, grabbing a towel and holding her hand out. He passed her a plate, and she dried it carefully. 

“Are we…good?” She asked, pushing the plate aside to take the next one. 

“We’re good.” Lucanis said, shaking water from his hands and wiping them on his pants. “Let’s get back to work.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

The days that followed dragged on. Devastated by Neve’s absence, Bellara became determined to find a dragon hunter and a Veil Expert, furiously taking notes and charging ahead with renewed vigor. And find them she did. After excursions to Rivain and the Necropolis, Emmrich Volkarin, a Mortalitasi, and Taash, a Qunari with a talent for fire-breathing, joined their team. Emmrich arrived with an animated skeleton assistant, Manfred, who was quickly becoming Rook’s favorite recruit. More odd, but enjoyable personalities, to add to their collective. 

“So Lucanis, you’re an Antivan Crow?” Taash asked, their feet kicked up on the dinner table as Lucanis prepared dinner.

“Yes. Like Rook.” He replied from the stove. Rook could feel his disappointment from across the room - he undoubtedly missed the accommodations of Viago’s kitchen. 

“Do all Antivan Crows have demons?”

“What? No!” He spun around. “Spite was put into me by the Venatori.”

Since their arrival, their new companion had bombarded Lucanis and Rook with endless, bizarre questions about Crow customs. Varric would have relished the chance to spin his wild tales for Taash. Unfortunately, he took most of his meals in his chambers and wasn’t keen on visitors other than Rook.  

“Demons typically infect mages through manipulation, but Lucanis’ situation is…rather unique.” Emmrich explained. 

“Oh. That’s messed up.” Taash removed their feet from the table and leaned forward. “What’s Spite like?”

“Angry. Impulsive. Annoying.” Lucanis said, taking the soup he was making off the fire. 

“If he’s so unhappy, why doesn’t he just leave?”

“It would likely kill me.”

“No offense, but why would he care?”

Lucanis hesitated. 

“Because we have a deal.”

Rook’s head snapped up as she set Emmrich’s bowl down in front of him. “You made a deal with a demon? ”

Manfred let out a hiss of discontent, stomping his feet in a panic. 

“Oh, Lucanis…” Emmrich lamented, shaking his head. “That was a very foolish thing to do…”

“Zara was waiting for Spite to break out of my body like a moth in a cocoon. I convinced him we wanted the same thing and promised I’d give it to him.”

“And that was that?” Asked Taash. 

“Her. Dead.” Lucanis said, bringing the soup to the table and ladling it into the bowls Rook had set out. The large doors to the kitchen swung open, and Davrin entered, Assan playfully nipping at his heels. He took the furthest seat from Lucanis at the head of the table. The two hadn’t gotten on particularly well ever since Davrin found out about Spite. 

“Play nice,” Rook warned in a low voice, handing the Grey Warden a goblet and filling it with port. She took a seat beside Lucanis, whose end of the table always filled up slowly, everyone wary of his demonic passenger. 

As she blew on her spoonful of soup, Rook caught sight of Bellara entering with Harding and, to her astonishment, Neve. The three appeared to be mid conversation, putting her slightly on edge.

“Are they really gods, though?” Harding asked, looking up at the detective.

“They’re gods. Or the closest thing to them.” 

“Neve!” Rook breathed, setting down her silverware and bracing her hands on the table. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” she said, not sparing her so much as a glance as she took her seat next to Davrin. “I am.”

The cold shoulder stung, and Rook lowered her head, taking a measured inhale. Neve’s feelings were her own, and she had the right to be disappointed.

“A couple of new people have joined our team since you left,” Harding, seeking to ease the tension, chimed in. “This is Professor Emmrich Volkarin, he’s our fade expert. That’s his assistant beside him, Manfred. And there’s Taash, our dragon hunter.”

“Hey.” Taash said.

Emmrich gave an elegant wave. “Charmed.” 

“A dragon hunter?” Neve asked Taash, “Minrathous could have used you.” 

Rook stiffened as something grazed her knee beneath the table. Startled, her eyes flicked to Lucanis, who offered a tight smile and reassuringly squeezed her knee.

Mierda. This was trouble. 

“So what’s going on?” Rook asked Neve, tearing her gaze from Lucanis. He withdrew his hand and glanced down awkwardly, returning to his dinner.  

“Back home? What isn’t?” Neve sighed, mustering all the civility she could. “Look, you made an impossible call without enough information. I get it. It’s the corner the gods put us in. It just…might take time to shake off.”

Rook dipped her chin. “Of course.” 

“You are back, though, right?” Bellara asked. 

Neve lifted her wineglass and took a deep drink. 

“Yeah, Bel. I’m back.”

[au-hemeanssomething]

I know we all like to make fun of people for bringing wrath and natural selection shirts outside but, realistically speaking how many “normal” people are going to recognize those shirts and put two and two together? I feel like you’re more likely to get a negative reaction if you wear a simple Trenchcoat then any clothing with those words on it

[ninkaku]

strange behaviour from the arcane fandom when a woman that has relations with another woman goes down a darker path and people condemn her whereas if she was a man in love with another man this would be lapppped up as “toxic yaoi”. please get a grip

[evansbby]

my opinion on the Blake lively situation

[darlingod]

I can’t believe Taryn betrayed Jude even after the whole Undersea shit went down. Your sister was tortured everyday for a over month, you saw all of what it did to her, and you still decide to hurt her even further? As if she hasn’t already gone through enough??

And to do it only to potentially be the most favored by their father?

Taryn: When Jude goes low, I bring her lower