#I have a strong aversion to braces

[ashersbraincell]

Fun fact about me: when I was a kid, I was one of those kids who’s baby teeth grew in late asf and thus wouldn’t budge by the time that my adult teeth started growing in(so I had to have my baby teeth manually removed by a dentist sequentially when each adult tooth grew in >m<). But that’s not the fun fact!!! This is atleast a little common to some capacity I think!!!

Where it actually gets interesting is the fact that I wasn’t born with one of my adult teeth at all(if you didn’t know, babies are born with both their baby teeth and adult teeth ready to go in their gums), and thankfully the corresponding baby tooth never became wobbly or damaged. So. As I grew up, and my jaw changed etc, in comparison to my adult teeth, I now have this silly little smol baby tooth hanging out there too

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With mo further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawl iut orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they aached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she cannot reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[perpetualfox]

Whoa dude, I love your work mate! I was wondering if I could ask for a NSFW König x female reader, where he comes back home from a long mission, that lasted several months, and sweetly (but with passion) absolutely RAILS his wife. I would me most grateful! Keep up the awesome work!

Language Lesson - König x Fem!Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Manhandling, Semi-Rough Sex, Creampie

Wordcount: 2521

Well. This got away from me a little bit. Please forgive how long this took and any grammatical fuck ups in the German. I'm still learning (and lowkey using this as practice since I have no one to speak with lmao) (also thank you so much <3 I'm so glad you're enjoying these)

→The mattress groaned as König shifted his weight, bearing down upon you, pressing your body into the plush memory foam. He revelled in the glory of it beneath his battered knees. After so many months sunk deep into mud, and dust, and blood; after so many months catching sleep where he could—in the back of a transport, on the cold metal benches of an evac helo, or the cold, hard ground—he could hardly believe something so soft even existed.

→You on the other hand, he could believe in. Every dip and curve of your body was etched into his memory; burned against the backs of his eyelids. You had graced his thoughts during every precious moment of downtime and haunted his dreams at night. But those echoes were nothing when compared to you—the living, breathing you who looked at him like he hung the moon and stars each night, and bid the sun to rise in the morning.

→How lucky he was, how privileged, how honoured to have you like this: to growl against your throat, his teeth bared against your flushed skin. How blessed he was to strip you naked and marvel at your beauty, to have you to himself—all to himself. He pressed forward, crowding you against the headboard, his hips slotting against yours as though they had been made to do so. His cock lay heavily against your stomach, already flushed and leaking.

→Always so eager.

→You had missed that terribly in the months since he’d been deployed.

→You had missed everything about him—the way he loomed in doorways, always uncertain if he was welcome in to sit with you; the way he held your hand in public, his thick fingers flexing around yours, grip tight: a lifeline and a warning; the way he snorted when he laughed, blushing to the tips of his ears as he did so, and burying his face in his hands.

→You missed the way he always left the grocery shopping to you, but wouldn’t allow you to lift a finger in the kitchen; the way he sat on the bathroom floor while you bathed, his back braced against the side of the tub, long legs splayed out on the tiled floor, just listening to you chatter on about your day; the way he curled his body around yours at night, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, murmuring about what he’d like to make you for breakfast in the morning.

→Even the things you hated about him, you missed—the way he always left his boots right in the middle of the doorway: in the perfect spot for you to trip over them later; the smell of his cigarettes and how he thought he could get away with smoking them indoors so long as he opened a window first; his complete and utter aversion to putting his dirty shirts in the hamper. Then there was the way his tongue sharpened when something put him in a mood; his tendency toward catastrophizing even the most trivial problems when he could not solve them for you immediately; the sulking; the jealousy; the territorial possessiveness; the paranoia.

→You missed it all. The memories were not enough, the few short phone calls he’d managed were not enough—memories and phone calls couldn’t hold you, couldn’t satisfy you, couldn’t fill the empty parts of you. It wasn’t enough to know that he was alive. You needed him home.

→His fingers tightened around your thighs, nails biting into your flesh as he dragged you down, pinning you beneath him. His face remained tucked into the crook of your neck, but his hands were busy, one kneading at your inner thigh, the other guiding himself toward your entrance. He pressed himself against you, warm and thick, the length of him slipping against your slick folds. The crown of his cock bumped up against your clit, and you gasped, nerves sparking.

→“Mmm, babyyy, no fair! Don’t tease!”

→You felt his breathy chuckle more than heard it—a warm puff of air ghosting across the side of your neck. For a moment, he was still, stamping heavy, open-mouthed kisses against your flesh. Your skin felt too tight—overwarm and buzzy. You needed him. Now.

→The breath fled from your lungs in a heavy rush when, at last, he pushed forward, the blunt head of his cock stretching you open for the first time in months. You grabbed for him, hands clutching desperately at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. God, you’d forgotten just how much of a stretch it was to take him like this. The burn of it licked at you, thrumming through your quivering thighs and up into your belly. Your fingers could never come close to the sheer girth of him, nor could they reach as deep as you needed them to—as deep as he could.

→“Scheiße…” The word was little more than a hiss, slipping out between the tight clench of his teeth, “Du bist sehr eng…ich hätte zuerst deine Muschi dehene sollen…”

→His English came back slowly when he’d been away for so long. Though he had been teaching you, and you’d been improving in leaps and bounds, with your brain leaking out around his cock, you were hopelessly out of your depth. He could have said anything to you—threatened your life, called you names, read out his to-do list, or the numbers in a phonebook—it wouldn’t have mattered. Not when he sounded like that. His voice, usually breathy and nasal, had taken on a new tone: fuller and deeper. He always sounded, to your ear, more confident in his native tongue, no matter how excellent his English was. You loved his voice no matter the language it spoke, but there was something about that self-surety that always sent a shiver through you.

→He groaned as he rocked into you, working you open around him little by little. The sudden gush of your warm arousal aided the slide of his cock against your walls. The slick sound of his movements was mortifying, and yet you could do little else but whine, your voice caught high in the back of your throat, “Ohh, fuck, please!”

→When at last he had sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you, König stilled. Your thighs shook, trembling with the strain and overstimulation. He was so big, his cock nestled up against every spot that lit your nerves on fire. After months of poor substitutions, you were finally, blissfully fucking full. Your pussy clenched tight around him; you were so close already, your body thrumming with the promise of it. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your breastbone—dimly you wondered if he could feel it too, throbbing beneath his chest and around his cock. Surely, he was deep enough for that.

→His lips brushed against the junction between your neck and shoulder. He trembled against you, shaking with the effort it took to hold still; to not simply hold your hips down and take you like an animal—rutting into you until you were a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him. What a pretty picture you’d make pinned beneath him, his cum leaking out around his cock as he fucked a third or fourth load into you.

→You stared up at him, eyes wet and wide—uncomprehending. His hands slid up your body to cup your face, thumbs stroking gently against your heated cheeks. His lips ghosted against your own, warm and wet as he spoke, his tongue tripping over the words as his brain struggled to form a sentence you could better understand. “Let,” he panted, his hips kicking impatiently forward, burying another inch of his cock inside of you, “Let me hear you whine like I taught you, yes?”

→You swallowed hard, dimly catching his meaning, but struggling to remember a single thing he had taught you. The hours you’d spent curled up in his lap, tracing the prominent bow of his lips as he spoke, trying (and often failing) to mimic the sounds he made seemed wasted to you now—a distant dream, the details of which you could no longer recall.

→“Um…­b-bitte…uhh…” Your brain sputtered and sparked, trying desperately to think around the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the sheer heat of his cock inside of it. You could feel him throbbing—a steady thrum pulsing beneath the frantic beating of your heart, “Ich…Ich…möchte d-dein…mmm…schwarz—no! Schwanz!”

→A peal of laughter, dark and deep shuddered through you, rattling your bones and making your head swim, “Lange nicht gut genug. Nochmal.”

→He kept rocking into you in shallow little thrusts, stopping just short of the spots where you needed him most. Your thighs were shaking. You couldn’t think, you could hardly breathe. There was no room left inside of you for anything but him…

→“Nochmal!” The command rang in your ears, and he snapped his hips forward. The tip of his cock brushed against a spot inside of you that made your vision blur, the world tilting around you. You sobbed, nearly coming undone around him then and there, but with that single thrust, he ground to a halt. His cock pressed relentlessly against that spot, but it wasn’t what you needed—he wasn’t moving. It wasn’t enough. You writhed beneath him, desperate for stimulation, desperate to cum. Your cunt throbbed around him for it, but he had asked something of you, and you wouldn’t get what you wanted until the request had been satisfied.

→“S-Sei…gentle? Gentle…” You wracked your brain for the word, trying desperately to ignore the pulsing need that lay nestled between your thighs. “Ah! Sanft! Sei sanft mit m-mir!”

→König’s cock twitched inside of you, the sound of his language falling so prettily from your lips was almost too much for him to bear. A low, purring chuckle rose from the back of his throat, his hips grinding forward. Stars burst across your vision. A mewling cry escaped your lips as your nails dug into his flesh, leaving red welts in their wake as you clawed at his back.

→“Besser, aber nein, Schatzi.” He leaned down, scraping his teeth along the column of your throat, the salt-tang of your sweat blooming across his tongue. “Ich kann nicht, vor allem nicht jetzt.”

→He surged forward, taking your thighs in his hands and forcing them wider apart, pushing them back over the tops of your hips. The cold metal of the ring on his finger bit into your flesh, but even that keen sting melted into pleasure as he began to fuck you in earnest, using the leverage of your new position to bully himself deeper inside of you. You were sure the tip of his cock was kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips. Again and again, his name tumbled from your lips—not ‘König,’ but his name. his real name. It was music to his ears.

→“Ich liebe es dich winseln zu hören, Liebe.”

→Bracing a thigh against his forearm, his thumb found your clit and you thrashed against him, tears streaming down your face as he rubbed harsh circles into the sensitive nub. He cooed down at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes flashed in the low light, “Fühlt sich das gut an?” His simpering tone sent another rush of arousal through you. You could practically feel yourself dripping around his cock.

→“Yes! Ja!” You whined, hips kicking up against his hand, desperate for more of his touch after so long without it. “Plea—uh, bitte!”

→“Gutes Madchen. Meine gutes Mädchen.”

→Your cunt throbbed around him, and he whined long and low into the darkness, his thumb still stroking your clit in time with each harsh thrust. You were going to cum—you could feel it building in your stomach and pulsing behind your oversensitive clit. Each swipe of his calloused thumb brought you a little closer to that edge; made you a little more desperate to finally reach it.

→“Fuck! Fuck! I-I’m…I-I’m gonna cum!” You didn’t have it in you play his game anymore. You hadn’t the room in your mind for it now, and he knew as much.

→“Ja, ich weiß.” His lips brushed against the crown of your head, a shockingly chaste gesture for a man buried to the hilt in your cunt. “Es ist okay, Liebe. Komm für mich.”

→Almost at once, as though his permission had been all you had needed, your muscles locked up, clamping down hard around him as the first waves of your orgasm crashed over you. Your eyes rolled in your skull, the whites flashing in the darkness. Your hips jerked beneath his fingers as he pressed them tight against your clit letting you grind against them as the pleasure rocked through you.

→You felt his head drop back down against your shoulder as he fell into you, losing himself in the rhythmic clench of your cunt. His pace was rough and sloppy as he shed the pretense of humanity and fucked into you like it was the last thing he’d do. His lips worked feverishly against your flesh—mouthing a silent prayer into the side of your neck; a devotional in your name: the only God he still believed in.

→His teeth flashed against your skin as he came, your flesh muffling his keening whine as he caught it between his teeth. He couldn’t fuck you through it, his shaking thigh giving out with the intensity of pleasure. Instead, he trembled against you, his hips pressed flush against yours as he flooded you with a searing warmth. He whined your name like it was the only coherent thought in his mind, slurring it against your kiss bruised flesh until it hardly made sense to your own ears anymore.

→How had you survived without him?

→As he slowly came back to himself, he rolled his hips, fucking into you with slow, languid strokes. He revelled in the soft whining sounds he pulled from your throat, grinning against your throat. “Mein.” His voice was little more than a whisper, his chapped lips ghosting over your soft skin, “Mein, mein, mein.”

→He peppered your neck and shoulder with gentle kisses, a contented sigh escaping his lips. His hips shifted to the left, as though he were preparing to roll over. “No!” You gripped his arm tight and shook you head. You felt the knot forming in his brow before he pulled back to look at you, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

→Your head was clearer now, his lessons easier to recall as the lust-addled fog began to clear from your mind. You locked your legs around his waist, “Kannst du noch einmal?”

→For a moment, it was all he could do to stare down at you, his eyes wide. At length, he spoke, “You…practiced?”

→You nodded, staring up at him, your eyes wide and hopeful, desperate for his approval.

→His eyes flashed, his fingers digging deep into the meat of your thighs, “In that case, du wirst mich anflehen müssen, damit aufzuhorenh.”

Translations (huge thanks to @disastersareajoy for their corrections <3):

→Scheiße - shit

→Du bist sehr eng…ich hätte zuerst deine Muschi dehene sollen - You're very tight…I should have stretched your pussy first

→Nein, Liebe - No, Love

→Frag mich auf Deutsch - Ask me in German.

→B-Bitte - P-Please

→Ich…Ich…möchte d-dein…mmm…schwarz—no! Schwanz - I…I…want y-your…mmm…black--no! Cock (hope this makes sense 'Schwarz' and 'Schwanz' sound similar to my ear and I get them confused all the time)

→Lange nicht gut genug. Nochmal - Not good enough by half. Again

→Sei sanft mit m-mir - Be gentle with m-me

→Besser, aber nein, Schatzi - Better, but no, little treasure

→Ich kann nicht, vor allem nicht jetzt - I can't, especially not now

→Ich liebe es dich winseln zu hören, Liebe - I love to hear you whine, Love

→Fühlt sich das gut an? - Does that feel good?

→Gutes Madchen. Meine gutes Mädchen - Good girl. My good girl

→Ja, ich weiß - Yes, I know

→Es ist okay, Liebe. Komm für mich - It's okay, Love. Cum for me

→Mein, mein, mein - Mine, mine mine

→Kannst du noch einmal? - Can you do that again?

→Du wirst mich anflehen müssen, damit aufzuhorenh - You will have to beg me to stop

[luci-luck]

Earth “ponies” go first! MASSIVE autism dump comin’ atcha live

TW: ableism , grief , parental death (just in case the tags failed)

This is more so for me but I still wanted to share 🫶

Sandstone (Pinkie):

- b i g puppy energy

- Built for work but prefers to play

- Has crystal pony genes but depression makes them subdued. Can only go full crystal mode in a moment of pure and raw jubilation.

- after constantly being told who she’s supposed to be, they rejected the idea of labels entirely

- no labels for gender or sexuality means loving Pinkie does not impact your sexuality score!

- (intersex is not about gender but biological sex. That being said many intersex people use intergender as their gender as it relates to their experience as an intersex person.)

- deals with internalized ableism due to conservative fillyhood environment. Feels bad when they need to ask for help/support. Got herself an unofficial certificate in psychology so he can be his own therapist (it doesn’t work out)

- Parents would totally support the pony version of Autism Speaks just saying. Pinkie’s dad thinks neurodivergency is curable with hard work and the right attitude whilst her mom mourns the loss of her son after the diagnosis.

- ADHD makes xeir rejection sensitivity off the charts

- Internal battery runs on the company of others so can’t ever live alone.

- Had problems with food insecurity

- Relies on sugar as a steady supply of dopamine

- Can have moments of poor motor control. Clumsy

- Eyesight is bad but doesn’t wear glasses. Afraid that ponies will start thinking he is smart and they will expect even more from him. (In human world she wears contacts)

- Feels embarrassed being high support needs and just wants to be treated like everybody else. Hates when xer parents call her “special”

- Also hates being infantilized but is not confident in their decision making

- Xe is a sensory seeker unlike the rest of their family who are all sensory avoiders. Sisters compromise and try to meet his needs. Pinkie in turn tries to be mindful of their touch aversion but finds it hard sometimes. “Everypony’s just so scoop-able!”

- Trained Gummy to “stay”. Is very proud of his emotional support gator

Applejack:

- Is incredibly strong for her size

- feels like she has to constantly prove herself worthy of taking over the farm. Has gotten into arguments with Big Mac about overexerting herself

- Is a hinny (donkey mom and stallion dad) (ofc hinnies are supposed to have tails more like horse but I love the lion tail on AJ so 💁‍♀️) (I said mule in ALT text because most people don’t know what a hinny is)

- Because of this, she is more calm under pressure and thinks more logically

- has major depression from grief and ptsd (duh)

- Isn’t used to being in a stress free environment so she creates the stress

- Likes running the apple stand but certain families trigger her

- Obsessed with anything from the past generation. A time when her parents were young and happy

- Can be a bit insensitive to other’s problems and wants them to “put on their big girl pants” like she had to.

- Feels like she has to fill in the roles her parents used to do. Especially so Applebloom and Granny don’t have to stress over as many things.

- Was in the process of cutting her mane when she remembered that AB liked to braid it so she stopped half way.

- Is the mom of the friend group. Makes sure everyone’s needs are met before tending to her own. (Which is bad btw)

- Has problems with insomnia but getting better.

- Struggles with OCD and will repeat unnecessary tasks if she believes it will help protect her family

- Has an emotional support dog named Winona who also reminds AJ to take breaks 🐕‍🦺

- Sees no point in getting her chronic pain checked out. Will hopefully change her mind in the future. Wears leg braces to ease the soreness.

- Got diagnosed later on. Grief masked her autistic traits.

- Also has a hard time asking for help but has gotten better after she found out that Applebloom has been internalizing that mindset. She must lead by example

- Stick around long enough and she’ll happily invite you over with a hot cup of cider 🍺

- (Other people tend to fall in love while getting to know someone. Demiromantics however need to get to know the person first and then develop romantic feelings later)

- Thought she wasn’t capable of developing crushes until she got to know Coloratura.

[vivemonroi]

Ok, it’s just a draft of a translation of the first part of my Charlastor fic (English is my second language). But I think to post it in English, I wrote it like 4 years ago, when the pilot came out. If you notice any mistakes dm me please :3

“The suburb of 'Pentagram-City' could hardly be called serene, rather sparsely inhabited, as most of its denizens preferred to spend their days of indefinite punishment in the city where they could hire a prostitute, grab a drink, or die a gruesome death—anything seemed better than watching the pitiful imitation of local stars. Yet, by a strange twist of fate, right here and now, one could find the daughter of the ruler of the Underworld and one of the most powerful beings of Hell engaged in precisely this mundane activity.

�� How did you die?

The question came out awkwardly, unpleasantly slicing through the tranquility of the quiet evening. Charlie shivered, instantly regretting daring to open her mouth and voice it aloud. But Alastor did not flinch, still gazing into the bloody sky of Hell, his lips stretched in a serene smile. Perhaps the demon hadn't heard her? No, considering how meticulously he listened to every word she spoke, that seemed very unlikely.

— You don't have to answer; I understand it's personal…

— I was shot.

His response was brief and to the point, a sharpness uncharacteristic of Alastor that puzzled Charlie even more, but curiosity quickly overcame tact.

— Was it police or…

— Hunters.

— Oh, I see. Sorry.

Coming out of his trance, Alastor looked at her in surprise.

— Why apologize, ma chérie? My demise isn't your fault, and let's be honest, it's not as if I didn't deserve it, though I must admit, I never thought I would die like this. The electric chair, yes, but a bullet? Pathétique! Such a banal method, I would even say barbaric, one shot and that’s it, what about the feelings? Personally, I preferred knives, ah, those emotions: fear, pain, the realization of the end of one's pathetic life…

Toward the end of his sentence, the pleasant French jazz from his inner radio was replaced by crackling and static. Noticing the princess’s slightly frightened look, the demon made a gesture very much like tuning into a radio station, and the melody returned.

— As much as I enjoy discussing my favorite pastime, I see you're uncomfortable. So, let me propose a counter-question, shall we engage in a little ‘quid pro quo’, ma chérie? Why did you ask?'

Charlie hesitated.

— No reason.

Alastor theatrically, almost paternally shook his head in disappointment.

— And this demoness dares teach us redemption! Yet she's not averse to the sin of deceit herself. And after so many sermons! I expected better from you, dear, you wound me deeply.

— It's silly, Al, I don't think you'd understand.

— Ah, but it's up to me to understand you or not, you know. I could have chosen not to answer your question. Asking a sinner how he died? Quelle vulgarité! And coming from the Princess of Hell herself, I think I'll broadcast this; my listeners will be shocked to learn that…

— Alright, alright! I'll tell you, but.. just don't laugh, okay?

— Can’t promise anything.

Charlie sighed; expecting such from him was indeed too much.

— Okay.

She paused for almost a dramatic effect and timidly began:

— You see, I was born here, in Hell, but you... you were born there, in the mortal world. Your main life was there, but... I know nothing but Hell.

She fell silent again for a few seconds, as if bracing herself to utter the next phrase.

She continued:

— I want to see trees, Al, the Sun, the Earth's Sun, animals, the sea with its beaches. I want to dance in the rain, shiver from the cold, languish in the heat! I wish to care for flowers, walk through the city for groceries, help the homeless. Smile at passersby and have them smile back! Greet neighbors, ask for some salt, and share pie recipes. But most of all... most of all, I want to see a rainbow. A real one, after a strong summer storm, when animals and people emerge from their shelters just happy to be alive. I.. I want to live!

On her last words, Charlie's uncertain whisper turned into a shout, and realizing this, she quickly covered her mouth with her hands, blushing with embarrassment. From the city, the drunken songs of bar regulars carried over, occasionally interrupted by the agonized scream of some unfortunate soul, but it seemed no one heard her, or if they did, they frankly didn't care. The audience from the receiver applauded approvingly, Alastor's eyes narrowed slyly.

— Sorry, as I said, it's very silly…

— Not at all, mon trésor, the desire to explore the unknown is perfectly natural for such a curious creature as you. But you're overlooking the fine print: diseases, poverty, wars, miseries, murders, hunger, and I'm not just talking about the physical sensation, lust, debauchery... shall I go on?

Charlie sighed.

— I know, Al, damn it, I grew up in a literal Hell, my whole life is that fine print.

She turned onto her stomach and shyly bit her lip.

— Just... sometimes I feel like I don't belong here...

Alastor laughed, Charlie thought his laughter sounded like radio interference mixed with distorted off-air laughter, but Husk and the other residents of the Hotel disagreed with such a comparison. "It's like dragging a rusty saw across your balls," he would say. Angel, and surprisingly, Vaggie, nodded significantly in agreement. Niffty usually kept quiet, though she admitted her boss's laughter gave her chills.

— Ding-ding-ding, bingo! We have a winner: the charming Princess of Hell who has finally realized the obvious. Honestly, dear, I'm surprised you only realized this now!

— Laugh all you want, Alastor. I shouldn't have started talking about it...

She began to rise from the ground, but Alastor easily grabbed her hand, stopping her.

— Wait, I didn't mean to offend you, at least not this time, really, hold on, no need to create drama out of nothing, please, go on.

Charlie looked at him skeptically, sighed in resignation, and lay back down.

— Don't get me wrong, I know my home is here, my family, my friends... but sometimes, just for a moment, I imagine what it would be like if I were born into a regular family, there. We would live on a farm, raise cows, shear sheep, sow wheat, pick apples. Dad would teach me how to ride a horse, and mom how to sew clothes. I would have a little brother or sister, and a dog! In the evenings, we'd all gather together and listen to music, and on Sundays, go to church...

— Church? I doubt your father would be let in, unless you're talking about the church, ha-ha! Si tu vois ce que je veux dire!

The radio listeners obediently laughed, Charlie shot him a warning glance.

— Oh, you should understand me, my dear, I'm a radio demon, notice 'radio' comes first. It's hard for me not to comment on such a wonderful monologue, especially when you speak with such passion.

A treacherous blush spread over her already red cheeks. She averted her gaze, embarrassed.

— Anyway... you get the idea, but it's just dreams, all I can do is help others reform, to leave this place, even if I never will.

Charlie felt uncomfortable; she hadn't even told Vaggie about this, why did she suddenly decide he would understand? When her heartfelt confessions were not met with an explosion of applause or the demon's own laughter, Charlie finally dared to look his way. To her shock, his face was frighteningly serious, though his eternal smile still lingered on his lips.

— I don't often say this, and it means a lot, but you, Charlie, more than anyone else, deserve a chance to get out of here.

The radio static that usually accompanied Alastor's voice quieted to such an extent that she could hear his soft baritone almost without interference.

Charlie still didn't dare look him in the eyes, the darn blush spreading to her neck, but an uncertain smile appeared on her lips.

— Do you really think so?

Alastor propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her with feigned bewilderment:

— Well, of course! After all, the essence of Hell is to punish sinners. First, you need to have at least a chance to wreak some havoc. If you had ended up here on your own, it would be a different story, but as it is, it's just bo-o-oring.

Even though his words touched that string of her heart, her feelings, which she dared not speak of, even to herself, seeing him almost shyly look away, she decided to leave that topic alone.

They simply lay there for a while, listening to the sensual performance of some early 20th-century French song whose name Charlie didn't know. Each was lost in their thoughts until Alastor sprang to his feet as if scalded.

— Well, I can't promise a rainbow... Get up, Your Majesty!

— Alastor, what are you...

He impatiently extended his hand.

— Hurry up, I might change my mind.

"Here goes nothing," Charlie thought, taking Alastor by the glove. In an instant, they were somewhere else.”

Hate it? Love it? Tell me!

[huffle-dork]

Swap Beyond the Crystalverse Chapter 14: Outer Space AU

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix Read Swapboys | Read Crystal’s AUs

Other Multiverse Stories: SITCV | SATCV | GITHV

SBTCV Masterpost

"This is a bit of solar cloth, it's used to take power from starlight--or sunlight, I suppose," JJ says, tapping out his words on his brace. He and Alt are sitting at the table in his room. The 'solar cloth' in question is a small hankerchief-sized square that... isn't actually cloth, per se. It's made of tiny, tiny metal strings woven together, giving the copper material a shimmery effect. Just as flexible as cloth, if a bit heavier. "It's used in a lot of transportation back home, made into sails, but it's very versatile."

Alt is marveling at the tightly woven cloth, feeling it with his fingers and glitching a bit in excitement, “That’s so fucking cool! Solar powered sails… on space ships??” He asks with shining eyes as he looks up at JJ.

JJ grins. "Not just ships, but a lot of surface transportation, too. There's a popular sport called sand-sailing, where you go out to the desert, stand on a hovering board with a solar cloth sail, and skim the surface of the dunes. And there are larger versions of those for mass transportation. Like... like boats for land." 

“Ohh! Sounds like something straight out of star wars-“ Alt laughs. 

The door opens, and Sam flies in. "Alt, I realized you might be hungry," they say. "Are you? We do have food here."

Alt blinks up at Sam and makes a face, touching his stomach. “…I… I guess I am kinda hungry…” he says quietly.

JJ nods. "We can have lunch." 

"Great! Do you have any allergies or strong aversions to certain tastes or textures?" Sam asks.

Alt hums, “Uh- not really? I’ll eat most anything.”

"Good to know! You're probably not familiar with most of our food, though," Sam says. JJ blinks. 

"How about something simple? Do we still have pleries?" 

"Of course we do." 

“A… plery?” Alt asks with a tilted head. 

JJ looks over at Alt. "A plery is basically dough wrapped around meat or fruit or vegetables. Sometimes cheese. They're originally from Caphomia but the form has been adapted." 

“Oh that sounds good.” Alt grins. 

"You can't have just that, though," Sam says. 

"Well, bring whatever else you think we'd like, then."

Alt blinks at Sam and nods. “yeah I’m not picky. I need food to fuel my magic so I’ll take anything usually.”

Sam shifts up and down, a nodding form. "I'll be right back, then. This shouldn't take long." They turn around and fly out again. 

"In your time, you haven't been found by other life, right?" JJ asks. "I mean... aliens and such. This must be very confusing."

“Oh yeah no…” Alt says with a laugh as he crosses his arms and leans on the table. “In our time- we still had people debating if things in the skies were UFOs or not but they never were. I think… we found water on mars? I dunno- don’t really keep up with a lot of space stuff.”

"Oh yes water on Mars! That's what led to the settling on there," JJ says. "And if that hadn't happened, there wouldn't be humans on Olinion, Haivis, or Vara. Though... we never would have had the opportunity without the help of more advanced species like the optels--which is what Sam is."

“Optels… ha- cuz they’re like… optic nerves,” Alt laughs a bit, “You always hear in movies and tv shows about humans settling throughout the universe… crazy to actually hear parts of it! In our time- feels kinda like we’re still just… stuck on earth, you know?”

JJ nods slowly. "Well... once upon a time, I'm sure the oceans seemed impossible to cross. I'm not sure if your world will ever get in contact with other species, or if other species even exist there, but I'm sure you'll start exploring more. It just... will probably take a long, long time."

“Ah yeah… guess it makes sense in that perspective,” Alt laughs. “Nah we haven’t found anything yet. It’s been… chill. Space wise, at least.”

JJ chuckles. "Chill is better than trouble, if you ask me. Things weren't always perfect, even if things are... relatively peaceful now. Relatively. I mean, I was kidnapped, technically." 

Alt laughs, “Yeah, not exactly the definition of chill.”

The door opens again. "But apparently you could leave whenever," Sam says as they fly in. Their flying device has been connected to a floating tray via a tether of blue light. 

On the tray are two plates of food, two smaller plates with utensils, a bowl of fruit, two cups, and a pitcher of what looks like milk.

Alt blinks at Sam coming in and looks at the food curiously. “Huh- doesn’t look too futuristic.” He chuckles. 

"Well... most of this is from alien worlds, I think," JJ says. "Unless the nuggets are chicken?" 

"Nope. Boral nuggets," Sam says. "And the milk?" 

"Cow milk--but I do think the cow was raised in Vara so it's sort of alien." 

“Boral?” Alt asks.

"Birds from Artatov," JJ says. "Thick black feathers. They live in the north of the planet. They are sort of like chickens, so if you have a recipe that calls for one, you can switch it for the other. Including nuggets." 

One of the plates has these nuggets, which don't look too different from present-day chicken nuggets, only with a darker brown breading. Another has spherical roll-like food, made of a yellowish bread. The fruit in the bowl looks like apples at first, but the pattern on the skin is off, more stripey instead of the spotty pattern apples usually get. 

JJ moves everything to the table. He tears open one of the rolls, revealing that there are green vegetables and green cheese inside. "This is a plery," he explains. "Originally they were just filled with meat--the felorrs on Caphomia are mostly carnivorous--but you can put anything inside the plery dough."

Alt looks at all the food and hums curiously. He grabs one of the rolls and turns it over before biting into it.

The plery is like biting into a calzone, but with a bit of a tang. The vegetables inside crunch but don't seem to have too much of a taste.

“Hm! Interesting-“ Alt says as he digs into all the food- finding it comforting and almost familiar. But not quite.

"And these are honishe," JJ says, then picks up one of the fruit. "They're from Sessirya... and they're notable because the sysrevs who live there can't actually eat them but almost every other known species can. Ironic." 

The fruit is a bit softer and juicier than apples, tasting like someone mixed strawberries, apples, and oranges into a smoothie.

“Woah! That’s really good-“ Alt says after trying some. “Shame the Sessiryans can’t eat ‘em! Kinda like how humans technically eat poison when we eat spicy food huh?” He laughs. 

"Oh you have no idea how much humans can eat that others can't," JJ says, chuckling. "Capsaicin is a big one, but also caffeine, cacao--" 

"And all the things that are poisonous to you that you eat anyway," Sam adds. 

"Oh yes, like alcohol and those pufferfish!"

“Oh yeah!” Alt laughs, “Listen man they’re good! S’not our fault nature’s defenses taste delicious!”

"If you say so," Sam says. 

"Can you even taste anything, Sam?" JJ asks. "I've always wondered that." 

"Not the way you do," Sam says. 

The door to the room opens again and Anti pokes his head into the room. He looks back and forth between the three of them. 

"...yes?" Sam asks. 

"Checking to see if this is a good time to talk about the IRIS building," Anti says.

Alt looks intrigued by this but then looks at the door as Anti comes in. He shrugs, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t see why not.”

Anti nods and walks fully into the room. Sam flies downwards onto the table and disconnects the tray. "Here." Anti puts a small round device onto the table, pressing a button on the side. It projects a hologram of the space station. "The Zypso Station is composed of six layers. The IRIS building is a tourist attraction on Layer Four, composed mainly of offices, near the center of the station." As Anti talks in his robotic voice, the hologram zooms into Layer Four, past tall buildings, towards the tallest building in the middle, shaped a bit like a sword. The IRIS logo in this world is an eye shape with the word IRIS in the center, curved like a bubble. Lines of blue lights go up the side.

Alt watches the hologram with starry eyes, “Woahhh-“ He whispers, watching it work. Then he shakes his head and tries to focus. “Right okay uh… which layer are we on?”

Anti hesitates, looking at JJ. Sam lightly slaps Anti with their tail, and JJ rolls his eyes, covering his ears. "We are between two layers--Three and Two. Three is for commercial activities. Buying items and such. Two is residency. We will have to make our way into Layer Three and then into Four from there, but that will be simple enough. It will be more difficult to get into the IRIS building. It will doubtless not be in the public areas. Do you know where in the building your item is located?"

“Um.. not yet- but lemme see?” Alt says as he takes out the tracker again. The same knowledge gets beamed into his mind, with the only additional information being that it's in the upper half of the building. 

"If you are unable to have that information, we will have to plan for all eventualities," Anti says. "We will have to get through high-security doors without being spotted by the camera system. I am recalling your teleportation ability. Do you think that could help?"

Alt frowns, “Usually we get more information once we’re closer. But it says it’s in the upper half….” He nods to Anti. “I can glitch us past and maybe even disable the camera systems too… I have electric based magic.”

"Magic?" Sam repeats, surprised. 

Alt blinks then opens up his hand and lets a collection of electric magic form a ball in his palm. He then shifts into his calico cat form in a quick glitch before popping back into his chair, casually. He grins, “Magic!” 

"I see. That is your abilities?" Anti nods. "Magic does not exist here. Or if it does, I am unaware of it, and so is IRIS. They will not be prepared for that specific ability. But they are armed with stun guns and EMPs of all sorts."

“…EMPS will be an issue…” Alt grumbles, crossing his arms.

"And you will not shut down when one goes off within range," Anti says. "It will be quite dangerous. Which is why our goal will be to get in and get out without being noticed. IRIS will notice if the systems go down for too long, as well, so we will have to be fast. 

“I won’t shut off sure but it’ll disturb my powers…” Alt mumbles. “But yeah- we wanna make this as simple as possible.” 

“Jameson..." Anti pauses. "Is there... anything you could do? If you want... to help?" 

JJ had removed his hands a while ago. He grins. "If you want," he types.

Alt blinks at Jameson then grins too.

Anti fiddles with the holo projector, flipping through several diagrams. "This is common IRIS-style tech. Is there anything you can do to disrupt it?" 

"Leave it with me, I can look it over later," JJ says. "For now, continue on about the building." 

Anti nods and flicks back to the diagram of the IRIS building. "The upper floors are pretty much closed to the public. Except for roof access, where tourists can get a view of Layer Four. We could work our way up from the bottom or down from the viewing platform. Either way, we will need to disrupt the scanners at the front entrance. They will definitely detect me." 

Alt nods in agreement, “Alright- sounds simple enough. I should be able to do that.”

Anti nods. "Now as for your brother. We will probably need to find him as well, I'm assuming? Does he have magic as well?" 

"So bizarre to hear that question," JJ says. 

Then Alt's phone starts to chime again.

Alt opens his mouth to answer then blinks and takes out his phone, “Anti?” He asks.

"Yes?" says the robotic Anti. 

"Yep," says the Anti in the phone. "Or, partially. I just wanted to let you know that your brother is on the way. Along with the four others from this world." 

“Oh! He found the others then?” Alt asks. “Glad he’s not in trouble then…” 

Sam flies forward. "Why is there a screen assistant in your phone who looks like Anti?" 

Alt blinks at Sam, “Oh he’s not a screen assistant- he’s our friend. He’s another Anti from a universe separate from ours. He’s been helping us.” Alt explains.

"Another me?" the robotic Anti repeats, looking confused. 

JJ nods. "Of course, if you travel through worlds it makes sense you would've picked someone up along the way." Anti shakes his head. "What did he mean, there are others on the way? They will be seen!" 

"Nope, I'm taking them through a path with blank spots in the camera systems," Anti in the phone says. 

Anti's expression shifts to fear. "You found the path?! And--and strangers are coming this way?! Five of them, you said--how do you know they won't be followed?!" 

"I'm keeping an eye on them," Anti in the phone assures him. "I can be in two places at once." 

The robotic Anti does not look reassured, his expression stuck on fear. 

Alt looks to robotic Anti, “He can he trusted- he’s just as paranoid as you are. He will make sure they get here without IRIS noticing.”

One of Anti's green irises flickers. His expression still doesn't change. 

Sam flies over and puts their tail on Anti's shoulder reassuringly. "They won't find us," they say, removing their tail again to type. 

Anti stands up abruptly. "I am going to go do some work in the studio before we go. Feel free to look over the diagram at your will." And he turns around, leaving. 

JJ stares. Then he sighs. "I suppose I can't blame him for the paranoia."

Alt watches him go and sighs, “…I get it. I’d… I’m usually paranoid about stuff like that too. Especially when it comes to companies like IRIS…” He looks at Sam and Jj though and raises his eyes, “…do you all know why he’s.. like this with IRIS?”

JJ shakes his head. "I think there's more to it than this, but I know that him being an android is a part of it. Especially one so... alive." He pauses. "The creation of true artificial intelligence has been outlawed for centuries. If a robotic being is installed with AI, they must be programmed to follow all orders as their highest priority. That is called false AI. Obviously, Anti does not do that. As an android with true AI, his existence is illegal."

“Oh… well… yeah I guess thats enough to make anyone paranoid…” Alt mutters.

Sam flicks their tail, seeming somehow hesitant. "Want to look at the IRIS tech diagram some more?" 

"Yes, that would be great. Then I can start putting things together." JJ reaches out and starts looking through the diagrams on the holo projector.

Alt scoots up to look with JJ, but- his eyes wander to look back at the door. …is he actually worried for his other self? He hasn’t exactly been… the most hospitable.

Sam flies down as well. "I'll look too. Anything I can do to help? I'm not familiar with Olinion stuff, obviously." 

JJ smiles. "Advice would be appreciated," he types. "Let's see what we can do." 

----------- 

"I didn't know we could go this far down," Chase mutters. "Is this safe? What even is this?" 

"For maintenance, I suppose," Schneep says. 

Anti led them on a winding path down to the ground level of this layer, and then to a maintenance hatch in the floor that he said he unlocked earlier. From there, they've gone down, down, into winding tunnels, many of them blocked off by hidden entrances. The area they're in now is a gradual downward slope, metal hallways lined with tubes and ducts and bundles of wires. Clearly this area is not meant to be seen by the public. It might not be meant for people to walk through at all, with the irregular shape of the tunnel. The guys are taking this walk with varying degrees of ease. Marvin seems to be handling himself the best, quietly slipping through the small space. Schneep is lagging behind a bit, occasionally tripping over things. Jackie lingers back to keep an eye on him.

Bro feels a bit cramped in this small space, brushing aside wires and grumbling a bit. “You said this other you lives down here? How can anyone live down here…?” He mutters.

"Very carefully," Anti says from the phone screen. "Sorry to leave you on your own by the way. I could manifest, but I think it's best I don't add another person to this small space." 

"It's like some sort of... of secret lair," Jackie says in a hushed voice, then giggling a little. 

"Still, it's pretty uncomfortable," Chase says. "Why go through so much trouble to stay away from IRIS?" 

"You wouldn't do it without a good reason," Marvin mumbles.

“I mean… I can get it if it’s IRIS.” Bro says quietly, “in other universes… those guys have really hurt my friends.” His eyes burn bright blue in anger as he thinks about this- what they tried to do to Schneep… what JJ said happened to him. “I don’t trust them- not one bit.”

Chase frowns. "Brave thing to say while you're on a space station mostly built by them." 

"Crawling in between their walls, too," Jackie adds. 

"I understand what he's saying, though," Schneep says. "IRIS has always seemed... strange to me. In ways I cannot put a name to. Just a faint feeling of unease. Perhaps it is a difference of cultures." 

The ceiling is slowly getting lower as they go on.

“Well I didn’t exactly chose to come here you know,” Bro chuckles, “And even if I don’t trust em- IRIS doesn’t scare me! I’m sure they’re something me and Alt can handle- even more so with good friends helping us!” He smiles at the others.

"We'll do everything we can," Marvin promises. 

"I mean... not sure how much we can do, but we'll try," Chase says. "Do you guys think we should wear masks or something?" 

"For what?" Schneep asks.

 Jackie gasps. "Yes! We should totally wear masks!" 

"For what?" Schneep repeats. 

"I'm not sure. Just... the thing is in the IRIS building, right? If it's in a part closed to the publice, we'll have to break in or something." 

“Most likely- maybe the other Anti will have some! I already have one~” Bro grins, digging out his pink mask and putting it on, his hair flaring to yellow-green. “See? Hero mode~!”

"Oh that's so cool!" Jackie gasps.

"Your love of old comics stuff is really coming out on this wild trip, isn't it?" Chase laughs. 

Bro grins, “ha! Just like my Jackie! He loves comics! Especially superheroes.”

Chase thinks. "Yeah... I should have a mask, if possible. I am a bit of a public figure. Did you guys have streamers in your time, other-me? Or did that really start to get popular later?"

Bro nods to Chase, “Yeah actually I help my Jackie with his streams sometimes- he does more long form videos though. I bet streaming is way different now than it was for us though!”

Chase grins. "Ah, well, not much has changed, I think. The culture of it, I guess, changes really fast, but I can't imagine the actual process has changed that much. I have a room for streaming, I play games of all sorts on camera, I have mods who help keep chat orderly. I guess in your time you didn't have to worry about the connection issues streaming to other planets."

“Oh yeah no we had enough trouble streaming across our own planet!” Bro laughs.

In the distance, at the end of the tunnel, something flickers. A bit of light, very hard to catch. Was that his imagination? 

Bro blinks and tries to focus up ahead, “…did you guys see that?”

"Hmm?" Chase blinks. "See what?" 

Marvin crouches low to the ground. His eyes dilate wide. "There's something moving down there," he whispers. 

"What? What's moving?" Schneep whispers back. 

"I think it's our size." 

"Ah. I think that's safe," Anti says from Bro's phone.

“Oh- well if Anti says it’s safe then it’s fine!” Bro grins as he hurries forward.

"Well still be careful--" Anti says. 

“I’ll be careful!” Bro calls. 

Bro reaches the end of the tunnel, which seems to just... end. But there's slight movement in the wires to the left... and more flickers of green light. Two of them. 

He blinks at the slight movement and moves to look closer at the wires. “…hello?”

After a second, a metal hand reaches out and pushes aside some of the wires. "Are you... Alt's brother?" asks a voice--familiar, but computerized. 

"Holy fucking pasta!" Chase jumps at the sound of it.

Bro yells a bit in surprise then blinks rapidly, “Yes! Yes I am! …I’m Chase-“

"I didn't know you left," says Anti on the phone screen. 

The robotic man's green eyes flicker as he looks down. "Oh. So you really can be in two places at once." 

"You said something about going into the studio?" Anti persists. 

"I did go there. Then I left." The man pushes the wires aside, revealing that he's standing in a hidden branch off the tunnel, and also showing his appearance for the first time. 

The other four crowd around Bro. 

Marvin blinks. "A... cyborg?" 

"Nooooo," Jackie says, eyes wide. "I think this is a robot." 

"No," the robotic man snaps. "I am an android." 

"You're a fucking what?!" Chase gasps.

Bro looks between the group and the robotic man, blinking in confusion. “… what’s the difference? I mean- a robot I get. But…”

"Robots cannot think," the man states. "Robots are not alive." 

"Androids also haven't been made in a couple centuries, because the GC thought they'd be too dangerous," Jackie adds.

 All four of the others are looking at the man warily. 

"Who... are you?" Schneep asks hesitantly. 

"Anti."

“Ohhh- huh… why did they think they were dangerous?” Bro asks. He doesn’t seem very troubled by any of this. He brightens as he says his name. “oh! You’re this world’s Anti! That makes sense!” He grins.

"Well--because androids are strong and they don't feel pain--unless you want to program that into one, but why the fuck would you do that--" Chase says. 

"I am incapable of hurting any of you," Anti interrupts. "That is my second core program. I would only be able to break it if it got in the way of my first core program." 

Schneep tilts his head. "What is your first core?" 

"Self-preservation." 

“Ohhh I think Alt said that’s like- a robotic law or some shit.” Bro says nodding. 

Anti looks at Bro. "Makes sense, you say?"

Bro looks back at Anti and shrugs, “You kinda look like Alt! Also must of the Antis we met are based around tech so!” He grins, “It’s nice to meet ya-! you know where my brother is, right?”

"I see." Anti nods back. "Nice to... meet you... too." His face shifts into a smile for a moment before falling back into that same neutral expression. Pleasantries must be difficult for him. "Yes, I can take you the rest of the way. Follow me." He turns and disappears down the narrow tunnel he'd apparently come from. The low ceiling forces him to crouch. 

"We're sure about this?" Chase mutters. 

"Androids cannot lie," Schneep says. "Or break their word. They still have computers for brains, and computers cannot deceive people." 

"Unless they're really poorly programmed," Marvin adds. 

"Yes, but I think if someone goes to the effort of making an android, they are going to program them well, yes?"

“He seems fine to me!” Bro says brightly, “If an Anti isn’t immediately creepy or out to kill us, they’re good in my book!” Bro follows after him, crouching down through the tunnel. The four others exchange alarmed looks upon hearing other Antis have tried to kill Bro, but then follow as well. 

The tunnel gets really uncomfortably cramped, but luckly, they're not walking for long. Anti crouches down close to the ground and grabs a handle sticking out of all the bits and bobs on the floor, lifting up a square and pushing it aside. Light spills from the opening. He then drops through.

Bro blinks a bit in confusion but then shrugs and drops down too, expertly landing on his feet like a superhero would.

He lands in a + shaped intersection of metal corridors, each ending in a round door that slides up into the ceiling. After a moment of hushed debating, Marvin jumps down after Bro, landing on his feet. Then Jackie lands, then, Chase, and finally Schneep, who stumbles a bit but has Jackie catch him. 

Bro looks around the space and whistles, “Damn! This is very future-y! They even got those slidey door things!”

A door slides open, and Sam flies out. "Why didn't you say you were leaving?!" they type at Anti. 

Chase gasps. "Oh my god! That's--you're an optel!"

Hearing that familiar voice, Alt glitches out into the hall, eyes wide. He relaxes as soon as he sees Bro. “Chase!” 

“Alt!” Bro says happily, throwing his hands into the air. He rushes over to Alt and pulls him into a big bear hug that lifts him off the floor. 

Alt squirms a little and pushes at him. “Where the hell were you??” Alt grumbles. 

“Meeting the others!” Bro says, dropping Alt down and gesturing out, “Guys! This is my little brother Alt! Alt, this is Marvin, Jackie, Schneep and other me!” 

Alt’s eyes widen as he sees the others- especially Schneep and Marvin. “O-Oh my god…! You’re … aliens- like for real!” 

“Crazy, right?” Bro laughs.

Sam quickly turns to Alt and drops something in his hand. A crescent-shaped object. "Put that translator on really fast," they say, then fly back to Anti. Alt blinks and Bro gestures to his own and Alt quickly puts it on. 

"Yep, aliens!" Jackie says cheerfully, waving a metal hand at Alt. "Nice to meet you!" 

"I will point out you must have been spending time with an alien this whole time," Schneep says, pointing at Sam, who seems to be having an intense staring contest with Anti. 

"It's different when they look closer to you, I think," Marvin says. "And other-Chase also mentioned we're all friends in their home world. So we're probably human there." 

"We are?!" Schneep blinks. "I suppose that makes sense, but I cannot imagine being human. Can you picture me with warm blood?" 

"Depends. Can you picture me with flat feet like all the rest of you?" 

Schneep laughs, a sound that has a bit of a hiss on the end. 

“Well I mean- I’m used to seeing things like Sam. They’re just more.. hi-tech here. But I haven’t seen anything like you guys before!” Alt says. He glitches closer, his eyes sparkling with fascination. He looks to Schneep, “Are you implying that you’re cold blooded? Like a reptile? And Marvin you’re -! You’re a cat person!” He glitches a bit more in excitement. “that’s so cool!” 

"Not quite a reptile, I believe the classification is reshkaz, but a reptile is the closest thing on Terra," Schneep says. 

Marvin blinks, ears perking up. "Thank you! Your, um--glitchy thing is cool too." 

Alt grins sheepishly, “thanks…”

JJ walks out of the room behind Alt. 

"Oh! Hey!" Chase raises a hand and waves. "Guys, that's JJ! Nice to see you again! Sorry it's been a while... Guess I kinda missed you disappearing." 

JJ smiles back. "No, that's fine," he types. "I'm sure you were busy." 

Bro looks at Jj entering and grins. “Hi J! I’m Chase! Or you all can call me Bro~!” He grins.

Chase blinks. "Dude... is your voice mod set to Marvelan English?" 

Sighing, JJ turns a dial. "I set it to that for Alt." 

"Why d'you even have that setting in the first place?" 

"I think it's fun to sound fancy."

Alt blinks, “…we sound fancy?” He looks at Bro who shrugs, “Apparently- the way we speak is like… hearing all the pirates talk all fancy in the last world, I think.” 

Alt frowns. “…that’s so weird-“

JJ waves at Bro. "Nice to see you. Alt has mentioned you. I love your outfit! It's like an old superhero movie." 

“Thanks dude! This isn’t even my real hero outfit though- that’s a superhero costume!” Bro grins. 

"Weird thing that the further you go back in history, the fancier people seem to talk," Jackie says. "Don't even get me started on Shakespeare. I can barely understand it sometimes. I need one of those side-by-side translations." 

Bro laughs as Jackie, “I needed one of those in secondary school! Guess Shakespeare is too fancy for both of us!” 

"Well, I guess fancy is relative, since they don't think they sound that way," Chase says. 

Anti and Sam join the group again. "Do you all... need anything?" Anti asks. "We do have food here."

Bro blinks at Sam and Anti then waves his hand, “Nah we just ate!” 

“…you went out to eat?!” Alt asks Bro with narrowed eyes. “While you had no idea where I was?!” 

“…we brought you dessert….?”

“Hey I mean… as far as we knew you were with JJ, and his shop wasn’t too far away from where we were meeting,” Chase says. “And if you live on a planet that doesn’t have alien contact, how often are you going to eat alien food?” 

“Sorry, though,” Jackie says sheepishly. “I guess we got caught up in the excitement of having someone from the past there.” 

Marvin reaches into the bag he’s carrying and takes out the takeout box as Bro mentions dessert.

Alt makes a face then sighs, “Yeah I guess that’s fair…” he blinks at Marvin and glitches over to look at the takeout box. His eyes sparkle, “…is that chocolate…?” 

Bro hides a laugh.

“Yep!” Jackie says. “These are something called a yessyir, they’re a traditional dessert from Sessirya. The chocolate is a relatively new addition, since it doesn’t grow on that planet. Usually they’re more like that purple one there.” 

“Where did you guys go?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“This place called Kissarso’s, it’s very good,” Chase says. 

“Oh that place is in the Gateway isn’t it? I’ve thought about trying someplace like that.”

“It was really good!” Bro says brightly. 

Alt studies the desserts some more before grabbing the box from Marvin and looking back at Bro, “…I guess you’re forgiven then-“ He then starts to head back to the room they were in, “We should discuss the plans for getting into IRIS now that everyone is here- c’mon.”

"Right, right." Chase nods, then laughs. "I can't believe we're gonna fucking break into the IRIS building." 

The group all files into JJ's room. There aren't enough chairs at the table for everyone--not nearly--so the group ends up standing around. Schneep looks around. "Is this where you have been staying? There is no bed." 

"Panel on the wall rolls up to form a cabinet bed," JJ says. 

"Oh pog!" Marvin says, getting surprisingly excited. "Those are the best beds!" 

JJ laughs silently. 

Sam flies down to the holo projector and turns it onto the IRIS building diagram. Around it are a couple devices and metal parts, all coppery and golden.

“Oh! Neat room!” Bro says then gasps as he sees the holo projector and bends down to look at it better. “Yooo!! This is sick!! …what’s all these parts for though?”

"I was making things to help us," JJ says. "But even before that, Anti and Sam were kind enough to give me things to work with. It gets really boring stuck in here." 

"What sort of things to help us?" Jackie asks, intrigued. 

"Something to deactivate electronic seals on doors, and something to set off a loud sound in case we need a distraction. I'm open to more suggestions, too." 

“Ohh woah! That’s so cool!!” Bro grins. “Those sounds brilliant-“ 

"I will tell you all what I told these three," Anti says. "Your part is likely in a part of the building closed to the public. We could get in from the bottom or in from the roof access, which are both open to the public but still have scanners for safety."

Bro blinks at Anti then hums, “Alt can get us probably to the roof if need be- or I could but I think people would notice someone who can fly.” He laughs. 

“Then we gotta get the scanners down to get inside.” Alt adds.

"Well, you can get to the roof from inside the building," Chase says. "There's a public elevator. It can only access the first couple floors and the roof." 

"Have you been to the building before, Chase?" Schneep asks. 

"Yeah, when I first moved here. It was a while ago but I remember that elevator." 

"Either way, Alt is right, we have to get the scanners down," Jackie says. "We don't want them to take away JJ's devices. Or, uh... Anti, I guess?" 

Anti nods. 

"I will be staying back and advising you with the building diagram," Sam says. "I have a line directly into Anti's head." 

"Sounds creepy when you say it like that," Chase mutters. "But anyways. Scanners? JJ, can you help with that?" 

JJ shakes his head. "There will probably be a lot of people at the public entrance. We don't want to cause a scene.

“I can probably take them down,” Alt says, pulling out a yessyir and taking a bite before continuing, “I have electric magic so i can short circuit them.”

The yessir has a texture like a slightly more solid pudding, with the disk at the bottom being solid chocolate. Besides the chocolate taste, the main flavor is a strange sweet one, light like a fruit of some sort but not recognizable as anything on Earth. Alt blinks in surprise at the texture and taste of the yessyir. It’s… really good though so he finishes it off quickly.

"Magic, yes, I forget," Schneep says. "...Magic. Is real. Where you come from." He blinks, looking a bit overwhelmed by that.

"I'm sure IRIS would notice if the scanners short circuited for too long," Marvin says. "So we should be quick." 

"Can you do the same with the camera systems, Alt?" JJ asks.

Alt nods to JJ, “Most likely! Since they won’t know to expect magic like mine- I think we should be good.” He smiles.

"And... do we know where in the building your piece is?" Marvin asks. 

"I believe Alt said their trackers give more detail as they get closer," Anti says.

“Yeah… all I know right now is it’s in the upper parts.” Alt says with a shrug.

"So we will have to improvise?" Schneep says. "Is that... a good idea?" 

"It's our only option, I guess," Chase says. 

The four guys don't look so confident. 

"Come on, you all, this is important," JJ says. "Do we want IRIS to get their hands on something that belongs to these two?"

“Luckily this one piece shouldn’t give them like… too much power,” Bro says, “but we need it to fix our own machine.” 

“Don’t worry, me and Chase are pretty good at thinking fast on our feet,” Alt says confidently.

"Alright... we'll help where we can!" Jackie says, putting on a smile. "Not sure what we can do, though." 

"Distraction, perhaps?" Schneep says. "Or lookouts?"

“… wait- do none of you guys have like… powers or anything?” Bro asks, “not even like- alien powers??” 

“Chase don’t be rude-“ Alt hits him slightly. 

“It’s a valid question!” 

Alt looks at the others and smiles, “we’ll be grateful for any help.”

"Well... I am pretty fast and have a tight grip," Jackie says, opening and closing his hands. "I'm also about three inches taller than I was before the accident! They asked me if I wanted to be taller when getting the cybernetics and I was like 'yeah' and so they just did that." 

“…that’s why you got robotic stuff?? Cuz you were in an accident??” Bro asks Jackie, bewildered. 

Jackie nods. "Long story. Basically, vehicle accident. I passed out so I don't remember most of it. But it was a while ago. And I like customizing my hands and stuff!" He opens and closes his hands a couple more times. 

“Oh… well- at least you can look at the bright side of things now!” Bro says. 

Chase chuckles. Then he looks at Schneep and Marvin. "Well? Do aliens have special powers?" 

"...no??" Schneep says, confused. "What do you even mean by that?" 

"Well, in comparison to humans, felorrs like me are a lot quieter, and more flexible," Marvin says. "IRIS is a Terra company, they're probably expecting human abilities to be the default. So, Schneep, what are kritzeins like compared to humans?" 

"Nothing all that useful for breaking into a building!" Schneep says defensively. "It is small things, like being immune to many diseases and enduring higher temperatures. I--well I suppose for me personally I am a doctor? So if anyone gets hurt I can help?"

Alt shakes his head, “you all are doing more than enough for us- and if you feel like this is too much, we understand.”

"Well, we've come this far, might as well go all the way," Chase says, shrugging. 

Schneep nods. "It is as Chase says." 

"When are we planning on doing this?" Marvin asks. 

"I am assuming that the sooner, the better," Anti says.

Alt stretches and glitches to his feet, grabbing and slinging on his backpack, “I can get us to the building right now if everyone is ready.”

"Huh?" Chase blinks. "What do you mean? We're like... a whole layer and a half away." 

"Alt has a teleportation ability," JJ says. 

"Oh!" Chase's eyes widen. "Pog!" 

"No, we cannot just appear right outside the building," Anti says. "We have to appear in a blind spot for the cameras." 

"Have one in mind?" Sam asks. 

"Yes. I also need to change clothes into something more covering." 

"Riiiight." Jackie nods. "You might be able to excuse a couple metal bits as cybernetics, but uh... right now it's pretty clear that you're all metal." 

"I will go do that now," Anti says. "We can leave as soon as I return." He heads out of the room. 

Alt nods, “Alright.” 

JJ gathers up the two devices. "Who wants to carry these? I don't have a bag."

Bro blinks as looks at his utility belt, “uh- I bet me or Alt could hold them?”

"Oh, they'd probably fit on your belt there! I made sure to include clips. That works out." JJ hands them over to him, then makes sure his monocle is secured. 

Bro grins and puts the devices on his belt and gives JJ a thumbs up, “Awesome!” 

"You can really teleport?" Marvin asks, pupils wide and dilated in awe.

Alt blinks then grins, quickly glitching around the room before appearing back in his spot and putting his hands in his pockets. “Yup~! I call it glitching-“

"Because it looks like computer glitches!" Marvin says excitedly, tail really waving in the air behind him. 

"That's so awesome!" Chase shouts, laughing. "You're both like superheroes!" 

Jackie says, grinning. "That's so pog!"

Alt and Bro exchange glances before Bro laughs, “Yeah I guess so! Alt helps me a lot in my hero duties now-“ 

Alt plays with his mask and shrugs, “…I dunno if heroing is… for me though but… I do like- using my magic for good. Helping people… it’s… nice.” His cheeks are red.

Jackie smiles at Alt. "Well I'm sure you're great at it! You seem cool!" 

Alt smiles shyly at Jackie and then hides a bit in his mask. 

Anti returns, wearing a different outfit. Still black, but now it covers everything except for his hands--even his neck. It's very cyberpunk looking. He also has a set of mirrored sunglasses on his head, which he pulls down over his eyes. "Ready to proceed. And I also got these." He puts some black, shimmery fabric on the table. 

Chase reaches out, sorting through them. "Face masks?" 

"They are designed to scramble your faces on most cameras," Anti says. "Most. I cannot guarantee that all cameras were blocked, as there had to be some exceptions made or else I wouldn't be able to identify you."

Bro blinks at Anti then grins, “yooo! Looking Pog my dude~!” He looks down at the masks, “oooh neat!”

"'My dude'--haven't heard that phrase in a while," Chase says, laughing. He takes one of the masks, turning it over a bit to figure out how it would fit, and then puts it on, hiding the lower half of his face. 

"We're not going to stand out that much, are we?" Marvin asks. 

"Nah, human fashion has included masks for a long time," Chase says. "You must've noticed." 

"Why is that?" Schneep asks, interested. 

"Not sure. I think they started as some sort of utility thing but then people thought they looked cool."

“It was to prevent sickness for a while,” Bro says, picking one up and putting it on, taking off his hero mask, “it was a popular trend in Japan. Just spread to other countries.” 

“I think they look cool, obviously.” Alt says, flicking his own.

"It's something about the mystery of it all," Jackie says, taking one as well. 

"Doesn't exactly go with my style, though," JJ says. 

"Would you rather have your face recorded on camera?" Anti asks. 

"I wasn't saying that." JJ takes a mask as well. 

"Why do you have these, anyway?" Schneep asks as he takes one too. 

"Precaution," Anti says slowly. "In any case. Ready to proceed when you all are."

Alt pulls up his mask and nods, “We just need to link up- and Anti you just need to visualize where you want us to appear at.” 

Bro goes to take Alt’s hand and they both offer out their hands to the others.

"Okay. This will probably be really weird, but let's do it!" Jackie grins as he takes Bro's hand. 

"There's a lot of us, are you sure you will be fine?" Schneep asks, taking Jackie's hand in turn. 

"I'm sure it will be," JJ says. "We won't be going too far, really. Not like we're teleporting down to Terra." He takes Alt's hand once he's finished typing. Everyone else links up from there. 

“Yeah it’s no big- I’m all fueled up,” Alt grins, his eyes sparking green blue. “…the yessyir helped a lot.” Bro laughs. 

"Visualizing clear," Anti says. 

"Androids are probably very good at visualizing, aren't they?" Chase chuckles.

Once they get the confirmation, Alt closes his eyes and they all glitch towards the spot near IRIS. Sam waves goodbye as they all disappear. 

[iwant-fuitgummi]

Inazuma Headcanons pt. 1!

(pt. 2 here)

Thoma Rothschild

he/him

25

Transgender Man, Bisexual

Dating Kamisato Ayato

Family: Sayu (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Kamisato Ayato

The surname I gave him, Rothschild, is a German surname that means "red shield."

Was best friends with Kaeya and Diluc as a kid. His mom worked at the Dawn Winery and even lived in one of the cottages there, so he was very close to them.

Sees Sayu as a little sister. He gives her food all the time, and even makes sure that the bedding in her favorite napping spots is clean and comfy.

He still teaches that cleaning class, but it's turned into more of a life skills class. He teaches people of all ages how to cook, clean, do laundry, count mora, buy things, book appointments, pay taxes...things like that. His class has a lot of teenagers in it now, since they have no idea how to pay taxes or bills and are gonna have to worry about it soon.

He's literally in love with Ayato it's ridiculous. His receiving love language is words of affirmation, and Ayato praises him ALL THE TIME.

His giving love language is acts of service, so he doesn't mind doing things for Ayato at all. Plus, his pay is amazing and he gets free housing.

Literally a big puppy. Always excited to help, extremely loyal, follows you around wherever you go, protects his loved ones, beloved by all...I love Thoma.

Thoma has braces on his arms. He lifts a lot of boxes, so his arms start to ache. That being said, Thoma is incredibly strong. He's pretty well built, and even acts as the Kamisatos' personal trainer.

He has PTSD. He fell overboard when he was visiting Inazuma. He has a terrible fear of the ocean and refuses to ride boats. He also gets seasick super easily. That's also part of the reason that he has an aversion to alcohol, since he was bringing wine to his father when he went overboard.

He also has ADHD. He always has to be doing something with his hands. Everything in the Kamisato estate has to be organized in a certain way or he'll get upset. (he just like me fr)

Hangs out with Itto a lot! Thoma taught Itto how to play chess, and Itto taught Thoma how to battle with Onikabutos :)

Kamisato Ayato

he/him

27

Cisgender Man, Gay

Dating Thoma Rothschild

Family: Kamisato Ayaka (Sister), Sayu (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Thoma

His love language is physical touch fr. Giving AND receiving. He loves getting hugs from Thoma since he's so damn warm. He gets hugs from Thoma when he's stressed.

Very light sleeper. Thoma soundproofed his room and bought him soundproof ear plugs, but he still wakes up at the slightest noise.

Gets super anxious when lying alone in bed. He wonders if Ayaka and Thoma are okay, if they're still alive, if something happened while he was trying to fall asleep. The sound of Thoma's breathing and the feeling of his heartbeat calms him down, though. Sleepy Thoma is white noise to Ayato. It helps him sleep.

He's tried to learn how to cook by watching Thoma, but why does he need to when Thoma's the best chef in all of Teyvat? (in Ayato's eyes, at least)

Plays cards with Itto all the time...and always wins. Loves hanging out with him due to the chaos that he brings everywhere. He even pays to bail him out of prison sometimes, giving the money to Shinobu as an "anonymous donation to the gang."

He's a bit autistic. He has a collection of dried flowers from all over Teyvat, as well as multiple books of all known dog breeds. He can tell you the common and scientific name of a flower just by looking at it, and knows everything there is about dogs.

He zones out at Tri-Comission meetings, especially since Kokomi has recently joined them to discuss diplomatic relations between Narukami and Watatsumi. He's very aware that Sara and Kokomi are secretly flirting by the way they speak to each other, so he just zones out until they actually start to talk business.

He has POTS, as well as chronic pain. Thoma has to accompany him to all of his meetings to ensure he doesn't pass out.

Kamisato Ayaka

she/her

21

Transgender Woman, Bisexual

Dating Naganohara Yoimiya

Family: Kamisato Ayato (Brother), Sayu (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Traveler

She's a makeup girlie to me so I gave her some. It's light, but it's there.

She often sneaks out of the Kamisato estate under the alias of Hiramatsu Fusae. She lets her hair down, does her makeup to change her face, and puts on some cheaper clothes. Fusae is a girl from Borou Village who is exploring beyond Watatsumi for the first time. Ayato knows about this, and doesn't do anything to stop her. In fact, he buys her outfits and makeup to help with this goal.

She first met Yoimiya as Fusae, but quickly told her who she really was when she realized she could trust her. From then on, the Naganoharas have been very close with the Kamisato Clan.

She buys clothes for Yoimiya all the time. Her love language is acts of service and giving gifts, so buying things for Yoimiya makes her extremely happy. In return, Yoimiya takes her to all kinds of firework shows, even making custom fireworks.

When she came out as trans, she chose the name Ayaka so she could match with her big brother.

Arataki Itto

he/they/she

26

Genderfluid, Bisexual

Dating Gorou

Family: Granny Oni (Grandmother), Kuki Shinobu (FF Sister), Akira (FF Brother), Genta (FF Brother), Mamoru (FF Brother), Takuya (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Naganohara Yoimiya

He's super tall and super buff. Using Kaeya (6'1") as a reference, he's about 7'2" in my head. That's about 2.184 meters for all you non-Americans out there. He's the only character I'll give a numbered height to because he SHOULD'VE BEEN BIGGER.

anyways uh

He goes to Watatsumi Island with Shinobu a lot. He spends the whole day with Gorou, being silly and hanging out. He tries to impress Gorou by picking up random heavy objects. It's never really that impressive, since Gorou's seen him do it so many times, but it's the thought that counts, y'know?

Itto and Yoimiya have competitions to see who the kids of Hanamizaka would rather play with. It's almost a perfect 50/50 split right now.

Yoimiya helps Itto with their "festivals" by providing them with free fireworks. They almost always get in trouble with Sara, but Itto always tells her that Yoimiya didn't know what they were using the fireworks for and takes all of the blame so that she doesn't get in trouble and tarnish the Naganohara reputation.

She still holds a grudge against Raiden for not taking her vision sooner. She's WAY too important for her vision to not be the first taken!

He hangs out at the Kamisato estate a lot, beetle fighting with Thoma, playing TCG with Ayaka, and TRYING to play chess with Ayato.

I don't have many other headcanons about Itto, he's perfect the way he is <3

Yae Miko

she/one

~33 (Physically), 500+

Agender, Lesbian

Married to Raiden Ei

Family: Wanderer (Son), Raiden Makoto (Sister in Law), Kirara (FF Daughter)

Best Friend: Sangonomiya Kokomi

I looked up Kitsunes and noticed they had red markings, so I gave her some in similar placements as the ones I saw. I also made her eye makeup more intense.

Her hibakama is full length now. I think more Genshin girlies need full length skirts and stuff, they're so pretty :(

Penpals with Kokomi! She reviews the stories that Koko sends her and sometimes asks if she can flesh out and publish them if they're good enough.

She has a class at the Narukami Shrine where she teaches young children how to read by using fortune slips. She's surprisingly good with kids.

tbh I'm still holding a grudge from the anti-Raiden Shogun training quest and that's all I can think about when I see Miko

Gorou

he/him

24

Cisgender Man, Asexual, Demiromantic, Panromantic

Dating Arataki Itto

Family: Sangonomiya Kokomi (FF Sister), Kirara (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Kaedehara Kazuha

idc what anyone else says I love ittorou. They send each other letters without knowing it's them. Then Itto asks Gorou what he thinks of Miss Hina and Gorou's like who. what. And then Itto shows him some of the letters Miss Hina sent him and Gorou's like ???!?!??!!???

Anyways uh

Gorou has a prosthetic hand. He lost his left hand in the war.

He has PTSD and awful survivor's guilt. When he sees Sara or any other members of the Shogunate, he has to calm himself down. Kokomi doesn't bring Sara to Watatsumi when Gorou's there.

He and Kazuha meditate together. It's hard for Gorou to sit still long enough, but he tries.

In my head, the outfit he wears is a casual fit. In war, he does NOT have his whole torso exposed. My guy isn't a dumbass.

There are 3 people who he lets touch his tail.

Shikanoin Sayu

she/they/it

12

Family: Shikanoin Heizou (Brother), Kamisato Ayato (FF Brother), Kamisato Ayaka (FF Sister), Thoma Rothschild (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Traveler

I don't know why but Sayu and Heizou being siblings is so real to me.

I tried to make her look even sleepier. Also I gave her a tan since she sleeps out in the sun 24/7.

The people at the Kamisato Estate see her as a little sister, which annoys her a bit. But she gets pampered a lot, so she doesn't completely mind.

Often helps Heizou on investigations. He solves them, she hunts them down.

They're a very picky eater. They mostly eat onigiri and katsu sandwiches that Heizou makes for them. They'll eat food from Thoma, but only specific kinds.

It doesn't like Yoimiya too much. It thinks she's too loud and disrupts its sleep. Ayaka promises that Yoimiya's just not used to it yet, but it doesn't care.

She has sensory issues with sounds and food textures. She hates fireworks.

Chills with Gorou when they're bored. They like to sleep on his tail and they're one of three people he'll let touch it.

It has Turner's Syndrome. She's 12, but is still the height of an 8-9 year old.

She also has ptosis and narcolepsy.

Sangonomiya Kokomi

they/she/he/mer

24

Demigender, Greysexual, Panromantic

Dating Kujou Sara and Kuki Shinobu

Family: Gorou (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Yae Miko

Kokomi and Sara enemies to lovers real. They were flirting the entire time they were fighting trust me.

They were really conflicted about their feelings for Sara when they first developed them. They talked to Gorou and Miko about it, unsure of what to do. Miko gave them some "follow your heart" bs and Gorou gave them actual advice (Miss Hina moment). Gorou said that, even though he hates Sara, they shouldn't hide from their feelings if they're really there. He then gave her some tips on how to ask her out (that he got from Miss Hina's fans). Gorou just wants them to be happy :(

After she asked out Sara, she found out that Sara was already dating Shinobu. But then, Shinobu approached Kokomi and asked how she felt about polyamory, and now the three of them are dating :D

When he's stressed, he'll grab a comb and find Gorou. He likes to brush his tail, the repetitive action helps him. He's one of the only people who're allowed to touch his tail.

Kokomi has a sensory deprivation tank in mer secret hideout. Mer feels the safest when mer is floating in the water, and a sensory deprivation tank is much safer than the open ocean. Mer built it all by merself, with a little bit of help from Shinobu.

This is canon, but they are penpals with Miko. They love sending each other their favorite books. Kokomi occasionally drafts some stories and sends them to Miko so she review and edit them.

Autism, 100%. She hyperfixates over books in her hideout for days. Gorou has to remind her that she has priestess things to do, but he'll sometimes just carry out the job for her when she's really into something.

Shinobu and Itto visit Watatsumi a lot to visit their respective lovers, and Shinobu sometimes enters Koko's hideout while he's sleeping. She makes sure to put a blanket or her jacket over his shoulders before returning to the shrine to supervise Itto. Kokomi then wakes up with Shinobu's jacket and the most well rested mind in the world.

Mer occasionally goes down to Enkanomiya and just...exists. No worries, no pressure, just mer and the Vishaps. There was no war. Mer people are safe. Everything is okay.

She's slowly losing her hearing. She's had difficulty with it her entire life, but the war made it worse.

Kujou Sara

she/he

27

Bigender, Lesbian

Dating Sangonomiya Kokomi and Kuki Shinobu

Family: Kujou Clan

Best Friend: Kuki Shinobu

Sara has the BIGGEST celebrity crush on Ei it's crazy. Like whenever she sees her she just freezes up and has to like. Reboot her brain.

He asked Shinobu out because he'd seen her around the police station scolding Itto. Pretty girl with an authoritative attitude who's yelling at a criminal? How could he not fall in love? The two started hanging out, and Sara eventually (very awkwardly) asked her out. Surprisingly, Shinobu agreed. And then, one day, Shinobu asked Sara how he felt about polyamory, and then boom! New girlfriend! Kokomi!

She gets SOOO flustered when they're both around. Like. Sara trying to train but her girlfriends are watching? Sara trying to arrest someone but her girlfriends are whispering to each other how hot she is? Nah. Sara's brain shuts off, her wings pop out, and her face turns bright red. It doesn't help that Koko and Shinobu giggle a bit when that happens.

He's tried to talk to Gorou, to apologize for everything he'd done to him, to tell him how much he admires him and his strength, but he never can. Gorou panics and makes up an excuse to leave as soon as he sees Sara. So, Sara writes down every thought he has about Gorou and gives them to Kokomi. He then has Koko deliver these letters to Gorou anonymously, with Sara's name being at the very end so Gorou doesn't know it's him until he's already read everything.

Raiden Ei

she/one

~34 (Physically), ~3000

Agender, Asexual, Lesbian

Married to Yae Miko

Family: Wanderer (Son), Raiden Shogun (Daughter), Raiden Makoto (Sister), Nahida (FF Daughter)

Best Friend: Yae Miko

Not gonna lie guys, I don't think about Raiden too much. I also don't have her, so I don't really have a handle on her as a character. Okay. Now moving on.

Serious RBF. Like. Never smiles unless you make her laugh. She doesn't even realize it, either (it's The Autism)

Spends a lot of time in her own head, both metaphorically and literally. She'll sometimes just zone out and enter the Plane of Euthymia, and it just looks like she's staring into space like a cat.

Speaking of cats, she has one! She's a Turkish Angora named Keiko :3

Miko sometimes turns into her fox form and sits on Ei's lap with Keiko.

yes i know ei is a dog person but idc!!! my best friend is a cat person and she has two dogs. ei's just too busy for a dog right now :(

She and Zhongli send each other old person postcards. Venti sometimes intercepts them using the wind and laughs at them before sending them on their way.

She love love loves Nahida. She sees her as a daughter and makes sure to check up on her regularly.

[loosesodamarble]

A Friendly Toast

Summary: Yami takes the twins out drinking to celebrate their birthday and they have a good time. The night doesn't end on a high note though. Genre: general, friendship Word count: ~1000 Content notes: mention of @marune2's oc Ida.

..........

Night had fallen over Clover Kingdom. For some, the late hour meant turning in to wake early for another day of work. Then for others, night was when they were most alive. Bars and clubs opened up to serve those who wished to relax after a long day of work or wanted to party after the sun had set.

A trio of young men, friends through unlikely circumstances, had gathered at a smaller, cheaper establishment for a laid back celebration.

“Cheers, ya bastards!”

Three glass mugs clinked together before being brought to the waiting mouths of Yami Sukehiro, Nacht Faust, and Morgen Faust.

Yami put his mug down and let out a hearty whoop of delight. “Man, the stuff here really hits the spot!” he laughed. He took another swig of his drink before looking at the twins. “Whad’ya guys think?”

Nacht’s expression was one of relaxation and enjoyment; this wasn’t his first time with strong alcohol after all. Morgen, meanwhile, was already red in the face and his nose was scrunched up in aversion.

“Aw, is this Morgen’s first grown up drink?” Yami asked with a teasing tone as he reached over to nudge Morgen.

“N-no…” Morgen muttered. He put a hand over his mouth as he looked ready to choke. “Just… It’s very, uh, bracing…”

Nacht chuckled. “What Morgen means to say is that we only ever got the weak shit back at home.” The Shadow Mage rested his chin in the palm of his free hand. “The actual good stuff seems to be reserved for the lower classes apparently. Talk about a reversal.” Nacht took another sip of his drink then let out a pleased hum. “Nice and cozy place here. You know how to pick ‘em, Yami.”

“If that’s your way of saying thank you, then yer welcome,” replied Yami with a smirk. “And because it’s your guys’ special day, you get the one-time offer of the drinks being on me.”

“Why thank you, Yami,” Morgen said. His grateful words were offset by the pursed expression on his face but Yami knew his friend was being sincere. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

Yami once again reached for Morgen. This time, he mussed up Morgen’s hair, and did so with enough force to make Morgen’s ponytail fall loose. Morgen let out a yelp and hurriedly tried to tidy himself. As he did, Yami spoke.

“Well I want to do it. You two’ve been real pals for me when you had no reason to be.” Yami’s smile turned from amused to soft, sincere. “You treated me well so I’m returning the favor.”

Nacht and Morgen stared at Yami for a moment. While not a cruel or dishonest individual, Yami was hardly someone considered openly sentimental. Gruff attitude, crass words, reckless actions. Those were the words to describe Yami, not heartfelt or sweet. It was a change of pace. A pleasant one.

Nacht turned his head away and sipped his drink, hiding how his lips moved upward at Yami’s words. Morgen didn’t hide his smile, nor did he shy away from letting his friend see his happily teary eyes.

“Oh my, Yami, that’s so kind of you. But I hope you don’t genuinely see our friendship as transac—”

“Now!” Yami slapped Morgen on the back, effectively cutting him off. “Shut yer trap and get wasted, man!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Nacht laughed. He raised his glass for a toast, to which Yami and Morgen took part in.

For the next few hours, the three young men sat drinking and chatting the night away. Yami and Nacht downed stronger brews while Morgen opted for lighter drinks. Each of them still fully enjoyed themselves.

“Remember that time Morgen got back at you for kicking me off a building?” Nacht cackled. Morgen snickered along with his twin at the memory while Yami glared daggers into the both of them.

“Oh, Morgen, ya’ ever tell Nacht about that joint mission with the Eagles. The ladies were all over you!” Yami chuckled while Morgen cringed at the memory.

“Yami, you might not know this but Nacht and I pulled off a prank or two back in childhood. The harmless kind of course.”

They talked and talked until the bar needed to close up.

“You coming back to the base with me, Morgen?” Yami asked as he picked up his broom.

Morgen smiled but shook his head. “Not tonight.” He slung an arm around Nacht. The elder twin faked a face of annoyance. “I’ve gotta make sure Nacht gets back safe and sound. Besides, I want to be with my family tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Yami waved off the twins and they waved back.

“Yami’s a real good friend, isn’t he?” Morgen asked, still grinning.

“Tch, a real good pain in the ass if you ask me,” Nacht said.

…

When the twins returned home, Nacht and Morgen were past the point of being tipsy but not so inebriated that walking on their own was a hazard. Their father greeted them in the foyer.

“I see you boys had an entertaining night,” Vincent remarked with a strained smile. “I presume that you were with the foreigner… Sookee? Sucky?”

“Sukehiro,” Nacht finished.

“Just some drinks and conversation. Nothing more, father,” Morgen explained, his words a bit slurred by alcohol and drowsiness but still clear.

“That is good.” Vincent nodded, though his expression soured. “Remember to conduct yourself with care while in public, Morgen.” Said young man seemed to wilt at Vincent’s words. “You have a reputation to uphold, not only as my son but as a Magic Knight.”

“Yes… Father…”

“You’re dismissed to your room.”

Nacht and Morgen nodded then started to walk. Morgen was let by but Vincent stopped Nacht with a hand on the shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Tomorrow evening, your mother and I wish to speak to you,” Vincent said firmly. “This matter concerns only you as the eldest so be sure to say nothing of it to Morgen and Ida.” Then, he released Nacht. “You may go now.”

Nacht opened his mouth to say something, to question such a cryptic request, but shrugged it off and made his way to his room. Perhaps being drunk made him feel weird. If he slept off the alcohol, surely it’d make more sense.

[starfall-spirit]

Break on Me

@marichatmay Prompt: Nightmare

TW: Mention of torture. Nothing Graphing. This is from my Hint of Darkness AU but it can be read as a standalone.

Summary: Cat Noir comforts Marinette after she wakes from a nightmare.

AN: This kind of went from "Nightmare Prompt" to an angst spiral, so...

In the aftermath of Monarch’s reign, to say the people of Paris were haunted was an understatement. 

Months of terror turned into years and Monarch's desperation only grew as his akumas failed him in recovering the miraculous. With each new attack, his morality crumbled until there was nothing inside of him but darkness and desperation. That desperation pushed his akumas to new heights, claiming one innocent life after the next. The people of Paris hated their heroes for not saving them. The spiral seemed never-ending and Cat Noir remembered all too well, watching his partner's determination flag on the worst days.

He thought they were the worst. But then she had fallen off of that high-rise. And that started a whole new hellscape he could only be blamed for. If he'd opened his eyes years ago, it could have all been over then. Now, their enemy was dead, and his partner... His partner wouldn't say more than a few words to anyone but him. She'd been the perfect hero. And in the end it had broken her. Physically and mentally. Months later the cuts had scarred over and the broken bones had healed, but her mental health was another mess altogether.

And even when she'd told him just two days ago to leave her be and stop his coddling, he found himself tapping on the skylight separating her bedroom from her balcony. Trixx phased through the glass. "You'd better come in." He opened the panel and dropped down onto Marinette's bed. She was curled against the headboard, a swarm of seventeen kwamis trying to quietly comfort her. They parted as he approached, revealing red eyes and hair frizzy from tossing in her sleep. "She just woke up," Trixx warned him, close by his head.

He nodded. "Marinette, can I lay beside you?" He could guess well enough from the wounds he found on her those months ago just how much she had endured during her time in his father's lair. The touch aversion it had brought was unsurprising, even if it broke her parents' hearts. The last thing he wanted to do was be another person who crossed her boundaries. So even if she let him trace those scars when she was in a better state of mind, he would not make assumptions now. "Marinette, I want to help. Tell me what you need."

She finally dragged her eyes up to his. "Can you lay with me?"

He nodded, settling in beside her and letting her shift into his arms. "You got out, Marinette. We beat him. It's over."

"When I wake up in the dark I think I'm there again. I think I always will. I—I don't want to talk about it."

"Marinette, is it because you aren't ready or because I'm his son?"

"I will never hold that against you, Adrien."

"No. But I do think you pity me for it, despite your claims. He had not acted as a father in years, Marinette. When he—" She tensed in his arms as if she was bracing for a trigger word. "I felt no grief when he died."

"I'm not ready," she confessed. "And..."

She did not want to worsen the guilt he felt for not finding her before things got as bad as they did. For telling his father when Marinette was almost fatally injured at the same time Scarabella replaced Ladybug. For putting her in his path by hosting the party to celebrate her recovery. No matter her feelings on the matter, he would never forgive himself for that. "I'm so tired of being strong." Her voice cracked. "My parents don't want me anywhere near a miraculous after all of this. Even the other holders wouldn't understand. And I'm so, so tired of saying I'm okay."

He held her tighter. "I think they would, in a way. If you let them try to understand. Your parents... Your parents will always want to protect you, Marinette. Even from your own decisions if they put you in danger. Them knowing the truth about you—about what we do—will always keep a barrier between you, I think."

"That's no way for a family to live. Lying to them was better than this, Cat. What kind of person does that make me? To prefer lying to my own flesh and blood?"

He pulled back, cupping her face. "There's nothing wrong with you, Marinette. You made a mistake that put you between a rock and a hard place. Whether you open up or never say another word about your guardianship to them, the choices you made to protect them will never reflect on you and your morality. Right now, more than anything, you need to focus on your health. So you can open up and let them into this part of your life, or you can keep them sheltered. Just remember, you can always break on me, m'lady."

She nodded. "I think that decision can wait for another day. At least the morning."

He smiled, kissing her brow. "And that's just fine."

[angeldcgs]

according to frankie's friends, she was stuck in a rut— structured routines happen to be fulfilling to me! she'd insisted, but all her claims had fallen on deaf ears. once her roommate had decided she needed something to break her out of the same tired, lonely cycle of work, class, sleep, repeat, there was seemingly no changing her mind, and so frankie found herself being dragged along to a girl's night with a group of friends she wasn't even a part of. the pity invite. it'd been a full hour of sucking down the deceptively juice-like cocktails her roommate insisted on ordering for her and remaining just on the outskirts of the conversation before she finally excused herself for some air, feeling her shoulders fully relax for the first time that night once she was outside. she hadn't even realized how strong of an effect the alcohol had on her until the crisp night air hit her rosy cheeks, reaching a hand out to brace against the wall once she started to sway. though she was hoping to be alone, someone was already out there, doing... frankie couldn't tell, at first glance. something with tiny paper... never having been nosy before, it made sense that she'd become so in her inebriated state— curious, rather. she hadn't even noticed she'd been encroaching on his space until he offered the finished product of his careful fiddling to her, which she now saw was a cigarette of sorts, cheeks likely flushing an even brighter hue. "sorry... i don't mean to stare, i've just never seen someone... diy it like that before." she took the peace offering despite her usual aversion to smoking— he made it himself, so maybe it was healthier? their fingers brushed for the briefest moment during the pass off, frankie noting that his looked a bit like her high school piano teacher's. at one point, she'd wanted to quit, but the promise of getting to watch those fingers glide across the keys for an hour every week kept her enrolled. holding the foreign object up to her face, frankie's narrowed gaze studied its neatly rolled structure, so smooth and even. just out of curiosity, she brought it to her nose to sniff. "it's not marijuana, is it? because i've been drinking, and i also took half a benedryl a little bit ago, which probably wasn't the best idea but i think one of my roommate's friends is wearing a perfume with some sort of citrus oil in it and i couldn't stop sneezing..."

open to: anyone.

featuring: samuel 'oz' osbourne, twenty two, bisexual, aspiring poet.

plot: after dropping out of college to pursue a failing career in writing, oz spends the majority of his time lurking around bars and coffee shops in the centre of the city, searching for inspiration in whatever people or situations charm him. one night, verging towards the end of his daily escapade out, he meets your muse at a bar.

oz didn't know when smoking had become a habit, something he needed to do to feel sane, it had once been nothing more than something to feel cool and mature, yet now it was a necessity. an expensive one at that. his mother would have slapped the cigarette out from his mouth if she could see him there, leaning up against the outside wall of the bar, fiddling with his paper and tobacco, before dragging him to the nearest bathroom to wash his mouth out with soap. not because smoking was a nasty habit, no, her upset couldn't be so simple, she'd have to make it about her somehow, turn it into an insult about how ungrateful he was to be alive that he had to destroy his body out of spite, all to make her suffer. he brought the paper up to his mouth to lick as the door beside him opened and someone hobbled out. he didn't look over to them, instead, he focused on rolling his cigarette into a tight roll, careful to not let the filter slip out from the end. it tastes better when you roll them yourself, a girl he once dated briefly had told him, and he'd never bought another pack of marlboros again. the person who had stumbled out seemed to be hovering, not close enough for him to be uncomfortable, but enough so to feel their presence. once his cigarette was rolled, oz turned his dark eyes up to the stranger and met their already expectant gaze. "do you want one?" that was usually the reason people lingered around, he didn't mind as it sometimes led to interesting conversation, and he liked to keep his hands busy anyways so he was often prerolling for later. he held the cigarette out between two long, slender fingers and waited for them to take it, if that was the reason they insisted on their close proximity.

[imaginationlandtrilogy]

Earlier in the month I made a post expressing my interest in making a South Park Monster High AU, as they're the top two media I'm the most invested in at the moment. I've since expanded on that through different characters and what monsters I'd like them to be, so all of that is below ⇩.

I didn't want to force myself to make a decision on some, so some more prevalent characters don't have a monster type yet!

Kyle: Vampire

I wanted to make Kyle a vampire, as I have a fondness of vampires and a strong favoritism toward Kyle... so he gets my favorite monster! As you'll find out throughout my headcanons here, I love it when there are contrasting themes and subverted expectations, so another reason I like Kyle as a vampire is because, much like Draculaura, he wouldn't like blood! He wouldn't be a vegetarian like her, but I just feel that he would have an aversion to blood, given his aversion to germs throughout the series (primarily shown in "Pee" and "Turd Burglars"). I think it would be true to canon to have him dislike blood and find it gross to consume. It would also shake things up a bit with the vampire trope and find some resemble to Draculaura, the most prominent vampire character in Monster High!

If Kyle is a vampire, it would mean one or two of his parents would have to be as well... Both! I really like the idea of a vampire Sheila and Gerald. If you're not familiar with Monster High lore, it's sort of built into canon that vampires are more respected monsters and ... upper class citizens, in a way? I thought this would be a nice parallel to "Chicken Pox" with what Gerald was telling Kyle about gods and clods (more on this later).

Ike: Sea Serpent

Ike isn't a vampire like the rest of his family, as he's adopted. I did consider making him human, but I grew very attached to the idea of him as a sea creature. While vampires tend to emulate humans more in appearance, I wanted Ike to look more monstrous - I want it to show in his features. I imagine him to be a different color, perhaps a greenish blue, with gils on his face, horns, webbed hands and feet, and a long tail. His difference in appearance from his family would represent his Canadian heritage. It's a common joke in South Park that Canadians look different from everyone else, so I want this to show with Ike's more monstrous appearance compared to his family.

Ike has also shown a love for pirates at points in the series, and sea serpents are always closely related to pirates. Of course, most often, they're seen as the enemy of pirates, but I feel as if in a monster world, sea serpents would be the pirates... so it would be very cool to see Ike as a sea serpent with that in mind!

Stan: Werewolf

The majority of this is based on vibes. Stan is just... a dog person, so why not make him a dog-person? I also like the idea of the two main characters being the most culturally prominent monsters (I blame 2000s YA novels for that). He's very dogish in personality, and tends to be a follower rather than a leader, which emulates a canine's desire to please.

With Stan comes his parents and his sister... I see them as werewolves, too. I especially like the idea of Shelley as a werewolf, as I think it fits her well. Again, bringing the subversion of expectations back, some braces come in silver... and... werewolves do not like silver. I think it would be funny to give a werewolf Shelley silver braces. Maybe that's why she's so easy to anger...? Werewolves are also physically strong, which Shelley definitely is. Last semester, I also took a class on paranormal stories from the Victorian era and found out about the existence of a novel: "The Were-Wolf" written by Clemence Housman. It's a story published in 1896 and, as the title suggests, features a werewolf... but the werewolf was a woman! Themes of woman's suffrage and Victorian-age feminism were incorporated into the book, as well as the female werewolf. Werewolves are definitely what people would consider more masculine, so it was really interesting to see a novel subverting these expectations (!) so long ago. That being said, this is kind of why I have more of an explanation for werewolf Shelley than Stan. It could also apply to Sharon as well. I just love the idea of a traditionally male or female monster being portrayed by the opposite or in-between (which I'll also discuss later).

Kenny: Zombie

How could Kenny be anything but a Zombie? It fits far too well. Zombies are dead and are able to rise again after 'death', and that strongly emulates what Kenny is. The first Halloween episode of the show also featured Kenny as a zombie!

In Monster High, zombies don't really speak the same language as the others. They communicate in groans and moans. The audience can't understand them, but the other characters are able to understand and communicate easily with them. That just sounds so much like Kenny! He has his muffled speech that the audience (generally) can't understand, but other characters are able to understand and communicate with easily!

Going back to what I said about "Chicken Pox" in Kyle's section, in the Monster High universe (primarily expressed in the webisodes), zombies aren't seen as higher class citizens as some of the other monsters. In fact, they're often looked down upon and not taken as seriously because they're zombies. I found this to be a nice parallel to what Gerald was saying in that episode, as he expressed that he felt he was more important because of who he was (having a "slightly higher intellect than others") compared to Stuart. With vampires being higher class in the MH universe and zombies traditionally being lower... the comparison was too good not to make.

Craig: Ccoa

I wanted to find something unique for Craig... not just something related to guinea pigs. So, much like the others, I sought after canon. Ccoas are catlike creatures hailing from Quechuan (indigenous people of Peru) folklore. They're more so spirits than anything, and are closely related with constellations and the stars. I would recommend clicking the link for more information!

In Monster High, there are numerous characters represented with monsters from their culture, so, as Craig canonically has something to do with Peru... I really wanted to give him a Peruvian creature, and what better than a cat involved in the stars? He gives me more catlike vibes - his whole family does! - and he loves space, so this really was a good match.

I like the headcanon that Laura is Peruvian, so I think what I would do is make Laura and Craig Ccoas, but make Thomas and Tricia regular cat-people. The thought of Thomas as a catboy is really funny to me because he's kind of goofy looking! I think I would want him to be an orange Scottish Fold. He has that big bald spot, and Scottish Folds are known for having their ears down, so I thought it fit well! Laura, a ccoa, married a werecat (in Monster High terms... but still a catboy, techincally), Thomas, and they had two children: Craig (a ccoa like his mother) and Tricia (a werecat like her father).

Tweek: Ghost

I love this one. I love the thought of Tweek as a ghost. Once again with the subversion of expectations, the thought of a ghost that's easily startled is appealing to me. I think it makes for a more interesting character... kind of like an inner conflict to pass! The other reason I have for this is his hair... Tweek's hair would translate visually well into wisps. It would be an easy design to create.

Clyde: Banshee

A banshee is a spirit originating from Irish folklore. They're traditionally women, however, I feel as if the description fits Clyde - as well as his family - well. First and foremost, I'd like to compare this illustration of a banshee to Betsy after her death. They're very similar, so this way, Betsy wouldn't have to 'die' at all - she's a banshee! Interestingly enough, one of the primary connections of banshees are dead family members... They're known to scream, wail, or shriek in lamenting the dead. They tend to be emotional creatures, which, again, I feel captures Clyde well. He's much more rooted in emotion than anything else - it's a prime characteristic of his, after all.

Bebe: Centaur

I have the design in my head, and I love it. I imagine Bebe to be a horse girl, and I headcanon her as such, so the idea of her being a centaur is appealing to me. When I think of centaurs, I often imagine long, luscious hair and a tail. Bebe has very recognizable hair - I would say it's her strongest physical trait, so it makes sense for her to be a creature with such emphasis put on the hair/mane.

[staysaneathome]

(Or So Help Us Both) Get By

(A second part in the Monster!Jmart AU)

Jon wakes up to the sound of soft whining, with his head on a pillow and a pleasant lassitude encompassing his limbs and his tail.

He stretches minutely before opening his eyes to a blur of colors, light, and shadow.

There’s something indistinct squirming a few inches away from his face.

Groaning, Jon gropes around for his glasses, finally finding them behind him and sliding them on.

His cat is wriggling around, making vaguely distressed noises not too far from him.

Jon immediately slides one of his hands over the fur on its head, quieting it somewhat with the soothing contact.

“Shh, it’s okay.” His voice creaks slightly from disuse, but he can wait to grab something to drink until he’s taken care of his cat. “It’s alright, I’m here. Sh, sh, sh, shh.”

Unbidden, the image of the minotaur from last night surfaces in Jon’s brain, him carefully cradling Jon’s cat against his chest as they drank from the bottle he had provided, the sweet half-hidden dimple from his quirked smile and the friendly glint in his eyes that Jon glimpsed under the fluffy-looking fringe—

Jon turns his head into the pillow and immediately tries to suffocate himself.

Good lord, he must have been sleep-deprived.

Still, at least the minotaur— Marvin, he thinks his name was? managed to get Jon’s cat to calm down. Whether he left without taking anything remains to be seen.

His cat wriggles, pressing its face into his hand and letting out another mewl of complaint.

“Yes, yes.” Jon grumbles as he scoops them against his chest. “Let’s get you fed then, shall we?”

At least this seems to be met with his cat’s approval, as they herald it with a slow blink and a particularly squeaky yawn.

Jon has to hide his besotted grin in the fur on the top of their head and rain a few kisses down onto their precious little head.

Look, it’s not his fault they’re adorable. They’re a cat. He’s only so strong a man.

He sits up and gathers them to his chest, wincing as his ribs protest. This is why he needs a proper bedtime routine. It would include him taking off his work clothes and putting on something he can actually sleep in, at some point.

“Heavy thing, you are.” He mumbles nonsensically to himself. “Maybe you are a, a Maine Coon, like he said, yeah? But you’re too refined to be American, aren’t you? Little landed gentry, you are. I can tell. Or shall we call you the lew-tenant?”

That gets him a yell and gentle bat on the shoulder.

“There, you see?” He grins down at them, fond. “An inherent aversion to any sort of hard work. Little layabout through and through. Need a fleet of servants to attend to your needs, really.”

The paw on his shoulder has begun flexing in that particular way which shows Jon’s cat is kneading, their odd, burbling, hiccuping purr filling the air. Their mouth is open in a way that looks uncannily like a smile.

“Right. It’s just me for the moment though.” He braces himself for the daunting task before him. “So let’s see what we can do.”

All his stuff still seems to be there and mostly unmoved, which Jon is counting as a win. Then again, the minotaur seems to live at the end of the hall, so he supposes it wouldn’t be too hard to find him again to reclaim his property.

Jon is privately grateful, both that he won’t need to and that he had the foresight to use a week of his previously untouched holiday to ensure he could get his cat acclimated to their new home. The idea of haring off down the corridor in search of his things, constantly aware that at any moment HR could begin ringing his mobile to ask why he wasn’t at his desk yet…

Well. It really doesn’t bare thinking about.

In fact, the only things that seem to have been touched are the pan and the bottle, both clean and drying on an old tea towel next to the sink, and a pamphlet which now has some incongruously neat handwriting bordering the bright yellow print which declares cats are, “89% CHEAPER AND MORE EFFECTIVE THAN THERAPY!!!*”

(“*Not a guarantee.”)

Apparently the minotaur’s name is Martin. He’s left his phone number, in case Jon needs it (he doesn’t). He’s also left instructions on how to heat up the milk, again in case Jon needs them (he does). And a reassurance that he’ll be popping by after one job and before another to check on them and report any findings he’s made (Jon wars between being indignant at the implication he needs checking on and grateful that this miracle worker will continue to solve the problems he’s having with cat parenthood. He settles on mutinously and grumpily accepting).

He also signs this note, love, Martin K Blackwood

Annoyingly, that first word refuses to leave his head even as he tries to focus on the instructions for milk preparation.

It’s just—okay, maybe the minotaur wasn’t unattractive, but surely he’s not?? It would be very forward if so, and he hadn’t seemed the type, all stuttery and sweet, but-? And surely not for Jon, exhausted and surly bag of bones he was last night, showing off every one of his worst features. Not that Jon would be interested anyway! No, he’s not looking for that, not so soon after breaking up with Georgie. Although, it was a mutual breakup, she’d said so and everything, even made sure to get the last things of his at their flat delivered and paid for the postage. It’s not like he’s hung up on it or anything, no, no, he just needs, ah. Needs to learn to live with himself again, as Sasha so nicely put it. It’s why he started seriously considering getting a cat, after all, something to do with himself that wasn’t throwing himself into his new position at work, and—!

Jon is not about to have a spiral about whether there’s any deeper meaning behind the cute minotaur signing his missive with “love”.

He’s not.

Plenty of people sign cards with love, even to those they don’t particularly like. Some people even do it on emails, just out of habit.

That must be it. Martin seemed like a genial, outgoing fellow, the kind with countless friends and loved ones. Who else would be kind enough to come to the door of a complete stranger and give up their night helping with an ornery kitten?

Yes. Yes, that must be it. No need to read any deeper into it.

Yes.

Good.

Right.

Jon’s tail thuds into the kitchen counter, making him and his cat startle. They let out a little whine.

“Oh, oh, no, no, it’s alright, sh, sh, shh.” He soothes, rocking them a bit. “Shh, it’s okay, we’re okay. Do you want some food? You must be hungry. Let’s get you something to eat, there we go.”

Jon certainly is, stomach growling as his gaze sweeps over his cat.

When he opens the fridge, he can’t help plucking out one or two eggs from the holder as he searches for the milk Martin left, enjoying the delicious, smooth texture going down as he swallows the first.

His cat, seeing he’s got something he’s putting in his mouth but not feeding to them as is their right, has their feline thievery instincts kick in. He feels their little paws pat at his face, reaching for the remaining egg in his free hand.

“Mm-!” He pops it in and swallows, feeling his jaw hinge back into place. “No, no that’s not for you. Cats can’t digest eggshell, or raw egg. I should know. I checked.”

His cat protests this assessment with a mournful cry.

“Yes, yes, I’m cruel and unjust, aren’t I.” He makes kissy noises that seem to appease them as he finally snags the milk out of the fridge and knocks the door closed with his tail.

Okay, so milk obtained. Step one partially complete.

He pours it into the clean pan, wrinkling his nose at the white liquid. How mammals can drink this straight, he’ll never know.

There. That’s that done then. What next?

Step two, according to Martin; turn on the heat as low as it will go, and gently simmer until steam just begins to waft off the surface. Then remove from the hob immediately.

This would probably be easier if he didn’t have an actively squirming cat in his arms. And it’s not as if they don’t weigh anything, a small but solid and heavy weight to be lugging around as he attempts to negotiate his stovetop.

But, well.

He’d worked out yesterday that while they can be set down and left to their own devices on the cat bed he bought for them, what they like is being cuddled. Preferably for as long as Jon’s arms can hold them, and then a bit longer for good measure.

Who is he to deny his cat what they need? They’re adjusting, all alone in a new place with a new person, not quite sure that this is their forever home yet. If they need a bit more physical reassurance, it’s certainly not a chore for Jon to give it to them.

Plus with the workout his arms are getting, maybe he’ll finally be able to lift a few boxes at work without Tim and Sasha making fun of him for straining.

Finally, the pot’s on the hob and the smallest of flames is flickering beneath it.

Jon nods to himself, procures the sole wooden spoon he owns, and settles in to wait.

The milk is still and white at the bottom of the pot.

There are a few ripples when he drags the spoon through it, but otherwise, no change. No steam, at any rate.

Jon’s cat is kneading biscuits into his shoulder again. His arm really is starting to ache a little. His hair also feels unfortunately greasy. There is still no steam.

He reads ahead in Martin’s directions.

Apparently, once the milk is off the heat, he needs to pour it into the bottle, attach the nib and test whether it’s not too hot for them to drink. The ideal heat should be about body temperature in the absence of a proper thermometer.

Jon, whose body temperature fluctuates regularly depending on how long it’s been since he forgot to turn on his heating pad, finds this singularly unhelpful.

Mammals, honestly.

The milk is still flat and white. No steam whatsoever.

“Hm.” It seems like this is very slow. Is there no way to speed this up?

According to Martin’s instructions, apparently not. Under no circumstances, which seems unnecessarily puritanical, in Jon’s opinion. “Hrm.”

Jon’s cat leans forwards to inspect the pot and says, “Mrrp?”

Jon mock-gasps. “Where did you learn language like that, your Grace? Those kinds of words aren’t appropriate for someone of your station. Do I need to have a talking to with your elocution tutor?”

His cat trills at the teasing, turning to nuzzle into his collarbone, burbling purr starting up again. Jon chuckles and hitches them higher on his hip.

They wait a bit more.

…

…

… Still no change.

“Well.” Jon side-eyes his cat. His cat, title pending, pauses in the act of gnawing on one paw. “How bad can it be, really?”

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Composed of the Elements

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  When a case takes the team to (Y/N)'s home town, her best friend Spencer helps her leave all the baggage behind.

Title Song: Sweet as Whole, Sara Bareilles

Word Count: 2705

Warnings: high school bullying, brief mentions of a case, smoking

“Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.” -Oscar Wilde

~

You walked into the bullpen with a coffee in one hand and your phone in the other.

“Morning, (Y/N),” your best friend, Spencer, called from his desk.

“Morning, Spence.” You sat down at your desk. Before you could get settled, JJ announced a case.

“We’ve been called in to a small town in Indiana,” JJ said, clicking on the slide projector.

“Wait. When you say small town…” you said, feeling your body tense.

“We’re going to (L/N)’s hometown,” Hotch confirmed. After going over the details of the case, he said, “Wheels up in thirty.”

Spencer reached for your arm, but you were up and moving to the bullpen before he could catch you. He watched as you grabbed your bag from your desk, ignoring Morgan’s attempts at conversation. Your usual peppy, outgoing self was gone, replaced with a stranger.

When the team gathered on the jet, they discussed the case together. You sat at the back of the cabin, staring out at the clouds, tapping on the table in front of you.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Gideon sitting in front of you. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I never thought I’d be going back there. I thought I could leave and never look back.”

“Hey, I know it isn’t easy, but we need your help. You know this town and the people in it. That can help us.”

You sighed and stood up. “Fine.” Walking over to the team, you said, “One thing you need to know about these people: they don’t like outsiders. At all.”

“What do you mean by outsiders?” Hotch asked.

You scoffed. “Anyone who isn’t born and raised in the town. Even if you’ve lived there for years, if you weren’t born in Newton, you’re not to be trusted. You’ll see first-hand when we meet with the local PD.”

“What about the victims?” Derek asked you.

“I knew both of them in high school,” you said, flicking through the file. “But I don’t know what anyone has been doing with their lives.”

Spencer couldn’t help but notice the sadness in your eyes. Despite his aversion to touch, he reached out and rested his hand on top of yours. You were his safety net. He loved you, as more than just his best friend.

~

When the team got to the police station, you stuck to the back of the group while JJ and Hotch made introductions.

“Detective Miller,” Hotch said, holding his hand out. “I’m Agent Hotchner. You’ve already spoken to Agent Jareau. This is SSA Gideon, Dr. Reid, SSA Morgan, and SSA (L/N).”

“Wait. Little nerdy (Y/N) (L/N)?” the detective said, finally noticing you. “Wow, who would have thought you’d come back to Newton?” You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes down.

“Do you have a place we can set up a case board?” Spencer asked, noticing your unease.

“Sure.”

“Did you know the victims well?” JJ asked him.

The detective nodded. “We all do. Kelly’s my son’s teacher. Julia and I dated in high school. Our kids are friends.”

“Does everyone in town know each other well?” JJ asked as she helped you pin the crime scene photos to the board.

“Of course. We’re like a family. When your town only has 300 people, you have to look out for each other.” You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “You have something to say there, (Y/N)?”

“She’s Agent (L/N) to you,” Gideon interrupted. “JJ, Julia Coleman’s family is here.”

~

“You look different,” Detective Miller said to you as you worked late to help nail down the profile. “You look good.”

“Detective Miller-”

“Come on, you can call me Tim.” He stepped closer to you. “You don’t have to be so professional.”

“Excuse me,” you said, though it was no more than a whisper. You slipped out of the room and stood outside the precinct, leaning against the wall. You pulled a small box out of your jacket pocket.

“Since when do you smoke?” Spencer asked you, coming up next to you.

You lit a cigarette and took a drag before saying, “Since high school.” Seeing Spencer’s concern, you said, “Relax, I haven’t for a while. It’s only when I get really stressed.”

“You know, each cigarette takes about seven minutes off your life.”

“If it’s seven minutes I don’t have to spend with Timothy Miller or anyone else from this damn town, then I don’t care.”

“What did he do to you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, (Y/N), it’s me. Talk to me. Please?”

You looked at your best friend’s pleading eyes and sighed. You put out your cigarette and said, “You know I didn’t have a good high school experience. After my mom died, my dad moved us to his childhood home. I moved schools halfway through the first semester. I was the weird new kid who wore all black with braces and clunky glasses and was way too into Stephen King books. I was an easy target.” You cleared your throat. “Julia and Tim were my biggest tormentors. When they dated, it was worse.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

You chewed your lip. “Tim asked me to the prom when he and Julie were on an off period of their relationship. I got so excited, like an idiot. I mean, I knew he didn’t like me in that way. After all, why would he?” You laughed, but there was no joy behind it. Spencer felt his heart clench at how you saw yourself. He thought you were the most beautiful, amazing woman to ever exist.

“But I thought at least I’d have a friend, you know? I rented a dress and did my hair, all that stuff. Tim said he was going to pick me up. He never came.” Your eyes burned with tears at the memory. “The worst part was, my dad didn’t know there was anything going on. After-after my mom died, he gave up. When he wasn’t working, he was drinking and smoking.” You shook your head. “Tim just brought all those feelings back.”

Spencer reached out and wiped the tears off your cheek. “You didn’t deserve any of that. No one deserves that.”

“Carrie was my favorite book in high school. I wonder what that says about me.”

“Why don’t we head back to the hotel?” Spencer offered, holding his hand out to you. “Rest might help us with the case.”

~

The next morning, the team discovered there was another murder. Misty Lincoln had been killed in the same way as the other two victims. Spencer was graphing the geographical profile while you sat at the table, staring at the crime scene photos.

“You see something?” Hotch asked you.

“I’m not sure. Uh, could I- could I take like two hours? I think there might be something that’ll help us in my dad’s old things.”

“Sure. But you’re not going alone. Take Reid with you.”

You knew better than to argue with your boss. “Yes, sir.”

When you and Spencer got into the SUV, your fingers started tapping the steering wheel as you drove, letting muscle memory guide you. You pulled into the parking lot of a storage facility. Spencer followed behind you as you passed row after row of storage units. When you finally stopped, you flipped through your keychain until you found one you were looking for. You hadn’t spoken to Spencer since getting in the car back at the station, and he was starting to worry.

After you opened the door to the unit, you looked at Spencer. “After my dad died, I moved all his stuff here. I got rid of some stuff, of course. What would I ever do with an old couch that had more cigarette burns than upholstery?” You ran your hand over a white garment bag. The golden lettering was faded, but Spencer could still make out the word bridal, and what he could infer was the word boutique from the few remaining letters. “Some things I just couldn’t get rid of.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Spencer asked you, picking up a picture at the top of an open box. You were between who he could only assume were your parents, and you all looked happy. You looked just like your mother. The small you, who couldn’t be much older than 8, clung to the woman’s side. Your father had his arm around your mother’s waist. It all looked very domestic.

“Sure,” you said, digging through a box at the back of the unit.

“Why have you been acting so different since we got here? I mean, you’ve been acting so meek and timid, which isn’t you. I once heard you threaten a cop that you would, and I quote, ‘shove your foot so far up his ass that he would taste the mud on your shoe.’ What’s going on?” He set the frame back on the top of the box.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess… I spent so long trying to distance myself from this place and when I came back, I was back to being a scared little 15-year-old.”

“But, you’re not, (Y/N). You’re strong and confident.” It was then Spencer heard you sniffle and noticed you were crying. “(Y/N)?”

You wiped your face. “Sorry. It’s just… I worked so hard for the image of me that you all see and-and I’m just so afraid that being here is going to erase all that. I worked so hard at the Academy to form an identity that wasn’t this and-”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), hey,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Breathe. Our image of you is not going to change just because your old tormentors are here. I- uh, we, the team, we love you. You’re our family. I think Garcia would riot if Hotch ever tried to get rid of you.” You chuckled at that and it made him smile. “Now, how about we get out of here and work more on our profile?”

~

When you got back to the precinct, Hotch asked you, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah.” You pulled an old yearbook out of your bag. “All the victims are from the same graduating class, and they were all in the same extracurriculars. Look.”

“We’re ready to give the profile,” Gideon said after flipping through the book.

Your team gathered the police department to deliver your preliminary profile.

“We’ve come to the conclusion that our unsub can only be a local,” Spencer said. “He-”

“There’s no way,” Officer Miller interrupted. “No one in this town would do that. Besides, why would I trust this walking stick insect over the people I’ve known my whole life? You’re wrong, Stick-Bug.”

“How dare you,” you said, stepping forward. The rest of your team stepped away. They knew what was coming. No one would say it, but they all knew how you and Spencer felt about each other. “How dare you talk to Spencer that way. Captain Bell invited us here to help you find out who’s murdering members of your community. You have no right to talk to my family that way.”

“Your family? These people are your family?”

“A family is anyone who makes you feel loved, and by that definition, yes. These people are my family. And if you ever talk to any of them like that again, I will bring your life crashing down around you with one simple phone call.”

“Oh, look who’s finally got a backbone,” Tim laughed. “Little (Y/N) thinks she sounds all big and threatening.”

“It’s not a threat, Timothy, it’s a promise,” you said. “And I’m sure Captain Bell would take you off this case if I told him you have a conflict of interest. I’m sure he’d love to know you’d had an affair with one of the victims. You and Julia never could stay away from each other, could you?”

Spencer fought a smile at seeing you return to yourself, as well as seeing Timothy’s face pale. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way to thank you.

~

The case was finally over. Like always, Spencer had been right. The unsub was a guy from your graduating class who felt the women from your class shunned and mistreated him. Thankfully, you were able to sympathize with him and get him to come in without any extra violence.

Hotch was giving the team the night in the hotel before heading back to Quantico in the morning. You were flipping through the channels on the hotel’s TV, already in your pajamas by 8:30. You finally settled on some old reruns of Friends when there was a knock at your door. You groaned and extracted yourself from your blanket cocoon and trudged over to the door.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” you asked after opening your door to reveal Spencer, still in his work clothes.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

“Spencer, I’m in my pajamas-”

“That doesn’t matter. Just, come with me. Please?”

You tugged your old sweatshirt on and followed Spencer down the hallway, to the elevator.

“Where are we going?” you asked him.

“It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“You trust me, right?”

“Of course, I do, Spence. You know that.”

“Okay well,” he covered your eyes with his hands and guided you forward. He dropped his hands and said, “surprise.”

You were standing on the patio of the hotel’s restaurant, the tables had been pushed to the side and lights were strung up all around.

“Spence, what’s all this?” you asked as he gently pulled you to the center of the patio.

“A way to say thank you,” he said. When he saw the confusion on your face, he said, “For sticking up for me at the precinct. I know it must have been hard to stand up to Detective Miller. And-and I remember you telling me that you don’t have many good memories here, and then I thought about your prom story, so…” He held his hand out to you as music started playing. “May I have this dance?”

You smiled and took Spencer’s hand. He rested his free hand on your waist, and your free hand rested on his shoulder as the two of you gently swayed to the soft music coming from the patio’s speakers.

“How’d you pull this off?” you asked him.

His smile was a bit sheepish. “Morgan and Garcia helped me pull some strings.”

“Of course they did. Garcia is the all-powerful puppet master.”

Spencer laughed as the two of you continued to dance. When Spencer heard you sniffle, he stopped and pulled away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He brushed a tear off your cheek. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No. It’s happy tears.” When you saw that Spencer still looked confused, you explained, “I never thought I’d have someone in my life who cares about me this much. I mean, look at all this. You did this just to make me happy.” You rested your forehead against Spencer’s and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. Spencer’s arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Of course I did. I love you. I-I mean, I care about you. Because you’re my best friend and-”

“Spence,” you said, stopping his rambling. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment.

Spencer’s brain, which usually worked at three times the speed of the average person, slowed to practically a halt. You had just kissed him. The girl he’s been longing for just kissed him. She kissed him . You were about to say something to him when his brain finally caught up and he kissed you back.

When the two of you pulled apart, you said, “Well, I guess my prom was worth the wait.”

Spencer smiled at you and kissed your forehead before continuing to dance with you.

~

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." -Anais Nin

[pollyrepents]

skin to skin

Warnings: Descriptions of OCD-like tendencies including food and aftermath and miscarriage.

Summary: Michael’s wife is dodging him and fretting over more than one loss.

Word Count: 2k (I got a little carried away)

A/N: There’s no real moment in time this is set. Michael’s just old enough to be married to the reader and having a child wouldn’t have completely ruined their plans.

He had seen it in Polly first. The rituals, the lighting and blowing out candles, the tablets and the drinking to slow it all down. He was young when it happened the first time, right after his father passed. She was coping, he supposed now as he thought back, with the loss and the idea of two kids on her own added to her brother’s litter as extra being her responsibility. It had scared her and she needed control and peace any way she could get it. John and Arthur would take him out onto the lane when her fits would become worrisome, they would kick a ball around with him and the other neighborhood kids until Tommy came to get them, their Uncle Charlie having helped settle his mother with strong whiskey and a shouting match the kids were better off not hearing.

He understood the want of control, the craving for power over something too big for the palms of his hands.

He had no reason to think you’d be the same.

That night in the bar, your dress hugging your curves and glittering in the poor lighting of the pub, he had fallen head over heels. He hadn’t shown it—Isiah assumed it was lust and he was bringing you back to his apartment for stress relief that never failed him and would bring you back with a little blue glass vial of snow in your purse—but he had fallen swiftly and freely and wanted just you in that bar and everyone else out on the street.

It was a game of cat and mouse. You knew he was a Shelby although he introduced himself as a Gray, and you knew any wrong move or sharp words could have you cut. You strung him along but Michael refused to relent, countering every one of your wise cracks with quick retorts of his own. Only when he took you out for a smoke, did you notice his freckles in the shining street light and his self assured smirk slipped into a boyish smile without his permission. You fell faster than you would have liked, in honesty.

Now, as he stood at the doorway of your shared bathroom, he listened to you whimper as you worked the soap in your hands up into a lather. He could smell the lavender and peppermint in the air the same way he smelt it on you when he would lift your hand to kiss your knuckles. 

“Are you nearly done?” 

You started at the sound of his voice, turning your head back for a brief moment before rinsing off your hands. 

“I didn’t know you were home.” You tugged the towel off the rack, rubbing the soft cotton over your painted fingernails first. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Michael nodded, blowing a breath out through his nose slowly. “I thought you were in the bath.” 

“I had one earlier.”

“A soak to relax?” He hummed as you passed him by, your path to the vanity quick and with intention. “One of your lavish baths with hot water and bubbles like a child?”

“After all you put me through today I deserve one.”  He watched your two fingers unscrew the cap to the small lotion bottle, capping the glass with your thumb before twisting your wrist, swirling the lotion. Four turns around and you pull your manicured thumb away, turning your hand over to spill out a thin line of product onto the back of it to the tip of your middle finger, a small line crossing over the back from right to left.

“Let me,”He offered abruptly, a hand reaching out for yours. “After all I put you through today, I could help you relax.” The way you only glanced up at him before shaking your head and rubbing your hands together stuck with him. 

“You’ll only smell like me. What businessman should smell like lavender?” You scolded quietly as you worked the lotion into your skin with your hands low close to your lap, paying special care to your knuckles. They had become tender with the heat of the water, the small splits over your knuckles and the sides of your palms surely burned with the product and the added attention from Michael.

“One that loves his wife.” He placed his hands on your shoulders as you worked the lotion in, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles, “A kept man.”

You laughed lightly and Michael felt the corner of his lips turn upward. “A kept man?”

“I’ve come back here night after night, I think that’s qualified me as kept if all else hasn’t.”

“A ring qualifies me as kept.” 

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes at your reminder, placing his hands on the vanity on each side of you, caging you in. The way your shoulders regained the tension he thought he pushed away made him want to question you, break apart every fear or stressor you had and throw them into the Cut, never to be seen again. 

“I’ve told you I’ll replace the ring as soon as I can find a jeweler who knows what he’s doing.” He tilted his head down slightly to rest his forehead against yours. “I won’t have you wearing a shit ring. Not from me, not my love. Even if you lost the first one like a teenager.” 

You closed your eyes—to avoid his gaze, he was sure of it, and took a deep breath. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me wearing a ring of yours again—”

“We took vows.” Michael’s voice was soft when he cut you off, his words were certain. “Every morning too. I love you, I tell you every morning, don’t I?”

“I’m never sure you’ll come home at night.” You muttered, turning your head away from him. “So you-”

“I promise you every morning.”He spoke softly as you did, moving to press his lips to yours. His lips met your cheek when you turned your head again but he took it in stride, placing delicate kisses from your cheek to your ear. “I will get you the ring. I just hope you don’t let this one slip off.”

Michael leaned back again, testing the waters and leaning forward to kiss you. He stopped as he felt your hip bump against his hand, lifting his hand from the wood of your vanity to let you slip away. Your hands stayed planted on your chest, your palms flat against your collar bones as you walked over to the window. He turned his head only slightly, pushing one of your perfume bottles out of the neat line they were arranged in. From the corner of his vision in the reflection of the mirror he watched you tilt your head to the side, wiping where he had placed kisses onto your skin away as if it soiled your skin.

The pretending stopped in that moment. “What was that?”

“What was what?” You sounded oblivious to his question, he noted the ways your fingers twitched against your skin, imagining you craved the water washing the little bit of him off of you as soon as he had touched you.

“You react to your own lies, my love.” His gaze did not waver, trying to persuade you to meet his eyes. “Don’t ever play cards with Isiah. It won’t end in your favor.”

Your eyes shifted from the window to his for a brief second and he quirked an eyebrow when you looked past him to analyze the perfumes again. “Don’t move my things, Michael. I’ve asked you a hundred times to leave them alone.”

“It’s just a bottle.” He pushed it back to its almost rightful position, although still slightly off from where you had it. 

“It was mine, I had it in the right place.” The sharpness to your tone made Michael brace himself, waiting to be pushed aside. 

 Michael stood his ground as you marched over, your fingers etched with narrow slits where your skin had broken twisting the bottle back to its rightful place. “It shouldn’t bother you that terribly.”

“It was in its place, Michael.” Your fingers curled and uncurled around nothing and you brought your hands in front of you, making a steeple of your fingers and holding your wrists against your stomach, pressing into the softness there. 

Tentative, Michael reached his hands toward yours. He saw the beginnings of an objection, your eyebrows raising and your lips parting, he refused to hear it. He linked your fingers, pulling you close in front of him until your fronts were pressed together. He knew you wanted to squirm the way you always did when he looked at you closely “too fucking close to be normal” in your words, your toes wriggling against your stockings and jaw tensing as you stared at his eyebrows.

“I know every part of you.”

“Michael-”

“Every part. You think you’re still hiding things. Keep thinking that if it helps you, Y/N.” Michael’s hands came up to gently cup your face, holding you with the care he would use for Polly’s china. “But all of this, the constant washing, and the straightening and the picking at food only comes after big stuff. You never let me touch you after the big stuff. You haven’t let me kiss you in ages.”

“Talk to me, my love.” You bit your lips together and Michael’s thumb came down softly to push against your chin. “Talk to your husband, please.”

You cleared your throat once, twice, three times, and your voice still broke as you whispered to him. “I bled last week, Michael. It was heavy.”

Michael nodded once in almost understanding, knowing how your aversion then strong desire for his touch towards the beginning and end of your bleeding, especially the particularly bad ones. You tore your eyes from his and Michael ducked his head slightly to pull your gaze back to him. “That’s not it. What’s got you like this? What is it?”

“No.” You looked at him again and your eyes were wet with tears. “Polly-- your mum-”

“My mum caused this?” His eyebrows pulled together and he looked toward the ground, a thousand things running through his head at what Polly could have snapped at you with in a moment of misplaced rage. “What did she say?”

Your hands came up to hold his face this time, Michael’s dropping to your waist. Instinctively, he began to rub gentle lines down the marks he knew decorated your skin under the fabric of your slip. 

“My bleed wasn’t-” You choked on your words and Michael let you tuck yourself into his chest, his arms coming around to hold you to him. “It was a child, Michael. Polly told me I was with child.” Your words began to rush out as the blood in his veins ran cold. 

“I was with child, and then I wasn’t, and I couldn’t find a moment to tell you that I was or wasn’t and now-”

“It’s alright,” His hands stroked down your hair, stopping to play with the tight curls at the nape of your neck. “It’s alright, my love.”

“She said it was-”

“It’s not.” He forced the words out, bile stinging the back of his throat. “It’s gone now. It’s alright, just us. We’re alright, Y/N.”

“I just-I feel like I’m still dirty from it.” You whimpered, twisting your fingers at the knuckle with your thumb and forefinger. “I can’t get clean from it. If I can’t get clean from it, you might find another woman.”

“You weren’t dirty from anything.” He pressed his lips against the crown of your head as he spoke, doing his best to take in your scent. “You’ll never be dirty, my love.”

“She-she sai-”A hiccup cut you off and his hold tightened, bringing one of his hands down to find yours and bring it up to his chest while you stammered. “She said it was-was a b-boy. A son, M-Mi-Michael.”

He took a deep breath, squeezing your trembling hand as he did so. “We’ll have a son. We’ll have another son.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying his best to blink back tears.

You pulled back, placing your trembling hands on either side of his face. He cupped the back of your head, pulling your forehead to his and shutting his eyes as the tears began to fall.  His voice trembled as your hands did against his skin, “We’re alright, my love. We’re alright.”

[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows - Ch. 4

Fred Weasley x OC 

5,067k 

Chapter 4 / 10 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Slight Dom!Fred, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, masturbation (m), unprotected sex, cursing, mentions of death

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

_____________________

"Come here," Fred growled, gripping the back of her neck.

His teeth made contact with her pulse point and she gasped quietly. Her heart pounded in her ears so loud she couldn't hear the creaks and groans of the castle around them. Only Fred's labored breathing against her neck and how much adrenaline was pumping through her veins were audible.

He slid his tongue down her chest, moving her robe as he continued downwards and then dropped to his knees. She frantically looked down and almost panicked about doing this on the floor but stopped as Fred's tongue slid desperately between her legs.

She twitched and gasped against the wall from shock and pleasure.

"Open your legs," he commanded in a silky voice.

She did as she was told and he wasted no time finding her throbbing core.

"Fred," she moaned, gripping his hair, coaxing him closer.

He chuckled and licked her slowly; agonizingly. "Such a good girl for me."

The words sent fire through her veins. This is what she had missed by pushing him away last week. She'd never felt so stupid in her life as she parted her legs further, hoping for more rewards.

Fred gorged himself on her like he hadn't had a meal in years. All the boys before had stirred a tingle or buzz within her. Their touches had been uncoordinated, and purely for their own pleasure. Their fingers went where they wanted, and their tongue only graced the parts of her that they wanted to taste.

But Fred; he was calculated in making her body burn. His lips brushed the most intimate parts of her with adoration and meticulous attention. He responded to each of her sounds with enthusiasm and attacked the places that made her writhe as if he was trying to win some prize. He worked her slow and then quick, alternating between giving her exactly what she wanted and then withholding it. It was maddening bliss. She glanced down and watched as he mirrored the movements of his tongue with the frantic pumping of his hand. The sight nearly threw her over the edge.

"Please," she moaned.

A smile played on his lips as he looked up at her, letting his thumb continue his work slowly, not giving her the chance to reach her peak before they could climb together. Normally, giving him such satisfaction would drive her insane, but for some reason, she didn't mind being putty in his hands.

"Please, what," he whispered, kissing her hipbones.

All she could do was moan, over and over as he gorgeously stroked her. His abilities were a surprise but his talent for teasing was not.

"Don't whine, Fern. I need you to use your words."

"Fuck me," she begged. "Please, fuck me…oh fuck."

He chuckled darkly and rubbed her clit a few more times. Unbelievably, she would've begged more, and more until her throat was raw but he obliged her and began kissing up her stomach. He stopped teasing then, fully standing to pin her against the wall. His erection dug into her stomach, it alone, made her ache.

"Don't move," he whispered, hooking his arm underneath her leg, and pressing it against the wall, to open her up.

They moaned in tandem as he bucked forward and teased her slit with the head of his shaft. He leaned forward and groaned into her chest to keep from pushing into her fully.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she panted.

"Good girls shouldn't say things like that," he cooed, teasing her entrance.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, too drunk on the feeling of him kissing her neck to really focus on giving a coherent answer.

"Maybe you aren't a good girl, then," he teased.

"M'not," she moaned.

He stopped moving then and loomed over her, coming so close to her face that she wondered if he was going to kiss her.

"What are you?"

"Whore," she moaned, moving her hips against the tip of him.

"Wrong answer, Fern."

She searched his expression for the right answer but it only took seconds to see the territorial, and possessive glimmer in his eye.

"Yours…I'm yours — Fred please."

He groaned and bit at her collarbone. "Fuck," he sighed. "Mine. You're mine."

Slowly, the large redhead began pressing himself through her folds. She gasped and braced her hands against his shoulders. He was much larger than anyone else she'd been with. It stung like it was her first time but as he bottomed out inside of her, he hit something she hadn't even known was there. They moaned quietly in tandem as he pulled out and plunged into her again, faster this time.

"Fucking hell," Fred moaned, grabbing her wrists and pressing them against the wall above her head.

"Keep. Your. Hands. There," he commanded with each stroke.

Surely, she looked messy and desperate but for some reason, she liked it. She liked having him smugly in control of her, especially when he'd let her pretend to be in control earlier. The little game made her skin burn and body twitch. He wanted to touch her, tell her what to do, reward her for being good. She felt wanted in a way that was utterly animalistic and unescapable.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

She did as she was told, gladly sticking her tongue out like she had when he'd put his thumb in her mouth. He seemed to like that image because he released her wrists and hastily grabbed her neck.

She kept eye contact and moaned when he pressed his thumb against her tongue again. Feeling bold, she wrapped her lips around the long finger and sucked on it, swirling her tongue around the top as if it was him. He hissed and pumped into her faster.

"You look so pretty with my finger in your mouth, Fern," he purred between labored breaths.

She went slack-jawed as he filled her up over and over again in an unrelenting rhythm. He slid his thumb to the back of her throat and let drool slide down her chin.

"Fuck, I could look at you like this forever," he sighed.

He thrust into her frantically. A moan ripped through her chest as the thumb on her tongue slid down her body and began toying wither her clit.

Despite coming undone himself, Fred chuckled and kissed her chin, absorbing her failed attempts at keeping quiet. "And I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't," she gasped. "But choke me when I cum."

"Fuck," he groaned, furrowing his brow with concentration.

Five more thrusts and she was shaking underneath him.

Her orgasm ripped through her body, intense and hungry for every ounce of control that she had left. Long, strong fingers wrapped around her throat, as requested, and squeezed just enough to give her a taste of oblivion.

The world went dark except for excruciating pleasure pricking every nerve in her body. There weren't words to describe it and she couldn't tell if Fred being the one to give her otherworldly leisure was a good or bad thing.

She was briefly aware of Fred's own orgasm filling her up and seeping from between her legs as she basked in the glow of the high and then begrudgingly came back to reality.

Her surroundings came back into focus and Fred's grip on her loosened. She blinked slowly and leaned her bodyweight fully against the wall. All her energy had been spent but Fred didn't seem to particularly care, or agree.

He looked at her hungrily, like one round wasn't enough. Despite their aversion to intimacy, he brought their forehands together. His mouth twitched and she wasn't sure if he was going to speak or try and kiss her. Would she let him? She half thought of kissing him first or perhaps begging him to lick himself off of the inside of her thighs but a voice down the hall ripped her from the idea.

They jumped and stared at each other wide-eyed and panicked.

Not another fucking detention, she thought.

He placed her leg back on the floor and zipped his pants before ducking out of the alcove to take in the impending doom.

"Fuck," she hissed, pulling her robe tight and picking her clothes up from the floor.

They peeked around the corner together, assessing how much time they had until the prefects entered the corridor.

"Come on," Fred whispered suddenly, wrapping his hand around her wrist and tugging her along behind him.

She had no time to assess the distance or come up with a plan before Fred sprinted down the hall, around the corner, and to a tapestry hanging on the wall. She nearly yelled at him about his terrible hiding spot choice but he surprised her, and lifted it, to reveal an odd-looking door she didn't recognize. To her surprised, it opened with ease, and he led her through the threshold, into a dark hall.

She hissed at him to slow down but besides the tight grip on her hand, he didn't even look like he remembered she was there. He hastily led her up a rickety wooden staircase, through another door at the back of a classroom, and then suddenly, she was at the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower.

She blinked and then did a double-take. By the time her mind registered what had happened, Fred was already walking away.

"How did you do that," she whispered, still staring in awe at her front door.

"Are you going to invite me in," he asked from behind her.

She spun around to stare at the smug wizard who was already halfway through another secret door.

"Not a chance in hell, you twat," she hissed.

"Till next time, then, darling," he cooed, shooting her a wink.

"There won't be — "

But the wooden door slammed closed and she was left alone in the dark hallway.

Her lips didn't stop tingling for nearly a week.

Classes were a blur. Evenings in the library were spent watching her back for Fred to appear through a hidden entrance. Meals became stressful hours, avoiding his intense gaze. Daisy considered sending her to the infirmary but she kept brushing her off, citing that stress about exams before Christmas break was to blame.

Despite her best efforts, it seemed that no matter where she turned or hid, he appeared out of nowhere. When she sat at the Ravenclaw table, his eyes were already attached to her. If she was going down a set of stairs, he was coming up, watching her all the way. If she was walking out of a classroom, he was waiting for someone else, or on his way in. The worst part was that despite becoming her shadow, he always kept his distance and didn't say a word.

She thought that maybe he wanted to keep their psychotic game of cat and mouse going but she sure as hell wasn't going to ask him. She'd seen how he attached himself to girls before, and even though this looked different, felt different, she hated him and was not going to become some hopeless romantic because of a little attention.

He could have her regret, but that was it.

Regret.

He seemed infatuated or at least intrigued but all she could feel was deep, burning, regret.

Part of her wished she would've told him to bugger off last week. The other part, however, wanted to succumb to their standoff first, break into the Gryffindor dorms and throw herself at the insatiable redhead.

Fern stared at her reflection in the Ravenclaw common room windows, watching the sunset over the black lake. The red hue on her cheeks became visible, even bounced off of the glass and tore her away from the lustful thoughts.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass.

Why him, of all people?

Why did it have to be him?

Smug. Arrogant. Annoying.

She glanced over her shoulder and around the common room.

There were half a dozen boys in her own house that were good-looking, handsome even, and yet, utterly uninspiring.

The images of Fred with his hands up her robe morphed into the other options.

Clumsy. Apathetic. Rubbish.

They'd call her sweet names and chase her pleasure well enough but she craved more.

Passion, she realized. It was his passion. And possessiveness.

He didn't just want sex, he wanted her.

On his knees in a hall like a devotee in front of a prophet.

A mortal at the fountain of youth.

Saints at the gates of heaven.

Her face grew hot again.

Thankfully no one noticed.

Laughter erupted around her, making her jump. She turned to glare but other studying upperclassmen quieted the group of giggling first years before she even got the chance. Their faces grew disgruntled and upset, but they'd get used to the shrewdness eventually.

Other common rooms she'd been in were bustling and or at least had an air of relaxation about them, even Slytherin. But here, in the pinnacle of knowledge and learning, with certitude and plenty of stubbornness, friendliness was hard to come by. It wasn't their fault, of course, they'd been indoctrinated into a house known for intelligence and then pit against each other for top of the class, prefect positions, and house points. The situation bred competitiveness, and so, distrust thrived. Ravenclaws cultivated their friendships behind closed doors where alliances were not so obvious and couldn't be weaponized. She didn't mind though. It just meant that, unlike other common room spaces, she was relatively safe from confrontation and socializing out here in the open.

She watched the first years continue to glare around the room and then scanned it herself. There seemed to be nothing exciting going on, so she collected her abandoned homework and almost resigned to her room for the evening when two quiet voices pulled at her ear.

Padma and Mandy, huddled close and whispering, walked swiftly towards the girl's dormitories. They didn't notice her lurking on the sill so she leaned over as they passed, just coming close enough to make out the words, "meeting," and "tomorrow." Her heart leaped at the reminder of the seventh-floor mystery. Her run-ins with a certain annoying redhead had nearly wiped her memory clean of the real problem at hand - Neville.

She stared at her reflection once more, debating on whether or not she should try to figure out what was going on once and for all. He'd told her that she wasn't welcome but…that had never stopped her before.

The girls shut the dorm doors but Fern was hot on their trail, having made her mind up.

"Mandy," she hissed before they made it into their room.

The girls turned around, sporting their usual exuberant smiles. When they graduated, the energy levels in Ravenclaw would diminish by at least 50%.

"Hi, Fern," they sang in unison.

She greeted them pleasantly, hoping their guards were down. Besides the Weasley twins, they were the only ones she knew who might have a clue about what Neville was up to. This was her only shot.

"Sorry to do this out in the open," she whispered, gaining more invested looks. "But Nev forgot to tell me what time we were all meeting tomorrow."

She held her breath, waiting for their skepticism, rejection, accusation, or anything that would thwart her risky plan. She realized in the few seconds that it took for either girl to speak, that she hadn't thought this through at all and was a complete and total idiot.

"What," Mandy breathed, looking quite shocked.

If it was a harmless study group then there was no harm done, but if it was something else, actually worth her skepticism, then she had to at least try.

"Well he only just told me that I should…join you all but —I mean you know him, of course, he forgot to tell me the time."

Shock dissolved to joy and then it was her turn to be surprised by their blinding smiles and bright eyes.

"You're really going join," Padma chirped excitedly.

Fern nodded, eyeing them critically, and wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

Padma leaned forward and shook her shoulder. "Neville was so sure you'd hate him for being a part of it. How daft!"

Her mind worked over the few, vague choices she had remaining.

"Well…it seemed like the right thing to do," she responded with confidence. "And he asked so…"

"Bloody hell, Nev was honestly at his whits end about it — "

Mandy shushed her friend. "Oh never mind that! Welcome, welcome!"

Fern nodded and smiled, hoping for more information.

"I can't say it's terribly fun, realizing how ill-prepared we are to fight Death Eaters and all that but Harry's a great teacher!"

Her jaw clicked and her vision was red with fury.

Idiots.

"Do you remember what we're working on tomorrow," Mandy asked, turning to Padma.

"Levicorpus? I don't know, something that'll scare the shit out of everyone."

"Like always," Mandy responded, nodding in thought. "But anyway, I think it's 6:30 in the evening."

Useless, unthinking, idiots.

"The usual place?" Fern's teeth slotted together sharply with a frustrated clack.

Mandy nodded. "It'll be brill to have you!"

They flitted into their room, talking happily about how much of a worrywart her brother was. And then she was alone in the corridor, staring out the blazing window at the end of the hall.

Worried for good reason she thought, turning on her heel and sprinting towards the Fat Lady.

Images of Neville in a hospital bed next to their parents plagued her thoughts as she crossed the castle. He'd told her it was nothing but he was in some sort of training camp for Potter's next mission. They'd been back at school for months and he never thought to mention that he was preparing to risk his life. Padma said he was afraid for her to know. She blinked back angry tears.

He was right to be afraid.

A group of Gryffindors was entering when she was a few feet away so she sped up and caught the portrait before it closed.

"Neville Longbottom," she yelled, stomping into the common room and looking around wildly.

A chorus of yells and shushing followed her but she didn't care. The auburn and yellow room was packed to the brim with wide-eyed Gryffindors. Good, she thought, someone will give him up.

She shoved a few kids out of the way but didn't see Neville's hunched posture or dark hair so she made a b-line for the boy's dormitory.

"Neville Longbottom," she yelled again, banging on the door.

"Bloody hell, woman. What are you screaming for?"

Of course.

Fred stood at the base of the stone steps behind her, looking annoyingly amused at her angry state. He'd watched her all week, so it was no surprise that he'd be present for her finest moment.

"Where is my brother," she hissed, stomping down towards him, unleashing hell.

"Have you hit your head?"

"Get out of my fucking way."

He did the opposite, of course, and crossed his arms before casually leaning against the stone threshold.

"You're a madwoman," he laughed.

Her hand shot out, reaching for any part of him she could grab. He didn't even try to move as she bunched the collar of his sweater into a fist.

"I was right about you," she spat, yanking him as hard as she could. "You're corrupting him. You and your fucking club."

His eyes went wide but she didn't have time to hear his response or even register his reaction when movement out of the corner of her eye drew all of her attention.

A dark-haired boy, clutching a plant rushed out from behind a column.

"Neville, get back here," she yelled again, shoving a gaping Fred out of the way.

Her brother darted for the portrait and made it down one flight of the moving stairs and into an empty sixth-floor hallway before she caught up with him.

"Astronomy homework?"

He turned and backed away into a wall, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"Oh, hi Fern," he stammered, avoiding eye contact.

"Were you ever going to tell me what you were really doing?"

The look on his face was of pure terror but she didn't care. He was going to get himself killed. She'd rather he be scared of her, than face the actual evils of the real world. Her fury was nothing compared to theirs.

"I…I…I was just waiting for the right time — I knew you'd be angry."

"Angry? I'm beyond that, Nev. I am fucking livid," she hissed, stepping closer.

"Oi!"

She whirled around, ready to hex whoever was interrupting the family moment. Fred appeared from the stairwell, jogging a little like her brother needed saving. How could he not see that she was saving Neville from him and his merry band of idiots?

"You," she raged. "Fuck off."

He stopped in his tracks and threw his hands up in surrender. A smile played on his lips until he took in the look on her face, which was hopefully radiating pure murder.

"Fern, don't do this here — "

"You have done enough," she snarled. "Leave."

He took a step closer, glancing around for an audience.

"Listen, just pipe down and — "

"FUCK OFF!"

Fred stumbled back a bit and shot a questionable look at Neville over her shoulder.

"It's fine," her brother whispered, waving his friend off.

The redhead shot her another pleading look but she turned around before he took the chance to open his meddling mouth again and waited until she heard his retreating footsteps to continue.

"Death Eaters? Have you gone mad?"

Neville's face grew bright red. "I was going to tell you…"

"Tell. Me. Now."

She felt terrible but her shy little brother folded immediately. He told her about the return of you-know-who, Harry Potters's paranoia, and the group's gripe with Defense Against the Dark Arts and Umbridge. It was a task and a half but she stayed quiet when he told her about everyone involved and how often they practiced forbidden hexes and spells. He didn't look her in the eye until the story was finished, and she was seething.

"You're playing at war, Nev."

His eyes went wide and she knew they were in for a fight.

"We are practicing for war. Which is coming, by the way. Umbridge isn't teaching us anything, Fern so what do you expect me to do?"

"Go to classes and not get mixed up in Potter's scheme!"

"It's not a scheme, it's — it's something real."

"Yeah, real fucking stupid."

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Why? Because I value my life? Because I'm not willing to lie down in front of the first kid with a hero complex and a nice speech, who tells me that I can do something more?"

"Harry's not like that! He fought you-know-who last year and he says that — bad things will happen if we aren't prepared for what's coming. He's just trying to help."

"I don't doubt that but just because he wants to fight … doesn't mean you have to."

He hung his head again, going back to the sheepish boy she thought she knew. When did he start having dreams of glory?

"I don't have to but…I want to because we're a team — an army, so we'll fight together."

Neville looked back up, staring at her with anxious eyes and a broken expression but despite that, she could suddenly see the backbone of gold he'd developed somewhere in the last few years in Gryffindor.

"They can fight without you — they will fight without you because I forbid you to be any part of it."

It was harsh, controlling, and mean, all of the things he scolded her about, but this was about his safety, not her likability. If he was gold, she was fire.

"You — you can't do that. You're not my — "

"Not who," she interrupted harshly. "Not Mum?"

A tear fell and her anger finally boiled over.

"Where is your mum, Nev? Where is our mum?"

Neville glanced around the hall for help but there was no saving him. The next time she saw Potter, she was going to do the dark lord a favor and kill him herself.

"Oh that's right," she seethed. "She's half-dead in a hospital because she got mixed up in someone else's war. She chose fighting and glory over us — over family and if you want to do the same then fine. I look forward to holding your fucking hand when you're admitted to St. Mungo's right next to our brave mum and dad! Join the legacy of dead heroes for all I care —"

Her next words were knocked out of her mouth as strong arms swept her off of her feet.

"Alright, I think we've heard enough outta you," Fred bellowed, swinging her over his shoulder. "Time to calm down."

She fought to breathe as his shoulder made contact with her stomach.

"I told you to fuck off," she screeched, clawing at him to break free.

He instantly began walking and she could see them passing Neville in her peripheral.

"Longbottom, get outta here, I got her," Fred commanded, not loosening his grip, despite her struggle.

"Put me down, asshole!"

She heard Neville follow them for a moment to say "Don't be mad," and then scurry off towards safety.

Traitor.

Her blood boiled, bringing her beyond rationality, not that she had much left, to begin with. All she could do was snarl in response.

Fred didn't seem to care as he carried her through a threshold before setting her down inside of a dark, empty classroom.

Fuming, she shoved him against the closed door and screamed.

"GET OFF! Why can't anyone just listen to me? "

"Easy there, crazy," he mumbled, holding his hands up in surrender again.

His face was stoic but she could still see the faint smirk permanently stamped on his face behind the air of seriousness. It fueled her anger even more. He could take nothing seriously and now he was interfering with her family.

"I'm not fucking crazy. I just care about my little brother and you're getting in the way," she seethed, stalking away from him, deeper into the maze of desks, desperately looking for another exit.

"Why are you so upset," he called, somewhat accusingly. "Shouldn't you be proud? Following in footsteps or whatever."

Idiots, idiots, idiots. She whipped around to glare at the absolute idiot.

He was oblivious to risk because he was oblivious to suffering. Every foolhardy mission that Potter and the lot of them had attempted, had a happy ending, so far. They'd gotten lucky, but they were arrogant to think that fate would always be on their side. She'd thought that of all people, the boy who lived knew the possible consequences but apparently, he had nothing left to lose.

She'd kill him for gambling with her brother's life. Maybe she'd maim Fred just to drive home her point.

"Footsteps," she repeated quietly, moving to stand in front of him. "Like a cow to slaughter. He called you all an army, Fred!"

"Well, maybe we are," he shrugged.

"An army of children," she bellowed, showing his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and towered over her, daring her to do it again.

"Not true, I'm 18," he smirked. "So is George."

"You're an imbecile," she sneered, moving towards the door.

He stepped in front of her and locked it.

"Takes one, darling," he laughed.

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Don't call me that!"

"You are lashing out at me, Fern, but I'm not the reason you're angry," he scolded, suddenly more serious than she'd ever seen him.

"Aren't you? You're just letting it happen! You could've talked Potter out of it or put your foot down as the only adult in the room, but no! You chose to go along with the delusions of a 15-year-old, so congrats, your complacency is going to get children killed by the most prolific killer of all time."

He looked taken aback for a moment and then anger burst behind his amber eyes. She didn't flinch when he lunged forward to get in her face.

"What would you have us do? Nothing? You know what's out there Fern, better than anyone! Bloody hell, I — I mean I always thought that at least one of you Longbottom's had your parent's bravery but I never thought it'd end up being Neville!"

"Don't talk about my parents, and don't call me a coward!"

"Then stop being one," he roared. "For as long as I have known you, you've been a bossy, antagonizing, contrarian. You'll stare down me, George, Malfoy, professors, anyone who crosses you! I've never even seen you pause before launching an attack! What's different about this?"

She backed away from him, not out of fear or offense but because she could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it was suddenly too much of a reminder about his hands on her body, and his mouth between her legs.

"Bloody hell, are you hearing yourself," she groaned. "The difference is that I don't share your death wish! If you want to sacrifice yourself and your whole family to you-know-who, then that is your fucking business but I won't let you put my brother in harm's way!"

"Sacrifice my family," he repeated, dumbfounded and angry.

"Yes," she spat. "Some big brother you are, sending them to an early grave."

His nostrils flared and he brought them closer together.

"Watch your fucking mouth," Fred hissed.

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. His bared teeth were so close, she thought that if she had less of a backbone, she might've swooned.

They were screaming about death, family, and dignity so — why did she want to kiss him?

"Don't fucking curse at me, asshole!"

Why did she want to kill him?

He stepped closer. "If you weren't such a fucking bitch — "

She supposed he deserved it but there was still a pang of guilt as her hand made contact with his cheekbone. It was strangely smooth, and cold, almost like marble. She thought he'd back away or clutch his face and yell but he didn't give her a moment to continue the thought before grabbing both her wrists and pinning her to the top of a desk.