#I really must thank my sleeping mind again for gracing me with the thought of Sinister -

[sysig]

Stupid sexy Narrator >:0 (Patreon)

[bigtedbear]

“ 𝐥’𝐚𝗺𝗼𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞 𝗺𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭: 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝗼 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝗼𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝗼 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝗼𝐟𝐟

content warning: quite literally no warnings, married life, two old men, complete tooth-rotting fluff, male reader, dragon male reader, this is a part two, large family, a lot of sisters, most of this is character building, can they kiss already

Part 1 here: " serein "

" welcome back, caller @juiceedapplee! connecting your line as we speak! "

"Cornelia, do you happen to know where the Iudex has snuck off to? He promised he would meet with me for lunch."

You felt slightly bad when one of the many assistants around his office nearly dropped the stack of papers she'd been carrying and fumbled to stand at full attention. One of the many things the assistants around the building had yet to get used to; your near silent footsteps when you loitered around your husband's office.

Just as quickly as she nearly dropped her papers, you were lunging forward to support the back of the stack with your palms. She stuttered over her tongue for a moment, seemingly knotting it up in the process. It took her a second before she finally managed to spit out a quiet, "I believe his grace was headed down to the gardens, I overhead him mentioning it to Sedene around the time when he usually takes his lunchbreak."

There was a pause before you huffed out of your nose indignantly. "Without me? He knows I love lunch in the gardens." You helped her set down her stack of papers on her desk before giving her a quiet nod, "Thank you, Cornelia, tell Eunomia that I'll be joining him. I'll need to cancel my prior arrangements at the Opera Epiclese."

She nodded quickly, though, it wasn't as though you saw her nod with how quickly you turned on your heel to immediately head towards the residential wing again.

Before the attendant at the door could so much as give you a greeting bow, the doors were flung open as you rushed out into the endless pockets of color. "Neuvillette!"

It seemed even your own husband was surprised you'd showed up based on the expression stretching across his formerly blank face. He blinked a few times as you stalked towards the table. "You scoundrel, don't tell me you were trying to get out of having lunch with me!"

He blinked a few more times before the cup of tea he was nursing was set back down on the table, "I apologize, my dear, it seems our arrangements slipped my mind."

You huffed again, setting your arms on the back of his chair. "This simply won't do, as the Iudex you must always remember your promises." You tapped your finger on the wooden frame, tail haphazardly swinging back and forth by your ankles. "You even promised you'd set aside an entire hour to spend with me today."

He hummed again, leaning his head back onto your lower stomach. With his eyes closed, he pondered absentmindedly to no one in particular, "Did I really?"

You nodded eagerly, punctuating it with a verbal hum of agreement. "I remember specifically that you promised me because I had something I needed to tell you."

His brow raised curiously, eyes finally peeling open when you moved your hands tenderly to cup his shoulders. "Oh? Did you mention that you had something you needed to tell me when I promised you?"

"No," You squeezed his collarbones before retreating from his chair. There was a small bit of glee swirling at the bottom of your stomach as you watched him chase after your hands subconsciously. As you sat yourself down in the chair across from him, you added, "I thought it'd be best if I simply told you over lunch."

The way his eyebrows twitched indicated his vested interest in the matter. Instead of picking up his cup of tea again, his hand reached for a fork. "Really? Is it something you couldn't have shared while the two of us readied ourselves for sleep?"

You shook your head, reaching across the table to set out your own porcelain. With the saucer and teacup now making themselves at home in their appropriate spots in front of you, your other hand grasped the handle of the teapot. "No, I was afraid you would be far too tired to grasp what I was saying."

He gave a reserved smile in response, watching your wrist tilt at the perfect angle to pour your own serving of tea. "Surely I'm not as incapable as you say when I return home, am I?"

Your own grin crept up towards your ears cheekily, a terribly concealed mirth in your voice when you responded, "Oh please, you might as well be deaf when you get home. After hours of listening to everyone but your dear husband, you barely remember to say goodnight half the time."

You took satisfaction in the deep rumble emanating from his chest in response, "You're exaggerating."

You snickered at him in response, "Am not!" You plucked one of the many food choices laid out on a platter between the two of you off the plate and brought it to your lips. Before finally allowing yourself to indulge in it's flavors, you tacked on a quick, "Just last week before your trial presiding over the one couple who couldn't seem to keep their sticky fingers off their neighbor's jewelry, you forgot to give me a kiss goodnight."

He pursed his lips, his hand coming to rest under his chin thoughtfully for a moment.

You shook your head, "That's completely besides the point." You wiped the crumbs from your lip with your pocket square handkerchief, "I wanted to tell you I'll be taking a trip out of the capital."

He titled his head to the side lightly, "I don't see why you would need to alert me that you're leaving the Court, it seems every other day you're making a trip to Poisson to aide in the Spina de Rosula's operations."

You nodded, "While that may be true, I'm not just going to be making a quick stop into Rosula headquarters.

...I've decided I'm going to be visiting my family in the Western Slopes of Mont Automnequi."

He choked on his tea, automatically bringing a fist to pound on his chest.

You automatically stood up, looming over the table as you went to thump on his back to get whatever was lodged in his throat to clear out.

However, in response, he held up his other hand as though to stop you. When he finally managed to stop coughing, he immediately began the questioning, "What exactly prompted this sudden need to visit your family again? I understand that you're close with your sisters, but I remember you swore you wouldn't see your parents faces unless absolutely necessary again."

You snapped your fingers pointedly, "Exactly why I must visit this weekend!" You ignored the scandalized noise from your husband's throat as you continued. "My parents will be away from home to partake in a local farmer's market in a nearby town. It'll be one of the only chances I have to see my sisters without the interference of either of them."

It was as though he deflated into his seat at the mention of you leaving for so long so soon. "Surely, they'll be gone for long enough you can push the trip back. If you're truly going to be leaving for so long, I must get in as much time with you as possible."

You shook your head, "Only this weekend. They are adamant that my younger sisters not be expected to tend to any of their crops. They'll only allow Helene and Elise to work the fields and the two of them can only be expected to handle themselves for so long when they've never been forced to work the fields before."

He pursed his lips, crossing his arms, "Well, have you considered bringing your sisters to the Court of Fontaine instead?"

"What in the world are you-"

"Move, Helene, I wish to see the children."

In all of her shock, your twin sister didn't put up any fuss as you pushed her aside in favor of invading the walls of your family home. The small cramped hallway welcomed you, but a little bit too snugly. Your antlers had grown a couple inches since you'd last been inside, so had you funnily enough.

"Odette, Aurelie, Evangeline!"

You crouched to make yourself fit underneath the doorway to the main den, finally standing tall and proud in the main living room where the large family of eight you woke up to every morning often shared breakfast. It didn't take long before you heard a few pairs of footsteps begin to clamber down the staircase.

"Big brother's home!"

A head of pure platinum blonde hair bestowed by your mother's angelic genes was the first to bash itself into your stomach, a groan filling the room as your arms wrapped themselves snug around her little head to get the mini daggers stemmed from her temples off your stomach. Despite looking like a carbon copy of your mother, you sister inherited your father's short, stumpy, bull-like horns that curled forward towards her forehead.

You flicked her on the forehead playfully while your youngest sister all but danced at your heels and the third eldest, just barely brushing past the age of a young lady, stood and watched from the bottom of the stairs. "You're far too tall to be Odette, what did you do with my precious little sister?"

A gleeful giggle lit up the room as she squeezed her arms around your much bigger form. "Don't be silly, it's still me!"

Your own joyful laughter chimed like a bell in tandem with hers. She was still just barely young enough that you could lug her around like a baby. The fact brought a sad twinge to your heart, but instead of settling on it, you hooked your arms under her shoulders and twirled around a big circle in the air.

Evangeline, the baby of the family, tugged impatiently at the leg of your far too luxurious pants. "Me too! Me too!"

She looked similar to yourself and your father, the same hair and a similar build to all those that descended from his half of the family. The two big differences stemmed from her brilliant green eyes and the big antlers that were already growing from the crown of her head. As you set down Odette, you tapped your own antlers while you examined her. "Now look at those horns! Soon enough, they'll be even bigger than mine!"

Her own snickers highlighted the room when you gave into her requests for a turn spinning around in the air, setting her back on the solid ground after giving her a big bear hug.

Evangeline, when you left, had just been barely old enough to remember you as her older brother. She had been four, now, just barely hitting her ninth birthday. Odette had only been six, now eleven.

Then, there was Aurelie.

You turned to her standing at the bottom of the stairway. You might've expected her to have been joyful to see you again, but instead of a happy smile, there was a tight-lipped frown. She had the same color hair and eyes as yourself, your dad's horns, and a much more liberal tongue than your parents had ever cared for. Sheepishly, you opened up your arms in case she might've wanted a hug.

Instead of a hug, she offered an unforgiving punch to your bicep. You winced, only to then be taken off guard by her embrace. She'd been eleven when you'd left, now hitting the pivotal age of 16.

You cocked your head to the side, looking down at where she was burying her own bull-horns in your chest. "I missed you too?"

She clicked her tongue in response, muffled by the fluffy fabric of your cravat in her face, "You're an asshole for not visiting sooner, you know that, right?"

You whistled, "Dad would have your head for swearing. That isn't very ladylike, now is it?"

She pounded her fist on your chest again, smiling when you grunted in acknowledgement, "I should have your head for abandoning me for some rich snob in the capital, besides mom and dad aren't home."

"Hey, it wasn't even my decision," You pulled back from her hug to flick her on the forehead, "And I'll have you know Neuvillette is not a snob."

She rubbed the spot on her head, letting go of your plentiful coat to nurse the new red mark. You gave her one last squeeze before turning your attention back to your much younger, much more hyperactive, little siblings. Their first question was one that had you raising your eyebrows.

"Who's Neuvillette?"

You pursed your lips, turning to look at your twin sister who had finally trailed into the den after you. She shrugged sheepishly in response, "Mom and dad said it'd be best not to say anything to them."

You hummed, crossing your arms. When you finally settled on an answer, you held Odette's hand in yours, the other intertwining fingers with Evangeline, "Well, you know how in all your storybooks there's always a prince to save the princess from her tower or rescue her from the mighty, fearsome, and evil dragon?"

Both little girls nodded their head.

"Let's say I'm the princess," your smile grew when you heard their mischievous laughter, "and our parents are the evil stepmother that made me work all day in the fields so they could go and spend all their time doing other things."

Evangeline raised her hand, you nodded for her to ask her question, "Can we put you in a dress?"

Your twin sister cackled from the doorway. "HAH!"

Your cheeks flushed pink, "Maybe another time, Evangeline." You cleared your throat, "Anyways, so our parents are the evil step parents in the storybook, right?"

The two little girls nodded again.

"I get kidnapped by these evil people that want to hurt me cause I'm a dragon! " You pulled your hand from your sister's to place it dramatically on your forehead, "Even worse, our poor parents don't even know because they're busy doing other things"

There was an audible gasp between the two of them. This time, Odette interrupted without prompting, "If mom and dad didn't know you were gone, how did you manage to get away from them?"

You grinned, "That's where Neuvillette comes in!" You put your hand over your heart, playing up the dramatics, "There I was, being tortured over and over by these terrible people, and then, suddenly a beautiful prince shows up and he beats up all the bad guys!"

Evangeline immediately slapped her smaller hand on top of yours, shaking them back and forth excitedly, "And then you guys kissed and got married!"

You snapped your fingers, your own laugh filling the air, "Exactly!"

Odette frowned, "You got married without us?" She paused again, putting her free hand on her chin, "Wait, since you're the princess, did you wear the wedding dress or did Neuvillette?"

You shook your head, "Sadly, neither of us got to wear a big wedding gown that night. We both wore suits." You paused for a moment, seemingly thinking something over.

"Well, would either of you be interested in meeting him? I might be able to convince him to wear a wedding dress."

“Are you Monsieur Prince Charming? How come you didn't buy our big brother a nice wedding dress?"

Before Evangeline could say anything else further incriminating, you shushed her, "As sure as I am that you have a lot of questions for Neuvillette, you can ask them later. We have a lot we planned to do today and you need to settle into your rooms before we head out."

Before you could convince the two girls to leave, Neuvillette asked aloud curiously, "A wedding dress?"

Odette nodded quickly, "Yeah, if you were going to marry him without us there, you should've at least made sure that he looked pretty!"

Your face lit up a stark claret. Instead of answering, you cleared your throat loudly and motioned towards the large doorway connecting to the residential area of the building, "Come, come, Odette, Evangeline, you'll be rooming together in a bedroom next to Helene." You placed your hand on the small of either girl's back, silently pleading with your twin sister to bail you out of this little situation. From across the room, she watched silently. She was more than amused, only breaking her silence to laugh behind her finest pair of gloves. The pure white fabric seemed to mock the fact that you were being teased over a wedding dress.

With a fake sincerity dripping in her every move, she went to pick up the pitifully small bags that had been packed for their week-long stay in the Palais Mermonia. However, she was quickly stopped by a pair of attendants scrambling to pick them up for her. More surprised than anything, she stopped in her tracks and simply let them handle the group's luggage for them. She called your name in astonishment, "I dare say you're living the easy life, you don't have to so much as lift a finger anymore, do you? I remember having to get you to sit down next to the tub so I could pick clumps of dirt out of your hair when we were still-"

"Helene!" you hissed between gritted teeth, unable to hide the whine forcing the end of your statement to trail up in pitch.

She held her hands up in surrender, her heeled boots clicking against the tiled floors in tandem with the near-silent snickering. "Yes, yes, I suppose I can hold my tongue for your sake. Now, which way are we headed? Only just walking into the place makes me feel like I'm royalty, I simply cannot wait to see the bed chambers!"

Neuvillette could only watch on in quiet bewilderment as you walked your two younger sisters towards their guest room. There was a quiet patience in the way you presented yourself as they hung off of you. Even when they asked to be picked up, without a complaint you slung Evangeline onto your shoulders and silently put up with her tugging on your antlers while she all but squealed in delight at the beautiful, intricate tile and marble works.

It took Aurelie clearing her own throat before Neuvillette seemed to snap out of his daze. "It's a pleasure to meet you Monsieur Neuvillette, I'm Aurelie, fourth eldest of the family. It is a pleasure to call myself an in-law to the well-respected Iudex of Fontaine."

It took a moment to recompose himself, eyes still locked on your long gone frame disappearing behind the large doors. "Ah, truly, the pleasure is all mine. I've long anticipated meeting the newest extension of my own family."

Elise bowed her read respectfully, "I apologize if we aren't as informed in etiquette as you expected. I'm afraid we are only able to pick up so many manners when we live so far away from the Court."

He shook his head, planting the same polite smile on his face as he motioned for her to lift her head again, "You have been more than polite, there is nothing to be afraid of. After all, we are family, treat as you would your brother." He give a small chuckle, "I'm simply surprised to see my husband so spirited."

Aurelie immediately raised a brow, "Really? We've always joked that he's more like the family dog than our brother."

Without missing a beat, Elise swatted her younger sister up the backside of the head. "Aurelia, manners."

Despite having gotten in trouble with her older sister already for not holding her tongue, she held the back of her head bitterly, sputtering out a quick, "What?! He told us to act like we're family!"

She shook her head, disapprovingly. "That doesn't mean to completely drop all pleasantries-"

Their small bickering was cut off when a low rumble resounded through the room. They both turned to look at the source, quiet as they watched Neuvillette try his best to suppress his laughter behind his hand. "Really? I'm curious, how did he manage to earn that title?"

There was a quiet mirth behind his eyes, both girls holding their tongues quietly.

The younger of the two spoke first, "Well, he's just really cuddly, I guess? He always acted more like a dad than our own dad." She took a step further away from Elise before adding on a pointed, "That and dad always yelled at him for leaving holes in the yard during harvest season."

Her elder sister didn't bother attempting to correct her this time, simply sighing. "Well, I suppose if it's alright, I might as well exchange my own experiences. I was the one that watched him grow up." Aurelie perked up immediately, going to open her mouth, but Elise cut her off once again with a sharp tone and a raised hand, "But, I'll only tell you this once and I'm never going to let another word slip if I hear this gets back to him. He'll have my head."

Aurelia nodded quickly, immediately at attention as a wicked smirk overtook her usually demure features. "You should be excited, these are what we would call insider secrets."

Neuvillette nodded silently, quietly resting a majority of his weight on his cane. He was excited, but he didn't know if it was his place to let that show.

Elise took in a deep breath, before using her hands to smooth out any potential wrinkles in her bodice, "Once, our mother and father forgot my birthday during a terrible harvest season. All of our crops were dying and they ended up going to Poisson to try and find a miracle farmer from Sumeru to fix our calamity." Her own smile grew on her cheeks, "The night they left was the night before my birthday, and since our brother knew our parents didn't have anything planned, he tried to make me a special birthday breakfast but he didn't have any clue how to because he was only seven."

She paused before putting a hand over the bottom half of her face, "He tried to make me a batch of my favorite food, Conch Madeleines, but they ended coming out looking more like little pieces of oddly misshapen beignets." There was a sweet chortle that slipped past her glove, "I obviously knew that he tried to make Conch Madeleines since I had no interest in beignets, but when he swore up and down that they were beignets I didn't have to heart to tell him I knew they weren't."

She sighed, "He truly does care a lot for the people he holds dear, but he's a very proud young man and it often gets in the way of him trying to be sincere. If he'd told me that morning he'd bartered away his favorite toy sword to afford the ingredients, I would've taught him how to make them properly myself and he was more than aware of that. But he refused my help altogether and I ended up having to throw away a lot of the that breakfast because it was undercooked."

Neuvillette hummed, placing a contemplative hand on his chin. "Ah, I see."

Aurelie frowned, "Man, I can't even make fun of him for being a softie because you won't tell me anymore stories like this if I do."

Elise nodded in agreement, "Precisely, now let's go find out where those poor girls are holding him captive." She bowed her head politely once again, curtsying before grabbing her younger sister's hand, "If you'll excuse us Monsieur."

He nodded, "Please, call me Neuvillette. I hope to be viewed as just another member of the family."

"15,000 Mora?! This is insanity, this- this might as well be extortion!"

Your eldest sister sputtered as she stared at the price tag on the dress she was supposed to be trying on. Helene, on the other hand, twirled in her own gown. She looked into the mirror with a dreamy and far off stare. Her eyes were intensely focused on each layer in the train and the way they followed her every movement. "Oh, this dress makes me feel like a princess, are you sure this is truly alright to even be trying on?"

Neuvillette nodded, adjusting the cuffs on his own suit. "As much as I offered to chip in, your brother wouldn't so much as let me bring my wallet. He's insistent on being the one to fund all of this."

Elise bit her bottom lip, examining the price tag again. "Oh, but I couldn't think of asking my baby brother to pay for something so extravagant. I'm sure there are some less expensive options somewhere in this store."

Almost as if you had some kind of sixth sense tingling, you entered the room with your three younger sisters all in their own outfits. "Nonsense, I'm more than privileged enough to spoil you all for the day. Think of it as repayment for not visiting for five years."

Your twin sister had snagged a beautiful emerald green gown, each layer transitioning into a darker green until it gradually faded to black. There were silk shoulder length gloves in black that beautifully complimented her figure. Her bright green eyes stared into the mirror, absolutely in love with the way it hugged her curves and accentuated her waistline.

Your oldest sister chose a much more muted mauve color to try on, having always stated that she loved purple. It was a simple A-line gown with fewer layers and a cute sweetheart neckline that dipped into an ornately embroidered white bodice. "Oh but this money could be going to much better things. What about a new pair of pointe shoes for Odette? Or even new toys for Evangeline? Not to mention, Aurelia is thinking of attending school in the capital-"

You put your hand firmly on her shoulder, "Elise, as much as I love you, you have always been a worrywart. Try on the dress, I am not hurting for money. If you, Helene, Odette, Aurelie, or Eva need anything, you need only write me a letter."

She clutched the ballgown in her hands, still staring at it with a swirling sense of uncertainty.

You sighed, "If not for yourself, do it for me? Maybe I want to see my eldest sister feel beautiful in a new gown for once."

She huffed out of her nose, finally hugging the fabric to her chest with a sense of feminine glee she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a while. "Oh, alright. But consider this the first and last time I try on a gown this expensive."

You cheered along with the rest of your family, Aurelia grabbing her by the hand to lead her into one of the many dressing rooms in case she needed help lacing up her corset. Aurelia herself chose to avoid wearing a dress entirely. Instead, she wore a conservative pant suit with a flashy red coat and a high riding boots the same color.

Neuvillette took the opportunity to watch as you began to spin your younger sister around, Evangeline clapping in glee as she watched the two of you twirl around.

Odette had chosen a pure white gown, graced with white feathers on the front of the dress. She chose to skip gloves and even had a shorter dress to show the length of her slender, toned legs. When she'd been born, your mother had been so insistent she be named after the famed protagonist of Swan Lake she'd nearly divorced your father to ensure her love of dance would be carried on through the family.

Even now, as your family struggled to make ends meet with you gone, you always insisted on sending enough money to your parents to make sure your siblings were cared for. This included money that was specifically allotted to pay for each expensive pair of pointe shoes that your younger sister wore out when she would make the walk to the nearest city to study dance.

A new, pristine white pair of ballet slippers on her feet, Odette laughed with a shy glee as she rehearsed the steps to the Sugarplum Fairy's dance in the middle of the private room you'd rented in the high end boutique. Despite having two left feet yourself, your etiquette lessons finally served you right, allowing you the necessary grace to support her in her turns as you gingerly spun her around in her pirouettes.

Your husband let his posture soften when your youngest sister bowed to indicate the end of her little dance. He clapped politely, "You are a wonderful dancer, Odette."

You nodded, chest puffing out with pride as you rested your hands on her shoulders. "You truly are, mother is always more than proud when she writes of your accomplishments. You will make a wonderful performer when you sign on with a company."

She nodded shyly, suddenly bashful from the attention. It seemed Evangeline noticed the brewing tension in the air as she quickly changed the topic, jumping up and down with a cheerful, "Me next! Me next!"

Neuvillette also couldn't help the smile that rose to his face when you took your nine-year-old sister's hands in your own, twirling her around like a top while she giggled in her baby pink ballgown. The expensive sequins dragged against the beautiful tiled floors, and yet it seemed nobody in the room was able to hear the scraping over the noise of unbridled joy all throughout the room.

You, yourself, were in a new suit that was the same color you always wore. It was a little more extravagant than usual, something Neuvillette chalked up to you wanting to indulge a little bit while your sisters were in town. He had chosen a more conservative, but comfortable blue suit. He stated it would be something to wear around the Palais Mermonia when he didn't have any trials.

You couldn't deny he was still as handsome as ever... or that you were more than happy to gift him this suit.

He couldn't deny the way your sisters seemed to ignite a new spark in your eyes he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing before.

Aurelia and Elise emerged from their dressing chambers after caving and begging Helene for help with the corset. Elise seemed all too eager to hide behind your twin sister, but she couldn't seem to shield away from everyone's prying eyes. Speeding up the process, you yanked her out from her cover and spun her around in the beginning steps of the waltz. Evangeline squealed with glee; Elise all but shrunk in on herself.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she called your name, reprimanding you with a tremble in her tone, "You'll dirty the dress, We haven't bought anything yet-"

You nodded sternly, jokingly of course, "Well then, everyone gather up their things, we'll pay for them now so you can truly enjoy them."

Before she could voice any protest about the mind-boggling amount of money you were about to drop, she couldn't help but close her mouth again when she watched the two youngest girls all but skip towards their respective dressing chambers, all smiles. She only felt further cornered when the older girls did nearly the same, whispers and giggles the entire way.

With a sigh, she went to collect her own clothing in her new expensive dress.

You couldn't help the unadulterated happiness that was written all over your features as you approached your husband, still sitting in the corner observing everyone.

"I apologize if this isn't your scene, love." You gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, "I might be getting a little carried away."

He only smiled in return, hands coming to rest on the lapels of your coat. "On the contrary, I'm more than happy to see you get carried away." He gave a firm tug to straighten out any wrinkles, smoothing them out further with the back of his hand, "I haven't seen you this smitten with anything really ever."

"For being as expensive as it is, you'd think there'd be more of it."

You hid your laugh (and inconsequential agreement) behind your napkin with a cough. Neuvillette himself couldn't help the small smirk that appeared and then disappeared off his face just as quickly as it showed up.

You wiped the smile off your face with your fabric napkin before laying it in your lap once again. "Well, at the fancier upscale places like this, they cook things in small portions but then give you like twenty courses so you can be full and try everything all at once."

Aurelia frowned from where she was sitting, staring down at the small plate with barely anything on it. "That's-" She could feel Elise's hot glare beating down her back, "...not very intuitive. Why have all these small meals that are-" she paused again, thinking hard on her word choice, "-unconventional, when you can order one big one that you know you'll enjoy?"

You simply shrugged back at her, instinctively picking up your salad fork to pick at the green leaves in front of you. It'd been long enough in noble society that it came as muscle memory. You leaned in to whisper in her ear, "If you ask me, that's a much better way of doing it."

Her brows further creased her forehead as she looked down at the copious amounts of silverware set in front of her. Coming from a family that lived in the countryside, especially when that family usually didn't even utilize a knife unless they were cutting thick chunks of meat, she was more than confused. It seemed, so was the rest of your family.

Elise did her best to follow your example and Neuvillette's, picking up the smallest fork to her left. She pointed to the same fork in front of both of the younger girls, "This one, this one should be for salads."

Odette huffed, grasping onto the normal "dinner fork" next to it. "I don't see why I can't use this one."

Helene did her best to mediate, "Well, just think about it like this, if you could chose, you wouldn't want to mix your salad with your meat, right? You'd want to be able to have a fork for each and every food you tried so that then you could taste only that food, right?"

Evangeline was the next one to interject, "Well, I wouldn't want to cause that's a lot more dishes to wash."

Helene bit her bottom lip to stifle her laughter, she couldn't help the shift in her tone when she went to continue in her corrections, "Well, here, you don't need to wash the dishes. We just get to eat without worrying about it."

Odette's frown only deepened, "Well if we don't wash it, someone else will have to wash it, right? Why not just use the same fork so they don't need to wash more dishes than necessary?"

Elise pursed her lips, "That's enough with the questions, from the both of you. This is the proper fork to use, please use it."

Immediately, as soft-hearted as you were, you stepped up to the defense of your younger sisters. "Oh, don't be so harsh on them Elise, they're only girls, let them use whatever fork they want. I didn't invite you to the city to force you to follow rules everywhere you went."

The muscles in her cheek tightened as she held her own fork in her hand, she hadn't even dug into the food yet. "Well, I worry for if one of them manages to find a husband or wife that lives in the court. What if they grow tired of their lack of manners? Oh, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

You rested your hand on top of hers, "If their potential suitors have any problems with their lack of etiquette, they can take it up with their older brother. I will be more than happy to set the record straight."

"You can't really expect that you'll always be there, sometime the girls need to detach themselves-"

You put your hand up, setting down your own salad fork and picking up your dinner fork. You used it to scoop up a healthy amount of salad before shoveling it into your mouth. You chewed slowly, watching the horror spread over your sister's face. You then swallowed your food, "It isn't as big a problem as you're making it out to be." You turned to Neuvillette, "After all, you still love me all the same, don't you?"

He blinked owlishly a few times, his cheeks painting themselves in a soft pink that was barely recognizable under the dimmed candlelight atmosphere of the restaurant. "Oh- Yes, of course I do."

You smiled triumphantly, now opting to comfortably switch to using your dinner fork exclusively. "I rest my case, dear sister." Even if you would have to go back to being called a "cute countryman" for the night, it would be more than worth it if you could spare your sisters the embarrassment of feeling like fools.

Despite your more than clear demonstration, Elise protested once again. "Well, not all nobles are as understanding as Neuvillette. I don't want any chances to be ruined for Evangeline, Aurelia, Helene, or Odette just because they don't know which fork to use."

You hummed, taking another bite of food into your mouth. You wiped your lips with your napkin again, "I find it strange you didn't include yourself in that arrangement. I'm sure the girls can decide for themselves who they want to marry in the future since I've already been married off by mother and father, you only need to worry about the kind of man you wish to marry in the future."

She huffed, simply unable to drop the topic. You could tell there was true irritation dripping through her veins when you heard the audible smack of the end of her tail against the ground. "You know what I mean, I want them to have an easy life. If it means scolding them occasionally, then so be it."

You sighed, setting your fork back down in its appropriate spot. "Elise, as I said before, they're only girls. The moment they go home, the only fork they're going to be using is going to be a dinner fork. They're going to forget all about this little 'lesson'." You added on cautiously, "I wouldn't want any of my sisters to marry a man that would shame them for their less than well-off upbringing. As much as they may love him, if I see him so much as utter a sour word towards any of the three of them, I will have his head."

Neuvillette couldn't help but feel a sense of proud vindication course through his bones as he watched you defend your younger sisters so vehemently. Something in his gut compelled him to do something else to back you up, besides just sit there and nod his head. It would seem like he was too put on the spot to truly agree.

Hesitantly, he laid his salad fork down on the table.

While your sisters couldn't tell what he was doing, your eyebrows raised immediately.

He picked up his dinner fork pointedly, taking a bite of his own portion quietly. After properly chewing and swallowing, he couldn't help the bashful smile adorning his normally composed and refined features as he felt your gaze infinitely soften.

"I don't see any harm in it, let the little ones use whatever utensils make them comfortable. If they need to learn these skills later, I have full confidence they're bright young ladies who will have no problems grasping the concept then."

"Eva, Odette, what are you two doing still awake?"

That was the first thing Neuvillette heard when he was stirred from his sleep. Groggily, his eyes blinked open when he felt two different smaller weights shift onto the mattress. Where you'd previously been laid down, you now sat up with your back pressed against the headboard. Silk pajamas loosely hanging off your shoulders, you held a worn brown storybook in your hands. Evangeline cozied herself up underneath your arm while Odette remained seated in front of you on the bed.

It seemed you weren't quite awake enough to really register that there was a book in your hands, seeing as you stared between the two girls in half-asleep confusion. Neuvillette chose not to interfere in the moment between family, instead he opted to observe as the two girls waited patiently.

"Eva had a nightmare," Odette whispered, resting her palms on top of the aged and well-loved pages, "I tried to read to her, but she said it wasn't the same as when you or Helene did it."

With each little muffled thump of the end of one of their tails on the bedspread, he could see more awareness soak your expression as you absorbed your surroundings. You took a deep breath, rubbing the remaining sleep out of your eyes. He shut his eyes as you scanned over what should've been his sleeping form.

Your voice was lowered to a raspy whisper as you shifted around in the bed, "As much as I would love to read you a bedtime story, Neuvillette is in bed with us. We can go back to your room and read it."

At this his eyes fluttered open again, a sleep-steeped noise resounding from the back of his throat as he pulled himself to sit as well. He curved his back, all but purring at the various cracks the resounded from his spine. "There's no need to leave now, they've already made the trip."

You sighed, voice remaining much quieter than it usually was, "It seems I can never seem to get anything past you, can I?"

He shook his head with a small smile, motioning for you to hand over the brown hard back in your lap. You blinked a few times, not really able to process his request. He reached towards the lamp on the beside table, clicking the soft light on so the letters on the page became legible. You turned open the first page of the book, interpreting it as him gesturing for you to start reading.

With a small huff, he reached forward and set his own palm down on the book, asking for permission to take it from you. This time, Odette chimed in, "Are you going to read for us, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

You blinked a couple times, finally processing what he was implying. You squeezed your little sister with one arm, "Would that help you sleep? If Neuvillette read you a story?" You smiled at her, a little bit too tired to really censor the soft affection all over your face as you attempted to reassure her, "He has a very soothing voice."

Evangeline nodded quickly, just about burying herself in the sleeve of your sleep-shirt. She hung on your bicep like it was a teddy bear. Odette herself laid her head on your thigh, curling up into a little ball on top of your blankets.

Doing your best not to disturb either girls positions, you pushed the book into Neuvillette's waiting palms. He yawned into the back of his hand, doing his best to blink the sleep out of his eyes as he scanned the rather large print on the page.

It was the average children's storybook, more pictures than it was words. Still, he mustered up his best storyteller voice. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. Her name was Snow White."

Neuvillette paused, flipping to the next page. It seemed the sound of the flipping page further pacified the younger girls. "Snow White lived inside of a castle with her father, the King, and her mother, the Queen. But, things were about to change very soon." You remained silent as he flipped to the next page. "Snow White was very young when her mother died, but it was a long time before the King would remarry."

You delicately stroked your finger's across the older of the two's scalp, adding a flippant, "This was because the King loved the Queen so much he couldn't stand to so much as look at another woman.

He smiled as he once again turned the page, basking in the warmth of such a quiet scene. "Well, ultimately, for the good of the kingdom, the King ended up marrying a new woman, a new queen." He put both of his palms on the page of the book, deciding he too could add onto the story himself, "Now, the new queen was very beautiful, but she knew she would never be as beautiful as Snow White." Flipping to the next page of the book, his lavender pupils glazed over the text before adding, "Even though she knew this, she went up to her magic mirror and she asked it, 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?'"

It was a little bit before the two girls found themselves trailing off to the land of dreams. Your voice lowered to a whisper when you realized the two of them had fallen asleep on you, just like they always had at your home in the Western Slopes of Mont Automnequi. "Thank you."

Neuvillette's head tilted to the side curious as he set the book on the nightstand situated on his side of the room. "What for?"

You gestured with your free hand to the two sleeping children on your lap, "With story time, usually, they don't fall asleep this quickly." Your own voice slurred with a tired undercurrent. "I usually get to the end of the story and have to start making some stuff up."

He nodded silently, turning off the lamp at the side of the table off. "Do you need any help laying back down? I wouldn't want you to wake up with a sore back."

You shook your head, whispering back, "They're heavy sleepers once you can actually get them to bed." With this, you scooted around on the plush bed, slinking underneath the covers after carefully maneuvering around your sisters to ensure you wouldn't crush them. You reached your hand out of the little happy cuddle pile of draconic dreams, intertwining your fingers with his. You pressed the back of his cool knuckles to the side of your face, letting your eyelids fall over your pupils once again.

You pressed a sloppy, but almost ghostlike kiss over the band on his ring finger before letting out a sleepy grunt under your breath and pulling the covers ever tighter around yourself and your sisters.

He couldn't help but stare down at the three of you, a sense of domestic longing settling over his heart. This, he realized, was something he felt he couldn't do any longer without.

As of now, he was just about drowned in his work, but what he wouldn't do to have just a little more time to spend with you in moments like this. To have happy moments on the town, to see this entirely new side of you he had yet to explore.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized the two of you had an entire lifetime ahead of the both of you. A lifetime where you could share these moments forever. Every morning, he would wake up to your face. Every night, he had the blessing of being able to fall asleep listening to you breathing in rhythm with him. He could feel the warm of your face pressed against the back of his hand. Just little moments like these, you had decades, centuries of them just waiting to be realized.

Maybe the two you could share these tender moments with a family, a family you could start together.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" yes guys this is the result of begging me for mpreg u get a throw away line at the end of a fic "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

[cuubism]

part four of Hob running into Dream between their centennial meetings [final chapter] [& explicit chapter]

--

Hob spends several weeks afterwards fretting.

True to Dream’s word, no one had tried to stop him leaving Fawney Rig. They must have been sleeping, or perhaps just dead. Hob didn’t much care. Dream had gotten out of there. That was what was important.

It’s the afterward that Hob’s uncertain about.

For all his attempts at displaying his normal pride, and strength, power, Dream had seemed worn, tired, after escaping from his cage. As well he should. But he hadn’t stopped even a moment to rest. What if he gets himself hurt chasing after his tools? What if he gets captured again?

Hob does some digging to see if he can find Dream’s tools himself, but to no avail. It doesn’t help that he’s not certain what the tools are. That ruby, maybe. Dream always had it on him during their meetings. But if it was sold or passed around, it wouldn’t have been under the provenance of Dream’s name, which was too obscure, and simply searching for mystical gemstones on the market is too broad a net.

He’s still poking around at it when, several weeks later, Dream swirls unexpectedly into his flat.

Hob jumps, nearly flinging the antiquities sales ledger he’s reading at Dream’s head in instinctive defense.

“Apologies,” Dream says, standing very still in the center of the living room. “I did not intend to startle you.”

“Dream!” Hob lurches to his feet. “Christ. Thank God you’re okay. I’ve been worried.”

“You worried for me?” He sounds ever so slightly touched. And he’s— he’s wearing Hob’s coat. The sight of it startles Hob so much it takes him a second to appreciate the rest of Dream’s outfit, which—

—he’s really taken the new year in stride, hasn’t he, Christ. Dream has always dressed to the times at their meetings, always the peak of elegance and grace, and now is no different.

But now it’s a panther’s grace, not a king’s. His jeans are skintight, and Hob swallows hard at the thought of the lithe muscle of him that he’d seen but barely taken in during the rush of the rescue. His black t-shirt is simple but so much less than Hob’s used to seeing on him, his fingernails are painted black and shiny like claws, and he’s got studs running up his ears, heavy dark makeup hooding his eyes, hair as much of an electric shock as when he’d stepped from his prison, vibrating at the pitch of glass shattering.

He looks dangerous. He always looks dangerous, but now he’s dangerous in the way that would have knocked Hob into a wall if he’d met him in a nightclub. Kneecapped him more effectively than any weapon.

Hob would want to look dangerous too, if he was escaping from such a prison.

His brown overcoat is fair ruining the look Dream’s sporting, but still he wouldn’t have it any other way. He swallows, throat clicking dryly, and all he can manage to say, gesturing at the coat, is, “You still have that.”

Dream takes it off, holds it out to him. This reveals his bare, wiry arms under his t-shirt.

Hob shakes his head, still strangled. “Keep it.”

So Dream drapes the coat over his arm.

“As promised, I have returned to assure you of my wellbeing,” Dream says. “Unnecessary though it is.”

“It’s not unnecessary.” Hob finally manages to get his legs to work and moves closer. Dream does look better. He’s less gaunt, still pale but no longer with quite the pallor of a corpse. His ruby is once again hanging around his neck. “I’m glad to see you.”

Dream inclines his head. “I promised you a boon in return for your help,” he says, and he looks slightly wary now. Does he really think Hob would try to take advantage of him? His oldest—at least in his own mind—friend?

“You coming back is more than enough,” Hob says. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Dream seems, if anything, more disconcerted. “I would not leave a debt between us unpaid.”

There’s no debt, Hob thinks, but arguing this point is probably not going to get him anywhere. “Stay for tea, then, and consider it paid.”

“That is what you would wish?” says Dream, brow furrowed.

Hob sighs. “My friend, you don’t have to pay me to help you. But if you insist on it, then all I want is the pleasure of your company.”

Dream frowns, but sits at the table. “Very well.”

Hob busies himself making tea, and when he returns from the kitchen Dream is still sitting where he left him, hands steepled on the table, Hob’s coat draped over the back of the chair. He looks distant, lost in thought.

“Something on your mind?” Hob asks, setting a mug before him.

“Chance,” says Dream, taking it, lifting the cup delicately and sipping slowly. “And coincidence. It was chance that allowed me to step into a sleeping guard’s dream—a mere lapse in concentration. Chance that we met outside the hospital, so that later I may think to call upon you and believe it possible you would answer. Chance that one man—” his gaze flicks to Hob— “would be thinking of me with enough fixation that the weakest form of my power could still connect.”

“Of course I would answer,” Hob says. It’s Dream. His eternal stranger. That Hob wouldn’t drop all to help him—unthinkable.

“It was not a requirement of our arrangement.”

“You didn’t have to help with those—what were they? vampire hunters?—that time either. Still never told me how you knew about that, by the way—” Dream’s lips quirk up, but he doesn’t explain—“but you did. How long would you have been stuck there, if I didn’t intervene?”

“A very long time, I expect,” says Dream, lips thinning to a line. He says it with apparent equanimity, but under the stoicism is a flash of hurt. A raw wound, that cage, still. Which isn’t surprising, and neither is that Dream would do what he could to avoid it being seen.

“So tell me, if I were in that cage, would you have left me there?” Hob says. “After all, you owe nothing to me.”

He half expects Dream to say yes, to be honest. It’s possible Hob will regret opening this line of questioning.

Dream’s countenance darkens, and for a moment Hob swears the actual room darkens too. Something flashes in Dream’s eyes, and he looks very inhuman, for that fleeting second. “That would be gravely offensive to me. To attack one who bears my mark is tantamount to attacking me.”

That’s... not the reason Hob would have gone for. But boy is it something.

“Um,” says Hob, grip tightening on his untouched tea. “Your mark?”

Dream’s gaze turns to him. “I would not tolerate abuse to one who is under my protection.”

“Oh,” says Hob, choked. He really doesn’t know what else to say.

Dream sips his tea, and is silent. The thrumming energy that Hob hadn’t realized had been buzzing in the air around them finally fades.

He must know by now that the feeling is mutual, even if Hob has little protection to offer, even if Dream is the only one he would care to offer it to if he did. The only being on this earth he would wade through Hell’s high waters to help.

“What did you do to them?” he asks. “At the manor.”

He still doesn’t really know what Dream is, what his powers do.

“Made them sleep, and dream,” says Dream. Dark satisfaction curls on his lips. “They won’t wake.”

Dream, Hob thinks. Literal, then. A shiver runs up the back of his neck.

“Does that frighten you?” Dream asks. He seems darkly enamored with the prospect.

“Little bit,” Hob admits. Something about Dream whispers of nighttime dangers, especially when darkness swirls around him like that. “Still sitting here, though, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Dream muses. “You are.”

The fact Hob’s had to accept about himself is that no matter how primordially frightening Dream flexing his powers is—and it is—it’s also alluring. It’s more alluring than frightening. It’s magical in the way the night sky is a brilliant and consuming abyss.

He downs half of his tea as if it were something stronger, then, pushing his luck, says, “I think you should stay awhile. If, of course, you have no more critical tasks to occupy yourself.”

“I don’t,” says Dream. His gaze touches on Hob’s hands, chest, jaw. Interested. Proprietary. He really would have come for me if our positions were reversed, Hob thinks incredulously. At least after we met in 1915. He doesn’t know if it would have been out of friendship, or just possession, annoyance and offense that something he’d come to consider his had been taken from him. Maybe it doesn’t much matter.

Hob stands up, and Dream’s eyes follow him. Hob circles his chair to the kitchen, possibly a bit closer to Dream’s back than he really needs to be. He feels like nothing so much as a lure, like he’s taunting some dangerous thing into playing with him. Dream’s attention prickles on the back of his neck. “Wine?”

Dream inclines his head.

Hob fetches two glasses and a dust-covered bottle from the wine rack under the cabinets. A good vintage, this one. Only the best for his stranger. Especially if he’s willing to let Hob draw him in to something deeper.

Heart pounding in his chest, Hob walks to the living room, gesturing with the wine bottle for Dream to follow. Which he does, like a shadow peeling up from the table to slip across the floor.

Hob uncorks the bottle and sets it on the coffee table to breathe, then sits on the couch. He expects Dream to take one of the armchairs, but instead Dream sits beside him, though with a small distance between them. Hob’s body thrums with his proximity. He remembers the moment they’d touched, when he’d helped Dream out of the shattered remnants of his cage. Just a brief moment of support, but truthfully, Hob had longed to hug him. He’d like to think it was an impulse to comfort Dream, but it may have been more selfish. An assurance, for himself, that Dream was okay. Enjoyment in the pleasure of his touch.

When he judges the wine’s breathed enough—or really, when the tension of just sitting next to Dream gets the better of him—Hob pours two glasses. Holds one out to him. “1875 vintage. Hard to believe that’s considered old.” 

Dream takes it in delicate fingers, raises the glass to his nose and inhales the scent with a hum of pleasure. The sound runs right down Hob’s spine.

“The youngest thing in the room,” Dream agrees, and Hob chuckles. Dream takes a sip of the wine, and his pleasure deepens. “It is very good.”

“I’m glad.” Hob takes a sip of his own. It is good. Nice trick he’s hung onto it for all these years.

“Does wine actually get you drunk, or are you impervious to it?” he asks.

“It can affect me if I allow it to,” says Dream.

“And are you now?” It feels like pressing on something beyond just curiosity. But he presses.

“Would you want me to?” The energy around Dream hums. Hob feels like he’s being challenged. He’s uncertain which answer to that challenge is what Dream wants.

But he answers. Pulse jumping in his throat like his heart itself has moved up under his jaw, he wraps his fingers over Dream’s hand. His hand is just as bony, skin just as smooth as it looks, and very still. He doesn’t move away.

Hob lifts his hand, kissing the soft skin of Dream’s inner wrist, over the stark tendons. “I think I would,” he says.

The tension buzzing in the air around them snaps.

Dream goes from sitting stoically beside him to being in his lap in half a second, his boots melting away into sand as he goes. Hob catches him by the hips with a barely-restrained yelp, and Dream smiles at it, pleased and predatory. He straddles Hob’s thighs, pushes his shoulders into the back of the couch with wiry strength, the lightness of his eyes—human blue, now, not dark and starry—standing out even more starkly against the dark eye makeup. Christ, but he’s stunning. Hob’s never had him so close, and it takes him a moment to come back to a semblance of sanity.

“Never have I had such a gallant rescuer,” Dream purrs, sliding his hands up and over Hob’s shoulders.

“Oh, enjoyed that, did you?” Hob asks, breathless. “Got a good show?”

“Mmm. I did,” says Dream. And he kisses Hob. Hungrily, devouring his mouth, all the weight in his gaze and his words from earlier set alight.

Hob must be dreaming. Does merely interacting with Dream count as dreaming? Regardless, he’s not about to miss out on the opportunity, even if he is dreaming. He readily opens his mouth for Dream, and Dream sweeps his tongue in, bites at his lip, he is powerful and demanding and all-encompassing and it’s glorious.

Hob slips his hands just under the waistband of Dream’s tight jeans, over his hips, and Dream smiles against his mouth. “You are daring,” he rumbles, and doesn’t seem displeased about it.

“You jumped into my lap,” Hob reminds him, and Dream chuckles lowly.

“You kissed me,” he counters.

“Oh, like this?” Hob takes Dream’s hand again and kisses the inside of his wrist, then nips at the skin. Dream’s eyes darken.

“Supplication,” he observes, the word sweet and satisfied. “Befitting such a fair rescuer.”

“Is that what’s due to your station?” Hob asks, sucking a bruise into his soft skin. “Always knew you were some regal thing. Damn haughty enough for it.”

This could have been offensive, but Dream only smirks. “I am king of my realm,” he says, though doesn’t elaborate on what realm that is, exactly. Something with dreams, presumably. Hob would have to be daft to not have pieced at least that much together.

“My lord of dreams,” he says, and Dream’s eyes flash. Right on, then. “I hope you don’t mind if I take some liberties.”

“If they suit me,” says Dream. Of course.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Hob says. And without dallying any longer, he returns to the tight waistband of Dream’s jeans, undoing the button and zipper and finding the soft skin underneath, his hipbones, the vee of his pelvis, the swell of his arousal in his underwear. He’s reluctant to really undress Dream at this point, unless Dream does it himself, but he pushes down the hem of his underwear to take Dream in hand, strokes him once, loose and revenant. He can’t believe he’s touching his stranger this way.

Dream shivers, sighs, tips his head back. Enjoying his touch. That itself is such a reward; Dream wanted to know what favor he would request? Seeing him like this is its own boon, its own privilege.

Dream grinds into Hob’s hand, fingers wrapped around the back of Hob’s neck, twisted in his hair. Hob pays no mind to his own erection, it’s secondary, he’d rather watch Dream. The way his eyes flutter shut, his mouth lax and open. Hob strokes him with an uneven pace, relishes in Dream grinding against him, writhing in his lap. He slips his free hand down Dream’s back, under his waistband, grabs a handful of his ass and pulls Dream closer. Dream lets out a low moan, grip tightening on the back of Hob’s neck.

“Do you like that, darling?” Hob murmurs, even though it’s fairly clear that he does. “Is that good for you?”

“Acceptable,” says Dream, even as he leans in, touching his lips to Hob’s, breathing against him. Hob chuckles. Dream’s lips are soft against his and it’s intoxicating.

“If we’re only at ‘acceptable’,” he breathes, “you’ll just have to come back to give me a chance to improve.”

Dream’s lips twitch up in a small smile. “Perhaps.”

“Welcome anytime,” Hob says, twisting his hand and rubbing his thumb over his slit, pulling a shiver and a moan from Dream. “I want to figure out what makes you feel good. Wanna get my mouth on you, have for ages.”

“Ages?” says Dream, and now his hand finds Hob’s chest under his shirt. Those slim, cold fingers trail down his skin, leaving a prickling trail behind, and Hob shudders, temporarily losing his pace. Dream smiles with what Hob can only interpret as mischief. He would be murderous in bed. He would be such a brat, Hob just knows it, and what Hob wouldn’t give for the chance to fuck it out of him. Haughty little thing.

Of course, this would probably result in Dream bringing his full power and kingly dominance to bear to make Hob cry, but he’s not exactly opposed to that. It might, in fact, have featured in some prominent fantasies over the years.

“Ages,” Hob confirms. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Flattery,” drawls Dream, seeming quite pleased about it. He tips his head back as Hob keeps stroking him, and Hob kisses his throat, biting a mark into the skin, which feels very daring indeed. Dream just tips his head to the side, letting him. It’s heady, the allowance, the sense that Dream is luxuriating in his touch, the fluid lines of his body grinding in Hob’s lap. Pre-come beads at the tip of his cock, he must be close. It’s strange, the normalcy of his body in this moment.

Though Hob wonders if he can actually control his body, if he can prevent himself from coming so he can luxuriate in something that he likes for longer. The thought only makes him harder, and he presses Dream to him by the small of his back, finally giving in to temptation and grinding against him. Dream makes a satisfied humming sound, almost a purr.

“Will you come for me, darling?” Hob murmurs against his throat. “Wanna see you. Gorgeous thing.”

Instead of answering, Dream plucks open the button on Hob’s trousers, slipping his hand inside to take Hob in hand. Hob startles—fuck his fingers are cold—but then mentally stutters at the feeling of his stranger, Dream, touching him, pleasuring him. How long has he held improbable dreams of that?

He loses himself to it for a while, their hands on each other, the way they move together. Dream’s touch is unpredictable, giving and taking, and it has Hob on a wire, drawn after him. Always drawn after him. Dream, meanwhile, is a vision of hooded eyes and dark makeup, superiority on his face again as he watches Hob fall apart at his touch, but Hob sees the shivers of want that go through him, that send ripples through that superior look. He slows his pace, dragging his touch with agonizing patience up and down Dream’s cock. Watches the shudder run through him. And then Dream comes with a gasp, as if surprised by it. He tips his back, eyes closed, mouth open and long throat bared. He’s radiant and loose in that moment in a way Hob hadn’t thought was possible—and the sight of Dream’s pleasure is enough to send Hob over the edge, too, spilling over both of their hands.

For a moment they just breathe—or, Hob breathes, Dream seems to settle his existence back in order in a more metaphysical way—and Hob brings a dab of Dream’s spend to his lips, tastes it, more out of curiosity than anything. He doesn’t taste like much at all, it turns out. Sort of like the way a sex dream might be incredibly vivid but have no real smell or taste to it—ha.

When he looks back up, Dream is watching him. Gaze still heavy, though sated, for now. He’s just as stunning when Hob’s gaze is clear. What Hob wouldn’t give to get him in an actual bed, to really dishevel him. Smear that makeup. Mess up that outrageous hair.

But he wonders if Dream will simply leave again, instead. He’s fulfilled whatever obligation he felt in assuring Hob he was still alive, and now he’s taken his pleasure, too. It would be just like Dream to disappear now with only a vague promise of a meeting a century in the future. Before having Dream in his lap, kissing him, touching him, seeing the shudder of climax run through him, Hob might have been able to bear that. But not now.

But Dream doesn’t get up. His hands are braced on Hob’s hips, playing idly with his t-shirt. He seems to be deliberating on something. Deciding whether to go, perhaps.

“Stay a while, if you want,” Hob says, even though it might have been better to remain quiet and let Dream come to him. His nerves always come back around Dream, and when he’s nervous he runs his mouth. “If you need a rest after… well. You must still be tired.”

Dream stiffens. Shit. Goddamnit, Hob.

“You assume me to be infirm?” Dream says, tightly.

“No, I—”

“I assure you, I am more powerful than I have been in eons, and will gladly demonstrate—”

“Dream, no.” Hob strokes his hands up and down his sides, and Dream stills, though he still looks one misstep away from biting. His eyes are guarded now, and that’s not what Hob wanted at all.

“I know you’re powerful,” he says. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that, even with all that power—” he touches Dream’s chest— “I was worried about you. You went through all that and you didn’t even flinch. You said before you would have helped me if I was the one who got stuck in that place, hm? Well, continuing that scenario, would you blame me if I was a bit fucked up afterwards?”

“I don’t suffer human injuries, Hob,” says Dream, stiffly. He doesn’t climb off Hob’s lap, though, and Hob knows he’s right. Even if Dream won’t admit it. “I have taken my vengeance. That is all that is required.”

“Sure,” says Hob, hand still over his heart.

“Your concern is unwarranted,” Dream continues, though Hob hadn’t contradicted him. “I am not hurt.”

So he’s the type that needs someone to push. And also the type that’s run away when Hob pushed in the past. Great. Fortunately, Hob has an eternity to wait if Dream runs again.

He strokes his thumb over Dream’s wet lower lip, over the corner of his mouth to his cheek. “I think you are hurt,” he says quietly.

Dream opens his mouth to speak, but Hob covers his lips again with his fingertip. It’s too bold by half, and he almost expects to get turned into sand, but instead Dream stills.

“And you’re right to be,” Hob continues, just as quiet. “And it wasn’t enough, that vengeance, was it? It’ll never feel like enough. And it burns. And under that—” he presses harder against Dream’s chest, where his other hand still rests— “it hurts. I see it. I get it. And it’s okay.”

Hob’s mother had always wondered aloud where in God’s green kingdom Hob had gotten his foolishness. And where indeed. For Dream really might smite him for that. But Hob doesn’t take it back. Stronger than the fear that Dream might leave is the need to give him the moment of comfort and rest and empathy he so clearly has not allowed himself to have. Hob doesn’t know if he has anyone else in his life to offer such a thing. He hopes so. But even if he does, it’s obvious to Hob in his iron posture, his careful control, that he hasn’t let himself lean on it. The sex felt good, filled some need, but Dream still kept all his stern, haughty power through it. Never quite believed Hob wouldn’t abuse his trust if he let himself fully relax.

Dream’s dark gaze bores into his, burning with the same low fire as the hurt, the anger Hob knows is still deep in his chest. But it’s not anger at Hob, not this time. With everyone in the manor already punished, his anger has no direction. And Hob knows that sometimes with no other target, that type of anger will turn back on oneself. He may still leave. He might run from it.

Instead, Dream leans into his hand, and Hob’s heart trills with surprise, then relief. He takes Dream’s face between both hands, framing those harsh cheekbones with his thumbs. Dream doesn’t say anything in response to Hob’s words, but then Hob’s always been the more verbose between the two of them. Always running his mouth, and sometimes it gets him walked out on, and sometimes it gets him this. Dream leaning into his touch, and closing his eyes, and letting out the most gentle of sighs as Hob strokes his thumbs over his skin. That’s answer enough.

He draws Dream close and kisses him.

It’s different this time. The hunger has shifted. Less urgent, but still chasing a certain need. Hob notices the way Dream slips his hands close, skin-to-skin. Seeks out touch and warmth, rather than pleasure. Apparently he’s decided he will let himself have some degree of it from Hob, and Hob gives it freely, enthusiastically, he would have even if Dream had never been captured, would have fallen into bed with his stranger given the first hint of an opportunity, but it’s different now, when he feels he can offer Dream something he needs. Something he has not had for so long.

He pulls his t-shirt off over his head to give him access to more skin, if that’s what he wants. Dream hums in appreciation, pressing his hands to the warmth of Hob’s body. Rubs his cheek on Hob’s. His skin is utterly smooth against Hob’s stubble. Hob wraps a hand around the back of his head, drags his fingers through his hair. Dream lets out a shivering sigh and shifts closer, pressing their bellies together.

Come closer, Hob thinks, but doesn’t say out loud, not this time. Come closer, it’s alright. It’s alright, darling. Let me give you what you need.

He doesn’t say it, for the last thing he wants is to chase Dream away. He leans back against the couch, curling Dream’s body further into his, arm low around his waist. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s throat. Hob’s breath shakes. Grateful for the trust of this strange, wonderful creature.

“Staying for a while then, love?” he asks, rubbing his hand up and down Dream’s back.

“Mmm,” says Dream. “Perhaps.”

Perhaps might as well be yes, for he doesn’t move, just sinks further into Hob. And for as long as Hob might have dreamt for, wished for the opportunity to have his old stranger in his bed, out of lust when they first met, and care and passion later, this is so much more special. What he’s always truly hoped for, deep down, more illicit and impossible than sex. And for Dream, too, it seems a much greater expression of trust than just sleeping together, as it were. He could perhaps have tempted Dream into bed in a prior era, but he could not have gotten this, not before Dream’s imprisonment.

So of course, he lets Dream stay, relishes in Dream staying, getting what he needs to feel better even if he won’t voice it, never voices it. And when some time has passed, he knows not how much, of Hob stroking his hair and Dream settled against him, and Dream finally sits back up, and Hob knows he’s going to say that he has to return to his duties, he’s stayed too long already— he takes Dream’s dear face between his hands.

“Come back,” he murmurs, “if you want to. You know I’m always here.”

“A man of constancy,” Dream says, with a little smile.

“You said you thought I could change. I hope that’s true. But that’s one thing I wouldn’t. That I’m always here. At least, whenever you come back.”

“And for our chance meetings as well,” says Dream.

“I don’t know if it’s totally chance,” says Hob. “I think I’ve just been waiting for you.”

Dream is Hob’s own source of constancy. A guiding point, ever since they first met. Perhaps it started with the chance meeting of Hob’s loud mouth and Dream’s penchant for challenge, but it doesn’t feel like chance anymore. Chance does not involve so much choice to come back.

With great care, Dream kisses him, a light press of lips that Hob holds dearer than anything, and then sits back again.

“Very well,” he says, and at last slips off of Hob’s lap, all his clothes miraculously perfect again as he stands, though his hair carries the lingering traces of Hob’s fingers still. “I shall return. If you are waiting.”

“Always,” Hob vows, and watches with awe and reverence as Dream lifts Hob’s hand to his lips and kisses his palm, watching him with his dark gaze all the while. Then he turns away, already swirling into a cloud of sand, and Hob’s heart aches with a mixture of sadness and hope, the feeling of endings that also herald new beginnings. And Dream swipes up Hob’s coat from the back of the chair where he’d left it, and then he’s gone.

Hob presses his palm to his lips, touching where Dream just touched, feeling nothing so much like he’s been engaged in a long, careful courtship and his suit was finally accepted. They don’t really do courtships of that kind in this decade. But his Dream is not a creature of this or any decade, and Hob’s always had a lingering fondness for the ‘old ways’ in that regard. The ways of romance they’ve preserved only in novels, nowadays.

He looks at the scattering of sand on his floor, and the empty back of the chair where his coat had been, the places Dream’s already claimed in his life. And just smiles.

[catsafarithewriter]

Day 4: Superheroes

A/N: Welp it looks like I got my days mixed up and am running a day late, but no fear! This is for day 4 of this year's TCR birthday bash, superheroes. I thought I'd go with something more lighthearted today, so here is a little ficlet regarding a different way the cat kingdom could have tried to thank Haru :D

x

"We have decided," said the cat on Haru's windowsill, "that you must be thanked appropriately for saving Prince Lune."

"Uh-huh," Haru said. What she really wanted to say was something like, "I'm dreaming, right?" or "Excuse me, do you know you're a cat?" or even "AAHHHH" coupled with violently swinging a chair – but cats who could talk probably could do other things they weren't meant to, and she didn't want to find out if that included curses.

"Given the magnitude of our debt, the King has decreed that we shall do everything in our power to make you happy," the cat continued, oblivious to Haru weighing up the pros and cons of punting it off a first floor window. "For instance, our research has indicated that humans your age tend to struggle with low confidence, body image, and preoccupation with finding a mate."

"Uh-huh," Haru said again, for entirely different reasons.

"So, to show our gratitude, we have eliminated such problems!"

Haru stared. "...How?"

"Come to a mirror, and I'll show you!"

This had to be a dream. But now Haru was curious to see what her sleeping mind would conjure up in her reflection. She fumbled for her phone and switched on the camera. Maybe her skin would now be porcelain smooth. Maybe her hair would look effortlessly perfect. Maybe she would see entirely a different face.

She was disappointed when there appeared to be nothing changed. "Okay, cat, I'm looking."

"Open your mouth!"

She gave the cat a dubious side-eye, but did so. A maw lined with sharp feline teeth filled the picture.

Haru snapped her mouth shut.

"Do you like it?" the cat asked, with a tone that indicated this was a rhetorical question and that she could start thanking it any time now.

"You gave me fangs??"

"Canines! Fangs have venom!"

"Is that really what's importa–" She felt wood chips beneath her nails and quickly withdrew her hand from her desk. "And claws? What did you do to me?"

"We gave you the ideal body!" the cat announced.

"You gave me claws!"

"Claws are attractive! They're far better than those blunt little stumps you call nails! This way you can prove your hunting prowess and win a mate!"

"You think I'm gonna get a boyfriend because I can catch mice now?"

"Oh, Miss Haru, at your size you should set your sights on much bigger prey! Squirrels and rats, at least! Our research also indicated you were frustrated with your lack of balance–"

"This feels needlessly personal."

"–so we gave you feline grace!"

"Wait," Haru said as she realised the other insinuation of the cat's comment, "have you been watching me?"

"Yes!"

"Oh." Haru blinked. She'd expected at least a little guilt in the admission.

"If this is not sufficient thanks, I'm sure we can find other ways to improve your life–"

"No! I mean, no thank you. This is..." easy enough to hide. "This is fine. You don't need to thank me any more." This was not fine. This was so far over the line of 'fine' that it was a dot on the horizon.

"Are you sure? There was some debate over the inclusion of a tail..."

"I'm good."

"–at least on a permanent basis."

"What?"

"Don't worry, we realised that a persistant tail would require a strain on your wardrobe–"

"What does that–"

"–so we decided that you should get the best of both worlds and have it only when needed!"

A beat passed. A herd of questions hoofed through her mind. "And... the wardrobe problem?" she hazarded at last.

The cat waved a breezy paw. "Oh, don't worry about that! We've sorted it out."

Haru's mouth formed the word 'how' and then her mind thought better of it. "I don't suppose I could convince you to take it all back, could I?" she tried instead.

The cat's mouth wobbled. "You don't like it?"

Well darn it. Now she felt bad. "No, of course I like it!" she lied. "I just don't think I really need it. Or deserve it. I mean, I just acted without thinking, I wasn't being brave."

"Oh." The cat blinked, and the watery look vanished immediately. "Oh," it said again, with far too much assurance, "this is one of those adolescent lack of confidence things, isn't it?"

"I – no?"

"You don't think you're worthy of such a gift because you don't believe in yourself!" the cat proclaimed, with all the confidence of someone adding one plus one and getting three. It patted Haru's hand. "Don't worry, the whole cat kingdom has agreed that you earned this, so enjoy it! Oh, and before I forget..." With a flourish, the cat whipped a little velvet box out of thin air. "The final part to your reward."

Despite all her misgivings, Haru took the box and cautiously opened it. A beautiful silver necklace with a shimmering cat charm rested inside, its single visible eye carved out of a golden-brown gemstone. (Tiger eye, she suspected.)

"It's... lovely," she stuttered. "But I can't accept–"

"You can and you will! Goodbye!" And before Haru could fumble for any other excuses, the cat had leapt out of the window, Haru still holding the box. After a dubious moment passed, she gingerly put the necklace on. (After all, it was gorgeous. It would be a waste not to wear it.) Then she picked up the phone and was halfway through dialling Hiromi, when she hesitated.

Just what was she going to say?

Yeah, so you know the cat I saved yesterday, well it turns out it was a prince...

Look, when you see me, don't make a fuss over my teeth or my claws...

So it looks like cats are trying to help my love life...

She put the phone down. No, best to just not mention it and hope no one noticed. After all, who would jump to the conclusion that they were blessings from a cat and not just a figment of the imagination? Haru barely believed it, and her windowsill was still warm from where the cat had sat.

Then, because it was a Tuesday morning and school didn't accept sick notes for 'my entire physiology was altered by cats in the night' she dragged herself out of bed and prepared herself for the day.

It was just as she was finishing changing into her uniform that the giant rat stampeded past her front door. (Haru was fairly sure that 'stampede' was the right word for, even if it was only a single beast, it did have half a dozen feet.)

Since this wasn't an acceptable thing to see, not even on a gloomy Tuesday schoolday, Haru naturally leant of her window out to better see the chaos. She vaguely wondered if she should call the police – but rather suspected that things like rampaging rats taller than a bungaloo were probably already on the police's radar.

What were police even meant to do about unnatural megafauna? Build a giant mousetrap? Ask it politely to turn itself in? This kind of shenanigan, Haru thought, probably weren't covered in training.

Really, she continued to think, this kind of shenanigan was more the territory of comic book heroes or magical girl responsibilities.

It was as that exact thought struck, that Haru became engulfed in golden light. She felt her form shift, her hair change, and most notably, her clothes alter.

I've literally just gotten ready for school, she thought, and then she was deposited back on the floor. She looked down at herself.

What she was now wearing could best be described as a marriage between a leopard-print leotard and her school uniform. There were bows. There were ribbons. There was a sparkly tutu (and a pair of shorts, much to Haru's relief).

And, as she moved to sit down in disbelief, she discovered there was – emerging from perfectly-tailored shorts and tutu – a tail.

"Well," she said eventually, "I guess that does solve the wardrobe problem."

x

A/N: Gee, some of you may be thinking, it sure is serendipitous/a coincidence that the same day Haru gets 'superpowers' there appears a monster! Well, I'm here to tell you that it's less happenstance, and more like the truck driver who nearly ran over Lune is having the worst Tuesday of his life. (Don't worry, he gets transformed back with only an increase in cheese preference and a fun day explaining to his boss why he didn't turn up for work.) As far as the cats are concerned, if you reward a human by turning her into the best thing to be (cat, obvs) then you punish a human by turning him into the worst thing to be (a rodent).

[vexing-imogen]

I Do What I Must

There is a difference, Athena thinks, between desire and intention. Did she want to kill Calliope? Certainly not. Goddess of War she may be, but she is not the bloodthirsty brute that Ares was. Idol blood was precious and she would not spill a drop unless absolutely necessary.

Intent, however? Yes, killing Calliope had been her intention. And she'd succeeded as she often did. It should have worked perfectly. The others would have been angry at first, to be sure. But with Apollo's help explaining the prophecy, and the benefit of time, they would have seen that she was right. That she had only done what she did for the good of the people she had sworn an oath to protect.

If only Calliope had been willing to accept her fate. If only she had not gotten Grace involved.

In any other circumstance, Athena would have been delighted to welcome Grace as the new Muse. She was clever, she was charming. In just a few short days, she'd sent waves through their little pond that would continue to ripple far after she was gone. Calliope could not have chosen better.

Athena does not want to kill Grace. But she does intend to.

"You summoned me, ma'am?" Hermes pops into her office; punctual, eager, and just a little skittish, as usual.

She smiles at them. "I did. I'd like to have a word with Grace," she says. "Just a little check-in, to see how her investigation is progressing. Could you bring her here? As quickly as you can."

Hermes salutes. "On it." Their eyes start to glow, but before they can open a portal, they bite their lip and turn back to her. "Um, Athena, ma'am? Can I ask you something?"

She raises an eyebrow, but nods and gestures for them to continue.

"Do you really think that Grace killed Cal?" they ask, scratching the back of their neck. "'cause it's just...I was there, right? Like, immediately after Calliope died, and Grace was just, like, freaked the fuck out. But not in the 'I just killed someone' way. More in the 'this chick just died in my arms and now I'm a god' kind of way. Y'know?"

It is only through multiple millennia of practice that Athena keeps the smile on her face. "Well, that is for her to prove, isn't it?" she says, watching them swallow hard. "But thank you for your insight."

They salute again, hand shaking, and they disappear through a portal mere seconds after.

Athena takes the time alone to observe her office. She adjusts the plate of cookies on her desk just so to make them more appealing. Her eyes find her dagger, hidden in plain sights. Nestled amongst Zeus' laurels, Hades' helm, and Demeter's scythe, it looks like just another relic of ancient times.

Her door glows gold and Grace steps through the portal, trying to hide that she's still rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Hey," she says, clearing her throat. "Hermes said that you wanted to talk about...stuff."

"That I do," Athena says. "Have a seat, Grace."

And so they talk. Or rather, Athena lets Grace talk. She knows much of what has occurred already, Bubo is such a talented scout, but she wants to hear it from Grace's perspective.

She is less worried about what Grace herself knows, the girl is blissfully unaware that she will not be leaving this office alive, but she needs information on the other Idols. Who might be having second thoughts, who might become a problem in the future...

There is a list in her mind as the conversation winds down (Persephone is at the very top. Grace doesn't seem to realize just how many times the goddess' name had cropped up as she talked.), but that is something for Athena to focus on later. For now...

"Have a cookie?" she suggests, nudging the plate forward.

Grace takes one with a shrug, her eyes widening when she bites into it. "Damn, that's good," she mumbles, The cookie is gone before she stands, and she doesn't make it three steps before she wobbles.

She stumbles into a shelf, knocking a few books to the ground, as she turns to stare at Athena. "You?" she asks, clearly trying to piece the evidence together through a drug induced fog.

Athena nods as she steps around her desk, taking the dagger as she does. Her free arm goes around Grace's back, holding the girl upright as she struggles to maintain consciousness. She feels a pang of sympathy as fingernails scrape ineffectually against her bracer. She looks so young like this; panicked and scrambling, a rabbit caught in a snare.

"I wish I didn't have to do this," she says gently, positioning the dagger between the third and fourth ribs; the quickest path to the heart. "But it's what the prophecy demands, Grace. We cannot go against Fate."

"Prophecy?" Grace's struggling starts to slow. "You don't-" Her words start to slur. "Please..."

Athena has to take a breath and remind herself that she is not at fault here. Calliope could have prevented this. She didn't have to seek Grace out, didn't have to pass her Eidolon to an unsuspecting mortal, didn't have to doom her to a shared fate.

The blade slides in so easily after that.

Grace lets out a whimpering cry, tears gathering in eyes that are beginning to glow gold. The faintest pulse of Calliope's Eidolon can be seen through her shirt, on the cusp of escaping, though Grace is fighting to keep it in.

Athena twists the dagger in Grace's chest, feeling and hearing bones crack as she does. Grace gasps, and then coughs up a mouthful of blood onto Athena's chiton.

There is a moment of peace as she watches the life fade from Grace's eyes, though the Eidolon remains stubbornly in her chest.

And then the rest of the Chorus bursts through her doors, and she has no time to react as three pairs of eyes pierce into her with anguish, horror, and fury.

She has a moment to regret her decision to keep potted plants as vines ensnare her and anchor her to the nearest wall. Aphrodite hurries to Grace, cradling the dying girl in her arms. Persephone's eyes dart between Grace and Athena, her expression caught somewhere between devastation and murder. Ultimately, she joins Aphrodite, curling over Grace as though to shield her from further harm. Her fingers shake as they caress a pale cheek.

Apollo stands frozen in the doorway. When he finally speaks, his voice is laden with guilt. "Athena, what did you do?"

She fights to answer as vines threaten to crush her trachea. "I did what had to be done."

[arisenreborn]

WIP (one-shot) Wednesday

No tags, I lied, was tagged by @fangbangerghoul - thank you as always! <3<3<3

I just happened to be possessed by the spirit of writing at 2am again - so it's a much more wip-y wip in terms of I just tossed it out there, first draft - but it is more or less a complete one-shot. Tense is a little weird but I rolled with it. Soft fluffy banter (of the sleepy almost nonsensical variety) and fluff.

"Carry Me" - post-game, Olivia & Emrys (Arisen x Pawn), 924 words.

The hour has grown late again and she is sat hunched at her desk over a nigh-unending pile of paperwork. She will never be a noble -let alone Sovran- who does naught but eat fine food and dance at fancy parties. Even if those were two of her favored past-times. 

She yawns and rubs her eyes, but only looks up from her work when she senses movement in the room. His presence is unmistakable to her, and she smiles even before their gazes meet.

“While your dedication to signing parchment of great import is admirable, I do believe it is well and truly past time you took your rest, Your Majesty.” 

She cannot stop from simply smiling at him; she is far too tired to argue, or come up with a quip. Instead she is all too happy to watch as he gracefully stalks around the desk to her side.

Stubbornness has always been her damning flaw and saving grace, but for him it has grown so easy to yield. She lifts her arms up and he bends himself low so she might wrap them around his neck.

“Will you carry me?” 

A warm laugh rumbles in his throat. “I think you may have grown even more spoiled than I thought you were when first we met.” 

He dips his hands down around her.

“Did you truly think that?” She doesn’t really mind either way, the words simply drift up playfully of their own accord. 

His head bows close, his voice a warm whisper against her neck. “Never truly.” 

“Liar.” She laughs and nuzzles the side of her face to his. He grunts as if in mock-offense, but effortlessly lifts her up into his arms.

“Why, I think I might just be telling the truth.” He says this to her as if he was just discovering something new about himself - and not something he’d probably turned over in his mind a hundred-hundred times before.

He leans down and she reaches out her hand to dim the crystal lamp on the desk. Then he turns towards the sliver of light at the door of the study and moves out into the corridor.

“Is that so? This discovery must be shocking to you.”

“Hah, hardly!” He grins at her, the tiredness around his eyes does nothing to dull the mirth that shines in them. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were going to be the most infuriating bundle of contradictions I’d ever encountered in my whole life.”

She smiles first, and then slowly her brow scrunches up. But she is too tired to think further, simply choosing to accept that his every compliment is joined by a complaint. And each complaint only further conceals a deeper compliment - a deeper love. 

“I think that makes us quite alike,” she tells him, and he hums in agreement. Bringing her hand up to the side of his face, she strokes her thumb over his cheek. Her eyes are so heavy they burn with the effort of keeping them open, but the thrill of fondness and delight in her chest makes it hard to even consider sleep. 

In direct contrast, she feels so light and weightless in his arms, even the comfort of their bed might fail to tempt her into such an irresistible ease. 

“Now, tell me sweet things.”

“Was I not just doing that?” He snorts, nudging the door open to their room with his foot. 

“Tell me you’ll keep holding me like this.” She nuzzles her face into his neck and he laughs again.

“You are spoiled. But that ought to go without saying, don’t you think?”

She resists a yawn, but her eyelids have lost the battle. “Say it anyway.”

“Aye, I’ll keep holding you, all night long.” There's a pause before he continues, quietly, like a promise for only her ears: "I'll never let you go."

She can practically feel the warmth of his sentiment in the way his chest swells - and then the rumble of laughter when he adds: “Heavens know if I don’t you’re likely to assail me in my sleep.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head and pressing her face into him. Her fingers slide up from his cheek into his hair as he lays her down into bed, all but collapsing into place alongside her and half-atop her. She laughs more, but it’s so tired it is nearly delirious, and ends in a sleepy, contented hum. 

“You know, I’m feeling quite tempted to steal the sovran.” He confesses, lips brushing against the softest part of her throat, and she sighs sweetly at the sensation.

“And where would you take me?” She rakes her fingers gently through his feathery hair.

“Nearest town that’s further than anyone knows us.” He grins and she can feel his teeth against her neck. “Far, far away from that nasty desk work.”

“Mmm, you have my permission.”

“Just like that?” He peppers slow, soft kisses up the side of her neck, along her chin, taking a detour to the tip of her nose, and the spot between her eyebrows. For a moment it is all she can do to sleepily soak in his affection - but at last she finally answers.

‘Just like that. Though I do have one request.” 

“Anything.”

“Can it wait ‘til morning?” 

He laughs and kisses her temple. “Aye, ‘til morning then.” 

He shifts and begins to pull the blankets around them, and she cannot help but to think how lucky she is. How lucky and how loved.

[omgsquee2001]

We Are All Connected: Feelings; Part 1: Pidge

Pidge tried to keep her mind off of, one, the limited amount of clothing she was wearing, and two, the fact that she was in the woods, again. She was astounded by the vast connection that Home Tree had with Omatikaya People, and even with the planet itself. It was like the Balmera and Olkarion all over again. Pidge was behind Lance, and in front of Hunk, struggling to find her grip on the tree, following after [Y/N]. Pidge was in aw at the swiftness and grace of the Omatikaya as they scaled the tree, their tail seeming helping them to keep their balance. However, Pidge's mind also wondered to her dad and Matt, who she still had yet to find. There had been so many times when she thought she was close to a clue, but then it turned out to be a dead end. Pidge caught her breath, standing next to Lance on a large branch, watching the Omatikaya.  [Y/N] stood up, facing them, gesturing to hammocks that looked like they were made of vines or rope.

"This is where we sleep. Do not worry about falling. The vines are strong." They said. [Y/N] let the Paladins observe how the Omatikaya gracefully descended into the hammocks. They turned to them. "I will help you first, then, you must learn on your own." They explained. Being the most daring and brave, Shiro stepped forward to go first. [Y/N] held out their hand to him, which he took. [Y/N] helped steady the Paladin, lowering him into the hammock. Once Shiro got situated, he looked up at them and gave a friendly smile.

"Thank you." He said. [Y/N] smiled and gave a nod. One by one, the other Paladins, with the help of [Y/N], descended into their hammocks, slowly nodding off to sleep. Pidge was the last one, still hesitant, her mind still on Matt and her dad. They would have loved it here. Being able to see how everything was connected. Her dad would want to perform so many experiments. [Y/N] turned to look at the Paladin, turning their head in curiosity. 

"You seem distracted." They said. Pidge looked up at them, then sighed. 

"A few years ago, I lost my dad and my brother. I've been searching all over for them, but I can't find them." Pidge explained. [Y/N] smiled sadly.

"It is not east to loose those you love." [Y/N] said, looking away from her. They then glanced up and gave a smile. "Eywa is in all things, Pidge. The Great Mother is watching over your father and brother, I am sure." They said. Pidge frowned and sighed. 

"No offence, but I don't really believe that. There's no way that the energy here could stretch out all through the universe." Pidge said. She believed in evidence she could see, like technology and robots. Believing in something she couldn't see, was a whole different thing. [Y/N] nodded. 

"The subject of Eywa is often difficult for strangers to understand," they looked up at the stars. "Allura told me of your adventure to Olkarion. Do you remember what they believe?" They asked. Pidge nodded. 

"The Olkari believe that everyone is made out of the same thing, that we're all made of the same cosmic dust." Pidge said. [Y/N] nodded. 

"The concept of Eywa is the same. Though you do not see the Great Mother, does not mean She is not with you," they said. They looked around at the glowing atmosphere around them. "Eywa is in all living things. The plants, the animals," they looked around at their people. "The Na'viya," they looked at the sleeping Paladins. "Even your friends." They said. [Y/N] turned to Pidge and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You must have faith, Pidge. You will find your father and brother. In time." They said. Pidge smiled, feeling better. 

"Thank you," she said. [Y/N] lowered their hand and nodded. Pidge then held out her hand, ready to make the descend. [Y/N] gave a bright smile, taking Pidge's hand in theirs. Pale skin contrasted with dark blue, glowing skin. [Y/N] lead the Paladin over to her hammock, gently lowering her. Pidge lay on her back, looking up at them. She smiled. "Good night, [Y/N]." Pidge said. [Y/N] smiled.

"Sleep well, Pidge." They responded. Pidge sighed and closed her eyes, ready for what the day would bring tomorrow. 

[whitegownsandflowercrowns]

#3 - dancing

Helaena's thoughts while dancing with Jace.

If grandfather smiled at me after I finished my toast, it must have been good. I couldn’t understand any of their expressions, Baela or Rhaena or Jace or Luke, but if grandfather liked it, and if even Uncle Daemon chuckled, it must have gone well. Oh, father’s asked for some music. Well, it’s a little much. I don’t want to run away just yet, but if everyone’s just going to start talking louder over the sound of the music - wait, who is that? Jace? His hand…that’s lovely. Thank you. He must have liked my toast as well. I’ll come dance. He just said something, I didn’t catch the last few words - well never mind, I understood him. No, Aegon doesn’t, did I say something that made him think otherwise? Here we go. Oh, I hope Baela doesn’t mind. He understands perfectly, this is such fun. I wonder if he takes dance lessons back at Dragonstone? It was probably Baela who taught him, she seems so graceful. Or maybe Rhaenyra? Make sure you don’t step on his toes, one-two-three-four one-two-three-four, and you can spin. There’s something about Jace that seems so kind, we should have him over more often. But not if Uncle Daemon’s going to keep killing people, oh I don’t want to remember that, and there’s Jace. This is when we start on the dragon arms, I love this part, just imagining I’m on Dreamfyre, is father alright? I’m sure he will be, he just needs to rest. Speaking of rest, are the children asleep? I don’t know if they can hear the music in their room, but if Jaehaera can hear this party it won’t help her sleep any. I’ll check in on them afterwards. Speaking of the children, how long has it been since my last course? I don’t remember, though I can deal with that tomorrow. I really haven’t danced in so long, it’s so lovely to be able to. Has it not been since my wedding? No, that’s not possible. And now I have to try not to step on his feet again. One-two-three-four. What was that noise? Oh, Aemond wants to toast. To our nephews? How nice.

[duhdumb89]

A Forbidden Happiness | Chapter 23

The first thought in Jiayi's mind on her 19th birthday is panic. The night before, she settled on the floor by Xiang gui ren's bed. Usually, Jiayi would wake up when she felt her mistress shift in bed. Today, she woke up to sunlight bearing down on her, which was strange because Xiang gui ren's bedroom window only had so much sunlight during midmorning. Jiayi stumbled to her feet, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and searched for Xiang gui ren. Hopefully, she wasn't too upset.

In the receiving room, Xiang gui ren was sewing while Molan, Ping'er, and Pi'er were untangling spools of thread quietly. Thunder was snuffling at Xiang gui ren's feet.

Xiang gui ren put down her work when she caught sight of Jiayi, "Aiyo, the birthday girl decided to join us. How does it feel to be 19?"

"Good?"

Jiayi didn't feel all that different now that she was a year older.

"Is that a question? What I wouldn't do to be 19 again," said Xiang gui ren, "Back then, my knees didn't sound like a bag of marbles every time I stood up,"

Jiayi sat down and reached for some thread, "I'm sorry I woke up late,"

"We did that on purpose," said Molan as she tugged the thread away, "It's your birthday, and mistress is kind enough to let you relax,"

"I don't need to relax," said Jiayi, "It's just a day like any other,"

Xiang gui ren shook her head, "Wei Jiayi, I didn't know you could be so ungrateful. I order you to sit there and relax,"

"What if you need something?" Asked Jiayi.

"I'm sure the girls can handle fetching me tea and walking in the garden and other fantastic activities, Jiayi," said Xiang gui ren, "Just sit there and be good,"

Be good? What did that mean?

Jiayi jumped as a pair of hands covered her eyes. Judging by giggling in her ear, it was Molan.

"Surprise!"

When Jiayi was finally allowed to see, the table was filled with food. Braised fish, pork belly, dumplings, and longevity noodles!

"Mistress, is this for me?" Asked Jiayi.

"Who else could it be for?" Replied Xiang gui ren, "Those three over there cooked all morning in jiejie's little kitchen to make this,"

All Jaiyi could only stand and give Molan, Pie'er, and Ping'er long, hard hugs. Sinjeku didn't get longevity noodles. It had been so long since she'd had a bowl.

Jiayi sat down and pulled the bowl close, "This is so much food. You guys should eat with me. It's more fun that way,"

They all refused until Jiayi began to plate up their food for them. Thunder got a small plate as well. It was only fair. Jiayi still couldn't return to her usual duties when their bellies were full. It was time for gifts. From Xiang gui ren, Jiayi received five bolts of fabric that were too fine for everyday wear and one piece of Lajian paper*. Molan, Pie'er, and Ping'er each hand-sewed a fragrance pouch. Each one was unique and one of a kind.

"These must have taken forever," said Jiayi, "I didn't see you make a single stitch!"

She immediately replaced the ones on her hips with her new gifts. Jiayi didn't think the day could get any better, but then Xiang gui ren gifted her a tael of silver.

"Thank you for your grace, mistress, I'll go put it away,"

"Ah! Absolutely not! This is for fun," said Xiang gui ren, "I don't care where you go but you are not to save this money,"

"Mistress, that's so wasteful. I have all I need here,"

Xiang gui ren rolled her eyes, "Really now? Bolin!"

She pointed at Jiayi when the eunuch stepped inside, "Take Jiayi out. Don't let her back in unless she comes in with something she bought for herself,"

Jiayi looked at Xiang gui ren, aghast, as Bolin led her outside.

"Mistress–"

"Get something expensive!" Ping'er called out after her.

"This is so silly," said Jiayi.

"An order is an order," Bolin replied, not even trying to hide the smile on his face.

Jiayi had no choice but to do as Xiang gui ren said. The silver was heavy and warm in her palm. Jiayi had a savings stash like all the Forbidden City servants. It was mostly made of copper coins, silver bits, and the taels received as a reward. Jiayi had never thought of using that money for anything other than a rainy day. Now that she had an entire tael of silver to spend on frivolous things, she was frozen.

Jiayi ate very well. What Xiang gui ren considered to be scraps was always a small feast. Jiayi enjoyed drawing the beautiful embroidery and shimmering fabric of Xiang gui ren's dresses, but a maid could never be permitted to own something like that. Would it be silly for her to buy a bit of rouge or perfume? Or maybe something new for her hair? Perhaps a new ring...

No. Jiayi would look silly with such things. Spending it on something useful like a new brush or inkstick would be better. However, it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

The momo in charge of the cosmetics didn't look thrilled at Jiayi's window shopping but didn't shoo her away. Jiayi pressed her hands close to her stomach as she passed the beautiful pots of powder and perfumes on the shelves. Before her fingers got too itchy, Jiayi made her way to the Treasure Pavilion. If the one thing she wanted wasn't there, she would leave, go to the Imperial Warehouse, and find a few furs to edge her blankets and robes with.

She asked the eunuch about the earrings she'd coveted for a few months. Dreamy blue pieces of glass in the shape of water drops. She tried not to feel crushed when he told her they were sold last week. It was just as well. She didn't need them anyway. Jiayi didn't spend too much time at the warehouse, picking out a few furs that were good enough. Xiang gui ren wouldn't think much of them, but they were miles ahead of anything Jiayi ever owned. It was her own business if she was still left with a few pieces of silver afterward.

It was the best birthday she ever had in the Forbidden City. It would've been the best even if the day were no different than it had been for the last few months. When Jiayi begged Fung gonggong to be a palace maid all those months ago, she only wanted to be away from Su gonggong. Now, she lived a life she couldn't have dreamed of. She had a kind mistress, friends, and warm food to fill her belly. It was the sort of life people died every day to have.

By the time Jiayi was finished with her shopping, the sun was beginning to slip away. With nothing left to do, Jiayi started the trek back to Chengqiangong. She turned a corner and found Prince Han leaning against a wall, alone. Jiayi hadn't seen much of him since their meeting in the Imperial Garden. After he sent her away, Jiayi waited for her punishment to begin, only to discover that Prince Han hadn't said anything to Xiang gui ren about it.

"Good evening, my lord," said Jiayi.

"Jiayi," he replied with a nod. He looked at the furs in her hand, "Birthday shopping?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"Yiqiang made sure to let me know. He's been worked up for all week trying to find a good present for you,"

Jiayi hid a smile in her pile of furs, "I apologize, my lord. I didn't mean to be a distraction,"

"No, it's good that Yiqiang is so fond of everyone in Chengqiangong. It means that you all care for him earnestly,"

They lapsed into silence.

"Um," Jiayi said, "I'll take my leave then,"

"Wait. Yiqiang painted something for your birthday but was too shy to give it to you," Prince Han said, handing her a piece of parchment.

"Oh! It's Thunder!" Said Jiayi.

Sixth Prince was so sweet. Since Thunder's arrival, Jiayi had become very fond of the little dog and spent as much time holding, brushing, and playing with her for as much she could get away with. It was good to see that Jiayi's painting lessons weren't going to waste either. Thunder's visage wasn't the most accurate, but Sixth Prince's grasp on brush strokes and shading was excellent.

"Do you like it?" Prince Han asked.

Jiayi nodded, "Thank you for delivering this on behalf of Sixth Prince. I'll treasure it,"

Prince Han laughed, "That's good. I asked Yiqiang how he would feel if you didn't like it. He almost cried,"

A laugh slipped out of Jiayi before she could smother it, "Even if it were hideous, it was enough that Sixth Prince thought of a lowly servant like me,"

"There's...there's another gift," said Prince Han, "Here,"

Jiayi took the small lacquered box from his hand and opened it. She gasped softly. The earrings!

"Do you like it?" Prince Han asked.

Jiayi ran her fingers across the carved glass, "I love them,"

"That's good," Prince Han cleared his throat, "Goodnight,"

Jiayi rushed to send him off, as he all but dashed away. Odd.

Later that night, as Jiayi helped Sixth Prince get ready for bed, she thanked him for his gifts.

"Thunder looks very beautiful in your painting," she said, "I'm going to hang it up in my bedroom,"

Sixth Prince blushed, "Good. Her ugly face will scare away any ghosts,""And the earrings are so beautiful. It must have been fate. I wanted those them for months now!"

Sixth Prince frowned, "What earrings?"

Jiayi gestured to the ones dangling from her ears already, "These,"Scoffing, Sixth Prince let Jiayi do up his clothes, "Those are so boring and small. If I gave you earrings, there would be way more gold! I didn't give you that,"

If Sixth Prince didn't buy them, then Prince Han...?

---

"Your Highness, Shen huang gui fei is back again. Are you still tired?" Asked Jerjer.

The Empress Dowager had been too "exhausted" to see anyone but The Emperor and The Empress since they returned from Mulan. Secret messages revealed that Shen huang gui fei was less than useless. The Empress Dowager sent her to the hunt with specific instructions to place certain girls in front of The Emperor, but instead, she spent the time rolling around in his bed. Shen huang gui fei had forgotten who had allowed her to become an Imperial Noble Consort in the first place.

The Empress Dowager needed to remind her.

The Emperor was her son, and she knew he was a coward. Most likely, Shen huang gui fei hadn't been informed that First Princess was left behind in Mongolia until they were steps from the capital. In the letter The Empress Dowager wrote to The Emperor, she suggested that the First Princess be left behind to get in touch with her ancestors and to release some of the burdens Shen huang gui fei had for caring for a still disgraced daughter. She queried whether the stress was affecting Shen huang gui fei's womb.

The Empress Dowager didn't think the letter worked until Shen huang gui fei kept frantically asking for an audience since her return.

"Hmm," said The Empress Dowager, "How did she look?"

Jerjer smiled, "Very well put together, Your Highness. But I heard she almost collapsed in public when The Empress told her about First Princess,"

The Empress Dowager stroked the bear pelt tucked over her lap that was personally brought down by His Majesty. What luck that The Empress was the bearer of bad news.

"How do I look?" Asked The Empress Dowager.

Jerjer smirked, "Now that the eleventh month† is finally here, Your Highness is afraid of cold and wind. If Shen huang gui fei were to spread bad air here, Your Highness could fall sick. Perhaps it would be better for her to come back next week? Or after the new year?"

"What a devious mouth you have!" The Empress Dowager said with a laugh, "No, bring her in,"

As Jerjer said, Shen huang gui fei was immaculately put together in her purple fur-trimmed chenyi. But by the harrowed look in her eyes, Shen huang gui fei certainly wasn't well. The Empress Dowager offered her a seat.

"You've been very eager to see me, huang gui fei,"

"I've been away from you for many months, Your Highness. I only wished to ask if you've been well,"

"Did you? It didn't matter much to you in Mulan," said The Empress Dowager, "You were far too busy taking care of yourself to even think about taking care of me, and perhaps it should stay that way."

Shen huang gui fei dropped to her knees, "Your Highness, I know my wrongs. I'm dimwitted and foolish,"

The Empress Dowager curled her fingers around her hand warmer and stared silently at Shen huang gui fei.

"Your Highness, if His Majesty's heart is closed to me, how can I serve you in earnest? Not for a single moment have I forgotten what you've done for me and...Huabao,"

Tears began to slide down Shen huang gui fei's face at the sound of her daughter's name."This time–this time, The Empress has gone too far. She's never forgiven that my daughter is hale and whole while hers rests with the Gods. She forced His Majesty to abandon Huaboa in Mongolia,"

Shen huang gui fei pressed her forehead to the ground, "Your Highness, grant me this mercy and bring Huabao back. I don't know if I can live without her. Please, Your Highness!"

Even if The Empress Dowager was unaware of it all, the odds of Huabao returning to the capital for good were zero. The princess was 16 already. His Majesty would most likely marry Huabao to whichever tribe made the most merits or needed the most placation. Would Shen huang gui fei be permitted to attend the wedding?

Probably not.

"What can I do?" The Empress Dowager sighed, "The Empress may bend her knee to me, but she's still The Empress. If His Majesty doesn't oppose her, what can I do?"

"Your Highness–"

"Perhaps you could have avoided this if you had spent less time trying to raise your family's status and more time paying attention to The Empress' hand. If you want Huabao back, you must do it yourself,"

Before Shen huang gui fei could continue begging, The Empress Dowager held out her hand to Jerjer, "I'm tired. You can find your way out,"

–––– *A very famous traditional handmade paper used primarily for imperial edicts, scripture, calligraphy, and painting †Between November 22 – December 22

[krizaland]

The Sleeping Princess chapter 2

First

Alrighty here’s chapter 2!

The words hit The Sleeping Princess like an avalanche.

Was Lance really asking her out?!

It was bad enough she had to deal with him constantly checking in on her.

Now he wanted to be her boyfriend?!

The Sleeping Princess was so uncomfortable she could die!

She tried to speak but the words got caught in her throat.

Lance stared at her expectantly, his face still glowing pink.

As uncomfortable as she was, the nervous look on Lance’s face tugged on her heartstrings.

He had been nothing but kind to her since the moment she arrived in Wonderworld.

It would be downright evil to break the heart of such a kind soul.

The Sleeping Princess took in a deep breath as she finally found her voice.

“S-Sure! I’m more than happy to be yours!” She stuttered as she gingerly took the box from Lance.

In that moment, Lance’s face lit up.

“Really?! Do you mean what you say?! Are you willing to love me each and every day?!”

The Sleeping Princess tried to respond but lost her voice again.

Instead she simply nodded her head.

Lance threw his arms around her and held her tight.

“Oh, my love you have no idea how happy I’ve became! Now that I know you feel the same!”

The Sleeping Princess nervously returned the hug.

After what felt like an eternity, Lance finally released The Sleeping Princess.

“This is a start of a wonderful new journey for us two! Now that we’re together, is there anything you’d like to do?”

The Sleeping Princess thought for a moment.

What she really wanted to do was run as far away from Lance as possible and never look back.

But she knew that option was out of the question.

It was then her mind was graced with an idea.

“We could cuddle together, if you want.”

“A splendid idea for a date but first must ask that you wait. For you see, it seems you’ve forgotten to open the gift from me.” Lance gestured to the purple box in her hands.

“Oh right! Sorry about that!”

The Sleeping Princess opened the box to find a fluffy black sleep mask.

Upon closer inspection, the sleep mask had two white closed eyes embroidered on the front and a soft velvet on the back.

“Aww! Thank you, Lance! I love it!” For once The Sleeping Princess was telling the truth.

The sleep mask was genuinely cute.

“I know how much you love to rest. So I brought you that mask to help you sleep your best. It’ll keep out all sound and light. Ensuring that you’ll sleep through the night.” Lance explained as he folded his hands behind his back.

“Oh wow! Thank you so much! I can’t wait to try it out!” The Sleeping Princess chirped as she rubbed her fingers against the mask.

“Well wait no longer, my dear! You can use it right now and here. After all you did state, that you wanted to have a cuddle date.” Lance reminded playfully.

The Sleeping Princess’s discomfort returned.

She was so excited by her gift that she had forgotten why Lance had given it to her in the first place.

Nevertheless, she put on a happy face and led Lance to her bed.

She climbed into bed and slipped on the mask.

The moment the mask touched her face, she let out a sigh of content.

Never had she felt so cozy before!

However the cozy feeling quickly left when she felt Lance climb in beside her.

His arms snaked around her waist as he held her tight.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

The Sleeping Princess fought back a shudder as she tried to ignore Lance.

However, it wasn’t long before she started to feel something cold and wiggly stroking her hair.

The Sleeping Princess let out a yelp as she turned to face Lance.

But when she pulled up her mask there were no signs of anything strange.

“Hm? Is something wrong my dear? Why do you scream out in fear?” Lance asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry! I’m fine. I just thought a felt a bug or something crawling on me.”

The Sleeping Princess knew that wasn’t too far from the truth.

It did feel like some kind of creepy crawly was slithering through her hair.

“Hmm… I don’t think there are bugs running about, but if it makes you feel better I’ll still keep an eye out.” Lance reassured gently.

“Oh, uh thanks.”

And with that, The Sleeping Princess rolled over, slid down her mask, and tried to go to sleep.

Just when she was about to finally doze off, she felt it again.

The cold wiggly feeling had returned and this time it seemed to have brought friends.

The Sleeping Princess felt like she was sleeping in a pile of worms!

She let out another yelp, turned around and lifted her mask again.

There still wasn’t anything more than a very confused Lance staring back at her.

“Is everything alright? This is the second time you’ve screamed in fright.”

“Sorry! Sorry! I just felt those bugs crawling on me again.” The Sleeping Princess whimpered.

“Like I said before, my dear there are no bugs here. Just go back and rest. There’s no need to be distressed.” Lance reassured sweetly as he kissed her forehead.

The Sleeping Princess held back a shudder as she quickly slid down her mask and rolled back over.

The Sleeping Princess laid in silence for a moment, anxiously awaiting the cold wiggly feelings to return.

Eventually, the comforting arms of sleep took hold of the Sleeping Princess.

The Sleeping Princess awoke to the sound of soft crying.

She followed the sound only to be met with a mysterious man with a top hat over his face.

The man looked over at her with tears pouring down the brim of his hat.

“How could you do such a thing? Is what we had worth nothing?”

“What are you talking about?! I don’t even know who you are!” The Sleeping Princess whined as she threw her hands in the air.

The man looked like he was shot in the chest.

“No! It cannot be! Surely you haven’t forgotten me!”

The Sleeping Princess gave the man a confused look.

The man cupped her face and looked into her eyes.

“Oh no! Looks like it’s true! It looks like Lance has gotten the best of you!”

The Sleeping Princess peeled the man’s gloves hands off of her.

“What are you going on about?! Lance is a nice guy! Well…ok he’s a little creepy but still! He’s the maestro of Wonderworld! He gave me such a nice home and-”

The man shook his head, his green hair shaking as he did so.

“The maestro he most certainly is not! He’s only tricked you into thinking he called the shots! He’s just trying to lower your defenses! So please come to your senses!”

The Sleeping Princess simply gave the man another confused look before shaking her head.

“Alright, you’re clearly crazy. I’m gonna go now.”

“Wait! Please don’t go! I’m telling the truth you must know!” The man pleaded as he held out his arm.

But he was too late, for The Sleeping Princess had already vanished.

The Sleeping Princess awoke once again, this time in the comfort of her bed.

She let out a sigh of relief,

“My god! What a nightmare! Glad that’s over!”

Next

[blue-da-ba-dee]

Thank you so much for the tag @an-ivy-covered-summer 🫶🏼 For something I thought would be easy turned out to be quite difficult✨

Take Me Back To Eden : Sleep Token

Listen, I could have easily put all three albums because they're all PERFECTION. TMBTE means so much to me. The Summoning is the reason I even became aware of ST. The genre blending is *chef's kiss*. I can shake ass, cry and rage all to one song tbh. It's forever my beloved🖤

Amor Prohibido : Selena

La Reina!!! I almost chose Entre a Mi Mundo but because this album has Si Una Vez, it comes out front by just a smidge lol (I adore both tho).

The Death Of Peace Of Mind : Bad Omens

My favorite album of theirs so far. Another album that has a solid array of genres that drew me in and kept me hooked. Before TMBTE this was the album on constant loop lol

Fallen : Evanescence

Fallen is the reason I'm into what I'm into. She's timeless. She nostalgic but also resonates with my current self.

Koi No Yokan : Deftones

I only recently really got into Deftones and did a deep dive into their discography. KNY is perfect from start to finish. My favorite. I will it defend til my last breath.

EVERGREEN : PVRIS

This one definitely played a big part in my healing journey. It could not have come out at a better time in my life. Lynn perfectly articulates all I've failed to.

Unreal, Unearth : Hozier

A literal masterpiece. I can't even describe what this album did to my brain chemistry with the first listen. The inspiration behind it just blows my mind. First Light touched the deepest depths of my soul. But after this I'm never gonna be the same and I am never going back again. Indeed😭

Twilight Soundtrack

Must I really explain this lol. Decode alone transports me right back to 2008. Such specific memories I can still recall whenever I listen to this soundtrack. A comfort soundtrack for me tbh.

One-X : Three Days Grace

Adam Gontier era 3DG will forever hold a deeply special place in by heart. While self titled and LSN are also my favorites, One-X stands out above them. Even though this came out in while I was in middle school, it helped me through the deep heartaches my senior year of hs. I owe so much to this album.

Tagging: @andreethier @callmemoonlight123 @lankinen @justrandomshitsstuff @marie98989898 (if you're cool with it of course🫶🏼)

nine favorite albums in no particular order

🤍 tagged by @rimouskis & @folie-a-dewey 🤍

Get Hurt, The Gaslight Anthem

current favourite, forever favourite. this whole album makes me so happy.

Birthdays, Keaton Henson

my best friend and i would play this album all the way through every day after school. every song reminds me of her.

Blond, Frank Ocean

soundtrack of my undergrad years.

By & By, Caamp

if i was a more honest person this list would've just been 9 Caamp albums.

Pony, Orville Peck

the music the voice the aesthetic the lyrics the THEATRE. 10/10.

You Want It Darker, Leonard Cohen

cohen is all existential blasphemy and sex. no one is surprised i chose this i bet.

Joanna, Lady Gaga

shrimp emotions.

Angels in Science Fiction, St. Paul & The Broken Bones

my brother and i were both obsessed w this album at the same time. we live on opposite sides of the country and are too many years apart to really be close but for weeks it was all either of us could talk about.

Born in the USA, Bruce Springsteen

every springsteen song is my favourite song.

tagging: @captainbradmarchand 🤍 @genosigned 🤍 @ocontraire 🤍 @kitchener-waterloo 🤍 @phdmama 🤍 @gritty-big-naturals 🤍 @suzufield 🤍 @brightstarlou 🤍 @stillfertile 🤍

[bumbleboa]

“Morning, Kudo-kun.”

Shinichi was in the midst of setting up his computer when he glanced at the door, the source of where the voice came from.

“Hakuba?” Shinichi pressed his palms on the table, standing up as well. “Is there something wrong?” He was half-contemplating if he should excuse himself quickly to get a cup of coffee from the pantry first, judging the matter of discussion must be important to have him visit so early in the morning without warning.

“Wrong? No.” The blonde smiled, looking relaxed as he moved closer to the table. Shinichi gestured to have him take a seat, and they both sat on their chairs in sync. Since Hakuba had time to idle so casually, Shinichi guessed there wasn’t any terrorist or bombs threatening the city at the moment, then.

“I was graced with 38 messages at three in the morning from Kuroba-kun,” Hakuba said as he smoothed the tie over his suit.

Shinichi widened his eyes. This was the last topic he had in mind. “What happened?”

“37 of the messages were irrelevant. There is only one that brings me here.” Hakuba smiled (or smirked. Shinichi couldn’t tell). “He finally agrees to work with me.”

Shinichi leaned against his chair, and he didn’t even realise his fists were clenched under the table until he relaxed them. At least nothing was physically wrong with Kuroba, but he couldn’t help recalling the strange moment when they were waiting for his car outside the hotel again, nudging him now like how it did for the past two nights—even if it was as brief as a thought before sleep. He had concluded his suggestion was a mistake, but seeing how Kuroba took action so much quicker than expected, he wasn’t sure about it anymore.

“Ah,” Shinichi said, when he realised he’d forgotten to produce a response.

Hakuba eyed Shinichi carefully. “Judging from your reaction, I am right to assume you have something to do with his change of heart?”

“I lightly suggested to him once a few days ago.”

“Once.” Hakuba echoed, and gave a light laugh. “I’ve lost count since the day I tried.”

“If I had known, I would've asked him sooner,” Shinichi said, looking apologetic. He was so convinced that he had no power over the somewhat one-sided, more than a decade adversary Kuroba had for Hakuba, but who would have guessed?

“In no way did I mean that, but I suppose I’m here to give my thanks too.” Hakuba placed a hand over his chest. “In any case, I do have a few pet projects that will fit Kuroba-kun in nicely, but I’ll do my best to not take much of his time away from you.”

Shinichi cupped his hands together, fiddling with the edge of his thumb. “If that’s necessary—

“Yes, but I believe that isn’t what Kuroba-kun wants.”

from Snippets of Conversation by balancingdiet

I started reading this fic recently and really enjoying it! And when I read the newest chapter, I had this urge to draw a part of this conversation.

Still figuring out how I want to draw Hakuba, this was good practice!

[oddaodd]

· I Don't Go In For Sweets ·

Request: by a lovely anon "set after the events of season 3. Tommy can't handle the company, he's still grieving and he has to be there for Charlie so Polly tells him she knows a girl from a good family to get married He ends up agreeing (aunt Pol can be very persuasive) but even though he's married, this new girl isn't considered as a wife. He doesn't really make any effort but his "wife" understands, he's a widowed father who lost his first wife only a year ago. However since they are...in this, she wants to make her time as enjoyable as possible for the both of them and for Charlie too. But no matter what Tommy makes it a point of honor to not let her in, to not let her replace Grace so he ignores her, he works more, tries to spend as little as possible in the house. Reader stays patient, it will be alright and Charlie is making her quite busy anyway. One night, Tommy comes home completely drunk and maybe a bit high too, he can't even make it to his office. Thankfully Reader is still awake, she takes care of him and Tommy just...melts at how gentle Reader is, he may be able to keep his distant while sober but it's much harder in his state. He admits to her how he's been feeling and all. Ever since that night, something changed, Tommy feels some comfort, some solace being around her, she accepts him wholly, even his flaws, the bad side of his business and she tries to provide some sort of safe place for when it gets too hard." (I edited the request because it was very long, but I kept all essential parts in there)

Author’s note: I loved loved loved writing this and it ended up being SUPER long, but I’m very happy with how it turned out. As always, I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days!

Warnings: season 3 SPOILERS sort of, but not really, still read at your own risk. Arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drugs, angst.

·

“Thomas, you may not be able to see it, but you’re breaking apart” Polly spoke with a sigh as she lit a cigarette after everyone was dismissed from a family meeting.

Everyone had left Tommy’s office in arrow house rather gaily after receiving their fair compensations for partaking in the whole Russian ordeal, all except Polly, who remained where she sat, wishing for a word with her nephew

Tommy merely scoffed at her concern before lighting his own cigarette and taking a puff “I’ll be alright”

“And Charlie?” Pol pressed knowing Tommy’s mourning was not only affecting him, but Charlie as well. “What about him?”

“He’s fine” He said before turning around to look through the window, ignoring his Aunt’s heavy stare.

“You take too much after your mother” she sighed half angry half sad “she too loved pretending everything was alright and I don’t need to remind you where that lead her”

Tommy sighed deeply, he knew he could fool anyone. Anyone but Polly. “We’ll manage”

“Consider my offer” Polly said standing up and making her way to the door “Y/n is a good girl from a good family” she persuaded before leaving the room.

Tommy sighed at his Aunt’s words, he wasn’t ready to get married again even when he knew the woman he would be marrying was a nice one. He felt like he was spitting on Grace’s grave and he hated himself for even considering the prospect, but he knew a mother figure would be good for Charlie.

He spent the rest of the day pondering about Polly’s suggestion and remembering his own childhood in the shadow of the absent tortured presence that his mother had been. It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want that for Charlie, so that same night he phoned Polly.

“I’ll do it” was all he said before hanging up. There was no need for more words, Polly would know exactly what he meant.

Exactly a week later, Tom was standing in the altar of a church that was significantly smaller than the one from his first wedding. The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit. And as he stood there he couldn’t keep his mind from traveling to the days leading up to his wedding to Grace. She had made sure everything was perfect and had made an effort to invite every single relative she could think of. She remembered her rambling on an on about fabrics, insisting that everything ought to be perfect when he in all honestly couldn’t care less, he just wanted to marry her.

All his thoughts vanished away with a poof when Y/n came into sight. And what a sight she was. She had insisted on doing her own makeup and on pinning flowers to her hair to compliment her headpiece and her elegant, yet simple white dress flowed almost mystically as her father gave her away. She had never imagined she would be marrying someone she didn’t know, but she wanted to look her best for getting married is not something people do everyday.

When she stood in the altar, she offered her to be husband a smile which he did not return, instead turning his attention to the priest before them. She mirrored his actions, her heart beating violently under her chest as the priest began speaking.

It all felt like a blur, she could swear it had only been a second since her father had given her away and yet, the priest had already uttered the dreaded “you may now kiss the bride”

Tommy barely brushed his lips against hers and soon the sound of everyone clapping invaded her ears. They had a small party afterwards in Y/n’s former house. Her parents had invited pretty much all of their acquaintances while tommy had only invited his close relatives.

When night fell Tommy was more than ready to leave “Are you ready to go?” was one of the few sentences he uttered to his now wife that night.

She again offered him a smile before saying “yeah just let me say goodbye”

The drive to arrow house was tense, although Y/n didn’t know Thomas very well she would tell he was unhappy. She wondered about what to say to him, but couldn’t come up with anything good enough and soon enough they were pulling over in front of Tommy’s stately home.

“Charlie must already be asleep, but I'll introduce you tomorrow” he said opening Y/n’s door for her.

“It’s alright” she said looking at him, not quite knowing what to do next.

“Your parents sent some of your belongings, I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” he said

“Thank you, Thomas” she smiled as she walked into the big house not yet feeling close enough to him to call him Tommy.

His name falling from her lips caused an echo of bittersweet emotions to stir inside him but he masked it perfectly well as she introduced Y/n to the maids that went to the door to take their coats.

“Frances here will show you the way to the room” he said after having made introductions.

“This way, Mrs” Frances politely said.

Y/n began following her but stopped when she didn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps behind her own.

“Are you not coming?” she asked turning to look at him.

“Maybe in a bit” was all he said before he walked away down one of the many spacious hallways of the house.

After Y/n made herself comfortable in the room and changed into her nightgown she took the time to peek around the room like one always does when one is a strange place. After familiarizing herself with it she laid down in the big bed. She was nervous, she knew what happened on wedding nights. A small chuckle stopped at her lips when she recalled the stories her close already married girlfriends told her. If she hadn’t married a complete stranger she too would be looking forward to it.

Her thoughts ended up luring her to sleep after a while despite her nerves and the night went by in a ridiculously fast flash. The next morning she woke up alone and after getting ready she made her way downstairs. Tommy and Charlie were already in the dining room when she entered it.

“good morning” she said

Charlie immediately turned his attention to her, his eyes widening while his dad merely glanced at her while he muttered a “Good morning “ of his own.

Y/n sat down next to Tommy while he cleared his throat “charles, this is Y/n. We got married yesterday so she’ll be living with us from now on”

Charlie merely nodded in understanding before playing around with his food.

A tense air flooded breakfast until Tommy stood up, having barely touched his food and spoke turning to look at Y/n “I have to go now, if you need anything feel free to ask Frances”

“Alright” Y/n replied feeling a bit disappointed, she would love to get to know him, but she already knew it was going to be difficult.

“I have to go too” Charlie announced in a timid voice, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts. Despite her disappointment she understood, maybe he was just shy and his dad just reticent. They had lost a wife and a mother after all.

The first few days after that, Charlie avoided her nearly as much as his father did and Y/n remained in lonely patience until one night Charlie’s cries interrupted her focus on the book that she had just bought. She rushed to his room and called out his name as she entered not knowing if the boy would be comfortable with her or not.

“What is it?” she asked worried as she knelt by his bed.

“I miss my mum” the boy confessed looking at her with teary eyes as he clutched his blanket.

Y/n felt her heart give a small ache at his confession and in an attempt to comfort him she spoke “She’s not really gone, you know?”

“She’s dead” the boy sobbed.

“but people who die, don’t leave us. Not really anyhow” she said hesitantly rubbing his arm. “just because we cant see them doesn’t mean they are not here”

“I miss seeing her” he continued.

“Oh but you can still see her”

“how”

“before you go to bed just think about her, then she’ll visit you in your dreams” Y/n spoke as if she was telling a fairy tale.

“really?” the boy’s eyes widened.

“really” Y/n confirmed “But you have to think really really hard”

“I’ll try” Charlie said having calmed down a bit.

“very well” Y/n said as she stood up, but Charlie’s voice stopped her.

“can you stay till I fall asleep?”

After that night, Charlie hardly left Y/n’s side and she felt much better with his company for she was sure if he wasn’t there keeping her on her toes all day she would fall into a depressive chasm induced by her husband’s absence.

On the rare moments he was home she tried to strike up conversation with him over breakfast or late at night when he came home and she was burdened by insomnia. But Tommy only humored her with a few short responses before excusing himself or turning to face the other side of the bed.

It wasn’t only the fact that he avoided her as much as he could, but he also made it a priority to exclude her at all times. She was never invited into family meetings or night’s at The Garrison so she thought it was a miracle when tommy didn’t oppose to her planning Charlie’s birthday party.

She invited only Tommy’s family which instantly warmed up to her, noticing what a good influence she was and Polly wanted to slap Thomas for the way he had been acting throughout his marriage to Y/n. Almost feeling guilty for getting her into this mess.

When the party ended Tommy shut himself in his office like he often did when he was at home and though he had never given Y/n a reason to believe she was welcome in there of all places, she found herself allowing herself in after putting Charlie to bed.

Tommy looked up as she entered and let out a sigh before turning his attention back to some papers he had been reading.

“I noticed you didn’t have any” she commented not letting his sigh deflate her as she laid a plate with a slice of homemade chocolate cake on his desk. “it’s really good if I may say so myself” she mused sitting down in a chair opposite to his as she dug in with a fork in her own slice.

“I don’t go in for sweets” he stated.

“Not even chocolate?” Y/n tried, but tommy didn’t answer, instead he just shook his head.

“I still think you should try it, it’s not overly sweet, and…”

“is there anything you need?” he interrupted bluntly a bit harsher than he would’ve liked.

His tone caught her off guard and when she couldn’t come up with an answer tommy again turned his attention back to his papers.

“I wish you could let me in” She softly confessed after a few tense seconds.

“Well I wish we hadn’t married but I guess things don’t always go the way we want them to go”

Tommy knew he had crossed a line by the silence that again settled into the room. He looked up at Y/n with her parted lips and misty eyes. They exchanged glances for a second but instead of allowing him to see her like that any longer, she stood up setting her plate on his desk and walked away, only allowing a few tears to drop by when she was out of the room and his sight.

After that she stopped trying to get closer to him. He still loved his late wife and she understood, people in grief never mean what they say after all, but his words stung nonetheless.

She stopped trying to wait for him at night to see if he had gotten home alright and during breakfast she only uttered polite good mornings.

One night however, Y/n was yanked out of a peaceful sleep by a loud crash. She was on her feet in no time and after checking into Charlie’s room to see if he was alright she cautiously ventured downstairs. A few incoherent mumbles filled her ears before her husband came into sight, fumbling with his coat to get it off.

“need help?” she asked earning his attention.

“I’m fine” he said finally taking it off but as he went to take a step to begin walking the floor under him moved and he lost his balance, his knees crashing loudly against the wooden floor.

Y/n offered him a hand and helped him up. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands were shaky, consequence of the snow, no doubt. “let’s get you upstairs”

“I can do it on me own” he slurred letting go of her hand.

“stop being so stubborn” she derided, snaking one of her arms around his waist as she helped him upstairs.

Y/n helped him into bed, tookoff his shoes and went to the bathroom to fetch a small towel and some cold water.

She dampened the towel with the cold water before dabing it gently on Tommy’s forehead. His eyes never leaving her face as she did so, making her grow a bit nervous. She continued, trying her best to ignore it until she felt his hand softly caressing her cheek.

“You are beautiful” he rasped.

“Stop it, Thomas” she said feeling her cheeks grow red when she felt a bit sad that he had to be completely drunk to compliment her.

Even in his drunken state he seemed to notice he was making her uncomfortable so he held his tongue until Y/n laid in bed next to him after turning on the lights.

“I’m sorry” he interrupted the silence “For the way I’ve been acting” the whiskey and cocaine making him more vulnerable and open “I guess I was afraid that if I let you in then she would disappear”

He didn’t expect her to answer, but then her voice came in a soft exhausted tone“ I don’t intend to replace her. You don’t need to act all defensive and secretive. Even if it’s not what you wanted, we are married.”

“I Know” was all he said.

Y/n expected him to withdraw more from her after showing himself that vulnerable to her that night but she was wrong. He began arriving home earlier, sometimes even asking if he could come along on the walks she and Charlie so much adored going on. And Y/n finally felt her marriage was going somewhere maybe it wasn’t based on love yet, but it was something.

One day she was at the stables while Charlie was taking a nap. She had always adored horses.

“I didn’t know you liked horses” came Tommy’s smooth voice causing her to jump.

“You never asked” she smiled petting a black horse as he walked closer to her.

“We could go out for a ride, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind letting you borrow his horse” Tommy offered as he too began to pet the horse, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s for a brief second.

“I’d love to, but I am afraid I don’t know how to ride, Tommy” she said, panicking for a second after having called him that. But she rested assured as soon as he spoke again.

“Well that can be fixed” he said opening the door of the stall and guiding the horse outside.

“You mean now?” Y/n asked with a laugh.

“Got something better to do?” he asked walking out of the stable with the horse. Y/n observed tommy as he prepared the horse. She had never seen him so gentle and calm before and she only realized she had been staring when Tommy directed his attention to her to ask her if she was ready.

“I think so” she said going to stand next to the horse wondering how the hell to climb up. But before she had any more time to think she felt Tommy’s hands on her waist giving her a push that allowed her to pull herself up on the animal. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear slacks that day, she thought.

“Goodness this is high” she said nervously looking down at Tommy when he began guiding the horse to move in a slow walk.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he promised repressing a mirthful tone at her nervousness.

He guided the horse with her around the property in the crisp evening air and Y/n allowed herself to relax with every step the horse took. Tommy’s presence made her feel safe and protected and she found it increasingly harder to look away from his figure. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him.

When the sky began turning soft shades of purple and orange the pair returned to the stables. When the time came from Y/n to come down from the horse, tommy helped her again. Y/n began to love the feeling of him touching her and when her feet touched the ground in front of Thomas, he didn’t remove his hands from her waist right away and instead fixed his blue eyes on her, not wanting to stop looking at her.

She too fixed her eyes on Tommy as she felt a silent gasp in the base of her throat. That was the way she would’ve liked him to look at her on their wedding day. Tommy then leaned in, almost as if he were asking for permission before he tenderly pressed his lips to Y/n’s.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

[jingyismom]

Thanks everyone for the prompts! I decided to try and knock these all out in one go:

@thegirlwhotrashcans: remember, you asked for it. au, nobody dies, wwx and yanli bodyswap. they're married to lwj and jzx. 100% crack. bonus points if jin zixuan completely loses his shit and lwj looks very calm but loses his sh*t after everything is back to normal

@alightbuthappypen: Competency kink! One or both of them (when I say 'them' I mean wangxian obvs, I know what I'm about) getting hot and bothered about the other being amazing. On a nighthunt maybe? Or anywhere else that strikes your fancy!

@hearteyeswangji: WRITE MORE P*RN

I think I can manage that. With a few tweaks, accidental seriousness, and broad, ridiculous fix-its tacked on. I have no idea how long this might be. Let’s try it in installments? I’ll reblog and add on as I go. Maybe it’ll be fun. We’ll find out.

Disclaimer that this is just gonna go for it with no revising and no beta readers, so pls do not hold me to any conceivable standard of coherency thx

--

WILL INCLUDE: wangxian, xuanli, let jyl and lwj be friends agenda, canon divergence, fix-it, everybody lives, arranged marriage, bodyswap, light angst, getting together, Attempts at Comedy, eventual (light?) wangxian smut

The Sunshot Campaign has just been won. Everyone goes over to Jin Guangshan’s house after the Nightless City banquet, to Negotiate Stuff, and some hasty political marriages happen resulting in Xuanli Wedded Bliss and Wangxian Un-confessed Wedded Tension. Then, suddenly...a curse befalls our brave heroes.

--

Wei Wuxian wakes suddenly, feeling odd. He’s sleeping on his stomach for one thing, which is not his usual, but he feels warm and comfortable enough that he doesn’t think it strange. But then there is the scent of peonies and gardenias, which is both familiar and alien, somehow. It makes him open his eyes. 

Which is when he sees the hand before him on the bolster. It is slender and elegant. Small. Pale. Familiar? Wearing a jade bangle. He pushes himself up a bit, startled, only to see the hand move when he does. 

The hand. Is his hand. He stares at it. The shock of it, coupled with the early hour, leave his mind working very slowly.

At length, he becomes aware of an odd weight across his back, which then shifts. Wei Wuxian turns.

He is met with the sleepy, moon-eyed stare of one Jin Zixuan, still cradling him in his arms.

“What the fuck,” says Wei Wuxian. His voice is. Soft. And high.

He would think this was all some messed-up dream if not for the fact that his dreams of late have all been messed up in an entirely different way. He’s also certain, in an odd, detached way, that he never would have imagined the battle scars that mar Jin Zixuan’s distressingly visible skin.

Jin Zixuan’s brow furrows, and he blinks. “A-Li?”

“...What the fuck.”

~~~

When Lan Wangji wakes at his customary hour, he is just slightly more tired than usual. The coverlet over him is oddly heavy, but he does not give it any thought until light from the rising sun slips over an unfamiliar sill and into his eyes. His entire body goes tense as he remembers. 

Jinlintai. The long hours of debate, of negotiation. The hasty marriages. 

He sits up in his strange bed and turns. There, in the bed opposite, is Wei Ying’s sleeping form. Close, yet still distant. Safe, at least.

Lan Wangji relaxes, and takes a breath. It was a near thing, keeping the sects from demanding more and more from Wei Ying, from treating him like a criminal instead of the hero he is. But somehow, Jiang Wanyin and Xiongzhang ended up on the same page, defending him, working tirelessly toward a compromise with the more critical parties. And now Lan Wangji has the dubious honor of ‘keeping Wei Ying in check,’ as Yao-zongzhu so inelegantly put it, through marriage. 

A strictly political marriage. A convenient solution. To bind them together, to keep Wei Ying tied under the umbrella of Lan Wangji’s rigid honor. 

It is unclear, as of yet, if Wei Ying resents this arrangement. He has not been himself since Nightless City, and the destruction of Wen Ruohan’s forces. First his long coma, then a lingering tiredness that he has not seemed able to shake, which dampens his normally-vivid expressions of feeling.

Lan Wangji is worried. But this, at least, Wei Ying has made clear is unwelcome. He seems to want to pretend that nothing has changed. Not about himself, and not between the two of them. Lan Wangji has done his best to honor his wishes, despite everything.

Now, he rises and dresses before sinking into his morning meditation. It is still strange to do so fully dressed, weighed down by the propriety required for the public, but it has felt necessary, now that Wei Ying shares chambers with him. A physical manifestation of the barrier between them, more important than ever now that they are, bizarrely, married. 

Before his meditation is finished, he hears Wei Ying stir. It is unusual for him to wake so early. Lan Wangji’s eyes snap open, immediately searching him for signs of pain.

Wei Wuxian turns over, then goes very still. He sits bolt upright, searching the bed with wild eyes, then turns them on the room at large. When they land on Lan Wangji, he curls in on himself, the fingers of one hand tightening at the collars of his sleeping robe, clutching it closed.

“La—Lan-er-gongzi?” 

His voice is oddly breathy, and his eyes...they are wide with confusion, with just the slightest tinge of fear. Lan Wangji is struck nearly senseless by the term of address, aberrant in Wei Ying’s mouth.

“What is wrong?”

Searching the room again, Wei Wuxian moves toward the edge of the bed with a strangely graceful modesty. It looks alien on his long limbs. “My...my husband. Where…?”

The word jolts through Lan Wangji’s entire body. He has never heard Wei Ying say it before. He has...wanted to hear it. Dearly, he realizes suddenly. But it sounds wrong. Distressed. Everything Wei Ying says sounds wrong.

“Wei Ying,” he says. 

Wei Ying’s eyes snap to his. “A-Xian? Where is he? Is he with A-Xuan? Are they alright?”

Lan Wangji blinks at him, uncomprehending, for several seconds. Then he begins to understand.

“You are not—”

The doors to their chambers burst open, and Jiang Yanli rushes in. The tasteful purple and gold robes she has adopted in the few days since the weddings are loose, uncharacteristically askew—not impreprietous, but verging on it. She spots Lan Wangji and her stormy expression clears.

“Lan Zhan,” she says, and her shoulders droop. 

Lan Wangji blinks at her, thrown by her use of this name, then glances at Wei Ying, who has gone completely still, his mouth open in a small, shocked ‘o.’ Jiang Yanli follows his gaze and freezes.

Just then, Jin Zixuan comes barreling into the room, significantly more unkempt than his wife. He has not even tied back his hair. 

“A-Li,” he implores, “what’s happened? We can’t just go barging into our guests’,” he pauses, and bows awkwardly, hastily, to Lan Wangji and Wei Ying in turn, “rooms like this. Please,” he takes her arm, but she shakes him off. 

She’s still staring at Wei Ying. “Sh...Shijie?”

Wei Ying startles, and looks down at himself. He holds out his arms, his hands, and looks at those too. Then he looks up at Jiang Yanli. “A-Xian?”

“Shijie,” Jiang Yanli says, and slumps over to the bed, embracing Wei Ying.

“A-Li,” hisses Jin Zixuan, scandalized. 

Lan Wangji glances at Jin Zixuan’s wife embracing his own husband on the bed, and rises. He walks briskly past them all to shut the door. Then he returns. 

“Wei Ying,” he says again. Jiang Yanli looks up at him.

It is obvious, now that he has realized it. Her face, animated by his personality. The soft warmth of her eyes sharpened just so. The deliberately graceless way she threw herself—himself—into Wei Ying’s—no, Jiang Yanli’s—arms.

Lan Wangji takes a deep breath. “Is this a curse?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says with Jiang Yanli’s face, but his own certainty.

“How can we break it?” Lan Wangji asks.

“I”m not sure, not yet. I need to try a few things—or—having the original curse would be safer.” He looks at his sister in his own body. “I...don’t really want to experiment with this.”

Jiang Yanli tsks and bumps his shoulder a little too forcefully, jostling Wei Ying in her currently slight form. “Vain,” she says, teasing.

“Shijieee,” he whines. It sounds bizarre in Jiang Yanli’s voice. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

“I know,” Jiang Yanli says, soothing. 

“Do you feel alright?” Wei Ying goes on, urgent.

“Perfectly alright, now that you’re both here,” she says, smiling at the newcomers in turn.

Something sharply acidic surges in Lan Wangji’s stomach at such a look on Wei Ying’s face, directed at...Jin Zixuan.

“Really, though,” Wei Ying presses, “any nausea? Dizziness? Pain? You’re not worried?”

“Not at all. Our A-Xian will figure it out.”

Lan Wangji watches as the appearance of Wei Ying’s knuckle affectionately brushes Jiang Yanli’s nose. 

Strange. It is all...so strange.

“If—”

“What is happening?” Jin Zixuan interrupts.

All three of them look at him. He stares between them, wild-eyed and desperately askew. Lan Wangji has never considered him to be particularly slow on the uptake, but he supposes allowances must be made for the stress of waking up with a stranger in one’s bed.

He does not care to investigate the perverse pang of jealousy he feels at the thought.

“A-Xuan, it’s me,” Jiang Yanli says. Jin Zixuan stares at her in Wei Ying’s body, uncomprehending. She goes on slowly, but not unkindly. “A-Xian and I have been cursed into each other’s bodies. He’s in there, and I’m in here.”

Her husband blinks several times, very quickly. Lan Wangji recognizes the moment it sinks in by the deep flush that rises across his entire face, and is certain he does not wish to know what precisely inspired it. 

Jin Zixuan takes an involuntary half-step back, then forward again, as he speaks with renewed urgency. “Why has this happened? Can it be undone?”

“Great questions,” Wei Ying says, falsely encouraging. Lan Wangji exchanges a glance with him, and it almost feels natural, to share such a thing with either Wei Ying or Jiang Yanli. “Someone was clearly either targeting me—that’s Wei Wuxian, that’s me, in here—or you...whom you know to be Jin Zixuan. I hope.”

Jin Zixuan turns a deeper shade of red. “Obviously,” he bites out. “But why?”

Wei Ying rolls his eyes dramatically. It is not something Lan Wangji ever imagined Jiang Yanli doing.

“We don’t know yet, but we will once we find and question the person responsible,” Wei Ying says. Jiang Yanli grips his arm suddenly. Wei Ying looks at her. “And yes, it can be undone. Of course it can. I’ll figure it out.”

“Cast a rebound,” Lan Wangji says, brisk. The more quickly they are done with this, the better.

Wei Ying’s face falls. “Ah,” he says, “well, we…”

“My cultivation is too weak for him to reliably use,” Jiang Yanli says suddenly. “And I’m not very good at the method, I’m afraid.”

Lan Wangji nods. Steps forward. Then hesitates. “If the curse was cast in such a way, one of you may end up in the caster’s body. And they in yours.”

They all look at Jiang Yanli. Her expression grows grim. “Alright,” she says, then looks to Lan Wangji. There is something steely in her expression that is familiar on Wei Ying’s face. “Thank you for the warning. Go ahead.”

Lan Wangji hesitates only a moment longer, expecting protests from the other two. But Wei Ying is wearing a small, knowing smile, and Jin Zixuan merely nods at her, reassuring. Lan Wangji senses his esteem for the Jin heir rising at such solid trust in his wife. 

He steps forward and casts the rebound. They all hold their breath. 

Wei Ying glances around, his wry expression entirely foreign on Jiang Yanli’s face. “Anything?”

“No,” says Jiang Yanli.

Wei Ying sighs. “More work for us, then.”

“A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli says, taking gentle hold of his wrist. “You know what this means.”

“Ah?”

“You’ll have to be me.”

“Ah. No, I—”

“A-Xian.”

Wei Ying scratches his head, a not-at-all ladylike gesture. “Or we could just stay in here and let these two investigate?”

The smile Jiang Yanli turns on him is tender, and knowing, and indulgent. “I’d like to see you try to sit still when there’s a puzzle to solve.”

He sighs. “Alright. But you have to be me, too.”

She nods, and theatrically slouches into a sprawling, sloppy posture. Wei Ying laughs, his head thrown back, a hand on his stomach. Jin Zixuan turns around, looking almost ill. 

Lan Wangji understands, and he doesn’t. It is dizzying, and distinctly wrong-looking, to see both of them this way. Yet there is also something endearing about it. About the parts of them that do overlap, and fit into each other better than one would expect. 

“A-Xuan,” Jiang Yanli calls softly, noticing her husband’s distress.

Lan Wangji gets the distinct impression that that tone in Wei Ying’s voice is not helping the situation.

“Jin-gongzi,” he says. “It would be best for all of us to go about our days as normal, and not to arouse suspicion. Wei Ying sleeps late, and will not be missed for the morning. Jin-shao-furen may claim mild illness until the afternoon. But you and I must behave as normal. There are still the other sects to host.”

“Yes,” Jin Zixuan says absently. He runs a hand over his face. “Yes. You’re right. A-Li—” he turns and looks at the pair of them on the bed, and pauses. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’ll go back and dress. Join me when—or—Wei—” he stops. “I will be attending my duties. Please let me know what else I can do.”

“Remember to act natural,” Jiang Yanli says. “When A-Xian joins you later, try to look less like a roasted tomato, hmm?”

Jin Zixuan’s mouth twists into a wry smile, and he nods at the floor, then flees the room. Jiang Yanli and Wei Ying turn their eyes to Lan Wangji.

“I shall also depart,” he says. He circles his arms to bow to Jiang Yanli, but Wei Ying stands and pulls him over toward the door. Lan Wangji lets him, and tries not to pull away from the improprietous touch from a married lady. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, hushed and urgent. “I’m not...you don’t think I’m hurting her, am I? Just by being in here? Can you sense any resentment?”

Lan Wangji feels something tighten in his chest. Wei Ying has not let Lan Wangji so much as examine his pulse since he roused from his coma, but the idea that he is so constantly steeped in resentment as to cause worry that his very soul may be harmful...is distressing. He takes hold of his slender wrist carefully. It is still Jiang Yanli’s body, and he will treat it with the respect it is owed. 

“I cannot,” he says. The only energy in Jiang Yanli’s body is generated by her own small but steady golden core. “I sense nothing that may be harmful.”

Wei Ying lets out a relieved breath. “Alright. But, um. What about the other way? Is her...is my body harming her?”

Lan Wangji turns to go back and perform the same examination, but Wei Ying stops him. “No, that’s alright. I’ll. We’ll just get this over with, and we can. Between the two of us, we can fix whatever...whatever damage I do.”

Lan Wangji stares at him, but Wei Ying refuses to meet his eyes. At length, he nods. “We can.”

“Alright. Ah, thanks. You should go.”

Lan Wangji goes.

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

for the 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 collab <3

summary: you've always been fond of your step-brother, jean, despite how much he tries to avoid spending time with you. he finally reaches his breaking point when he sees you talking to eren, though.

warnings: step-cest, slight manipulation (reader), possessive behavior, teasing + edging, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, rough sex, creampie, jean is a good boy and reader is a fiend

author's note: i hope everyone likes this!!! i'm thinking about creating a step-cest series, let me know who should be next! tagging the lovely @yeagerslut & sending a big thank you for creating this collab! <3

Jean can never really peel his eyes away from you, no matter how hard he tries. At first it was subtle glances, like staring at the exposed skin of your supple thighs from his place beside his mom, when she was first introducing you and your father to him.

His first thought, besides the fact that it’ll be nice to have a sibling in the house with him every once in a while, is that your dress is incredibly short. So short that he wonders how you’re allowed to leave the house in something like that. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let you, that’s for sure.

He quickly remembers that it’s not up to him, and that it’s not his place to be worrying about the length of your hem. Jean tries to suppress the strange, sudden burning feeling in his chest when he thinks about you wearing something as short as that when he has his friends over. No, that won’t be allowed.

He’ll have to tell someone about it, at some point, because he can’t stand the unusual jealousy he feels stirring at the idea of one of his friends looking at you while you’re wearing that.

His thoughts are cut short when his mother tells you two to get acquainted, while your dad and her head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Jean almost doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with you and those legs and that dress, but he doesn’t have any say in the matter.

Your first words to your new step-brother are carefully calculated. In fact, you've been deciding everything carefully. The way you did your hair, the dress you’ve chosen that’s much too short for a family dinner but it’s not like someone can stop you, even the pink lip gloss you reapplied in the car before entering the house. Everything has its purpose, its place, with one goal in mind: see how long it takes for Jean to crack.

“I’m so excited to finally have a big brother, Jean!” you let out in a cheerful, chirpy voice that doesn’t match your insidious thoughts at all. You close the bridge separating you two with a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug.

It’s so sudden, so unforeseen that he stumbles a little, letting his tall figure be pulled by your efforts and arms wrapping around your waist for support. And before he knows it, the sweet smell of your perfume is invading all his senses and leaving him with nothing to think about except you.

He takes it all in, the lingering scent of shampoo in your hair, something fruity, he thinks off-hand, the feel of your soft skin on the back of his neck, your cheek against his, but especially the way your breasts feel against his chest.

He pulls away before you want him to, and you begrudgingly allow him to, recognizing what a challenge it’ll be. But you’re always up for a challenge.

The first few months pass by in the blink of an eye for you, and dragging on and on for him. Jean tries to avoid interactions with you since that first meeting, but it’s hard to when you’re living in the same house as him. Even harder when your bedroom is right next to his, his mother offering up his assistance to help you move boxes and get settled while she and her new husband go out to dinner.

It’s ridiculous, the way he flushes bright red when he opens boxes and suitcases filled with clothing he doesn’t want to look at, all short skirts and sun-dresses and delicate panties that he tries and fails not to stare at.

You keep your gaze away, knowing exactly which suitcase you had given him to unpack, while you organize books on the shelves of the room and sort knick-knacks.

“Won’t it be nice sharing a wall?” you comment, adjusting a frame on your nightstand and not meeting Jean’s eyes. “I think it’ll be fun to have you so close.”

Jean chokes on the water he was drinking, gasping for air and trying to process your words all at once, when you finally turn around and smile. A smile that he thinks should be illegal, given the way it’s innocence personified when you’re actually a little devil.

He leaves a little bit after that, calling out that he’s not hungry when you knock on his door for dinner, but you don’t miss the way he sounds breathless, or the panties missing from your drawers.

Every challenge gets easier, right?

It doesn’t take long for your behavior to get a little out of hand, especially when the two of you have so much alone time together. Your parents are gone all the time, frequenting dinner parties and double dates, and not coming back until late at night.

Jean tries his best to keep away. While he had once been the friend whose house was always available for sleepovers, movie nights, and the like, he was now keeping everyone away. Every time your parents’ car left the driveway, Jean followed suit, either hopping into Connie’s Jeep or walking the short distance to Sasha’s place and leaving you alone.

He was hoping no one would notice, but of course someone did, and of course that someone was Eren.

“We can’t do my place again,” Sasha says, absentmindedly reaching for the bag of chips which Connie yanks out of her reach. “My dad’s having people over.” A swat to the back of Connie’s head gets her back the snack quickly.

“How come we can’t do Jean’s place like usual?” Eren asks, reclining back in his seat and enjoying the panicked expression on Jean’s face. “There something wrong with that new sister of yours?” Jean chokes back a cough.

“No.”

“Does she always have friends over, or something?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Eren says, bringing his hands together. “Jean’s place it is.” Shit, Jean. Better come up with something quick.

“We- we can’t do my place!” he sputters out much too loudly, meeting the gaze of every person in the room.

“Any reason why, Jean-bo?” Eren asks.

“I- we- what if she’s not okay with having a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots sleeping over?” Shitty, but it’s the best he can think of when he’s so concerned with keeping everyone away from you.

If you behave like that with parents in the house, how are you gonna behave with his friends around? He doesn’t wanna take the chance to find out.

“How about you call and ask, dumb-ass?” Connie suggests, shoving his phone at him and waiting with a confused look. Jean lets out a defeated sigh, knowing how this phone call will go.

Your loud, chirpy “I’m perfectly fine with that, silly! I’ve been waiting to meet your friends..” can be heard through the phone and answers Eren’s question.

Jean searches for a reason, any reason really, to keep this sleepover from happening, but realizes that he’s failed miserably when all his friends appear, clad with pillows and overnight bags, on his front door. “So,” Eren begins, with a wolfish grin on his face that Jean wants to punch right off, “Where’s the sister? It’s only polite to say hi, right?”

As if you’d been waiting for the cue, you poke your head out from the living room, that very same innocent and sweet smile gracing your face.

“Hi,” you, stepping out to greet his friends in the foyer. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Jean immediately regrets the fact that he never had that conversation with you about the length of your dresses. It always sat in the back of his head somewhere, though it was incredibly easy to dismiss when you would come sit next to him on the couch, dress riding up frequently and exposing more skin that he somehow always found himself entranced by.

Today the dress of choice is yellow, and though it does, in fact, cover everything it needs to, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination either. Jean almost feels like a schoolboy again, blushing at exposed shoulders and thighs, but he can’t help it when you’re clinging right to his side as you greet his friends.

“I’m Eren-”

“Hi, I’m Connie-”

“Ignore these two, I’m Sasha-” All meet each other at once. You let out a laugh at your step-brother’s funny friends, glancing up to see his expression, but all you see are signs of anger. Your smile dims a little, but picks right back at up when you notice the way Eren looks at you, and the way Jean looks at Eren.

A plan is working itself into creation in your head before you can help it, deviousness taking a hold on you as you smile brightly in favor of Eren over Jean. Your step-brother’s been keeping his distance all this time, but you’re about ready to force his hand.

You don’t miss the way Jean’s jaw tightens, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he guides the group to the living room. Your original plan changes quickly, following them into the space and taking your usual place on the couch as you scan the various video games laid out.

“Eren, will you sit with me?” you ask in a gentle tone, one that Jean is all too familiar with. “I don’t know this game, can I watch you play first?”

“Don’t you have work to do, or something?” Jean blurts out without thinking, his only thought centered around getting you out of the room and as far away as he can.

“What work? It’s summer,” you reply, watching your step-brother’s cheeks turn red.

You’re not helping matters for Jean, as he watches Eren sit where he usually does, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He doesn’t think he could get more angry, until he notices Eren’s hand move to your knee, squeezing quickly but lingering entirely too long. There must be steam coming out of Jean’s ears at this point, watching this interaction between you two.

“Yeah, Jean, she can stick around to watch. Anything for your little sister, right?” “I’m not that much younger than you guys, you know,” you reply with a laugh, adjusting your position on the sofa and purposefully lifting the skirt of your dress for a second before letting it settle. If someone were looking, which both Jean and Eren were, they’d catch a glimpse of black panties, and they both did.

Jean is seeing red now, standing up without realizing why, ready to yank Yeager away from you, when the doorbell rings again. It stops Jean in his tracks. “That must be Marco,” Sasha reminds, looking up from the games to glance at Jean with confusion. “Aren’t you gonna go get that?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right back.” Jean locks eyes with you as he leaves the room, and you dejectedly sigh, leaning away from Eren. It’s no fun to mess around with another guy if Jean’s not there to see.

He guides Marco into the living room, and you greet him with a quick smile before giving your full attention back to Eren.

The next few hours are fun for you, and unbearable for Jean. Every time he spared a glance to you, you were pouring over Eren, asking questions about the game and insisting on clarification, leaning in much too close and supporting yourself on his shoulder as he explained another trivial rule to you.

Jean didn’t like any of it, not the way you laughed sweetly and played with your hair while talking to Eren, not the way your legs were on display and Eren’s sleazy hands kept finding its way back to them, none of it. What he couldn’t stand, though, was how you didn’t shy away from his touch and found any and every way to keep it going.

He’s at his limit when you go to your bedroom after dinner to change into pajamas, knowing what to expect from your nightwear. If he’s lucky, you’ll pick a big t-shirt and shorts, but he’s seen first-hand the silky slips and cotton sets you prefer to sleep in.

Jean doesn’t think he can handle the look on Eren’s face if you come down the stairs wearing one of those, so he lets his anger do the thinking for a minute when the others are fighting over snacks and who gets the couch versus the floor.

Eren’s waiting near the bottom of the stairs, looking at something on his phone when Jean approaches and glances quickly to make sure you’re still in your room.

“You better knock it off, Yeager, I’m serious,” he says, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down. His words come out in a low grumble that he barely recognizes, body stiff and trying his best to intimidate Eren. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Knock off what?” Eren questions nonchalantly, amused that his suspicions were proving to be correct. Looks like Jean had a little thing for his step-sister after all.

Jean’s eyes unwittingly flit to the top of the stairs again, before he forces his gaze back to Eren, but the quick gesture isn’t missed by his so-called friend.

“Oh, I see. You want me to stop being so buddy-buddy with your step-sister, huh? You better tell that to her first, you know. She’s been all over me since the minute I met her.”

The sly smirk playing on his lips only makes Jean want to cave his face in all the more.

“You better watch it, you son of a-” Eren clicks his tongue to interrupt Jean.

“Come on now, Jean, you can’t really expect me to stop. I mean, it’s not like she’s my sister, right?” Eren says, with a strange look in his eyes as though he was tempting Jean to blow his cover.

Eren walks away to rejoin everyone in the living room, leaving Jean seething by the stairs and you in your bedroom, pressed against the door and clinging onto every word.

All night you had known Jean was getting agitated by your constant flirting and touchiness with Eren, but he hadn’t been close to cracking, or so it seemed. The fact that he even confronted Eren had your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if tonight might finally be the chance you had been waiting for. You hear Jean’s heavy foot steps walk away, and you decide that it’s all or nothing, now.

You leave your room and close the door gently, dressed in a pink camisole and shorts that were sure to get Eren’s attention for long enough for Jean to finally crack.

Just as you began the descent down the stairs, you heard footsteps coming back and were greeted with Jean at the foot of the stairs.

The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, something entirely different from the reserved, hesitant Jean you had gotten so used to.

No, this Jean was someone else, a mix of want and desire and shame pooling in his pretty eyes, looking at you as though you were the prey he had finally cornered.

Before you know it, Jean is in your bedroom and your back is pressed against the door roughly as his lips stay on yours and refuse to pull away. His tongue is hot in your mouth, and his hands feel as though they’re burning your skin with the heat they are radiating, groping your ass and the soft skin of your back as he explores your body. All the things he’d wanted to do for these last few months, that he’d forced himself to repress, finally coming out.

You moan into Jean’s mouth at the sudden feel of his hands on your tits, grabbing blindly and pinching your nipple roughly and suddenly, causing the moan to turn into a loud squeal. Jean clasps his free hand over your mouth.

“Shh, now,” he begins, staring into your eyes and making your core heat up uncomfortably as you realize your little challenge was finally over. You feel the wetness between your legs growing, pussy throbbing just at seeing Jean be so dominant for once. “We don't want anyone to hear, do we?”

You shake your head quickly to answer his question, having completely forgotten about the multiple guests just a floor away. You expect Jean to pull away, to tell you that he’ll take care of you after they’re all gone, some other time, but he doesn’t.

He pulls his hand away and leads two fingers to your mouth, guiding them into your willing mouth, latching your lips around them and sucking while swirling your tongue, getting them wet as he wanted.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this? Huh? Since the day I met you, that’s how long. And you’re such a fucking tease all the time, you know how unbearable it's been?” Jean says in a deep voice, his eyes observing your mouth continuing its work. You moan around his fingers, wanting to speak but no words come out.

He pulls his fingers away and leads them straight to your throbbing pussy, running one up and down your slit teasingly as you hold back a loud moan.

“P-please, Jean, please do something, I- oh!” Jean shoves the two digits into your tight hole without any warning at all, causing your whole body to shake at the sudden fullness.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you dirty slut? You wanted your big brother to get fed up and fuck you senseless, didn’t you? Say it,” he orders, fingers pumping in and out and his hand grazing your clit with every motion, causing you to moan as your body tenses. You can hardly process his words because of the pleasure you’re feeling, but his other hand finding your throat brings you back quickly.

“Say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Y-yes, Jean, I-I wanted big brother to fuck me, oh, yes-” You lose your thoughts again as his pace increases, making you squeal again before you clamp your mouth shut to make sure no one hears you. Your stomach is tensing and you know you’re so, so close, one more touch from Jean would have your orgasm washing over you like lightening spreading through your body, when he suddenly stops.

You gasp loudly at the sudden emptiness, feeling your orgasm dissipate as you buck up and clamp down against nothing at all. Jean’s fingers are in his mouth, tasting your wetness as you try to catch your breath and protest against the way he’s teasing you, but your pleas are met by deaf ears.

“Jean,” you moan desperately, clinging to his shoulders, “please, please, let me cum, please-”

“No. Filthy sluts that mess around with their big brother’s friends don’t get to cum,” he says gruffly, as you whine again and try to release yourself from his tight grip. It’s useless since he has you caged in, firm hands on your waist dragging you to the bed and throwing you on top of the soft covers.

“Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, using your sweetest voice and big. teary eyes to win Jean over, but it’s still useless.

“I said no,” he repeats, hovering over you and his hands finding their way to the bottom of your camisole. He pulls the skimpy top off of you quickly, revealing your tits. Your nipples harden at the sudden cool air, and Jean’s fingers find them once again, pinching and teasing as you moan into your pillow, desperately bucking your hips up for contact between your legs, to no avail. His hot mouth finds your nipple, flicking with his tongue as his hand plays with the other, before he pulls away quickly.

You whine again at the loss of stimulation, before you see Jean pulling down the band of his grey sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard.

“Prove to me that you deserve big brother’s cock,” he says, revealing his hard dick as it snaps against his stomach. “With your mouth. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You reposition yourself, ass in the air and head at Jean’s crotch as you stare at his pretty, pink cock with wide eyes. You’d expected him to be big, but not like this, though you don’t have time to dwell on it as he grips it firmly and taps the angry, pink tip against your lips.

You hang your tongue out, spit collecting and falling all over his length before you finally take as much as you can into your mouth, sucking and swirling as your hands move up and down the rest that you can’t take.

“Just like that-” Jean begins before breaking into a loud moan. You pop him out of your mouth and keep stroking with your hands as you whisper for him to shush.

“What happened to being quiet, and everyone downstairs will hear, and-” You’re interrupted as Jean grips his cock and shoves it back into your mouth, gagging suddenly at the unexpected movement.

Jean stares at your obedient mouth, following his instructions without any sign of the brat he was so used to. As you cup his balls in your hand, he feels them tighten and knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this. He guides your head away from his cock, admiring the drool and spit on your face and the glassy eyes he’s longed to see.

“Jean, I wanna-”

“I don’t care what you want, sweetheart,” he says, a false sweetness in his voice that’s making you feel dizzy. “You’re gonna ride me now, you got that?”

Jean’s hands are firmly set on your hips, positioning you just as he wants as you hover above his leaking cock. You grind down quickly, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit, before Jean stops your motions with the tight grip he has on you. “Are you gonna make me repeat myself?” he questions, in a tone that makes you positive that you don't want to make him angry. You shake your head immediately, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your wet hole, before slowly sinking down.

“Oh, god-!” you let out, before clasping a hand over your mouth. You had never felt quite so full before, the stretching burn making heat course through your whole body, as you bottom out and clench hard. “Come on, baby, you know how long you’ve been begging for this? Don’t get shy on me now,” Jean says, and you regain your senses slowly. You start moving, up and down, just like he wants and speeding up as you feel your cunt gush against Jean.

You’re sure to be making a mess, but you can hardly care when your brain feels so cloudy and distracted at how good Jean feels inside you, and you start the grinding movement again. Jean entertains you for a minute, before grabbing your hips even tighter, nearly at a bruising grip now, and snapping his own hips to thrust into you.

You’re blabbering now, utterly senseless as Jean fucks you mercilessly. You know you’re being loud, but you just don’t care, not when Jean is hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars before you know it, your hands on his shoulders and holding on for life.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum all over your brother’s big cock?” Jean teases, feeling you clench down harder and knowing he won’t be able to hold on much longer either. “Yes, yes, yes! Jean! Oh, Jean-” you finally feel the tight coil in your stomach snap, unaware of your own movements and surroundings as you focus on the pleasure Jean’s giving you. You yell out, cumming so intensely and shaking on top of Jean, twitching once more when you hear Jean groan and feel hot ropes of cum inside you.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, heart pounding as you come down from your high. You feel Jean’s grip, much softer now, lead you off of his cock and lay you next to him on the bed. It’s a mess, and you don’t know how you’ll clean up with everyone downstairs and surely they’ve noticed you’re both still gone-but you still don’t care.

All you care about is the sound of Jean’s heart beat from your position on his chest, and the way his hands feel on your skin as he holds you close to his warm body.

“So,” he starts off quietly, “was it how you’ve been imagining it all this time?” You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s smiling.

“Mmh,” you hum contentedly, “even better.” You feel his body rumble with a laugh, and his hand reaches to cup your face and lean into you for a kiss. Just as your lips meet, you hear a sharp knock at the door.

“Might wanna hurry up, you two,” Eren calls out from the other side of the door. “The others are getting suspicious.”

[myherowritings]

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month. 

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place. 

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of. 

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista. 

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores. 

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do. 

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour. 

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack. 

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming. 

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?” 

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!” 

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.” 

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot. 

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.) 

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.” 

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?” 

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now. 

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?” 

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.” 

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.” 

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded. 

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.” 

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either. 

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit. 

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.” 

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.” 

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.” 

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility. 

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter. 

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through. 

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?” 

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron. 

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!” 

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?” 

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.” 

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning. 

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.” 

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude. 

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh. 

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows 

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice 

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D