#I'll cheer you up lord b

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

Lord Tony Broodington

[gasp-hehe]

Tutor!Gojo Headcannons

cw: satoru gojo x fem reader, nerdjo, university au, gojo is a gifted kid, you are a bimbo, physics major gojo, doctorate gojo, cheerleader reader, fingering, grinding, dry humping, use of petnames

kinda just had a blurb and wrote this drabble, i never write so the punctuation lord. idk i need this and ik i'll pass with flying colours.

MDNI

cheerleader!reader who's easily capable of landing on top of the pyramid but has no idea how to write the formula for what she did.

cheerleader!reader whose sports scholarship is barely holding on with her current grades, leaving her no choice but to accept her professor's recommendation for a tutor.

tutor!gojo who is the same age as you but getting his PhD right now.

tutor!gojo who calmly and patiently teaches you each and every concept from the beginning again, entertaining all your questions.

tutor!gojo who clears up way more than two hours a week because he needs to see you you need it.

tutor!gojo who suggests sessions right after your cheer practice so that he gets to see you in that slutty lil' uniform your brain is 'sharper'.

tutor!gojo who can't bear the fact that you're sitting all dolled up for him in your mini skirt and liner, huffing and squirming with every problem you don't get.

tutor!gojo who loves riling you up by slowly tracing the pencils underneath your skirt when you space out or pinching at your waist when you make a mistake.

tutor!gojo who adores seeing you so flustered that he sets up a reward system, making you fall right into his arms.

tutor!gojo who starts off with small words of praise like "good girl" "attagirl" "that's my girl".

tutor!gojo who then starts reprimanding your mistakes by doing the sum over again with his hand enveloping yours and making you trace the words.

tutor!gojo who has you sit on his lap for 'overlooking your work better', but this just leaves you grinding on his thigh with your barely there shorts as you try and solve these problems.

tutor!gojo who slowly bumps his leg up and down to help you, sometimes moving his own hips by accident.

tutor!gojo who grabs your hips with his massive hands, engulfing them as he glides them back and forth, dragging you like a doll on him.

tutor!gojo who then comes up to your ear and whispers "haan- that's it, check the directions of the waves again" as you mewl pathetically writhing on him.

tutor!gojo who has you sprawled out on his desk before your final exam for the semester, three fingers deep in you as you try to solve a paper

"p-please right there, jus' ah-" you moan as his fingers scissor your folds apart.

gojo looks at you with a condescending grin before he tsks, "baby you know the deal, you get to cum when you answer all the questions right."

"b-but 's not fair." you whine out as his fingers squelch loudly in your tight wet heat.

"sweetheart come on," he sighs at you "i know my girl, if you weren't so slutty you'd have been done long ago"

"can't, shit, can't i need more please, i can't focus." you beg him with all but tears in your eyes.

"come on love, 3 more questions yeah? you solve 'em right maybe i'll even give you more than jus' my fingers" he teases, pulling your thighs so that he's situated deeper inside you.

you cry out at the feeling, but before you can get a word in he speaks again "if not guess i h've to keep edgin' you" he coos into your ear and now the tears flow.

don't repost, plagiarize, or copy ig.

[burningvelvet]

On November 8th 1820, Claire Clairmont wrote some satirical stories in her journal about Lord Byron and Percy Shelley—they were written as ideas for caricatures (the Regency era term for what we would now call editorial cartoons or comic strips):

Wednesday, November 8th.

Caricature for Albé. He, sitting writing poetry, the words “Oh! faithless Woman” round the room, hearts are strewed, inscribed, “We died for love of you.” Another—he catching a lady by her waist, his face turned towards her, his other hand extended holding a club stick in the act of giving a blow to a man who is escaping. From his mouth,

“The maid I love, the man I hate

I'll kiss her lips and break his Pate.”

Three more to be called Lord Byron's Morning, Noon and Night. The first: he looking at the sky, a sun brightly shining—saying: "Come, I feel quite bold and cheerful—there is no God.”

The second towards evening, a grey tint spread over the face of Nature, the sun behind a cloud—a shower of rain falling—a dinner table in the distance covered with a profusion of dishes, he (with a Wallup) says—“What a change I feel in me after dinner; where we see design we suppose a designer; I'll be a Deist—I am a Deist."

The third—evening—candles just lighted, all dark without the windows (a cup of green tea on the table): and trees agitated much by wind beating against the panes, also thunder and lightning. He says

"God bless me, suppose there should be a God—it is as well to stand in his good graces. I'll say my prayers to-night, and write to Murray to put in a touch concerning the blowing of the last Trump."

Pistols are on the table, also daggers—bullets—Turkish scymitars . . .

Another to be called “Lord Byron's receipt for writing pathetic History.” He sitting drinking spirits, playing with his white mustachios. His mistress, the Fornaria, opposite him drinking coffee. Fumes coming from her mouth, over which is written "garlich;" these, curling, direct themselves towards his English footman who is just then entering the room and he is knocked backward. Lord B. is writing, he says.

"Imprimis, to be a great pathetic poet. First prepare a small colony, then dispatch the Mother, by worrying and cruelty, to her grave; afterwards to neglect and ill-treat the children—to have as many and as dirty mistresses as can be found; from their embraces to catch horrible diseases, thus a tolerable quantity of discontent and remorse being prepared, give it vent on paper, and to remember particularly to rail against learned women. This is my infallible receipt by which I have made so much money."

The last his death. He dead extended on his bed, covered all but his breast, which many wigged doctors are cutting open to find out (as one may be saying) what was the extraordinary disease of which this great man died—His heart laid bare, they find an immense capital “I” grown on its surface—and which has begun to pierce the breast—They are all astonishment. One says, “a new disease.” Another. “I never had a case of this kind before.” A third what medicines would have been proper, the fourth holding up his finger (A desert island.)

Caricature for poor dear S. He looking very sweet and smiling. A little Jesus Christ playing about the room. He says:

“Then grasping a small knife and looking mild

I will quietly murder that little child.”

Another. Himself and God Almighty. He says:

"If you please God Almighty, I had rather be damned with Plato and Lord Bacon than go to Heaven with Paley and Malthus." God Almighty: “It shall be as you please, pray don't stand upon ceremony."

Shelley's three aversions: God Almighty, Lord Chancellor, and didactic Poetry . . .

Sources: The Journals of Claire Clairmont edited by Marion Kingston Stocking, Harvard, 1968, Archive.org. “The Lord Byron / John Polidori relationship and the foundation of the early nineteenth-century literary vampire” by Matthew Beresford, University of Hertfordshire June 2019. Byron: A Biography by Marchand, Vol. II, 1957.

[squeeegs]

guys trust this is a very serious literary work below the cut

Summary:

In a land of myth* and a time of magic**, the destiny of a great kingdom*** rests on the shoulders of a young man. *Dream SMP **year of our lord 2025 ***the Internet

Beneath the cold sky of a January morning, Dream faced a demon in a child's body.

His resentful stare met the flinty blue eyes of his opponent. That once-familiar face was now no more than a stranger's, or perhaps that of an old friend grown strange after a long absence. Dream absently catalogued the changes accrued in the intervening years: Tommy's jaw had sharpened, his cheeks had hollowed, and he had grown taller, as these things tended to do when a man came into his prime. It was to be expected.

What was surprising: the simmering resentment in the corners of his frown. The sincere distaste in the set of his brow. This expression, confident in its condemnation, would've been alien on the Tommy he'd known.

God, how many years ago was that? Four, now? Five? His mind's eye superimposed the Tommy he had first met over the one standing before him. Bright, laughing, ambitious, and so, so small. It was almost difficult for Dream to believe how such an insignificant character had screwed him over so badly, how such a promising young kid had grown to loathe him so deeply.

And yet.

"You took everything from me," Dream bit out. "Do you understand, Tommy? Everything."

His voice trembled, and he sped up, overcome with emotion. "The SMP. My fanbase. My internet clout, my positive image, my status as a universally beloved content creator by millions. Everything I worked for, everyone I loved, every space I built brick by goddamn brick. I made you, you fool, and you repaid me by taking everything I'd ever achieved and tearing it down! And now, you're twisting the narrative, painting yourself as a victim, when in reality I was the one being taken advantage of, I was the one being manipulated..."

This monologue continued for three hours. Over its course, he brought up several unrelated parties, a variety of unrelated incidents, some fucked up shit he'd done that no one had even thought to accuse him of, as well as many issues most thought had been buried six feet under half a decade ago.

And also Quackity. For some reason.

When he was finally finished, a bitter smile tugged at the man's lips. "But that all stops now. They'll see. They'll all see. I'm going to show the whole world how cringe you are, because I have something you don't. Something that you never, ever will."

Here, Dream paused for dramatic effect, like the dramatic bitch he was.

"The r-slur pass."

This announcement made waves across the land. Obviously not in a good way, although Dream was, somehow, surprised at this. Far and wide, his name was cursed, the people braying for his blood, for his head on a plate, or even for his cancellation on Twitter. However, Tommy only stepped forward and put his hand on Dream's shoulder.

"Alright, mate, I have like five minutes to spare between all the bags that I'm busy getting, so I'll try to make this quick. First of all, you don't have the fucking pass. That was a disgusting move and you should feel bad."

Everybody cheered.

Tommy continued: "Second of all, I was literally sixteen. You were a dick and I was a child. How was I manipulating you."

It was not phrased as a question, but that just made everybody cheer harder.

"Finally, Dream, you really should get some help. Go offline. Spend more time with your loved ones. You don't have to keep doing this forever, and for your sake, I really hope you can live and learn from this situation." After dropping this shockingly emotionally mature and empathetic line, TommyInnit then walked away from the situation like the grown ass adult he was.

Dream was gaping. "B-but wait! You're the real villain here!" he called out, desperately. But Tommy had very sensibly blocked Dream on all platforms, so he couldn't hear shit.

Then several million people beat Dream's flat ass into the ground with steel chairs. And he died forever a painful death involving a car covered in hammers that exploded more than a few times and made hammers go flying everywhere, because this is fanfiction, and fanfiction is about making your dreams come true.

And that, folks, was all.

[womanofwords]

Kitchen Work

"A, why do you insist upon smiling so much?" B groaned, as A hummed while working.

"Why do you insist upon being so incredibly boring?" A asked. "I have to crack jokes just to not go crazy here."

B bristled. "A, this is not how you talk to me. I am your superior and the one in charge here."

A scoffed. "You're only my superior because your dad owns the place."

"A, if you insult me again, you will work in the kitchen!" B yelled.

There was a collective gasp. The kitchen was a disgusting place filled with all kinds of dirt and an unknown purple mould that grew on one specific wall. The food was foul and the signature dish was known as 'red mystery'. But A was undeterred. In fact, she was . . . happy!

"Can I just work there right now?" A asked. "I mean, how bad can kitchen work be?"

"You're about to find out," B said, grinning sadistically. "A month or two in there ought to sort your attitude out."

A walked off, whistling. She looked awfully happy for someone who was going to be stuck in a sanitary nightmare such as that.

(PAUSE)

Hours later, a wonderful smell took over the building. It was coming from the kitchen. A's work was truly divine.

"What is A doing in there?" C asked, swooning from the smell.

"The Lord's work," D explained. The dinner bell rang, and everyone rushed to get it.

A had prepared a smorgasbord of food. The questionable food was out of sight. People cheered and rushed to eat.

"What is going on here?" B asked.

"A made food for us!" C cheered.

"Ah." B prepared the food for them with a critical eye. "Well, I guess I'm hungry enough to risk my chances with whatever you've prepared."

"I had a feeling you'd say that, so I kept something special for you," A said, a smile on their face. "Sit right there, B. I'll wheel it out."

"Special treatment, huh?" B smirked as they took their seat. "This ought to be good."

A scurried away and returned with a cart with a large metal pot on top of it. An empty bowl with a singular spoon was placed in front of B, who rubbed their hands in anticipation. They were expecting incredibleness.

They were not expecting red mystery soup.

"Your very own red mystery soup for you," A said, smiling wickedly. "You remember this, don't you? You touted the benefits of it as we suffered through every spoonful."

"A, is this a prank?" B laughed nervously.

"It builds character, you said. It's full of vegetables, you said! Don't be such a baby, you said!" With every 'you said', another heaping helpful of red mystery soup was ladled into B's bowl.

"Get me good food this instant," B snarled.

"You said this-" A pointed at the soup in front of B "-was good food. Did you lie to us?"

"Not exactly," B stammered, an anxious false smile growing across their face. "I did have to point out the nutritious value of it to encourage you all to - AAAAAAAAH!"

"What?" A asked.

"SOMETHING'S MOVING IN THERE!" B screamed.

"HA! PAY UP, D!" C screamed. Money changed hands and A laughed hysterically.

"I should have known," B groaned, getting up. A was right there with a meat cleaver.

"You can't leave until you've eaten it," A said.

B faceplanted into his soup.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

I need more content of flirty belos. literally anything is good at this point; this peepaw is corny and he knows it

Connecticut Hotties

The elderly women of the Connecticut Hotties bingo club were all participating in a regular round of bingo at Linda's house, an activity they usually engage in every Friday afternoon.

Linda was the club's president.

Denise, the game's caller, slowly grabs a ball from the rotary cage.

She adjusts her glasses and leans in, squinting at the number on the ball.

"B-18," she reads out loud to everyone, which causes the other women to gaze at their scoreboards to see if they have that letter and number.

Suddenly, a knock is heard, making the members of the club shift their attention to the front door.

"I'll get it," Linda said as she stood up and walked to her door.

When she opened it, her eyes immediately glittered at the gi//lf who stood before her doorstep.

That gi//lf was a disheveled Belos who had just entered the Human Realm.

His somewhat perplexed expression said it all: he needed the guidance of another fellow human.

"Excuse me, madam," Belos began, his voice so soft and polite that Linda internally melted from the tone.

She couldn't resist getting lost in his blue eyes as he went on. "But do you have--"

"Yes!"

Her immediate reply caught the man who she had just met off guard. "Oh? But I--"

"Please, just come in. I insist," she said, eagerly gesturing for Belos to step inside her home, in which he did.

Once he was inside, Linda, still standing at the door, released a series of soft cheers.

"Eeee, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" she beamed, before looking up to the sky and pressing her hands together, her fingers pointed upwards.

"Thank you," she mouthed and proceeded to close the door.

She thanked the Lord that she was still single.

...

"... B-24," Denise read the number and letter ball that had rolled down the small steel slide of the bingo spinner in a lovestruck tone.

This caused Philip, who was now at the table with the women of the Connecticut Hotties bingo club gathered around him, to pick up a bingo chip and scan his scoreboard for the letter-number combination.

One member was massaging his shoulders while another gently fanned him with a fan.

When Linda introduced him to them and he told them his name, they were all immediately captivated by his charms, confidence, and flirtatious compliments towards them.

He was truly a gentleman.

"It's right there," one member whispered to him as she pointed at the square he needed to win.

Philip hummed. "I can see that," he gently said, which made the member giggle.

Once Philip placed his chip on the B-24 square, the Connecticut Hotties noticed the five chips in a row on his scoreboard.

They gasp.

"BINGO!" The members all cheered in unison.

For someone who had claimed to have never played bingo before in his life, they all found Philip to be an incredibly skilled and fast learner when they taught him the rules of the game.

When Linda returned to the table, she pushed Philip's score sheet aside and set a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies and a glass of prune juice down in front of him.

"For the winner," she giggled.

"Thank you," Philip calmly said, expressing genuine kindness in his voice as he took the cup and lifted it to his lips.

Observing the smitten stares from the corner of his eye, Philip sent the women a single wink, which caused all of them to instantly faint.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his prune juice.

Philip was going to love it here.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint the Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 1

The thrilling sequel to You're Awful, I Love You

“His hair it hangs in ringlets

His eyes as black as coals...”

No, not black...emerald. That stuck in Sentry's mind for some reason and whenever Jaina sang her song, his mind snapped back to that thought as though chastising himself for forgetting, as if forgetting that was the worst mistake of his life.

“My happiness attend him,

Where 'ere he may go...

From Rivington to Reithwin, I'll wander weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor until he saileth home...”

Her voice was beautiful, though, even if for some reason, the eye color in the song struck Sentry as so irreconcilably incorrect. He sketched quietly as he sat with his back to the riverside, keeping watch for anyone who might try to peek at his friend while she washed. Maybe, Sentry considered, he had loved a jolly sailor bold and that was the face that stared back at him from the paper. Dark eyes, strong, handsome features, carelessly styled black hair. He certainly looked the part.

“Hmm...Your sketches are so lifelike, Sentry. Perhaps you should sketch Astarion sometime so he can stop pondering that empty mirror of his.” Jaina chuckled gently, resting a hand on Sentry's shoulder. “Anyway, your turn. I'll keep watch for you as well. Your secret is safe with me.” She assured him.

“Thank you...honestly I'm not even sure it's a secret...But just to be safe, I don't want a lot of questions from the others.” Sentry gave a small, weak smile as he stood, leaving his art supplies near Jaina as he shuffled off into the tall grass to undress.

Sentry looked himself over as he stepped into the river. His chest was scarred beneath his pectorals, two well healed surgical scars. Two praying hands bound in red ribbon decorated his left pectoral just above the nipple, he recognized it as the symbol of his patron deity, Ilmater, and assumed it had been tattooed there when he'd taken the oath that had made him a paladin. Across his right bicep, the name 'Ojeda' was tattooed in infernal. Obvious enough, it was his surname, that much he remembered. His belly and waist were criss-crossed with scars from past combat as were his arms and legs, but just between his crotch and his belly button, the tattoo made less sense to him. A black palm print right over his womb. That seemed strange. He remembered vaguely going to brothels and seeing sigils or hearts tattooed there on some of the female employees as something of a gimmick, but first of all, he was a man, and second of all, he had never seen a hand print tattooed there.

If the other tattoos were related to who he was, this one could be too, he only had to find out what it meant. But it felt strange showing such an intimate area of skin even to ask a question like that. He frowned and began to wash his body, the soap he'd bought at the first trader they'd come across smelled comforting, something familiar about vetiver and patchouli, something like home. He breathed it in deeply as he ran it over his skin with a sigh.

---

Far from the small encampment, a celebration was just winding down. Cheers and toasts to Lord Enver Gortash and his glorious Steel Watch rang through the banquet hall and the clamoring of drunken patriars chattering and cavorting could still be heard down the hall as the man of the hour crept away from the party and back to his quarters. He had moved up in the world, into larger, more prominent home...a home he'd hoped to share with his lover and their child, but now, even full of party-goers, was so painfully empty without the only two people he'd wanted there.

Beautiful, broken Sentry. Enver had never imagined he would fall in love or that anyone could truly love him. Sex, romance, it was all a means to an end, manipulation. When he had seen the beautiful Bhaalspawn at that blacksmith shop the first night they met, he had been attracted to Sentry's power, his talent, the scores of cultists he commanded, Enver had wanted that for himself.

But over time, hours spent posing for the portrait that still hung from the wall, stolen kisses in the dark, exploring eachother's bodies in the most forbidden places, he had fallen in love, truly in love. And Sentry, a being made from a god's own flesh, himself a powerful, unholy being, had loved him too. He mattered. He meant something. A creature made to love only slaughter and think only of perfect annhilation, had loved him, had thought of him.

His mind kept returning to the night after they had crowned the elder brain, how Sentry had come to his quarters and slipped into his arms, kissing him so sweetly, promising him everything could be perfect now. He'd believed every word until his hands had traced down Sentry's body only to feel that it was wrong...only to find Orin smirking there in his place.

His stomach knotted with nausea at the memory, he had thrown her off of him immediately and run to look for his lover, but Sentry had been nowhere to be found. Nothing but a sketchbook stained with blood, opened to loose page with a desperate prayer written on it.

After that, he had arranged for Rio to be adopted someplace far away, somewhere she would be safe from Orin...and now, he was alone. He closed the door to his bedroom, slumping down onto the small, lonely bed in the corner as he looked up at the portrait Sentry had painted of him, pulling his coat tighter around him to stave off the growing sense of anxiety, the magic woven into the material forcing it down.

Still, he poured himself a drink, setting it on his bedside table and burying his face in his hands, whispering Sentry's name softly.

---

As Sentry rinsed the soap from his body, he pictured a perfumed bath set into the very floor of a lavish boudoir. Even in the chilly waters of the river, for just a moment he remembered warmth. He remembered the warmth of the water, of the scarred and calloused hands that had run over his body and the soft, hairy chest pressing against his back. For one brief instant, he recalled a kiss.

“-try...”

“Huh?”

“Sentry, I was asking if you're almost done. Everyone's getting ready to turn in and since you always volunteer for first watch, that means you're on deck, sailor.” Jaina informed him.

“Oh...yeah...Sorry, my brain did that thing again, where I think I'm remembering something but it's kinda like a dream...” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly with an apologetic smile as he went to fetch his clothes from the tall grass. “Didn't mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn't, I probably won't sleep right away anyway, Octavia had some questions about my people for her book. Which, you know, kind of nice considering I'm used to people kind of hating us or ignoring us.” The tiefling shrugged.

“I see. That's fair.” Sentry nodded as he finished dressing. “Hey...uh....on an unrelated note....when we get back to that refugee encampment, would it be weird if I invited someone back to camp?”

“Well, I'm not in charge of the camp, so...it's not really my decision.” Jaina quirked an eyebrow. “Besides, I'm pretty sure you're older than me, so you can bed who you want and I can't stop you...I'm not your mother.”

“Well, it's just...um....you don't seem to like him very much is all...” Sentry replied. “I don't want to make things weird.”

Jaina sighed and gripped her upper arms with a small shudder. “ It can't possibly be as weird as when we found that poor dragonborn throatsinger dead in in our camp. Gods, that was awful...And I don't think it was wolves, a wolf wouldn't leave a sigil...This goblin cult probably found us out here and attacked her as payback for our defense of the grove when we arrived...That poor woman, she had nothing to do with any of this...”

Sentry froze, eyes wide. “Yeah...” He managed, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. “Yeah, you're probably right, those goblins....” He trailed off, looking back towards the camp. He didn't know why he did it, he didn't remember doing it, but he knew it was him, and he had no way of knowing if the rest of his new friends were in danger now as well. He felt his hands start to shake and quickly grabbed onto his tail.

“Are you okay?” Jaina asked, looking from Sentry's tail to his face.

“Oh, yeah...yeah I'm fine.” Sentry nodded. “Don't worry about it! Anyway, we've got goblins to worry about, don't we? A proper infestation if what we've heard is anything to go by.” The paladin picked up his art supplies and headed back to the fireside, the sorcerer following behind with a shrug.

---

The wilds of The Sword Coast were more familiar than The Underdark itself after multiple human lifetimes hunting there...well, at least a couple before being locked up and then having to hunker down with his fellow Bhaalists in Baldur's Gate for a while. But Jackal felt better out here, especially with that ungrateful cubling Ojeda gone. Not that Orin was much better, but at least she'd been willing to send him out beyond the city.

He wore heavy black hunting leathers and a thick cloak with the hood pulled low over his face to hide the decay and the scars from his impromptu resurrection at the hands of those Myrkulites. Gods, he hoped Sentry had gotten it worse for what he'd done to him. Hells, he hoped Minthara's shit leadership back at the goblin camp would get her worse when they returned. But then, that was why he'd even accepted this mission from her to begin with, to strike out and find the artifact. If he found it first, that prissy little wannabe matriarch didn't even need to know. He could pretend to be empty handed and then, when she tried to plead her case, saunter in calmly as you please and present it to Ketheric, positioning himself as the mastermind and her as an incompetent failure.

He grinned to himself at the prospect as he brushed back some thick hedges to peer through, seeing the light of a campfire in the distance. He frowned, eyes narrowing as he stalked closer. No, no way. It couldn't be. Orin said he was dead.

And yet, there he was. Those tall golden horns, the fair, handsome face marked with a burn across it and dark jagged tattoos. That pale silvery hair and the armor of a junior paladin. Sentry Ojeda. But more interesting than that, a true ghost from Jackal's past. His eyes fell on the handsome, pallid features of a younger male elf, a star elf or maybe a moon elf, Jackal didn't care to categories faeries correctly. White hair in intricate curls, but the eyes...they were different. He remembered blue flecked with gold, but now they were red.

Jackal's mind wandered back two hundred years to a courtroom in Baldur's gate. His wrists manacled, his mouth gagged. He stood before a bored looking young elf in fine robes as the guards approached the bench.

“Your honor, this is The Mad Jackal of The Gate. That killer what murdered all those poor girls down in the lower city.” One guard spoke, shoving Jackal forward.

“I might have known he'd be some unwashed brute.” The elf sighed, rolling his eyes. He shuffled some papers in front of him, his expression was one that said he would rather be doing anything else but this and he could hardly bear the tedium of his job. “You've quite a long list of offenses, 'Mad Jackal'. Do you have anything to say in your defense?” He practically yawned.

Jackal had struggled against his bindings and tried to speak through his gag, assuming it would be removed so he could reply. But no effort was made to take it from his mouth. His eyes darted to the crowd in the courtroom, a faceless blur to his panic-maddened eyes. He heard their whispers, felt their eyes burning into his flesh. He may as well have been stripped naked for the shame that came from being seen in broad daylight by so many eyes.

He didn't hear what the common folk said, or maybe they said nothing. Perhaps the magistrate alone would decide his fate. He wasn't sure how these surfacer courts worked. He was confused enough by the simple fact that the magistrate was a man and not some sneering matriarch.

“Well, with a list of offenses this long, I suppose it wouldn't matter anyway, would it?” The elf shook his head. “No, it would just be a waste of everyone's time...And looking at you, worse, smelling you from here, I can't imagine you possibly have the money to pay for bail...” He thought for a moment, one single moment to decide what could have been Jackal's entire future, the rest of his life. “He's clearly mad, wouldn't you agree? Jackal Silk, I sentence you to life in the mad house. Now please, remove him from my courtroom, I can't bear the smell!”

Jackal growled at the memory, bristling at the thought of that sentence, of how long he'd rotted there until the cult had sent Tomi and Gabraela to secure his release.

The man seemed to be speaking intently with Sentry, almost begging him for something. And of course, that idiot with more muscle than brains, seemed to agree, gently placing a hand on the elf's shoulder and saying something to him, the expression on his face told Jackal it was some sort of reassurance. And then he laid down. Of course, the whore WOULD find a way to get fucked out here in the woods.

But the two remained clothed, even as the elf mounted Sentry's hips and gently took his wrists in his hands raising them above his head. He leaned in and...a kiss? No...Sentry's face contorted in pain. A bite. Well, things just got VERY interesting very quickly. It seemed that uppity magistrate had come up in the world, become something useful, something powerful. Perhaps an introduction was in order....

---

“That....um....Th...thank you for that.” Sentry grinned, rubbing at the wound on his neck. “I think I remembered something when you did it...also if I'm honest, it felt quite good.” Of course, Sentry left out that his memory had been on the opposite end of the encounter, his own sharp teeth digging into a neck dotted with a bit of stubble, light brown skin warm beneath his lips as he nipped and bit, drawing blood and lapping it up eagerly, while low masculine moans and hot breath beat against his pointed ear.

“Really? Well, glad we could both help eachother, then.” Astarion smirked, turning to walk away. He paused half way and turned around, giving Sentry a serious look.

“Forgot something?” Sentry asked, slowly sitting up.

“No, it's just...” Astarion's lips twitched as though he were searching for the words to say, or trying to make himself say them. “This is a gift, you know...I won't forget it.”

“Oh...uh....” Sentry watched him walk off, standing taller and more confident now. “Uh...you're welcome then, no problem...come back any time. Ojeda's blood bank is open for business....” He blinked, scratching the back of his neck. “Fuck, that sounded dumb...glad he's probably out of earshot...” The tiefling sighed and, realizing sleep wasn't in the cards anymore, pulled his sketchbook from under his pillow and began to flip through it, that same face staring back at him again and again. Handsome and haunting.

Certainly, the tiefling had to admit Astarion was a good looking man, and that had been a far more erotic experience than he had anticipated when he'd first agreed to let him feed from him, but he couldn't shake the image of the man he kept drawing, the one that haunted his dreams, from his mind. What if this was a lover back home...wherever home was...still waiting for him? But then again, what if he was dead and gone, hoping Sentry would move on and find happiness again. He raised the tip of his tail to his lips and chewed at it anxiously, torn between the two possibilities.

As he sat there wondering, Astarion still off on his hunt, the rest of the camp sleeping, Sentry returned to his drawings, focused intently until he felt a prickling sensation along his back, the feeling of eyes, of being watched. He scrambled to his feet and turned around in a hurry only to see a diminutive figure standing before him.

“Oh! My dear master! So splendid to see you keeping up with your artwork! Although I do note you haven't made any of your special paint even after your latest...ah...materials acquisition. But, you of course intend to retrieve the body and collect the necessary parts for your next macabre masterpiece, yes?” The little man cooed, clapping his hands together eagerly as he looked up at Sentry with what might have been an almost parental sort of fondness.

“Um...not to be rude, but...who exactly are you?” Sentry asked, taking an awkward step back, tail raised warily, eyes darting to his companions, hoping none of them were awake to hear this.

“Why, Sceleritas Fel, of course! Your loyal, ever adoring butler.” The man bowed. “I have searched for you for ages, my putrid prince! It was no easy task, but you cannot imagine how pleased I am to have finally found you.”

“Right...um...I have a butler? So then...I'm a knight, like real nobility then?” Sentry asked, but there was a discomfort to his guess, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

“Patience, my liege, all will be revealed in due time. In the meanwhile, a fellow of your fine lineage shouldn't walk around dressed like some squire...here, a gift from your father.” Fel reached into a satchel at his side and produced a beautiful red velvet cloak.

“Thanks, but red isn't....” And at this, Sentry noticed the man had disappeared, leaving him holding the cloak. “My...color...Oh well...maybe Astarion will like it.” The paladin shrugged, beginning to carefully fold the cloak so as to avoid wrinkles.

----

The road to the goblin camp was littered with corpses and debris. It reeked of death and decay and a thousand other unpleasant smells, but the party made their way through the ruined village. They split up in their usual fashion, Sentry all but acting as bodyguard for Astarion as the elf made his way through the ruins, looking for anything of value left behind. Meanwhile, Jaina, Wyll, Karlach, and Shadowheart searched for any survivors. The Githyanki siblings brought Gale with them on their errand to clear out and goblin forces occupying the place.

Sentry was the first to be approached. Astarion was unlocking a particularly interesting chest in the basement of an old house, while Sentry kept watch at the door. He didn't see the man enter through it, however, rather seeming to suddenly appear at his side.

“Ah, Mr. Ojeda. We finally meet. I must say, I'm an admirer of your work....” The man smirked. “Shall we discuss things somewhere more comfortable?”

Before Sentry could manage an answer, the man snapped his fingers, their surroundings replaced with a room awash in red and gold, a banquet fit for a king laid out of the table. Sentry's eyes darted from the man to the table, distrust washed over him. He wasn't sure why, but something deep down in his subconscious told him this man was trouble. There was the aura of course, an aura of the hells that his honed paladin senses clocked immediately, but it was more than that.

“It must be so difficult, struggling to remember who you were. On top of everything else going on in that pretty head of yours.” The man began. “I could restore your memory, remove that tadpole, fix it all so easily...” He brushed his fingers under Sentry's chin, tilting the young man's head up towards him.

“So why don't you, then? Get to the point.” Sentry frowned, pulling away roughly. He didn't like the way this man touched him and something in his gut told him to be wary.

“Because, little mouse, you still have hope. You still think you can beat this on your own. So by all means, try. Try by whatever means you like, you always were so very creative, after all...” The man laughed coldly. “But when hope runs out, I'll be there...” A quick flash of red and another snap of the man's fingers and Sentry was back in the basement of the ruined shop, shaking himself off like a dog.

“Found some of that iron Karlach needed...A few trinkets that could be worth something as well.” Astarion was saying as he climbed down from the loft the chest had been perched on. “Are you alright? You look like you were a million miles away.”

“Oh...uh...yeah....Brain fuzzies, you know, those happen to me a lot.” Sentry smiled weakly.

---

“Hope that poor little guy finds his husband or whoever.” Karlach remarked as the group watched the rescued deep gnome hurry away.

“That was impressive, by the way. That voice was like you were a different person when you spoke to those goblins.” Wyll smiled gently at Jaina, who just chuckled a little and shook her head.

“Oh, that's just my teacher voice...Children can be mean, but only because they haven't learned any better, it just takes a stern tone to redirect.” the tiefling explained as she tossed the ropes she'd freed the gnome from to the side. “It kind of becomes second nature, really.”

“That belief in inherent goodness comes so easily to you, Miss Thalassia...” The group looked up as a well dressed figure approached. None of them could exactly discern where he'd come from as he stopped right in front of Jaina. “But for how long?” A snap of his fingers and Jaina was gazing about, bewildered, as her companions disappeared and her surroundings were replaced with a fine banquet hall.

“What is this place?” She asked, her expression slowly moving from confusion to annoyance. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I simply wished to make you an offer, pretty little thing.” The man smirked, and with a snap of his fingers, he transformed from a fairly ordinary human man into a tall, imposing Cambion with deep red skin and impressive wings. “Squirming little parasites may be something your adept at dealing with, after all, but I think the one in your head is a bit beyond your skillset.”

Jaina rolled her eyes, unamused at the jab towards children. “Well, I don't think it's proven to be anything I can't handle just yet. Why would I sell my soul to deal with something a little time and research could fix?”

“So matter of fact, so reasonable. But will you still be when you start to sprout tentacles?” The cambion chuckled coldly.

“I'm a follower of Umberlee, there was always a chance I'd sprout them one day.” The sorcerer replied coolly, folding her arms across her chest. “Now if you're done trying to intimidate me, my friends and I were trying to do some good in the world.”

“Ah, yes, trying to spread a bit of hope. Well, when you find that hope has spread thin, I'll be waiting.” He sneered, snapping his fingers and returning her to Wyll's side.

“Are you alright, soldier?” Karlach approached carefully, eyes moving slowly over Jaina's body as if looking her over for injuries.

“Yes, I'm fine. But we'd best keep our guard up. We've caught the eye of a devil interested in a deal.” The young woman replied, folding her arms across her chest.

---

“You know, my sister always told me Istik were rather 'squishy' but I didn't understand what she meant until we joined with you, Gale Dekarios.” Kroger quirked a brow as he healed yet another deep laceration on Gale's arm.

“Ah, yes, the hurtful old wizard stereotype at play once again.” Gale shook his head with a somewhat sarcastic smile. “Phenomenal power in an all too fragile package, I suppose.”

“Oh, don't worry! Lae'zel can teach you how we condition our bodies back home at our Creche. You'll be hardier in no time!” Octavia beamed, those big, bright blue eyes gazing warmly at Gale.

“Well, I certainly look forward to it, Octavia.” The other wizard nodded, looking into her eyes for just a moment.

“Tchk...” Lae'zel rolled her eyes. “The first suggestion to keep from being slaughtered in combat is to focus on the enemy, not your companions. Focusing on us is Kroger's task as the healer.” She spoke bluntly as she began to check the corpses for any valuable loot.

“Sound advice. But perhaps not the most helpful with an illithid tadpole wriggling in your skull.” An unfamiliar voice sneered.

Octavia looked in the direction of the voice and found herself no longer kneeling beside Gale in the village, but instead in an ornate room. Kroger was there as well and he stood up, brushing himself off.

“Do you mind? I was tending to a patient. This is incredibly unsanitary.” The male Githyanki wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I will only take a moment of your time, ghustil, I assure you.” The man smirked, snapping his fingers as flames engulfed him, transforming him into towering figure with proud horns and large wings.

“A real cambion! In the flesh!” Octavia gasped, eyes wide with wonder as she fumbled in her pouch for a leatherbound notebook and a quill. “If I may, I have a few questions, sir!” She beamed.

Kroger rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Every second you waste of my time is a second our companion risks infection. Would you spare us the theatrics?”

“Tsk tsk, you have no flare for the dramatic, boy.” The cambion scoffed. He ignored Octavia's eager clamoring. “I would think given how your people will react, you would be far more worried about the illithid tadpoles squirming in your brains than about some long-winded wizard you just met.”

“I am a medic, sir. My oath to heal supercedes my own wellbeing.” Kroger replied coldly, standing his ground, fists clenched at his sides.

“About those questions...Were you born of a mortal mother and an infernal father, or....” Octavia's words went ignored yet again as she prattled.

“Very well, return to your duties then, but I'll be there when your oath feels a bit less dire than the rapidly worsening symptoms of ceremorphosis.” The Cambion snapped his fingers, returning the two Githyanki to the battlefield.

“Tsk'va! He didn't answer a single one of my questions.” Octavia frowned, lowering her head sadly.

Kroger simply scoffed and returned to his work, muttering about possible contamination, how there was absolutely no way such a decadent place was sterile.

---

Jackal had kept pace, following the party throughout the day, hidden in the foliage. Mostly he kept his eyes on Sentry and that vampire, but the pretty little school teacher also caught his attention. She was just the kind of girl he enjoyed killing the most.

He watched their interactions, the way the party divided their tasks and split up, trying to plan his winning scenario. The Sharran with the pretty throat was the one with the artifact he was hunting for, he knew that much. But she was always near the big Tiefling or the armored Githyanki woman, neither of whom Jackal liked his chances against in close combat.

He bit into a freshly picked apple with a satisfying crunch as he considered his options, mulling it over until his sharp ears picked up a sound behind him. He dropped his apple and turned quickly, drawing his bow and notching an arrow in one fluid motion.

“One wrong move, asshole.” He growled, mangled lips curled in a feral snarl.

“Oh perish the thought, my friend. I merely recognized an intelligent man capable of knowing a good bargain when he heard one.” The human smiled, malice dripping behind the expression. But that didn't bother Jackal, he felt power behind this guy as well.

“Alright, fine, What do you want?” He asked, not lowering his bow.

“To make you an offer, of course.” The man spread his arms theatrically. The world around Jackal swirled and reformed into a decadent palace hall, a table laden with all manner of fine food, red velvet carpets over marble floors, walls and furniture inlaid with gold.

“Hmmph. Not quite my scene, bit too hoity toity for my tastes.” The ranger grumbled, but it didn't stop him from nicking a turkey leg from the table and biting messily into it.

“No, of course, you prefer a more rugged setting, I'm sure...But indulge me. I do so hate to be out of my element when making a deal.” The human form faded away revealing a tall Cambion. That was more like it.

“I see...well, I'm all ears.” Jackal grinned. “It's a weakness of mine, see, men in power.”

“I assumed as much.” The Cambion smirked. “And a smart man such as you knows what someone like me can offer. So I'll make this simple: For now, continue the way you are. Follow these would be heroes and report on them, but instead of delivering your reports to the drow woman or to your sister, you'll work in tandem with my employee and report to me. In return, I offer you the power you crave.”

Jackal thought a moment, mulling it over in his mind. “Sounds good to me. I'm through reporting to those two, especially Minthara. Fuck that up tight would be Matriarch.”

“Then it seems we have a deal. Good.” The drow was more foolish than Raphael had thought he'd be, but then again he wasn't his true target, simply a stepping stone on the way to Sentry Ojeda. A convenient tool he could use to achieve his winning scenario. The object he'd coveted for so long in his hands, and revenge on his wayward former ward for daring to steal from him and worse, for taking what was his before he had the chance.

Jackal shook the Cambion's hand, smirking at the look of disgust on the devil's face at touching a hand filthy with grease from the turkey leg, and to the drow's delight, he found that when he returned to the forest, some of the extra food he'd stuffed in his pack remained.

“Eatin' well tonight.” He grinned. “Yessir, no goblin dreck for me this evenin'.” And with that pleasant thought, he returned to his post, watching the party move throughout the village, blissfully unaware of his presence.

[commander-peeper]

Diary of a commander

On June 29th commander peepers was writing in his logbook here's what he wrote:logdate 7712: I've been trying to get work done but somethings been holding me back I don't know what it is but it might relate to me and my boss, Lord hater he's in my brain 24/7 and I can't get him out of my mind. I'm sure all commanders admire their leader but this feels different like he's a really really close friend of mine but I don't think of him as anything more than my friend yeah I might think he's hot but-...no it can't be i-i have a crush on my boss!! peepers stopped writing and stared at the book looking terrified. ANDY:ummm I heard you writing so while you were distracted I read your book out loud while I was recording annd I think every single watchdog on the ship knows you.. have a crush on Lord hater. .... Andy why would you READ MY PRIVATE LOGBOOK!!! before peepers could yell at Andy anymore then he already has a group of watchdogs came in the room. WATCHDOG 1:are you and Lord hater getting married. WHAT NO OF COURSE NOT WHY WOULD I MARRY A HOT SKELETON MAN!! WATCHDOG 2: you think haters hot???!! NOOO!!I DID NOT CALL HIM THAT I REPEAT I DID NOT CALL HIM HOT! right after he thought that he answered everyone's questions about him and Lord hater he found out that wander was there the whole time and that he knew everything he was going to tell everyone ESPECIALLY LORD HATER. WANDER W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??!! Peepers said, shivering in terror. Heya Mr peepers I heard you LoVe hater AND you two DO have chemistry together sooo I hope I can help with the wedding, Mr peepers. Wander giggles in joy. THERE ISN'T GOING TO BE A WEDDING OR ANYTHING AT ALL!! Why do ya say that? wander questionend. B-BE-BECAUSE.. BECAUSE AGHHH I DON'T KNOW, WANDER I REALLY REALLY DON'T KNOW I WANNA GET MARRIED WITH HIM HAVE CHILDREN AND YOU HOST OUR WEDDING BUT HATER IS STRAIGHT AND I'M NOT. Peepers sobs while wander is trying to cheer him up and it worked. The next day wander and peepers made a plan to ask hater to be his boyfriend but they can't do today because he's out on vacation for the week. That night hater couldn't sleep so he talked to the nearest person that wasn't asleep. after hours of chatting with the bartender he finally says this"I think I'm in love with my commander"after the conversation he had with his bartender all he could think of is peepers and himself kissing, hugging and cuddling with each other so he came home back to the ship earlier so he can sort out his feelings for his commander. Next day the day peepers confesses his feelings to hater but little did he know he felt the same as him. As he's walking his way to his true love with wander recording to capture this moment. He finally found him and said this:SIR SIR I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. WHAT DID YA SAY DUDE. I SAID I NEED TO TALK TO YOU, SIR. OKAY I'M COMING. why were you on the top of the ship? I don't know I got stuck. Well now that I know that I'll get to the point. Dear Lord hater I've known you for some time now and we've been best friends since the start but that isn't enough for me I want more so Lord hater would you be so kind and be my boyfriend.hater gasps. Of course I do why would I not peeps your the best thing that's happened to me in my entire life and I love you too. THE END OMG THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE HOLY COW IT TOOK SO LONG

[ableedingheartdove]

So sorry to ask this, hope i'm not being annoying: I can't remember what originally happened at the end of the last chapter even though i definitely read it.

I think?? that they kissed again?

you don't even have to post the og chapter here but could you (or one of your followers who remembers what happened) give a summary?

Xx

Hello! Please, don't ever apologize for interacting! I absolutely love receiving asks, comments, kudos, anything! It truly makes me very happy, it's not annoying at all!

And yes, they did kiss again in the original version! I'll post it here already!

They throw a feast to receive him.

He’s somewhat embarrassed; it’s not nearly akin to his crowning, but it's still strange, to have so many people celebrating him. Especially now that he’s nothing. Their small Court, comprised of Lords Guagg, Flint, Hornwood and Redbeard along with Sansa’s ladies, Manderly and Poole, sit near their high table; they’d stood up in respect along with the rest of the household as he’d walked into the Great Hall, Sansa on his arm, Arya and Meera Reed close behind. They’d even clapped, some cheered. It’s astonishing. He’s nearly suspicious; briefly, he considers asking Sansa if she had them do it. It’s not like he thinks it’d be hard for her; though she’d never been fully out of control, these last few moons seem to have served to set her grasp on the castle fully. It’s entirely under her thrall now, entirely hers. It seems to move in synchrony to her heartbeats. It makes him fall in love with Winterfell in an entirely different way; it's more than just his home now, it’s also Sansa, her spirit expanded into a place. It’s beautiful.

She’d refused to so much as look at the Lord’s chair when he’d drawn it out for her. Instead, she took her mother’s seat, ignoring Jon’s sheepishness at taking father’s again. With Arya by his other side, he’d been served to a full, personally tailored meal. Every dish his favourite, done exactly as he liked. It’s bizarre; the strength of his gratitude renders him mute. It swells in his throat, and blooms every time he looks at her. The emotion is such he is forced to avoid the sight of her lovely face, flushed primly in the fire-warmed room, framed by rows of pearl-clipped braids, pinned around her head gracefully.

(He cannot think about how he’d kissed her. Cannot think of it - the thought’s ghost has haunted him all day -.)

He and Arya talk extensively throughout the meal. She has so much to tell him; Jon is happy to hear her, see her talk. She speaks and then looks for his answer; always seems so happy to receive it. For the first time in moons, Jon feels glad of his existence, much for how happy it seems to make them -his sisters; the thought threatens to make him sick for a mad second, and he pushes it down with a full swallow of his steak -.

Sansa remains mostly silent. In one of the few times he allows himself to look at her, Jon searches her eyes to see if everything is well; though there’s a timidity there he cannot quite understand, there’s also contentment. His hand itches to search for her, grab hers, grab her tight… If he thought himself tempted before - before he left, before he was tormented by those moons and moons of mad solitude that his mind eagerly seeks to discard further by the second now - it is nothing compared to how he feels right then. At this point, knowing what he knows - the true nature of his feelings, and the true nature of hers; the unbearable devastation of separation and the full spring of her touch, her mouth - he desires in a whole different way now. His mind dares to take him places he’d never ventured before, never even considered, conceived of…

She retires early, hand coming to rest upon his shoulder as she rises from her seat, lips gently arranged into a small smile.

“I’m tired; it’s best I return to my apartments.” she excuses herself genially. Jon looks into her eyes to see if she wants him to come to her rooms after dinner; she squeezes his shoulder once before she slides her hand away, and he knows she does. The entire hall salutes her, having risen from their seats in tandem with her, and she recognizes their efforts with small smiles and waves of her head, entirely at ease, graceful in step and posture, hands held before her womb. His gaze lingers as she goes, until he tracks the final swoop of the midnight blue fabric of her evening gown turning the corner out of the hall, her shadow disappearing down the hallway, Brienne on her tail.

“You really are close.” Arya states beside him, startling. He looks back at his little sister, holding his face unchanged, but the sight of her face cannot help but disarm him. His lips twitch as his gaze softens:

“What do you mean?”

“I had wondered, upon arriving, if you really were as close as she seemed to imply. But you are. You really are. You love her.”

Jon smiles faintly.

“Who wouldn’t?”

Arya doesn’t smile in response. She keeps looking at him, investigative. It’s her usual look; has been since she was a child, frowning at the world, haughtily demanding its answers to her every doubt. But now, a new kind of seriousness mars the image; she’s grown into a dark presence. Jon knows doubtlessly no toothy grin is to emerge from this stern facade. It makes him frown himself; they stare at one another, mirrored images.

“Are you jealous?” Jon breaks the stare-off, turning back to his plate to shove another huge piece of steak into his mouth. As he chews, he can hear Arya sputter.

“What?” she questions, seemingly indignant. Jon narrows his eyes at her, looking at her through the corner of his eye.

“Don’t play games with me. You’ve always been like this, especially when it came to Sansa. A possessive little gremlin from birth. But you’re grown now;” he talks through her wrothful complaints and his full mouth: “You should know there’s no need for this kind of bullshit.”

“I’m not jealous.” Arya spits the words out, deeply affronted. Jon smiles, swallowing his food.

“Alright, then.” he mocks, nearly laughing at the indignation wafting off her beside him; if she were eight, she’d have slapped his arm for the offense. “What have you been doing here, then, since you arrived?” he changes the subject, good humoured - and also slightly drunk; it's been a good while since he’s allowed himself to drink, and the ale is always best in Winterfell, always -.

Disgruntled still by his careless accusation, Arya’s mouth is still pursed sourly when she answers: “What do you think?”

“Knitting?” she gives him a look; Jon laughs, inwardly, taking a huge piece of kidney pie onto his plate. “Speak already. You won’t tell me anything about what came before; so what have you been doing here?”

“Hunting.” Arya supplies after a while, playing with her dinner knife. Jon frowns, evaluating her with a sharp look.

“Whom?” raising his fork to his mouth.

“You know whom.”

Jon stills; he takes his time chewing, then swallows. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, and he scans the room from underneath his brow while shoving his food around - his version of discretion -.

“I was wondering why he wasn’t here.” he states dryly. Arya hides her smirk beneath a sip of her drink. “Where did the vermin run off to? Back to the Vale?”

It’s Arya’s prolonged silence that makes him stop and look at her, questioning, but looking into her eyes, he knows at once. His surprise is such he cannot control his expression: his brows raise, mouth slacking open.

He gathers himself in a second’s time, but knows Arya saw it. Dragging a hand over his beard, overgrown, Jon processes the information.

“How…” his voice, though already low, dies at once the second it reaches his ears. Taking his act of dining back up, he tries to formulate his question, wary of hidden ears: “Can we speak of this here?” barely more than a mumble. Arya’s grin is small, but sharp:

“Why, of course! It was all strictly legal; you know we’d never act otherwise.”

“Of course.” obliquely; “By ‘we’ you mean…”

“Myself, Sansa and Bran.” she clarifies. “It was a joint effort.”

“I see.”

At the long silence that follows, Arya eventually frowns, leaning forward over the table to look at his face, worry lining that tense spot between her eyes: “Jon?” she questions, preoccupied.

Jon doesn’t let her know he saw her apprehensiveness; instead, he meets her eyes:

“Can I know what was his crime?”

“Yes.” relieved, she leans back against her seat, but waits until Jon has turned to her himself inquisitively before answering, without jest: “He tried to murder me.”

SANSA

Jon’s knock on her door has her flying off her chair to answer, terribly jittery, anxious. She pulls the door open in a single great pull, and there he is, greeting Podrick amicably. She hides her body behind the thick wooden door, only her face and hands peeking out. She’s smiling, and Jon smiles too when he sees her - his eyes never leave her after that, not even to bid the young boy farewell. Sansa can only manage a distant acknowledgement before she is banging the door shut -. She somewhat leans against it when it's closed, a strange feeling in her chest, lighting up her veins. It’s like anxiety, nervousness, only not really, because it feels <i>good</i>. Like the fresh burn of crystal water coming up her throat. It fills her with a boundless, fiery excitement. Her cheeks burn, but she cannot bear to lower her eyes, incapable of breaking their shared gaze even as a shyness she nearly doesn’t recognize makes the tips of her fingers tingle.

Slowly, Jon offers her a hand; demure, she takes it. He smiles as she comes into his arms, and she fits herself into his eager embrace tenderly, grateful for every press of flesh. Cheek against his chest, she looks down to watch him take her nightgown’s fabric in his hold, feeling the soft lightness of the deep purple material in between his index and thumb.

“It was a gift from Braavos.” she tells him, mellow.

Jon frowns.

“They gave you a nightgown?” he asks, the corners of his mouth tilting down into the beginnings of a scowl. “How very forward…”

“No, not the nightgown. The fabric.” Sansa corrects, bell-voiced, leaning further against him. She’s in the lightest of spirits now that he’s here. “The gown I made myself. Do you like it?”

Jon is silent as he takes it in further, taking her wrist gently in hand to pull it outward, so he can see the fit of the gown fully. Sansa’s heartbeat thrills perilously as her body falls under the shadow of his gaze. He squeezes her wrist, averting his eyes sharply to a random point over her head, lips touching her forehead in a casual kiss.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” he tells her, thumb caressing the thin, sensitive skin of the inner side of her wrist, so gently as to feel the soft ridges of her veins. Sansa presses herself against him further, her other hand also finding the cotton of his vest at his back; he’d removed his leather doublet before coming here. The fabric smells of him thoroughly; the scent and the vividness of his warmth, the solidity of his flesh, everything that physically marks his presence, makes it real, feels like grace falling over her heart; a delight. Yet, even so, it doesn’t sate her hunger. In her innermost self, she’s still desperate. She still misses him.

“There are gifts for you as well.” she tells him, voice low. It feels wonderful to speak so and have him close enough to hear her.

“Yes?” he questions, playing with her hand. They watch him slowly take it fully in his hold, encase it in his. Sansa’s heart starts beating faster. Her breath nearly hitches; Will he…

Jon sighs, and Sansa knows before he does it that he will step away. The foreknowledge is good; she can prepare herself better. With some distance between them, Jon looks down at her mournfully, nearly apologetic. Sansa chooses to ignore it: “Come.” she calls him, and leads him towards the lit fireplace, blazing warmth and soft orange light into the room.

Before the fire, two upholstered armchairs sit lushly by each other, a small, circular little table between them, made of wood engraved carefully with the most delicate string of running wolves chasing each other’s tails around its edge. Amazed, Jon feels the embossed creatures with his thumb. Sansa smiles, pointing to the mosaic making up the table’s surface, happy with his enchantment: “I ordered it from a specialist in Wintertown. Described what I wanted, and he made it.” They look at the artful weirwood, crafted in white and scarlet red.

“Did it match your expectations?”

“Looks like it came straight out of my head, really.”

Jon smiles:

“You’re bringing Winterfell back to life.” he tells her, looking up at her with such pride she blushes fiercely, looking away.

“I’ve always liked pretty things.” she tries to skirt the praise, walking to the bureau upon which the boxes of presents lie. She takes them into her arms, bringing them to the little table. Jon is still standing between the armchairs: “That one is yours.” she tells him, pointing to the bigger chair, stately in brown leather. Jon looks at it; he seems to be taking everything in very slowly. Sansa lets him.

“Mine?”

“Yes.” Sansa confirms, busying herself with opening the first box so she doesn’t have to look at him, inexplicably embarrassed. “It's the most comfortable model I could think of to fit your way of sitting.”

“My way of sitting?!” He is stunned. Sansa blushes, fussing with the presents. She feels impossibly shy, and young. Silly. She is startled into looking at him when Jon gently takes her hand again; her heart thrills, and she swallows instinctively.

“Sansa, I cannot… everything you’ve done for me: the boat, the escort, the reception…”

“I had the guards make a wall for you to pass. I was nervous you might gather attention, and a crowd might unexpectedly form, I don’t know…”

“The feast, and now this.” Jon speaks through her nervous interruption. His eyes are full of emotion; he seems genuinely overcome. Sansa nearly expires just being near him; “What have I ever done to deserve you?” he takes her face in hand. Sansa raises hers to lie over his immediately:

“Don’t ever say such things. You deserve…” her voice trails off. They regard one another so intensely; there’s a gravitational pull that swirls around them. Without even noticing, they’ve come flush against one another; her nightgown isn’t really anything remotely close to thin, nor are his sturdy winter clothes - yet, even still, it feels like their skin is touching, like they’re coming together… - “I’ve thought of nothing but you, for moons. Your steadfastness, your trust… You believed in me, even when I was too scared to fully believe in you. You gave yourself to me, and now… now I’m yours…”

He snuffs out her words with a kiss. His lips press against hers, and Sansa feels a sigh escape her in true relief, arms flying to wrap themselves around his shoulders. For a long, hallucinating moment, they remain still in pure bliss, locked in the act, the feeling. Lingering. It is a few seconds before, slowly, Jon’s hands descend to her side, to pull her up against him; they take hold of her waist, miles of her back. Her spine arches, lungs filling with air so her ribcage expands into him: she wants to feel him to her bones. Their lips move smoothly, of their own accord, as they entwine themselves in the tenderest of embraces. Jon engulfs her with his arms and lifts her onto her tiptoes, taking her lower lip into his mouth. They stumble forward and knock against Sansa’s armchair, the flowery thing; it sustains them, pressing against Sansa’s lower back, and with the impact they’re startled into stillness. This kiss, it ends gently: slowly, painfully so, they let themselves come apart by the half of an inch. Their mouths still hover near one another, open. Their arms still hold the extent of each other. Sansa sighs again, mournfully now. Jon closes his eyes in helpless grief.

“What are we to do now?” he whispers, torn. His brow rests against the noble arch of Sansa’s eyebrow; she leans back against him feebly.

“I don’t know.” she answers truly, palms curved over the broad slope of his shoulders.

“We cannot go on with this. They will know.”

“Yes.” Sansa agrees bitterly, throat tight, voice sour. Neither of them are strangers to this world, they know the rules: this can only end in tragedy. Sansa feels it, knows it to be true; she can feel their death in her gut. This, this would be what ends them. Her eyes fill with tears, and she holds Jon tighter, lips trembling.

"I’m sorry.” she breathes out, a frail whisper. She can feel the tightness of Jon’s throat as though it were her own. He turns his head to kiss her hair, over her ear, loving.

“So am I.” he says it like he’s swallowed his grief whole, pushing it down by force. He draws back, their eyes meet: it’s like they speak silently. Mutually, they understand one another. They release each other, Jon taking another step back. The distance feels more striking; a rift, a fissure. Sansa takes his hand in both of hers over it: this touch feels different. The love is still there, but they’re both resigned. Where there once was fire, now there’s a cold agony: it pinches their heart, lascinating. This is how they yield: solemn as a grave, Jon takes his hand back, and makes way to his seat. Silent, Sansa also takes hers. They clear their throats, shuffle around, features strained into complete bleakness. Sansa takes a breath:

“Here; the first gift is this dagger…”

The fire crackling into the early morning, they pretend.

---------

So, here it is, the original ending of chapter 29. I really really don't like this at all now (to say the very very least), but what you guys want, you guys get!

Once again thank you for the ask, I truly love these interactions. It rlly makes me unspeakably happy to talk about flatlands with you and to know you guys like this story!

Much love!

[unabashedkittenmoon]

(Teaser for a new book I am working on titled heir to snow and steel the full story is going to be on Wattpad and here and possibly ao3 Having said that enjoy and give me feedback please)

The wind howled outside the snowbourn castle, a stale reminder of the storm in the east. Daver woke up from his slumber frantically, his heart beating out of his chest sweat pouring down his face. His breathing was frantic as he tried to sit up. The sound of armor moving filled the hall as a tall man with black hair and a wolf's mask entered the room with his sword drawn. “What's wrong, young prince, is everything alright?” Fangrath said his deep voice now filled with concern. Davers breath slowed as he calmed down “I..I think so why did you run here?” Daver asked, now sitting upright, his hand brushing through his black silky hair. “You screamed, my lord , I thought you were in danger” Fangrath said, sheathing his sword. The prince slowly breathed, regaining his composure “j..just a nightmare fang I..I'm alright” Daver had said in a sheepish and still alarmed voice. The room fell silent once more as Fang nodded, putting a nearby chair at the door. “W..what are you doing?” Daver questioned with a dumbfounded look on his face. Fang said in the chair and chuckled slightly “I'll stay here while you sleep. I will protect you my little Lord”. “T..thank you fang” the prince murmured laying back down on his bed. The morning came sooner than expected just a few hours later. Daver awoke to the sounds of chanting in the streets and the sounds of trumpets filling the air. Today was special, today is the day his father would come home from his duties as the head of the snowbourn house. Daver quickly scrambled to get his clothes on before he rushed down the white halls with light blue trim. It had been four winters since he had seen his father, Daver was sixteen now in just a few moons he would be taking exams to become a soldier. However when he reached the stairs cheers stopped, the sound now filled with gasps and the cries of women. Fangs arms wrapped around Daver “no my prince no! I..I can't let you go out there” fang said in a desperate and upset tone. “B..but my dad he's home t..the king has come back” Daver exclaimed unsure of the reasoning for this. He had glanced behind fang seeing sixteen men on horseback with a wagon being pulled behind one of them, all the soldiers in white armor. “NO!” Daver exclaimed, fighting against fangs grip. “WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY DAD!?” Daver screamed out now desperate for an answer. “Kid listen to me and listen good…” fangraths voice was quiet and he spoke slowly. “Y..your father has fallen in battle young king I..I'm sorry” fangrath slowly let go of Daver as Daver growled out words “LIAR! LIAR! HE IS NOT DEAD!” Daver ran outside, tears streaming down his face as he cried out “DAD! DAD PLEASE! GET UP!” davers words were barely recognizable at this point but he clung to the cart that carried his father almost like a bee clings to their fallen queen. As they approached the graveyard Daver stopped in complete shock, he watched as they lowered his father into the grave. Daver felt pressure like never before since he was the only child of the king and he would become the heir to the throne at just sixteen. Daver silently walked back to the castle, memories of him and his father flooding his psyche. His thoughts now clouded with a barrage of emotions. He stopped at the blacksmith near the capital “what can I do ya for prince?” A man wearing only a piece of cloth to cover himself as his voice was gravely and his right eye was clearly a fake glass ball. “A..a broadsword like my father's..” Daver managed to say only that. His expression was one of a man who had gone through the unimaginable, his eyes vacant of emotion. As he studied all the swords laying around the tables. the blacksmith nodded and proceeded to work. “Deliver it to the castle when you are done” Daver spoke so quietly almost like he didn't want to speak as he sat down a bag of twenty gold.

[fighting-these-demons]

B*cch*giri Episode 8

Starting off strong with a flashback!

Aw they're SO CUTE!!!!! How Precious!!! 🥺

Aaaaaaaaaa so THAT'S why Arajin is so bent outta shape. The pure of heart/pure intentions bit. He let Matakara down and his shame from that and how it's deeply affected his self worth is what's eating him about the Honki bit.

I knew it wasn't just the childish aspect because his room is COVERED in childish bullshit despite him being 16 so like. It wasn't that lmao! 😂

Now we have a clear answer on that front!

Paused less than 30 seconds into this and already writing shit up I feel like now that we're back into the story proper and with this only having 12/13 episodes that it's gonna get long here.

They've got a LOT of ground to cover.

Kuwabara - I mean Matakara's spirit awareness has kicked in and he's rightfully scared.

A thing that sneaks in through the Crack of weak people's hearts Huh?

OOF

IT MEANS YOU NEVER RUN AWAY. OW! YEAH THAT GOT HIM.

I wonder why after all those years why Matakara isn't hung up on Arajin running away? Why only Arajin is? Why the running away bit doesnt mentally exclude Arajin in Matakara's mind?

Is it just the devotion?

AUGH THAT PICTURE IS SO PRECIOUS THEY LOVE EACH ITHER SO MUCH GOD FUCK THE COPS THAT PUT HIS BROTHER IN JUVIE JESUS

oh man I hope he's taller than his brother that'd be so funny

I love the sweet sunshine little brother being tall as a weed trope.

😣🤢

Lord help me. It's terrible. If she liked literally anyone else in the cast I'd be her #1 fan and cheering her on as a funny spin on typical anime bullshit but like. Eugh.

Tragic.

Love her attitude towards Arajin though; and I gotta say, I'll be pissed if they get together in the end as a tidy way to tie up and no homo the whole thing.

LMAO Matakara! Arajin just ask him out! He likes you just fine!

Dude he ABSOLUTELY wants to take on that responsibility! Please just GIVE HIM A CHANCE!!!!!

OH HEY!!!! THEYRE EATING LUNCH TOGETHER!!!!! FINALLY!!! 9 EPISODES IN AND WE'RE FINALLY GETTING PROGRESS

Love you forever Blondie! You're a real one and the most relatable for sure! 💛🧡💚💛🧡💚

Teal Terror I live you despite your ain't shit attitude and your multitude of flaws and I am ALWAYS rooting for you but like.

Damn dude let him have this one.

But like I get it I'd feel the same. He's so tired of Arajin's shit. 💙💜🧡

I really do love how like. This feels so much like a YYH au where Yusuke is more awkwardly insecure and Kazuma is still absolutely fixated on him but in modern day where expectations aren't so gendered its in a bit of a softer way.

And like there's a Double kurahi special between Teal Terror and blondie being some of the softer aspects of Kurahi's team dynamic and Javascript and Pink PETALS being the more serious side.

All that to say I love Teal Terror being so dang pouty and jealous and cute and thinking "damn that dude ain't shit why do you care??????" Every minute if every day like. He's so stinking cute I can't take it! 😭

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!?!,!,

DBSJDJSBSBSHSHSBDBSH

This man said "If I keep "Merging" with him I can get him pregnant!"

I LOVE age gap but Not Like This!!!!! 😭

Augh but I love Big Red Genie's goofy ass so much. So Like. I guess if I self insert it'll be fine?

But I kinda hate self inserting. 😣 uhg.

DUDE YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

GET HIS CREEPY ASS OUTTA HERE. ITS BEEN SO LONG I CANT EVEN REMEMBER HIS NICKNAME FUCK THIS GUY

It's a damn shame too because I love his aesthetic.

All those purple straps.....

MATAKARAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖

GET EM!!!!!!!!

Uhg . What's the stupid plan that this piece of shit has cooked up????

It's probably his Genie doing.

Oh I called him IvySoulCaliber that's right.

Babe do you think he forgot what you did to him and that you had his crush stripped naked????????

He hates your ass and he's just being nice because hes a good guy.

AUGH HES ALSO SO DUMB. PLEASE MATAKARA I BEG YOU TO RUB YOUR BRAINCELLS TOGETHER PLEASE

😫😭💔

Damn he really did his research on how to twist Matakara. Then again he's not too hard to read I guess. A little stalking would have gotten that easy.

MATAKARA DONT LISTEN TO HIM!!!!!

😫

I wonder if anime fans are aware of just how Gay being huge and stacked is viewed as in Japan? I feel like the wrestling bits of this anime play into that. Just reminds me of Gief's whole deal.

His mom is hilarious. She has awful taste sometimes but she's hilarious. Also how dare she ship Arajin with Matakara's Older Brother when she was rooting for Matakara until just now! WHERE IS HER LOYALTY????

I love how AYusuke (get it?) Is still a great cook!

I really do love how this is sort of a heart nod in that direction in so many ways with the main duo.

Oh how funny he lives at Ara-bath! 😂 Bet you that's been on his mind for years!

😨😱😭

Oh God. He Missed A Call on his way out!!!

Something happened. And all this cute music and scenery is getting you hyped just before they hit us with it.

Did he get killed on his way out? Jesus they wouldn't do that would they???

KEN SAN!!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

GIRL ME TOO HES THE FINEST 21 YR OLD ON THE PLANET FOR REAL

Not him waiting in the rain for an hour!

😭

Oh no. God I hope he's not dead but geez.

Man Arajin had finally just let his guard down and it's right back up.

Damn Teal Terror is calling in Arajin/the cavalry on this one.

FUCK ME AND FUCK YOU AND FUCK THE WRITER AND GODDAMN FUCK THE DIRECTOR TOO JESUS CHRIST I LOVE YOU BITCH YOU MAKE GREAT ANIME WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING AUGH

GODDAMN ARAJIN FUCK YOU JESUS CHRIST

Teal Terror!!!! 😭😭😭😭 He's so worried about Matakara and even broke down and pretty much begged Arajin and STILL THIS ASSHILE WONT BE REAL LIKE FUCK

AAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGHJJHH

OH SHIT RUN MATAKARA RUN!!!!!!!

That goddamn evil genie

Oh shit it got him. 😭

Well. His heart is shattered into pieces and his brother is probably dead but at least he got to have a tender sweet moment with his crush to cherish in his heart.

Oh man yeah I mean I could chalk him being able to see arajin's genie up to his spiritual awareness but I think when Evil Genie got him he must have been handed the gun and tried to shoot himself because he has that side fringe that would cover it so it wouldn't be immediately apparent and also he has the blue genie and it's tied to the image of his brother who is dying or dead and is probably his wish so like.

I'd say he tried to kill himself and made the wish.

And that's part of why he sounded and looked so fucked up when he got to Arajin's house before the sight of Arajin sleeping comforted him.

Oh shit. He woke bith of them up and neither noticed?????

You know if they'd paced this anime better I wouldn't be watching 5 episodes in 1 so late in the game but like. Here we are.

Anyway it's surprising IvyDoulCalibur still has his genie. I wonder what the spirit coming after Matakara is then?

Well hey at least Arajin is looking for him. Even if he did leave him to rot to see a girl that don't give a shit about either of them. 🤷‍♀️

Dang Matakara. 😭💔

Oh shit dude do you think the best time to tell him is when his brother is dying?????????????

Like I'm white American and even by our standards Now Is Not The Time.

Save that shit for confession or some shit.

Why are you hurting him when hes at his absolute lowest?????

God Fuck Arajin just when I think I cN get behind this kid he goes out of his way to hurt people selfishly

Huh. Well. I don't like it. But I do ship it now. (Matakara/IvySoulCalibur)

I wonder what happened to IvySoulCalibur when the Evil Genie transferred to Matakara?

What a shame that Evil Genie is wearing leggings. 😕

Oh hey! Green Gobblin ending! Woo! 💖💖💖

[beels-burger-babe]

Demon's First Pumpkin

***After all the spookiness it's time for a small relief of fluff! This is actually one of the first Diavolo-centered fics I've written and it's the first Teen MC fic we've had in a while! I hope you all enjoy it 🎃❤️ -B***

Summary: When MC learns that the all mighty Demon Prince Diavolo has never carved a pumpkin in his life, they immediately get to work on amending that fact. Ft. Teen! MC and DiaLuci

"MC, this isn't something that you need to disturb Lord Diavolo with,"

"Wrong. It is spooky season and thus it is an emergency level catastrophe that I must bother Dia with."

The prince in question perked up his head as he heard two of his favourite voices approach his lonely office. He instantly brushed aside the documents he had been working on, and took a quick glance into the reflection of the metal plaque on his desk to adjust his tie and hair.

"Well, we'll just have to see what he thinks!" He heard you smugly shout on the other side of the door before a rhythmic knock rang through his office.

"Come in!" He happily called out as he sat just a little bit straighter in his chair.

He couldn't help but smile as you proudly marched into his office with a tired and slightly irked-looking Lucifer trailing behind you.

"Dia!" He quickly opened his arms, wrapping you up in his large embrace as you charged toward him.

The sound of his hearty laugh filled the room as he spun you around. "MC! It's been awhile since you've visited!"

Lucifer sighed from where he handsomly brooded by the doorway. "My apologies, my lord. I tried to explain to them that you were busy, but they were insistent."

Diavolo smiled as he set you back on your feet. "Must have been a rather important issue then."

You nodded enthusiastically as Lucifer ran a hand down his face. "Yes, it is! There're no pumpkins in the Devildom!"

The prince's eyebrows narrowed as he glanced warily over to Lucifer. "No ... pumpkins?"

"Large orange gourds that humans like mutilate and allow to rot away rather than actually eating them," Lucifer groaned. "It's pointless."

A dramatic gasp came from your mouth as you clutched a hand to your chest. "It is not pointless!" You shouted. "First of all, we call them jack-o-lanterns! Second of all, it's a bonding tradition that we do in the fall with our friends and family and use them as lights and decorations. Plus, it's not all waste! You can always roast the pumpkin seeds and eat those as snacks!"

With every word that you spoke, Diavolo felt his eyes get wider and wider and a flood of childlike wonder, that he always felt towards human culture, fill him.

The same thrill that sparked in his heart the day he came up with the exchange program was now a raging inferno.

"That sounds incredible!" He cheered as he grabbed you by the shoulders — your eyes mirrored the excitement sparkling in his own golden stare. He looked towards his door, where he knew his butler was dutifully working nearby. "Barbatos!" The teal-coloured demon appeared out of nowhere. "I need you to go to the human world and get three of their best pumpkins!"

"I'll see to it, my lord," he was gone as quickly as he arrived.

Lucifer's head whipped around to him, his eyebrows narrowed in suspicion. "Three? Why do you need three?"

"For you, of course!" He flashed the demon his brightest smile. "MC said this is meant to be a bonding experience between friends, and there is no one else I can think of to share this with than you and MC!"

Lucifer glowered at the prince for a moment before a heavy groan came from him. "If that's what you wish, my lord."

Diavolo's heart fluttered with elation as he turned to you. "What else is required for this 'jack-o-lantern' making?"

You leaned against his desk with a sharp grin, "Let me tell you, Dia. It is the best. There's spooky music, candy, and you can even print out stencils to help you with your design if you'd like," you pressed a smug hand to your chest as you lifted your chin. "Personally, I like to freehand," your eyes playfully drifted over to the grumpy Avatar of Sin in the corner, "but there's no shame in needing a little help."

Lucifer stiffened at your words, and Diavolo knew that you had the demon exactly where you wanted him. "Well," he spoke coolly, "We'll just have to see about that."

In no less than an hour, the three of you were in the freshly decorated dining hall with a live orchestra playing only the spookiest of classical music and freshly picked pumpkins sitting in front of you.

You were bouncing with giddiness at the whole thing, and though Lucifer tried to hide, Diavolo could tell that even he was enjoying the atmosphere.

The prince clapped his hands as he looked down at the gourd. "Now, MC! What next? How do we do this?"

Lucifer eyed you carefully as you picked up one of the paring knives on the table and twirled it in your hand. "Now you cut the top off and scoop out its guts!" A twinge of pride ran through his demonic soul at the murderous glee shining on your face.

Dia let out a hearty laugh as he picked up his own knife and stabbed it deep into the top of the pumpkin with a single clean motion. "And you're sure this is a human tradition? It's quite vicious, though that does seem to be the fun of it!" His smile widened as a spray of pumpkin juice flung across his face — It had been too long since he'd been able to fully enjoy a good stabbing.

Lucifer, on the other hand, elegantly picked up his own knife and went to work with the precision of a surgeon. Each cut was done with meticulous care and patience.

You snorted at the look of concentration on his face as you ripped off the top of your own pumpkin.

The demon rose an eyebrow at you, "Do you have an issue with my technique MC?"

You shook your head as you rolled up your sleeve and buried your arm elbow deep into the vegetable. "Nope. You're just slow, old man,"

Diavolo's eyes widened at your action as he looked down at his own pumpkin and quickly mimicked you. He couldn't help but giggle as the stringy, gooey insides of the pumpkin clung to his fingers as he easily ripped from its flesh with a harsh pull — he had greatly underestimated just how fun this would be.

Lucifer's nose wrinkled at the two of you. "If I'm doing this, I am going to be doing this to the highest standard. I want to ensure that the top hole isn't so large that the pumpkin will cave in on itself, but also not so small that it's inconvenient to remove its innards."

Diavolo smirked as he flicked some of the pumpkin on his hands at his right-hand man — Lucifer stiffed as a glob guts stuck to his cheek. "Come on, Lucifer! Loosen up! This is meant to be fun! Let your inner demon run loose and just enjoy it!" he grinned and proudly held up his messy hands.

"Yeah, Luci! This isn't an order or a task. This is just having fun with friends! You remember what that's like, right?" You goaded with a mischievous smirk on your face.

Lucifer grumbled under his breath as he carefully rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt. The light caught on his blade as he raised it high above his head before passionately driving it down into the gourd.

Dia's breath caught in his throat at the feral fire in Lucifer's crimson eyes as you whooped in victory.

From there, it hadn't taken very long for the three of you to finish preparing your pumpkins for your designs — soon all three of them were empty, and their intestines were now coating the table and your arms.

"Now's the fun part!" You explained as you grabbed three markers from your pocket. "You can carve any design that you'd like into the front of the pumpkin! Traditionally, you're meant to do a spooky face, but really it can be anything you want."

The Demon Prince paused, tilting his head as he looked at the canvas of his pumpkin. He wanted something suiting for the human "spooky season," but also something sentimental. This was his first jack-o-lantern. He didn't want to mess up something that, based on the purely joyful expression on your face, truly meant a lot to you. He wanted it to be special.

He glanced over at Lucifer, as the demon was delicately peeling layers away from the vegetable, and blushed as an idea rushed to his mind.

He uncapped his marker and got to work.

You had finished your jack-o-lantern first — a slightly crooked rendition ... something. It seems Lucifer was correct on the mutilation part.

Lucifer bit back a laugh as you proudly held your pumpkin out in front of you. "And just what is that meant to be?"

You slumped a little as you pouted. "It's meant to be you and your brothers pact symbols! Can't you tell?"

Dia squinted his eyes and tilted his head a little — it still looked like a bunch of random circles, triangles and squiggly lines — but he gave a fake gasp of realization for your sake. "Oh, I see it now!" He lied, like a liar. "This one must be Beelzebub's! Very well done!"

"That's Lucifer's!" You whined as the said demon snorted beside you.

His snort grew into laughter as you punched his side. "No, no! You misunderstand, MC. I'm not laughing at you. My symbol has never looked so good!"

You huffed and set your pumpkin back down on to the table. "Well let's see what you came up with, Mr. Big Shot!"

A glimmer of pure concentrated pride radiated gorgeously off the demon as he smiled, "With pleasure," he turned the pumpkin around and both your's and Diavolo's jaws dropped.

Delicately carved into the pumpkin's flesh, with varying layers of depth, was an intricate rendition of Cerberus with meat dangling off his fangs.

"Show off," you grumbled as the prince continued to gawk.

Lucifer's chuckled as he ruffled your hair, "I don't know what you mean. I was only following your instructions and having fun with it," you pouted as you smacked his hand away. The demon's head turned to Diavolo, oblivious to how the content glow to his skin made goosebumps rise on the back of the prince's neck. "How did yours turn out?"

Diavolo glanced between his own creation and Lucifers. "I wouldn't say it's quite as masterful as your own work, Lucifer, but I think it's rather nice," he turned the pumpkin around and Lucifer's cheeks flushed while you found yourself gawking once more.

For his very first jack-o-lantern, Diavolo had carved two demons. One with leather-like wings and an impressive set of horns framing his face, and the other with raven's wings sprouting behind him and a diamond on his forehead. The two were leaning close together and smiling.

"DIA!" You screamed leaning close to take it in. "That's so cool! Woah! How did you do that?!"

Lucifer cleared his throat as he glanced up at the prince, "Is that ... us?"

Diavolo proudly nodded. "Of course! I wanted something that meant a lot to me but was also scary. And you, Lucifer, are both my most trusted friend and the most terrifying demon I know. I thought it was only fitting."

If Lucifer hadn't been blushing before, his cheeks were now a beautiful shade of red. Diavolo often wished it wasn't so difficult to make the demon flustered like this — whenever the demon's prideful front was cast aside, he never failed to make the prince fall for him all over again (a poetic irony in its own right).

You eyed the two as their stares remained locked on one another — you felt your own cheeks flush at the mere tension in the room. You quickly grabbed the bowl of pumpkin guts resting on the table and awkwardly stood up. "OH LOOK! We have all kinds of left over pumpkin guts! I'm going to um, roast these with Barbatos for a snack! In the kitchen! Away from here! BYE!"

Before either of them had time to blink you were gone in a blur.

Lucifer fondly shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Humans. They really are so odd."

Diavolo hummed as he looked back at the monstrosity of a jack-o-lantern that you made. "Endearing though. I quite enjoyed this tradition of theirs."

Silence settled between the two demons as Lucifer carefully picked the remaining pumpkin innards that you had thrown at him off his shirt. "Perhaps," he began without looking at the Prince, "we'll have to do this again next year," Diavolo looked at him, a slow smile began climbing on his face as the demon's warm tone registered within him. "MC clearly needs more practice, and ... I suppose this wasn't so bad," the crimson eyes flickered down to Diavolo's pumpkin once more.

A swarm of butterflies fluttered alongside hope within him — the happiness that was burning within him was one he had seldom experienced before.

A small, stunned laugh bubbled out from within him as he nodded deeply to his closest companion. "As you wish, my dear."

*** Oh it is so nice to have a refreshing break of fluff every now and then 🥰 Thank you all for reading and for the love and support! Please leave a comment, if you can, letting me know what you thought! Your feedback is always appreciated! -B***

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @salvationprodigy @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat

[avenging-fandoms]

It’s sinner hour? I have a request o’ great lord. It’s about Pope Heyward and um it’s from ur smut prompt list. “You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” So like Pope has been looking very very very HOT ALL DAY to the reader (I mean when he wears that black tight shirt- MHM) and the reader well she gets fed up so she puts on a short dress with no panties and sits on popes lap while he’s trying to have a conversation with his friends but y/n wants to do other things..

OUTER BANKS MASTERLIST

a/n: "o'great lord" i cannot with you nonnie ily

--

your hand gripped your backpack strap as you knocked on the door of pope's home, his dad's car not there so you knew he was home alone. pope came down and opened the door, smiling at you. "hey, baby, what are you doing here? the party isn't until later"

"i'm angry with you" you stormed past him after scanning his naked torso, pushing past him and pope laughed to himself. "it's not funny, pope"

"okay, what did i do to make you angry?" pope closed the door and you threw your backpack down, pointing your finger at him and moving it up and down. pope looked down slowly, then back at you confused.

"didn't i tell you what that shirt did to me, heyward? i told you every time you wear that shirt.." your sentence trailed off, and pope looked down again.

"i'm not wearing a shirt right now, though?" he answered as a question and you rolled your eyes.

"you know what shirt i'm talking about, that tight black one. y'know, the one that shows off everything only i should see.." you mumble softly and pope smirks, stepping close to you and holding your waist with his fingers lightly touching under your chin.

"so you get jealous every time i wear that shirt?" pope looked down at you and you roll your eyes, looking to the side and pope kissed your neck softly.

"among other things.." you spoke, holding the belt loops of his shorts. "no, i'm mad at you for wearing that to school! you know how hard it was to not jump you today, pope heyward?" pope cut you off by placing his lips on yours softly, and you forgot what you were talking about.

"go home, change, and i'll pick you up at 7, yes?" pope whispered and you nodded, kissing him again before you started for the door. "your backpack!"

"i'll leave it here. gives me an excuse to come back here later" you wink and pope smiles, waving at you as you left his house, smirking to yourself as you knew the perfect way to get revenge on him.

--

pope picked you up at 7, bringing you to the bonfire, meeting the others there. you both found a drink and cheers, shotgunning the beer. you kissed pope and smiled, his hand traveling up your thigh and widening his eyes as he didn't feel underwear under your dress.

"yn.. you're n..not wearing, uh, anything underneath that, a-are you?" pope stutters over his words, and you smile against his mouth as you grab his shirt.

"feels nicer going commando" you wink, dancing against pope. pope smiled, stunned, hand on your stomach as you two danced together around the fire to the booming music.

your body got tired, pope sitting down on a log by john b's van. you smirk to yourself and sit on pope's lap, and you could feel everything through his thin bathing suit bottoms. pope inhaled sharply, trying not to make it obvious he was immediately hard. you knew it, and you fake yawned, moving your hips a bit.

pope tried his best to continue his conversation with jj about school, but he was too hard and distracted by you going commando that he couldn't focus anymore.

"i am beat, aren't you, pope?" you move your hips as you look back at him, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he nodded quickly. "i forgot my backpack at your house this afternoon, i have to go back to your house and grab it"

"i think you forgot a lot of stuff at my house, actually, yn. you might be there for a while" pope mumbled and you stood up, but pope pulled you back down. "give me a few minutes, please"

"i'm tired now, pope" you pout, kissing him softly. "i'll meet you in the truck" you smile and stand up, and pope immediately crossed his legs. staring at the other people eased him, and he quickly said goodbye to his friends as he speed walked towards his truck.

you bit your lip and squealed, pope pushing you against his truck and kissing you roughly, fingers gripping your thigh. "get in the truck.. now. you may be tired now, but you'll be exhausted once i'm done with you" he growled softly and you pulled his hips in. "get in"

"yes sir" you wink and open the door, pope smacking your ass as you got in. pope started the engine and drove off, hand on your thigh. you inhale sharply and take his hand, dragging it up your dress slowly and whimpering as his finger rubbed against your clit. "pope.."

"so needy" pope smirked, stopping at a red light and staying there as he turned his body to you, pulling your body closer to him. it was 2 in the morning, no one was going to be out here anytime soon.

pope put one of your feet up on the dashboard, pushing your dress up and rubbing his fingers up and down your folds. "pope.. please"

"you think it's so funny teasing me in front of my friends, hm? with no underwear on. so filthy" pope's fingers slid into you slowly and you gasp, pope not going slow as he fucked you with his fingers.

the stop light turned green, yellow and red over and over, but you never moved. the car shook slowly as pope fingered you, the windows fogging up and you moaning loudly. "pope.. fuck.. please!" your back arched and your leg tightened around his neck as you came, pushing his shoulder as he slowly moved his fingers in and out of you through your orgasm.

"and that's only the beginning of what's going to happen at my house, sweetheart" pope winked and went through the red light, and you kissed your boyfriend on the cheek as he drove to his house.

[fairyhaos]

oh wow! wow!!!! thak you so much for this comment oh lord my jaw dropped this is SO MUCHHH nd i absolutely adore it :((

giggling pls im so honoured you loved yeoubi this much! if i could then i'd definitely gift you a book ver of it just to begin to show my gratitude for this comment of urs </3

"ASFHSAD the fact that he was down bad for her from the moment he opened his freaking eyes makes me kind of feral. I love it. I love it. I love it. And the fact that he only seems to fall deeper and deeper for her? I am so soft for Vernon."

love at first sight is THEE CUTEST THING EVERRR i just had to put it in. vernon is definitely the kinda person 2 fall in love just like that, especially when it comes to kind and caring people yk :((

"I screeched! I love Seungcheol but he was really testing my patience in this fic (even if his intentions were noble) and when this scene came, I quite literally cheered. Yes, Vernon, freaking tell him! Protect your girl's honour! (Did I mention I love this portrayal of Vernon?)"

I LOVE THIS SCENE SMMM mostly bc i love the imagery of cutie yokai vernon building a book fort in yn's library but also bc THIS. i knew i wanted to have a scene of vn standing up to cheol bc someone had to knock some sense into him, and who better than the yokai who has quite literally been in love with yn since day one?? also i love the idea of vernon with a very strong moral code because 1) he really does have a strong moral code, and 2) it goes against everything cheol thought he knew about yokai, so it's alovely contrast to make! also. it makes y/n fall for him just a little bit more (tho... she doesn't know that's what it is quite yet wink wink :P)

"Listen. I've read like 20 romance novels since last summer and this scene lowkey tops all of them. Oh, to have a gorgeous sweetheart of a man compare me to spring -- the season of beauty and youth and warmth! I am weak at the knees! I am melting!"

"What if I told you I squeaked in delight??? Like actually???"

"He's just an affectionate guy, your honour! Nooo but this was so cute! And so funny -- I swear I spent like half the fic laughing and the other half kicking my feet and giggling. Also did I already mention this is my new favourite, most beloved portrayal of Vernon?"

honestly im so happy u love my portrayal of vernon cz im gonna b so honest. hes one of the HARDESTT svt members for me to write so i had a LOT of worries when writing yeoubi but i'm so glad the response has been so positive <33 vernon's sincerity coupled with his unintentionally sappy ways have yielded THESE lovely scenes u picked out and tbh full credits go to him for how sweet it is hehe

ALSO OMGGG THE PARTS WITH THE KIDS !!! in my head it was alwayssss gonna be the kids who acted as the bridge for vn to finally be accepted by the villagers and im SO GLADD people loved it sm! vernon would be so good with kids i'm so serious. he'd literally be theee best cz he's just perfect like that and it's totally unfair

"The fact that the 'you're the prettiest person alive' thing came full circle??? The fact that they're so in love? That it feels so sweet and natural somehow? Like it was meant to be?"

full circle metaphors/endings/iconic lines r my most fav things ever so ofc i had to put it here teehee ^^ i had this in my plan from the veryy start and i'm glad it managed to be pulled off so well!!

"And can I just say that your descriptions of the magic is so incredibly beautiful? Like I was in freaking awe. I am obsessed with it."

thank you so much!!!! i feel like i didn't get to put as much stuff ab the magic side of this universe so i was a bit disappointed by that, but hearing so many people say it was still perfect makes me so happy!!

thank you for reading, and thank you so much for this comment. this made my day. seriously. soft silly gentle fics like this r actually my vibe these days so fingers crossed i'll manage to write another long fic like this soon! <3

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you. 

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?” 

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

 “There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument. 

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were. 

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd. 

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you  smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt. 

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river. 

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river. 

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. 

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying. 

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice. 

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!” 

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch. 

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai. 

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see. 

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds. 

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on. 

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!” 

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.” 

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands. 

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along. 

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see. 

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work. 

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽, 

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.” 

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says. 

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?” 

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside. 

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up. 

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort. 

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power? 

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days. 

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off. 

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing. 

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you. 

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower. 

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise. 

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants. 

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽, 

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin. 

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.” 

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes. 

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers. 

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting. 

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles. 

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn��t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway? 

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn. 

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him. 

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace. 

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him. 

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around. 

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him. 

But, like you said, that was the plan. 

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square. 

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him. 

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet. 

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first. 

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too. 

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him. 

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile. 

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made. 

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces. 

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

 “I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽, 

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with  his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile. 

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own. 

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[chanderylix]

"You Wanna Come In?"

M A S T E R L I S T

Author's note:

This is my thought when I woke up this morning. It's kinda suggestive(?) or nearly a smut. I thought that I should share it so you guys (who read this) can also imagine this🤤

Reminder: Sorry for my English lol my grammar sucks cause English is not my first language. Hope you can understand<3. Also this is my very very first smut/suggestive thing that I write so yeah it's basically sucks lol and yes, the title is based on Back Door by SKZ (I'mma stayzen yay)

Pairing : switch!hendery x switch!(f)reader x sub!xiaojun

Genre : smut (Lord pls have mercy on me)

Warning : bad english, threesome, mxm a little bit (only kissing), oral (giving/receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, Xiaojun's first time, slightly mommy kink, cum eating, kinda rough, basically pure filth, I think that's it (?)

3.1k words

What if your boyfriend's best friend interrupted your hot session with your boyfriend at the hotel room? Why don't you just let him in and enjoy it together?

You, you're boyfriend:Hendery, and your boyfriend's best friend that become yours too: Xiaojun were in a 5 star hotel room in Seoul. Actually you guys planned for a staycation for 2 days. You want to spend your weekend with your boyfriend, Hendery. However, Xiaojun also want to kinda ruin your date with Hendery so you decided to ask him but sleep in the separate room. Your plan for tomorrow is just swimming in the hotel and have a fine dining.

Hendery chose the right room: executive suite room with 1 king size bed, an opened bathroom where you could see someone's taking a bath with a bathup in the center, mini bar, kitchen, living room, basically like an apartment with a nice view to the city. The most expensive room in that 5 star hotel.

Your hotel room is the only room at 25th floor so no need to be worry. Meanwhile Xiaojun sleep at the 24th floor. You and Hendery had waited for this moment. With no interruption, no one could see, you could do as much as you want, screaming and moaning as loud as you can while having sex without afraid that anyone could hear it. It's just the two of you. You can imagine, having sex with your boyfriend on the couch, on the kitchen pantry, or on the king size bed freely with no one can see. You already put your things in the bedroom with a smily face. Hendery too. Suddenly, he pinned you against the wall.

"I'm waiting for this moment, baby" he said near to your neck and his hot breath tickles. Kissing down to your neck, sucking and leaving spot that you're sure will stay there for the next week. He keeps kissing, sucking, licking your neck and up to your earlobe. "Should I fuck you on the couch hm, baby? No one can see us. I'm getting bored fucking you on the bed" he said. You just nod and he started to kiss your lips. Basically a french kiss. Tongue fighting against each other finding for dominance. Hendery is really good at it so you let his tongue dominate yours.

You know this will happen so you already wearing your lingerie that he gave you at your birthday. A pink lacy lingerie which shows a bit of your nipple. You know his favorite color is pink. He removed your shirt and start kneading on your covered breast, playing with your perked nipples with his thumb and index finger. His lips still kissed you and he carried you onto the couch with lips still connected to each other. He removed his shirt showing the abs that he had been working recently. You smiled. It's been a long time since you guys had sex. cause he's really busy as an idol, while you're busy on you work too.

He noticed your smile and smirked. "Only for you, baby". You nodded. "Only for me" you said, tracing your hands up and down his abs. He removed your lacy bra, revealing your soft breast. He started licking your left nipple like a cat while his right hand playing with the other. He sucked your nipple with no mercy, he pretends that your nipple is your mouth, making out with it. He did the same with the other one. "F-feels so fucking good. I love your mouth, baby. Playing with my nipples. You like it, huh?" you moaned while your hand grabbed his hair in a fistful making him groan and giving the vibration.

His mouth going down to kiss your inner thighs near your entrance. Slapping your thigh, he asked while playing with the waistband of your underware "Can I take this off? Want to play with your beautiful pussy". You nodded and he removed your lacy panties. "So fucking wet. I make you this wet, huh?" he slapped your pussy making you jolted. "This wet pussy is mine" he said proudly. Hendery wanted to kiss your clit but suddenly the bell rang, making both of you groan.

"Room service?" you asked and Hendery shook his head. "Nope, I bet it's Xiaojun. As always, he ruin the moment. Wait" he went to open the door. Xiaojun stood in front of the door and rubbed his stomach. "Dude I'm hungry. Wanna go dinner? And where's your shirt?" Xiaojun asked but he nodded a few seconds later. "Ahhh, sorry to ruin your moment again. I'll go by myself" Xiaojun said while he wanted to leave but Hendery held his hand to stopped him. "You're not disturbing us. You wanna come in?" Hendery asked. Xiaojun raised his eyebrow. "Wait, are you like.. Having sex with Y/n right now? Dude I don't want to disturb you freakin nuts" Xiaojun said and wanted to leave again but Hendery stopped him again. "Hmm, that's okay if you want to.. Maybe.. Join us? Do something crazy together? You know, threesome Haha" Hendery asked and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Xiaojun shook a bit and start thinking. He smiled and said "If it's okay for you two. I'm getting tired pleasuring myself and wanna try somthing new". Hendery let Xiaojun in.

Xiaojun stopped in front of your naked body on the couch while you panicked and tried to cover your body. "WHAT THE HELL??! XIAOJUN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN HERE??!" you shouting but didn't find a thing to cover your body so you just let Xiaojun saw your naked body with mouth wide opened. "I asked him to come in" Hendery said with a smirk on his face. He came to you and rub your cheeks. "Why don't we try something new, Y/n? I know that you've been fantasizing this before. Getting 2 cocks to fuck your pussy?" he said while looking at Xiaojun who was kinda terrified right now. Hendery was really different here. He's a cheerful guy outside, but when it comes to sex, he's freaking wild. It's like seeing a different person which made Xiaojun shock. You looked at Hendery with the 'how did you know' sight. "How about you? Do you want to?" you asked Xiaojun and he nodded vigorously. "I-I mean.. There's nothing wrong since your boyfriend agree with it. I also want to.. You know.. Pleasuring myself with real pussy? " Xiaojun said. You nodded your head slowly. "Well.. If both of you agree, okay then" you answered while Hendery and Xiaojun looked at each other with a smirk on their face. "But, with one condition" then they looked at you, curious about your next words. "I want to be the dom. You have to listen to me and do whatever I tell you. If you don't, you'll get a punishment. Do you understand?" you asked them. At first, they actually kinda didn't agree but since Xiaojun didn't have experience and Hendery wanted to try something new so both of them agreed.

You started to kiss your boyfriend. He kissed you back while grabbing and squeezing your ass, slapping it playfully. Xiaojun started to undress himself, only his boxer left. You rubbed your boyfriend's clothed boner, he's already that hard. Hendery groaned, biting your lips to giving his tongue the access to your mouth. You gave the 'come here' gesture to Xiaojun with you still kissed your boyfriend. He hesitated at first. You released the kiss. "Come here, don't be shy" you said. Xiaojun approached you two. You kissed Xiaojun until it turns into a heated makeout session. Your grabbed his hair to deepen the kiss. Hendery stood behind you, kissing and sucking the back of your neck, down to your shoulder while kneading your breast from behind. You released the kiss, finding air to breath. "You're such a good kisser" you praised Xiaojun and he's getting shy. "Better than me?" Hendery asked suddenly, stopping his act. You smirked, getting new idea. "Why don't you try it by yourself?" you asked him innocently. "I want to see you two kiss each other" you told them. At first, they looked disgust and hesitated to do it. "You're not obeying my words? Do you want punishment, hm babyboys?" you raised your eyebrow to look intimidating. Hendery shook his head. "No, mommy. I'll kiss him" he said. You actually kinda shocked cause it's the first time he called you that name. Hendery started to kiss Xiaojun. It was really awkward at first and turned into a messy kiss. But finally they found the rythm and going into a hot make out session. You sat on the couch, seeing your boyfriend make out with his best friend satisfied you a lot with a smirk on your face. Hendery's hand started to rub Xiaojun's clothed cock, with a moan came from his mouth. "A-ah.." he moaned into the kiss. Things getting really heated then you decided to touch yourself and playing with your clit a little bit to stimulate it.

After they released the kiss, you told them to undress themselves. Both of them were fully naked now. "Lay on the bed" you said and both of them were laying on the king size bed. "Hendery, can you eat me out? Xiaojun, I'm gonna suck your dick. Am I making myself clear?" you asked. "B-but I want you to suck my dick" Hendery protested. You smiled. "I can't even count how much I suck your dick. It's Xiaojun's first time though" you answered. Xiaojun got shy. "Ah.. Thanks Y/n" he said.

Hendery laid while you sit on his face. Xiaojun stood up beside the bed. Hendery started to playing with your clit with his tongue. "I-it's so fucking good, oh God" you moaned while looking at Xiaojun. You pumped his cock with your hand, precum leaking from the tip. Xiaojun groaned. "Do you like it -ah baby?" you asked and he nodded vigorously. "I like it. It feels so good" he moaned. You pumped it really slowly to stress him out. "I need your mouth, mommy. Fuck! I fucking need your mouth" Xiaojun said while throwing his head back. Oh, this guy also had mommy kink. You slapped his ass. He screamed. "That's not what I want, baby. Use your word" you said, still rubbing his cock slowly. "Mommy, I-I need your mouth, please? I want to feel your warm mouth. Pretty please?". You smiled and started to suck his cock, bobbing your head until his cock touch the back of your throat. You suck him at the same pace as Hendery's mouth at your clit. You moaned, causing the vibration to Xiaojun. "So f-fucking good. Holy shit!" Xiaojun moaned so hard. Hendery groaned. You moved your head faster. You felt him twitching in your mouth which means he's close. "I'm close. Shit! So fucking good. Please, don't stop" Xiaojun grabbing your hair, started to facefucking you but you decided to stop. "Do not touching!" you said and he groaned. "I won't let you cum if you do it again" you continued. "Y-yes. I'm sorry" he said. You slapped his cock a little making him hissed at the feeling. While Hendery's tongue playing your bundle of nerves faster then before. You curled your toes as he found the spot. "A-ah Yes! Right there! Don't stop" you grabbed Hendery's hair making him groan. He's tonguefucking you right now. You had cum few minutes ago if Xiaojun didn't come. But it's okay cause you had two beautiful men pleasuring you right now. Hendery kept abusing your sensitive spot. "I'm close! Wanna cum on your pretty face. Can I, prince?" you asked. He answered with a long whiny moan and finally you have your orgasm. Hendery's face was wet because of your juices. He laughed.

"You wanna try real pussy, huh? Why don't you fuck me? I wanna feel your cock wrap in my tight cunt. Can Xiaojun fuck me, prince?" you asked Xiaojun and Hendery's agreement. "Xiaojun, you really ruin the moment. I can't even feel my girlfriend's tight cunt first" Hendery said and you know he's jealous. You smiled. "Relax, prince. You're gonna receive a reward from me later" you rubbed his soft cheek. Hendery nodded. You were in position with knees and hands on the king size bed. Xiaojun positioning himself and entered you slowly. Both of you moaned while Hendery sat on the couch inside your bedroom, jerking himself off slowly cause he didn't want to cum yet. "You're so fucking big" you moaned and Xiaojun start off slowly, wanna make sure his cock fully inside you. "So tight. Is you're girlfriend suppose to be this tight?" Xiaojun asked Hendery with a smirk while the other just shook his head. "She's always tight for me. That pussy is mine by the way" he answered, still rubbing his own cock. Xiaojun started to go faster, jerking himself inside your cunt. "Shit! This is why you like to fuck her, yeah? So good!" Xiaojun teased Hendery again. Hendery got jealous and approaching you two. He stood in front of you, putting his dick inside your mouth and start facefucking you. You moaned and start to bobbing your head. You already forgot that he's breaking the rules but you want to pleasuring yourself. Being fucked by a dick in your cunt and mouth stuffed with a dick is the first time for you. Saliva and Hendery's precum mixture started to running down your chin, neck, and breast. While your juice and Xiaojun's precum leaking down from your cunt. "I-I wanna.. I wanna cum!! Can I cum inside you, mommy? Want to fill you so fucking bad" Xiaojun said while still pounding into you. Hendery sent a death glare to him. "What the fuck? She's my-" you cut him "Yes, baby. Cum inside me. Wanna feel your warm cum inside my pussy. I'm on pills" you said. Hendery rolled his eyes. Few thrusts later, Xiaojun finally released his cum. "I'm cumming! Mommy, I'm cumming. A-ahhh" he let out his dick. His cum leaking from your pussy, and he decided to eat you out. "Oh my God!! Xiaojun! S-so good! Fuckkk!" you moaned, your hands jerking Hendery off. "I'm close! C'mon baby. Eat that pussy. Yes like that! Yes!!" you screamed. Xiaojun kept his tongue exploring your cunt, sucking his own cum. Hendery shocked that a virgin boy could actually pleasured his girlfriend. "I'm cuming!!!" your whole body shaking and falling on the bed, basically Xiaojun made your body weak. You released your hand from Hendery's dick, edging him. He groaned.

"It's not fair! I haven't cum yet" he protested. You laughed. "Xiaojun, sit on the couch. You're good for a virgin. But you have to learn more on how to fuck from me" he continued, flip your body so you back lay on the bed. He inserted his cock into your pussy fully in without any warning making you jolt. "Fuck! I'm still sensitive!" you groaned and he smirked. "I don't fucking care" he let out his dick and fully fuck you again. He repeated many times before he started to pounding you with fast pace. You put your right leg on his shoulder, so he could go deeper. "Hnghh, deeper! I love you, I love your cock!" you moaned and he pounded you faster. "You love my cock that much, huh? Better than Xiaojun?" he asked, kneading your breast. You nodded. He then rubbed your clit to give more stimulation. You grabbed his hair roughly as he started kissing your neck. Xiaojun wanted to try something more. So he approching you two and sit on the bed. He started to suck your nipple while Hendery kept pounding inside and out of you. Xiaojun gave you more pleasure and you moaned. "Mmmm so good! Being my pussy fucked and nipple sucked" you grabbed Hendery's hair who now hiding in the crook of your neck sending hot air while your left hand grabbed Xiaojun's hair. Hendery's right hand jerking Xiaojun's dick making him moan. Xiaojun left your nipple from his mouth, instead he's using his fingers to play with your left nipple, Hendery's fingers playing with your right one, while his other hand still pumping Xiaojun. For the reward, Xiaojun kissed Hendery and their tongue fighting against each other. Xiaojun's left hand grabbed Hendery's hair to deepen the kiss. You were really satisfied for the view in front lf you. Xiaojun moaned into the kiss because the pressure that he got from his dick. Xiaojun's hand moved from your nipple to your clit. He rubbed it so fast, as fast as Hendery's pace in fucking you. "Shit! I'm close! Don't stop please, hngg yes! I love the way your cock fucking my pussy. I love you I love you! Xiaojun you're hand's so good playing with my clit. You like it, huh?" you moaned in pleasure. Both of them nodded. Hendery's hand moved faster in rubbing Xiaojun's dick making him moan too." I'm close too, baby. Let's cum together" Hendery asked. Xiaojun couldn't say anything, only throwing back his head. After few more thrust, three of you cum together. Loud moans from you three started to filled the bedroom. "Shit, I'm cumming, baby!" Hendery shouted. Xiaojun let a loud whine "A-ahhhh oh my God, hmmm" Xiaojun whined. Hendery cum inside of you, while Xiaojun's cum on your face, putting it inside your mouth. You swallowed his seed and open your mouth again and let out your tongue to show that you already swallow his cum.

Three of you laid on the bed, fully tired. "Fuck, that was hot" you said. Three of you laughed, actually didn't believe what just happen. "We should try it again sometimes. You have three holes right? We only use two" Xiaojun said. "No! I want to have sex with her, just the two of us. No more threesome. This is the last" Hendery protested. "You're the one who asked for a threesome, dumbass" Xiaojun answered, making you laugh. "Hahaha, maybe we should try next time? I haven't tried anal before" you said making your boyfriend's eyes glared to yours. "Anyways, you're still hungry right? Why don't you go to mcdonalds?" Hendery asked Xiaojun. "Because I still want to continue our time. I only cum once" He continued. Xiaojun laughed. "Okay, okay. Let me wear my clothes first. What do you guys want?" he asked. "2 big macs. And also, can you leave us longer? I mean, I want to fuck her until she passed out" Hendery answered while looking at you. You rolled your eyes. "Ugh, fine. I'll go. Thanks Y/n. Can wait to fuck your ass" Xiaojun said leaving both of you.

"So, why don't we continue our session just the two of us?" Hendery asked you, rubbing his own cock that get's hard again. "But now, you have to obeying my word. Do you understand, princess?" he reached your hair, grabbing it roughly. You gulped.

Here we go, guess you couldn't walk and doing your plans tomorrow.

[aio-rya]

Sebek Outdoor Wear — SR Personal Story

Part 2

~Day two of "Vargas Camp"~

Sebek: Where on earth is it…? said "luminous flower"!

Silver: In order to receive a "Vargas Badge", we must find an ingredient for a potion, the Luminous flower but…

We had a hard time looking for it. It's been a while since we started the quest.

Riddle: As expected from the extremely rare Luminous flower, trying to find it is harder than I thought.

The other clubs seems to be having a hard time as well.

Sebek: ….... Hm? Is that…

Hey! Now! I found the Luminous flower!

At our left, on the top of the cliff.

Silver: ….... You're right. Only one flower grew, about 10 meters above us.

Good job finding it, Sebek.

Sebek: I am Young Master's guard. Of course I could do such a thing!

Riddle: I think that your discovery and the fact of being a guard have nothing to do with each other…

Leona: If it's not Riddle. Which means the guys from the Equestrian Club are here.

Sebek: (...… Leona Kingscholar!)

Riddle: Senior Leona. Where are you taking the Magift Club to?

Leona: They were making a ruckus about being unable to find a Luminous flower .

They interrupted my nap, so I decided to find it quickly and make them shut up.

Magift Club Member A: Ah! Senior Leona, there is the Luminous flower! Look at the top of the cliff!

Riddle: Guys, wait! Well, you see, we found this flower first…

Magift Club Member B: Ah? So what if you found it first. When it comes to this, first come, first served. Right?

Magift Club Member A: Let's climb the cliff and take it before the Equestrian Club!

Leona: Drop it.

Magift Club Member B: Eh? But why?

Leona: The Luminous flower is a plant that converts all kinda nutrients into magic and stores it…

In other words, we can just look for a place with nutrients instead of climbing said cliff. We can save our energy by looking in the leaf mold filled forest, or by a well-lighted lakeshore.

Only fools get lured by the bait in front of them. Let's move on

Magift Club Member A & B: Yes! If you say so, Leader!

Equestrian Club Member A: …... It's true, it is dangerous. I guess we should also look for a different spot like the Magift Club.

Sebek: No, I'm getting this flower!

I'll climb the cliff Leona Kingscholar gave up on and prove to be superior!

Riddle: Uh? What are you… wait, he has already started climbing!?

Sebek, get down here this instant!

Silver: It's fine, Riddle. Look closely at Sebek.

Riddle: …...

Hm? That's...?

ー・§・ー

Magift Club Member A: We didn’t find a "luminous flower" in the forest…

Leona: Tsk. I just wanna go back to my nap… hey, you guys. Let's go to the lake next.

???: Woah…!!!

Leona: Hm? What were those cheers?

Magift Club Member B: It's coming from where we met the Equestrian Club earlier. However, it's on the way to the lake, should we take a look?

ー・§・ー

Sebek: …...

Uh…...

Uh…. it was steeper than I thought, it was a hard climb, but there's one meter left to the flower.

Equestrian Club Member A: It's dangerous, Sebek! Just come down!

Sebek: Don't compare me with you frail humans!

As Malleus-sama's guard, I must be able to overcome this sort of hard duty… Oh!

Alright, I reached the Luminous flower!

Equestrian Club Member A: Woh! To think he would really climb the cliff and get the flower!

Equestrian Club Member B: Being able to climb at such height, it's unbelievable! You're amazing, Sebek!

Leona: This guy…

ー・§・ー

Sebek: Silver! Senior Riddle! I got the Luminous flower!

We can make the potion for the mission with this now, right?

Riddle: Indeed. Thank you, Sebek.

Though, to think you would really go and take it from the top of the cliff. I'm surprised.

Sebek: As Lord Malleus' guard, it's only obvious I could seek something of that level!

Riddle: This again? Well, despite so…

I'm not knowledgeable about climbing, but it looked to me like you were used to it. Could it be you have climbed before?

Sebek: For sure. A long time ago, Lord Lilia taught me as part of my training. 3 months of climbing up and down cliff 10 times a day…

I was able to achieve results today thanks to Lord Lilia's harsh training!

Riddle: S-Seems like you have gone through some absurd training… but I see now.

Silver knew about it so he interfered when I tried to stop Sebek.

Silver: Yeah.

Magift Club Member A: You… you got that flower from such a high place with just your body…!

Sebek: Hm? You are from Magift Club. Which means…

HEY! Leona Kingscholar!

Leona: Ah?

Sebek: I am Lord Malleus' guard, Sebek Zigvolt!

I am the man who picked the flower you gave up on. Remember that!

Leona: Ha. To think you would deliberately choose the tiring way. You, fanciful idiots, amaze me.

Hey, Magift Club. Let's move.

Sebek: Ah, wait, you bastard! I'm not done talking…

Leona: See you, Sebek.

Sebek: D-did he… did he call me by my name?

Riddle: Yeah, he did when he left… what about it?

Sebek: …... Fu~. That insolent fellow, he finally acknowledged my existence! I will not allow him to say "who are you?" again!

Same way… I'll make him realise he is no match to faes! HAHAHA!

ー・Φ・ー

I am just so in love with Sebek's eyes. I love him with my whole heart, I'm so in love with Diasomnia's guys...

Here is it, I hope you like it!

Part 1 here!