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ellievickstar · 7 months ago

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Bloodied Bonds

A/N: This was...fun. I wanted to fit it all into one part but it was getting too long sooooo yeah.....have fun :)

Summary: When hanahaki disease festers in your lungs, how will your family help you while you hide it from your mate?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

There they were again.

Azriel smiled at Elain with those eyes…those eyes. And in your soul you felt the bond writhe with pain and clench in your chest. You remained still as you immediately brought your eyes to look at the ground beneath you. This hurt. This really hurt. A part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that Azriel would remain faithful to you always, that he would stay true to the mating bond, something he desperately used to want before we got together.

Now, you were not so sure.

“Sweetheart…,” Cassian said from behind me, startling. He knew what you was seeing, saw it in his own brother’s eyes. Azriel may have always been a mystery to everyone else outside the inner circle, but his eyes — his beautiful hazel eyes — showed you everything you needed to know.

“I’m fine,” You waved Cassian off, bringing down shields on the bond, shutting out his emotions, the pain from it, and shutting yourself in as a stray tear slipped down your face, “I’m really fine,” You repeated.

Truth to be told, Cassian did not know what to say to you. After you had defended Azriel since you were kids, brought him to you and Rhysand’s mother, convinced her to take him in. Cassian did not know what could come over Azriel to internally betray you in this way. However as you began coughing Cassian was alarmed when you raced towards the kitchen sink and coughed out flower petals, one after another.

“What the hell-” He started, moving to pull back your hair as he observed what you had coughed out. Blood and petals coated the sink and as you choked them out one by one, slowly calming down, you waved your hand magicking it away. And it was then it hit him.

You were dying.

“Explain. Now.” He demanded. Looking away you mumbled.

“A few weeks ago after I first realised he loved her, I started coughing up flowers and my tears, my tears turned a gold colour. I asked Madja what was wrong. It’s a soul disease called hanahaki, caused by the betrayal of the heart and unrequited love. The tears were caused by the same thing, a unique symptom that is because of my magic due to being the High Lord’s sister. She said the flowers in my lungs will continue to grow until it suffocates me and I die. The star tears are just a symptom that causes physical pain, she doesn’t know if there will be any repercussions from it,” That’s all you managed to ramble out before you doubled over and heaved again, blood dripping out of your gaping mouth as you choked and coughed on the flower petals making their way up your throat.

Cassian was at a loss of words, on one hand he wanted to be angry, angry at you for keeping this from him, for not telling him sooner so he could beat the crap out of Azriel. On the other hand he was…devastated. You had always been like a sister to him, since he first met you as a kindred and fierce spirit when you were seven years old. The three of them had been twenty and Cassian had fell to his knees before the little girl with such a bright spirit, who dared to scream in Devlon’s face when he said females belonged in the kitchen.

Cassian had sworn to protect you.

And now, against a disease he felt helpless.

“Is there a cure?” He asked.

“Madja said there were two ways, either Azriel proves that he still loves me, which we both know won’t happen when he won’t stay away from Elain for more than a few hours, or I could have the flowers cut from their roots and removed, it’s a risky procedure and even successful all my feelings towards Azriel will be removed entirely, given the mating bond, she thinks it will be stripped from my soul. I….I wanted to wait.”

“So you either have your emotions robbed from you, make Azriel realise he’s an idiot, or die?”

You nod.

“Tell Azriel,” “I can’t!” You hissed, “We both know I can’t. He loves her, Cassian, I can feel it, I can see it, everytime he looks at her it’s like she’s the one who hung the stars and moon while when he looks at me that light dies!” You bang your fist on the table.

You point to where Azriel and Elain was far out in the gardens. His shadows no where to be seen, both blissfully unaware of what was going on inside with you and Cassian.

“He acts like she’s the one who went through countless of interrogation, of torture, when she got captured by enemies. He acts like she was the one who protected Velaris with Rhysand when she went under the mountain to be taken advantage of, when Amarantha held me down and tried to force answers out of me,” You let out another pained cry as you slid to the ground, “I have done everything for him, been through hell and back with him. And even after everything he still wants her, still wants to be with her, still doesn’t want me.”

Cassian brought you closer to him as he sat next to you and let you cry on his shoulder.

You cried and cried, and cried until there was nothing left. Cried until you couldn’t cry.

And when you finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Cassian glanced out the house to the gardens where his brother trailed Elain, and Cassian made a decision.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You told my brother!?” You shrieked. Rhysand and Cassian was now sitting around you in Rhys’s study.

“You told Cassian before me?” Rhysand shot back. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, “Oh please I didn’t tell him anything I was throwing up flowers in front of him, not much I could do except explain.”

Shaking his head, Rhys sighed as he glanced at Cassian and they both shared a look. Narrowing your eyes, the tendrils in your mind crept towards your brother and the general, and surprise coated your face when you realised they had shut you out.

“Let me remind you what I do is my choice.”

“Not when your life is at stake,” Rhysand retorted.

So he had decided something against your will already. Of course, your brother who wanted to help everyone, your brother who thought you were his responsibility, his burden to bear. Your brother who claimed to value your opinion oh so much but then never, not once, ever considered how you feel in anything that had to do with you.

“He doesn’t care. I haven’t even been actively hiding it from him, it’s just that he’s never around to notice,” You said bitterly, “Did you know he missed my birthday? You all did. Because usually he’s the one going around reminding everyone the week before. Did you know our anniversary passed and I had waited for him all day just to realise he was with her?” Stray tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold them back.

Crying meant that you were weak.

And you hated being weak.

That was when Cassian spoke, “Have Madja remove the flowers.”

Rhysand shot a look at him.

“She won’t survive otherwise. Even as we discuss this now she is running out of time, Rhys. Azriel’s infatuation with Elain is unforgivable and at least this way we can save her. Their relationship might never be the same but if Azriel is truly in love with Elain as she feels, then it is possible this way everyone wins.”

“I don’t want the male who almost killed my sister in my court,” Rhys bit out.

“Convincing Azriel that what he is doing is wrong will take too long. Maybe we should have interfered when it first started but now it’s too late. We can still save her, really save her. Not their relationship but at least she’ll live,” “And live with a bond that will eventually diminish into nothing?” “Maybe it’s better that way.”

Glancing between Cassian and your brother, your own inner turmoil seemed to be playing out in front of you as they discussed everything that you had not been able to come to terms with yourself. A part of you could still hardly believe that Azriel would do something like this, hurt you in this way when he himself swore that he would be loyal for eternity.

Mates.

A sacred connection that determined your equal, your partner in everything.

But your parents were mates too…and that did not work out well. So maybe it was time for you to let your mate go.

However, as you opened your mouth to agree with Cassian, to agree that maybe the best option would be to remove the flowers directly, the consequences of your feelings being stolen be damned, a cough climbed up your throat.

And as you coughed out bloody petals onto Rhysand’s office floor….everything went dark.

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It had all happened quickly, too quickly for Rhysand’s liking.

One moment he was debating with Cassian how they would save his sister’s life, the next moment as she was about to say something and he watched in horror as blood came out instead of words. Her eyes drooped and he raced to catch her from hitting her head on the hard wooden floors, and as his ears started ringing, holding his sister’s lifeless body in his arms, as he watched golden tears stream out of her eyes, he noticed there was someone screaming.

And it was not until his throat hurt, until his own throat burned, that he realised he was the one screaming, crying out loud for his sister who’s body seemed as lifeless as the one he had lost all those years ago.

“Get Madja!” He roared at Cassian, “Get her NOW!”

Less that a minute went by when Morrigan and Feyre came into the room, Feyre let out a horrified gasp as Mor took in the scene, freezing as she realised her cousin, her best friend, her only companion during the times after Eris and Keir, was in Rhysand’s arms, still and lifeless even as blood trickled out of her mouth and gold spilled form her closed eyelids.

Madja came shortly after, and Y/N’s body was moved to a different room for Madja to work, Cassian explaining what happened and the illness in Y/N’s body that was causing this. Morrigan took a few steps back, before she crashed into the wall of the hallway and let out her own sob.

And for the first time after Rhysand and Y/N had returned from the mountain, Morrigan wept.

Two days passed, and Y/N did not wake.

Madja estimated that they would have to make a decision within the week whether they would tell Azriel, or cut the flowers out.

And in those two days Azriel did not come.

It was only after Rhysand had asked him to meet, told him about Y/N did Azriel finally realised he had not seen his mate in days. That he had not even spent more than fifteen minutes with her in the past few months.

It was only after Rhysand said that Y/N was dying, did Azriel reach down the now cold and empty bond, and realise he had shut her out. And when he let his walls down, experienced the agony, the pain, the grief she felt even in her unconscious state, did Azriel regret.

“Why didn’t she tell me…” Azriel whispered.

“Because she heard you when I told you to stay away from Elain. I looked into her mind and I realised the day her disease started she went to find you, and you had been in my office, yelling at me that the cauldron had made a mistake, that you wanted Elain,” Rhysand laughed coldly. Even Rhys in all his beauty, his eyes were now red from sobbing, his voice hoarse from how he had cried, and cried.

“Good job, Azriel,” Cassian said from the doorway, “You got what you wanted. Your bond will no longer exist once she awakes…that’s if she survives even.”

“No….I don’t,” Azriel muttered, “Rhysand…what conversation?” Rhysand furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you really playing this game with me now? My sister is DYING! AND YOU WANT TO PRETEND LIKE YOU FORGOT WHAT YOU SAID!?”

Azriel’s eyes looked back and forth between his brother’s….when did he…when did he even get here?

Where was his mate?

Why did it feel like something just cleared from his head?

That was when Elain stepped in, holding a mug and what looked to be tea.

“Azriel, i heard your distress, drink this it will make you feel better,” She said softly, but as Rhysand’s eyes narrowed on the mug, it was Cassian who snatched it out of her hands, brought it to his eyes and shattered it on the already ruined hard wood floors.

“That was not just tea.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

And as Cassian lifted his head he declared, “As General of the Night court, I arrest you for illegal possession and use of aphrodisiacs. You are charged with attempted murder of the Princess of the Night Court. You are charged with manipulation and forced betrayal of the court’s spymaster,” And with a menacing grin Cassian said, “And you are charged because you bloody annoy me and you…what you have done today makes me want to rip you to shreds.”

A beat passed.

“That is….” Cassian continued as he glanced at Azriel, with each blink clarity seemed to return to the shadowsinger as he processed everything, as he remembered everything Elain made him do, as he remembered how he had hurt his mate, “That is if Azriel decides he doesn’t want to kill you first.”

Elain let out a scoff, looking down at the spilled tea and broken pieces of ceramic in disgust, “Azriel loves me. Azriel should love me not that disgusting slut of a female, she might be a princess but she is-,” “Mine.” Azriel interrupted.

“She was mine before you interfered. She was mine before you made me break her.” Azriel turned, no doubt to go find Y/N.

“Start counting your days, Elain, because now they are numbered.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Part 2 here!!

Love, Ellie.

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel acomaf #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #rhysand #cassian #morrigan #feyre #elain

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'...“It’s fun playing bad, but actually he’s not,” the actor says, smiling as he reflects on his character, Crowley. “He’s a villain with a heart. The amount of really evil things he does are vanishingly small.”

...As it always has, “Good Omens” dissects the view of good and evil as absolutes, showing viewers that they are not as separate as we were led to believe growing up. Aziraphale and Crowley’s long-standing union is proof of this. The show also urges people to look at what defines our own humanity. For Tennant — who opted to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Leave trans kids alone you absolute freaks” during a photocall for Season 2 — these themes are more important now than ever before.

“In this society that we’re currently living in, where polarization seems ever more present, fierce and difficult to navigate. Negotiation feels like a dirty word at times,” he says, earnestly. “This is a show about negotiation. Two extremes finding common ground and making their world a better place through it. Making life easier, kinder and better. If that’s the sort of super objective of the show, then I can’t think of anything more timely, relevant or apt for the rather fractious times we’re living in.”

“Good Omens” is back by popular demand for another season. How does it feel?

It’s lovely. Whenever you send something out into the world, you never quite know how it will land. Especially with this, because it was this beloved book that existed, and that creates an extra tension that you might break some dreams. But it really exploded. I guess we were helped by the fact that we had Neil Gaiman with us, so you couldn’t really quibble too much with the decisions that were being made. The reception was, and continues to be, overwhelming.

Now that you’re no longer bound by the original material that people did, perhaps, feel a sense of ownership over, does the new content for Season 2 come with a sense of freedom for you? This is uncharted territory, of sorts.

That’s an interesting point. I didn’t know the book when I got the script. It was only after that I discovered the worlds of passion that this book had incited. Because I came to it that way, perhaps it was easier. I found liberation from that, to an extent. For me, it was always a character that existed in a script. At first, I didn’t have that extra baggage of expectation, but I acquired it in the run-up to Season 1 being released… the sense that suddenly we were carrying a ming vase across a minefield.

In Season 2, we still have Neil and we also have some of the ideas that he and Terry had discussed. During the filming of the first one, Neil would drop little hints about the notions they had for a prospective sequel, the title of which would have been “668: The Neighbour of the Beast,” which is a pretty solid gag to base a book around. Indeed there were elements like Gabriel and the Angels, who don’t feature in the book, that were going to feature in a sequel. They were brought forward into Season 1. So, even in the new episodes, we’re not entirely leaving behind the Terry Pratchett-ness of it all.

It’s great to see yourself and Michael Sheen reunited on screen as these characters. Fans will have also watched you pair up for Season 3 of “Staged.” You’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you think is the magic ingredient that makes the two of you such a good match?

It’s a slightly alchemical thing. We knew each other in passing before, but not well. We were in a film together [“Bright Young Things,” 1993] but we’d never shared a scene. It was a bit of a roll of the dice when we turned up at the read-through for “Good Omens.” I think a lot comes from the writing, as we were both given some pretty juicy material to work with. Those characters are beloved for a reason because there’s something magical about them and the way they complete each other. Also, I think we’re quite similar actors in the way we like to work and how we bounce off each other.

Does the shorthand and trust the two of you have built up now enable you to take more risks on-screen?

Yes, probably. I suppose the more you know someone, the more you trust someone. You don’t have to worry about how an idea might be received and you can help each other out with a more honest opinion than might be the case if you were, you know, dancing around each other’s nervous egos. Enjoying being in someone’s orbit and company is a positive experience. It makes going to work feel pleasant, productive, and creative. The more creative you can be, the better the work is. I don’t think it’s necessarily a given that an off-screen relationship will feed into an on-screen one in a positive or negative way. You can play some very intimate moments with someone you barely know. Acting is a peculiar little contract, in that respect. But it’s disproportionately pleasurable going to work when it’s with a mate.

Fans have long discussed the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. In Season 2, we see several of the characters debate whether the two are an item, prompting them to look at their union and decipher what it is. How would you describe their relationship?

They are utterly co-dependent. There’s no one else having the experience that they are having and they’ve only got each other to empathize with. It’s a very specific set of circumstances they’ve been dealt. In this season, we see them way back at the creation of everything. They’ve known each other a long time and they’ve had to rely on each other more and more. They can’t really exist one without the other and are bound together through eternity. Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms, I think that’s fair to say.

Yet fans are trying to do just that. Do you view it as beyond romantic or any other labels, in the sense that it’s an eternal force?

It’s lovely [that fans discuss it] but you think, be careful what you wish for. If you’re willing for a relationship to go in a certain way or for characters to end up in some sort of utopian future, then the story is over. Remember what happened to “Moonlighting,” that’s all I’m saying! [Laughs]

Your father-in-law, Peter Davison, and your son, Ty Tennant, play biblical father-and-son duo Job and Ennon in Episode 2. In a Tumblr Q&A, Neil Gaiman said that he didn’t know who Ty’s family was when he cast him. When did you become aware that Ty had auditioned?

I don’t know how that happened. I do a bunch of self-tapes with Ty, but I don’t think I did this one with him because I was out of town filming “Good Omens.” He certainly wasn’t cast before we started shooting. There were two moments during filming where Neil bowled up to me and said, “Guess, who we’ve cast?” Ty definitely auditioned and, as I understand it, they would tell me, he was the best. I certainly imagine he could only possibly have been the best person for the job. He is really good in it, so I don’t doubt that’s true. And then my father-in-law showed up, as well, which was another delicious treat. In the same episode and the same family! It was pretty weird. I have worked with both of them on other projects, but never altogether.

There’s a “Doctor Who” cameo, of sorts, in Episode 5, when Aziraphale uses a rare annual about the series as a bartering tool. In reality, you’ll be reprising your Time Lord role on screen later this year in three special episodes to mark the 60th anniversary. Did you always feel you’d return to “Doctor Who” at some point?

There’s a precedent for people who have been in the series to return for a multi-doctor show, which is lovely. I did it myself for the 50th anniversary in 2013, and I had a wonderful time with Matt [Smith]. Then, to have John Hurt with us, as well, was a little treat. But I certainly would never have imagined that I’d be back in “Doctor Who” full-time, as it were, and sort of back doing the same job I did all those years ago. It was like being given this delightful, surprise present. Russell T Davies was back as showrunner, Catherine Tate [former on-screen companion] was back, and it was sort of like the last decade and a half hadn’t happened.

Going forward, Ncuti Gatwa will be taking over as the new Doctor. Have you given him any advice while passing the baton?

Oh God, what a force of nature. I’ve caught a little bit of him at work and it’s pretty exciting. I mean, what advice would you give someone? You can see Ncuti has so much talent and energy. He’s so inspired and charismatic. The thing about something like this is: it’s the peripherals, it’s not the job. It’s the other stuff that comes with it, that I didn’t see coming. It’s a show that has so much focus and enthusiasm on it. It’s not like Ncuti hasn’t been in a massive Netflix series [“Sex Education,”] but “Doctor Who” is on a slightly different level. It’s cross-generational, international, and has so much history, that it feels like it belongs to everyone.

To be at the center of the show is wonderful and humbling, but also a bit overwhelming and terrifying. It doesn’t come without some difficulties, such as the immediate loss of anonymity. It takes a bit of getting used to if that’s not been your life up to that point. I was very lucky that when I joined, Billie Piper [who portrayed on-screen companion, Rose] was still there. She’d lived in a glare of publicity since she was 14, so she was a great guide for how to live life under that kind of scrutiny. I owe a degree of sanity to Billie.

Your characters are revered by a few different fandoms. Sci-fi fandoms are especially passionate and loyal. What is it like being on the end of that? I imagine it’s a lot to hold.

Yes, certainly. Having been a fan of “Doctor Who” since I was a tiny kid, you’re aware of how much it means because you’re aware of how much it meant to you. My now father-in-law [who portrayed Doctor Who in the 80s] is someone I used to draw in comic strips when I was a kid. That’s quite peculiar! It’s a difficult balance because on one end, you have to protect your own space, and there aren’t really any lessons in that. That does take a bit of trial and error, to an extent, and it’s something that you’re sometimes having to do quite publicly. But, it is an honor and a privilege, without a doubt. As you’ve said, it means so much to people and you want to be worthy of that. You have to acknowledge that and be careful with it. Some days that’s tough, if you’re not in the mood.

I know you’re returning to the stage later this year to portray Macbeth. You’ve previously voiced the role for BBC Sounds, but how are you feeling about taking on the character in the theater?

I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve done Shakespeare. It’s very thrilling but equally — and this analogy probably doesn’t stretch — it’s like when someone prepares for an Olympic event. It does feel like a bit of a mountain and, yeah, you’re daring to set yourself up against some fairly worthy competition from down the years. That’s both the challenge and the horror of doing these types of things. We’ve got a great director, Max Webster, who recently did “Life of Pi.” He’s full of big ideas. It’s going to be exciting, thrilling, and a little bit scary. I’m just going to take a deep breath.

Before we part ways, let’s discuss the future of “Good Omens.” Gaiman has said that he already has ideas for Season 3, should it happen. If you were to do another season, is there anyone in particular you’d love to work with next time around or anything specific you’d like to see happen for Crowley?

Oh, Neil Gaiman knows exactly where he wants to take it. If you’re working with people like Gaiman, I wouldn’t try to tamper with that creative void. Were he to ask my opinion, that would be a different thing, but I can’t imagine he would. He’s known these characters longer than me and what’s interesting is what he does with them. That’s the bit that I’m desperate to know. I do know where Crowley might end up next, but it would be very wrong if I told you.

[At this point, Tennant picks up a pencil and starts writing on a hotel pad of paper.]

I thought you were going to write it down for me then. Perhaps like a clandestine meeting on a bench in St James’ Park, but instead you’d write the information down and slide it across the table…

I should have done! I was drawing a line, which obviously, psychologically, I was thinking, “Say no more. You’re too tempted to reveal a secret!” It was my subconscious going “Shut the fuck up!”

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

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the shadow’s soul obsession

kinktober, day five

a/n: extra, extra! come get your nasty monsterfucking, hot off the press!

summary: for the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

warnings: demon!bucky barnes x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, college au, halloween party, accidentally summoning a demon at a slumber party, bucky needs to "recharge his batteries" via sex (but virgins are the most potent), bad friends, monsterfucking, somno, loss of virginity, blood (just fit this fantasy), slutty demonic magic, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, references to gaping and fisting

word count: 2602

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

“So, do you know yet what your costume’s gonna be for the omega kappa beta party?”

“Alice,” you looked to your friend leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island, “I don’t even know if I’m going.”

“Oh, come on,” her head tilted, “you have to!”

“Yeah,” the blonde to your right then teasingly suggested, “you could go as an angel since you’re already just as sweet and pure as one.”

With each passing moment, the end of October crept ever nearer. You were at a slumber party with a few of your friends, who unlike you, didn’t still live at home with their mothers, but instead in a sorority house on campus.

The door to the kitchen then swung open and one of the other girls came waltzing in, “hey, look what I found!” she held what looked like a faded board game above her head.

“Oh my god,” Alice gasped, “is that what I think it is? Where did you even find it?”

“The attic,” she plopped the box down on the table and the lid popped off, letting everyone spot the old Ouija board inside, “so, anyone up for contacting some ghosts or what?”

When everyone around you swiftly agreed in the spirit of the season, you were the only one who didn’t, although the teasing that quickly drowned you, about you being a scaredy cat, pressured you into joining despite your initial fear.

Most of the girls leaned into your amusing anxiety and made the game more dramatic than it needed to be, taking every chance they got to make you jump in your seat. But none of their attempts rivalled the one towards the end when one of them spooked you so fiercely that your body shrivelled up and a shrill scream tore its way out your lungs. They all laughed at your reaction and abandoned the board, too entertained by the success in scaring you to continue and wrap up the pretend ritual in the proper way.

However, during every second of the eerie game and even ever past that, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, though it wasn’t just because of how scared you admittedly were, as there was someone else, something else, that caused that sensation to bubble up within you.

For the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

From the second the sliver of him slipped through, Bucky felt drawn to you and instantly became completely and utterly entranced by you. Your soul was so bright and pure it nearly blinded him as he felt himself grow stronger merely from your presence.

Who would have thought such luck would have been on his side, for with a perfect and potent little virgin like you in his gasp, an entity such as he would be able to restore his full power in no time.

And when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he greedily let his spectral touch ghost across your form, sliding off your blanket and coping a feel over your pyjamas, each caress he ravenously claimed felt to him like his lungs once again expanded and filled with oxygen, like he became a little more corporeal and regained just a little bit of his powers the longer and the fiercer he groped you.

Though what he truly needed to regain his full potential, unfortunately, had to wait, as his demonic grip caused you to stir from your slumber just enough for you to roll over into a new position and fall asleep again, never to think more of it than just a light slumber. But perhaps if he kept it up long enough, he’d soon regain enough of his prowess to make sure you wouldn’t rouse no matter what he stole from you in order to return to the grand demon he used to be.

The home you returned to the next day was just as empty as expected with only a kind note stuck to the fridge as an echo of your mother, reminding you that she wouldn’t be back from her business trip till far into the coming week.

When darkness fell upon the town and the moon rose up high in the sky, you went up to bed and swiftly drifted off into sleep.

As Bucky leaned down over your slumbering form, he smiled as he let a finger trace the edge of your face before he bent down and pressed his lips to your own.

Now, it wasn’t just a kiss he gave you, but a fiendish hex that forced your frame to keep on sleeping, no matter what, until the sun once again crested over the horizon.

“As much as I’d love for you to wake up and have you witness everything I’m about to do to you,” he brushed some of your hair out of your face, “we can’t have that,” his broad thumb briefly stroked your cheek, “at least not yet…”

Ripping the duvet off, he watched as goosebumps rose and dotted your skin from the chilly night air, how your nipples turned into pebbles beneath your thin nightgown.

While his consuming gaze raked down your form, his grasp pushed your sleepwear up and let it bunch around your hips, granting him a view of how the cotton of your underwear moulded around your soft centre.

A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he let himself drift back down, closer to your slumbering frame, “let’s see if we can fix this little problem…” before he pressed a hot kiss to your covered core, briefly running his split tongue over the fabric as the effects took hold.

When he tilted back, it wasn’t just his own saliva that now drenched your panties, but also your own juices as he had successfully scrounged up enough of his power to force your pussy into a state of desperation, making it extraordinarily leaky and sticky with cream and quite literally drool for him.

With a primal growl, the throbbing between his legs swayed him to dig his grip into your underwear and tear them off, tossing the shreds off to the side before he spread your legs wide.

Enclosing his fist around the base of himself, angry and flush in his grip, he offered himself an ouch of relief as he stared down at you.

“Hell… what I wouldn’t give to hear you moan and scream for me… to see fear arise in your mortal eyes at every little thing I’ll offer you… but that’ll have to be another time… can’t have you wake up and ruin the ritual…”’

As he rubbed his fat cock against the mess he’d made of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the staggering difference as his unholy length weighted down upon you, making you look so tiny in comparison, so easy for him to just break.

“Would you beg me to stop? Would you cry about how big this devil dick is? Whimper about how you couldn’t possibly take it, not even if you weren’t a pure little prude? Yeah, you probably wouldn’t even be able to take it then…” a dark chuckle then crackled within his broad chest, “good thing I don’t care,” before he ruthlessly slammed his cock inside, stretching your poor pussy out beyond belief.

He let out a deep moan at just how incredible you felt around him, how he had to strain himself to work past your strangling tightness and bury himself completely in your haven.

“Oh, well would you look at that…” a sly smile crept up on his lips as he glanced down at how you struggled to take him and spotted the tinge of crimson that stained his fat girth as he momentarily retracted, pulling out just till your cunt only clung around the bulbous head of him. His digits floated down to swipe some of your virginal blood up onto the pads of his fingertips before he brought them up to his lips and groaned as he let himself taste your ruined purity, letting himself regain even more of his vigour, “you are just fucking perfect…”

As he let his frame drift down closer to you, he draped himself over your slumbering form as he thrust mercilessly into you, watching you closely at the way his efforts caused you to writhe and tremble in your sleep.

Nibbling at your neck, his lips wandered further down as he ruthlessly rutted into you, splitting you open like the savage monster that he was, and eventually sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder.

With a low growl, he pushed himself back up, though even as the movement threatened to let his colossal cock leave the warm embrace of your tiny hole, his hands roughly found your hips and brought you back down onto him.

“Fuck…” he lifted your hips off the mattress and made your back arch obscenely as he used you like a toy, “you’re such a little whore and you don’t even know it yet…” his possessive grip dug into your hips so fiercely that his nails drew blood and left angry scratches in their wake.

His black eyes then found the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower belly at each and every one of his thrusts, “can’t wait to see how you react when you wake up tomorrow morning, all sore and swollen, wondering why you’re so sensitive. If only you knew that some big bad demon followed you home and tortured your pussy all night long…”

Perhaps his brutal fucking had forced your slumbering form to orgasm more than once, though it was hard for Bucky to ignore it when you came this last time as you squirted all over his fat girth.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he chuckled and kept up his ruthless rhythm, never pausing once as he made your gushing pussy give him each and every drop, “I knew it was true that virgins pack the most powerful punch for us unholy folk, but damn…” he slammed you down against him hard enough for his bullying tip to bruise your cervix, “you’re even better… I might just have to keep you after this…”

And when he soon tumbled over the edge and pumped your little pussy full of his demonic seed, his ethereal form flickered till it wasn’t at all ghostly any longer, till his full power regenerated and he now sat on your bed clear as day with his spent cock limp against his thick thigh and horns protruding from his temples.

Briefly, he swept his broad hand up your stomach before it scooped down to where you leaked with his essence.

“Look at you,” he pushed two fingers into your mess and pumped his hot cum that much deeper inside of you, “you’re still so fucking tight…” he struggled to force another thick digit in beside the others. As his cock began to twitch and swell once more, he quietly groaned, “guess that just means we aren’t done yet… you might have helped me with my little problem, but this ain’t over,” he tried and failed to slip his picky finger in beside the rest, “I haven’t finished breaking you in yet, little human,” his free hand found himself in silky strokes, “I won’t stop till you’re fucking gaping for me, till I fit my whole fist up in here,” his thumb quit its attempts at sneaking inside and instead extended up to crudely strum your puffy pearl, “till you’re utterly ruined and completely perfect for me…”

The bassy music rumbled the entire frat house like an earthquake as you leaned over to whisper to Alice that you’d be right back from your libation location mission.

Though when you stumbled into the kitchen, the crooked feathery wings on your back brushing against the doorframe as you passed, a loud sigh escaped you as your eyes scanned the various bottles lined up on the messy counter and discovered them all to be empty, “argh, seriously?”

That was exactly what you needed.

To be at a wild Halloween party without any alcohol in your system to make the obnoxious people more bearable and make you forget how you’d rather just go home and try to sleep as none of your efforts all weekend had granted you any ounce of rest, only left you more exhausted than the day before and bizarrely enough also making you sore in the oddest of ways.

But then as all hope seemed lost, a voice echoed from the corner of the kitchen, “hey, you like tequila?” and you glanced up to see a man in an elaborate demonic costume holding up a full bottle for you to spot.

“Thank you,” your tense shoulders dropped slightly as you offered him a smile and stepped closer, “though I don’t know if an angel like me should accept a drink from a devil like you,” the joke slipped out of you as you neared him.

As a bright grin crept up on the man’s lips, he light-heartedly squinted down at you and played along, “hm, yeah, you’re probably right. We demons are an untrustworthy lot. But, I am your only chance at getting drunk and numbing these dumbasses out,” he seized a plastic cup and began to twist the cap off, “so, what do you say?”

“What’ll it cost me? To make a deal like that with a devil?” you kept up the gag, “just my soul or do you want my firstborn or something?”

Naturally assuming that the handsome stranger was still just joking around, you saw him smile as he poured you a drink and uttered, “oh, your soul will do just fine, sweetheart.”

As he handed you the cup, he joined you as you raised the hard liquor up to your lips, taking a sip of his own straight from the bottle, though he somehow didn’t make a face like you did when the harsh booze poured down your throat, in fact he didn’t even blink as he tipped the bottle back and kept his intense stare glued to you.

“Your costume is really amazing,” you complimented as you let your gaze wander over his burly frame, “your coloured contacts? And those horns? I’ve never seen prosthetics as good as those before.”

You thought the flattery would have pushed him to elaborate, but instead, the mysterious man just murmured, “thank you,” and didn’t entertain the subject any further.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” you uttered and noticed the few grey hairs that faintly speckled his scruff, “are you a professor?”

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head.

A shiver ran down your spine as his stare continued to stay glued upon you, “then what are you doing at a frat party? No offence, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you just look a bit too old to be a student. Not that you couldn’t be, maybe you are–”

“I’m not a student,” he cut you off, “I just haven’t been feeling that well lately and the person who helped me get better is here, so that’s why I went out tonight, to this college party of all places, to thank her properly and hopefully make her all mine…”

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naffeclipse · 1 month ago

Text

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 5

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Ah, here we are! The last chapter in the Hocus Pocus AU by @jackofallrabbits and me! Once more, I'm honored and thrilled to have @deliasmilkshake's cover art for the finale! I can't say how grateful I am for everyone's support and lovely comments on this little series! There's a wedding to attend, so let's get to it <3

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

The coolness of the woody air, cut away from the hot and claustrophobic space of the crowded gymnasium overflowing with celebration, brushes over your skin. Half-bare in your ruined sweater, you shiver. Eclipse eases you with a soft sound. His fingertips slip under your sweater and trace over your back to soothe the goosebumps prickling your flesh. Leaning deeper into him, you clutch him tightly in your arms.

You’ve never held someone so close before.

If you don’t open your eyes now, you’ll never believe this is real. The witches. The curses. The ceremony. All of it will be a dream on one cold October night while you lie in bed alone.

So you do. Little by little, you lift your cheek from his chest and tilt your head back, and behold the unnatural man, come back from the dead, who awaits your vows. His eyes glimmer gently in rich golden hues. The sharp cuts of his sun rays remind you of the encroaching sunrise, and you realize the sky is losing its stars as the black dillutes into a dawn of dark gray.

“We will have the ceremony here.” Eclipse inclines his head around you. “It may be simple, but it is only for the time being. When there is no urgency, we will celebrate properly with food and wine and the most beautiful altar. It will be to your heart’s desire, little comet.”

You look around to find what he describes as simple, and balk softly. You are not in the high school gym set in town but a clearing filled with half-dead vines twisting around the bare ground set amid shadowy trees with whispering boughs and the last of autumn’s leaves. The starlight barely reaches you. Dozens of round, orange pumpkins litter the ground around your feet. In the center of the pumpkin patch is a beautiful black wood tree with thick, bark-cracked limbs reaching high with a canopy of bright red and yellow leaves to serve as your altar.

Behind you, smoke not unlike from the party Eclipse just whisked you away from swirls and recedes further back into the cold night, unveiling Sun and Moon. They stand tall and expectant, their hands filled with silvery threads like spider gossamer and the veil of a bride. Sun’s yellow sun rays catch your eyes like a peacock fanning its tail. Moon’s hood lays quietly over his head and casts a calm shadow over the scarlet of his eyes. The weight of their gazes fall over you.

They are here for you too. The twitch in your limbs answers to the anticipation overflowing from your core.

You breathe in deeply. There are two people missing. Turning back to Eclipse, your lips poised to ask about your friends and how the brothers might intend to shuck their curses from them, when the smoke behind Sun and Moon continues to dissolve before it reveals just the ones heavy on your mind.

Michael and Vanessa.

Confusion crosses Michael’s undead face. Purple flesh upon his brow shoots up in alarm before his gaze finds you in the arms of the eldest witch. At his feet, the white rabbit raises her ears high. Vanessa’s green eyes pierce you with alarm and fright most unspeakable.

Your heart aches at the sight of them so drenched in dark magic. Reaching out a hand in a placating motion, you start to call out to them.

“Don’t!” Michael shouts overrules yours, as fierce and protective as he has been all through the night. He charges forward. “Get away from—”

Magic spills from Sun’s and Moon’s lips in a twining harmony. Their gazes are steel while their voices lift and multiply, filling the air with gales of hot and cold air before the old leaves on the pumpkin vines shudder. Creaking and crawling across the dirt, the dark green tendrils come to life and snatch Michael’s ankles, stopping him short as he struggles to remain balanced.

Vanessa bounds towards you. Her small body leaps over pumpkins and scurries around snares of pumpkin tendrils. She dodges a snaring vine before a second, hidden one snatches her, twisting her small little form into its clutches and holding her a few inches above the ground. Her feet kick out. Her entire body struggles as she tries violently to free herself but to no avail.

“Don’t hurt them.” You clutch Eclipse’s cloak until your knuckles turn white. Pleading with your entire being, you find his gaze. “Please. They’re my friends.”

A dryness infiltrates your mouth. Will they be better than what the villagers and witch hunters feared them to be? Can you ask them to be good for you? Your core burns with yearning, the hope of a brighter day filled with peace and joy, not more darkness. Not more pain and fear.

You don’t want to lose them.

Eclipse gently covers your fists and soothes them out until your palms relax against his chest.

“They won’t be harmed,” Eclipse nods towards his brothers. His sonorous voice lowers. “Sun and Moon understand your conditions. We have brought your friends here to give you our gifts, and to ensure there are no more interruptions.”

You nod shakily. A feeble tremble lingers throughout you, raking through your fingers and along your jawline. Your witch suitors have proven again and again their capabilities for wickedness and they continue to chase it through the midnight hours, but not here. They stand still, at your service. How they terrify you. How they enchant you.

Every single night you dreamt of someone to love, someone who would keep you warm and chase away the loneliness.

Have you found them or are you a love-sick fool still reaching for something that is not yours?

“Run, get away from here!” Michael struggles against the vines rooting him in place. Leaves twine tighter around his corpse-like body, forcing him to his knees and leaving him bound from his ankles all the way to his shoulders, wrapped up like a cruel gift.

One glower from Sun sends one last pumpkin vine around Michael’s flesh-rotten mouth and gags him.

Vanessa twists and writhes. Her small rabbit body struggles in the grasp of the vine snare and she sinks her teeth into it, attempting to chew through the restraint while her wide, desperate eyes flash to you.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Stop struggling. It’s going to be okay. Please, trust me.”

Michael stops fighting. A fear and anger so raw fills his gaze as Sun and Moon step after you. His fists clench as his jawbone wiggles, but his muffle words die behind the vine covering his teeth.

A strong sound jumps from Vanessa, caught between an animalistic cry and a human sob. She looks at you. Her wide eyes shine with dread.

Eclipse takes you by the shoulders, his eyes burning low as he turns you away from the fear of your friends. You keep your eyes on both of them.

“It’s okay,” you whisper again.

“Come, come, little comet.” Eclipse recaptures your attention with a finger hooking under your chin. “The hour is nigh. Sunrise is too near for us to wait any longer.”

“I know.” Your pulse swells in your ears, beating within you like a drum to a dance that’s too fast-paced for your feet to keep up with.

Your eyes stray from his somber expression to the black tree. Between the red and yellow leaves are dozens of spiderwebs, glimmering softly like silk streamers just for the ceremony. Gently, Eclipse releases you to stand back as Sun and Moon slip around you from both sides.

“My poppet,” Sun’s voice is sensual and warm. “Allow me to dress you in spider gossamer for this fine occasion.”

You slowly dip your head, all too confused but too uncertain to stop him as he draws out threads of silvery silk. He gently lays them upon your shoulders. His pale eyes swim with passion. A gentle murmur of magic flows from his lips, and you become enveloped in a light and cool cascade of fabric softer than rain and lighter than feathers. You look down at yourself.

Catching the fading shimmer of magic, you are now draped in an elegant but simple silver gown. A high neck collars you with big, flowing sleeves which cinch at your wrists with thick embroidery. The skirt falls in an A-shape and flows softly in the gentle wind of the night around your feet, almost brushing the dirt.

Your wedding attire. You touch the skirt with a delicate hand as if it may fall apart like a cobweb brushed away, but instead, you watch in silent marvel at the rippling, silk-like glimmer of the cloth.

Strangely, Sun possesses your clothes in his arms now. Your mind spins with questions but you are learning all too well that the answer is magic. With a smirk, he tosses aside the holey sweater and your dirt-stained jeans. The clothes land on the shell of a large, orange pumpkin.

“Beautiful,” Sun lowers his head in pleasure, his hand at his chest and his other arm held out in a formal bow to you. “Never was there a more lovely bride for three brothers.”

You blush fiercely.

“It is beautiful,” you admit, clutching a fistful of the skirt. You lift it and wave it back and forth once to watch it glimmer again.

“I’m not speaking of the dress, sunshine.” Sun straightens with a grin so devious, you must wonder again if you’re giving up your soul in such a ceremony.

A cool touch falls upon your hand. Claws curl carefully over your wrist. Dropping the skirt, you twist upon your feet to face Moon.

“A veil for you.” He holds it in his other hand. The delicate and sheer gossamer flows like silver water. “Lower your head. I will crown you in it.”

You bow slightly. Moon sweeps your hair back with his cool, careful fingertips and pins the veil upon your skull like a tiara. The soft, celestial fabric falls down around you. Blinking, you stare in awe at yourself, shrouded in majestic silver.

Moon gazes at you softly. His eyes fall from your hair and he reclaims your palm for a moment to behold you entirely.

“Exquisite.” He bows his head over your hand. “I dreamt of you since Eclipse first told us what he found in his bone scrying. I have waited for you all this time, my snowflower.”

A tremble falls over your bottom lip—not of fear, though there is still an anxious sparking within your nerves. You are washed away in his sincerity. The true intentions of a lover.

You have no words, and instead, gently squeeze his hand.

“May I add one last touch,” Eclipse says. He steps forward.

You lift your head to him as his gaze glows gently in the darkness like twin stars which circle you as his brothers step back. Eclipse sets his hand on your shoulder. Your breath slows as his touch traces your collarbone and falls down your side. You almost sway under his hand holding your hip before he sinks onto one knee to trail his palm along your thigh and all the way to your calf, touching your gown all the way down.

He speaks a gentle spell. You dare not move an inch as a gentle pulse, milky and starlight-like, falls over the cloth. You burn in the darkness like a candle. The gown stands out against the darkness like a comet streaking through the night sky.

“Oh,” is all you can say as you look down at yourself. There are no words which can contain the magnitude of what you feel towards the beauty and thought of their wedding attire for you. Though Sun, Moon, and Eclipse spark and snap like flames with their wide eyes and tall statures, you twinkle bright.

Emotion cakes your throat. Thickly, you swallow it back.

“A little starlight.” Eclipse smiles, his eyes burning sweetly. “For you are our equal, our partner, our bride.”

You don’t feel powerful. You don’t feel important enough to be involved in magic and ceremonies and love, yet here you stand, swathed in their adoration and gifts. You take hold of your skirt once more.

“Let us begin the ceremony,” Eclipse says softly. He takes your elbow and arm in arm, he walks you through a footpath worn through the pumpkin patch to the black tree, gnarled but beautiful. A most befitting altar.

Taking your other arm is Sun, sliding close to you with a simmering smile so close to you, you wonder if the slight heat brushing against your cheek is from his presence or the blood rush in your face. Behind you, like a pale shadow, Moon tenderly takes your skirt and follows close behind, keeping the beautiful fabric from gathering dust and pumpkin fronds.

And so you go to your wedding altar.

In times before, marriage served to form alliances between families. Parents arranged such contracts for children to benefit both parties. Most couples didn’t and couldn’t marry for love, rather they were bound for purely economic liaisons.

How beautiful is it that you could arrange yourself into a marriage most lovely?

Your grooms stop at the black tree. Eclipse slips away from your hand, and you look to him in confusion, fearing where he might wander away to. The elder witch grins as he simply looks at his brother. Sun’s hand lingers on your arm, trailing down to your wrist before he steps back, still beaming, still eager, but patient.

You turn slowly under the dusting of moonlight to face Moon. A swell rises in your heart, crashing through you until you’re sticky with emotion. His expression is soft and sweet like milk and honey. He gathers your hands between his own. Looking down, Moon draws the pads of his thumbs softly over your knuckles as if wishing to memorize the bone structure of your much smaller hands.

There is no time at all, but you keep the quiet with him, studying his mild countenance. His breaths are deep and even. A gentle scent of something late and herbal laces him, and you’re taken back to the mausoleum where he tasted you.

His eyes lift. The scarlet gleam holds you tender.

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is gentle in its rasp. His eyes never leave you, drinking you in like wine. “My love is yours, for time and all eternity. I will honor you dearly, little mouse.”

A soft sound catches in your throat, somewhere between a chuckle and a weeping sound. You thought joy would be without tears, but you stand, clutching his claws tightly in your fists to steady yourself.

“I do.” The moonlight brightens as the words leave your lips. You watch in silent awe as the silver glow of the night dances over you both, and you taste midnight upon your tongue as Moon smiles.

He carefully takes your veil and lifts it over your head, allowing the silver threads to fall down your back. He leans in gently. In the way the tide is tugged by the lunar celestial body, you meet him in the small space between your bodies. The witch’s kiss presses to your mouth in a gentle yearning, pushing and pulling so long as you follow in time. You fall into him. Deepening the kiss, Moon cradles your lips against the white curve of his fangs. You sigh contently as you lose your breath in his presence, starstruck.

He releases you, though only your mouth. His hands clasp yours tightly and he softly caresses the back of your hands. Tied along his wrists are deep blue ribbons. Bells jangle softly underneath.

“I will keep you unto me forevermore.” Moon traces your digits with his claw. The soft glow of his gaze fills you with his sincerity.

You sink into his words like a pool of silver. You nod deeply.

“I will cherish you,” you promise in a trembling, choked voice. The power of the engagement drapes over you, pressing upon you the great importance of this entanglement.

“Breathe, little mouse.” He smiles. “I will keep you safe.”

You laugh quietly, too overwhelmed for words but your happiness seeps through all the same.

He kisses you once more before he lifts his head high. Following his gaze, you find Vanessa has stopped fighting. Her little rabbit nose twitches fast, afraid.

Moon offers a spell, deep and cool but releasing. His voice overlaps. A scent of sharp, pungent herbs swirls on the night breeze before he nods his head once more. Your old clothes fly off of the pumpkin they were resting on, and fall onto Vanessa still tangled in the pumpkin vines.

A moment later, in a shrouded flash of light, vines snap and clothes stretch, and there is a woman where there was once a rabbit.

Vanessa, thankfully, wears your sweater and jeans. Her green eyes fit much better in her human face as she kneels upon the ground and lifts her hands. Long blonde hair falls down around her shoulders. Slowly, she turns over her palm and clenches her fingers. No longer trapped, she gazes up at you.

Shock shines in her eyes, but her lips form soft awe.

“Vanessa,” you smile breathlessly. Whirling back, you kiss Moon once to his slight shock. “Thank you.”

“I will answer to your every desire,” he murmurs, then releases you.

Moon slips back from you. Before you can think of reaching for him, Sun takes you into his arms. You gasp softly at the warmth of his embrace surrounding you like you were basking near an open fire.

“Sunshine, I was beginning to fear you’ve forgotten about me.” He takes you carefully, slipping your feet onto his as he begins to spin you slowly, like a star tailspinning through the atmosphere. “You could never, could you? Not when I still vye for your kiss—and now, your vows returned.”

You hold onto his shoulders. Carefully underneath the gnarled limbs of the black tree, Sun waltzes you to an unsung song. He hums slowly with a gentle rumble in his chest. His eyes upon you are hungry in the way a candle flame clings to a wick, desperate to devour but unable to spread like a wildfire.

“No, I couldn’t forget you, Sun,” you whisper. He has left you dizzy and stunned, racing with you upon his broom and then pinning you underneath him upon a bed. There is too much you marvel about him to forget.

He twirls you gently, the moonlight blurring around you between earth and sky before he recaptures you. The threat of dawn seems so close and yet so far away from this wild pumpkin patch.

“That is all I can ask, though you must know, I want more of you.” His grin is wide but honest. How could you expect anything less from the one who has coveted you so zealously?

His hand rests on the small of your back. Pulling you flush against him, he holds you for one breathless moment, caught like two figurines in the apex of a lovers’ dance.

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is steady, without flirtations or sultry suggestions. An honest question from a witch. “You have simply enchanted me, dove. I am at your mercy. I am at your service. And if you will, your bedside, your mornings, and your sunsets.”

Your eyelids flutter. A gentle push of tears make their way past your eyes, and you hold his wide, pale gaze. He searches your face with held breath. He clutches your hand and presses it to his chest, bared open to you. The bells tied to the dark red ribbons on his wrists jingle softly.

“I do.” You speak with the gentleness of certainty. The leaves overhead ruffle with a breeze that is far more fitting for summer than an incoming winter. Pressed so close, you fear he must know how your heart trembles in the wonder of knowing that he loves you, and you love him.

His expression erupts in sheer, unadulterated joy. He spins you once more, dancing as if he were walking on air before he dips you low. You intake a deep breath as he holds you above the pumpkin patch. His grin fills your entire vision as his fingers press softly into your dress. He wastes not a moment to crush your mouth in a kiss.

His hunger and eagerness leaves you breathless as he takes and takes before he gives just as much in return. You are captured within his affection. He is smooth and practiced, and you almost feel self conscious, but gently, he leads you. He guides your lips and teases you with his teeth. Even his tongue brushes the inside of your mouth before he softens it to a trickle after the flood of his expression. You taste a sweetness that slips down your throat like honey.

Gently, he brings you back up on your feet, though he does not release you. He kisses you again, greedily taking more. You are putty in his hands, molded by his mouth as if you were a honeycomb caught between teeth.

“Sunny,” Eclipse murmurs once in gentle warning.

Sun draws back reluctantly as if being torn from water after days in the desert. You gasp softly, your shoulders rising and falling after the rush of his love.

“I have devoted myself to you, my poppet,” he whispers into your ear as you rest against his chest. “My love is yours and yours alone.”

“Oh, Sun,” you clutch his shoulders tighter. “I will adore you for the rest of my days.”

“I know, sunshine.” He grins but softly kisses your cheek once in a strangely rare but precious, chaste gesture. “But I must share you or else I will keep you all night.”

He straightens, his arms still encircling you. Pale eyes sweep back and you eagerly look at Michael. He’s stopped fighting as well, no longer thrashing but watching with a strange, conflicted crinkle of his brow. Vanessa kneels close by, unmoving, still staring at her legs and arms and touching her hair.

Your entire body aches for Michael. The curse stains his flesh and twists him into a silver-screen monster.

Sun breathes a spell. His voice fills the air in unearthly chants that sweep over the ground and whirl the leaves on the pumpkin vines. They slowly crawl back, releasing Michael just as the same bright flash of energy and power takes hold of your dear friend.

The purple corpse recedes back and unveils the man underneath. Michael’s hair returns to its warmer shade of brown. His eyes blink and his corenas return white while his irises take hold with light and life. Rotten flesh returns to a rich tan color. His torn clothes refill with his healthy size and strength.

He clenches and unclenches his fists. Slowly, he stumbles forward. Vanessa helps catch him before he folds entirely after being freed from the witches’ curse.

You startle—is his leg still broken? Vanessa, however, stabilizes Michael, coaxing him to sit beside her. He folds his legs with natural ease��healed and whole.

“Michael, you’re alright,” you breathe, clutching Sun together.

He gives you a nod though in a slight daze. He opens his mouth but then decides against whatever he was going to say.

“Thank you.” You turn to Sun. “Thank you for sparing him.”

“Anything for our bride,” he simpers. With a great sigh, however, he lets go of you, his fingertips trailing over your sides before falling back beside Moon.

Under the black tree, Eclipse stands, patient but enduring.

You face him. He lifts his head but remains humble and composed before gently approaching. The light of a new day is beginning to change from deep gray to a burning orange leaking rosy pink at the edges. The sunrise is as terrifying as it is promising.

Eclipse opens his arms to you. Without hesitation, you enter his embrace as his hand finds your cheek. Tied tight around his wrist is a black ribbon with golden bells. His claws rest delicately on your hip over the silky soft fabric of your gown. Lightly, his thumb caresses your cheek. The gold of his gaze falls over you, gentle as the night.

“Little comet,” he says, steady despite the impending light threatening to take away all. Yet, he takes his time, tasting his words before giving them to you. “Do you take me to be your husband? I have waited—”

In a heart rush, you utter, “I do.”

Eclipse stares, eyes wide. His red sun rays catch the first glance of daylight, brightening his vision as if a spotlight fell upon him. He looks towards the horizon as you do. You squint slightly against the brightness.

Lifting his hand from your face, he watches the black ribbon and bells dissolve into dark smoke, then nothing. Sun and Moon turn their wrists as the respectful dark red and deep blue ribbons fall away from them as if burned and leave not a wisp behind.

You take Eclipse’s hand and draw it closer to you, gently kissing his knuckles before smiling.

“You’re free. You’re all free.” You flush deeply as you look to Sun and Moon and their gazes of content awe. “My husbands.”

A soft, strange sound leaves Eclipse. A breath caught between wonder and something deeper, something roiling with adoration. His gaze falls back to you, and again, he touches your cheek.

“I did not finish my vows to you.” He cradles your face close in his palms, leaning closer as your eyes lock. “I swear to you happiness, protection, and my unending love. From this day on, you will always be warm. You will always have my hand to hold. You will never fear the darkness for I will be with you.”

He pauses, his grin spreading wide. He looks at you as if you were a dream. A living, breathing vision.

“We are eternally bound to you, our spouse.” Eclipse leans in close. “Say my name, once more.”

Your eyelids slip close for one precious moment, warmed by the brilliant light, and the touch of Eclipse’s hands cradling you as if you were delicate.

“Eclipse,” you whisper.

His grin is beautiful and lovely. You start as you feel a second pair of arms surround you. Sweeping you off your feet, Eclipse lifts you into his embrace. This close, he smells of gentle spice and musk.

He strokes your cheek once before closing the distance between your lips. You feel his hunger in the echo of your own—the want to devour but gently, he tastes you. A soft whine catches in the back of your throat. Melting under his warmth, he invades you gently and his tongue brushes against your own. His kiss takes you under, and you drop breathlessly into his grasp.

He pulls and takes in soft, sweet motions. Rhythmic and powerful, he tastes you until you fear you might fall once more. But he will catch you. This much you are certain.

He pulls back gently, kissing you one last time as if in need of the strength it gives him, before his honeyed gaze settles on you.

“Your freckles are beautiful, like the stars upon the night sky,” he says. He kisses the right side of your face, then glides to the left and lingers there a moment. “You are truly staying with us, my little comet.”

You blush, and cling to him. Your hands, however, are gently tugged. You look away from Eclipse to find Moon curling his claws under your digits and lifting your hand sweetly to his mouth. Eclipse shifts you gently in his arms to rest you against his back while keeping you cradled like a bride on her wedding night—you suppose you are such a bride, Sun’s hand traces from your shoulder down your arm until he captures your hand. There, he kisses your knuckles slowly. You close your eyes, bubbling in the blissful sunlight as your husbands adore you.

A kiss like the brush of a moth wing touches your head. Eclipse hums gently against you. You make a soft, sweet sound at their tender affection.

“My husbands,” you say, then laugh a little, beaming at their gentle looks. “I’m going to have to get used to saying that.”

“You will,” Sun purrs, “And there’s so much time for us to grow used to our lovely spouse.”

“So much time,” Moon rasps gently, “You must be exhausted.” He kisses your fingertips until you shiver and blush.

“Perhaps we should take our bride home,” Eclipse suggests gently. “You can sleep in our bed and rest, and when you wake, we’ll celebrate more.”

You stir at the thought. You won’t drive back to your tiny apartment. No, instead you will stay here with your husbands, and the bed you will sleep in will be warm and filled with their bodies.

You won’t wake up alone.

“I’d like that.” You squeeze Sun’s and Moon’s hands and turn your head back to gaze at Eclipse with a fond smile.

A quiet voice says your name. You turn your head, stunned to find Michael and Vanessa stepping towards you. Vanessa supports Michael’s arm around her shoulders as his strength seems to wane. Their eyes are mirrors of witch hunters from long ago as they behold the brothers holding their virgin bride.

Claws tighten around you. Moon flashes his sharp teeth as Sun lifts his chin high, looking down at the pair with disdain. The arms holding you off the ground squeeze in the slightest until you wriggle. Eclipse nearly keeps you away, but gingerly, he sets you back on your feet.

Michael holds your gaze, his brow crinkled in concern but restored to his natural health.

“Are you really staying with them?” he asks quietly, his gaze darting sharply to the witches.

You smile at the slight shifting around you. The drape of Moon’s cloak almost falls over your shoulder as he takes your hand close and caresses your arm. A murmur of wishing to return them both to rabbits falls from Sun’s lips, but he merely interlocks his digits between your own. Behind you, Eclipse draws a tender hand down your back, feeling the ridges of your spine through the delicate fabric of your gown.

“I love them.” You look at your husbands. Their faces brighten, their touches softening upon you. “I’m staying.”

“What do we do now?” Vanessa asks. Her face looks lost, and you imagined after a few centuries of only guarding the starry candle, she must be.

You muse for a moment, and survey your husbands with a careful air. “Is your home now my home?”

“Of course,” Eclipse answers without hesitation. “Everything that is ours is yours.”

“Then I may invite my friends inside?”

Sun and Moon exchange a glance, Sun more annoyed than Moon’s mild surprise, but they both incline their heads.

“If that is your wish,” Moon gives gently.

“It is.” You squeeze their palms. “We can start a proper home, and we can learn how to forgive.”

“Forgive?” Vanessa balks.

“Yes.” You look at her as the bright light of day touches her face. Her eyes are truly green and sharp like cut emeralds. “Let’s get out of this pumpkin patch and go home and rest. Then we can make peace.”

Michael looks down at Vanessa.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, unlike my ancestor.” His brow is set firm. To your awe, Michael does not tremble with rage or the need to fight again. Perhaps the witches are beginning to prove themselves, and Michael will give them a chance. Just one chance.

“Very well then, my poppet.” Sun turns to you and kisses you in a sudden burst of heat and passion before he releases you. Stunned, you almost sway but Eclipse wraps an arm around your waist. Sun gestures with his free arm in an open invitation. “Enter our humble abode. You are our spouse’s guests, which means you are ours.”

Vanessa glares at him. Her foot falls down on a withered vine and it cracks.

“Charming as ever, Vanessa.” Sun flashes his teeth in a grin.

“Sun,” you chastise.

He rubs your wrist, half apologetic.

“I will make soup.” Moon muses. “My cauldron pot is where I left it, I hope.”

The heaviness in the air reminds you that the night has been long, and you are dreadfully exhausted. Vanessa and Michael barely hold themselves upright, but they lean on each other.

“Excellent.” Eclipse waves his hand. Smoke seeps up from the ground, swirling around your feet before you close your eyes, and lean into the pillars of your husbands for support.

The air changes. A slight breeze, warm for October, encircles you. You inhale a gentle scent of rich earth and dust. When you open your eyes again, the brothers’ home is standing before you, same as it ever was, but entirely changed.

Perhaps it’s only you who has changed, now hanging on to the witches.

Michael and Vanessa are just behind you and the witches, standing on the gravel outside of the home, disgruntled about the change of scenery or perhaps the use of magic, but you hope they’ll see the possibility of goodness within the brothers as you have.

Eclipse’s hand slips under your chin to lift your head back. His expression warms with the bright new day. Sun kisses your fingertips until you shiver in delight. Moon turns your palm over to reach the delicate lines of veins along your wrist, and presses his lips to your pulse.

“We are home,” Eclipse says. He kisses the top of your head.

You are home with your husbands.

#naff's writing commissions #hehehe Happy Halloween!!!#make sure you let jack know how much you like this au <3333 #and tell delia how incredible their art is!!!#hocus pocus au my beloved #witch!eclipse #witch!sun #witch!moon #charm brought it back #naff writing

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girlkisser13 · 3 months ago

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being married to aaron hotchner would include

• this man is SOO wholesome. the two of you have the fluffiest relationship.

• whenever he sees you, he can’t help but break into a full-on, sunshine-bright grin— it isn’t just a smile; it’s like he’s radiating pure joy.

• aaron tries hard not to talk about you too much around his team. however, they’re incredibly nosy, and he knows that once he starts discussing you, you’ll be on his mind all day.

• penelope's wallpaper is a picture of the two of you kissing (she ships the two of you soo hard).

• he isn't surprised when people hit on you— after all, you're stunning. but when they can see you’re with aaron and still choose to disrespect that, it completely overshadows any compliment they were trying to give you.

• if anything were to happen to you, he’d lose his mind and wouldn’t rest until you’re safe in his arms again.

• we already know aaron is fiercely protective, but with you, it’s even more evident. after losing haley in such a traumatic way, it’s only natural that he some deep-seated fears about losing you too.

• the moment he introduced you to jack, it was like magic— he took to you instantly, bursting into fits of giggles as he saw the genuine smile on your face. for aaron, watching this interaction unfold made his heart soar.

• you made it clear to him that you would never replace jack’s mother. you acknowledged that jack has a mother who, though not present, is still very much a part of his life.

• you assured him that you’d be there for jack in any way he needed, that you’d care for him and love him as your own.

• aaron could have dropped down to one knee and proposed to you right there after hearing that, the respect you had for haley despite never meeting her and the kindness in your heart was enough to melt him to the core.

• when he has to leave for a case early and doesn’t want to wake you, he always leaves a detailed letter so you know exactly where he’s headed and what’s happening.

• he often makes you breakfast before he heads out, driven by guilt for leaving so abruptly.

• whenever he’s paged in the middle of a date, he’s quick to apologize for the sudden departure but makes up for it with a flood of calls to stay connected.

• you're the only one he'll dance with.

• slow dancing might not be his forte, but he gives it his best shot. and though he’ll never admit it, if a faster-paced song comes on and he’s had a drink or two, he’s surprisingly pretty good.

• while he’s intense at work, aaron appreciates quiet, peaceful moments when he’s off duty. a cozy night in with a good book, a movie, or just enjoying each other's company without distractions would be his ideal way to unwind.

• every night he's home, he’s guaranteed to cuddle up with you, his head resting on your chest or nestled in the crook of your neck, while your fingers gently run through his hair.

• it's the closest thing to heaven he’s ever known. <33

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #cm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut

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schoenpepper · 3 months ago

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Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst housewardens

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kusanagihaku · 1 month ago

Text

an indentation, in the shape of you

⭢ haku x mc, 6.1k

God, the sight of him like this – kneeling between your legs and head bent, moss-green hair tangled between your fingers, eyes dark and fierce – it is nearly enough to send you over the edge. It’s funny, some distant, coherent part of you thinks, how he looks like he’s the one in worship but you’re the one chanting his name in fervent prayer. or: my first and last time ever writing smut, so help me god. ao3 here.

｡°⚠︎°｡ minors dni!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

You’re late.

You’re late and you should have met Haku twenty minutes ago by the Galaxy Express gates so you could head out for the night, but due to an extremely foolish lack of foresight you’ve put off trying on your Halloween costume until now, which of course meant something was bound to go wrong.

You stare despondently at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t remember cheerleader skirts being quite this short.

Maybe you’ve bulked up since you’ve arrived at Darkwick? After all, you’ve been running around and pulling off frankly inhumane feats of strength during missions (never mind that those feats were mostly mental and emotional). That’d explain why the top of the cheerleader uniform fits more snug than you thought it would when you ordered it online.

Would it explain why the hem of the top ended higher up your midriff than you’d like? Would it explain why the skirt, albeit high-waisted, barely covered your ass? Maybe not.

You tug at the hem of the skirt again, as if it would magically lengthen in the span of time since you last tried to stretch it to cover more leg. Perhaps the real problem was you ordering a costume online. Maybe you should have just borrowed a fox robe or whatever, like Haku decided to do.

You exhale. The only choice would be to wear a white turtleneck and some stockings underneath and a longer jacket over your costume and pray really hard the area Haku ends up bringing you to won’t have too many creeps.

Of course, that’s where the next problem arises – you only have the Darkwick-assigned standard black stockings, which barely came up to mid-thigh and barely go with the white turtleneck, and a pair of bright white exercise leggings, which frankly would be ugly as hell.

You’re going to scream.

You’re about to give up and go with the lesser of two evils when the chime of the doorbell echoes throughout the empty cathedral.

…Haku.

You scramble downstairs to the doors, tugging it open to see a very bemused Haku.

“Did you forget our- oh, woah.”

You feel the heat of his gaze brush down your body, catching slightly on the bare of your midriff before alighting on the hem of your skirt, coaxing a flush up your neck and leaving a raise of goosebumps in its wake. Or maybe it’s just the impending chill of October seeping in through the open doors – you reach out to pull your boyfriend in so you can safely shut the doors.

“That’s, um,” Haku says. “Woah. I thought this’d be for my eyes only, princess.”

You roll your eyes, and turn away to walk back upstairs. You hope he doesn’t see the burn in your cheeks – it’s been a while since you’ve started dating, but Haku’s casual compliments still sends your heartbeat thundering through your veins. “That’s why I’m having trouble choosing what to wear underneath.”

“How about nothing?” You can almost hear the growing smirk in his voice as he gets over his initial shock. He catches up to you easily, long legs matching your stride as he follows you up the staircase.

You snort. “And stay cold? I’d rather not. Help me–“

“Help you get undressed?” Haku interjects, teasing grin in his voice. You turn to swat at his shoulder, only to find him a couple of steps further down than you expected, golden gaze trained on where the pleats of your skirt barely covers the curve of your ass.

The spark of his gaze sends flames dancing across your skin. It is both a familiar feeling and not, a kind of burn only Haku can rouse from the base of your spine, a burn you fear will get you addicted but hope you will never get used to. Heat creeps up your cheeks as you bite back a smile. “Stop it.”

At least he has the decency to look sheepish as he closes the distance between you, slipping his arm around your waist and kissing the crown of your head. “Can’t help it. I’m just a guy, and it’s such a great view.”

The warmth of his palm on the bare of your skin spreads as much through your veins as his words do. His thumb stretches, accidentally (?) slipping under the hem of your top as you reach the top of the stairs.

“Anyway,” you continue hastily, as if filling the air with words will distract you from the questing of his fingers. If you give in to his touch now neither of you will make it out of the dorm tonight. “I was thinking about wearing a white turtleneck underneath this top.”

Haku hums. “Shame.”

His thumb slips up further. Definitely not accidental.

“The issue is I only have black stockings.”

“Go without,” he suggests, blithely. His thumb slips out from under your top and tucks itself into the waistband of the skirt.

You turn to narrow your eyes at him as you enter your room. “And let everyone see half my ass?”

“Hey, now,” Haku frowns, and all of a sudden you are pressed up against the back of your door, his arm coming up to rest beside your face. His hand slides out from your waist to the curve of your ass, squeezing, and he dips his head towards yours, lips brushing the top of your ear as you suppress a shiver. “Who said anyone else is seeing anything?”

Your breath hitches as the heat of his mouth finds the shell of your ear in the exact way he knows will drive you crazy. “I thought– I thought you wanted to go to–“

He laughs, a low chuckle that melts straight into your throat and dries out your mouth. His hand moves lower to skim the hem of your skirt, tugging gently on it, “I mean, we were… until you decided to put this on.”

Your eyes slip closed as his lips meet the hollow behind your jaw, soft and hot and open-mouthed, and you struggle to find the words you need, hands coming up to rest against his biceps and head tilting back to allow him more access. It’s amazing how after so many times he can still take you apart with one well-placed kiss. “It– it wasn’t on purpose–“

Haku grins against your neck. His fingertips drift lower, running over the back of your thigh and dangerously close to where your legs are pressed together. “Really.”

Well. You’d be lying if you said no. You did order this outfit with your boyfriend in mind after all, wondering how he would react to your showing a little more skin than usual. You just didn’t expect this much skin.

And you definitely didn’t expect this big a reaction from him either – if anything, your make-out sessions so far have been soft and languorous, framed by the gentle sounds of drizzle on the wood of his Hotarubi veranda, and punctuated with laughter and adoration as you explored each other’s bodies.

Oh but this, this Haku is different. His hands are everywhere, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the sudden increase in expanse of skin chest-down, and his mouth is hot and panting on the column of your neck as he pivots you away from the door and stumbles you backwards toward the sofa.

You crash into the scratchy grey of the sofa, legs falling apart naturally to accommodate where Haku has slid his knee between them. He braces one arm on the wall behind you, and his other hand comes up to stroke the side of your face.

His eyes are dark with an almost-hunger as he leans over you, trailing down to your lips in a silent request, and when your tongue darts out to wet your lips he groans, tipping his forehead forward against yours. “So fucking beautiful.”

You flush – you’ll never get used to the praise Haku lavishes on you. But before you can think of anything to say in return, his mouth finds its way onto yours.

When he kisses you it is all tongue and crash, a messy and hungry and wet that steals your breath away. He licks into you, like he cannot get enough of your taste, and when you pull away, gasping for air, his mouth finds its new church on the bruises he sucks onto your neck. You let out an involuntary whimper – the nip of his teeth and smooth of his tongue is only overshadowed by the way his hand slides from your cheek to your ribs, brushing gently over the curve of your chest to tuck under the tight hem of your top.

He only stops two seconds later, frowning and leaning back to tug at the pale purple fabric. “How-“

“Zip,” you say, slightly breathless, and lift yourself off the sofa so he can reach around you. His deft fingers make quick work of the zipper in the back, loosening the top, and his eyes follow your chest as he helps you lift it over your head.

His voice is deep and pained as he watches your breasts fall out of the confines of your top. “No bra?”

You shake your head, eyes tracking the lick of his lips as he stares at your nipples hardening in the cold room air. “Shirt was too tight.”

“Fuck, princess,” he swears, and slides his hands up your waist to rest under the curve of your breasts. “God, you’ll drive me crazy.”

He leans down to lick you, experimentally, sliding the rough of his tongue over a sensitive nub. It sends a jolt to your system that immediately pools between your legs, and a gasp escapes your lips.

Haku grins at the sound. His hand comes up to squeeze the soft flesh of your other breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers and eliciting another gasp. He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of your chest, “You always make the most beautiful sounds for me.”

“Haku…” you squirm at that, but he is already leaning down to attack the expanse of skin underneath his hands with his tongue, biting and nipping and pinching and drawing all sorts of sounds from the back of your throat. His hungry mouth finds your nipples again, soothing and pinching as he suckles bruises into the soft fat under his fingers.

You arch into the warmth of his hands, keening. There will be marks littered all around you by the end of the night, you’re sure – Haku has never been one to hold back when it comes to tasting the sweet of your skin.

He bites, harder than usual, on the saliva coated nub between his fingers before laving his tongue over it, and the combination of pain and sooth explodes from your lips in a tight, “Ah, Haku–“

Your legs snap shut. You rut, shamelessly, against the firm of his thigh between yours – the tension between your legs has been building with each slide of his tongue, and you crave some sort of friction so bad–

Haku presses a hand against the plush of your leg, preventing them from clamping around his own. He pulls back slightly to look at you, eyes looking as lust-hazy as you feel. His lips are slightly swollen, you notice, a delicious pink brought on by the assault against your skin, and it sends a shiver through you as he murmurs, “Let me. Please.”

His words sink straight to your core; he sinks straight to his knees. His hands drift to your knees, pushing them apart to allow him to sit between them, then pushing them up to allow him a better view of your inner thighs.

The flimsy skirt flips upwards as you set your heels on the sofa, leaving you exposed to Haku’s hungry gaze. He takes one look at the underwear you chose for the evening and groans. “God, princess, you wanted to go out wearing this?”

You flush again, embarrassment flooding your cheeks as you try to clamp your knees shut, but Haku’s grip is vice-like on your thigh. You know what he’s talking about – the piece you chose today was a thin, black lace number that barely covered anything. After all, you needed to make sure it wouldn’t leave panty lines when you put on the cheerleader skirt. You didn’t think…

His groan goes straight between your legs. You watch him lick his lips, almost unconsciously, as his eyes zero in on the dark spot in your underwear. You know that you’ve been getting steadily wetter since Haku first kissed you, and you know the effects of Haku’s ministrations definitely show in the dampness of the black material. “Haku…”

His eyes drift up to meet yours. You know what a mess you must look to him, all dishevelled and neck and chest littered with red bite marks, legs spread and gasping his name without his fingers even touching your drenched core. Your eyes drop, self-conscious, but Haku just chuckles. He rises to kiss you, the gentle, chaste press of his lips on yours a far cry from the way he’s been devouring you. “Gorgeous. Always takes my breath away when you’re spread out like this, just for me.”

God, he always knows exactly what to say.

“Just for you,” you echo. Your voice comes out breathy, needy, thinned with want, and Haku’s brows immediately tighten as he rocks backwards, swearing as he kneels between your legs again.

“Fuck,” one hand slides further up your thighs. “The things you do to me, princess.”

He places one, two, three kisses on your inner thigh, sliding closer and closer to where your underwear is doing absolutely nothing to hide the way you’re dripping for him. “How did you expect me to keep my hands off you the whole night, hmm?”

When his mouth finally reaches your core, placing a gentle kiss at your clothed clit, you arch against the sofa with a loud gasp. It takes Haku’s grip holding your thighs apart to keep you from wrapping your legs around him.

The heat of his breath ghosts across your underwear as he chuckles. “That sensitive already?”

You could cry. “Haku, please–“

He ignores you, choosing instead to place another kiss over the wetness of your core before nosing at it. His eyes drift closed as he buries himself in your scent, nose bumping again and again against your most sensitive part as he places kisses through the lace.

It takes you a few more dazed seconds of his earrings tickling your inner thighs to realise he has taken his left hand off your leg, and to recognise that the pumping movement of his arm means he has pulled himself out of his pants. “Haku, I can–“

His eyes snap open, dark pupils almost taking over the gold of his irises, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to where he knows your clit is.

The pressure instantly steals your words away, and leaves a loud moan in its place.

Your cheeks burn as the sound leaves your mouth. God, the things Haku does to you, too. You want to touch him, you want to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, feel the stiff of his cock slide into you, heavy and thick and him, but–

Haku swiftly pulls your thin underwear to one side. The shock of cold air on your exposed core wrests another gasp from the burn in your throat, before it is replaced with the inferno building on his tongue.

Your head hits the back of the sofa. “God, Haku, please, oh–“

He hums against you. Whether or not it is a muffled moan at the taste of you or if he is just pleased with the way you drape his name on the tip of your tongue, it does not matter – the vibrations unfortunately shoot straight up your spine and into the most animalistic pleasure-centred part of your brain. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to keep yourself from humping his face as you press the back of your fist into your mouth.

Haku stops. “Princess,” he says, roughly, and the pet name is so loaded you pry your eyes open to look at him. His voice is thick with want as he rushes out a, “Don’t– don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, he rests his cheek against the soft of your thigh. His gaze is filled with something you can’t quite name, a blend of lust and adoration, a different type of exaltation you only see the likes of when Haku is between your legs. “Please,” he rasps.

Lord, you would do anything in the world for Haku, if only he asks.

You move your spit-slick hand away from your face, wincing at the way a string of saliva connects your fist to the shine of your lips, and Haku’s gaze hardens at the sight.

“Fuck,” he growls, and sinks his teeth into the tender skin where your leg meets your core.

You jerk up in surprise, his name flying from your lips as he soothes you again and again with laps of his tongue. Before you can say anything else, though, he licks a slow stripe up your centre, rough and sweet, dipping his tongue in between your folds. Your fingers find their way into his hair as he moves into you, tongue pressing inside your aching core desperately like a man who has not found water in days. A familiar tension coils between your legs under the movement of your boyfriend’s tongue, a slow burn that you know will consume you and leave you bereft at the end of the night, but right now you need more, more–

“Taste so fucking good, princess,” he pants, breaking away. The lower half of his face glistens, a testament to how fucking wet you are for him; a whimper escapes you at the sight.

He taps a long finger against your entrance. “Can I–“

“Please,” you whine, hips shifting shamelessly to press yourself against his finger. “Need you–“

When he pushes his finger into you, gently, slowly, your eyes drift closed, his name floating on the shape of your moans. Every drag of his fingertip against your walls draws fireworks on the back of your eyelids, sends sparks up to the cry of your lungs; every clench you make on the slender digit sliding in and out of you sends fresh curses spilling from the sweet of Haku’s mouth and loads his name on the runway of your tongue.

When he latches onto you, sucking harshly on your clit and sliding another finger into you, his name flies out from your lips, the vowels of Haku, please, ah, Haku, Haku unintelligible amongst the squelching as he pushes you closer to your climax.

But oh, Haku curls his fingers just right, just so, exactly in the way you acutely need and are so hopelessly addicted to, and just like that you lose all train of thought and tumble headfirst into the delicious friction of his fingers. You cannot help but tighten against the pump of his hand, breathless and wanting and so, so close, and are rewarded with a hazy hum that blazes right into the fire between your legs. “Haku, wait, I’m gonna–“

“Fuck,” he curses, voice strained, “Love it when you say my name like that– you’re so good, so tight for me, princess–“ he sucks your clit hard, once, twice, vibrations of his voice echoing through your nerve endings “–fuck, cum for me, please–“

He curls his fingers again, and all at once everything explodes behind your eyelids, a blooming white that shoots from between your legs to the tips of your fingers and the curl of your toes. His name tumbles again from your lips, a desperate devotional that he rises to seal and swallow against his own as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

You don’t know how long your free fall lasts, a blinding pleasure that sends trembles through your thighs and soaks into the pump of his fingers in and out, in and out, but as you regain some semblance of cognition, weakly clenching around the still steady push of Haku’s hand, you taste yourself on the slip of Haku’s tongue against your own.

“God,” he says, resting his forehead against yours, breathless, “you should see yourself when you come. So beautiful, so good,” another kiss, pressed against your open, panting mouth, “like a work of art.”

You whine a little at the way his thumb is still rubbing circles against your clit, shifting your hips slightly away from the overstimulation, and he chuckles, finally bringing his hand up to your mouth.

The chuckles stop, however, when you take his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around the long digits as they slip toward the back of your tongue. “Gods, princess–“

You take your time cleaning his fingers, tasting your own slick and licking up and down and between them, brain still hazy from the way your orgasm slammed into you less than a minute earlier. Christ, the way his fingers work you – you’d spend all your life worshipping them if you could.

Haku groans, watching your tongue flick around the base of his middle finger, and with some degree of self-control, tugs them out from between the pink of your lips. He presses his lips against yours instead, soft, gentle, reverent.

Your mind is marginally clearer after that. You mumble his name as he helps you sit back up, propping you against the sofa backrest with your heels on either side of him.

“Hmm?” he says, as he runs his hands down your thighs, searching for where your underwear is still clinging to your hips through force of will.

“Are we… are we still going out?”

Haku laughs, startled and breathless, then taps your hip so he can pull the soaked scrap of fabric you used to call underwear off your legs. “I don’t think we can.”

You want to suggest that you maybe go tomorrow (or whenever you can find a more… suitable costume, really), but your eyes follow Haku’s fingers as he wraps the damp black lace around his cock, stroking slowly.

Fuck.

You try and sit up. “Haku–“

Haku groans again, using his other hand to press you back onto the sofa. “If you touch me right now, I don’t think I can last, sweetheart.”

Only now you notice the sheen of sweat around his temples, the squeeze of his fingers around the tip of his leaking cock like he’s trying to hold himself back. You swallow at the sight of his precum smearing itself onto his hand, throat bobbing as you consider his words – he got so close to cumming at just the act of eating you out. God.

You can’t believe he’s real.

Oh, but the thought of the taste of him on your tongue, the weight of his cock hitting the back of your throat just the way you like it, the tug of his fingers in your hair as you swallow around him–

“Please,” you whisper, looking up at him – from underneath your lashes, in just the right way you know will bend him to your will – “I want– I want to taste you,” and just like that you watch his resolve crumble like dust in the wind.

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbles, and rises to crush his lips against yours. It is all teeth and tongue this time, a dance of desperation that tastes all too much like you and not enough of him.

You whine, scrabbling your nails against his biceps – how is he still clothed – and he lets you flip him backwards into the sofa.

From there it is a battle of will for you, caught between making sure he is as unclothed as you are so you can nip and suck your way down his body, and going straight for his cock. You end up trying for the former, clumsily, if only so you can watch the flex of his abs as he comes; Haku takes pity on you and helps you divest the rest of his uniform as you straddle his lap.

You run your hands down the smooth of his body, then lean forward to kiss him once, twice, thrice. You can feel the laze of his smile against your lips, a familiar sensation from your quiet afternoons in Hotarubi, a reminder that–

You shift forward a bit too much, and the head of his cock brushes against the bare of your core.

The moan bursting out from Haku’s lips is sinful, melting straight between your legs and reigniting the ashes of a fire not yet burnt out. You roll your hips again, whimpering at the drag of his cock against your folds, thick and solid and delicious, but Haku grips your hips, pushing you away from him as he squeezes his eyes shut, panting.

God, the way he reacts to your touch – you want to bottle this feeling up forever.

It takes all your remaining braincells to remember your goal, and to the disappointment of the other parts of your body you do not impale yourself on the tantalising firm of his cock, but instead push off his lap to kneel between his legs. You take the base of his shaft in your hand, squeezing lightly, and are rewarded with Haku’s voice, thick with want.

“Gotta let you know, princess, I’m not gonna last long.”

You lean up to kiss his abs, hands letting go of his length to brace against his thighs, tongue flicking out to taste the hard muscle. “Then don’t. Let me– let me make you feel good.”

Haku makes a sound at the back of his throat, eyes on you as you lick your way down his obliques, leaving a trail of spit and kisses in your wake. His skin is feverish under your lips, a far cry from the casual leisurely make-out sessions you’ve spent exploring his body. His cock strains under your chin as your mouth goes lower; it weeps pre-cum against where it slides along the bruises he has left on your neck.

Haku’s hand comes up to rest on your hair. He is a complete wreck beneath your mouth, breathing rapid and Adam’s apple bobbing in anticipation. “Look so good like this– ah– between my legs.”

His breath hitches as you take him in hand again. You press a soft kiss, feather-light, to the tip of his cock, and hear his sharp inhale. He twitches, in your hand, the head an angry purple-red smoothness that leaks clear pre-cum into your touch. His body trembles beneath you; he groans, clearly holding back from thrusting up into the soft of your fist.

You give an experimental tug. Your thumb rubs the thick vein running down the side of his cock as you pull the weight of his cock towards you, tongue darting out to lave over the thick pre-cum coating his tip. It is salty, bitter, mixed in the taste of you from where he slipped along your folds earlier. “Taste so good, Haku.”

His hand slides down to cup your face, thumb running over your cheekbone. You look up at Haku at his gentle touch, only to find him watching you intently, dark ochre eyes trained on the way you lick his slick from your lips.

“So perfect,” he mumbles, moving his thumb to brush over the spit-shine of your lips. “Mouth was just made for me.”

You tilt your head to suck lightly on his thumb, just before he can move away, and feel his cock twitch again in the palm of your hand. He groans. “Don’t tease me anymore, princess, please.”

Alright.

You don’t give him a warning before you sink your lips down over his head, flattening your tongue to take the length of him all the way into your mouth.

He cannot help the jerk of his hips in response to the unexpected wetness, forcing the head of his cock past the back of your mouth. It triggers a swallow almost instantly; the sudden push of your tongue on his shaft against the roof of your mouth as your mouth tightens around him drags a low groan from the back of his throat. “Fuck—“

You pull off slightly to breathe, hollowing your cheeks around him before bobbing back down; what you cannot reach with your lips you make up for by stroking the velvet of his skin with your fist. You set a comfortable pace for yourself, making sure your teeth don’t scrape the sensitive skin and making sure the head of his cock hits your soft palate every time you sink down on him. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth; you swallow again, looking up.

Oh, Haku is glorious.

His forehead is sweaty, fringe stuck to his forehead in a mess; the red strings of his earrings are plastered to the side of his cheek, darkened with sweat. His mouth is open, panting with the effort of restraint, and his eyes are hooded, staring down at you with a mix of adulation and awe as his cock rests in the heat of your mouth.

You quicken your pace, twisting your wrist just so as you pump the base of his shaft, and watch as his golden eyes glaze over as he groans. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, princess, so good with your tongue–“

The gravel of his voice makes you squeeze your thighs together. Your other hand leaves his thigh to wander beneath your skirt, sliding between your legs to–

“Fuck,” Haku curses, and adjusts himself so he can see where your hand has pushed the edge of your skirt up.

You pull off of him, cock springing from your lips as you shuffle on your knees, trying to adjust your own position in accordance with his. A thin string of spit connects your lips to the tip of his cock as it tips back to hit his abs.

“God,” he breathes, eyes darting back your lips, “what a sight you are.”

His voice is rough with need, but filled with adoration all the same as he brushes your hair away from your face. You can’t help but smile back up at him. You’re a sight, you’re sure, on your knees and hair dishevelled and salivating for him, but when he looks at you like you’ve personally hung the stars-

Your hands return to his cock, smearing the copious mix of your saliva and his pre-cum down his shaft. The image of you on your knees, both hands pressed together around the thick of his cock, does not slip by you; what was it that Haku said the other day, murmured words lost in the rustle of undressing – something about a belief that your lover is cast in the image of your gods. When you glance back up at Haku it feels like you understand.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs. He reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re praying.”

You laugh. Haku’s uncanny way of knowing exactly what you’re thinking strikes again. You press a kiss to his shaft, then another and another, up the throbbing vein in his side until you reach his glans. You swirl your tongue around the flared head of his cock, dipping into his slit to collect a pearl of precum before sucking lightly on his tip, coating it in the warmth of your spit. “And what if I am?”

“I’m pretty sure whatever– ah– whatever holy you pray to isn’t supposed to– ah, princess– isn’t supposed to defile you like this–“

You hum, taking all of him into your mouth and sinking down until he hits the back of your throat before swallowing around him. Is it defiling, if you want the taint of his taste on your tongue? Is it defiling, if you have never wanted to be pure of him?

What is the point of holy, anyway, if not to find something you’d devote yourself to?

You set a far more punishing pace this time, his thickness threatening to split your jaw open, and watch as Haku tips his head back in pleasure. Your personal deity, your personal idol. You’d stay on your knees all night for him, if he’d let you.

It doesn’t take long before the tell-tale flex of his abs comes, before he tangles his fingers in your hair and your name in his speech, before he tugs tenderly on your scalp and a litany of praise comes spilling out, unfiltered from the gold of his tongue. “So perfect, princess, you– ah– can I—“

Your deity, falling apart under the heat of your tongue.

You hum around his cock, meeting his eyes in permission, and all at once he comes, hot of his seed shooting into the warm confines of your mouth. The thick cum is salty as it hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, drawing out pump after addictive pump from the twitching cock between your hands.

His body jerks up, thrusting shallowly into the heat of your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. He groans your name, low and long. “So tight and warm, so beautiful around my cock, ah– so good for me–“

You continue hollowing your cheeks around him, rubbing your tongue along the underside of his shaft. One hand leaves his cock to brace against his thighs; the other keeps up the slip-slide of his cock into the heat of your throat as his hips begin to stutter. You swallow as best as you can, trying to keep the thick rivulets of cum from spilling out between your lips as the erratic jerk of his hips against your hands slow and come to a stop.

When you look up, lips still wrapped around him, his eyes are trained on you again, glassy and awestruck.

You’ll never get tired of the way Haku looks just after cumming. His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, almost like he’s glowing, and the light catches in his hair like his own personal halo. All dazed, all blissed and reverential. All fucked out, just for you.

You suckle on him, again, dragging his cock along the pad of your tongue. His hands tug on your hair, the pain a delicious distraction from where your jaw is aching around his width. He lets out a groan at the overstimulating shift of your mouth around his tip. “Princess, please–“

You grin, pulling off of him with a pop, and you both look down as the string of spit and cum connecting the head of his cock to your lips elongates and breaks apart. His thumb finds your cheek, stroking gently as you leave a kiss on the soft pink of his tip.

You rest your cheek against his thigh as you breathe in the salty musk of his scent. Your voice is slightly hoarse as you look up at him, “I don’t suppose we’ll make it to that Halloween fair tonight.”

It takes Haku a while to find words, like he has to pull braincells back from where you’ve been sucking them right out of his dick. He smiles lazily at you, “We can always go tomorrow.”

You laugh, and he sits up to help you up off your knees. His hands rub at where your knees have turned red, then reach up to smooth over the pleats of your skirt, still too short to cover anything important. He playfully squeezes your ass, before tugging you down into his lap.

You let out a soft unf as you land in his lap, straddling him. You shift forward to kiss him, pressing your chest against his; in doing so your folds, wet and warm, brush once again over the thick of his cock.

Haku groans into the kiss at the same time a small gasp escapes you. You feel him twitch in renewed interest against your core, stoking the small fire that now burns brighter between your legs.

“That is,” he adds, voice husky, hands moving under your skirt to grope your ass, “if you can still walk tomorrow.”

You roll your hips against his, grinning brightly. “Bet.”

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker smut #haku kusanagi #lin writes #insp by like this one haku fanart i sent to mel.....#it's DONE i'm FREEEE #this was SO MUCH MORE DIFFICULT THAN I THOUGHT im never doing it again #haku the things u do to me.......#haku brainrot

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midzandrist · 19 days ago

Text

melodies of the heart ─── huh yunjin.

synopsis: as the weight of the world fades away with each step toward home, you find solace in the warm glow of familiar comforts—and in the loving arms of your girlfriend, whose mere presence transforms the mundane into a magical sanctuary of happiness

warning: none

word count: 2.0k

the day had been intricately woven with moments of calm, each thread more surprising than the last. you found solace in the rhythm of mundane tasks—sorting reports, reading emails, occasionally exchanging pleasantries with colleagues. today, fortunately, had been a fairly quiet day. as you made your way home, you felt an unexpected lightness in your chest, a gentle promise of the evening that lay ahead.

you parked your car, stepping out into the cool air, and fished through your pockets for your apartment keys—ensuring you didn’t lock yourself out again. walking to the door, you felt the familiar weight of your coat, the comforting softness of its fabric against your arms, a shield against the outside world.

once inside, warmth enveloped you like a beloved blanket. you hang your coat on the rack by the door, kicking off your shoes and allowing your bare feet to feel the coolness of the hardwood floor. this was your sanctuary, a place where everything felt right.

making your way to your room, you noticed a sense of excitement bubbling within you; something about returning to her presence always ignited that spark. as you pushed open the door, the scene before you made your breath hitch just slightly.

there she was—yunjin.

sitting on your bed with her legs crossed, she cradled her guitar. the soft melodies wafted through the air, a tapestry of sound threading through the peacefulness of the evening. you chuckle, unable to help it. she looked absolutely gorgeous, with those round glasses perched slightly askew on her nose, as she lost herself in the notes and chords. her focus was fierce, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, but the moment you stepped in, you saw a flicker—something bright, something warm.

“hey! you're home!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as they met yours. the smile that blossomed across her face could light up the dimmest room. it was the kind of greeting that wrapped around you, making you feel cherished and grounded all at once.

“hey! i’m home!” you replied, unable to suppress a smile as you stepped closer to her. you leaned against the doorframe, watching as she strummed a few more chords, giving each note its due attention, as if they were precious secrets begging to be revealed.

you sit on the other end of the bed, catching the lingering aroma of her favorite jasmine-scented candle in the air, both soothing and invigorating. like sharing snippets of your day—how the sun set brilliantly through the office windows, how the coffee was stronger than usual, how you’d managed to avoid any office drama—and she listens intently, strumming her guitar absentmindedly.

as you talk, every now and then, she throws in a discordant note, teasing you about your workday’s monotony. “you should have gotten adventurous, maybe staged an office heist!” she laughs, her laughter echoing in your chest like a soft drumbeat. you can't help but chuckle at the idea, shaking your head at the absurdity of it.

“why are you working on your guitar, though?” you finally asked, curiosity bubbling within you. “i thought mondays were for practicing your songs with the group?”

“the ceo decided to give us the day off.” with her fingers still brushing the strings gently, she looks thoughtful. “and i'm working on something for my next comeback. i thought i’d try my hand at writing something fresh for le sserafim.”

a glimmer of admiration surges through you. "is that why you're in deep contemplation? i thought perhaps you were lost in thought over which snack to eat!” you feign seriousness while you give her a grin.

she rolls her eyes dramatically, laughing softly. “oh, stop it!” her laughter only fuels your teasing. “it’s actually quite serious. i want it to be heartfelt, and you know i have to put my soul into my music.”

“you always do,” you say, feeling a swell of pride as you watch her. “anyway, what are you working on?”

yunjin grinned, putting down her guitar for just a moment. “right now, i’m trying to write a new song.” her eyes danced with excitement, her energy infectious. “i want to capture something special. it’s a feeling, you know? i’ve been recording ideas here and there.”

you leaned in closer, intrigued by her passion. yunjin had always had a knack for artistry, creating songs that reflected her heart, songs that thrummed with life and honesty. the way she poured herself into her music was mesmerizing. it made you feel connected to her in ways you never thought possible.

“tell me more," you encouraged, your voice soft, almost conspiratorial. "what ideas do you have?”

yunjin gazes up at the ceiling as if the perfect lyrics are scrawled there. “i have a few ideas, but i’m not sure how they fit yet. longing, love, melancholia… all those clichés people write about.”

“you can’t deny, the best songs are rooted in cliché feelings. if you make it personal, it’ll resonate,” you encourage her, sensing her struggle even if she doesn’t quite realize it.

"and i was thinking," she continued, her voice teasingly playful, “what do you think about an acoustic version of one of le sserafim’s album tracks? wouldn’t that be cool?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “are you serious? an acoustic version of your group’s songs? just imagine! it would be like trying to recreate the mona lisa with crayons.”

"babe, you've been more cheesy and romantic than usual since i gave you that guitar for our anniversary," your laughter bubbled up, unexpectedly loud, and even yunjin paused to give you a sideways grin, atypical of her usual playful self.

yunjin tilted her head slightly, the way she always did when she was curious or playful. “what? you don’t think it would be good?” she asked, strumming a soft melody over the chords. the sound danced through the air, playful yet reminiscent, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow in the room.

“don’t get me wrong, i think an acoustic version of your group’s songs would sound amazing,” you replied, trying to stifle another laugh. “it’s just… i can’t imagine the crowd at a le sserafim concert suddenly breaking into a campfire sing-along.”

yunjin giggled, a sweet sound that melted through the air like honey. “well, maybe we can start a new trend. what do you think? everyone in the pit with their little guitars, singing along with me? come on, you know that would be so cute!" she insists, shaking her head playfully. "and imagine it—just me and my guitar, stripped down to the soul of the song. it could be magical!"

you shook your head, the image making you laugh harder. “oh, i can picture it. that sounds charming, but i think the fans would be a little confused.”

she rested her guitar against the bed and leaned back, her hair spilling around her like a soft halo, and pouted playfully. “you have no faith in me,” she teased, though you could see the warmth in her eyes.

“but wouldn’t the other members of your group have something to say about it? i mean, you guys are known for your stunning harmonies and choreography. an acoustic version? it feels like removing the icing from a cake."

yunjin sits up a bit straighter, that spark of inspiration in her eyes. "but sometimes, we need to be reminded of the rawness in our art. music is more than just the performance, you know? it’s about emotion, connection… maybe it needs a little vulnerability."

you love that about her—her depth, her understanding of art. it’s one of the many reasons you fell for her in the first place. "i’d love to hear your interpretation—just you and the guitar," you say, genuinely intrigued.

you settled onto the edge of the bed, watching her agile fingers dance on the fretboard as she attempted to weave together something more profound from the fragments in her head. “so, what’s your song about?” you inquired.

yunjin paused, a thoughtful expression taking over her face. “well… i’m still working on the lyrics. i’m trying to capture a feeling—a moment, you know? something about being lost but finding warmth in another person,” she said, her voice suddenly earnest. the words hung in the air like a sweet promise, and you found the atmosphere in the room shifting.

“lost but found… that sounds beautiful,” you responded softly, feeling the significance of her words. “does it have a special inspiration?”

“maybe,” she replied, her gaze meeting yours with a playful sparkle. “but i think it might be a mix of all the people i love, and, of course, the moments we’ve shared. the warmth of home…” she patted beside her, inviting you to sit more closer.

you obliged, shifting to sit cross-legged beside her. “well, as long as i’m in there somewhere,” you teased again, nudging her shoulder playfully. “i wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re expressing something sad!”

she turned her head toward you then, her expression softening. “you’re definitely in there. you’re my ‘warmth in the cold.’”

your heart fluttered at her words as you both shared a moment of comfortable silence, each lost in thought. then, yunjin took a deep breath, her fingers hovering above the strings.

she grins, flipping her hair back over her shoulder dramatically. "okay, then! i’ll give you a sneak peek. but you have to promise not to laugh!"

you place a hand over your heart in mock offense. "how could i laugh at my beloved artist? i’m your number one fan!"

yunjin chuckles, adjusting her glasses before strumming a few chords and letting them fill the room. she closes her eyes as if drawing the moment closer into herself. after a few moments of experimentation, she begins to sing softly, the lyrics flowing effortlessly from her lips. her voice wavers between sweet and melancholic, capturing something deep and haunting.

you watch, entranced, as she pours her heart into those notes, using music to express what words alone cannot. with every strum, the world outside ceases to exist; it’s just her and the song—her sanctuary. you can see her working through an emotion, a thought, finding deeper meaning as she sings.

as the last chord fades, she opens her eyes to find you staring at her, amazed. "what do you think?" she asks, cheeks slightly flushed from the vulnerability of performing for you.

"it was beautiful," you say genuinely, stepping closer to her as you sit on the edge of the bed. "you really captured something there. the lyrics… it felt personal and raw. it’s like you took us on a little journey."

her eyes twinkle, and her lips curl into a smile. "you're the best, you know that? i want to write music that speaks to people, that makes them feel something—and if i can make you feel it, then i’m on the right track."

you grin back, searching for the right words. "you’ve definitely got it. just… remember to take breaks. you’ll burn out if you keep pushing yourself too hard."

yunjin nods, understanding. "i will, i promise. but it’s hard when inspiration hits. sometimes i feel like i need to capture it before it slips away.”

“by the way, you should have a concert with that song when it’s ready. i want the world to hear it.”

“you really think so?” she looks back at you, surprise lighting up her face.

“i know so. you have this incredible way of making feelings come alive with your music,” you gush. “these moments, like this one right now? they deserve to be immortalized in song.”

yunjin’s cheeks flush a tint of pink, and she bites her lower lip, clearly flattered yet humble. “you always know how to make me feel special.”

you step forward, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “that’s because you are special, yunjin. you’re an amazing artist and an even more amazing person.”

her face breaks into a genuine smile, and she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you down beside her on the bed. “okay, so maybe i’ll write a song about you after all,” she says, cheekily.

“good! because it would definitely be a chart-topper,” you declare, teasingly nudging her.

together, you joke and share stories as the last rays of sunlight fade from the sky, replaced by the soft glow of the lamp. you find comfort in each other’s presence, and for the first time in a while, the world outside fades away. in this little cocoon of warmth, laughter, and music, you feel truly at home.

“… although an acoustic version of sour grapes would be great, wouldn't it?”

“it would be, yunjin.”

#yunjin #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #kpop x reader

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demigoddessqueens · 2 months ago

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Hi! S9 hopefully your request is open

Pleayd do bg3 witg the like main crew (astarion, gale, karlach, wyll, halsin, shadowheart) and gorthas and minthara

Someone threatibg/attempting to hurt or kill reader and their reaction

Please and thank you 🫶🫶

Heyy Bianca!! 💕

Masterlist 11

Astarion

Everything is happening in slow motion and so fast all at once, but the next thing the vampire remembers is your attacker motionless on the ground. He’s shaking with those ragged breaths and thousand yards stare but it immediately diminishes as soon as he sees you’re safe.

Gale

You see a bright orb of magic summoned against your attacker and then they are no more. Gale is breathless but trying to stay calm, for your and his sake, as he frantically looks you over before pulling you into a hug

Karlach

A raging war cry and axe sunken into your enemy fills you with an adrenaline rush of relief.

“Soldier!! Stay with me! It’s not time for us to know defeat!”

Wyll

He’s skilled with a sword and doesn’t hesitate to dispatch the one who dares attack you. Immediately runs to your side to see if you’re injured

Halsin

You’ve rarely seen a temper get the best of him but the Druid doesn’t hesitate for a second to maul and render those who wish his flower harm. Even in your shaken state, he gathers you protectively in his arms

Shadowheart

Like the avenging angel cleric warrior she is, you can only watch in amazement as your fearless lover defends you in battle, only offering a gentle smile at the first sign you’re safe

Gortash

He’s no longer the dignified individual he once thought himself, all the decorum and dignity stripped away into a fury of a man who has clawed and maimed every inch of the person who tried to get you

Minthara

She is fierce and bloody and protective of you, and this extends as well to exacting her vengeance against some plebe who charges at you

Tries to make light of the situation in a way, “you’re not getting rid of me that fast yet”

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mcuamerica · 3 months ago

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Waiting For You | Eris x Reader

For Eris Week 2024 - Day 1: Bonds | Bargains @erisweekofficial

Summary: Lucien and Tamlin bring Rhys's sister to Eris after Tamlin's brothers almost kill her. Eris finds out who his mate is.

Warnings: mentions of SA (nothing happens), canon level violence, torture, parental death (let me know if I missed anything!)

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears for Eris Week.

Your mother and you were in a small cabin just outside the Illyrian war camp territory, waiting for your brother to show up after his training for the day. You’d spend a week as a family, minus your father, in the cabin. As you admired the river streaming below the small porch, you took in the fresh air. Out in the middle of Illyria, no males to bother you. It was wonderful.

You let your wings spread out, admiring the way they felt as you took in the cool wind. Only, something was off about it. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked around, knowing Rhys liked to play tricks on you all the time. While you were a fully grown Fae, you were still young and he was still teaching you a lot about being alert. This time, you were too late when your mother started screaming. Not in terror but for you to run.

Instead, you walked right back into the cabin only to see Tamlin’s brother, Xavier, with a dagger to your mother’s throat. Before you knew what was happening, another one, Neo, had one to your throat. “Hmm.. you smell devine… I should like ravishing you before I destroy these.. Precious wings.” He sneered. A cold chill went down your spine at his words. Your wings. Mother, please don’t let them take your wings.

“You let her go.” Your mother said. A fierce female that wouldn’t let either of her children get hurt if she could help it. You let out a sob as Xavier pressed deeper into her throat. You scented the blood before you saw it draw from her neck. “Do what you want to me, but leave her alone. She’s innocent.” She said.

“She won’t be for long,” Neo said, a shudder running down your spine as he nipped at your neck. Your magic was still new to you and certainly not as strong as Neo’s. Not to mention, his strength alone could hold you in his restraint for hours.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Your mother growled. A female protecting her young, that was all in your mother’s eyes. Suddenly, you had a terrible feeling neither of you would get out of this alive.

“Oh, we won’t make you watch.” Xavier let out a low laugh. “But you…” His gaze turned towards you just as Neo shoved you into a chair. “You get to watch us gut your oh so loving mother to shreds…”

“Why?” You asked, doing your best to keep your voice from shaking. “Why are you doing this? Rhys- Rhys is helping you!” You yelled. Too young. You were too young to understand any of this.

“Rhysand is growing too powerful and close to our dear brother… so we need to show him just how powerless he is. Let’s start with you.” He said, running the dagger along your mother’s arm in a deep cut.

Once they were tired of your screams, they put a gag in your mouth. And as your mother laid on the floor, blood flowing out of her, you couldn’t bear to watch anymore. But they made you, kept you awake just so you could watch them take her wings.

The things they did to you next were unspeakable. Carving scars and words into your back, around your wings. Running their rough hands along your wings… your body. The only thing they didn’t do was rape you… but their hands on your body… it was terrible.

And then they took their swords to your wings, shredding them and eventually peeling them from your back. Slowly. Their magic woke you long enough to view yourself in the mirror. Bruises covered in bright red blood along your once clean skin. Just hours before, your wings were intact and stretched out in the sun.. but now they were in the hands of your tormentors as they sneered.

“I hope Rhysand sees this message… not that you’ll live long enough to know.” Xavier said, his laugh echoing in your head before delivering the final blow. And then everything was dark.

Something wasn’t right. Eris could feel it in his gut, something was very very wrong. Someone was hurt… he just didn’t know who. Or why he felt this way. Still, he felt a tug on his heart, and he tugged back. Whatever that tug was needed an answering one.

He didn’t know what it was until his brother… the one who had vowed to never step foot in the Autumn again, came stumbling in with Tamlin. And a bloody, broken body between them.

“Xavier and Neo went crazy.” Lucien said. “They- they killed the High Lord of Night’s wife… and this… his daughter.. Rhys’s sister..” His words stumbled. “Eris, she’s barely alive.”

Lucien looked at his brother, the one who wouldn’t take part in killing his lover. The one who he knew had a compassionate side of him. Begged him to help her. If she died… It was bad enough that the Lady of Night was killed.. But a future heir? The High Lord of Night might start a terrible war. Tamlin and Lucien set you on Eris’s table, both peering at him like deer in faelight.

“Bring her in… and go find Renae. Quietly. Tamlin.. I suggest you go home and see to your brothers. The High Lord of Night will hear of this soon enough.” Eris ordered. Tamlin, the young prince he was, stumbled out of Eris’s private cabin and winnowed away just as Lucien went to find Eris’s trusted healer.

“(Y/N)...” He whispered, his magic flowing to heal any wounds. Just as it did… the bond snapped. His eyes widened and he stumbled back, the pain that eddied down the bond was unbearable. How… how were you still alive?

Eris let out a low growl at the thought of those males touching you. Hurting you. Like this. You were so young… just over 30 years old. And yet… they did this to you.

He shook his head, stepping up to you again to heal whatever he could with his magic. His wards rang the bell that Renae and Lucien returned, and he sat aside as he waited for Renea to work.

He told Lucien to go back to the Spring Court, check on Tamlin and not come back. Eris would be in deep shit when Rhys found out where his sister… his wingless sister was taken but he’d be damned if his little brother was caught in the middle of it.

So, he had a messenger deliver the news to the Court of Nightmares, that the Princess of the Night Court was healing in Autumn, too fragile to travel, and to send an emissary of Night to watch over her.

Azriel is the one who showed up, almost knocking down the door in the process. Eris growled as Azriel walked up to the table.

“Step back, boy,” Renae said, looking up from her gaze on you. “If you want her to be healed properly, you will give me space.” She said.

“We will have our own healers assess her.” He replied.

“She can’t leave. Moving her here was a mistake enough. Another trip might be fatal.” She stated before getting back to work.

“Why, Mother above, was she brought here?” Azriel asked, finally moving his gaze towards Eris.

Eris’s lips were a thin line, hiding the swirling emotions… The pain you were feeling… “The heir of the Spring Court found out about his brothers’ plans. Arrived too late to save the Lady of Night, but found the Princess unconscious. My brother, in aiding his friend, brought her here. Because if either of them stepped foot in the Night Court, they would have died instantly.” Eris explained.

Azriel let out a low growl, but paused when he heard a whimper come from your lips.

“I have healed all I can for tonight. She needs rest. Do you have a bed?” She turned to Eris.

“I will take her,” Azriel said, glaring at Eris as he gently took your broken, bruised, and bloodied body in his arms. Eris focused on restraining himself at the sight of another male touching you when you were hurt.

“Second door on the right.” Eris ground out. He was shaking by the time he heard the door shut. “Will she survive?” He asked Renae.

“She will… it will be a long healing process… but she will survive. When she wakes, she will be disorientated. I suggest that Illyrian stay with her, if she knows him well. A familiar, safe face will ease the pain of what she went through.” Before she left, she said she would be back in the morning to check on her, but to get her if anything else happened.

You woke up screaming from the pain. Of course, it was the one time Azriel stepped away to relieve himself and Eris was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. His room. You were in his bed. Azriel, thank the Mother, had cleaned you of the blood. You had bandages in almost every spot on your body, the brace on your arm and leg a temporary solution until Renae could come to fully set them.

Your screams… They were terrible. Full of pain, misery, and terror. Relentless horror.

Eris knelt next to the bed, not daring to touch you in fear he might hurt you more. “(Y/N), you are safe.” He whispered, resisting the urge to cup your cheek. Gods… Your face was still bruised, your nose now slightly crooked from how terribly it was broken.

Then your sobs started as you tried to move, but the pain must have been too much as your body slackened. Azriel burst through the door, shoving Eris aside as he took his place beside the bed.

At Azriel’s voice shushing you, you quieted. Your sobs were soft whimpers as your swollen eyes searched for Azriel’s. Or so he thought… until your gaze landed on Eris.

You couldn’t speak, but the way your eyes slightly widened… The slight tug on the bond he felt… He knew you felt it snap. You knew Eris was your mate. And you couldn’t do a gods damned thing about it.

It took two weeks for you to be well enough to travel. In those two weeks, Azriel didn’t leave your side. And neither did Eris, no matter how many times Azriel said he wasn’t wanted.

Azriel didn’t say that again when you corrected him. “I want him here.” You muttered, your voice still hoarse. No matter how much water you drank, the injury to your throat was a burden. “He’s helping me. I want him here.”

When it was time for you to go back to Velaris, you told Azriel to go outside. Shadows included. You wanted a word with the heir of Autumn alone. So, Az did as he was told and went outside, but kept an eye on you through the window.

“What can I do to thank you?” You asked, leaning against the cain Renae gave you, since your leg was still healing.

“Nothing… You don’t have to do anything. I don’t want anything.” He said and shook his head.

“You’re my mate.” You whispered, searching his eyes. “You have every right to claim me and keep me here.”

“Do you want that?” He asked, a soft look on his face.

You bit your lip, eyes glancing to the floor before you looked back at his face. “I will come back to you, Eris.” You said, reaching up your free hand to cup his cheek. “I promise.” You said. “I need… need to heal first.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He said, a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist. “I promise.”

With that, a tattoo formed around your forearm, and one on his. It was one of flame and shadow, but perfect for the bargain made for mates of Autumn and Night. “Thank you.” You whispered, then gave his cheek a gentle kiss.

You made your way to Azriel, taking his hand and telling him to not ask about the bargain you just made. You would get enough questions about it from your brother. And all you wanted to do right now was go home… where the new High Lord of the Night Court awaited you… and you needed to say goodbye to your father and mother at their burial sites, since you missed their funerals.

As you appeared in the Town House in front of your now smaller family, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you would have to wait to see your mate again. Or how long that bargain would last before it pulled you towards him again. What you did know, however, was that you didn’t care how long it would take. You would go back to him again. You would be with your mate. The male who healed you and helped you through the terrors of pain and loss in those initial days, even if they were now a blur in your mind. You would return to him. And he would be waiting.

Eris Masterlist

A/N: This is my first official Eris Week participation! I'm so excited! More to come throughout the week. I think you all will like it!

#erisweek2024 #eris vanserra #eris fic #eris x reader #eris acotar #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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