#and that was to get Black Knight back in the early days when he topped the armoured meta

[pegasusrightsforall]

I’ve obviously been rooting for an Ike and Soren duo unit since FEH introduced the concept but I can not stress enough that I would pay actual cash for a Soren and Pelleas.

[oharaslove]

La Playlist

summary: You work at a Blockbuster store in Nueva York. Every day is the same, you daydreaming about a guy to come in and sweep you off your feet. To make you his. Will today be any different?

word count: 5k

tags: Miguel x fem!reader, 90's/early 2000's AU

warnings: PinV, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys!), oral f! receiving. Let me know if there is something else!

song:

It was just another day in this awful city, Nueva York. 

Like always, you woke up thanks to your alarm, went to the bathroom, did your routine, and had breakfast, before getting ready for your job. But not as any other day, you decided to dress cute today, show your figure, look nice. You worked at a Blockbuster, nothing interesting. Not a single man worthy of your attention ever crossed the doors of the store, but something was telling you that today was going to be different. 

You picked your best outfit, did your make up and hair and off you were, trying to get on time without messing up your appearance. You were the only working the opening shift, the mornings always being slow, and today wasn’t the exception. 

Upon arriving you opened the store and got to work, placing the movies that were returned the previous day on their respective shelves. Once the work was done, you checked the notebook with the movies already on rent and the dates that they were supposed to be returned. 

After staring at it for like half an hour you huffed. Can’t this day become any more boring? People came and went on the street, some glancing inside, but never coming in. It wasn’t like they were your knight in shining armor. None of the men walking in front of the glass seemed to catch your eye. Just when I dressed myself up. What a waste of time

You continued staring out the window for a couple minutes, elbow on the counter in front of you, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. 

The summer sun was beginning to enter the store, hitting your face lightly. The warmth spread through your body, lulling you to sleep. Trying to stay awake, you grabbed your mp3, plugged your headphones and began listening to music: La Playlist by Emilia Mernes blasting through your ears making you forget about the world around you. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the music. You hummed to the rhythm, losing yourself into it, almost missing the ring of the bell of the door, signalling someone coming in. Almost

That split second could have been the biggest mistake of your life. 

Opening your eyes, you expected a normal client, you know, a group of teenagers looking for something fun to watch, a nerd searching for his superhero movies or a woman trying to find a romcom capable of tearing her away from her troubled/awful love life. 

What you did not expect was a Greek god entering through that door. 

The tall man, with perfect tan skin and brown locks strolled into the store with his hands on his front pockets. He was wearing a black tank top on top of a white one with navy blue jeans. The sun hit his skin perfectly, it reflecting on his huge arms, accentuating his veins. 

The longer you looked at him, the more perfect he was. His face was probably sculpted by all the gods combined, creating a perfect structure. High and sharp cheekbones, a beautiful nose and really kissable lips. 

The guy nodded your way, acknowledging you, but you were too distracted to notice, daydreaming about all the things you would love him to do to you. The brunette turned his back to you, giving you a perfect view of his huge shoulders, his body built like an inverted triangle. 

Oh, how you wished he could lift you up so you could wrap your legs on his tiny waist

You continued admiring him from afar, not even realizing you were biting your lip until you tasted blood. Pull yourself together girl, you thought. It is not everyday that you see a man like this. Time to shine.

Pulling yourself off the counter you tried to fix yourself, tidying your hair, smoothing your top and making sure your skirt was presentable. You took a deep breath, calming yourself, preparing for what you were about to do. You couldn’t mess this up.

You walked silently behind him, aiming not to startle him. He was in the science fiction section. Interesting. He didn’t strike you as the nerd type, but whatever. Your plan wasn’t to engage in conversation, but something else. Something more physical. 

Stopping just a few centimeters away from him you couldn’t decide how to call his attention. Should you touch his shoulder? Or was that too much. You didn’t want to scare him off. You decided to go with a softer approach. 

You cleared your throat lightly, catching his attention. 

The man turned his neck towards you, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. Oh.

“I was wondering when you were going to come and say hi” he said, the smirk never leaving his face. 

His voice was smooth and low, turning your legs into jelly. He turned his whole body towards you, crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. Damn, how you wish you could wrap your hands around them and squeeze them.

“Darling?” he asked, staring right into you. 

“Oh, I-” you said startled. You didn’t think you were staring at him for that long for him to notice. 

In that moment, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard erupted from his mouth. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air. His lips curled upwards, showing his white teeth. You could feel yourself growing hot. Your cheeks burning, your ears, and other parts too, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Ay nena,” he began, after calming down. “You are so adorable.”

He reached forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to calm yourself down and make sense of what he was doing to you. When you opened them back again, his eyes bore into you, a smirk back in his lips. He knew you were his. He had you just where he wanted, and you would let him do anything to you. Anything.

He stepped towards you, making you step back, before he used his other hand to grab your waist, keeping you in place, close to his body.

“Uh uh uh” he taunted. “Don’t run away from me. It is too late for that now.”

You gulped. Oh, the things his voice was doing to you, and he could tell.

His touch was burning you. The skin to skin contact becoming too much, but at the same time not enough. You needed him somewhere else, somewhere you couldn’t reach properly, not even alone in your bedroom, with no one but yourself and your running mind. 

You knew he would make you see colors, but you needed to feel it, to sense it. You needed him to touch you, more than he was touching you now. 

He inched his face closer, the air coming out of his barely open mouth hitting your face. The cologne he was wearing entering your system, like a drug, making you more obsessed of what you already were. 

He stared down at you, running his eyes through your face, enjoying the reaction, the control, he had on you. You couldn’t help but do the same, staring at him through your half lidded eyes, drinking him in, inhaling him, feeling his chest touch yours with every breath he took. 

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, the temperature rising by the second. If neither of you took it to the next level, you feared you could explode. 

The man moved the hand that was holding your chin to grasp your neck lightly, leaving his thumb free to run it across your skin. Beginning on your pulse point of your neck, pressing lightly, making a whimper escape your lips, despite your efforts of keeping it in. 

His lips curled up, enjoying every little reaction he coaxed out of you. His thumb continued exploring your skin, caressing your cheek and continuing on your bottom lip. His eyes were focused on the trace of his finger, amazed at how your saliva coated his thumb. 

The teasing was becoming unbearable, making you act. Gaining courage you grabbed his right wrist, keeping his hand close to your mouth, while licking his thumb, before sucking it between your lips. 

For a split second, his smirk fell off his face, eyes opening, amazed and surprised by your actions. His eyes became hungry, darkening. His left hand grasped your waist harder, squeezing your flesh.

You continued sucking his thumb, moving your tongue along it, trying to not break eye contact, daring him to do the next move. 

The thrill of getting caught made the situation so much hotter, your mind running with all the places he could take you in, the you *wish* he would take you in. 

The man pressed his thumb into your tongue, catching you off guard, making you moan around him, closing your eyes. He used his thumb and index finger to grab your tongue and pull it out of your mouth lightly before moving forward and clashing his lips with yours. 

The kiss was messy, hungry, hot. Teeth clashing against teeth, lips moving against lips, tongues fighting for dominance. You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him being exactly how you imagined. 

He took the opportunity to enter your mouth, exploring it. His hands moved to your head, keeping it in place. One of his hands was on your neck, putting pressure lightly while the other played with your hair. 

Your mind became fussy, the intensity of the kiss pushing all the thoughts out of your head, the only thing on your brain was **him**. Your hands started to wonder, starting at his chest, down to his tone abs and onto his head, playing with his perfect brown locks. 

You pressed your body against him, your tits against his firm chest. The action making him moan in your mouth, making you smile. 

His hand on your head grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you backwards, away from his mouth lightly. You both were breathing heavily against each other, mouths still at each other’s reach. Your eyes were closed, not daring to open them, hoping this was only the beginning. 

“Nena,” he said, breathlessly. 

“Mmm”

“Look at me,” he demanded. 

Opening your eyes slowly you were met with his. His hair was messy, thanks to you playing with it, his mouth merely centimeters away from you, looking plump from all the kissing.

You saw his mouth moving, clearly talking to you, but you were too dazed. 

He pulled at your hair, making you look straight into his eyes. 

“Sweetheart”

“Mmm”

“I said,” he continued. “Is there a better place for us to continue? I would take you right here, but I fear that there are a lot of prying eyes, and I want you all to myself.”

You looked at him with an open mouth, losing the ability to speak. *He wanted to continue*. He looked at you with a smirk on his face. 

“Did the baby lose the ability to speak?” he mocked.

“I-” you gulped, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. “The-there is a backroom.”

“Good girl.” he smiled. “Show me.”

You nodded at the best of your ability with his grip on your hair. He let you go. The second his touch left your body you missed it, feeling empty. 

You stepped back, your hands falling from his chest. Staring at his hungry eyes you could see he was becoming impatient, and so were you.

Carefully, you grabbed his right hand, tugging it towards you, signalling him to follow you. You walked towards the backroom, a million thoughts running through your mind. 

You were fucked, you were so fucked. If another client entered those doors and caught you two in this situation, you were fucked. You would lose your job, and probably no other job would take you. But, honestly? Who the fuck cares? This was a once in a lifetime chance.

You had a Greek god behind you, who was willing to make you feel like never before. Among those thoughts were the things he could do to you. Whatever he did, you knew he was going to be good. 

You reached the backroom closed door. You put your free hand on it, and looked back at him, making sure he was still there, despite feeling his warmth in the palm of your hand. You locked eyes with the guy, before looking past him to the front door, the fear of getting caught still on you back of your mind. 

“Hey,” he said, snapping you out of your thoughts, your eyes staring back at him. “We are fine. I am going to take care of you.”

You wanted to believe him, oh so desperately. You were ready to throw yourself in his arms. The way he affirmed that statement making you feel safe, taken care of. 

You smile shyly before nodding and making the final push on the door, opening it. 

He let go of your hand, grabbing your waist and urging you into the small room, hurrying into himself before shutting the door, leaving the outside world behind. 

“This is much better,” he talked into the darkness, the only source of light being the small gap between the door and the floor and wall. “I wish I could see you better though.” His hand never left your body, caressing the skin of your sides and front, becoming bolder. 

Desperately, you tried to find the cord connected to the lamp on the roof. You needed to see him too, you wanted to see him in all his glory. Reaching across the air you grabbed the cord and pulled, the room becoming illuminated instantly. 

Smiling, you looked at him, finding him already staring at you. He looked you up and down before licking his lips, the action making you nervous. 

He stepped towards you, determination clear in his eyes. You walked back into the table behind you, your back hitting its side, trapping you between it and his body. 

“I thought,” he said, grabbing your waist harshly, grasping at your flesh, making you yelp from the sudden action. “I’ve told you not to run away.”

“Am not.” you said, placing the palm of your hands on his chest, pushing back a little to stare at his face. 

The man smirked, before pulling you towards him and taking your bottom lip between his, sucking at it, making you moan into his mouth. Both his hands were now exploring your body. Your hips, your waist, your back, your neck, every part of your body was being touched by him, except where you needed him most. 

“Siir-” pulling back from the kiss, you whined not knowing his name. *How could you forget to ask that?*

“What’s wrong baby?” he said, caressing your cheek tenderly, far different from the touches he was giving you a few seconds ago while exploring your mouth with his tongue. 

“I need you.” you said shyly, scared of meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” he smirked, his lips brushing against yours, taunting you.

“Mmm” you nodded, not thinking clearly, his smell surrounded you, intoxicating you. The taste of him lingering on your mouth, your brain asking for more, your heart about to explode. 

He chuckled, amused by how desperate you were, but so was he, you could feel it. 

The man grabbed your neck, pulling you back again against him. His mouth coming in contact with your again messily. Your hands, that were on his chest, surrounded his neck, playing with the hair behind it, twirling, pulling, making him moan in your mouth, giving you the opportunity to explore him with your tongue. 

His hands on your body moved to your hips, pulling you up. The sudden movement surprised you, making you bite his bottom lip, making him groan. He placed you on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist, just where they belonged. 

He pulled back hissing, a slight cut on his bottom lip, a bit of blood pooling out of it. He touched his lip with his fingers, drawing out some blood. 

“Cheeky,” he smirked, before smashing his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss. The taste of blood combined with his made you moan. The friction of your bodies was more intense thanks to the new position. You could feel his hard on brushing against your core with every push and pull of your bodies. 

He for sure could feel how wet you were, the only barrier between the front of his jeans and your heat being your panties, thanks to your skirt being pulled up thanks to him. 

His hands fell to your legs, massaging your outer upper thighs, squeezing the flesh, teasing you. His kisses moved to the corner of your mouth to your cheek and down to your neck, finding your sweet spot immediately, just as you two were meant to be from the start. 

You pulled at his hair, making him groan and grind his body against yours, pulling a moan out of you, his hard on brushing against your clit with every thrust of his hips. His lips sucking at the skin of your neck. You moved your head to the side, leaving him more room. 

You were panting now, his touch, his lips, his scent, him, was all you could think of. Your mouth opened and it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your chest rising and falling, as your hardened nipples rubbed against his chest. 

His hands moved to your inner legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. You could swear your wetness was spilling out of your panties and onto the wood of the table. You should be embarrassed, but you couldn’t care less. 

Getting tired of your neck, the man moved his kisses down the center of your throat to the valley of your breasts. Moving one hand from your thighs to grasp one of your tits, making you arch your back, giving your all to him. 

While one of his hands was massaging the skin on your inner thigh, the other was massaging your breast, his thumb caressing your hardened nipple through the material of your top and bra. Moans were spilling left and right from your chest, followed by whines and whimpers begging him to do more, to touch you properly. 

“Sir, please.” you whined, out of breath. “Take it off, please.” you begged, shutting your eyes tightly, focusing on the feeling on his hands across your skin. 

“Anything you want” he answered, detaching his lips from the skin of your chest, where he had been carefully sucking a hickey. 

Straightening himself up, he grabbed the ends of your top, pulling it upwards, signalling you to put your hands up. And so you did, letting him pull the top over your head, leaving behind a layer of clothes between you two. 

He groaned, after tossing your top behind, having a clearer look at your chest. 

“You are so damn beautiful” he whispered, caressing your new exposed skin with the back of his fingers. 

Using both his hands, he pulled the straps of your bra down, giving him access to your naked shoulders. Carefully, he inched closer, giving slight pecks on your skin, moving from your shoulder to your neck, and down to the other shoulder. You shudder, feeling exposed. 

You pulled him closer, grabbing the fabric of his tank tops, slipping your hands beneath them, wanting to touch his warm skin. He hissed, feeling the contact of your cold hand compared to the skin of his torso. You could feel the muscles move beneath the palm of your hand, caressing his abs and chest and back again. He got the message, pulling back from your embrace, he grabbed his shirts and took them off, leaving him topless in front of you, in all his glory.

“Like what you see?” he smirked, clearly seeing your wide eyes and open mouth. 

You bit your lip, and nodded, a smile creeping its way on your face. He chuckled before attacking your chest again with his lips, sucking the skin on top of your breast between his lips, biting it. You arched your back, the feeling too intense, but not enough. 

His hands slipped behind your back, undoing the back of your bra, letting it fall. The cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening further. Thankfully, the man grasped one tit in each of his big hands, massaging them, keeping them warm, making you moan from the friction. 

Not long after, he replaced one of his hands with his lips, sucking your nipple into his mouth. His mouth was warm, the feeling shooting right to your core. You needed him to be down there. You were growing desperate, all the teasing was becoming too much for you to handle. Every second he spent far from your core was torture. 

You used your hands to pull his hair, pulling his lips away from your breasts, while also pushing his shoulder down, trying to signal him to go downwards. 

He pulled back, smirking, looking up at you smiling like the devil, while you panted, looking at him through half lidded eyes. 

He kissed down your stomach, reaching the waistband of your skirt. The man pulled your legs on top of his shoulders, giving him full access to your pussy. Pulling your skirt up, he came in contact with your wet panties. He pulled them to the side, watching the wetness spill into the table. He groaned, delighted by the sight. 

He used his fingers to gather as much as he could, before putting them on his mouth and sucking. Closing his eyes he moaned at the taste. 

He grabbed your panties, pulling them down your legs, before diving right in into your heat. He took your clit into his mouth, kissing it, sucking, making you see stars. He used his tongue, pushing it and pressing at it.

“Siirr,” you moaned, arching your back, you pushed yourself closer to his mouth, and pressed your head against the wall behind you. You used your hands to keep him there, pulling at his hair, pressing his mouth closer.

He groaned into you, the vibrations making you whimper. He moved downwards, his tongue entering you. His muscle moving with experience, hitting all the right places. Your legs began to shake, your muscles turning into jelly, the pressure on your lower belly becoming stronger and stronger, like a ticking bomb, about to explode. 

The man continued to explore your insides, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously, making you grind against him, trying to reach your high. 

He pulled back, out of breath, your juices covering his chin, mouth, and nose. He moved his thumb to press circles against your clit, keeping you in that spot, still stimulating you, but not enough to push you over the edge. 

“Pleasee,” you begged, wanting him back in your heat. 

“Shhh, darling, I got you”

He dived right in, replacing his thumb with his mouth and pushing one finger into your hole, stretching you out. You moaned at the feeling, the pressure on your belly rising. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pushing another finger in, and then another, moving them in and out of you at a fast speed, hitting all the right places. 

“Sirr, I-” you began, but you were unable to continue when a moan interrupted you. Your vision became blurry and your legs began to shake. You came around his fingers and onto his mouth, your body aching into him. 

You shut your eyes, trying to regain control of your breathing. Panting rapidly you didn’t realize the man had stood up, leaving your heat. Your chest was rising up and down still, but you managed to open your eyes slowly. 

Before you, he stood, face covered in your juices, his hard on prominent on his jeans. 

“Do you-” you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. “Do you need help with that, handsome?” you smirked. 

He mimicked your expression, walking again between your legs. 

“If you are up for it, beba” he said, right in front of your mouth. So close you could almost touch his lips with your own.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again, caging him and your arms around his neck before moving forward and capturing his lips in yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan, the kiss growing hungrier by the second. 

Your nails dug at his back, scratching it. You moved your hands forward, towards his chest, running your nails through his skin, feeling the muscles rippled with every movement. You reached the waistband of his jeans, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers, pulling the zipper down. 

While one hand moved towards the back of his head, keeping him close to your mouth, the other went downwards, massaging his dick through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, making you smile for a split second before biting his bottom lip and pulling it. You moved towards his neck, sucking at it, while your hand wandered into his briefs, tugging at his cock, cupping his balls.

He threw his head back, groaning, giving you a good view of his Adam apple bobbing thanks to his hard swallowing. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants, before pulling them down completely, letting his dick free, it hitting his lower stomach, once it came out of his boxers. 

You stared at it, dumbfounded. His cock bigger than you had imagined, you didn’t know if you would be able to fit it in, but you needed it inside you. 

He grabbed his dick, pumping it before putting it in contact with your pussy, spreading your lips with his tips, coating it with your juices. His precum was mixing with yours. 

With one hand on the table beside you, he fell forwards, resting his head against yours. Both of you looked downwards, where your bodies were about to connect, watching him move his tip back and forth, and pressing it against your clit. 

After teasing for a little more, he positioned himself in front of your hole. 

“Are you ready?” He said, looking right into your eyes. 

You look back and forth between his eyes, before nodding against him. 

At your confirmation, he pushed his tip into your hole, the stretch being too much. You threw your head back, shutting your eyes. You bit your lip, trying not to let a sound out. The man latched at your neck, sucking at it, distracting you from the pain of his dick stretching your walls while entering you. 

He grabbed your waist harshly, your walls pulsating and swallowing him in oh so heavenly. You grabbed his shoulders, trying to stay on this Earth, his dick making you see stars, and he wasn’t even all in.

He continued pushing, despite your whimpers and whines, knowing you could handle it. Once your hips were together, you let out a big breath, one you didn’t know you were holding. He lift himself up from your neck, being at eye level with you. 

“Mmm, move.” you whined, opening your eyes slightly, looking at him. 

He nodded, not being able to talk thanks to your tightness. He used both his hands to grab your waist to keep you in place. He pulled back, a small part of his dick leaving your pussy to be pushed back in again. He repeated the movement a couple of times before finding a steady rhythm. 

The only sounds being heard in the room were the slapping of skin against skin and your heavy breathing. His hips grinding into yours, his balls hitting your ass rapidly. The man was pulling all his cock out before pulling it back in with force, hitting your sweet spot every time, making you moan uncontrollably. You scratched his back, trying to sit upright, his movements making you shake and bounce on the table. 

Every now and then he would kiss your lips, before going down and kissing your neck and breasts, overstimulating you. His pace was becoming irregular. He was close, and so were you. He pecked your lips, before resting his forehead against yours, his breath hitting your face with every pant. His chest was rising up and down. 

“Yes, right there” you moaned, brushing against his. 

He groaned. “You-” he whimpered. “You like that?” he continued grinding his hips against yours. 

“Yeah” you said, out of breath, nodding. 

“Are you coming beba?”

“Mmm”

You shut your eyes, basking the feeling of him inside you, him around you. Just all of him. The pressure on your belly was about to snap again, only this time more intense than before. The man let go of your waist with one of his hands to rub circles on your clit. Your legs wrapped around his waist began to shake, becoming loose. You began to grind against him, chasing your high, your breasts brushing against his chest, your nails digging on his back, your moans getting caught by his kisses.

Just when you were about to come, the bell on top of the door rang and you heard the sound of low battery coming from your mp3. 

Snapping your eyes open, you saw the Greek god of a man walking away from the store, after closing the door behind him, making the bell jingle. 

You were in the same position as when he had entered; elbow resting on the counter, chin resting on the palm of your hand. Your mp3 had run out of battery, and all the events of this mystery man made you his, lost with it. The only reminder of that man was the wetness between your legs. A heat that you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down when your shift was finished. Not even when you were under the covers, naked, imagining the man who just left your movie store.

HIII GUYSSS!!! I am so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Honestly, I was soo sick, I could barely stand up from the bed to eat. Anyway, hope you like this!! It is my first time writing smut, so it might be a little rough on the eyes, sorry there!!

Anyway, I based this on the song I linked above. I really encourage you to listen to it! It is in Spanish, but it is really good!!

I hope that after writing this I can sit down and write Chapter 2 of the Soulmate AU. I promise I will finish it, I won't leave you hanging. I will keep you posted about how it goes.

I hope you enjoyed this!!

Thank you @glaciertea for helping me!!

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

King! Eddie Munson but w/ dragons

Pairing: King!Eddie Munson x Princess!reader

Warnings: Eddie is 21 and the reader is somewhere between 18-19, hopefully it's proofread enough, my first 5k I think, very very slowburn, like one creepy old man, a spoiled prince, you get slapped (not by Eddie), your dad and brothers are kinda eh, if I missed any then let me know

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You're of age now and your kingdoms throws a Choosing of the Suitors for you. On day one, a certain king catches your eye.

———

You sat on the far right side of the five thrones. Your mother and father in the middle, both of your older brothers on either side of them, and you on the far right side (if you were to face the thrones). A large dog-sized white dragon with blue undertones lounged across the top of your throne, eyeing the large crowd below with light yellow eyes. Its tail swayed, catching on the frills of your long sleeves.

You were dressed in one of your best dresses, hair done, and subtle makeup on your face. To mimic your big dragon, your dress was white with pastel lilac highlights, an add-on in honor of your favorite color.

You tried your best to sit up right, you really did, but today’s occasion just couldn’t grasp your full attention. You were Of Age now. Suitors of nearby kingdoms and far-off allies were brought to your father’s kingdom and displayed to you by their parents or executives, which were often older siblings, personal knights, or other older family members that were highly respected. But the suitors were either men that were too old for you, way too young for you, or something about them would throw you off if they were in your age group. You scanned over those in your age group, taking in characteristics but mostly how they watched you. Some looked as bored as you felt, but most looked at you with ill intent, never quite meeting your eyes. Your little dragon huffed and puffed at the men, which was your key indicator of which of them not to expect much out of.

You watch the announcer at the bottom of the steps announce the next suitor. You watch as a king and queen guide a boy about your age up the steps and stop on the third step down from the thrones.

“Good evening King Aven and Queen Victoria,” the king of the Morning Hills greeted. “I present my only son, William Hill. He has come of age, just like your princess. As your closest ally, I believe this will bring us even closer.”

Your presented suitor was a tall blond, his hair brushed back and his ice blue eyes scanned over you. He was rather fit, but still, just like others, nothing about him caught your eye.

“Oh yes, King Charles,” Your father spoke. “We are glad you’ve decided to present your recent Of Age son, and we will gladly consider him amongst the others.”

You knew what that meant. It meant that William Hill of Morning Hills was going to be the top most considered suitor of this week, as the Presentation of the Suitors usually lasted all week.

You and your little dragon huffed as you leaned an elbow on the arm of your little throne and smushed your cheek into your fist. You crossed your ankles and stared into the crowd, watching as castle staff brought in tables that surrounded the perimeters of the throne room so that when dinner was ready, everyone sat in the same room.

Four more suitors went by, none catching your eye. Until the fifth.

An older man, maybe in his late forties or early fifties and dressed in black and garnet formal wear led a boy, about your age, up the stairs.

The boy was dressed in king wear, black and garnet colored like the older man. A simple jeweled crown atop his head. A chain necklace adorned his neck, as did thick rings on both of his hands. He had long, dark, curly hair and dark chocolate eyes that seemed to pull you in like tar. He met your eyes, the first man to do so. He gave you and small wave, and you one back.

“Executive Wayne Munson,” The older man spoke. “Of the Mordor Kingdom. I present my nephew, King Edward Munson, son of King Munson. He became king at 17 years of age and is currently 20 years of age. I know things between our kingdoms have been tense in the past, but we hope to renew the trust between our two kingdoms.”

You look at your parents and brothers. They look tense.

Surely this kind looking boy can’t be the son of King Munson. The king that almost caused multiple wars and has killed many dragons in his reign of terror.

“Why aren’t you King, Wayne Munson?” Your father asked. “When you had the opportunity? Why allow a 17 year old kid to become king?”

“He was King Munson’s hier. Rightful to the throne,” Wayne Munson answered. “I would not be fit to be King. And I believed King Edward Munson would’ve done great things for our kingdom, as he has done and is doing currently.”

“Do you have your own dragon, King Edward Munson?” You father turned his attention to the boy, who’s been quietly observing you.

The boy, King Edward Munson, turned his attention to your parents, “King Munson, please.”

Your father stared him down, and King Munson only stared back with a small, sincere small on his face. It took a few seconds before your father nodded and muttered a “King Munson.”

“And I do,” King Munson answered.

“What kind?” You father pressed.

“A big red one,” The king answered. “I’ve raised him from an egg and he’s grown mighty big since then. As you might know, the Mordor Kingdom is known for our rather large dragons.”

Your father hummed, “And your kingdom?”

“Yes,” King Munson nodded. “We’ve replenished our dragon population and as well as have grown the wealth of my people. People live well and have what they need and want. My common folk are wealthy enough for a family of four and a dragon or two. We’ve opened our trades if you would like to discuss that further in the future.”

“Let’s just focus on the princess here,” Your father redirected the boy.

King Munson’s eyes drifted to you and he smiled, “Yes, let’s. I hope she will consider me. I welcome her with open arms and open doors.”

Your father nodded and waved them away. The announcer at the bottom of the steps was already guiding up another suitor and his parents. But you can’t take your eyes from King Munson. You follow his frame as he and his uncle settle at one of the large tables off on the left side of the room, easily in eyesight of you.

Your brother kicks your leg. You glare at him, before looking back at the present suitor. You huff and slouch back down, still stealing looks at your highly considered suitor.

Fifteen more suitors go by. Announcing their families, kingdoms, and whatnot. But none more catch you eyes. And soon, it’s dinner time. Castle staff bring in another table and sit it at the bottom of the stairs to the thrones and set the table.

Kitchen staff come out and line the tables with fresh meat, fruits, bread, and wines.

Your family makes your way down to your table, with your baby dragon at your side. You fill your plate with chicken slices, fruit pieces, and bread. Your wine is filled. You wait until your family’s four executives fill in the empty seats at your table to eat. Your father and mother sit on opposites heads, one brother for each parent and you sit by your father. You dig in once everyone is sat, tuning out the conversation at the table.

You notice your baby dragon is antsy, looking at the tables. You nudge him and give him the go-ahead. He scrambles and off and under the tables and you watched the faces of executives and suitors as your dragon passed over their feet. It’s your personal test of the suitors and a test of the dragons. Whomever treats your dragon best will allow you to be able to tell which suitors to consider and which to toss to the dragon’s pit.

You’re brought out of your survey by a hand on your thigh. You look who it is and it’s your father’s oldest and most trusted executive. You scrunch your nose and pull your leg away.

“No matter who you’re married off to,” He starts. “You’ll always be our little girl.”

You cross your legs and pull away more. You bring your attention back to the suitors, seeing the faces of those your dragon passed by. They were looking at you with multitudes of expressions but most whispering and gossiping to their parents. You went down the tables, seeing who your dragon was at now and it brought you to King Munson and his uncle. A little white head was peaking out from under the table and between his legs. King Munson seemed surprised but not upset, patting your dragon on the head and giving him small pieces of meat. He looked up at you with a look that was asking a million questions. You shrugged like you had absolutely no idea what was going on and smiled. The King seemed to understand what your plan was and smiled back.

It seems your dragon likes him and that told you everything.

“You need to control that dragon,” The executive from before said, distaste on his tongue.

“You’re luckily we let you keep him,” Your oldest brother sneered from across the table.

“Oh yes. Because we can control who dragons breed with,” You said sarcastically. “I’m not at fault for taking away Tungi’s eggs and handing them off to other people like they were stale pieces of bread.”

“You only got to keep that egg because that dragon of yours severely injured one of my trustee’s,” Your father argued.

“Did he survive?” You asked, eyebrows raised. You already knew the answer.

Your father went quiet because, yes, his trustee survived the wrath of a mother dragon.

“What are you considered suitors, princess?” An executive that sat diagonal from you asked.

“Prince Williams Hill,” Your father answered.

“And King Munson,” You added.

The table went quiet.

“He is a tyrant’s son!” Your brother barked. “His father had caused many wars and many losses. It was his choice to separate from the United Kings!”

“And our choice to drive him farther away,” You added on. “And his son, King Munson, wants to reinforce the ties and open trades! And I think it’s a grand idea! And so far, he’s been the only suitor to look me in the eyes and nowhere else, and actually address me when presenting himself!”

“Our concerns should be with allies, not what you want!” Your father growled.

“King Munson is a chance to reconnect with a past ally,” You pointed out. “So I am thinking of your allies!”

Your table went quiet and the horns of announcement broke the tension.

You looked and saw a Castle Staff in the middle of the room.

“As dinner comes to a close, we will start the Dance of the Suitors,” the man announced. “Suitors may find this as a chance to dance with the princess. Those who wait to have a turn will be given a lady to dance with!”

Tens of ladies walk in from the doors and file into the center of the room.

“Each dance will last for 15 minutes and in total for two and a half hours,” The announcer made his way out of the crowd. “Start!”

Just as you got up, your baby dragon, Alioth, scampered over. You told him to go back up to your throne and gave him a little piece of watermelon as a treat for being so good. You watched as he crawled up and onto your throne, happily open-mouthed chewing the fruit as he settled to watch you on the floor. Your family settled in their thrones soon after.

You turned and bumped into someone. You went to apologize but noticed it was William Hill. You noticed how his eyes hurriedly switched from your bosom to your eyes.

“Want to dance?” He held out a hand.

You held in a sigh and took it.

William lead you to the dance floor and walked you along to the sound of the orchestra playing in the corner. He placed his free hand on your hip and kept hold your hand in his other. His hand on your waist was too low for comfort so you adjusted. Then it was too high, his thumb brushing under your breast. So you moved it back down, and it was still too low. You just sighed and settled for that.

“Your little pet paid me a visit,” William noted.

“Oh yes,” You acted like your forgot. “Sometimes it’s so hard to control baby dragons.”

“I remember those days with mine,” William sighed dreamily. “They didn’t last long though.”

You knew that. You’ve seen the way he treats his dragon. You’re surprised he hasn’t been eaten by now.

“I’m luckily to be your future husband,” William told you like he was already for certain to be your future spouse. “I just know you will give me many children. We will just fill up the castle because of how many you will have.”

You scrunched your nose and took a step back to separate yourself from the blond boy, but he took two steps forward, smushing your chests together. He looked down and smiled, but not warmly. You huffed in response, looking out into the surrounding crowd to see if you could see King Munson.

“Looking for someone?” William asked.

Before you could answer the horn blew to signal to switch partners. And you gladly did.

Your next conversation didn’t go much better than William, and neither were their hands.

You went round and round and your head felt dizzy and your lungs felt heavy. Your feet hurt and all noise seemed to mush together by the end of the last 30 minutes. When the last horn to switch rang, you accidentally bumped into your last partner. It woke you from your daze and you apologized profusely, but your rambling was cut short when you realized who you bumped into.

King Munson stood in front of you. He was so much taller and broader up close. He was so intimidating and so inviting at the same time. His curly hair was slightly frizzy from the day’s events and he had freckles dotting his cheeks. His eyes weren’t a dark brown, almost black like you thought before but a warm umber color, but they pulled you in all the same. His gaze was kind and apologetic. It must’ve been the opposite of yours, all wide-eyed and surprised.

“Sorry about that,” King Munson apologized, offering a hand.

“No-no! I’m sorry!” You apologized. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’ve just been dancing for so long- and I’m rambling, sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry,” King Munson slowly guided your hand into his and settled his hand appropriately on your waist. “It’s been a long two hours and a half.”

He smiled down at you and lead you along to the orchestra that’s been going this whole time. It almost feels like it’s just you two in the room once you get going. His hands feel appreciatively warm and respectful. King Munson’s hands have just the right amount of pressure against your layers of cloth.

“I was visited by a friend earlier,” King Munson starts. “And I assume it doesn’t just have to do with him being a baby dragon?”

He knows. And you smile, a glint in your eye.

“Alioth,” You start. “I sent him on a mission. Whomever he likes, I like. A dragon knows, and thus, do I.”

King Munson laughs, “So any suitors catch your eye?”

“Oh, just this,” You trail off. “Dark, curly haired king that’s adorned with thick rings on his fingers and a chain necklace. He’s pretty handsome. He seems nice too. And I hear he has the largest dragons in all of the United Kingdoms. Now that’s impressive.”

“Oh it’s nothing really, sweetheart,” He smiles again.

Sweetheart.

You blush.

“He seems like some guy, huh?” King Munson pushes gently, trying to catch your eyes.

“And I’m glad to be dancing with him,” You smile.

“And I’m glad to be dancing with you,” King Munson compliments.

The horn to end the dancing sounds out. The crowd disperses almost instantly but it takes you and King Munson a moment to separate, allowing prying eyes to see where the princess has gone.

Everyone goes back to their seats and executives, and you back to your throne. Your brothers and father glare at you. Your mother gives no indication of how she feels. But Alioth greets you with chirps and purrs, his wings flapping excitedly. You all settle as the announcer from before settles on the third step up from the ground floor.

“Tomorrow!” He starts. “Suitors will show what they learned during knighthood to show their strengths and weaknesses. Details will be discussed tomorrow. And tomorrow, a new ritual will be added. The royal family and the princess’s dragon will observe suitors' dragons. As previously stated, details will be discussed tomorrow. Now. Suitors and their executives will be led to their temporary stay rooms where they will stay nightly for the rest of this week. Goodnight to you all and I hope to see you all tomorrow!”

Castle Staff fills the room, leading guests to the visitor wing of the castle. Kitchen staff come to clean the tables, and your personal, and your brothers’ personal, staff come to accompany you to your room.

Once to your room, your ladies undress you and clean you up. They fluff up your bed and bring food for Tungi and Alioth, knowing you’ll feed them once your ladies leave. They bid you goodnight after leaving a plate of fruits for you to snack on and shut your door.

Your rooms takes the highest tower of the castle, the top half modified with stairs and a large open room with a large opening in the wall for your dragons to take off form. Being the princess has its perks.

You make your way to your dragons’ quarters, food in hand. Tungi, a large white dragon with oddly shaped spines that go from the back of her head to the end of her tail, meets you at the top of the stairs. You butt heads with her, reaching up to her horns, that curl in. She purrs as you pull back.

You pour the dragon food on the stone floor and let your dragons eat. You sit with them once their done, leaning against Tungi’s warm body. Soon enough, you’ve fallen asleep with Alioth’s head on your lap.

You wake up to a knock on your bedroom door. It’s just after sunrise. And you remember, how did you get to your bed? You don’t have time to think as your personal ladies come in and usher you from bed. They feed you breakfast as they dress you and brush your hair.

Your ladies don’t dress you in as many layers today. Still dressing you nice, but no corset, and with enough airflow for wind to blow throughout the dress. They do your hair so it won’t be too bothersome today.

As if he senses you up, Alioth comes barreling down from the stairs of the dragons’ quarters. Your ladies laugh at him and feed him some of your breakfast. Afterwards, they lead you out and down to the back courtyard, where the suitors are already practice with dull swords and daggers, but mostly swords. You scan the crowd for King Munson and spot him in a back corner, practice fighting one of your suitors. You settle beside your family under an overhang.

The announcers lets his presence be known as he stands in front of your family.

“Today we will be showing off the strengths of the suitors and what they’ve learned during knighthood. They will be practice with dull swords and other weapons of choosing. We will start with one on one and then switch to groups after ten minutes,” The announcer speaks. “Lest, rules! No harm will be permitted. Any intentional harm towards passive rival with result in immediate termination and sent back home. Yeigh?”

The suitors respond.

“Begin!”

The suitors begin their practice fighting, the clang of swords and grunts of men sounding out. You’re at the perfect angle to see King Munson. He’s obviously had some practice with the sword he’s chosen. He’s precise and an expert at blocking, aware of all parts of his body. He dodges and ducks, pointing out the weak spots in his opponent. You notice that the king has tied his hair back, keeping it from making multiple disadvantages on his end.

You watch a mixture of King Munson and the suitors for the next ten minutes. They’re all good fighters, and you hear your father and brothers praise the men or point out weaknesses. You don’t notice your mother coming to stand beside you until she puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I didn’t get to choose,” She speaks.

You look over at her, surprised.

“But you do,” She pauses to look you in the eyes. “And whomever you choose will be a good one. Any thoughts?”

You look at the fake fighting men again, watching King Munson.

“I like King Munson,” You tell her.

“He seems like a good boy,” Your mother says. “He’ll take great care of you. I can’t say the same for Prince William Hill.”

You nod, agreeing.

A horn blows. The announcers says it’s time to group together in previously selected groups. He pauses and allows the men to get together and then gives the signal to begin.

You watch as King Munson, Prince William Hill, and a third suitor are paired together. They start at the signal, hitting swords to show off their area of perception and the speed of their defensive reflexes. It hits about the five minutes mark before King Munson catches both your and his opponents by surprise.

King Munson pushes both opponents back by two steps. He knocks William Hill’s sword from his hands a few feet away and holds his sword to William’s throat, a forced surrender. Anticipating the third man’s move, King Munson, whirls around and knocks into the man’s wrist which causes him to let go of his sword and drop it. King Munson holds a dagger to the man’s throat. They both surrender and he backs off. He goes to help Prince William off the ground, but the blond boy slaps King Munson’s hand away and lifts himself off the ground.

Before the trio can engaged in more practice fighting, the ending horn goes off. The men put their weapons back where they found them and they’re all filed through the castle and into the front courtyard where the suitor’s dragons have been brought out for observing. The suitors and their executives join their dragons.

You tell Alioth to go get “his mama”, Tungi. You watch him as he flies to your tower and comes back with Tungi. Tungi seems to know what’s going on, as she’s heard you talk about this for a couple months now. She looks around the courtyard.

Your parents and brothers go around the courtyard, conversing with the suitors and their companions, but you don’t move from Tungi as you wait for her to move.

Your dragon looks around and sounds out a purring sound. You hear the other dragons try to match it. After a moment, Tungi locks her target on a dragon. She starts moving, and you and Alioth follow. You look and see she’s heading towards a, rather large, red dragon. His horns twist twice and point back, never lifting above the line of his brow.

You look for the dragon’s companion and find a very familiar curly haired boy. He meets your eyes with a smile and a wave. You wave back, and unable to contain his excitement, Alioth gallops forwards and barrels towards King Munson. The king meets your baby dragon with eagerness and pets him when Alioth crashes into him.

You meet Eddie just beside your dragons.

“Hi,” King Munson greets, smiling with teeth at you.

“Hi,” You say back shyly.

“Princess Y/n,” King Munson’s uncle steps forward. “It’s an honor.”

“Oh no, it’s an honor for me, sir,” You tell him. “I’m glad to hear your kingdom is doing well.”

“Yours as well,” The older man says. “But may I ask, what is this new ritual?”

“Oh yes! A couple other kingdoms do it as well,” You start. “The princess is still able to choose her suitor, but it’s important that her dragon has a say too. So this new ritual allows the princess to either confirm her already chosen suitor, which no one else knows about, or for the princess to filter out some of the existing suitors if she hasn’t made a choice.”

“But I hear this princess already has a choice in mind,” King Munson says.

“Perhaps,” You smile and rock back and forth on your heels. “But that’s me to know and you to find out.”

Just before you can continue your conversation, something warm and large nudges you. You look to the side and is met with a large orange eye with yellow flecks in the iris. The large dragon switches sides so he can look at you from the other side and nudges you again, almost knocking you over.

“Woah, Gourd,” King Munson catches you and gently shoves his dragon away.

Tungi puts her own face down beside Gourd’s and pushes him away, purring gently. Gourd purrs back. Their moment of calm is interrupted by Alioth who jumps up and puts his two front talons on Gourd’s muzzle, chirping up at him and talking with all excitement.

“Gourd?” You look at King Munson.

“Like pumpkins and stuff,” He explains.

“Do you have lots of pumpkins in Mordor?” You ask.

“Lots,” He nods.

You, King Munson, and his executive/Uncle Wayne Munson stand under an overhang for the rest of the afternoon, making small talk and people watching. You also watch how Gourd interacts with Alioth, nudging him around and blowing smoke at the youngling as a form of play.

As the sun sets, it blinds you but only for a moment as it’s blocked. King Munson and Wayne stop talking as you look over, seeing Prince William Hill creating the new shadow. He looks between you three before making eye contact with you.

“Wouldn’t you rather come converse with other suitors, princess?” Prince William asks.

“No, but thank you,” You say. “I prefer to stay with my dragon, and she prefers to stay with King Munson’s dragon. And King Munson and his executive are making lovely conversation at the moment.”

“Wouldn’t you rather consider an ally of your father’s?” Prince William presses. “A close ally. One that is more. . . suitable for you?”

“No,” You shake your head. “But again, thank you for your offer.”

Prince William opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by a horn sounding out throughout the front courtyard.

“Suitors!” The announcer that’s been helping announce and organize for this whole week long event starts. “Time to place your dragons back at the visitor stables and head back towards the dining hall in time for dinner. The royal family will see you there!”

“That is my cue, my princess,” King Munson straightens from leaning on the wall. “I will see you in a few, yes?”

“Yes,” You nod.

King Munson grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles before he and Wayne Munson lead Gourd away and back to the visitor stables. You watch them until they blend into the crowd of people and dragons.

You hadn’t notice Prince William walk away, but you shrug it off and go to meet your family in the middle of the courtyard. You tell them that you’ll bring Tungi and Alioth back to your room and that you’ll see them in the dining hall. You climb Tungi’s arm and up you go on your short journey to the dragon’s quarters above your own. Once there, you praise Tungi for her behavior and that you’ll feed her and Alioth after your dinner. Alioth follows you to the dining room and prances alongside you through the hallways. You get about halfway down the hallway to the dining hall before a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you off to the side and out of the way.

You’re met with disheveled blond hair and sharp blue eyes. Prince William. He still grips your wrist as he pulls you closer. Alioth pulls at his pant leg in an attempt to get Prince William to leave you alone, but the boy just shakes him off.

“What is with you?” The blond all but snarls at you.

“What?” You ask, having no idea what he’s implying as you try to pull away.

“We’re supposed to get married,” Prince William starts. “I’m supposed to be your chosen suitor. I’m supposed to be courting you, and you’re supposed to be all over me and so clung onto me that I can barely stand you by the time it’s our honeymoon.”

“Where do you get that idea? Who’s been telling you that?” You’ve had no news that this Choosing of the Suitors was supposed to end in an arranged marriage, if that’s what Prince William is implying.

“That executive of your father’s,” Prince William answers. “He said no matter what that we would be married and it is up to me to court you so it would end that way. But no matter what I do I can barely get you away from that son of a bastard king!”

You try to pull away again, “King Munson is no bastard’s son and you know that! He is as much of a suitor to me as you are! I just happen to be drawn to him very much because he’s very nice to me!”

“Nice shouldn’t matter!” William yells. “It should be your father’s allies that matter! Which is why this should’ve been an arranged marriage in the first place!!”

“Well I’m sorry for choosing someone that I like very much instead of thinking about my father!!” You yell back.

Your face whips to the side as a hand slaps you harshly on your cheek, making the skin hot and tingly. A gasp is torn from your throat and you’re in too much shock to cradle your cheek. Before either of you can say anything and voice speaks from down the corridor.

“Is there a problem here?”

You look over and it’s King Munson and Wayne Munson. You see King Munson speak some words to his uncle and Wayne walks towards the dining room. He eyes Prince William as he passes and disappears behind the large doors without a word. Steps echo as King Munson walks forward.

“Nothing that I can’t handle,” Prince William answers. “The princess was just out of line for a few moments. She needed to be reminded of who her superiors are.”

King Munson nods and stops just before you two, keeping a barely respectful distance.

“So if you don’t mind-“ the prince is cut off.

“I wasn’t asking you,” King Munson turns his attention towards you and waits for answer.

“No-no, King Munson,” You stutter, submissive under the eyes of the two men. “Just- um. . speaking, is all.”

The king eyes your face, obviously eyeing your reddened cheek. His eyes trail over to your wrist, still tightly grasped in Prince William’s hand. It seems to get tighter when King Munson’s eyes lay upon the connection, making you wince. That doesn’t go unnoticed either. He switches his gaze back to the prince.

“Well, as your superior,” King Munson starts. “I need you to let go of the princess.”

“But you are-“

“The son of a bastard does not make me any less king. And king I am, I am your superior,” King Munson says, threat in his tone. “And if you don’t let go of the princess, I will do it for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Prince William challenges. “What are you gonna-“

He’s cut off with a surprised noise as King Munson grips the prince’s shoulder and presses down on a spot with his thumb, instantly weakening his arm and sending him to the ground. King Munson brings you and him a few steps back as you both watch Prince William recover from the attack.

“Run along now, boy,” The king waves him off. “I have some words I need to say to the princess. They’re more important than your. . . threats.”

“My father will be hearing about this!” Prince William threatens as he wabbles his way toward the dining room doors.

“I’m sure he will,” King Munson nods.

King Munson waits for the doors to completely shut behind the boy before facing you.

Alioth, who’s been on the sidelines, bumps against King Munson’s leg.

The curly haired man glances down at your baby dragon and then back to you. He brings a hand to your red cheek, feeling the skin. There’s a small cut from one of the prince’s rings. The king wets his thumb with his tongue and wipes it over the small wound, cleaning it of previous debris.

“Are you alright? Does this hurt?” he asks.

“Just a bit,” You tell him. “It still tingles.”

“You’re welting,” The king notes. “Hopefully it will be gone by morning. There’s a small cut as well from his ring. And your wrist-“

You both look down as King Munson cradles your wrist in one of his hands, turning it over to inspect the redness and the small indents from where Prince William’s fingernails presses into your skin. It looks like a bruise will form on the outermost part of your wrist from the pressure.

“Does your wrist hurt?” he asks again. “It looks like it’ll be sore tomorrow, if not by tonight.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, King Munson,” You take your wrist from his hand and hide it behind your back, away from his concerned eyes. “Do not worry about me. You can do that when we marry.”

“But if I do not worry now, who will worry?” He asks, distress swirling and mingling with the concern in his eyes.

“I’ve survived this long without you, King Munson,” You tell him. “I will survive a few days more.”

A light seems to go off in King Munson’s brain after a moment, “So we will marry? For sure?”

“You were considered,” You tell him. “And as my dragon chose, so did I.”

A big, teethy smile grows on the kings face, “Oh, I would kiss you, my dear, if it be allowed.”

“In a few days' time, King Munson,” You tell him. “But first, we must eat.”

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

DROP THE LORE ON YOUR HOMESTUCK AU !!!!!!!!!!!!111

tcc homestuck au!

im so excited to talk about this holy shit. you guys should ask me for more au content - i have so many aus!

so to start, im following the basic naming rule in homestuck where they have to have six letter names. thats why theyre names will be “misspelled” here.

however, im not following the normal zodiac colors because thats boring. they will also have their natural hair colors because i cant seem them having black hair…

anyways!

ERICCK HARRIS

doomedRebel [DR]

gunkind

prince of time

ericck is a seemingly average bronzeblood troll, however unlike his counterparts he isnt as meek and submissive to their highblood overlords.

he has a mind of his own as theyd say and he isnt afraid to speak it, but of course hes smart enough to not say it so freely.

he has been apart of several groups who tried to start rebellions, but they were quickly brought down. he was lucky to not have been caught, but now he has been putting together a plan with his moirail.

his lusus is a big dog that closely resembles a doberman.

ericck is pretty average height, a little lanky, but seemingly well rounded minus the dip in his chest. he has a short, brown buzzcut thats almost constantly covered by a backwards hat. he always wears a white tshirt with his zodiac sign on it in black as well as jeans and boots.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: dylann klebold

DYLANN KLEBOLD

vengefulVodka [VV]

gunkind

knight of breath

dylann is the lowest on the spectrum, being a redblood, but he seems to get around easy enough.

he shares the same hatred for their system with ericck and it was how they bonded quickly, being moirails since he could remember. he doesnt speak his mind about it as much as his friend, but he still thinks the same way.

hes a little more laid back and calm, but its not hard to get him on edge. him and ericck are very protective of each other and will snap quickly if the other is bothered.

dylann is tall and lanky, not quite fitting into his body. he has shoulder length blonde hair that he occasionally wears in a pony tail, but typically has a hat to cover it. he wears a black t shirt with his zodiac symbol on it in red and jeans with boots.

his lusus is a dog as well, but it more closely resembles a german shepherd.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: ericck harris

ARTYOM ANOUFRIEV

ostentatiousHammer [OH]

hammerkind

bard of heart

artyom is a perpetually sober purpleblood who does not partake in absolutely any activities or traditions associated with his blood color.

his lack of sopor intake though has caused him to constantly be on edge, ready to hurt. theres never a dull moment with him.

he has a large ego and is rather pretentious. he says to not like their societal system, but he only likes it when it works for him. he is a very violent individual, but is well liked by others around him.

artyom is tall and skinny with a blonde, silky mullet. he wears a black t shirt with his zodiac sign on the top corner along with jeans and boots.

he does not have a lusus. his lusus abandoned him very early on, which would mean certain death, but he was able to live on his own and stay under the radar.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: nikita lytkin (?)

NIKITA LYTKIN

dismemberedHead [DH]

hammerkind

page of doom

nikita has an unknown blood color, having kept it a secret since the day he was hatched. no one knows about it besides artyom - whether thats a good or bad thing is up for debate.

he’s extremely introverted and doesnt talk to anyone outside of his moirallegience and typically keeps to himself. hes incredibly self destructive and depressed with poor hygiene.

his relationship with artyom is complicated and toxic. they identify as moirails, but he feels flushed for him while artyom on the other hand is halfway to feeling pitch.

nikitas average height with a skinny body besides the fat that sticks out here and there. he has greasy black hair thats plastered to his head and he wears a black hoodie with his favorite band, jeans, boots, a bandana around his face and sunglasses.

he lacks a lusus as well, having been abandoned early on too. he didnt handle it as well as his friend.

kismesis: none

auspistice: none

matesprite: none

moirail: artyom anoufriev (?)

[astra-aeterna]

first chapter of my academic rivals to lovers au is here!

still have no clue how long it'll end up being because i'm a little insane sometimes but. hey. hopefully everyone else has a good time along with me?

read all 6k words of ch1 below the cut or read it on ao3!

Chapter 1: in my defense, i have none

Feyre stared up at the equation that Dr. Carver had displayed on the projector, then back down at her notebook as she hurriedly scribbled in the given variables and started to simplify and solve it. She wouldn’t have been in such a rush if this was a homework problem, but she was in class with the most insufferable classmate she’d ever encountered. Just as she plugged the last number into her calculator, though, his hand shot up.

“The concentration would be 3.025 grams per liter.”

And, as always, he was right. The exact same digits flashed on her calculator, mocking her. To add insult to injury, he leaned out over his desk to look in her direction, shooting her a ridiculous wink when he caught her glare.

It was only the first week of the semester— too damn early to be getting this worked up over this stupid rivalry. A rivalry she hadn’t even meant to start in the first place, but… well, freshman year had made it kind of inevitable.

~

He had caught her eye in the first week of classes, because… well, how could anyone not notice him? Feyre passed him when she went to her seat at the front of the lecture hall for BIO 100, sliding into the seat that practically mirrored his position— not on purpose, just because it was generally where she preferred to sit: in the front row, to the very left end of the middle section of the room. 

It felt almost traitorous to notice him, considering Feyre was with Tamlin, but it wasn’t unfaithful to acknowledge that this man was incredibly attractive. That was just a neutral observation. (She thought he might be the most beautiful person she’d ever seen, entirely objectively, of course.) His dark, short hair always sat in carefully crafted waves, contrasting prettily with the bronze of his skin. It was clear that he was fit, the strong lines of his biceps and broad span of his shoulders visible even through his shirts. After a few weeks, Feyre noticed that he almost exclusively wore black, neatly-pressed clothes, only adding to his intimidating aura. 

Maybe she should have been intimidated by him, with his dark look and the intense slant that his mouth seemed to be near-permanently fixed in. If not that, she might have been warned off by the dark, abstract lines of the tattoos that wound their way from his forearms to… well, she wasn’t sure how far they extended, but they crept up to the base of his neck, at least. Against all common sense, Feyre wasn’t afraid of him. His eyes, when she caught glimpses of them as she passed him before class, were an unnaturally deep blue, and they shone with an emotion that was far too complex to unpack in a passing moment. Plus, since he was always there before her, she saw his neatly organized supplies, the way they always sat perfectly arranged on the desk in front of him. A single-subject notebook, college-ruled, with the class code, date, and lecture title penned in elegant, swirling handwriting written across the top. A small zip-case of writing utensils containing a fancy mechanical pencil, an art-grade eraser, two different kinds of pens in each of four colors, and matching highlighters. A graphing calculator. His water bottle.

More than pleased, until her eyes properly registered the name two lines above hers. ‘Rhysand Knight — 96’.

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a big deal, but it irked Feyre.

“It’s just annoying!” she’d griped to Lucien at lunch after their introductory psych class one day. “Not only is he perfectly organized with neat and fucking aesthetic notes, he goes and gets a better grade than me, too!”

“Fey, aren’t you blowing this… maybe just the slightest bit out of proportion?” 

“I know it’s just two points, but it’s annoying.”

“So you’ve said.” Lucien was clearly trying not to laugh at her continued insistence that this was a personal slight. She knew it wasn’t, but it felt like one. After growing up with Nesta and Elain, who had been just a little more put-together, just a little bit better, made Feyre feel inadequate.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s my upbringing talking, I’m aware,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as Lucien nudged her shoulder playfully. “But I’m gonna do better than him next time, so it won’t even matter.”

Their names were always within a few lines of each other, within a few points of each other, on all of the following BIO 100 exams. Whenever hers was closer to the top of the page, Feyre felt an irrational surge of pride— followed by a little sting of guilt, for wanting to gloat about getting a marginally better grade than someone she didn’t even know.

But it continued to happen. And when she walked into the lecture hall for BIO 200 to see Rhysand already sitting in the front row, she couldn’t help but groan aloud. Second semester, it appeared, would not be giving her a reprieve. His eyes had shot to her when she groaned, and when she met his gaze, he had the audacity to smirk at her.

She scored higher than him on the first exam of the new semester, and when she took her seat the next class with a grin that was verging on supercilious, he’d fixed those inexplicably enticing deep blue eyes on her with a glare. Even though she didn’t know him, not really, Feyre could tell that there wasn’t any malice in the expression. Instead, his glare had been playful, as if he thought this was all a cute little game, rather than a set of numbers that would determine the course of the rest of her life.

He got the higher score on that final, though, and fixed her with an impish, irreverent smirk, before walking out of the lecture hall. Feyre wrinkled her nose. How could he annoy her so much despite never having spoken to her?

~

Feyre seethed silently, managing to calm down as the class plodded on. She managed to get her hand in the air first about half the time, whether that was to solve another ridiculous practice quantitative analysis problem (this was supposed to be biochemistry, not general chemistry, but it’s a necessary review, apparently) or to answer a multiple choice question about amino acid names. No one else seemed to even try, content to let Feyre and Rhysand answer every single question that Dr. Carver posed to the room.

Not that she minded. It made her look that much more engaged, making up for her lackluster note-taking skills that left her doodling figures in the margins of her notebooks more often than not. 

She was slow in packing up her things, knowing Tamlin wouldn’t be available for lunch for another twenty minutes, and thus got to witness Rhysand being an annoying suck-up.

Or, that was what she assumed was happening. The conversation, despite taking place just a few feet in front of her, was hushed, and she could only pick up a few words here and there like ‘research’ and ‘hospital’ and ‘opportunity’. Between that, and Rhysand’s general attitude, she felt justified in her assumption, and didn’t bother schooling whatever disdainful expression was written across her face when he turned back around to walk out of the room. 

He arched a dark eyebrow at her. “Something wrong, Feyre darling?”

“Drop the pet name,” she scoffed. “You barely know me.”

“You looked… bothered.”

“Yes, by your presence,” Feyre snapped, zipping her backpack shut with more force than necessary. That had been a little too much ire for someone she’d barely spoken to, though, and she had an apology poised on her lips.

There was no chance for her to voice that apology, though, when instead of getting upset, Rhysand had instead laughed. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was delighted by her abrasive attitude. “Ah, of course. See you Friday, darling.”

Her groan was louder than necessary, and Dr. Carver looked her way with a curious expression. “It’s fine, we just— it’s fine.”

“Whatever you say, Ms. Archeron.” The professor eyed her for a moment longer as Feyre zipped up her backpack and stood from her seat. “Whatever it is you two have going on, I appreciate your participation. Though, perhaps you and Rhysand could stand to let any other students answer every so often? They should be participating, too, not sitting back and watching the tennis match that is you and him fighting to raise your hands first.”

“Right,” she mumbled, flushing under the scrutinous attention, even though Dr. Carver didn’t seem mad. In fact, he seemed rather amused by the whole thing. “Sorry.”

“Ah, no need for that,” he waved her off. “Watching you two squabble by answering my questions is far better than staring down a lecture hall full of dead-eyed, half-asleep students.”

“Oh. Okay.” This was getting weird, so Feyre started toward the doors with an awkward wave. “Well, I’ll see you on Friday, Dr. Carver.”

Dr. Carver bid her goodbye, and Feyre finally escaped the near-stifling air of the lecture hall. It was early September, and the heat of summer hadn’t yet receded from Velaris. Still a good ten minutes away from being able to see Tamlin, she took her time meandering through campus. The leaves on the trees hadn’t quite started to turn, though she spotted flecks of yellow here and there, complementing the warm midday sunlight. When the student union came into view, an impressive structure carved of dark stone and wrought iron, she had to fight the urge to stop and take in the view, trying to memorize the angle for a painting.

The dark granite facade sparkled in the sun, contrasting with the vibrant green grass and multicolored flowering shrubs that surrounded the walls. It would have made for a nice subject for her to practice with shadows and shading, she thought. Unfortunately, though, majoring in the sciences left her little time for creative endeavors. Add to that her minor in psychology that barely shared any class requirements with her molecular biology major, and that left Feyre approximately no free time.

Not if she wanted to ace all of her classes and maintain her meticulous GPA for medical school.

She shook her head with an amused huff and started up the steps into the union. Lucien was already waiting for her at their usual table in a relatively quiet, sunny corner. 

He waved her over with a smile. “Feyre Archeron, as I live and breathe! It’s been too long.”

“You saw me this morning, Luce,” she snorted, dropping her bag carelessly onto the floor as she flopped into the chair across from him. “I think you just don’t like not being able to use all the insults you come up with as soon as they pop into your brain.”

“How am I supposed to survive holding on to so many clever comebacks, Fey?”

Feyre shrugged. “Not my problem.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so empathetic to my plights,” he deadpanned. “When’s Tamlin supposed to join us?”

Tamlin. Her boyfriend of almost a year and a half. They’d met at a summer freshman orientation event that he had been facilitating. Feyre knew that he wasn’t the kind of guy who noticed girls like her— he was dressed in simple, but clearly expensive, clothing, his long, blonde hair was perfectly maintained, and he carried himself with an air of refinement that most of the other buffoons at orientation lacked. But somehow, she and her paint-stained leggings and messy bun had attracted his attention. And his affection. 

That’s how she’d met Lucien, too. 

She almost snorts, recalling how their odd trio had begun. Feyre had wanted nothing to do with Tamlin, at first. Sure, he was pretty, but he was a jock, at Velaris University on a lacrosse scholarship. Plus the best compliment he’d had to offer was that her hair looked clean. She’d hit it off with Lucien much faster, bonding with him over their verbal sparring matches, trading snark and insults like it was second nature. So, by befriending Lucien, she’d befriended Tamlin by association, and eventually she’d learned that he was a reasonable guy under the rich jock exterior.

He’d asked her about her interest in art, her desire to go to medical school. And then he’d asked her out. She couldn’t find much reason to say no, not after the solid month that Lucien had spent encouraging her to get to know Tamlin. He was nice, he was attractive, and he wanted her. Isn’t that what every girl looked for in a boyfriend?

After spending over a year together, she could say she definitely loved him. She’d even moved into an apartment with him and Lucien over the summer, one that Tamlin covered the entirety of the rent on, so she didn’t have to stress about finding a job that paid enough to live. Instead, she’d started looking at on-campus positions that would look good on her med school applications.

Plus, living with him meant she got to see him more often, and she didn’t have to worry about walking back to her own dorm in the dark if they’d spent a little too long rolling around in the sheets late in the evening.

“His class ends in…” she checked her phone. “Five minutes. So he’ll be here in ten or so?”

“He’ll want us to wait for him to grab lunch,” Lucien sighed, resting his chin in his hands, elbows propped up on the table. “I’m fucking starving, Feyre!”

She snorted. “Poor little Lucien, he’s going to waste away if he has to wait ten more measly minutes to get his chicken nuggets.”

“Exactly! I’ll be an emaciated corpse by the time Tamlin arrives.”

“Melodramatic bastard. Is there a reason you’re not majoring in the theatre?”

Lucien flashed her a vulpine grin. “Because I much prefer bothering you with my melodrama.” He winked, probably just to be annoying about it, and leaned back in his seat.

They bickered back and forth about anything and nothing until Tamlin’s broad form appeared at the end of the table. He was already wearing an annoyed expression. That was never a good sign. Feyre braced herself for a fight, even as she slipped out of her seat, leaned up on her toes, and kissed him hello.

His hands settled on her waist, gripping tight— too tight, but he was clearly having a bad day, and it didn’t really hurt (even if she was pretty sure she’d find fingerprint-shaped bruises on her delicate skin at the end of the day), so she stayed quiet and let him kiss her a little too deeply. “Hi, Tam,” she murmured, settling back on her heels once he let her go.

“Let’s get some food now.” He grabbed her hand and started walking without waiting for an answer from either her or Lucien. Both of them scrambled after him, wandering into the food court and grabbing their usual lunches before returning to where Tamlin stood in line to check out.

“How is it that I’m already bogged down with work halfway through the third day of classes,” Tamlin groaned. “I thought syllabus week was supposed to be chill.”

“I think that was only true for freshman year,” Lucien added as he slid back into his seat and dug into his fries. “Because my professors are also starting in on assignments and real content already.”

Tamlin just grunted in response, taking a bite of his burger instead. 

“It’s gotta be something with the STEM professors,” Feyre posited. “My English comp professor is the only one who hasn’t started really lecturing us. But in biochem…” She rolled her eyes, knowing she was being overdramatic, but she was still freshly annoyed by her interaction with Rhysand. “I’m already knee-deep in that competition with the same guy from last year.”

“Good luck with that. Academic rivalries can last into tenured positions. Just ask my brother.” 

“Don’t encourage her, Lucien,” Tamlin interjected, placing a hand on Feyre’s shoulder. It was probably supposed to be comforting, but it felt condescending. “Such antics are beneath her.”

Feyre wrinkled her nose, frowning up at him. Beneath her. What a ridiculous notion. She was fucking nineteen and entitled to have a little fun. Maybe even do some stupid or immature shit. Wasn’t that what college was for? And this was relatively innocuous compared to the kinds of things her freshman year roommate had told her about. “Maybe the arguing is petty, but I think that having someone to compete with is a good motivator for my studies. Having more than one reason to strive for good grades is helpful.”

He merely sighed shortly through his nose. “Fine. Just don’t let it distract you. You’re busy enough with school as it is, I feel like I barely see you during the days.”

“Oh, Tamlin. I’m sorry. I’ve been getting used to this semester’s schedule. We can build in more time for us once we get better settled into our routines, I promise.” She really was sorry, but playing it up a little wouldn’t hurt him. Tamlin’s ego was a bit more fragile than most.

That managed to elicit a smile, and Feyre hummed, content with her success in placating him. 

~

Laboratory classes didn’t start until the second week of the semester, so that’s how long it took for Feyre to realize that Rhysand was also in her microbiology laboratory. Just perfect.

Even more perfect? The TA, a grad student named Alis, had a list of assigned lab partners. Just to make sure nobody feels left out or gets into arguments that fuck up friendships, she’d said. And what name followed Feyre Archeron on Alis’ little list? None other than Rhysand Knight. Great. Now she had to spend a minimum of two hours, twice a week, sitting right next to him. Working with him.

He flashed her that irreverent smirk as he made his way to the second stool at her lab station. “Look at that, Feyre darling. It seems the universe is determined to match us up.”

Match them up? Was he fucking flirting with her? Feyre huffed in annoyance, flipping open her lab notebook with far more force than necessary. “I have a boyfriend, asshole.”

“Good for you,” he laughed. Why did it make him look so much better? No, she chastised herself. You hate him. “I meant match us up as in academic equals, sweetheart. Not romantic partners. Though if you’re asking—”

“Don’t fucking finish that thought.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Feyre darling.”

She grimaced. “Can you drop it with the darling bullshit?”

“Such a filthy mouth for a classroom,” Rhysand chided, adopting a look of stern reprimand, even as one corner of his mouth quirked up. 

Feyre fought the urge to groan aloud. Of course he was like Lucien in his ability to goad her into a verbal sparring match. Unfortunate, then, that she disliked him so intensely. A retort was on the tip of her tongue when Tamlin’s words echoed in her head. Such antics are beneath her. So, instead of bitching back at him as she secretly wished to, she sighed. “Yeah, yeah. What lab experience do you have and how do you want to split up responsibilities for today’s activity?”

For a moment, it looked almost as if Rhysand was disappointed at her neglecting to return his banter, but his expression returned to one of bland appraisal before Feyre could be sure. Huh. Maybe he liked the way she tried to best him at any and every opportunity? That idea should have annoyed her— he should be just as annoyed with her as she was with him, right?— but it just made her curious. She still thought he was vexing, don’t get her wrong.

“I started in Amren’s lab last year, but I wasn’t really in charge of the bacterial stuff that’s going on, so I’m not going to be any kind of expert here.”

“Okay,” she said, at a loss for what else to say. He’d admitted that so readily. He also was familiar enough with Dr. L’Adven that he called her by her first name. “I haven’t done much, but I did help Dr. B with the frozen cultures this summer.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “You work with Dr. Bryaxis?”

“Yeah? He’s great.”

“My brother took one of his classes to cover his science requirement last year and said he was a terrifying hardass. Told me not to take his classes if I could help it.”

Wow. Feyre supposed Dr. B could be kinda strict, but he most certainly wasn’t terrifying. Perhaps it was just because she’d only been his research assistant, and not a student in one of his classes, but he seemed to enjoy teaching well enough that it didn’t add up in her mind. “I mean, he’s not the friendliest face in the department, but I certainly wouldn’t call him terrifying.”

Rhysand just huffed a laugh. “I’m so mocking Cass for that when I get home tonight. He’s a huge guy, strong as hell, and terrified of Dr. Bryaxis, but here you are, tiny and slim and… what, five foot two? Yet you’re here singing the man’s praises.”

“I’m not that tiny,” her voice came out in a querulous whine before she could catch herself. “But thanks, I guess? I honestly can’t tell whether or not you meant that as a compliment.”

“I was mostly insulting my brother because it’s funny, but yeah, it’s also a compliment to you.”

“Well, I hope you weren’t expecting one from me in return, because you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

“Why Feyre darling, you wound me!” He brought a hand to his chest in mock affront, gasping dramatically. 

She shook her head. Why was she fighting a laugh when she didn’t even like him? Ugh. This was about to be a ridiculously long semester, what with how often she had to see Rhysand, how often she had to work with him. “Note to self, do not compliment Rhysand at risk of inflating his already oversized ego.”

His eyebrows raised, and that was definitely a pleased smile on his face. Feyre had no clue why he seemed to enjoy bickering and trading insults with her so much, not when her voice almost never carried the undercurrent of fondness that it did when she was snarking at Lucien. “How will I ever survive without compliments from you?”

“Are you sure you’re not taking any acting courses? You have more than enough drama to be involved in theatre.” Funny, she’d said the same thing to Lucien the week before.

“Ah, you think me a worldly man. If I knew more Shakespeare, I would quote him right now.”

Feyre was debating a rebuttal when Alis spoke from the front of the room, saving her from the argument with Rhysand that seemed to be going in circles. When she pulled up a slideshow on the projector, Feyre swallowed.

Sitting next to Rhysand while she was lectured at meant that he’d see her abhorrent note-taking skills. Shit. Lab notes were one thing, but writing down the differences between Gram-positive and Gram-negative bacteria, complete with complex words like peptidoglycan, was difficult for her, and that was the last thing she wanted Rhysand to know. To show weakness was to open herself up to mockery, and she couldn’t stand it if he had more ammunition than just his higher grades on class assignments. Her chest was already tightening with preemptive anxiety that she attempted to breathe through.

And— fuck, Alis had already moved onto the next slide. Feyre inhaled deeply, glared at her notebook, then tried to pick out the most important bullet points to jot down in her elementary scrawl, scribbling half-sentences about cell walls and staining procedures with no real method or organization.

Glancing to Rhysand’s notebook, she saw neat lines of print divided into organized bullet points. A soft sigh escaped her as she rested her head on her hand, giving up on her notes. It was hopeless. She wouldn’t ever measure up to that. To him. It was a futile endeavor. The slides got posted online, anyway, she could just refer to them when she needed the information.

Her sigh got his attention, though. “Hey,” he whispered, nudging her gently. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

He nodded, then jotted down something Alis said about iodine, large hands remarkably precise as his small, neat handwriting began to fill the page. “Feel free to tell me if it’s ever not, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Feyre muttered, dismissive. As if she’d go to him with her problems. He gloated when his grades were higher, he called her darling even when she told him not to, and he was just generally an annoyance. If she weren’t so in her head about how she’d retain the lecture materials, she might have thought more about how odd it was that he even offered to be a listening ear. As it was, she wrote it off as one of those things people say to be polite.

Luckily, most of their lab activities didn’t rely on Feyre’s abysmal note-taking skills. As long as she had copied the procedure from the online printouts into her lab notebook prior to class and filled in the results sections in her packet, she was set. And Rhysand wouldn’t bother her about notes.

He did, however, bother her in many other ways.

Whenever Alis handed back an assignment, he leaned over her shoulder to peek at the number scrawled in friendly blue marker at the top of the page. His large form behind hers invoked a primal sense of anxiety the first time it happened, but her tense muscles relaxed when she caught a glimpse of his dark hair out of her periphery or a subtle whiff of whatever cologne he wore. He’d pulled away when she tensed, oddly intuitive and far more respectful than she’d assumed he’d be. After she relaxed, though, Rhysand seemed to take it as permission to continue being a busybody, and started to make it a habit. “Somebody knows her staining protocols,” he hummed during their fourth or fifth class, peering at the circled ‘100’ next to her name on the paper. “I’ll have to make sure you monitor me while I do mine.”

Feyre looked at him in confusion. “She posts all the staining procedures online. I just copied them down for the assignment.”

“Oh, I know,” Rhysand smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Am I not allowed to compliment my lab partner?”

“Not when it could be misconstrued as condescending, no,” she grumbled. “Will you grab us a refill of swabs so we can get started on the streak plates we’re supposed to inoculate today?”

He nodded and silently made his way over to the corner of the lab with extra supplies, and returned with a handful of swab packets and a shit-eating grin.

“Oh gods,” Feyre deadpanned. “What sort of insane scheme have you concocted up in that pretty little head of yours?”

She realized her mistake as soon as he sat down next to her with an even bigger grin. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“It’s a saying, Rhysand.”

“Rhysand? Come on, Feyre, only my enemies call me that. We’ve been working together for a few weeks now, surely you can call me Rhys.”

Was it worth giving in? Her decision was made quickly: no, it wasn’t worth it. Plus, maybe her continued use of ‘Rhysand’ would annoy him in the same way his continued use of ‘Feyre darling’ annoyed her. She wouldn’t announce that, though. “I’ll think about it. Now cough up your harebrained scheme.”

His chuckle was warm, entirely unperturbed by her flat tone. “Well, Feyre darling, since you seem to enjoy competing with me— or rather, beating me in these imaginary competitions— so much, I figured we could motivate each other. That’s what a good lab partner would do, no?” He looked at her with those stupidly pretty eyes, reflecting almost purple in the warm light of the lab. Ugh. What gave him the right to be so fucking annoying while still being attractive? Or, probably more apt, what gave him the right to be so attractive and also horrifically irritating? Either way, Feyre probably shouldn’t admit to finding him attractive, even if it’s objectively true. It was easy enough to ignore when he was bothering her. Wait— imaginary competitions? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? She’d just parted her lips to ask when Rhysand continued speaking, and let the question fizzle away. “Why don’t we see who can get the best isolated colonies from a quadrant streak plate?”

Her brows raised.  It was actually a pretty smart idea, much as she hated to admit it. “That’s only going to be an active competition for the next week or two.”

“Well, then we find something to move onto after that. I hear acid-fast stains are hard to perfect.”

Feyre drew her lower lip between her teeth as she thought it over. He was right. The competition did motivate her; she’d defended her stupid rivalry with him to Tamlin using that exact reasoning. And it was more fun than just trying to get a good grade. Cauldron forbid he ever found out that she thought this was fun; she’d never hear the end of it. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment. “You’re so fucking on.”

~

“—and I’m actually going along with it, which is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever agreed to, but as much as I hate to admit it— and I really, really hate to admit it— he’s right. It’s a good motivator!”

Lucien sighed in amusement from his spot on the couch, untangling and rebraiding his auburn hair as if he was entirely unbothered by Feyre’s near shouting rant. “Why haven’t you just made friends with him yet?” His good eye tracked her as she paced across the floor of their living room.

“Because!” She huffed, about two seconds away from throwing her hands up in the air. “He’s arrogant, and annoying, and he thinks me being mad and competitive is funny—”

“Okay, but it is kind of funny,” he interrupted. One hand extended out, gesturing at her current state. “You’re pacing and ranting about the fact that he’s being lighthearted about this whole thing.”

“Have I mentioned that he insists on calling me Feyre darling, Lucien? Because that’s pretty fucking irksome.”

Of course, that was the moment that Tamlin turned his key in the door and stepped into the apartment. Feyre could hear the telltale sounds of his shoes being kicked off, and she stilled, waiting to assess his mood. Lucien, too, had stilled, the smile gone from his face, whatever comeback had been on his tongue silenced.

Tamlin’s piercing green eyes locked on Feyre, striding quickly to her side. “Who the fuck is calling you darling?” His voice was dark, rough, possessive— and not in a cute or sexy way. “And why, Feyre, are you letting him?”

She swallowed, fighting the fear that tried to rear up within her. This was Tamlin, her love, her partner. He wouldn’t hurt her, no matter how annoyed he was. She just had to explain the situation, and he would understand, and calm down, and things would be okay. “It’s the guy I told you about, the one I have the whole competitive rivalry with?” Looking up at her boyfriend revealed that his eyes were still dark with either suspicion or jealousy, and narrowed as he scrutinized her. “And I’ve told Rhysand to stop, but I don’t control the words that come out of his mouth. If it wasn’t clear, I hate it as much as you do.”

“Hold on, it’s Rhysand you have this weird thing with? Rhysand Knight?”

Well, Feyre seemed to have incredibly misjudged the situation. He was not calming down. In fact, he appeared even angrier than he had moments before, eyes darkening; none of the glimmer she loved so much remained inside his verdant irises. 

Why the hell did he have such an issue with Rhysand? Did they somehow know each other? This may not have been the best time to ask, but she’d always struggled a little bit with the art of holding her tongue. The feud she had with Rhysand was just one example of that.

“Yeah? Do you know him or something?”

“Or something,” Lucien muttered.

Tamlin turned to him, his long hair falling over his shoulders. “Did you know it was Rhysand this whole time?”

Lucien blinked, clearly searching for the right set of words: ones that won’t set Tamlin off. “No. I found out just now, same as you. I don’t know how she managed to shit-talk him for a whole year without mentioning his name, but—”

Shit. Feyre tried to subtly slice her hand across the front of her throat in a clear ‘shut-the-fuck-up’ gesture, but her friend didn’t cut himself off in time. At least Lucien looked contrite as he finally snapped his mouth shut and cringed at her in apology before he made himself scarce. 

“Were you trying to hide this from me, Fey?”

“No, of course not!” 

He sighed, removing the hand that had been on her shoulder, and moved to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. She felt like a child being reprimanded, and that ate at her. She wasn’t a child, and Tamlin wasn’t entitled to every single detail of her life. “Then how the hell did you just so happen to never mention the fact that your rivalry was with Rhysand, of all people, until just now?”

She fought the urge to scrunch her brows, knew it would make her look like the petulant child he was treating her as, especially with her arms crossed as they were. “I didn’t know you even knew of him, Tam. This is a huge school, with students from all over Prythian. International students, too. I didn’t think that naming him would mean anything to you, especially with how much you hate when I talk about our rivalry.”

His face softened, her handsome boyfriend emerging from the shell of anger that had encased him since he walked in the door. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Feyre, I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. I just— he’s not a good person, my love. I don’t trust him.”

“Not a good person? In what way?”

Rhysand had never struck Feyre as being dangerous or manipulative. Sure, he was arrogant, with his good looks and incessant flirting. He was definitely intimidating, with his lithe, muscular build, broad shoulders, and those dark, abstract tattoos. And he was definitely really fucking annoying. 

“It’s complicated, honey. Just… can you trust me on this? Please?” Tamlin brought a large hand up to cup her cheek, sweet and gentle. Feyre softened.

“Of course I trust you, Tam. I’ll be careful, okay?”

He made a low noise in his throat that sounded like a growl, but seemed to catch himself. “Okay. Okay. No talking to him outside of class or any more than necessary, though, right?”

“Of course,” Feyre nodded.

With that, their argument seemed to end. Tamlin gently tilted her face up towards his and bent down to kiss her. She melted into the warmth of his lips, letting him mold her with his hands. This was always how they came back together after any spats. He took what comfort he could from her body, a reassurance that always seemed to do far more than words to earn his forgiveness. Feyre didn’t blame him for it. Her body had always been able to speak better than anything else. Vocabulary got tangled in her mouth, and she had a horrible habit of speaking faster than she thought. Her body had no such issues, always eagerly responding to Tamlin’s touch, showing him how willing she was, proving her love for him.

She leaned up on her toes to get a better angle, spine arching as Tamlin pressed her body into his with a palm splayed at the small of her back.  They didn’t need words at all after that. Tamlin’s teeth and lips and tongue spoke plenty, nipping and licking and sucking down her body, as if he could taste her expiation on her skin.

Before long, Feyre lost track of why they had even been arguing in the first place. When they fell into her bed, when his fingers plunged into her, when his cock dragged pure ecstasy from the core of her being, Tamlin’s name was the only one on her lips.

It was late at night by the time his words came back to haunt her.

Tamlin had slipped back into his own bedroom after he finished, as usual. It had stopped hurting a while back— he just needed his own space, and Feyre couldn’t begrudge him that. For a long while, she just stared at the dark ceiling, tracing the beam of moonlight that sliced through the room. 

He’s not a good person. I don’t trust him.

Why, though?

This wasn’t the kind of thing Feyre could just take at face value. Not when she had exactly zero evidence to back it up for herself. Tamlin didn’t have a reason to lie to her about it, either. Not that she knew of. 

Clearly it wasn’t the kind of thing that she could easily bring up to Tamlin again, though. She groaned softly, frustrated, and turned to lay on her other side. “I still have to work with him.” Her complaint echoed in the silky darkness that blanketed the bedroom. 

Gods, why did this all have to be so fucking complicated?

[silvvermst]

GIVE YOU THE WORLD

SYNOPSIS :: you accidentally riled up a school bully and guess who decided to make an appearance, that white knight nerd from your Science class.

NOTE :: trying a grumpy x sunshine oneshot? black cat and orange cat oneshot? idk i’m just trying (this is long af and ngl I'm tempted to make this a series)

TYPE :: fluff

It was a warm afternoon and the school bell rang early, which gives time for the students to spend their leisure time. But of course, your professor has to be a real dick and make your whole class create a project and pass it the very next day.

So here you are now, in the library hoping that you can get started on how your project is going to be, where the sun has already gone down and you're needing just one more book to search through the shelves. At least it was peaceful here in the library, that was until small moans and groans had been echoing at the very back of the library, away from the librarian's desk.

“You gotta be shitting me.” You muttered under your breath. Walking away was your option, until the guy started talking. Wait a fucking minute, that's Juliet's boyfriend.

You should have minded your own business, but she was your friend. It would be devastating to find out through your friend about your boyfriend's betrayal, but sitting around and doing nothing might be even worse.

You grab your phone from your pocket and without hesitation, took a picture. The only mistake was why the hell is your flash on to begin with?!

Both of them looked up and they saw your head popping from the side of the shelf.

The bliss on their face was replaced by rage, he pushed away the girl on top of him and quickly dressed up. “Give me you fucking phone.” The mean aura around him makes you step back as he steps closer.

“No the fuck I won't.” You were preparing for a sprint when he caught your arm, digging his nails onto your skin leaving moon crescent marks.

It stings but you try your best to get him off of you. It all happened so fast, when a fist swung at the guy's face. He immediately lost his balance while the person who punched him curled into a ball from the searing pain in his hand that swung at Zachary.

“What the heck is wrong with you?” You muttered, looking back and forth at the two idiots who were yelping in pain.

The girl he was with already fled away, but you stood there debating whether to help the poor guy, not Zachary, but the other who looks like he's the one who's been punched.

“Fuck! What's up with your face? Ow!” The stranger groaned as he cradled his stupid hand to his chest.

Zachary had already stood up straight and immediately followed-up a stronger punch right into the guy who punched him first. The impact of Zachary's punch on his face made him stumble against the bookshelves that made the books fall on the wooden floor with loud thumps.

Finally! The librarian made their way to the scene and let out a shriek, guess the books were more important than the guy who had his face punched. You saw how the librarian finished putting back the fallen books to its shelves, and looked at the three of you.

“They did it, Zachary Riggins has been fucking a new girl here in your library.” You voiced out, taking the initiative to blame Zachary. “It's distracting since they're getting louder, we're only here to inform him to get out.”

The librarian raised their eyebrow that looks like they're doubting your story, and took a look at Zachary with his messy shirt and hair, with pants undone.

“Mr. Riggins, come with me to detention, you too.” They said pointing at you. Come on, you really don't have time for this shit.

“I, uh, I will. After I, I helped him to the infirmary.” I said, going to the stranger who has his hands on his face, still sitting on the floor. “He was punched by that asshole for helping me since I was being harassed by Zachary.”

The librarian took a moment before nodding their head, “Fine, then you and Mr. Graham go straight to detention, understand?”

You nodded, and watched them disappear between the bookshelves. You turned your head to the stranger, who was still in the same position.

“You shouldn't have involved yourself if you can't take a punch.” You said, and nudged him with your foot to stand up.

“Mhm... my vision is blurry.” His voice was full of pain.

You winced the moment he lifted his head, a dark violet has been spreading around his right eye. “Come on, get on your feet. I'll help you.” Your patience was running thin when he didn’t move an inch, so all you did was slumped down the floor and sat beside him. “What are you even doing here? I thought students get to roam free since we’ve all had early dismissals.”

“Uh, just like you. I'm preparing for my project in our Science class.” His answer was still weak but he looked at you when he felt your warmth.

“What do you mean?” You connected two and two together, so he was actually your classmate. “Oh, are you new?”

His brows furrowed like what you said was weird, and from his point of view, it definitely was.

“I have been your classmate for a year... you, you never noticed?” The tone of his voice changed and his expression was dejected. As you quickly looked away because of the guilt building inside of you. “I even passed you my notes when you said you forgot yours.”

You tried to remember the times where you talked to him in class, tried even harder the time you saw him in your class! But nothing comes to mind, it was as if he was invisible to begin with.

“Can't remember.” You bluntly say, before adding up, “Now, get up, I'll take you to the infirmary.” Holding out your hand towards him.

His expression was still like a hurt-puppy and your words added salt to his wound, but he won't miss an opportunity to hold your hand so he took it without questions.

“Jesus, if you've been punched in your left eye as well you'd look like a panda.” There was coldness in your voice yet the moment he snickered you couldn't help but chuckle.

“I'd love to be a panda if it means you won't get hurt.” He says, and you'd be deaf if you say you didn't hear it. It was plain and clear, but you decided not to ask anything about it.

In just half a minute, you were in front of the infirmary. Opening the doors and helping him to get inside as he only has one good eye, his right has already closed. The infirmary was quiet as always, but this time it was too quiet. Calling out to the nurses in charge, no one greeted you back.

“Shit!” Cursing to yourself, before looking back at him. In his pitiful state, he’s in one of those sofa chairs that are placed near the wall. “Hey, come on. Let’s put you to bed.” All he did was to nod.

You helped him reach the end of the bed before collapsing into it, “Wait for me, I’ll grab some ice.”

You quickly left his side and went to the desk of the nurse’s station, you saw an empty ice bag and searched for a freezer to fill it with ice. Then, returning to his side you poked him in the arms. “I’ll put the ice bag in your eyes, ok? It will reduce the swelling.” But it looks like he was already sleeping the pain off when he didn’t respond and so you leaned over and put the ice bag on his eyes, and another on his knuckles that landed on the jerk's face. After your job was done, you were planning to leave and head to detention by yourself but he uttered your name.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Mhm. I was almost asleep. But I heard you walking away, didn't the librarian tell you to go to detention with me?” He said, his eyes still closed.

“Well, obviously, you can't do detention right now given your situation.” You explained with your finger pointing at the ice bag. “It's best if you rest here.”

He pushed himself to sit up at the hospital bed, taking the ice bag off of his face. “Look, I'm fine.”

The bruised eye was still twitching and the color of it stays the same. “Don't be stupid. You're not in a good condition–.”

“Fine.” He said as a sigh, prolonging the syllable. “At least, stay here, please. I got hurt because of the jerk.”

“Ha! Not my problem, I didn't ask you to do shit.” You coldly responded, being aware how he's using his current state to make you stay. Why would he even want you to stay? You barely know him.

But he knows so much about you.

“Please, just until I fall asleep or the nurse comes back. I just want to talk to somebody.” He pleaded, gosh, his pitiful state just added an effect for his puppy-dog eyes.

“You're so sensitive.” Only a small laugh slipped out of your lips as you massaged your temples with your index and thumb.

“Ouch! That sounds awful the way you say it.” He added, that only turned your small laugh into a giggle. “It's just, I never thought that I would be so invisible that you wouldn't notice me.”

Again, the guilt creeped in that you rethink about the times you took classes together. Were you so out of your system that you have passed a year without interacting with anyone, well, aside from your circle. But they were all in different classes and you don't share one with them, you figured that circle of friends was enough and you don't have to interact with anyone.

But you stayed quiet, letting him continue his sentence, “You belong with the Vortex, so I knew you were trouble when I first saw you in our class. Yet the days go by, you weren't really like them. Sure, Nathan was an asshole through and through. Victoria will make you a laughing stock on her blog. Yet you, you don't push people to their limit or crush them beneath your status and wealth. You're just, you just don't care.”

He talks as if he knows everything about you, that it made you step back. “Shit, are you a private investigator? I don't need a character analysis right now, Mr. Graham.”

“You know my name?!” You were surprised by how he almost jumped out of the bed.

“Be careful! You can get really hurt from your stupidity. And no, I don't, I just heard the librarian mention it.”

“Aw..” He sulks going back to slumping against the pillow on his hospital bed.

“But since we got in this situation, we might as well get to know each other, propely.” You suggested, to lessen the fact that you don't remember a bit of him.

“Right, I'm Warren Daniel Graham, just Warren is fine.” In turn, you told him your name even though he has already muttered it a hundred of times in his mouth. Loving the way your name rolls off his tongue.

“Did you know that we first met in the hallway, in your locker. I think you were talking to Victoria about how you'd be her next model.”

“Ah, yeah, I modelled for Victoria once. I think that was a year ago. And, a guy,” You stopped mid-sentence, that memory of yours when a guy accidentally did something stupid. “Holy shit! You're that guy who threw his dissected frog at Victoria!” You said your hands were throwing in the air.

“Accidentally.” He corrected, “Ever since then, I feel like I've been part of the Vortex's Kill List.”

You can't help but laugh out loud, replaying the memory that was once buried. Seeing the reaction of Victoria made you speechless at that time, as for the guy, well, Warren, his dimwitted expression only added to the fuel that was bound to explode from Victoria. You can still vividly remember how she slapped Warren, hard, then walked away and grabbed you in the process.

“Oh, shush, I convinced them not to. Nathan was ready to make you regret coming here, but I just told them that no one took a picture and the issue was already gone.” You explained to ease his worries.

“Shit, thanks to you, I'm still alive to this day.” He smiled, fuck, he looks so adorable with that grin.

“So we're even now.” You commented, you didn't even notice you already sat down at the foot of the bed and laughed at how the conversation was flowing so easily. Being comfortable with anyone that fast was never really your thing, it took a lot of time before you can show your true colors to someone else.

You noticed the fatigue in his eyes and how it slowly crept into his body, taking it over and how his muscles loosened.

“Don't go.”

“I won't, silly. I promised I'll go when you're fast asleep.” He nods, still trying to fight off the weariness.

It wasn't long before he is fast asleep, he looked more peaceful and you knew it was time to go.

“Oh my! I'm sorry I took my break too long.” A nurse appeared when you hopped off the bed.

“It's alright, he's just resting. He got the black eye from a fight.” You explained, grabbing your bag on the bedside table. “Please, take care of him.”

With that, you quietly walked away and went to detention. Just your luck.

[noisyquokka]

Headcanons for Jisung and reader taking our cutie patootie little cousin out trick or treating? 👉👈🤧

Ohhhohohoo, do not get me started bestie! || GN!Reader || WORDCOUNT - 1080

Masterlist

spooky season starts somewhere around the last week or two of September

which means your little cousin is already listing off the different things she wants to be for Halloween

it's like this every year, but since Jisung absolutely folds for the little tyke, he will sit with her on the couch and start having a whole-ass convo about costumes

"A fairy warrior dragon princess?!" He'd balk back, eyes comically wide as she hides her face with her hands and shakes her head

"No!! A fairy dragon warrior princess!"

yes, yes, you must get the title right!!

you've made her costumes ever since she started going trick-or-treating, so you're more than ready to take on her mighty requests

Jisung will too, of course! Even if he knows nothing on the topic of sewing or crafting costumes

he's good with being an assistant; taking measurements and pinning fabrics, keeping the little menace occupied when you need to really focus

when the day finally comes, your little cousin is wearing the costume All. Day. No ifs, ands, or buts about it!

doing her makeup is a chore when she's so excited and happy with the way her costume turned out

You need Jisung to hold her while you add little dragon scales to her face, near her temples and her cheeks. Little freckles over the expanse of her nose for the whimsy fairy look

it takes you like 45 minutes just to do that with a squirmy 6-year-old, but she's even more giddy at the final product so it's worth the struggles

you and Jisung are also in character, it's only fair that you two choose to be the side characters to the main character, so naturally, Jisung wanted to be a knight; fiercely protecting his little princess from the evil ghouls and spooks in the shadows of her kingdom.

you were to be the spell caster, upon your little cousin's request

"We need a healer, and if you have magic it means you can heal anyone who gets hurt real bad!"

you couldn't argue there! So now you both stand in your garbs...

Jisung with his shield and sword, wearing a flowy top that's tucked into thrifted navy slacks that you added some little charms to. Black calf-high boots. And of course, his crown that your cousin insisted on since he's always the King in her eyes

and you with your cloak draping your shoulders, hiding the wares that cling to the belt around your waist beneath. shimmering makeup - again, upon your cousin's request, "You gotta look super cool or nobody will believe you're a big, bad healer!"- and fangs because... obviously it's for the coolness factor

you leave the house around 6pm because your sub-division starts handing out candy early for the youngsters

your little cousin is much less the concoction of chosen fantasy characters and very much a jumping bean as she scuttles down the sidewalk

Jisung is consistently trailing behind her, reminding her not to run too far ahead, to which she replies that she's part dragon and nothing can take her down when she breathes fire

"But your costume is blue and green, Princess!" Jisung says, and you grin at the way he holds himself, a gloved hand settled upon the handle of his sheathed sword

always in character, he is...

"I'm a dark dragon so I breath blue fire! It's important for the story, Sung-Sung!" She calls over her shoulder, racing towards the first house on the block

yells the loudest trick or treat on the block at every door

asks everyone if they like her costume and that it's custom made. She's so proud when she tells people she came up with it

she tells everyone she comes across about how she became a fairy dragon warrior princess, and the important info that she thought up in her character backstory and lore

sometimes she's so excited that you and Jisung have to remind her to say thank you for the candy

or one of you say it for her if she's already racing to the next house

after an hour of chasing her, Jisung is picking her up when he's getting tuckered out

she whines until he mentions a piggy back ride, those brown eyes are sparkling with joy at the prospect

jokingly uses his shield as she clings to his neck

giggles for days, right there

thirty minutes goes by and suddenly she's asking if she can have a piece of candy

so you take the time to stop, let her pick out her choice in candy, and open it to check for any tampering before she's able to pop it into her mouth

cue the happiest little wiggles as she scampers off to the next house

cue you and Jisung racing after her, exasperated by her antics

you're questioning how 6-year-olds are so fast with their short little legs like wtf

by 8pm, she's getting tuckered out from her running about and you're almost through the entire sub-division

you three finish the last six houses, minus one that's already lights out for the evening, and make your way back to your house with a hefty bag of candy

she gets too tired, so you pick her up for the walk home

Jisung takes the bag of candy, promising to protect it from any sneaky hands

a nap is enough to suffice her on the walk home and once you're back, she's asking for more candy

so again, you sit down in your costumes while your little cousin spins around in her little dress with the dragon tail out the back to go through the candy that could've been tampered with

every piece that's checked is placed in a Halloween bowl that's in her reach, and she sticks a tiny hand in to grab for her favored goodies

"Not too many, now! You'll be bouncing off the walls all night!" You tell her, and she hands you one of your favored candies like it'll butter you up into letting her have free reign of the candy bowl

it doesn't...

okay, three candies turns to five...

but that's it!

once you and Jisung finish going through the candy, you all get out of your costumes and freshen up, slipping into some cozy pajamas

you end the night by watching one of her favorite Halloween movies, all cuddled up on the couch with some snacks and definitely not some extra candy

Requests are open! 💛

[kharmii]

Here me out, -I spent a bunch of time thinking about this at work- but I think that Julius Novachrono gave Captain Yami a nudge to recruit Zora Ideale to the Black Bulls. He didn't come right out and order him to, but this is how it went down.

-So in an act of savage evil, a member of the Purple Orcas murders Zara Ideale because he's a commoner not knowing or caring that he's a single dad with a son who is now an orphan. Julius knows about Zora and even says, "Is that...?" when the child runs by him while he's visiting Zara's grave.

Despite knowing about the existence of Zara's son, Zora slips through the cracks and has a tough childhood. Revenge fantasies are constantly cycling in his thoughts throughout the years, and he is clever like his dad focusing on traps that use others' power against them while honing his magical technique. When he's in his late teens, he seeks revenge on the people who killed his father. While he successfully injures them, there's blow back that severely injures his face. It's unclear the details, (because I haven't fleshed it out in my mind) but it could be that his Uno Reverse Card spell got messed up causing some of the attack against him to get through that burned his lower face and neck. It could be a spell went wrong forcing him to draw runes on his own body spur-of-the-moment which caused him to injure himself. IE: His ash nature almost made himself ash.

Either way, he ended up injured on the point of death, and only an accidental tapping into forbidden magic saved his life but left him disfigured and forced to wrap part of his face, neck and chest to hide it. Years go by, and he gets better at exacting his revenge without any pain coming back on him. He is really, really careful and will only attack when he's 100% sure of success. He's very grounded in reality and has a good concept of his own mortality after that traumatic incident where he almost died.

Fast forward to Zora's early twenties when he has violently put a lot of corrupt magic knights in their place. Since anyone has since failed to apprehend Zora, complaints about a vigilante eventually get to Marx and through him, the Wizard King. The corrupt magic knights don't want to admit they were targeted for being dirty, so they frame it like they were approached by a male prostitute in a slutty little crop top who offered to turn tricks for cash. When they refused -they are pure magic knights who would never give into such temptation- Zora in a rage beat them up and ripped them off. "You'll know him when you see him", they claimed.

Julius, through a spirit of adventure, looks into it personally. At first, he believes the lies he was told, mainly that Zora does look like a typical street worker who's a perfect ten from the neck down but sort of a butterface. He eventually works out who Zora is and the motivation behind his actions. He feels sorry for him and doesn't want to punish him for doing them a useful service, albeit something illegal. The corrupt among them have it coming and should be kept on their toes.

One day when Yami is in the area, Julius tells him about Zora -his circumstances behind why he does what he does- and asks him to deal with him how he sees fit. He doesn't come out and ask Yami to recruit Zora, but he hopes that he will at least talk sense into him, even if he's not interested in letting him join. Yami finds Zora hard at work beating the crap out of some magic knights he believes deserve a comeuppance, and in a rage, Zora attacks him thinking he's part of their group.

Zora finds himself outclassed by Yami. He thinks....well, it was good while it lasted...... He believed death was imminent only to be taken by surprise when Yami throws him a Black Bulls cape with the 'take it or leave it' attitude.

Zora stews on this for weeks-months-years, like he wants to be a magic knight like his dad, but it would be awkward as frick to just show up at the Black Bulls base and confront a room full of strangers who might be evil people who'd chew him up and spit him out. They'd probably expect him to ditch his super awesome look modeled after the doll his dad gave him and make him dress up all classy and sheeit.. It didn't quite click that maybe the Black Bulls wouldn't care so much about appearances when their captain is a crusty chain-smoking guy in a wife-beater. He angsts over the expectation they'd look down on him for not being nobility, and they might not respect his abilities or take him seriously. Finally, he decides it's best to confront them on neutral ground to feel them out, but where to do it?

His chance comes when he finds out Xerx Lugner is invited to the Royal Knights Selection Exam. Since nobody knows who that even is, the usually level-headed careful Zora goes on a suicide mission to impersonate Xerx under the threat of capital punishment. Fuck it, his life is in shambles at this point with the fact he was given the opportunity to be a magic knight but is too messed up emotionally to take Yami up on it. It's better to go out with a bang while putting a bunch of them in their place right in the Wizard King's face.

Lucky for him, the Wizard King is a fun-loving guy who appreciates a good prank. He knows who Zora is but doesn't let on. Still, he was startled by Zora rocking up out of nowhere impersonating a magic knight whose whereabouts are unknown. When Zora puts an arm around him, he was repulsed by his injuries, his look that doesn't appear fully human, and the pungent nose-hair burning stench emanating off him because a stink bug went off in his pocket. Still, since they are vying for selection to fight a powerful unknown enemy, Julius thinks it would be good for the others to be exposed to an enigmatic person like Zora who might teach them out-of-the-box thinking.

Everyone else wonders why 'Xerx' calls himself the "Saint of Pure Ice" but they quickly come to the conclusion it's because he's a stone-cold douche. Even though Julius likes a good prank, he has regrets because he's more of the light-hearted prankster with a child-like spirit, whereas Zora is bitter and mean-spirited roasting the others in a way that cuts to their souls.

They also wonder why he has his tiddies out and wears low riding pants that shows most of his happy trail. After all, the doll his dad gave him (that he shows everybody like a weirdo) is fully clothed. "Because I have to draw runes on my own body sometimes," Zora eventually reveals, "It's easier to draw runes on my own body when there is a lot of exposed skin!"

[moseslikellamas]

Driftwood Tourney

A tale of the Raven Knight and the Princess of Plums

Chapter two

Pairing: Benjicot x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Princess Viserra finally gets her wish, flying high in the sky on her Dragon Phantom.

Warnings: none currently. Eventually violence.

Word count: 2k

Is Viserra kinda a brat? Undoubtedly, yes. But did you really expect anything less from Rhaenyra’s daughter?

Viserra stood with her brother and Rhaena staring at her uncle who had already begun to taunt Jace.

“Lovely day to get in the sky, wouldn’t you say dear heir?”

The word heir dripped off his tongue like poison, deadly and gross. No doubt that was his intention. Viserra rolled her eyes, she knew her uncle didn’t even want to rule. He was wholly unsuited for it. But he also didn’t want Jacaerys to have it, obsessed with the idea that he doesn’t deserve it to do the whispers about his heritage.

“It is a great day uncle, I know it’s early but are you sure you aren’t too far gone into your cups? Sunfyre can only make up for so much.”

The snort Luke let out was the last straw. The growing tension in the room snapped as Aegon lunged for Jace. She watched in irritation and mild horror as her uncle attacked her brother. As Aegon made to grab Jace, Aemond suddenly reappeared pulling Aegon away by his collar.

“Honestly brother.” He said as he righted Aegon on his feet. Those were the only words he spoke before he shot a glare at them that made her heart skip in fear.

Viserra stood there shocked for a moment longer before she was off running to find Phantom. She had decided she was flying today, dragon staff and family be damned. There was no way she was getting this newly appointed privilege revoked. So she made her way deeper into the pit, hating the dark halls and the packed dirt beneath her feet all the way. It took her several turns to reach Phantom who was waiting for her. It was obvious he was not happy with her upon her arrival.

“Rytsas, Phantom.” She called the greeting loudly to the sulking dragon.

A huff was the only response she received as he turned his head away from her, blocking his vibrant green eyes from her sight.

“Sōvegon rūsīr issa.”

Finally hearing the word he wanted, fly, the massive white dragon began to stir. He waited patiently as she removed the chains, she spoke softly to him all the while. Complaining mostly about her mother barring them from flying. She took care to wait and watch the halls before deciding which way to go. Since none of the instructors had bothered to show up she had to determine which route was the safest to take. Another flaw of the pit, if you ran into another dragon in the halls things could become deadly quickly. She said a quick prayer before deciding to turn left and venture towards the back exit, hoping no one else had the same idea.

Viserra gasped as she stepped outside, not realizing she’d stopped breathing as she led Phantom out. Relief and excitement bubbled into her veins as she worked to mount Phantom, calling for him to kneel. She could tell he was impatient to get into the sky by the way he collapsed so she could mount him. Dramatic as always, she thought while climbing up.

“Bē, Phantom! Sōvegon.”

Phantom was up and flying before she could finish the command, wind rushing through her hair as the began to rise higher and higher. Soon they would be invisible, encased within the clouds it was impossible to spot her dragon. Often the only clue as to where they were was the glint of black on his back from her riding clothes. She had specially made a pair of white robes for stealth but thus far had no reason to use them. It was better to let her family have some shot of finding her in the skies. They continued to rise for some time, they both preferred to fly as high as they could. It was peaceful way up top, where nothing flew as high as they did. When she was younger she thought if only they could fly a little higher, she could reach up and grab the moon from the sky.

Viserra shivered as they flew through the mist and clouds, droplets of water occasionally falling on her when they would break through a set of clouds. At one point they broke through to see the sun and a beautiful blue sky above all the clouds. It was breathtaking, the golden rays shining just for them. Phantom had let out an appreciative snort at the sight and the two of them had stayed there a while. For the first time since she’d been sentenced to living in the Red Keep, she felt happy. A light weightless euphoria was all over her, pouring out from the depths of her being. She knew they’d been gone too long already, that her brothers would be wondering where she was.

“Ilagon.”

Her heart was so not into the command to return down that Phantom ignored it. She was relieved that he had and it reminded her of the first time they’d ever flown together. Viserra was twelve when she first took flight, though Phantom had been ready a year earlier. She had been so frustrated, so annoyed at all of her family. She loved them dearly but she never had any time for herself. Someone was always pushing her door open or asking a favor. It was enough to drive anyone mad. Until one day she’d had enough, her mother had been lecturing her outside. It was still early in the morning, the dew still fresh on the banister as they watched the sun rise.

There was no telling what her mother had been saying to her, the message long lost to time. She had just remembered feeling so unbelievably upset. She hadn’t asked for this life, for her mother to be the most important person in the realm behind her grandfather. And she had desperately wished that she could forget all of that duty and responsibility even if just for a moment. Viserra’s lack of interest and obvious anger had not done much to win her mothers favor that morning. Walking away from her mother and giving up all pretenses of listening, she leaned over the rail of the balcony. Below her, eyes level with hers was Phantom. Perched precariously on a stone dragon was her own dragon, listening intently.

Viserra had jumped out of her skin when her mother’s hand touched her shoulder, bringing her back to her unpleasant present. She shot her mother a defiant look before she climbed the balcony banister ignoring her mothers yells of protest and command for the guards. Before a single hand could touch her, she leapt. Nothing but blind faith had accompanied her for a heartbeat, before she felt the leathery scales beneath her. The sound of wings flapping and air rushing by her ears made her finally open her eyes. She was holding onto the spikes of Phantom’s neck as he swooped over the water. She screamed in delight watching the water ripple beneath them as he dragged his wing tip across the water.

It had been a stupid decision to say the least about it and her mother had immediately banned her from riding again until she had formal lessons. But she had always liked that insane primal feeling she got from riding without a saddle. She had snuck out many nights to ride unsaddled, without her mothers permission. It earned her a reputation for being willfully obstinate but she didn’t care. What was the point of having a dragon if not to fly? If she could, she wouldn’t come down. The two of them becoming an ancient legend in the sky, a myth of a phantom dragon made of clouds and the star woman on its back. That would be a more interesting life, rather than whatever political marriage she would eventually be forced into.

Her thoughts turned dark at the idea of marriage. She knew her mother wouldn’t have a choice in the end. She would try to give her options but her place on the throne was challenged daily. Inevitably as the only available option, her mother would move her where she best thought suited the realm. This time when she called for Phantom to return them down, he listened though reluctantly. Loathe as she was to return she was going to be in a lot of hot water for staying out as long as she did. It had been several hours at the point and though she had tried her best to keep turning Phantom back towards King’s landing; it would still take them another hour to get back.

As they descended the clear skies faded into freezing cold mist and torrents of water. She quickly called for him to move faster, it was dangerous to linger in the clouds while it was storming. They might blend in with them but they were not immune to lightning strikes. She began to curse loudly as the rain pelted her sideways. The wind was blowing so hard, she was glad she was strapped in tightly. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the reins as she directed Phantom onwards. She kept an eye above them looking for any telltale signs of lightning. She strained her ears as well, waiting for the thunder. It took two minutes for the first rumble to roll through. It shook her in the saddle; it was so loud and she knew she was trembling as she called encouragement to Phantom.

One, two, three heartbeats later the first strike hit a meter away from them and Phantom stuttered at the sight. She called for him to keep calm. It was too late for them to change course. They should’ve stayed up top above the storm but there was no going back. It was too dangerous to try veering back up, besides she couldn’t see where they were going behind the clouds. They were forced with only one option, to continue on. The two of them worked in sync to avoid the lightning, hoping they were fast enough to move out of its way. She knew it was all an illusion, if they were going to be struck down they would never see it coming. But if she focused on that fact they would be lost for sure.

Soaked, exhausted and freezing Viserra nearly cried with relief as she spotted the Red Keep through the gloom and strife. Never had she been so pleased to see the red bricks waiting for her. It took her longer than expected to coax Phantom back towards the Dragon pit on Rhaenys’ hill. Despite the storm raging around them he did not want to return and she couldn’t blame him. Many promises and commands later, it was the strike of lightning next to them that got him to land. Upon her arrival the princess was mobbed by a rush of dragon trainers. Ironic, she thought as they helped her down from the saddle. Where had they all been earlier anyway?

It was the sight of her Kingsguard that made her feel real relief though it was dampered a bit by the sight of Grand Maester Gerardys beside him. It meant her mother wasn’t angry at her, worse she was worried. Several cloaks were wrapped around her as she shivered still soaked through to the bone. She pushed the hands around her away, walking back towards her dragon who was looking rather distressed.

“Sagon gīda, Phantom. Sagon arlī jāhor nyke.”

After reassuring her dragon she would be back for him she turned to the waiting maester and knight. Speaking briskly through chattering teeth she said, “I will be with you both in a moment. My dragon needs my attention as he is rather restless.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She knew it would only be a protest against her and she didn’t have time for them. Or for her mothers worries for that matter, she was fine. She lingered with her dragon for longer than she should have and much longer than was polite. She didn’t care though. She was already in for it, why not take her time? Phantom needed the time with her anyway. The two stood together for a while, content in the other's presence.

[eurovision-revisited]

2001 Copenhagen - Number 19 - Arnis Mednis - "Too Much"

I've been dying to write about this one...

The song is almost objectively awful. Lyrically, the English is poor and although not ambiguous, there's enough there to make you wonder exactly what's going on. The character that Arnis Mednis is portraying is not a nice man. Someone has described him as a 'drunk uncle at a wedding', and yes, although he's drunk, and he may be an uncle, it's the events around his own wedding he's describing. There's the strong possibility that he cheated on his wife the night before the wedding. He drags his new wife to a bar when she'd prefer a cup of tea. At least she dumps him in the end.

This version is a glow-up from the version that scraped the win in Eirodziesma 2001 by two points. That was slower-tempo affair with much more restrained vocals and a jolly accordion and a rapped section with Arnis begging to be taken back. Allegedly it's an anti-drugs song, and although he sounds coked up to the eyeballs, it's far too happy a song to be anti-anything. Apart from Arnis and his lyrics, there isn't a dark thing about Too Much at all

Arnis is great at portraying a truly obnoxious man, a terrible human being with barely a sliver of self-awareness. Troublingly I'm not sure how much of this is genuine and how much is an act - however confrontational.

He was in a band called Odis from the end of the 1980s and the early 1990s. Their first album was called Sātana Radītā (Created by Satan) and contains tracks called Black Girls and Portrait No. 2. Woman In Bathing-costume. That this album consists of lounge jazz or possibly lethargic library music might be part of an elaborate joke that I'm not getting, or it might be that there's a huge degree of delusion and misogyny going on.

And yet, here it is at number 19 in my top 26 for 2001. Why on earth would I do this to you?

Well, I like that happy little tune. I admire the backing singer in the final who truly throws herself into her new vocal line with abandon and whe there's nowhere to hide doing that live in front of 38,000 people. There's the guitar that kicks in on the choruses, the call and response, it's rough, it's dirty and it absolutely suits the song. And they got rid of the rap. Without the context of the lyrics, the song itself is an absolute blast.

Arnis the singer clearly does have some self-awareness that Arnis the character in the song is an awful person. There is parody here, even if I can't tell what level that parody is operating at. His usual output is jazz, and as this is about as far from jazz as you could possibly get. As he wrote this, it could be pastiche. I don't think it's trolling Eurovision, but I can't be 100%. That's an enticing, teasing ambiguity.

Mostly though this song is the utter antithesis of the love song. Eurovision is awash with love songs, positively bathing in attachment, passions, desire and happy hormones. It does need contrast. And here is that friction; the sand in the lubricant. It is an excellent representation of someone who is so self-obsessed and far too gone on whatever substances he's taking that his memory is destroyed and his lies fail to last even two days into a marriage. Someone you'd never want to go near once you'd get to know him.

This is a song somewhere on the spectrum between Silvia Knight's Congratulations and Hatari's Hatrið mun sigra. Plus it has an accordion, and I love accordions in Eurovision. Too Much is a song you cannot ignore.

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

Raine Callaghan doesn't know what to make of Rebecca Sinclair most days. They had a good relationship once, but that was a long time ago. A death in the family will do that, he supposes.

Rated M for mature themes such as parental death, dysfunctional families, child neglect, implied violence, and minor mentions to the North Irish Troubles.

Other Tags: Kid Fic, Growing Up, Time Skips, Canon Divergence (Alternate Backstory), Tragedy, and Hopeful Ending.

Masterpost | AO3

Chapter 1: Even Though You Haven't Got a Clue

Callaghan Family Home, Belfast - 1981

The familiar rumble of an engine grows closer, the sound immediately recognizable. Ciaran's head snaps up, knowing exactly what car sounds like that, and almost drops the mixing bowl in his hands. Bishop is faster than he is and grabs ahold of the rim, gently pulling it from his fingers, and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"Go on, Little Knight," she laughs. "And tell him he doesn't get to have cookie dough just 'cause he's early."

Ciaran doesn't bother waiting to respond. He runs from the kitchen, trailing loose flour behind him like fairy dust. He throws open the front door just in time to see Rook step from his car. He's cut his hair again, waves of black hair falling just short of his chin, just in time for the summer weather rolling in. He smiles brightly when his hazel eyes fall on Ciaran.

"Da!" Ciaran all but shrieks, throwing his arms around his father's legs and burying his face in the denim.

"Hello there, my little knight," Rook says back with a laugh, ruffling Ciaran's hair into an even worse rat’s nest.

Ciaran looks up at his father, smiling so wide it almost makes his face hurt, but he doesn't care. It's been too long since his father was home. Doing important work, he's reassured time and time again. But it doesn't matter. All that matters is he’s home again. "Aunt Bishop says you can't have any cookie dough."

"You and Bishop are making cookies?" Rook scoops Ciaran up, making him squeal in delight. "You shouldn't have told me. Now you'll never stop me."

He breaks out into a maniacal laugh and Ciaran tries to wiggle free of his father's arms. He has to warn Aunt Bishop. His attempts are in vain and Rook presses a kiss to his cheek with a smile and a joyful wrinkle of his nose.

The sound of the passenger door shutting draws Ciaran's attention. A little of his mirth falls as he watches Rebecca stand up, straightening her blouse as she does. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled up in a high, tight bun. When her blue eyes meet Ciaran's hazel, she offers a short nod.

Ciaran doesn't know how to feel about Miss Rebecca. She's a friend of his dad's, sure, and Ciaran knows they love each other, but Ciaran isn't sure why. She always seems so strict. Stuck-up, Aunt Bishop has said before, though Ciaran isn't sure what she's stuck up for. Must be something bad the way Aunt Bishop says it. Ciaran gets the sense he makes her uncomfortable. The first time he'd met her, he had watched every part of her stiffen as though she were turning to stone every time he’d approached her.

Rook sets him back down on the ground, nudging his shoulder towards Rebecca as she makes her way around the car. Ciaran presses his lips together as he watches her. "Hullo, Miss Rebecca."

Rook had told him before that he could just call her Becca, but Ciaran had seen the way she'd pursed her lips like the day he'd dared Aunt Bishop to bite a lemon. He doesn't think she'd like it very much if he called her that. Better to stick to what makes her comfortable. If she is so important to Rook, Ciaran wants her to like him, too.

“Ciaran,” she says in greeting. She’s got a package in her arms. It’s wrapped in shiny paper with a ribbon on top. A present? It isn’t anyone’s birthday, best Ciaran can remember. Then she offers the parcel forward. “I brought you a gift.”

He takes it tentatively from her. “For me?” He frowns. “It’s not my birthday.”

Rook comes over, pressing a kiss to Rebecca’s cheek, and Ciaran watches in wonder as her expression softens. She seems to relax with his touch, all of her tension melting away like snow in the sun, and she nods as Rook whispers something in her ear.

Rebecca returns her attention to Ciaran as Rook makes his way inside the house. There’s a little more warmth than usual in her blue eyes. “I’m aware. I saw them and thought of you.”

She starts making her way to the door and Ciaran stumbles after her to keep up. He hugs the gift to his chest, a smile bubbling onto his face as he thinks of what it might be. Rebecca’s never given him a gift before, not on Christmas or his birthday, and certainly not out of the blue for no reason. But she was thinking of him and that makes him happy.

As they step into the sitting room, Ciaran hurries to leap onto the couch. Rebecca sits primly on the cushion opposite of him, watching him with interest. Ciaran rips into the shiny paper, excitement overtaking the his avoidance of the inevitable chastisement from his father for the mess he’s making as shreds of it fall to the floor.

He flips the lid of the box open, frowning at the contents. It’s a pair of red rain boots, bright and shiny in their cardboard confines. “You bought me shoes,” he says slowly. Is it a prank? Sometimes Aunt Bishop buys him something as a joke, just to watch his face, but Rebecca isn’t laughing the way Aunt Bishop always does before revealing the real gift.

“Last time I was here, I noticed your trainers were quite muddy,” Rebecca explains. “Having a pair of Wellies will keep your other shoes cleaner. I thought you might like the color.”

He should thank her. That’s what you do when people buy you gifts, right? If his father was in the room, he’d cuff Ciaran upside the back of the head for dawdling this long on it. He opens his mouth to say something, but a large crash comes from the kitchen, drawing both his and Rebecca’s attention away from the boots.

Ciaran can hear Aunt Bishop, her voice raised but not yelling loud enough for him to make out the words. His father’s voice is softer, gentler, that tone he uses when he wants to calm someone down. He looks over at Rebecca. She winces and wipes the expression from her face quickly, though the frown still lingers in the corners of her mouth.

“I’ve never heard Aunt Bishop so angry,” he murmurs. He squishes the rubber of the boots between his fingers just to give him something to do.

Rebecca sighs, “I knew he should have told her earlier.”

“Told her what?” Ciaran asks, eyes widening. “Are you and Da keeping secrets? Can I know? Can you tell me?”

Rebecca meets his expectant gaze and sighs. “Ciaran,” she says slowly. “You know I love your father very much, right?”

Ciaran nods, “He loves you, too, you know.”

Rebecca smiles softly, “I do.” Then she looks at him very seriously. She turns away from the kitchen, away from the argument going on behind the closed door, and fully to face him. “Your father and I are getting married.”

Ciaran purses his lips before asking, “So that makes you my new mum, yeah?”

Rebecca swallows heavily. “I suppose it will,” she says and Ciaran starts to feel nervous. He had thought Rebecca is fearless, facing the world with that severe set of her jaw and certainty in her pale eyes. She sounds afraid now.

He reaches out, leaning across the couch to put a hand on hers. She startles, but doesn’t pull away, and looks at him with wide, confused eyes. Ciaran smiles broadly at her, “Don’t worry, Miss Rebecca,” he says. He tries to mimic the tone his father takes when he scrapes his knees. “You’re going to be the best mum I’ve ever had. I know it.” He looks back down at the boots in his lap, wrinkling his nose. “Even if you buy me boots.”

Something flashes across Rebecca’s face and a watery smile crosses her lips. She laughs softly, pulling her hand free from his to ruffle his hair. “Thank you, Ciaran.” She trails her hand down to rest on his cheek as he beams at her. “It means a lot to me that you think so.”

[fetchargbts]

Happy one year deathday to fetch!!!! How do you think things would've gone if we voted to let fetch live?

Oh man this is quite a few days late LMFAO. in my defense i do not get nottifs for this blog. Also youve just unleashed a beast by asking this hope youre ready <3

So, first fun fact! We actually had an entire divergent setup for if fetch lived, and an alterbate confrontation with baroness if he died before that.

First up, if fetch died before being able to confront baroness (we didnt know when wed have that confrontation just yet ao we wanted to cover all our bases) it would have been Maitake threatening Baroness with the gasoline as well as her mustard gas (as a mooshroom hybrid she produces Toxins and Spores she can weaponize).

If fetch lived, he would have been in the mansion when it went up in flames. Instead of Mona and King leaving on their own, they would have run into Fetch, and they would have had an altercation that ended in fetch finding out that mona is a shifter (friendly reminder that he didnt know that the entire time theyve been friends, which went back to early high school :])

Instead of jumping out the window, he decides its safer to climb the roof so the other hunters can find him easier and get him down. Knights room was on the second floor, and he was already pushing it with his (gestures at him) condition. and he didnt want to break his legs or something

There was this whole speech i had planned where he stares at the commotion of doomsday on the roof and have a Big Badass Monologue but alas 😔

He also would have been there for crown's exorcism, he was the one to tackle crown and hold him down while they got ready rather than corpse. Also this bit that canonized his polyamory with corpse and koko :3

(Full disclosure: fetch got with koko 2 weeks after coming to HQ because koko found him super interesting and endearing, and corpse later got attatched to him since he was the main one taking care of him in the med ward and they bonded heavily over Chronic Pain And Illnesses)

Fetch would have gone on to be a top operator in the Lotus branch, with plenty of good company to keep him happy. He had a dog, 2 boyfriends, and a myriad of friends at HQ, and the hunters provided him with the safety and stability he'd been looking for the entire time. Despite his nightmares and trauma and bad memories, if he lived he would have been happy

Corpse and Koko still mourn him together. Maitake still keeps bacon bits in the cupboard. Kassidy (who yall never got to see whcih is aCRIME because i love her and she was also one of fetch's besties) still paints some of her nails black because it was his favorite look on her. He may have not been there for a long time, but his absence is very very felt at HQ.

Anyway that for sad heres koko informing tge mcdonalds employee that fetch corpse and kassidy ask for no pickle

(Not real height difference bc it was a meme andni didnt care, fetch is the shortest but corose actually is that tall lmfao)

[desultory-novice]

Ask game let's hear it for: 2,8,9

Wah! Thank you!

2 / Favorite Thing About My Style

Probably that it's fast? XD I remember worrying early on that I'd never be a really stunning artist because I didn't have as much time to devote to it as other people. A smart friend told me to just focus on making pieces I could call "complete" in a short amount of time.

Basically, adjust my view of what my "art" would be. And it worked! I have other artist's styles that I like more, but I realized too some of my favorite fanart back in the day was fanart that looked like it was pulled right out of someone's sketchbook. With big chunky lines and little marks and forms that tell you where their focus was!

-

[More Answers Below!]

-

8 / Most Fun and Least Fun Parts

I really enjoy the "concept" phase. You put just anything down, and because I'm a Kirby fanartist, that's usually a circle and then you just keep adding onto it. A pair of triangle horns ears? You've got a Magolor. Big eyes? A Marx. Draw a circle on top? A Meta Knight. Draw a circle halfway below it, a Dedede. Etc...

I'll often pick a perspective at random and then start filling in what the character might be seeing/doing from that!

Least fun is figuring out things like light and where my characters are in space. I've got a vision impairment that means I can't see "depth" in RL so perspective is hard for me. I found a trick for lighting that has you douse the object in shadow and then "carve out" the light, which helps because I can imagine what's on "top" easier than what casts shadows, but I still haven't gotten perspective down. I've even used 3D models but things just get more confusing somehow!! :cries:

-

9 / Finished Piece and Original Sketch

Here's two, based on the fact that I have two different brushes I use for sketching and that leads sometimes leads to two different styles.

The first one, for my Father's Day piece, I did the rough sketch in PaintStorm Studio, which is an under-appreciated little app (It doesn't work flawlessly on iPad but it's highly functional) and is my favorite app for concept sketches because it's like the FocusWriter of drawing apps. Then I imported it to Clip Studio, adjusted the size (I draw my concepts VERY small, usually starting with a box to help figure out how much canvas I want to use) and built it up from there.

The second, I did the sketch in Clip Studio using this soft painterly builder brush I made based on some other artist's brushes. This style of sketch is more "chisel-y" and I'm frequently carving out areas as I draw them by lowering the brush's alpha to zero. It's pretty easy to apply colors on top in this style (as opposed to the previous style, which requires cleaner line work.) I also started this piece as just a solemn, lonely Magolor looking "captured" and regretful. Adding the crown and then adding the reflection in the water came later on.

I was gonna have him be hanging by some Dark Matter looking vines originally, but then I remembered I'd seen someone on JP Twitter say that his magic circles in Soul form were almost like handcuffs restricting his actions, which is why I switched to those.

(You can't see it here from the sketch, but I knew from the beginning I wanted it to be color on a black background.)

One last thing because I think this is probably something weird only I do? (But maybe other novice artists will find it freeing??)

When I'm drawing sequential comics, even for the four-panel ones, because I can lose my train of thought easily, I tend to draw them completely OUT OF ORDER, going with whatever image is strongest in my mind first. Then I just scatter the rest over the page wherever there's room as I get ideas, finally using the lasso tool to re-arrange them later! You can see everything in the proper sequence here!

(You can also see that originally, Marx shows some barely concealed sorrow that Kirby doesn't recognize his childhood friend after all that he's been through. In the finished piece, I had him respond by going all fangs-out crazy instead. He IS a villain after all!)

[ikesenhell]

A Sun Long Gone, Chapter Eight

You can find all masterlists at the top of my page (AO3, Genshin Impact, Ikemen Sengoku, and Ikemen Vampire). NOTES: This work is 18+.

---

The day before the Khaenri’ahn delegation was set to leave, and their quarters were a hive of activity. Diplomats packed papers; assistants packed trunks of clothing; soldiers rounded up equipment. Cool wind blew up the streets. At last, the abnormally warm fall–even for Sumeru’s standards–drew to a close. Dainsleif stood in the center of the hubbub, a clipboard and a list in his hand. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t paying much attention to the hive of activity buzzing around him. He’d checked off a good deal of the list of preparations. Much remained. There were carts to check for damage, provisions to count and requisition, maps to chart their path home on. They weren’t due to set off until evening the next day. Everyone had learned from the journey here: Khaenri’ahns did not do well in the glare of the sun. Nightfall would enable them to travel faster. This left them a lot more time to ensure everything was ready. 

But Dainsleif wasn’t thinking about that. He read the same line for the millionth time, and waited impatiently to see if Lord Alberich would exit his meeting. 

As if summoned, the older man appeared around the bend of the road. It was lunchtime, Dainsleif realized. It had to be. The sages didn’t typically call for breaks until then. Tucking the clipboard under his arm, Dainsleif headed for him. 

“My Lord.”

“Sir Dainsleif.” Lord Alberich just motioned. Dainsleif knew what that meant. With mechanical precision, he recited updates. They were short a number of key food items, which the grocers were trying to locate now. One of the diplomats had misplaced their entire paper stash and a frantic search was underway. A soldier initially missing from the morning roll call had been located (apparently he’d gotten quite drunk and wound up in the Bimarstan). Lord Alberich just hummed. It was his way of dismissing them. Dainsleif stayed beside him, still keeping pace. 

“My Lord, about something else.”

A steely blue, sidelong stare greeted him. “Yes?”

How to discreetly ask this? The Black Serpent Knights knew Dainsleif’s secret, but no one else in the delegation did, nor was anyone supposed to. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Will I be needed at the barracks this evening?”

Lord Alberich stopped before the front door and sighed. Torsten struggled a crate out the narrow hallway on his own, casting a sidelong glance at them. Oh. So he’d heard the question. Their superior stared at the soldier before saying, “How far along are we in preparations?”

“We’re waiting on those provisions. The grocers are estimating they’ll arrive by tomorrow morning, first thing, but it may come sooner.”

“If it does,” he said with a sigh, “Feel free to take the night.”

Dainsleif’s heart sank. That was as good as ‘no’. His last night in Sumeru, and it seemed impossible that he’d get to see Rukkhadevata. He’d warned her this might happen. She wasn’t expecting him–just hoping. But truthfully, the idea of not getting to see her tonight made him want to yell. There was no telling when next they’d see each other. There was no telling if they’d ever see each other again. Even if this was a doomed romance, Dainsleif couldn’t bear to be separated this soon.

That didn’t matter. There was no place for his disappointment. Shoving his reactions deep inside, he nodded. “Of course, my lord.”

Lord Alberich headed inside. Wordlessly, Torsten and Dainsleif exchanged a look. 

“Maybe it’ll arrive early,” Torsten offered. 

“Maybe,” Dainsleif expressed. Doubtful . “Let me know if you see any messengers.”

“Sir, I think there’s one behind you.”

A familiar scoff. Dainsleif turned to see Takama, her gold coin headband jingling as she wished her tail back and forth. “I’m not a messenger , Torsten. Do I need to whoop your ass at cards again?”

“You got lucky last time, that’s all.” Hefting the crate back up in his arms, the man stuck out his tongue. “I’ll be back. Have to put this thing down.”

“Here to chart the roads with us, are you?” Dainsleif stowed his clipboard. “Lord Alberich only just got back from his meeting. I’d give him five minutes. He seems ill tempered.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll listen to that advice.” And with spry little steps, she leapt up onto a nearby trunk, settling down. “You look glum. Something wrong with packing?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

Heaving an annoyed groan, Dainsleif answered, “We’re having issues locating some key provisions. The grocery stores don’t have our supply, and they won’t have it until tomorrow morning.”

“So? You’ll still be here.”

“I’m not at leave to leave my post until it’s arrived.”

Takama frowned and opened her mouth. Then the recognition sparked. Quieter than before, she asked, “As in… you couldn’t, say, head out for the evening?”

“Correct.”

A pause. The woman stared at the sun and scratched a fuzzy ear. “What provisions, exactly?”

“I could show you the list, but why?”

“Don’t look a gift Sumpter Beast in the mouth, Dainsleif. Just show me the list.”

Out came the checklist once more. She squinted at it. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’m not saying or promising anything. I’m just saying ‘okay’. After the talk with Lord Alberich, give me, like, an hour or two.”

Confused, Dainsleif said, “The grocers said–”

“I’m not retreading the same ground you did. Archons. Just let me try and work some magic.” And with that, Takama hopped off the trunk and slapped his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go bother your boss.”

—

He’d nearly forgotten about the conversation by two hours later. The provisions had not arrived. Dainsleif sat outside the barracks, resigned to his fate and considering if he could take a quick jog up to Rukkhadevata’s doorway, when suddenly Takama appeared down the road once more. She steered a Sumpter Beast by his bridle. 

“Delivery!” She yelled up the path. “Get your brawny lummox, Dainsleif! I’ll need help unloading!”

There was no way. Dainsleif surged to his feet, hopeful and too nervous to hope, but raced inside and grabbed Torsten anyway. When they appeared out in the courtyard again, Takama was undoing the first clasps on the delivery. 

“How?” He stammered. “What is this?”

“Your provisions,” Takama answered with a shrug. “The Forest Rangers had bought out the stock. That’s why the grocers weren’t prepared to take your order. We’ll just swap. Tonight, you can have our backstock. Tomorrow, I’ll come back with a Sumpter Beast and grab what you all ordered. Sound fair?”

Seriously, Dainsleif replied, “I could kiss you right now.”

“Ugh. Gross. Don’t do that. No one would like that.” But despite her playful grimace, Takama still laughed. “Go tell your boss that you’re off the hook and get out of here. I can make your human Sumpter beast here do the work with me.”

Torsten, pulling a package off the saddle, said, “Keep talking to me like that, Takama, and I might take you up on that kiss instead.”

“I cannot imagine the hell that your beard plus my fur would create.”

“We could find out–”

Dainsleif wasn’t waiting around to see how the aggressive flirtation ended. He headed back inside, knocking on Lord Alberich’s door. His heart buzzed in his mouth. There was always the chance that he was denied anyway. What if his superior invented another reason he couldn’t go? It wasn’t as if Lord Alberich’s reservations had vanished. Upon a called come in , Dainsleif cracked the door and peered in. 

“My lord?”

Alberich was seated in front of a desk. Meticulous bundles of paperwork surrounded him, being packed neatly into trunks. He barely spared a glance. “Sir Dainsleif.”

“The provisions arrived. Once unpacked, may I take the evening?”

Lord Alberich paused. A beat. He blinked, pulled aside the window curtain, and stared at the Sumpter beast outside. “Did you call in a favor for this?”

“I didn’t request this, no. Takama heard about our plight. Apparently, the Forest Rangers were the parties responsible for the delayed goods. They felt bad and volunteered to trade.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth. No doubt they both knew this. Lord Alberich stared carefully at him, as if measuring the weight of his soul. Dainsleif held his breath. 

“And I suppose after we’ve gone back,” he started, “You’ll be requesting permission to write?”

A beat. Dainsleif finally stepped inside the office, shutting the door behind him. “Yes, sir.”

“Lord Rukkhadevata would have to submit to having any correspondence with a private citizen of Khaenri’ah being inspected by myself, personally.”

“I can’t imagine she’d object.”

“An Archon, Dainsleif. An Archon would have to agree to my having the power to withhold her letters.”

Without thinking, Dainsleif replied, “I’m not a betting man, sir, but I’d be willing to put mora on this.”

Silence. He cursed himself and ground his teeth. This was not the time to get snippy with his superior. More than that, talking this way to Lord Alberich was akin to backsassing the King himself. He might’ve blown his entire evening on one quip. 

“Then I’ll inquire with her tomorrow myself,” Lord Alberich said. His voice was softer now. “Enjoy your night, Dainsleif.”

Was that it? Stunned, Dainsleif hesitated for long enough that the older man quirked a brow. That was more than enough cue to leave. He saluted, backed out of the room, and sprinted to his own. What would he even need for an overnight visit? Not much. Flinging a few essentials into a bag and shedding his uniform, Dainsleif bounded back into the hall, pivoted, raced back into his room, grabbed Rukkhadevata’s forgotten bangle off his nightstand, and headed right back outside. 

“Torsten!”

Takama and Torsten had been sitting by each other on a bench. Key word: had . As if shocked, they slid in opposite directions, faces glowing bright red. Dainsleif skidded to a halt. 

“Sir?” Torsten coughed. 

Pointing an accusatory finger, Dainsleif said, “How long has this been a thing?”

“I don’t know, sir, I could ask you the same thing.”

Fair point. Any other time he might’ve stuck around to push the issue. Now? He didn’t have the time. Conceding with a shrug, Dainsleif slung his bag over a shoulder. “I’ll give you hell later. I got the night. Takama, I’d recommend tying his beard back with a ribbon before you let that face between your–”

“ Archons , Dainsleif,” she shoved her face in her hands. “If you don’t shut all the way up, I’ll send you to the Bimarstan–”

He’d miss her. He’d really, really miss her. Dainsleif laughed out loud, feeling so light that he could float all the way up the Sumeru tree, and nodded at Torsten. “You’re the commanding officer, loverboy. See you tomorrow.”

There were too many eyes for him to dash up the now familiar road. Dainsleif forced himself to walk at a reasonable pace. He relished the gardens and the fountains. Off in the distance, the blue fungi forest glowed purple in the fading evening sun. The rich aroma of tea and spices and curry floated on the wind. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize it. For reasons he couldn’t place, Dainsleif wanted to capture it as it was; in the right now, a Sumeru that existed in the present but also in the all-too-soon past of his memory. 

And then he was at her front door. 

Dainsleif knocked. A beat; Jyoti opened it, eyes wide, a bowl of curry in her hands. 

“Hey!” She yelled, then whipped around to the living room. “He’s here! Did you eat?”

“Hello, Jyoti. Yes.” He stepped inside. The familiar glass lamps were lit. There was the kitchen, and the plants, and the low slung sofas, and the bookshelves crammed with books. Abeni smiled at him from the sink, rinsing out the last of a cooking pot. 

“Are you sure? You’re too thin.” Jyoti poked at his thigh. 

“I’m just built like this.” He’d miss her, too. Dainsleif pulled off his boots and waved at Abeni. “It does smell good, though.”

“Of course it does. I made it. You just missed dinner, but there are leftovers on the counter–”

And then Rukkhadevata emerged. She stood in the doorway in her robe. Her hair flowed free, curling around her hip and shoulders. Those beautiful green eyes shone. All of her jewelry was off save simple gold hoop earrings and her nose ring. Dainsleif wanted to cry. She was so, so, so beautiful. No matter how she looked–dressed up, unadorned, in white, in green, in orange, hair up or down, awake or asleep–she always set his soul aflame. Every part of him burned for her. How was he supposed to say goodbye tomorrow? They locked eyes. He stood, riveted in the doorway, trying to commit every detail to memory. Maybe she was doing the same. Her smile was equal parts joy and sorrow.

“Jyoti?” Abeni said, wiping her hands dry. “Let’s head out early.”

“What? He just got here. Aren’t we going to play a round of cards or something?” Jyoti was teasing. He could hear it in her voice. She knew damn well what she was intruding on. 

“Nope. Put on your shoes. Is it alright if we leave, Rukkhadevata?”

Rukkhadevata never looked away from him. “Yes. Thank you, both. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The two women made quick work of their exit. Jyoti gave Dainsleif a quick hug; Abeni offered him a pat on the back and a murmured wish for safe travels. Then they were gone. Rukkhadevata and Dainsleif stood alone in the living room. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said finally. “You’re so, so, so beautiful, and I am going to miss you beyond sense.”

Rukkhadevata choked back a laugh. Was it a laugh? He wasn’t sure. Suddenly her hand flew to her eye, wiping hard. “Come say that a little closer, or I won’t forgive you for leaving.”

Dainsleif smiled through his own misty eyes and finally drew closer. She was crying. Tenderly, he rubbed a thumb along her cheek, wiping away the tear. “How can I make it up to you, love?”

“I’m not sure.” Petulant, she snaked her arms around his waist. “You could kiss me.”

“Is that all?”

“It’s a start. I may come up with more demands.”

“By all means, make your demands.”

“I thought Khaenri’ahns weren’t in the business of listening to Archons.”

“They aren’t,” Dainsleif agreed, and scooped up one of her locks. Abyss take him, he was going to dream of her hair. He kissed it and inhaled deeply. “But I’m in the business of pleasing my girlfriend. So, a kiss?”

“ Starting with a kiss,” she corrected. Her mouth was full and glossy and tempting. If only every demand could be so alluring. “And then we’ll see.”

—

She stopped making demands when she orgasmed the first time. 

The sun set and the moon rose high in the sky. Not that he was watching. Nothing else in the world mattered but her, her, her : Rukkhadevata, the only god to whom he’d ever answer. Neither Celestia, nor the gnosis, nor the fact of her birth rendered her as much. If Rukkhadevata were just as mortal as him, Dainsleif knew he would still crown her as much in his heart. 

He was in love. He was in love, and he suspected that this was Love, the kind that would burrow under his skin and live there forever. 

“Dainsleif,” she moaned. It was the only real word she’d said for the last hour and a half. She straddled his lap, facing him, arms limp and boneless around his shoulders. He readjusted his hold and thrust up into her. 

“Still with me, pretty thing?”

Rukkhadevata nodded and kissed his cheek. Smug pride swelled through him. It took hours to work her to this point, but it was worth it. She was all sweetness and strangled pleas of his name, utterly mindless and ruined after so much bliss. Distantly, he realized she was crying into him. He paused.

“Okay there, darling?”

“ Ahuh ,” she murmured. “Don’t stop, I’m so close.”

They’d take a break after this orgasm, he thought, but he wasn’t going to disobey. Dainsleif resumed bouncing her in his lap. As if to tether herself to reality, Rukkhadevata bit ever-so-gently into the crook of his shoulder. Ah . Heaving an indulgent moan, Dainsleif worked through his blurry thoughts and settled on something. 

“Pretty thing?” He dropped her full onto his cock, grinding her in a circle. She moaned into his skin. “Can you do something for me?”

“Mmhmm?”

Splaying a hand over her back, Dainsleif kissed her forehead. “I want you to bite me as hard as you can.”

That got through to her. Rukkhadevata leaned back so she could face him. Beautiful . Her eyelashes were dewy from tears, mouth full and puffy, eyes hazy and barely lucid. If memories could sustain him, he would live on this one forever. 

“Why would I want to hurt you like that?” She whined. 

He had an answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead he smiled and pet her cheek. “Please. Please, pretty thing?”

Apparently that was good enough. Her smile was fucking stunning . She smiled, and Dainsleif wanted to swear undying fealty. As he bounced her back along the length of his cock, Rukkhadevata’s eyes fluttered, and then she obediently leaned in and sank her teeth into the curve of his shoulder. 

It definitely broke skin. He could feel it. Sharp pain flooded his nerves. He hissed and thrust up extra hard; she choked out a breathless Dainsleif and laved her tongue over him. All his senses blanked. Overcome with her, her, her , he flipped over, spread her thighs with his palms, and pounded into her. She gasped. Something shiny and red was on her tongue. He dove forward and parted her lips with his, sucked on them, tasted his own blood on her mouth. Trembling arms wrapped around him. He didn’t stop kissing her until she threw her head back and came with a breathless whimper of his name, and then he settled for pressing them to her chest until he, too, finished. 

Quiet. Dainsleif lay still in her arms. Rukkhadevata brushed her hands through his hair. Silvery rays of moonlight illuminated her thighs and waist. Soft puffs of breath dusted his forehead as she collected herself. Reluctantly, he peeled himself away and headed to her bathroom, retrieving a wet cloth to wipe her down. When he returned, she was trying to sit up. 

“Hang on,” he murmured. “You might need help.”

“I think I do.” Boneless and giggling, Rukkhadevata flopped to the mattress. Dainsleif hummed a laugh and carefully wiped down her chest, her stomach, between her thighs. She flinched at the cold. He just kissed her to soothe it. “I think I tasted blood when I bit you. I’m sorry.”

“You did, and I’m not. That was the point.”

“Did I actually puncture you?”

Lightly, he repeated, “That was the point, darling.”

Rukkhadevata forced herself up on wobbly arms, eyes wide and alarmed. “Celestia. You’re bleeding everywhere. It’s all over your chest.”

Dainsleif felt for it. Sure enough, some had trickled down his shoulder and collar. “Ah. That isn’t too bad.”

She took the cloth from his hands. Careful to use a clean part, she scrubbed at his skin, brows furrowed. “I have a first aid kit in the kitchen. Grab it for me?”

There was no reason to disobey. He fetched it and allowed her to clean and bandage him. Once patched up, Rukkhadevata tossed the kit aside and dragged him back into her arms, kissing his forehead. “Why did you want that?”

How did he explain himself? Chewing on his thoughts, Dainsleif started, “While I’m hoping to convince Lord Alberich to allow us to write each other–he’s going to ask you about that tomorrow, by the way–I don’t… I don’t do well with intangible things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like words on a page. It doesn’t feel real to me.” Dainsleif stroked his thumb along her knee. “I cherish them, but they don’t stick in my memory. Physical reminders do. If I can touch something, the memory around them becomes real to me.”

Apparently she understood where he was going. Rukkhadevata nodded slowly. “So you wanted me to actually leave an imprint.”

“That’s the idea, yes. I don’t know if it’ll work. At the very least, I’ll hang onto it for a while.” Speaking of which. Dainsleif sat up. “Hold on, I just remembered something. When you were drunk the other night, you lost a bangle.”

“Oh! Do you have it?”

“I do.” He fished around in his bag and produced the silver bracelet. “But I want you to know before I give it back that I… well, I did something sort of silly.”

Rukkhadevata chuckled, tugging a sheet over her hip. Dainsleif nearly groaned at the sight. She was lucky he was tired. Otherwise just the way the fabric pooled over her body might’ve started another round. “I’ll be the judge of silly.”

While sweet, he still felt awkward. Settling back onto the bed, he placed it in her hand. “I… I sat down and thought about all of our memories together. I thought that, maybe, it might help hang onto them somehow.”

Quiet reigned. She stared at the bangle, eyes tender and pensive. At long last, she looked up at him. 

“I don’t think that’s silly at all. I’ll wear it every day we’re apart.”

The reassurance didn’t totally allay his fears. But Rukkhadevata looked so sincere that Dainsleif couldn’t feel ridiculous. Instead, he leaned in, pulled her close, and kissed her once more.

—

The day of departure, and the sun was starting to set. 

Dainsleif stifled a yawn and looked over his arrayed soldiers once more. Takama stood at his side. The Black Serpent Nights took up the front of formation, at the ready. Sumeru City’s people stood around and watched the procession. On Dainsleif’s other side stood Lord Alberich, facing the sages and Lord Rukkhadevata. 

“May your journey be peaceful and swift,” she said with a smile. Her dress today had a high collar. Dainsleif knew that was his fault. Beautiful gold clips of birds dotted her hair, a matching cord going around her forehead. Tucked among her thin gold bangles was the silver lotus band he’d returned last night. “I trust we will hear from you again soon, Lord Alberich, and I thank you for visiting our city.”

Lord Alberich nodded. “Many thanks to your gracious hospitality. I have no doubt we will have another of these visits.” 

They shook hands, exchanged a polite hug. Dainsleif expected the order to move out. Instead, Rukkhadevata moved over to him.

“Sir Dainsleif,” she said.

I love you , he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her it a thousand times in front of everyone. Instead, he offered a muted, professional smile. “Lord Rukkhadevata. Thank you for your hospitality as well.”

“Thank you for your generosity of spirit,” she returned, and extended a hand to him. “May we meet again.”

It was rather strange, shaking hands with someone you’d fucked last night, but he did anyway. Something metal pressed against his palm. Dainsleif hesitated. Rukkhadevata just smiled and murmured, low enough for only him to hear, “I’m returning the favor.”

“May we meet again,” he echoed, curling his fingers around the object as he withdrew. A bangle . She’d handed him a bangle. Even without asking, he understood that all of her memories of him rested in it. 

There was no hiding it. As much as he tried to fight it, Dainsleif knew his eyes told all in this moment. He lifted them up to the sky, pretending to observe the clouds, and willed his heart to calm. Rukkhadevata stepped back, granted them all a polite wave, and stepped out of the way. 

They marched. Out of Sumeru City they walked, then into the forest. Night fell around their footsteps. As they ignited the lanterns to guide them, Dainsleif finally opened his fist and took a look at the bracelet. 

This one was gold. Otherwise it didn’t look much different from the one he’d returned. This one just featured Rukkhashava mushrooms, not lotuses. Actually… Dainsleif spun it in his fingers, observing it from all angles, and realized in a beat that they were a matching set. Both the silver lotus bangle and the gold mushroom bangle belonged together. There were faint grooves where the two would’ve nested together. 

What was he to do? Dainsleif beat back the urge to cry with every ounce of his being. Instead, he popped the bracelet on, tucked it away under his sleeve, and continued the march.

—

They did see each other again. 

Was it two or three years after their last separation? He wasn’t sure. There were piles of letters from her stacked neatly under his mattress, too many for him to properly gauge the intervening years. All he really remembered was Lord Alberich’s attendant calling for him, saying that the Sumeru and Khaenri’ah representatives were meeting at a midway point in the desert to hash out some last-minute developments to their research treaties, that Lord Alberich had requested him personally. This trip would only last three days. 

Dainsleif had never been so glad that Lord Alberich knew everything. 

The march to the desert location was much shorter. It was a tiny town, with two taverns. Both were booked up between the two envoys. When Dainsleif laid eyes on her again, it was in the middle of the desert street. Her hair was tied up. She wore pants and a blouse like the Eremites, white with tiny little gold details, henna up to her elbows and all over her feet. He wanted to sob just looking at her. Every day that had separated them melted away. There she was, exactly as he remembered, more beautiful than even his clearest memories. She looked at him and smiled, and he nearly ran to her. 

There was no chance to talk privately for hours. At dinner they sat beside one another, pretending to catch up in the name of friendship. When night fell, he stole away to her tavern. Abeni was waiting at the door for him. She steered him up towards Rukkhadevata’s room, wished him a good night, and left.

His girlfriend–his smart, charming, beautiful, sweet, breathtaking girlfriend–was lounging on a couch when he entered. Almost instantly he was in her arms. Like the lotus and mushroom bangles, they fit together perfectly. Soft whispers of laughter and kissing and the shuffle of her limbs against his filled the room. Rukkhadevata buried her nose in his hair and murmured Celestia, I’ve missed the way you smell . Love and affection consumed him and ripped apart his words and rendered him speechless. He made up for it by stealing hers, too, making love to her until the small hours of the morning. 

As they lay together afterwards, she traced a hand over his shoulder and pressed her fingertips against the indent in his skin. “Is that where I bit you?”

“Yes.” Dainsleif shifted until he was in the moonlight. “There’s a scar now.”

Rukkhadevata winced and kissed it. “I’m sorry.”

What could he say? There was no pain she could give him that he wouldn’t take. Every time he was lonely, he could run his fingers over those ridges and feel the weight of her against him. It held where even the bangle did not. Jewelry could be lost, or stolen, or broken. But this mark would follow him to the grave. Maybe as he took his last breaths, if she was not with him, he could reach up and touch there, feel the surest proof of the woman he loved. 

This was no time for morbid thoughts. Instead, he pulled her flush against him and relished the warmth of her body. “I’m not. It was everything I wanted.”

[dargeereads]

We’re so excited to share BACK IN BLACK by Julie Ann Walker! It’s new, and the first in a brand new series, Black Knights, Inc: Reloaded–check it out and grab your copy today!

Title: Back in Black

Author: Julie Ann Walker

Genre: Romantic Suspense

About Back In Black:

A secret identity mixed in with forced proximity on top of red-hot chemistry? What could go wrong?   The Black Knights are back and better than ever!   FBI agent Grace Beacham is on the run. After an operation to bring down a Russian disinformation campaign goes sideways and ends in her partner’s death, the Kremlin has sent its most notorious assassin to kill her. Not knowing who to trust inside the Bureau, Grace is forced to call on the one man who might be able to save her. The one man she hasn’t been able to forget.   BKI operative Hunter Jackson walked away from Grace Beacham three years ago. And he hasn’t looked back. But when his cell phone suddenly jangles to life with Grace on the other end begging for his help, he doesn’t hesitate to ride to her rescue.   Grace is no stranger to men like Hunter. Men who are devastatingly attractive and in love with their perilous professions and no-strings-attached lifestyles. As the two of them go off-grid to uncover the truth behind what happened on her last assignment, she fears her life might not be the only thing on the line. With Hunter, her heart could be in danger too.   "A first-rate thrill ride."—Publishers Weekly, STARRED Review for Thrill Ride   "This razor-sharp, sensual, and intriguing tale will get hearts pounding"—Publishers Weekly, STARRED Review for Wild Ride   "Deft characterization, skillful pacing, touches of humor, and red-hot love scenes rev up this highly recommended roller-coaster." —Publishers Weekly, STARRED Review for In Rides Trouble

Get Your Copy!

Amazon | AppleBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | BAM!

Coming Soon to Black Knights, INC: Reloaded:

Black Hearted - September 26th

Man in Black - May 28th

About the Author:

Born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Julie grew up in a house full of women – she has three older sisters. As you can imagine, there was no lack of drama… or romance. Her mother enrolled her in a book club as soon as she began to read and it was the small spark that ignited her voracious appetite for the written word.   Because of Julie’s early immersion in literature, she found writing came quite naturally. In high school, she won multiple writing contests and was the proud senior editor of The Tiger’s Tale – her school newspaper.   During her college years, however, she longed for a challenge. “Reading and writing felt like second nature to me, so I looked for a way to flex my mental muscles,” she recalls. After receiving a Bachelor of Science degree, Julie began teaching advanced high school mathematics.   “I loved working with the students and facing the challenges of the classroom, but I longed for the occasional snow day when I could race to the local book store, buy two or three new novels, and curl up in front of the fire to read.”   It wasn’t until a fortuitous move to Chicago that Julie once more returned to her first passion.   Now Julie loves to travel the world looking for views to compete with her deadlines. When she’s not writing, she enjoys camping, hiking, cycling, cooking, petting every dog that walks by her, and… reading, of course!  

Connect with the Author:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Bookbub | Instagram | Newsletter

[twsted-princess]

(I had really bad internet where I was when I tried sending this ask so I’ll just send it again! If it shows up twice, I’m sorry!)

👙for James and Ellis!

🌳for Alice and Petva (vampire Lady cannot take the sun)

And 🏊 for Mel and Artemis

Hopefully that isn’t too much to ask for!

Woah first ship ask 😱

Hello hello hellooooo!! Sorry this took me ages but here ya go!!

👙:  our muses go the pool

"CANNONBALL!!!!!!!!!!" Ellis shouted as she ran towards the refreshing depths, leaping into the air and curling into herself. Soon the rush of water enveloped her before she floated to the top. Taking in a breath of air she giggled as she stood James frowning. Rolling his forest green eyes at her as he shook his now soaked hair. "Having fun?" He asked as she swam over. "Absolutely!!" Watching him stretch his arms and back, noting that he was pretty muscular. "The water's not that close. Come on!" The knight shook his head as she floated around in her hot pink frilly onepiece. "Can't. Gotta wait until my lunch's digested." He said as he brought his leg up to stretch it out. "Plus I don't wanna pull a muscle." She huffed. Damn him being cute and maybe right. " Party poooooooper." She whined, looking away from him as he sat down at the ledge, his legs relaxing in the cool water. "Just keep swimming, I'll keep watch and join in a little bit."

🌳:  our muses look for some shade

This.................was the worst. Alice sighed as she fanned herself. The tree gave her some much needed shade but it was so hot. As she leaned against the oak she sighed, why couldn't she be back at the dorm in her room with a pint of ice cream? Why must she had to go basketball in 90 degrees? She sighed again, still fanning herself and thanking the seven for basketball practice ending early until she heard a whistle blow. "Alright!!! Line up!!" Oh right it was the track team. She noticed Petva in the crowd, stretching and poking fun at Deuce. She giggled as the first year threw a punch and they took it no sweat. The tiger then picked up on her melodic voice, looking over to see her waving. Picking themself up the beastman strolled over with a lazy smirk until they leaned against the tree with one hand. "Afternoon gorgeous~" they smiled as she giggled with her bare hand covering her painted lip "Hello Petva." Golden eyes met and Petva sat down next to her. "Don't you help practice?" she chuckled as they rest their head on her lap. "Eh I'm glad, this is waaaaaay better~"

🏊:  our muses go swimming at the lake

Melanie stood on the edge of the dock, fiddling with the skirt of her swimsuit. Looking down at her feet then to the crystal blue water and back again. The wood creaked as she shifted back and forth. Was......this a good idea? Sure she was thankful that Artemis invited her to come to her uncle's cabin for a family trip but now it was just the two of them since the rest were heading into town to get some groceries. And Artemis wanted to go swimming since it was a hot day. "You alright bunny?" A squeak came out of Melanie as she quickly turned around......only to look away. Artemis stood there, hands on her hips in a black bikini. "I'm...........ok..........." she mumbled, god help her. The hunter smiled as she approached. "How's the water? Surprised Atlas hasn't jumped in yet." Atlas, one of the labs the family's owns was sleeping on the couch The two stood there, listening to the birds in their home as Artemis took her hand and squeezed it. "Ready?" The brunette looked at her love and softly smiled before nodding. "Ok. 1.......2.........3!!!"