#are for washing properly before getting in the magic water

[suhlogic]

paradise [kim mingyu x fem!oc]

summary: going to la union for a temporary escape from your busy city life was supposed to just be all about you, not until you meet a hot stranger at a bar and things escalate quite interestingly for the week.

warnings: slight age gap, dom!mingyu, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, creampie, size kink, praise kink, dry humping in a semi-public place, biting kink (slight), cum-eating

[🔞]

your city life proved to be exhausting, still navigating everything at 21 despite being independent and already moved out of your parents' house but the corporate life was a bitch to deal with on top of your mother nagging you to fulfill your filial duties as the eldest child to provide when they are still fully capable of supporting themselves and your younger sibling. so here you were, driving alone in your car on the way to la union to unplug for a week. the car ride was boring and tiring since your friends were all busy and you didn't want to ride a bus alone. finally, you arrived at your hotel early morning and got everything settled before you slept to make up for the exhaustion.

after a good few hours of decent sleep, you decide to get ready for the beach and put on a light red bikini that was just held together by strings that was properly showing off your huge tits. you also put on a skirt and a thin knitted coverup while your hair was up in a cute claw clip and grabbed your small tote bag on your way out to have some fun while the sun sets. as you reach the seaside, you decided to lay your towel on the sand and put your bag on it as you enjoyed swimming in the water basking in the sun.

[11:00pm]

after washing up back at your hotel room to grab dinner at the bar, you put on a pink dress with a thigh-high slit that was backless with just a pair of lace panties underneath. as you make your way into a chair by the bar counter and order your food, you mind your own business. after all, the fun doesn't start until the alcohol gives you enough courage to get fucked by a handsome stranger.

sipping on your cocktail was already affecting you and noticed that a tall handsome guy, with sharp gentle features and a short cropped haircut was eyeing you. his sun-kissed skin looking perfect under the strobing lights, athletically built body showing off through the shirt he's left the few buttons open with biceps practically begging to rip through its sleeves. but you weren't going to make it easy for him, catching his stares and waving back at the mystery guy. luring him to come over to your spot, and it fucking worked like magic.

his aura was intoxicating. the moment he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, he immediately had you hooked. "so what's a pretty girl like you doing in this place?" he smirked. you felt taken aback by his deep voice, his breath being minty with a hint of the gin and tonic he was drinking earlier. "just looking to have fun,although i've heard the real fun starts in the bedroom" you bite back with a smile from your pink glossy lips.

he laughed at the smooth rebuttal and reached his hand out to introduce himself, "feisty, i see...it's so rude that i didn't introduce myself. i'm mingyu by the way," he said. "and i'm _____," you shake his hand. "you know, i could show you a fun time what do you say?" his huge hand grabs the small of your back, the tension and close proximity making you yearn for his touch. the flashing lights and the music thumping on full blast against the speakers felt so right under the hot twinkling stars on a summer night,

"don't worry baby, they're too busy to care about what we're doing" he whispers as he holds you tighter and grinds his clothed member against your ass harder, "fuck, let's get out of here...my room." you whine as you begin to face him and grab his hand, leaving after paying your tabs.

once it was all settled, you and mingyu began to walk back to your hotel with hands intertwined together no one but the stars and the waves crashing against the shore witnessing romance brewing between the two of you as the music began to fade into the distance. the walk back to your place consisted of laughter and getting to know each other more, you began to learn that he was also getting away from the chaos of the city—family stuff, in his own words. not long after, the two of you made your way inside the elevator and pressed the floor where your room was.

you grab him by this nape and pull him in for a kiss, tasting your sweetness on his tongue and glistening pink lips which turns heated the moment your hands travel down his toned abs and into his boxers, feeling up his manhood—lengthy, thick and hard. you pull his pants down along with his underwear as his dick springs free slapping against his stomach past his belly button.

"will it fit?" you give him your best doe eyes as you begin to jerk him off, spreading his precum around the slit of his bulbous mushroom tip. "don't tease me, i need to be inside you now." he moans, the lust in his eyes darkening as he takes his dick in his hand and rubs it up and down your wet folds before inserting it slowly. his tip feeling hot and heavy against your wetness, moaning at how his dick feels inside you.

"didn't expect to pick up a hot stranger like you tonight..." you smirk, shifting to sit up on the bed while he grabs a towel to clean the both of you up and runs a bath. "i've had my eyes on you since you walked into the bar , i'm glad the night ended with you under me," he teasingly winks as he motions for you to come sit in between his legs and starts to wipe you down.

but mingyu couldn't help leaving slow and soft kisses down your cheeks and down your jawline as he cleans you up, "babe... don't start now, i can barely walk," you laugh, trying to suppress your moans. "i can carry you anywhere, don't worry," he whispers as you lean your neck to face him and pull him in for another kiss. after cleaning the two of you up, mingyu carries you in bridal style into the bathroom and helps you get into the bathtub and follows suit behind you and engulfs you in his warmth.

his biceps hugging you flush against his chest as you grab on his forearms biting at it softly and kissing it. you don't know if he''ll remain a stranger for the night or someone you'd be spending the rest of your life with but surely you hope it's the latter. he smirks at your antics and kisses your cheek, "happy 2nd anniversary, my love."

[sserpente]

Magic Hands

Synopsis: Astarion teaches you how to use a dagger in battle. The sweaty training calls for a bath in the nearby river afterward and you can’t help but admire the vampire rogue in the pale moonlight, surrounded by the glistening water surface. He seems… tense. Perhaps you can repay him by giving him a gentle massage?

A/N: Why did this take me so long to write, oh my gods! :D

Words: 2038 Warnings: smut, mentions of sexual trauma

Your battle cry echoed across the entire campsite when you plunged your blade forward. Lae’zel’s makeshift mind flayer dummy was rendered with holes at this point, oozing hey from several rips in the old fabric she had used to craft it.

The impact had you sway to one side and you shifted your weight, your left arm flailing about clumsily.

“Good. Now try that again without losing your balance.”

You grunted, shooting him an angry glance. He had his sleeves rolled up, and his arms crossed before his chest. It was almost distracting. Almost.

You had been at it for hours. Granted, it had been your idea—if you were going to survive this involuntary adventure, you might as well learn how to defend yourself. You were surprised you’d even made it this far. And, since attacking from the shadows was much more your cup of tea than storming headfirst into battle like Wyll or Lae’zel, you’d kindly asked Astarion to help you out.

He was a tough and strict teacher, you had to give him that. But you were making quick progress too. Before today, you hadn’t even been able to hold a dagger properly.

You withdrew your weapon and returned to your original position.

“Ah-ah-ah. No, darling. What did we just learn?” His teasing voice went down like butter. That was even more distracting.

Astarion pointed at your left foot. You shifted in the dirt, creating a grovelling noise.

“There we go. Now try again.”

You did as you were told, lunging at the dummy once more. Astarion tutted at you when you lost your balance yet again.

“Hey, don’t tut me!”

“I see where the problem lies now. Go on. Get back in position.”

Grunting once more, you obeyed. What you were not prepared for, however, was that he would step right behind you and place his hands on your stomach and waist. You sucked in a deep breath, tensing up.

“Keep tension here. You’ll want to make sure that lovely core of yours keeps you on your feet.”

Memories from your night in the woods came flooding back, sending you down a spiral of pleasure and arousal. You cleared your throat.

“Okay. I got it. I think.”

The sensation of loss was nearly overwhelming when he let go again. You could have sworn you saw him smirk from the corner of your eye.

You got into position again, took a deep breath, and… struck.

“Good girl.” You would have dropped the dagger had it not been lodged deeply within the mindflayer dummy. “Again.”

Again. Again and again and again until Astarion was certain you got the hang of it. Your arms were burning by the time he clapped and finally let you off the hook for the day.

“Be honest, you’re enjoying this a little.”

The vampire smirked. “More than just a little, darling.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, forcing you to bite your lower lip. “Whatever. I should get washed.”

“Hmm, so should I.”

You offered him a smile. Making your way toward the lake, you walked past Lae’zel who was sharpening her sword, Karlach who was dancing to a song only audible to her, and Gale practicing little magic tricks. Wyll and Halsin were with Shadowheart, talking and drinking by the fireplace.

You sighed. It could have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the imminent threat of a tadpole turning you all into thralls.

Once you reached the shore, there was no hesitation in your movements. You stripped off your clothes, knowing the bushes would hide you from unwanted eyes. As for Astarion… well… there was nothing he hadn’t seen before.

The vampire followed suit though you did notice that he avoided your gaze as he undressed. You couldn’t help but watch him regardless as he waded into the water until he was submerged hip-deep.

“You look really fine in the moonlight, you know that?” you said, joining him swiftly.

“Of course I do, I’m a vampire, darling.” He swam closer to you, allowing you to wrap your entire body around him. Astarion’s hands found your behind, squeezing gently.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. His lips were cold when you met them with yours, a playful kiss soon turning into a passionate display of affection.

By the time you finally broke apart panting, Astarion rolled his shoulders with a groan.

“Is everything alright? You seem even tenser than me.”

“Oh well, it can’t be helped. Must be the weight of being a hero on my shoulders,” he spat with dismay. Oh yeah… he’d made it clear his interest in saving the refugees was ridiculously small. You had your theories on that… yet there was no way in the hells Astarion was a terrible person but rather… a person terrible things had happened to. The scars on his back spoke for themselves.

“I could help with that if you want,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“Help? How?”

“This is gonna sound silly but I used to work as a massage therapist for a few years, back in Baldur’s Gate, I mean. I have magic hands. I know a lot of techniques to relieve back pain and back tension…” You trailed off, studying his reaction.

“Magic hands?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you and somehow, you knew exactly what was going on in his mind. Relieving a different kind of tension at your celebration with the Tieflings was one thing… having someone work his back and stroke every inch of exposed skin with skilled hands, right over the scars that had brought him so much torment… that was another.

“You want to… well… I…”

“If you want to?”

“Well… I suppose…”

You tilted your head. He wanted to accept, you could tell. But was that… concern glistening in his red eyes?

“You know, I’m, uh… I’m not offering this to have sex with you again. I mean… I really, really enjoyed myself, Astarion but… I honestly feel like that’s the reason you’re being wary, isn’t it? Along with me, um… touching your scars.”

His lips parted.

“I just want to help. And only if you’ll let me.”

“Alright… fine.”

You nodded, the tension you didn’t realise had been building up inside of you leaving your body.

“Then come find me in my tent later.”

You left him some privacy after your swim, returning to your makeshift home to find anything you could use as a massage oil. You settled for an ointment in the end, one that Halsin usually used to treat wounds. It would do. You could hardly use a bottle of grease after all.

You were rather certain Astarion waited until the others were asleep on purpose. When he parted the fabric of your makeshift door and crouched down a little to come inside, you patted your bedroll and smiled at him.

His coyness was adorable. While before his heart-breaking confession, every single word that had left his lips was a flirt, he was but a frightened young man now, intimidated by intimacy.

“Lie down, my love. And… Astarion?”

His red eyes met yours as he followed your request and removed his shirt, once again revealing those horrifying scars to you.

“You need to stop me if you’re feeling uncomfortable, alright?”

The vampire spawn smirked. “How could I possibly feel uncomfortable with your skilled hands dancing over my body, pet?”

“You know what I mean.” You grinned, relieved that his smarm was not lost on him.

“Of course.”

“Now lie down on your belly and close your eyes.”

Astarion sighed and did as he was told. You straddled him, trifling some of the oil on your hands and rubbing them together before eventually… placing your palms on his bare back.

Your fingers glided over the ridges of his scars, your thumbs digging into the muscles, looking for any tension. You found it all too quickly, working knot after knot out of his tormented back.

Soon enough, he relaxed. His sigh was so innocent you couldn’t help but lean forward and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades.

You pampered him for a while, making sure to massage each and every spot on his back. You did not fail to miss the faint moan when you asked him to turn over so you could work on the rest of his body. Gods, you were enjoying this even more than he was.

Astarion’s gaze was filled with repose and… hunger. And when your eyes travelled further down, your lips parted and you realised why.

He was hard.

“Do you… do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t… you… dare…” he muttered, eyes half-closed still.

You bit your lower lip, oily hands gliding over his chest. It wasn’t just him. You were as wet as the river you’d bathed in just a few hours back and now that you were aware just how much your sensual treatment affected him, the arousal was nearly unbearable.

Breathing heavily, you swallowed and paused.

“How about… I have an idea.”

He sat up a little, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh?”

His sly smirk caught you entirely off guard though you were unsure whether he was merely trying to hide his insecurity behind it. He’d told you he didn’t want you to think of him in terms of sex for now and you would respect that wish. There was no need for you to act on your own excitement even if it drove you insane. But if he let you… you wanted to make him feel good so badly that it almost caused you physical discomfort.

“I could… take care of… that,” you muttered, pointing at the growing bulge in his trousers.

Astarion raised his eyebrows, passion glistening in those red eyes.

“Let me pamper you. No sex. I might as well give you a… full body massage at this point. And if it gets too much, you stop me.”

“We… we could try.” He nodded, lying back down but keeping his eyes wide open as you opened his trousers with gentle movements and pulled his erection free.

Astarion flinched when your oily hand wrapped around his hardening length, fingertips teasing him tenderly.

“Okay?”

He nodded.

“I need you to tell me with words, my love.”

Astarion cleared his throat. “Okay. That feels… nice.”

One thing you realised very quickly was that he had never experienced anything like this before. Someone who wished for nothing more than to bring him pleasure, to make him feel good, without expecting anything in return. To give him back his sensuality where only he and his well-being mattered without his body being sexualised or objectified…

It must have been such a novel concept to him… biting your lower lip, you began to stroke him with firm yet tender touches, your thumb gliding over his slit and rubbing over his tip.

He squirmed, bucking his hips in response with a quiet moan. It was enough of a reaction to urge you on, your movements quickening and adapting to his rapid breathing.

You paused when he uttered your name with a start.

“No… no, don’t stop, my love… don’t you dare stop…”

So you kept going, driving him to the edge with hungry ferocity. Gods, he looked so delicious. So carefree and innocent all because of you…

“I… I… I will…”

Astarion thrust up into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Pleasure flushed his entire face, his lips parting. He tensed up, his thighs shaking and his fingers clutching at the soft material of your bedroll. He came all over your hands and knuckles, ropes of seed clear evidence of his release. You helped him ride it out, squeezing every last drop from his pretty cock until he was spent and panting, his body relaxing again bit by bit.

“You look so beautiful when you come undone…” you whispered, wiping your hands on some rags you kept nearby.

He chuckled. “And you do have magic hands. I might have to ask you to do that again soon.”

You smiled, cuddling up to him with a smile. Neither of you bothered to get undressed completely. You were perfectly fine with falling asleep like this.

“Anytime, Astarion. Always.”

[actuallysaiyan]

Make Me Feel Love(Kenpachi Zaraki x Fem!Reader)

warnings: unprotected sex, showers, oral sex(fem receiving), rough sex, lots of love and intimacy, Yachiru shows up at the end but she is none the wiser pairings: Kenpachi Zaraki x Fem!Reader word count: 1.3k

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @misty-angerose @seireiteihellbutterfly @yeowangies @felixmr

dividers by: @/benkeibear <3

You wait with bated breath. Every single time he leaves for something serious, you always worry that your lover won’t return to you. You know that’s a stupid way to think about it. He’s strong, stronger than anyone else you’ve seen fight.

It’s late in the evening when he comes home. Yachiru has been in bed for a few hours now, despite her insistence to stay awake for when “Ken-chan” comes home. You tucked her in after reassuring her that Kenpachi would return safe and sound. Even though you were worried, there was no sense worrying the young girl.

He comes in, looking disheveled. But when he sees you, he cracks a smile. You rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his large frame. He kisses you all over your face, which surprises you. You know he’s probably just trying to make up for being gone so long.

“I missed you so much,” you breathe. You don’t trust yourself not to break down and cry.

“Missed you too, honey.”

He picks you up in his arms, bringing you into your shared bedroom. He inquires about Yachiru, and you two peek into her bedroom. She’s sound asleep. This makes your heart swell with so much love.

Then he brings you into the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter as he gets the shower started. You’ve seen this man undress so many times, yet you still can’t help gawk at the gorgeous man in front of you. He smirks when he catches you looking at him.

Kenpachi makes his way over to you, kissing you fiercely. His tongue shoves into your mouth, making you moan. You’ll never get tired of tasting him. The scent of him, steel and sweat and musk, fills your senses. You hold onto him as his tongue wrestles with yours.

“I can tell you missed me,” He groans as he pulls away.

His hands begin undressing you as quickly as he can. Even though he said he could tell you missed him, you feel as though he’s the one who’s more desperate and needy. He throws your clothes to the ground, and he spreads your thighs.

“I need you,” he growls softly before capturing your lips with his.

Kenpachi carries you into the shower. The hot water cascades over the both of you. You moan softly as the water works its magic on your sore muscles. Then you take his favorite shampoo and begin to wash his hair. You love being able to do sweet and domestic things like this with him.

Kenpachi groans as you work out any knots in his hair. Then you begin to condition it too. Meanwhile, Kenpachi begins to soap you up. He smirks and chuckles as he suds up your tits. You try to chastise him for being so perverted, but you’re so turned on.

“I really missed you. I got so scared…”

Kenpachi laughs, “Woman, haven’t I told you not to worry?”

He then kisses you once more. He’s got you backed up against the shower wall. When he looks into your eyes, you can see the lust and desire that dwells inside of him. 

“I love you,” you whisper quietly.

“Love you too,”

It’s not long before you’re both properly cleaned. He turns off the water and hands you a fluffy towel. Kenpachi leads you into the bedroom the minute he deems you dried off enough.

On the bed, he crawls on top of you. His kisses are hungry and rough. But the minute you begin to caress him softly, he slows himself down. He spreads your legs and begins to kiss down your body. His eyes look up at you, gauging to make sure you’re still comfortable.

You let out a small gasp when his warm breath hits your folds. He chuckles before pressing teasing kisses to your inner thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat when his warm tongue presses against your folds.

“Mmm…fuck, I missed your pussy.”

You tug at his hair, pulling him a little closer as he slurps and sucks on your clit. The way he treats you when he’s in this mood makes you go a little cross-eyed and shaky with pleasure. Your breath comes out in heavy pants as you feel a fire burning deep in your tummy.

Kenpachi’s eyes are locked onto yours as he laps at you like a man who’s just found his own oasis in the dry desert. The sounds coming from him are so obscene and lewd. Slurping and sucking and licking; so sexual and prove to be almost too much as your orgasm hits you hard.

Your thighs clench around his face, but he doesn’t let up. He continues to suckle and lick you til you’re pushing him away from overstimulation. He then allows his hefty cock to glide through your folds as he positions himself between your thighs on his knees.

“Is this what you wanted? Or is it what you needed?” He uses the tip to tap against your clit.

You whine and beg for him to fuck you, but he wants this to last. He wants this to be slow. He guides the tip to your hole, pushing in slowly. Kenpachi smirks as he watches you get cockdrunk on almost nothing. Your little walls begin to grip onto him, making him grunt. Eventually, he’s all the way in with his balls plush against your ass.

“Is that good for you, little love?” Kenpachi whispers in your ear as he leans in close.

You moan his name. “Y-yes…”

He chuckles again before kissing you passionately. His hips move slowly, intimately. Kenpachi knows you’re craving deep, slow thrusts. He knows when your jaw hangs open and a slew of blabbering comes out of those pretty lips of yours.

He kisses your neck as he continues to rock his hips so slowly. With every thrust, you feel his thick cock dragging against your walls. Every thrust has him all the way in deep, his balls against your ass. Every thrust is a testament to how much he missed you and how much you love each other.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he leans back in to kiss you. It’s filled with passion and love. His hips continue to thrust, but they begin to pick up just a little more speed. He grins as he looks at you, making sure you’re okay with the change of pace.

“Let me show you just how much I missed you,”

Kenpachi’s large hands push your knees to your chest as he begins to pump into you harder, deeper and faster. He snaps his hips like a wild beast trying to breed. Kenpachi growls and grunts as his pleasure is twisting in his gut.

“Fuck, I should just…” he can’t even finish his sentence before his grunting. “I should just—oh fuck you feel amazing.”

His hips stutter a few times, but he manages to edge himself. He leans down to spit on your clit, rubbing it with his calloused thumb. Your eyes roll back once more, your toes curling as the pleasure is coursing through your body. He thrusts deeper, harder, faster still and makes you cry out for him.

Your hips buck up to meet his own thrust, sending you right over the edge. A cry of his name escapes your lips, and Kenpachi has to kiss you to quiet you down. He pumps into you deeper, the headboard slamming into the wall. He knows he might wake Yachiru, but he’s hoping she’ll sleep soundly.

With a guttural groan, Kenpachi spills his seed so deep inside of you. He’s grunting against your lips, fucking his cum into you. Slowly, he comes down from his high along with you and he slumps against your breasts.

“Woman, you’re gonna be the death of me…”

You laugh softly, pulling the sheets over you. Just in time, because Yachiru is at the door, looking awfully sleepy. You blush and try to hide your embarrassment. She doesn’t seem to truly notice what’s going on. She jumps on the bed, snuggling against you and Kenpachi. 

“Poor little girl,” Kenpachi comments, brushing some hair out of her face. 

You smile. “She missed you.”

He kisses you deeply. “I missed my family.”

All three of you snuggle together in the big bed, drifting off to sleep.

[waldau-archived]

hii! I've noticed that you haven't written anything for minghao yet (according to your master list) so I wanted to request something cozy and homey with him. like maybe cooking together or waking up together or something along those lines.. :)

hello anon! i was feeling extra sappy with minghao and this also happens to be my first work for him. thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

muse — xu minghao | 1,382 words | fluff

minghao blinks his eyes open to the sound of silence. there’s not much he can hear right out, except for the distant sound of cars going past. he lazes around for a few more moments before giving in and checking the time on his phone.

it’s just shy of six in the morning. he needs to be up and at the studio by nine, but he doesn’t feel like moving just yet. he puts his phone away and turns around to you, to watch you sleep.

the first time he’d ever done it was unfortunately a time you weren’t actually asleep, and he’d ended up staring at you for ten minutes before you woke up and apologized to him, saying that you couldn’t pretend to stay asleep without wanting to burst into laughter.

he still remembers how embarrassed he’d been by that, and how you made it up to him with kisses and multiples reassurances that it had been okay, that he could do it again, that it wasn’t a problem at all, you’d just been caught off-guard the very first time.

the thing is — minghao adores you. he’s in awe of you. to him, no one else on this planet even compares to how exquisite you are. he loves how like-minded the two of you are, how affectionate you’re with him, and how much you support him without even saying any words. of course, he loves going out on dates with you, seeing new places with you, seeing you match the outfits he wears, but this might just be his favourite sight in the world.

this being seeing you asleep on your side, facing him, a hand tucked under your head and the other holding his own. as an artist, he’s used to noticing the finer details about everything he sees, so when it comes to you, he could lose himself for hours noticing every single thing about you that makes him love you more.

minghao gently untangles his hand from your grasp, drawing his own blanket over you properly so that you don’t feel cold. he immediately feels the cold winter air hit his bare arms, and he winces as he gets used to it. he’s going to need to workout before he leaves, because there’s no time for it in the evening. not if he wants to finish work fast enough to come back to have dinner with you.

his fingers itch for a brush. it’s been a while since he’s painted something. the last thing he’d put on his canvas had been a rendition of a sunrise he’d been able to see with you a few weeks ago. it had been magical; the beautiful hues of orange and yellow blending with the shimmering brightness of the sea, contrasting the pale hue of the sky.

but nothing looked more beautiful than you sitting next to him, watching the sun rise and letting the water wash over your legs. he’d been tempted to paint you instead, right there, but you’d dragged him out on a monday morning for inspiration, despite the fact that both of you had work soon, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

but he doesn’t really need inspiration. not when you’re his muse.

he runs his fingers across your face as gently as he can, glad that you’re still asleep. you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and he’s glad he’s part of why you’ve been sleeping better. he smiles when he notices two faint pillow creases stamped into your cheek, angry red lines that he hopes don’t hurt you at all. you somehow manage to look even more perfect with them.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you before your eyes blink open slowly, and somehow his eyes are the first thing that yours find. he holds his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“hao?” you ask, voice croaky. “what time is it?”

minghao checks his phone again. “six thirty-seven. you still have twenty three more minutes to sleep, if you want.”

“mm,” you say, before you roll in closer and pull his arm to yourself. “wake me up at seven, then.” before he can say anything, you look up at him. “aren’t you supposed to leave early today?”

he nods. “do you want me to leave?”

you huff and tug at his arm to pull him closer to yourself, and he goes down willingly. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then?” he asks, pinching your nose softly.

you’re used to his teasing by now, so you just roll your eyes throw an arm around his waist. “did you sleep well, hao?”

“really well. you?”

“me too. but…how long were you staring at me this time?”

he feigns shock. “you could tell?”

“i can just…feel it, somehow,” you giggle. “won’t you tell me?”

“do you really want me to?”

“of course,” you say, eyes shining despite the layer of sleep clinging to them. minghao wishes he could spend more time with you like this. it’s almost like you’re forcing yourself to stay awake despite having some more time to sleep, just to talk to him. the thought warms his chest.

“maybe forty minutes? maybe more.”

there’s a grin on your face. “correct me if i’m wrong, but…i think you love me?”

he could just refute it, tease you a little, joke that you’re in too deep, but he can’t. there’s something about the early hours of the morning combined with the fact that he has the honour to wake up with you that makes his heart heavy. he’s lucky to even have this, especially with you.

“you’re right,” he says, voice rough, feeling his waterline sting suddenly. “i love you.”

the grin on your face disappears slowly. “hao? is everything okay?”

“of course it is, darling,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead, brushing off some rogue strands of hair to kiss it properly, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your beautiful face better. “i love you. is that wrong?”

“no, silly,” you say, leaning up to cup his cheek in your palm. your hand is cold. maybe he should’ve warmed you up better. “you sound…sad. like there’s something eating at you.”

he closes his eyes and indulges himself in your touch, trying to work out his words, marvelling at how easily you can read him. “i…love you. you know that, right?”

“yeah. i love you, too. but…?”

“but,” he sighs, “i just…don’t have the right words to tell you how much i love you. i could say i love you a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. i could kiss you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. i could…i could ask you to marry me but nothing would be enough to tell you how thankful i am that you’re here with me. that you’re mine.”

silence, just the two of you in your bedroom, the sounds of life filtering in from outside the window.

your breath is shaky when you speak. “hao.” you drop your hand down to his arm. “i love you, too. you don’t…i don’t need any grand gestures from you. just…be with me. every single day. be mine forever. that’s it.”

“there’s nowhere else i want to be.”

“then that’s all i need.”

minghao presses a kiss to your head. he hopes it conveys everything he’s feeling right now. he’s about to say something more when your alarm goes off, and he really should get going if he doesn’t want to reach work late.

“see you in the evening?” you ask, hand catching his as he attempts to get to his feet. “maybe we can talk about…getting married? for real?”

minghao hasn’t even opened the curtains yet, and he feels like he’s standing in front of the sun again. he’s going to go to work, do well, come back home to you and hold you and hear about your day and eat with you. he’s going to surprise you with a painting of yourself, and he’s going to marry you. that’s the life he’s built for himself with you, and he loves it.

it’s all he needs to keep going, every single day.

“i can’t wait. i’ll be back before you know it, darling.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[nastylittleghouls]

M! Would you tell us about Aether wearing these around the Abbey?

First of all, Jim, I appreciate you so much 💜 Second of all, we all know Aether's magnificent behind would see a lot of action when he wears those pants around the Abbey. From Siblings and Ghouls and Papa's alike. Most of all from Copia. We know just how much he loves Aether's ass. And Aether? He'd use it as a response and invitation for almost everything and at the end of the day he'd be filthy and sore in so many ways.

So I scribbled a lil thing.  5+1 moments where Aether got his "patch(es) kissed". There's mildly spicy entertainment under the cut. No Papa's included this time (they might get their own someday) and no refunds of your time if it actually isn't entertaining and my brain fog suffering med addled self was lying to me.

CW: Implied consensual free use, somnophilia. Unbeta'ed.

Divider by @wrathofrats - AO3 for the so inclined

Booty calls (He sure hopes it does)

1.

It‘s cathartic. Being alone and singing his heart out, that is. Letting himself sink into someone else's happiness without having personal ties to them. It’s something he needs more than he cares to admit. To himself and even less to the pack. He thrives on being social and being connected so deeply, don‘t get him wrong, but it‘s draining. Feeling other beings alongside his own all the time. The many unfortunate souls that seek shelter here. Chewed up and spit out by a society that produces loneliness en masse. Crushed souls and shattered minds hopeful for a new beginning and….

He sings even louder, over the dark cloud threatening to form in his mind, and shimmies with a pile of clothes in his arms through the room. His tail swishing and bopping, used as a makeshift microphone when he gets carried away by the vibes.

He bends over to stuff the washing machine full, ass still wriggling to the tune on the radio, when a pair of hands still his swaying hips and warm lips burn right through the layers of fabric, pulling a startled chuckle out of Aether. First on the patch, following its invitation to kiss it, then right on the seam between his cheeks. Further down on the banana, followed by a bite that has his breath hitching in anticipation. He knows what the sight of him doing so mundane, so humanly domestic things like laundry does to Dewdrop. 

He feels the same when Dewdrop is in his element, showing his magic in the kitchen. A natural in combining flavors and textures and bringing Aether to his knees for a taste.

„It says kiss it not eat me alive“

He feels, more than he hears, Dewdrop's low laugh when the water pump signals the starting washing cycle. The old thing’s too loud when it gets going but the vibrations do wonderful things to him, as Dewdrop hooks his fingers into and drags the waistband down to bare Aether to his hungry gaze.

 „Let me kiss it properly then“ is all he hears before Dewdrop spreads his cheeks and seals his lips over his hole, making out with it until Aether’s knees buckle and he has to grip the edge of the machine to keep himself upright. 

 Aether doesn‘t get around to folding the dry laundry waiting for him.

2.

After breakfast, Aurora and Sunshine make it a game to follow him around making loud obnoxious kissing noises when he turns his back to them. Aether pretends to ignore them until, in one careless second, they get too close and he gets his hands on them. He contemplates just sitting on them until they cry for mercy but decides to dump them unceremoniously into the lake and let the water ghoul conference deal with those brats.

3.

Around midday, he helps Ivy maintain his namesake on the Ghoul Wing walls. He’s standing on a stepstool, sweating as the sun beats down on him, gently removing some stray vines from the wooden window frames and hooking them into the growth support on the walls. It’s necessary work, otherwise they’ll infiltrate the whole building.  A gaggle of siblings has been hiding behind the columns for a while now, dissolving into helpless giggles every time he looks over at them, talking to each other in hushed, excited voices. 

„I can‘t just go up to him and….“ 

Aether can practically hear the wild hand gesturing.

„it‘s obviously an invitation!“ 

“But…”

“What what in the B…”

Someone snickers. A smacking sound follows. 

“He’s so big, just imagine….”

He laughs to himself at that, amused. He can smell the faint arousal mixed with a dash of fear. Can feel it in the aura surrounding them. Some of them are new and haven’t had the time to experience what a ghoul can and would do to them. Just dared to let their minds wander. Most of them think the masks are infused with a containment spell, making them harmless servants of the church. And, in Aether’s opinion, that’s half of the fun of the whole cat-and-mouse game. 

One sibling, clearly more shy than the others from what he’s observed today, finally breaks away from the group and leaves their hideout behind the stones. They walk straight, seemingly confident. A closer look reveals that their hands are shaking and that the fine line their lips are forming doesn’t stem from determination. 

They stop behind him, eyes firmly trained on the patch on his ass. A minute ticks by and just in time, he turns his head to see them raise their hand to their mouth. An exaggerated smooching sound follows and two fingertips press firmly against the patch. Aether wriggles his ass a little and cheers erupt behind him. 

They finally look up at him and he sends a wink their way.

“I appreciate someone that can follow instructions like that”

They smile in response before their eyes widen in realization and they almost fall over their own feet to run back to their friends. 

Yet, they linger. When Ivy makes him take a break it‘s the patch stuffed into their mouth, muffling the pleasured chants of his name.

4. 

During a nap on the couch in the common room, it‘s Swiss that follows his patch‘s invitation. Lips firm, nose pressed so far into the swell of his butt that Aether could swear he can feel his teeth. Swiss does it once, twice. A third time. Aether smiles sleepily, about to comment if it wasn’t on for the fourth,  where Swiss just keeps his face buried there and starts snoring. He ruffles the other Ghoul's hair affectionately before he closes his eyes and follows Swiss back into dreamland.  

He wakes to Swiss’ sliding the hard ridge of his cock against the letters on his ass, forcing Aether‘s hips into the couch over and over until they both come. 

„Messy kisses are the best“  Swiss smirks as he watches his cum seep in. 

5. In the evening, Aether goes to fetch some firewood from behind the greenhouse. 

Mountain steps in front of him when he’s about to leave.

„Road toll. You shall not pass without paying up“ 

The look on Mountain‘s face is almost unbearably cheesy and Aether can‘t help but play along. 

„And what, dear sir, can I offer you to let me through?“

Now, Mountain's eyes start to glint mischievously and he takes the wood from Aether, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground next to them. Then he steps closer and draws Aether up against himself with a firm grip on his ass, fingers digging deep into the patch on the inside of Aether’s thigh. It forces the Quint onto his tiptoes.  

“I have a craving for banana and cream”.

+1

When Aether faceplants into his nest after his shift in the infirmary the next morning, only clad in boxer shorts, it doesn’t take long for Dewdrop to crawl between his legs and drop another kiss onto his ass where the patch had been sitting for too long in his opinion; giving Aether’s body freely away. It feels like a nod to the events in the laundry room yesterday when he was sending him off as he’s now welcomed back. 

“I missed you, starlight”  The words come sometime in between bouts of scenting him. In a narrow time frame when he pauses and starts anew. More of a breath than a sentence.

“Missed you too, firefly” 

Aether says and sinks into the feeling, lets the emotions that well up thrum through their bond, and accepts Dew’s in return. It’s easy when it’s him. A being so deeply interwoven with his own for so long.  A part of him wishes it would never end, the other wishes Dew would let him roll over and reciprocate sooner than later.  

Finally, after giving himself a moment to playfully nip into Aether’s thighs where Mountain left his mark earlier, he nuzzles and kisses his way up Aether‘s back. Aether inhales -  sharply -  then exhales - slowly -  with a laugh and reaches behind him blindly to tangle his fingers in Dew’s hair, craving more contact.

“Easy, easy. I’m here. All yours again”

Dew settles around him like warm summer rain. Calming, warm. The need to reclaim swinging along like an afterthought. 

“Want to mark you inside. Let me?” 

It’s a demand, packaged in a whispered question, to a star who would never say no to being consumed by fire. 

[em1e]

ᶻz feat. draken + mikey + ran !!

tokyo revengers && haircare

☓ they let u touch their hair !! ran's is a lil suggestive :3

ᶻz・ken ryuguji ‘draken’

⠀ ⬤ and helping upkeep his dark dye job.

“your roots are coming in.” you hum out with a tap to his forehead. 

draken swats your hand away with a grimace, standing from his kneeling position in front of the bike he was fixing while wiping his hands on the rag he keeps in his belt loop, “yeah? ‘ve been meaning to get some dye.” 

you smile, “can i do it?” 

“you gotta dying degree?, his eyes narrow to slits, quick to ask. 

“cosmetology degree,” you correct, unwavering, “and how hard can it be? you seem to do just fine.” 

“i’ve been doing it for a couple years.” he rolls his eyes, “and it’s so dark, i dunno how good of a job you’ll do.” 

“tomato, tomato.” you wave off, “what brand do you get? i’ll stop by the store and grab a box before you’re home.”  

he doesn’t have it in him to argue - not when you’re giving him such a big grin and those puppy-dog eyes - he can’t say no. 

“revlon,” he relents, “but if you mess up you’re never doin’ it again.” 

“aye aye captain.” you giggle, standing on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before you’re practically skipping out of the garage.

when he comes back to your shared home, you’re sitting in the living room, a towel in the middle of the floor with one of the dining room chairs set in the center of it. he raises an eyebrow at it, and you hold up the box with a smile. 

“ready?”

draken changes from his work clothes while you mix the bowl of dye. he ends up sitting in the chair while you drape an old hand towel around his neck and press a kiss to his nose when you’re satisfied with the placement. 

“try not to get it in my scalp, yeah?” he grimaces at how dark the color is, suddenly very aware of each stroke you put onto his head despite you being mindful of each part you section off before moving to the next. it takes you maybe thirty minutes before you’re satisfied, making sure to use what dye remains to blend it in with the rest of his hair. you give another kiss to his forehead when you’re finished, and grimace when your nose presses into the still very wet dye. 

draken wipes away the little dot smeared on the tip of your nose with the corner of the hand towel, smiling at how you perk up at such a little interaction. 

“‘kay, it has to stay on for 25 minutes and then you can rinse it out.” 

“i know,” he laughs, “i do this like once a month.” 

you pinch his shoulder with a huff, “i was just reminding you.” 

draken stays in the chair as the 25 minutes pass, worried about dripping dye on your brand new carpet, and lets you help him wash it out when the time comes, leaning over the edge of the bathtub while you run water and shampoo and conditioner over his hair. 

you towel it try while he sits on the toilet, pressing a kiss to his forehead when you’re finished and smiling at how well of a job you’ve done. 

“none on your scalp.” you hum out, stepping back when he stands to look at himself in the mirror. you adore him like this, hair down and falling over his shoulders. he runs a hand through the still slightly damp hair, examining with the critique of a college professor.

then he gives you a toothy grin, brushing some fallen pieces out of his face, “you did good. might have to make this a habit.” 

ᶻz・manjiro sano ‘mikey’ 

⠀ ⬤ and letting you put his hair into different styles.

mikey was practically purring while you ran your fingers through his messy blond hair. 

the sensation of your fingertips against his scalp was magical, leaving him to bonelessly slumping against you while you part and section as you please, and despite you tapping his shoulder multiple times and mumble something about him needing to stay sitting up straight so you can properly fix his hair, he always ends up in the same position. 

it makes your job twenty times harder, tying up his pretty locks at an awkward angle and having to redo it multiple times when it’s uneven, and part of you suspects maybe he’s doing it on purpose - the need to have your fingers in his hair ever present with the sighs that fall from his lips. 

still, you do as well as you can, and press a soft kiss to the top of his head when you’re finished. 

he doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know you’ve done a good job. his body goes even limper to lean his full weight against you, sighing softly as you wrap your arms around his waist and hook your head over his shoulder. 

“how’s it look?” he asks more out of courtesy, since you did just spend the last twenty minutes doing whatever it is you’ve decided to do to his head. 

“cute.” you answer with a smile, “wanna see?” 

he hums, eyes closing when the warmth that radiates from you seeps into his back. he really doesn’t want to move.

and it’s as if you can see into the future - having already brought over a small hand mirror for him to look into when you grabbed the various hair ties and clips that are currently in his hair. you offer it to him gently, and he takes it with one eye open, head tilting as he takes in his new style. 

it is cute, he can admit. small colorful butterfly clips sat mixed into the usual half-up hairdo he normally wears. 

“you did good.” he turns his head slightly to give you a small peck on the cheek, smiling when he sees the blush that flares from the spot as if he’s burned you. 

“thanks.” your voice is quiet, but giddy. happy he’s happy. 

he sets the mirror face down onto his stomach, closing his eyes and letting himself relax in your embrace. some stray clips poke into the back of his head, but he can’t really find it in himself to care when the air around you brings such peace. 

he thinks he could stay like this forever, laying with whatever silly decorations in his hair if it means you’ll stay there, too. 

ᶻz・ran haitani

⠀ ⬤ and braiding his stupidly dyed hair.

“you are so annoying,” you groan out, undoing the entirety of the braid you’ve just done when ran turns his head to face you with a grin. 

“what?” he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t been the reason you’ve spent thirty minutes on his hair and still haven’t gotten a single braid finished. 

you replace the hair tie on your wrist, twisting him to face forward by his cheeks to restart, “we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago. rindou is gonna kill me if we’re late to this stupid dinner.” 

his grin falters at the mention of his brother’s name, turning to face you fully despite your protests, “who cares ‘bout him. you ‘nd i can have plenty of fun without goin’ to that dinner with him.”

the look you set him with would send any normal person running, but ran haitani has seen it all. death doesn’t scare him as much as it probably should, and neither does the way your eyes are scanning over his face. 

“it’s his birthday.” you settle for instead, forcing him to turn back around so you can start over with a frustrated sigh. 

“he ‘nd i already celebrated.” he says dismissively, turning back around despite you clicking your tongue and dropping your hands into your lap with another sigh. 

your aggravation is palpable, clear with the crease in your brows, “ran, i’m serious. i still need to get dressed and the reservation is five minutes from now and the place is almost fifteen if we speed-” 

he shuts you up with a kiss, pulling you towards him with a desperation that has your eyes fluttering closed and returning it as if it’s something as natural as breathing. your hands come up to tangle in his hair, fingertips meeting the hair tie still separating the half of it from the rest, and you pull. far harder than necessary, and it has him pulling away from you with a groan. 

it’s enough to tug the hair tie out completely, and you’re satisfied with the way his mixed colors fall over his shoulders and frame his face. 

the grin he gives you is sharp, all teeth and teasing, and your eyebrows raise with a pointed finger, “no ran. you are going to this dinner with your hair down and i am going to get dressed.” you slide out from behind him as quickly as your body will allow, already in the process of stripping off your shirt to put on the clothes you’ve set out previously. 

“c’mon babe, we’re already gonna be late.” his arms wrap around your bare torso, teeth pressing into your shoulder from how hard he’s grinning, “what’s a few extra minutes? s’not like he’ll be alone, izana ‘nd the others’ll be there to keep him company.” 

“ran.” your voice is warning, but you’re letting him pull you towards the bed and your resolve falters with each second he’s holding you. you are already late anyways. what’s twenty more minutes?

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 06

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5612, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: It had been four years since he'd made his first and only friends. Just enough time for him to forget how awkward the beginnings of a new friendship could be.

a/n: I hope you like teenage awkwardness, stupid misunderstandings and frustrated Ominis. Biggest thanks again to the world’s best beta reader ladyelisabeth, for ironing out all my silly little mistakes ❤️

Chapter 05 || Masterlist || Chapter 07 (coming soon)

Chapter 06 - Long way to go

“...Ominis.”

Not yet… a few more minutes.

“Ominis, it’s about to overflow.”

But it was the squeaking of the faucet that finally made him stir. “Oh.” Ominis’ voice was still a bit raspy from sleep, though it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up today. He’d dozed off again, on the bathroom floor, arm hanging over the edge of the tub so he’d know when it was full enough for him to get in.

The dungeons were perpetually cold this time of year, and he wasn’t fond of sitting naked and shivering in a half-empty tub until the water finally came up to his neck. 

Ominis pried himself off the floor with a groan, scrunching his nose in disgust as the cold air hit his wet arm. 

“Why are you up so early, anyway?” Sebastian asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Ominis answered sluggishly, unbuttoning his shirt. The edge of his rolled up sleeve was slightly soaked, pressing a wet patch into his side.

“Oh, obviously,” came sarcastically from the direction of the sink.

Ominis ignored him. He’d gone to bed too exhausted to think of anything at all, and although his sleep wasn’t as restful as he’d have liked it to be, and not nearly enough to make up for the stresses of the previous two days, he’d woken up with a fairly clear mind. 

Just clear enough to focus on new concerns. The easiest of which to deal with was that he’d not been as clean as he would have liked to be, for how close she’d been sitting to him. 

Sebastian was almost done washing up, and Ominis stalled until he was through the door before he finished undressing and got in the bathtub. It wasn’t as if Sebastian had never seen him naked, that was unavoidable when living on top of each other for years, but Ominis still felt somewhat self-conscious about it. 

The warm water felt like heaven. He practically melted into it, stretching out with a sigh, letting it wash away the grime and sweat and all the doubts and fears that had come with it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ominis”

They were friends now. He’d been so relieved and yet so weary of everything, he hadn’t actually put a single thought into what that meant. 

Sebastian and Anne were the only real friends he’d ever had. The three of them had been inseparable since they were eleven, spending every hour of the day together until their electives, or Crossed Wands, or Sebastian’s library ventures necessitated they part for an hour or so. But even then, they’d always gravitated towards each other immediately after, stuck together again as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

It wouldn’t be like that with her. She didn’t make those sorts of friendships.

Always on the move to the next exciting thing that caught her attention, going off on her own to Merlin knows where, and not under any compulsion to tell anyone where she’d been or where she’d go next, no one person eagerly waiting for her to come back.

She belonged in a different common room, they wouldn’t eat together in the Great Hall, she had her usual seats next to her other friends for their lessons, what else was there? It was hard to imagine she’d somehow find the time to join them in the Undercroft for a round of Gobstones.

Wait- she didn’t like Gobstones.

Ominis sank deeper into the water, savouring the last few minutes of peace before the day well and truly started. 

She’d see him today, right after breakfast, in History of Magic. Say hello when she did- and then what?

At the very least, he could invite her to study with him in the library again. Merlin knew she’d need it if she had any intention of passing her O.W.L.’s, and he’d just have to wait and figure out where to take it from there.

One step at a time.

He was clean for a start- time to tend to his next pressing concern. 

Sebastian sat on his bed when Ominis finally emerged from the bathroom, seemingly busy with yet another book, but not so much that he missed the obvious growling coming from Ominis’ stomach. “Hungry?”

“Starving. I haven’t had proper food since the day before yesterday.”

“I brought you biscuits last night!” Sebastian said indignantly.

“I said proper food,” Ominis replied with a smirk.

Sebastian snorted. “Right.” Then he softened considerably. “I suppose you’re feeling well enough for classes today?”

“I think so.” Ominis took a deep breath. “I know I can’t dwell on it forever,” he said, with more conviction. “I know none of us knew what we were getting ourselves into. Just don’t forget what you promised.”

“I won’t.” 

It wasn’t quite the earnest conversation Ominis wanted to have with Sebastian about what happened in the scriptorium, and some of the things peripheral to it- the ease with which Sebastian had cast an Unforgivable, why he had the knowledge to cast it in the first place, why he’d never talked to Ominis about it, even knowing how much he’d suffered because of the Dark Arts- but he’d give it a rest for now.

One step at a time.

Ominis took his time meticulously getting dressed, ignoring the gaping hole in his stomach that demanded to be filled with food. 

“Do I look all right?”

Sebastian stopped what he was doing. “You know, I can’t even remember the last time you asked me that.”

“Well, do I?”

“Do you ever not?”

Ominis sighed. He would have liked to actually get Sebastian’s opinion, but he had too much pride to ask again. 

The bathroom mirror was generous with its compliments, as it usually was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that those were enchanted to either point out the sort of sloppiness that would make Professor Black scoff, or else be unnecessarily flattering.

Today, it told him he looked “as dashing as a dewy morning,” whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Ominis’ stomach growled again.

“Breakfast?” Sebastian asked mildly.

“Merlin, yes. Please.”

One step at a time.

“Good morning, Ominis.”

He almost jumped out of his seat. Through the commotion and annoyed groans of their classmates- because no one was enthusiastic about listening to Professor Binns’ waffling about Goblin rebellions first thing in the morning- he hadn’t heard her coming. Not to mention he’d already mentally prepared himself to catch up on some more sleep during the lesson.

“...sorry, did I startle you?” She tried to hold back a laugh.

“You caught me lost in thought,” he replied, cursing the warmth that spread over his cheeks and hoping it wasn’t too obvious. “How have you been last night? Did you go to the Hospital Wing in the end?”

“I didn’t need to. I think I’ve found something that works better.”

“Oh?” Ominis’ eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a curious smile. “Please do tell. What was it?”

“Talking to you,” she answered, with a sincerity that left him dumbstruck.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “there’s something else I wanted to ask. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up yesterday.”

Ominis hesitated. He turned his head, but based on the noise and softly mumbled complaints, their classmates were still occupied with taking out their books and the mental preparations required to withstand Binns’ monotone droning.

She seemed to have noticed, because her voice dropped to a whisper. “Noctua Gaunt’s notes. I wanted to ask you if you’d like to have them. I’d understand if you don’t- I promise you I’ll keep them safe.”

The familiar sting came back as suddenly as Noctua’s name. “No, I’d like to have them.” It wasn’t even a decision. He owed her that much, she’d died for him. 

Ominis held out his hand, expectantly.

“I don’t have them with me- they’re in my dormitory. I could get them for you after classes today?”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

An excuse to meet later. Stick around to do homework, perhaps. He’d only have to ask.

“Would you-” he started, but the bells cut him off. He expected her to bid him goodbye, to go and sit with one of her friends- one of her other friends. Instead, she sat down next to him. 

Should he mention it? Ask her what he’d done to suddenly deserve this much attention? Tell her she didn’t need to feel obligated to stick around?

But it was already too late for her to get up and switch seats anyway, so he said nothing and settled into his seat, chin propped up and eyes closed while the disembodied voice of their Professor promised an hour of profound boredom.

For a little while, he just concentrated on breathing.

She smelled like her soap. Stronger than usual, like that day in the library, so she’d started the day by taking a bath, just like he had. It was a lovely scent, slightly flowery, interwoven with the smell of the plants from her common room that always clung to all the Hufflepuffs’ robes. Then he suddenly realised that she never wore perfume. It’d probably be a waste, considering how frequently she’d have to bathe, what with her rolling around in the dirt all the time.

He listened to the rhythmic scratching of her quill, too rhythmic for her to be taking notes. Not that there was much to be taking notes about, Binns was telling them some minutia about the Goblin rebellion of 1612, at a pace that would make a Streeler cry. She was probably doodling in her textbook. 

Smiling to himself, he took his quill, the regular one, ripped off a piece of parchment and started writing.

Bored?

A gentle tap of parchment against her hand got her attention. The scratching stopped as the parchment slipped out under his fingers, then resumed more evenly, purposeful. Ominis changed the quill in his hand for his wand, ready for her reply.

deadly. you?

Quite the same

Her next reply took a bit longer, scratches more hesitant than before, but he wasn’t kept in suspense for long.

you use your wand to read? how does it work?

Should he? Trying to keep a straight face, he wrote his answer and slid it over.

Magic

It earned him a playful elbow jab that made his heart leap. Ominis’ face split into a genuine smile as she tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

fine keep your secrets

At least you’re not bored anymore

no first time I’m not, in history thanks to you

…Thanks to him.

I’m glad How do you usually pass the time Sleep?

sometimes I fall asleep sometimes I just stare at the windows. they’re even prettier than the ones at church

Ominis froze briefly. He had a vague idea of what “church” was- some building vitally important to Muggle customs, Muggleborns mentioned it every now and again- but he’d never been sure if it was a particularly pleasant place, other than having nice windows, apparently.

So he decided to disregard it for now.

You’d like the ones in our common room

I’m sure I would, I heard the view is lov

He had the piece of parchment ripped out from under his fingers before he’d finished reading.

I’m sure I would, I heard the view is lovely sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know

Ominis frowned. He didn’t like where this was going, there was nothing for her to be sorry about.

No matter The view is lovely from what I know Sebastian said if you hit the windows with spells sometimes the squid hits back

how did he find out

Tried to find out if our windows were spell resistant

what if they hadn’t been?

Would have drowned us all I suppose

She quietly snorted with laughter.

Ominis couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light during History of Magic. Or smiled this much. Or didn’t want the lesson to end.

It was the first time he’d cursed the bells cutting off Binns and signalling their freedom, but he noticed she didn’t join the choir of relieved sighs either.

“-five rolls of parchment on the topic of today's lesson, to be handed in on Friday.” The audible tail end of his instruction was met with obvious displeasure and quite a few groans, which the ghost ignored as resolutely as his own death.

“...Did he say five rolls?” she asked with a hint of desperation.

Ominis smirked. “You should have been here last year, his record is twelve.”

She made a noise that sounded vaguely like a strangled cat. “I think I haven’t paid attention to a single word he said.”

Ominis hummed in agreement as he packed his things, feeling around on the table for the piece of parchment they’d written on, but it was already gone. He didn’t know why the realisation upset him. 

“No one does, but as long as you vaguely remember some dates, you can look it up in the book.” He smirked. “Surprisingly, it takes but a fraction of the time Professor Binns needs to elaborate on it.”

“Would you like to meet up later? Perhaps we could write it together.” 

Such a simple request, but it hit Ominis like a ray of sunshine. “Yes, I would. Shall we meet in the library?”

She hummed teasingly. “Am I still not welcome in the Undercroft?”

“Sure, if you want to write them on the floor.” He’d faltered briefly, but they’d been through much worse since that particular argument, and she still voluntarily sought out his company.

“I think I’d prefer the library.”

“I thought as much.” He’d finished packing up. Charms was next, they’d be joined by Sebastian and after-

“Natty’s waiting for me- see you, Ominis.”

“...Right.”

And gone she was, again. Of course she was, she always spent Charms with Onai- but for a brief, foolish moment he wished she would have made an exception, for him, just for today.

It never rains but it pours. Not sitting with her in Charms had been a small disappointment, but he hadn’t expected to be unlucky enough to end up next to Leander Prewett instead.

“Gaunt.”

It was the third time since class had started that the Gryffindor had tried to get his attention. They were going over the colour change charm again, and while Professor Ronan had encouraged Ominis to ask Prewett if his marbles had turned the correct shade of blue- a suggestion Ominis had politely acknowledged and then ignored- he had a hunch that Prewett’s repeated tries to get his attention had nothing to do with the lesson.

“Gaunt.”

Again, and always when the sound of Professor Ronan’s footsteps grew faint and he could be heard giving instructions at the opposite side of the room.

Ominis lowered his wand. “Can I help you?”

“I saw the two of you, being all chummy in History of Magic.”

So that’s what this was about.

“It’s bad enough that Sallow keeps pestering her, she doesn’t need to be bothered by the likes of you, ” Prewett said with obvious contempt.

Oh please. He might still be insecure about their budding friendship, but he certainly couldn’t care less what Leander Prewett thought of it.

“I do apologise,” Ominis said, as sincerely as he could fake it. “I suppose I should have been more considerate towards your girlfriend.”

“I- well, she’s not my girlfriend-” Prewett tripped over his words, flustered.

“Then it’s not your place to decide who she spends her time with, is it.”

Prewett sat in stunned silence for a moment, then Ominis could hear him angrily slamming his textbook shut, followed by the sound of marbles clattering on the floor and a string of curses.

The corners of Ominis’ mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk. He was probably going to get murderous looks for the remainder of the lesson, but it wasn’t as if he’d have to see it.

It wasn’t surprising that Prewett thought the seemingly sweet, innocent little Hufflepuff was too good for the descendant of Slytherin and the most notorious troublemaker in their year. Plenty of others probably agreed, even if they had enough sense to keep that opinion to themselves.

And he very much doubted Prewett would have said anything at all if Sebastian had been close enough to hear it.

Which left the question, would he have said anything if she had been?

Ominis left the Charms classroom in a pensive mood. 

He tried not to dwell on his conversation with Prewett. Instead, he kept his mind busy trying to construct an excuse for why he’d not finished his Potions essay that wouldn’t cause Sharp to have him scrub cauldrons until after midnight. 

Being unwell yesterday was the most obvious one, but it wouldn’t be difficult for Sharp to figure out that he’d never been to the hospital wing. One casual inquiry towards Nurse Blainey at the staff table during dinner was all it would take.

The only reason he got away with missing his classes at all was that his connection to the headmaster usually shielded him from scrutiny, but he’d rather not push his luck.

On the steps just outside the door, he could hear Prewetts voice again, urgently talking to Onai, and although he went in the opposite direction and the general noise drowned them out, he could still hear his own name being mentioned.

It left him with a vague sense of foreboding.

Prewett had made his feelings about him abundantly clear, and Onai was at the very least wary of him. Ominis was fairly certain he’d never given her a reason to be, but he supposed his family name and the reputation that came with it was enough.

Perhaps enough for Onai to disapprove of them now sharing a common friend. If she did, she’d have plenty opportunity to voice it soon, when the two of them would be in Beast class together.

Ominis’ stomach turned.

He had a hard time mustering up any enthusiasm for lunch after that, although that was mainly due to him still being full from breakfast. So instead he decided to use the time to catch up on his sleep in the Undercroft, tasking Sebastian with waking him up in time for Arithmancy and ignoring the voice in his head telling him he should at least try and put something on parchment for Potions. 

He consoled himself with the thought that at least he’d be awake enough to pay attention in Sharp’s class. 

And his subsequent, inevitable detention.

He still fell asleep in Arithmancy.

Eyes still sleep-swollen, Ominis somehow still didn’t feel well rested by the time he met up with Sebastian in the Potions classroom. He’d tried to be early, so he could at least make sure he’d be properly prepared for the lesson- and have time for a much needed conversation.

“How was Beasts class?” Ominis tried to pass it off as small talk, while weighing his bottle of Horklump juice in his hands to figure out if he still had enough.

Sebastian snorted. “I’m sorry, are you expecting me to believe you care? Just tell me what you really want to ask.”

Ominis grimaced. Fine, he hadn’t exactly been elegant, or subtle- in his defence, sleeping through most of Arithmancy hadn’t left him with much time to think of something better. “Oh, all right. Did Onai seem odd at all, or did she say anything?”

“What about? Of course she was saying something , we all did, it’s not exactly a quiet class.”

Oh, Merlin. He felt awkward about it, for some reason, but Sebastian was still his closest friend, and the only one who he could talk to about this. He rolled the bottle between his hands, more to keep them busy than because he still needed to. “I met her yesterday, when I… went for a walk. We talked about what happened in the scriptorium-”

“Onai?” 

Ominis gave him a long-suffering look.

“Oh. Wait, why am I only hearing about this now? You should have told me yesterday.”

“I’m telling you now. We talked, and… we’ve decided we’d like to try to be friends, after all. We sat together in History of Magic this morning. Only it seems there are some who didn’t like that very much.” Ominis almost missed the table when he put the bottle down, but Sebastian caught it in time.

“It’s none of their business who you sit with in History of Magic,” Sebastian said dismissively.

“Obviously, but I still wouldn’t want them to bother her about it. I think… I’m fairly certain Prewett told Onai to warn her about me.” 

“Even if she does, it won’t make a difference, trust me. Don’t worry about it.”

“Perhaps. But if she had to choose, I’d doubt she’d pick me over her other friends. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“I would.”

“Oh?” 

“But I won’t have to. Trust me. And besides, we come as a set, you and I. She won’t choose any other friends over me.”

Ominis made a vaguely affirmative noise. Sebastian had a point- as long as the two of them were friends, it wasn’t likely that she’d shun him, now that they’d made it past their initial differences. But he somehow wished that wasn’t the reason, not all of it, at least.

“I’d thought you’d be over worrying what others thought of you. Don’t mind them,” Sebastian said soothingly.

He didn’t. He was afraid she might.

“And Prewett’s still sulking because she wasn’t impressed by his insights on chomping cabbages.”

Ominis snorted at that. “How dare she.”

As expected, Professor Sharp was not enthused to be a parchment short when he collected their homework. He gave Ominis until Monday to hand it in- at double the length. Ominis was tempted to ask for detention instead. Scrubbing cauldrons seemed like a less excruciating ordeal by comparison.

Half an hour later, his potion was on its way to turn out poorly, if the smell and Sharp’s disappointed sigh as he passed them were anything to go by. 

She’d been busy at the opposite side of the classroom, doing a perfectly fine job with her own potion, of course. Even finding time to chat and laugh with Weasley while she was at it. Ominis didn’t think he’d ever wanted to drop this blasted class more. 

He half heartedly dropped his spider fangs in the cauldron, causing some of its foul smelling mixture to splatter onto his hand, where it left painfully burning spots. “Oh for the love of-”

“All right?” Sebastian asked.

“Fine.” Ominis was soothing the burns with a mild cooling charm, when he heard her approach. For the first time since yesterday, he wished she’d stayed away.

“Would you like some help?”

It returned in full force. The same uneasy feeling from before, when she’d apologised about mentioning the view from the Slytherin common room windows, only now it was starting to grow into something more like panic.

He shouldn’t say anything. Her friendship had been hard earned, she only meant well, but the longer he let it go, the harder it would be to bring it up, and he’d have to bring it up eventually.

“Ominis?” She asked again. “I could help you out, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied, as calmly as he could.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, very much so.”

She leaned over his cauldron. “It’s starting to curdle.”

“I’m asking you to stop,” Ominis said coldly. “Let me fail or succeed on my own. I don’t need your help.”

She froze. Just long enough for Ominis to regret every word, think of a hundred ways to say it instead. 

She took a step back. “I understand.”

“Wait.” Ominis grabbed her by the sleeve as she turned to leave, but let go almost immediately. “…Are we still meeting in the library later?” he asked nervously.

She sighed- In relief? Or exasperation? “I’ll be there.” It was all she said before going back to her potion station, leaving Ominis behind, forlorn and confused.

Sebastian groaned. “Ominis-”

“Don’t.” The pain in Ominis’ hand came back- he deserved it. 

He gave up on his potion. It had started to curdle, and he couldn’t even begin to guess how to fix it.

Once Professor Sharp had made his final round- with another disappointed sigh as he passed Ominis’ cauldron, but at that point it would have been foolishly optimistic to expect anything else- Sebastian excused himself. He’d spent a few minutes talking to her, what about, Ominis couldn’t hear. 

“Just wanted to make sure she’s all right,” Sebastian explained, once he’d caught up with Ominis outside the classroom.

“Is she?” Ominis asked quietly.

“‘Course she is, you know her.” Sebastian paused. “Or maybe not.”

“I know she means well, I… I just don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want her help.”

“Why not?” asked Sebastian. “I still help you when you need it. All the time.”

“You’re not being so obvious when you do.”

Casually describing pictures or paintings, as if he was just musing aloud. Handing Ominis the pruning shears in Herbology so he wouldn’t either have to feel around for them and possibly cut himself, or have to grab his wand with soil stained hands. Catching his potion bottles when he missed the table.

“Now. I constantly made a fool of myself when we first became friends. Remember in our first week, when I tried to help you up the stairs and you tripped me for it?”

“I didn’t-” 

“It’s been four years, you can stop pretending it was an accident,” Sebastian scoffed.

Ominis almost laughed, but he managed to turn it into an annoyed huff at the last moment. “Fine. I still can’t believe you thought I’d need help getting up the stairs.”

“They were moving!”

“‘They were moving,’” Ominis repeated, mockingly.

“All right, are you done?”

He was. Unfortunately, that meant he no longer had anything to distract himself from the doubts gnawing at his mind.

Walking through the library door, he’d felt a moment of pure dread, until the sound of her voice carried his worries away like the autumn breeze.

She wasn’t one to nurse a grudge, but Merlin, after Potions he wouldn’t have blamed her for not showing up at all. But she’d waited for him, at the same table as last time.

It tore at his heart.

After they’d spend History of Magic chatting as if they’d been friends for years, not being able to guess what had soured his mood in between, she couldn’t possibly have expected him to suddenly snap at her like he did back when he caught her leaving the Undercroft.

It must have hurt her more than she let on, but if she was at all bitter about it, she hid it well. None of them brought it up. For a terrifying moment, Ominis had thought Sebastian was about to- he’d invited himself to join them, and Ominis had been glad for it- but he’d just asked her for a piece of spare parchment.

They’d said their hellos, gave their insincere apologies because Madam Scribner had been walking by too close just then, and sat at the table in amiable silence ever since. Across from her, because there was no reason for him and Sebastian to split up when they’d walked in together, and she’d already spread out her things over her side of the table.

So there’d be no more friendly elbow jabs for today. 

Deciding that Sharp was the bigger threat- and perhaps also because even without the aural sleeping agent that was Binns’ voice, more History of Magic was likely to put them to sleep then and there- they’d decided to work on Potions first.

He regretted the decision almost instantly. Potions was famously his worst subject, and each time he furrowed his brow and bit his lip because he couldn’t make sense of the instructions as they were described in the book, Ominis ignored the voice of reason that told him to ‘just ask her, that’s why you’re sitting here together.’

But he still had his pride. He wasn’t going to ask her for help after telling her to let him fail on his own, and he knew her well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t let it go without a bit of teasing.

Today, he didn’t trust himself not to retort unkindly. And he wanted to take at least some of the familiarity and warmth they’d shared this morning with him when he left.

“Not going too well?” 

He froze. 

“...Ominis,” she added, obviously unsure if he knew he’d been the one she’d spoken to.

Just let it go. It’s just a question. She’s only being polite, she only means well.

“I can manage,” he replied.

Sebastian was quiet- too quiet, all of a sudden, so he was almost definitely keeping an eye on them, which almost annoyed Ominis more than her unwanted thoughtfulness.

“I can read it over for you, if you’d like,” she offered.

“I don’t.” 

“Ominis, I think she just-”

“I know. Stay out of it.” Ominis buried his face in his hands, fingers pressing against his temples. “I told you before, I don’t need your help. I don’t need you to be my caretaker. What I need is for you to listen to me, for once.”

It was deadly quiet.

“I meant,” she started softly, “We could switch. You read over mine and I read yours. I would have done it this way with anyone- I do it a lot with Adelaide.”

Ominis was silently begging for anything- Cressida Blume’s failed spell experiments, Peeves, the impending Goblin rebellion Binns didn’t care about because it happened now instead of hundreds of years ago- to come and put him out of this misery, to distract them and give them something else to focus on.

“It’s all right.” She said it softly, again, but Ominis almost would have preferred it if she got angry with him. At least then he wouldn’t feel as much like a fool.

Why was Madam Scribner not coming over to scold them for the ruckus, the one time he would have welcomed it?

“Well,” Sebastian finally said, jovially, “at least this isn’t awkward at all.”

Ominis groaned. “Sebastian-”

But she dissolved into laughter, and the tension with her, so he gladly shut up and quietly slid his homework across the table. A wordless apology, until he could pluck up the courage to give her a proper one.

She returned the gesture, and taking the parchment from under her fingers almost brought back the feeling of when they’d done the same in History of Magic.

Sebastian said nothing more, but Ominis knew he was silently watching them. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were going to have over this, once she left and they were alone again. 

To his surprise, Sebastian was the first of them to leave.

“Why?” Ominis asked desperately, as he listened to his friend packing up his things. 

“I took the notes I needed, I’ll have to cross reference them with another book. One I thought I’d better not carry around with me.”

That one.

“You weren’t doing your homework?”

“No.” Sebastian’s chair screeched over the floor as he stood up. “I’ll find the time for that later. Anne is more important.”

Ominis didn’t know what to say. Of course Anne was, that’s why he’d let Sebastian take Slytherin’s spellbook in the first place, but…

“Can I leave the two of you alone?”

“Of course you can,” she replied, before Ominis could object. 

He wasn’t sure if it was intentional. “Of course,” he echoed, with much less enthusiasm.

In spite of what they told him, they still sat in awkward silence for a while, after Sebastian left. 

Feeling the strong urge to occupy his fingers, Ominis started fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes, then realised how silly he must look and forced himself to stop.

“I’m almost done,” she told him evenly.

“That’s good.” No, it wasn’t. Not if this was his last chance not to let the day end like this, and he didn’t take it. 

“Listen,” he started, “I truly am sorry about before, I don’t know what came over me. Only…” He squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “...it’s been a long day.” 

“...I meant it when I said it’s all right,” she said softly.

“Did you?”

“I thought you could tell when I lied to you.”

“Fair point.” It came out low, barely above a whisper, but his relief was still audible. It made him feel vulnerable, but he didn’t mind for once. 

She’d put up with a lot where he was concerned, when she didn’t have to.

Ominis was tuned into Sebastian and Anne, and being with her was… different. He was glad to be more than a casual acquaintance she’d greet in between classes, or when they passed each other in the corridors, but the constant anxiety that came from the unfamiliarity was exhausting.

Not necessarily in a bad way. Just a way he wasn’t used to.

“You don’t have to, but if you’d like, I think I may have an idea of how you could make it up to me.” 

It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she always fell back into that melodic, playful tone. Perhaps that was why he didn’t stop to think twice about the offer. “I’m listening.”

But as she finished speaking, he still wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry- you’d like me to go where with you?”

a/n: Where, oh where might they be going? I really wanted to thank everyone who still enjoys reading this, I’m sorry I can’t seem to stick to a regular update schedule to safe my live, but it means a lot to me that people are still waiting and looking forward to new chapters ❤️ Secretly chatting in class by passing notes back and forth is something I did a lot in my school days, so I’ve always wanted to write a scene like that for them. And since they’re canonically seat neighbours in History of Magic, I thought it would be a cute way for them to pass the time, when they’re not napping, that is. And we’re still on track for the Halloween themed chapter to actually be up on Halloween (or slightly before, if I can manage).

[snipersfucker]

request from @gh0stfac3-w1f3y: I can't find any fics where Noah and the reader first meet Mirage in the garage and then they met the others

i changed the plot so much, it's so far from canon lmao but we roll. it's long btw sorry for making you wait *cries*

"Any last words?"

Noah looked up at you with widened eyes after hearing the question that'd left your mouth.

He was so close to shitting himself and you were not helping.

"What?" He frowned with his eyes now focused on your face, the word a whispered yell.

You rolled your eyes, not actually having expected him to understand your little joke, considering the fact that you two had slightly different senses of humour. But you had the right to roll your eyes at him nevertheless.

"Before you get shot in the head for stealing," you explained in the same tone, loudly enough for him to hear but also not too loudly so that you wouldn't catch anyone else's attention.

And Noah would've normally kind of snorted at your words. But not now. Not when his special thingy used for opening stranger's car doors without making much noise was inside a Porsche that did not belong to either of you.

He just let out a shaky breath through his nose, trying to calm down his growing nerves. His attention went back to the car, his trembling hands trying to open it without triggering the alarm.

"We're so dead," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head and looking around in search for any unwelcome guests. Noah didn't even hear you, too focused on his task as well as not fucking everything up.

And he nearly let out a loud noise when the safety lock clicked. He was too nervous to properly smile at you but you couldn't stop the corners of your own lips from curling up. You made a proud face and held a thumbs-up to him.

"Get in," he just said, grabbing the handle to open the door, and you did the same thing.

You raised your eyebrow when the safety lock locked itself again.

"She doesn't want us to steal her," you whispered to him, referring to the silver car, your hand pulling on the handle a few more times, hoping it would eventually work.

Humour helped you not to lose your mind due to stress, which was happening to Noah at the moment, almost silent curses leaving his mouth, the desperation in his movements now much more obvious as he kept attempting to unlock the safety lock with the thingy again.

It clicked.

You pulled the handle again. And the safety lock locked itself. Again.

"The fuck?" Noah whispered to himself, the frown on his face deepening even more. This time he decided to trick the system and unlock the safety lock and then open the door as fast as possible.

It worked.

"I knew w—" you began the sentence, feeling quite victorious, even though you did absolutely nothing to help Noah, but was interrupted by the male voice coming from behind you. Your eyes snapped to Noah's face which was filled with just the same amount of horror. They immediately widened in shock and a sudden wave of stress as well as panic washed over you, making your heart skip a few beats.

"Hey! Security!" The man yelled, his heavy steps increasing in volume, getting closer and closer to the two of you. "What are you doing?!"

If the image of you in an orange suit hadn't appeared in your mind for that split second, you would've frozen in your spot, unable to enter the car, let alone run away from the security guard. But you managed to do the former, your hand opening the door with one swift motion, your legs guiding you inside.

"Noah!" A croaked yell fell from between your lips as your eyes shot to your friend standing by his side of the Porsche. Your voice hit him like a bucket of cold water.

He quickly got inside, taking another thingy out of his pocket to use it to start the engine. Random courses both in Spanish and English were coming to your ears as Noah tried to work his magic and get you two out of that damned parking lot.

But before he could even flex his car-stealing abilities, the security guard was already knocking on your window with a lot of force, nearly breaking the glass. That almost made you and Noah throw up from the stress, and the fact that he was still struggling with all the cables—

The engine suddenly started.

The radio blasted music on its own, the tunes so loud they either freaked the security guy out to the point he stopped punching the window, or they completely silenced his furious knocks and pulls on the handle. You weren't sure, not even daring to look in the man's direction, focused only on Noah, as if you were trying to get him to drive without actually yelling it at him.

You tried to turn the radio off but it just kept screaming the lyrics to Act a Fool right in your face. And you could swear you were able to hear a faint sound of a male voice speaking through the radio, saying something you didn't understand because of the loudly playing song.

Why the fuck wasn't he driving?

Your head turned to the left as your eyes met the side profile of your friend hitting the gas pedal with desperation you've never seen on him before.

Why the fuck wasn't it working?

And then, all of a sudden, the car moved. You and Noah were pushed into your seats as the Porsche got out of its parking spot in a dangerous speed.

But there were no hands on the wheel. The pure horror and panic in your widened eyes matched the look on Noah's face as his dark irises met your own, as if he was looking for answers in them to the questions he hadn't asked.

The music was overwhelming, the speed making you grip anything to steady yourself, making you want to scream every single time the front of the car nearly touched an object in front of it.

Was it the right moment to tell Noah you kissed the boy he fancied in the third grade? It definitely sounded like something he should hear before you both die tragically in a car crash.

Noah was doing everything he could to stop the car, from hitting the brakes to slapping the dashboard with his right palm, the other hand staying on the steering wheel in case the car decided to let him drive.

But when the tires of the Porsche made contact with the highway, he wrapped all his ten fingers around the round object, gripping it with all the strength he could find within himself.

It was obvious. Obvious but apparently you and Noah were so stupid neither of you even thought of it. An expensive Porsche sitting in a parking lot for a long time, appearing abandoned but still in a perfect condition, practically asking for a potential thief to steal it. It had to be someone's brilliant idea, probably an idea of a cop, to put a damned self-driving mechanism inside of the car, which now was most likely taking you and Noah to a police station.

You didn't even notice when the music got a bit quieter, enough for you to hear your own, terrified thoughts, but you did notice the sound of sirens getting louder and louder with every passing second.

That damned Porsche sped up even more, making you and Noah scream like little boys, shifting your gazes between the road in front of you and the sight behind you. Police cars catching up to you, the sound of their sirens, and the absolute absurd of the situation made you nearly lose your sanity.

The loudest scream left both your mouths when the Porsche sped up even more, drove onto something and got in the air for a few seconds. But these few seconds were enough for you to have a tiny heart attack.

Why did the sirens stop?

You were so focused on not dying that the police cars hitting other vehicles, brick walls, driving out of the highway and out of the bridge were omitted by your overwhelmed brain.

Your eyes closed, the breaths leaving your mouth quick and heavy, after multiple failed attempts to steady them, you decided to give up and focus on something else, something that would hopefully ground you. Your eyelids separated, the gaze of your eyes shifted to Noah which seemed to be losing it even more than you.

The road got clear, and soon the car turned to the right to drive into an alley, and then into an open garage.

"No, no, no, no, no, no..." you kept repeating, shaking your head, disagreeing with what was happening out of your control, but at the same time being fully aware that your disapproval couldn't do anything to change your situation.

One drift and you found yourself rolling on the dirty ground, now out of the car. You let a couple of grunts out, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt pain in your knees, elbows and palms.

The unfamiliar sound of metal hitting metal mixed with something you couldn't quite name made you turn your head in the direction of the noise. Before you could register Noah kneeling down next to you and the touch of his warm hands on your back and arm, your brain got shocked by the sight of...

"Woohoo!"

A male voice rang in your sensitive ears, its tone slightly deformed to match his robotic appearance. It... was standing right in front of your very eyes, making energetic movements, then walking in your direction.

You managed to get on your weak legs. Barely.

"T'was... Damn! I haven't done that in ages!" He exclaimed, jumping on his metal legs around the garage, punching the air as if he was preparing himself for a sparring match. "Really gets the fuel pumping, doesn't it?!" he directed the rhetorical question to you and Noah, watching you both with a very content expression on his face. After a couple of seconds of not getting any responses, he added himself, "Damn right it does!"

Your friend was as stunned and speechless as you but you managed to somehow grab a metal pipe lying on the dirty floor, and hold it as if you were about to hit the... whatever or whoever it was... if he tried anything.

"Chill, man..." The machine held his hands up in a defensive gesture, pretending to get intimidated by the threatening posture of a much smaller human. "Jus' not in that pretty face, yeah?" He covered the said body part with one hand, acting as if you could even reach that high.

You gripped the pipe harder, ready to swing at the metal man, but then, when he let out a chuckle and shook his head in amusement, you lost all your confidence that you had any, even the tiniest bit of control over the situation.

None of you expected to see a hand of his transforming into a huge weapon, the blue muzzle probably reflecting in your widened eyes. Noah wanted to do something but you stopped him with one quick glance.

"How 'bout now, baby?" The machine practically mocked you in your face, but you were too focused on the idea of possibly dying right there and then to even notice the playful hint in the tone of his robotic voice. "Still gon' hit me?"

You didn't even know what to say to that, knowing that the wrong response would probably put you in the grave, but you still didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being the one in absolute control of the situation.

You finally managed to blurt out, your voice coming out a lot weaker than you intended it to, "Maybe..."

You swallowed thickly, accepting the fact these were most likely your last moments on Earth, but then, the robot made an impressed face, tilted his head slightly to the right, and said with a smirk, "Shi', you got some balls, dude." And lowered his arm, the weapon transforming back into a hand.

The relief that washed over you was indescribable. But you still had to be in the state of constant focus, in case he decided to put that blue thing in front of your face again.

He nodded, eyeing you from head to toes, and then admitted, "I like that... I like that a lot."

"What..." you whispered to yourself, confused by his words, the sudden change in behaviour making a frown appear on your face.

"I was expecting a different reaction, though," he started talking again, the playfully casual tone back, as if he was slightly disappointed but didn't want to show it, "You know, I saved your asses and all," he tried not to make it sound like a big deal, but still wanted to jokingly point out the fact that you were a pair of slightly ungrateful little humans. "...But I get it. I get it. I'd be scared of me, too..." He raised his hands in a defensive gesture again, speaking to you as if he actually understood, even though he found the whole situation, and your approach as well, quite amusing. "I don't expect every girl to get weak in the knees 'cause of me or anythin'."

A beat of silence passed, and the robot just couldn't stop himself from speaking up again, "Where are my manners? The name's Mirage." He extended his arm towards you both, his fist in your faces, as if he was waiting for you to bump it with your own. His next words in an encouraging tone only confirmed it, "Come on... Give it a lil', give a lil', give it a lil' tap."

Maybe complying to his requests was the only way of getting out of this situation alive... But at the same time the robot didn't give the impression of being cruel enough to just kill you both in cold blood...

You made eye contact with Noah for a moment, just to notice him shrugging, and then, slowly extending his own fist towards the machine's one, as if testing the waters.

When their knuckles touched, Mirage exclaimed with a satisfied look on his face, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" And then, he looked at you with a slightly raised eyebrow, motioning to your stiff body with his finger nonchalantly, directing the question to Noah, "She always this fun?"

Oh, I'm sorry for not wanting to fist-bump a robot three times my size who almost shot my head off with his weird fucking arm.

"What the hell are you? Some shit like E.T. or whatever?" Noah ignored his most likely rhetorical question, even though the machine seemed to want answers to every single thing he'd say.

"Naah, that'd be at least weird..." he said sarcastically, then made a finger-gun at us and added with a smile, "I'm a robot from space."

Great.

"A robot... from space..." you trailed off with a weak voice, Mirage's attention back to you.

"One and only." He bowed ever so slightly, but then corrected himself, "Well, technically there are others. You're actually real lucky you have met me first, though. But chill, maybe they'll like you. Proly not but maybe." He shrugged, not actually caring about what his team would think of his new human friends.

And as soon as Mirage finished talking, the sounds of loud engines were bouncing against the walls of the garage, and then hitting yours and Noah's ears, making you both quickly turn around to see a couple of cars driving in your direction.

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention they were gonna pay us a visit," the robot who was once a silver Porsche said from behind your backs, but the tone of his voice was so casual he didn't really sound like he felt bad for not notifying you.

Soon, the cars transformed into... robots. Of course.

"Prime! Long time no see! Missed you!" Mirage walked past you, making loud noises when his metal feet made contact with the floor beneath them. He opened his arms, as if he was trying to encourage the huge machine to give him a hug.

"Mirage," he spoke in a stern, warning tone, immediately making the smaller robot let out a chuckle, but also obediently lower his arms so now the metal hands were on his hips.

"Good ol' Prime, am I right, Bee?" He directed the question to the yellow machine which was much closer to being his own size.

"What are those humans doing here?" The gravely voice of the tallest robot sent shivers down your spine but Mirage seemed not to be so affected by it. In fact, he looked like he gave absolutely no fucks about it.

Mirage turned his head in your direction, making a nonchalant motion with his hand. "Them? Oh, yeah, they're my friends, sir. Lil' Lady and The Guy," he introduced you two, and you wouldn't be one bit surprised if Prime shot him right then and there with the same thingy Mirage wanted to use on you.

And you nearly fainted on your spot when you felt the ground shake with every single step the tall robot made while walking in your direction. Your knees got weak but you were lucky Prime helped you and swiped you right off your feet, grabbing you like a rag doll and holding you closer to his metal face.

He did the same thing with Noah who, in your opinion, was handling it much better than you.

"Who are you?" Prime's cold voice made you internally die, your mind already making scenarios about him literally squeezing you to death with his metal hand.

"Nobody," you quickly answered, your voice much more high-pitched than ever, shaking your head in panic, "I don't even know who that man is," you added, referring to Mirage standing behind you.

"Hey! I thought we were friends!" the walking Porsche got immediately offended by your words.

Prime narrowed his eyes even more, observing you with distrust, as if he started despising you as soon as he saw you for the first time.

"We shall not waste our time on those humans," he spoke again, squeezing you and Noah tighter and tighter with every passing second.

You let out a shriek. And that's when Mirage realised he had to step in.

"Woah, woah, woah." He immediately found himself next to the big robot, holding his hands up, telling him silently to stop literally taking yours and Noah's breaths away. "Prime, no need for that. Look, I took 'em here, my bad, should've hidden from the cops somewhere else, yeah, I get that. Next time I will, promise."

And Mirage didn't even care that he just admitted to catching the attention of humans, especially the armed ones, which the leader of the Autobots told him to avoid at all cost.

Prime shifted his gaze from you to the apologetically smiling robot.

"C'mon. Red might be your colour but do you really want their blood on you?" he asked in hope it would actually discourage him, make him change his mind.

And without a word, Prime let go of both you and Noah. You didn't manage to hold onto anything, even the robot's hand just not to fall onto the hard floor of the garage.

But before you could make any sounds or properly experience the pull of gravity, you felt another metal hand on you, this time the grip much more gentle, far from suffocating.

You didn't even notice the moment you closed your eyes shut just so you wouldn't have to witness your own body hitting the ground with a good amount of impact. You opened them just to see a pair of blue, shinning ones right in front of you.

"We friends now?" He tilted his head slightly, observing you with a confident smirk, knowing that you had no other choice but to agree with him.

Because he saved you from breaking your skull on the cement a couple of feet below your body.

"Buddies for life," you responded with a shaky voice and many eager nods, barely catching your breath, the panic still evident in your widened eyes.

Today not only did you not die, but you also gained yourself a new friend who would do anything to protect you.

the end sucks as always but do not worry. there will be worse.

[yandere-sins]

just read your yandere! könig and it's adorable. 💕 curious, how would he react if his s/o is suffering from a fever? He finally sees them so needy, so peaceful, and when he places the back of his hand to check for their temprature?? his hearts is doing flips because they are voluntarily leaning into his touch (!!!) also, how would he act if he was sick? love your yandere works 💕💕

Thanks for requesting ♥ In sickness and in health, amirite? >:3

»»———————— ♡ ————————««        

♡ Of course, König is extremely worried after finding you coughing and sweating in bed, the blanket wrapped around you painfully tight as you complain about the cold in the apartment. It's unlike you to be vulnerable around him, even though König always tells you to relax and take it easy, he'll protect you. But when he reaches out to touch your forehead, skin burning against his calloused palm as you let out a long sigh before merely leaning into the touch, it's him who's melting by your side. Finally, it's his time to shine. Finally, you need him to be the big, strong protector and carer he knows he can be for you.

♡ If he learned anything from his childhood, then there are a lot of good remedies against your symptoms. A nice, warm shower is the first thing he orders for you, though when he notices your lack of strength, König is more than happy to draw you a bath and wash you himself, drawing out the process for as long as possible until your short from collapsing. After that, he's merrily humming as he puts you into his oversized hoodie, situating you on the couch for a moment so he can change the bedding.

♡ The tea water is boiling by the time he helps you back into bed, closing the window again after letting fresh air replace the old, your feet covered with his oversized, knitted socks. Once König gathered all that is needed—tea, water, and medicine—he sits by your side, ensuring you have a sip of everything while he watches your drowsy, feverish eyes slowly close before you return to sleep. He reaches out again, and a serene joy fills him as he pushes the hair out of your face, watching you nuzzle his palm in search of cooling your fever. He stays like that for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet, even more love for you spreading all throughout him. You are always amazing, but like this, it feels like he's experiencing a wonder.

♡ However, he knows what he has to do. Even if it hurts to part ways, he eventually lets you rest, making sure you are covered properly before leaving the room to allow you to heal in your sleep. All while he's on his way to fetch some chicken, soup veggies, and noodles for when you wake up. Once you open your eyes, you'll already hear the boiling of soup in the kitchen, König almost fainting as you come inside, disheveled and sickly, the blanket hanging off your body but looking so, so adorable. Like someone needing help. His help. He could watch you for hours as you investigate the concoction he's making. Still, even if you scrunch your nose at the thought of food, the real magic only happens once he serves you his soup.

♡ One bite, and you can't stop. König would have watched you scarf down the whole pot he made for two days, but after eating his portion as well, you seem full and a bit more lively. It returns some of the grumpiness you always show him, but you are suddenly overcome by energy as if you hadn't been knocked down for the last few hours. König doesn't mind. He carries your clothes after you as you discard them, reminding you to stay warm even as you scoff at him, a smile always playing around his lips as he sees you feeling so much better already, thanks to him.

♡ Eventually, your fever catches up to you, and you end up exhausted on the couch, barely able to watch the movie he let you choose. It doesn't matter what you want to see. Even the most cringe teen movie is good enough for him as long as he gets to watch it with you. Considering you slowly but surely lean against him, though, König doesn't try to stop you. You need your sleep, and he's glad to be your pillow. You don't even notice him pulling you into his lap, rubbing your back while the movie plays in the background as you fall asleep in his arms, but thanks to that, you also don't complain about him carrying you to bed with him, whispering his well-wishes and love confessions in your ear after he slips under the sheets with you, not afraid to catch your cold. It's nice as long as it lasts, and König knows he needs to treasure these moments. So while you allow him (unknowingly) to always be by your side, he takes the chance to do just that.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

Warning for Sexual Innuendo at the end

♡ While he might not catch your cold, even a strong soldier feels worn out occasionally. Given, his immune system is just as strong as he is, but König also suffers from a particular kind of sickness once he's under the weather... the man-flu. And yes, he's a huge, whiny baby about it.

♡ "Won't you take care of me, mein Schatz?"

♡ "Can I have a hug, please?"

♡ "Urgh, this is the worst. Don't leave me, please..."

♡ You might be able to run and hide from him for a while. Still, eventually, König will come to find you and drag you back to the couch or bed with him, forcing you into the little spoon so he can nuzzle his face into the nape of your neck or breathe in your smell as much as his nose allows. Somehow his shyness seems to go out of the window when he feels like "he's dying". He's just a big baby.

♡ Since you can't make him food, he'll order some for you guys, being very lenient in letting you get whatever you want. He'd order for you normally, but he's feeling too sick to do it. He just catches you from writing "I need help! I'm kidnapped!" in the comment box and sends it with a long groan of discomfort, but there's still some yummy food awaiting you, at least.

♡ If you do take pity, he'll be happy to drink whatever you get him. (If only he had sleeping pills accessible to you, right?) However, König insists that you praise him for taking sips and also drink from his cup to "prevent you from getting sick too". He also pulls you into his lap while you're holding the hot cup of tea, laughing it off when you burn him (which is a little disturbing).

♡ But in the end, needy as he is, you can't even escape him when he's sick. You go where he goes, be it the bath (even just to brush your teeth so he can lean against you since he's feeling "lightheaded") or the bed (meaning you just lay awake for hours while he smothers you with his body). I suppose it's nice he's a bit more honest with his feelings as he conveys that he needs you and to not fight him anymore, okay? You can try, but his grip around your wrists is still as firm as when he's healthy. So while he snores away, you simply have to endure being captured by him again, hip pressed to hip, as you feel the hints of a fever-boner poke you. But you're safe!

Until he wakes up.

[mcmookiemeal]

Giving Donkey Kong a bath

“If you would just sit still, this would go a lot easier.” You frustratedly sighed.

Donkey kong sat impatiently in the large wooden tub filled with soapy water.

You were the one who practically forced him into this tub after finding out he doesn’t properly bathe most of the time.

“You’re scrubbing too hard!” He snapped back at you, crossing his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

You scoff and continue to sponge around all the spots where dirt is potentially hiding under his fur.

You honestly wondered if Dk had been bathing in mud for all these years.

He plays with the small rubber ducky you gave him to keep him distracted while you clean him thoroughly.

“I like this little guy.” He laughs as he squeaks it with his large fingers.

You harshly scrubbed behind his ear causing him to flinch a little bit to which you apologize softly.

“You’ll be glad to hear I’m all done with the scrubbing.” You confirmed as you threw the soap back into the water.

Grabbing the strawberry scented shampoo bottle from the counter, you squirted a generous amount on both your hands before returning your focus back on Dk

“I think you’ll enjoy this part.” You giggle.

Taking both of your hands, you gently massaged deeply through the fur on his head. Fingers moving all around his head in a thorough manner.

“Oh wow…”. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Once his head was completely covered in the white foam you figured it was time to wash it out. You took a cup from beside you and filled it with the water from the tub.

“Lean your head back.”

“What? why-” You cut him off and poured the cup of water on his head. His wet hair falling over his eyes as he coughed out some of the water that got in his mouth.

You told him to lean his head back and he didn’t listen so that was on him.

“What was that for?!” He yelled, angrily throwing the rubber ducky at the water.

You shrugged and smirked.

But lucky for him bath time was officially over and it was time to dry off with a nice warm towel.

You quickly grabbed a towel for him and helped him step out of the tub.

His wet fur dripped onto the wooden floor as he shivered from the light breeze that flowed through the tiny hut.

“Here, this’ll warm you up” You took the towel and dried his body off.

After he was all dry he looked extra fluffy, almost like a blanket that was just freshly taken out of the dryer.

Dk lifted his arms up to his nose and took a few sniffs.

“Wow…I smell amazing!” He exclaimed and pulled you into a near bone crushing hug.

“Im glad you like it but please put me down, I cant breathe.” You wheeze.

He apologizes quickly and drops you back onto the floor.

Suddenly his eyes light up and he stares at you with a huge toothy smile on his face. He looks like he might be on the verge of exploding.

“We have to tell my dad about this new magic stuff that makes me smell good!”

“Its called shampoo-”

“Yeah yeah whatever!” He grabs your arm and pulls you out of the hut and pretty much throws you into the passengers seat of his kart.

You buckle up and grip the dashboard as he gets into the drivers seat and revs up the kart.

It looked like giving Dk a bath was gonna be more than just a one time thing.

A/N: This is my first post on this blog and I hope you enjoy the Dk content because the sweet guy deserves more!!

[tashacee]

If Time used the truth mask-thing would he be able to see Wild as a hylian?

HMMMMM on the one hand i'm not sure it would work on this situation, on the other hand....

have a crack fic. I made myself laugh.

Aspects of Two Idiots

Wild had wandered off.

This was not unusual in and of itself - the guy was forever wandering off and exploring and getting himself into all sorts of trouble. At least, unlike Hyrule, he tended not to get himself hopelessly lost. And no matter how filthy he was when he came back (and oh, did he come back filthy) he always actually cleaned himself off.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was, Wild had wandered off, and the Chain were starting to get hungry. Of course, they were all grown adults - well, most of them, at least, and in theory they could provide for themselves. Hyrule had his dried meats and fruit and they had a supply of bread and cheese. And of course, one of them could always try to actually cook.

It was just that. Well.

The Chain cooking never ended well.

Time had sighed at the latest moan, this time from Sky, who despite his generally sweet disposition could still get grumpy when he was hungry enough. They had all had a long day and desperately needed this break. The woods that they were travelling through were full of glamours and illusions, and it had taken every ounce of magical awareness to get through without falling into any traps.

Wild, he was pretty sure, had just gone down to the nearby stream to wash off after someone had shot a massive chu too close to him and the whole thing had exploded into his fur.

He had been very, very angry after that.

Time could understand him needing a break.

Still, the Chain was hungry, and Time couldn’t be bothered listening to them complain any longer. At least if he went to find their missing brother then he would be doing something, and perhaps he could be of help scrubbing the dried chu jelly from his fur.

Ugh. It had been so gross.

“I’ll go.” Time had said, and strode out of camp without waiting for a response.

It was peaceful enough. In a sudden stroke of inspiration he had slipped on the Mask of Truth and now could easily see through any illusions in the forest long before they became an issue. The mask didn’t do anything for sounds, unfortunately, so he couldn’t hear anything coming, but it was good enough to do.

Time hummed to himself idly as he walked down to the stream, an old, gentle tune. It wasn’t until he was nearly at the water’s edge that he realised something was wrong.

Wild wasn’t where he should have been. In his place was a short, blond man, a boy, really, irritably scrubbing at his long blond hair. From where he stood in the trees, Time could see how scars - horrible, familiar scars - twisted around half of his body. He could see how one arm had been removed and set to the side, out of the way of the water.

What the fuck.

Time blinked, and then slipped the mask down, peering over with his own eyes.

There was Wild, lifting one leg to his shoulder and twisting so that he could clean himself properly.

He put the mask back on. The hero he knew and loved was replaced by this blond stranger.

What in the-

Time shifted his weight, and beneath his feet a stick cracked.

Not-Wild looked around, his eyes wide. He whined in question.

Time slipped the mask off, not wanting to startle his brother.

“It’s me.” he said, coming into the light, looking at Wild and trying to understand what he had just seen.

Wild… for want of a better word, Wild looked terrified. Like he had been caught doing something taboo, something terrible. Like a deer in the headlights. Like a man about to face the chopping block.

“Wild-” Time began to ask, but in an instant his brother was upon him, jamming his arm back in place and pressing his hands to Time’s lips in a silencing gesture, eyes wide as he desperately shook his head. Time wondered at the back of his mind what he would be seeing in the mask - the boy that had been in place of Wild had been so much shorter, would he have to reach to cover Time’s lips?

Clearly Wild knew he had been seen, that Time knew about his secret form. Was this Wild’s real body? The body he had been born into? Had he been changed into the form he had now? Made to change? Chosen to change?

What the hell was going on?

Time pulled away - “Okay, okay, i just - i have some questio-”

Wild yipped in alarm and shook his head frantically. He even tried some of the rudimentary sign he had picked up, Time could just about make out the words ‘secret’ and ‘please’ through his shaking fingers.

Slowly, Time nodded. Whatever this was, whyever Wild looked so different through the Mask, it clearly wasn’t something that was supposed to be shared. It was private, a secret. Time could understand that, he supposed. Plenty of people had pasts they didn’t want others to know about, other forms they would rather keep private. Time himself could think of a number of different forms he had borne that he would rather not share with the group.

He didn’t know why his brother might show as a hylian through whatever glamour he must have been wearing, but if he didn’t want to share, then Time wasn’t going to ask.

“It’s okay.” Time murmured, as reassuring as he could. “I won’t tell anyone, your secret’s safe with me.”

In front of him, Wild nearly melted with relief.

-

Wild had gone down to the river to get some peace. Not because he was mad! Really, Wind couldn’t have known when he shot what must have been the world’s largest chu chu that it was going to explode literally all over Wild. He couldn’t have known that they still would have to fight the rest of the battle in the baking sun and then hike through hours through this terrible cursed forest until they found a safe camp site.

No one could have foreseen that the jelly would solidify into a horrible, sticky gunk that matted through wild’s fur and stank to high heaven. 

It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just sucked.

The longer the jelly stayed on the harder it got, and it tugged and pulled at Wild’s fur as he moved. It was awful. He hated it. He knew that he was in a bad mood because of it. That was way he refused any offers of company to the river as politely as he could and went off on his own. He needed some time to just groom himself in peace.

And so he had. It had been nice, despite the spookiness of the woods. Once he got the jelly wet again it came off fairly easily, so he had been able to relax into his grooming routine. Gently, he brushed through his fur, humming softly to himself, enjoying the feeling of being clean again.

It was a cat thing. He was pretty sure that while he had understood the importance of hygiene and enjoyed the occasional luxurious soak before, it had never been like this. He wondered what else he was missing out on, what other feline habits he should try out while he had the chance. Grooming was so good, after all.

…grooming. Huh.

Didn’t cats groom with their tongues?

Ugh! No! He wasn’t trying that, gross!

Unless…

No!

But maybe…

Wild looked around to make sure he was alone. Nothing stirred in the forest. He looked down at his arm, recently cleaned and neatly brushed. He leaned over and gave it a testing ‘lick’.

Huh. Weird. It… it didn’t feel the most natural in the world, but it also wasn’t terrible. He licked again, more firmly this time. To his surprise, the fur rearranged itself neatly, lying flatter than before.

What the fuck.

He bent over and twisted, lifting his leg to try licking his ankle. Not for any other reason than it was there, and he was doing an experiment.

Huh. No, it didn’t feel right. And besides, it was all very well him saying it wasn’t the worst, but he was freshly clean now. The idea of licking his fur when he was actually dirty was still pretty repulsive.

Welp, there was one cat habit he could safely say he hadn’t absorbed.

Something rustled behind him.

Wild was on his feet in an instant, ready to attack whatever it was but also horrified at the thought that one of his brothers might have seen him.

Time stepped out of the trees. “It’s me.” he said, and he looked more than a little bewildered.

Ah, shit. He’d seen.

Wild whined as his brother said his name, and grabbed his arm from where he had left it by the water’s edge. Jamming it back into place, he rushed up to time and slammed his hands over his mouth, shaking his head viciously.

Don’t say it. Please please please, Old Man, don’t say it out loud. Ah, shit, Wild couldn’t take the embarrassment. This was terrible! Why had he ever thought that he should try licking his fur of all things, he wasn’t actually an animal!

Time pulled away from his grasp, holding out his hands in what was clearly meant to be a pacifying gesture. “Okay, okay, i just - i have some questio-”

NOPE! NO QUESTIONS FOR YOU, OLD MAN.

Wild barely contained his screech of alarm, shaking his head again. He never, ever wanted to talk about this with anyone, ever. He would do anything, give anything. He’d make Time’s favourite food every night for the rest of their adventure, he’d clean his shoes, he’d stop groaning at his terrible old man jokes, anything to avoid the humiliation of this conversation.

Finally, Time sighed and offered him a small smile. “It’s okay.” he said, and Wild had never been more relieved that the Chain just assumed some of his odd habits were normal. With any luck, the old man would just presume that this was something he did in private and that it was inappropriate to talk about in public. Like going to the toilet or something.  “I won’t tell anyone, your secret’s safe with me.”

OH THANK HYLIA.

-

And with that, the misunderstanding went unaddressed. Time knew about Wild’s other form as a hylian and didn’t bring it up because he thought it was a secret. Wild, believing his brother to have seen him grooming with his tongue, made Time’s favourite food every night for a week.

Neither mentioned that evening by the river again.

After all, they were heroes of courage, not wisdom.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Two

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, alienation, and exhaustion

— WORDCOUNT: 3.7k

— A/N: Apology to any Italian readers, Tom gets rather grumpy with how cheerful everyone else is around him 😂 Also, we finally meet our reader in this chapter! 💚

I

It was just as Tom predicted. As soon as Clement saw the state of his hotel, he wouldn't stay there for another minute. He tried to persuade Tom to come with him to some fancier place he had in mind, assuring him he'd pay for all expenses, but Tom wouldn't hear it. He'd spent enough time with people like him to know that nothing came for free.

In the end, Clement took the taxi onward to the Plaza Grand Hotel, but not before writing down Tom’s hotel and room number on the edge of a crumpled napkin.

“I will call you later, yes? Just in case you change your mind,” he winked.

The rest of his day was spent in a blissful void, interrupted by the occasional pang of hunger — which he quieted with water and crackers, before falling asleep again. He was woken in the evening by cheerful shouting from outside, distant music, and peels of laughter down the hallway. The sounds reverberated up the faded frescoes and chipped columns of the building, but he had to remind himself that he was among muggles now — no hexes. At least his pillow was soft... He buried his head beneath it and hoped to suffocate before morning.

When he woke up properly, feeling squeezed and still exhausted, the sun hadn’t yet risen. The streets were quiet save for the hooting of owls resting in the trees and little insects on their flowers. Little lights from faraway buildings lit up the horizon.

Tom had slept nude, too lazy to change into something after taking his clothes off. As soon as he sat up, he felt all weak and dizzy, hair ruffled sticking to his face, body cut through with creases from the sheets and muggy with his sweat. Worst of all, his blood had all seemed to pool into his legs. Standing up like a newborn fawn, he walked over to the windows, opened them wide, and breathed in the cold night air. It made his body shiver. It felt pleasant. It felt a little bit like home.

The early hours passed slowly. He managed to wash himself in the little closet of a bathroom, brushed his hair, and even put a few of his old things in order. After eating a ham sandwich he'd bought from the train's food car and brewing a cup of tea with magic, he felt like a new man. He sat by the window in a loose bathrobe and watched the rising sun, and as his strength returned to him he began mentally revising the events of his journey.

“To think I'll have to go through all of that again on my way back,” Tom groaned. “And I thought the Hogwarts Express was a bore…”

Travelling abroad had been on his agenda for quite a while, once he found all the artefacts he needed through Borgin and Burkes, but he hadn't quite anticipated how physically exhausting it would be to sit in a muggle contraption for hours on end. If he wanted to explore the world in search of rare magical items, he would have to devise a more suitable method. Perhaps Thestrals…

His thoughts turned to Clement again. His wide grin, his bright blue eyes, his utter carelessness of composure... What an annoying fellow. Well, if the need arose to make another Horcrux, at least he'd know where to look.

II

The afternoon found him roaming the streets of the city. He spent a little while acquainting himself with the landmarks closest to the hotel just enough to find his way if lost, but he'd also collected from the concierge a list of local rare book shops and antiquaries to start his investigation. It was with nothing more than this that Tom stepped onto the cobbled streets of Rome and started walking.

The hotel Burke had set him up in, the Gallienus, was among the cheapest. It was nestled in one of the poorer parts of town, where the roads were narrow and beggars slept on the stairs of buildings boarded up. There was at least one pile of dry and darkened animal droppings on every street corner. Trash overflowed from forgotten dumpsters, buzzing vibrantly in the sun.

It took him quite a while to find the first bookstore, and longer still to find a good one. Most of them sold less prestigious stuff than what they advertised. The muggles were cheerful and friendly, if false, and a few tried to barter with him all the way to the door. A couple with fancy window dressing had only the veneer of the authentic, selling new volumes beaten up or rebound with cardboard covers.

Still, he made a few acquaintances, if not outright friends, among the shopkeepers, and his list of options grew larger as he heard from them of more interesting stores, but by evening he had nothing to show for all his exploration.

Moreover, he was thoroughly lost. The cafes frothed with little umbrellas in the streets, the fountains billowed in the air and danced, and all of it started to look the same to him. The fancy suits of people coming back from work and their black voluptuous hairstyles all blended with each other. He'd ambled his way from the Via Domenichino to the Colosseum, then to the chip-toothed ruins of the Roman Forum, higher to the Pantheon, then down, down toward the Tiber.

The air was alight with ages past and everything was moving. The shadows of aged stone, touched by dereliction and decay and the stray shellings of the war that ended just seven years ago, danced at the corners of his eyes together with the throngs of white-dressed women and the scooters zipping by. And at any moment it felt as if some ancient in a toga would walk out from between those columns and shake a bony finger at the careless youth, lamenting, and asking just to die again.

Tom stopped somewhere along the Tiber and gazed out across its murky serpentine flow. If he squinted, he could just about see the Vatican. A flock of nuns passed him by, flowing in quiet black and white against a blue and just as quiet sky. The air was warm, but chilling. He was surrounded on every side by broad buildings in smooth geometric shapes, and yet he’d never felt quite so exposed before.

Now that he had a moment to stop and ponder the experience, he realised that being in Rome felt like being in the world and yet above it, as if the whole city was floating in the sky. A dish on a high pedestal, yawning to the heavens.

“Maddening,” he whispered to himself. “Imagine living here forever…”

Under the shadow of a sycamore, he leaned over the stone walls that enclosed the river. It was a long way down… Its waters seemed about as dark as Thames, but smoother. He wondered, without really caring, whether there were any corpses buried there, some skeletons stuck in the mud, forgotten and unwanted. The chime of churchbells reached him, cutting through the buzzing of the cars.

What would he do tomorrow? Much the same thing as today, he reasoned… Only he’d have far further to go to reach these newer places he just learned about. He reached into his pocket for a little map he’d folded up, and tried to smooth it out over the stone.

“Why does it have to be so complicated?” he mumbled to himself as he planned his pathway back to the hotel. “Even London isn’t this bad, right?” He’d forgotten that it was.

Turning, he looked once more at all the young people that now lined the street. For some reason, all of them were smiling, happy. A couple was shamelessly kissing as they hid behind a tree. When they started sliding down its trunk, tight in each other’s arms, Tom rolled his eyes and started walking back the way he’d come.

III

Sweat had dampened his shirt collar and went down the centre of his chest, but somehow it bothered him less than he expected it would. It was quite a different experience from the Knockturn Alley cellar where he worked, or that pittance of a room he rented above an apothecary shop.

Here all was warm stone, and coffee, and cats that slithered around the corners. Here he was nobody. Not Mr. Riddle, not Lord Voldemort, the terror and equal envy of his schoolmates, not Tom the orphan, Tom the gifted student, Tom the Head Boy. He wasn't even a half-blood or a wizard. Muggles had no idea about such things. Here he was nobody — except maybe ‘bel ragazzo’ when he passed by a hot-blooded madam sipping her red wine. To shed his myriad identities felt light and clean, like an old coat sliding off his shoulders.

So, what was he beneath all that?

Today, he was just a wanderer taking in the sights. Tomorrow, maybe something else.

The paved Roman street branched like a vein of undulating black blood into narrower and ever-winding paths, some leading back to the piazza, others through old buildings nestled so close together they blotted out the sun. He took one such path. It was cooler here than in the open, almost bearable, even with the piling trash and stench of cat piss everywhere.

Tom had never shied away from squalor. If anything, the old stones and the dampness and the hint of sewage reminded him a bit of his old Hogwarts dorm. He smiled at the memory as he walked back the way he came, a hand in his trouser pocket and his mind far away, at how impressive and select and magical — in the most pure, extraordinary way, a way those raised with magic would never understand — it seemed to him when he first arrived at Hogwarts. How plain and pure his happiness had been to be away from wicked muggles, to learn that he was special and that greatness, surely, called to him…

The narrow alleyway he slid through opened into the wide and brilliant Piazza di Trevi. The fountain cast its net of water flowing down like gossamer. Tom stopped to thread his fingertips through its shivering pool and sprinkled a little bit of water over the hot crown of his head before walking on.

He had a vague idea of where he was, and what street he should turn on to return to his hotel before sunset.

His steps stopped almost on their own when his eyes fell on his reflection in the darkened glass of a store window — body tall and lean, chest blushing red, hair falling in his eyes with sweat. Beyond it, a flock of books on stout old wooden shelves. How interesting… Tom shifted his jacket from his elbow to his shoulder as he leaned forward to read. They were quite old volumes, judging by the typefaces and the engravings on display, and some he recognised as classic esoterica.

He looked at the sign above the door: Casa Ur. A reference to ancient Sumer? He looked past the glass more carefully, his every instinct pulling him toward this strange collection. If he was right, and they were real, then they were very old indeed. What carelessness, to keep them in such a place, hot and humid and likely infested by an entomologist’s dream collection of mites and moths and other pests.

Then he looked past his own reflection, past all the books, and there, in the middle of it all like a pale shadow between the shelves, he saw a woman. She was braced against a wooden desk, standing as he often did at Burkes when he was tired. She wore some sort of lady’s suit he couldn’t quite make out, and a string of silver shone dully at her neck like a wet trail of kisses. Her fingers were poised atop the pages of a ledger.

She was staring at him.

Tom let his gaze glide off her figure and back toward the books, keeping his cold and haughty look a moment longer before stepping away again.

How interesting… Why had none of the other shopkeepers mentioned it before? This was perhaps the first store he gave any serious consideration, and to think he’d found it all by accident…

The place had promise, but the building was far too large and far too old for rent there to be cheap — which meant the books were bound to be expensive. If they weren’t facsimiles or forgeries, then they deserved their price, but places like that also tended to be quite selective of their clientele, and Tom knew nobody in Rome who’d vouch for him. And as for his fake muggle money, that would only go so far…

What was worse, he had no way of reaching back to Borgin and Burkes. Knowing no other wizards in Rome, he had nobody to borrow an owl from, if that was even what they used in these climes, and the closest wizarding community he knew was down in Sicily. Muggle modes of communication wouldn’t reach Knownturn Alley, and international phone calls were awfully expensive. Tom was on his own.

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a Puffskein,” he said to himself.

Before he turned the corner, he looked up at the wall and took note of the street he was just on: Via dell'Umiltà.

IV

She started closing up the shop earlier than usual that day. Maybe it was because they’d only had two customers. Maybe because it was inordinately hot… Or maybe because of that handsome stranger who gazed through her window two hours before.

She felt unprofessional for staring, for letting her eyes wander down his fit frame tall and slender like a serpent… With his crisp white shirt liberally peeled back at the neck, his dark curls falling into his eyes, jacket casually hanging from his elbow and a silver ring around his finger, those charcoal trousers sitting so tightly on his slender hips and —

That was as far as she could see before he walked away.

She gathered her things slowly, waiting for evening to come and the streets to cool a little. She locked everything up and called downstairs to announce that she was leaving.

Stepping forth from that dark hole of history and out into the world again, she was greeted by a Rome painted in royal red. The sun was setting. As she walked by the Trevi fountain she could feel the steam that rose from the sprinkling on the stones playing around her ankles. The pigeons flew up with a fright, rustling through the air. People gathered in the square and cast around her a sea of murmurs in Italian and other foreign tongues. It was all foreign to her, of course, or rather she was foreign to it.

She could never quite fit in with the locals, however comfortable she felt there. Her accent always gave her away, and whatever the Italian “look” was, she didn’t have it — or perhaps strangers stared at her for other reasons, glances lingering behind so heavy she could feel them every time she did her shopping in her little neighbourhood, or went to lunch with her librarian and antiquary friends around the area. No matter what she did, what she wore, or how she did her hair, she remained a ‘straniera’. But that was alright. She didn’t mind being a little strange.

The pretty and ancient parts of Rome disintegrated, façades falling apart, pediments crumbling, cobblestones popping out of the eternal roads. The streets looked very different a few tram hops later as she made her way toward her rented flat. People looked the same though. The young ones were in the street, the women laboured around the house, the nonnas at the market, and the men all off at work.

But no matter the day, whenever she left for the bookshop or returned from it, the cafés were always full. People gazed out from beneath their striped little umbrellas, drinking from a thick white cup of coffee or sipping on a glass of wine, reading the news, petting their dogs, chatting with each other… It made her feel like life was passing by.

Then again, she had no mood for going out for coffee, not when she came home with her feet aching and her back sore. Even though all she had to do that day was sort out the books and fill the ledgers and occasionally deal with clients, the workday left her feeling battered. Besides, she had no one to go out with anyway…

Her work was solitary, and the friends she’d made were few — fellow book dealers and curators, all of whom were as busy as she was. And whenever they did meet during the occasional break, the only thing they talked about was work. There was no room left in anybody’s life for something different.

The cellar bar across the street from where she lived was already rumbling with a hint of lonely jazz, and the solid voice of men. The sound echoed past the old restaurant and bookshop near it that had been closed for years, and the rows of cheap apartments filled with working families. Out from underneath a shrub, a cat cut through her path. She stopped and almost called to it, but it ran through a hole in the wall of the neighbouring building. Getting out of the heat, perhaps.

Her building was cool on the inside for the instant it took to climb the two sets of stairs to her door, but then she stepped into her flat and it was like walking into an oven. Sunlight streamed through her windows all day, and no amount of curtains stopped the heat that built up there.

She peeled her clothes off her body before she even reached the bedroom, limping slightly all the way from the pain at her Achilles heel, and fell upon her bed face first. The shower could wait. Oh, what she would give for a massage… She rubbed her feet together as they hung over the side, and smiled at the fantasy of a pair of cold hands rubbing down her back.

She wondered what that handsome stranger was doing now…

Was he Italian? Unlikely given his pallor, although he had the same dark hair and eyes as all the locals did, and none of the whimsical, lost look of tourists. And he was alone.

His gaze, as much as she could make of it, had been scathing and critical, and he hadn’t even said a word. She turned around on the bed, eyes still closed, as she imagined him there. She saw all manner of people in her work, and although most of them were old, there were a few still young, still handsome… Mostly students at the local universities. But nobody, nobody she’d met so far, had been quite as striking as that stranger.

Was it pointless to hope that he would come again?

It was easier to put herself together after resting for a while. Living alone provided her with no greater luxury than this: there was never any need to rush. Dinner consisted of a cup of tea and biscuits, which was more than what she usually had, paired with a few page flips from a novel she was reading that she could hardly pay attention to. But every paragraph and sentence, any image conjured up by fiction, was haunted by the contours of that young man’s face.

V

Her sleep that night was deep and intoxicating, like a faint, her body giving her up to vague nightmares she would not remember. But she had a fresh enthusiasm when she woke up the next day. She brewed a little coffee with a smile and let it cool while she took a shower, and even the rumbling of the pipes couldn’t scare her mood away.

It was a feeling that entered her like an old tenant returned to a forgotten home. She used to feel alive in a very similar way in the early days of her employment at Casa Ur, when she thought she was so lucky to be chosen to run it for Baron Agarda. And she was lucky, she knew that, but she no longer felt it. The only thing she felt these days was weary.

So why was she smiling today?

As she rode the tram, wind tousling her hair and chilling the heat off of her neck, and walked back to the shop to the happy murmurs of tourists and the flutter of pigeons, she found her thoughts returning to the same idea — would he come today too? She smiled like a besotted schoolgirl all the way to work.

That good mood mellowed as the day went on, and she fell back into the dour ritual of tending to the shop. The same books awaited her as yesterday, the same letters to prospective buyers, invitations, packages, deliveries… Only the visit of Sister Silvia could cheer her up, and they shared a cup of coffee over yesterday’s Corriere della Sera.

By lunchtime, she’d forgotten all about him. As if to distract her further, Federico called to invite her to their usual spot by the fountain for a lunch break, and there he talked about the delicious anxiety he had from his own work. He was nice, she could not deny him that, and harmless, so it was no great effort on her part to listen. She indulged him, grateful not to have to respond at all, and afterwards, Fred walked her back to work with a feeling of deep satisfaction.

Work filled her days. The sort of work that never ends, that you never see the back of. Questions and ingratitude, files and lists and mess that builds up as soon as you misplace the smallest item. There was no hope, there was no end in sight, and she was so deep in these waters that there was no point in looking forward to anything at all.

So she was all the more surprised when three o’clock rolled around and there he was, walking through her door.

[inkblot-mirror]

Pomefiore Dorm Headcanons:

-Lights out at 9pm. Period.

-Like Diasomnia, which is also an on old castle, Pomefiore has many hidden nooks and shortcuts and passageways, all of which Rook discovered and committed to memory the first day he transferred. It’s also how he gets around the place so quickly and pops up most unexpectedly, still giving even older students a scare.

-Students quickly learn not to sneak junk food and other forbidden snacks and stuff into their rooms because Vil always. Finds. Out. (It’s Rook—nothing ever gets past him)

-As Epel demonstrated, a common punishment in the dorm is cleaning: washing and wiping all the windows by hand, dusting the vases, sweeping the rugs and mopping the hallways and making sure everything is absolutely spotless. Without magic (it’s to build character ofc).

-The beautiful gardens and apple orchards outside are perfect for afternoon tea. Vil has, on more than one occasion, hosted a photoshoot in the gardens.

-Said apples in the orchards are also cursed to make whoever eats them violently ill. As a result the garden remains picturesque and pretty.

-Peacocks roam freely outside. They are surprisingly aggressive to outsiders.

-Entire dorm smells like fancy flowers and floral perfume.

-While not an official club on campus, but some Pomefiore students have made their own fashion design club. They hold fashion shows, showcasing their own creations every so often and Vil always attends.

-Has a potions lab in the basement where the housewarden duel is held.

-Mandatory ballroom dancing lessons! Pomefiore has three ballrooms in total.

-There’s a big white grand piano in the lounge that no one is allowed to play.

-Decently insulated, not too hot or cold, since both are bad for your skin.

-Lot and lots of stairs! Also easy to get lost in.

-Vil (and Rook) had to teach all the first years how to put their dorm uniform on properly.

- Lots of movie nights in the lounge. If one of Vil’s movies are being played, he expects full critique (and praise) afterwards.

-Vil is more accommodating towards beastman students with wings, tails, fur, and or ears that need more specialized care or attention.

-Kitchen is stocked only with healthy snacks and artesian bottled water.

——————

Scarabia Dorm Headcanons:

-So. Many. Parties. Parties to kick off the start of the school year, parties at the end of the week, parties to celebrate end of the semester, parties for the sake of partying.

-Second to Octavinelle, the dorm has lots of musically inclined students. One can hear lots of musical instruments being played day and night, such as the sitar, flute, oud, tamborine, or drum.

-Merfolk students like to cool off in the oasis or the courtyard fountain. This environment isn’t exactly the best for them… good thing there aren’t alot of them in Scarabia in the first place.

-Sand everywhere!!!!!! Even with magic, sand still finds a way to slip in. I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.

-Occasionally there are powerful sandstorms outside.

-Even rarer is when it rains (without use of Kalim’s UM)—when it does, everyone dashes outside to dance and sing in the rain with joy (everyone minus Jamil)

-Dorm is home to Kalim’s menagerie of exotic wild animals allowed to roam freely: tigers, monkeys, camels, parrots, etc…

-They’re all tame (mostly), but you can still occasionally see Jamil and a student or two wrangling a monkey or chasing after a runaway pony.

-It’s nearly bug free for the most part (thanks Jamil!) but you can still find the lone scorpion or snake hiding in the corners.

-First thing new students are taught is to always always always double check and empty your shoes and clothes first before putting them on.

-Entire dorm smells of incense and spices and exotic perfumes. It’s very heavy on the senses.

-Very dry and hot as one would expect! Its gets chillier at night, but not by much.

-Students help out Jamil with the cooking. It’s a communal event, and recipes and stories are often swapped.

-Before Kalim, Scarabia was a pretty studious and academic dorm. Now they have a reputation as the party animals of NRC and curious students from other dorms like to sneak into their many parties or banquets. Not like Kalim minds: the more, the merrier!

-DONT TOUCH JAMIL’s SPICES!

[arinbelle]

Inevitable - Part IV

Summary: Nesta and Cassian mated on the night of Winter Solstice. But before they could mate properly, Cassian left soon after, leaving Nesta reeling and Cassian wanting more. When they mate under an official ceremony, with ancient magic, that mating call is renewed, and Nesta and Cassian are going to be in a frenzy. I.e. I wrote 20k fic full of smut.

Part I  | Part II  | Part III  | Part IV

~*~

Nesta had mostly slept uninterrupted through the night, though she’d expected herself to not wake for hours, maybe even days. She had been so thoroughly spent from the past two days and knew then that it had been wise of Cassian to hold off on their joining until she’d had some form of rest after their ceremony. 

Nesta had been half asleep when she’d reached for the pewter on the bedside table, and had been jolted awake by the cold water. Cassian hadn’t stirred until she’d curled up into his side again, reveling in the strength she’d felt as he’d wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her closer.

They hadn’t spoken when he’d woken her the hour after with bruising, tantalizing kisses on her neck. She’d only grabbed the hand on her middle and placed it between her legs. Cassian had not made to move her, letting her rest as he slid into her with ease. 

It had been slow and soft even though she could feel Cassian pulling himself back. They’d always been vocal in bed with each other, never shying away from their desires and what effects they had on the other. And yet there was something more intimate, more fragile in the darkness of their room, with his arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her backwards into his chest as he made love to her. Softer, as she entwined their hands and turned her head back to seek out a kiss. It hadn’t been enough, none of it, yet she’d tried to make do. The burning in her chest, the searing live wire within her begging for more, more, more. 

He’d swallowed her gasps and moans as he’d thrusted deeper, biting affectionately at her lips as she’d gone through her climaxes. And it had been her, wholly her as his focus, even though it was Cassian who had initiated. It had to have been torture she knew to hold back as much as he did.  From hurting her or tiring her out, she didn’t know, but she knew the tenderness he was treating her with had only served to make her want him more. In the end they’d broken apart together, hands clasped above her head, lips sealed in a kiss that promised more with time. 

It was almost night when they woke again, Cassian waking her with a lovely smile that melted her heart. When she’d become so sappy, so lovesick, she had no idea. Yet, it didn’t really bother her. If the end result was waking up to Cassian, a very naked Cassian in their too large bed, she didn’t think she’d ever complain about acting like a silly girl with her first love. 

He’d left her to draw a bath, insisting on it for her sore muscles and whatever other excuse he’d created. Between the breakfast, the bath, and the endless orgasms, she could get used to this. She’d told him as much and Cassian had laughed wholeheartedly, only dropping a kiss at the crown of her head before pushing her to move to the bathing room.

She’d all but thrown a fit when he’d made to leave her in the large tub, filled to the brim with bubbles. Petulant as ever but she’d insisted she wasn’t hungry even though she was. All she wanted was him with her as she relaxed and sank deeper into the water.

”You really are so demanding,” he said as he finished washing her hair. “Most females enjoy having someone to cook for them.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say you can’t cook dinner. I said do it after I’m done with my bath.” So she could steal every single minute of his time and keep him to herself. She wouldn’t say that though. 

“Sure Nes,” he laughed. “Sure.”

Cassian began working on dinner at midnight. Through no fault of her own, although Cassian insisted it was hers alone, they’d ended up staying upstairs for far longer than was originally planned. 

Nesta had watched him walk out of the tub, grabbing a towel to wrap around his hips, and taking away the show. She’d quickly gotten out of the tepid water then, moving to find him and make it right. She’d been enjoying the view far too much and wanted it back. 

His back was turned to her when she found him in his other room, browsing through his closet for clothes. He hadn’t turned her way when she’d come up behind him but she’d seen his wings tighten and tuck inwards. It made the job of pulling the towel right off of his hips that much easier.

Cassian hadn’t even looked fazed when he’d turned slowly to take in her still damp, still unclothed body. He’d only raised a scarred brow to her before roving over her breasts and lower.

”If you don’t keep your hands to yourself mate, you’re going to starve.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d all but purred.

”Of course not.”

He’d pushed her onto the bed then, putting her on her hands and knees and fucking her from behind. She’d screamed into the sheets as she came, all three times, and even then it seemed Cassian could keep going. It seemed the sight of her in such a way, on her hands and knees, hands clenching into the sheets beneath them had renewed something in him. Something far more primal and Fae than before. She’d always felt the term fucking like animals was too crass for her taste. But then again, she’d never been with Cassian then. Never laid like this before where it was more rutting than fucking. 

It was both torture and pleasure to have his thick cock ram into her at that angle, so deep it felt impossible at times. By the end of it she was sobbing from the sheer pleasure, nearly begging though for what she didn’t know.

He’d cleaned her up gently, kissing the marks he’d left at her throat, her hips, her breasts. She knew he’d likely add more before the night was over but that didn’t bother her. To her surprise, Nesta was finding she liked this side of him. This side that wanted to claim and mark her as his own. His.

Her heart sang at the thought, of being his. 

When they’d finally put on clothes Nesta had been temporarily sent away from the kitchen while Cassian cooked. According to him, she was a bad influence. According to Nesta, she liked what she liked, she knew what she wanted, and Cassian could most definitely have fucked her with one hand and stirred the food with the other if he wanted to.

He hadn’t found her amusing at all and sent her away. A time-out at twenty-five had to be a joke but Cassian was serious. 

“I’ve created a monster,” she’d heard him mutter to himself.

Dinner though, had indeed been delicious. She had explored his study and the small bookshelf inside it, picking up a book on espionage and warfare to read. He’d found her with the book in bed, sprawled on her stomach in his shirt and nothing else. She knew exactly what the sight of it did to him. That and the top two buttons undone to give a generous view of her cleavage that he dutifully ignored while he placed her plate in front of her.

”I’m not hungry,” she supplied uselessly. A lie if she’d ever heard one. It was a miracle her stomach didn’t growl at the mouthwatering dinner he’d procured. A feast really with the glazed vegetables, seared chicken, warm bread and some spiced rice that smelled divine.

She’d never tell him that because then he’d act impudent and arrogant with her, but she’d seriously needed to eat. She couldn’t remember being so tired after sex before but two days of nonstop lovemaking had begun to take its toll. Even the night before she’d gone to sleep knowing it would be hours before she could wake again.

Cassian only said softly, with a lilting cadence, “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work.”

Nesta had tried to look a little offended. Tried and failed but she still kept up the picture of innocence. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a saccharine smile. He hadn’t bothered to even look at her as he moved to the other side of the bed. 

“I’m still going to fuck you Nesta, have some dinner.”

”Really?,” she asked coyly, her traitorous body already perking up at his words. 

”Behave and you’ll find out,” he said softly, the promise of something sinful in his voice. 

She pressed her legs tighter as something warm and tight had coiled in her core. Nesta couldn’t understand it, this want, this furious need to have him over and over. Even the day after Solstice and all the days he’d left her be in the House and she’d made do with just her hands between her legs and images of his face, his body, how he felt inside her, was nothing like this. Even in the days following his return, it had never been like this. Never had there been this aching need that seemed to rob her of breath and voice and all rationality that she prided herself on having. 

Cassian settled against the headboard, wings relaxing around him as he poured her a glass of wine and then one for himself. 

“I just opened this one. It’s two hundred years old.”

She took a sip, savoring the sweetness. She’d never really cared for wine but found it most palatable when getting drunk all those months ago. Hard liquor, though it did the job faster, always upset her stomach far more. Besides that, she hadn’t drank alcohol in months save for a few sips here and there at dinner. It had seemed the House had finally deemed it safe enough for her to drink again a month after Solstice, but Nesta hadn’t had much interest in it anymore.

“It’s good. Very good,” she noted, before taking another sip.

”It’s for you.” She raised a quizzical brow at him, not understanding even as he handed her the bottle.

On the sleek black bottle, the label read the name of the wine and province it had come from. And then in curling letters in the empty space of the label was a message. 

To you, the most unlucky girl in the world. 

We wish you the best as you embark on your lifelong journey married to this asshole. We hope this bottle of very expensive wine makes up for all your troubles but it probably won’t. Welcome to the family. 

Love,

Rhys and Az

Cassian rolled her eyes as she laughed but she saw the glimmer of a smile graze his lips as he reread the note silently. 

“Idiots. They made me keep it here for so many years. And every time I’d try to open it they wouldn’t let me, insisting I had to give it to their future sister-in-law.”

Nesta smiled at the thought. 

Cassian looked at her then, and something shifted in his face. “And here you are. After all,” he said softly. 

Nesta didn’t know what to make of the emotion on his face. Didn’t want to more like it since she knew she’d likely start crying if she did. Instead she opted to push his plate aside and slide in between his open legs, leaning back against his chest as she reached for her plate.

She ate her dinner silently, nestled in between his legs. He said nothing more either but she knew the unspoken words that lay between them.

I found you. After all this time, after all these years, here I am. Here we are. Together. 

They cleaned up the dishes together, with him washing and rinsing and her drying beside him. It was so domestic, so simple, yet something tugged in her heart as he handed her the last spoon and dropped a chaste kiss on the top of her head.

She could see it then, this future of theirs. Years ago, the best she could have hoped for herself was a husband who she didn’t detest, who didn’t hurt her or force himself onto her, and one who left her alone as she raised their children in a cold, loveless home. That had been the best option for herself, and she’d accepted that fate. When she had grown older, that acceptance had turned to nauseating fear, especially when Tomas Mandray had become a quickly approaching reality. An abusive, spineless asshole who couldn’t have been bothered to treat her with basic respect, let alone anything more.

Love had never even crossed her mind. Not because she didn’t want it or thought herself to be above it, because that couldn’t be the farthest from the truth. All her life she’d secretly dreamed, pining and hating herself for it, for the stupid wish of true love that could steal her breath away with just a look. A man who would sweep her off of her feet, who would make her feel that the world wasn’t unconquerable, who’d stand fervently by her side and love every facet of her. She’d burned with it, that horrible desire to have something so otherworldly it simply wasn’t possible.

And then she had blinked, and there Cassian was.

Their future would be slow, soft mornings, brought out of slumber with finger soft touches and reverent moments as they shared the space in between their mouths and breathed in the same air. Their future would be lovemaking so thorough, so encompassing, she thought she’d combust herself and be engulfed in flames so terribly hot, so passionate it would meld their very skins off until they were fused into each other. Seared into each other’s souls. Their future would be his windswept hair tickling her as he leaned down to kiss her hello and goodbye every time they reunited and every time they had to part. It would be wars fought side by side on killing fields and visits to the local theater where they would dance for hours into the night. Their future would be a small girl with Nesta’s hair and Cassian’s eyes, a boy with her reserved nature and Cassian’s love for the skies, and so much love for their children, each and every one of them, in all the ways neither of them had been given as they’d grown. 

“Nesta,” Cassian’s voice broke her out of her soaring thoughts. 

Nesta placed the last plate into the cupboard and turned to face her mate.

”Where did you go?,” he asked fondly, poking her cheek before moving past her to the icebox. 

Nesta pulled herself up onto the counter watching as Cassian finished closing the kitchen up. She followed the contour of his wings, umber and red-browns mottling with the illumination from the faelights overhead. So beautiful this male of hers, sometimes he took her breath away. 

“What were you thinking about?,” Cassian prompted lightheartedly.

”Nothing,” she answered. A pause. “Everything,” she admitted with a small laugh. 

“Our children,” she finally settled on. Cassian stopped whatever he was doing and slowly turned around. Something soft bloomed in his face, vulnerable and hopeful.

”What about them?,” he asked carefully, a whisper in the already quiet room.

Nesta shrugged, trying and failing to hide her embarrassment. The soft blush she knew would start staining her skin as she felt it heat up. Months ago, a year ago, she would never, never have admitted such a thing to him. Never would she have been so honest about her feelings, about him, about them, and everything in between. It would give him far too much power over her, even though she knew deep down he’d always had it. No matter what she did or didn’t do, he’d always held her in such rapture it was a wonder she didn’t lose herself completely sometimes. 

“How they would look,” she offered with a small smile. Cassian came closer, stepping in between her legs. “How we would be, how they would be raised…,” she mused, raising her hands up to wrap up and into Cassian’s hair as he pulled her closer towards him. 

Cassian’s smile told her everything she needed to know. It was every assurance she knew she would need whenever they started that journey together and a piece of her heart sang as she knew she’d be alright with Cassian by her side. 

“How many?,”Cassian asked gently, tickling her ear with a soft kiss. 

“You tell me, brute,”

Cassian looked far too delighted with the question, so much so that she decided to stop him instead. Nesta let out a huff, knowing exactly where they were headed. She pushed at his chest, knowing full well it did nothing to deter him. 

“Not that many,” she answered knowingly.

He shot her a reproachful look. “You don’t even know what I was going to say. Maybe I would have said two. Or three.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you were going to say?”

He chuckled. “No. Not at all.”

Nesta met him in the middle as he leaned down to kiss her, leaning into his touch. His fingers tangled into her hair, and she angled closer, moaning as she felt him press himself against her core. Cassian broke the kiss just as she felt she was running out of air, and she gasped at the sudden shock of cold air in her mouth.

”Just to be clear, we’re not having any children anytime soon?”

”No,” Nesta answered quickly, eager to finish what he’d started. She reached for him again but he moved out of her reach.

”Because you just need to say the word,” he offered salaciously. She rolled her eyes, pulling him back, this time successfully. 

“I’ll let you know in a century or two. For now,” she said, struggling with the buttons on his shirt, “just fuck me.”

Cassian threw his head back to laugh, pushing her hands away and pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion. She would try not to think on it for too long but the muscled brown skin suddenly on display, whorls of black ink flexing with Cassian’s every movement, had her legs moving apart of their own accord.

If her mind wasn’t so single minded in that moment she would have chided herself for being so lustful. Surely she could gather her wits for a second. She was definitely capable of it. But in that moment it was harder to think straight and keep her composure, especially as he began undoing the lacings at his pants.

Nesta had no intention of moving from where she’d situated herself, happy to wait for him to join her and fuck her until she lost her voice and all sense of reason. 

Until he pulled his cock out. 

It was already hard and dripping with moisture, and it was so easy then, to push off of the counter, instead dropping to her knees before him, eager to taste and touch.

”Nesta-,” Cassian grunted, almost as if he didn’t want this. Perhaps he was trying to focus on her own pleasure as he’d been painstakingly doing for the past few days. But she’d always loved pleasing him. Loved seeing how she could make him succumb to her and only her, even on her knees.

His body told a different story as he practically molded to her, hands spearing with ease into her unbound hair, holding her tresses out of her face.

He tasted like salt and pure intoxication and the taste of him burst on her mouth as she swiped her tongue over the bead of moisture at the tip of his cock. Cassian made a garbled sound and she felt his fingers tighten sharply in her hair before relaxing again.

She stroked softly, softer than she knew he liked, and peered up at him with heavy eyes. Watching, waiting and not giving him nearly enough sensation to enjoy himself. 

“Careful,” he warned in a low voice. “I know what you’re doing, witch.”

Nesta’s lips curved of their own volition before she could help it. 

“Patience,” Nesta started, before dragging her tongue from base to tip in one efficient lick, “Is a virtue.”

He growled and she felt her breasts tighten at the sound. Felt a pool of warmth begin the build between her legs because she always associated it with pleasure that only he could ever give her.

“You’ll pay for it later then,” he settled on, relaxing into her grip as she quickened her strokes. 

“I look forward to it.”

Then she took him down her throat as much as possible, knowing that it would drive Cassian wild. Whatever was left of him she moved her hands over quickly, slickening his length with her mouth, bobbing and sucking with ease. She made a point to drag her teeth ever so gently as she reached the tip of his cock, and to lick at the broad tip before taking him back down her throat. 

Cassian let out a guttural sound each time she did that and she felt a coy sense of satisfaction. Only she could do this to him. She’d learned his body, all of his ticks, and everything he needed to come. It was a heady feeling to taste him and touch him this way, and she relished in the slick slide of his cock in her mouth, the moans he made as she moved faster and faster, pushing him towards that brink.

“I can’t…Nesta,” he murmured incoherently, thrusting his hips jaggedly, all sense of control lost from him as she worked him harder, deeper, faster. The sting on her scalp as he pulled tighter, moaning her name, was welcome encouragement.

Yes. Finally. She’d wanted this from him. This release on himself, the unbridled energy he always seemed to tamp down on so as to not lose control of himself. She knew everyone assumed him to be reckless and chaotic, all brash temper and quick actions over thought. But he was a thousandfold more careful than she’d ever been, far more controlled and far less erratic. 

She preferred him like this. He’d always been able to meet her word for word, verbal blow for blow, yet he always held himself back from a line she was always wiling to cross. She enjoyed him unleashed, more so, on her and it was only when they were like this, when she could touch him and give and give that she felt satisfied. 

He cried out as he hit his release and Nesta did not slow down. She did not stop to breathe let alone think as she savored the warmth now in her mouth, savored the harshness on his face slowly morphing to contentment. She swallowed every drop and kept her eyes open and fastened on his own gaze down at her. Cassian’s pupils were fully blown and something tender was etched into the planes of his as he looked at her. He caressed her head softly as she released his cock, stroking through her hair with careful deliberation.

Cassian let his hand drift from her head down to cup her chin. Then to rest lightly around her neck before pulling her up by it. He met her halfway up in a savage kiss, and she moaned into his mouth, licking against his tongue and letting him taste his release on her.

“The things you do to me Nesta,” he whispered against her lips before claiming them again. She felt his hands travel down her body cupping her ass roughly before lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around him on instinct and paid no mind to where he was taking them. She kissed down his jaw, licking at where his pulse fluttered under her teeth. She was tempted to bite down on it. Knowing Cassian it would only encourage him. But she held back, controlling this urge to take and take and slake herself on this unbearable desire that had been building for the past hour.

Cassian threw her down on the bed, a predatory smile gracing his beautiful face as he saw how quickly she raised herself up towards him.

”So eager,” he taunted, his laugh running chills down her spine. She didn’t care, couldn’t, not when she needed him so badly-

A knock came at the door downstairs. They both froze but Cassian didn’t look away from her. It came again, sharper this time, and irritation blossomed on his face as his eyes went distant and cold. She recognized that look and knew he was talking to someone in his mind. And she had no doubt who was at the door.

When he came to, it was clear he was disgruntled.

“I’ll be back. Rhys is here.” His voice was clipped as he spoke, and he turned quickly on his heel towards the door. Nesta puzzled over what Rhysand could be doing there, knowing he wouldn’t interrupt for a mundane reason. Worry and dread suddenly filled her and formed a pit in her stomach. What if Feyre was hurt? What about Nyx, Mother above-

“They’re fine,” Cassian abruptly interjected her racing thoughts, as if he’d read her mind. “Everyone is fine, this is about something else. Some work I need to do while I’m still here in Illyria. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be back soon.” A darker emotion passed his face. “He knows he’s not supposed to be interrupting us right now. Asshole.”

Nesta laughed softly, relief calming her. Cassian didn’t look at her as he pulled open the door but she saw the slight turn of his head, angled at her.

His voice was low, simmering with lust and intent, but even as he murmured to her, she could make out his words perfectly. “You better not be dressed when I get back.” 

The command was subtle but it was there. The bite of what he’d left unspoken was also not lost on her. There would be consequences if she didn’t listen and while she usually enjoyed seeing how far she could push Cassian, it was not the time for it. She needed to come so badly and she knew her own efforts would pale in comparison to his touch.

She snorted and considered it for a moment. If he punished her for the disobedience she would still get what she wanted in the end, only she would need to work for it. Were this any other day, she might have enjoyed it, being at his mercy as he kept her orgasm from her. But she felt the mating bond chafing from within, and the consuming urge to mate and couple was quickly rising. In the end she caved, tossing her dress and then her underwear to the side of the room.

If Rhysand and Cassian were talking, she didn’t hear anything. Not even as she strained her Fae senses outwards to where they should be outside the house. After a few minutes she laid down on top of the sheets, raising her knees and crossing her legs tightly in the hopes that it would quell the need inside her to touch herself. The lights above her irritated her eyes and she threw a hand over them to block it out. In fact, everything was starting to irritate her, especially as the time stretched on and Cassian didn’t appear. 

Maybe she wouldn’t wait for him and she’d slip her hand between her legs and come. It wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if it was Cassian himself, but at least then she might finally find release. 

Cassian appeared moments later, as if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts. The door had quickly opened and closed but Nesta did not move her hand off of her face. She did not rise up to meet him. Had not bothered to drape herself seductively over their sheets in effort to get a rise out of him. Fuck that. 

”I’m sorry,” he apologized, but she didn’t react. “Rhys…,” he sighed, cutting himself off. “Everything’s fine but it won’t happen again. I made that clear with him.”

Fine.

She didn’t have to like it but she listened, moving her arm off her face. The Faelight overhead shocked her and she blinked a few times before her eyes adjusted. Cassian’s pants were still on, laces undone, but he’d put his cock back in and her mouth watered at the memory of what they’d just finished downstairs. She pressed her legs closer together, knowing it wouldn't help. 

He didn’t miss it, that small movement and he took in her legs, her raised knees tightly locked against each other and smirked. The bastard smirked knowingly.

He practically purred, mocking her, “You need to come so badly, don’t you?”

She ignored the jab, only pushing up onto her elbows to look at him better. “What’s it to you?”

His eyes roved over her bare breasts and she felt the bond tug in her chest. So he liked the view, but what else was new? His eyes dipped over her taut stomach, likely noticing how tense she was holding herself. Cassian moved closer then, leaning his two hands down onto the mattress just inches from her legs.

”Let me see you,” he asked softly, but it was an order all the same. And it burned through her as she fought the urge to give in or to fight. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and gave a light tug, just enough to jolt but not enough to pull her legs apart.

“Let me see you, Nesta.”

She knew he wasn’t talking about her face.

Nesta opened her legs, raising her head just a touch to see his reaction. What she saw stole her breath away. He groaned appreciatively at whatever he saw between her legs and a hunger overtook his features. He was going to eat her alive and she’d enjoy every moment of it.

”Look at you,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down her core with a featherlight touch. She leaned into it, only for him to move away and sit beside her on the bed.

Cassian’s hand slid down Nesta’s bare stomach, leaving chills in their absence and stoking the fire under her skin even more. She was still sore from before yet it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him and that tantalizing touch making its way down to where she needed most. He was going purposefully slow, she knew, because it was such a Cassian thing to do. To punish her with the one thing he could beat her in.

Patience. 

She could jest and toy with Cassian all she liked about patience, but unlike Nesta, Cassian could and had waited out this sort of torture if he wanted. But worst of all, he would make her wait too. This was punishment for earlier, she was sure of it.

Nesta canted her hips just a touch, causing his hands to go ever so slightly lower to where she wanted it. He slid his eyes towards her, taking in every inch of her torso and breasts on the way up. 

“I will stop.” He said it with just enough mildness that Nesta was tempted to see if he’d actually follow through. But the threat had been made, and Nesta wanted to come, so she stopped her squirming. 

She made sure to tighten every muscle in her body so as to not move anymore. Cassian’s hand still right above the apex of her thighs had to have felt her muscles shift underneath. He chuckled darkly.

“You listen well when you want to come, don’t you? Greedy girl.”

Then, without any warning at all, Cassian leaned down over her stomach, and enclosed his mouth around her core, consuming her over and over. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as his tongue ran down her center and then back up to her clit. Her legs fell open wider and her muscles loosened just as Cassian pulled away.

Nesta almost throttled him.

She didn’t get a chance to though because Cassian slid his entire hand down to her sex and cupped her roughly. He tested the slide of the wetness he’d left on her skin with his mouth, and Nesta canted into the movement, grinding against his hand.

“Greedy,” he muttered again with a small smile. And then he slid his fingers up to circle her clit with just the right amount of pressure to have her gasping. It was so slow, so painfully slow for her, but she let Cassian go on, knowing he knew everything about her body and what she needed. 

It may have gone on for hours, or maybe a few minutes as Cassian continued his torturous stimulation, alternating between rough and fast strokes with soft and gentle ones. 

It was only when he slid two fingers inside of her did Nesta allow herself to make any noise of indication that she was enjoying herself. She’d kept herself silent just to bother him, even though she knew the arrogant bastard was too self-assured to ever worry about that.

It was only when she moaned again as he slid deeper, dragging on the ridge of muscles along the topside of her that he quickly looked her over, smirking at the sight before turning away again. She always liked to see his face when she came, and it was only petty rivalry that had kept her from begging him to look over or kiss her while she came on his hand.

Nesta moaned louder, no longer caring how she sounded. Not as Cassian moved his thumb up to her clit and began circling, his two fingers still pumping in and out of her, faster and faster now. Nesta’s hand went out to steady herself against something, anything, as she felt her climax begin to build.

Her nails dug into Cassian’s thigh, and his head whipped back to see her, just as her eyes shut tight at the sheer pleasure coursing through her bloodstream. Cassian didn’t let up, but his free hand circled the hand she’d placed on his thigh and gently clasped it. Nesta squeezed his hand harder and he didn’t let her go, holding her through everything as it ripped through her, shattering her mind to oblivion.

Even as she came down from the crest, Cassian did not stop. She let go of his hand to stop him but he snagged her wrist easily and placed it on her stomach. 

“Use your words. If you want me to stop, say so.” And with that, he went back to his ministrations. Nesta whimpered from the overstimulation, even as Cassian gentled his stroking, but he didn’t let up. And Nesta didn’t stop him. It was just this side of pain even as pleasure sparked anew for her, and she didn’t want him to stop. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a wicked grin. He stretched her with a third finger and Nesta’s eyes rolled back in her head.

”Cassian,” she gasped. 

It was all the encouragement he needed as he leaned down again and sucked on her clit while pumping those thick fingers into her. Over and over- fuck.

It was too much, all of it was far too much and she came with a silent scream, back arching up to push her core further into Cassian’s face and hands. He led her through the orgasm again, only this time moving away from touching her as she came down from her high. She didn’t think she could handle another climax so soon and as always, Cassian knew what she needed from him.

He gave her the time she needed to catch her breath, undressing himself fully in that time. Her limbs had turned to jelly, and even though the sight of him fully bare so close beside her made her lust return twofold, she didn’t have the strength to act on it.

Cassian didn’t seem to mind at all, content to kiss her neck, the valley between her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, slowly, softly caressing her with his lips. His hands tickled as they moved up her sides, stroking over her arms, her legs, tangled in her hair. She was content too, at his side, simply allowed to be.

”Are you tired?,” he asked after some time, sucking on her pulse before licking a line down her throat to her breast. 

She murmured, eyelids heavy, “No.”

Cassian dragged his teeth over her sensitive nipple and she whimpered as the sensation traveled down to the juncture of her thighs. He looked at her with amusement, hazel eyes flicking over the contours of her body in a generous way.

”I can tell you are,” he admitted. “I can feel it through the bond.”

Yes, he would. It was different now, she could tell. So much more stronger and absolute than when they had first arrived. More than when they had first mated and every time after. It was strange, ancient magic that she wasn’t interested enough in to question.

”It’s fine. I’m fine,” she offered, lifting her chest just so into his face. 

He laughed at that, nuzzling and kissing where her heart lay. “You can sleep. We can continue this tomorrow. Or later whenever you wake up.”

Nesta protested, “No. I’m not tired.” He shot her a look. “Alright I’m not that tired.” Her leg came up to wrap around his hip and Cassian pulled her closer on instinct. And then just to prove her point she grabbed his cock and stroked languorously. 

“I have plans for us,” she reminded him coyly.

Cassian grabbed her wrist, pulling it towards him and kissing the tips of her fingers before pinning it above her head. “I don’t want to tire you out. Or hurt you,” he conceded. 

“You can do whatever you want to me. I don’t mind,” she breathed. 

A bare confession but it was the truth. He could do whatever he wanted, take whatever he needed, and she would freely give it. It was heady, the loss of control she could easily give to him and take back without ever worrying it would hurt her. She trusted him that much and something shifted in his face, as if her words had a far deeper impact on him than she could imagine. 

He kissed her then, with an unexpected fervor, and when the surprise wore off, she matched every stroke with her own. He moaned into her mouth and she pulled him closer, tugging on his unbound hair just the way she knew he liked it. Cassian broke away to bite at her neck, licking at her jaw before peppering it with kisses. Her hips lifted of their own accord, grinding against him and his hardened length.

He cursed softly, peering down to where she’d pressed herself against him, and a surge seemed to overtake him at the sight of it. His eyes darkened with approval and with a shift of his hips he had thrust himself fully inside her.

Her head fell back against the pillows at the fullness of it, at the pressure that she needed to relieve. Cassian pulled her closer, pulling one leg up as he settled between her thighs. She could imagine the view he had, one which had him looking so positively feral. His cock so impossibly deep inside her, one of her legs curled around his hip, the other raised up around his shoulder, giving him a perfect view of where they were joined. 

He shifted slowly, moving out of her with ease before pumping back in. Slowly, so slowly she wanted to die. She snarled with disapproval and his eyes met hers in a smoldering battle of wills.

”Move,” she gritted out.

”Don’t like it?,” he taunted. And moved again, ever so slowly. 

“Go faster,” she snapped, because god damn it she couldn’t handle him being inside of her like this. She needed him to move, to fuck, to finish her so thoroughly she would forget her own name.

Cassian didn’t relent, only barely picking up the pace, enjoying his own personal show as he watched his cock slide in and out of her with ease, knowing exactly what it was doing to her. He could get her off in minutes if he wanted to. He was capable and he’d done it more times than she could count now. 

This was a game to him, to see how long he could torture her, put off her climax and build the temptation until it was unbearable.

She reached down and played with her clit but Cassian caught the movement immediately, snarling with warning.

She didn’t stop, only purring as she held his burning stare. “Don’t like it?,” she threw back, smiling with anything but kindness.

“You’ll come when I make you, witch,” he snapped, but unlike her, there was no bite to his words, only amused affection.

“And when will that be?” To make her point she shifted her hips, taking him harder and faster until Cassian pinned her hips with a free hand.

She whined at that, “I want-”

Casssian cut her off with a kiss, moving against her lips with a ferocity she couldn’t match. 

“I know what you want. You’ll get it,” he promised, a dark glint in his eye that made Nesta shiver. She offered her throat on pure instinct and Cassian leapt at the opportunity, licking and nipping at her pulse point.

He also began moving in her harder, and faster, just how she wanted. Just how she needed from him.

Cassian moaned as he looked down again and Nesta nearly came at the sound itself. It was guttural and low and she could still feel the sound vibrate deep in her chest as he looked down at where they were joined.

His rhythm faltered for a moment as he met her eyes, pulling out of her.

“I could watch you take my cock forever.” It was an obscene sound as his cock slid back into her, and out, over and over as he rammed into her. She screamed, clenching around him, grasping for anything to hold onto.

Tendrils of his hair stuck to his forehead and sweat gleaned on both of their bodies. His muscles tightened and shifted, wings spreading behind him as he pulled her closer, impossibly so, “You’re so good to me Nesta, aren’t you?”

Yes. Gods but she was. But she couldn’t say that, couldn’t manage any words at all on how good she could be to him if he said the word. All he had to do was say it and she was willing to crawl to him and pleasure him for however long he wanted.

His hair tickled her chin as he leaned over her and captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard before leaving it with a pop. He dragged his teeth over the other and Nesta moaned his name, not caring for poise anymore. She needed this so much. How she’d held off on touching herself earlier she didn’t know anymore. 

Cassian’s fingers found the apex of her thighs with ease and she widened her legs at his touch instinctually. The rise in pleasure, in sensation, was almost instantaneous and she whimpered against his chest. 

“Cassian,” she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest, pounding in her ears like a war drum. She was overheated with the heat emanating from both their bodies as they moved against each other. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe right. Cassian steadied her with just one look. Just one look into his hazel eyes and Nesta felt herself relax, giving herself over to the pleasure rather than tightening up against it.

He left a bruising kiss on her lips before he continued bucking into her, his hold on her leg tightening in a warm, solid grip that kept her grounded to reality. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel this much pleasure, to be this undone, and to still keep going. There was no end, no beginning, no sense of place or time. There was just them and that thing in her chest that tightened each time he smiled down at her or held her closer as they both came down from another mind-shattering climax. 

“They’ll fade,” Cassian said after what seemed to be hours later after laying silently in their bed. His fingers glided over the bite mark left at her throat in the chaos that had overtaken them and they’d both been reduced to nothing but a rutting and snarling frenzy. 

Nesta laughed at that. “You don’t need to act. I know you’re disappointed.”

Cassian grinned, a feral, glinting smile as he curled closer. He dragged his tongue over the small hurt and she bit her lips to hold in any sound that may escape by accident. She didn’t need to encourage him.

”Is that so bad? That I want there to be a reminder for the world that you're mine.” 

Something warmed in her heart at the words, the sheer honesty he displayed with them.

Mine.

It was such a simple sentiment, but she’d never had that before. Someone to want her as their own, to accept her as theirs and proclaim her for everyone to see and hear proudly. 

“You’re a territorial brute,” she finally decided, quickly kissing him but letting her tongue slide just so over his lips to rile him up.

“You like it,” he lobbied back, leaning in closer to finish what she’d started. But she’d already started untangling her limbs from his and making her way to the bathing chamber.

She didn’t wait to hear what he had to say, knowing it would be a rumbling complaint on her leaving him all alone in their bed. Nesta locked the door behind her for good measure, knowing that a bath to clean off the sweat and sex from her skin would be useless if she allowed him to follow.

Cassian wasn’t in bed when she finally finished changing into clothes and combing her hair. And the bed had been made, with new sheets and all their strewn over belongings set right. 

Nesta felt a tug on the bond and she followed her instincts down the stairs and to the sitting room, to where Cassian was waiting for her. 

The faelight shone through his wings and she paused to take in the image. The amber and brown skin nearly shimmered as she traced the delicate veins underneath with her eyes. Cassian’s hair was unbound again, so unlike him during training and everyday events where he often tied it out of his face into a haphazard knot. Her hands flexed with the memory of the waves she loved to card through, loved to pull on at times, and loved to simply marvel at. He was so beautiful it hurt.

”There you are,” he said with a smile, reaching out his hand towards her. “I was waiting for you.”

Nesta took his outstretched hand happily, letting him fold her into his hold as she sat in his lap. His scent, spice and embers and snow enveloped her and she breathed it in greedily, moving on instinct to his neck, to the pulse that beat under the skin. Cassian let her, his throat rumbling a groan as she pressed a soft kiss to his neck and then the underside of his jaw.

When he speared his hand through her hair, she expected him to tug her closer but to her disappointment, he pulled her back gently.

Nesta clicked her tongue in irritation, her mind already heady with desire that she needed him to satisfy.

He murmured against her lips while his hands held her face firmly in place and just enough out of reach that she couldn’t kiss him. “As lovely as I know you’ll look on this table when I fuck you on it, I need to finish something first.”

Yes, her. He needed to finish her off.

”Behave,” he admonished, granting her one toe-curling, sensual kiss that she left her panting for more. Nesta narrowed her eyes at him as he made no move to go any further, but when he wouldn’t budge she groused lightly and gave up.

”Fine. What do you want?”

Cassian snickered at her disappointment and turned her gently to the table before them. His hand spanned her waist and she leaned back into the solid warmth of his chest. On the table was a small, black velvet box with her name engraved on it.

She looked back at him and an expectant smile bloomed on his face. He nodded towards the box but there was hesitation looming in his face. Nervousness.

”What-“

“Just, open it sweetheart.”

She huffed but didn’t argue, wondering what he could be so nervous about. The wood was cool to the touch and it opened with a soft click, as if it had been kept untouched for this very moment. 

What lay inside took her breath away. A beautiful ring sat glinting in the center of the box, twinkling up at her. Set in what looked to be a silver band that shined in a way she’d never seen before, there were stones embossed in its center. The middle piece was a beautiful oval ruby surrounded by delicate diamonds all around. Nesta had never seen such a beautiful ring in her life, perhaps she never would. It was utterly perfect.

“It’s like your siphons,” she murmured as she pulled it out of its place. She couldn’t help but smile at the likeness. The thought behind it.

”And your fire,” he noted softly, kissing the shell of her ear. “It’s us. Both of us.”

So it was. Her silver fire, the one she’d spent so long running from, was just as much a part of her and who she was becoming as Cassian’s siphons were a part of him. The ring was a perfect union of each of them together. 

Nesta reached for his free hand and placed the ring in his palm.

Alarm ran through his face along with bewildered confusion until she placed her left hand out towards him, waiting.

Cassian let out a relieved sigh and laughed a little. “You had me worried there,” he said with another small chuckle before sliding the ring onto her fourth finger.

A perfect fit. Of course. She marveled at her hand, at the way the lights overhead shone through the ruby and reflected a deep red glint around it.

”It’s beautiful,” she admitted, grinning unabashedly at Cassian. “Thank you. I love it. I love you.”

Cassian cupped her face tenderly, answering with a gentle kiss that set her heat soaring. “And I love you. So much,” he breathed out. Their faces were so close she knew they were breathing the same air, living off of each other, existing in sync as she’d always known they were meant to be.

”You need one too. A ring,” she explained after a few moments, pulling only a small distance from him to take him in in his entirety. 

He nodded knowingly, as if he’d expected her to say those exact words. He rummaged in his pant pocket for a few moments before pulling out a similar box and handing it to her as well.

Nesta snorted. Of course. She flipped open the box and noted the ring inside was a similar imitation to her own silver band. Slightly thicker than hers with no stones or gems to be found, but there was an intricately engraved design in the color of rubies in the center. 

“What is that?,” she asked, tracing the design carefully.

”It’s a marking. Males usually have it tattooed on us when we marry but I didn’t have time to go to Illyria and get it done. I’ll do it when I can, soon, but this is the next best thing.”

 “When did you do all this?,” she asked as she pulled his hand forward. She hadn’t seen him meet with any jewelers when they were preparing for the wedding, nor any engravers. 

“My band, I received a few days after the Blood Rite. It was easy enough to find a simple band and get it engraved. Most males wear a similar style so it was done the same day.”

“Mmm,” she answered, slipping the ring onto his finger, before kissing his knuckles. Cassian relaxed under her touch, tangling their hands together and appraising them thoughtfully.

“And mine?,” she wondered aloud. “I remember when my father worked with jewelers and traders. A ring like mine couldn’t be done in a day.”

He nodded. “It wasn’t. Took them about a month to get back to me. And then another for me to find the time to go see them in Illyria and pick it up because they made it in the northern villages. Such a long flight Nes, I was so tired after that.”

Nesta frowned, confused. “We only decided to marry three weeks ago.”

Cassian nodded, smirking knowingly. As if he were waiting for her to figure a puzzle out.

Nesta’s breath came unevenly. “When,” she asked hoarsely, nearly heady with the realization she’d already made. “When did you decide to have this ring made?”

Cassian didn’t even hesitate. 

“After the ball in Hewn. We danced and I…” he hesitated for a moment. “I just knew. I can’t explain it.”

Soon after it had been Solstice. He’d gotten her the Symphonia, had gone and found all her favorite songs and saved them for her.

It’s a gift, not a fucking wedding ring, he’d told her.

But there had been a wedding ring. The intent behind it and everything else- it had been there all along. He had known for so long, all those months ago, that he wanted to marry her. And she’d never even suspected, never even thought it possible that he could want her in such a way.

Nesta couldn’t stop it, the tears that sprang to her eyes in that very moment. It was suddenly too much to handle, all of her emotions coming at her like a storm. Regret and sadness and excitement and hope and fear and anger and joy and…love. Above all, so much love for him, for who he was, for all he’d given and done for her, and love for this tenuous future they were slowly building together.

Cassian frowned, clicking his tongue at her as he gathered her face in both his hands.

”Don’t cry,” he soothed softly. “Don’t cry. I hate seeing it.”

She sobbed harder and Cassian murmured her name sadly before tucking her into his chest. 

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.” He stroked her hair gently, holding her through the worst of it.

“I wasted so much time,” she whispered against his heart.

”No,” he answered immediately. Fiercely. He forced her to look up at him, forced her to hold the gaze she so desperately wanted to break from. The hazel in his eyes blazed with so much emotion she couldn’t place it all. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. We were always meant to be sweetheart. Always. From the moment we met. And I already told you once, if we didn’t get time in this world, I would always find you again in the next one. There is no such thing as wasted time. I found you, we’re here, together. It’s exactly as it was meant to be.”

She sniffed and Cassian dried her tears with his calloused hands. She instinctually leaned into his touch, letting his words wash over her.

”Meant to be,” she repeated quietly, more to herself than him. 

“Yes,” he murmured, kissing her once, twice. “I am yours. Wholly, completely, forever, yours. And you are mine. I can’t believe it sometimes but you are. And I will never stop being grateful for it.”

“I’m yours,” she promised.

”You are,” he assured her. Kissed her again.

”And you are mine,” she breathed, almost praying it rather than speaking it.

”Always, Nesta. Until my heart stops beating. And even then, even when this world ends, when we end here, we will begin somewhere again. Always.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. He was so right, so true, her heart burned at the words. At the confession. She sighed into his touch, into his mouth as he kissed her fiercely again, consuming every bit of her being. The softness of their touches quickly evolved into more heated ones with frantically meandering hands and exploring fingers. Nesta did not know when they parted, did not know what time even was anymore. She’d been consumed by him, completely, and if this was how and when she went, she’d have no complaints.

Hours later or days later, she didn’t know, she lay tangled against him, the sheets barely covering her because she knew how much he enjoyed the view. The bond was a living force by then, so strong she didn’t know how she’d gone so long ignoring it and forcing it away. She’d laid there counting his breaths, tracing the markings on his bronze skin, marveling at the power, the life that moved under her fingertips. All hers, every part of him.

Nesta had known then that he was her whole heart. Half her soul. The very air that kept her breathing. They had been inevitable from the moment they’d met. The moment he’d looked at her, the moment she’d heard his voice, the moment their eyes had met.

Meant to be.

~*~

New Taglist:  Taglist: @endlessdaydream @sleeping-and-books @purpleglitterypinecone   @sv0430   @gwynberdara @karmasworlds @bookstantrash   @duskandstarlight  @d0riansgray @perseusannabeth@vasudharaghavan   @sayosdreams   @arielle-reads   @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @nahthanks  @oversizedbats  @swankii-art-teacher  @inardour  @rowaelinismyotp  @starryblueskies7   @vidalinav @nessiantrashh   @imagine-me  @iwastoowildinthe70s @lady-winter-sunrise @vanzetanze @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @mis-lil-red @nestaisgod  @booksstorm @loosingdreams @champanheandluxxury  @18moneytoad @starksravings @tinasbookishlife @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nesquik-arccheron @readingwitches @that-golden-lyre @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @story-scribbler @readingismyonlyhobby

[twstfanblog]

Leech Fry

**Larimar Leech**

Age: 16 (July 4)

School: Freshman at NRC. Memeber of the Art Club and co assistant manager of the Mostro lounge.

Height: 5'11"

Hair: Mid-back length wavy/curly purple hair with teal ends. Currently has fucked up bangs, normally worn in a bun

Eyes: Topaz yellow, has Floyd's eye shape

Likes: Gems, drawing, swimming, seafood, nature documentaries, playing the drums, dancing, slasher movies

Dislikes: Being cold, indecisive people, cauliflower, being woken up early, Mario, his unique magic (only for the moment)

Pets?: Keeps finding and domesticating wild rats (Riddle hates it and is trying to convince him to get a hedgehog instead)

Fav food: Broiled crab with lemon and garlic

Who's their Best Friend: Icsac Clover-Leech (Best Cousins)

Dating/Crush?: Dating Finley (Neither of their parents know. Rook and Floyd know)

Former feral child, Larimar is a coconut crab mer who crawled out of the ocean and claimed Riddle as his mother. It was during Riddle and Floyd's long overdue honeymoon. They got endeared quickly, so they just took him home once their trip was over and Larimar's family couldn't be found.

He had very intense emotional breakdowns as a child since he spoke in an unknown mer dialect, was dealing with a completely new lifestyle/environment, and couldn't properly communicate with Riddle and Floyd. He's calmed down over the years but still remains a person who will bite and ask questions never.

Riddle is aware something happened to him. They attempted to bring him to the ocean, thinking his family were simply underwater and that's why they couldn't find them the day prior. Larimar had a full breakdown and screamed until Riddle moved him away from the water. Once Larimar was able to communicate properly, Riddle put him in therapy in an effort to unlock WHY Larimar refused to go into the ocean for nearly half a year when they first took him in.

Sadly, Larimar completely repressed the reason far before he was put in therapy, and he won't unlock it again until his 17th birthday.

Unique Magic: Shining Bright. A spell that allows Larimar to either make himself or an object into a flash grenade. He has no control over it and has routinely flashbanged his classmates during classes. Floyd thinks it's hilarious, and Riddle is concerned because he believes it's a fear response.

Once he gains control over it, he can use it both for defensive and offensive attacks.

**Rosalina Leech**

Age: 6 (October 30)

Height: 3'4"

Hair: Pixie cut red hair, has curlier heart bangs than Riddle

Eyes: One mid grey eye and one yellow eye

Likes: Reading, spelling, aquariums, the car wash, helping Riddle in the garden, arts and crafts, swimming

Dislikes: People not listening to her, being told to 'calm down', when Floyd takes her art off the fridge (to put new art up), Larimar's study time

Pets?: Likes rodents of all kinds so she likes Larimar's rats but agrees with Riddle on getting a hedgehog next (Or a bunny, or a guinea pig, or a rat-)

Fav Food: Strawberry tarts ♡

Bestfriend?: Jasper Clover-Leech (Best cousins)

Oopsie Baby that was very big and nearly killed Riddle, resulting in an emergency C-section. Rosalina is a red eel mer, which Floyd adores (Makes her easy to spot when they swim in the ocean).

The most know it all first grader on the block. She boosts about having read the dictionary cover to cover and how she's already lost two of her baby teeth. She's so mature for her age, the other six year olds can't compare.

Tantrums from hell; wailing, sobbing, flailing on the ground because Floyd picked up the wrong apple from the display at the grocery market. A holder of a 'Big Feelings' card, Rosalina is a challenge for Riddle's gentle parenting style. It's working for them, but Rosalina is just as hot-headed as Riddle, so they can both start throwing a fit if the situation isn't handled quickly.

Adores her big brother. If she isn't attached to one of her dads, she's shoving a book in Larimar's face to show off the new big word she can't pronounce properly. It got to the point where Riddle made a rule that she can't bother her brother when he's studying in an effort to lessen her clinginess.

Unique Magic: She does not show an ability to do magic and she's subconsciously trying to compensate for it.

[imwriting0verhere]

Painful Memories

This picture and my little chat with @icouldntfindquiet about Van shaving inspired this story. I hope you will like it as much as I do ❤️

You hear soft humming coming out of the open door of the en suite bathroom and you quickly and quietly make your way over. Stepping into the room you lean against the doorway and just admire Van for a moment. He’s freshly showered with the soft fluffy towel slung low around his hips, some leftover droplets of water still evident on his skin. His long hair is freshly washed and combed, cascading down his back, his natural curls slowly starting to reappear. Just as he’s about to start lathering his face with shaving foam, his eyes find yours in the reflection of the mirror and it makes your breath hitch for a moment before you gently smile at him, to which he sends you a cheeky wink before saying “You gan stand there all morning then love?” 

Being caught right out you sheepishly bow your head as you make your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face into the warm skin of his back. You just stand there for a moment, both of you taking the other in and enjoying the closeness. As you gently start placing small kisses onto his shoulders and back you mumble to him  “I didn’t expect to wake up in a cold bed this morning”

Another kiss placed right behind his ear as he turns his head to the left to grand you better access. You take the opportunity to place one last kiss onto his still stubbly cheek and then rest your chin on his shoulder. “I missed you” you whisper and press your nose into neck, inhaling the fresh scent of the shower gel as well as something so familiar and homey that is just Van.

Not able to wait any longer he quickly lifts his arm to gently pull you underneath so that you’re standing in front of him and he can properly look at you now. Cupping your face with the outmost care as if you’re some precious gem he lowers his own face close to yours and skims his soft lips across the skin of your cheek in the most featherlight of touches. Leaving a trail all the way down to your neck, the sensation so heavenly and gentle that your eyes fall shut and the tiniest of whimpers leaves your slightly parted lips.

“I’m sorry love, I just didn’t want to wake you just yet” he starts kissing up your chin and right as he reaches your awaiting lips he tells you “I missed you too. It’s been so boring without you” to which you blink open your eyes again and see him crack a silly grin. But before you have time to respond he finally connects his lips with yours and it takes your breath away. You’re hanging on to his every move and as he softly swipes his tongue into your mouth you need to grab hold of him to steady yourself, your legs becoming weak the longer he performs his magic on you.

You have to part from him all breathless and a bit lightheaded. God this man knows exactly how to push your buttons and turn you to putty in his hands.

Kissing your forehead and lifting you up, to your surprise, to sit you next to the sink on the bathroom counter, he gets back to his task at hand. Squirting some of the shaving foam into his hand and gently rubbing it onto his face. You’re enjoying the comfortable silence you’re sitting in right now, just looking at your man and admiring. Getting to enjoy slow mornings like this with him is one of your favourite things.

While the band was still touring like crazy Van had the worst sleep schedule and to this day you never understood how he could function on just four hours of sleep. But when you two started seeing each other and things in the band got quieter, you were able to keep him sleeping for longer and actually enjoy waking up with you after a good 7 or 8 hours. And you cherish that every morning.

“Do you think we could go to the shopping centre today and start on our Christmas shopping? I really don’t want to be late again this year” you softly say into the quiet of the room. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, eh?” he raises his eyebrow challengingly and looks down at you with a grin, knowing full well what you’re referring to.

“Oh I don’t know” you accept the challenge and answer sarcastically “Maybe I just don’t want to have to run around the shops on Christmas Eve again looking for something to buy your mum, and only ending up with a bloody box of chocolate pralines and a bobble hat that she won’t wear” you end your sentence with a teasing little flick of your fingers against his hip bone to which he flinches and rolls his eyes at you “Stop! You little brat“ he warns you but there is no anger or actual threat in his voice. “Can we actually go over to Mum and Dads afterwards? We haven’t been yet this week and it would be just in time for Ma’s roast I reckon” 

“Yeah sure” you smirk to yourself and pull him closer to you by wrapping your legs around his hips and then pressing a gentle kiss onto his naked chest.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise by now, the man is obsessed with him mums cooking. And even though your cooking and the meals you and Van make together are a close second, nothing will ever beat her Sunday roast including the all important Yorkshire pudding. 

After the next swipe of the razor over his skin you gently grab hold of his wrist to stop him. “Let me help you” you say just above a whisper and take the razor out of his hands. You rinse the suds off in the sink and then ever so softly grab the back of his neck to bring him close. Positioning the blade right by his chin were he left off and scraping it softly over the stubbled skin. Van happily leaves you to it, trusting you with his life he knows that there is absolutely no chance that you would hurt him or be careless with his delicate skin. He even puts his hands on both sides of you to cage you in on top of the counter and it strangely makes you feel very safe and you can feel the heat radiating off of him. You also feel his intense gaze on you and after moving the blade off his face to rinse one more time, you turn back to him and return his loving gaze. Moving some strands of his long soft locks away from his face you leave a kiss on the side of his chin that’s freshly shaved, whispering an “I love you” onto his skin before concentrating on the last bit of shaving foam-covered facial hair. It’s the most delicate part on his face, a softly faded but still visible red scar that’s running along his lower left cheek right beneath his bushy sideburn.

~

You still remember the day it happened. You had been in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher while waiting for the kettle to boil so you and Van could enjoy a nice cup of afternoon tea. He was only a few doors down in his little home studio, pottering around, putting music sheets away and organising his guitars so the newly purchased little piano could finally fit into the room and won’t have to awkwardly occupy your bedroom any longer. Everything was going well until you heard clattering followed by a yelp and some angry cussing to which you instantly called out to him and made your way over to check on Van as you hadn’t gotten any response. The sight you walked in on made you gasp and rush over to his side. He was sitting on the carpet in the midst of his instruments. “Omg are you okay?” Kneeling down beside him and taking his face into your hands to further inspect what you had spotted from afar.

“Think so. I just bloody tripped over the stupid amplifier cable. Stupid mess in here” he continued grumbling, but weirdly didn’t mention any pain.

“Van, you’re bleeding!” you tilted his face so the few little droplets of crimson wouldn’t fall and mess up his shirt or the carpet. “Does that not hurt? God it doesn’t look too good babe” you whined. You got up from your kneeling position and helped him up as well. “Let’s get this cleaned okay. Worry about the stuff in here later” you rushed out, getting really worried that the bleeding wouldn’t stop and Van to get lightheaded. You pulled him out of the room and towards the kitchen. As you passed the hallway mirror he got a glance at his injury and quickly paused to inspect it himself. “Oh shit! I didn’t expect it to be this bad” he gasped “I can’t even really feel it”. “It’s probably the adrenaline masking the pain. What even happened love?”.

Before you could pull him away he raised his hand and touched his injured skin, wincing at the contact and his fingertips coming back red. You huffed and finally pulled him towards your kitchen island were he could take a seat. You had instantly gotten to work, slightly wetting some kitchen roll and cleaning up the blood that had slowly started drying around the wound as he told you what happened “I was just walking around putting some of the equipment away and the guitars back on the stand and tripped backwards over a cable. I didn’t have time to hold on to anything so fell flat on my arse” you had tried to keep a straight face and not laugh at him, but Van was such a clumsy klutz that he had many of those stories to share over the years. It was actually a miracle that he had no real injuries prior to this day. “Okay but that doesn’t explain this does it” you gently wiped over the spot one last time, all cleaned now. His skin was still an angry red and you could see where it was torn open a bit. With the smallest of grins you glimpsed up at him, trying really hard to suppress any further facial expression, knowing full well he’d already be embarrassed enough at this. He was still in the midst of trying to process himself what just happened “Well surrounded by guitars, this one was just too close and I scraped down on the tuner or string ends with my face”

“Aww poor baby” you pouted up at him “Maybe I should disinfect it if the dirty metal strings were cause of this”

“This isn’t funny yeah. What if I’ll look like the joker for the rest of me life?” He asked exasperated, reminding you of a young boy throwing a fit. But you also understood his concern. Van had always struggled with some of his physical features and this could mean another insecurity. Even though he’s perfect in your eyes and has nothing to worry about, you always make sure to tell him as much. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sure it will be fine darling.” you told him genuinely, cupping his face and placing featherlight kisses onto the red mark. 

You two had gone to the emergency room just in case but they reassured you that he wouldn’t need stitches and everything would heal naturally. It took some time and patience, and definitely longer than Van would like, but the scar that had formed was already well on its way to heal and you’re sure that it will be fully healed next year.    

~         

You’re just now finishing up, running your thumb over his scar before kissing it softly and putting the razor down “All done my love”

You wet one of the towels with warm water and gently wipe the last remnants off his face. Taking the bottle of aftershave he hands you and squirt some of the liquid into your hands, spreading it around and placing your warm palms all around his freshly shaven face to soothe any irritations. You move your hands around his neck and into his hair to bring his face closer to yours so you can place your lips softly onto his. He ever so tenderly kisses you back and starts caressing your naked legs with his hands. Making his way to the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing you simultaneously move your lips to place kisses onto his cheeks and nose, down his jar until you just reach his pulse point and he lets out a relaxed sigh. You’re so overcome with love and warmth that you need to pull him into a hug and as close to you as possible. Van reciprocates that and instability wraps his strong arms around you and his face into your neck. For a moment the both of you just stay in this embrace, basking in the slow morning you get to enjoy together and the love between you.

“I love you so much” he softly murmurs “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

You tighten the grip around him and and whisper into his ear “ I love you too. Always” and press one last kiss onto his cheek. Slowly and reluctantly you pull away and push him softly to the side so that you can hope off the counter. 

“I’ll go start breakfast yeah? I’m proper starving now. And can you go and put some clothes on so you can join me?“ you teasingly roll your eyes and grin up at him as you start making your way out of the bathroom and towards the stairs. Before you’re fully out of reach Van reaches out and lands a smack on your ass that makes you squeal before bursting out into giggles and as you cross the threshold you just hear him jokingly murmur “little minx” before finally going downstairs.