#because they frequently have FLASH FIRE

[usagi-zakura]

I love playing Pokémon S/V trying to find allies to fight a flying terra pokémon that's normally ground.

"Imma bring my electric.." its weak to ground. "Rock is good" Weak to ground. "Iron hands beats everything" its gonna get oneshot because you're gonna cut its HP in half causing it to die to the first earthquake!

[inkskinned]

there's a video on instagram of a man kicking his partner's door in. the top comment is (with over 4 thousand likes): "how about you tell us what you did to make him that angry?"

barring emergency, nobody should be kicking anybody's door in. many of us lived in houses where it was always, somehow, an emergency. there is a strange, almost hysterical calm that comes over you in that moment - everything feels muted, and you almost feel, however incongruently, like you should be laughing. you are living inside of "the emergency." oh my god, you think. i am now a fucking statistic.

there is another comment with 2.8 thousand likes: "if this was a woman doing it to a man, nobody would give a shit."

do people give a shit now, though?

barring emergency, the door should remain standing. the emergency should be panicked, desperate - "i'm coming in there to protect you." many of us know what it feels like when the emergency is instead "i'm coming in there to get you."

1.5k likes: "and yet you post this for notes. glad to see being the victim has become your whole personality."

hysteria is a word connected to womb, from greek. what you're experiencing is so senseless and inhumane that you (a rational creature) try to find any ground within what is irrational and cannot be explained. one of the most frustrating things about staying in bad situations is that we also lie to ourselves. we also ask ourselves - wow. what did i do?

women can be, and often are, also abusers. abuse is not gendered. abuse is not just a "straight person" problem. abuse does not have a face or figure or sexuality. you cannot pick an abuser out of a crowd. an abuser could be actually anybody.

and then so many people rally behind the man kicking the door in. here is something nobody should be doing, right? you want to ask every person that liked that first comment: do you ask this because you side with him? do you ask this because it helps you feel safe from this ever happening?

in some ways, you're weirdly sympathetic to the top comment, because it is the same logic you see frequently. the idea is that the average, normal, sane person doesn't just break down a door. doesn't just shoot up a school. doesn't stalk and kill women. doesn't threaten sexual assault. doesn't run over protesters. doesn't shoot an unarmed black person. doesn't scream at underpaid walmart employees. doesn't just "lose it". something had to have happened, right? because the default (white. straight. cis.) - that is someone who is always, you know. "sane."

(right?)

on a podcast, you hear a sane, normal, rational person. "if you piss me off, i'm going to need to hit something. sorry but i'm not apologizing. that's just who i am that's how it is." his voice almost sounds like he's laughing.

you think of the door, and how you were almost laughing behind it, too. ironically, every real emergency in your life has almost felt peaceful in comparison. fire, car accident, flash flooding - these felt quiet, covenant to you. you'd stood in all of them, feeling them pass over and up to your chin, never actually overwhelming.

but when the door was coming down, you had felt - is there a word for that? there has to be, a word, right.

surely one of us has figured out the word for that, i mean. it's such a large fucking statistic.

[wonderjanga]

Dude, You Can’t Just Come Over

Billy knows all of JL’s identities. They haven’t even formally revealed themselves to each other yet, but he knows because Solomon connected the dots for him. As a result, he doesn’t try to be discreet in the slightest when he approaches them while they’re in civilian identity in public. (This is connected to my Hi, I’m Billy post in which Billy doesn’t try all to hide his identity because he didn’t know secret identities were important)

Marvel: *flies down and lands at Wayne Manor and knocks on the door*

Robin!Jason: *opens it* “Captain Marvel…?” *extremely confused* “What are you doing here?”

Marvel: “I’m here to see Mr. Batman Sir, Robin.” *sunny ahh smile* “I need to talk to him about something.”

Robin!Jason: *blanks at being called Robin* “He’s… not here.” *wondering if Bruce told Cap his secret identity*

Nine-year-old itty-bitty Jason Todd then came to the conclusion that he obviously did because Bruce is so awesome and there’s no way he’d slip open cause Captain Marvel all people. (No offense, the man is also awesome. Jason still has a weakness for Greek heroes.) Bruce is too paranoid! Too cautious.

Marvel: “Oh? Then where is he?”

Robin!Jason: “The Batcave.”

Marvel: “Batcave… that sounds awesome!”

Robin!Jason: “It is!”

Jason took him down to the cave after a bit of trouble. The Robin wanted to take the fire pole behind the grandfather clock down, but Cap was too big to fit in the space. They ended up having to take the elevator instead. (That is entirely based on the 2004 Batman show)

Batman: *immersed in work*

Robin!Jason: “Bruce!”

Batman: “Yes, Jason?” *pauses to sip some coffee*

Robin!Jason: “Captain Marvel is here!”

Batman: *has to force down a spit take* “What?” *turns around in his Batchair away from the Batcomputer*

Marvel: *little wave* “Hey, Mr. Batman Sir!”

or

Supes: *minding his business working*

Daily Planet Reporters (DPR): *gather around a window, whispering*

Supes: *notices and literally sees Marvel outside the window holding a plate wrapped in tinfoil, smells it’s blueberry pie*

Marvel: *knocking on the window, looking like a dog left outside*

DPR: *finally opens the window*

Marvel: “Su- er Clark! I brought some pie I made! You’re the connoisseur, right?”

DPR: *all slowly look to him*

Clark was forced to make the walk of shame over and take the pie as everyone stared at him. The pie was extremely delicious, but it was overshadowed by the fact that Clark’s mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out when and how Marvel found out his identity.

or

Flash: *doing some forensics work*

Marvel: *outside a cracked window* “Psst!”

Flash: *doesn’t hear*

Marvel: “Pssssst!”

Flash: *still doesn’t hear*

Marvel: “Pssssssssst! Flash!” *sends a little zap of lightning at him*

Flash: “Ow! Wha-” *sees him and looks around before shutting the door to his lab* “Dude, what are you doing here??”

Marvel: “I need your help with something!”

Flash: “Uh… Sure? What is it?”

Marvel: *hands him some blood in a jar* “Can you tell me if this is human?”

Flash: *picks up the jar and sees the blood is shifting between blue, green, and red* “I’m gonna guess no.”

Marvel: “You didn’t even do any of the tests?”

Flash: “Cap, I don’t need to do tests to figure out if this is not human. I also can’t do that without compromising my job. I’m not supposed to use machines for personal use.”

Marvel: “Oh, dang.” *frowns* “Sorry for almost getting you in trouble.”

Flash: “It’s fine.”

Marvel: “Right.” *chucks the jar into his pocket dimension* “See you later, man!” *waves and flies off*

Flash: “See ya- WAIT?? How do you know my- He’s already gone.”

The later would literally be like three hours at most, by the way, because this was a little near the end of Barry’s shift that he came over and the two planned to play Mortal Kombat together later.

Also, no Marvel didn’t have to come to him to know the blood wasn’t human, but he did want to see his friend.

Billy would also frequently seek out J’onn because he could somehow tell the Martian apart from normal human beings, even if he was shape shifted. They’ve fed ducks together multiple times.

Anyways, later, when the day came that they all revealed their identities to each other, Billy wasn’t there because he was off-world fighting Adam. Somehow, during this, someone mentioned how Cap knew their identity and that caused everyone to chime and chip in on how he knew their identities. They had lots of questions when he came back to earth.

[mikimakiboo]

CAVE CANEM DRACONTEM

-> beware of the dog dragon

Draz Nightmare is very cute and I've been rambling with @ancha-aus in the notes again so here I am writing yet another fic when I already have three to work on

Please read it because I've been fighting for my life while writing it, just search #spider war and you will see

For those who haven't seen the baby, I doodled him

Ancha also wrote a tiny drabble that is just adorable !!!!! A very nice take on the situation !!! :D

Tw: cute baby dragon, rape allegory, yes I know these two warnings are horrible next to each other but I promise it's not that bad, I just have to warn about it because that's still a trigger, also injuries and reference to past abuse

Finished writing at 4am 👍🏻

Guardians were ancient creatures, created to protect, it wasn't rare for them to be more... creature-like than human-like, though they did have a more human form as to blend in better with the mortals, as to not scare them. The most frequent creatures were dragons, fierce and strong animals spitting fire, fearless and feared by all. Most guardians were dragon breeds.

Nightmare wasn't an exception to the rule. No one had ever seen his dragon form, but it was rumored to be gigantic, so strong it could destroy buildings with one whiplash from its tail, its fire so hot it could melt the stone of the mountains, so large it could eat you whole without needing to chew... needless to say, nobody ever tried to see the dragon, and Nightmare never had to show it to anyone, not even his own gang.

They did try to question him, curious, to beg him to show them his dragon form, but Nightmare always refused, stating that it was too dangerous and he didn't want to hurt them by accident, and, well, Nightmare was known to never lie, so they didn't push it and accepted that they would never see their boss turn into a dragon.

But fate has never been on Nightmare's side, he should have known that by now.

The balance hadn't been doing great these past few weeks, negativity levels were low, giving Dream and his team more power, making Nightmare's team struggle more to create enough negativity for the guardian. He was tired, his reserves were low, he couldn't keep pulling on them, he had to rest, to revert back to his primal form for a while and regain some energy. He didn't want to do that, he didn't want anyone to see the dragon, but if he kept delaying the tranformation he would end up reverting in a place where he wouldn't have been prepared to.

He sighed, standing up, he needed to find a hidden room in his castle where he wouldn't be bothered by anyone, a room where he could hide for a while, hopefully not too long as to not worry his teammates, maybe for a night, then he would turn back into a skeleton and act normal during the day. No one would have to see him.

Having selected and rearranged the room, he quickly made sure nobody was around and reverted to his dragon form, letting his magic wrap him in a flashing purple-ish light to reveal the beast, and laid down on his nest get some hours of rest...

Killer was the last to wake up in the morning, as usual, and went straight to the kitchen where Dust was on his phone drinking his coffee, Horror unloading the dishwasher after having programmed it to run during the night. Cross was most likely on his morning jog, honestly, how he managed to have so much energy this early in the morning was a mystery to everyone in this castle, even Nightmare didn't wake up this early, and God knew how much he hated sleeping in. Speaking of the boss, shouldn't he have been drinking his coffee too ? Killer didn't spot his mug in the sink.

- Nightmare's still sleeping ? He yawned, sitting down on his spot around the small table. Shouldn't we wake him up ?

- I already checked, he's not in his room, he probably slept in his office again, Dust replied without looking away from his phone.

It wasn't unusual for Nightmare to sleep in his office, he did tend pretty often to overwork himself.

- Mh.. I'll go see if he needs anything, Killer declared, getting up again.

As much as their boss wanted them to take care of themselves, he wasn't the best at it, "do what I say, not what I do" kind of deal, so every once in a while they would check up on him and make sure he at least slept and ate. They knew that technically he didn't need either of those, but it never hurt and was always a nice bonus for when negativity in the multiverse was low, like currently, so Killer walked all the way towards the wooden door and knocked.

- Boss ? You're in there ?

He waited, but didn't receive any answer.

- Sleeping on your desk again ? He asked more for himself, I'm coming in.

He grabbed the handle and slowly pushed the door open in case Nightmare was in fact sleeping, not wanting to make too much noise, but found the desk empty of any sleeping skeleton.

- Nightmare ?

He looked around, but the office was definitely empty. Maybe he was in his library ? Killer teleported there as it was all the way across the castle and it was still too early to walk this far in his opinion. He arrived in what surely was the biggest room of the castle and, to his surprise, it was plunged in the darkness, not one light was on, and even if Nightmare did have a better night vision than them he still turned the lights on when he was doing something as to not tire his only good eye, so the fact the room was dark was enough to tell Killer his boss wasn't there either. He teleported back in the kitchen. Cross had come back from his run and was drinking some lemon water.

- Nightmare's not there, he announced, earning three confused looks from his teammates.

- What do you mean he's not there ? Dust asked.

- I mean he's not there, I checked his office and the library and he's not in either of those, and we all know that's, like, the only rooms he spends his time in aside from the living room and his bedroom.

- Maybe he went for a walk ? Cross supposed.

- Cross, you're the only one in this castle going for a walk in the morning, Dust answered deadpanned.

- Sorry for wanting to stay in shape ? Cross frowned.

- Where could he be then... ? Horror asked, redirecting the conversation towards the principle subject: Nightmare.

Killer shrugged, he didn't see where Nightmare could have headed to, he rarely left the universe without them and usually wasn't that far in the castle so they could always reach him rapidly if there was a problem that way. So apart from the rooms he already checked ? Killer had no idea where his boss could have hidden himself, and given his weaker situation at the moment, he hoped it didn't mean anything bad...

- We should look for him... Horror finally decided for all of them, no doubt having concluded the same thing as Killer.

The others nodded and Dust got up, putting his empty cup in the sink to wash later.

- I say we all take one floor and the first to find him calls the others, Cross suggested.

- Works good for me, Killer agreed.

He saw Horror nod and Dust answered with a "sure". After agreeing on which floor everyone would go Killer teleported on the fourth one. They almsot never used that floor, the kitchen and living room they used were on the first floor as well as the training rooms, the library and the nursery, on the second floor were their bedrooms with attached bathrooms and Nightmare's office, and on the third floor were extra storage rooms and an old ball room with small saloons for the majority unused. Which left the fourth floor with its empty rooms and closets and the access to the rooftop. Needless to say, this floor would be quick to look throught.

Killer had opened half of the rooms, and still no sign of his boss, he was starting to think he did went out for a walk at this point. He stopped in front of a closet door, debating if he should open it or not, after all what would Nightmare do in a dusty closet ? But he had nothing to lose anyway, so he opened the door an looked inside. The closet was empty, aside from a pile of covers on the floor, which wouldn't have been that strange if only the covers were dirty, but they seemed clean with no particles of dust on them. Killer frowned, looking at the pile for a few seconds before crounching down and slowly reaching out to move one aside, before freezing when he saw what was underneath...

- Oh.. my.. god... he took out his phone and called the group chat, guys, guys you've gotta come see that, fourth floor, closet in the fifth corridor on the right, hurry.. !

He hung up, took two steps back, and waited for the others to arrive. They didn't take too long, alerted and worried by the call.

- What's wrong !? Did you find Nightmare !? Cross yelled after teleporting.

Killer quickly turned around with a finger in front of his mouth, inquiring them to be silent and come closer. The three shot each other worried looks before doing as told and coming next to Killer, looking inside the closet...

Under the covers was... a cat ? No, it wasn't a cat, thought it was roughly the same size, maybe slightly larger, but only a little. It had black fur, big pointy ears, a short chubby tail and two horns seemingly made of dark wood. It seemed to be asleep...

- What's this... ? Horror asked, but no one could answer.

- It's waking up... ! Dust whisper-screamed, seeing the creature start to move.

They all watched closely, ready to defend themselves if the thing attacked. The creature wiggled a little before yawning and opening its only eye, revealing a bright cyan eyelight. They knew that eyelight... the creature- ... Nightmare.. ? Slowly looked up to them, batting an ear, before sneezing due to the dust, a little blue flame coming out of its his mouth. Killer was the first to make the connection.

- Oh fuck... I think.. It's Nightmare's dragon form...

The small dragon perked his ears and looked up at him, as if recognizing his name. Cross passed out, Horror barely had time to catch him before he hit the ground.

- What.. are we supposed to do... ? Dust asked, not deviating his gaze from the small fluffy dragon.

- I have no idea... Killer admitted, just as lost as the others.

They didn't expect anything like that, it was kind of underwhelming to be honest, they were so sure their boss's dragon form was this gigantic beast he kept describing, only to be met with this fur ball instead ? He was incredibly cute, that was for sure, but they just... didn't expect that. Was it because of the lack of negativity ?

Cross came back to his senses just in time for the dragon to stand up, stretch his small and chubby legs like a cat, and trip over the covers when trying to get down, rolling forward on his back, paws in the air. He had dark purple toe beans. Cross passed out again.

The dragon rolled over on his belly, standing up again, and turned to look at them, sitting down, he seemed to analyze them.

- Uh... hi ? Killer tried with a wave and an awkward smile.

The dragon barked. God he wanted to squeeze him so badly. Was Nightmare still conscious in there or was the dragon a sort of alter-ego ? Did the dragon have Nightmare's memories ? Should they call him Nightmare too ? He did seem to recognize the name, so surely yes.

- It's uh.. Dust began, quite dirty in there, don't you want to go, like, in the living room or something ?

Nightmare looked up at him, slowly stood up, blinked, and sprinted past them.

- No wait come back ! Dust called, trying to grab him but missing.

- Does he remember the castle... ? Horror asked, holding Cross against him.

- I don't know and I don't want to wait for him to get lost ! Killer replied, teleporting in front of the dragon.

Nightmare yelped, stopping abruptly when seeing the skeleton in front of him, he slid on a good two meters before managing to run the other way around, but Dust was quicker than him this time and grabbed him before he could go full speed again. The little dragon squirmed in his hold, growling and spitting small fire balls.

- It's okay, calm down.. ! It's me, I'm not gonna hurt you.. ! Dust tried to reassure the angry dragon he held at arm's length.

Nightmare eventually calmed down, panting, no doubt still tired, and only growled with his ears down on each side of his head. Dust sighed, holding him closer to his chest to better grab him, putting an arm under his back legs.

- Oookay, everything's fine, we're just.. we're gonna go back to the living room and see what we should do.. Dust decided, heading towards the stairs with the others following him.

Everyone walked in silence, Cross having regained his consciousness, and arrived in the living room. Nightmare had stopped growling. Dust stopped in front of the couch.

- Please don't run off, he begged, slowly putting his small cargo down on the mattress.

Nightmare faced the back of the couch for a while before slowly turning around, marking a pause, and jumping from the couch. Killer caught him mid-air.

- Okay air jail for you, he declared keeping him in his arms

Nightmare whined, but didn't try to move. His fur was very soft, Killer noticed.

- So.. What should we do.. ? Horror asked, sitting down on the armchair.

Cross was still standing, staring at the dragon with a mix of awe and incredulity, Killer could understand, he too couldn't believe what he was holding at the moment. Their boss, the greatly feared Nightmare, guardian of negativity, ancient dragon breed, was not bigger than a cat and as fluffy as a plush. Why did he never tell them that ? Killer could understand not telling the multiverse, as it wouldn't have helped his image, but them ? His teammates ? His friends ? He would have thought they were well above the image, above the reputation, that he would have told them the truth. Unless this wasn't his true form but a result of his current weakness, and in that case, he didn't really want to leave the little dragon wandering in the castle on his own and risk getting hurt.

- I don't know... we should probably keep an eye on him ? I mean the castle's big and full of dangerous things and he's, well, not big, plus now's not the perfect time for him to hurt himself.

- Don't you think Nightmare will get mad that we sorta babysat him ? Cross worried.

Killer frowned for a second, not having thought of the possibility that Nightmare would be mad at them for that. He surely would, but would it be that bad ? It wasn't like they were planning on showing him to the world, just keep an eye on him until he transformed back, surely he would understand.

- Yeah well I prefer Nightmare being mad rather than him hurting himself, Dust answered before Killer could.

He simply nodded, stating he agreed with his friend.

- Hm.. you're probably right.. Cross agreed too, I'm gonna go check if I have a sweater or something to keep him warm, it's pretty cold in the castle.

- He's a dragon.. ? Horror asked, confused as to how a dragon would get cold.

- I don't want to risk it, Cross stated as he made his way towards his room.

Horror didn't insist, Cross seemed too determined anyway to get Nightmare in a sweater, and he had to admit the thought of seeing the small dragon in a little sweater was rather cute, so they all waited for the monochromatic skeleton to return. He luckily didn't take too much time.

- I've got one ! I think it was mine when I was a kid ? Anyway it should fit him well, he announced, stepping back into the living room.

Killer looked at the sweater, it was a plain black one, totally Nightmare's style.

- I'll hold him so you can put it on, Killer told him.

He sat on the couch, putting Nightmare on his laps in a sitting position, holding him by the sides, the dragon looked up at him curiously. Cross stood in front of him, rolling the sleeves of the sweater to make it easier to slip on, and gently grabbed the first paw to pass it in the first hole. Nightmare growled, his ears back, as Cross slowly manipulated him.

- It's okay, it's okay, I'm almost done.. he tried to reassure as he passed the sweater around the dragon's head.

Cross put the sweater in place, giving a little pat on Nightmare's head to congratulate him for not moving, before his gaze met his back paws. He poked the purple bean with a finger without thinking and saw Nightmare flinch and stare at his own paw with surprise.

- S-sorry, i-it was too tempting.. ! He apologized, blushing in embarrassment.

Nightmare stared for another second, then stretched his toes.

- ... I'm gonna pass out.

- Again ? Dust snorted.

- Yeah... Cross sighed, but he's so damn cute.. !

Of course, everyone agreed. This little dragon, as surprising and unfitting for Nightmare as he was, was frankly adorable with his little sweater and his big curious eyelight looking around the room. He surely rarely had the opportunity to explore the castle, but even when not knowing his surroundings very well, he didn't seem outwardly scared of them, he was cautious, but he had seemed to recognize them a little, at least enough not to attack. How much of Nightmare's memories did he have ? Killer saw him sniff a few times, did he recognize stuff through scents and that was why he knew who they were ? Because he remembered their odor and knew they were friends ? They would need to ask Nightmare, the skeleton, when he would be back. They would need to ask him a lot of things.

They all turned when they heard a grumble coming from the dragon.

- You're hungry.. ? Horror asked him with a found smile.

Nightmare looked up at him.

- Well, he did skip breakfast, Killer noted.

- What do dragons even eat ? Dust rightfully asked.

- Probably meat ? Cross answered, uncertain, I mean he's a predator so...

- I think we have some ham left... Horror thought, standing up.

He headed to the kitchen, the dragon's gaze following him until he started wiggling to be set free.

- Okay okay I'm putting you down ! Relax ! Killer quickly put him on the ground, not wanting his claws to shred him to pieces.

Nightmare sprinted to catch up to the big skeleton who had stopped to wait for his tiny boss. He chuckled when seeing him arrive and went to the fridge. The dragon went straight into the first shelf, searching for something interesting as he could smell the different foods. He unfortunately got grabbed before he could bit into a sausage and saw the door of the fridge closing in front of his eye, making him whine. He rapidly forgot about the fridge once Horror put him on a chair and handed him a piece of ham that he quickly bit into to eat with a little "nom" noise. Another piece followed after the first one and the tiny dragon happily enjoyed a full slice of ham for breakfast.

The others eventually joined them in the kitchen, wanting to see the dragon eat and just see the dragon in general as it would probably be the one and only time they would see him. The dragon looked at them for a minute before jumping down from his chair and going to explore the kitchen more in depth. He sniffed the cabinets, sniffed the table, the chairs, sniffed the trash can, frowned, sniffed the pedal, stepped on it, and jumped when the lid opened, running to hide behind the closest pair of legs he could find: Dust's. The skeleton bent down to lift him up.

- It's okay buddy, the trashcan won't hurt you, he laughed, petting the dragon's head.

Nightmare let him do so, slightly growling at the scary trashcan still.

- We're gonna go back to the living room, okay ? Dust reassured, leaving the kitchen with the two other skeletons, Horror staying to start preparing dinner as the search took a while and it was already almost noon.

Dust sat on the couch, keeping Nightmare on his laps.

- Can I pet him ? Cross asked, almost having stars in his eyes.

Dust looked up at him.

- Sure ? I mean, if he lets you.

Cross quickly nodded, crounching down in front of the dragon to let him sniff his hand in a silent demand for authorization. Nightmare looked at him, and gently headbutted his hand.

- Ooooh my God.. ! Cross exclaimed in a whisper, tearing up.

He gently scratched the little head, petting behind the ears, under the chin, ... a low rumble started to get heard.

- Oh shit.. guys he's purring.. ! Dust realized, feeling the small vibrations on his legs.

- He is ?! Killer put a hand on Nightmare's back.

He could feel the vibrations as he pat his back, near the tail as he would do with a cat. The little dragon purred louder, his eye closed. Soon he had six hands petting him. He started knitting on Dust's laps, feeling perfectly content with the attention.

- Ouch, Dust flinched, okay, sharp claws.

Killer snorted.

- You'll get used to it.

The petting session lasted until it was time for dinner, Cross and Killer went to help set up the table and Dust carefully moved Nightmare from his legs to the couch.

- We'll be right back in an instant, okay ? You can stay on the couch, he informed with a last pat on the head.

Dinner was simple, a steak with some vegetables on the side, but they all happily ate it. Horror always managed to make even the simplest meals taste delicious. Killer felt something against his leg, looking down he saw the tiny dragon standing up against his chair.

- Yeah ? Need anything ? He asked him.

The dragon looked at him, crounched down, seemed to calculate something, and jumped on his laps.

- Oh ! Well, okay then, guess you can sleep here, he chuckled.

Nightmare turned around to face the table, looking at the plate in front of him. He squinted.

- Comfortable ? Killer asked.

Nightmare only turned an ear, already focused on his plan. He slowly bent forward, eye fixated on his target, and swiftly snatched the steak in the plate before jumping off of Killer's laps and running out of the room, steak in his mouth.

- Wait, no ! Killer exclaimed, trying to grab him before he ran off, my steak !

He quickly got up to chase after the dragon, hearing the others laugh at his predicament, but the little thief was faster than him and already hid himself to eat the content of his robbery. Killer eventually had to give up and return to the table where the others weren't finish laughing.

By the time Nightmare reappeared, they had all done eating and cleaning the table. Killer glared at him.

- You stole my steak, he accused, fists on his hips.

The dragon looked up at him before headbutting his leg.

- Mowww, of course I forgive you ! Killer cooed, bending down, come here !

He lifted him up, bringing him back to the couch for another session of petting and scratching that lasted as long as Nightmare wanted it to, with the only breaks being snack breaks. The little dragon was particularly greedy and would eat just any snacks they would hand him. They had opted for a bag of dried meat, something simple they were mostly sure wouldn't hurt his stomach. They wouldn't want their tiny dragon to get sick.

They stayed with him all afternoon, letting him take naps on their jackets, the poor thing still being quite tired from the lack of negativity, and decided they would sleep I the living room this night, not wanting to leave the dragon alone.

They had brought some covers and extra pillows, Nightmare was on the couch, in a nest made of their jackets.

Cross woke up when a flash suddenly lit up the room, grumbling, he looked up to see what it was. He saw Nightmare, the skeleton, slowly rise from the couch, he seemed tensed, and in the silence of the night he could hear him hyperventilating.

- Night... ? He called in a whisper as to not wake the others up.

Nightmare's gaze shot in his direction, his pupil reduced to a trembling slit, before he backed up in a hurry, tripped on the covers and fell backward. The noise made Horror move.

- What's happening... ? He mumbled.

Nightmare quickly looked at him before rapidly teleporting away. On the second floor, the door of his room slammed shut in an loud echo, waking the two remaining skeletons up.

- W-what was that.. ? Killer asked.

- I.. Cross began, it was Nightmare, he's.. he's awake and he didn't seem very happy to see us... he briefly explained.

The air around them became colder as they all exchanged worried looks, feeling the ambient negativity in the castle thickening.

- I.. think we may have made a mistake... Dust said out loud what they were all starting to think.

- Did he look mad ? Killer asked Cross.

Cross thought for a moment.

- No... more like... scared ?

- Scared ? Why would he be scared ?

Cross shrugged, getting up, he didn't like seeing the look in his boss's eye, it wasn't right, he didn't want him to be scared of them. Why was he even scared ?

- Do you think it has to do with the dragon ? Dust questioned. I mean, he always told us he was dangerous and all, maybe he got scared that he hurt us ?

Killer frowned.

- But we're all fine, If he had hurt us he would have seen it when transforming back.

- Maybe we weren't supposed to see the dragon ?

They looked at Cross, thinking about it, it made sense as Nightmare always seemed reticent to show them his primal form.

- He was hiding... Horror finally said, looking down, a feeling of guilt emerging in his soul, and we still took him...

The others stayed silent for a moment, letting the realization settle in. Cross sat back on the couch.

- He.. He was hiding... Killer began, he was hiding and didn't want to be seen, and we still searched him and took him out of his safe spot... we... we litteraly took advantage of his current weakness to grab him and he tried to fly but we still held him... God he couldn't even talk... ! He couldn't defend himself and we forced him to be here when he was hiding for a reason... !

Killer held his head in his hands after his monolog, so deeply ashamed of himself, the other three weren't doing better. Cross sniffled.

- You're making it sound like we raped him... he whined, feeling heavy with guilt.

For a few minutes only Cross's wheeping disturbed the silence of the castle, until Killer abruptly stood up.

- We need to apologize, he declared, heading to the stairs.

Dust got up to grab his arm, stopping him.

- He probably doesn't want to be bothered right now, we should wait a moment for him to calm down before trying anything.

Killer shrugged, making Dust let go of his arm.

- I'm not gonna come in, I'm not stupid, I'm just gonna knock and apologize.

He had to, he couldn't just wait until morning, he had to let Nightmare know that he was sorry, that they were all sorry, that they didn't think and acted stupid and regretted it. He arrived in front of the door, his hand was shaking when he lifted his arm to knock.

- Boss, you're here.. ?

Nightmare flinched when he heard the knock and the voice, backing down again, his back on the wall opposed to the door, sitting on the ground. He was shaking. What did they want ? What have they done ? Why must they have to see him like that ? To see this weak and pathetic form ? The one thing he had wished to remain a secret, why did they have to open this closet ?

Nightmare was shaking, a hand covering his mouth to try and muffle his heavy breathing. He felt scared, humiliated, confused, naked almost, like all of the walls and layers he had built over time just fell down and left him in a cloud of ashes.

They had seen him, they had seen the dragon, they had seen this little creature so ridiculously small, so contemptible, so useless, they had seen the real him, the him that wasn't fierce, that wasn't big nor intimidating, the him that wasn't threatening. They had seen the truth. Now what would they do ? Would they laugh ? Would they mock him for being this pathetic ? For giving birth to such a big lie when reality was this disappointing ? Would they tell the world about him ? Would they leave him ? Would they be disgusted by such a pathetic leader ? Would they lose all respect they had for him, respect that had been build on a lie ? Would he ever be able to gain their respect again ? What if they never wanted to hear of him again ?

His soul was beating fast in his ribcage, giving him the impression it was about to explode, he heard the drumming sound in his head, making everything else sound muffled. He barely heard Killer on the other side of the door.

- We're sorry Nightmare... we really are... we should have never tried to touch you and we should have just left you alone... we really didn't think and we understand that you're mad at us, you don't have to come out if you're not ready to, but just know that we are sorry... we were jerks, we didn't mean to hurt you...

Nightmare listened, trying to focus on anything else than the tears forming in his eye. Was he honest ? Was Killer honest ? He wanted to believe it, he couldn't feel his emotions, his magic wasn't recovered enough and he was in too big of a panic state to direct it properly anyway.

He wanted to believe him so bad, to believe it was only an accident, that maybe they could still pretend as if nothing happened, but a part of him kept yelling it was a lure. It kept telling him to not take words for proof, that sooner or later they would realize he's truly pathetic and the minute the dragon wouldn't amuse them anymore they would leave. He would lose everything then. He didn't want to, he didn't want to lose them.

- Take all the time you need, we will be waiting for you when you feel ready...

He heard the footsteps go away, and finally let out a sob, choking on air. What was he supposed to do now ? He couldn't go to them anymore, he didn't want to face their gaze just yet, they would surely have questions and he didn't want to answer any of those. He couldn't go to anyone, nobody knew about his secret. He was alone, like before, like he always had been, alone to face his fears.

He should have been more careful, lock himself somewhere else, make sure nobody could reach him. He should have known it, he should have known he couldn't trust his own house, he couldn't even trust his mother's shadow when he was a kid, why would that be any different now ?

He felt stupid, he wanted to hide away and never come out, let everyone forget about him and rot in a corner where no one would see him ever again...

He stayed locked in his room for hours, which turned into a few days, he didn't count how many exactly but Horror kept leaving food platters by his door. He could hear them take turn sitting down and talking to him, telling him they were sorry, that they should have waited for him instead of forcibly taking the dragon, that they were worried about him and to please come out, they wanted to see him. His silence only worried then more, they wouldn't enter by force but if he could at least talk to them, so they would know he's fine... Nightmare felt guilty, he didn't like scaring them that way, he didn't like how ashamed of themselves they all sounded, but he just didn't have the courage to open the door. The mere thought of being the center of attention knowing what happened filled him with shame and embarrassment and he felt his soul burn.

But he had to go out. He could barely stay awake, his magic was so low, the negativity level in the multiverse only kept receding the longer he was inactive, he needed a raid, even a small one, to boost himself enough not to tranform again. And he needed them. He was to weak to go alone. Maybe after this raid he would feel a little better and wouldn't need them, but for now it wasn't the case.

He slowly got up from his bed, feeling his legs shaking under his weight, and opened his door after a long hesitation. Cross was here, standing guard, he jumped when he heard the noise and froze when seeing the skeleton. Judging by his expression, Nightmare must have looked awful. Days without taking care of yourself usually did that.

- Nightmare.. ? Are.. are you feeling okay... ? I-I mean it's a dumb question but-

- We're going on a raid... Nightmare interrupted him, his voice more hoarse than he would have wished.

Cross straightened his stance, an old habit of the soldier receiving orders.

- O-of course ! I'll go fetch the others ! Pl-please don't lock yourself back.. ! He begged before going on his quest.

Nightmare looked at him go, letting out a shaky breath.

The others arrived rapidly, and though none of them knew what to say they all looked at him with a mix of worry and relief to see him out of his room.

- Boss we- Killer began before being interrupted.

- We're going, make it fast..

They all exchanged a glance, but nobody intervened. Nightmare motioned to Cross to open a portal, he couldn't do it himself this time. The soldier did as told, and they all crossed it, Nightmare going in last. He shivered when feeling the cold air of snowdin's forest hit him, embracing himself to try and keep his little body warmth as the others were already in movement. Only Dust stayed near him. He was about to tell him to join the others but the hoodied skeleton talked first.

- It's good to see you out of your room, Night, we were all worried.. we know what we did wasn't right, and we really want to make it up to you... we care about you, 'kay ? Try not to forget that... he said before teleporting away to the others.

Nightmare stiffened when he mentioned what happened, he didn't want to think about it again, but he couldn't avoid it for all eternity. He watched them from afar, not taking part in the activity, and focused on absorbing as much negativity as possible, he had to admit they were doing a particularly good job, though it would take way more than that for him to recover all of his strength.

He let them cause chaos, coming only a little closer to get a better taste of the negativity, ignoring their worried glances each time he moved. Were they really this worried about him ?

He heard a portal open, but Cross was far from him, too far for him to hear anything, and Cross wouldn't make a portal without informing him first, which meant the portal wasn't his, and the sudden sharp pain he felt in his shoulder told him exactly who it was: Dream and his team had arrived, and he just got hit with an arrow.

He dislodged the arrow before turning, slowly, now wasn't the time, he was still too weak to fight, and if he engaged in a battle now his magic would tire out rapidly and force him to transform back, which was not an option. He took a step back, and saw his brother frown. Oh how pathetic he must have looked for Dream to spot something was wrong. But it didn't stop the guardian from attacking a second time.

The arrow got blocked by a blade, Cross was in front of him in a defensive stance, a quick glance around confirmed the others were already fighting Ink and Blue, trying to maintain them as far as possible from him.

It wasn't the first time they would protect him, but this time felt different for some reason. It was absurd, Nightmare knew there were no differences, they acted as they always acted before, but his mind couldn't help but scream at him, telling him they only protected him because they knew how weak he really was. Were they going to tell everyone about that ? Were they going to tell Dream ? Dream always tried to get him to tranform, wanting to see his dragon form, as a confirmation whether it really changed or not, were they going to tell him that he never became that gigantic beast he always described ? Were they going to reveal everything ? No, no they wouldn't, he trusted them not to, he really did... but what if they made a mistake ? What if they said it by accident and Dream heard ? What then ? Would he try even more to tire him ? Would he attack with more fierce ? Would the news spread across the multiverse ? Would he be mocked by everyone again ? What would he do if his lie crumbled, if his only defense fell down ? Where would he hide ? Could he even hide anymore ? He didn't have anywhere to go aside from his castle, but could he hide here ? Or would the castle be attacked if the people knew there wasn't any real threat ? Would he lose his home again ? Would he lose his only safe place ? Would he lose his friends... ?

He almost fell when he felt someone push him forward, a gasp of surprise leaving him as he was abruptly brought back to reality: a portal to the castle was open in front of him, Horror was behind him forcing him to move, Dust was maintaining the stars at distance with sharp bones and blasters, Killer was halfway through the portal, and Cross was next to it looking at him worryingly.

- Boss we're retreating ! Did you not hear me call you ?! He grabbed his arm to pull him in the portal.

The others rapidly followed, and Cross closed the path before anyone else could enter. They were back in the living room.

- Are you okay 'Mare ? Killer asked, coming to him to check his shoulder, you zoned out pretty hard out there... is... do you want to talk about it... ?

They were all looking at him, and he didn't know what to say. He didn't hear them call him, he didn't see Cross opening the portal and only reacted when Horror pushed him. He could have gotten them hurt because his thoughts wouldn't give him a break, and now they were worried about him again. He felt awful, he couldn't protect them in his dragon form and he could have gotten them hurt in his skeletal form. He shouldn't be with them.

- I... I'm fine, I just... I need... some time, alone... he mumbled, taking a few steps back.

He saw Horror begin to reach for him and dodged his hand, going past him to hurry to his room, not wanting to feel their gaze on him any longer. Seriously what would they think of him now ? He had sunken so low...

He didn't want to be a burden, it was really the last thing he ever wanted, especially to them, but he couldn't help but fear they would end up seeing him as one, as someone they had to protect instead of someone they could count on. He had tried to persuade himself that they would never do that, that he trusted them and that they were loyal, but these thoughts kept coming back and they wouldn't let him breath.

And now, because of these polluted thoughts, he was alone in an AU, one week after their raid, to go on a solo negativity run. He could do it himself, he didn't need them, he didn't need their protection, he didn't need them getting hurt for his sake. He would be fine, it would just be a small run, as he always did...

Killer sighed, sitting back up on the couch. Nightmare had been in his room the whole week and barely came out to eat while speaking as little as possible. He was worried about him, they all were, they didn't like that he didn't say anything. They weren't expecting a speech, but if only he could tell them how he felt so they could find a proper way to apologize instead of staying silent. All they wanted was to know what they could do for him, what he wanted, did he want them to never talk about it again ? Did he want them to leave ? Did he want them to swear their loyalty a new time ? They didn't know what he would want and they didn't want to make a mistake again by doing something wrong or inappropriate.

He was about to get up when the sound of a teleportation made him turn his head just in time to see Nightmare crashing on the floor against the armchair, panting heavily, bloody cuts everywhere on his body and arrows in his back.

- Nightmare ?! He exclaimed in chock.

He jumped up, but before he could even rush to his boss's side a blinding purple light erupted from the skeleton's body, making him put his arms in front of his face. When he put them down once the light disappeared, Nightmare wasn't there anymore and in his place laid the tiny dragon, shaking, his fur sticky with blood. The arrows were on the floor next to him, having fallen out in the transformation.

Killer approached slowly, his hands shaking too. Once the dragon spotted him he started growling, his ears flat against his neck.

- It's okay bud, I'm not gonna hurt you... he tried to reassure the dragon as he stopped moving.

The little creature just kept growling, trying to crawl away from him, shaking with all of his members.

- Kills ? I heard you scream, you okay ? Dust asked, arriving in the living room.

He rapidly spotted Nightmare and froze, seeing how the dragon's gaze locked on him.

- What happened ? Why is he hurt ? And why is he a dragon again ?

Killer tried to think, not knowing just what to do, the dragon was scared and hurt and he wanted to help him, but what if they made the same mistake as the first time ? What if they touched the dragon again and Nightmare didn't like that ?

- I- I don't know, I was on the couch and he popped out of nowhere, hurt, and he just transformed... he quickly explained, I think it's a form he takes when he's too weakened ?

The dragon tried to stand up, only to whine in pain and fall on his side again.

- We'll see that later, he needs help. Dust declared, approaching again.

Nightmare growled louder, baring his teeth as a blue light appeared in his mouth.

- It's okay, it's us, we're going to help you.. Dust began but was interrupted by a small fireball.

He jumped to the side to dodge it, noting how the dragon coughed but still prepared another ball. Dust kneeled, looking at Nightmare. Killer didn't move, his whole being was telling him to rush to his side and heal him but that would just make him panic even more and hurt himself. He let Dust try to appease the situation.

- It's okay Night, we just want to help... we'll heal those wounds and then we'll leave you alone... he talked in a soft tone.

The dragon curled further into a ball, breathing out little sparks of blue fire, he looked terrified, his one eyelight fixated on Dust. Did that mean Nightmare didn't trust them anymore ? Did that mean he was scared of them ? Killer's soul clenched at the thought.

- It's okay buddy, it's okay... he kept murmuring as he slowly approached his hand.

The dragon growled louder but didn't make any move to attack, looking back and forth between Dust and his hand until it was just in front of his face. He stared for a while before coming just a little closer, enough to sniff the fingers. Dust didn't move, letting the dragon sniff him and watching him slowly back away again, having stopped growling.

- Kills, go grab the med kit please, and warn the others, he commanded after a few seconds.

Killer nodded, quickly teleporting to the nursery and leaving Dust with Nightmare. The dragon flinched when Killer dissapeared, growling again.

- It's okay, he went to grab stuff to help you, everything's fine. He reassured.

When Killer appeared again he took the plastic case and opened it in front of him to let the dragon see its countenance, while Killer left once more to warn the two remaining skeletons that their boss was hurt and back in his dragon form, and that they should go slowly with him.

Dust took the items he needed one by one, handing each one to the dragon to let him sniff it before putting it down next to him.

- I'm gonna get closer, okay ? He warned.

He slowly approached, staying on the ground as to prevent dominating the dragon with his height. He saw him tense, a fireball starting to form in his mouth before he began coughing again, leaving him whining and shaking.

- Easy bud, easy... it's gonna sting a little, but I promise you'll feel better afterward..

He put disinfectant on a clean cloth and slowly started to clean the drying blood on the dragon's fur, clenching his teeth each time he whined in pain when Dust would clean the wounds.

- I know buddy, I know.. I don't like it either, I'm sorry... he apologized.

He didn't like hurting him, but he had to do it, he had to clean the cuts and bandage them up, he couldn't leave him like that, he just hoped Nightmare would understand...

- I'm almost done...

He finished wrapping the bandages around his paws and abdomen, careful not to tie them too tight, and backed up again. The dragon was shaking, Dust had to take his little sweater off as it was bloody and ripped, and was now curled on the cold stoned floor.

- I brought a cover...

Dust flinched, turning his head around, he didn't notice Cross arriving behind him.

- Is he okay... ? He asked with a shaky voice.

- Yeah... a little shaken up, but he'll be fine... he reassured his friend.

Cross sighed in relief, handing the thick plaid to him. Dust took it and installed it right next to Nightmare, making it so he could crawl inside and be covered.

The dragon stared at them then at the little improvised nest, sniffing the air before slowly, carefully, taking a shaky step towards it. Dust held the entrance opened for him, letting him take his time to crawl in and lay down in a comfortable position before putting the cover down. Only his head poked out. Dust wanted to give him a few pats, to scratch his ear and tell him he had been very brave not moving while he healed him, but he didn't want to risk humiliating Nightmare again, so he didn't.

Horror arrived with a bowl in his hands, Killer came to find him and told him about the situation, so he had decided to prepare something to eat for the little guy, something easy he wouldn't need to chew. He had opted for some plain biscuits broken and mixed with water to make a sort of porridge. He put the bowl down in front of the nest.

- Here, eat a little... he encouraged him, backing down.

Nightmare looked up at him before slowly straightening enough to bend forward and slowly licking the mixture, his little purple tongue looking pale.

They all stayed there, watching over the little dragon as he slept in his small nest. He looked so much smaller like that...

They didn't dare go away, but they didn't dare touch him either, all painfully aware that the last time they did that things only went downhill afterwards and that was why they were at this point now. They always made sure that at least one of them would remain relatively close in case there was a problem, and they all slept in the living room. The dragon kept watching them, not moving from his nest for the first two days, then slowly trying to walk a little, never going too far before coming back to the cover. He would sometimes sit down and look at them with what they could only describe as a pleading look, then go back to lay down when seeing they didn't move to give him what he wanted. What did he want ? They didn't know for sure, they could only assume it was for them to make the pain go away, but they couldn't really do that.

It lasted a whole week, a week of hearing the dragon cry and seeing him so sad at all time, they didn't know what to do. Cross was sitting in the couch when Nightmare got up from his nest and walked over to him, still slow, but already faster than the first days. The dragon came to him and gently headbutted his leg to gain his attention. Cross looked down.

- What's wrong ? Do you need anything ?

He glanced at his bowl, it was still half full, and his bandages were clean. The dragon whined, looking at the soldier.

- I'm sorry, I don't know how to help more...

It pained him to see the small dragon like that and being powerless to make him feel better. Nightmare lifted a paw, tapping it against the couch.

- You want to get on the couch ? He asked.

Nightmare kept looking at him, his paw against the side of the mattress.

- O-Okay, just, please don't move and be careful not to fall...

Cross bent down, very slowly grabbing the dragon by his chest and back paws to put him on the couch next to him.

- Oookay here you go...

Nightmare didn't struggle, waiting to be put down before turning and making his way towards the soldier.

- Where are you going ? Cross confusedly asked.

The dragon didn't stop, carefully climbing Cross's laps to lay down, resting his head on his paws with a little sigh. Cross froze, not daring to move. Was it a good sign ? Nightmare was the one to make the decision, did that mean it was safe ? Could he pet him without it being a bad move ? He wasn't sure, but seeing the dragon so sad was unbearable, and so he gently put a hand on his back, petting him ever so carefully. The little dragon didn't move, closing his eye, a soft purr starting to get heard. Cross was so close to crying, so close to break down completely, he was so worried about Nightmare, so scared to have ruined their relationship, he just wished he understood they meant no harm, and even now they just wanted to help him...

Nightmare didn't move from the couch for the night, rolled up against an arm rest buried under Horror's jacket, he decided he was done sleeping on the ground. They let him do so. He woke up in the morning, before everyone else. He had taken his skeletal form back and kept the jacket around his shoulders.

He looked at them sleeping. They took care of him, they healed him and kept apologizing to the dragon, not forcing any contact, letting him come to them. It... meant a lot.

When they woke up, they quickly spotted that he was back pretty rapidly as their first move in the morning was always check on him. They didn't talk however, letting him begin, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by saying something they shouldn't have when Nightmare made the effort to stay and not lock himself back in his room.

- Go on, I know you have questions... he finally said.

Killer was the first to talk.

- Why didn't you tell us about the dragon... ?

Nightmare looked at him for a moment before looking down, searching for what to say, he sighed; he owed them the truth.

- I was scared of your reaction... my... my dragon form is small, the species is just like that, and... people used that to their advantage... it's not that I didn't trust you, I just... I felt safer with a lie to protect myself...

They listened to him, nodding in understanding.

- But who would hurt such a small creature... ? Cross asked, horrified by the thought of the dragon getting hurt.

Nightmare shivered, feeling some old memories coming back to the surface.

- He's small, easy to kick and hold down... and his fur and antlers are expensive... don't ask me how I know that, please... he answered honestly.

Cross let out a gasp, not wanting to believe such atrocities could have been committed against the small dragon.

- We won't let anyone hurt you like that again, ever, Dust claimed with a resigned tone.

Nightmare looked at him. Horror agreed.

- We'll protect you, promise... no one... will touch you... he confirmed.

Nightmare let the words sink in for a moment, before feeling himself smile a little and nod.

- Thanks...

- We're sorry for what we did, we didn't mean any harm, we would never... Dust apologized again.

- I know... he chuckled, you'll have to apologize to the dragon too, he wasn't happy with the lack of attention this week..

The little commentary helped appease the tension in the air and they all could breath and talk like they all used to talk together, spending the whole morning just calmly discussing on the couches...

Nightmare would need time to get used to letting his dragon form out more often, but his friends seemed to genuinely like him very much, and the dragon liked them just as much as he liked them, so maybe it was for the greater good...

- Does he have a name ?! Killer exclaimed.

- I... don't think so ? Nightmare replied.

He never wondered if the dragon had a name of his own or if they shared the same. Not that it ever mattered.

- Can I call him Lord Noot ?! He proposed excitedly.

- No you may not, Nightmare refused.

Killer whined with a pouty face, making the others laugh.

Yeah, maybe it wouldn't be that bad...

[cobrakaisb]

what was i made for?

summary: everybody hates you, but luke could never see you that way; luke hates himself, but he’s always going to be the center of your galaxy.

word count: 2.3k

featuring: angst, reader and luke share a vape (sue me🙈), but also friend dynamics, and official godly parent reveal 🙌, reader and luke are basically together (without the labels).  

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next 

“i hate it here,” you announce, taking a seat at the hermes table for breakfast. 

chris, luke, and katrina all exchange glances. you can sense their nerves from a mile away, and their unease only seems to heighten when you slam your plate and goblet on the table. chris opens his mouth, ready to comment on your behavior, but he decides not to when you throw a nasty glare his way. 

“wow, you’re hera’s daughter,” katrina teases, nudging your shin with her own from across the table. 

“no shit, really?” you reply, stabbing a lone strawberry on your plate.

“no seriously, your glare is exactly like hers. i can see her staring at me in disapproval and everything,” katrina continues with a wide smile on her face.

you flash a tight-lipped smile in response, but don’t take the bait that’s dangling in front of you. over the past few months, you’ve established quite the reputation at camp half-blood. aside from being something akin to a forbidden child -- because it was always assumed that hera would never have children -- your nasty temper, smart mouth, and enormous ego have led to a number of fights. all of them were petty, with campers making claims about you that were so far into leftfield you were surprised they even caught on. 

“what happened this time?” luke asks, his shoulder brushing against yours when he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. 

“that stupid fucking lava wall,” you grumble, taking a bite of your pancakes. 

“okay…” katrina prompts, waving her hand in a continue motion. 

you swallow your food before answering, “i love the lava wall, it’s such a good workout, but i hate that my time slot is the same as the ares kids.” 

“nothing new, but what’d they do now?” katrina asks. 

“annoy me,” you answer.

luke says your name in the same tone he uses when travis and connor get caught pulling some master prank. you can hear the disappointment in his tone, and that elicits an eye roll from you. he doesn’t even know the full story, and he’s already picking a side other than yours, typical. 

“sorry, that we can’t all be the golden child like you,” you sneer, getting up from the table to throw the rest of your food in the burning fire pit.

everybody knows you prayed to your mother when the flames flash a deep purple before flickering back to their normal orange. 

“i’ll talk to her,” katrina says, standing up from her seat. 

luke lifts up his hand, shakes his head no, and replies, “i got it.” 

he follows you out of the dining pavilion and into the woods. you know he’s there because you can hear the cracks of twigs and rustling of bushes as he matches your step. only two people are crazy enough to follow you, but only one of them knows when to walk in silence.

“go back to camp luke,” you demand, pushing a branch out of the way. 

“not until you tell me what the fuck happened at the lava wall,” he answers, dodging the branch before it makes contact with his nose. 

you stop short, looking at long island sound through a small gap in the trees. luke knows the spot; you two come here frequently. he waits for a moment, admiring your straight back. even when you’re feeling your worst, you still muster up the courage to walk with the confidence of a princess. 

“the same old shit. you know the story,” you mumble, eyes squinting from the glare of the sun. 

luke sighs. he doesn’t understand why you put up this mask with him. why do you feel the need to continue being the strong, confident, arrogant, and put-together, daughter of hera when it’s just the two of you? he steps closer to you, standing directly behind you so his arms can wrap around your waist. you lean back into his chest, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“i never used to care what people thought of me, now it’s all i can think about. this was supposed to be different, luke,” you whisper. 

luke doesn’t say anything in return. he drops his forehead against the back of your head, and squeezes your hips just a bit tighter. camp was supposed to be different. you were meant to feel wanted and seen; he was meant to become a hero with ultimate glory. from the looks of it, neither of you are anywhere close to getting what you deserve. 

—

some days were harder than others, luke knew this. yet, it didn’t make it any easier when one of those hard days came around. each and every time he feels utterly dead to the world, wanting nothing more than to rot away in the comfort of his bottom bunk in the hermes cabin. being head counselor doesn’t afford that luxury. so, he takes a deep breath, musters up every ounce of courage his body could possibly possess, and walks out the door. 

usually, the training arena is quiet in the mornings. nobody, not even the most dedicated warriors, is willing to get up earlier than they need to. sleep is a hot commodity at camp half-blood. and so is privacy. so, luke relishes in the quiet mornings where he’s surrounded by the soft tweets of birds, the slash of his sword, and his heavy breathing. he trains and trains, searching for a way to be good enough again. he used to pray, but after years of going unheard and unanswered, he gave up on connecting with his father.

he thinks of his mother, alone in their house in suburban connecticut. she never doubted hermes, even when he left them for worse; her faith kept her loyal. luke wishes that he had her loyalty, but he doesn’t. instead, all he feels is anger and resentment towards his father. he swings his sword again, cutting through the outer layer of the dummy, and watches as the stuffing falls gracefully to the ground.  

“that’s a lot of slashes,” you comment, and your voice draws him out of his own head.

he ignores you, continuing on with his practice session. 

“you know you can take a break, right?” you ask, coming to stand behind him. 

luke’s arm falls to his side, his sword resting against his thigh. his head falls forehead, and he takes in a deep breath, letting the clean air fill his lungs. your hand sneaks between the strap of his bronze breastplate and his bright orange t-shirt. he takes another breath, and your chin digs into his shoulder before you drop a kiss on the exposed skin by the collar of his shirt. 

you don’t say anything, and luke appreciates that about you. ever since your arrival at camp, he’s tried to pinpoint what exactly draws him to you. every time he comes up empty handed, but at this moment he knows it’s your willingness to just let him be. you never force him to be happy or content with the gods’ and their behavior. you embrace the darkness slowly rising inside of him, even when he tries to suppress it. 

“i just want to be good enough,” luke whispers, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. 

your arms tighten around him, and you reply, “you are good enough.” 

“not for him,” he mumbles. 

“he’s not good enough for you,” you say assertively. 

luke doesn’t comment on your words. the conviction in your voice is enough to inform him that there’s no changing your mind. he wishes he believed you, but he doesn’t. 

“you’re not the one who failed their quest,” luke mumbles. 

you openly scoff at his words, letting go of him. he waits patiently for your next move and stumbles when you pull him towards your face by the strap of his armor. your eyes met, and luke swear he’s never seen such fury brewing in them.

“don’t ever use that as a determinant of your worth. that quest was impossible luke, and he knew that,” you seethe. 

luke blinks, letting your words sink in. he can’t believe them; he doesn’t believe them. 

“it was my chance, my one chance to show him that i’m worthy,” luke whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. 

you let out a shaky breath and luke can feel the anger and frustration radiating off you in waves. he knows that if he wasn’t holding you in his arms, olympus would fall. he blinks, and you’re standing there, in the middle of crumbled temples and the debris of ancient ruins with the fiercest look in your eyes. you’re hera’s daughter, and you’re loyal to a fault, he thinks.

“i just don’t know how much longer i can do this,” he confesses, kissing your earlobe. 

“me too,” you answer, squeezing him tighter. 

—

the two of you are sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the edge as your toes barely graze the surface of the water. you always meet here after all the campers in the hermes cabin settled into bed. when he was able to sneak out and away from their curious eyes.

“i hate it here,” you whisper, leaning further back into luke’s chest.

“you don’t hate it here,” he mumbles, fumbling around in the pocket of his cargo pants. 

“i do,” you answer with certainty. “everybody here hates me. except maybe you and katrina,” you continue. 

luke doesn’t accept or deny your statement. instead, he just hands you the orange stick. you scoff at him, but take the vape from his hands anyways. one thing about luke, he feeds your addictions; every single one of them. instead of thanking him, like you normally would, you bring the vape to your mouth, inhaling deeply. you wait a second, letting the toxins fill your lungs, and then release the smoke in one puff. there’s nothing sexy or hot about the action, but luke squeezes your side, pulling you a bit closer. 

“i can’t believe my plug is my boyfriend,” you joke, but there’s no happiness in your tone. 

luke pokes your side. you switch the vape to your left hand, holding it out to him. you wait patiently for him to take it, but he doesn’t. that confuses you. you turn to face him, forehead bumping against his chin. it hurts, but you just grit your teeth instead of saying anything. luke grimaces, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. 

“there are other people here who like you,” luke says.

“name them,” you demand, taking another hit. 

luke takes the item from you, uses it, and then answers, “chris.” 

“is your friend not mine,” you reply. 

luke rolls his eyes. “connor and travis,” he continues. 

“enjoy torturing me, not my company. besides, they’re like ten,” you say. 

“okay then, what about clarisse?” luke asks.

now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “clarisse tolerates me.” 

“that’s more than i can say,” luke answers, and you snort at his response. 

luke smiles softly at you, and you feel your cheeks heat up. you hate when he does that. when he looks at you like you’re the only person he could possibly dream about. there are days where there's such deep admiration for you in his eyes, you wonder if he leaves burnt offerings in your name instead of the gods.

you turn his face in the opposite direction and whisper, “don’t do that.” 

“do what?” he asks nonchalantly.  

“you know what,” you answer, shooting him a pointed look. 

luke grins. it’s proud and cocky, telling you that he knows exactly what he’s doing. his brown eyes crinkle at the corners, and his scar bunches up with the upturn of his lips. you think he looks the prettiest in this moment; in the dark of the night, with messy curls, grimy skin, and a vibrant smile. you turn again, so that your legs are draped across his lap, and wrap your left arm around the back of his neck. luke’s left hand, the one previously resting against your side, lands on your right thigh, and he squeezes the flesh there as he kisses your temple. 

“do you think we moved too fast?” you ask, taking the vape from his right hand. 

luke waits, expecting you to take a hit, but you just look at him with eager eyes.

“i think we’re doing everything right,” he explains. 

his words hold a deeper meaning that you refuse to acknowledge at the moment. you know what’s going on, but you don’t want to think about it. what would mother say?, you wonder. you lean your head against luke’s shoulder, nose brushing against the crook of his neck, and close your eyes.

“do you think icarus knew he was falling to his death?” luke asks, breaking the silence.

it takes you a moment, but you respond, “maybe. i’m not sure.”

“i mean he was flying the whole time, and then suddenly, he’s plummeting into the mediterranean,” luke continues, taking the vape from your hand.  

“maybe he wanted to die,” you reply, tilting your head to meet his brown eyes. 

a confused expression overcomes luke’s face, propelling you to continue on: “he must have known that the sun would melt the wax, and then his wings would break. i think icarus meant to die, trying to send a message to daedalus or even maybe the gods.”

luke ponders your words for a minute. the gears in his head turning as he contemplates the truth behind your theory. is that what we’re doing?, he wonders. the brewing plans between the two of you linger over his head like a dark cloud, but he can’t bring himself to regret anything.

“so icarus had a greater purpose…like us,” luke observes, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“exactly,” you answer, leaning into his side. 

luke hands the vape back to you, and you pocket it for good this time. he exhales deeply, engulfing you in a cloud of mango-scented smoke. it burns your lungs, but at least you feel something, which is more than you can say as of lately. 

“i just want to be happy,” luke announces. 

“happy and free,” you decide, kissing his cheek delicately.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @used2beee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcillia @obxstiles @maraschinocherry3

[dtfpeta]

Touch starved Simon who rarely likes to give up control but is just so addicted to how good you can make him feel. The soldier who is quiet more often than not until he is underneath your fingertips and begging for you, for more of your touch. He was never one for words but his mewls and sounds of attention only make his begging face that more addictive. Edging him for what would feel like hours to him when in reality it had only been 20 minutes. "Please please please please..." an endless mantra that coincided with his jutting hips that sought the warmth of your soft palms against his slick and aching length. Grunts and heavy breaths make their frequent appearance when your near burning tongue enters the mixture of torture you set on him. Sucking at the sensitive head of his cock and struggling to take much past that.

You weren't raised a quitter though. Simon's pleasure drunk state that was caused just by your hands and part of your hot mouth alone only spurred you on. The more you lowered yourself down him, the harder he screwed his eyes shut. An occasional gag leaving your dick filled throat as tears now ran down both of your faces. Simon's being from the agonous pleasure filling his senses, yours being from the struggle of keeping all of him down your esophagus. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

Simon had a clear view of your head bobbing up and down his length while you flashed your glossy eyes at him, occasionally closing them to focus on the task at hand. It wasn't until his 5th, "Can I cum? It feels too good, I need to baby." that you finally had mercy on him and quickened the already rapid pace at which you jerked him off. A string of gritted swears left him as he threw his head forward and came into your open mouth, a dark shade of red washing over his features as you swallowed his seed and went back to clean up the mess between his legs. He jolted his legs at the sensitivity but allowed you to continue only because you looked so needy to stay attached to him.

When you finally separated from him he was still trying to calm his accelerated heartbeat with harsh breaths through his nose. His hooded eyes lifted to meet yours when you gave him a soft smile and kissed his forehead. He would soon be further pampered with a cold beverage and a hot shower to relax the nerves you had just lit on fire.

[impossiblesuitcase]

Since Cinder is able to lower and raise her audio interface, it's likely that her hearing is artificial and she was deafened from the fire. So I have a modern AU headcanon where Cinder is deafened by the fire and wears hearing aids as a child. But when they break, Adri won't pay to get news ones or have them repaired. So Cinder relies on lip reading and she and Peony start learning sign from the internet. After a few years Cinder begins learning mechanics and is able to fix her hearing aids. She now prefers sign as she uses it with her deaf friends so she often turns her hearing aids off or doesn't wear them.

Flash forward to when Cinder is at university on a mechanical engineering scholarship. Kai reads her name in the uni newsletter under the scholarship recipients and is super impressed to see all the engineering awards she won as at such a young age. He comes up behind her one day and starts speaking. She says nothing. He feels really awkward and walks away. Then later on he sees her across the lawn with a group of other deaf students signing.

He is so invested in getting to know her that he starts learning sign in between classes and studying. Then one day he 'happens' to be strolling by the route she frequents and 'accidentally' drops his book which she picks up. He signs 'thank you' and they start signing. He's slow and messes up a lot but she finds it cute.

A few months pass and they build a friendship through sign. Kai wants to ask her out but he's embarrassed that he only has the signing abilities of a toddler. Then one day he sees her at a party and is walking up to her when Thorne pops around the corner, yells "Hey Cinder!" and she waves and says, "Hey Thorne."

Kai bluescreens. He runs up to her and splutters out, "you can hear?!"

She parts the hair covering her ears to show off her hearing aids. "I speak more than I sign because of my classes. I thought you already knew."

Kai says he didn't, and asks why she never spoke to him since she could.

She shrugs. "I thought you were only hanging out with me because you wanted to practise your sign."

He gapes. "I was signing to you because I want to date you!"

Cinder is flustered; she already thought he was a cool guy, but to hear that he learnt sign specifically so he could communicate with her is touching.

Over the next few weeks they speak and she teaches him more sign. One day she teaches him a new sentence and he asks what it means. She tells him, "let's go on a date."

[hotluncheddie]

Honey Boy

wc: 1.3k | rated: M | tags: 1920s au, food as a love language, not cis flapper Eddie Munson 

˚⊹♡

Steve Harrington used to be the most eligible bachelor in all of New York City. Destined to take over his father’s nicotine empire, and make the family even richer. That was, until Steve Harrington got caught in an apartment fire. Clocked in the head by a steel beam while helping a young boy out. 

Steve Harrington can’t take over the business anymore, because sometimes his head hurts so bad he can’t seen. Sometimes it hurts so bad his legs don’t work. 

Now Steve Harrington is married to one Robin Buckley, socialite who writes poetry published under a mans name, and who comes from a good family. A solid flock; enough to get Harrington Sr to stop sniffing around proposals that might’ve made Steven useful to him again. 

But, you only had to enter their apartment once to see that their bedrooms were distinctly separate. Only had to watch them together in public for a moment to see their touching never went past friendly. 

No, now Steve Harrington lives on an allowance, goes to dinners once a month to show his face; coming back from them quieter, fog always lasting a few days. Doing so in order to, amongst other things, frequent a speakeasy on Saturday nights; hidden under a barbers shop in Harlem. 

And, now, this Steve Harrington, also, bakes. Pastries, cakes and desserts from across the pond. Anything, everything, the finest you can think of. 

And Eddie Munson, you see, knows all this about Steve Harrington. Knows all about this Steve Harrington, because, every weekend, Steve goes to the club, under the barber shop in Harlem, to take home one, particular, very special, girl. 

Him. 

‘No, slowly.’ Steve murmurs, holding the bite of pie just out of reach of Eddie’s lips. ‘Open.’ 

Eddie does. 

‘Hold it baby. Taste it, let it melt.’ He whispers, patting the corners of Eddie’s mouth with a napkin. Watching Eddie swallow, eyelashes fluttering, half for Steve’s sake and half because it just tastes so damn good. 

‘Don’t mess up my lipstick, s’not easy getting this dolled up.’ Eddie mumbles as Steve scoops up another mouthful, the fine porcelain and small fork held so gently in this large hands. 

Steve smiles, pausing, laying down the cutlery to cradle Eddie’s cheek in his palm and run a thumb under his kohl lined eye. ‘Never, you’re berries baby.’ He says, flashing his teeth. Lifting that fork again to feed him another slow bite. 

And this is all Steve asks for, really. The only time during the night where Steve requests Eddie does as he says. Otherwise, Eddie can do as he likes, orders Steve around hand and foot if he pleased, fuck him, not fuck him, get fucked, get blown. But not this part, this in between part. After a couple hours at the joint, with the good hooch, and a little dancing; Steve will eventually pull Eddie away. Away from the guys who want to get their hands up his beaded dress, who pull him in extra close for the slow dance, buy him a drink, light his cigarette unprompted. But everyone now knows that Saturdays are Steve’s night, Eddie might twirl and drink and bat his eyelashes at any sap he pleases; but he always walks out hand in hand with Harrington Jr. 

Following him back to Steve’s now familiar apartment, where Eddie can kick off his heels and lounge back on the velvet sofa. Where Steve will have baked something special in preparation, requesting to feed Eddie every bite slowly, so slowly. Until every morsel is gone. 

And Eddie lets him, is paid for it, handsomely. But they both know that, now, it’s got nothing to do with the money, not really. Eddie could go home with any number of rich clients on a Saturday night, multiple, and has done. But he doesn’t, not now. 

No, now, it’s only Steve. Every Saturday, like clockwork. 

No, it’s not all about the money, not for Eddie. And it maybe wasn’t ever, really, for Steve. 

The first time Eddie went home with him Steve had flushed, fluttered, almost too scared to touch him. Offering up chocolate covered strawberries and biting his lip raw when the juice dripped down Eddie’s chin. Then ate Eddie out until spit dripped down his thighs. 

Now his Steve has less reservation. Always seeking skin, seeking touch, begging to be able to give. 

And Eddie feasts on it. 

Starving. 

Once the desert is tucked away, fed, devoured, consumed. Poured, dripping ambrosia into his very centre. All of him now a little more padded thanks to Steve’s steady devotion; ribs not so visible, hips no longer concave and thighs that are just starting to brush together under dresses and between nylon. Once that’s done, now, Steve kneels, happy and satiated, content with having completed his only desire for the night. 

The rest, now, is up to Eddie. 

And Eddie wants to smoke, and pet Steve’s cheek where it rests between his legs, on his inner thigh. 

He blows smoke at Steve’s face, watches him inhale, eyelashes fluttering. 

He’s a funny man, this Steve of his. Eddie thinks he’s the bees knees, sweet as honey, pretty as cherry pie. 

‘Kids at the club talk about something called transcendence honey boy. You know anything about that?’ Eddie asks, scratching Steve’s scalp with long, painted nails.  

‘No.’ Steve says, eyes closed, leaning into the touch. 

‘Somethin’ about reaching a higher power, becoming more just through talkin’ and thinkin’ and bein’.’ 

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve says, listening, but the hand stroking slowly higher up Eddie’s calf says his mind is split in half. 

‘Mmhm, I think you might just be doing it, only with you it’s through eatin’.’ Eddie smirks, spreading his legs a little more. 

Steve looks up, glassy eyes getting clearer, he looks; affronted, confused, aroused. ‘I jus’ like seeing you looked after, seeing you warm and relaxed. Like seeing the way your eyes droop when you taste something good, the way you sit different in the chair, the way your legs shift and your cheeks blush. I just think food looks good on you baby.’ And Steve’s fingers slide up Eddie’s thigh, under the beaded silk of his dress, over the plush that sits over muscle. The weight, the width, the softness that’s been gained - gained by the offerings of Steve’s own hands. 

Eddie gasps softly as those hands squeeze his thighs, warm and pliant and greedy. 

‘Do you like that thought, doll? What did you call it?’ 

‘Transcendence.’ 

‘Yeah, you like it? Does it make you feel good sugar?’ He asks, eager. Always so eager. 

Eddie thinks maybe it does, thinks that maybe the way Steve does most things might just be the best feeling in the world. 

‘Take me to bed honey boy.’ 

Steve smiles, boyish and blinding and lifts Eddie up bridal style, making him cackle. Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and biting at his earlobe, sticking a hand down his half unbuttoned dress shirt to grope at the hair and muscle. 

Never fails to make Eddie feel like a real dame this one. 

Which is still not always an easy task, even with how Eddie chooses to present himself, how he loves. What he does and how he does it. Still not easy. But when Steve lays Eddie’s down, removing clothes between bites and throaty giggles. Kissing and kissing. And kissing as he does. Eddie’s knees part easily and his fingers grip tousled brown hair and Steve opens him up, slick and wanting and hungry. 

And when Eddie is filled, enveloped in Steve’s warmth, the oven of his chest, baking Eddie alive. Eddie feels it again, maybe, that higher place. 

‘You’re my girl, you’re my girl.’ Steve will pant, hot and wet in Eddie’s ear. Chant it until it drips like honey through his bones. Taking Eddie there, ascending. Toes curled, moan breathy and needy and high, filled up something special, a girl who is. 

That’s when Eddie feels it, for the second time that night; divine, feminine, transcended. 

Loved. 

˚⊹♡

Taglist (& people who showed interest <3) : @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

@marvel-ous-m @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @postmodernau @steddie-island

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 8

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

If things go according to plan, Eris and Y/N’s first official date could end in hot, steamy sex. Or, it could end in complete and utter chaos - because when do things ever go according to plan? Azriel almost has a good time, until he doesn’t. We also FINALLY meet Tamlin’s daughter.

Part 7 Part 7.5 Headcanon

Warnings: Alcohol, language, smutty content, assault with non-consensual kissing, breeding kink (kind of)

An evening breeze blew through Velaris sending a slight chill through the champagne golden silk dress I’d chosen for the evening. A caress of warmth rose up from the fingers I’d threaded through Eris’, heat continuing up my arm and throughout my body, counteracting the mild chill.

When he’d shown up to my door right on time, dressed in a deep forest green tailored suit with the top unbuttoned and a turtleneck that was - For one, so perfectly molded to his torso that I practically salivated as fantasies of licking his abs flashed through my mind. And two, conveniently matched my dress perfectly - I almost said “Fuck the date.” and jumped on him then and there.

He’d arrived carrying three things. A bouquet of hydrangeas for my mother, symbolizing gratitude for her grace with the current situation. Freesia bulbs for my little sister to add to her Sprite garden if she wished, a symbol of friendship. I realized the double meaning of it, to draw in sprites with wishes for friendship but also to symbolize their new budding friendship. My mother smiled softly as she realized it too.

For me, he’d brought a “Fire Poppy”, apparently native to his court. His hesitance to express the meaning of the flowers, told me enough. Fire. Passion. But the incredibly faint dust of pink on his freckled cheeks left me wondering if perhaps there was something more.

Father only appeared at the last moment to kiss my forehead and likely give a seething look toward Eris while doing so that warned, Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. Eris paid no mind.

And now here we were, walking through the streets of Velaris hand in hand. Eris’ focus remained intently upon me as I pointed out various shops that I would frequent. I pointed out one that I loved as a child and Azalea still adored. The window was decorated with paint splatters of primary colors that blended together into a rainbow mirroring the Sidra and inside floated hundreds of miniature fae lights imitating the skies of Night Court.

Eris paused as we stood before the shop. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely perplexed by his interest in this shop of all the ones we’d wandered past.

“It’s a surprise.” He stated.

Because why would anything with Eris be anything but secretive?

Eris read my responding roll of the eyes for exactly what it was. “Surely you realize there is a difference between a surprise and a secret?”

I couldn’t help myself. “Many of your secrets have left me feeling quite surprised, Eris. Certainly you would realize that?”

He huffed a silent laugh leaving me on the street to go into the store. Set in my stubborn ways, I refused to let him win and stood outside waiting.

Eris was back by my side eight minutes later with a small canvas bag. I raised an eyebrow. “What’d you get?”

“Ah, if you wanted to know, you could have come in with me. Guess it’s my secret to keep.”

“Mother spare me. You are insufferable.” I muttered stepping ahead of him down the street. His long strides caught up with mine within a few steps.

He once again wound his fingers through mine. “You love it.”

And I hated that it was true.

“You’re not going to tell me what you got?”

“Just a gift for a friend.”

———————-

Eris had reserved a table at Sevenda’s where Sevenda herself eagerly greeted us. She ushered us to a private section of the restaurant, lit with candles and within earshot of a performing pianist. She’d kissed me on the cheek and given Eris a respectful bow of the head before bringing out a mouthwatering appetizer of some delectable cheese sauce she’d recently added to her menu.

The secluded setting of our table, incandescent glow flickering off the candles, and soft melody floating in from the piano, all flowed together into a very intimate setting. Strange that I had bared myself to this male so many times, and performed every sexual act imaginable with him, yet I’d never felt so exposed to him as I did in this very moment.

Eris checked his blazer, and gods… I only ever wanted to see him in fitted turtle necks or absolutely fucking nothing again. The male was delicious and his gaze…. He was greedily drinking me in as if he’d splay me out on the table itself and feast. There was no way he couldn’t smell the arousal pouring off of me. I sure as hell could smell his, and it was far more mouthwatering than any of the glorious spices wafting through the restaurant.

Before I could give in to my instincts, Eris’ low tone interrupted. “If you keep looking at me like that, Y/N, I’m not going to make it through this dinner.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He audibly groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Just as our mutual eye fucking grew so intense that I genuinely wondered if Eris really was about take me then and there, our waiter approached with a bottle of the Inner Circle’s favorite wine. “Compliments of the High Lord.” Making eye contact with Eris, the male suddenly seemed to remember who he was in the presence of as he uncomfortably cleared his throat, “of the Night Court.”

Eris paid no mind and thanked the waiter. Surprise crossed the males face as Eris took the bottle from him and poured our glasses himself.

When the waiter took our orders and returned to the kitchen, Eris’ gaze returned to me. His eyes again roving over my body but lingering on my face. He smirked when he realized I was flushing under his intense eyes. “Are you nervous, little Shadowsinger?” He asked. His tone predatory.

I took the opportunity to send a shadow to caress the shell of his ear, effectively shutting him up.

“Now that we’re alone,” I ran my foot up the length of his leg, stopping the journey just short of where I so desperately wanted to feel him. “How long have you had an an apartment here and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Ahh yes, excellent talk for a first date.” Eris mused, raising the wine glass to his plush lips and taking a long, slow sip before continuing. “Perhaps, I wanted a place to see you without you having to travel through multiple courts to find me.”

“Do you not wish for me to come to the Autumn Keep any longer?”

Eris’ change in tone took me by surprise as it became stern, the voice of a High Lord and not the bedroom voice of my lover. “Don’t you dare think that for a second. There’s nothing mo-“

He stopped himself mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably. “I enjoy your presence in my keep, in my bed, Y/N. But I also like to have the opportunity to visit you in your home court.”

My heartbeat quickened at the power flowing off of him, the desire in his amber eyes.

“So, Rhys was totally fine with you having a place here, just to hook up with his niece?”

“Diplomacy, darling. It is far easier to have a place here for times that negotiations and other meetings run over. It also benefits him to be able to have eyes on a fellow High Lord, no? It was not a difficult matter to convince him.

And I was going to tell you, you just happened to pick up the hobby of drunkenly wandering the streets before I had the opportunity.”

“I was fine.”

I was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. I was borderline feral that night.

“It wasn’t you I was concerned about. It was the poor citizens running the other way, screaming of a rabid, shadow-creature roaming Velaris in search of its next meal.”

I smiled. “For the second time this evening, Eris Vanserra, you are insufferable.”

“And again, little one, you love it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of wine.

————————

Eris

She was fucking captivating. Eris drunk in every detail of Y/N like she was the wine flowing from her glass.

She had to know she looked like a goddess. Had he told her? She could read him like a well-adored book at this point. She read every look he gave her without him needing to speak a word. I want you. You’re perfect. I need you. You’re more perfect than I ever dared dream. I would kiss the earth you walked on if you only asked.

Shit, could she read that all on his face? Should he tell her how damned gorgeous she was or would she give him that all-too-enticing look of “Spare me the compliments, High Lord, you can strip and ravish me once we’re alone.”

And gods, he was going to. He had plans for his little Shadowsinger tonight, plans involving carefully undressing her and pressing kisses to her silken skin, replacing each bit of fabric slipping off of her body with a press of his lips. Instead of burning that lovely little number that was hugging her mouth-watering curves, he would proudly display it in the Autumn Court’s archives. He was a romantic, after all.

Of course, before putting it behind glass for safe keeping, he’d be binding those pretty little wrists behind her back with said dress. He was also a deviant.

As for his plans after that? They were far too filthy to fantasize about at the table.

“Your aroma is rather fragrant.” Her teasing voice broke him from his thoughts.

“And you’re rather intoxicating. We make quite the pair, love.”

And there it was - the little blush she always tried so hard to hide from him.

If just the term “love” brought that to her face, what lovely shades of pink would her cheeks light up with if he laid it all out right now? If he told her how she’d fucking ruined him for anyone else? That to taste her was to taste the nectar of the gods? That he was so hopelessly in love with her that there was no crawling out of this pit of desire, and he’d sooner drown in his need for her than ever swim up for air.

The urge to do just that frightened him. Why did he think this date was a good idea? As far as his self control went, it was a terrible idea. And as far as he cared at this point, it was the best idea. He was here, in front of her, and nothing else mattered.

————————————

Eris had always thought himself better than the primitive beasts fae turned into when it came to their mates. But he truly realized how wrong he was when after dinner, Y/N had requested to walk very slowly along the river until her stomach wasn’t, as she so elegantly stated it, “bursting at the seams.”

Given that after the wonderful meal they’d devoured, he too was struggling, he obliged her, draping his suit’s jacket as well as his arm over her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her very, very, slightly bloated abdomen, in an effort of easing the discomfort. Such a simple gesture that should have meant absolutely nothing but….

An inferno blazed within him at the thought of her glowing with a round belly, the mating bond’s most primal instinct roaring at him to winnow her away immediately and fill her so utterly full of him that there would be no questioning of whose she was. His.

He prayed to the mother or whomever would listen that the breeze would blow the sickeningly strong scent of his arousal far away.

————————

Y/N

The gallery was packed. Unsurprisingly, anyone and everyone wanted to come out to brush elbows with the Inner Circle and who could blame them? Unlike the other courts of Prythian, Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre actually interacted with their people. Well, the people of Velaris at least. Feyre was respected as High Lady but she was revered as an artist. Proceeds from her own work went directly back into the arts district.

“Beautiful.” Eris mused approaching a work of art toward the back wall but keeping his eyes on me. I sipped the champagne an attendant handed me upon arrival, needing it to get through the rest of this evening.

Especially needing it to get through the work of art he was approaching.

“This.” Eris motioned toward the piece, “is stunning.”

“It’s not for sale. Just a work from one of Feyre’s students.”

The art, featuring darkness floating upward from the bottom and a blaze falling from the top, intertwining with licks and whirls of flame and shadow in the middle.

“Cost is of no concern to me, little one. I need it.”

A sing-song voice came from behind us. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Feyre asked.

“What can I do to acquire such a fine piece of art?”

“You’ll have to ask the artist.” She nodded toward me.

“Aww, come on my lovely niece. Think of all the supplies it could fund.”

“You’re a busybody.”

She only gave an airy laugh before disconnecting the mental bond and returning to the attendees.

“Wouldn’t it look lovely displayed for all of my court to see?”

My gut lurched and I wasn’t sure if it was from imposter syndrome or excitement.

“Fine.” I’ll make a deal with you, Eris Vanserra. He raised an eyebrow. “This art is very personal to me. And despite the fact that it is hanging in the gallery, I want it to be for your eyes only. Do you agree to hang it in your chambers?”

Eris gave a faux pout. “And not show my lovely lady’s art for all the world to admire?”

My heart raced as I quipped too quickly, not allowing the time to change my mind. “Perhaps I only want to be yours to admire.”

Eris visibly gaped at the statement and my heart sank. Had I read all of his adoration wrong? Was I going to humiliate myself just as I had two years ago when he’d left me on the dance floor and I swore I’d never let him have that power over me again?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. His voice breaking slightly. “And your payment terms?”

“Oh you’ll be paying out the ass for it.”

He grinned. “As one does for the finest things in life. I’ll take it.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’ll take you too, if you’ll have me.”

And with that he leaned in to kiss me, soft and hard, fervently and slowly, wanting more yet only needing this.

A throat cleared behind us as father interrupted. He looked to me and to the art behind me.

“I never realized….” He spoke softly as he took in the work.

I flushed, the work now feeling far too intimate under his gaze.

My father turned to Eris. “You’re purchasing this?”

Eris nodded. “A worthy investment, yes?”

My father remained tense but something in his eyes softened. “A very worthy investment.”

Father leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Enjoy your night sweetheart.”

It was at that moment Adish appeared, his Day Court friends Hem and Apollo in tow along with Nyx and a female I’d never seen before. Nyx looked in my direction with a wink as he saw the piece Eris and I stood before, before heading with the group for glasses of champagne.

Eris spoke, “I’m going to speak with Feyre regarding reservation of the piece before anyone else tries to snag it out from under me.”

“It’s not for sale, Eris. Nobody else would be able to purchase it.”

He pressed his warm lips into mine. “I won’t risk a good thing.”

I blushed, dismissing him.

Nursing my champagne, I perused the various pieces decorating the gallery walls when a female voice came from behind me. “If you wanted your father’s attention, there are better ways than whoring yourself to Autumn Court trash.”

I turned around to see the female Nyx had entered with. Her dark hair and blue eyes fooling nobody. Clever little shapeshifter.

“And I didn’t realize your father was in the habit of allowing females to leave his manor.”

She grinned. “Oh come on, he locked her in ONE time...or at least that’s what he tells me. He really can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”

I laughed. “I missed you so much, you bitch. Nyx needs to stop hoarding you.”

“Please” she scoffed. “I don’t need Tamlin and Rhys’ melodrama to complicate things.”

“Ha, I’m sure Nyx filled you in on all of the drama in my world recently.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I’ve been living vicariously through your escapades.”

She leaned in to hug me. “So” I took in the brown hair she’d chosen for the evening. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Mmm, as enticing as that would be. I prefer your blonde hair and green eyes. It does something for me.”

“It does something for Nyx too.”

I pretended to vomit before Nyx stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend time with my lady before she decides to leave with you instead and I get stuck with the fireling.”

“He’s quite fun, Nyx. I’m sure you’d enjoy the ride.”

Nyx choked on his drink and whisked Layla away with him, leaving me to take in the art in peace.

A few more minutes passed and my shadows grew restless as if contemplating the same thing as me: Eris should be back by now.

Feyre had returned to the gallery with no Eris in sight. I searched, passing Adish and Apollo, my parents and Azalea, Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, even Amren, but no Eris.

Had he left? Did I scare him away?

No, his response was sincere. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, right?

I walked down a quiet hallway, stepping away from the crowd. “Eris?” I whispered into the quiet of the hall.

Two shadows returned with no information but another returned frantic. “Bad.” “Go.”

I hurried in the direction my shadows shot out, winding further and further down the hall.

My heart stopped. In front of me was the radiant, gorgeous Hemera, pressed up against my man. Lips crashing into his.

“Bad.” My shadow repeated. Whirling to show me something.

Eris saw me and his eyes blew wide, shaking his head.

Hemera turned, wicked grin contorting her gorgeous features into something cruel.

“Sorry, hon. He’s just so needy and so pretty. Can you blame me?”

Did this bitch really think I’d simper and turn away? Oh no. My shadows continued their whispers.

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

A sliver of silver caught the dim lights shining down upon them, a blade held to Eris’ neck.

Eris stared at me wide eyed as my shadows erupted into a frenzy around me in effort to distract the Day Court female.

She jolted and her blade knicked his neck and I felt a sudden spike of fear in my gut but the fear, it didn’t come from me. It was coming from…. Eris.

Holy shit.

Willing all of my power to the surface, my tone turned cold, dangerous. “I suggest you step away from my mate.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris fucking Vanserra. My mate.

I gave a tug in return to his emotions. A gentle reminder that I had this under control and he instantly tugged back.

He knew. Holy shit, he had known.

I could be angry later, now I needed to save his ass.

A commotion came from behind me. Adish and Apollo rushing in. “What the-“ Adish started. “Sorry, friend.” Apollo spoke before the fucker cast a sedation spell on him.

Apollo towered over me. “You weren’t supposed to find them. For what it’s worth, you would have been a great friend.”

He moved, but I moved faster. Sending a blast of power knocking the male on his ass. My shadows binding him.

“You talk too much.” I spat.

Turning back to Hem and Eris she held him in front of her. “Don’t make me kill him.” She spoke. Now using him as a shield. With his front exposed, I could see the shackles around his wrists. “This could go much more easily if you let me leave here with him. Why do you want a cheating male? You deserve better than that.”

I needed time to assess. My shadows busy with Apollo. Fuck. This was bad.

I laughed. “I hardly call you forcing yourself upon him ‘cheating’, in fact most would call that ‘assault’. And I have no patience for those who force themselves upon others.”

Just then a flurry of shadows shot into the room, ripping Hem’s wrist and dagger from Eris’ throat. My father winnowed into the room. No, this wasn’t my father. This was the feared Shadowsinger, the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court. His tone promised death as he commanded Hem to step away from Eris. She fought his demand, shaking with fear as she remained in place. “Please, you don’t understand. My father is wrongfully imprisoned in HIS court.”

“And this is how you feel it best to approach?” Father stepped closer, a thick, violent air emanating from him. “I will ask you one final time to step away from the High Lord.”

Hemera knew she was no match as she dropped the knife stepping back away from Eris.

Eris ran to me, in an attempt to shield me from any fallout but there was no more danger as father’s shadows apprehended the female.

Rhys and Feyre raced into the room, Nesta and Cassian on their tail.

Rhys whispered to Feyre. “Let Elain know it’s handled.”

Feyre’s gaze went distant as she communicated to my mother.

Rhys commanded Apollo to remove the sedation spell from Adish as Cassian jerked the apprehended male off the ground.

Nesta’s eyes flared with silver as she stared down Hemera before apprehending her as well. My mother and sister rushed in as we followed Rhys down to the gallery basement toward an empty office where the two would be held until Helion arrived. Since they were denizens of his court, it was only right to determine the next steps with him.

As the group strode toward the office, Azalea began tugging at my sleeve. “Sissy.”

“Not now, Azzie.”

She gasped, her little legs trying to keep up. “Sissy, please.”

“Just a minute, Azzie”

I felt guilty for ignoring her but my mind was coming out of the adrenaline state it had been in and my heart racing with rage and shock as I processed the revelation that Eris was my mate. That he knew and didn’t tell me.

Ironic considering that I always found Aunt Feyre and Aunt Nesta to be overly dramatic for their reactions to finding out about their own mates.

They were good, loving males who had enough money to live in lavish comfort for all of their days, and were highly regarded among the people of Velaris. How terrible.

Yet here I was. Fuming. Humiliated. That this male, a gorgeous High Lord and a damn good one at that, with a far softer heart than he’d ever let the world see, courted me because I was his mate.

I thought he wanted me for me.

“Sissy-“ Azalea drew me from my thoughts once again. “What?” I finally asked, raising my voice. But it was too late as the door to the empty office was opened, only to unveil a half naked Nyx, trousers unlaced, his body pinning a no longer shifted Layla with the bottom of her dress hiked up, and breasts fully exposed.

Nyx gaped. Eyes wide and frantic. I sent my shadows out to shield them, my father’s following suit, my hand instantly covering Azalea’s eyes.

Layla only pulled her dress up over her tits as she let out a laugh. “Whoops, we thought this room was unused.”

“I tried to tell you.” Azalea’s little voice whispered.

Darkness erupted through the room as Rhys clenched his fists. “What the fuck?” He growled out to Nyx.

My father only grinned, not caring who saw the smug satisfaction on his face. Fully conveying the look of that’s how it feels, you pompous asshole. Get it now? How’s it feel to be humiliated in front of an audience by the unconventional partner your child has chosen to fuck.

Feyre only covered her mouth, stifling a giggle at the situation. Nesta and mother quietly giggling with her.

I used the distraction to remove the enchanted shackles that were still stifling Eris’ power and apparently his ability to speak.

Fury blazed within me, my restraint failing as I spat out my next words much louder than intended.

“How long, Eris?”

Guilt flooded his features, his head hanging low.

“How. Long? How long have you known that I’m your mate?”

My father choked. The shit-eating grin instantly fading from his face, jaw and fists clenching.

A pitiful sound escaped Eris. “Since the first night… in the alley.”

“Wow.” was all I could manage as the walls began closing in around me.

I stepped away but Eris grabbed my wrist. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.” his broken voice pleaded. I couldn’t think. I needed space. Needed to breathe.

“Mom.” I looked to my mother. “Can we go home?”

She gave an empathetic look to Eris. “Come on, Azalea.” She reached out a hand. “Sissy needs us.”

Azalea looked to Eris, letting out a “hmph” as she scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “That was bad.” She scolded, little wings ruffling with each word.

His face crumpled further as his little friend glared at him with disdain, words failing as she stuck her tongue out and winnowed away with mother.

“I love you.” was the last thing I heard as I spirited away.

———————————————-

A/N: I have had so much fun writing this series! Part 9 will be the final chapter but I may eventually give our main character a name and add a few spin off chapters as well. If that would be of interested to you, let me know!

Tags:

ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria

Eris list: @angiedsv

Series list: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe

[mariuspompom]

“Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.

Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows.

"Lyanna is a hypocrite for calling out chronic cheaters like robert and then running away with Rhaegar" this is truly funny, the fact that you associate a man who chronically visits brothels, fucks child prostitutes and leaves bastards all around, with a man who left his one (1) arranged marriage for another girl he fell in love with. Especially when Ned already makes this exact comparison in the very first book, first between Robert and Rhaegar and then between Robert and himself, just to showcase how fucked up in the head his BFF Robert was compared to both Rhaegar and himself.

And now I'm not saying Ned should be uncritically treated by the reader as this paragon of virtue and feminism. I'm saying, however, that Ned's standards of "decent behavior towards women" are pretty close to the writer's standards of decent behavior towards women, in universe, considering he has one of the healthiest marriages and probably the healthiest relationship with his daughters in the asoiaf universe and his one basic fatal flaw regarding his sister is precisely arranging her marriage with his BFF Robert, a decision that haunts him to this day considering he spends one whole book reflecting on and regretting his friendship with Robert and his decision to marry his sister to Robert. And this regret is now reinforced by every single one of Robert's actions during or prior to AGOT that Ned finds repulsive, aka his murderous obsession with Dany, his violent treatment of Cersei, his mistreatment of all these women/children and their kids, his approval of the murder and rape of Elia and her kids.

Ned now finally realizes what Lyanna already instinctively knew about Robert's nature from the get go (even if she didn't have all the data at the time). He should have known what she already instinctively knew, despite being so young, but he was too far gone into his delululand of sacred bromance with Robert to care. Now he knows precisely why his sister chose Rhaegar and now he reflects on all this and his regret and guilt run so deep but it's too late because Lyanna and Rhaegar are dead and there is nothing he can do about it. And the harrowing recounting of Lyanna's death in Ned's pov is something for sure, but let's not forget the understated yet still discernable regret and sadness in his visual memory of Rhaegar's death which is in sharp contrast with his complete apathy and emotional detachment towards his living breathing friend who is standing right in front of him:

“I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.” “You did,” Ned reminded him. “Only once,” Robert said bitterly. They had come together at the ford of the Trident while the battle crashed around them, Robert with his warhammer and his great antlered helm, the Targaryen prince armored all in black. On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the sunlight. The waters of the Trident ran red around the hooves of their destriers as they circled and clashed, again and again, until at last a crushing blow from Robert’s hammer stove in the dragon and the chest beneath it. When Ned had finally come on the scene, Rhaegar lay dead in the stream, while men of both armies scrabbled in the swirling waters for rubies knocked free from his armor. “In my dreams, I kill him every night,” Robert admitted. “A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.“ There was nothing Ned could say to that.

Ned's trajectory from being a victim of the evil targaryen dynasty and Robert's faithful friend to questioning the entire basis of his old allegiance and realizing that actually Rhaegar maybe should have been King and that his sister was right about Robert because he's indeed full of shit, his subsequent guilt, regret and disillusionment over the regime he enabled, and his inability to save his house from collapse are all core elements of his arc and why his character is so fascinating and tragic. Ned's gradual deconstruction of Robert and his friendship with him is the thought process that led to all of the above. Ned remembering Lyanna's quote about Robert is there precisely to reinforce his disillusionment with Robert and highlight his difference with Rhaegar, a recurring theme in his arc. And it is particularly funny that so many people that call themselves Stark Stans TM (!!!) just swipe away all of the subtext and actual text surrounding this quote just to prove a point that is directly antithetical to the quote, its meaning and its function in the narrative, while also framing lyanna as a hypocrite over it lmao.

[malikselfindulgence]

TRAFFIC LIGHT TRIO X READER STUDY DATE HEADCANONS [seperate + all together!]

Content: reader is gender neutral, could be interpreted as either romantic or platonic

Headcanons under the cut!

RED SON:

☆ tries his best to keep you actually focused on the task at hand- doesn't let you goof off, but will allow consistent breaks

☆ but alas, once you've asked him a single question he'll derail the conversation twenty times over until he's completely off-topic and explaining something not even in your curriculum

☆ not that you mind- it's nice seeing him get passionate over topics he's into

☆ he tends to get absorbed into whatever he's working on, so study dates are a good way to get him to eat and drink water regularly alongside you

☆ I headcanon him as autistic, so parallel play is one of his favorite things! Enjoys being in your company while you each do your own seperate thing

☆ gets very easily frustrated if you're studying something not in his field of expertise [think molecular biology, literature, world geography] and you ask for his help only for him to not understand the question

☆ now it's your turn to try and keep him focused instead of going on a long-winded rant about how he's very smart and knowledgeable and this book is actually stupid and also he's-

MEI:

☆ you get a surprising amount of work done when you're with her!

☆ Mei's pretty good at balancing work and fun- she knows when to leave you be so you can focus on your studies, and when to strike up a conversation so you don't get too bored or stressed out

☆ she has a study date playlist specifically for the both of you that she updates frequently- she tries to keep her rock/metal songs out of it so it doesn't startle you and break your attention

☆ she's very horrible at explaining things- you ask her to help you with a question and although she understands the concept, she uses such convoluted metaphors and analogies that leave you more confused than before

☆ she likes holding your hand or sitting in your lap while you both work- just touching you in some way

☆ comes up with funny abbreviations for things you have to memorise

☆ gives you little pecks/kisses every once in a while, and near the end of your date when you're both burnt out, she'll give you a sleepy cuddle session while flipping through your flash cards

MK:

☆ oh boy

☆ where do I even start

☆ half of it is spent trying to wrangle MK into his desk, and the other half is spent trying to get him to open his books

☆ has a surprising amount of niche hyper-specific knowledge about various subjects, but if you ask him about the basics his mind'll blank

☆ tries his best to make the environment as comfortable for you as possible- utensils all set, cushions for your back, snacks and drinks on the table, reminders to stretch so your back doesn't hurt

☆ playing loud music tends to help him settle down and get some work done- you have to be holding his hand so he doesn't fidget around, though

☆ doodles on your notebooks/sticky-notes, usually small sketches of you or of himself giving you a thumbs up, flowers, hearts, little messages about how you're doing super well and you're super smart. It's really endearing and helps keep your morale up

☆ his attention span is very very low [I headcanon him as having ADHD], so he has to take multiple breaks in between. If you're still working while his mind is un-focused he'll braid your hair to keep his hands busy

RED SON + MEI + MK:

☆ yeah, you're not getting anything done today

☆ Mei and Mk together are a force to be reckoned with- and Red Son only adds fuel to the fire

☆ Mei and Mk'll make stupid jokes, Red Son'll tell them to shut up so he can focus, they'll make fun of him, he'll reply with a defensive and louder insult, and the cycle repeats

☆ if you ask a question, everyone'll be fighting to try and take a look at your book and help

☆ cue ensuing argument that lasts well into 20 minutes because all of them have a different answer

☆ upon googling it, you tell them that they're all wrong, actually

☆ even though you end up not doing anything, it's still a lot of fun- they're moreso just normal hangouts with the false advertisement of being productive

☆ the only time you get any work done with them is if it's the night before finals and you have to cram- the stress radiating off of you keeps their mouths shut

[Reminder that requests are open!]

[bokettochild]

Sorry this is like 600 words instead of 500, but this is one of my favorite interpretations of Twilight's backstory ever, and I would love to hear more (given I've understood the prompt right, which I hope that I have). This is from Rope Burns.  “I grew up on a military base,” Twilight snorts, “trust me, soldiers are as dumb as rocks.” 

  And well, Legend having a family isn’t that crazy in comparison to that. 

  Warriors starts, staring at the rancher, blinking slowly as though still trying to process the words of the other. “I’m sorry- you what?” 

  “I thought you grew up in Ordon?” Wild questions, turning to his mentor, confusion on clear display. 

  Yeah, Wind has a feeling that Wild’s story is well and truly over now, but he supposes it’s worth it. Learning something about their rancher is, he supposes, better than hearing the rest of the story the cook had already spoiled the ending too, especially as the limit of their knowledge about the rancher at this point is that he’s from Ordon, used to work as a ranch hand, and is descended from Time and Malon somehow. The fact that he’s a hero goes without saying, but the ranch hand nearly never shares anything about himself, even though he seems to love talking about his hometown and all the people in it, to the point where some of them feel they know the village and its residents already, despite still not having been there yet. 

  Yet, the rancher is grinning as he leans back, the sprig of hylian rice between his teeth bouncing some as he flashes a wolfish grin at them. “Well, yeah, sort of.” 

  “Sort of?” Time nudges his pup, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Their leader isn’t keen on them being cryptic with him, even though he frequently does so himself. The hypocrite. “Explain.” 

  The rancher chuckles, a nervous little thing, but obediently pulls himself up, resting his weight over his knees as he looks around the fire at all of them, eyes glinting slightly. “Well, y’see, I a’tually grew up in a citadel on the edge of Hyrule.” 

  Warriors jaw drops so fast. “Holy Hylia you’re a military brat.” 

 He can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. Yes, objectively, it’s funny to see Warriors so shocked, but from an outsider's perspective it is so, so much funnier because he’s met Warriors parents and sisters, and he’s seen for himself the proof that the captain is anything but the sissy city boy Twilight likes to accuse him of being. No, the captain was born in Hebra, so far out from cities that he thought Kakariko was huge. Meanwhile, it turns out their “country boy” actually grew up in a military base? Not the country? It turns out Twilight is the military brat and Warriors was the hill-billy? How the turn tables have turned! 

  The rest of the heroes stare at him, confused, but the captain just rolls blue eyes, pinching the tip of his ear to make him shut up. “Ignore him.” 

  Twilight’s dark gaze flicks between them, but apparently, he determines to listen to the captain for once. “Right, so, my dad was a’tually a knight from some family o’ knights or summat, an’ my mom comes from desert folk, so I grew up on the border studyin’ with other knights’ kids to take on our fathers’ duties ’n protect Hyrule one day.” 

 The stares are very, very evident by now, although Legend’s in particular is strangely intense, studying the other with his mouth half open like he’s got a question about the rancher’s words.  

 Broad shoulders shrug, a bit awkward as the rancher grins at them. “My friends growin’ up were dumber’n rocks, an’ every knight I’ve met since is the same, so yeah. Knights ‘re stupid.”

Ooh, this one will be fun!

So, I actually was taught, coming into the LU fandom, that Twilight was basically raised in Ordon, with some people saying he came as a small child, mayb Rusl found him as a baby, all aloe and needing care, or maybe he was brought there by the hero's shade when he was still small, but nearly every source I looked to in the fandom said Twilight was young when he, the only Hylian in the village, cae to Ordon.

But then I read the Twilight Princess Manga! Chapter 6 of the manga, aptly titled "Link's Past" shows us him as a young boy, about nine or ten, living, as Twi says in your selection, in a citadel on the hylian border. Twilight's explanation (telling his story to Rusl) in manga goes thus:

"As it bordered the desert, my old home town was responsible for frontier security. It was ruled by the Rufflio, a family of noble ancestry. Upon becoming adults, we were to protect the frontiers of Hyrule. The young boys, holding onto the pride of that duty, spent their days training in the ways of the sword." (Twilight Princess, Volume One, Chapter 6, by Akira Himekawa)

In the past, I've never had an opportunity to address that. if you follow my works, then you know I draw heavily on the manga in regards to Legend's history and past, but I write Twilight much less than legend (understatement of the year). That said, their manga's definitely give me a better take on their characters, whereas Four Swords and Minish Cap were more fun than informative, and Ocarina of Time just made me think Time was a pain in the ass and a freaking weird kid (I have not finished the manga yet for that reason, despite owning it).

I wasn't really planning on talking about Twilight's past here at all, but it sort of sprung upon me in an inspired fit and I decided, what the heck? Why not!

The references to his mother being of the "desert folk" is in reference to how some people like to headcannon that twilight is part Gerudo, which I thoroughly enjoy and support! So, for fun, his mom is Gerudo.

His dad though? Well, you see, that comes up in the manga too! Not his dad specifically, but actually, Ashei's! The TP manga actually has Ashei tell Twilight that she is one of the last descendants of the Knights of Hylia (also known as the Knights of Hyrule, depending on the translation/game version), and that Snowpeak fortress is actually their ancestral home!

Now, you may be saying "Ketto, I've heard of the Knights of Hylia before, or at least, I think I have?" and if you've been around my blog/fics enough, you sure as sugar have! the Knights of Hylia are, famously, the group of knights who worked beside the sages mentioned in A Link to the Past to seal Ganon away! More importantly though, they're the descendants and carriers of the legacy of the Hero of Time!

So, if Twilight is cannonically Time's descendant, that would mean that one of his parents was likely from the families that made of the Knights of Hylia! Mystery solved!

Additionally, this would make him and Ashei very distant cousins. And for extra kicks, since Legend is also, famously, descended from the same line of knights (albeit in another timeline) he would also be their cousin! I've been tempted to address that for forever, especially with the Snowpeak detail, because honestly, I get a kind of Kaer Morhen vibe from it and SO want to play with that, but I digress!

Twilight's ancestry is part Gerudo, for fun, and descended from Time, which is fun I don't have to create because it's cannon! He grew up on the edges of Hyrule for the most part, and when he talks aout being picked on by the other kids in this fic, it's because they are sort of aggressie to him in the flashbacks he has in the manga. Granted they're a bunch of boys aged 10-13, so they're all a bit aggressive to each other, but I imagine, being probably the only part Gerudo among them, he did get picked on at least a bit, hence the premise of this fic :)

-

Bonus! Legend's staring is, in fact, because he really, really, really wants to ask twilight which Knight Family he hails from. He is making a connection and he's not sure what to think about it LOL

Warriors on the other hand, who I fervently headcanon as Celtic, is, like Wind, realizing that a reverse-uno has been played here. He, a peasant from the far north and abject poverty, is traveling with the descendant of a famed family of well respected knights who was likely living in a major trading town (thus likely rather well off) and yet somehow, he's the one who get's labeled the stuck up city kid, and Twilight is believed to be the home grown honest backwoods farmer fella. I actually posted a few things about that while writing this thing, and I may or may not visit that idea more fully in a fic one day, but yeah, that's what's going on for our vet and captain right here.

Thanks for choosing this one! I actually had a lot I wanted to share about it and hadn't been able to before! And the fact that this is a recent one I can actually remember working on definitely helps LOL

[masteroffearshusband49020]

Anon request: Taking care of post AK Jon headcanons:

- So, he can't really form sentences anymore and the words he says don't always match up with what he means. He also very much can feel fear again. I hc that he does slowly recover his ability to communicate over time, but not completely. Sometimes he'll go non verbal, sometimes for hours, sometimes days, sometimes he'll forget words, also lots of dissociating. He also definitely has PTSD now if he didn't already.

- You need to provide him with cue cards so he can communicate better. He gets ashamed of his lost ability to communicate, so you often have to reassure him and be there for him.

- His most common reaction to being unable to communicate is anger. Sometimes, cuddles help, other times, he needs to simmer down by himself. Pay attention to how he reacts when you open your arms to him. If he walks into your arms, he needs cuddles, if he shakes his head or walks away, leave him alone for a bit.

- His nightmares are far more frequent now. He also has night terrors and will wake both of you up screaming at odd hours of the night, sometimes followed by crying. He still tries not to cry in front of you, but he can't always help it, especially post AK.

- He feels bad that you need to take so much care of him. He feels like a burden and risks having more depressive episodes because of it. You need to reassure him it's all in his head and that you love him and love caring for him. If he's not depressed, he's anxious and doing you lots of favors to make up for him needing you so much. Sometimes it's more genuine, other times it's more out of guilt.

- The best way to calm his frequent anxiety down, is to cuddle him and read to him until he falls asleep or is able to breathe normally again. Ironically, definitions of phobias and info on fear are the most calming to him. It's because he can make sense of how he feels again.

- In order to get him to stop dissociating, you need to get him into a dimly lit, quiet place that isn't overstimulating.

- Cuddling him becomes a lot easier post AK. He's more willing to do it because he needs it more and for the time being, his priority is restoring himself, not being the most frightening one in the room. One thing at a time, you know? He knows what he needs to prioritize and begrudgingly does it. He's definitely not happy about it, but he knows he had to and goes through with it.

- He is terrified of bats, large fires, flashing orange lights, batman-like silhouettes, crocodiles and loud noises, especially men yelling. Please keep all of these things away from him.

- He is most terrified of losing you because you're the only one taking care of him and keeping him together anymore. He develops separation anxiety. You frequently have to reassure him you'll be right back.

- As time goes on, he heals and recovers as much of his former self as he can, he confides in you that he is eternally grateful for you. You see a softer side of him than ever before and softer than anyone else has ever seen before. You are officially the one person he has empathy for in the entire world.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, just wondering if you have any fics were Crowley and Aziraphale text frequently? AU's are fine 😊

Thank you!!

We have some texting fics here and you may enjoy fics on our #social media tag, which will include fics with online messaging. Here are more fics with texting...

Short Message Service by squiddz (E)

He got halfway down the page before the phone flashed with a notification again. Another message from Crowley. It took all of three seconds for Aziraphale to fold and pick up the phone. Crowley: so Crowley: what are you wearing Aziraphale: What kind of question is that? You know exactly what I'm wearing. --- In which Crowley gives Aziraphale a mobile phone, and then tries his level best to sext with him.

just friends (he's too important) by Narwhalhavingsomuchfun (T)

Biology student Anthony Crowley can't afford to fail his gen ed history class at Tadfield University. But luckily he's found a someone willing to tutor him in history. 3 guesses as to who that may be *** Crowley POV Strangers to friends to best friends to lovers texting fic

Play The Game by ffonippop (M)

Aziraphale was a university student on his last grueling year of pursuing a joint-honors Bachelors degree in Biology and Theology. His favorite day of the week was Sunday, because on Sunday, he could forget about the lab and leave behind the library to gather with his friends and play a competitive game of trivia— Quiz Bowl. He liked Quiz Bowl because it was a brain game, it was engaging, and it promoted teamwork. But most of all, he liked Quiz Bowl because he was the best at it. Until Crowley, the arrogant bastard with a swagger in his saunter, started showing up.

Dim the Lights and Sing You Songs by Polaris (E)

A few months prior to leaving the Dowling household, Crowley had downloaded Grindr for the sole purpose of catfishing randy morons. He was not expecting a paragraph that began with: ‘hello. I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but I couldn’t help but notice you have the most lovely nipples.’ Crowley keeps trying to meet his Grindr fuckbuddy. Aziraphale keeps showing up at all his meeting spots. This is terrible.

Readings From the Books of Ashtoreth by Quefish (E)

Vicar Aziraphale Bookman has a comfortable life. He lives in and serves the small village community of Tadfield. He enjoys contributing to local businesses, taking walks, and of course reading. His 'guilty pleasure', which gives him no guilt and all pleasure, is a series of novels by one AJ Ashtoreth. But what happens when he reaches out with an innocent bit of fanmail?

What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) by charlottemadison (E)

The important thing, Crowley tells himself -- the most important thing -- is Adam, his brilliant, creative, empathetic nephew. Being fourteen's hard enough; the kid didn't ask to deal with the weight of the world on top of it. And if taking care of Adam means Crowley has to tough it out at a job he can’t stand, so be it. And if Crowley's job means that Adam’s charming English teacher is NOT a romantic possibility, well, that's just how things go. But the occasional drink with Aziraphale proves hard to resist. They frequent the same pub, so who can object to them saying hello? Briefly sharing a table? Perhaps a little conversation? The painful knowledge that it can’t be anything more -- not without somebody getting fired or sued or both -- well, that can't be helped. Until Crowley stumbles onto a terribly reckless idea...

- Mod D

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Witte Solstice - Chapter 18

Cover art by @leespinoodle.

Fic written by me (enchantedchocolatebars) and @leespinoodle.

Summary: It's winter in the Boiling Isles, and Caleb prepares to celebrate the solstice with his wife, his friends… and hopefully, with Beardo Philip! Philip swears he'll never partake in the satanic holidays of those demonic witches. But when Caleb invites him over for the solstice… maybe he’ll find himself making an exception.

Ao3 version

It was a quick trek back to Philip's cave, and Caleb immediately got to work examining the entrance.

"You see, the problem here is that the entrance is north-facing, and thus, it receives very little sunlight. You really ought to have picked a place with a south-facing entrance so that the sun would melt the ice for you."

Caleb gave the block of ice a gentle tap.

"Luckily, I think I have something that can help."

Caleb produced a flask from under his cloak. An aroma like hot peppers escaped as it was uncorked. "Fire oil! It treats frostbite and can stave off hypothermia in a pinch. If it can warm up a limb, why not melt ice?"

"Fire oil?" Philip inquired. The brunette was unfamiliar with this type of magic oil. Sure, he's heard of fire glyphs, as he's been a frequent user of them, but never fire oil.

Blue eyes flashed with genuine fascination as Philip commented, "Interesting," before asking, "Would you mind giving a demonstration on how it works, Caleb?"

The younger didn't have his journal with him, but he would make sure to take mental notes while viewing his brother.

"Alright." Caleb splashed a bit of the fire oil on the ice. It was a thin, slightly orange liquid that began to sizzle and pop immediately upon contact with the ice.

Caleb stepped back and watched as the oil began to burn a hole in the ice straight through to the other side. He grinned as he admired his handy work.

"Fascinating! I have never tried that before. To be honest, I wasn't even sure it would do anything. I ought to jot that down in my potions book when I return home."

Philip had seen his brother do many impressive things back in their younger years, but such things paled in comparison to witnessing him splash some of the fire oil that he had on the ice.

The brunette backed away as well, watching the oil do its magic on the ice.

Philip's gaze shifted from the hole in the ice to Caleb.

"That was…"

Philip mentally searched for a more ingenious term to describe what he had just witnessed, but all he could utter out in a whisper was, "...Amazing."

Even as an adult, Philip still admired certain things his brother did, even if he kept the compliments to himself.

Once the youthful twinkles in his eyes faded, Philip cleared his throat and tried to appear more mature rather than like a starry-eyed child.

"You wouldn't happen to have more fire oil on you, would you, Caleb?" Philip asked.

Such a source would definitely be of use to him in the future.

"Unfortunately, that was all I had on me, but I can make more later." Caleb pocketed the flask.

"Very well then," Philip accepted composedly.

Just as he was about to turn on his heel and walk back into his cave, he gazed at his brother once more.

"Thank you again, Caleb. While I remain firm on my decision not to visit your home because of her, I want you to know that I truly do care for you, dear brother. When you eventually decide to depart from the witch, you're always welcome to come stay with me."

Philip was eagerly anticipating the arrival of that day.

He and Caleb would finally go back to normal.

Caleb's shoulders drooped, and his smile faded. "... Why must you be this way? Why can't you trust that I know what I'm doing? If you truly do care for me, why can't you accept that I'm happier here than I ever was in Gravesfield?"

Philip tightens his jaws, his hands forming fists of rage and pure fury.

He stomped his foot. "Because it's not true!" he roared, stomping a second time. "It's simply not true! There's no way in God's name that this horrible place makes you happier than home! This place is not meant for us! We don't belong here! Ugh!"

Turning away sharply from his brainwashed brother, the brunette stormed off into his cave.

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 23 - Possession

Posession (noun) 1. The state of having, owning, or controlling something 2. Control or occupancy of property without regard to ownership 3. Domination by something (i.e. an evil spirit, a passion, or an idea)

Words from the Author: Hello my lovelies. It is kinda becoming my new tag-line, but: I know it's been a while. I've been, as some of you know, in a real crisis since November last year - wondering if what I wrote was good enough, what type of writer I am, if I should even call it quits. Thankfully, a lot of you guys came together in an explosion of love and support, piecing my shattered confidence back together again. I am truly grateful to have so many lovely friends that tell me that I am enough, no matter how many words I write or how frequently I post chapters. They were the fuel that relit the fire to create again and keep writing, and even though it's still not back to it's full blaze, the flames are being fanned and growing. So, on my birthday this year, I am very happy to give you guys a present instead of recieving one: The next chapter of Method. I dedicate it to anyone who, over the past months, visited my blog, left a comment, read what I wrote, sent me kind words in my dms, or just thought about something I created. It's all for you. Every word. And I will try me best to keep creating, to find my way back to the joy that is writing to me.

Warnings&Tags: Aftermath of SA, Depictions of displaced Anger, Projection of Anger, Hurt Attention: Apparently tumblr has a post word limit of 4097 (?!) so because of the lenght this chapter has to be broken up into 2 parts. You'll find the next part at the end of this post!

Pictures flashed before your eyes, memories of a life you once lived. Though the images were hazy and undecipherable– the feelings were all too vivid. Disgust. Guilt. Helplessness. Fear. But the most prominent of all, the one tainting every other feeling: Rage.

“Get your hands 𝕆𝔽𝔽 𝕄𝔼!”

The world became red and blurry before you heard a sound like splintering stone and two ruby red, glassy arms broke out of your chest with a force neither you nor the moth expected and shoved a screaming Valentino violently away from you. As soon as you were pushed out of the moths grip, the arms shattered into smoking ashes that drifted to the ground, and Ozul, catching your fall, wrapped himself around you like a suit of armor. He was burning hot, sizzling in what must be anger – close to the intensity you felt boiling inside. The moth stumbled back, all four of his hands pressed onto his chest, little wisps of fine smoke escaping through his fingers. Through the eerie silence you stared at the overlord, who – with wide eyes focused on the vanishing strings of charcoal vapor – slowly lifted them to reveal two blacked handprints on the voluminous tufts of fluff, the pink love hearts and white feather hairs burned off up to his purple skin.

“Well, look at that.” Valentino’s voice was ice cold, wrapped in a sham of blanketed casualty as his frown turned into a dangerous grin, “You are just a whole package of little surprises, eh? Not just sugar, but spice too, a full palette of flavors. I must say... I thought you'd be blander, amorcita. I underestimated your..." His eyes wandered behind you. You didn't dare to turn around, even if Ozul would let you. You wouldn't be able to hold your mask of indifference if you'd see what Alastor must look like right now, judging from the waves of painful static pulsing through the air. "... complex taste."

Valentino’s last words rolled off his lips as if it was something lewd and salacious, and it made your skin itch with repulsion knowing that they had been on yours. You felt humiliated and tainted, spoiled and stupid for having been so foolishly careless.

You were furious at him, and at yourself.

"And a taste is all it will be." Alastor’s voice remained calm, but it felt like a sharp edge of a knife as he spoke. He walked past you towards the gleaming moth demon, ordering Ozul wordlessly with a flick of his wrist and the shade grabbed you by your shoulders, already fraying on the edges as it hissed at the overlord. Ozul pushed you towards the corridor you came from, but you managed to throw a look back. Alastor came to a halt, just inches before Valentino, and even though he was taller than him, his presence was so intimidating you would've sworn the pompous, smug confidence of the moth demon crumbled before him. 

"But I’d advise against sampling another one — We wouldn't want a bitter aftertaste... after all, how would you notice the poison?"

***

“You got it all, Voxxy? Your little Retro Boytoy and his pet pussy in HD?”

Valentino plucked the blackened bits of his chest fluff off with sharp fingers, throwing Vox a nasty look. As soon as Alastor’s shadows had swallowed both of them he zapped himself through the cables into the studio, although not out of concern for his partner.

“What was that?” he just asked, ignoring the scowl Val sent his way as he nursed the burnt skin underneath the white feathery hairs. “These red arms, what did he do to…”

“Oh, me? I’m grand, baby, doesn’t hurt like a bitch at all thank you. Gillipollas. I don’t care what that was, she can count herself lucky I didn’t rip out her fucking tail for that. Me cago en todo lo que se menea!”

But Vox already turned his vision and hearing inwards, replaying the recording again and again in loop. Gem as they had called her – not Roxy or Rocky – reaching out her hand like a goddamn amateur in deal making. Val, playing into her naivety, doing what he does best and kissing that skank for the sheer fun of it, with her getting stiff and almost stone like in his arms. Red glow engulfing her before two red arms broke out of her ribcage, shimmering as if they were poured out of molten glass, just for a few seconds. Black dust settling in between the space created between them as they exploded into flames and ashes as they pushed Valentino off of her.

He rewinded again, this time focusing solely on Alastor’s distorted face as it happened – he still kept this stupid static shield up so he would be blurry and frazzling on recordings, knowing all too well that there were more than just the pimps eyes to be weary of in the Vee Tower. But Vox was accustomed to that and he learned (and programmed himself) to see in between the frames, watching and analyzing the hints of the overlord’s recognizable expressions. Shock and… Jealousy.

He felt ice cold as the bluescreen hit him, sudden and quick before he caught himself again. Before Valentino saw.

Alastor had been jealous, no doubt, and it ate at Vox. Alastor had no business looking like that. He was beneath that feeling, incapable. Had been, for forever. Some things could change in hell, but not this. This could never. Not for that worthless excuse of a soul. And not him. Never him. Alastor, who told him eons ago that he never felt anything more than mild appreciation for companions. Alastor, who kept everyone he encountered in hell at least at arm’s length. Alastor, who deemed everyone unworthy of more than thinly veiled insults wrapped in alluring charm. Until Vox. Vox was the first exception. The only exception.

Friendship .

He had been Alastor’s first friend. The only real friend – not like that cannibal tramp that came after him, worming her way into Alastor’s life after their fallout. Vox knew for a fact that after him, Alastor never shared so much of himself with another sinner. Memories. Dreams. Weaknesses. Feelings. Feelings…

“Are you listening, Amorcito, or do you need a wank to get that red wimp out of your system long enough to go on with the plan?”

Vox turned around, keeping his face straight and his boiling anger hidden. In a few hours, when Val was back with his whores on set, and his shows were done for today, he’d have enough time to fight through the storm of rage he felt. He’d have to keep his composure for now – lest not to spoil what he wanted to do – and keep his partner in crime happy and distracted. He spent too much time on his jovial, indifferent image of a cool-headed, slick CEO that hates Alastor to his core (and of being totally over him) now and he knew just what would distract Valentino enough to keep his dull mind off of his long-lingering envy.

“Oh please, Val. Who needs him when I got someone so much better to keep my dick warm and my bank account stuffed?”

The moth pimp’s frown sat a moment too long on his face for Vox not to notice. His expression was measuring, calculating…. scanning. But then it became what Vox wanted to see: A grinning face with hungry eyes and nothing of worth behind them but lust.

“Charming, baby. What a coincidence I am that this little power play got me in just the right mood…” Vox was already on his way to the back room where Val kept one of his many massive, fuck-friendly chaise-longs he so loved to use when he froze as he heard the tone in his  nearing partners voice change. There was a hint of malicious teasing behind it, a mock that was too prominent not to hear. Intent to impale him.

“I do admit that that bitch has one thing going for her even I can’t deny – her taste truly makes anyone wanna fuck her...”

Valentino passed him, his hips swaying as he threw him a taunting look and disappeared into the red-tinted room.

***

Alastor hadn’t bothered with taking the same way back to the hotel.

His last composure was hanging on a thread as he let his shadows drag you behind him, out of the pink room into the now empty corridor, and wordlessly melted into his shadows, Ozul pulling you into the black void right after him. You thought you could see Angel’s worried face at the end of it, near the elevator and hunched over the little robotic imp, but only a heartbeat later you were back in the hotel, safe in your room and dizzy from the abnormal speed of the shadow-travel. Ozul softly brushed over the red thread on your finger as he unwrapped himself from you, hesitantly returning to his master who didn't even look at you.

He hadn't looked at you at all. Hadn't even touched you since Valentino's assaulting kiss. A lump in your throat made it hard to speak up.

“Alastor, I’m sor…”

"ɨ ɖօռ'ȶ աǟռȶ ȶօ ɦɛǟʀ   cv   ǟ աօʀɖ." (I don’t want to hear a word) He stood, his back to you, next to your dresser, one hand on the polished wooden top and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or scared not to see his face. His voice was enough to make your eyes sting with tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

“You were foolish. Foolish and Careless, to let yourself be…”

A sudden sharp crack cutting through the silence of the room made you flinch. With a harsh breath his claws dug into the drawer, cracking the wood underneath the lacquered layer and splinters slowly fell to the ground.

Before you could think about what to reply or how to feel, he whipped around. Still not looking at you, his claws wrapped painfully around your wrist and he pulled you almost violently with him into your bathroom, shutting the door with bang so hard the hinges ached.

For the first time since you were under his care, you wanted to pull your hand out of his grasp. Guilt and hurt replaced the confusion you felt. Guilt because you knew he was right - you had been too careless, too confident and in dismissing all the warning s your studies back in Alastor’s townhouse and in the conversation you had with him before going to Valentino.

Hurt because it felt like he treated you as if you wanted it to happen. As if you voluntarily invited these foreign and revolting lips and hands on you. As if you felt nothing as another man violated you in such a profound way.

Caged in your thoughts and your lips sealed by his angered command you didn't see Ozul angrily hiss at Alastor as he roughly turned you around and pulled the shower curtain away. He pushed you into the small space, his eyes hidden by the shadow of his fringe and turned on the faucet. Cold water hit your back and you gasped as it drenched your clothes. Instinctively you tried to jump away, but strong hands held you in place.

"You reek of that wretch."

With wide eyes you watched his swirl of shadow minions hand him your soap bottle, and it stung in much more ways than one that he poured it all in a gush over you. You suppressed the sob sitting in your throat, choked by the scent of sandalwood, his cold command and the injustice of it all.

It felt like being punished for something that was committed not by you, but upon you, as Alastor emptied soap bottle after soap bottle over you, holding you under the streaming shower. Your tail went between your legs as you shivered, and even though it slowly began to warm up the frigid water quickly took away any warmth you contained as he feverishly rubbed any- and everything his shadows handed him on you.

His claws began to tear on the fabrics of your cloth that clung on you like a second skin, his movements more and more frenetic by the second. You didn’t know when your tears mixed with the drops of water running steadily down your face, but when you felt your skin give in under the force of his hands, you couldn't hold your broken voice back anymore.

"Stop. Alastor, please stop..."

In an instant, his movements ceased.

The dripping stream of water was deafening as you and him stayed still, his hands firmly holding your shivering form in place on your arms, his own hair and suit soaked and dripping, his face turned to the ground. The sharpness of his fingers around your bruised arms was gone, as if the little word stop had been a needle, popping the balloon of his anger and mania. He wasn’t keeping you in place anymore, but more so holding onto you.

“Maybe I’ve been too harsh…”

The hand that held you so forcefully before came to gently wipe streaks of soap and tears from your cheek. You shivered at the touch, wary if pain or pleasure would follow, and the thought of even anticipating the first shocked you. Through the soaked red bangs you could see his eyes searching for you, and when they found your own, your heart stopped beating when you saw only conflict in them.

“I just am...” , he started, his fingers coming to a rest at your neck, right over the place where – still hidden by your wet blouse – your scar sat. After a long moment, something in him had decided as he broke the contact of your gaze with dull, darkened eyes and his head sank again. “…I am not fond of others playing with my toys.”

Just before a couple of loud bangs made his and your head snap towards the door.

Another set of knocks, louder and more made you move. Hesitantly, you pulled yourself out of Alastor’s grasp, and with a last, unsure look at his hunched figure under the stream, you quickly turned around, wiping your face as best as you could and murmured “I’ll be right back.” Before you hurriedly slipped out of the bathroom and clicked the door shut. The mirror on the dresser next to the door showed a messy version of yourself. You took a few steps towards it, soaking the carpet with your dripping clothes and hair, but that wasn’t what captured your gaze.

No, it was your eyes. Never before had you seen them being so blue. And for whatever reason, seeing them shift from sky blue to indigo and back scared you. The banging on the door ripped you out of your trance and with a heavy heart, you opened it, trying your best to get a hold on your expression.

“What did ‘ya do?!”

Angel heaved, out of breath and looking almost as disheveled as yourself. It was obvious he had been running, and given the short amount of time he must’ve raced back home from the studios like the devil was behind him.

“Angel, listen, I…”

“NO! WHAT DID ‘YA DO?!” He grabbed you by your collar, ignoring the wetness seeping through his gloves. “A deal?! With Valentino?! Are you stupid – I mean, god-fuckin’-damn it, are you really that dumb?!” His hands trembled against your chest as he visibly restrained himself from shaking you. “It’s not like that, Angel. It’s nothing like your deal, just a performance…” Angel groaned as he shoved you away, burying his hands in his hair in exasperation. “It’s never just a “performance” with Valentino, Rocky! And I would’ve never brought ‘ya there If I knew you would make a fucking deal with him. For fucks sake, I thought at least Alastor woulda stop ‘ya – and for WHAT, huh? A stupid, dumb-ass dance that no one cares about at a fucking dumpster fire of a talent show?”

You felt punched in the gut – Angel had never talked about the event that derogatory, had been excited… hesitant and doubtful at first, yes, but he came around. Had fun in planning it, in rehearsing his act, in putting in the effort with you. There had been hope in his eyes, the prospect of becvoming something bigger than what he saw in himself. You would’ve understood worry, maybe a little anger… but not this. Why was he so enraged?

“What do you… Of course everyone cares. I care about it, Ange, please, I just wanted…”

“Ta’ help, yeah – that’s your fucking problem. Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, meddling in my fucking life when no one asked you to, least me. Yeah… You really took some lessons from Smiles, Rocky… but ‘ya know what?”

Angel turned his back to you, pulling the door with him as he exited your room. He stopped and tilted his head, not really looking at you, almost as if he didn’t care whether you were listening or not.   “I - don’t - care - about that stupid event. I won’t waste my time dancing for it – so if ‘ya don’t go and cancel that deal yourself, Imma go to that fucking deer prick and make him cancel it for you. One way or the other – keep your ‘good intentions’ to ‘yaself from now on.”

Stunned and devastated you watched the door close with a final bang.

What the hell happened? How could everything go so wrong, when you just wanted to do a right thing?

Shaken by Angels words, you brushed some of the semi-dry strands of hair out of your face, noticing how your fingertips felt cold against the heat of your cheeks and your itching eyelids. Breathing felt like a labor that hurt as it took effort. Grabbing the dresser for some sort of halt, you remembered who you left in your bathroom, and you stumbled to the door, not knowing what you’d find once you opened it.

Nothing.

Alastor, along with his shadows had vanished, and the shower streamed into an empty tub. Not even Ozul hung back, and the emptiness felt like a lead chain on your chest. You didn’t have the chance to take the few steps to the faucet to turn off the water as your knees gave in, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry in thick, heavy sobs, and besides the endless sadness you felt you were grateful that their sounds were swallowed by the rustling of the water.

>> Here you'll find Part 2 <<