#by stepping on them i'm assuming they meant all the more floor bits of the choreography and staging

[per-the-jellicle-magician]

Another thing I found in one article, a small interview with the creative team, Victoria was supposed to have even more and longer hair, but they had to shorten it cuz the actress was stepping on it too much

Which, Warsaw Vicky is already a long hair cat so I can only imagine how long it was supposed to be

Apparently quite a few wigs were supposed to be bigger/longer but ultimately weren't either cuz actors were stepping on them, they didn't fit the actor (Bustopher's was supposed to be way bigger but the actor had narrow face and it just didn't look good) or they just weren't practical/weren't working with that they had going on stage

[hisui-dreamer]

his cleaner shrimp

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you had only meant to help him once, but he attached himself to you straight away

Tags: fluff, comfort, humour(?), Floyd calls you shrimpy, mentions of blood, Floyd and Jade fought, bot proofread

Word count: 1.5k+

Notes: more floyd fluff! this fic was originally angst can u believe it anyways i was inspired to do a classic shoujo manga scene hehe

Masterlist

'I did nothin' wrong!' Floyd thought to himself.

In the shadowed back alley, Floyd sat curled up against the wall, his emotions roiling like a stormy sea after a heated confrontation with Jade. Anger still boiled within him, but the sting of his injuries dampened his spirit.

His left cheek was swollen and discolored, a vivid shade of purple and blue, with a raw, angry red spot where Jade's knuckles had landed with force. A small cut near his eyebrow oozed blood, giving his face a gritty and battle-worn appearance. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied as well, the skin was broken in places from the forceful punches he had thrown.

He nursed his wounded pride, nursing his bruised ego, and found solace in the alleyway alone, away from prying eyes. If anyone had dared to even look at him funny, they would be met with a fierce glare from his mismatched eyes, as if daring them to challenge him to a second fight.

But it seemed his glare wasn't intimidating enough, as your shadow started approaching him, prompting him to look up from the floor. You were a small thing in Floyd's eyes, not the best target for a fight, and definitely easy to throw around.

'Pshh... Just small fry...' he thought as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Uhh, hey there," you said hesitantly, holding out a plastic bag Floyd could only assume contained first aid supplies from the red symbols. "I couldn't help but notice you're hurt. Your injuries might get infected if you leave them untreated."

Floyd's initial gruffness wavered slightly as he glanced at you, surprised by your concern. But he didn't want anyone's pity or help, especially not from a stranger. "I don't need any help from small fry like you," he retorted, trying to sound tough and dismissive. "I'm not that weak."

Still, you continued taking steps closer, kneeling down next to him to stare directly into his eyes. "Even strong people can get infections, you know," you said, a wry smile playing on your lips. "It'll hurt more then, so it's better to have it treated now."

Floyd hesitated, torn between his pride and the growing realization that he did need help. Perhaps it was the adrenaline passing, but he could feel his bloodied hand throbbing in sharp pain. He cast a hesitant glance in your direction, taking in the softness and understanding in your face. In that moment, he decided to let his guard down, just for a little bit.

"Fine, whatever," he mumbled, begrudgingly extending his injured hand toward you.

Your touch was gentle and sure, and as you cleaned the wounds and applied antiseptic, you made sure to warn him of the incoming sting, though he seemed unaffected by it all. Despite his efforts to stay aloof, Floyd found himself feeling strangely comforted by your presence. As you continued to patch him up, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, a soft and fuzzy feeling that he couldn't explain. He wondered if that was the infection you had warned him about, but it didn't feel bad or painful; instead, it felt like a balm for his tired soul.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you couldn't help but ask about the cause of the fight.

"So, what happened?"

Floyd looked at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he hesitated. However, the trust he had found in your compassion made him open up.

"Shrimpy's curious, huh..." he replied with a small smile. "Okay, I'll tell ya, but only cuz you're Shrimpy."

You blinked at the peculiar nickname, amused and intrigued. "Shrimpy? Is that... me?"

He nodded happily, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile wryly at the odd choice of nickname.

"I had a fight with my brother," Floyd finally admitted, his smile fading into a pout.

"It's Jade's fault!" he yelled, his frustration evident in his voice. "He kept using those weird ingredients in his cooking, even though I hate 'em! I kept tellin' him, but he didn't even listen."

He paused, his voice turning quieter as he continued, "So I broke one of his terrariums to make him stop, but he got really angry..."

You listened attentively, humming as you carefully cleaned the wound on his face. "And so you two fought... I understand how that could be frustrating," you said softly. "You know, cooking takes a lot of time and effort... I'm sure your brother just wanted you to enjoy it like he does."

Floyd glanced at you, his mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. He couldn't ignore the gut feeling that maybe you were right.

"Yeah, maybe he did," he conceded, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "But it's still annoying he doesn't listen to me."

You nodded, understanding his frustrations. "Of course, it's not nice that Jade disregarded your feelings," you replied gently. "But you should respect his feelings too. Breaking his terrarium wasn't the right way to handle it."

Your words struck a chord with Floyd, and he felt a pang of remorse for his impulsive actions. He knew better than anyone else how much time and effort Jade devoted to caring for his cherished terrariums, often staying up late into the night to tend to them.

"Aww man... Shrimpy's right," he muttered, feeling the weight of his mistake. "Jeez, what do I do now?"

You offered a reassuring smile, glad that his anger had dissipated. "It's never too late to make things right. The best place to start is always an apology," you suggested. "There, all done," you murmured as you finished placing an island dressing bandage on his face, a smile forming on your face at the job well done.

Floyd, meanwhile, stared at you in a daze, your close proximity allowing him to notice all the little details on your face. He felt his cheeks warm as a gentle affection slowly bubbled inside him. Your genuine care and gentle touch had triggered something deep within him, and he found himself feeling drawn to your presence.

"Floyd!" a familiar voice broke him out of his daze. "There you are!"

Jade stood at the front of the alley, slightly panting as if he had been rushing around. You nudged Floyd gently, having recognized that the man must be his brother, and gave him a reassuring nod.

Floyd glanced at his brother, momentarily torn between his pride and guilt. But he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice steady as he said, "Jade, sorry... I shouldn't have broken your terrarium, and it was wrong..." He confessed. "But I don't want to eat any of those weird things again!" he exclaimed with a pout.

Jade's initial surprise gave way to a soft smile, appreciating Floyd's rare willingness to apologize and make amends.

"I understand, Floyd," Jade replied, his tone more understanding now. "And I apologise as well. I should have listened to you and respected your preferences."

Floyd's pout softened as he realized that his brother was willing to meet him halfway. "Really?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Jade nodded. "Yes, really. Though I do not wish to, I will stop using mushrooms for your meals."

"Wait..." you blurted, turning to look at Floyd. "This whole time, the weird ingredients you've been talking about are mushrooms?"

At he nodded furiously, your incredulous expression only intensified. "But mushrooms are so delicious! Why would you hate them?"

Before Floyd could even start to complain, Jade approached you and clasped both of you hands, his eyes alit with surprise and excitement. "I'm delighted to meet a fellow mushroom lover! Would you like to join me on a mushroom foraging trip in the mountains?"

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. As you tried to muster up a response, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you backward to meet his sturdy chest. It was Floyd, and you could feel his warmth and presence enveloping you, his chin resting on top of your head, his hair tickling your forehead.

"No way! Go get your own Shrimpy! This one's mine!" Floyd exclaimed, his arms tightening around you possessively to prove his point.

Jade's lips spread into a wide smile, his sharp teeth showing playfully. "Now now, Floyd, I do believe you've broken a precious terrarium of mine," he hummed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's only fair that you give me something for reparations."

"Nuh-uh! As if I'd let you steal my Shrimpy!" Floyd said. In a fluid motion, he picked you up and started running off with you, while you scrambled to hold on tight to him.

You couldn't help but squeal as the unexpected playfulness unfolded. "W-wait! Floyd! Put me down!"

"Nope! You're my cleaner Shrimpy now! I'm not lettin' you go!" Floyd declared, his voice lighthearted and full of joy.

Maybe you should have been more concerned by his words, but you found yourself so captivated by his joyful and innocent laugh, that you couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles with him.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[writeforfandoms]

Mirror Mirror 8

Find the series masterlist

The aftermath. Things don't go as expected. For anyone.

Warnings: This one's a bit heavy. Threats of violence, threat of death, isolation, sleep deprivation, lack of necessities, time slippage, panic attacks.

Word count: 1.5k

You weren't sure what you had expected when the Guardian left slipspace, but this quiet was not it. 

Maybe you just couldn't hear? But you doubted it. Sure, you had no idea how the Guardians worked, but you'd be able to feel it if it was attacking someone. 

Peacekeeping, Cortana would probably call it. 

So. Either this one hadn't been meant to fight, or something had changed.

It was probably arrogant to assume something had changed. There was no way you had changed things, not this fast. 

Then again, Cortana had claimed in reports and such that she thought faster than humans did. Extra processing power. And with the Domain still at her fingertips, who knew how much power that really gave her. 

Sighing, you slumped to sit cross-legged on the cold floor, shivering briefly. 

You wanted to go home. You wanted to see that John was okay. You wanted a fucking blanket. 

“You.”

You jumped at Cortana's voice, her avatar suddenly appearing in front of you, looming over you. “This is all your fault.”

You scrambled to your feet, heart tripping into overtime, suddenly all too aware that Cortana could kill you. “What?”

“All this started when you showed up,” she continued, advancing slowly on you, like a predator stalking prey. “You caused all of this, somehow.”

“That seems very unlikely,” you managed, holding your hands up in front of you, half in a show of harmlessness and half in an attempt to ward her off. “I haven’t done anything.” 

“The uncertainty started when you came here,” she continued as if you hadn't spoken. “You’re the reason I’m doubting. If I kill you, I can continue with my plans the way I was meant to.” 

“That seems extreme,” you squeaked, backing away from her. “Doesn’t it? Very sudden too. Just seems a bit out of left field, you know?” 

“It all makes sense,” she insisted. “I was sure of everything before you. Even John couldn't sway me.” 

“Well, yeah, you knew what his answer would be all along,” you pointed out. “And with the Warden setting him up like that? Of course you had no problems not listening to him. The Warden made damn sure to phrase everything so John was against you.” 

“The Warden was trying to show me what I was too naive to see for myself,” Cortana said, not slowing her advance, even as you sidestepped. “I see that now.”

“Oh yeah? So you trust him completely at his word? You're sure there's no outside influence there?” You spoke without thinking too hard about it, desperate to stay alive. “Because from where I am, it sure feels like you've been influenced by the Forerunners.”

“How could they? They could never have anticipated me.” Cortana lifted her chin, haughty. 

“Didn't they, though? Didn't the Librarian say something about influencing the humans ancillaries? I remember watching that helmet footage.” You took two more quick steps back and to the side. 

“She lied.” 

“Okay, fine. Say she lied. Say they had no idea you, or any AI, would come. Why is it so hard to think that they'd put in safeguards against outside threats? Humans surprised them, after all.” 

That did make Cortana stop, though if anything she looked even angrier. 

“I'm just saying,” you said, one shoulder bumping into a wall. “It makes sense to me.”

Cortana held up one finger to you in a motion to wait. And then vanished. 

Honestly, you had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing. So you waited. Cortana couldn't physically lay hands on you, sure. But she could vent the atmosphere in this vessel. Open the door and let you float out into space. Hell, she might even be able to teleport you somewhere. You wouldn't put it past her abilities, at this point. 

You closed your eyes briefly, breathing in deep. You were just trying to help, genuinely. You hadn’t done anything wrong. 

But that stop't stop the anxiety from rolling in like fog, obscuring everything. 

You wished someone would hold your hand again. That had been nice. 

It had been nice, to feel safe. Protected. 

Without warning, the Guardian recalibrated, counting down to another jump. You sank to the floor, better able to brace yourself that way, even as you looked around for Cortana. But she didn’t show herself this time, leaving you metaphorically in the dark. 

Maybe Cortana was continuing on with her original plan. Maybe she was going to use the Guardians, take over as she promised to. 

Maybe she was going back to John. To bring him with. 

You had no way of knowing.

The not knowing ate at you, slowly chipping away at everything. The loneliness that set in helped, the two factors working in tandem until you had curled your knees up to your chest, counting your breathing to stave off another panic attack.

You weren’t anybody. You didn’t know anything special. You didn’t belong here.

You were just an idiot out of time. 

You almost didn’t notice when the Guardian stopped, so far in your head about everything. But the sudden cessation of noise startled you enough that you looked up, despite the fact that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see anything.

You were right. You didn’t see anything. 

“Cortana?” you asked cautiously, wary of her temper. 

But she didn’t answer you.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse.

As time passed, you sipped on your bottle of water, relieved you’d left it in your pocket for so long. Sure, it was a bit warm, but better than having nothing to drink. 

Especially when you didn’t know how long you’d be here. Or how long it had been. Or when anything would happen…

Better not to think about any of that, really.

Instead, you thought about John. He was probably doing things, or trying to. Maybe trying to track Cortana down? Or maybe they’d all regroup somewhere, try to make a new plan. 

Whatever they were doing, you hoped he got to stay with Blue Team. They worked well together, and it was obvious they all cared about each other. 

They’d probably been separated a lot, based on your own reading and the helmet footage you’d watched. John worked alone a lot of the time.

You didn’t want that for him. You wanted him to be with the people he cared about. 

You closed your eyes, arms loosely draped over your knees and forehead resting on your arms. 

Time passed oddly, in fits and starts. You woke. You sipped some water. You stared at the walls, or hummed, or drummed on the floor or your own skin. You slept more. You stretched. You walked slow circles around the room, quickly memorizing exactly how many steps it took. 

You slept more. 

You'd run out of water before the Guardian finally moved again, tired and thirsty and generally miserable. You rolled onto your back, staring blankly up at the curved ceiling. 

This time, the Guardian didn't go far. You blinked a few times, slowly, brain lagging behind. 

The hatch opening nearly blinded you though, and you blinked rapidly to try to adjust. It took a couple tries to push to your feet and stumble out of the Guardian and onto grass.

Oh, grass. You had so missed grass. 

You dropped to your knees, tempted to kiss the ground. But you didn’t quite. 

Instead you watched as John jogged towards you, the rest of Blue Team close behind. 

“You were right,” Cortana said from next to you. You tipped your head to look at the human size avatar, only to find her watching John. “The Forerunners did something to the Domain. But there’s more to it.” She finally looked down at you. “You're involved too.” 

You just sat there as John approached. 

He went to Cortana first. You didn't blame him. The two had the weight of years between them. 

But you were surprised the rest of Blue Team congregated around you. 

“Hey guys,” you muttered. Slurred. Something. “What'd I miss?” 

“You've been gone for weeks,” Kelly said, one hand on your shoulder helping to keep you upright. 

Weeks? That couldn’t be right. No way it had been weeks. 

“Did you say weeks?” You asked faintly. 

“Nineteen and a half days,” Fred specified, hovering behind Kelly. 

“Oh.” You blinked slowly, licking dry lips. “Huh.” You didn’t have the energy to do more than that. Not when everything was heavy. When your mind span a few cycles behind. 

“Hey.” John crouched in front of you, his hand taking yours with aching gentleness. “I've got you.” 

You smiled a little, slowly tipping forward. “Gonna have to explain to me what happened,” you muttered, blinks getting longer. “Later.” 

“Rest,” John said, shifting forward so he could take your weight. The armor was not comfortable to lean against, but it didn't matter. Not really. 

You didn't know what was going on, what had been going on. But it didn't matter. 

You were out. You weren't alone. Everything else could wait to be fixed. 

You let the world fade.

[modernimpressionism]

a higher power compelled me to write this

Swann Arlaud x Reader Fluff

(First meetings, art museums, slight awkwardness)

1285 Words

• ───── ୨୧ ───── •

Like the work of art she was, he first saw her at a museum.

More specifically, at the Musée d'Orsay. Standing in front of Olympia. He had wandered in on a walk home from a meeting with his manager, feeling a little stressed and pretty annoyed. He assumed a walk around an air-conditioned maze would calm his mind a bit, and this one was just the closest when he googled 'museum'. He recalls visiting it as a boy because being a child in Paris meant field trips to insane historical monuments and world-famous museums.

She stared at the painting as if trying to memorize every brush stroke, occasionally adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder or tucking her hair behind her ear, but not moving onto another piece. The relaxed nude figure seemed to entrance her like the woman was communicating something secret and sensual and womanly through 150 years of dried pigment.

This gave him plenty of time to memorize her as well, to notice the hair falling gently on her back. Her fingers, the nails neatly painted but the skin around them picked and chewed to bits. She wore a watch on her left wrist, a real watch that ticked silently with the seconds, he thought higher of her because of this but couldn't place why. Her clothes looked nice, but not excessive. He imagined her being picky with what she wore, and not caring about brands or fashion houses, which felt rare in Paris. The tote bag on her shoulder was obviously full, and he yearned to hold it for her, to take the weight off if only for a moment. She obviously carried it every day and thought little of the weight anymore, but he was willing to take it.

He paused his study for a moment to look around the gallery. He noticed the similarity between all of the paintings, and with how long she was staring at the one, he assumed she must be a fan.

Shit

He leaned over to check the name of the artist on a few of the paintings, Manet, Manet, Manet, ok. He pulls his phone out and quickly searches for him. If he's going to talk to this woman, he should at least pretend to have a reason to.

He was starting to regret not paying attention during those field trips.

He slipped his phone back into his back pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. It seemed like he was eternally trying to fix it, and if there was ever a time for it to behave, it was right now.

He took one confident step before she started moving and he lost all of his nerve. He snapped his head around before finding a random painting to pretend to stare at, hoping she didn't notice his extended and possibly creepy staring. He shoved his hands in his front pockets to try to look calmer than he was.

He heard the slight tap of her shoes against the stone floor but didn't dare to look where she was going. This is disastrous, he thought, deciding to leave as soon as she stopped moving. He was counting down the seconds when he felt a slight shade move on his left side and heard her movements more closely.

She stood right next to them, looking at the same painting.

His plan to abandon ship quickly dissipated, knowing this was the only opportunity he had to talk to her. If he ignored her now and followed her around the museum to talk to her later, he would look mental.

He scanned the painting in a panic, trying to understand 150 years of art history before opening his mouth. To him, it just looked like a couple of people standing on a balcony but he felt like it meant much more to her. He thought that if he waited any more, he would lose his nerve, so he opened his mouth and...

"J'aime le chien"

"Oh, I. I'm sorry but I'm still learning French, I'm not sure-"

"You're American!"

Shit!

In his anxiety-ridden brain, he forgot to shut his mouth and his words bypassed any filter he possessed. It's over, this was a total failure, he thought as he felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

But instead he heard her giggle gently, before responding,

"I am! All of my life actually"

Oh god, and she's funny...

He smiled back at her with his signature goofy lopsided smile, too engrossed by her face, her mouth, her eyes to actually respond to anything.

"I like the dog too", she replies after a few silent seconds.

They both stared at the small animal painted in the bottom left corner, tucked into the petticoat of a figure. His eyes weren't visible beneath his fur, permanently hidden from the world. Looking at the animal and hearing her approval gave him the confidence to keep their conversation going a bit longer.

"So is he your favorite?"

"He's one of my favorites, i just love the choice of subjects, how average they were."

He's entranced by her voice. By the way her lips move to make the words, by the way her eyes light up as she speaks about art. He realizes that he must look silly, staring at her speak with a dumb smile, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Have you ever seen where he painted? In Giverny?"

She tilts her head slightly at that question, slightly confused.

Shit.

"Do you mean Monet? With the lilies? He painted in Giverny. This is Manet."

SHIT!

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, feeling like a deer in headlights, he can't possibly save this now.

So he just starts laughing. A genuine belly laugh, full of joy at his own stupidity. And then she starts laughing just as hard.

"Did you just google him a minute ago?", she asks, in between giggles.

"I did, it must have been uh... vérification orthographique.. spellcheck"

They look at each other earnestly, both admiring the other.

"I'm Y/N", she says, reaching out her hand.

He grabs it and is astounded by how comfortable he feels in hers

"Swann"

*One Year Later*

"Love I told you, I didn't want anything for our anniversary, just to do things together"

"Well this is a together present, sort of, it's for uh.. l'appartement"

He pulls a large, flat, wrapped present from the back of his closet, lifting it and placing it in front of Y/N, who's sat on their bed. He sits down next to her, leaning one hand on the bed behind her, subconsciously wanting to be close to her.

Her hands reach for the paper and start tearing, she makes a mental note of his gift-wrapping skills, assigning him that job in the future. Her were always horribly crumpled, but he was neat and untarnished, and she almost felt bad destroying it.

She quickly uncovered a gold frame with a glass pane, something familiar peeking out from inside.

"It's the Manet painting, The Balcony. A print of it, I mean. I thought it would be nice to hang out here since it's ours." he says, almost shyly... No matter how confident he was, he always felt the risk of gift-giving.

"Swann, I love it, It's perfect"

She places the framed print on the bed behind her, safely, before throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him with as much love as she could muster. It was such a quick transition that he was almost surprised, but he soon caught up and reached his arm around her and grabbed her waist, pulling her tighter. After a while, he placed a hand on her cheek to pull her away and leaned in to kiss her lips gently and with love.

"Joyeux anniversaire chérie, I would get you the real painting if I could.

[fallenclan]

War with ShallowClan? Feels more like theres an internal war about to break out!! Raven’s public violence has been “excusable” so far but cold blooded murder of a cat who’s never not been loyal for roughly 8 years??? I can’t see how this could be seen as a fair punishment for Snap’s refusal to forget their past omg omg I’m so scared and excited to see where this goes!

So! Here's the thing.

(I'm gonna use this ask as a stepping stone to explain the clan's thoughts on all this)

Way back in moon 196, Ravenstar had just been given the name Ravenshade, becoming a warrior not one but TWO moons ahead of schedule, due to how talented and hard-working he was. The clan loved him--he was their newest little prodigy, charming and quick-witted, and pretty much everybody expected him to be a fantastic warrior when he grew up.

Then, that very same moon, Feathersight recieved an omen while he was out gathering herbs--a pawful of shiny raven feathers falling from the sky. Could it have been a natural phenomenon? Sure. But he knew instinctively (as anyone that close to Starclan does) that it was an omen, and though he couldn't parse the meaning of it, he, like most cats, assumed it had something to do with the freshly-named Ravenshade, and brought the message to Cherrystar. News traveled fast about the omen--naturally, it was assumed to be Starclan telling them "hey everyone! see this kid? he's going to be something special!"

Fast forward. Poppyfeather and Ravenshade go out on patrol, and only Ravenshade returns, with remorse written on every bit of his face. He tells everyone how hard he tried to save her, how he wasn't enough. He sits at her vigil alongside everyone else, head bowed and ears back. It's then that Flamefall, Ravenshade's friend and his old apprentice, shyly approaches Cherrystar to remind her of that omen. "Of course!" everyone thinks. "He's not just going to be a great warrior, he's going to be a great deputy! Maybe even a great leader!" And so Cherrystar appoints him as her newest second in command.

Ravenshade serves the clan well as deputy. He's smart, skilled, and good with the apprentices, who think that he's the coolest cat to ever grace Fallenclan with his presence. He remains deputy for many moons until one fateful day, when he goes to visit her in her den and she's dead on the floor. It's a tragedy, but still, the clan celebrates. Not just for Cherrystar's life, but for Ravenshade--now Ravenstar--'s leadership! He truely will be a fantastic leader, if he was chosen by Starclan.

And he is! He's a bit harsh, maybe, but he keeps a tight ship, and the clan has never had so much prey, or had so little trouble keeping rogues and other clan's cats off of Fallenclan territory.

And then... he kills Sandsnap.

Yes, it's... harsh. To put it lightly. But Sandsnap had said, in front of the whole clan, that he still considered himself a part of another clan!Such a thing just couldn't happen. It was unheard of, disloyal, and maybe Ravenstar was right to enact such a punishment. In fact, he almost certainly was! If he was Starclan's chosen one, that meant that everything he did was just an extension of Starclan's will.

Right?

[melanieph321]

will you make more robin fics or headcanons? 🩷

Ofc ❤️

Reader x Robin Le Normand - New Addition

Reader works for Alteltico Madrid medical staff, directing physical tests on the players. One of them being Robin Le Normand, the newest addition to the team.

Enjoy!

"Okay Y/N, we've got a couple of the U21 guys coming through to do their ECG's. I suggest you deal with them while we take on the players from the first team.

"Great." You muttered, as five years of studying physio therapy had all gone to waste in the name of male misogyny. Working for Atletico Madrid, arguably one of the biggest football clubs in Spain, was a dream come true. However, that dream was dimmed by the likes of your colleges, who only thought you were good for analyzing players ECG charts.

"Turn around." You said dully. "Now raise your arms."

"You mean show you my gun's." The young U21 player said, flexing the meat attached to his bony arms.

It was bad enough that you had to deal with teething football player's all day. It clearly boosted their already sky high confidence to stand half naked in front of a girl not too far off their own age.

"So what do you think?" Said the young player, stepping off the treadmill, putting his shirt back on.

"You're test results are fine. Pretty good actually."

"I told you I've been hitting the gym this summer."

You snorted unintentionally.

"What, you don't believe me?"

You pressed the boy's chart to your chest. "It doesn't matter what I believe Mr Garcia. All the team wants to assure is your fitnesses for the upcoming season."

"Well, am I?"

He looked so dumb, you thought. A sort of juvenile intelligence that came about young boys who spent most of their days running around a grass field with other mindless boys.

"Fit? Yes, that you are Mr Garcia. See you during our the next check up." A smile remained platsered on you face as he left the room. But once the door shut behind him you threw the young man's chart amongst the other's piling up on your desk.

"Ugh, I can't take it anymore more."

You slumped down against the nearest wall, your legs folding up beneath you. Jealousy, was the only right word to describe how you were feeling. You were jealous of your colleges, some of them fairly new at their jobs, just like you. Despite their incompetence, the team saw it more fitting that men should analyze men, leaving the boys to you. A woman.

"Hello, is anybody in here?"

There was light knock on your door. One that made you shoot up from the floor. You were met by a pair of glaring brown eyes. Belonging to a man whose height barley made him fit through your door.

"Are you...Y/N?" He said, invading your space by entering your office without your permission.

"Erm...yeah." Your hands were quick to dust off the dirt on your lab coat. "That's me, but who's asking?"

"Erm...I guess that would be me who's asking." He chuckled. "I'm Robin Le Normand. I'm new on the first team and was told to come to you for my ECG."

"Of course you were." You sighed, but made a gesture for the player to close the door behind him. He did so cautiously before stepping further into the room.

"I'm assuming that the first team wants a full body profile of you?"

"Yes. That's why they told me to come here. They've been running tests on me all morning." He said, sounding a bit exhausted.

"Well, prepare to do more running."

"Seriously?"

"Jupp." You pointed to the treadmill. "In order to track the electric signals of your heartbeat I'm gonna have you running to get your pulse up."

"Great." He sighed, but made his way over to the dreadmill located in the middle of the room. Several electro cords hung from the side of it.

"Should I just start running?" He asked.

You approched the treadmill and grabbed a bundle of the electro cords. "Yes. But first I've got to attach these to your skin."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah, so just take of your clothes and I'll prepare some stickers."

You turned around in search for the stickers meant to attach to the players skin. However, the lack of movement behind you made you stop what you were doing and turn back around.

"Erm...is everything alright?"

Robin still stood beside the treadmill, a slight blossom to his cheeks. "You...you want me to undress?" He stammered.

"Yes. Your shirt and pants please."

"With all due respect," He coughed. "Wouldn't that be a bit uncomfortable."

"For who?" You frowned. "I can turn on the AC if it's the draft you're worried about?"

Robin shook his head, a sly smile on his lips. "I meant, wouldn't it be uncomfortable for you, if I took my clothes off?"

"Why, because you're a man and I'm a woman?" This was definitely a first. Non of the other players had hesitated to strip for a ECG. You dare say that some of the players seemed to look forward to the akward moment when your rubber gloved hands nipped at the twigs that they called chest hair. "I assure you Mr Le Normand, this will just be another day at work for me."

"It's Robin."

"Huh?"

His gaze diverged from yours. "Mr Le Normand is my dad. You can call me Robin."

"Well then, Robin. I'm gonna head out for a moment since it appears that we are out of stickers. Hopefully, that will give you all the privacy you need to get undressed."

He nodded. "Thank you."

It was odd, yet refreshing. A player with morals. It was easy to say that running Robin's ECG chart might have been the highlight of your career as a physio. Firstly, his profile was more than impressive. As a defeder, a lot was expected of you when it came to size and strength. For Robin to uphold a stamina similar to a left wing, really impressed you. Professionally, of course.

"There, all done." You said, removing the last sticker from Robin's bare chest, now slightly damped with sweat. To your suprise he was as hairless as an infant, his pecks large and defined.

"So...am I good to go?"

"Mhmm, sure. You can put your clothes back on now."

"Great" He chuckled. However, kept his eyes on you as he did. "Is this what you do all day, run players ECG'S charts?"

"Unfortunately, yes." You grabbed a spraybottle of sterilizer to hose down the treadmill with.

"Does some of the players ever give you a hard time about it?"

"I wouldn't say the players do. It's more so my colleagues. But you know..."

Robin stared at you blankly, a slight twitch to his brow.

You paused what you were doing, the spray bottle in your hand. "Why are you asking?"

Your words made him come out of it. His temporary trans. "Oh, I was just wondering." He ran a hand through his damped hair. "My sister was supposed to become a physio. I guess that's similar to what you do, no?"

"Physiotherapy? Yes. Yes it is."

Robin nodded, a disturbed look on his face. "She quit, though." He draped his Atletico Madrid t-shirt back over his head. The sweat on his body made the shirt glue to his skin. "She quit her studies because some of her male classmates were giving her a hard time during training. Making her feel uncomfortable, you know."

You nodded. Knowing very well of the terrible experience that a lot of women in a male dominated field had to go through. "I'm sorry that happened to her."

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose, appearing done with the conversation. Done with you really. However, as he stumbled towards the door, clearly exhausted from his morning full of testing, he stopped in the frame and regarded you sincerely. "If there's ever anyone giving you a hard time, I swear I'll help you deal with them."

You shoulders withered, the spraybottle pressed tightly in your hand. "Thank you Robin. I appreciate you for saying that."

"I mean it." He nodded. "Even the slightest joke thrown your way, I'll make sure that person never even tries to look your way again."

A shiver ran down your spine. It was either of terror or you were just tremendously turned on.

"I'll see you later, Y/N." Robin shut the door behind, with the same caution as the last time.

"See you." You squealed and confidentiality astablished that you were indeed tremendously turned on.

[levihandynasty]

Icy Heart Of The Earth

Word count 1189

Ship: MobuHan

Fluff? I don't know, a bit Angsty right off the bat ig.

This is my submission for the second of our discords bi-weekly writing challenge. Prompt: Character A drags Character B outside to build a snowman.

Who would believe that cold could hurt as much as the wind was now hurting him? Biting away at his skin and bruising it red. Moblit lifted his trembling hands to his lips in a desperate attempt to keep warm, at least regain the mobility of his joints so he could get out of here, assuming his gear still worked.

Beneath him were the bodies of fallen friends and comrades, spread out upon the icy wasteland that in the summers had brought comfort to many of their troops.

Now the fields where they would so often relax whispered to him a promise of death, nothing could survive this biting tundra.

Hange, his hange had already-

“Berner!” at least he was still there, they would figure this out under his command, he was sure. Moblit had long ago put his life in the hands of Erwin Smith.

He turned to face the voice of his commander, not hearing or seeing what had snuck up on him, now reaching out as he took the first step in Erwins direction.

“No! No let go! Stop!” The much too fragile human body was easily crushed, if only it wouldn't hurt so much. If humans were meant to die, then why had god forsaken them by giving them the ability to feel hurt? The gear that had for years helped the survival of the troops was now tightening around the man's body, squeezing his breath and his life out of him. It felt like the world stood still, holding him in a moment of forever to make sure he could experience it all. Yet it happened so fast, before he could even register it, he had lost his footing and found himself crashing, struggling, aching. Despite the pain however, there was no sound of a scream coming from the man, the cold only made it worse.

“I'm sorry! Sorry Moblit!” his shirt soaked in the icy water he had formerly stood upon, their body laid upon his, weighing him down into the hellish cold. “It's alright, Hange” his voice was a muffled mumble against the wet ground, for he hadn't even lifted his head.

“Put these on” footsteps had approached them, steady even upon the slippery disco-floor of hell. Levi had tossed something their way, chains, no- more like claws for their shoes, seemed the device was working well, for the short man soon after ran across the ice, not even slipping in the slightest as he moved from comrade to comrade in order to supply them with this gift to fight god's nature.

Finally back on their feet, the ever-apologising Hange would help Moblit with the gear that yet laid too tight around his body. Their hands, even though also undoubtedly freezing, felt so warm against his wet shirt.

It took them a moment to gain their balance even with the gear given to them by Levi, but slowly they managed to together make their way over to where Erwin and Miche were waiting for them. Immediately they had been offered a warm drink by the tall man, both warm and spicy, the heated wine was quick to warm them up from the inside and out. “Moblit” a woman's voice reached his red ears “your shirt is frozen stiff” she was right, and as her voice burst into laughter Moblit would take the time to assess the damage. His laughter however joined hers, when Hange reached to touch his frozen garment, and it let out a loud crispy crunch. “Good god”

The light-haired man enjoyed the good company of friends. Miche behind them with a fire was again and again stirring the pot of mulled wine. Erwin, now together with Eld and Armin were going over some papers that would surely aid them in their upcoming task. Life rarely felt good, but for once in his, he had a smile on his face, and a resting heart rate.

The calm beatings of his heart only lasted so long however, for as Gelgar had gone to grab himself another beverage, a loud thud had been heard from across the sea of ice. “Eren!” Hange called out for the large creature that had thrown a large boulder of snow down to the ground. ���Thank you!”

Yet again looking over to Erwin, Moblit found himself wondering how they had even gotten here. “I'm not sure this is an appropriate use of our-” he had started, but he was soon interrupted by Hange's voice once more swimming through his now warm ears. “Strike a pose for us!”

Erwin was smiling, standing over the drawings showing the general idea of this snowy endeavour and the groupings assigned, Erwin smiled- Was he sick?

As the human-driven titan struck a pose, a soldier whose name slipped Moblit`s mind was given the paper and coal to begin sketching the figure. As the blond soldier sat to draw, other soldiers would be assigned jobs and positions by the three plan-makers, and before anyone could even begin to doubt this as Moblit had, the Snow-Titan building project was in full swing.

Squad Levi had taken upon themselves the job of guiding Eren to bring in more snow without accidentally burying any of the soldiers who with the help of their ODM gear had begun carving the creature into the snow, using both water and torches to help it settle.

This life-sized titan made out of snow had been Hange's idea, suggested to Erwin under the guise that it would boost morale and also help Jaeger take control over his abilities, perhaps they had been right?

Too cold to participate, Moblit remained by Miche’s booth, enjoying another cup of warmth. Hange had flown off some time ago, but he could no longer see them amongst the laughing joyful friends of theirs. Even those who fell meters down into the cold snow still helped bring laughter to the earth, kicking legs struggling with getting back up instead of out of a titans grip.

“Did you say something?” The question was from Moblit, aimed at the two men he was standing by, however, both Miche and Gelgar shook their heads, and even Nanaba who had just arrived to steal some of Miches body heat denied this accusation.

The answer came to him in the shape of a cold ball to the back of his head. As he turned around he finally laid eyes upon Hange again, now kneeling over with laughter. “Oh yeah?” he ran, ran towards his friend and threw himself at them so they both tumbled to the ground. Once atop of them, he had filled his hands with the soft snow and pushed it into their face. “Got you” their laughter only made his smile wider. “No.. got you” they replied with a cunning smile, before pushing a fist of snow up in his face in return.

As the man released them from his grip in order to remove the cold from him, they grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in close. Their breath and lips against his cheek burned like a pleasant fire. “I like seeing you smile, Moblit”

[nilfgaardianleviosa]

PAIRING: Dark!Levi Ackerman/f!Reader

TAGS: magic AU, angst, betrayal, pining, enemies to lovers, sexual content, character death, choose your own ending

SUMMARY: The Archmage has sent you to infiltrate a dangerous necromancy cult, an opportunity to prove your dedication to the Mages Guild. But in the depths of the Order’s lair, you encounter someone you never expected: the mage who has haunted your thoughts and dreams for years.

He’s not the man you once knew, and he forces you to make a choice—forsake your morals for a beloved mentor turned enemy, or find the strength to fight him to the death.

A/N: Reposting this story bc my first attempt at formatting it on tumblr was shite. I'm learning new things, hooray!

[AO3 Link]

Full story below the cut!

Fithragaer, the only surviving Battlemage, was dead.

The sound of stone grinding against stone assaulted your ears as the floor descended from the dungeon’s ceiling. The elf’s body lay there, head smashed in and fancy armor demolished in a crumpled pile. Your encounter with him had been incredibly brief. One moment he was introducing himself and explaining your dire straights, the next he was leading the charge right into a deadly trap.

A few mindless skeletons carrying rusted swords ran towards you from across the room, but as soon as they stepped foot on the trap floor, it rocketed upwards again, and with a satisfying crunch it felled the enemies on your behalf.

Guess you should probably go around.

The lair was filled with necromancers, all on high alert. You entered room after room, avoiding more traps and using magic to fight off the guild-less mages and their undead creatures and dark, ghostly summons. Fithragaer was right, someone had warned them you were coming, although it was unclear who.

The elven Battlemage had been sent by the Council of Mages to kill Mucianus Allias, a spy within the necromancy cult. You, on the other hand, an Evoker of the Mages Guild, had been sent by special request of Archmage Traven to make sure Mucianus was alive; Traven hadn’t been so quick to assume that a lack of correspondence meant Mucianus had turned traitor.

This was the first time the Archmage had sent you on a personal quest, and you were determined not to let him down. You had worked incredibly hard over the years, completing quests for every city’s guild hall in order to earn enough recommendations to be granted access to the Arcane University. Now you were making your way up the ladder, and perhaps you would be given a higher rank upon your success here today. Magician, they would call you. A bit silly of a title, but its stature certainly held more meaning than Evoker.

The search for Mucianus proved fruitless up until you reached a set of carved stone doors at the end of the dungeon. Doors like these typically indicated a stronger being was lying in wait behind them, so you conjured a superior set of Bound Armor—a red and black Daedric set, as all the bound weapons appeared—and summoned a skeletal guardian to fight by your side.

You took a moment to smile at its boney face, reminded of how ironically similar the magic of conjuration was to necromancy. The two schools of magic were clearly very related, and the lines between them often blurred. Yes, you could summon creatures from the dead and command followers of the Daedric Prince of Darkness and Destruction, but at least you weren’t binding the souls of people to dead bodies for your own selfish gain.

Feeling well-prepared for the final encounter, you pushed the heavy stone door open to reveal the main hall. It was a huge room with a high ceiling, and there was a single lit chandelier in the center, lit by magical green flames. At the far end, bracketed by magical torches, stood an altar stained in blood.

Stilling your nerves, you walked inside. It was eerily quiet, nothing like with the chatty necromancers in all the other chambers. But once you had made it to the center of the hall, a voice rang out.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

The sound of boot heels against the floor echoed through the darkness, and your eyes darted around, searching for their origin. The voice sounded so eerily familiar that the back of your neck began to prickle with unease.

A hooded figure stepped out from the darkness, wearing a dark purple cloak with swirling golden accents that glimmered in the flickering torchlight. He was carrying a golden staff that was nearly a head taller than him. The top of it split into a double-headed snake, each with long, sinister fangs and glowing red eyes.

Another necromancer, but one of much higher caliber than those you had defeated on your quest to find Mucianus.

You mentally ordered your skeleton to hold its attack and called out to the figure. “Who are you?”

He didn’t answer your question. “Out of all the mages to become one of Traven’s lapdogs, I never expected you to volunteer for the position.”

That voice. It was nagging at your subconscious, and now he was claiming to know you, but you couldn’t let your guard down. Necromancers were conniving.

You took a step back and lit your hands with magical flames. “Answer me now. Or I won’t hesitate to attack.”

He chuckled lowly. “Would you really hurt an old friend?”

Old friend?

The stranger reached up to pull his hood back, and the shadow over his face retreated to reveal black hair, pale skin, and a face you had long ago given up hope of ever seeing again.

It was Levi. The former Warlock of your guild hall in Chorrol. An incredibly powerful mage who had spent countless hours beating the art of conjuring into your head. Despite him never officially taking you on as an apprentice, you had once thought of him as a master. That is, until he broke away from the guild without any explanation, leaving you behind and forcing you to overcome torrential feelings of loss and betrayal.

After all these years you had never forgiven him for not offering a reason for his departure, for not even giving you a way of knowing he was alive. And now here he was, standing in front of you.

“Levi…”

He tilted his head and smiled, a fond smile that filled you with melancholy. “Hello, little apprentice.”

“What—what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Traven sent you here to retrieve the spy, right?”

He knew about Mucianus. But how?

In your deepest hopes you wanted it to mean that Levi was on your side, that perhaps he had been informed of the mission by Archmage Traven because he was also a double agent.

But you could not risk pinning everything on such naive fantasies. Not when Levi had yet to come running to you, apologizing for all the grief he had caused. Not when he was this comfortably deep in a hideout of the Order of the Black Worm.

“What are you talking about?” you asked warily.

He smirked, eyes darkening. Then he raised a hand to the side and beckoned into the darkness. A low moaning came from the archway nearby, and soon your worst fears were realized as a zombie shambled into the dim light.

“Here he is,” said Levi, amused. “He’s been reborn, as a worm thrall.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mucianus, a high-level mage, turned into nothing but some sort of walking dead. It was an abomination. How could this have happened to him? Who could have—

No.

You snapped your head towards Levi, fire blazing hotter in your widened palms. “Did you do this?”

He was calm in the face of your accusation. “Is the picture becoming clear, now?”

“No, tell me you haven’t joined them.”

“That I have, mageling.”

Mageling. A patronizing nickname given to you by Levi back at the guild hall. You would have never put up with it from anyone but him. But now it was clear he had joined the necromancers, betrayed you in every way possible, which meant he no longer had any right to be so familiar. This man wasn’t the one you had known so intimately before.

“How could you?”

Magical flames blazed as hot as your inner fury, and you conjured a fireball between both hands, firing it at him. Levi erected a magical barrier just in time to block it, and a burst of fire exploded against the invisible shield before dissipating.

He raised his staff, snake heads high above his head, as a glowing red orb grew from their center. Then a bolt of crackling energy sliced through the air, heading straight towards you. You rolled away quickly enough to avoid being struck, only for it to totally annihilate your skeleton, sending bones flying in all directions.

You gaped at the space where it had stood. That wasn’t a low-level skeleton, it was a guardian. And Levi had just destroyed it in one hit.

A near crippling fear filled your stomach, but the hum of Levi’s staff snapped you out of it. You stayed on the move, skirting around the room as his spells crackled and spat beams of red lightning at your heels.

Instead of just letting him fire at you, you conjured smaller, one-handed fireballs and hucked them in his direction, forcing him on the defense. His icy blue gaze calmly followed you, but then you broke his sightline by hiding behind a pillar, using what you knew would only be a brief moment to collect yourself.

Levi, a necromancer! How could this have happened? He hadn’t even given you time to think, much less process this grave news. Right now, all you could focus on was the fight.

You had put a lot of power behind those attacks, but he’d hardly looked affected by them, which didn’t bode well at all. Levi had already been a much more powerful mage than you at the guild hall—an expert conjurer who had likely now mastered the art. You had grown many times over since then and were quite capable of outsmarting more powerful mages, but you had no idea what he was capable of now as a necromancer.

“Why are you hiding?” called Levi. “Are you scared of me?”

You didn’t answer, trying to focus on devising a plan despite your thoughts raging like whirlwinds, but then Levi’s taunting voice interrupted again.

“You really should keep moving.”

An eerie cacophony of creaking resounded around the previously quiet hall, and then a horde of skeletons emerged from the darkness in front of you, like they had been waiting there for his order to attack. As you stood in horror, one of them threw a giant axe at your head, catching in the stone pillar right next to your cheek.

Holy fuck. A centimeter closer and you would have been dead.

Still no time to think. The rest were now running at you with swords and maces, and you were forced to follow Levi’s advice and stay on the move. Anticipating his plan to deprive you of cover, you ducked out from behind the pillar and pivoted to throw up a shield.

But Levi was too fast. A bolt of lightning struck your shoulder, piercing through your bound armor enough to sear flesh. You cried out in pain, but you forced your eyes to stay open and alert.

The armored skeletons were now hot on your heels, bones creaking and teeth chattering, and you redirected your focus from the pain in order to start running again. The skeletons looked weak, but there were too many of them to stand against outright, and you knew Levi would never conjure something that couldn’t swiftly bring your death.

You swapped spells as you ran, casting your highest-level Turn Undead spell on as many skeletons as you could. Thank the Gods it was successful. All of them ran off but four, and without enough magicka to turn them you swapped to a low-effort cold spell, blasting ice over your shoulder to freeze their feet to the floor.

“Very good,” said Levi, still standing comfortably at the center of the room.

You ducked behind another pillar and took the opportunity to down a blue magicka potion, throwing the bottle to the ground and immediately summoning a flame atronach. The portal swirled in the air, and a fiery creature covered in armor stepped out.

No time to admire your summon, you mentally gave it the order to attack, and it set off for Levi, winding its arms back to lob endless amounts of fireballs at him. You heard him chuckle as he easily blocked the attacks; this was certainly small fry for him, but you had only intended to distract him enough to sink an arrow into his chest.

Staying on alert in case of more undead minions, you conjured a bound bow and waited until Levi began to cast spells back at the atronach. Hoping he was thoroughly occupied, you stepped out from behind the pillar, drawing a magical arrow and aiming it at him. His focus immediately moved to you, but he was in the middle of blocking an incoming fireball with his staff, so you let the arrow fly, knocking another one to follow right after it.

The first one pierced his shoulder, making him stumble back in pain, but he maintained enough concentration to conjure a shield just in time to block the second one. In return, he raised his staff and summoned a gloom wraith, a ghastly floating creature, which began casting nasty spells at your atronach, drawing its attention away to defending itself. It gave Levi the perfect opportunity to turn to you.

As soon as his furious eyes met yours again, you were filled with life-preserving fear, and you ducked back, realizing that you were going to have to think of another plan very quickly. You could at least try to distract him with conversation while you thought.

The two minions were making quite a ruckus with their fighting, so you shouted over them. “Why are you doing this, Levi?”

He was silent for a moment. “I selected the path that fit me best. Just as you chose the Guild, I chose the Order.”

“The Order is nothing but scum. They manipulate souls for their own gain!”

“You sound very hypocritical. How many necromancers did you kill to make it here? Did the guild ever tell you to stay your hand against them?”

“That’s different. Self defense. You’re binding souls against their will.”

“Is that the worst of it, mageling?”

You gritted your teeth in silence. Clearly you weren’t getting to him. You could feel your drained magicka return just barely enough for another summon spell. The atronach was starting to lose the fight against the wraith. There wasn’t any time left to think. You would have to work with your current resources.

You lifted your hands to cast another spell, but then a set of fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist, jerking your arm back. The spell fizzled in the air, and you turned in surprise to see Levi standing next to you. He hadn’t been anywhere near you a moment ago, how the hell did he get there so fast? He couldn’t have—

A crackle of red sparked in his palm, and not a second later your whole body was swathed in electricity. Levi watched with half-lidded eyes as you went rigid in his grasp, your face contorting in pain.

Then, quite mercifully, he stopped.

As soon as the magic holding your body upright was gone, your head swam and your legs gave out. Levi caught you around the waist, and you came to only a few moments later, finding yourself looking up into the eyes of your former teacher.

You were aghast to notice that he didn’t look a day older than the last time you had seen him. Those stark blue eyes, wisened through years of studying the magical arts, were still there, too. He was holding you, gazing at you. Like you were a lost puppy he had found on the road.

For a moment it felt like you were back at the guild’s training grounds, just another day of being bested by Levi in mock combat. Except now you were experiencing a certain type of closeness that you had ached for but never received.

But then something sparked in his eyes, different from before—sinister and hungry—and you realized that the window into Levi’s seemingly boundless knowledge had been darkened by the evil magic to which he had fallen. The good mage you once knew was no longer staring back.

There was nothing left to long for, and you couldn’t stand to be in his arms.

“Get off.” You cast Burning Touch and shoved your hands against his chest, fire lighting from your fingertips.

Despite his likely very magic-resistant mage robes, he let out a hiss and dropped you onto the unforgiving stone floor. You winced and scrambled backwards, keeping an eye on him as you got to your feet. He swiped the remaining flames from his robe with a look of disgust. That was one thing about Levi, he was always a perfectionist when it came to being clean.

He raised a hand at you, and you cast a powerful block spell in response, but it wasn’t anywhere near strong enough. Levi’s power immediately overwhelmed yours, severe and all-encompassing, and then your whole body was rendered immobile by paralysis.

That spell was unfathomably strong. Never had you experienced such power. You imagined this was what fighting an archmage might have felt like, but Levi couldn’t have possibly been at that level yet… Except, he had teleported to you earlier.

Had he been holding back on you this entire fight?

“That one won’t last long.” He snapped his fingers, conjuring something behind you, and a pair of armored demonic hands grabbed your wrists and pulled them behind your back. A dremora? Summoned so quickly with just the snap of his fingers? That settled it. Levi’s power had truly grown beyond your comprehension.

“That was fun,” said Levi, pulling your magic arrow out of his shoulder and tossing it away as he walked toward you. “You’re more powerful than I remember, but you’re still weak.”

“Let me go,” you shouted, wishing you could at least put up a struggle.

Levi stopped in front of you reached a hand toward your face. The paralysis spell held you still as his cold fingers brushed across your cheek, a gentle caress that made your heart race. He gazed at you silently, curiously, as if he were a lover taking in your beauty. But then he gripped your face tightly, fingers digging into your cheek as he casted a Drain Life spell. You gritted your teeth in pain, and Levi breathed deeply as your health transferred to him, healing the arrow wound in his shoulder.

“Bastard..!”

He pulled his hand away, examining you as you panted from exertion. Fighting had tired you out, and having your life force drained left you feeling incredibly weak.

“I never expected to see you again,” he mused. “Could this be fate, you think?”

“Fate? What are you talking about? Good fortune doesn’t come to traitors.”

He frowned. “I’m no traitor. The guild betrayed me when the council refused to listen to reason, so I made the choice to leave.”

“What reason? You joined a cult, Levi.”

“Cult?” he repeated. “Do you think so low of me? So little of the Order?”

“Of course I do. Your ‘Order’ has done nothing but threaten the guild for years. You and I fought against them, remember? Back when you were sane? You called them stupid necromancers, said they had lost their minds, that mastering conjuration should be enough for anyone seeking to become powerful.”

His eyes betrayed his remembrance, but it didn’t seem to matter. “I was wrong, because I did master it, and I still wasn’t strong enough. Just look at you: you’ve risen through the ranks enough for Traven to send you searching for his dirty little spy. And yet you’re so weak that I could kill you without a second thought.”

In that moment, the paralysis spell ended, but the daedra’s grip on your wrists didn’t relax. You struggled against it anyway. “Who cares if you can kill me? You told me before that you wanted to help people. That the Order was a blight on Cyrodiil. What happened, Levi? You were good… I—I looked up to you.”

He clicked his tongue, expression turned pitying. “I know you did, mageling.”

The nickname made your heart hurt, like a spell meant to flood you with nostalgia. And flood you it did.

You couldn’t help but think back to the memories you shared. The time he demanded to join you on your most dangerous quest at the behest of your guild’s leadership. When he met you in the training yard and taught you new spells without you even asking. How often you broke bread and drank wine with him in the mess hall after many a perilous mission. The way his enigmatic eyes would stick to you in mere passing moments that seemed to last eons.

These memories were too fond to dig up again. You had buried them for a reason. It had been years of wondering where he had gone, of having no way to contact him, and it had left you with no choice but to try to forget.

You gritted your teeth. “Never call me that again.”

Levi smirked. “What? Bring up too many memories?”

“Don’t taunt me.”

“Are you thinking about what we had back then? Wondering why I left you behind?”

You stared at him, throat tightening enough to deprive you of words. His guesses were far too accurate, and you wondered if he could still see through you after all these years.

At that moment, your Bound Armor spell ended, Daedric metal dissipating. Levi stepped forward, smoothing out the wrinkles on your mage cloak that had been hidden underneath.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you weren’t ready? That I couldn’t bring myself to rip an apprentice away from their training? You were just a fledgling, too naive to possibly understand my reason for leaving.” He met your eyes, keeping a hand at your chest. “But now you’re seasoned. You’ve seen the true heart of the Mages Guild, and they see potential in you. As do I.”

Pride mixed with confusion at his praise—something that never came easily with Levi. He was a stern Warlock, unforgiving, always expecting nothing but greatness, and yet despite his cold nature you never lost the sense that he cared for you, that he yearned for your success as much as you did.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you said, tears stinging your eyes. “You’ve made us enemies.”

He stepped closer. “We don’t have to be enemies. You could join me. Together we could become the most powerful necromancers under Mannimarco. I could teach you more—become your master. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

It was. It truly was. But that desire couldn’t negate the sickness you felt at the thought of becoming an underling for a thousand-year-old evil lich. You opened your mouth to refuse, but then Levi leaned in and whispered in your ear.

“And, we could make up for all our years of separation.” His breath made goosebumps rise on your skin. “Did you not pine for me, in my absence?”

You shuddered at the sensations, at the heat of his body close to yours, and you lied, “At times, yes, but eventually I forgot about you.”

He hummed and reached up to caress your cheek, his voice entrancing. “I thought about you every day, my little apprentice. I thought about those big, curious eyes of yours, always looking to me for answers, and I remembered how much I loved to deprive you of them. Make you seek them out for yourself. It was always worth it to see the pride glowing on your face upon your own success.”

He pulled back, gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes, fingers curling around your chin. “I always wanted you to make your own decisions, and now is no different. You have a choice, mageling. You can choose to see that necromancy is just an extension of our power, and that I am no different than the man you knew in Chorrol. Or you and I can continue our battle. You can fight for your arbitrary sides of good and evil, and I will fight for my freedom to seek knowledge that others have deemed forbidden.”

A painful ultimatum. For someone who claimed to enjoy giving you free will, this wasn’t much of a choice. How could you choose between leaving everything you knew behind or fighting your beloved teacher to the death?

“You really won’t come back? The only way I can have you again is to follow you down this path?”

“That’s right,” he whispered, dark blue irises capturing yours. “Leave it all behind. Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”

This promise. An offer to join hands with him in life, go back to how things were before, and finally move beyond unspoken love. Could he be lying to persuade you? It was possible. But every instinct, every nerve buzzing at his closeness, told you this was real.

You could no longer justify resisting temptation.

“Kiss me. Please.”

All restraint eliminated by a few words, he closed the last few millimeters of space between you, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, intense kiss. The dremora behind you disappeared, freeing your hands to grasp Levi’s robes and pull yourself into him. His aura satiated something within you that had been forever starved, and you let yourself become consumed by it, lavishing in it, your heart swelling with a hope that nearly drowned out your rationality.

This moment was all you had ever wanted. Your love for him encompassed your whole being, and yet there was a brooding darkness surrounding you, the twisted reality of the world bearing upon your fates.

Was this the end? Your final embrace with the man who had occupied your thoughts for years?

There’s nothing left for us. I must put aside my feelings and do what must be done, for the Mages Guild. — Ending 1

He still means the world to me. Even if he has gone where I can never follow, I can’t bring myself to hurt him. — Ending 2

This must be a sign. If I don’t choose him now, I may never get the choice again. — Ending 3

[sosa2imagines]

I had my dance and now I'm where I belong. Part 2

Warning- Angst, cheating and little bit of fluff

After leaving the tower, you checked into a hotel. As soon as you entered the room, you called Nat, who was waiting alongside Wanda and Sam.

Their voices were filled with concern, but you assured them you were safe.

Once the call ended, silence crept in, bringing with it the overwhelming loneliness you had been holding at bay. The emotions you had buried since the confrontation came crashing down, and before you knew it, you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

A week passed, and then the news broke, the "happy couple" had made it official. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you forced out a bitter smile. "How fitting," you murmured to yourself. "One cheater ends up with another." Then the smile faded, replaced by fresh tears.

Bucky didn’t even know the truth, that Sharon had once cheated on Steve, and that was why he broke up with her. You had promised Steve you wouldn’t tell anyone. And now, the man you had loved so deeply, the one you had stood by through everything, had crushed every dream you had shared, all because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Every day was painful. The hurt was suffocating. Years of love had been thrown away like they meant nothing.

One Month Later

"Hello?"

"Friday, where is everyone?"

"Captain Rogers, welcome back. Mr. Barnes is in his room, and the others are in the common room."

"Thank you, Friday."

Steve was nervous. He knew there would be questions, why he left, why he came back, but all of that could wait. He needed to see you first. His love. His best friend. He wanted to tell you everything, even about the dance he had with Peggy.

So he rushed to Bucky’s room, assuming you would be there. But the sight that met him stopped him cold.

"Bucky? Sharon? What the hell is going on? Sharon, for God’s sake, put your shirt on!"

Sharon rolled her eyes, unbothered.

Steve turned to Bucky, his voice sharp. "Where is Y/N? Bucky, tell me, damn it."

Bucky hesitated, panic flashing in his eyes. He knew Steve wouldn’t take the truth well, so he lied. "We broke up. I’m with Sharon now."

Steve's brows furrowed. "What? You broke up? Why? You two were solid. What happened?"

Bucky stayed silent, but Sharon was quick to respond. "Steve, you have no right to interfere in our lives. They broke up. Deal with it."

Steve’s patience snapped. "I wasn’t talking to you, so shut up!"

Bucky stepped in. "Don’t yell, Steve. She’s right. You left us. You don’t know what happened, so just accept this."

Steve stared at his oldest friend in disbelief. Bucky had never once defended you the way he was now defending Sharon. Something was wrong.

Without another word, Steve stormed out and headed for the common room.

"Where is Y/N?"

"Steve?" Sam rushed forward, pulling him into a hug. Nat’s eyes glistened with tears as she wrapped her arms around him.

"You’re back," she whispered.

"As much as I’m happy to see you all," Steve said, voice tight, "I need to know, where is she?"

Nat sighed, understanding. "She left, Steve. She needed some time alone. She was suffocating here."

"Yeah, man," Sam added. "Every day, she was dying a little more."

Steve clenched his fists. "What happened after I left?"

Sam and Nat told him everything. How Bucky betrayed you. How you hid the truth from Tony to protect the trust Steve had worked so hard to rebuild. Steve's heart broke. Even in your pain, you still thought of Bucky’s well-being.

"Where is she now?"

Nat handed him the hotel address. "She calls us every day. That was our condition for letting her go."

Steve nodded. "Don’t tell her I’m coming."

Your mind was a mess. Your emotions were everywhere. You had spent nights crying, questioning everything. The love you thought was unshakable had crumbled before your eyes.

You barely ate. You barely slept. Cold showers didn’t feel cold. You were just existing.

A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You hesitated before opening it, and when you did, your breath caught in your throat.

"Steve."

His name was barely a whisper before you collapsed into his arms. His strong, steady embrace was the only thing keeping you upright as you sobbed into his chest. Steve held you tightly, his heart shattering at the sight of you, frail, broken, hollow.

"Why did he do this to me, Steve? Why?"

He stroked your hair, his voice pained. "I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know."

"Everything hurts, Steve. Please... make it stop. Take my heart out...I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me stop this pain."

Steve's entire body tensed. He had never felt so much rage. This was his fault. He had left you. If he had stayed, you wouldn’t have suffered like this.

But he had returned. And he wasn’t leaving again.

That night, he held you until you cried yourself to sleep. He stayed by your side, running his fingers through your hair, silently promising you that no one, no one, would ever hurt you like this again. Not even Bucky.

His gaze fell on your personal diary. He knew it was wrong, but he needed to understand. Respectfully, he skipped through most of it, focusing only on the last few pages.

With each word he read, his rage grew.

How dare Bucky pack your bags and tell you to leave? How dare he lie to Steve’s face? How dare he throw away everything you had given him?

Steve’s hands trembled with fury as he texted Nat.

"Come watch over her. I need to take care of something."

Avengers Tower

Steve broke every traffic law getting back to the tower. The moment he saw Bucky, his mind flashed with images of you, crying, begging for the pain to stop.

And then he snapped.

"You bloody liar!"

His fist collided with Bucky’s face, sending him stumbling. Bucky barely had time to react before Steve punched him again. And again.

"You cheated. You lied. You threw her away like she was nothing."

Sharon didn’t dare interfere.

Sam had to physically hold Steve back. "Steve, stop!"

Steve panted, chest heaving with fury, his blue eyes dark with anger. "You stay away from her. And mark my words, Bucky, you will regret this!"

Bucky, wiping blood from his mouth, whispered, "I’m sorry... but I’m happy with Sharon."

Steve let out a cold, humorless laugh. "One cheater ends up with another. You two deserve each other."

With that, Steve turned on his heel and walked away.

As Steve drove back to your hotel, his resolve hardened.

He had danced with Peggy, yes. But he knew now, without a doubt, where he truly belonged.

With you.

And the first step toward fixing what was broken?

Getting you out of that hotel.

It was time to take you home.

-------------------------------------

(to be continued, also thank you all you guys are awesome lots of love to you all, initially it was supposed to be a one shot but it turned out into a series the next part might be last depends on how the story goes take care and feedback is appreciated 😊❤️) Part 3

TAGLIST- @vicmc624 @sapphirebarnes @cjand10

[ranticore]

Compilation of Cuinn POV Writing (part 1)

These bits and pieces are older than this blog but I forgot they existed until last night. First part is intended to be a direct follow up on Cuinn's initial capture by Mikalai, second part (in a different post b/c it's long) is a few years after that when he meets Ilya :) And I'm too lazy to put them in a google doc so it's going into the body of this post enjoy

-

He gazed dispassionately down at the sleeping human. What on earth was that strange one thinking? To bring him here to this madhouse flock of babytalkers and ground-bound humans who seemed hardly better. Nobody made sense when they spoke and nobody did what they meant. Why give food and bare your neck so respectfully if you were then going to tie your captor up like a piece of prey?

He tested the bindings again, an agitated ticking under his skin. Still tight, made of two leather pieces sandwiched on either side of a metal woven cord. Cuinn's beak still ached from his attempt to chew it. He'd sliced through a tiny bit of leather, triumphant, and that metal had immediately cracked a notch into the hook in his mouth. It would take weeks to grow out. Why hadn't they warned him? The baffling mix of hospitality and imprisonment made Cuinn's crop seize up and his feathers prick. Was he little more than a farm animal to these humans? Something to be cared for so nicely, right up until the moment of its slaughter?

Let that human come closer, and… and… Cuinn let out his puffed up breath, his feathers flattening again. The man had turned over on the furs he'd made into a nest, and the makeshift blanket fell off his front. Beneath there was a thinner tunic, something woven. His chest rose and fell slowly, in unhurried sleep. Killing someone in their sleep was not the action of a king, but the temptation was ever-present. Cuinn's mouth watered.

Yet the tether still held. Cuinn could not step closer. He instead hunkered down into the ragged nest as if to warm an egg and silently observed.

The human yawned and tipped his head sideways, away from Cuinn, and bore more of his pale throat. That was soft too, though Cuinn would have to step closer to confirm. He reminded Cuinn of the tiercels at the coast, the flightless ones and plump waterbirds, though he knew that assuming delicacy or weakness was a mistake. Cuinn had felt the iron strength behind the binding ropes.

He pulled one of the stripped sheep femurs closer for an early morning snack, gripping the bone with his talons while he used his beak and long, barbed tongue to scrape the marrow out.

A low grunt from the human stilled Cuinn briefly before the hunger became more important. The human said something and sat up. What an odd creature he truly was; close enough to a harpy that Cuinn could find him familiar, even attractive, but strangely proportioned, short-armed and blunt. Had he been smaller, the size of a hare, Cuinn would have not hesitated to rip him apart.

His monstrous captor opened the rear door and stepped out into the light. Other harpies craned their heads to see through the doorway before it shut again. Cuinn licked more marrow out of the sheep's long bones, waiting for the next indignity. Surely that human was preparing to drag him around again, the spoils of his hunt.

But no. The human returned with a hare and a pheasant, warmed but not fresh-killed. He set them on the floor and simply walked out again. He even left Cuinn his privacy, letting the door become a welcome barrier between himself and those chattering mudhawks ready to snatch away any food he got.

It helped Cuinn eat in peace but it didn't lessen the sensation of capture, of being kept like livestock. But he was still weak and likely couldn't have flown any great distance on his ragged wings, his heart in palpitations at the dual effort of pulling wasted muscle and digesting this new glut of food which would only weigh him down more.

The voices of men and the odd harpies pressed in from all angles. Dust shook down from the wooden roof as manicured talons settled upon it. The harpies spoke in exaggerated and strange tones, loud and dramatic no matter the subject, and oddly truncated in a way that flattened the meaning, the errors of a chick learning to speak for the first time. And at a permanently ear-splitting volume, no softer hisses or sibilant tones, only full throated screeches and peeping.

The effects of men on the harpy chicks they stole were legendary. Why would they care for anything, when their provisions were always guaranteed and their hunting little more than a swoop and catch, none of the hours-long stalking and waiting. Their flying skills, too, were roundly mocked by the harpies of Cuinn's flock. His ex-flock, he supposed.

And what hobbies did the humans deign to allow their captives? He'd seen no woven nests or bower walls, no artistic pursuits, nothing but these wooden man-made walls and straw.

The adorable human returned in the afternoon with a deep trough of some kind of liquid. Whitish and warm, the colour of an eggshell.

Although Cuinn had thought warmly about the human in his sleep, he was not so pleased to see the man in full wakefulness, wrapped in his heavy cloak, his face like iron. Cuinn saw again the figure of his captor, the source of his shame and indignity, and made a token effort to lash out at the man. He didn't expect to reach, and sure enough the tether snapped to shivering tension while his talons caught thin air, but it was the best way to send his message. He would not capitulate to this treatment. But the man shrugged it off so easily, sparking fury, and simply set down the container of liquid. He said something in his rumbling voice and gestured across at the trough.

Cuinn pointedly did not approach it. His hunger was dull for the first time in weeks, he would not debase himself for this lesser man. Cuinn was a king. A king of what? his mind said mockingly, and the resultant shame was enough to have him snapping and hissing at the man again, until he finally left.

Cuinn sniffed the liquid, but smell was not his primary sense and he didn’t learn much, only that it smelled somewhat like bone marrow. He slipped his tongue into the top layer and found it gelatinous as it cooled, a soft broth with bones at the bottom and other mysterious ingredients suspended in the tasty fluid. It was more sustaining than the dishes of water he’d been given but quenched his thirst just as well. As he lapped it up, lying on the awkward protrusion of his keel by the trough, he despaired that this was the best food he was going to be given. Lukewarm sludge, the type of food you might feed an invalid, or an elder. His talons flexed open and closed at the thought of real food, live food, something that struggled as it died. That way he could adopt its strength and will to live, not just the physical matter of its flesh. The broth, while nourishing, could not pass that vigour on to him.

Over the next few days, the man came and went. Cuinn heard enough from the others beyond the doorway to associate him with the sound ‘Mika’, which was likely a name. Mika was an odd prison guard. He brought food and water and showed Cuinn the midden hole under the nest platform at the back of the little den. He slept in the den every single night, no matter what, blithely revealing defenceless flesh and pale skin to the hungry gaze of Cuinn. Aside from that he did not seem to need or care to interact much with Cuinn. It was not respectful, not at all, but it was honest. It did not make any effort to convince Cuinn that he would be happy here, in his captivity.

As Cuinn’s exhaustion began to purge itself from his bones he grew restless. He managed to jump onto the elevated nest platform, where he ripped open the pillows and discarded the human fabric cases, rejecting its presence at his bed. He arranged the spilled-out straw and sweet hay in an oval, though it was not deep enough to make a depression in the middle, and tried his best to raise some walls in a basket-weave pattern.

The next morning, as Mika rose and pulled his cloak back on, his dark eyes flickered over Cuinn’s body. It was the first night Cuinn had retired to the platform, to higher ground.

Mika said something short and gruff, then opened the door and - rather than letting himself out, he left the door open. Cuinn roused himself, waiting for that opening to slam shut again, but Mika caught the tether instead. He clipped it onto the block just beyond the door, out in the gloomy morning sunlight. Cuinn did not follow. There was no point. What was he to do, stand out on that block perch, answering the human’s beck and call? Not at all. He stayed up on his platform, watching through slitted eyes the comings and goings of the falconers outside, the harpies flitting past. Horses appeared a few times, piquing Cuinn’s hunger, though that was a meal for many harpies to take at once, and he did not trust or respect any of the harpies around him enough to share a hunt with them.

He watched the younger harpies follow their humans around, gazing up at them with sickening trust and adoration. Some received food in reward for allowing the humans to inspect their talons, their keels. the anklets and bells around their legs. Mika moved among them, fetching and carrying but never interacting with a single young harpy long enough for Cuinn to link it with him.

Only when Mika had not been sighted for several hours did Cuinn decide to emerge. It was his idea, not Mika's. And he moved out slowly, hopping down from the platform and slowly emerging into the light. It made his eyes burn; he was already susceptible to bright light and this conspired with the time he'd spent in that den to almost blind him. He walked slowly, without revealing his lack of vision, and felt the character of the lawn change around him. The other harpies which had not flown off to their hunt that day grew quiet. His vision returned in patches, enough to guide him onto the block perch. He settled himself there and pricked his feathers against the wind. Snow swirled in the air but did not settle, not yet.

The dens were spread in a half ring that faced the large castle and smaller hall. Walls enclosed everything, even the lawn, though they were only tall enough to make a barrier to humans .

A brave harpy alighted beside him. A tawny spotted cob, jingling obnoxiously with bells. He displayed no signs of appeasement or peaceful greeting, his eyes making contact far too early for politeness. He stood straight, wings half open, and his tail fluffed out and high. He chattered something, a chick asking to play, and reached up a foot to try to snag one of Cuinn's white feathers.

Cuinn stepped away. The tawny followed. Cuinn hissed softly and this only elicited a surprised look before the tawny simply tried again. Cuinn's subtlety went nowhere and fell on deaf ears. As the inquisitive talons rose again, Cuinn spun and slashed, opening the younger harpy's thigh and scaly lower leg.

That got him. The harpy exploded into flight and fled to the roof of one of the halls, peeping obnoxiously in distress.

The humans returned one by one. They rode in on their horses and some had harpies perched behind them. Mika did not. He returned alongside the others and tied to his saddle was a coiled crawling beast. The monster's head hung limp and it lazily dripped blood and venom down its forked tail. Cuinn's feathers stood on end and he hissed at it as Mika took it past; what use would anybody have for one of those horrible things? Harpies killed them without eating for a reason! Mika rode past with his eyes forward, paying Cuinn no mind.

The harpies came in to roost. Mika was back, his burden set aside somewhere (in the fire, Cuinn hoped). This time he carried a pair of hares which he set down in Cuinn's reach.

The other humans looked uneasy, eyeing Cuinn as though he were as dangerous as the huge serpentine crawler. Why now of all times was he drawing their stares? They'd seen him on the block before he'd been fed.

He ate while continuing to peer around the place, eyeing up the sheer facade of the large building looming behind the hall. That place with its spires and many windows looked to house someone important. Maybe the lord of the land. Humans had leaders like everyone else, though Cuinn's mind wandered at the thought of what a human leader might actually do all day. Humans were lawless and uncontained, without any true king pushing them into their rank lines.

No wonder the place was so raucous and disorganised. They had food aplenty but no hunters catching anything but useless evil, and all sorts of harpies reduced to idle fluttering. The air of the place suggested a ruler but Cuinn had not seen him.

Mika's huff of breath sounded by his ear. Cuinn hissed softly, little more than a formality at this point. Mika paid it no mind, as ever. He unsheathed his fleshy pale hand from the thick furs he wore over it and touched it to Cuinn's front. The fingers delved under a tract of feathers, and the edge of one of the square fingernails dug in briefly. Cuinn's hiss was low and rolling, but stretched out into pleasure at the welcome scratch.

Mika felt the edge of Cuinn's keel. He made no attempt to hide it, not that it needed confirming at this point that he was trying to heal Cuinn's starvation for reasons unknown. The keel still made an uncomfortable shape through the skin, awkward when Cuinn wanted to lie on his front, but there was a new layer softening it just a little. Mika withdrew his hand and brought it up, briefly, to scratch under Cuinn's chin.

It was too much. Cuinn pulled his head away, straightening so that on the perch and with his long neck extended, he was not within Mika's reach. He brought his talonful of hare up higher to continue eating.

The meal was thoroughly mundane but the eyes on him sharpened until he had swallowed the last of the bones. After that there came a gradual lessening of attention, eyes turned away.

And Cuinn discovered why momentarily; the other harpies were fed similar meals and the yard was embroiled in a chaotic war. They mantled over their paltry meat scraps as if they would be attacked, and not even the humans they simpered over could come close. Hissing and screeching filled the yard, humans in thicker padding than usual ducking and flinching as their horse-drawn cart of meat was mobbed. The mudhawks behaved like infants, chicks who squalled and fought to eat before their nest siblings, as if the food would be yanked away. Cuinn slunk back into his den. No use in sticking around.

Up on his perch and with daylight still lying across his feathers, he found the will to preen for the first time in many moon cycles. He would not be shown up by those squalling chicks. Mika looked in more than once as he continued on his duties, at one stage bringing a bale of new straw for nest material.

While Cuinn wove the new straw into the downy depression of his nest, Mika shut the door behind him and bedded down against the door frame.

As darkness and cold gripped the den like ice crushing the outer bark of a tree, Cuinn's fluffed up feathers trapped more warmth than before, but not enough. The winter rolled in faster than he could recover, and after an hour or so hunched and shivering he dropped down from the platform. The swivel on the tether clinked softly as it dragged across the ground, but Mika lay still and on his side, ensconced in his thick furs. Cuinn stepped onto him, ignoring the grunt as Mika roused, and lowered himself down onto his front so that he lay on top of the human. Mika said something in a meandering, sleepy tone. Cuinn ignored him, perfectly satisfied to use the human as a massive heat source without being too sentimental about it. Needs must.

When sleep came he didn't notice it, drifting into a soft continuation of his waking state almost indistinguishable from it. In his dream, Cuinn's beak slid out of its holster on the roof of his mouth, and when morning dragged him back awake he was sharp and itching all over with mingled hunger and shame.

Mika nudged at him, a small, blunt hand that touched the curve of Cuinn's neck. He twisted and bit down on the hand, his beak piercing the skin, and Mika's other hand swung from nowhere to clout Cuinn hard on the side of the head.

Hissing furiously, Cuinn sprang up and retreated to the back of the mews, to the elevated nest. He sat there for the remainder of the morning, glaring at Mika and any human who dared peer in through the door. How dare they. He would batter them if they came close, and any overfamiliarity on their part would be their undoing.

But Mika's behaviour did not change. He returned with his hands gloved, setting down the usual morning bowl of broth, his eyes steady resting on Cuinn.

Wasn't he angry? Cuinn was angry. His talons had gouged tracks in the wood of the platform from his compulsive gripping and scratching. Mika simply set down his bowl and stood up again, leaving the door open once more so that Cuinn could go out to visit the block perch.

Cuinn went out, but not very soon after Mika opened the door. Whether or not Cuinn left his den was not the human's decision. The swirl of bracing air that twisted through the doorway beckoned Cuinn. He hadn't flown in so long.

Out on the block, he drank from the bowl of steaming broth. As ever the humans were bustling around with their horses and the harpies. Any time those creatures got even a scrap of food they became so oddly aggressive that the shrieks had Cuinn desperately scanning the sky for any signs of attackers.

One, a pale grey pen with scarlet eyes, alighted with a flip of her tail on the ground by the block. Her vivideyes fixed on Cuinn's bowl.

Instead of asking or indicating that she would like to share, she instead continued to stare at the bowl. She made a piteous begging noise. Cuinn turned away. He was not a parent and this overgrown chick wouldn't sway him.

His voice rose into a shocked screech but he was too slow to yank the bowl away in time. She caught it in one foot as she shot past him and up, into the grey sky. Broth spilled out over the rim and rained down over Cuinn’s back. The disgusting mess slithered down between his feather tracts as the harpy landed on the roof of the big house.

She sat there forlornly peeping until Cuinn's attention strayed. Mika had appeared on the edge of the yard, a straw fork over his shoulder.

A blur of stony grey, and suddenly the pen grabbed Cuinn's bowl.

He was stepping from foot to foot in his fury, gouging tracks in the block, when Mika returned from one of his unimportant tasks. Cuinn would have bitten him again, only Mika stepped away in time. He glanced down, saw no bowl, and cast Cuinn an expectant look as if to say where is it? Cuinn turned to glare at the harpy on the roof. She had managed to spill more of the broth down one of the shiny clear windows.

Mika hummed quietly and patted Cuinn’s front. He almost earned another bite for that, but Cuinn found it not unwelcome, after his initial shock. Mika was not here to steal from him, but to touch his keel again. It was still prominent, but no longer so pointed that it felt like a blade about to slice through Cuinn’s skin from the inside. Mika pointed at the female harpy and the bowl and said something in his low soft tone, diffusing the prickly agitation just a little.

Then he left to bring Cuinn another bowl. This was much the same as the first, and as Cuinn snatched it off him, Mika produced a damp cloth, and stretched out towards Cuinn. Distracted and satisfied by the broth, Cuinn tolerated the damp patting of the cloth against the feathers of his back and shoulder. Mika, it seemed, was grooming him.

Immediately, Cuinn lunged at her. Stupid creature, to have fallen for obvious bait. He caught her by the wing and neck and forced her down onto the ground by the block, under his talons. She was screeching, her wings thrashing, but she was uncoordinated, accustomed only to attacks from the crawling things on the ground and her flock-mates. Her voice shifted from angry screeching to piteous mewling and subjugated peeps, her eyes on him squinting with defeat.

After another sip from the bowl, the rustling movement on the roof again caught Cuinn’s eye. He set the bowl down, a little away from himself, on the very edge of the block. Mika queried it but received no response other than Cuinn turning away as if disinterested.

Talons scraped against slate roof tiles. The pen harpy was sweeping down and low across the lawn, her feet already swinging forwards in a practised snatch, reaching for the bowl. Mika’s voice rose into a gruff warning sound, telling her no, but he was no match for her speed. She caught the bowl.

Mika shouted something. Another human was running over, the pen harpy’s makeshift parent. Cuinn had no need to press the point. He folded his wings with a satisfied huff and hopped off of her, back onto the perch.

The second human, whose name was Yuriy, helped his harpy up from the sleety lawn. She hid behind him at first, still peeping in confusion, though when she caught Cuinn’s eyes she gaped her beak as if he were a hunting sphinx and not one of her own kind. As well he might have been, to her. Cuinn turned his back. She would not bother him again.

Mika had to speak to Yuriy about the incident. Yuriy was upset at the mistreatment of his harpy - they called her Mriya - and seemed to want Mika to do something. But Mika’s voice was so level and so calm, one hand still on Cuinn’s side as Cuinn sipped from his untouched bowl.

Finally Yuriy thew up his hands and walked away, with the pen, Mriya, trailing along beside him. Mika said nothing. Then, as Cuinn set down the empty bowl and began to clean himself, Mika abruptly reached out and caught the tether clipped to Cuinn’s anklet. It came loose, Mika’s dextrous fingers making short work of the mechanism. The heavy tether fell away, only revealing what a burden it had been in its sudden absence. Cuinn lifted his foot - his tarsus was still bound with an anklet - and cast Mika a long look.

Mika pointed at the sky.

Cuinn’s eyes widened. Another trap? No, it didn’t seem that way. Cuinn could rise into the sky and never see this wretched place again. Mika’s hand drifted close again and tapped Cuinn’s keel, as if to explain his behaviour. Cuinn was no longer on death’s door, the gesture reminded him. Mika had nursed him back to health, enough so that he could toss around the likes of Mriya.

Cuinn had not flown in weeks, beyond the hops up into his nest at night. He spread his wings, still shabby despite his improved health. The first leap into the sky was laborious, his chest muscles pulling down with not quite as much strength as he was used to. Well, he would recover. After a short horizontal drift he got a good few beats in, and the lawn blurred into a wash of grey and brown as he swung upwards. His wingtips clipped the wall of the big house and then he was over it, his wings spread to their full extent to capture what little glide material might remain in the wintry air. There wasn’t much, and he sank again to land on the slate roof of the big house, to more easily plan his next venture.

Mika stood by the den, watching curiously. It occurred to Cuinn that if he left, he could not take Mika with him. And even if that were possible, he could not go back to his own flock, not without unseating Thunder Strike on the Ama, but that would be an impossibility in his current state. The forest flocks would not have him either. Like it or not, he had to stay here, among this flock, at least for the time being. Mika would care for him.

The other harpies were deeply distressed by Cuinn's new sentinel post on the roof for the remainder of the day. They would flutter up clumsily, ready to perch, spot Cuinn, and then veer away with alarmed squawks. Very different to how it had been in the forest, where other harpies avoiding him would have been an immense improvement.

But it couldn't last, not really. As the evening closed in, the harpies had plucked up enough courage to land two wing-lengths away from him with their meals to eat. He ignored them; they were nothing to him. He had already evaluated the flock for any that might have posed a threat, any that might have thought themselves future kings, and there were none. They hardly seemed to understand what he was. This place had no king but him.

[captainsophiestark]

The Best Night Ever

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: Crescent City

Summary: After Ruhn and Dec discovered Flynn was hiding a secret human girlfriend, the obvious next step was introducing her to the rest of the friend group as soon as possible

Word Count: 2,479

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: Requested by anon! Functionally a sequel to Presentation Problems and Nosy Best Friends, but it can also be read independently! Also this is just vaguely set in Crescent City, it doesn't fit very well at any specific point in the timeline lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"How's this?"

I stepped out of the bathroom, turning in a little circle so my boyfriend, Tristan Flynn, could give me feedback on the outfit I'd chosen. After a bit of leadup and delay thanks to my grad school course load, I was finally meeting his extended friend group tonight. To say I was nervous might've been an understatement.

Tristan's eyes raked up and down my body, a hungry light to them that I knew well.

"You look amazing."

I huffed and put my hands on my hips, fixing him with a look, but he wasn't fazed.

"Of course you think that. You're biased as Hel."

He shrugged. "I can't help it if I have good taste."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, but I'd been dating Flynn long enough to know he probably hadn't missed my heart speeding up a bit in my chest. I did my best to ignore it as I headed back into the bathroom to finish my makeup.

"You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart," called Flynn, his voice getting closer as he came to stand behind me at the bathroom counter. He wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his head on my shoulder. "They're gonna love you."

"...I hope you're right."

He kissed my cheek, pulling me even tighter against his chest. Some of the tension relaxed out of my shoulders.

"Don't worry. I am."

****************

Just about an hour later, I walked hand-in-hand with Flynn up to a fairly normal looking house near the Old Square. Definitely not a place I expected a fae prince to live, but then again, Tristan and his friends didn't seem anything like what I expected from fae nobility.

"So this is home sweet home, huh?" I asked as we walked up the drive together. Flynn grinned.

"Yup. Bryce likes to call it the frat house."

I laughed, but realized what she meant the minute we stepped through the door. From the vaguely sticky floor to the gaming setup and the pong table painted with a giant fae dude eating an angel whole this place would've fit right in with frat row on CCU's campus.

I snorted. "Holy shit, 'frat house' is right."

Flynn grinned at me, having the dignity to look at least a little embarrassed. Before he could defend himself, however, we were joined by a group who I assumed were Tristan's friends, all coming from the kitchen with bright smiles on their faces and warm greetings on their lips. I squeezed my boyfriend's hand a little tighter and pasted a smile on my own face, but when a female with beautiful red hair, who I assumed must be Bryce, immediately wrapped me in a tight hug, the smile got a little more real.

"I'm Bryce," she said, confirming my suspicions with a smile when she pulled back. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I thought Flynn was making you up."

I laughed despite my boyfriend's indignant "Hey!".

"It's really nice to meet you too."

She gave me another smile, another level of tension easing as she did, before turning to the tall angel behind her.

"This is Hunt, my mate." The guy in question gave me a nod and a small smile of his own, which I returned. Bryce gestured to the two fae males to her side, who I recognized. They'd trailed Tristan to my apartment, curious about where their friend kept disappearing to, and were a big part of the reason we were having this dinner in the first place. "I guess you already know these two."

"Sup," said the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae with a chin nod in my direction. I had to work not to laugh, especially as Bryce elbowed him in the ribs and he shot her a glare. Still, he cleared his throat and turned back to me. "Uh, sorry for... how we first met. It was probably a lot, but honestly, we were just shocked Flynn had a steady girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Tristan's shout went ignored again as I laughed and the other fae male—Marc—nodded emphatically to back up his friend's story. I just grinned.

"It's okay. Tris basically told me the same thing, that your reaction was down to shock that he had a relationship and not, you know. That I'm human."

"No way," Ruhn assured me.

"Maybe shock that he actually got you to agree to go out with him," agreed Dec. I laughed as Tristan cleared his throat and draped his arm across my shoulders.

"Alright, I think that's enough of that shit," he said. "Where's the Pup?"

"Running late, but on his way," answered Dec. I raised an eyebrow as he turned to me. "You want a drink or anything while we wait?"

"Sure, I'll just take a beer or something. Thank you."

"No problem."

The rest of us settled into the living room as Dec went to get himself, me, and Tristan a drink. I ended up perched in Tris' lap, largely because I didn't really want to sit on the frat furniture in this place. Bryce clocked what I was doing, and her nod and wink told me she totally got it.

"So who's 'Pup'?" I asked, twisting around a little to look at Tristan but addressing the question to the group.

"He's one of the other members of our motley crew," answered Bryce. "He actually went to CCU for a while."

"Oh, really? What did he study?"

"History."

"Hm. I wonder if we overlapped? Maybe I've seen him around."

As if on cue, I heard the front door open. I turned with the rest of our group to see none other than CCU's most recent star sunball player coming through the door, a six pack in his hand.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. He came to a stop in front of our group and fixed me with a smile when he noticed me. "Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Ithan."

"Hey," I said, returning the smile right as Dec returned, handing me my drink. "It's nice to meet you too."

Then, I turned to Flynn, not bothering to hide the outrage on my face.

"How could you not tell me you're friends with Ithan Holstrom, CCU's best player in the past decade."

Flynn groaned and threw his head back, smacking his hand against his face. I could hear the rest of his friends laughing at his pain, but I ignored them.

"Are you fucking with me right now?" asked my boyfriend as he finally picked his head up and looked at me again. "You're not actually a fan of his, are you?"

"Of course I am! My friend goes to the school he almost single-handedly stomped into the ground in the championship a couple years ago, and I still use that game to win arguments with her. Like, at least once a month." I turned to look over my shoulder at Ithan, who looked half amused and half embarrassed at the attention. Everyone else looked absolutely delighted by the interaction they were witnessing. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Ithan gave me a nod and a thumbs up, and Flynn practically growled.

"I knew this was a bad idea," he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tighter to him, until my back was pressed against his chest. He buried his face in my hair as he grumbled, "Just please tell me you don't have his jersey."

"Well..."

"Fucking Urd."

"I'm kidding!" I laughed. "I don't have his jersey. Sorry Holstrom, but I always liked the goalies best."

Ithan grinned. "No hard feelings. I could probably set up a meet and greet for you with the goalie from that championship game, if you wanted it."

"You're all terrible people and friends," groaned Flynn, scowling at us all. We just laughed, but I rested a comforting hand on his thigh all the same.

The rest of the night passed quickly, and way more easily than I'd thought it might. Tristan's friends were funny and absolutely wonderful, and they made me feel welcome every second of the night. I don't think any of them even realized how much it meant to me when, after dinner, we had a few impromptu games of pong and none of them were anything but excited about how good I was, without a glancing comment or hint of mention about "for a human". Instead, I'd gotten impressed whistled from Bryce and Hunt, cheers from Ithan, and ridiculous, overcomplicated handshakes from Ruhn and Dec. Tristan beamed at every interaction, smiling and supporting me every second of the night, and I got a warm glow in my chest every time I looked at him.

I never would've imagined falling in love with a Vanir, but I'd realized about a month ago that that's what was happening with Flynn. To also be falling in love with his friends, his community, and the energy of being around them despite the fact that the group was full of mostly male, powerful Vanir? I'd basically won the lottery.

Apparently I'd still missed meeting one member of the core friend group tonight, a mer named Tharion who worked in intelligence for the Ocean Queen, but everyone assured me I'd love him, too, even though he could be ridiculous sometimes.

"I mean, if you can put up with Flynn, I think you'll be able to put up with Tharion just fine," said Dec. Tristan scoffed.

"Thanks, buddy."

When the night finally ended, way later than I had ever been expecting it to, it was with hugs and plans being made to get together again as soon as possible, especially so I could meet Tharion. Tristan was leaving with me, both to walk me home safely and because he'd been spending more and more time at my place lately. Hunt and Bryce left with us, taking off into the skies as Tris' frat brothers waved us all off from the doorway.

I smiled as I waved back at them, Flynn and I heading down the street hand in hand. A peaceful, happy feeling had settled in my chest as the night came to a close and Tristan and I stepped into the cool night air, and it wrapped me up like a blanket as we walked together in comfortable silence.

"So... what did you think?" asked Tris after a few blocks. I smiled.

"I think I love your friends. I wasn't expecting them to be so... cool. But they were, and I'm really happy I got to know them. Thank you for sharing them with me."

"Seriously? Thank you for putting up with them."

I huffed a laugh as we finally made it to my building, pausing to search for my keys. I found them after a moment, but Flynn stopped me before I could open the door with a gentle hand on mine. When I met his eyes, I found his face in the rare expression of open vulnerability that I loved so much.

"I mean it, you know. I- thank you for coming tonight. I know how nervous you were about it."

I gave him a little half-smile. "Of course, Tris. Anything for you. I... I love you."

My heart leapt into my throat, threatening to choke me out as I registered the soft surprise on Tristan's face. I'd figured out what the feeling in my chest meant whenever I looked at him a while ago, but I hadn't actually said it yet. If he didn't feel the same way, or if this somehow scared him off-

Tristan closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, moving faster than I could really register. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close, his breath ticking my ear as he spoke.

"I love you too," he said, voice breathy and soft, like he couldn't quite believe this moment was real. I knew how he felt. "So much. I don't... I don't think I've ever felt this way about someone before."

I giggled—actually giggled—the bright, happy sound bubbling out of me involuntarily. I wrapped my arms around Tristan's neck, leaning back just enough so I could look him in the eye. The soft intensity in his look almost destroyed me on the spot, and I beamed at him before leaning back in to kiss him, hard.

We stayed like that for a long, long time, locked together, lost in each other, making out on he front step of my apartment building. Tristan's hands roamed my body and I tangled mine in his hair, the door key still clutched in one hand, neither of us caring who might see us. We were both breathless and grinning like fools when a car horn at the other end of the block finally snapped us out of it.

"This... might've been the best night ever," I said, grinning at my wonderful boyfriend, who grinned right back.

"Damn right it is."

I let out a breathy laugh, finally returning my attention to the apartment keys and the door in front of me. Tristan's hands found my hips as he hovered over my shoulder, and I knew the best night ever wasn't quite over for either of us.

"You know, I just realized something," mused Tris as I wrestled with the door.

"What's that?"

"You told me you loved my friends before you said you loved me."

I huffed a laugh and fought an eyeroll as I finally got the stubborn lock to work, throwing the door open for both of us.

"Trust me," I said, fixing him with a look as we stepped inside. "I love you in a very different way."

"Really?" he asked, that spark of mischief I loved so much creeping into his eyes and his voice.

"Yes, really."

"I don't know, sweetheart. I think I'm feeling a little insecure about it."

His voice and posture told me he felt anything but insecure, but I just put a hand on my hip, playing along with the male I loved.

"Oh yeah? Anything I can do to make you feel better about it?"

He let that cocky grin that I knew so well slowly spread across his face, fixing me with a look that definitely meant trouble.

"I can think of a few things."

With that, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, just laughing at the noise of surprise I made. I regularly forgot about his super fae strength, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't make my heart race.

Tristan took the stairs two at a time, and I couldn't help joining him with a laugh of my own. I was ridiculously, deliriously happy with him, and had been basically since the first day I'd met him. I don't know if it was fate or Urd or some other cosmic force that threw us together, or even just plain, stupid luck. Whatever the case, I would never take it for granted for a single second. I planned to enjoy every moment with this wonderful idiot love of my life, and even better, I knew he felt exactly the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[geekmom3]

Hi there! Welcome to my very first fanfiction. I’ve always loved getting lost in the worlds created by my favorite books, shows, and movies—and after spending so much time daydreaming about alternate scenes, new characters, or "what if" scenarios, I finally decided to take the leap and write my own. This story is a mix of love, imagination, and pure fun. It’s my way of exploring characters I adore, giving them new paths to walk, and adding a bit of my own twist along the way. I'm still learning and growing as a writer, so thank you for taking the time to read and join me on this creative journey. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Summary:

When a fiery imprinting bonds Paul Lahote to a fiercely independent woman, their lives are turned upside down—fast. Through late-night arguments, an unexpected pregnancy, pack drama, and the chaotic joy of raising a half-wolf toddler, they learn that love is more than fate… it’s a wild, messy, beautiful choice. Follow Paul, his imprint, and their daughter as they navigate parenthood, pack dynamics, and the deep, sometimes hilarious bond of imprinting. From cookie-based territory battles to pack babysitting disasters, this mini-series delivers heart, humor, and heat.

"Full Moon Fiasco"

POV: Paul’s Imprint

It started with a growl. Low, guttural, and vibrating through the walls like a warning from the forest itself. I blinked awake, momentarily forgetting I was not only the size of a small moon, but also halfway entangled in the fluffiest comforter La Push had ever seen.

For one blissful second, I thought maybe it was a dream. That maybe the baby hadn’t just kicked my kidney like it owed her money and the house wasn’t shaking like a Marvel final battle was happening outside.

But then I heard the voice that could shatter peace treaties: “Don’t start with me, Jake. Not tonight.”

Paul. Of course.

I groaned and rolled—well, attempted to roll—toward the edge of the bed, which now felt like a cliff I had to scale in reverse. My feet touched the floor with all the grace of a whale disembarking from a hammock.

“Stay in bed,” I muttered to myself, mimicking his usual lecture. “You need rest,” I grumbled as I waddled to the door. “Let me handle it.” Classic Paul. Always ready to throw hands and never ready to admit he’s the reason I don’t get eight hours of sleep.

I made it to the porch just in time to see Paul and Jake squaring off like it was Round 3 of Alpha Male Nonsense. Shirtless, obviously. Because why would anyone in the wolf pack own a full wardrobe?

“Seriously?” I called out, one hand on my hip, the other balancing on my poor, aching back. “You two are fighting again? It’s 2 a.m. I am one contraction away from unleashing a whole different kind of monster, and you’re giving me werewolf WWE on the lawn?”

Jake immediately looked guilty. Paul didn’t flinch.

“She started it,” Paul said.

“She?!”

“I meant he,” he corrected, pointing at Jake. “But our daughter kicked when he showed up, so technically—”

I held up a hand. “Finish that sentence and I will waddle you into next week, Lahote.”

Jake tried to suppress a laugh and failed.

Jake backed up a step, still chuckling. “Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck like a kid caught stealing cookies. “Didn’t mean to wake the queen.”

Paul glared at him. “She shouldn’t even be out of bed.”

“And yet,” I said sweetly, “here I am, breaking up what I assume was a philosophical debate over who has the better abs.”

Jake shrugged. “I mean, if we’re being honest—”

“Jacob.”

He zipped it. Paul still hadn’t moved, chest rising and falling like he was fighting the urge to phase right there in the yard. His jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists, and his eyes—his stupid, beautiful, angry wolf eyes—flicked toward me.

That’s when I noticed the slight tremble in his shoulders. Not from rage. Not really.

“Paul,” I said, softer now. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at Jake, then at me, then down at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“He was talking about the imprint bond,” Paul finally said. “Asking what happens if... something goes wrong.”

The baby kicked again—hard this time—and I grabbed the porch railing to steady myself. Jake winced.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he added quickly. “I just—there’s no manual for this, you know? And with the baby coming, I thought—”

“You thought I needed reminding of how dangerous this all is?” Paul snapped, stepping forward. “You thought I forgot she’s fragile?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to!”

“Enough!” I shouted, which took both of them by surprise—and honestly, me too. My voice cracked somewhere between hormonal fury and exhausted sob.

And just like that, Paul was beside me. All the tension from before bled out of him like someone had flipped a switch. He crouched beside me, hands hovering at my waist like he wasn’t sure if he should touch me or shield me from the world.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

I blinked down at him, and even in the moonlight, I could see how scared he was. Not of Jake. Not of a fight. Of me. Of us. Of what he could lose.

“I’m not made of glass, Paul,” I said, voice shaking but firm. “I’m carrying your kid, not on the brink of death.”

He gave a weak laugh and pressed his forehead to my belly. “Feels like both some days.”

Jake cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“No,” I said, surprising them both again. “Stay. You’re family too. Just—maybe next time, try using your inside voice when discussing existential crises, okay?”

He gave a small nod. “Got it.”

Paul helped me back inside, one hand protectively around my waist, the other resting over the bump like a silent promise.

As we crawled back into bed, he wrapped himself around me like a shield. Warm, solid, and a little overprotective, but mine.

“You really would’ve waddled me into next week, huh?” he whispered.

“Absolutely,” I murmured. “And the baby would’ve helped.”

If you enjoyed this I'll add the rest of the mini series, please be kind and I'm open to suggestions for other stories, thank you.

[gayfever]

I'm bored so here's some sparkling shenanigans

warnings: bit o' violence, abuse, traumatised children ig, no ships or anything. Enjoy!!!!

It was supposed to be a normal patrol, until team Prime discovered an illegal high grade trading post.

Bursting through the door, weapons raised, they raided the house for criminals, one of which they managed to find and detain. He put up a fight, that's for sure. A rusty, scarred decepticon who came charging at them, firing his (illegally upgraded) weapons. Bumblebee rolled to the side and sprung up, sprinting a couple steps on the wall before leaping off and smashing his knee straight into the decepticon's head, knocking him into temporary shutdown. After they had cuffed him, the autobots combed through the hideout, searching for any more high grade or other criminals. What they found instead shocked and disgusted all of them.

A sparkling, a tiny sparkling, who couldn't be more than 7 stellar cycles old, was curled up in the corner of one of the dingy rooms. Bulkhead wouldn't have spotted him if it wasn't for the luminous energon splattered and leaking all over his frame. Horrid scrapes and dents could be seen all over him, and the poor sparkling was shivering with fear, curled in on himself. Primus, he wasn't even developed enough to have proper plating. Only a helm, chest, and barely any lower arm and leg plating covered his form.

The rest of the team rushed over as soon as Bulkhead requested urgent medical assistance. Assuming it was for him and he was injured by a decepticon, the others leaped out with their weapons raised, but paused when they saw Bulk standing dead still, optics fixed on a small something in the room.

He stepped aside to let Ratchet through, who also froze, spark sinking. He stood there for a moment before he collected himself and started to take cautious steps towards the sparkling, though he used all of his processing power not to sprint over immediately. The poor thing was trembling, and as he scanned the sparkling's form, he noticed the child's energon levels were critically low, as well as too many damages to count, including fractured and broken plating and two severed energon lines that needed attention immediately.

One particular step caused the floor to creak loudly, and the sparkling's head snapped up, optics blown wide and his frame trembling as he saw a giant mech standing before him. Bad. A bad mech. Gonna hurt him again. The big bad mech who hurts him. He didn't want to be hurt. Not again. It already hurts bad. Really, really bad.

He curled up, even though it made the hurt worse. He didn't understand. Why does he get hurt? Did he do something wrong? He adjusted his grip around his own frame, hugging his knees to himself.

As he did so, however, one of the already torn energon lines ripped further open, causing a cascade of energon to flow down his abdomen, joining the pool on the floor. The sparkling squeezed his optics shut, letting out a pained yell, but he forced his optics open again, wary of the threat. His optics flickered on and off for a dangerously long moment.

Ratchet froze. The sparkling clearly was mistreated by the decepticon who lived here. His spark ached. He needed to repair the kid’s energon lines, but startling him had made it worse.

He grit his denta, and crouching down to the ground, he slowly extended his servo, digits relaxed, palm up, to show he meant no harm. He quietly shushed the trembling ball.

“Shh, it’s ok. I am not going to hurt you, little one. The bad mech can’t hurt you anymore. Shh, it's going to be ok, we're here to help you.”

The team stood way back, staring. They had never seen the grumpy old bot so comforting. Smokescreen opened his mouth to comment, but was silenced by Arcee, who had kicked him in the heel strut.

Ratchet inched his servo towards the sparkling, continuously reassuring him that he wasn’t going to hurt him and he was going to help. After what seemed like forever, Ratchet got close enough to touch him. Gently grazing his digit across the sparkling’s arm, trying to get him to move it so he could see the damage to his abdominal area. The child tensed, trembling, but Ratchet stayed calm and collected, and slowly cupped his tiny form with one servo, and slowly scooped him up, turning him over slightly.

The sparkling protested, trying to bring his knees up, but he had lost too much energon and only managed to move them an inch or two before he collapsed into Ratchet’s servo, venting rather harshly.

Ratchet intook sharply, energon now staining his digits. The sparkling was going to go offline any moment.

Now that the sparkling couldn’t move and hurt himself further, Ratchet sprang into action, snatching the tools he needed out of his medkit, repairing the child’s form as fast as he possibly could.

A nerve racking few minutes later, the sparkling was stabilised. Dangerously critical, but stabilised. Ratchet let out a shaky vent, lifting the sparkling into his servos and holding him close to his chassis. Not taking his optics off him, he turned around.

“We need to go. Now.”

Optimus stepped aside to let the medic pass before radioing to base. A groundbridge swirled to life in front of the group and Ratchet led the way through with the tiny bundle in his arms.

He immediately made his way to the medbay, holding the sparkling close, tucked under his chin. He stormed forward, riddled with anger, concern, and determination. His expression must have shown it, because other bots jumped to clear his path as soon as they saw him. Ratchet glanced down slightly, and grit his denta when he saw the sparkling’s energon all over his servos, dripping a trail on the floors. The repairs he had made hadn't lasted as long as he thought.

The old medic barely waited for the medbay door to slide open before rushing inside, placing the sparkling on a berth, where he immediately started an energon transfusion from his own lines. Meanwhile, Ratchet continued working on repairing the multitude of injuries the poor child has sustained.

Hours later, a very tired and energon deprived Ratchet set his tools down and stopped the energon transfer, before scanning both his and the sparkling's vitals. The sparkling was in stasis now, with stable energon levels and a repaired form. The medic, on the other hand, needed a refuel and a recharge, probably soon. But.. he didn't want to leave the sparkling's side. What if he needed help? What if he destabilised? What if..

Ratchet never finished this thought, because he had shut down, sitting next to the berth, one servo protectively near the sparkling's head. He was discovered in this condition when Red Alert came through for his shift. He vented dramatically and dragged Ratchet over to a recharge station, and left some cubes of energon for him to find when he woke up. He then turned to look at the sparkling on the berth Ratchet was slumped over. A quick scan told him that the other medic had repaired the child as much as possible, though he may need continuous checkups. He logged the sparkling's current vitals in the database before continuing his assigned work.

Guys let me know if i should continue i kinda enjoyed this as my first go at this sorta thing

stay safe gang :3

also this was a mash of different tfverses/series if you were confused

[kpop-stories-21]

Keeper of The Keys | A Wild Encounter

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres + AUs: Non-Idol AU, Lovecraftian Monster AU, Smut

Content & Trigger Warnings: Cthulhi!Seonghwa, Human!Reader, eldritch creatures, dirty talk, degradation kink, use of the words "whore" and "slut", breeding kink, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), tentacle sex, monster fucking, deepthroating a tentacle, orgasm denial

Summary: You've obtained all the keys from the Guardians and brought them to Seonghwa. Now you must get a key from him, but he's certainly not going to make it easy for you.

Tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @skeletor-ify @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @rdiamond2727 @naturalogre @thelargefrye @yoonguurt @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @sanjoongie @bxffietheblxxdy @scuzmunkie

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Network pings: @cacaokpop-fics | @kdiarynet

MDNI banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

A/N: the Lovecraft vibes are strong with this one hehe. For those who might be wondering I just wanted to explain that the Cthulhi are the Star Spawn of Cthulhu. I'm still new to Lovecraftian stuff so I don't know all about them, but I do know that they can be called shapeshifters to some small degree (Seonghwa will explain this to Y/N in a bit more detail). That's all you should need to know, so I hope you enjoy!!

Event Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Upon reaching the front desk you were surprised to discover that Seonghwa was nowhere in sight. Puzzled, your eyes scanned your surroundings, looking for somewhere that he might've gone. That was when you noticed a small spiral staircase behind the desk that led to a second floor. Odd, I don't remember that being there. You mused, slightly confused. Nevertheless, you shrugged it off and began to ascend.

Once at the top, you found yourself in a hallway with a single door branching off of it. Taking a deep, calming breath you walked forward and cautiously knocked on the smooth wood.

"Who is it?"

"I-It's me, Y/N. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

There was a beat of silence, then the door swung slowly open.

"What do you want?" He asked, tone flat and emotionless.

"I wanted to apologize for my actions after coming out of the Adventure section. I had no call to act that way towards you, no matter what I just experienced."

Seonghwa eyed you without saying anything for a moment, and just when you thought he was going to shut the door in your face his features softened and he opened the door wider, inviting you into his room.

You stepped in and he closed the door behind you. The silence hanging between you was thick, but not unbearable, and you weren't about to push him to speak after having just apologized for angering him. To give him time to sort through his thoughts you looked around his room, curious what it might say about his personality.

The walls were a plain greyish-white, unadorned save for a smattering of framed photographs that you assumed he'd taken himself. A singular window looked out on a gorgeous mountainside view, the setting sun filling the room with golden light. In one corner was a double bed covered with plain white sheets and a black duvet with a grey geometric pattern. Opposite the bed was a small desk with papers scattered all over it, some of them blank except for a single hastily scrawled sentence in some language you didn't recognize. Moving closer, you attempted to read it aloud to yourself.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

The words felt strangely heavy on your tongue, as if they weren't meant to be uttered so casually. You began to wonder if this meant that Seonghwa wasn't actually human.

"It's a chant." The pink-haired man's voice came from behind you, making you jump in surprise. "Most often it is uttered by a cult dedicated to my creator. In your language it reads, 'In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.' "

You looked at him in confusion. "Cthulhu? You mean like those weird stories from H.P. Lovecraft?"

Seonghwa shook his head. "They're not stories at all. Those are all true accounts disguised as fiction for the sake of your fragile human minds."

A spike of fear shot up your spine. You remembered reading a couple of Lovecraft's works in highschool and being terrified for weeks afterwards. It was so frightening that you vividly remembered the titles so you never had to read them again: The Call of Cthulhu and At The Mountains of Madness.

Seonghwa chuckled. "So you've read some of them then?"

You stared at him in shock. Had he just read your mind?

Again he laughed. "Yes, I am reading your mind, but that is not important just now. I am more excited by the fact that you have read about me."

Your confusion intensified, leading him to explain what he meant. "I am called a Cthulhi, a Star Spawn of the great Cthulhu himself. It was myself and my kin that you read about in At The Mountains of Madness."

Horror dawned upon you and you backed away from him.

"Please Y/N, don't be afraid. I have no wish to harm you."

"Why do you look so…human?" You asked, unable to contain your growing curiosity despite the fear. "Shouldn't you have tentacles or something?"

A crooked smile rose into place. "We Cthulhi have what you might call a…malleable physicality. In essence you could say we are shapeshifters, but really we are so much more than that. And to answer your second question…."

He flexed his shoulders and the air around him seemed to shimmer for a moment. Then, as if you had blinked, there was suddenly an innumerable mass of writhing tentacles protruding from his back.

You froze, staring at them in awe, unable to help feeling somewhat aroused at the sight before you. Your mind wandered to all sorts of wild scenarios involving Seonghwa and his…attachments.

"I see you're amenable to the idea. Saves me the trouble of having to ask you."

You cursed quietly, having forgotten that Seonghwa could read your thoughts.

Looking up, you saw that the tentacles weren't the only change that had manifested. His eyes, previously a warm chocolate, had shifted to a shimmering purple colour; the round pupils now slit like those of a cat. You recalled the two times you had seen a flash of purple while talking to Seonghwa, and realized that must've been his true eyes slipping through his disguise.

"I know you didn't come looking for me just to apologize. What else did you wish to tell me?" He had moved forward while you were lost in your thoughts, now close enough for some of the tentacles to grab gently at your clothing.

Flustered, you stumbled over your words as you spoke. "I, um, I came to tell you that I had obtained all the keys and was r-ready to proceed."

A smirk curled the corners of Seonghwa's mouth. "That, my dear human, is not entirely true."

Another step closer. More tentacles came up to curl in your hair.

"As I told you when you first arrived, I am the Keeper of The Keys. And in order to access the Restricted Section, you must obtain the Master Key from me. Without it, the other keys are useless."

"What must I do?" You asked pointedly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

"That, my sweet one, is fairly straightforward. You see, the Cthulhi have no creatures similar to us with which we can mate. In light of this we have often turned to humans for a means of reproduction."

His hands were resting lightly on your shoulders now, a larger tentacle placed under your chin to keep your eyes on him.

"What I want from you is to let me have my way with you, breed you, fill you up with my young. Then you may have the Master Key."

Your brain was on overdrive, thoughts going a mile a minute. You couldn't deny how much his words had sparked a dark desire within you, arousal beginning to soak through the fabric of your panties.

"What do you say, little Y/N?"

"P-Please!" You all but fell to your knees with the sudden need coursing through your body. You wanted so badly to know what being bred by him felt like.

Seonghwa closed the distance between you with a pleased smile on his face. Warm hands cupped your face and his plush lips pressed against yours.

You kissed him back without hesitation, muffled moans escaping you as a small tentacle slipped in beside his tongue to explore the wet cavern of your mouth.

"Let's take this somewhere more comfortable." He murmured, breaking the kiss. A string of saliva stretched between you, the tentacle still in your mouth.

You nodded, watching curiously as the air around you began to shimmer and the plain bedroom was replaced with a seemingly endless nebula that floated all around you.

Your situation forgotten for a moment, you gazed at your surroundings in utter fascination, eyes shining at the blues, yellows, purples and reds that wove through the blackness of space.

"Like it?" Seonghwa's voice broke through your admiration, reminding you why you were here in the first place, the pleasant weight of a tentacle still on your tongue.

"It's beautiful!" You breathed softly, joy dancing through your racing heart.

His arms came to wrap around you and hold you against his chest tenderly. "Not half as beautiful as you, sweet one."

Touched by his gentle words, you turned, standing on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a soft kiss. Arms and tentacles held you close, carefully lowering you onto some cold surface that was invisible to your eyes.

"I could see everything, you know." He murmured as his lips dragged across every inch of your skin, tentacles pulling your clothes off at the same time. "Every time you faced a Guardian, I was right here watching."

You felt your skin burn whenever he brushed across one of the marks. "S-So you saw when they-"

"DO NOT speak of them. I will fill you so full you'll forget they ever touched you."

"Surely you're not jealous?" You teased breathlessly.

At this the tentacle in your mouth delved further without warning, tickling the back of your throat and effectively cutting you off from speaking as your lips stretched wide around it.

"I am an extremely jealous creature, Y/N, and I wish to have you all to myself. If not for him and his hold over this place, I'd have whisked you away from here long ago."

You struggled to speak around the tentacle filling your mouth. "Him? Long ago? What do you-"

"Shhhh." A long finger pressed against your lips. "Do not concern yourself with these things. Just focus on the pleasure."

At this you felt two fingers slip inside you as another tentacle teased your clit. All while the appendage in your mouth began to fuck itself down your throat, muffling every moan that came out of you.

You'd never felt so full, and Seonghwa wasn't even in you yet. A shudder ripped down your spine as he added two more fingers, spreading you open.

"Look at you, so full and pliant already and I've barely done anything to you. You like being used like this, don't you, sweet one? It's all you're good for, isn't it? Being stuffed and bred like the good little whore you are."

You clenched around his fingers, needy cries leaving you as his filthy words brought your climax ever closer. Your thighs began to tremble, and when Seonghwa noticed this he stopped his ministrations immediately.

"You are not allowed to cum until I say you can. Do I make myself clear?" You nodded vigorously, and a lustful smile appeared. "That's my good little cockslut."

He slipped his fingers out, watching the way your hole fluttered and tried to keep them in. He quickly rid himself of his clothing before coming to hover over you, the thick head of his cock smearing precum against your thigh.

"Are you ready, sweet one? Shall I fill you up and have you carry my offspring?"

The tentacle retracted slightly so you could speak and the words came spilling out all at once. "Please, Hwa, please! Need you to breed me until I'm so full I can't help but get knocked up!"

A growl left his lips and he slammed into you, setting a brutal pace while the tentacle in your mouth resumed its own objective, sliding down so far your throat bulged as it moved in time with Seonghwa's thrusts.

Your mind was growing fuzzy, making it hard to focus on holding back your orgasm. Your keening wails echoed in the star-speckled space as this Eldritch creature pounded you into oblivion.

Just when you thought you could hold back no longer, his lips brushed your ear. "Cum for me, sweet one. Cover my dick with your delicious essence."

A cry left you at his words, so loud it almost didn't sound muffled, and your entire body shook as your high hit you like a nuclear explosion. Your walls squeezed Seonghwa so hard he cursed aloud, bringing about his own climax much quicker than he had expected.

"Fuck, sweet one! So tight, gonna make me fill you up already. Can't wait to see your belly swollen with my little ones, looking absolutely heavenly. "

His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep inside, spilling his seed into your womb until you felt you might burst from how much there was.

You were a complete mess at this point, limp and boneless with tears on your cheeks and drool on your chin. A broken whimper escaped your raw throat as Seonghwa slowly slid out of you. He was quick to pull a plug from thin air, nestling it firmly in your cunt to ensure that not one drop of cum leaked out.

He cleaned you up and dressed you before gathering your lethargic form into his arms and returning to the upstairs room in the Library. He laid you gently on the bed and placed a golden key in your hand. It was bigger than the other six, set with a mixture of deep purple amethyst and pale pink rose quartz.

"You have more than earned this, sweet one. I only wish that we could stay like this forever."

A heavy sigh left him as he turned and walked toward the door, leaving you sound asleep on the bed.

"Damn you Hongjoong." Seonghwa hissed as the door clicked shut behind him.

[melindaaskblog]

SMI received a new assignment without much fanfare. 

Another contact testing, as the researchers call it. It was nothing new: An entity was deemed either too dangerous or otherwise difficult to handle, and the researchers wanted it off their hands. The contact was for testing the waters, see if SMI could take over some of the more hazardous work. It made sense - they were designed to handle things human employees feared.

Melinda. SMI very soon learnt the name of the amorphous inky, from the thin, heavily redacted document that offered minimal information for things to work. It’s sentient. Easily agitated. Prone to lashing out. To the surprise of no one, cannot be allowed near human proximity, for reasons unspecified. SMI chalked them down to the usual complications of being kept at Blacksite.

The near-zero toleration towards light was new. It meant SMI’s screen would have to be shut off for the duration of the contact. It’s strange, having to communicate without a face, but they supposed that make them and Melinda to be on equal footing.

— — — — —

“Just do what you do best. Go in there and make a friend.” Was the dry comment SMI heard from the supervisor, before they were sent into the airlock. A list of questions was already downloaded into their mind. SMI was permitted to go off-script, if only slightly; so long as it doesn’t set the entity off.

The inner containment door slid open with a hiss, and the cold air hit immediately. The temperature of the cell was far too cold for a human, but comfortable for SMI. Their internal fans whirred lazily, the cool air a relief to the overworked systems. They stepped inside, and the door sealed them in.

The cell was shrouded in almost complete darkness. SMI scanned the cell, and soon their sensors locked on the only moving object in a room, a pile of blanket. They called out carefully.

- Hello, Melinda.

(Hi hi! excited to finally interact with Mel, hope this is comprehensible and not too wordy.)

(@voice-o-fallacy)

(NONO ITS BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT)

[Melinda would startle from their nap as soon as they heard the faintest noise of the researcher speaking, it's eye rings popping open as it hesitantly peered out from its blanket pile.]

◇... Am I talking to a computer-? You know what? I'm not one to judge. Anyone can be sentient if they want to be.◇

[Melinda's expression would go from mild surprise back to drowsy quickly. Shuffling a bit before sliding a note across the floor.]

`I'm surprised you even came inside the cell. Most scientists are too scared to even go into the first door of the airlock.`

[The void mass would raise up a bit to appear more present, their eyes tilting to the side like some strange cat.]

`I can't tell if you're some kind of computer-based experiment, or just some guy with the least protective mask in the world. Though it doesn't really matter. I'm assuming you're just here to ask another round of pointless questions I won't answer.`

[The blob would cross two tentacles like arms.]

`It's getting painfully dull, you know? Children's toys only go so far, be sure to tell your researcher buddies that.`

[The void mass would gesture to the various toys scattered across the cell floor. A drum, xylophone, colorful rubber ducks, blocks, even a rattle, which seemingly had the most use of all considering the several dents in it. Actually, no, that was probably just from angry throwing.]

[reddogf13]

Pride & Ruin CH 5

on A03 as well

Alcina X Ethan

summery: Determined to find his daughter Ethan Winters, an omega, storms the castle of Alcina Dimitrescu, an alpha. While fleeing her three beta daughters Ethan has the unfortunate luck of being snagged on the alphas claws. Slipping out a yelp, Ethan fears the worst. Instead, luck will be in his favor under a prideful alpha and Miranda’s plans will fall to ruin.

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - fowl language and gore

Previous chap: Ch:4 Splintered

Next chap: Ch:6 Before the Storm

___________________

~Ch:5 A Bitter End~

Karl looked at Alcina while his mind shot through calculations. She'd never made a go at him past verbal insults. To be so physical meant only two things. An order from on high to deal with him or a revolt and one was far more likely than the other.

“I warned you, Heisenberg! You can't afford any mistakes right now!” she roared him into stepping back.

“you and that witch ain't taking me down!” shooting up chunks of metal toward her.

It was swiftly dealt with by clashing claws. Untouched metal sliced through with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Forced back he called more and more to his side for an encasement of armor. “you don't stand a chance here, I got way more! Even if you take my ass down, I'll gladly take you with me!” facing off with her on a narrow railing. “What did she tell you, huh? What's the ceremony about? She ordered you to get rid of me, what about you? Or your daughters? You don't think they'll be next?”

Her furious expression shifted to indifference, then a smile. She laughed, claws retracting to cross her arms. “I'm not following Miranda.”

Karl lowered his fists, gathered metal drooping, but stayed close in case of another attack. “... dropped the mother title, aye? ... what are you here for?”

“I want Miranda dead.”

“why?! After all this time, what changed? You expect me to assume you switched out of the blue?”

“the man-thing and his child, never escaped. I've always had them. my daughters were the ones to steal her from Salvatore.”

“What's so important about them?”

“He's an omega.”

his shoulders fell as chunks of metal clattered to the floor. “oh.” building a nervous sweat that he had injured an omega under not just one alpha, but two.

“I used to be unwavering in my loyalty, you know it. Despite it all she showed how much trust I truly have. While she's around, she threatens both their lives. You have some brains, right? The ceremony, an omega, a stolen omegas child used to lure him here.”

“I get it. … is he … close to uh-”

“I just got him back on suppressants. Donna has been acting as his beta in an agreed traditional courting.”

“so, he hasn't agreed yet?” holding in a laugh.

“no.” grumbling. “I didn't realize at first, our meeting after escaping your hands wasn't the most pleasant, to put it lightly. I've been having to rebuild and despite his answer, Miranda must fall to ensure his safety. I'm done with submitting, which is why I'm here. To talk business.”

shedding the metal. “mm.” floating pieces falling down. “alright, I'll bite, what you got in mind?”

She reached into her waist band to pull out a long rectangular black box. “this I feel will be perfect for you. Take extreme care when handling it.”

The business meeting was longer than expected without being too overly drawn out. Leaving his factory she pulled out a silver case from her waistband. Slipping out a cig to tap into her long black holder. Flicking it alight by a snap of two claws, to take a deep inhale. Pluming smoke the whole way home to crush the last bit under her heel before the front door. Right as she stepped through, Bela came to greet her.

“Did it go well?” interested to know since her mother left toward the factory. Her sisters were just as interested, but knew that harassing their mother for details would get them nothing. Forced to wait for Bela to return with the news.

“a bit of yelling, but things are settled.”

“what next?”

“arrangements with the duke. Then we wait for the inevitable meeting. … see where things land.”

“arrangements for a suppressant schedule?”

“no. … if i- ...”

the cheerfulness her daughter had disappeared. “... can I join?”

“yes. Try not to tell your sisters too much of what you hear. They don't show it, but I know they're anxious. Especially Cassandra. I'd rather save the news for tomorrow after we've all rested.”

“Yes, mother.” walking closely at her side into the duke's room.

A cheerful tone spoken on a puff off his cigar. “ah, wonderful to see some visitors. How may I help you two ladies?” happiness lacked from the two sitting down. “need lifting of a burden?” he figured out before they spoke a word.

“The next meeting Miranda calls won't be very pleasant. I need insurance if Miranda walks out and I don't.”

He nodded. “I'm not a fighting man, as you can tell.” waving a hand over himself. “I can offer many other services. Special requests to be carried out to full customer satisfaction.”

“I need an evacuation plan for my girls, Lady Beneviento, Mr. Winters, his daughter and … Heisenberg.” nearly gagging on the last name. “if he manages to escape the meeting.”

“that I can do. Where to?”

“I've recently fulfilled an arrangement of purchasing vineyards in the southern part of Spain.” slipping out a paper detailing everything on the property. Bela was most interested in the wine making there as well as the housing. Not as big and grand as the castle, but well adorned in local styled luxury within its tall arched halls. The land being wide open beautiful expanses in the countryside far from snooping neighbors. “far enough it may escape Miranda's eye. The temperature of the area will give the girls room to run without suffering drops like here. A whole business to earn a living that they've been raised to learn all about.”

If it weren't for the reasons why, Bela would be excited to move to Spain. Being able to freely go out all times of the year instead of only half was freeing. A whole new world to explore with culture and foods not like the miserable village left to rot.

“Wonderful taste as always.” complimenting Alcina on her choice. “Any luggage coming with?”

A lot of talk back and forth went into what could be carried. Many things would need to be left behind. Then to where they would gather as the meeting was held. What would happen depending on which IF came true. Bela hated each point brought up, but wanted to hear it. Ultimately being the eldest, she'd be the lead in taking over. The reason why her mother allowed her in on this deathly serious meeting. It went on long into the night before payment was handed over. Following her mother to her bedroom for another discussion. Being the eldest, most responsible of the three, she was entrusted to take over most the estate. Accounts, ownership, to business dealings were handed down. Bela went off to give her sisters something to placate their hounding for updates. Telling that mothers meeting at the factory went smoothly and now it was a waiting game. Leaving out the meetings between them and the duke to keep the peace. Satisfied by what they got, everyone went to bed. A mix of fear and anxiety looming over the fast approaching storm counting down the days.

The next morning Donna was cooking in the kitchen. A simple broth she had to stand a few feet from as Angie kept launching bunches of chopped vegetables in it. Expecting details to be shared later on the final set up between Alcina, Heisenberg and the duke. In the meantime she'd been keeping a close eye on Ethan after yesterday's fiasco. Sending Angie down to go check on him as she cooked. Refreshed from a bath Ethan was stitched up again. Many smaller injuries were just about gone with the bigger ones no longer a worry. His fever was the biggest concern now. A second crisis almost happened in the night when he woke up to Rose still missing. Busting the elevator gate before being tackled down by dolls. Donna had to up the meds she forced him to take until he calmed down enough. Chugging down the herbal tea every few hours to stay ahead of his sickness.

Coming down from it had him feeling isolated down below. Alone in bed, Donna appeared only to give him tea every few hours. Rosemary was up top with her, so close yet so far. The separation was having him feel horrible. After his fighting panics he didn't blame her for taking Rose. Taking a chance he left the room to meet his guard.

Angie back at her post on a chair out in the hall. “you're supposed to be in bed.”

“I know. Can I come up?” hoping for a yes, but expecting a no.

The doll was quiet for an awkwardly long time. “what do you want that's up there?”

“Rose. … not being down here in the dark.” there were no windows down below. Only a few aged lamps that weren't very bright.

“fine. You have to stay seated up there. You're not allowed to get up unless we say so.”

“alright.” knowing they were taking a risk letting him up. If he panicked and ran outside the Lycan's could nab him or worse, mother Miranda would see him. Going up stairs had him feel a bit better already. Seeing sun for the first time in a couple days he basked in it down the hall. Given a moment before Angie ushered him forward to the living room. He sat on the long couch, by the fireplace, to curl up at its end. Resting half himself on the arm rest he closed his eyes. Coming to by Donna lightly waking him. He looked at the grandfather clock for the time. About ten minutes had passed since he closed his eyes. Looking to a cup Donna handed him full of more herbal tea.

“Foods coming.” Angie informed.

Ethan chugged down the medicinal tea with a disgusted face off the taste. Swapping the empty cup for the soup Donna brought. A warm broth swirling with thinly shredded veggies. Without using the spoon he took to drinking it straight from the bowl. Light pounding in his head went away after the first few gulps. Donna took the bowl when he finished, more was offered, but he refused for now. On the verge of sleep again when he heard a familiar giggle. Snapping his attention to it he saw Donna carrying Rosemary over. Handing him his baby girl to hold with a blanket to wrap them both in. snuggling down with Rose in his arms left him content. Smiling at his precious child who smiled back. Holding onto his hand to playfully patting at his face. She was making baby babble, a noise of comfort, rather than staying quiet. An instinctual safety measure for hiding if anything felt off. Since Ethan fell sick she had practically been playing dead. Quiet, unmoving except for when it came to eating. Looking for her missing dad since the separation yesterday. Wanting to be with him as bad as Ethan did. Handed a bottle he happily fed her and by the time that was finished he was notified of visitors.

Angie was by a side window. “they're coming if you want to hide back down.”

thinking for a moment, he shook his head. “I'm fine.”

“she's going to be here for a little while.”

“its okay.”

“if you're suuuuure.”

He pulled the blanket up to wrap them deeper. A minor claim of space where he sat to feel more secure. Hearing the front door open, some light conversation in the distance then a buzzing noise coming into the room.

“you're up?!” It was Daniela, far too excited to see him. “ooh, can I see the baby?” zooming over she heavily leaned above him far too close. Agitated by her attempts at a look he growled at her. She backed off a bit puzzled over what she'd done wrong. Another buzzing swarm entered the room.

Bela yanking her sister away. “You can't invade his space like that!” scolding her away from Ethan. The alarming growl attracted everyone's attention to come check on him.

Alcina's face shifted from concern to interest. “He's up here?” glancing at Donna.

“We told him you were coming, he wanted to stay.”

She was careful when looking toward him. Doing her best to avoid making him nervous enough to hide back downstairs. A minor meeting by his choice was a big step in the courting. Annoyed that Angie confiscated her gift today as punishment for that small kiss. Oh well, least he's doing better. Crossing the room she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. Preserving the required space between them. Cassandra sat on a separate chair next to her. Donna across from the two while Daniela explored the house and Bela was wrangling her for the meeting.

Peeking through the doorway, Bela wasn't the most enthusiastic when asking. “Lady Beneviento, may we have some soup?” shooting a glare at Daniela giggling out of view.

Angie waved her arm up then dropped it. “yeah, yeah, take it before it gets cold. No reason to let it go to waste.”

A happy screech from Daniela was heard. a swarming buzz chased by Bela complaining about her behavior. A moment later they returned with bowls of soup on trays for everyone. Donna handed a cup instead for easy eating under the vale.

Angie started the meeting off officially. “So what did Dr. Frankenstein say?”

“as gun ho as I thought he'd be. He argued about trying to wait for his experiments to be ready. But knowing the circumstances, he knows there's no waiting. All that's left is for Miranda to trigger one final meeting between us.”

“what then?”

“Me and Heisenberg will go. The rest of you will meet with the duke by the old train tunnel. Wait there until one of us returns, or it's been too long. When one of us does come, we've decided a password to let you know right away who's approaching. The duke has been paid to take you all to Spain if-”

“we're going to Spain?!” Daniela's excitement getting ahead of her.

“... we'll see. Don't interrupt.”

“sorry.” slumping down in her chair.

“... I bought a lot of property in Spain. Another winery the girls will know how to run. I've given Bela the accounts. She has all the paperwork to get started on-”

Cassandra sat up to cut her off. “What do you mean?”

“don't interrupt.”

“No. What do you mean? Why is she getting everything?”

“she's the eldest who's the most-”

“no! That's not what I'm asking! Why is she getting it at all?! Why won't you be managing it anymore?!”

their mother sighed. They had to know at some point. “Cassandra, if i-”

“no! There's no if! There can't be an if! You'll-”

a knock at the door silenced them all.

Angie looked to Alcina to whisper. “you expecting?”

She shook her head. Donna went to calmly answer the door with Angie staying behind. Alcina looked toward the door next to them that led to the elevator. Too noticeable. The sound of the elevator leaving for no reason would be suspicious. They watched Angie for a cue as to who was at the door.

Snapping forward the doll warned immediately. “hide him.”

They looked around to where they could stuff him away. Useless spaces of behind the couch or under a coffee table were the only options. Thinking fast, Alcina shifted over to sit as close as possible. “don't move.” covering him entirely in the blanket. She leaned herself over him and crossed her legs. Blocking the view of him almost entirely. What wasn't was hidden by the blanket blending into the couch. Bela stood closely at their side to block another view of him if Miranda got close. If they played this off as a normal meeting she wouldn't suspect a thing. Alcina scented the air in a deep breath. Wincing at the pharmaceutical smell. Good, she won't smell him. Putting on a big smile when the grand ruler herself stepped into the room. Decorated in her golden crest down to a matching mask of a curved beak. Accented by chains to sharp talons ending each finger. “Mother Miranda, lovely seeing you join us.”

“I wanted to speak with you, but the castle was empty. What's the occasion of this meeting at lady Beneviento's?”

“to discuss where the man-thing could be. Lady Beneviento hasn't seen a hair of him and neither have my girls or that clod Heisenberg.”

“you spoke with him too?”

“tried to.” rolling her eyes. “a child as always who never takes anything serious. Do you have any news?”

“no.” stepping around the couches with Donna not far behind. “I was going around to speak about this.” shooing Cassandra from her seat to take it over. Donna sitting back in her original spot. “You've all disappointed me.”

Great, A long talk is just what we need. Holding herself together as Miranda sat within reaching distance. She could be here for hours talking about every minor detail. “ah, I'm sorry we haven't been up to par-”

“What have you discussed so far?”

“mm, he's not in the village. Heisenberg hasn't seen him. The Lycan's haven't given a call since his first appearance. Nor have Beneviento's watch dolls.”

Angie threw out a bone for Miranda to gnaw at. “Salvatore's reservoir is the only place left.”

“haven't your girls checked there?”

“no.” Cassandra answered. “We can't afford to get wet in this weather.”

Bela spoke up next. “We've only done flyovers. Never entered the cave system.”

Angie added on. “Maybe he never left after getting that brat back. The whole place is rotten and falling apart. Are we sure they didn't drown?”

Miranda's gaze flecked away then back in a second. Alcina knew she was questioning that as a possibility.

“she's right mother, what also of the child? It has to eat doesn't it? He certainly can't do that.”

Her relaxed face contorted to a hint of anger. “by outsmarting all of you he's proven to be capable of keeping her alive. The black god has shown no recent changes if he had fallen. My disappointment in you grows each day. I've waited so long for this and you all lounge in your houses. This ceremony should have been done days ago!”

“is- is it too late?” part of her hoping to hear it was. Was she expecting Ethan to pass his heat by now?

“no, a minor bump in the road. That should have been solved if you all weren't so lazy!”

“mother, please.” Alcina was about ready to claw into the couch. “if we knew we would-”

“It took you this long to bother searching the reservoir! Why didn't one of you search days ago?!” locking onto the tall lord. “I know why. Don't want to mess in the muck. So you send your daughters out, who are absolutely useless. But what do I expect from flimsy experiments? Should have had you dispose of them, they've only been a distraction to you.”

Each insult was a coal thrown into the dragon's heart. A raging fire readying to unleash itself in this very room. Snorting fire past a maw of gnashing teeth demanding blood to slate its thirst. Everything gained a red hue, voices distorting to deep rumbles of air. A gentle bucket of ice doused the boiler threatening to explode as Ethan's hand rested on her back. Grounding her down into holding it together in reminding her why. Retracting her claws seeping into the couch unintentionally. Breathing out the fire and brimstone filling her gut.

“I don't tolerate slackers.” Miranda continued her verbal lashes. “the man-thing slipped through your grasp after only a day. Did you bother to do anything at all? Perhaps you left a door wide open for him to be someone else's problem?” each one another coal that soon Ethan couldn't cool.

“We'll find him.” Angie jumped in to block. “Let us-”

“we?! What we?!” Miranda shot up from her seat. “you're an inanimate object. That I shouldn't expect a high lord to use for basic talking!” her cold glare switching to Donna shrinking in her seat. “a mistake that should have never been a lord. If only your sister survived. She had potential. You never leave this place unless it's to mess with your pointless garden. You'll never find winters, even if he came here I doubt you'd handle him at all. All the power to make an army kill itself under hallucinations and what do you do with it? Nothing! a wasted gift of new life after sparing you of a decaying brain! Ungrateful wretch!” hand lashing out in gleaming gold. The sound that came wouldn't be forgotten. Fabric torn away as did the flesh underneath. separated as two parts of velcro. white skin revealed changed to a vibrant red instantly. Blood fell as a waterfall onto the couch to stream down onto the floor into a fast growing pool.