#ch: black fairy

[midnightorchids]

More soft Jason ideas since you deserve it and your wonderful and supper cool Girldad!Jason BRRROOOOOOO Oh my goddddddd ok like- - Jason is the kind of dad who always has music playing in the house, he mindlessly sways and hums along as he makes morning (or night-time) pancakes for you and his little girl. She'll come running up to him, her thick black hair tangled over her face, and pull on his pant leg. He'll sweep her up into his arms, her small head fitting perfectly against his chest as she watches him make breakfast, still somewhat asleep and aloof. He'll start bopping along to the music with her little hands around his neck, filling up the kitchen with shrieks of laughter and he peppers her soft cheeks with kisses. - I feel like you and him would like in a beach house, somewhere away from the city and his old job as Red Hood. Your daughter would bring home buckets of pretty rocks and sea glass that Jason keeps in jars along the living room windowsills. He has to dump some back onto the shore every time he sees her washing the new rocks and shells on the front porch. - After long summer days of playing and wrestling in the waves, you would all curl up for a post-beach nap. Smelling like salt with the prick of the sun settling into your tired bones. Your daughter would fit perfectly between you two. Jasons hand behind his head with his other wrapped firmly around you and his little girl. - Get's his daughter obsessed with reading just as much as he is. Would build her book-shelf after book-self as her collection of story-books and middle grade fairy books expands. - Helps his daughter roast marsh mellows during the beach bonfires you guys have when Roy and his daughter visit. Your daughter and Lian are best friends- playdates once a week kind of thing. - When she's little, he'll always have his daughter on his knee during big family dinners. He let's her eat anything off of his plate, keeping his arm around her as he talks with Dick. - Overall, just- every-time he falls asleep next to you he feels like crying into your shoulder, unable to thank you enough for bringing such a precious perfect bundle of laughter into his life. Huge 'my wife showed me how to love and my daughter showed me how to forgive energy lmao.

I want night time pancakes with Jason and my little baby girl wtf!!! Also, thank you so much for sending this in. I love it and I literally fail to understand how you pull up with the most amazing scenarios every time, I’m actually in love with your writing!! You’re amazing!

Anyways lol!! I’m gonna be honest, I don’t want to have biological children but for Jason… I’d do it, no hesitation. He’d be the most amazing girl dad, I love him so so so much.

I’m not sure if people have already said this before but can you imagine him learning how to do your daughter’s hair!! He has a YouTube hair tutorial playing on the TV as your daughter sits in between his legs. He’s got bobby pins in between his teeth and hair ties around his wrist. He’s using a small comb to gently brush through her little curls.

He’s learning how to braid her hair and he’s having some difficulty, but he’s a persistent man, and like he always tells his little girl, practice makes perfect! He will sit there for days, hours upon hours, trying to make the most flawless set of Dutch braids. Once he’s succeeded at his craft, he’ll admire his work and will tell his daughter to go show you his skills. And oh my goodness, how adorable does she look showing off her father’s braiding skills!!

I also saw a quote on Instagram earlier today and it said that “tenderness is in the hands” and I immediately thought of Jason. There is no one with gentler hands than Jason. His fingers may be rough and his knuckles might be permanently bruised from his past, but when he interlocks his hands with his baby girl, they are the most delicate and warmest hands she has ever felt.

He will run his fingers through her hair, as she lays her tiny head against his chest and he’ll read her favourite stories. She’ll take his hands out of her hair and just play with his fingers. Trace little shapes on his palm, measure her small hand against his big, calloused ones. It’ll melt Jason’s heart and he’ll feel like crying. There will be days where he needs to stop reading and take a minute to appreciate the tenderness of the moment, without completely crumbling.

Also, I kind of hate to say it, but it’s so true. Jason would totally try to heal his daddy issues by being the best possible parent.

He’d treat his daughter like an actual princess and not just in terms of materialistic things. He’d be there for her in every circumstance; he’d be the best moral support and the best cheerleader anyone could ask for.

If your daughter plays any sports or plays an instrument, any thing really, he’d always be there to encourage her and comfort her when it started to become tough. He’d attended every game, every practice, every performance. Like I said, the best cheerleader.

Basically long story short, I’d die for soft, girl dad Jason.

[carlsangel]

friendly spirit (g.i.t.w, ch.1)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: mentions of death.

masterlist here!

other chapters here!

Carl never lost hope. Even after the prison, terminus and the church. He knew there was something for the group out there. He was probably the most hopeful out of everyone. He always wanted to keep going, he motivated everyone. It’s definitely something he’d gotten from his dad. Alexandria was exactly what he’d hoped for. At least from what he’d heard from Aaron.

Staying in a barn that smelt like horse shit was something he’d unfortunately considered before Aaron had arrived. That morning, seeing Aaron arrive through the barn doors almost made him smile. Between arguing with his dad that Alexandria was a good fit for the group and trying to back Michonne up on the same argument, he didn’t get much sleep. The entire car ride there, Rick had a plan.

He would discuss it with them over and over, going over every possibility. That’s why, when he and the others got out of the vehicles and he saw you, he thought he was imagining it. He saw you, a girl who’d climbed a tree from what it seemed like. Eugene walked past him and when the large black mullet was out of his face, you were gone. Maybe you were apart of Alexandria.

He heard children laughing and people talking. He knew this was the right place. For him, and for Judith. He sort of knew that he was the reason they needed a settlement at all. Maybe the rest of them would’ve given up at this point. Maggie had lost Beth, Sasha lost Tyreese, Daryl lost Merle ages ago…but they still stuck around. He thinks it’s because they had a sliver of hope. Hope because him and Judith are still alive.

Seeing the houses in the community sort of healed parts of his childhood. They weren’t the wealthiest of families, he imagined living in houses as big as Alexandria’s for years. He has memories, almost faded of the three of them driving through the neighborhood where all the wealthy people lived, imagining themselves there in the future. Once Rick retired of course.

It felt somewhat ironic to him, the fact that the only chance they were ever given to live in a nice and luxurious house was when the world was on its last legs. He thought a lot. Maybe too much, even in that moment where Aaron was explaining how one of the houses was better than the other, he thought about you. He wondered if you were just his imagination, or maybe you were a threat. He didn’t want to alarm anyone. But he was curious.

He returned to the conversation to hear something about curb appeal. Aaron was about to leave, he’d motioned for the both of them to check the house out but Carl stayed back. He had to talk to Aaron, to make sure he wasn’t insanely tired and you actually did exist.

“Wait— Aaron. Before you go, I just…I saw something earlier. Well someone. I was just wondering if she was apart of the community.” He explained, He described your attributes, the color of your skin and the length of your hair and what you were wearing. He felt like you were too dirty to live here however. “Oh her? Don’t worry, she just lives in the outskirts of Alexandria.” Aaron replies. Carl’s eyebrows knot together in confusion. “And you didn’t tell us? What if she’s a threat?”

Aaron sort of chuckles and it catches Carl off guard. “We call her the ghost in the woods. We’ve had people to go out and look for her…whenever they spot her she disappears quite quick but…we can’t quite seem to catch her.” He explains. Carl still didn’t understand. “She’s not a threat, I promise. Think of her as uhh… a friendly spirit.”

He thinks about that for a moment, Aaron puts his hand on Carl’s shoulder, giving him a content smile before patting it and turning away. He stewed on the idea of you, he seriously doesn’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want to join Alexandria, and why would you choose to live around it? He wanted to see you again. To meet you. He didn’t believe you were some…fairy tale. He needed to see you.

And he did. Right as Aaron walked away, in the distance he could spot you once again in a tree, just watching him. “Aaron?” He calls out, looking over to him for his attention. Once he gets it, he turns to point you out but you’re not there. Shit, now he looks stupid. “I just want to say thank you.” He says this as a cover up, but it was still mostly the truth. “Of course.” Aaron nods.

He finally tears his eyes away from the tree and catches up with his dad. He knew he had to see you, to meet you. That’d be his mission the next couple of days.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

Meanwhile you’d just descended the tree. You’d walk off your small campsite which was almost never permanent. The woods surrounding Alexandria was large. Perfect for you. You hated being confined to just one area. Especially because you hate to be attached to things.

The first rule to the apocalypse is to not get attached. You found that out the hard way. Many times. Your first home, your dad, your sister. You lost everything. All you had was their belongings. Your sister’s bracelet, your dad’s bag, and his rifle. You were in fact attached to their belongings but you knew if they weren’t in your possession, you were most likely dead.

You never intended on interacting with the people of Alexandria, you just liked the security of being outside the walls. You had precaution without technically having it. If it came down to it, you knew where to go. Not to mention sometimes the civilians would leave food for you. At first it felt dehumanizing, like they were leaving food out on the porch for a fucking raccoon.

But it was fine. You were perfectly fine on your own. Sometimes it got lonely..but you’d just occupy your time listening to music with a walkman your dad gifted you before the start or reading books you found in old cabin remains and such. You’d even watch over Alexandria. Except recently things have been especially frustrating. The rifle’s been getting jammed and the batteries in your walkman have been dying quicker than usual. You’d stop listening until you really needed it. You were yearning for something new. Anything.

But soon, a new and large group would arrive. You’d watch over Alexandria often, you knew almost everyone but not one on one. You liked the reputation you upheld there. It was like knowing everyone without having to really know them. No chance to get attached. You now had a new group of personalities to dissect. At least, all the way from the trees surrounding the walls.

You took note of all of them. More importantly, the one who noticed you first.

Carl.

i hope you liked itttt there’s more coming!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine

[tbaluver]

Sex And The City CH. 1- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings: sylus x stripper! fem reader, ( one of the love and deepspace men mentioned later in chapter ! the rest shall come in the future chapters <3 ) word count: 3.7k warnings: +18 MDNI, stripper au!, lap dance, explicit/ suggestive content, pussy ate, car sex, might be ooc a/n: it's been a while since i written a long fic like this i think i might go puke i hope you all enjoy this chapter might be a while if i make the second one heh (': also would like to mention the things i wrote about strippers aren't always going to be true irl! these are things i've heard of and was informed on! running away from my pc the moment i post this any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

In the city’s vibrant nightlife, you were the most desired stripper, a magnetic presence on stage and in private rooms alike. Your performances were nothing short of mesmerizing, leaving your clients spellbound and eagerly anticipating your next appearance. What was supposed to be a short-term gig—just a means to settle some debts—quickly turned into a flood of income, far surpassing your initial expectations. Despite the less-than-ideal clientele that often came with the job, the allure of the cash kept you entrenched in the game.

Yet, amidst the sea of faceless patrons, there were four men who stood out from the rest. They were different—each one a distinct enigma that defied the usual boundaries of your profession. In a world where setting boundaries is crucial, these men challenge everything you thought you knew about your own limits and ethics. Their presence makes you question whether the love stories you once dismissed as fairy tales could, perhaps, be within reach after all.

The city’s clubs are more than just venues—they are arenas of escapism, where desires are laid bare and fantasies come alive. Stepping into this vibrant realm means navigating a landscape where the line between performer and persona blurs, where confidence and social skills is as crucial as skill, and where the stakes can be as high as the heels you wear. For those who step into this world, it’s not just about the art of dance but the art of survival and success in ones life.

The club was a place where anything went as long as you stayed within certain boundaries. You’d done your share of things with clients before, but nothing too extreme. These four, however, were different. Each one lingered in your thoughts long after they’d left.

You slide down the silver pole until your ass hits the floor, allowing you to slowly spread open your legs. The atmosphere tonight is as it always is, every man in the building eagle-eyed on the way you dance for them, the way they pay for.

Honestly, becoming a stripper wasn't part of your future plans. It was always a joke you’d tell your friends about what you'd do if everything fell apart. And now, here you are. But life happens, you paid off almost all your debt, and it makes money so who are you to complain.

The club has a prestigious reputation, attracting everyone from high-profile celebrities to wealthy CEOs. Despite the fierce competition among the other dancers for tips and regulars, things have been going really well for you here. You’re making the most money and attracting the largest crowds. The other dancers opinions don’t faze you; they had a reason to argue, after all.

You’re smirking seductively, dragging your eyes over the crowd of men on the front row, your regular crowd. The men who empty their wallets enjoying every movement you make across the stage. You’d make so much money if you offered private dances but you only take requests for your boundaries. As soon as the lights fade to black, you collect your money from the stage, ignoring the wolf-whistles and lewd comments fired in every direction. The job isn’t perfect, it comes with downsides like every other job.

“Y/N” You heard someone call your name from the front, peeking out of the changing room to meet your eyes with the manager. “You got a request in the private suite.”

“Coming!” You called out, slipping a robe over your body, your hands held protectively over your stomach so that the garment didn’t slip off.

You crossed the bar to the private suite you’d branded as your own. You slipped through the parted curtains, letting it fully close behind you to give you and your guest privacy. The room was cozy, with soft velvet booth seating and gentle low lighting. As you enter in, your gaze settled and you made immediate eye contact with the guest, a man whose presence was unfamiliar.

He was settled into the center of the velvet booth, one arm lazily draped over the top of the seating while the other held a tumblr of whisky. The amber liquid swirled gently as he took a slow sip, his gaze steady and unflinching, expecting you. The man before you was striking—his white hair, framing a face dominated by piercing crimson eyes that held an unsettling intensity. His muscular build was evident even beneath his shirt, the fabric straining slightly against his powerful frame. There was no doubt this man was quite handsome. The room seemed to grow heavier with his presence, the air charged with an almost palpable tension.

As you stepped further into the dimly lit room, you fixed your gaze on the man who clearly wasn’t one of your usual clients. With a confident smile that masked any hint of nervousness, you sauntered over to him, your hips swaying with practiced ease.

“Evening, stranger,” You say, voice smooth and sultry. “I haven’t seen you around before. What brings you to my corner of the world tonight?”

He meets your gaze with a small smirk, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. “Sylus.” He says, assuming that’s his name. With a slow, deliberate sip of his whisky, he sets the glass on the table with a soft clink. He leans forward slightly, his gaze sharp and assessing.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “I’m intrigued to find out if you live up to the reputation. Show me what you’re capable of.”

You raised an eyebrow, a confident smirk playing on your lips. “Is that so?” You replied, your tone playful yet assertive. “I’ve always been one to deliver on promises. Why don’t you sit back and watch? I’m quite good at exceeding expectations.”

The music in the background thumped with a steady, rhythmic beat. You moved closer, your body swaying that matched the music's pace. The dim lighting of the room captures the highlight every curve and movement. With a teasing smile, you straddle his lap, your hips gently rocking in time with the music.

Your hands roam lightly over his broad shoulders, fingertips brushing against his neck as you leaned in, your breath was warm against him. Your movements remained slow and deliberate, each sway of your hips were designed to tease. You could feel the heat of his body through the thin material of your outfit.

As you continued, your hands traced a path down his toned chest, your touch lingering enough hoping to spark a thrill. As you do all this, you remain eye contact with him, while your bodies are pressed together and as your hips circle around his lap. Your hands guided his large calloused hands around the curves on your body. You were closely pressed against him that you could feel the warmth of his breath gently caressing your skin.

Your eyes drift to the shot glass resting on the table. With a playful smile, you slip it between your cleavage, giving him a suggestive look. His eyebrows quirk in surprise, but his sly smirk stays firmly in place. "May I?" He asks, his voice with amusement.

You nod watching him plant his face into your chest, grabbing the shot glass with his mouth before tilting his head back to down it all. His grip on your waist remains and his hair falls back to it's usual position.

With some adjusting you stood on your knees in a staddle over his lap, hips leaning forward. One finger beckoned him closer, the other hand danced along the waistband of your bottoms. "Put it here hon." You say in a sultry tone.

He slips a bill into your waistband with a slight chuckle, his hand lingering to give your a hip a gentle squeeze. You glance down casually, trying to catch a glimpse of how much he's tipping, doing your best to mask your surprise. You resist the urge to look again, even as you catch the sight of a generous numbered bill peeking from your waistband.

By the next song started, your robe had already been slipped away, along with most of your outfit, leaving you in nothing but the most delicate lingerie. You twerk, grind, and tease him of all the angles of your body that he wished he could see.

At the end of the song, you flashed him a practiced smile, speaking in the sweetest voice you could muster. "How about moving up to VIP?"

He intertwined his fingers with yours, catching you off guard. "Not tonight, sweetie," he murmured with a mysterious smile. "You really put on quite a show. I must say, I'm impressed." He says as he softly chuckles.

"I'll see you another time. Consider me satisfied." With a lingering smirk, he placed a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles, his gaze remaining on yours.

He gently lifted you from his lap, his touch felt gentle and tender. Setting a generous stack of cash on the table, he glanced at you with a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Until next time,” he murmured softly before turning and leaving the private suite, the curtains falling quietly behind him.

──────

That’s how you first encountered him. He started coming around regularly, but always at unexpected times, making his visits hard to predict. Occasionally, you’d catch sight of him in the distant shadows of the crowd during your performances. Each time, he’d make a point to request your presence before slipping away again.

Sometimes, there was no dancing involved at all—just drinks and conversation. At first, this surprised you, but you soon found it to be a refreshing change from your usual routine.

One day, he casually mentioned that he was the leader of the Onychinus, as if it were a mundane fact that he tells anybody. Your eyes widened in shock at the revelation, and his amused chuckle hinted at his awareness of your reaction. "Scared?" he asked, studying your response intently. You paused for a moment, reflecting on the fearsome reputation he held in the N109 Zone. Despite this, here he was, speaking to you with an ease that made the situation feel oddly casual.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little intimidated,” you admitted, meeting his gaze with a mix of curiosity and resolve. “But honestly, you don’t seem like the kind of person who would do anything to hurt me.” There was a nervous edge to your smile, but your eyes remained steady, reflecting both your apprehension and the surprising trust you felt in his presence.

His presence, though initially intimidating, turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. The ease of your interactions made his company enjoyable, providing a welcome respite from the more demanding regulars.

Then one day he slips you a card, and at first, you thought little of it. You assumed it might be some sort of gimmick or a ploy to recruit you for something unsavory. But his explanation caught you off guard. He clarified that he simply wanted to take you out for a change of scenery, offering a chance to escape the usual routine and experience something different together. The gesture felt unexpected and intriguing, hinting at a possible deeper connection forming between you.

"You don’t have to meet or do anything with me outside of this place," he reassured, understanding the challenges and unwanted advances that often come with your line of work. "I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust and make you feel comfortable."

──────

It had been a long time since you’d met up with a client outside of work, and this one was unlike any you’d dealt with before. The leader of the Onychinus had sparked your imagination with both dread and curiosity. You’d imagined the worst scenarios, yet you couldn’t shake the curiosity about possibilities that weren’t as grim. After much thought, you found yourself here, enjoying a night that defied your expectations and turned out to be unexpectedly exhilarating.

His hand was cradling your neck so gently. His kiss was passionate, an intense hunger for more of your soft lips against his. It's slowly becoming addicting as you wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the exchange. You open your mouth to let his tongue slide in, the kisses getting sloppier and wetter. You were both pressed again so closely yet this time it felt a little more different from the past. The heat between your lips blooms in your stomach and it has you silently begging for more making you weak.

──────

"Y/N," You heard someone call your name from the front, peeking out of the changing room to meet your managers eyes, "You got a request from the private suite. It's a regular."

The excitement fluttered in your chest as you know it was Sylus making the request. After the surprisingly enjoyable time you'd spent with him outside the club, you felt a genuine thrill at the thought of seeing him again. You'd chosen a special outfit for this night, one bought by the money he's showered you in.

"On my way!" You called out, slipping a robe over the pretty red straps lining your body. You carefully tie the material together, ensuring the garment stays in place. With practiced steps, you crossed the bar to the private suite.

"There you are, sweetie," He says, his sly smirk now a familiar sight. "I've been waiting too long." With a playful glint in your eye, you approach him, slipping off your robe with a teasing grace. As you drop the robe, it reveals your red lingerie outfit underneath. Each cup framing your breast and letting your nipples peak through. You settled onto his lap and made yourself comfortable on your throne.

Sylus puts one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck, meeting you in a heated kiss. The kiss was hot and passionate and you two moved like you had done this a thousand times, perfectly in sync. Tongues battled for dominance but you let him win. Once he was sure you weren’t going to pull away, the hand on your neck traveled down your back to your waist.

Both of his hands gripped you and dragged you further up his body, moving your hips from his thigh to his grain. The action caused a small amount of friction between your heat and his cock but it was enough to make you whimper.

His hands slip further down your waist, grasping your hips harshly as he began to rock you back and forth against him. Although he wore his trousers, you can feel him grow harder by the second.

Your lips press kisses down his jawline and neck, leaving him panting. His breathing becomes more erratic with every kiss and the soft groan he would make when you would grind against his crotch. His hands run all over your body, feeling every inch and curve of you. His right hand runs up your side until his thumb rubs playfully just under your breast. With a swift motion, the lingerie top was gone in seconds. You move your lips away from his neck to sit straighter as a moan escapes your lips when his left hand squeezes your breast.

His right hand runs back down your body, caressing and squeezing your ass. He gently lifted you from his lap, guiding you to take his place in the seat. As you settle into the spot, his tall frame hovers over you. He lowers himself to your gaze, before diving in for a rough kiss, his lips bruising yours. He pulls out of the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, “I’m going to take care of you sweetie.”

He goes lower and lower, removing the thin string for your bottoms and throwing it somewhere around the room. His fingers trace your slick folds, gasping as he began to slowly pump. “Already so wet for me?”

You let out a whine when he removes his hand from your heat but your breath hitches when he places both your legs on his shoulders. His tongue dives into your entrance, licking up to your clit while his lips wrapped around you, sucking gently. "Such a pretty cunt baby." He gazes up for a bit to look at your reaction before going back down.

Your hands intertwine to his soft white locks, tugging harshly. He adds a finger to pump in and out of you at a rough pace as his tongue swirls and teases against your clit, bringing you over the edge.

“I’m so close Sy” You moaned out but he didn't stop. He adds another finger and he pumps into you faster, sucking harshly on your clit to find your release. His name spew out of your lips as you came all over his fingers and his mouth. Your nails dug into his scalp as he lapped up your juices with his tongue, not letting a single drop go to waste.

"When do you get off work?" He asks below you. "I can leave and enter anytime Sy."

"Meet me in my car in a few minutes."

──────

“You're so beautiful,” he groans, throwing his head back as he put his hands on your waist, helping you lower yourself onto his awaiting length. "'m gonna keep you all to myself" He says breathlessly, lifting you up again and lowering you on his cock. You could see his muscles flex and strain through his long sleeve shirt. He knew if he moved too soon, he would make you cum. Not yet. The feeling of his cock in your cunt felt too good for a release.

You bit your lips as you continued to glide slowly up and down his long length. He filled you too full and too much that you were lost in a trance. You didn't know you can make such sounds every time you sank all the way down until your ass hits his thighs. The head of his cock struck so deep and the sound coming from your lips were so raw and lewd.

"Fuck-hah you feel so good angel," he groan, one hand stroking your thigh as his back arched. His buttoned long sleeve shirt opened revealing his chest was pushed up against yours. His other hand holding on to your ass, guiding your movement when it got too clumsy. He would help lift you up when your thighs gave out.

"I got you my sweet girl" He coos noticing your thighs sloppy movement. Your body slumps forward onto his as his fingers stroked your spine, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

He lifts you up as he pushed his hips upward, thrusting into you. His name slips from your lips as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. The pleasure licked your inside every time he hits that one spot again and again making your breath hitch in your throat.

The squelching sounds filled the car along with your pants and moans. He held your hips in place as he could you feel you close to coming undone in his arms. He began to thrust inside you with determination. He was relentless, withdrawing himself all the way out before plunging balls deep back inside of you.

You sobbed telling him how good his feels as you hold on to his shoulders. "C'mon sweetie come on my cock." He spoke, jaw clenched as he brutally thrusted into you with his arm wrapped around your waist. You came with a loud shot and your body spasms feeling the white-hot release. The rippling wave of your orgasms washed over you.

He connects his forehead against yours while catching his breath. "I'm going to get you out of here." He whispers.

──────

His eyes are on you.

As you sway your hips in rhythm with the music, gracefully releasing your grip from the pole, you glide across the stage in the bustier you chose just for him. You know precisely how he reacts to this look, and you wield it like a finely honed weapon, using its effect to your advantage.

Maybe one of these nights, he will stop drinking from the whisky glass he's always holding and drink from your lips instead. Maybe one of these nights you'll be brave enough to approach him yourself. To straddle his lap and innocently grind your hips against him. But every time your performance ended, he would be gone from his seat.

But for now, you continue to dance.

The lights flicker around you and the music does not help with your spiraling thoughts. The more you stand on the stage, moving your hips, purposefully bending low enough to give him a show, the more you want him. You weren't the only one who wants him though. Every night he appears, you would hear whispers and exchanges about him among the other girls. However he only wanted you.

He is quite known.

Although the N109 zone is terrified of the Onychinus leader. He's the most influential, dominant figure in the N109 Zone. However, he hasn't been seen for a while until now appearing in your presence.

The girls keep trying their luck with him every night and it makes your skin crawl. The girls don't know the reputation he holds in the N109 Zone and you kept it a secret between you and him so he wouldn't risk anything. You know you shouldn't be jealous. You've thought about him often. You thought about why he hasn't requested for you but only to watch your shows on the main stage. You don't have his number and he only texts you from burner phones so you don't know what's happening between you.

Specifically this one memory of what happened last time with him. You still remembered how he called you his sweet girl when he fucked in you in his car. His gun placed on the passenger seat as you rode him.

You don't question it. You don't dare too. You were to much lost in the trance as you try to reach your high. While he rammed himself inside you, he had promised to protect you. To get you out of there. But it was all just empty promises.

He is nothing but the devil himself.

And you knew better than to dance with the devil.

──────

“The more enticing the bait, the more dangerous things can get. Most are clueless to it.” In a secluded corner of the strip club, tucked away in the farthest booth, two men engaged in a quiet, confidential conversation. Their voices, low and discreet, barely reached beyond their private alcove as they watched the show from a distance

“Now’s not the time to celebrate. The big fish we want hasn’t fallen for it yet. Did you bring the stuff I requested?” he asked, his voice smooth and calculated, adding to the air of mystery that surrounded him. His interest in you was palpable, each moment of your performance drawing him further into a captivation. His pale skin contrasted sharply with his dusky purple hair, which fell in a sleek middle part. His eyes, a striking mix of blue and pink, seemed to flicker with an otherworldly intensity as he watched you, captivated by your every move. As he held a tumbler of whisky in one hand, his gaze remained fixed on you, as if you were the only thing in the room that mattered.

“What do you think of her?” the man with dusky purple hair asked, his voice cutting through the conversation casually. He tilted his head slightly, his striking blue and pink eyes still fixed on you, as if you were the focal point of his attention.

The man across from him glanced in your direction before returning his gaze, clearly impatient. “Rafayel, I think we have more pressing matters to discuss right now,” he replied, his tone edged with frustration.

"I think we can conclude this meeting. I would like to go meet her."

[mediumgayitalian]

The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

[enretrogue]

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗘 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮

༝༚༝༚ = Black/POC Works ⎢ 24’ Fic Rec M.List

a/n: okay, HEAR ME OUT! i may have developed a LH44 hyperfixation that turned into a full blown Formula 1 obsession (see july fic recs for that). like i have a whole F1TV subscription and i bought Lewis' Mercedes merch and I LOVE LEWIS HAMILTON, CHARLES LECLERC, OSCAR PIASTRI, AND DANIEL RICCIARDO 😌☝🏽. that is all

FORMULA 1:

Lewis Hamilton

Foxxy — @serpenttines ༝༚༝༚

The Sounds We’re Making — ^ ༝༚༝༚

The Speed of Your Heart⎢ Full Send⎢ Sent — ^ ༝༚༝༚

I’d Destroy the Moon for You — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Lovers and Friends⎢Father’s Day — @saturnville ༝༚༝༚

Oops — ^ ༝༚༝༚

A Night Off — ^ ༝༚༝༚

T-Shirt — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Wash Day — ^ ༝༚༝༚

II Hands II Heaven — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Save a Horse, Ride a Driver — @mauvecherie-writes ༝༚༝༚

Poison — ^ ༝༚༝༚

So Ready — ^ ༝༚༝༚

The Morning After — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Duality — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Super Soaker — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Filthy — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Meritorious — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Bathe Me In Your Warmth — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Cupid’s Kisses — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Heartdresser — @thisismeracing ༝༚༝༚

A Friend of a Friend — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Moonshine — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Sunshine — ^ ༝༚༝༚

She’s That Girl — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Part of Your World — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Jealousy, Jealousy — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Just Us — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Paddock Princess — @emjayewrites ༝༚༝༚

Texas Hold ‘Em — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Lil Crush — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Sir/BabyGirl — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Warm, Buttery and Soft — @laneywrld ༝༚༝༚

Call Out My Name — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Alienated — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Still a Champion — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Oh Baby⎢ Part 1⎢ Part 2⎢ Part 3 — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Futile Devices — ^ ༝༚༝༚

If We Being Real — @saintslewis ༝༚༝༚

Kissing On My Tattoos — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Know That You Are Loved — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Whatever She Wants — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Around The Sun — ^ ༝༚༝༚

P*SSY FAIRY — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Slow Motion — ^ ༝༚༝༚

It’s the Soul that Needs a Surgery — ^ ༝༚༝༚

In the End — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Graduation — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Just One More⎢ Part 2⎢ Part 3 — @henneseyhoe༝༚༝༚

Daddy’s Money — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Catch a Flight, Change the Weather — @hopefulromantic1 ༝༚༝༚

Come on Home — ^ ༝༚༝༚

What We Did In the Dark⎢ Ch.1⎢ Ch.2⎢ Ch.3⎢ Ch.4 — @royallyprincesslilly ༝༚༝༚

She Calls Me Daddy Now — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Lil’ Love — ^ ༝༚༝༚

You are My New Dream⎢ Bonus — @peyiswriting ༝༚༝༚

You Could Never Be Me — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Friendly Man — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Pillow Talk — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Grenada — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Mind of Mine — @ham1lton ༝༚༝༚

Assistant!Y/N — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Just Tattoo of Us — @itsmrshamilton ༝༚༝༚

First Sight — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Conversations While Braiding — @non-stop-imagines ༝༚༝༚

Tender Sex and Cockwarming — @httpsserene ༝༚༝༚

We’ve Been Caught. You Might As Well Post It.⎢Part 2 — @writinginfinite ༝༚༝༚

A Little Release — @hookhausenschips ༝༚༝༚

Krispy Kreme — @blackgirlsrxck ༝༚༝༚

[seiya-starsniper]

Six Degrees of Separation - Ch 6 COMPLETED

(Sandman x Dead Boy Detectives)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Crystal Palace/Charles Rowland (DCU), Johanna Constantine/Jenny Green

Rating: Teen & Up | Chapters 6/6 | Words: 12K

Tags: POV Multiple, Hob Gadling gives live advice to a bunch of teenagers, while helping them solve cases, that's it that's the fic, also he maybe plays matchmaker for his hot mess bestie, fic starts out as crystal/charles and ends with charles/edwin, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Hob Gadling adopts the Dead Boy Detectives

Tumblr Posts: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5

Read Chapter 6 below, or at the above link on AO3

A year after Hob’s adopted three teenagers and a full grown adult as his unintentional, supernatural crime-solving family, a small Japanese girl walks into his pub covered in glitter and blood.

And she's with Dream , of all people. Dream, who looks like someone had run him through a blender and spat him out the wrong way. He’s not covered in the same glittering blood as his mysterious companion, but his messy black hair is even more wild and unkempt than normal, and the exhausted look on his face tells Hob he’s just gotten himself out of one hell of a situation and needs to talk about it. 

Well, at least the pub was completely empty so that made things easy. Which, now that Hob thinks about it, was probably intentional intervention on Dream’s part.

“Hello old friend,” Hob greets Dream with a wave as they approach the bar, where he’s cleaning and drying off some pint glasses. Hob turns his gaze down towards the girl, who for all intents and purposes appears human, but somehow still looks like someone out of a cartoon with bubblegum pink hair that is definitely not wig, and wide, iridescent blue eyes a shade of blue he’s pretty sure does not exist in normal human eyes. “And you are—?”

“You don’t look like you’re over 600 years old,” the girl says bluntly, shocking Hob enough that he nearly drops the glass he’s holding. “You’re not feeding children to a giant snake to look young too, are you?” she asks him. 

“Niko,” Dream growls at the girl and Hob’s brain short-circuits even further as he processes the name. “That is not what I told you.”

Hob gapes for a solid minute looking back and forth between the two of them as Dream and Niko (Niko? Niko?!) start arguing about the semantics of immortality. 

“You said he was immortal, so I was expecting a wise old man!” Niko exclaims, gesturing a glittery blood-soaked mitten in Hob’s direction. “Not a guy who looks like a middle school teacher! Esther had to eat kids to look like that!”

“Hob is not eating children,” Dream replies with an exasperated sigh, resting a palm over his head. “For the last time Niko, my sister—”

“Niko? As in Niko Sasaki?” Hob blurts out, interrupting their conversation because otherwise his brain is going to explode. Both Dream and Niko whip their heads at him in surprise. 

“Niko Sasaki with the weirdly large manga collection?” Hob continues as his brain recounts every single thing he’s heard about the girl in the past year. “Niko who tried to set Jenny up with a serial killer and it didn’t quite go as planned? Niko with the parasite fairies that lived inside her for months?”

“You know who I am?” Niko gasps. She turns to Dream, who looks just as shocked as she does. “How does he know me?” she demands. “Wait!” she exclaims before Dream can even reply, turning back to face Hob. “Are you psychic too?”

“No, but I know one who will be very happy to see you,” Hob answers, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here I’ve heard so much about—oh shit wait! JENNY! GET OUT HERE!” Hob yells at the top of his lungs, remembering belatedly that there was someone in The New Inn right now that would be thrilled to see Niko.

“ Jenny ?” Niko practically shrieks, and both Hob and Dream wince at the high pitched sound. “Jenny’s in London? Wait, why is Jenny in London?”

“Moved over here with Crystal and the boys,” Hob says. “Oy, Jenny!” he calls out again, and this time, the American comes rushing out of the kitchen, looking extremely annoyed but also alarmed.

“What? What’s happening? Are we under attack aga—” she goes silent when she sees Niko. “Niko?” she whispers. 

“Oh my god, Jenny!” Niko cries out, which seems to break Jenny out of her trance. Suddenly, the two girls are rushing towards each other, collapsing into a pile on the floor as they hug and sob. 

“Oh my god is that blood and glitter on you?” Jenny says. “What the fuck? Are you alive? Am I dead? Oh God, I’m dead aren’t I? I can see the grim reaper right over there,” she adds, noticing Dream for the first time as she clutches Niko desperately to her.

Niko giggles. “No silly, that’s Dream. He just looks like that,” she says, gesturing to the Endless, and Hob can’t help but laugh at Dream's dour expression. He’d thought Dream was the embodiment of Death once upon a time because of that face too. “He’s the one who helped me get back to Earth!”

“Back to—where the hell have you been, Niko?” Jenny asks incredulously.

“No, not Hell silly, I was in the Dreaming!” Niko answers brightly. “Although Hell did try to take over, which is why it took so long for me to get back.”

“Hell did what now ?” Hob cuts in, suddenly feeling quite faint. He’s quite glad he’s still behind the bar, else he may have also collapsed on the floor himself. 

“It is,” Dream says with a deep and weary sigh, “quite the tale. It seems you have your own stories to share as well, my friend.”

“I—yeah I do. I’ll close the bar and call the boys and Crystal,” Hob replies. “Best if we get both stories out in one go, I think.”

“Agreed.”

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

There's a lot of screaming and crying that follows, and Hob is pretty certain he's going to be hard of hearing for the next few days while his eardrums recover. He doesn't mind though. Not when the kids all look so happy.

Niko's soul, it turns out, had been blasted to an entirely different dimension when she’d died, and that had been due to the cocktail of magical essences Niko had been carrying on her person unknowingly at the time. A lucky charm in the shape of a polar bear from someone named Tragic Mick had protected her from the magic that Esther the Witch had used to kill her, but then that magic had collided with the magic of the dandelion sprites. Apparently, when Litty and Kingham left Niko’s body without killing her, they had left some of their essence behind in her body, forging a connection that forced them to go wherever she went. And if all that wasn’t complicated enough, there was also apparently a cursed magic 8-ball! Hob’s really not sure how that played a part in anything, but according to Dream and Niko, the fact that she’d carried it with her at the time was vital to her transformation.

Which is to say, Niko Sasaki was no longer necessarily human. At least, not human by this dimension’s standards. Apparently her hair had once been black, then bleached blonde when the sprites had left her body, and now this newest brush with her own mortality had left her hair bright pink, and her eyes a glowing blue. Apparently it gave her the ability to see in the dark, and also sometimes see the future, amongst other abilities that she and Dream were still discovering.

In short, as she described it, Niko had become “a magical school girl! Without the weird uniform though. But all the cool magic!” 

Dream had come across her when she’d attempted to get back to the reality she knew. Her transformation had given her the ability to dimension walk, though she didn’t know that’s what she was doing when she’d been drawn to the gates of the Dreaming. She’d only walked towards something that felt like home to her, and the gates of the Dreaming, also recognizing Niko as one of its original inhabitants, had swung open easily to let her and the sprites inside. 

Dream himself had not been so welcoming at first. He’d taken Niko’s accidental wandering as intentional trespassing with an intent to invade. Niko and the sprites had tried to explain themselves, but they didn’t get very far before an actual threat to the Dreaming appeared in the form of Lucifer Morningstar and their generals from Hell. Although they were not obligated to, all three joined the battle against Hell, Niko because she felt it was the right thing to do, while Litty and Kingham claimed Hell was no place for faeries. 

In the end, however, the sprites had perished during the battle, giving up their lives and the last of their magic for Niko, which is why she was covered in glittering blood. Apparently, sprite blood doesn’t wash out, but would fade on its own over time. Since Litty and Kingham had died within the boundaries of the Dreaming, Dream had offered them a permanent place in his realm as residents, as gratitude for their sacrifice. They had chosen to become nightmares, which, according to Niko and the others, was entirely appropriate considering their personalities.

Hob’s head is spinning by the time Dream and Niko finish recounting the tale. Edwin and Charles immediately start asking dozens of questions about Niko’s time in another dimension, while Crystal and Jenny bracket the girl on each side, holding her tightly as if she may disappear again if they weren’t around to tether her to this dimension. Johanna shows up at some point to be moral support for her girlfriend too, and further breaks Hob’s brain by confirming she too had been blasted to another dimension due to magic spells gone wrong.

Hob should maybe update his wards to include prevention against interdimensional travel. He’ll figure out the how of that later, though. Right now, tonight was a night for celebrating, school night be damned. It does not escape his notice that he’s the only one of their group that even has to worry about that.

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

Hours later, Hob finds himself alone at the new Inn with Dream, cleaning up dishes and putting away the chairs for the night. The others had offered at first to help clean up, but Hob had insisted they all go home and rest, but Dream had insisted that he would stay behind to help clean up and well, Hob’s never been able to deny Dream anything. 

Hob hadn’t missed the pointed looks Crystal and Edwin had given him as she and the others had filed out of the pub, nor the curious look from Jenny, and most certainly not the look of abject horror from Johanna. Charles and Niko had been the worst offenders, both giving him two obnoxious thumbs up on their way out. Hob doesn’t even know Niko, this was just getting embarrassing at this point. Everyone seemed to have some sort of opinion on Hob’s relationship (no, not a situationship) with Dream.

Hob really only cares about one person’s opinion though, and he’s currently staring at Hob as he finishes wiping down the tables, the last activity left before he closes up for the night.

“You did a good thing, reuniting those kids,” Hob says to Dream as he tosses his rag on the counter and turns to face his friend. “I've never seen them so happy.”

Dream hums contemplatively. “I hardly did anything,” he replies, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It was Niko's determination alone that carried her as far as it did, and her bravery that kept my realm from falling. I simply delivered her back to the Waking World.”

“I’m glad she was here, to have your back,” Hob says. “And I’m glad you brought her here. I know you said earlier you didn’t know the kids were here, but did you really not notice?”

“I did not,” Dream admits. “I have been—preoccupied with many things as of late. I simply brought Niko to where I knew for certain that she would be safe. Cared for.” 

“I’m honored,” Hob replies, grinning from ear to ear. “That you’d consider me a good caretaker for her. I would hope you know I’d be happy to care for you too, should you ever need it.”

“I am—aware,” Dream says, his cheeks taking on the slightest hue of pink. Hob briefly wonders if Dream blushes everywhere on his body, or only just on his face. Then he feels his own face heat up as his mind goes off in other directions.  

“Would you like to come upstairs?” Hob asks, trying to distract himself from his wandering thoughts, but then he realizes just how suggestive his invitation sounds and blushes even more. “I mean, I uh, if you don’t have anywhere to be I’d uhm—I’d like to keep talking,” he adds quickly, trying and failing to banish thoughts of what they could be doing in Hob’s flat other than talking . Christ, this was his oldest friend, not some girl he was trying to take to bed for the night. Dream doesn’t respond right away to Hob’s question, only tilts his head at him as if assessing something that Hob cannot see. 

“Hob Gadling,” Dream finally says, his voice suddenly serious. “You are aware I can see into daydreams as well as sleeping ones?”

Shit. 

Well cat’s out of the bag then. Might as well own up to it. Crystal’s never going to let him live this down, Hob knows.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Hob says, before taking a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. “I really did want to just talk, I promise. I’m a grown man, Dream I know how to take a rejection. I’m happy for just your company, and friendship.” He means every single word of it too, and if Dream didn’t believe him, he could apparently just read his mind to find out. 

“Hmmm,” Dream replies, before he takes one, two, three wide steps into Hob’s personal space. Hob inhales sharply, tasting petrichor and stars and infinity in that single breath. 

“I have been made aware recently,” Dream continues after a moment, looking up at Hob from his eyelashes, “that I carry a lot of ‘baggage’, as Niko likes to put it.”

“We all have our burdens,” Hob replies, with a shrug. “I'd help you carry yours, if you'd let me. Or well, if I could.”

“No,” Dream says. “I asked another once, if she would be my queen, and share that burden with me. She told me the burden would be too great for her, or any mortal.”

“Dream,” Hob starts, more ready to make his case. “I could—”

“No,” Dream interrupts, shaking his head, his gaze suddenly faraway as he recalls what Hob assumes to be a painful memory. “She was right. I would not ask you to take such a responsibility. It would fundamentally change you and leave you unable to live your life as you have been accustomed to these past centuries.”

“But?” Hob asks knowing there is a but in Dream’s tone. Dream sighs, before he meets Hob’s eyes again, his gaze clearer and perhaps a bit…hopeful?

“But perhaps…maybe coffee?” Dream asks shyly. Hob laughs. 

“Did you learn that from Niko too?” Hob teases him.

“In a way,” Dream answers, cryptic as ever. “If you are willing to be patient with me, Hob, I would gladly cherish you as both a friend and… something more than that,” he adds, and Hob’s heart soars. “There are limitations, however, and I—”

“Dream,” Hob interrupts. “Remember how we started? A hundred years between each meeting? That was enough.” He takes Dream's hand into his and kisses it, then moves his lips across each individual knuckle. 

“I don't know how relationships with anthropomorphic personifications are supposed to work, but I know it won't be what I'm used to,” Hob confesses. “And it's okay, Dream. It's enough for me, just to know that you feel something for me too. We can figure the rest out later.”

“You are too free with your affections,” Dream tells him, but there’s no real reproach in his voice.

“Maybe,” Hob replies. “But I have a lot of love to give, what with living forever and all. Let me show you just how much?” he adds, this time unashamedly letting his daydreams unspool from his mind. The innocent and dirty alike. Dream’s eyes widen as he seems to physically taste Hob’s dreams, before his eyes darken and he squeezes Hob’s hand in turn.

“Lead the way then,” Dream says, his lips quirking just the slightest bit into a playful smile. Hob kisses Dream's hand once more and winks, before leading the Endless upstairs to end the night.

[muskoxen]

I like how Valancy is described exactly the way you’d describe a changeling child: tilted, eerie eyes; stick-straight, lusterless black hair; a “three-cornered, white” face; small; thin; possessed of a “ghastly grin”; sallow-skinned.

But instead of bringing trouble and discord to the family, she is the only peace-seeking member of a family filled with inharmonious, petty, and emotionally abusive people.

She is like the antithesis of the changeling; the second she leaves, the whole family goes into turmoil; the second she leaves, she finds happiness and satisfaction.

Edit: Nailed it! Just got to ch 27 and Valancy-as-a-Changeling is explicitly brought up 😭

“It makes me think of those what-d’ye-call-‘ems,” said Uncle Benjamin helplessly. “Those yarns—you know—of fairies taking babies out of their cradles.”

“Valancy could hardly be a changeling at twenty-nine,” said Aunt Wellington satirically.

“She was the oddest-looking baby I ever saw, anyway,” averred Uncle Benjamin.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.31

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: None

(Let me introduce you to Brandon. Please ignore his hair and eye color. It's almost impossible to find someone with sky-blue eyes and golden hair. Just imagine that he has both. Thank you.) (Also, before anyone asks: Yes, the Brandon (Who knows, knows) we saw in the Winx Saga is handsome, but in my opinion, he just doesn't fit.)

Eating at the cafeteria was quite awkward, as Sky and Brandon had sensed the awkwardness between Riven and me. However, I told them that I still thought he was a psychopath and hoped that this would help cover up what happened between us. When I looked over at him, he seemed relieved and even smiled cheekily, almost as if he liked that I thought he was crazy and kept our incident a secret.

Even though the situation with Riven happened over an hour ago, I can't get that stupid glint in his beautiful indigo eyes out of my head.

Upset, I thrust my sword down harder and accidentally split a tree in half. I move gracefully like snow slowly falling down the Bargener mountains. It almost feels like I'm dancing—moves I've never done before. Up until this point, I've always fought efficiently to kill. But now that none of that is around, I can finally let go.

I move like one of those dancers on the stages of clubs young nobles like to go to, where a story is told only through dancing. I never really liked it, though. It was boring, and even now that I'm doing something similar, I still don't like it, but the movements just feel right. Honestly? My body feels a lot more exhausted than usual. Normally I would have to train from morning to evening to get even a bit tired. But with so much movement, the sweat is dripping down my forehead after just an hour.

In the middle of a particularly long circular motion where I twist and turn several times, I initially press my sword between my eyes against my chest, but then let go and hold it in one hand while I go in the other direction with my free hand. However, I quickly pull back as I notice my turns becoming sloppier and hold it tightly to me instead. As a final act, I carefully move my free hand to my sword and snake my arm upward, holding the blade up, until I firmly grasp the handle with both hands. Suddenly I stop and thrust the sword forward.

Nothing happens for a second, until the tree I'm aiming the sword at gets a big hole in it, and many trees behind it look similar.

I feel oddly proud of it and smile mischievously. Especially since I know someone who can help me heal these trees, the picture of the girl from the forest flashes in my mind.

But suddenly something lands on my head, pulling me out of my prior thoughts. Soon after, I feel a sharp pain where this small animal stands. As I reach up, I can feel feathers. I grab it quickly, as one should when handling a small bird, immediately and effortlessly removing it from my scalp and moving it before my eyes.

"You little shit," I mutter under my breath, "how dare you peck at me?" As I stare at it, a strange sensation comes over me, almost as if its striking blue feathers are pulsing. I stroke it down to its front, just above the heart. Pressing my thumb onto it, I find what I expected. Lifting my gaze from his chest back to its eyes, I couldn't hold back a wide grin. All the while, its black eyes gleam fearfully back at me.

But I don't say anything else. Instead, I put the little bird in my pocket, careful not to hurt its wings. Since it is warmer now than recently, I walk briskly around the house.

As I rush through the front door, there are still many people milling around, talking and even giggling. Some of the girls even talk to the boys, something they've mostly avoided before, which makes me happy as I like the specialists and I know that many of them have their eye on some of the fairies. Of course, they would; they're fairies and therefore beautiful.

A couple of guys call me over the moment they see me from seats in the lounge. When I get there, one of them jumps up and puts me in a headlock, or at least tries to, but out of pure reflex, I do the same. Laughing, we start to wrestle, but I try to be mindful not to crush my new little friend in my pocket.

But suddenly I see a grin on his face, and before I know it, he drops to the ground, puts his feet on my stomach, and catapults me into the air. I can only watch all this with wide eyes, too stunned at the absurdity of the moment.

What the fuck just happened? I look around and find myself face down on the couch where the idiot had been sitting. When I find his eyes again, I think I see an apologetic glint in them, but he quickly stands up, swings himself over the arm of the sofa, right next to me, and even helps me sit up normally.

"Dude, what the fuck is going on?" I ask him quietly, trying not to seem too bothered in front of the girls.

"Sorry, bro," he whispers back, audibly apologetically, "but I really like this girl, and... well, you know me. I usually eat my own foot when I talk, and although they giggle a lot, they seem uncomfortable around me."

As I look from him to the girls, then back to him, and back to the girl he seems to like, I can only groan internally, but I smile at him anyway. I hope I've made it obvious that our conversation isn't over yet, but instead of talking it out right then and there, I turn to the girls.

"I'm sorry for the sudden... interruption, but you see, Vinok over here"—I put my arm around his shoulders, look at him briefly, and stroke his chest—"is a little impulsive." I let my words sink in for a moment and when the girl's expected uncomfortable expression becomes visible, I know that the moment has come. "Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, kind, a problem solver, strong, fierce, and strong-willed; he can be a great protector and an excellent listener."

I ordered him to stand up to prove my last point, which he quickly did. For a second I feel my smile widen; a sick thought of ordering him to do lots of embarrassing things crosses my mind, but I quickly push it aside.

"As you can see, he is tall, maybe still a bit lanky, but with enough training that will change too but"- I pull up his shirt, showing the girls his flawless abs, and smack them lightly- "He is already well defined; he takes pride in his looks; just behold his sharp facial features and those light blue eyes. Once he goes on a mission in his second year, girls will be all over him. It would be best for all concerned to catch him as early as possible before he can build an ego, as he is still down to earth and a very humble, resourceful man."

As I watch the girls blush more and more (I may take advantage of the moment to stroke Vinok's abs more than necessary), I analyze the girl he seems to like: Nacterna, a fairy whose powers even scare me a little since she can manipulate the darkness. I wouldn't like to meet her in a dark alley.

She is the first to regain her composure. "So you're talking your friend up, aren't you?" she asks, although she obviously already knows the answer. I can only smile kindly at her. "Then please tell me all the bad things about him too."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vinok direct his confident gaze at me, but it completely disappears when he sees my playful grin.

"Alright then, please excuse my informal choice of words," I tell her without giving her a chance to say anything. "He's a bit of a dumbass, rather dull and oblivious; he doesn't understand most of the time when people don't want to talk to him or about the subjects he brings up, and his manners are also pretty much the worst I've ever seen." I feel like I'm getting off-topic and start to disparage his character instead, but when I see the dejected expression on his face, I can only sigh; after all, I like him. "Despite all of that, he has my full seal of approval, manners can be learned, and even though most of the subjects he's interested in are lame, he has an almost childlike fascination with them, and his brain is completely tuned to them. He could probably learn a lot, but I would honestly advise against it because he's a great guy either way. If I had the choice of who I wanted by my side in battle or just as a friend, he would be one of my first choices."

Nacterna looks at me in astonishment. Although we haven't spoken much, she knows as well as anyone how high my standards are, since for the past two months I have barely acknowledged my roommates, let alone the popular girls in our fairy class.

But after my rather long speech, it was quiet; even though it had been noisy a few seconds before, it now almost seemed we were the only people there.

I look around; everyone is staring at us, and then I avert my gaze back to Vinok. I immediately feel my cheeks burning. Quickly I pull my hand away from his abdominal muscles, which I seemingly have been mindlessly massaging the whole time. Although it doesn't seem to bother him much, the strange looks make me feel uncomfortable. Only when I stop does he look down, whereupon I immediately order him to sit down again. But the discomfort didn't go away after that.

I apologize and quickly leave the room, but it's not until I'm back in the foyer, standing in the middle of the mosaic, that I can breathe again. I can't even remember ever holding my breath. So I take a deep breath, not thinking about much other than the hope that I at least played a decent wingman. It was my first time, after all.

As I replay that last part in my head, an old image of him comes to mind—his smile as he looked down at me while he took my first breath. I couldn't control the tightening of my pants or the furious blush on my cheeks as a certain heat overwhelmed my entire body. It has been a while since I thought about what it feels like to make love.

Still, deep in my little world, I suddenly feel something hard against me. I am torn from this dream that only consists of love and memories.

I look around me with blurred vision, although it takes a while before I can focus again, but in the meantime, I feel my body crumbling. Somehow I knew that I would soon be lying on the floor.

Instead of just falling, I feel something massive falling with me, as if I'd just run into a dilapidating wall or large statue that I must have somehow run into. I still couldn't see anything concrete. But as I see the ground getting closer, I close my eyes, too mentally exhausted to do anything about it, certain that whatever may fall on me can never hurt me too much.

I wait and wait, but the pain never comes. There was a sharp jolt, but no pain. But somehow I still can't believe that's all, so I keep my eyes closed and my hands near my chest. At least I think it's my chest, but when I touch it and grip it a little harder, I don't feel anything. Have I hurt myself without realizing it? Have I lost feeling in most parts of my body? But then again, I can move my hands, fingers, and feet without a problem.

Daring to open one eye a slit, I see something... no, someone, below me. Even more confused than before, I open my other eye, but the surprise of what I see causes them to widen until I can clearly see the tight blue-gray uniform of the second-year students at Red Fountain Academy. Many frightening thoughts are running through my head; in the end, I can only hope this is not one of the ones I don't want to see. Very slowly, almost comically, I raise my gaze and soon find myself looking directly into the pure blue eyes of the golden-haired, handsome boy whom I try to avoid at every turn.

Why does fate have to be such a bitch? I can't believe that even though I try everything to avoid him, I still somehow run into him. Literally. What's going on?

"Are you okay?" Brandon's slightly distorted voice sent a chill down my spine; it sounded hoarse and deep, but somehow raspy too. By the old ones, how am I supposed to exist like this?

I quickly realize that it has been my mistake not to answer him, because the next moment I feel his fingers on my face and under my chin. He tilts my head slightly, probably so he can see me better.

So just a second later I can see everything about him, and there is not a single blemish on his skin, not a speck of dust, not even a birthmark—nothing; his skin is clean and soft, almost inviting me to gently poke it. For some reason, I believe his skin would feel like the washed and dried one of a newborn baby. I still vividly remember how soft Vivian's skin was when she was born; even though she was an ugly baby, her demeanor was so sweet. She looked at me with wide eyes, started to smile, and grabbed my hand. She was my shadow until Grandpa banished me to war.

I am suddenly painfully aware of his worried look, almost staring into my soul, making me uneasy. "It's fine," I barely managed to say, my voice uncertain. His gaze becomes suspicious, but he lets it go. Yet he didn't let go of my face. Our faces come closer; I almost feel like I'm falling into his beautiful sky-blue eyes, and I wish I could taste his lips just once. From this angle, they look reddish—though normally very pale pink—and moist, as if he had been preparing for a moment like this. They are slightly open, almost begging me to put my own on them.

I feel myself wanting it and moving into him, and then I'm right in front of his face. He also raises his head and comes closer to me, just like I do. It's almost like something magical is forcing us closer together. But when I finally feel his hot breath on my lips, my senses return.

I immediately push him back down, wild fear coursing through my veins. Did I almost really kiss him? And worse, I wanted it? I can't believe it! Enraged, I sit up, but feeling his rock-hard abs under my bottom only makes it worse. All I want to do is help him back onto his feet and take him to any empty room I can find. Damn, why do the biggest assholes have to be the hottest guys?

I sit there for a minute, desperately trying to get these dirty thoughts out of my head where they most definitely don't belong. Even though I'm engaged, I can't bring myself to care about my fiancé. I'd rather never get married than be forced to. On the other hand, finding a lover would not only be easy, but it wouldn't be outrageous; I wouldn't be the first King with lovers. It might shame me in the eyes of many to do so, but then again, I have no say in my marriage, so shouldn't I be allowed to fool around and find someone worthy of my love, even within the context of marriage or engagement?

While I am pondering about all these different thoughts, I suddenly feel two rough, warm hands on my legs. My gaze immediately jumps back to Brandon, whose face is even redder than before.

"Can you stop moving?" he whispers, almost too quiet to hear. It honestly takes a moment for his words to sink in, but the moment it finally happens, my head snaps in his direction. Once again, my cheeks flush; only this time I can feel my whole body burning.

Never in my life have I gotten up faster than at that moment. I must forget what I saw; nothing of it can stick in my memory. This guy... this madman can't be on my mind in my lonely moments when I dream about him and remember the naughty times we shared. No, that cannot happen; I would rather turn myself into an eunuch than dishonor the love I shared with him!

I inwardly curse myself and try desperately to get that image out of my head, but it seems impossible. I look around discreetly, but luckily I can't see anyone, so our encounter and the unfortunate direction it has taken might have gone unnoticed. At least there won't be any rumors. After all, I don't think my forced fiancé would be very pleased to learn that I nearly made out while I was engaged to him. But then again, why should I care? None of my offspring will come from him anyway; I'd rather end the existence of my world than have a child with someone I don't love or, for that matter, don't even really like.

Before I can sink too deeply into thought again, I remember Brandon. When I look down, I see him still lying on the floor, but the redness in his face and his heavy breathing have calmed down.

He doesn't react immediately when I hold out my hand. Only when I clear my throat does he turn his head in my direction, and when I catch his eye, I see only surprise.

“Come on, take my hand,” I murmur. “I don’t want to look like an idiot just because you have a problem controlling your body.”

Brandon blushes again, but luckily he finally takes my hand, and with a quick movement I pull him up. It must have shocked him because his eyes are wide, but he is so close again. Instead of just standing up, he comes closer to me. He's taller than me, more than I initially thought, which isn't difficult since we were never this close, or maybe I'm not as tall as I always believed. At least Sky, the brown-haired prince of Eraklyon is even taller than him.

The sky-blue eyes looking down at mine make me uneasy again, weakening my knees. Suddenly, I feel a hand at my side, the grip on my waist hard, not tight enough to hurt me but enough to make me even more nerveless. Does he care about me, or is this all just one long joke for him?

In this situation, I have to remind myself that he was the one who tortured me the most in that seedy dungeon; he was callous and cruel. It makes me remember the blood I've lost, the pieces of flesh he's cut out, and the many ways he's almost killed me. It finally frees me from this strange spell that Brandon seems to have cast over me. The butterflies in my stomach turn sour, and anger radiates from my heart. Suddenly my knees feel stable again.

With a raging fire burning in my heart, I finally push him away, turn around, and storm away, leaving the scattered books and papers he must have been busy with for him to pick up.

[Masterlist]

[talesofesther]

is it too late to call you mine? | ch 1

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: In Sebastian's prettiest dreams, you'd wear a gown of a color that matched his tie, he'd take your hand and dance all night until morning came. But those dreams felt like a farfetched reality. Would you even consider going with him? As more than a friend?

A/N: This is part one out of two, of my story for @spaceyaceface's HL Writing Challenge. Hope you guys like it, let me know. <3

Masterlist

It was rather magical, how the white blanket of snow covered Hogwarts' grounds—with the arrival of winter, courtyards, towers, and trees alike harbored snowflakes that shone against the sunlight during the day and against the fairy lights scattered around the castle at night.

Despite the gelid wind nipping at your cheeks, you couldn't help but love it.

"Do you know who you'll be going with already?" Poppy walked the viaduct courtyard bridge beside you, hugging the two books she was carrying close to her chest.

You chuckled, glancing down at the way your shoes buried slightly in the thin layer of snow. "No, besides, I don't even know if I will be going at all, Poppy."

"What do you mean? You have to go, the Yule Ball is like one of the most awaited moments for anyone who attends Hogwarts," she reasoned. Then, a sly smirk came to her lips, and she bumped your shoulder with hers, "I'm surprised he hasn't asked you yet."

"Who?" You furrowed your brows.

"Sebastian, of course."

His name brought an instant blush to your cheeks that you tried to blame on the cold wind. You averted your eyes from Poppy, "why would he ask me? We're friends, it would be weird."

The sun had just peeked over the mountains in the distance, it was a cold morning today. The students who walked past you pulled their robes close to their bodies; you thought you heard a fourth-year complain about how far summer was still.

You had a scarf snug around your neck, the colors of your house adorning the fabric and keeping you warm. You thought your peers could learn a thing or two about appreciating the present. How the white of the snow blended with the dark stones of the castle, how the mountains and plains in the distance looked like something out of a painting when the first golden rays of the sun highlighted them.

Poppy pushed open the doors that lead to the central hall and a soft gush of warmth coming from inside enveloped your body and kissed your cold cheeks immediately.

Many Christmas decorations were already adorning each nook and cranny of the castle. You had been ecstatic when you saw Mr. Moon setting up the first big Christmas tree.

"Weird, you say?" Your friend walked ahead of you, the gold and black of her own scarf framing her rosy cheeks as she glanced back at you, "sometimes I wonder if we're talking about the same Slytherin."

Your lips hovered open and your feet stayed glued to the floor, just short of going through the threshold. What could she mean by that?

"See you in Herbology." With a wink, Poppy was walking away from you.

You tried not to dwell on it. Ever since the beginning of your sixth year things had been different between you and Sebastian. Everything you'd gone through together in your fifth year inevitably brought you closer—even more so when, by the end of the year, neither one of you had anyone to go back to. You chose to stay with him and Ominis at school; spending most of your afternoons tucked away in your Room of Requirement as hours went by in a breeze. Sebastian's soul became familiar to yours. There were moments, tiptoeing between the line of friends and something more, hidden behind corners and dimmed by faint candlelights, that felt too delicate to ever be labeled. And now, you still don't know what to call them.

Things became all the more complicated with the impending arrival of the Yule Ball. As if in on a secret, your friends kept teasing you about Sebastian taking you. And you couldn't help but feel somewhat of a pressure. You couldn't help but wish he actually would.

── ·❆· ──

Out of all the classes, Herbology had a special place in your heart. Nothing could beat the atmosphere of the greenhouse. As soon as you walked through the doors and came face to face with that gorgeous pink tree, a wave of calmness hit you instantly. Sunlight came in through the green-tinted glass walls, a slight breeze made the falling leaves rustle around you, and the smell of grass, dirt, and flowers covered your senses.

Snow was falling outside, yet here, it somehow always seemed to be spring.

You slowly walked down the stairs and to your potting table, removing your scarf from around your neck.

Sebastian had already taken his spot right beside you. He had a dark long coat over his uniform and his hair was messier and just slightly longer than usual, you also couldn't help but notice the faint blush under his freckles and on the tip of his nose, from the cold no doubt. You thought it was endearing.

"Well, good morning." His voice kissed your ears.

A smile found itself on your lips pretty quickly, "morning, Sebastian."

"Gotta love Herbology first thing in the morning. Nothing like getting your hands dirty to start the day just right," He mumbled, one finger brushing over the soil in his pot before he turned fully to you, his hip leaning against the table as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You chuckled lightly, gaze focusing somewhere on Sebastian's left shoulder. Poppy's words kept echoing inside your head; I'm surprised he hasn't asked you yet. Without fully realizing it, you left Sebastian without an answer. Your lips hovered open as your eyes turned unfocused the more you lost yourself between what-ifs.

Chocolate brown eyes regarded you with interest, perhaps just a tad too long before he finally spoke; "alright, spill it. What's bothering you?"

You weren't sure how he managed it, this ability to read between the lines when it came to you. You blinked multiple times and softly shook your head, gesturing to dismiss his worry. "Nothing's bothering me."

Sebastian clicked his tongue and took a step closer to you. In a moment of boldness, he reached a hand forward and straightened the lapel of your blazer. "You'll have to do better than that," he raised an eyebrow at you.

If you focused enough, you'd be able to feel the ghost of his words on your lips, count each freckle over his cheeks, that's how close he was. You couldn't breathe even if you tried to. And that's exactly what Sebastian does to you. His fingers may brush your cheek and he may get as close as breathing the same air as you, and yet…

"Humour me," Sebastian shrugged, leaning back against the table and distancing himself from you as if nothing ever happened.

He always pulls back. He gets so close, and yet it feels as if he's afraid to ever go further. Tiptoeing the lines of your relationship, yet never crossing them. Planting feather light kisses on your heart, yet never fully embracing it. He confused you to no end. And you still don't know what to call whatever it was that existed between you and him.

Ultimately, you were beginning to think there was nothing there at all. Sebastian had always been flirty after all.

"I've just been thinking about the Ball," you shrugged too, trying to sound nonchalant as you braced one hand on the table. "If I'll be going, and… with who."

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek at your words, avoiding his gaze from yours for just a moment before a forced grin came to his lips; "I don't think it's much worth worrying over it, there's better things to do for a night than dancing to boring music. Especially when everyone will be occupied dancing to said music."

His eyes glinted mischievously as he spoke. You half expected him to invite you to sneak into the restricted section of the library again or something of the sort.

"Poppy says I should attend, something about having the full Hogwarts experience," you smiled, choosing to not comment on his slight mood swing, "I may be inclined to agree."

Sebastian only hummed, his brows furrowed as he choose to finally settle his attention on the sorry excuse of a Dittany he'd been growing since last class. "I… hope you find a good partner then."

You allowed your eyes to linger on him until Professor Garlick started speaking. Noticing how his jaw tightened in place and his shoulders became somewhat tense while he reached for the fertilizer.

You couldn't understand why Poppy was so certain Sebastian could ever think of asking you to the Ball.

── ·❆· ──

A mixed smell of freshly made potions hung in the air. Brewed Knotgrass and maybe a pinch of feathers of some kind. Chatter was going around the potions classroom, as it usually did before Professor Sharp arrived.

Sebastian had both elbows resting atop his potions station, slouched in his seat as one of his knees bumped up and down, and with his dark eyes glued to the door. There was a leave of Mallowsweet lazily being torn apart over and over by his fingers as the seconds trickled by.

"Sebastian!"

Something gently slapped the back of his head, bringing the boy back to reality. He hummed questioningly and turned to face Ominis, who sat beside him with a scowl.

"I figured you weren't listening to me when you failed to answer my question for the third time," the blond deadpanned, however with the beginnings of a smirk appearing on his lips. "Has she not arrived yet?"

Heat crept up Sebastian's neck and he straightened in his seat, "who?"

Ominis raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his friend; "you know exactly who I'm talking about."

"Don't," Sebastian mumbled, pushing to the floor the mess he'd made on his table.

"Are you still overthinking whether to ask her or not?" Ominis sighed, resting his elbow on the table so he could lean his head on his hand. "Sometimes I wonder which of us is the blind one."

Sebastian faked a laugh, "very funny, Ominis. I'm not overthinking anything, I've already made up my mind. Plus, I think the Yule Ball is overrated anyway."

Ominis hummed, "you and I both know that's not true, Sebastian. Not when it comes to her."

Sebastian gulped the sudden lump in his throat upon hearing his own thoughts being spoken out loud by his friend.

"Just don't force me to hear your whinings later," Ominis concluded.

A huff escaped Sebastian's nose at his friend's quip. He turned around with a pout evident on his lips. In all honesty, he hadn't meant a word of what he said to you in Herbology; if anything, that had been his emotions getting the better of him—the thought of you going with someone else brought a sour taste to his mouth and, for lack of a better word, he panicked. Because ever since the Yule Ball was announced, Sebastian caught himself smiling alone at random times as he walked the hallways of Hogwarts; the image of you walking down the stairs all pretty in a gown as you made your way to him, so he could take your hand and place a kiss there, painted his mind in the prettiest of colors, inevitably bringing a smile to his lips.

Sebastian liked to think he'd make it the perfect night, holding you close as you danced and serving you drinks whenever you desired; maybe he'd even go a step further and tell you exactly just what it is that you do to him—how you make his heart jump in his chest whenever he sees you, how he has to remind himself to breathe whenever you touch him.

It was a spark that had been there ever since you bested him in your first duel. A spark that he could feel leaving embers in his soul at each escapade and rule broken together. A spark that eventually turned into a flame, leaving scorch marks against his skin as punishment for all he'd put you through.

And now, Sebastian couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd hold your hand as you showed him your vivariums and have an arm around your shoulders as you walked the school grounds. He'd lose himself if he ever were to lose you. But he couldn't bring himself to do more, to cross that blurred line.

Sebastian didn't know how. How could he ever tell you that you hold his bruised heart in your hands? How could he ever say he was incapable of imagining a future without you in it? How could he do any of that, when he was nowhere near worthy of you?

In his prettiest dreams, you'd wear a gown of a color that matched his tie, he'd take your hand and dance all night until morning came. But those dreams felt like a farfetched reality. Would you even consider going with him? As more than a friend?

So, in stumbled words, he told you he found it boring. And part of him hoped you would both skip the Ball together. At least, he'd have you for the night.

Sebastian was pulled from his daydream when you walked over the threshold, smiling at Natty as you walked by her potion station. He was about to call you over when you were stopped in your tracks by Garreth Weasley.

A frown etched itself in Sebastian's features, his eyes burning against you and Weasley as he watched you speak. He couldn't make out the words you were saying, but the ginger had a hand brushing over your forearm for a moment, way too close to your hand for Sebastian's taste.

And then you smiled, all sweet and soft in a way that got Sebastian's insides all twisted because that smile wasn't directed at him.

None too soon, you were finally ditching Garreth and walking towards him and Ominis. Sebastian straightened in his seat and forced his expression into a neutral one.

"Hello boys," you greeted the Slytherin duo, dropping two large books on your table beside the caldron, "have you finished Sharp's assignment yet?"

Ominis' lips turned up at the sound of your voice, his features softening, "I have, I'm quite confident this is one of my best yet."

"We had an assignment?" Sebastian chimed in, making Ominis audibly groan from beside him.

You raised an eyebrow in his direction and he gave you an obvious wink, his Cheshire grin framing his freckles.

"So," Sebastian continued, avoiding your eyes, "what were you and Weasley talking about?"

"Oh," an unusual warmth came to your cheeks, you opened one of your books on no specific page, "he- he was just asking if I'd like to go to the Yule Ball with him."

Sebastian nearly choked on his own breathing upon hearing your words, he had to double-check them in his head to make sure he'd heard correctly. Several emotions clogged up his throat all at once. Anger, because how dare Weasley ask you to the Ball. Regret, because the ginger had done what Sebastian himself was too afraid to do. Despair, because somehow it felt just a little like losing you. Jealousy, because you were his. And then finally, realization, because you weren't his, not really; Sebastian had no right to feel any of this. Yet he did anyway.

His chest felt tight, his heartbeat began to hurt.

A strange chuckle escaped Sebastian's lips, he could feel Ominis' eyes boring into him, as ironic as that was. "Why would he think you'd go with him?" Sebastian liked to believe he kept up his nonchalant attitude pretty well.

You pursed your lips, taking a deep breath, "I said yes."

Sebastian thought that maybe Crucio would sting less.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @auxiliare

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Safest with You (Ch. 14 - The Subway)

4.8K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din take the subway home after Boba’s birthday gala; an incident on the train requires Din to step in.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), public harassment of women (not directed at reader but includes derogatory language), description of physical force, established relationship, dirty talk, major public making out, fingering in the back of a car with a driver in the front (so a little noncon for the driver I guess), minor exhibitionism (to reader's surprise and delight), pet names as usual (pretty bird, sweetheart, baby, etc.)

A/N: An incident of harassment is briefly depicted, but neither the incident nor the aftermath are described or dealt with in depth; not because this type of thing isn't serious, but that wasn't the story I wanted to write (nor do I think I could do it justice). The victim chooses not to report and wishes to put it past her, which others are understanding of; there is no such thing as perfect victims or a "right way" to deal with a situation like that - the relevant belief reflected in the story is that we should just keep on showing up for each other as fellow human beings the best we can. Again, it's not written about in depth or with much nuance in this chapter, but better to tag and be safe. 😘

Series Masterlist

The evening breeze feels cool on your skin as you step out into the street from the hotel.  You breathe in a deep breath of fresh air and sigh happily; it’s honestly been such a lovely evening, even with the incident upstairs after dinner.  You smile just thinking about the remainder of Boba’s birthday party: dancing and drinks, laughing with Din’s friends, and Din’s ever-present attention and whispers of sweet nothings in your ear:

“Prettiest girl in the room tonight, can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“That slit on your dress is such a tease, pretty bird.  Just want to slide my hand all the way up to where I know you want it.”

“Can’t wait to get you home and out of that dress.  Show you how lucky you make me feel.”

To be honest, you’re not sure you’re ready to go home and take this dress off yet.  The last few rounds of champagne have you feeling giddy and there's something so fanciful about being about town in a beautiful gown, a handsome tuxedo clad man on your arm.  On a whim, you suggest that instead of catching a cab, you and Din take the subway home, just so you can extend this urban fairy tale feeling a little bit longer.  It’s a very tipsy suggestion. 

“Are you sure, pretty bird?”

“Yes!  I want to show off this dress a little longer,” you say, doing a little twirl, “Don’t you think my dress is nice?”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.  You’re a dream.”

You smile gratefully at Din when he drapes his tuxedo jacket over your shoulders, but your expression turns to shock as you take in his broad frame and crisp dress shirt, “You’re wearing suspenders?!”

Din laughs, “What’s wrong with suspenders?  Too old man-ish?”

Shaking your head, you take one in each of your hands, rubbing the soft black bands between your fingers and thumbs before using them to yank him towards you, “Nothing’s wrong with them, old man.  Gives me something to hold on to.”

Din’s mouth meets yours, palms pressing down on your waist to pull you closer, so your hands are trapped between your bodies as he ravages your mouth.  After an evening of mostly sweet and chaste kisses, he is more than ready to have his fill of you; to show you with his lips, his tongue, his hands, his cock just what you and that very nice dress have been doing to him all evening.

You grapple internally with the part of you that wants to skip your subway suggestion and get home with Din as quickly as possible, and the one that wants to extend this magical part of your evening a little longer.  You opt for the option with the most public making out.  The normally short walk to the closest subway station takes three times as long; every few steps taken interrupted to allow for the increasing need to press lips together, to overlap tongues, to grip arms and waists and hold them hostage within needy hands.

On the platform, Din hugs you close as the subway arrives, bringing with it a tunnel of wind; Din holds down what he can of your dress so the fabric doesn’t blow up and instead, flutters harmlessly around your ankles.  Hair blowing gently around your face as Din looks down at you with a goofy grin, you feel like you’re in a movie.

Luckily, the subway isn’t too busy tonight and you readily find seats.  Sitting next to each other in the middle of an empty bench that runs along the side of the car, you twist to face Din and cross your legs and tuck your skirts under so the slit doesn’t cause your dress fall open scandalously.  With your right arm, you rest your elbow on the top of the seat and reach your hand forward to lazily let your fingers trail up and down the back of Din’s neck.  Ever so lightly twirling the curls at the base of his neck around your index finger, you delight in observing Din’s subtle expression of pleasure grow with every little tug.  With your left hand, you’re holding onto Din’s right suspender, slowly running your hands up and down, enjoying the feeling of security it inexplicably gives you.  You really do love these suspenders on him so much; his already distinguished look tonight elevated even more with these two black straps that snugly frame his impressive chest. 

Unable to take your eyes off the handsome man in front of you, you’re well aware of the silly, dopey look of pure satisfaction and contentment on your face.  It’s a look Din mirrors back.  His right hand is resting on the thigh of your leg that’s crossed over, ready to catch any fabric that slips from under your leg; lightly rubbing and squeezing your thigh as a reminder that he’s here (as if you could forget).  His left hand is tenderly stroking your right cheek and jaw, alternating between cupping your chin and stroking it with his thumb, and grazing your jawline with the back of his fingers. 

The two of you are in your own little world.  Eyes only for each other, sweet longings whispered only for the other’s ear, an intimate bubble suspended amidst the bustle of the late-night commute.

“What are you thinking, pretty bird,” Din asks, when you’ve been leaning into his touch on your face, eyes closed, for a minute.

Opening your eyes and giving him a playful smile, you lean forward to whisper low in his ear, “I’m trying to figure out how you’re going to keep those suspenders on when we fuck tonight.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Obviously, you’ll keep them on while I blow you.  That’s a no brainer.  Just pop that delicious cock out of your trousers and I’ll be ready on my knees with my mouth open.  No need to take off your pants or the suspenders,” you feign a look of deep thought, as if pondering a long form mathematical equation.

“Fuck.  Baby, I swear… your mouth…”

You pretend to pay him no heed, continuing with your musings, “Right.  My mouth.  Your cock in my mouth is covered.  But what about when that cock is stretching out my cunt?  How can you keep the suspenders on then?  I want hold on to them and ride you, baby, but if you have your pants on when I sink down on that dick won’t I make a wet mess all over your lap?”

“You can’t just say these things to me in public, pretty bird.”

“Why not?”

“Because I might get so riled up and snap.  Turn you over on these seats and lift up this pretty dress of yours so I can pound into your slutty pussy in front of all these people.”

Fuccckkkkkk.  You let a soft moan slip as you close your eyes and feel Din’s forehead touch yours, his slightly heavier than usual breathing fan across your lips.  You want him so much, and you don’t care if everyone on this subway knows it.  Closing the distance between the two of you, you bring your lips to his.  Gently molding yourself to the rolling plains of his body, you block out every other person and sound on this train and just melt into Din, blurring the lines of where you end and he begins.

You don’t know if it’s instinct, or just too much time in your life as a woman spent being aware, of being cautious, but out of the corner of your eye, the movement of a young woman further down the subway car from you and Din, pulls you out of your daydream state.  Din feels you stiffen before seeing it, a reversal of your roles from earlier in the evening.  You turn your head to see the young woman being walked backwards into the closed doors by the advancement of a man who’s stalking towards her, arms gesturing aggressively. 

“Din,” you whisper.

He stands at your unspoken command; following your eyeline that’s still fixed upon the girl, Din assesses the situation with his trained eye before quickly deciding on a course of action.  Gently pinching your chin as he passes you on his way down the car, he placates your concerned look, “Don’t worry, pretty bird.  Stay here.”  You reach up to hold the same hand, giving it a little squeeze before letting him go with a “Be careful please.”

As Din makes his way towards the situation, the offending man’s voice gets louder and suddenly you can hear his increasingly hostile tone and disturbing words:

“I said you were pretty.  You’re supposed to say ‘Thank you’ when people compliment you.”

“You think you’re too good for me, bitch?”

“Look at me!  I’m fucking talking to you!!”

Your heart is pounding, and you feel so deeply for the girl; she must be feeling so small and scared right now.  You know that Din is on the way and that she won’t be in any danger, but she doesn’t know that.  Din is not the only man that’s making his way over; three younger men who were roused by the ruckus join Din in a makeshift group, striding towards the opposite end of the train from you. 

“Get away from her,” yells the man on Din’s right.

The harasser looks up to see the group of four men making their way over to him, and sneers, “Fuck off, mates.  This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Wrong, mate,” shouts another of the men.  Din reaches the scene first and immediately puts himself between the offender and the girl, bracing his arms outwards to maintain a distance between them.  The other three men busy themselves with surrounding harasser and containing his movements while Din asks the girl if she’s okay.  Once he’s assured that she’s not hurt and that doesn’t want anything to do with this man, he tells her she’s safe and ushers her down the car towards you.  You hold out your arms and call out to the girl; she flees into your embrace, crying.  Stroking her hair, you tell her it’s okay, that she didn’t do anything wrong and she’s safe now.  Meanwhile, back at the end of the subway car, the offender is getting more agitated, clearly not doing the smart thing and settling down.  It’s taking all of the young men to restrain him as he struggles and continues to yell obscenities: “Get the fuck off of me, mates,” “She liked it!  She smiled at me,” “All this for some dumb slut?”

Covering the girl's ears so she doesn’t have to listen to his insults, you’re watching Din reach to get a more strategic hold on the man when, in horror, you see the harasser’s spastic movements break through the arms of the young men and he comes sprinting down the subway car towards you.

In a flash, you scramble out of your seat to round the girl, deliberately sitting yourself down in the seat on her other side and covering her body with yours.  Turning your head, you see Din hauling the man back down the car by the scruff of his neck, never knowing if he even got anywhere near you and the girl before Din took control of the situation.  Din slams him against the partition next to the doors and you hear him growl, “Don’t go near her.”  From the tone of his voice, you know that Din doesn’t mean the girl who’s still trembling in your arms.  Turning your attention back to her, you continuously reassure her that she’s safe and that the man won’t get anywhere close to her.  You can no longer hear what’s being said down at the other end of the car, but you see that Din still has his hand on the offender’s chest, restraining and talking down at him; he holds the man’s now terrified gaze while the other three men form a semi-circle behind them.  When the train comes to the next stop, the offender is shoved off the train, with Din and the three men also stepping off to discourage any attempts to re-enter.  Only when you hear the announcement that the doors are closing and see Din step back on the train do you breathe a sigh of relief, letting the girl know that it’s over, her aggressor is finally gone.  She's able to give a small laugh through her tears and throws her arms around you.  You pull back from her hug only when you feel Din sit down behind you, his palm gently curling around your waist. 

“Oh, thank you, thank you.  I wasn’t even looking at him, and then he just started screaming at me!  I didn’t know what to do!  Thank you so much for helping me.”

Both you and Din smile at the girl and continue to reassure her that it’s no problem and that she’s safe now.  When she’s calmed a bit, she feels better enough to wave her thanks at the three young men that have since returned to their seats; one of the young men gives her a friendly salute and a nod of solidarity to Din.

“Will you be okay to get to where you’re going, hun?” you ask, not sure if you feel okay leaving the girl alone yet.

She looks unsure but nods slowly, “I’m the next stop.  Omigod, I thought he was going to follow me,” before her eyes start to well up.

“Do you want to report it to security?  We can go with you.  There are enough witnesses and cameras-” Din stops when the girl starts shaking her head furiously.

“I just want to go home,” she says tearfully.

You’re full of understanding and sympathy; you know Din’s thinking about it from a security protocol standpoint, but as a woman, you understand what this girl is feeling: the preference to put it behind her, to move on, to get home and feel safe again.  You look at Din and he instinctively defers to you here, understanding that there are emotions and fears that he will never truly know.

“Do you want us to walk with you?” you offer, “We don’t even have to walk together if you don’t want.  We can just hang back until you get to where you need to go.  Be there for you if you need us?”

She seems to think about it for a moment before nodding, “Yes, thank you.” 

The three of you exit the station in triangle formation and continue this way as you walk in the direction the girl’s heading.  You’re holding your skirts in one hand, your other hand clasped firmly in the girl’s, having not let go since she grabbed it when you stood up in the subway together.  Din walks a few paces behind, your personal watch dog, while you keep the girl talking and occupied with light hearted topics (reality tv shows, pets, pop music).  Finally, you reach a building that the girl says is hers, and you give her one last big hug, as well as your phone number; she gives Din a hug as well and many more thanks before going in.

Once you feel like she’s safely inside, you exhale and then turn to launch yourself into Din’s waiting arms, “Oh, thank you, thank you, Din.  Thank you for helping her.”  You love him so much; not only can you always count on him to keep you safe, but he steps up at every opportunity to care for strangers as well.

Din pulls you in tight and buries his face in your hair, “You don’t have to thank me, pretty bird.  It was the right thing to do.”

Pulling back to look at him, you need him to understand what a good man he is, “But not a lot of people would have stepped in.  In fact, most don’t.”  You hold his face with your hands, gently caressing his jaw, “That girl was so lucky you were there tonight.”

“She was lucky you were there, baby.  You saw the problem first, then you took care of her, protected her too.  You’re her hero tonight, sweetheart.”

Putting your hand in the one Din holds out to you, you smile at him, eyes shining and heart overflowing with fondness for him.  Walking back towards the subway station, hand in hand, you reflect on Din’s strength.  How he wields it without fanfare, no false bravado, just a quiet, commanding confidence.  How the other men in the subway naturally deferred to him, unquestioned.  How he took care of the whole room.  Took care of you.  He’s powerful.  Magnificent. 

Din catches you looking at him with a deep-set look of affection, “What’s that look for, pretty bird?”

“Just thinking about you and how strong you are.  So protective and capable.  You’re fearless, Din.”

“I do get scared, though, baby.  Got scared tonight on that subway. When that guy broke away and started running towards you,” he looks at you, with an almost wounded look, “And I saw you switch spots with that girl and cover her, I was afraid he was going to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, Din.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Don’t be sorry, pretty bird.  You put her well being ahead of yours because that’s the type of person you are.  And I love you for it.”

“I learn from the best,” you smile at him, eyes full of warmth.

“I’m never going to let you get hurt, sweet girl.  Ever.”  Din stops walking to look at you, and you can tell he’s being serious.  You lace your hands on the back of his neck, “I know, baby.  I know I’m always safe with you.”  And you kiss him reverently, as if to seal in your trust and belief in him.

It doesn’t take long before your kisses turn passionate; the events of the evening catching up to the both of you and unleashing the long building tension and want you’ve been harbouring.  Your mouth opens up to Din and he eagerly licks in, mapping the slope of your tongue with his own; he drinks in your soft whimpers and gentle cries of pleasure, and when his mouth gives yours a brief respite so he can take a breath, you sigh, “My hero.”

Din braces his hand against a nearby lamp pole, and walks you backwards until your head rests against the back of his hand; his other curving around your waist and pulling you flush against him.  He bends to kiss your neck and instinctively, you tilt your head to allow him more access; pressing soft, breathy butterfly kisses from the base of your neck up to your ear, Din can practically feel your body pulsing beneath his hands.  You whine a little when he nibbles on your earlobe and murmurs, “How do you plan on rewarding your hero, baby girl?  Do I get to play with your pretty pussy?”

“Oh god, yes, Din,” you gasp shakily, “Please. Take me home, baby.  I don’t want to take the subway anymore.”

“No?” he murmurs against your lips, “Want me to call a car?  Or just wait until we see a cab?”

“Whatever gets us home fastest, Din,” you plead, desperation evident in your eyes and tone.

Din looks up and down the street, empty save for some local traffic with no cabs in sight; he pulls out his phone to check the cars in the area and smirks when he sees the make and model of one of the closest cars to your location and selects it. 

It doesn’t take long for the black Suburban to pull up to where you and Din are waiting; Din holding you close with your head tucked into your favourite nook under his chin, perfect for you to press the periodic kiss to his neck whenever the fancy strikes you (constantly).  When the driver confirms he’s here for Din, you look up at Din, amused, “This huge car for just the two of us?”

“It was the closest one,” he shrugs, but you catch a slight uptick in the corner of his mouth before you turn and let him help you in.  Din gently steers you past the pilot seats to the spacious third row seating far back in the car.  With you seated behind the second-row pilot seat, and Din taking up most of the exposed middle seat, you’re afforded a fair amount of privacy for the ride. 

As soon as the car starts moving, Din is on you, hands grabbing at your upper waist, thumbs pressed up to draw circles on the underside of your breasts, mouth licking your neck in hot stripes.

“Din!” you half giggle, half gasp, “The driver!”

Din moves so his body covers part of yours as he peppers kisses across your collar bone; one of his hands circle behind you while the other trails down your body, searching, “We’re all the way in the back, pretty bird.  No one can see.”

Swallowing a moan when Din’s hand finds the slit of your dress, your legs part as he starts to slide his way up your thigh, “Is this why you chose this car? To give us privacy?”

“The privacy is for other people, sweetheart.  I know if it was up to my slutty bunny, we’d be putting on a show for the driver and every car at every stop light.  Isn’t that right, baby?”

As Din’s fingers inch closer to your core, you feel yourself dripping in your underwear, so turned on by the idea of other people seeing Din have his way with you.  You hum in pleasure as Din discovers your soaked panties and runs his fingers over the fabric; he kisses you greedily, murmuring against your lips, “Such a dirty girl, already wet for me.  So ready to be fucked, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Oh, fuck yes, daddy,” you whimper against his lips.

Din’s fingers slide further and press down on your slit, shallow thrusting the soaked lace of your panties into your tight hole before curling his fingers up to your clit and drawing firm circles that leave you panting into his mouth.  He takes great pleasure in feeling you squirm beneath him and hearing your breathy gasps as he repeats this pattern over and over.

“Daddy please,” your eyes widen to beseech Din for some mercy.  His touches are setting you on fire, but you need more. 

Din kisses you hurried and hard, “What does my pretty little slut need?  Use your words, bunny.”  He lightly pinches your clit over your panties and your cry out at the sudden pressure.  After you hear what you think is your driver turning up the volume of the radio in the front, you whimper into Din’s neck, “Need you inside me, Din.”

“Is this what you’re so needy for, baby?”  Din pushes aside the gusset of your panties and glides his fingers through your wet folds, teasing your slit with each stroke. 

“Yes, yes, daddy.  That’s what your dirty whore needs,” you moan softly, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back on the headrest of the seat; spreading your legs further to give Din’s hand more room and full access to your pussy.

Din slides two of his fingers through your arousal, finding and toying with your most sensitive pleasure points; the ones that have you whining with desperation when he brushes over them, again and again.  “Look at my slutty bun, letting her big bad wolf finger fuck her in front of a total stranger.  Moaning like a whore for everyone to hear,” he whispers hotly in your ear as he slips his two fingers deep into your cunt, meeting no resistance with how riled up and wet you are from his filthy words.  As you cry out from the sudden stretch, Din covers your mouth with his, nibbling at your lower lip gently; a sweet contrast with the hard push and pull of his fingers.  Feeling your slick drip down his fingers onto his palm, Din stuffs a third finger into your cunt and is rewarded with the arch of your back and a barely choked out whine of his name.

Lowering his head to suck on the sweet spot on your neck, Din continues to pump in and out of you as he watches in awe as you fall apart from his efforts; your are eyes closed and mouth open, letting jagged breaths and sounds of pleasure slip while your chest heaves and your lower body grinds into his hand.  He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Your eyes flutter open and when they focus, you make direct eye contact with a pair of eyes reflected in the rearview mirror at the front of the car.  The driver averts his eyes quickly as you gasp, half in surprise, and half from the thrill that runs through you of being watched.  It’s depraved, but you feel a fresh wave of arousal coat Din’s fingers as you clench around them, “Din, he’s watching,” you whisper.

Din’s fingers slow, and his voice is soft, caring, “Is that okay, baby?”

Oh gosh you adore him.  Even in this compromising position, both of you heady with desire, his priority is still your comfort, your safety.  You beam at him, “It’s okay, daddy.”

“Dirty girl,” he groans as he crashes his lips to your, pulling from you moans and whimpers as he resumes thrusting into your wet heat with a quickened pace.

Your tongue clashes with Din’s and your kisses become sloppier as passion overtakes your bodies.  The familiar coil in your abdomen tingles as it tightens, your entire body flushed with anticipation and desire.  Din knows your body by now and recognizes the signs of your impending release: the tightening of your walls around his fingers, the shortening of your breaths, the unfocused look in your eyes.  Right hand stretching out to brace against the side of the car while your left grabs onto the suspender closest to you, you hang on for some semblance of control while Din presses down on your clit with his thumb.  Your entire body lurches as far forward as Din’s hold will allow as he draws firm circles timed perfectly to his thrusting fingers. 

“Din, I-I-I’m so close,” you breathe.

“I got you, my pretty bun.  I got you, I got you,” Din venerates, his punishing pace never wavering; the squelching sounds of his hand driving into you over and over, only getting louder, begin to push you over the edge.

As your cunt starts to flutter, he rounds his body over yours, placing himself between you and the front of the car like a shield, growling, “No one sees you come but me, pretty bird.” 

His possessive tone sends you careening over the edge; grabbing his other suspender and pulling him towards you, you come hard.  Your chest presses against his as your body shudders, you cry so high pitched it’s nearly soundless, and you soak Din’s hand with your release.  Din slows his hand as he sees you through your high, kissing you tenderly and telling you what a good girl you are, “You did so good, baby.  Always come so pretty for me.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you watch Din slip his hand out from underneath your skirt and bring his shiny fingers up to his mouth; he sucks his fingers clean with an obscene pop and smirks to you, “So sweet.”

Once clean, he uses that hand to reach behind you and pull his jacket back over your shoulders from where it had fallen.  Snuggling under Din’s jaw, you sigh happily as you feel him pull you closer, “I love you, Din.”

“I love you more, pretty bird,” Din presses a loving kiss to your head.  You close your eyes, boneless and pliant, curling up and resting in the comfort of Din’s arms.  You could have easily fallen asleep in your sated state, rocked to a slumber by the smooth motion of the car, if it did not pull up to the front of your building when it did.  As you exit the car, you bid the driver a soft ‘thank you’ before letting Din help you down; he pulls you into his embrace, making sure his jacket keeps you warm as he closes the door behind you.

Once the car drives off, you slip your hand into Din’s, making to walk towards the front doors, but look back when he doesn’t move with you.

“Huh.” Din’s stands in place, still holding your hand, looking down at his phone with an amused expression.

“What’s that?” you ask.

He faces the phone towards you, chuckling, “He rated us five stars.”

Laughing, you shake your head as you slip your fingers under one suspender, then slide it over to grab the other with the same hand, pulling Din in for a sweet kiss before turning to head into your building with him still in tow, “Come on, Mister Five Stars.”

[sl-newsie]

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Ch. 1: Control

“Ouch! No no no- definitely too much moon powder!” I hastily wipe my hands on my dusty skirt as I attempt to put out the purple flames coming out of my cauldron. I’m attempting a healing potion for my cat Twilight, but accidentally misread the spellbook. Mom’s spellbook.

But I’m too late to cover my tracks- I can already hear footsteps approaching outside!

“Magica! What have I told you about practicing magic?” My father yells from the doorway.

Twilight hisses and scrambles out of the kitchen, leaving me to fend for myself.

I cringe and turn around slowly. “Not to?”

My father, a tall buff man wearing a hunter’s cap, stomps into the room. “Yes! What if the Royal Guard was passing by? I don’t want you getting locked away!”

“But I don’t live on the Isle of the Lost, so magic is allowed here!”

“They don’t know-!” He sighs and rubs his head. “Since they don’t know about your mother, it’s best to just keep your magic hidden.”

“But dad, I’m finally getting the hang of this! I think I might write to Fairy Godmother and tell her about my magic-!”

“No!” My father stomps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Magica, you’re my only daughter. If they found out you’re the descendant of a villain they could lock you up. I- I only want what’s best for you, understand? I know you’re proud of this gift and are a very talented witch, but sometimes it’s best to be normal.”

“But- but-!” I can feel my aunt’s temper boiling inside me. “Why should I be different?”

I wrap my cloak around me and storm out into the woods. There’s a secret spot I have near the stream that runs into the Enchanted Lake. It’s a small clearing big enough to practice my magic safely. After I sit down on a boulder I start tearing up, torn between being mad at my father for silencing my magic and being ashamed of being the descendant of an evil witch.

Yup, that’s me. Magica Sanderson, secret daughter of the infamous Sarah Sanderson. From what I’ve gathered, my mother seduced the Evil Queen’s Huntsman so Winifred Sanderson could steal one of her potions. The Huntsman became my father, and when he found out about me he immediately brought me to Snow White’s kingdom to keep me from becoming a VK. But the one thing he couldn’t avoid was the fact that I inherited my Aunt Winnie’s magical talent and my mother’s bewitching looks. I have my mother’s pale fair skin, white-blonde hair, and slim figure. I also inherited my Aunt Winnie’s bright green eyes and Aunt Mary’s love for Cheetos. I can’t help it- I’m a halfblood witch!

Father has tried to suppress my family ties by homeschooling me in our woodland cottage and dressing me in flowy pink dresses just like the goody-two-shoes kids wear at Auradon Prep. When I was old enough to control my powers, father brought me to the Auradon kingdom to meet Prince Ben, son of Beauty and the Beast. Immediately we became inseparable best friends, always causing mischief despite our parents’ disapproval. One time we slipped a hiccup potion into Chad Charming’s drink during a gala social, and spent the next half hour trying not to burst out laughing when he tried hiccuping at Audrey to ask her out! I told Ben about my powers, and he promised to keep it secret. He knows I’m nothing like my mother or aunts, and that I’d never try to hurt anyone.

But even so Ben’s acceptance can’t help fill the gap that separates me from the other kids in the village. I’m still different no matter how hard I try because I don’t have the arrogant, uppity attitude that the other kids have.

Mother, why do I have to be so different? Could I have at least one true friend who won’t disappear?

“Meow?” A voice calls.

I look over and see that Twilight has returned with another black cat- one with recognizable yellow eyes.

I sniff. “Hey, Binx. How’s it been?”

The two felines slink between my legs and rub their noses on my boots.

“Been fine, but from what Twilight’s told me you’re in a bit of a pickle. I know your dad means well, but even I agree that suppressed magic is never a good idea.”

I stop twirling pink sparks on my fingers and give Binx an odd look. “Why?”

Binx glances around nervously. “Well… I’ve heard stories of past maidens that try to bottle up their magic until any sudden breakdown can cause an outburst. Do you remember Elsa of Arendelle?”

The memory of seeing former Queen Elsa’s meltdown on tv runs through my head, and I have to agree that holding back my magic could lead to something worse.

“You’re right, Binx. But I can’t just do some tricks and expect the whole kingdom to be ok with it. I could be sent to Auradon Prep, or worse- the Isle of the Lost! And magic’s forbidden there so I’d be powerless! That and I’d have to live with-” I shutter. “My mom.”

Binx hisses and Twilight swipes a paw against my cheek. “No you won’t. We wouldn’t let that happen, and your father would protect you. I suggest you cool down a bit and then go back to the house.”

I sigh. “I guess so. But how long will I have to hide like this? All my life I’ve followed the rules and been nice, so I’m not wicked… am I?”

“No, no,” Binx assures with a soft voice. “It’s not that, it’s just that normal folks are unsettled by the strange and unusual. It’s like you said, you’ll be sent to Auradon Prep. You don’t want that, do you?”

I gag. “Ugh, no! Ben says all the people there are stuck up and half-witted fools! I would rather eat a toadstool dipped in boysenberry sauce than associate with those idiots!” I stand up and start walking back to the cottage. “Sorry Binx, but right now I better head back to father before supper. I’ll save you some fish!”

[ssukidesu]

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 ( @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 5: what a stranger wouldn’t know (jealousy)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 6

Read on AO3

Read under the cut

“Lucy, are you listening?”

“…Yes—of course!”

No. Of course not.

Lucy knew that Erza had been in the middle of communicating essential information, information that would decide the success or failure of the mission.

But no matter how serious Lucy knew the matter was, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the bar. She knew what he was doing was also in service to the mission, but did he have to do it… like this?

Blend in. You are fulfilling the role of spies here. Do whatever you need to do to expel suspicion, as a group like yours will likely attract it easily. Get in, distract the targets, let Happy sneak his small body into the air ducts and into the back room to steal the key, and get out.

She knew all that. She heard their client’s debrief just as everyone else did. But what she didn’t know was that one of the targets would be a brunette bombshell in a small black dress who had a certain affinity for pink-haired fire mages.

Lucy glared from afar, and she wondered how they didn’t feel her stare. The woman was tall, her long legs bringing her to near equal height to her partner, and her lips were painted bright red. She was currently tracing a finger up his arm, which was unusually unexposed due to his form-fitting suit.

Lucy clenched her teeth. She remembered arguing with him about putting it on, saying that he’d stick out like a sore thumb in his normal vest and pants. He’d rolled his eyes and jabbered about being comfortable for a potential fight—to which she responded that, if they did their jobs correctly, there wouldn’t be a fight. He groaned in boredom at that. But she eventually coaxed him into the dress shirt, helped him put on the black jacket, and even secured a red tie beneath his neck.

She had done that for him. Lucy. So nobody else had any business touching him like that.

Erza cleared her throat, and Lucy finally whipped her head around and returned her vexed gaze.

“Shall I repeat myself?” she asked with feigned patience.

Lucy’s ears burned. “Yes, please,” she said meekly.

…

The night passed slowly.

Lucy was assigned to chat up the bouncer, a middle-aged man who had a buzzed head and was so tall he towered over her, which unfortunately meant she’d be at a poor angle to monitor her partner’s… success in distracting his own target.

She took out her frustration on the poor man, who—though certainly tough-looking—had a weakness for her feminine wiles. She gave it all she had, batting her eyelashes and puffing out her generous chest. She even found an excuse to whisper some washed up secret close in his ear. He never got handsy, but she saw his eyes roaming her figure whenever he got the chance.

A small, twisted part of her hoped that Natsu was watching her just as she’d been watching him. Well, maybe it wasn’t that small. She wished she could turn around for just a second to check out… his progress.

Eventually, the bouncer mumbled that he had to step out to deal with a fight that had broken out in the front lot. She frowned at him sullenly, but her heart thumped at the realization that she’d be free for at least a moment.

When he exited the building, she turned around.

And her stomach turned to stone.

Natsu had sat down on a stool, but the woman was still standing. His arm was braced casually on the bar, putting him in a nice relaxed recline. She had his hand, and it almost looked like she was reading his palm.

His smile was certainly fake—she knew all of his smiles like the back of her hand, including the one he pulled out when he was slightly uncomfortable. But he was obedient to her exploring, and Lucy watched as every once in a while her lips would move as she undoubtedly told him some fictitious fortune she saw written in the calloused lines there.

Her feet were moving under her before she knew what was happening.

The bar was small, and it would only take her about twenty paces to reach them. But his senses were sharp, and his head turned to her when she was still a ways away. No small amount of pride filled her chest when she saw his pseudo smile twist into a real one. And it was one of her favorites—the one that crookedly quirked the right side higher than the left and furrowed his brows until they came low. It oozed mischief.

The woman noticed her interlocutor’s distraction and turned her own attention to where his had gone. She scowled instantly. Lucy kept her smile intact.

“Hey, Natsu,” she greeted.

“Lucy,” he said casually, nodding his head once in acknowledgment.

Lucy was going to say hello to the woman next, but she spoke first, and to Natsu:

“I think I’m going to run to the restroom.” Her tone was sweet, but Lucy saw her eyebrow twitch.

Lucy watched as she left the bar, taking stock of her retreating form with more obvious disdain than she probably should have.

“How’s it going?” he asked. To anyone listening, it sounded like a normal friendly question. But Lucy knew its cryptic nature.

She stood so close to him she was almost between his bent knees. “Pretty good,” she said, peering softly down at him. “There’s a fight outside apparently, though.”

“Ah,” he said. She saw a twinkle of intrigue in his gaze, and she knew he wished he was out there in the middle of it.

“And how are you?”

“Also good,” he responded easily. “Getting pretty hungry, though. They don’t have much food here.”

Lucy smirked. Leave it to Natsu to be thinking about food when the prettiest woman in the building was throwing herself at him.

They were waiting for Happy’s return—as soon as he came back, they’d know it was time to get out of dodge. Until then, they just had to keep at it.

Lucy peered back toward the bar entrance, saw the bouncer had not yet returned, and brought her gaze back to him. “Wanna get pizza after?” she asked.

His expression melted into one of weakness, and he tilted his head back with an impatient sigh. “Please,” he drawled pitifully.

She giggled. Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar black dress emerge from the bathroom.

Lucy’s mood immediately soured again. And then—she swore, out of nowhere—a devious idea came to mind. She wetted her lips.

So what if he still thought it was just a friendly gesture? A stranger at a bar wouldn’t know the difference.

“Natsu,” she said suddenly. “Go buy me a drink.” She didn’t return her attention to him until she was met with seconds of silence.

He looked confused. One eyebrow was curled up in suspicion, and his lips were pursed.

She swallowed. “For the mission,” she mumbled, willing herself to remain confident.

He nodded once wordlessly, and pushed himself off the stool. She took the abandoned spot as she waited.

His absence kept the woman from resuming her place at the bar right away, but Lucy hoped she would watch for his return from a distance.

When he came back, Lucy stood to welcome him. He’d known exactly what to order her—a moscow mule with mint and a cherry. Her smile was genuine when she took hold of it by the handle, which he had angled toward her. But she didn’t pull it from his grasp right away; instead, she took an additional step toward him, the tips of their shoes a mere inch apart. Luckily, her heels made the next part easy: she didn’t need to grab his face or suit collar to pull him down. She simply raised her lips to his cheek, the smell and warmth of him radiating into her nose and skin, and kissed him softly.

Perhaps a little too close to his mouth… but she told herself it was an accident. When she pulled away, she inspected her work: just as she’d hoped, there, right beside his mouth, was a clear imprint of her pink lipgloss.

Their eyes met.

“Thank you,” she muttered, wondering upon seeing his dilated pupils and drooping eyelids if she’d gone too far.

“Sure,” he said lowly, releasing the drink to her. When had his hand grabbed her waist? But it was gone just as quickly, and she chose that moment to slip away. She felt his eyes on her back as she reclaimed her spot toward the entrance, where the bouncer would return any moment.

Lucy didn’t even think to check if the black-dressed woman had watched the whole thing.

(She had.)

[jev-urisk]

Morreial's heist supplies: Tag Game ✨️

Original game by @thecomfywriter (Post HERE). Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet!

Premise: Write your OC using these tools (from Ch. 18 of Throne of Vengeance) to commit a heist involving an armored vault. A piece of string, a lantern, oil, matches, a book, a cup, an enchanted shovel, and a pair of gloves. And, a navy blue Henley

Love, LOVE this prompt. It's perfect for Kazimier💋, my shapeshifting incubus OC from my WIP 🌐7 Circles🌐

It's kinda spoiler-y, because it goes over some of Kazimier's abilities and really shows the kind of bastard he is. You've been warned.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal. Kazimier smirks behind his drink, an appraising glint in his mismatched eyes. "You wanna know how I did it?" he teases. He knew you did, but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

"How did you steal it?"

He leans back, swirling his glass. "So the safe in this fancy hotel was owned by a Nexi couple, right? They shipped the damn thing down from Nexis years ago an' had it installed in their always-booked penthouse suite. I woulda' sacked it a decade ago but this safe has an arcane lock, capisce?"

You shake your head no, and he rolls his eyes.

"Magic technology, unpickable. An' the only way to open this particular lock is to touch their wedding rings to this weird circle on the front, yeah? So the first thing I do is track down a mediocre fairy lantern replica."

"Wait, what?" you can help uttering, and it earns you a scoff.

"What? It's not like faeries are real, an' if they were they'd appreciate how stupid some folks are over their alleged arda'facts. The husband was one such stupid folk, and after broadcastin' that someone on the black market found a new lantern, a few fake death threats, and a well-placed comment made by a poker dealer- I got him to agree to a meeting in a car. One of them fancy Nexi ones that comes with a driver an' I made sure the person at the wheel is one on my payroll. I arrive as a representative of the auction house, shapeshifted to look like a vampiress."

"Wait, so you-"

"Had tits, yes. Along with long brown hair, skinny ankles, and a pencil skirt shorter than your attention span."

You grimace, "I wasn't going to ask about you having, uh.."

"-AAAnnyway, the moment I set down my briefcase bag it starts leakin' a sleeping gas and I keep him distracted. Soon enough he's out like a light and I crack open the hollowed out copy of 'Auctions Uncatalogued: A Dry Fuckin' History Book' for a few supplies. I knew he was a thicc bastard, so I came prepared with some oil and string to get the ring off, as well as gloves to keep the guy's taste outta my brain."

"What does that mean??"

"I'm not gonna explain how to get little rings offa big fingers, bud. Ask the internet. OH, I also filched his shirt- a blue henley kinda' thing, and his slacks. The car keeps movin' and I use his weird-Nexi-phone to call his broad, who is very occupied in some high-stakes gambling and tell 'er using her husband's voice that I need her ring to make an exchange of some Nexan technology in the safe for the super legit fairy lamp some vampire just showed me. I shapeshift into the husband, put on his clothes, and am in and out of the casino without the broad suspecting a thing. She hands me the ring, I complain bitterly about her not spendin' enough time with me, she tells me not now and goes back to her gambling. Perfect marriage. An hour later I've exchanged their top-grade arcane technology for a dinky old lamp and am waitin' around for the wife to show up." Kazimier finishes, quirking his brow as he drinks some of his cocktail.

After a few moments it seems like he;s truly done, but it might be another instance of him leading you to egg him on. "Well what happened when the wife showed up?" you ask, hooked despite yourself.

Kazimier's grin widens, "She found a brown-haired vampress in her penthouse wearing nothing but her husbands blue henley." He takes in your expression and keeps going, "The broad probably would've killed me if I didn't 'confess' that her husband had just left for the bar in the lobby with the other girl. Boy did that lie get her back out the door in an instant. From there I put a little oil in a glass cup, light it with a match, an' drop the little moltov offa' the balcony. A signal to get in position. I count to sixty and jump off myself- make my getaway."

You lean back, taking in the convoluted mind you're sitting with tonight, somewhat stunned. "Wait- Why did you need to borrow my enchanted shovel, then?" you add, happy that it was returned to you clean and unharmed the moment you sat down but curious since Kazimier said it was needed for this heist.

"Oh, that? I killed the husband." Kazimier says with a casual shrug.

"You used my shovel to bury a Nexan?!" you hiss, leaning forward. This wasn't what you expected at all when Kazimier offered you a deal.

Kazimier leans forward, all the humor gone from his face, only the tilt of his head hinting at his amusement. "I used your very unique shovel to kill, a Nexan, sunshine." He kills his drink and with a parting chuckle you and your shovel are left behind, tools that have fulfilled their use and you realize with ice in your blood why Kazimier just told you everything.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal.

Taggames: Taggames: @katenewmanwrites @smellyrottentrees @wyked-ao3 @lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @urbiggestfan-01 @quillswriting @tragedycoded

[frogychu]

Antirrhinum Ch. 2

ellie x gn!reader

ch. 2 of 4

other parts: 1 / 3 / 4

words: 2.2k

Hanahaki (花吐き病) ; disease affecting the lungs, proven to be caused by keeping one's true feelings hidden for too long Or Where you and Ellie have been friends for years until she finally slips up, coughing up petals in front of you.

a/n: really putting the slow in slow burn for this one guys and ofc the work will always be cross posted on AO3 here!

Snowflakes swirl around you as you wait for the door to open. The awkwardness of waiting around is starting to make you regret coming to Ellie’s garage in the first place.

It's taking an abnormally long time; did she know it was you? Should you knock again?

Plus its fucking freezing. Maybe this was a mistake.

The lights aren't even on inside, maybe she should be left to sleep if she's that sick.

Ah. Should've brought something for her.

Just as you're overthinking about soup, the lights turn on inside, and the door opens just a crack.

“Joel I told you, i'll be fine, it's just-”

You decide to cut her off before you gain any more knowledge you’re not supposed to. “Uh it's not Joel.”

She stops talking and the door swings open, revealing her dishevelled figure.

You won't lie, she looks absolutely terrible. She has horrible eye bags, seemed to have slept in yesterday's patrol clothes, and is much paler than usual. You're not used to seeing her in such a poor state, and it is quite the sight.

It's making you almost feel bad for bothering her.

She looks at you sheepishly, “Oh, hi.”

Not wanting to make her feel any worse than she already does, you decide to cut to the chase. "Jesse told me you're sick?"

"Oh, uh, not really. I'm fine-"

You swear you're starting to turn blue as you're talking out here, you even start shivering. Ellie cuts herself off as she very obviously takes notice.

"Oh shit, did you want to come inside maybe?" She insists.

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude, I just wanted to check on you."

She pauses for a long while. Her expression saddens as she closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath.

"Please."

Oh.

You waste no time grabbing the door handle and letting yourself in, closing it behind you. She's being oddly vulnerable with you, you wouldn't dare give her a hard time now.

It's awkward for a while. She motions at you to sit on the couch, so you do, after taking off your coat. You're watching her pace around slowly like she doesn't know what to do with you.

You're looking around the room, unsure of what to say either. Her room is cute, messy but cozy, it's dimly lit by her fairy lights and lava lamp, just enough to illuminate all of the art she put up above her desk.

One of the drawings catches your attention; it's a portrait of you.

When did she-

She finally spoke up, breaking your train of thought, “Uh hey, do you smoke?”

“Well, yeah, but are you sure we should be doing this while you're sick?”

“I'll be fine.” She answers abruptly, as she walks over to her desk and puts in a random CD into her CD player. ‘Black Hole Sun’ by Soundgarden starts playing quietly in the background.

She quickly walks over to her bed and grabs a small tin from her nightstand, sitting beside you and handing you the tin. You open it and take out a pre-roll, holding it to your mouth and searching for a lighter.

Ellie reaches into her back pocket, “Here.” She reaches over and lights it for you and you can't help but feel your heart race a mile a minute at the closeness.

The smoke invades your lungs as you breathe in, holding it before exhaling and handing the blunt over to Ellie. “You sure we should be doing this indoors?”

She shrugs, “If you want to go outside, be my guest.”

You take the blunt out of her hands as she passes it back to you, “I value my limbs thank you.”

She chuckles in response and you decide to speak up again, “So why did you skip out on patrol then miss ‘not sick’?”

“Didn't feel like going?” She lies.

You're skeptical. “Right…”

“Look, I'll tell you later.”

“You mean you'll tell me when you're high?”

“Yup.” She nods her head.

You laugh at her honesty, “Fair enough.”

Selfishly, you're a little glad she's in a poor state. It's letting the two of you break the ice that accumulated over the years, and you're definitely enjoying this side of her better. Both of you smoke in silence for a while, but there's undoubtedly less tension now, it's comfortable.

That is until she decides to talk again. “We should watch something.”

“Like, a movie?”

“Yeah. I was thinking something like an action movie…” she trails off.

You squint your eyes at her, “You want to watch Curtis And Viper don't you.”

She frowns, “How did you know?”

“It's like, the one thing I know about you, I literally can't forget.” You chuckle.

“Well maybe if we didn't fight all the time, you would know me better.”

Woah?

“I'm sorry, are you blaming me for this? I never meant for things to be this way.”

She gets up in a huff, “If you didn't then why didn't you try to change?”

It's escalating all too quickly, now you're standing too, blunt put out and long forgotten. “This goes both ways you know!”

“Yeah, we're both to blame for this shit friendship!”

You can see the regret in her face as soon as the words come out of her mouth.

“I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to-”

Your eyes get welled with tears, “You think our friendship is shit? Do you even like me? What am I to you?!”

“You're my best friend I-”

“Don't. Just stop.”, you grab your coat, “This was a mistake.”

And just like that, you're storming out the door, with hot and angry tears streaming down your face as you walk back to your house. As soon as you get in the house, you close it behind you and slump to the floor. It's pathetic, but you can't help it.

You knew the two of you would've had to have a talk sooner or later, you just didn't expect it all to blow up in your face. You've never fought with her this badly, you're devastated. You lay on the floor for a while, knees to your chest and only the sounds of the strong wind in the crack of the door keep you company.

Numb is the only word you can use for yourself as you finally get up and make your way up your stairs. Not even bothering to get undressed, you slump into bed early in the morning. Nothing could help process your emotions better than simply not thinking about them at all.

-

You wake up abruptly to the sound of banging at your door. By the time you were awoken by the knocking, it was dark out. You slept through the whole day.

Great.

Nevertheless, as much as you were - somehow - still exhausted, you ran down the stairs to tend to the sleep-disturbing culprit.

The knocking is still loud and persistent. “I'm coming!” you yelled, a little frustrated at this person's determination. You opened the door wide.

It’s Ellie. Ellie who has red eyes and a tear stained face. She's holding something.

Food?

It looks so fucking good, you dont even know what it is but you’re ready to forgive her just with this. You hadn't eaten all day.

She finally gains the courage to speak after letting you stare at her, “I'm sorry. Let's not fight anymore. I shouldn't have said any of that to you it was…stupid”

You want to kiss her, pull her into a tight embrace, hold her face and tell her everything is going to be ok. But you don't, for now.

Baby steps.

“I'm sorry too. I don't want us to be weird. Can we just be friends again? I just…I just want you to like me.” You answer honestly.

She gives you a soft smile of relief, “I do like you, even if I give you a hard time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You can't help but blush at the mention of her liking you, even if you know it's just as a friend. Still, you can't stop wondering what it would be like for her to confess to you like this.

Ellie speaks up again, before your daydreaming gets out of hand, “So, uh, did you want some or…” she motions to the dinner she had brought you.

“Please! Oh my god, I haven't eaten all day, you are a saint.” You thank her as you snatch the plate out of her hands and drag her inside.

She stumbles a little as you're dragging her by her arm. “Woah, hey, you don't even know if it's good or not!”

You stop and turn to look at her, “I literally could not care less right now.”

“Ok but i'm warning you, you've never had my cooking so-”

“Wait, you made this?” You cut her off.

She scratches her neck as she gets red in the face, “Oh, uh, yeah I did.”

Your heart feels warm and your stomach is full of butterflies. You can't help but smile softly at her as your face gets equally as crimson, “Thank you.”

“Nothing to it.” She answers nonchalantly.

You sit down at your dining table, not even bothering to heat up the food. It's a type of stirfry thing. Ellie sits beside you, looking at you nervously as you take a bite. Oddly enough, it's delicious. You didn't strike her as being much of a cook but you have to admit it's more than edible.

“Is it tolerable?” she asks.

You answer her between mouthfuls, “Are you shitting me? This is the best meal I've had probably ever.”

She laughs at your exaggerations. “Shut up, you're just saying that.”

“It's true, I swear!”

She shakes her head in response instead of saying anything back. You smile happily and keep eating your food. Looking out of your window as you ate, you noticed that the bad weather had finally stopped. You comment on it, trying to make conversation, “It's finally nice out.”

“Aw man,” she chuckles, “I can't believe we're talking about the weather, but you're right.” She pauses before talking again, “We should go do something.”

You answer her as you're shoveling the last of your food in your mouth, “Like what?”

“You'll see.” She answers you ominously.

“Okay, creepy.”

She questions you, “You trust me?”

You soften your expression, trying to be more sincere, “Of course I do.”

“Good, come outside with me.” She orders you, getting up from her seat and grabbing your coat. Taken aback by her sudden change in tone, you do as she says without answering her, or putting your dishes away.

She holds your jacket open for you and you slide your arms in. It's endearing, you get all warm and fuzzy on the inside. You open the door and let her go out before you, and close it.

You both walk out into the street, and she smacks your arm, pointing upwards to the sky. It’s completely clear; you can't help but feel so small looking up at all of the bright lights in the sky. Although, your view is slightly obstructed by the street lights.

“Wait Ellie, I have an idea.” You tell her as you try to grab her attention.

She looks down at you, “What's up?”

“Follow me.” You insist, as you already started making your way to your destination.

You bring her to the back of your house, where a ladder to your roof is propped up against the siding.

“It might be a little more unsafe because of the snow and stuff.” You warn her.

She shrugs, “It’ll probably be fine.”

Next thing you knew she was making her way up, and you soon followed after she made it. You both lay down on the snowy roof and look at the stars quietly, until she started naming and pointing out different stars and constellations.

“That big bright one over there, that's a whole galaxy, Andromeda.” She points to a different spot. “And there beside it, Cassiopea, and Orion's belt over there.”

You listen to her rave about space for a good while, she's cute when she rants like this. “Didn't strike you as that big of a space nerd.”

“Is knowing more about me that terrible?”

“No.” You answer immediately.. “I like being around you, remember?”

She shrugs, “Trying to.”

You sit up and turn to face her, “Ellie, I'm sorry for how things have been between us for however long we've known each other. Let's be friends like normal people are friends, who know each other's favourite colours, who let each other know when something is wrong. I'm sick of this.”

Ellie immediately gets up, “I'm sorry too. And I'd like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles at you.

Having at least the smallest amount of progress puts a smile on your face, but you knew there was a lot more to be done if you wanted to get closer to her. “So, what is your favourite colour?”

She laughs, “Oh man, are we really doing this?”

“Absolutely we are.” You answer, as you lay back down in the snow to look up at the night sky.

This was about to be a long night.

a/n: SOO what r we thinking thoughts.. prayers? n e ways hope u all liked it !

tags: @champagnelovers101 @luvagirl222 @florenceisacoolname @cherriesnwatermelons @sufloerfs

[theboywithburninghands]

It was a slow day at work today, so I wrote something. It’s a short bit of the arranged marriage AU. I was gonna make it longer but… eh. @fernstarsblog here your tag.

T/W: era-appropriate sexism

Primum Peccatum Ch. 5: I’m Just a Girl, Lucky Me

Pomni handed her book to the librarian.

“Miss Shutnyk, back so soon! Have you finished this already? It’s hardly been a week.”

Pomni smiled politely, keeping her eyes on the desk. “The prose isn’t exactly complex, Mr. Carpenter. They are fairy tales, after all.”

“Be that as it may, this is quite a lot of stories. You go through these so quickly, it’s a wonder you haven’t run out of books to read.” the librarian said.

Pomni smiled again, wistfully this time. In truth, she had only skimmed the book. Fairy tales offered lessons that she had learned as a child or themes she heard told in more interesting ways in better books. That, and it had been dreadfully difficult to concentrate on reading with this inane marriage business.

She looked around the library for another book. Normally, she was on the hunt for something new to read, but today called for something slightly different. She wanted a book she loved, something that would help distract her from everything. Literary comfort food.

She soon found her respite in the fiction section. Humidity by Rachel Houston. It was a wonderful story about a muggy New Hirnantian hamlet inundated by fog, and a new schoolteacher that arrives there and becomes invested in the lives of the townsfolk. The prose was beautiful and unpretentious, and she loved the main character, a woman about Pomni’s age. It helped that the author was also a woman, and thus knew how to write from a female perspective.

“Ah, Humidity, Ms. Shutnyk? I thought you read this one ages ago.” Mr. Carpenter said when Pomni brought the book over.

“I would very much like to read it again. I have been meaning to, but there are so many books… But, now is as good a time as any to revisit an old favorite, I believe.” Pomni said.

“There’s never anything wrong with enjoying a novel again. Some stories I could read over and over again and never get tired of. Even if I had your memory.” Mr. Carpenter said, as he stamped the checkout card and marked the due date.

“It’s a blessing and a curse. I can really only experience a story for the first time once… but, I never forget a favorite. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Carpenter.”

Pomni managed enough eye contact for a polite goodbye before she left the library. She walked down the path to the pier. It was another warm day with cool, salty breezes, being so close to the reach brought the smell of the ocean. Her black sundress fluttered slightly at the occasional zephyr. She held the brim of her sunhat to keep it from flying away, the other around her book. She thought about going for a walk in the park, it was part of her routine, after all… but not this time. Her heels were still somewhat sore from the blisters she sustained, and truth be told, she wanted to be alone with her book. Once she was married, solitude would be very hard to come by, even with her and Jax Krolik’s agreement to live like bachelors in the same house.

She reached the pier just as the ferry arrived. A few homeowners from Primum Peccatum exited the boat. One elderly gentleman, a neighbor who Pomni had spoken to perhaps twice in her entire life, nodded to her.

“Congratulations, Miss Shutnyk,” he said. Pomni merely nodded as she passed him by. Just for a moment, she contemplated tripping the man into the sea. She stepped onto the ferry and took a seat inside, her usual spot by the window. She opened her book, skipping the preamble, and dove into the story.

The ferry waited the usual ten minutes for any late arrivals, before the bell tolled that it was time to set sail. As the crew pulled up the anchor and started the engine, a pair of feet landed on the deck, a straggler, no doubt. Pomni heard them approach the crew and gasp an apology, stepping inside the ferry and taking a seat with a sigh of relief, slumping over the back of the chair. Pomni glanced at them, looked back down at her novel, then glanced back up.

“Miss… Kali?” she said.

Jax’s elder sister-in-law, wearing a similar maroon dress from the last time Pomni had seen her, had taken off her large hat to fan herself. She wore no shoes (beastfolk rarely ever wore them, their feet were often too uniquely shaped or oddly sized for shoes), but wore a simple and elegant string of pearls around her neck. Pomni had to admit, she looked quite nice, despite her tangerine fur being matted from sweat.

The beastwoman blinked and sat up much straighter upon seeing Pomni. She smiled. “Oh! Oh, good afternoon! Miss Shutnyk, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting to see you on the mainland! How are you?”

Pomni swallowed, focusing on her book. Be polite, she thought. This was going to be a relative of yours who’d done nothing to you. So far.

“I’m well,” Pomni replied. “I just came from the library. Are you going to see Jax?”

“I am! He’s staying with your neighbor, correct? It must be so relieving to have such a short distance between the two of you!”

Pomni cleared her throat. “I do wish he had told me about the arrangement first…”

Kali laughed. “Oh, that’s just the way he is. Such a cad, all about surprises and tricks! There’s never a dull moment with him!”

“Yes, I’m inclined to agree,” Pomni said, focusing on her novel.

“I’m so lucky that fellow in red lended me his ferry pass… I would have missed you otherwise!”

Pomni looked Kali in the face for the first time. “Fellow in red?”

“Oh, you enjoy Rachel Houston? I love her work, I quoted from one of her poems for my wedding vows!”

“Is that right?” Pomni closed her book and set it on her lap. “Which one was it?”

“Ah, the title eludes me… but I remember the verse!

‘If there are but two minds left

After time concludes and eternity begins

I long to be alone with you.’”

Pomni smiled. “Ah, that one was unpublished and untitled, included in The Complete Works. I understand why you selected it. It’s beautiful…”

“Isn’t it? Alton’s eyes were swimming when I read it, and he so seldom cries. That’s just the power of good literature!” Kali declared.

“Hm…” Pomni had to think about how to continue the conversation. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to talk about one of her favorite authors, but if she began, it would be very difficult to stop. “Your husband. What does he do?”

“Alton is a doctor! He works at the hospital for the moment, but if he’s hoping to open his own drug store once my father-in-law gets back on his feet. It’s mostly a matter of paying for all the medicinal powders and tinctures, plus the land expenses and building expenses.”

“From… the wedding, I imagine.” Pomni replied.

“Yes indeed! And, truth be told, I am quite happy to see you and Jax together. Oh, I was so worried that-”

“P-Pardon my interruption. Do you enjoy married life, Kali?” Pomni asked.

Kali looked a bit perplexed for a moment, before she beamed.

“Oh, I love it. Altonicus is a wonderful man, he’s kind, and intelligent, sensitive but not weak… we’re hoping to have our first child soon, as soon as we better establish our roots. We have a house, yes, but our own business is what would really drive us to have kin of our own.”

“And your marriage was arranged?” Pomni replied.

“It was! Oh, I was so nervous. I was just 20, you know! But when I first met Alton, I remember the first thing he said to me-”

Pomni became lost in thought, drowning out Kali’s voice. So it was possible to be in one of these arrangements and love one’s partner. Unless Kali was hiding something, or suffering from Stockholm syndrome…

“Would you say you were lucky?” Pomni asked.

“Lucky?” Kali echoed.

“That you ended up with a person you could love…” Pomni said, practically mumbling.

“Ah… I understand. You’re unhappy.”

Pomni’s eyes widened. “Ah- No, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Miss Shutnyk… no, Pomni. I’m going to be your co-sister-in-law, so I should use your first name, shouldn’t I? Pomni, I’m not surprised you feel that way. You’re 25, yes? Any woman your age that hasn’t married probably has no interest in getting married age 26, if that makes any sense. Tell me honestly: would you ever have married of your own volition?”

“I wouldn’t. I still wish not to. I tried to join the clergy so I wouldn’t be able to…” Pomni confessed.

“So you are unhappy. But let me tell you something, Pomni. You’re doing a good thing. Not just for your family.” Kali said.

“I don’t care,” Pomni blurted out. “I… I’m sorry. I know you’re depending on my family’s dowry for your business, but… I simply… I can’t force myself to be happy about this…”

Kali, to Pomni’s surprise, smiled.

“I know and I’m sorry. You’re correct. I was very fortunate to be married to a man that loves me. But, in a way, I think you’re fortunate too.”

“…I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Pomni replied. “I am lucky that I wasn’t married to a monster, I suppose. But why must I be married at all? I wanted to take over my father’s law firm…”

Kali suddenly held Pomni’s hand, the human girl jumping at the touch. The beastwoman looked Pomni dead in the face.

“Do you still have that dream?” she asked.

Pomni couldn’t look her in the eye for very long, but she nodded.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you can achieve it. Look at Rachel Houston!”

Kali tapped Pomni’s book. “A published author who you can find in any library. All those stuffshirts who scoffed at the idea of a woman being a best-selling author had to put their feet firmly in their mouth when they read her prose and poetry. Being a woman is incredibly difficult, but if you are exemplary, you will succeed no matter your gender.”

Pomni swallowed. “Kali… I’m… I-I don’t know what to say…”

“But, if I may impart some advice? I’ve known Jax for ten years, since he was only 12 years old. And that veneer of slyness?”

The ferry arrived at the dock, the red Ediacaran wood gleaming in the early afternoon sunlight.

“Oh, we’re here already? What a quick voyage this was!” Kali hopped off of her chair and headed for the boat’s exit.

Pomni sat for a moment. She collected her belongings and followed Kali out of the boat. She was already hurrying up the path towards the Rooker estate.

“I know we’re traveling in the same direction, Pomni, but I really must hurry on ahead! I have to go to The Gray Church right after I visit with Jax, and I’d like to be home before evening! Ta-ta for now!”

Kali waved frantically before dashing ahead. Rabbitfolk moved rather quickly. That seemed appropriate.

—

[dansconcepts]

Rise of the "Archons" + One Adeptus + Two Other Immortals

Aka an introductory excerpt of a Rise of the Guardians-inspired Genshin Impact AU from my archives.

Roles to Note:

E. Aster Bunnymund: Xiao (guardian of safety; protector of purity)

Jack Frost: Venti (guardian of fun; protector of freedom)

Sandman: Morax (guardian of duty; protector of responsibility)

Toothiana: Lumine (guardian of memory; protector of growth)

North: Aether (guardian of ambition; protector of dreams)

Pitch Black: Childe

"...Tartaglia?" Lumine hisses. She averts her gaze, landing on the closest figure to her. Her eyes trail to Morax, whose lips are pressed in a thin line with a hand tightly clasped around his tea cup. His eyes reflect exactly how she feels- that tinge of disbelief, with the added aggravation of a lingering foreboding. 

She can't help but attempt to swallow the dread slowly rising within her. With a hardened gaze, she asks, "He was here?"

Aether nods. "I saw water creatures made of black. There was black water everywhere, actually-"

"What?" Xiao interjects. "What do you mean by water? I thought you said you saw Tartaglia?"

The Abyss leader frowns, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh. "Well… Not exactly."

Xiao scoffs. "Tch. We've all gathered here for something you aren't even certain about. This is pathetic!" 

"Oh, c'mon Xiao! Give me a break."

"Rex Lapis. Is what he's saying truthful? I feel I need a more verifiable source."

"Hey!"

The surprise from such a childish argument occurring has Lumine giggling slightly at their antics. 

"Paimon was there! It really was Tartaglia!" A small fairy chimes, stomping a tiny foot into the air. She whines loudly, scolding, "Aether, you big dummy! You forgot to talk about how the water literally formed a silhouette of Tartaglia!"

"Oh yeah, that's right! Whoops." He chuckles sheepishly. "Oh-ow!-Paimon!-stop-OW!-hitting-me!... just why does your tiny fists pack such a punch…!" 

In the midst of it all, Morax hums. It causes everyone to trail off, and even Paimon ceases in her hits. 

"And… are you able to confidently swear that, within this very establishment, you saw Tartaglia?"

The blond nods, any ounce of a smile ripped completely off his face. 

"I understand it sounds like speculation, but I- and Paimon too- are confident in what we saw. The water was too familiar. The darkness? Equally so. And the figure forming into the man himself was just as telling."

He breathes. "Tartaglia is back, and he's up to something."

Morax hums once more before going back to his tea in silence.

Xiao rolls his eyes. "Rex Lapis may be satisfied, but I am not. You dragged me away to provide, what, a half-assed warning that you could've sent, I don't know, your fairy to deliver?"

"I'm not some carrier pigeon!" Paimon feebly protests. 

Paimon is easily ignored.

"Well, I'm sorry I thought it was of grave enough importance that we all meet up here or you wouldn't believe me otherwise!"

"I'm here and I still don't believe you!" Xiao spat. "Do you have evidence?"

"Are two people's words not enough for you? We're being serious!" He shakes his head at the adeptus, turning toward his sister in solace to cool his head. "Lumine, you've been quiet. What do you think?"

"Ah, well… you know I trust you Aether. It's just unsettling to think that Ch-Tartaglia would be back after all these centuries…"

It grants a nod from Aether, where he turns to his fellow guardian with a smirk. Xiao snarls, low and feral, igniting a battle of wits between the two. As their heated words fill the otherwise gnawing silence, a distinct brightness shines through the fairly already illuminated building. It reflects harshly off the fake purple neon lighting. The movement ceases and settles right in front of Morax, soothing and gentle. 

Yet he is the only one to notice, as Lumine's eyes are downcast while Xiao and Aether bicker like children.

How did he get here? He wonders to himself solemnly.

"Everyone." He speaks. They ignore him. He raises his voice, repeating the same word. They're too off in their own little worlds to notice. The absolute gall of these children.

Fine then. 

The floor beneath them begins to shake and it rumbles an affronted roar. Lumine is the first to gasp in surprise. She nearly stumbles and instinctively shoots out her arms, stamping her feet to the ground as a way to keep herself upright. Xiao and Aether, on the other hand, repeat the action when the floor starts to make them sway. 

Their heads immediately snap to the source of it all, who stands in the chaos with not even a hair out of place. 

"Done?" He chastises. "Do look up now."

Altogether, their eyes spot the natural beams of light. 

Lumine's eyes sparkle. "Oh! The Welkin Moon! Zhongli, why didn't you say anything?"

"I clearly did."

"No, all you did was shake the ground. You could've just shouted 'moon', you know."

"...Why, yes, I suppose I could've…"

"Well, moon, what did you want to say?"

A silhouette of a cloaked figure with a staff waves excitedly before it's whisked away, revealing the familiar profile of-

"Tartaglia. It really is him." Xiao spits out. "Oh, when I get my hands on that Fatui scum-"

Aether shoots him a pointed look, before turning back to the moon. "Okay then moon, what do we do?"

The cloaked figure points to Lumine.

"Huh? Me? Why-" Her eyes cloud shut. They flutter open just as quickly. 

"Ah." 

She nods, before beginning to form constellations from her hands, letting the moon's whispers guide her. A small pedestal is created, and she lets the stars fly out from the top in a wonderful light show. They use her subconscious memory as a base, beginning to create the form of-

"A new guardian? Ah, we could use the help." Aether concedes with an amiable nod.

"As long as it isn't that popsicle or another annoying pest, I won't complain."

They slowly take in the formation of clogs… legs… shorts… corset…? ...a… lyre?

Before them was none other than Venti, the wind spirit.

"Venti." 

The stars twinkling around the image droop in a mock faint. 

"Huh. I didn't know there could be a horrible answer. I see I was wrong."

"Wha- guys!" Lumine scolds. "C'mon! As long as he helps out, it's no big deal, right?"

"Venti? Helping? All he's ever done was prolong danger and nearly makes me lose it every. single. time. He blows the demons away from me and laughs a storm about it. He isn't trustworthy."

"Well, now he's a guardian."