#don’t think certain people would be happy about her doing that

[indecisivemuch]

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore. 

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off. 

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own. 

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be. 

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near. 

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him. 

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.” 

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand. 

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

“Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word. 

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you. 

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters. 

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years. 

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand. 

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention. 

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts. 

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you. 

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you. 

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him. 

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying. 

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to. 

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.  

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on. 

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love, 

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do, 

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago. 

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before. 

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility. 

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you. 

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?” 

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew. 

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.” 

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly. 

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you…a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner. 

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two. 

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints. 

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that. 

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment. 

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.” 

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist (or to remove yourself from)

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn��t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Are there any fics about Nanny Crowley and Bookseller Aziraphale?

Thank you^^

Hi! Here are some nanny Crowley and bookseller Aziraphale fics...

I Hear You're in Need of a Nanny by emptymasks (G)

Aziraphale was trying his best to raise his son on his own, but at a certain point it was difficult to be running the bookshop while also keeping his eyes on Oscar all day. Crowley liked working with children, and children liked him, they’ve just always been drawn to him. A lot of people prefer hiring a female nanny to a male one, and as much as he thinks it’s a little ridiculous, it works out fine for him. He was happy to identify and present as female and tap into his maternal instincts. He’d been wanting to take a job closer to his apartment, but there’s not that many people wanting to hire a nanny in Soho; then he comes across a job advertisement in the local newspaper posted by a Mr. A. Z. Princer. When he meets Oscar, he finds a little girl tired of being told by the world that she's a boy. Single Parent! Aziraphale & Nanny! Crowley, Human AU

The Demon on Her Shoulder Has Her Back by Barely_a_human (T)

"'Hi, Crowley.” “What did you need, dear?” “I’ve- uh- been kicked out of my house. I don’t know where to go, and it’s raining. I’m sorry for bothering you, but you said I could call if I needed anything, and right now I need a grown-up that would be on my side.'" or Crowley adopts a young trans girl named Eve, and she get's to witness the almost-apocalypse, as well as Crowley finding love with an angel, from an outsiders perspective.

dancing queen (guaranteed to blow your mind) by Quilly (T)

Warlock has a secret, and it's that he invited three former staff members from his estranged parents' household to his wedding in the hopes that one of them is the one Nanny is still in love with. Crowley is just wondering what entity he pissed off to make three of his old flames show up the day before his adopted kid's wedding.

Connection by AppleSeeds (M)

In March 2020 when the UK goes into Lockdown, Crowley is faced with the unenviable task of homeschooling Warlock. A silver lining emerges when Warlock starts attending literature classes on Zoom run by local bookseller Aziraphale, who Crowley finds extraordinarily attractive. Crowley jumps at the chance when the opportunity arises to actually talk to Aziraphale away from Warlock and his classmates, and the two of them begin to build a friendship via Zoom. When they realise their friendship could be the beginning of something more, they explore ways to feel connected to each other until the day comes when they can finally be together in real life.

Millennial Blues by comicgeekery (E)

Aziraphale is a standard retail bookseller trying to make ends meet. One day a man named Crowley shows up with a flyer for a variety show looking for new acts. And, well, Crowley is handsome and Aziraphale has been lonely...and working on some magic tricks. What harm could a bit of light flirting do? It all should be fine as long as no one asks about his past...

- Mod D

[amusingmyselfsblog]

You know one second I’m loving Nesta x Eris and reading all the fanfics where they end up together. Then I reread acosf and get a harsh reality check.

"We'll see," Cassian said, the portrait of unruffled calm. Nesta nearly snickered as he nodded toward the dagger at Eris's side.

"We have our own ways to protect ourselves against the Crown." Nesta hid her surprise. The weapons she Made shielded against the Trove? No one had told her such a thing.

Eris glowered. "Has this been the plan the whole time? To string me along, make me an enemy of my father, then use the Trove against all of us?"

"You made yourself an enemy of your father," Cassian said, smiling faintly.

"When he finds out, I wonder if he'll let your hounds rip you to shreds, or if he'll do it himself."

Eris paled slightly. "Don't you mean if he finds out?"

Cassian said nothing. Kept his face neutral. Nesta stifled her smugness and did the same.

Eris observed them. For the first time since Nesta had known the male, uncertainty banked the fire in his gaze.

And then he turned toward the other subject in his letter, facing Nesta before he asked, "And my offer for you?" Not one ounce of affection or longing laced his words.

Nesta lifted her chin, smirking at last. "I suppose once we have the Crown in our hands, the Night Court won't need you after all. Neither will I."

Like Nesta, I was rooting for y’all to get together?? What happened to the original plot of the movie? And why did this scene remove itself from my memories??

The Night Court is insufferable I swear. Nesta got a harsh reality check in hofas that she truly wasn’t one of them. Cause if it was anyone else giving that Mask over, they would’ve been celebrated.

And these were Eris’ last words to her:

She could have sworn Cassian was repressing a laugh, but she kept her gaze on Eris, who went rigid, rippling with rage. "I do not appreciate being toyed with, Nesta Archeron. My offer was sincere. Stay with the Night Court and you risk your ruin."

[obsesssedblerd]

“Megumi!” You call your son in the living room, who’s sitting next to his father, Toji, on the couch watching the news. “Could you go grab your sister and tell her to put her studying on hold? Dinner’s almost done.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Megumi says as he rises to his feet, putting his headphones around his neck and pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket. “Oh, uh, Mom?” 

“Hm?” 

“Can Itadori spend the night after dinner?” He then looks over at Toji with a small scowl. “After Dad hides all of his assassin stuff?” 

“Hey, watch it,” Toji says.

You nod with a light smile. You loved having Yuuji Itadori over. He was a bright kid, and besides, he made Megumi relaxed and happy. “Of course. Go prepare the guest bed, yeah?” 

Megumi departs with a nod, then heads upstairs. From the living room, you hear Toji whistle. “Wow. Baby, looks like Spider-Man stopped that bank robbery.”

You look up from the dishes in the kitchen, then hum in delight when you catch what’s on the screen. It looked like small clips from the internet as the reporter gave details. The masked hero, wearing blue and red, swings, fights, and rescues hostages swiftly. “Incredible,” you say, then walk over to hand your husband a list of groceries. “Could you head to the store and grab these? I want to make sure that we have enough food for breakfast in the morning now that Yuuji will be staying the night.” 

Toji looks around to make sure that Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t present, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Yuuji.” 

“Megumi has feelings for him. Yeah, I know.” 

“No- Not that. Amazing for them, and I think they’re adorable together, but,” Toji points over at the TV. “I think he’s Spider-Man.”

You blink, then burst into laughter as you head back into the kitchen. “Toji, what? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s only fifteen and very busy. You know how often he studies with Megumi.” 

“I’m serious,” he says as he follows you. “Think about it. Do you know how often Yuuji shows up with bruises or scratches?” 

You begin arranging plates on the dining room table. “Just like our son, the kid’s a fighter. I mean, his uncle Sukuna was a huge fighter before he passed away. Plus, he spends a lot of time with Satoru Gojo, and we know how he is. Also, doesn’t he have an older brother? Brothers fight.” 

“True, but just walk with me for a second.” You sigh and look up to see Toji waving his hands animatedly as he explained. “Do you remember when we all went to the parade on New Years together, and that giant robot appeared?” 

“Yes, it was all everyone could talk about for days.” 

“Uh-huh.” He then points at you. “Do you also remember how Yuuji was gone when Spider-Man appeared at the scene?” 

You stare at him blankly. “...Toji, he went to the bathroom before everything happened,” you remind him. “I’m certain that he got lost in the crowd when everyone started running.”

Toji groans. “You don’t believe me. Baby, I’m telling you—He’s Spider-Man. I can’t prove it now, but I will eventually.” 

You sigh again and cross your arms. “Okay, so, let’s say he was. What would you do?” 

“Well, I mean…” Toji mutters, then sheepishly rubs the back of his head as he quietly chuckles. “I dunno, give him a high-five? Worry about Megumi?” 

“Trust me, Toji. The only people with secret identities here are you and I.” You reach over and grab a stack of napkins. “By the way, Megumi had a point earlier. Be more careful about where you’re leaving weapons. One of Tsumiki’s friends nearly saw one not too long ago.” 

He winces. “Sorry.” 

“You’re fine.” You push to your tip toes and gently kiss him. “No job tonight, right? I know I don’t have one.” 

“Nope. Once I get those groceries, I’m all free.” He grabs the list from you, then reaches towards you to lovingly push a loose strand of hair away from your face. “I’ll be back soon.” When he leaves through the back door, the front doorbell rings. 

You hear Megumi rush down the stairs. “I got it,” he tells you as he passes you. When the door opens, Yuuji Itadori waves at you with his usual grin. “Hi, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

“Hi, Yuuji. What happened to your face?” You ask. His lip is slightly busted, and there’s a bruise beginning to form on his jaw. Yuuji laughs sheepishly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his yellow hoodie. “Oh, uh, me and Okkotsu fought again. Gojo-sensei had to pull us apart.” 

Megumi rolls his eyes. “I swear, you’re always fighting.”

“Aw, come on, Megumi,” Yuuji teases with a smirk as he crosses his arms. “You’re just as bad. I heard about what happened a few days ago.”

Your son’s cheeks dust with pink, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, whatever. You need to get cleaned up before dinner. Come on, there’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom.” 

Megumi goes upstairs, and Yuuji follows close behind him. You’re about to tell Yuuji that the flap of his backpack is slightly unzipped, but the words get stuck in your throat when you catch the tiniest hint of the red and blue suit. You only see it for a split-second before Yuuji swings his backpack around, excitedly telling Megumi about a new action figure he wants to get for his birthday.

Your eyes widen. Holy shit. 

-----

a/n: lol i can't believe I wrote this. spidey yuuji au, you'll always be loved by me <3

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Steve sits with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

In the passenger seat, Robin’s doing her make up.

“What are we doing here, Rob?”

“You mean like, in the cosmic soul searching sense, or here specifically?”

“Here. Specifically.”

“Well, your beautiful brunette boyfriend-”

“You don’t score points for alliteration. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“All right then, the man who is under the distinct impression that he’s your boyfriend, suggested we all hang out together. So we are here. At the place I suggested.”

“Because you know I hate it here.”

Robin makes a non committal noise, Steve looks, she’s pulling the horrendous mascara face. He goes back to resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

Steve does hate it here. Reminds him of...fucking work brunches with his father and Sunday lunches with his mother and he just. Hates it.

Steve sighs like a Victorian maid who’s betrothed has not yet returned from sea. He’s certain he’ll die from consumption at any minute.

“Shut up you big baby,” Robin tells him as she fluffs her hair, “all I want is to finger bang this chick in the bathroom and then rub my cunt on her face, is that too much to ask?”

And Robin has been wholly supportive of Steve so far, so, “no, I suppose-what the fuck Robin? Did you choose this place because-”

“I like the bathrooms-”

“-the bathrooms are nice-”

“What?-”

“Oh you fucking-”

“They’re romantic kinda’.”

“They’re bathrooms, Robin!”

“The lighting is good. I like the vibe.”

“Oh my god.”

Steve’s stares mournfully after his best friend. She’s at the bar with Chrissy, because Chrissy wanted to watch the guy make their cocktails, look he does tricks with the thing, like in that old movie with Tom Cruise.

Steve could physically feel himself ageing as she spoke.

“It’s so cool they’re dating.” Steve does not point out that whatever Robin's about to do to Chrissy, it will be a four letter word, but that four letter word is not ‘date’.

“You think?”

Eddie smiles big. The dimples come out. Huge happy brown fucking cow eyes. He’s not attractive Steve reminds himself viciously. He’s playing with his cutlery because he can’t sit still and...his chins too pointy. Or something. “Well yeah. It’d be so cool if they get married.”

Steve nearly chokes on his drink.

“Hey man, you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Steve’s nose is burning from the bubbles going up there, “what makes you think they’ll get married?”

“Well...why would you date someone if you can’t see it going somewhere?” Steve hopes this is going somewhere; like to a bed, specifically, “so there’s a chance, right? I can tell Chris really likes her. I hope it’s like, a long term thing.”

Steve feels himself slow blink. He doesn’t explain to Eddie that you date someone because you want to stick your penis in them. Eddie turns to watch the girls again, they laugh, and Eddie grins at them, all happy and fond.

Steve sighs.

“You okay?”

“Sorry?”

“You just...you don’t seem so happy to be here man. Kind of tense.”

Steve has no idea how Eddie even noticed, usually people don’t notice. Or usually people don’t care, but it amounts to the same thing because coming to somewhere like this is just the step you take before you step into a bedroom.

“I...I actually don’t really like it here much.”

Eddie looks at him, leans close. He’s ready to really listen. He...cares. About Steve. Steve wonders if he’s going to come up in a rash; it feels like the sort of thing he should be allergic too. He wonders vaguely if there’s antihistamines in the glove box.

“Why?”

“Well...I.” Steve pulls a face. He doesn’t talk about...meaningful things, but he figures it can’t hurt this once, he can be vague. Especially if it increases the chance of doing the no pants dance with Eddie, “I don’t have the best relationship with my parents. I mean, they’re good parents, I had really good nannies growing up, had a great education, the best boarding school, they funded my degree, gave me a solid start at work, so they are great...we just don’t exactly get on all the time. We used to come here for pretty much every family meal.”

Eddie’s frown deepens the more Steve talks, “how often were the...family meals?”

“I don’t know,” Steve hums, “holidays I guess, when I was away, and then...maybe fortnightly? We don’t do it now, obviously.”

“Oh. Me and uncle Wayne had one meal a day together, at least, when I lived there. It was like, a house rule.”

“Oh that’s...you’re close?” To Steve that already sounds like something out of the fucking Brady Bunch.

“Yeah. Speaking of which, he’s invited you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” Steve asks weakly.

“Yeah, since you’re courting that boy, he said.” Eddie puts his hands up to do the air quotes. And then he grins. That big stupid grin. He looks so happy. So genuinely happy to see Steve. So happy about the prospect of just...seeing him again.

Steve does not point out that a blow job at a garden party, humping each other in a public bathroom, and one co ed BBQ does not courting make.

“Right.”

“Awesome, I’ll let you know when,” Eddie drums two forks on the edge of the table. Steve stares at his bony wrists. His mind suggests phrases like, ‘slender’ and ‘delicate’ and Steve ignores those and thinks about how he could very easily hold both of those wrists in one hand. “listen, do you want to get out of here?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, the girls won’t care,” and he’s probably right there, “and you don’t like it here, and I don’t care where I am as long as it’s with you.”

Steve riffles through his internal Rolodex and comes up blank; no one has ever said anything that sincere to him in his life. And Eddie means it too; he means everything he says in a completely unguarded way Steve has literally never encountered before. It’s like meeting an alien. Steve wants to put him under a microscope.

“I just want you to have a nice time, you know. I want you to be happy.”

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve’s hand.

Steve lets him.

Part Six

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N, after spending a decade at Camp Half-Blood, still remains unclaimed. Luckily, Luke is there to keep her company as her good friend. And to, perhaps, provide a bit more.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : fighting, violence, a little too much of a description about injuries

—

Nobody had been this excited about a new kid since three years ago, when a H/C-haired girl showed up holding a Harpy’s head. The new arrival had slain a Minotaur, which Clarisse wasn’t too happy about. She was convinced he was a liar.

Y/N sat in the Hermes cabin, closely inspecting her empty juice box. She had waken up an hour ago yet her good friend, Luke, still woke up earlier. She always wondered where he went in the early morning. Perhaps to get some sword training in before the day started. He was, after all, the best swordsman in camp.

The rays of sun poured through the window, bathing the wooden floor in light. A few of the Hermes kids groaned, knowing Luke would burst through the doors any second and force them to get up. He always did when the sun rose.

As expected, Luke kicked the door open. “Good morning!” He exclaimed, as energetic as ever. “The new kid’s coming today so get up and start cleaning! I’m mainly talking to you guys.” Luke sent the group in the corner a stern look and added, “Y/N, you’re fine.” He pointed at her with his usual boyish grin.

Lately, Y/N had been sleeping in Luke’s bed while he slept on the floor. They took turns switching. Lying on the ground for more than a decade now wasn’t good for the back.

After all this time, Y/N was still unclaimed. It usually took a week or less. Y/N was a prime example of the Gods above ignoring their children.

“He’s the one who killed the Minotaur, right?” Y/N questioned as Luke collapsed onto his mattress, partly to annoy Y/N who was sitting on it. The H/C-haired girl scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t contain the amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. He can join your little monster slaying group. Let’s hope he gets claimed because I can’t deal with a boy version of you.” Luke teasingly grinned while Y/N scoffed and slapped his shoulder.

“You love my company.” She uttered, rolling her eyes.

Luke’s friends snickered to themselves. “More like he loves you.” One whispered to another.

“What’s his name again?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. “Was it… Tom?” Luke stared at her in disbelief before lightly snorting.

“You’re way off, Y/N. Stop thinking, you’ll hurt that tiny brain of your’s. Just do what you do best; sit still and look cute.” Luke ruffled her tidy hair, turning it into a bird’s nest again.

Y/N flung a pillow at him, and glowered at the Hermes boy. “I’m going to kick your ass in capture the flag.” She threatened, poking his shoulder. Clarisse, out of all people, was her best friend. So naturally, she teamed up with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess.” Luke lightly shoved her which caused Y/N to gasp in disbelief.

“Don’t push a lady, Luke!”

The other campers, already used to their antics, just chuckled. “Hey, love birds!” One of the unclaimed kids exclaimed. “Get a room!” With her smart she was, Y/N assumed she was Athena’s child.

Y/N and Luke liked to play a silly game where they guessed which camper belonged to which godly parent. It was fun. Luke was never wrong until the day he tried to guess Y/N’s.

A year ago, he guessed Aphrodite. His explanation? Because she was charming and she had a certain aura that followed her. And because she was pretty. That was the only time he was wrong because Y/N never ended up in a cabin.

“So, what do you think of the new kid? Which cabin?” Y/N asked as she and Luke walked outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets, laughing.

“Tough call. I haven’t even met him yet. Apollo, maybe?” Luke shrugged and frowned. “I’ll tell ya my guess when I see him.”

“I’m guessing… Poseidon.” Y/N uttered, earning a light snort from Luke.

“No way. Is that your confirmed guess? Being a child of Poseidon would mean being a forbidden child.”

The game had a few rules.

One. You can only take a single guess and once you confirm it, you can’t change it.

Two. You can’t ask the kid you’re talking about. Luke considers that cheating. You can only observe them.

Three. No asking Annabeth because she’s always right.

“I guess. It’s not like I ever win, right?” Y/N laughed, grinning at Luke. He stared at her for a moment before returning her bright smile.

“I know we don’t usually make bets, but if your guess turns out right, I’ll willingly give up in the next capture the flag game after he’s claimed.” Luke puffed out his chest, certain Y/N wouldn’t win.

“And if you win?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You give me your strawberries.” Luke had an obsession with strawberries that everybody, even the gods above, knew about.

“You’re on, Luke.” Y/N held out her hand with her lips curved up into a teasing smirk.

“Good luck, princess. Looks like I’ll be taking all your strawberries.” Luke ran his tongue over his teeth, already being able to taste the sweet, red fruit in his mouth.

He walked off, playfully winking at Y/N. Clarisse, who saw the whole conversation go down, hurried over to Y/N. “Looks like you and lover boy have a bet going in.” She smirked, raising both her eyebrows. “You two are cute together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Clari. We’re just friends.” Y/N rolled her eyes at what her friend was suggesting. She had been friends with Luke for three years now and she had known him for even longer.

“Are you just friends… or you want to be more?” Clarisse leaned forward with that taunting glint in her beautiful eyes. Y/N groaned, shoving her away. Clarisse simply laughed. “Come on, princess.” She mocked.

“Oh, come on, Risse.” That was a horrid nickname given to Clarisse by an Apollo boy who seemed to be obsessed with her.

“Shut up!” Clarisse exclaimed, eyeing Y/N up and down in disgust as if she was the Apollo boy. “You know how I feel about him!”

“And you know how I feel about Luke.”

“Yeah… but do you?” Clarisse tilted her head to the side before her gaze flickered to something, or rather someone, behind Y/N. “The Minotaur kid is out.” She grumbled and sharply clicked her tongue.

“Great. I can see if my stupid guess was correct.” Y/N glanced over her shoulder, watching the boy walk beside Chiron. His hair was curled, much like Luke’s, and blond. Clarisse had wandered off in the midst of Y/N’s staring, but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. His eyes clashed with Y/N’s, and he almost jumped at how intensely she was staring at him. Y/N merely smiled before turning away.

“So, what do you think?” She asked Luke as they walked towards the Hermes cabin side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Hard to say for now.” Luke replied. Y/N looked at him and he stared back before the pair burst into quiet laughter. Just locking eyes could make two friends find anything hilarious.

“I assume you’ll take him under your wing? Good luck.” Y/N nudged him with her elbow, which seemed to be a normal gesture between them.

“Thanks, princess. See ya.”

Y/N turned around, almost crashing into a disoriented Percy Jackson. He seemed jumpy and panicked. Of course, how couldn’t he be? He had just unknowingly killed a monster and his mother had been taken.

“Hi. The first day is always rough. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Y/N muttered to him before she passed by.

She didn’t stick around to hear Chiron announce him. She sighed, wandering aimlessly around the camp. She saw Clarisse talking to her siblings. Y/N had always wondered what it was like to have siblings you could relate to. What did it feel like to understand each other? To go through the same difficulties?

The Hermes cabin was comfortable and friendly enough but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to feel what a true family felt like, or at least was supposed to.

As Y/N had expected, Luke was the first to talk to Percy.

“I’m Luke.” He introduced himself to the boy after the rocky start to their conversation.

“Percy. Hey, uh, who was that girl before? The H/C-haired one?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“Y/N. She’s nice most of the time the time but a pain in the ass during capture the flag.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m just kidding. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“You guys seem close.” Percy uttered, remembering the way Luke looked at Y/N when they talked.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. Unfortunately for me, her best friend is an aggressive Ares kid.” He grinned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Feel free to lie down anywhere. Just don’t get too close to Y/N. If she’s having a monster dream, she kicks in her sleep.”

One of the campers across the cabin groaned. “I know how that feels. The bruise lasted for weeks!” The others burst into laughter while Percy hurriedly made a mental note.

Avoid the pretty girl when she sleeps.

Percy was lucky that Y/N, who lay on the floor a few feet away from him, wasn’t having one of her infamous nightmares. He couldn’t say the same for himself, though.

Percy sat up, panting and sweating. He looked around, realising where he was. Birds chirped in the distant and he could hear the faint sound of chatter through the wooden walls.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Super.” Percy sarcastically responded.

“We all have them here, you know.” Luke clicked his tongue and sighed. “Intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here. Take Y/N for example. When she first came here, no one wanted to get near her while she slept. Girl’s a bloody good kicker.”

Percy lightly chuckled while Luke smiled. “The daydreams and ADHA and dyslexia are normal too. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“So, are you also…” Percy trailed off, not wanting to sound rude to his first friend at camp.

Luke found his hesitation amusing. “Am I unclaimed? No. Hermes is my father.”

“And Y/N? Is her father also Hermes?”

Luke scrunched up his face like he had just eaten a sour lemon. “Oh, no. Heck no. Y/N’s unclaimed… still. She has been for a while.” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line as he gazed at Y/N, who was laughing with Clarisse.

“Why hasn’t Aphrodite claimed her? I mean, she looks the part.”

“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves. We all thought she’d be Aphrodite’s kid.”

Boys and girls flocked towards Y/N like she was a muse. It was no secret that out of all the campers, Y/N stood out the most. There was something unique about her, how she always hung around the aggressive Ares kids like she wanted to be one of them.

She was a tough opponent but a little too soft for Ares’ liking.

Too gentle for Ares but too angry for Aphrodite. She was constantly stuck in the middle. It almost seemed like no god or goddess wanted her in their cabin because she had proved herself over and over again.

“How long has she been unclaimed?” Percy inquired. Kids before him had asked that very same question and every time, they were never ready for the answer.

“A decade.” Luke replied, “She’s been here for a decade. Last year, there was a stupid rumour going around that she was fully mortal but that doesn’t make sense. If she was, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Why so long?”

“Nobody knows.” Luke shrugged. He had wondered that too. And he could see how it was weighing down on Y/N. The unclaimed kid was what campers referred to her as. They used her as an example of what not to do.

“Will she ever get claimed?”

Luke hoped she would. For her sake. He knew how she felt about not having a related family of her own. For now, she was satisfied laughing over silly tales with the Hermes kids.

“So, where does she go during the day? She disappeared yesterday and today.” Percy tilted his head to the side, not being able to spot Y/N anymore. Luke paused. It was uncommon for him to not have an answer to everything.

“I… don’t know. I assume Clarisse and her go somewhere.”

“Probably swimming in the lake.” Grover said, overhearing the two’s conversation.

It was scorching during Summer at Camp Half-Blood. Most stayed in the shade while an occasional kid or two tended to the plants. So it would make sense that Y/N would go to a lake to cool off.

Luke left Percy in the company of Grover and made his way towards the Lake in the middle of the forest. As Grover guessed, he found Y/N and Clarisse and a few other Ares kids swimming in the water or sitting on the nearby rocks.

“Hey, Y/N, your lover boy is here!” One of them exclaimed. Y/N, from her spot in the middle of the lake, glared at him. She huffed before swimming over to Luke, easily heaving herself onto shore.

“Hey, Luke, ready to make your guess yet?” She asked, grinning up at him. “Or do you wanna swim?”

“My guess is definitely not Hephaestus.” Luke said as he sat down in front of Y/N. His gaze flickered to her new swimsuit. “New bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Miya got it for me.” Miya was a child of Aphrodite and favored Y/N quite a lot.

“Ah. No wonder it’s so…” Luke hesitated, “Revealing.” He tried to act like a gentleman but his cheeks flushed every time he even looked at Y/N.

“One more day until I kick your ass.” Y/N laughed as she sank back into the water, returning a moment later with her hair dripping wet and her face shining in the sunlight. She looked effortlessly angelic.

“Are you sure you’re ready to handle Y/N again, Luke? She almost beat you last time.” Clarisse snickered as she floated on her back.

Luke scoffed. “Keyword. Almost.” It was true that Y/N had almost beaten him in his own game of sword fighting but that was because she was becoming increasingly more distracting.

Gone was the shy and quiet kid who always trailed behind Clarisse. With every passing year, Y/N became more headstrong and, well, beautiful. That’s why it was so hard for Luke to keep his feelings to himself now. Even Clarisse could see through his facade.

“I’m ready to make my guess.” Luke finally announced, catching Y/N’s wavering attention. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “My guess… is Demeter. I met the kid and he seems gentle. A soft and kind soul.”

“Nice. I guess we’ll find out soon.” Y/N’s guess was nothing but a joke and she’d end up laughing if she was actually correct.

“Join me for a little swim?” Y/N asked, reaching out to tug on Luke’s shirt. He sighed while Y/N merely smiled. A moment later, he gave in. Luke lifted his shirt over his head while Y/N stared at him a little too shamelessly for her liking. Some of the Ares boys teasingly wolf-whistled which made Luke chuckle.

He jumped into the lake, practically tackling Y/N and taking her under with him. “Luke!” She yelled, hitting his shoulder when they resurfaced.

“Oh no. The married couple is fighting again.” Zyra, Clarisse’s half-sister, said. She and Clarisse shared a knowing grin.

“They’re so whipped.” Clarisse whispered, subtly swimming away to give the two more space.

It was the day Y/N had eagerly been waiting for. Perhaps her favourite day at Camp. Capture the flag day.

Clarisse handed Y/N a spear. “I got it fixed for you.” The brunette said. During the last game, Y/N’s spear had broken. She was forced to fight with half of it after that.

Y/N adjusted Clarisse’s armour, ensuring that it was tight enough before putting on her own helmet.

“You’re gonna love this.” She overhead Luke say to Percy as they passed by. “Camp-wide mock warfare. All glory to the victors. Annabeth’s the head counsellor. She’s led our team to three straight wins.”

Y/N looked away, giving Luke the perfect chance to gaze over at her. “Y/N and Clarisse lead the other team. Clarisse is rather… impulsive, though. Y/N’s come up with some good plans but Ares kids always go off the rails.”

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyway?” Percy suddenly switched the topic, much to Luke’s surprise. “I mean, you guys say you’re just friends but you’re always looking at each other. And talking. And you stare at her like she’s your world. Sometimes I wish I could look at someone like that.” Percy sighed while Luke was left speechless.

Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s just… focus on the game.”

The conch shell blew. Y/N stood side Clarisse, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Heroes, it’s time.” Chiron announced. “The game begins. The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected.”

He subtly glanced over at Clarisse and her cabin.

“Let the games begin.”

There was twenty minutes until the next conch shell, which meant game-on. Normally, Clarisse and Y/N would pair up and hunt through the woods for the first few hours. But Clarisse had a different idea this time.

“Good luck.” Y/N said to her friend, slinging her spear over her shoulder. Y/N split up with the rest of her team, taking with her small portion of campers.

“We follow Clarisse’s plan this time. We’re the last defense meaning that if the blue team manages to get through, we fight like our lives depend on it.” Y/N said as she gripped her spear tightly.

“What are going to do?” Someone else asked.

“I’m going to…. look around.”

Luke grunted as a sword piercing his upper arm. He easily disarmed his opponent and kicked them to the ground.

“We give up.” The red leader grumbled, wincing as their brushed their fingers over his cuts.

“I wanna move quick. Straight through the woods for their flag.” Luke uttered.

“Y/N and Clarisse hunt in those woods for the first few hours, you know that. They’ll cut us down.”

Luke grinned, shaking his head. “Annabeth has a plan for Clarisse. And Y/N, as always, is mine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Last time I didn’t worry about her, she almost chopped my head off. By accident!” Chris loudly exclaimed, shoving Luke. Unbeknownst to the pair, Y/N was watching from above in the trees, hidden by the thick leaves.

She skilfully hopped from branch to branch, sliding down in front of her teammates. “The blue team is coming. They got past the other defences. Get in position.” Y/N hid behind a thick tree branch, panting and listening carefully for the sound of Luke’s voice.

She heard a twig snap and peeked her head out slightly to see Luke, Chris, and the rest of their small team. Y/N looked up, signalling to her friends above that it was almost time.

The moment Luke, who was leading the pack, stepped right where Y/N wanted him, she revealed herself. “Now!” She shouted, raising her spear and striking Luke. He easily blocked her attack.

“Thought you could ambush us, princess? Nice try.” Luke chuckled, pushing Y/N back.

“I’d say that it worked just fine.” Y/N retorted, lunging at Luke again. She pinned him to a nearby tree, holding the blade of her spear to his throat.

Chris grabbed Y/N by her shirt, pulling her back. Luke swung his sword at her but Y/N simply ducked to avoid the blow.

She tried to run off to help her teammates but Luke blocked her path. “Where do you think you’re going?” He uttered, playfully furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She pointed at spear at his chest, poking it ever so slightly. “Ready to give up, Luke?”

“In your dreams.” He rolled over, latching onto Y/N’s arm and pulling her down with him. Y/N yelped, quickly scrambling up before he could grab her again.

She looked around at her surroundings, finally understanding what Luke’s plan was. It was to keep Y/N away from her team so that Luke’s could take them down. That left Y/N solely alone, standing between the flag and the blue team.

She panted, glaring at Luke. “Bring it on, Luke.” She muttered, holding up her spear. Luke was the first to make a move. He jumped at her, swinging his blade. Y/N dodged it and blocked another attack from Chris.

She quickly lowered her head, tackling another Hermes kid. Y/N rolled across the floor, swiftly standing up. “You won’t be getting near that flag on my watch.” She kicked Luke and whacked Chris. One of the Athena girls launched herself at Y/N, gripping onto her leg.

Y/N shook her off but the girl’s weight caused her to topple over. The bits of debris grazed at her skin. Chris swung his sword, slashing at Y/N. The blade cut her lower arm and blood welled up from the slit.

Quietly groaning, Y/N heaved herself up. She lightly swayed, unbalanced and a little weak. “Like I said,” She murmured, “You aren’t getting that flag.”

Y/N blocked every attack and blow aimed her way but she was getting slow. She could barely lift her weapon fast enough to stop Luke from successfully landing a hit.

Everything was becoming too overwhelming as she struggled to keep up. It was all a fast blur filled with weapons violently clashing against each other and shouting.

Up above, thunder crashed and lightning flickered through the darkening sky. Rain poured down, drenching the campers.

The thunder got louder and the lightning brighter as the seconds passed until nobody could ignore it. A harsh flash of lightning hit a tree nearby, setting it alight.

“Y/N, watch out!” Luke shouted, reaching out. Strings of electricity rippled around Y/N as a burning tree branch fell towards her. Luke sprinted towards her, dropping his sword in the process. He tackled Y/N, shielding her from harm’s way.

She groaned as she hit her head, black dots swirling around in her vision. She felt numb and her head lolled to the side as she heard shouts of victory followed by gasps of surprise.

“Y/N L/N has been claimed by Zeus, the king of Gods and the God of thunder and ruler of the sky.”

[wafflefries13]

Dream a Little Dream of Me (Twisted Wonderland Cast X Reader)

Summary: A look into the future with the Twisted Wonderland cast, guest staring our favorite magicless prefect.

AN: Can you tell which of these were really hard for me to come up with? Overall I'm pretty happy with them. A few of these I feel like I could come up with full-length fics later. But, man, did I not realize exactly how big the cast was until I started writing it all. I thought I would keep them all to around 500 words but I quickly abandoned that.

Warnings: None that I can think of. AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

“You can see the future?” 

(Y/N) stood with Ace and Deuce, Grim clinging on to the side of the cauldron, watching the swirling purples, blues, and greens of their latest alchemy assignment come together. 

“Sort of?” Deuce said, looking into his own cauldron, one he hadn’t summoned out of thin air this time. “It’s more like what might happen in the future. Like, if you continue doing what you’re doing you’re more likely to get this result sort of thing.” 

“It's not really specific either,” Ace added. “This is kind of a standard potion for midterms. I think every year is doing it.” 

“The oracleum mycoculous mushroom,” Professor Crewel said, giving a stern eye to the chatting group. “Is said to give premonitions, depending on how it is treated. The method we are using today should give vivid dreams on future outcomes. I recommend when you go to bed tonight, focus on a certain aspect of the future you want more information about. Health, career, wealth, marriage. Something nebulous will work better with this specific concoction. It’s important to note that you will be aware that you’re dreaming, but unable to have any agency or action. Remember you’re not controlling the vision, just let it happen and see what information you can gather.”   

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this magic stuff,” (Y/N) said, ladling their potion into a thick mug. She screwed her face up. “Or the smell.” 

“More for me then!” Grim cheered, snatching the mug out of her hands and downing the entire thing before (Y/N) could protest. As soon as he had drained the last drop, he turned a strange shade of green, despite his gray fur. 

(Y/N) pet his head sympathetically as Grim made gagging noises. “That’s what you get for being impatient.” 

As soon as the rest of the class had drunk their potion, with similar reactions to Grim, they were dismissed. The rest of the day went on as normal, or as normal as it could be at Night Raven College. 

As the sun set and students settled into their beds, some eagerly awaited the possible visions that they hoped would come to them as they slept. Others dreaded the uncertain future. Still others ignored the possibilities all together, not putting stock into an uncertain chance of a glimpse of the future, determined to make their fortune themselves. 

And so, NRC slept and dreamed. 

Ace

Ace vaulted over the overturned trash can, dashing after the culprit. His feet pounded the pavement, heart thundering in his ears with every step. The culprit looked over his shoulder to see Ace still in hot pursuit and he dashing out into the street. Cars swerved and braked hard, trying to avoid hitting him, one overcorrecting and swiping into another car. Ace ignored the angry shouts, sliding across the hood of a crashed car with single determination. 

“Ace!” Deuce’s voice crackled from the walky-talky fixed to his tactical vest. “Where are you?” 

Ace quickly flicked his eyes up to check the street signs. “Heading south down Dodgson street!” South? Was that right? It sounded like the right thing to say, and it’s not like he had time to check the position of the sun. 

“On it!” Deuce called back. 

Ace’s muscles burned, but he refused to break stride. The culprit cut through an open air market, shoving and throwing people behind him to try and slow Ace down. Ace tried to catch them while still keeping the culprit in his line of sight. Just when he felt like his lungs were about to give out, an arm shot out from the corner, clotheslining the culprit. The culprit fell back hard, his own momentum bringing him down. Deuce stepped out from the corner, cracking his knuckles. Ace slid to a stop next to them, quickly kneeling down to flip the culprit on his stomach, handcuffing his hands behind him. Stolen mage stones spilled from the culprit’s pockets. 

Later, back at the Arcane Special Defense Unit headquarters in the Queendom of Roses, everyone was celebrating. Senior officers gave hearty congratulations to the two rookies for their final take down of a mage stone thief ring that had been a thorn in their side for almost a decade. Deuce took the praise with a little more grace, demurely waving off attention, while Ace preened and basked in it. 

“Hey, Trappola!” One of the senior officers called over the din. “You got a visitor!” 

(Y/N) poked her head out from behind the officer, giving a little wave. Several of the other officers whistled and whooped, Deuce elbowing him with a smile. Ace flipped them off and jogged over to (Y/N) pulling her out of the main room to a slightly quieter hallway. 

“Hey, hero,” (Y/N) said, kissing his cheek. 

“Hero, huh?” Ace said with a crooked smile. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Don’t get a big head, now.” 

“Hey, you’re talking to a soon to be detective. That deserves some respect, right?” 

“Sure, sure.” (Y/N) flicked his chest. “You’ve always had a big head anyway.” 

“Alright, that’s it!” Smirking, Ace leaned down, slinging his arms around (Y/N)’s midsection and sweeping her up to toss over his shoulder. (Y/N) shrieked in delight as he spun around. Getting dizzy, Ace tripped over his feet, causing them both to tumble down. Ace pivoted at the last second so he landed first, softening the blow, (Y/N) landing on top of him. They both looked at each other for a moment before bursting out in a fit of giggles. 

Catching her breath, (Y/N) rested her chin on Ace’s chest, gazing up at him. He held her close, brushing a hand through her hair. 

“Marry me,” He mumbled. They both seemed shocked that he had said it, Ace immediately blushing with wide eyes. “I - I mean,” He stuttered. “I didn’t mean - I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to say it now - Not that I wouldn’t want to or anything but -” 

(Y/N) silenced him with a kiss. “It’s okay,” She said when she pulled away, leaving Ace dazed. “I’ll wait for you.” 

Ace pulled her close, burying his face in her shoulder, purposefully ignoring the cheers from the officers who had stuck their heads out the door. He started thinking about jewelry stores nearby. 

Deuce

Deuce fiddled with the clasp on his cape. He looked in the full-length mirror in his room. His private room - some of the perks of being Heartslabyul’s House Warden. He’d been fitted for the uniform at the end of last school year, when Riddle had announced Deuce as his successor. And now, here he was, finally wearing it. It felt awkward. He looked awkward. Not for the first time, he couldn’t believe he was here, wearing it. It didn’t look right. Or, rather, he didn’t look right in it. 

There was a soft knock at his door. Deuce flinched away from fiddling with the uniform like it had burned him. “Come in!” He called. Why did his voice sound so weird? Was that what a House Warden should sound like? 

(Y/N) popped her head in, wearing the formal entrance ceremony robes. “Just me. Whoa.” She stepped inside, staring at Deuce. She looked at him in awe, a smile spreading across her face. She clasped her hands together. “Deuce! You look amazing!” 

He spread his arms wide, trying to find whatever (Y/N) saw in him. “You think so? I don’t look, I don’t know, out of place or anything?” 

She hummed, walking forward and straightening Deuce’s cape. “I think you look like a fine and respectable House Warden, one that all the new first-years are going to love. Although,” She winked at him and Deuce felt himself blush vigorously. “You’re a pretty easy guy to love.” 

“Yeah?” He said, hoping she would ignore the way his voice cracked. 

“Yeah.” She gripped his lapels and pulled him down for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her. Couldn’t they just stay like this? Did he really have what it took to go out there and give a welcome speech to all those new students?  Not to mention all the returning students who already knew him, all his mess ups and faults and imperfections. 

“Hey.” (Y/N)’s voice snapped him out of it. “You’re getting in your own head again. Everyone’s going to be able to see you just like I do.” She brushed a lock of hair away from his face. “Strong, kind, brave, the world’s best boyfriend. That part is just for me, though.” 

He sighed, dropping his head so their foreheads touched. “I’m glad you’re with me.” 

“I always will be.” 

“Maybe I can get one more kiss?” Deuce said shyly, feeling himself blush again. “For good luck.” 

She smiled up at him. “Sure, for luck.” 

Just as their lips were about to brush, the door slammed open. “What’s the hold up, Juice?” Ace said, storming in. “The first-years are getting antsy out there and - oh, I see.” He grinned wickedly and cocked an eyebrow. “Nevermind, this is much more important.” 

Deuce grabbed the scepter that came with the House Warden uniform. He pointed it at Ace, shouting, “Off with your head!” 

Ace cringed back, arms coming up to shield himself. When nothing happened, he looked up, annoyed.“Hey, that’s not your spell!” 

“No,” Deuce said, grinning. “But I can still whack you with this thing!” 

Deuce chased Ace out of the room, waving the scepter. As Ace dashed down the hall, Deuce felt (Y/N) slip her hand into his. She kissed his cheek. “Come on, House Warden,” She said. “There’s a whole school year waiting for us.” 

Cater

“We on in three, Cater,” The producer said. Cater gave a thumbs up, occupied by the makeup team readjusting his cover so his face didn’t shine under the lights on camera. Behind them, the Shaftland’s Glass Slipper Gala was starting up, celebrities of all ilk stepping out of limos to walk the red carpet and show off the cutting edge of fashion. 

Cater took one more swig of water, brushing invisible dust from his blazer jacket, and fixed his most dazzling smile. “Alright, ready when you are!” 

“Okay, get ready everyone!” The producer said, readjusting her earpiece. “We’re a go in 5, 4, 3…” She mouthed the last two numbers, pointing to Cater as a blinking red light turned on on the camera. 

“Welcome, Shaftlands!” Cater said into his handheld microphone, winking to the camera. “It’s your favorite pop culture and social media consultant, Cater! We’re here at the Glass Slipper Gala, the annual exhibition for all things gorgeous, over the top, and innovative! Let’s see who we can find on the red carpet.” 

Cater waved over a few celebrities, getting quotes that, the next day, would be plastered on the front cover of numerous magazines and social websites. People found it hard not to match his energy, smiling and laughing along. 

Cater had just waved off a rising movie star when he saw someone familiar from the corner of his eye. Weaving their way through the throngs of media, cameras, and various fans hoping to get a glimpse of their bias, (Y/N) gave Cater a little wave. She held up a tray with three cardboard to-go cups, the symbol of his favorite coffee shop emblazoned on the front. Cater cried with delight and beelined it for her. The producer started waving frantically as the cameraman followed his movement with a questioning look. 

“We have a super special treat for you, viewers!” Cater said. (Y/N) blinked in surprise as Cater slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling into a sideways hug. “My wonderful, adorable girlfriend is here! Say hi, sweetie!” 

“Umm, hi?” She held up the tray. “I thought you guys might need a break so I brought you a pick-me-up. A blond roast with three shots of vanilla and milk, green tea with half-and-half, and,” She picked up the last cup and handed it to Cater. “An iced chai latte, size medium but put into a large size so there’s room to mix in extra cinnamon, using oat milk instead of dairy, two pumps brown sugar syrup, one pump mocha syrup, two pumps cinnamon dolce syrup, three shots espresso, cinnamon dusting, and vanilla sweet cream foam.” 

“She even knows my order!” Cater swooned, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. “Viewers, have you ever seen a more perfect person in the whole wide world?”  

“Uh, Cater?” 

“Pretty, smart, and super sweet. What more could you ask for? Well, you all know I like things a little more spicy than sweet, but my girl has that in spades, too, just between us.”

“Should you really be saying this on air?” 

Cater shrugged. “They can edit it all out in post.” “Cater,” The producer said, deadpan. “We’re live right now.” 

(Y/N) gasped as Cater blinked, staring into the single black eye of the camera. The cameraman smiled and shrugged. 

“Oh, well then,” Cater said. In a second, his sparkling smile returned. “Then we should give them a show, right?” 

“Cater, wha-” 

Before she could say anything else, Cater plucked the coffee from (Y/N)’s hands, setting it gently on the ground with his microphone. He jumped back up, taking her into his arms in a low dip, kissing her amid a flurry of flashing lights. 

Trey

The bell above the door had been ringing constantly all day. The small storefront was full to bursting, children pressing their faces against the glass display case to point at every confection they wanted their parents to buy. Shop assistants in crisp mint green and white uniforms handed white boxes over the counter to eager hands. Two others maneuvered extra seating outside under an awning to help combat the surplus customers. 

A teen with emerald green hair escaped into the attached kitchen, taking a deep breath of relief. “Well, big brother,” He said. “I think it’s safe to say the grand re-opening is a success.” 

Trey chuckled from the counter, squeezing buttercream to swirl atop enough cupcakes to feed an army. After a fire halfway destroyed this family’s bakery several months ago, there had been talks of shutting down the business entirely and joining up with some of the bigger corporate shops in town. Trey had scrimped and saved and planned to recreate the shop to his own specifics, making sure to blend years upon years of Clover secret family recipes with his new creations. They were still constructing a new upper level for a specialty dining experience. Patrons would pay a flat sum for a pre-arranged dessert tasting menu set up like a full 6-course dinner, using cutting edge technology, foams and gelatin beads and liquid nitrogen ice cream and all the works. There was already a waiting list for reservations. 

“Uh, Chef?” Another worker poked their head through the door. “You have some people out here asking for you.” 

Trey smiled, whipping his hands on his apron. He quickly directed the other pastry chefs in the kitchen then headed out. The group of Heartslabyul graduates, plus Chenya, Grim, and (Y/N), had taken over one of the outside tables. Ace, Deuce, and Grim were competing to see who could fit more cupcakes into their mouth at once while Riddle chided them. Cater was rearranging his plate of mini-tarts, eclairs, and macarons to take the best pictures. Chenya was sneaking  treats off everyone’s plate while they were preoccupied. (Y/N) noticed Trey first, smiling wide and standing to meet him. 

“There’s the man of the hour,” She said, meeting him in a hug. 

“So, Trey,” Ace asked with a sly look. “How many free samples are we getting today?” 

“Didn’t you get enough when Trey was practicing his new recipes?” Riddle scoffed. 

“You can never get enough of Trey’s baking!” Grim cheered, taking a large bite of another cream puff as creme anglaise bursted all over his furry face. 

Riddle huffed at the display of bad manners before turning to Trey with a smile. “Congratulations are definitely in order. Everything is looking even better than you described.” 

“It was a lot of hard work,” Trey said. “I didn’t think we were going to make it a few times.” 

(Y/N) shoved him. “Oh, stop. You had perfect control the whole time. No one ever doubted you. Especially me.” She pulled him down for a kiss. 

“Bleh!” Grim stuck out his tongue. “Not when I’m eating!” 

(Y/N) smiled wickedly and pulled Trey down to pepper kisses all over his face. Grim, Ace, and Deuce made mocking sounds of disgust before bursting into laughter. 

As everyone refocused on their pastries, (Y/N) leaned over to whisper to Trey. “Should we tell them?” (Y/N) asked.  

“Not yet,” Trey said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “I want to keep you to myself for a little while longer.” 

Behind their backs, the held hands, matching rings glinting in the light. 

Riddle

Riddle jerked awake at the feeling of hands on his shoulders. He heard an “Oh!” of surprise. A blanket slipped off his shoulders, pooling on the floor. He was sitting at a desk illuminated by a single lamp, the rest of the lights in the small bedroom turned off. Through the window blinds, he could see it was dark outside. He turned to the person behind him who had tried to drape the blanket over him. 

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Riddle rubbed at his tired eyes, peeling off a loose leaf of notebook paper that was stuck to his cheek. He looked down at the mess of notes and textbooks littering his desk. “No, it’s a good thing,” He said. “I don’t have time for sleep right now. I need to study.” 

(Y/N) frowned at him. “You need sleep, Riddle. You won’t do yourself any good if you fall asleep in the middle of the bar exam.” 

Riddle turned back to his desk, rearranging various documents on magical law and court cases. “A good lawyer needs to be prepared for whatever is thrown at him.” “A good lawyer needs to be able to balance work and rest.” 

“I-” Riddle sighed. 

“At least let me make you some tea and take a break,” (Y/N) said, picking up the blanket and folding it over her arm.

Riddle yawned, blushing at how loud it was. “That’s… a good idea. Thank you.”  

(Y/N) smiled at him, leaning down to kiss his forehead before walking over to the tiny kitchen.

Riddle looked around. They were in a small studio apartment. Riddle’s desk was shoved to one side of the room, a bed on the opposite side, blankets thrown open as if someone had just gotten out. He saw his shoes next to the doorway, neatly arranged, next to (Y/N)’s. A slightly ajar closet door showed it was split between his formal attire and (Y/N)’s clothes. They had been living together for a while, it seemed. 

The bar exam was only a few days away. Five years of grueling school was all leading up to this moment. He’d heard too many stories about how it usually took two or three tries for most people to pass. He was determined to pass on the first try, to prove to himself, and maybe his mother, that he had made the right choice. In his career, in his life, in his partner… 

Riddle looked back at (Y/N) in the small connected kitchen, making sure she was busy with the tea. He opened the top drawer of his desk, just enough to peak inside. The box was still there, small black velvet, holding the ring inside. It was plain, just a simple silver band, polished to a shine by his own hand, but it was all he could afford. Originally, he had wanted to use his mother’s ring, the ring that had been passed down his family for generations, supposedly back to the time of the Queen of Hearts herself. But Riddle’s mother hardly approved of his chosen profession over going into the medical field, much less his partner. He remembered the screaming match they had had, how she was absolutely appalled Riddle would want to be associated with someone with no magic, no future as she put it, not to mention no family lineage to speak of. Riddle hadn’t spoken to her in quite some time. 

Riddle sighed, closing the drawer. (Y/N) had worked hard these past few years, supporting the two of them while Riddle focused on school. She’d always said it was no problem, that she was happy to work whatever odd job she could so Riddle could focus all his energy on his studies. The least he could do was make a name for himself as a lawyer, provide her with the life she deserved. 

She set a tea cup down in front of him. “Here,” She said. “With honey, not sugar.” Taking her own cup, she sat on the bed facing him. “And you’re not going to look at those notes again until you finish drinking it and talk to me.” 

Riddle picked up the cup, letting the warmth of the tea soak into his hands. He cast a glance at the drawer with its loaded secret within. 

“Actually,” He said. “There is something I’ve been wanting to ask you.” 

Leona

Leona ducked, sliding across the field as a Spelldrive disk hurdled over his head. Immediately, he was back on his feet, throwing up a magical shield as the disk crashed back towards him. 

The crowded stadium roared around him, stands packed to bursting. Fans wore team colors, red and gold for his Sunset Savannah team, the Lion Guard, and icy blue and white for the Shaftland’s team they were playing against, the Draugrs. 

“Captain!” A voice called behind him. Leona turned to see one of his teammates fly next to him on a broom. “You okay?” 

Leona brushed off the grass stain on his uniform. “I’m fine. We’re starting the new play, the one we practiced yesterday.”  

His teammate balked. “Are we ready for that? We’ve only practiced it a few times, and never in a game. There’s only a minute left on the clock!” 

“Then we’re running out of time!” Leona snarled. “We’re tied. This is our chance to take the game.”

The flying teammate saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!” He flew up, whistling a code to let the other players know to get in position. A few of them cast worried glances Leona’s way, but their trust in their team captain was obvious as they quickly fell into position. 

Leona fell back as the ground members of his team made an arrow shape ahead of the opposing player who currently held the disk. Suddenly, as the flier crossed the 20-yard line, they inverted. The two flanking the point of the arrow knelt in front of the player at the tip. He jumped to their waiting hands, being launched into the air. The player with the disk reared his broom back, not expecting a ground assault. The player who had been thrown in the air took the opportunistic distraction to claim the disk, hurdling it to a flier on the Sunset Savanna team. The flier took the disk, hovering it a foot from him with magic, and shot back to the opposing team’s goal. As the Draugr broom flying players closed in on him, he dropped the disk without warning, to the waiting hands of a ground player. The ground player dashed forward, dodging tackles from the opposing team. As they closed in on him, he tossed the disk back to a flier. This repeated twice more until the opposing team got used to the play. When another ground player got the disk, sprinting to the goal, all Shaftlands players were focused on the flier hovering above him. The ground player faked throwing the disk up and the opposing team jerked their focus upward. Instead, the ground player flung the disk to Leona’s waiting hands. In the seconds it took for the other team to recognize the play, Leona was already steps away from the goal. He flung the disk, boosted with his own magical energy, and it sailed cleanly through the opposing team’s hoop.

The crowd thundered around him as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game. Leona took a deep breath, throwing his head back in a victorious roar. The rest of his team joined in, supporting their captain, whooping and cheering to their heart's content. 

The team gathered together, slapping each other on the back and jumping in congratulatory victory. A few of them cast sly looks Leona’s way, and before he could question it, he was soaked with an overturned cooler of bright green sports drink. They all laughed as he flung excess droplets at them. 

As the championship cup was brought out, Leona’s ears twitched as a sound. He turned and heard them repeat themselves. “Leona!” (Y/N) ran onto the field, smiling wide. She was wearing an old jersey of his, the one he had when he first joined the pro Spelldrive leagues. She waved her hand high over her head, the light catching on a topaz and diamond ring on her finger. 

He surged forward to meet her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and lifting her up. Without either of them noticing, a camera focused on their reunion, projecting their image on the jumbotron as they embraced and shared a victory kiss.

Jack

Jack held up a hand, stopping the rest of the search and rescue team following behind him. They were trekking up the North Mountain, a popular peak in the backlands in a Shaftlands national park. The snow was more than seven feet deep, and even with their specialized snow shoes they were starting to sink down. They were on the far side of the mountain, bright sunlight blazing across the snow that had been churned up from a recent avalanche. 

“What’s up, chief?” One of the rescue workers asked, readjusting his EMT pack on his shoulders. 

Jack’s ears twitched, trying to pick up the sound he was sure he had just heard. He turned back to his team. “This is the last place the skiers were seen. Everybody fan out to your lanes and start searching.” 

The group spread out, each taking a 40 meter lane as they walked downhill. Each member of the search and rescue team held a thermal meter reader, strong enough to pierce through the snow cover up to 15 meters down. They also inspected the snow for any other sign of disturbance, trying to see if anyone was moving underneath. 

Jack’s ears twitched again, picking up on the minute noise underneath him. He checked his reader, seeing an orange mass that was quickly turning blue. 

“Spotted, 35 meters!” He called out. He unfurled a long thin pole from his pack, carefully jabbing down into the snow. When he met resistance, he slung his pack off and put together his collapsible shovel. He started scooping snow away, flakes swirling up to stick against his eyelashes. Finally about three feet down, he saw a splash of a red coat. He widened his digging circle. “Victim found!” 

The most important thing at the moment was getting the buried person an airway. Jack heaved snow away, using his hands now so he wouldn’t accidentally injure the victim. He heard another one of the rescuers repeat his cry further down, “Victim found!” 

Jack could see the victim breathing, their breath melting a small indent around their nose and mouth. Jack ripped off his glove with his teeth, feeling for a pulse on their neck. It was faint, but it was there. He couldn’t see any visible wounds. The next most important part was getting them out of the snow while moving them as little as possible in case there were any internal or spine related injuries. 

Another rescuer came over to him. “My lane’s clear, sir. Can I help?” 

Jack nodded. “Go get the sled and stabilizing bands.” He saluted, making his way back up. Their team worked with dogsleds for evacuation in these parts, since it was generally less heavy than a snowmobile, and much quieter to avoid any other disruptions. 

Soon, the three missing skiers were loaded up in the sleds. Jack ran through his paramedic training in his head, making sure he and his team weren’t missing anything before they would head back to their base at the foot of the mountain. 

Arriving down, the team moved the victims, two of whom were coming back to consciousness, into a more comfortable and much warmer infirmary. The hospital in the nearby town had already been notified and was sending an ambulance to bring them back for further care. 

After making sure everyone was stable and the victims were being treated for any signs of hypothermia, Jack stepped into the mudroom attached to their rescue station, shaking his head and stomping his boots free from snow. 

“The ambulance will be here in about half an hour,” He heard behind him. He turned, seeing (Y/N) in the doorway, holding a steaming mug of pear tea. She wore a uniform similar to his, indicating they were part park ranger, part emergency rescue team. She smiled softly and handed it to him. “They said they had to take a different route around due to the avalanche. I guess it went farther than we thought.” 

Jack sipped the tea, letting the warmth infuse into his muscles. “Once we get these guys taken care of we’ll have to head back out, then. Try to take stock of any damage.” 

“The other teams have reported back already. Everyone’s been accounted for. Looks like your lot was in the worst shape. It’s a good thing they have you looking out for them, huh?” 

Jack looked away, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, we have a big team. Everyone’s doing their part.” 

“And you're the one who trained them. You’re the one who set up this whole search and rescue station. All those people there,” she waved in the direction of the treatment beds, the people pulled out of the snow, slowly warming themselves by the fireplace and with warm drinks. “Owe it all to you. You’re allowed to brag about it sometimes, you know.” 

Jack felt his face growing hot, tail starting to wag despite himself under her praise. “Well, maybe I just have a really good team.” 

(Y/N) hummed, standing on her tiptoes and reaching a hand up, threading through his short hair to pull his face down to her level. “And I wouldn’t want to be on any one else’s,” She murmured against his lips as they kissed. 

Ruggie

Politics were messy. Ruggie always knew that, but being here in the middle of it all showed him the full web of underhandedness, plotting, and secrets. But, as the Sunset Savannah’s royal family’s, or more directly Leona’s, personal spy master, that’s exactly what he was there for. 

Now, during his days at NRC, when Ruggie first started working as Leona’s unofficial personal assistant, lurking around, being a little more than underhanded in his dealings, did he ever expect he would one day be sneaking around an embassy in the middle of a grand party, planning on swiping some important documents that could reveal plots against the crown? No, of course not. But, man, was it still fun. 

As he slunk along the corridors, Ruggie eyed the attendance, each dripping with enough jewelry and finery to feed a family of four for a year. He inwardly sneered, hand shooting out to discreetly pocket a diamond bracelet some ambassador's wife, or more likely his mistress, was wearing.  But ill gotten treasure wasn’t what he was here for, at least, not today. 

Ruggie cut through a servant’s entrance, turning his coat inside out, turning it from red velvet of party goers to the matte black of the help. He thought it was too easy sometimes. People always saw what they wanted to see. Heading up to the upper floors of the embassy, he spied some hired goons waltzing around the room he needed to enter. Ruggie stayed as far back in the shadows as he could while tracking the one guard who stood a little too close to the stairs. 

“Laugh with me,” Ruggie murmured, casting his signature spell. He jerked his body to the side, causing the goon to stumble and crash down the stairs. To anyone else, it would have looked like he had too much to drink on the job, or had simply slipped. As the other guards were busy checking with their companion, Ruggie darted behind them, slipping into the room unseen. He made quick work, sniffing out the hidden safe, and picked the lock so easily he was almost afraid he was being set up. Securing the documents in the hidden pocket inside his jacket, Ruggie effortlessly slipped out the window, down the drive, and off into the night. 

Later that night, Ruggie shook off the rain as he stepped inside the lobby of Granny Bucchi’s Memorial Home for Lost Children. It was dark, everyone fast asleep upstairs. In the morning, all the children the Home housed would wake up, eat a hearty breakfast, one Ruggie could have only ever dreamed about at their age, and go to school in the attached building. Ruggie didn’t know exactly what strings Leona pulled to get such high class teachers for the Home, but he had learned long ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

As Ruggie was about to head up the stairs to the caretaker's quarters, he noticed the lamp light coming from the side sitting room. Ruggie carefully stalked over to the other room, careful to avoid the floor boards that squeaked. He peered in, the warm light of a floor lamp illuminating (Y/N) on a rocking chair, a toddler hyena beastman fast asleep on her chest. Ruggie leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently at the domestic scene. 

(Y/N) stirred, af if sensing being watched. She blinked sleepily, smiling up at him. “Welcome home,” She whispered. “Everything go well?” 

(Y/N) knew just enough about Ruggie’s work, but never pried. They both knew well enough that Ruggie would immediately spill any secrets if she fluttered her eyelashes and gave him one of those sweet smiles. “Flawless, as usual.” He stepped forward, taking the small boy from her arms. His ears twitched as he was passed between them but stayed asleep. 

“He’s finally been sleeping through the night,” (Y/N) said. “But he had a nightmare earlier. He wanted to wait for you to get home.” 

“Aww, A for effort.” 

They walked upstairs to the children’s dormitory rooms, settling the small boy in his bed and tucking the blankets over him. 

“They’re having their field day tomorrow,” (Y/N) said as they entered their shared room. She sat on the bed as Ruggie kicked off his shoes. “Will you be here? The kids always love to see you.” 

He flopped down on the bed next to her with a sigh, arms behind his head.  “Wouldn’t miss it! It’s amazing how much energy those kiddos have. You think we were ever like that?” 

“Me? No, probably not. I can see you zipping around everywhere, though.” 

“Oh, yeah, I was fleet footed. You gotta be quick to pick pockets, you know.” She halfheartedly punched him as he snickered. 

“Do you ever think-?” She stared before cutting herself off. 

“Only sometimes,” He joked. “I hear it’s a dangerous habit.” He waited for a moment then asked, “Think about what?” 

(Y/N) looked back in the direction of the children’s dormitory, each level for a set of age groups from the babies all the way to the teenagers. “You know, about having our own.” 

Azul

Azul flitted around the room, jumping from conversation to conversion, getting just enough of a word in to be memorable, to make a good impression. So far, this, the grand opening of the Mostro Lounge, was a success. More than a success, it had drawn all ilk of upper crust society. Politicians, celebrities, heirs and heiresses with nothing better to do but try and get their picture in the next tabloid. Horderves were being passed, champagne was being popped, and, subtly, between it all, waiters were gathering secrets and snips of conversations from their patrons. 

The Monstro Lounge worked on two fronts, both carefully cultivated and maintained. The first was the face, the elegant restaurant and tea room that welcomed guests to treat them with all the luxury of the world. The second was more nefarious, the dagger hidden behind the back. Important clientele meant important discussions, important secrets, and important dealings. Whether or not these things were entirely legal didn’t much matter to Azul, just so long as he was in on them. 

It was important that at least most of their patrons didn’t notice the dagger. It was better for them to let their guard down, enjoy their night of revelry and relaxation. And Azul, with his charming smile, silver tongue, and perfectly business-like attitude, acted as the perfect cover. 

Azul was mingling with a group of bankers when he felt a gentle hand clasp his arm. “Excuse me,” (Y/N) said. “I’m afraid I need to steal my fiance for a moment.” The bankers held up their glasses in a cheers as she led him away. She glittered in a black sequin dress, pearls at her throat. On her hand was a delicate pearl and pink coral ring, the coral arranged like flower petals around the pearl. 

“Is anything wrong, angelfish?” Azul asked as they strolled through the lobby. 

(Y/N) hummed. “Maybe I just wanted some time with you. I’m allowed to be selfish like that every once and a while, aren't I?” 

“Of course. I think I like when you’re selfish.” 

An ignorant observer might have commented that (Y/N) made quite the trophy on Azul’s arm, but those in the know were quick to correct any misconceptions. (Y/N) was just in touch with both sides of the Monstro Lounge as Azul, just as involved. If any of Azul’s more unscrupulous dealings or shady past came up, it was easy for one to dismiss pressing concerns. After all, look at his soon-to-be wife! (Y/N) was more than capable of smoothing over any worries or uneasy feelings. And, possibly more importantly, keeping some of Azul’s more underhanded ambitions  in check. 

“Zuzu!” Azul nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard his mother’s voice. (Y/N) took a skilled step back to allow room for Mrs. Ashengrotto to envelope Azul in the kind of hug only a proud mother could give. Of course, the hug was missing a few limbs since Mrs. Ashengrotto was currently in human form, but it was still just as tight. She kissed both his cheeks and, while Azul was always happy to see his mother and show off his accomplishments, he couldn’t help but cringe at how the act tainted the elegant and stern reputation he was building for himself. Releasing him, she turned to her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. (Y/N) accepted her hug with a little more grace, the benefit of seeing an affectionate attack coming. 

Azul readjusted his glasses, greeting his mother and step-father. “I’m glad you both were able to make it.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” His step-father said, giving him a firm handshake and warm pat on the back. 

His mother had started to tear up, (Y/N) patting her hand sympathetically. “Oh, my. My little Azul, all grown up. I remember when you were just a little fry, darting in your octopot at anything. Look how big my boy has gotten! Have you been eating well, Zuzu? You look so thin!” 

“Why don’t we grab a table?” (Y/N) neatly interjected. Azul cast her a grateful look and quickly waved a waiter over who brought the small group to a VIP section. An aquarium that took up the entire back wall cast elegant blue light over the private section. 

After the waiter took their drink order, Mrs. Ashengrotto laid her hands flat on the table, looking seriously at Azul and (Y/N). “Now,” She said. “When can I expect grandchildren?” 

Jade

“Anglerfish,” (Y/N) said. 

Jade grinned, turning back to her as he held his lantern high. “What was that?” 

“Nothing, nothing at all.” 

Jade smiled, looked down at (Y/N) as she zipped their tent closed. The cool spring night air swirled around them, moon bright and sky clear. 

While Jade mostly lived in the Coral Sea, studying with his parents to prepare to take over the family business, part of his heart would always remain up in the mountains. He’d published a book last year, Roots of the Earth: Flora, Fauna, and Folklore of the Bald Mountains, which had become a bestseller almost overnight. In depth discussions and depictions of dry land environments were apparently pretty popular underwater. His publisher had been eager for a follow up. Which led him here, camping in the Mount Moln mountain range, ready to set off on an overnight exploration. 

He didn’t, however, expect certain company. Not that he minded (Y/N)’s presence. Quite the opposite in fact. 

While she hadn’t been an official member of the Mountain Lovers club back at NRC, she had participated in a few hiking trips, whenever her schedule, or Crowley, would allow. They hadn’t seen much of each other in person since Jade graduated, but they did exchange correspondence regularly. Jade knew that (Y/N) kept up with everyone from NRC in a similar fashion, but couldn’t help hoping that his particular letters were a little special. At least, the ones he sent back to her were. 

When Jade had arrived in Harveston the day before his expedition, he was surprised to see her with the lilac haired Felmier family. (Y/N) had cried in delight and thrown her arms around him, making his heart speed up in a not unpleasant way. Over tea, (Y/N) had told him that she had mostly been jumping around Twisted Wonderland, still trying to find a more permanent place in a land she wasn't native to. With the apple planting season coming up, Epel’s family had offered a position, one she had eagerly accepted. And, when he slyly implied that he would need assistance traversing the mountain and keeping track of his gear and research, she had enthusiastically agreed. They both decided to ignore the knowing glances from Grandma Felmier. 

They had risen before the sun that next morning, beginning their trek up Mount Moln. While the weather was defiantly warming, small clumps of snow still stubbornly clung on the higher they climbed. They’d made camp early, with the sun still up, digging into warm soup the Felmier’s had prepared for them, before turning in. They knew they would be getting up in the middle of the night, so they tried to get as much sleep as possible beforehand. 

Which brought them back to the present, Jade sweeping his lantern across the trail with (Y/N) staying close behind. 

“So,” (Y/N) said. “Remind me what we’re looking for?” 

“Panellus pusillus,” Jade said. “Otherwise known as the little ping-pong bat mushroom.” 

(Y/N) snorted a laugh. “That’s pretty cute.” 

“They are bioluminescent. During the day they look like normal white fan-like mushrooms. But at night they glow beautifully. They wrap around tree branches so they often look like string lights. I’ve been wanting to take back a few samples for my project back in the Coral Sea.” 

“For your next book?” 

“That, and something else. I’ve been working on an underwater biome meant to replicate various ecosystems from the mountains I’ve traversed here on land. It would allow sea-dwellers a chance to experience environments they normally wouldn’t be exposed to. I’m still gathering funds, but I think it will be a fascinating experiment when completed.” 

“Sounds like a big undertaking.” 

“Definitely.” Jade cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. He quickly looked away again, holding the lantern out a little farther so (Y/N) wouldn’t notice the red tint to his cheeks. He only ever had to worry about that in human form. “I’ve actually been gathering a team to help me set everything up. Having someone native to land would provide a unique perspective. If you would be interested, after your work in the orchards here. I wouldn’t want to impose on any previous commitments.” 

“I don’t think you could impose on me even if you wanted to.” Jade stopped, turning around to fully face her. He watched (Y/N) gulp, readying herself, before she took a step forward. They were just a breath apart from each other now. Her hand reached out, stopping between them. “I - I’ve really missed you. I didn’t expect to this much, but then you showed back up and it kind of punched me in the gut all at once. Sorry, I feel like I’m not saying this the right way. But… I really missed you.” 

Jade let the silence sink in as his thoughts turned in his head. Crickets, owls, and other night creatures filled the air with their songs. (Y/N) looked down, shuffling her feet. Jade transferred his lantern to his other hand, reaching forward and taking hers. 

“My,” He said with a teasing grin. “This is certainly unexpected. Not unwelcome, of course. What would you do if I said I harbored similar feelings?” 

Underneath the soft glow of mushrooms overhead, (Y/N) stood on her toes and kissed him. 

Floyd

Suffice to say, most people were pretty surprised when Floyd decided to take an engineering course for the first leg of his NRC 4th year internship. With his happy-go-lucky and action-first personality, it was easy to forget that he was surprisingly good with technical skills. Even still, most people assumed he would get bored soon, skipping off to a more physically exciting internship for the next quarter. However, he stayed for the entire year. It definitely helped that the particular engineers he had partnered with specialized in roller coasters. 

And now, here he was, standing in the middle of a brand new theme park just a few weeks away from opening. When he had first approached Kalim for funding for his dream project he hadn’t expected much resistance. After all, both boys could appreciate a good time, whether from an over-the-top party or an exhilarating thrill ride. 

Floyd’s specific idea was for a theme park both land dwellers and merpeople could enjoy simultaneously. This led to the unique structure of Marine Canyon. The theme park was nestled perfectly in a natural canyon carved out thousands of years ago by glaciers. A slim river still ran through the canyon. Half the park was located in the canyon while the second half descended underneath the water of the sea the river emptied in. Guests would be able to easily traverse either side, either by assistance of underwater breathing potions, temporary form transformation potions, or a clever half-scuba half-submersible vehicle Floyd had designed when (Y/N) first met his parents.  

He stood with his hands on his hips, watching the cars roll along the track of one of the premier coasters in a test run. Everything was going perfectly. In a few days, Kalim would be coming out for the last run-through of testing and they would launch for a media day before officially opening the park. 

“Papa!” 

Floyd turned, wide smile getting even bigger. He crouched down, opening his arms, as one of his sons rushed to meet him. He swept Argonaut up in his arms, spinning him around as the boy cackled. He threw his arms around Floyd’s neck, waving at the two others approaching. (Y/N) waved back, walking over with their other son, Caspian. 

“Do we get to ride it now, Papa? Can we, can we?” Argo asked giddy, bouncing up and down. 

Cas cast a wary look up at the empty car plunging down the coaster track. “Can we go in the dark ride first? The pirate one?” 

Floyd ruffled his hair as (Y/N) answered, “We still have to wait for the safety checks to make sure everything is working properly.” 

“But,” Floyd told the twins. “The water park part is ready! And we need testers to make sure it’s fun for humans and mers. Do you know anyone who could help me with that?” 

“Me, me, me!” 

“We can do that! We’re human and mer!” 

The boys wiggled their ways out of their parents arms and dashed off, already kicking off their shoes in anticipation for changing from their dry land form to their eel-mer hybrid form. 

“Be careful running!” (Y/N) called after them. She sighed as Floyd came over, wrapping her in a backwards hug and resting his chin on the top of her head. “They really do like going between the land and sea. Do you think they have a favorite form?” 

Floyd hummed. “Don’t know. I like both of them. It’s just all different, you know? But they can use both their forms here. They can be with all their family and friends at the same time.” 

“Is that why you wanted to build it like this? You’re really kind, aren’t you?” 

Floyd grinned. “Only for Shrimpy and the guppies. Don’t let anyone else know, okay? I still have a reputation, you know.” 

(Y/N) poked his side. “Ooh, scary Floyd Leech, big bad family man. Don’t think I don’t remember you crying on the boys’ first day of school.” 

Floyd sniffed. “My guppies aren’t going to be guppies any more! What am I going to do when they get too big to carry, or when they go to NRC and we can’t see them everyday?” 

(Y/N) took his hand and started pulling him in the direction the boys had darted off in. “Then I guess we just need to make the most of the time we have with them now, right?” 

Floyd tightened his grip on her hand, smiling wickedly. “Or we could just make more guppies.”  

Kalim

“Mr. Al–Asim, I need your signature here, please.” 

“Mr. Al-Asim, when would you like to schedule our shareholder meeting?” 

“Mr. Al-Asim, I have those reports and next quarter’s budget for you to review.” 

Kalim was drained. While he was more than proud that he had managed to expand his family’s business to not only the sea but also the Briar Valley, he didn’t quite anticipate all the paperwork that would come with it. Now that Jamil was off leading his own life outside of the Asim influence, Kalim had taken on more responsibilities. Not that he wasn’t happy for Jamil, of course. He was thrilled when his friend told him of his plans after graduating NRC, even if those plans didn’t directly involve Kalim. Kalim was mostly just happy that Jamil seemed happy. But he did still miss Jamil’s presence, his guidance, how he always knew what to say. 

Kalim groaned, falling face first on his bed, not bothering to change clothes. Warm evening sun streamed in from the balcony windows, casting golden rays across the room. (Y/N) blinked at him from her side of the bed, sliding a bookmark in her book. She leaned over to him, gently petting his hair. 

“Rough day?” She asked. 

Kalim groaned again, twisting to catch (Y/N) in his arms so they crashed down together in a tangled hug. “There’s so much paperwork!” He lamented. “Why do we still even have so much paper? Isn’t it better for the environment if we use digital or something?” He sniffed, eyes watery. “Just think of all those birds whose trees we cut down.” 

“With great accomplishment comes great busy work,” (Y/N) nodded sagely. “It just shows how much so many people are relying on you.” 

“I guess,” Kamil muttered into her hair. He suddenly perked up. “Oh! I own the company, so maybe I can just tell everyone they have the day off tomorrow!” 

“Maybe, but then you and everyone else would just have a backlog of work when they come back.” 

Kalim face planted back onto the bed. (Y/N) regarded him for a moment before sliding out of bed. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Kalim gave a half-hearted thumbs up. 

As (Y/N) padded out of the room, Kalim kicked his shoes off, curling up on the bed. He grabbed her plush pillow, holding it to his chest. Hints of her fragrant shampoo still clung to it. 

Kalim didn’t think he could ever really express how grateful he was to have (Y/N) with him. Not only had she worked hard to repair his and Jamil’s relationship at NRC, but she gave him the in that helped him bring the Asim name to the Briar Valley in the first place. The land of night fairies was notoriously difficult to expand foreign trade to. But (Y/N) with her easy way of making friends and stubborn determination had given him the connections he needed to do something no other Asim had. He signed again, happily this time. It was just another reason he was so glad that she was going to marry him. 

(Y/N) nudged the door open with her hip. She carried a large silver tray holding a pot of spiced hot chocolate and several small plates with cake slices. “We still need to choose a wedding cake flavor,” She said. “Your mom has been asking me about finalizing details. We’re going to look at takchitas this weekend.” 

Kalim popped back up, a wave of fresh energy zipping through him. A party! This he could do. Not just any party, but possibly the most important party of his life! He and (Y/N) spent the next hour discussing wedding plans, colors and flowers and music. In between, they would eat bites of cake, chocolate, champagne strawberry, vanilla with raspberry filling, orange olive oil. At one point, Kalim smeared some frosting on his nose. At  her laughing, Kalim took a forkful of fluffy buttercream and painted it across her nose. They collapsed together in a giggling fit. 

“How about I come with you tomorrow?” (Y/N) asked. “I should start learning everything anyway. I want to be helpful to you.”

“You’re always helpful! Look, I'm feeling way better already!” 

“I think that might be the sugar rush.” 

As the sun set, the two of them lay together, crumbs of cake and the empty chocolate pot soon forgotten. As (Y/N) fell asleep in Kalim’s arms, he quietly said, “I can’t wait to be married to you, azizati.” 

Jamil

The air conditioning in the dance studio had gone out a few days ago and it quickly became sweltering with the aerobic activity. (Y/N) had drug in a large swiveling electric fan at some point that was working overtime to try and cool the room. Jamil whipped sweat off his forehead, watching the soon to debut idol group run through their routine again. Jamil had been working as the lead choreographer for Corona Talent for about a year now. While the agency was still relatively small, they were picking up preeminence, especially with their stylized music videos. 

“Figaro,” Jamil said to a cat beastman with black and white hair. “You need to work on controlling your tail. Having it flick around like that makes you look nervous. Sebastian, I know you’re still getting used to your land legs but remember to not lock up your knees, it makes you jerk and you’re more likely to fall. Let’s go back to just before the switch line and take it again.” 

While Jamil’s teaching style could easily be described as strict, no one could deny his results and the quick time in which he produced them. 

A little while later, and combating fears of overheating, Jamil called a water break. The group of boys formed a semicircle around the fan waiting for it to oscillate over their faces. Jamil watched them chat in benign amusement. They were about as old as he had been during the Song and Dance Championship at NRC. Jamil would never admit it, but he had recycled some of Vil’s methods during their training in the Ramshackle dorm. 

And speaking of NRC, his phone pinged. Jamil knew who it was before he even looked at the screen. 

Kalim: Jamil! I had an idea for the wedding! What if we have a grand entrance with you riding an elephant? 

Jamil: You know (Y/N) and I aren’t even engaged yet. 

Kalim: I’m planning ahead! It’s good to be ready. 

Jamil: No elephants. 

Kalim: What about peacocks? Or birds that warble on key? Or a tiger! 

Jamil: Do I even want to know where you’re getting these animals? 

Kalim: ~Secret~ 

Jamil laughed under his breath. Ever since he and (Y/N) had started dating during her last year at NRC, Kalim had basically been planning their wedding. When he had given Jamil two tickets on a week-long river cruise for his birthday last year he had called it a pre-honeymoon. 

And speaking of…

Jamil’s phone pinged again with a video attachment from (Y/N). The video showed (Y/N) next to a perch with a red and green macaw parrot. “Come on, Alfie,” (Y/N) prompted. “Show Dad your new trick.” 

The parrot tilted his head to think for a moment before tilting to the side and raising a claw in a wave. “Love Dad!” It croaked. He then started vocalizing to the tune of one of the first songs Jamil choreographed for, bobbing his head and side stepping. (Y/N) hummed along, nodding encouragingly. The macaw stretched his wings wide and gave a victorious cry. 

“Good job, Alfie!” (Y/N) praised, giving him a treat. Alfie shuffled onto her shoulder, nibbling the treat. “See you soon, Jamil. Love you.” (Y/N) blew a kiss to the screen, Alfie mimicking the sound. The video ended on a still frame of (Y/N)’s smiling face. Jamile smiled, content. Warmth, having nothing to do with the heat of the studio, filling his chest. 

“Ooh,” One of the idol’s said, wiggling his eyebrows in Jamil’s direction. “Was that your girlfriend, Coach?” The other boys cooed and whooping in good natured teasing. 

“Alright, Sven,” Jamil said, standing back up. “You just earned everyone another round of drills. Come on, on your marks.” 

The boys groaned, taking their places. As they began stretching and doing calf raises, Jamil texted Kalim. 

Jamil: Do you still have that jeweler’s number? 

Kalim: :D

Vil

Vil double checked his lipstick in a compact mirror from the backseat of the limo. His eyes cut across the back cab to (Y/N) fiddling with the hem of her dress. “Stop fidgeting,” He said. “You’ll wrinkle your dress.” 

(Y/N) jumped, smoothing her dress. “Sorry, just nervous, I guess.” 

“Nerves cause wrinkles, too. Besides, there’s nothing to fret over. Star Crossed is destined to be a hit.” 

Star Crossed was to be Vil’s first directorial debut, with (Y/N) taking a lead writing role for the script. The idea had come when the two had been discussing media back from (Y/N)’s world during one of Vil’s photoshoots. (Y/N) had been acting as somewhat of an unofficial assistant then. Although, and Vil would never admit this, he more just wanted an excuse to have her around. As they talked, (Y/N) made references to classic story ideas shared between both worlds, focusing on ideas of forbidden love. She gave a lyrical and poetic soliloquy, one that Vil immediately latched on to. She explained it was from a play called Romeo and Juliet, one of the most famous plays in her world and a story that had been retold countless times. She said it was standard school curriculum in her world and had memorized several passages for homework. Canceling the very hard to get dinner reservations the two had, they instead worked deep into the night, reworking the romantic tragedy between their two world’s cultural differences, writing the first draft of what would end up becoming Star Crossed. 

“What if they don’t like the ending?” (Y/N) worried. 

“Then they’re fools with no sense of depth.” 

“But won’t that look bad for you? I don’t want a box office bomb to affect your career.” 

“I assure you, nothing I’m associated with could bomb.” Although Vil wasn’t in the starring role for this film, instead preferring to focus on directing, he did keep a cameo as the rewritten Prince of Veronia, now the Prince of Fleur City. 

“We kept a lot of the traditional language,” (Y/N) continued as if she hadn’t heard Vil. She looked out the window, the tall buildings and bustling crowds as they got closer to the theater. “Not word for word of the monologue, but still. You don’t think it was too old-fashioned or metaphorical?”

“Sweet potato, we’re going to the premier, you know. It’s a little late to be thinking about rewrites.” 

(Y/N) sighed again, flattening her hands against her lap. “Yeah, you're right. The costumes were amazing, though.” 

“That’s thanks to you as well, you know. Professor Crewel wouldn’t be willing to design for just anyone.” 

(Y/N) smiled weakly. She fidgeted in her seat. She switched sides to sit next to Vil instead of across from him. He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

“Vil,” She said, choosing her words carefully. “I really liked working with you on this.” 

“Well, you’re not the worst person to collaborate with either, (Y/N).” 

“Would you want to, I mean, maybe later if you don’t have other projects already lined up, do you want to work together again? I mean, there’s a ton of Shakespeare plays. I don’t know all of them by heart or anything, but I know a good couple. Hamlet is dramatic with political intrigue, Much Ado About Nothing is a romantic comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream is another romantic comedy with magic and everyone falling in love with the wrong person, well, that one has fairies so I don’t want to offend anyone or anything, oh, and Macbeth is all dark about going mad with power - people said it was cursed back in my world even if we didn’t have real curses, it was just something people said, you know, but I was also thinking maybe we could do others like Pride and Prejudice or if you want to do something completely different there’s this series called Star Wars that-” 

Vil abruptly cut off (Y/N)’s ramblings with a kiss. There, in the back of the limo, it was just the two of them, alone in the world. No fans, no expectations, no competitions. Just them, and a warm growing feeling between them. 

Vil pulled back, taking a moment to appreciate (Y/N)’s dazed face and bewildered smile. “I would love to work with you again, (Y/N). I’m not sure I would ever want to work with anyone else. Come, we’re here.” 

An attendant opened the door of their limo, the roar of fans and flashing lights breaking the stillness on the cab. Vil stepped out in one graceful movement, lifting a hand in greeting. A red carpet stretched out before them, littered with other actors from the movie or celebrities there to give support. Vil leaned back, offering (Y/N) his hand. She stepped out of the cab, blinking at the sudden lights.

Vil tucked her arm through his, whispering, “Stick with me. I’m certain we can get through anything together.” 

Rook

Rook flicked on his flashlight, illuminating the cavernous chamber. His team of archaeologists and researchers followed behind him, sliding down a rope through a ventilation shaft into the long buried and forgotten temple underneath an old gnarled tree. 

“Is it what you thought it was, Hunt?” A fellow archaeologist asked him, shining her own light around the foreboding space. 

“I’m not sure yet,” He replied. “But I think… Ah ha!” Rook cheered, bounding over to the far wall. He took out his magical pen, casting a fire spell into a trough of dark liquid that ran the perimeter of the chamber. It caught alight, flooding the room to showcase the detailed carvings and relief work decorated on the walls. The team gasped, immediately taking detailed notes of the pictographs and images. Carvings of mermaids in a grotto, a pirate ship looming off the coast of a tropical island, and what appeared to be a flying boy with his arms outstretched were just a few of the designs that had been painted and carved on the walls millennium ago. 

“Magnifique!” Rook breathed in awe. “The Temple of the Second Star! Just as we thought!” 

“Just as you thought, sir,” A stoat beast-man researched said. “Your instincts were spot on again.” 

Rook preened but brushed off the comment. “Non, non, we’ve all put so much work into this discovery. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, n’est-ce pas? But, we’ve only begun our exploration. There’s something very important here I need to find.” 

“Is that safe, sir?” The archaeologist asked him. “We haven’t mapped anything out yet, who knows what it’s like down there?” She nodded her head to a dark doorway leading further into the temple. 

“Ah, but what is our profession without the allure of danger? Allons-y!” Leaving the others to their detail oriented inspection, Rook bound down the adjoining hall into the depths of the temple. 

Rook traveled down the halls, stopping only briefly to poke his head in adjoining rooms, none of which held what he was looking for. He paused every so often, checking a trap or pitfall that had been left how many hundreds of years ago. Finally, he came to a split in the corridors. 

“Hmm,” He muttered to himself. “I believe it was… Second star to the right.” He chose the right passage. 

The passage led him to a large stone door, once more inlaid with gem studded pictographs. “Ah,” he said. “A clever lock. Let’s see if I’m more clever.” He looked closely at the depictions. A group of four children flying over a cityscape, a towering clock with a large round face, a sun and moon arranged on either side, and, of course, the signature stars. He noticed several of the gem motifs could be moved. He suspected the right one would unlock the door, while the others might lead to disaster. And, as thrilled as he was to see what kind of disaster it could be, he was on a mission. “Second star to the right,” He said to himself again. “And straight on till morning!” He adjusted the hour hand on the clock face, changing it from pointing at the moon to the sun. A mechanism groaned and the door slowly fell open. 

He swished his flashlights around the chamber. It was littered with jars upon jars on a sparkling yellow dust. He tapped the glass on one of the jars, feeling lighter, his hair floating around him. And, while this was a fascinating discovery, and he would definitely have to report back to the Roi de Dragons that their study of ancient fairy lore had been a success, there was something more valuable than pixie dust he was after. There, in the center of the room, was exactly what he was looking for. An acorn and thimble dangling off a delicate chain - the ancient symbols of a pure kiss. 

As Rook turned to confront the mechanical crocodile that had emerged from its hiding place, a clock ticking in its chest, he tucked the treasure into his pocket. He shrugged his bow from his shoulder, knocking an arrow, thinking about how beautiful the necklace would look on (Y/N) when he proposed to her. 

Epel

Epel undid his tie for the third time. Nothing was looking right. Should he keep his hair up like this, in a high ponytail that cascaded down his back? Was his suit not fitting right, stretching over muscles he had worked so hard for so long for? 

That was one thing directors loved about him, how he could flip from appearing sweet and docile to ablaze with righteous fury in a second. It helped boost his popularity at the box office, his latest action movie breaking records. But that limelight also came with its drawbacks. Like how today, possibly one of the most important days of his entire life, Epel had been distracted with checking with security at every odd occurrence. They had already kicked out a couple of unscrupulous paparazzi the other day. Epel was glad he was back in Harveston for something so monumental, surrounded by his family, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the strain he was putting them all through. But they would always wave him off with smiles, saying that it was the least they could do for all the publicity he had brought to their farms. And besides, what was family for, if not to lend a hand on your wedding day? 

There was a knock and the door opened before Epel could reply. Vil stepped in, checking a clipboard with a meticulously maintained schedule. “The cake finally got here, thank the Seven,” he said. “Everyone’s taking their seat. I knew people would be late - that’s why you put the ceremony time on the invitation a half hour before you actually want it to start. Now we just need to-” He stopped, looking up, and glared at the cloth around Epel’s neck like he had glared at Epel himself so many times during their NRC days. Vil sighed, setting the clipboard down and pulling at Epel’s tie. “Honestly, have none of my lessons stuck with you?” 

Epel felt a momentary sense of pride against the scolding as Vil had to look up to speak with him. “Nothing looked right,” He said. “I wanted it to, you know, look right.” 

Vil hummed. “Are you sure that’s what this is about?” Epel didn’t reply. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you? I’ve never known you to be one who runs away from problems.” 

“No, never!” 

Vil gave a final tug on the eldredge knot. “Well, that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t  it?” He gave one of his rare sincere smiles. “And she chose you, Epel. Remember that.” 

Epel shrugged. “It’s a lot to live up to.” 

“And you’ll rush to meet those expectations with flying colors. Now hurry up, we have a schedule to keep.” 

They had set the ceremony space in the middle of the apple orchard. Soft pink apple blossom petals swirled around the air, beautiful organic confetti cascading over each guest as they took their seat in the circular audience. Epel looked around, smiling back at friends and family beaming at him. His mother hadn’t stopped crying happy tears since before breakfast that morning. His grandmother reached out and squeezed his hand as he walked past. 

A group of local boys had been recruited to play music for the wedding. As Epel took his spot under the flowery arch up front, they began playing. Epel felt his heart thundering in his chest, jumping like a jackrabbit. He felt more nervous now than he did at his first premier. 

Everyone stood, looking towards the back of the aisle as the bride started to walk down, billowing white dress, cascading flower bouquet, lace veil covering her face. It felt like forever, Epel transfixed. She stepped up to the alter and Epel gently lifted the veil away from her face. (Y/N) smiled up at him. 

“Dearly beloved,” The officiant started. Before he could get another word in, Epel surged forward, kissing his bride. (Y/N) started laughing, wrapping her arms around him to return the kiss. 

“Hey!” Vil called jovially from the crowd. “You’re ahead of schedule!”  

Idia

Idia was curled  up on the couch, the room dark, light from the three computer screens in front of him illuminating the space and searing his eyes. He chewed on his bottom lip, writing code only to immediately delete it. 

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Blinking away dark spots in his vision, he glanced over at the left computer screen where he had taped a photo of Ortho and their parents. Ortho was wearing a director’s coat, showing off for the camera. Idia smiled, straightening the photo. At the time, when Ortho had volunteered for the position of S.T.Y.X. junior director in Idia’s place, Idia didn’t expect the rush of relief that swept through him. It had been about a year so far and the two brothers talked almost every night, Ortho regaling him with stories of new advancements and studies they had made, his enthusiasm peaked in every word. 

But what Idia hadn’t expected was the sudden sense of helplessness, like he’d been cut free of some invisible tether. He’d just hang around for a while, working in this tech company, that cyber security industry, before he got bored. He was able to improve every company by leaps and bounds before deciding to drop it and head somewhere else whenever the mood took him. A few military weapons companies had tried to recruit him, but he’d swiftly rejected their offers. 

Eventually, a small group of eager indie video game developers had reached out in an email he had almost deleted without reading. He knew a few of the names from discussion boards on Star Rogue fan sites. They asked if he had wanted to join them for a new project and, having nothing else pressingly important going on, he’d agreed. Soon, however, he’d found himself absolutely engrossed with the game, bringing in more money and resources than any of the other teams members had ever seen for a similar project. 

And now, here he was. Stuck. The team couldn’t figure out their next steps, couldn’t solve problems with the set up and coding. They had hit a wall. Idia had hit a wall. 

He heard movement from the bed behind him, a sigh of someone waking up. “Idia?” A sleep addled voice called. He didn’t move, fingers clacking on the keyboard. He heard movement behind him, getting out of bed and dragging the blankets with them. 

(Y/N) tumbled onto the couch next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You said you were going to come to bed like,” She squinted at the clock. “Four hours ago. Idia! You need sleep!” 

“Want to get this done,” He mumbled back. 

“It’ll still be there in the morning.” 

“I have to work on it now or I’ll lose momentum.” 

“You’ll lose your eyes if you keep working in the dark like this. And I like your eyes. And your hair. And your smile. And your-” 

“This code is a total mess. It’s full of redundancies. There’s an explote here that would basically make you able to walk through any wall no problem. And they’re focused too much on feature creep, it’s like they want to add a cool new gimmick every day. Like, yeah, connecting to the microphone during the stealth section so if the player is loud the enemies can find them easier is cool, but it’s only in that one part of the game and it’s making a whole bunch of unnecessary complications. Or there’s this part with the poisoning spell basically breaks the game if you unlock it too early. Or this part with the character modeling where-” 

“Idia!” Idia startled, blinking at (Y/N). “Your girlfriend is asking you to come to bed with her.” 

Idia’s hair immediately burned bright pink. “Oh, yeah, okay.” 

Silver

Silver rolled his shoulders, adjusting the weight of his heavy armor. He was in a tent, getting ready for his bout of jousting for an annual tournament in the Briar Valley. This wasn’t the first tournament he’d participated in, of course, but there was always a nervousness that built up in his stomach, an eagerness to prove himself as worthy of being Malleus’s retainer, Lillia’s son, a loyal knight of the fae kingdom. 

“Knock, knock.” He turned to the front flaps of the tent. (Y/N) pulled aside one of the flaps, sticking her head inside. “Sorry, there’s not really a place to actually knock or ring a bell or anything…” She cleared her throat, stepping inside. She wore a traditional Briar Valley dress. “Wow,” She breathed, taking in Silver in his armor. “You look like a real knight! Not that you aren’t, usually, I mean. It’s just really formal now I guess. I’ve been able to see everything from up in the royal viewing box with Hornton and Lillia. It’s great watching you and Sebek, competing and everything. It’s like a whole Renaissance fair out there.” 

Silver set down his helmet. “Is that something from your world?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to tell you about it some time. They were always fun.” She looked away nervously, trying to find the right words to say. “There was this kind of tradition, at the Renaissance fairs, for knights. I think it went back to medieval history in my world. I was hoping you could help me with it.” 

“Of course,” Silver said. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, gently reaching out to take her elbow and turn her back to him. They were so close their bodies nearly brushed each other. “Whatever you need.” 

She hesitated for another second before reaching up and pulling a ribbon out of her hair. He noticed it was (favorite color) instead of a matching shade to her outfit. “When knights would go for tournaments, they would wear a token or flag from their partner. It’s for good luck or something.” She twisted the ribbon around her fingers, not meeting his eyes. “I was hoping…” 

Silver untangled the ribbon from her hands, tying it around his forearm. He felt a swell of pride at how it stood out from his armor, gently waving in the breeze. “I’d be honored,” He said. “To wear your token.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up, a smile blossoming on her face. “Okay, yeah, sure, of course! I’m glad you like it.” She pressed her lips together, considering something, before adding. “Would it be okay if I gave you another token? For good luck. Not that you need it or anything, you’re going to be great.” 

Silver smiled at her nervous deflection. “I’d love anything from you.” 

(Y/N) looked around nervously again, fiddling with her fingers. Just as Silver was about to speak, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Lilia

Lilia leaned against the railing of the barge, watching the glowing red lanterns float gently above the river, their reflections casting ruby ghosts against the dark water below. The Floating Lantern Festival in the Land of Red Dragons never failed to excite, but this year was especially memorable. 

“It’s even more beautiful that you describe it,” (Y/N) breathed in awe next to him, stretching out over the barge railing to take in every sight and sound around them. Her eyes trailed the parade along the banks of the river, party goers dressed in red hanfu carrying more lanterns and a long red paper dragon on tall sticks. 

“The best stories are the ones you experience in person,” He said. 

They’d been traveling together for a while now, by boat, by train, on foot, exploring the whole world. (Y/N) had always been bothered that she had no frame of reference for the world of Twisted Wonderland, no practical understanding of its cultures and countries. Lilia tried to alleviate some of her frustrations with stories about his numerous travels before finally deciding a more hands-on presentation would be a better fit. 

Lilia snuck up behind her as she marveled at the lanterns drifting into the night sky. He suddenly grabbed her shoulders, as if to push her off. She gasped and turned to give him a halfhearted glare as he laughed. 

“Well?” Lilia asked. “Do you feel more prepared to conquer the world now?” 

(Y/N) frowned. The Land of Red Dragons was meant to be the last stop on their tour. (Y/N) had said she had no real plan for after the journey. While the multitude of friends she had made during her years in school were more than happy to lend her a place to stay during their travels, (Y/N) had confided in Lilia that she felt like she was taking advantage of their good nature if she lingered to long, without finding work or direction in this strange world. Maybe she would return to NRC to see if Crowley had any work for her? (He always did.) 

“I mean, I suppose?” She said. “Everything has been so wonderful. It’s almost a shame to be stuck in one place after all this.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I can see why you like moving around so much.” 

Lilia hummed, leaning back against the railing. He turned, considering (Y/N)’s profile, lit against the red glow of the lanterns. He felt himself pause, lost in the marvel of her eyes, full of delight and wonder at everything around them. There was a strange stirring in his chest, one he had experienced multiple times over their journey together, a feeling he hadn’t had in almost 500 years. 

Lilia shook his head, trying to reign his focus back in. “You know,” He said, casually. “I’ll be heading back out again soon. Malleus came up with the idea of sending out ambassadors from the Briar Valley, trying to strengthen relationships between fairies and the rest of the world.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “That seems like something he would do. You’re going to be the first one, then? It seems like a good job for you.” 

“Not necessarily the first.” (Y/N) turned to look at him and Lilia felt himself squirm under her direct gaze. Goodness, he would have thought he was a lovestruck teen of 200 years by the way he was acting. “I proposed that you should join me as an ambassador. I thought it might make things easier, having a fellow human to represent dual interests. And, I must admit,” He purposely looked away. “I’ve grown fond of our time together.” 

When (Y/N) didn’t reply he looked back at her. She was smiling up at him and he felt his heart stutter. “I’d like that a lot,” She finally said. Which part she didn’t specify. He didn’t need her to. 

As they watched the lantern festival continue around them, their hands slid together on the railing, fingers entwining.  

Sebek

Sebek’s heart was beating a mile a minute. He knelt in front of Malleus, in the grand throne room, crowds of nobles eagerly watching his knighting ceremony.  

Malleus, regal sword in hand, stood over him. “Sebek Zigvolt,” He said, voice echoing around the chamber. “Do you so solemnly swear to uphold the code of knightly honor, to defend the Briar Valley with all your might, your will, and your faithfulness?” “I do,” Sebek replied, trying to keep his voice to a reasonable volume, not letting his giddiness shine through. 

“Do you so solemnly swear to serve your king and country and never waver from your duty?” 

“I do.” 

“And do you so solemnly swear to be truthful to yourself, loyal to your loved ones, and show bravery in the face of doubt and fear?”

“I do!” 

Malleus smiled down at his friend, pride for his retainer crinkling the corners of his eyes.  “Then, as rightful king and ruler of the land of night fae and the Briar Valley, I hereby dub thee, Sebek Zigvolt, high knight and warrior to the crown.” Malleus lowered his sword against Sebek’s shoulders and the crown of his head. “Stand and receive your blessing.” 

Sebek stood, fist thumbing against his chest. Cheers started up from the assembly. Happy tears pricked the corners of Sebek’s eyes, his smile wide as he tried to keep a serious face for the occasion. 

After the ceremony, everyone congregated in one of the grand ballrooms of the palace. Sebek stood with his mother, father, and grandfather. His mother was flitting over him, brushing away an invisible speck of dust every other second. 

“My darling boy!” She cried. “Look how big you’ve gotten! Oh, you’re so official now! Dear, what happened to our little Sebek?” 

“You’ve done a lot of hard work, Sebek,” He father said, nodding proudly. “You should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” 

“Of course he’s proud,” His grandfather scoffed. “He’s a Zigvolt! Greatness and duty is embedded in our history!” 

His mother rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, Papa, so you’ve said many times.” Her eyes cut behind Sebek, smiling and taking hold of either of the two men’s arms. “Well, we wouldn’t want to monopolize your time, Sebek. There are many people who want to congratulate you, after all. Come along, dear, Papa!” Ignoring their protests, his mother dragged them away. 

As Sebek waved in a confused good-bye, he felt a thump on his back. “Look at you!” He heard a familiar voice say. “So do I have to call you Sir Zigvolt now or something?” Sebek turned to see (Y/N) beaming up at him. It was surprising enough to see her here, but Sebek’s breath caught in his throat as he saw her dress. Zigvolt colors. She was wearing Zigvolt house colors. 

“H-hum- Er, (Y/N)? What are you doing here?” 

“Horton invited me! Or, I guess I should say King Malleus here, shouldn’t I? Well, either way, he told me you were having your official knighting ceremony. And I got a letter from your mom, too! She thought it would be a fun surprise to have your friends from school show up to support you.” She indicated one of the banquet tables across the room. Sebek saw Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ortho, and Epel milling around, all dressed in their own formal wear, catching questioning glances from the various fae knights and nobles. 

But they weren’t wearing his house colors. So why was she? And why did it make his heart thrum like that? 

A band started up, couples taking their places along the dance floor. “Ah, would  you…?” Sebek felt like he could’t find the right words. He couldn’t understand why he was suddenly falling all over himself like this. 

(Y/N) clasped his hands in hers. “I’d love to dance! I might not know all the steps, since this seems pretty fancy and formal, but you’ll just have to show me, okay?” Sebek nodded stiffly as she pulled him to the dance floor. 

Sebek took one of her hands in his, his other settling on her waist. He felt it burn with the contact. As he swept her along the floor, he finally said, “Your dress…” But couldn’t manage to finish, his thoughts tumbling around. Had it really been so long since graduation? Since he had last seen her? Sure, they had written multiple times, he kept up correspondence with many NRC alumni, but how had she changed this much since then? Had her eyes always shined that way? Was her hair that beautiful? Was her smile that dazzling? 

“Oh, your mom lent it to me,” She said. “I didn’t have anything that would fit, so she lent me one of her old ones. Although with all the adjustments I think it might just be mine now. Do you like it?” 

“You look like a Zigvolt,” He said. 

“Oh.” She seemed surprised at that, heat rising to her face. They turned around the floor a few more times. “You know, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me soon.”

Sebek felt his heart flip. “I’ll have to put up with you more, you mean.” 

(Y/N) stifled a laugh and gently hit his chest. “Rude. I mean Horton offered me a position here. Ambassador for human and fairy relations. I’m not totally sure what it will be like next, but he’s given me a townhouse just next door. It’s near your parents, I think. So, you know, I’ll be around. If you ever want to see me or anything. Or I guess if I want to see you, I’ll know where to come to bug you.” She laughed awkwardly. 

Sebek unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand. “I think I wouldn’t mind that. It’s a knight’s duty to look after those he cares about, after all.” 

Malleus 

Malleus turned over in his bed, hands crumpling the sheets next to him. He was in his chambers back in the palace in the Briar Valley. The bed next to him was cold. Cool dawn light was just beginning to spill through his window behind the heavy velvet curtains. 

The dreaming Malleus, the one all too aware this was a premonition of a possible future, sighed. He had completed this potion many times, both at NRC and in his private education in the Briar Valley. And, no matter how many times he drunk the noctious concoction, his future always remained the same. A lonely bedchamber, government work, fawning lords and ladies vying for his favor. If he was lucky, he would get to interact with Lilia, Silver, or Sebek. Although he dreaded the times when he could clearly see age lining their faces while he remained the same. 

The door to his chamber creaked ever so slightly. Someone was entering. The dream Malleus, the one projected in this future vision, tensed in his bed. The dreaming Malleus, forced to watch everything unfurl, was confused. Was this some sort of half-baked assassination attempt? Had relations between the country of fae and the rest of the world degraded to such an extent under his reign? Was he destanted to watch his own death? 

The dream Malleus closed his eyes. There was a sound of soft padding feet, a giggle, then a sharp hush. The intruders were right next to him now. 

“Ready?” A voice whispered, familiar but changed with time. “One, two, three…” 

“Happy birthday, Papa!” 

The dream Malleus opened his eyes, a slow and easy smile crossing his face. The curtains were thrown open, revealing the three young boys standing at his bedside, rosy cheeked, green eyed, and horns curling up from their ebony locks. One of them held a plate stacked high with pancakes, dripping with strawberry syrup. Another held a party popper, which he pulled releasing a torrent of confetti and ribbons. The third held a paper card tightly in his hands, his grip causing it to crumple at the edges. 

“Did we wake you up, Papa?” The boy with the card asked in a concerned voice, pouting. 

Malleus smiled, sitting up in bed as the young boys climbed up to sit around him. “Not at all, Grimwald. What’s that you have there?” 

Grimwald shyly held the card out. Malleus gently pried it from his fingers. It was obviously homemade, colored pencil drawings of a family of five holding hands across the cover, four with Darconia horns crowning their heads. He opened the card. There was a large birthday cake drawing inside, with the words ‘Happy Birthday!’ in large blocky lettering above it. Around the cake, the artists had scribbled their names: Grimwald, Lilianos, and Malachite. 

“They wanted to surprise you,” A soft voice said. Malleus, both in and out of the dream, felt his heart skip a beat as (Y/N) came around the bed. She sat down at the edge, catching the plate of pancakes from Malachite so they wouldn’t splatter on the floor. She turned to him, carding her fingers through his hair, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Good morning, Horton. Happy birthday.” 

“We made them ourselves!” Malachite proudly proclaimed. “Grandpa Lilia showed me how!” 

“Don’t worry,” (Y/N) whispered to him. “I supervised.” 

“Do you have to work today, Papa?” Lilianos asked. “You can’t ‘cause it’s your birthday, right? You have to stay and play with us today.” 

Malleus gathered his boys together so they all fit on the bed. “Birthdays are family days. I’d love nothing more than to spend the entire day hearing about  how you’ve been terrorizing the palace.” 

“Oh, oh!” Malachite called, hand shooting up. “I breathed fire and it burned up the curtains in the grand dining room!” 

(Y/N) looked at him sideways. “On accident, right?” 

Malachite blushed. “Yes, Mama.” 

“Can we go watch the knights train?” Lilianos asked. “Uncle Sebek and Uncle Silver said they would teach us to ride a horse!” 

“Why would you want to ride a horse when you can fly?” Malachite said, spreading his arms wide. 

“I want to go to the menagerie,” Grimwald added. They began to talk over each other, making plans for their father’s birthday without his input. 

Malleus smiled, watching his family. He turned back to (Y/N). She smiled at him, as glorious and warm as the sun after a year of frozen nights. He reached up, cupping her face, and brought her close. 

“I always knew my future would bring me to you.” 

[jenctrl]

koi kim minji

synopsis; during a night stroll in tokyo that turns rainy, the two members feel like kids in love when all their worries wash away with it /content; fluff, they kiss once, 6th member reader /wc; 2.2k

songs; vaundy - odoriko, kenshi yonezu - lemon, seventeen - kidult

In Japanese, "koi" is a homophone for 恋, another word that means "affection" or "love".

The air was heavy in the city, filling their lungs with a sort of wetness as the previous rain created humidity that felt like it was hugging their skin. Some people passed by in a hurry, some took their time, and most carried umbrellas, but something everyone had in common was the way they lived on with their lives, not minding the people around them. 

It was a hot and humid summer night in Tokyo. 

“Do you think we can get past everyone?” Y/n questioned, a smile tugging at her lips, there was a small jump in her steps. 

Minji twisted her lips, her hand came out of the pocket of her jeans and she intertwined her fingers with Y/n’s. She let out a breath at the excitement of the younger when she pulled her closer, their shoulders brushing. 

“People don’t care—” Minji hoped they didn’t, they had snuck out of their hotel to wander the streets. She could tell that Y/n was far from ready to head to bed. She’d sacrifice some sleep for her girlfriend if it made her happy, in the end, it was what made Minji happy. “I think…” She trailed off, somewhat nervous that they would get recognised amid the streets of Tokyo.

However, as they wandered through the half-busy alleys with restaurants, small shops, vending machines and whatnot, no one paid them any mind. 

“I like seeing you this happy.” She always aimed to make Y/n happy, but she was aware that she wasn’t the only thing that caused happiness in the younger girl’s life. However, Minji was a base that let Y/n build her happiness so when something fell apart she had somewhere to fall. They were there for each other, supporting the other. 

“I have many reasons to be this happy and I have you.” Minji chuckled at the warm words, bumping the girl with her shoulder. It made Y/n grin bigger, looking to the side at the taller girl who let go of her hand and threw her arm over her shoulders, pulling her into her warmth.

“You get so cheesy, but–” She started and looked down at Y/n whose arm wrapped around her waist, clinging onto Minji as they walked along the streets of Tokyo. The sun was down, and the only thing lighting up the way for them was the moon and the neon lights of signs and machines. “It’s you so I don’t mind.” She finished, the words didn’t make her want to recoil like when another member would say something cheesy. 

Everything was sweet when it was Y/n.

Y/n had always been a child at heart and sometimes Minji wondered what she was doing in the industry. Of course, she was beyond talented and didn’t belong anywhere else than right there beside the rest of the members, right beside Minji. However, she couldn’t help but feel like there were certain things she wouldn’t be able to protect Y/n’s inner child from.

She’d try, especially to make that part of the girl happy.

Minji didn’t want Y/n to ever end up hurt. 

“We finally made our Japanese debut, I’m so excited about everything.” The corner of Minji’s lip tugged into a lopsided grin and she met Y/n’s eyes. The two slowed down in their steps, the empty alleys of closed stores were still from people, only lit up by the few vending machines.

She hummed, bringing her hand up to Y/n’s face who turned to her and with a gentle almost ghost-like brush she moved away the few strands of hair that were in the way. 

“I’m finally home, kind of, but you know what I mean.”

Minji pulled the girl even closer, having a smile on her lips that was filled with fondness. It made her lean in, trusting the enclosed space and leaving a small peck on Y/n's forehead. 

Y/n wrapped her arms around Minji’s waist, hiding her face in the crook of the girl’s neck for the brief moment that she needed to steer her heart into a calmer pace. 

The excitement and love were almost overwhelming, she was back home in Japan where she came from even if she wasn’t from Tokyo and they finally made their Japanese debut.

At the pace that she was running through everything; she had Minji right beside her and it always made things easier.

The taller girl pulled back, her arm still around Y/n’s shoulders and she looked down at the hand that found its way into the pocket of her jeans. It had become a habit to carry Y/n’s things in her pockets; the girl rarely brought a purse with her and rarely had clothes with pockets; wearing a skirt this time. She didn’t mind, it felt empty if she didn’t have to carry any extra stuff. 

“I just need…” The girl trailed off, digging through the deep pocket while Minji waited. She was glad that it was just them, she didn’t mind spoiling Y/n in front of everyone, but she never got to hear the end of it from the rest. 

Minji blinked, somewhat flinching at the drop of water that hit her face. It was cold, it made a chill run over her whole body and she looked up, more raindrops started to splatter her face. 

“It’s starting to rain.” 

She didn’t get a reply and looked at Y/n who was busy looking through her phone, but she got a gesture, making her look towards the vending machines.

Her hand fell to rest on Y/n’s lower back to guide her under the little roof of the closed store before moving over a few steps to the vending machines; one selling umbrellas. 

She bought one of the see-through umbrellas, taking it out of the stand before turning to open it up. It made Minji huff, “yah,” she exclaimed in surprise when the girl jumped onto her back, their bodies colliding. Y/n’s giggle made her release a breathless chuckle as she steadied herself.

“Here you go,” she got a kiss on her cheek which made her body warm up before she was handed one of the earphones. 

“Wired ones?” She complained, putting in the earphones to finish opening the umbrella as the gentle rain shower grew. 

“I lost my airpods.” “Losing stuff is a very expensive hobby that you have, angel,” Minji commented while intertwining their fingers, knowing her girlfriend never failed to lose things. The rain tapped against the umbrella as they continued their walk, making it out onto a new street with people around them.

The umbrella created a separate world where it was just them, being see-through: they were just a blur. It shielded them as they only needed to know where they placed their feet, covering most of their view. It shielded them from rain and from any eyes. The music filled the comfortable silence as songs by Y/n’s favourite artists played. 

Minji looked down at her girlfriend; the younger girl walked with a giddy but gentle smile, her eyes glimmered in the night with a fondness that made Minji feel love brew in the humidity.

She’d love to take a picture of Y/n this way, but she couldn’t even bring herself to take out her phone because she loved it even more when they lived right in this moment without anything in the way. 

It all made every little thing wash away with the rain. All they could think about was the warmth of their fingers tangled, the way their shoulders brushed, and the sweet scent under the umbrella, all united by the rapid beating of their hearts that were tied together to love forever. 

All that stress they had been under, the stress Minji had tried her best to lessen for her girlfriend; was gone and she by something as simple as a walk felt herself relax at last. It made everything feel so simple like there were no worries, reminding her of the youth in them. 

In a world that was perhaps just for existing, they found a reason to exist: love.

“Maybe someday soon you and I can travel to Kōchi and you will show me your hometown.” Maybe someday soon was really sooner than later or maybe it wouldn’t be soon enough, but it was still something Minji wanted to do. 

She wanted to know everything about Y/n, even see where she grew up, by how it made Y/n’s smile bigger; it would be something she’d try to arrange, somehow. 

“Would you want that?” Y/n’s question was hopeful and Minji never managed to disappoint her even if not all things went as planned. It was always the thought that counted for them.

“I’d love that.”

Y/n giggled, the rain poured a tiny bit harder, creating a certain type of rush in the small crowd of people. It was one the two joined as Y/n found herself being pulled by Minji who picked up their pace, running through the rain that bounced off the umbrella that left the world outside of it nothing but a haze.

It made them feel free in Japan's most densely populated prefecture. 

She never had a clue what love was aside from watching it from afar. This was more than she had imagined and Minji taught her every day that love was more than what the eye caught. It was something beyond the view of the bare eye as Y/n could feel it overflow inside her and beyond what she could simply express. 

It did make her feel much more giddy and childish at heart, it made it light. Neither felt like they were two adults with a weight on their shoulders, but they could stop for a second and be the kids that they never stopped being when they became adults. 

They made a turn, ignoring the way they dirtied their shoes in the puddle as nothing would get in the way of how good it felt to be like two kids in love with no worries.

With heaving breaths, they stopped and met each other’s gazes. It was a simple alley, people continued to pass by as they walked the main street; the two girls were like ghosts.

In a world where they could have it all, they didn’t want more. 

“I can’t wait to see you cover Vaundy.” The girl mumbled, getting a gentle squeeze from Minji who would be making a cover of Y/n’s favourite artist.

Y/n leaned back against the wall, feeling comfortable under Minji’s affectionate gaze, gazing right back with the innocence of their pure love. The said song was slowly coming to an end after they spent it running through a crowd, puddles and rain.

Minji adjusted the umbrella and let go of Y/n’s hand, using it to brush away the stray strands of hair and trace her soft features with her fingertips.

“I can't wait to perform it for you, but I’m more excited to see you.” It seemed perfect how the song transitioned to Lemon that Y/n would cover and the older girl didn’t feel any hesitance or nervousness like she did at the start of their walk. 

She lowered the umbrella the slightest; their escape, blocking them from anyone who was walking by.

Her hand cupped the girl’s rosy cheek, caressing it with her thumb as she leaned down. Y/n’s hands found their way to Minji’s shirt, clutching the soft material made of wool, tugging her closer. Her eyes looked into Minji’s, blinking them closed just as the small distance between them was closed too.

The steps and chattering of people passing by faded away with the rain that tapped against each surface it met.

It was short, but it was sweet and it somehow managed to pour out the love they couldn’t express with words. They could feel it through the softness of their lips meeting in a kiss that only made their love blossom like a flower that the rain had watered. 

“I’m a little nervous,” Y/n admitted as they pulled away, letting out a coy giggle. 

Minji hummed in acknowledgement while pushing the girl’s hair behind the ear before leaning back in and kissing her crown this time. 

“Maybe you’re mixing it up with excitement,” she concluded and grabbed hold of Y/n’s hand again as the rain calmed down, but their hearts continued to create a storm inside of them, one that held them warm. They both felt warm on the inside with Y/n clinging onto Minji as they walked in rhythm.  

“I think so ‘cause my parents will be there—Oh! You will finally get to meet them,” Minji’s body shook from how Y/n jumped, pulling onto her out of excitement and the older girl widened her eyes at the unexpected words.

“Wait what?” She questioned. “I don’t know if I'm ready for that,” Minji added while slowing down in her steps, but she got pulled right back to walking by her girlfriend who gave her a reassuring smile. 

“You’ve talked to them before.”

“That was before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“You will just add that when you say hi.” Y/n made it sound simple and maybe love was just as simple as that because despite the little nervousness that grew in her stomach; she’d easily do these things for her girlfriend. It all resulted in a feeling of freedom and no worries.

[initialchains]

teenage dirtbag, baby! | luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: there is nothing more exhausting than being known as the picture perfect daughter of aphrodite… luckily, camp half-blood’s resident teenage dirtbag luke castellan can’t relate at all. fake dating him to piss off your siblings and mother could never go wrong, right? (based on 18 by anarbor)

wc: 6.5k

warnings: smoking, mentions of drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, implied sexual content, drew tanaka being a bitch, and kinda ooc luke bcs hes meant to be well … a teenage dirtbag.

a/n: its still valentine’s day for me sooo happy valentines 💌💗 !! in mexico valentine’s day is also known as the day of friendship so this one is dedicated to my favorite people ever: @emiliehornby @love-that-we-were-in and @kestisvrse <3 !! hope you enjoy it mwah !!

The sounds of campers laughing and gossiping in the dining pavilion are drowned out by your siblings and their annoyingly loud whispers about the allegedly cute (you’d beg to differ) son of Ares who joined camp less than twelve hours ago. Sure, he seemed like a nice guy even though he's a child of the god of war, but you were certain the only reason they kept bringing him up was because they wanted to set you up with him.

“And his arms, oh my gods! Have you seen them?” one of your brothers chimed in, trying to get you to agree with him, but all you could come up with was a hum and a polite smile. 

It pissed you off a bit, the knowledge of you never being able to go against your siblings' wishes.. the fear of disappointing them and your mother being all-consuming and blinding you with fear.

There were times you’d think about it if you’re being honest. Times where you would let yourself dream of doing something so stupidly reckless for once. Something that would stop your siblings from walking all over you and treating you like their personal lapdog. 

Not only was it tiring but it was also humiliating to a certain point. You were older than most of them and you were pretty sure you were the only one that took being a demigod seriously, even taking your time to strategize for Capture The Flag with Clarisse, and yet… you rejected Chiron when he asked you to be a counselor and told him to ask Silena instead. 

And you loved your family—you really did, but it was getting exhausting. Always having to be perfect was draining you and you were afraid of the kind of person you’d become if you allowed this to keep going. 

“He totally wants to ask you out,” Silena’s voice snapped you out of the daze you were trapped in. You turned your head to the right, facing your half-sister with a small frown on your face.

“You really think so?” you replied, trying your best to sound excited. 

“Oh, I know so,” she answered before going on a whole rant about how cute you’d look with the newly claimed son of Ares. A son of Ares—that you badly wanted to remind her—had only been in camp for less than twelve hours and you knew nothing about. 

You stayed in the dining pavilion with your siblings until you found the strength to tell them you were tired and wanted to go to sleep (an incredibly blatant lie but it didn’t look like they cared) and stood up, brushing the dust off your jeans.

“Wait, I’ll go with you!” Silena said with a smile, standing up and moving closer to you. 

“You don’t have to. You can stay with them if you want to, really—“ you were cut off by your half-sister with an exasperated sigh.

“I want to go with you. Plus, I can walk back here once I drop you off at the cabin,” she stated with a playful roll of her eyes.

The two of you walked back to the Aphrodite cabin in a comfortable silence. You liked being with Silena, she was a few years younger than you but she carried herself with so much grace and love it was hard to feel uncomfortable or weird whenever you hung out with her.

You kept your gaze on the sky, noticing that the moon was out by now. “Hey,” Silena whispered, trying to get your attention.

“You okay?” you answered. Your mind was practically hardwired to always look after your siblings, so your brain was unwillingly making you think of the worst-case scenario.

“What? Yeah, I am okay,” Silena was quick to reassure you, “I just wanted to talk to you about—“

“I swear to all the gods, Silena. If this is about that camper..” you replied with a small sigh. The two of you stopped walking when you reached your cabin, deciding to continue the conversation outside.

“He’s not that bad! He is a nice guy and the two of you would look really cute together,” she insisted.

“You don’t even know him.”

“Ugh, fine. Good thing is there are other cute campers we can introduce you to. I met one of Charlie’s brothers a few weeks ago and I think he’d—“

“I can’t do this tonight,” you replied in an exhausted tone.

“Wow, okay. No need to be mean about it,” Silena muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been trying to help you find a boyfriend for months now and you always shut me down. It was fine at first but now you’re just being mean,” she explained.

“Mean? Silena, you said it yourself. I’ve always shut you down because I’m not interested in getting one.”

“Whatever,” she replied bitterly before turning around and walking back to the dining pavilion, leaving you alone outside of your cabin. 

You stared at her back as she walked away, going through the last few minutes over and over in your head. Were you being mean? All you did was stick up for yourself. You didn’t understand why you were feeling bad for standing up against your siblings just for once.

A snort made you realize you weren’t alone. You turned your head towards the noise just to be met with.. oh.

Luke Castellan was leaning against the side of your cabin, carefully hidden under the darkness of the night and the shadows of the trees, he had a cigarette in his right hand and an obnoxious smirk adorning his even more obnoxious face. 

“Hope you enjoyed the show, Castellan.”

Luke raised his hands as if he had been caught and blew the smoke away, “I’m on your side, she was being a fucking bitch.”

“Don’t call her that, she’s just a kid.”

Luke raised a brow before taking another drag of his cigarette, “Do not call your sister a bitch after seeing her.. be a bitch to you?” he shook his head. “Oh, princess, you need to work on getting rid of that altruism.”

“Do you even know what that word means?” you snapped, not being in the mood to indulge in whatever it was he wanted to talk about.

“Why? You want to teach me?” He said with a smirk.

“Don’t even start with your annoying stuff, Castellan,” you muttered, running a hand down your face, clearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. 

“Because you know you won’t want me to stop?” he pressed, but after a moment of silence his smirk fell and a frown took over his features. 

“Uh.. you want to...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, “you want to talk about it or something?” 

You squinted at him before eventually letting out a sigh and walking over to Luke, standing next to him with your back pressed against the wooden walls of your cabin. Luke extended his arm away from you to keep the smoke far from your face. 

“So, um... Silena wants to set me up with that new camper,” you started.

“Fuck. The Ares one?” Luke interrupted.

“Castellan.”

“Right, sorry. Please continue, princess.”

You decided to ignore the insufferable pet name he gave you and continued, “The thing is I do want a boyfriend, just not… him.”

Luke hummed before bringing the cigarette to his lips again and inhaling the smoke in, he kept his mouth closed as he thought of something decent to say before slightly tilting his head away from you and blowing out the smoke upwards. 

“Alright, and have you tried telling her to stop?” he cut himself off and shook his head. “Nope that was shitty advice, have you tried maybe describing your type or whatever it is you Aphrodite people say to describe the people you’re attracted to.” 

“My type?” you replied, almost offended by the statement.

“Yeah?” Luke answered as if it was the most obvious thing to do, “Just describe the type of guys you’re into and I’m sure that cult of yours you like to call siblings will be happy to help…” he trailed off when he noticed your gaze set on his right hand and your bottom lip in between your teeth as he flicked the cigarette, causing the ashes to fall into the ground. 

He looked up from his hand and burst out into laughter, shaking his head before whispering an amused fuck. 

“Oh?” Luke said with a bright smile and raised brows, “You find this attractive, angel?” 

“That thing is going to kill you,” you explained, “I’m not attracted to people that like to slowly kill themselves.” 

“Fucking bummer. I wanted to see you take a drag, that would’ve been really hot,” he said, his smile not wavering. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t drink, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Look at you, being such a good girl,” Luke teased before throwing the rest of his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. 

“Also, that thing you said about Silena being just a kid was really fucking stupid. She’s almost the same age as Annabeth and she doesn’t act like an asshole, I’m pretty sure your sweet little sister is just a bitch.” 

Annabeth. You forgot that even though Luke is an annoyance most of the time and prefers to stick to himself.. he still has a soft spot for the twelve year old daughter of Athena. It was kind of endearing. 

“Annabeth is a daughter of Athena, you can’t expect her to act—“

“You didn’t act like Silena when you were fourteen. You need to stop giving her excuses and allow yourself to get mad at her.” 

“I’d rather have my siblings get mad at me and just stop perceiving me as this perfect and weak person, maybe once that happens they’ll stop trying to mess with my life,” you explained, your gaze set towards the ground. 

Luke was about to open his mouth and try to come up with a funny one-liner to make you feel better, but he didn’t get to because you were quick to look up at him with a gasp and wide eyes.

“The fuck? Are you okay?” 

“I need you.”

“Shit, angel. Most girls say that after a few dates but I’m not against the idea,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. 

“Ew, no. I mean, I need to date you—fake date you.”

“I’m uh... not for sale?” Luke answered, clearly confused by the plan you were trying to explain.

“No, Castellan. Listen to me. My siblings despise you, I’m sure they’d set my bed on fire as a way of cleansing my soul from you if they find out we’re dating.”

Luke’s eyes got bright and his smile widened (if that was even possible), “Set your bed on fire? And what would we do in your bed for them to feel disgusted by its existence?”

“You’re disgusting. Anyway, if we fake date I’ll get to stop being perceived as their perfect sister and you’ll have bragging rights for dating an Aphrodite kid,” you said, moving your hands as you spoke. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” Luke asked carefully, trying to make you think about what was at stake. He didn’t give a shit about staining his already nonexistent reputation, but he couldn’t have you ruin yours. 

“I am so sure, Castellan,” you reassured him. 

“You know, for a good girl I’m extremely surprised you never say please.”

“Please, Castellan. Could you please be my fake boyfriend so I can finally stop being seen as my siblings' personal toy?” you said with a fake smile while bringing your hands together as an exaggerated way of begging Luke to say yes. 

“You’re so cute when you beg. But you need to prove to me you’re serious about this fake dating thing. Meet me tomorrow at the bonfire, no bullshit.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You had been on edge the entire day. Silena seemed to be past the argument, which made you feel better to an extent, but that didn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling that settled in your gut because throughout the day you could feel someone staring at you. You could feel Luke staring at you.  

You were walking past the sword fighting arena with Katie Gardner from the Demeter Cabin the first time it happened. The feeling of a pair of eyes completely set on you. You turned your head to the right just to be met with Luke’s exhausted figure, he was sweating and panting, but that didn’t stop him from running his eyes up and down your figure and smiling at you. 

To say Katie was disgusted would be an understatement. A “Castellan is a dick, you should stay away from him,” was enough to stop you from staring at him and turning your head back to Katie. She went on to explain how Luke was a “real shitty person” and only hooked up with her as a way of getting her to grow weed in the back of the stables. 

It happened around eight times in the last two hours (not that you were counting) and it only got worse when the moon came up and everyone was making their way to the bonfire. You were walking next to Michael Yew when you felt a hand on your lower back. 

Luke’s hand on your lower back, to be exact. He left it there as he walked past you, only turning his head back to say “It’s adorable to see you together, are you two a couple?” 

You had to hold yourself back from strangling him when you heard his irritating laugh after he saw Michael’s reaction to his statement. Michael tried his best to be polite and tell him he was wrong, that there was nothing going on between the two of you. 

But his reply only seemed to fuel Luke’s actions even more because all he did was answer with a cocky “Oh, I know. Our princess here is only into... what was it? People that like to slowly kill themselves with cigarettes?” before walking away.

You were going to kill him.

Michael left your side as soon as you arrived, moving to sit with his siblings from the Apollo Cabin… leaving you with two choices: sitting with your siblings or sitting next to Luke (who for some reason always sat alone and spent the entire time listening to the music coming from the MP3 player he somehow managed to get into camp). 

So this is what Luke meant, you thought. This was the only way you could prove to him and everyone that you were serious about dating him—fake dating him—but it's not like they would ever know the truth.

You dragged your feet as you walked towards Luke, clearly having second thoughts about your plan, but there was no turning back now. You tried to ignore the confused look Drew was giving you and the gasps you could hear coming from your siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” You weren't so sure anymore but that didn’t stop you from taking a seat next to Luke Castellan, who took one of his earphones off and looked at you with a smile. 

“Happy now? I just proved how serious I am about this,” you whispered to him, trying your best to not let anyone hear you.

Luke nodded before saying, “You could’ve done better, but I’ll take it.”

“Done better? I just sat next to you in front of the entire camp, isn’t this good enough for you?” you asked, indignation evident in your tone. 

“Promise not to beat me up?” Luke said before pulling your arm and manhandling your body so you were on top of him, sitting on his lap. He placed his hands on your hips and looked up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Wow, Castellan. How scandalous, I’m sitting on your lap,” you deadpanned. 

He chuckled, bringing you closer to him and pressing his lips against yours. Luke’s hands felt like fire against your skin, all you could feel was a heat taking all over your body as he continued to kiss you, only pulling away to catch his breath before bringing you in for another one, this time he kissed you deeper and faster. 

Luke dragged you closer to him by pressing your hips against his and all you could do was melt into him and the feeling of his lips against yours. In the distance, you could hear gasps and people gagging, and you were pretty sure the campers from the Ares Cabin were cheering and whistling, but all your thoughts were on Luke Castellan and how good of a kisser he is.

You pulled away first this time, trying to steady your breathing as you looked into his eyes. He licked his lips before whispering “We should go.”

Your eyes widened as soon as he said that, the implications of what the sentence meant making you feel nervous. Luke was quick to reassure you, “If we leave, your siblings will be even more outraged. We don’t have to do anything, but they’ll think we are doing…some stuff. Just come to the woods with me for a little while.” 

You nodded and grabbed his hand as he guided you through the woods. You could hear Silena calling out your name and warning you about the consequences of your actions, but her voice was drowned out by the loud cheers coming from Clarisse.

Once the two of you were far enough from the rest of the campers, Luke let go of your hand and sat down by the lake, nodding his head as a way of asking you to join him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes until Luke spoke first. “How long do you think we should keep this thing up?”

“Valentina and Drew will want us to be over by tonight,” you said with a smile, a laugh escaping your lips. You didn’t notice how Luke’s eyes got brighter when he heard your laugh or how the melody that came out of your lips went straight through his heart and made him feel more alive.

“But I think a week should be enough. We can say we’ve been secretly dating for like... five months? That way it won’t be weird if we break up in a week,” you explained while your fingers played with your camp necklace. 

Luke nodded before going silent again, staring at the lake with a look you couldn’t quite comprehend. Your gaze was set on him, your eyes traveling from his toned arms, all the way to the scar that sat right below his right eye. 

“I know it’s awful, I can feel you staring at it,” he murmured. You could physically feel your heart sinking when he said it. You cleared your throat, “No, I… I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re—” Luke turned his head to face you, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “I think you’re really brave, Luke.” 

“Beautiful?” Luke asked, confusion written all over his face. “You should hear what your siblings say about it, then. I’m sure your opinion would change in a second.” 

“Being an Aphrodite kid means you see beauty everywhere,” you explained, “And I think your scar must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Luke stared at you with an unreadable expression, making your heart almost beat out of your chest. 

“Are you flirting with me, angel?”

“Of course, you’d ruin the moment. Screw you, man.” You rolled your eyes. 

Luke threw his head back in a fit of laughter, it made you want to strangle him… again. “Did you just say screw you? Gods, princess, saying fuck won’t kill you.” 

“I don’t like to curse, thank you for pointing it out, Castellan,” you said, playfully shoving him, making him fake a gasp. 

“You went from trying to seduce me to trying to kill me, you’re so interesting, angel,” he said before letting out a sigh. “It, uh… It was really hard at first, getting used to the scar.”

“Having people call it all sorts of names, and looking at me with nothing but pity in their eyes was not easy to get used to. But after some time you just… stop caring. I mean, I’m not that big of an asshole to hold a grudge over a fucking scar, it even looks sick. But yeah, when it gets hard again all I can do is snort a line and move on.

“The coke smuggling was real?” you gasped, only focusing on the last sentence he said. Luke tried to keep a straight face but his facade fell the moment he noticed your wide eyes. Luke Castellan has the type of laugh that makes everything get fuzzy and makes you feel lightheaded, and all you wanted to do was to come up with bad jokes just for the sole reason of hearing him do it again. 

“Fuck, you really believe anything, huh?”

“Shut up, Castellan. I’ll literally stab you and let you slowly bleed to death,” you threatened, standing up from your place next to him. Luke followed you as you walked back to the cabins.

“You do know I’m the best swordsman in the last 300 years, right? Do you even know how to wield a sword?” he asked, matching your pace and walking next to you. 

“Low blow, just because I don’t like to indulge in violence it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to wield a sword,” you retorted. 

Luke snorted a laugh, “You don’t know, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Will you shut up now?”

“I only will if you accept to let me teach you how to fight tomorrow,” Luke said with a tilt to his head. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer because he walked away from you while saying a loud “Meet me tomorrow morning in the sword fighting arena.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You were sure you were seconds away from passing out. It's been around two hours of sparring with Luke and your arms and legs were about to give out. The sun was starting to come out, which meant this torture was nearly over. At least that’s what Luke promised. “We’ll stop as soon as the other campers wake up, that way you won’t have to be embarrassed if they see your… skills.”

The two of you circled each other, your swords were raised and Luke’s blade was pointing straight at you. Luke took a second to study your stance before lunging forward, his sword meeting yours as you quickly blocked his attack. “Not too bad, huh?” Luke teased before trying to get another hit, his moves becoming more calculated the longer you kept blocking his advances. Proving he wasn’t called the best swordsman at camp for nothing. 

With a disarming maneuver you weren’t aware of, Luke was quick to throw your sword to the ground and have you stumbling back, not being able to regain your footing. Luke gave you a smirk when your body hit the ground with a small thud, “That was easy,” he said, “We should do this more often.” 

“Nope, this is a one-time thing, Castellan,” Luke rolled his eyes before bringing the blade of his sword closer to you, reaching for your chin with a glint in his eyes. The blade met your chin and Luke lifted it, making you meet his gaze as he slowly made you stand up by raising his sword even higher. 

The two of you stood still, staring intently into each other’s eyes until you heard it—the sound of the Ares Cabin making their way to the arena. Luke let out a surprised shit, dropped his sword to the ground, and walked closer to you, cupping your jaw with his right hand and kissing you. 

Your lips met in a hurried collision, causing the same fire from yesterday to set in your stomach. Your hands moved to Luke’s hair, softly pulling it as the kiss got heated. You knew this was fake, you knew this kiss meant nothing to him… but you didn’t want him to stop. “Holy fuck, are you two always sucking each other’s faces?” Clarisse’s voice cut through the moment, causing you to pull away from Luke, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, that’s what being in a relationship entails. I don’t think you’d know much about it, La Rue,” Luke breathes out.

“Don’t you have weed to sell or a cheap bottle of vodka to down, Castellan?” 

“Aw, you know me so well,” Luke answered before picking up both of your swords and grabbing your hand, walking away from the arena. 

The following days were (and you hated to admit it) filled with the most fun you’ve ever had. Luke would come up with some insane idea for a fake date and it would always end with one of you lying about seeing a camper or hearing Silena’s voice as an excuse to make out with each other. 

There was this one time the two of you were having a picnic by the strawberry fields and the day ended with the two of you hiding in the empty forge while making out, running your hands over each other’s bodies, and doing the normal stuff fake couples always do… it all happened because Luke swore he heard Valentina’s voice near the fields. (You were sure Valentina had been on the stables that entire day because she had cleaning duty, but why wouldn’t you play along with something you also wanted to do?)  

It was Sunday–the last day of your fake relationship–when Silena finally found the guts to talk to you about Luke. You even felt slightly bad for the girl because she was so nervous when she sat next to you in the dining pavilion. 

“I..um... I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she began, “Well, there are lots of things for me to apologize for, but I think it’s pretty obvious what the main problem is.” 

“The way I’ve been treating you is not okay and I’m really ashamed of it. You shouldn’t have to feel pressured to be the person we want you to be, I used to see you as someone who couldn’t do things on her own and always needed someone to push her and help her handle everything… and now I see I was wrong,” Silena explained, running a hand through her hair. 

“It’s fine, Silena. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. You’re strong and more than capable of doing things on your own, and you don’t need me to try and help you or fix you.” She took a deep breath. “I didn't know you were dating Luke, and to be honest I didn’t even know he was your type. He is so… weird and I never would’ve guessed you were dating. I mean, Drew told me he does cocaine and—”

“He doesn’t,” you interrupted.

Silena raised a brow before continuing, “Anyway, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad for just... existing. And you always look so happy after hanging out with Luke, I truly hope the two of you stay together for a long time.” 

You didn’t even know how to explain the situation so you just blurted out “I broke up with him.” 

Silena looked shocked for a few seconds before letting out a deep breath, “Oh, thank the gods. Just because we trust you it doesn’t mean we trust him,” she spat the him with so much disgust it made you feel sick. “You deserve so much better.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

This is probably the first time you have ever felt ill at the thought of seeing Luke. Sure, you used to be annoyed by his presence before the whole fake dating situation even started, but at least you were a strange type of friends back then. Not really close but also not complete strangers. There were times you’d catch him hiding his secret stash of weed behind the stables and didn’t tell anyone, and he’d always pay you back by lying to Chiron about you practicing your sword skills with him. (You had only used a sword once and it was years ago when you were still a new camper, you had no idea why Chiron would ever believe him.)

Luke was sitting in his usual spot by the lake, a cigarette in his hand. It had become a tradition for the two of you to always meet up by the lake before curfew to talk about your day and practice your kissing so it wouldn’t look fake. 

“Hey,” you said, taking a seat next to him. Luke threw his cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and almost instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your temple. “Blink-182?” you asked, nodding at the MP3 he had on his lap. 

“The Smashing Pumpkins,” Luke answered, taking his earphones off. “Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness is one of the best albums ever made.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it,” you said. Luke smiled and poked your side. 

“So, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” you began, but Luke held up his hand as a way to get you to stop.

“Can I say something first?” he asked, looking shy for probably the first time since the day you met him. 

You nodded and let him take the lead of the conversation. “Alright, so… I’m kind of shit with words so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but this past week has probably been the best week of my life. And I’m not even fucking around, I don’t have many friends–apart from Annabeth, and getting to be with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Being your friend is the greatest gift the gods have ever given me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve it. I’m a mess of a person, and you’re well… you’re you,” Luke stared deeply into your eyes, “And I just wanted to let you know that—”

Luke didn’t get to finish his sentence because this time it was you who cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the cigarette on his lips as he brought you closer to him, running a hand down your back and deepening the kiss before pulling away and moving to kiss your neck. 

Luke began to trail kisses down your throat and only stopped to whisper a low “Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.”

Aphrodite.

You pushed him away the moment you remembered your mother. “Silena apologized. We can stop pretending now.”

Luke was silent and just stared at you, his fingers moving to fidget with the wire of his earphones. “Oh, right,” he cleared his throat. “It’s Sunday, I forgot.”

You knew he didn’t.

“Yup, so we can go back to normal now,” you said, looking away from his eyes because you knew it would only take one look into them for you to kiss him again.

“Good,” Luke stood up, not daring to even shoot you a glance, and walked away. Leaving you alone by the lake with the lingering smell of his cheap stolen cologne mixed with the cigarette he was smoking. 

It didn’t help that you were welcomed into your cabin with hugs and your siblings congratulating you for breaking up with the son of Hermes. Sure, you weren’t the perfect sister anymore because you dated Luke Friendless-Freak Castellan, but knowing they liked you just because you were with him and then broke his heart made you want to set the cabin on fire. 

The main rule of the Aphrodite Cabin was something your siblings were extremely proud of, but the thought of its existence made you want to storm into Mount Olympus by yourself and yell at your mother for putting all these useless ideas into their heads. 

For a child of Aphrodite to prove themselves, they must make someone fall in love with them and then break that someone's heart. 

Is it possible for the rule to backfire? For the child of Aphrodite to accidentally fall in love with someone and then break their own heart because of it? You didn’t even know if that was an option, but you were sure that’s exactly what you were going through right now. 

It was hard for you to go to sleep that night because your mind kept replaying the past week on a loop. Your conversation with Luke by your cabin. The night of the bonfire. The conversation by the lake about his scar. Sparring with him. Going on a million fake dates. The night on the forge. Your last conversation with him. 

“Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You could feel Luke staring at you. Again. 

You were helping Annabeth strategize for Capture The Flag, because she had the brilliant idea to have the Athena cabin team up with Hermes and Aphrodite. You didn’t know much about fighting and spent most of the time sitting with your sisters during the game, but that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy helping them come up with new plans. 

Once the three of you were done, Annabeth excused herself with an awkward “I think Malcolm wanted me to help him go through some maps. You two have fun… chatting!” and left as fast as she could, leaving you alone with Luke. 

You watched her leave the amphitheater and turned around to face Luke, “I can see why you like her. She’s so much like you.”

“Yeah, she’s like my little sister.”

The silence was so uncomfortable you almost broke down crying. You nodded and turned around, not being strong enough to face him, and walked away. You could hear him behind you, following you.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded.

You were about to open your mouth when Drew’s voice made you turn your head. “Gods, Castellan. It’s so embarrassing to still be hung up on your ex.” 

Luke sighed, “Hello to you too, Tanaka.” 

“Can you leave her alone? She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Drew said through a fake smile. 

“Oh, really? Did she tell you that?” Luke answered, tilting his head as he spoke and making eye contact with you. Wordlessly begging you to please talk to him. 

You stayed silent and looked away from him. Luke let out an incredulous laugh before nodding his head. “Good to know you’re back to being their little pet.” 

Drew rolled her eyes and walked away, shoving Luke as she walked past him. “So? You’re just not going to say anything?” Luke said. 

“What do you want me to say, Castellan?” 

“Tell me that last week didn’t mean anything to you,” Luke answered, his voice trembling. 

“Why do you care? I thought I was nothing but Drew’s little pet,” you replied, trying your best to not look weak in front of him.

Luke ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to you, “I’m sure you’re thinking the exact same thing about yourself.” 

You hated that he was right.

The truth made your blood boil. “I don’t want any of your shit,” Luke let out a genuine laugh this time, a mocking look in his eyes. “Oh, so now she can curse?” 

You hated him for seeing the real you. You hated him for knowing the truth. You hated yourself for loving him.

“Fuck you, Castellan,” Luke hummed before stepping even closer to you and placing a hand on your waist, leaning to whisper in your ear. “I’m sure you’d love to do that again, right?” Luke’s smell was taking all over your senses and making your knees go weak. He continued, “Because even if we do it in the darkness of the Forge… it is still two friends fake dating because your mother might be watching.” 

You found the strength to press your hands against his chest and push him away, “Don’t talk to me ever again.” 

You spent the rest of the day with your siblings and friends, too afraid to leave their side because you didn’t trust yourself. Because you knew that if you were left alone for a second—you’d run straight to him. 

You sat next to Silena in the dining pavilion. Helped Katie and the Dyonisus cabin grow more strawberries by keeping them company. Walked with Michael to the bonfire, and stayed with Drew throughout the entire singalong. 

As always, Luke was sitting by himself, his MP3 player in his hand and his eyes were set on you. 

You walked back to your cabin when the singalong was over and helped your siblings get ready for bed. You were about to go to sleep when Valentina whispered your name, saying she had something for you.

“We found it last night under your bed, Drew wanted to give it to the harpies but I managed to take it away from her,” a frown made its way to your face.”What do you mean?”

“We found this,” She pulled out a badly wrapped gift from under her pillows. You were confused until she told you to open it.

 It was a bright pink MP3 player. 

“Oh,” you whispered, your hands shook as you stared at it. “I’ve got to—”

“It’s okay,” Valentina whispered. “He’s probably by the lake.”

You gave your half-sister a hug before running out of your cabin, and making your way to the lake. You could see Luke’s silhouette in the distance, and the sight only made you run faster.

You took a moment to catch your breath before saying, “The Smashing Pumpkins?”

Luke turned around at the sound of your voice. “Blink-182” he answered with a small smirk.

“Uh, of course,” you said as you walked closer to him. “Alright, listen. You were right.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you continued with a smile. “So, it turns out I may or may not be in love with this certain guy, and he may or may not be my type or whatever it is my siblings say.”

Luke took a step closer to you. “There’s a chance this guy thinks I’m going through a phase and only fake dated him to piss off my siblings and mother but the truth is… I don’t even care about them whenever I’m with him.” 

His hand moved to caress your cheek, “That’s cute and all but how does this guy know you truly mean that?” 

“I’m not going to make out with him at the bonfire, so I guess all he needs to do is believe me,” you whispered, your eyes moving from Luke’s eyes to his lips.

Luke smiled before answering, “Believe you? That’s alright with me,” and pressing his lips to yours.

Luke was right. Aphrodite would be proud. 

[incidentallysunny]

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

-

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[ellecdc]

I don’t know their ship name! Do they have a ship name? Anywayyy, I was thinking long and hard about this, I want it to be 🤌🏻

So I was thinking, Remus x James x reader, possibly hyper Jamie and reader, and Remus is chasing after them

or maybe the most beautiful hurt/comfort (because who wants straight angst?) where James is upset because he feels like he’s too much sometimes (even though he’s my perfect baby Angel) and it’s just reader and Remus comforting him

(Fem!reader if that’s ok) (also reader should have a cat named Birdie, is it because I want Birdie content? Yes. Do I live laugh love Birdie? Also yes.)

kisses 😘

okay, I love you, thank you for this request. New rule: NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HURT OUR SWEET SWEET JAMIES FEELINGS EVER AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭 also I couldn't figure out how to incorporate Birdie but I have another request about a reader with a cat so you'll be able to see her there ;)

poly!moonchaser x fem!reader who is in Slytherin

CW: James cries and it's horrible and Marlene should be sent to Azkaban for this.

James was feeling pretty good about Gryffindor’s odds this year for the House Cup. He’d been working his team a little harder than usual, but he was certain the extra effort would pay off this weekend in their game against Ravenclaw. He wasn’t on the quidditch pitch to make friends; he was there to win.

Off the pitch, however?

Off the pitch he loved his friends.

Which was why he’d told everyone to hit the showers whilst he cleaned up the pitch for Madame Hooch.

After James had stored the last of the brooms and quidditch balls in the equipment locker, he began to head past the Beasts classroom for the castle.

He saw Marlene leaning against one of the posts of the building, and James began making his way over to catch up with her but thought better of it once he saw Dorcas Meadows sitting on a table in front of her. He smiled to himself at the thought of his friend’s happiness and took the path on the opposite side of the building in order to give them some privacy.

“Potter’s not working you lot too hard, is he? You’re actually making Slytherin sweat this year.” Dorcas taunted, earning her a chuckle from her girlfriend.

“Ha ha.” Marlene deadpanned before she let out a sigh. “He’s working us like dogs. I know he loves quidditch, but Godric.”

James knew he was pretty competitive, but he had a job to do as the coach, and like Dorcas said – it was paying off.

“He can be a lot.” Dorcas assuaged.

Marlene scoffed dramatically. “Sirius is a lot; James is too much. Honestly, I don’t know how Remus and Y/N keep up with him; he’s exhausting.”

James’ ears filled with cotton as his steps faltered and his heart sunk.

Is this really how his friends thought of him; was he exhausting? Too much?

James knew he could be a lot sometimes; a lot of energy, a lot of fun, a lot of love, a lot of mischief, a lot of noise...

But was he too much?

He loved you and Remus more than anything; he never knew it was possible to love two people so much.

Remus: the moon to his sun, his safe space, his level head, the cool side of his pillow.

And you: his sweet girl, his biggest supporter, his confidante, the quiet in the chaos.

And what was he, then? What was James?

He was loud, he was chaos, he was constant.

Maybe he was too much...

He’d spent five years with his sights set in the wrong direction before he realized he had everything he could ever want in the two of you, and by some fucking miracle, he’d managed to snag the two most wonderful people in all of Hogwarts, perhaps all of the UK; nay, the world.

Was he losing the two of you? Was he slowly pushing you guys away? Exhausting you? Were you two going to grow tired of James?

He couldn’t lose you guys; he couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

You and Remus had been sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall when Sirius came back from practice.

“Where’s Prongs?” Remus asked quickly, earning him a scowl from his long-haired friend.

“Gee, hello to you too, Moony.”

Remus’ sigh was accompanied by an eyeroll as he corrected himself. “Hello, Sirius. How was practice? Where’s our boyfriend?”

Sirius adorned a cheeky smile as he began loading up his plate. “Hi Remus, Y/N. Lovely evening we’re having. Practice went well; James is working us hard, but I think the extra work is paying off. We’re shoo-ins for the House Cup this year and-”

“Sirius!”

“Circe’s tits, Moons, is it almost your time of your month?”

He was answered with a dinner roll being thrown at his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grumbled. “Prongs is tidying up the field, told us all to hit the showers and head to dinner.”

“Black, you’re a dog.” You grumbled, earning you a boisterous laugh from the dog-like-man himself.

“You have no idea dollface.”

You groaned. “I can’t believe you left our poor, sweet boy cleaning up after you tossers out there all by himself. It’s getting dark.” You whined, looking to the windows.

“He’s far too nice to you lot.” Remus agreed, starting a plate for James pre-emptively.

You liked that about Remus. You loved that about Remus; predicting his loved ones needs, always one step ahead the rest of you.

You perked up when you saw the familiar head of hair make his way into the Great Hall, but had an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach when you noticed his demeanour.

“Hey bubs.” Remus greeted, seemingly unawares of James’ dour mood. James smiled kindly at Remus, but you noticed the smile never reached his eyes.

You hated it.

“How was practice?” You asked quickly, earning you a scoff from Sirius.

“What? Don’t trust my word for it?”

“Sod off, Black.”

James itched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact. “It, erm, it went well, I think. It went well, right Pads?”

Sirius looked inquisitively at his friend but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah mate, I think we’re definitely going to see a difference with the extra drills. Fenwick and I were just talking about it.”

“Fenwick? What’d he say? He thought the practice went well?” James asked eagerly.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a bemused glance as you watched James; he seemed to notice the silent conversation going on between his friend and his boyfriend and curled in on himself.

“Sorry.” He muttered quietly, poking at his plate with his fork.

“No worries Prongs. Fenwick said he was tired, but the good kind. He’s looking forward to the match this weekend.” Sirius said carefully. James hummed but that was the extent of the conversation.

“Everything okay, James?” Remus asked cautiously as Marlene and Dorcas sat a few seats down. James lifted his head and nodded quickly, offering a quiet “yeah.”

“What’s the matter?” You asked quietly, causing James’ eyebrows to furrow.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m not that hungry actually, I think I’m going to head upstairs.”

He didn’t give you any time to argue as he stood from his full plate and left the Great Hall.

You went to stand to go after him, but Remus grabbed your sleeve.

“You should eat, dove. No sense in both of you going without.”

“But-”

“We’ll bring him his plate in a little; let him take a minute to himself.” He offered, and though Remus sounded awfully reasonable, you didn’t like the idea one bit.

In the perhaps 45 minutes you and Remus spent in the Great Hall, James had already done his bedtime routine and had the curtains to his fourposter bed drawn shut with what sounded like a silencing charm cast around it.

You let out a sigh and moved towards Remus’ bed.

“It’s probably just an off day, dovey. He rarely has them; we can grant him this one, can’t we?” Remus lamented.

It didn’t feel like an off day, though. Not to you.

He’d been just fine when you bid him farewell before practice; he’d been talking your ear off about all the new drills he prepared and the extra practices he booked. He’d been your enthusiastic, sunny boy just a mere few hours ago, and now he was...well...this.

Had you done something? Had you not been enthusiastic enough about his stories? Had you said something to offend him? Maybe he didn’t want you here; maybe he wanted to spend tonight with Remus – he’s known him longer, maybe he’d be talking to Remus if you weren’t here right now.

“I can hear your brain in overdrive, dove. What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“Maybe I should go to my own dorm tonight?” You asked shyly, earning you an unimpressed look from Remus as he pulled his sleep shirt over his head.

“Fat chance I’m sending you down to the dungeons. I’ve already lost one cuddle partner.” His lip jut out comically at the end of the sentence and you felt some of the tension leave your body.

“Okay, big baby.” You acquiesced with faux resentment, laying back on Remus’ bed and welcoming him into your embrace.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow, yeah?” Remus said into your neck. “He’ll feel better in the morning.”

Except James did not feel better in the morning and now you were spiralling.

He’d woken up early to go for his run but didn’t ask if you wanted to join him (he usually woke you up as he extricated himself from the bed and would always ask if you felt like joining him. You’ve never said yes, but he always asked you anyway).

He changed quietly and sat at the desk to do some schoolwork. You woke up and pressed a kiss to his cheek on your way to the washroom, which earned you little more than half a smile and a quiet “morning”.

You couldn’t take it anymore; the nerves were eating you alive, and they were only made worse when Remus woke up and James was just as cold with him.

“Jamie, have I done something?” You blurted, causing both boys to look at you in horror.

“What?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done or said something to offend you. I know I can be harsh sometimes and I know that I’m not often as kind as the two of you; certainly not as nice as you, Jamie. But I often think you guys have worn off on me a bit and I’m a little less Slytherin-y and-”

But Remus cut you off as you started to ramble. “Whoa, dove. Take a breath, yeah? You’re alright.” He said gently, placing his hand on your shoulder and gently rubbing his thumb along your collar bone.

“I’m really sorry, Jamie.” You said again, feeling your eyes well with tears.

James' eyes mirrored yours as he looked at you in horror. “No, angel. No! You’re perfect, I swear!” He said, tears finally betraying his inner turmoil.

“What has you so upset then, Jamie?” Remus asked gently, which caused whatever dam James had set up behind his eyes to fully burst.

“It’s not you guys, honest!” He cried miserably.

You felt all the blood drain from your face at the sight; you’d never seen James this upset before.

“Oh, Jamie.” Remus cooed in an exhale moving towards him, obviously just as distressed at James’ upset as you were. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been exhausting you lately. I don’t mean to be too much.” James whimpered between sobs. Your hands twitched as you stood uselessly, staring at Remus cradling James’ broad frame and gently rocking him back-and-forth, rubbing broad strokes up and down his back.

“Why...why would you say that, Jamie? I’ve never found you exhausting. ‘Too much’?” You asked incredulously, feeling sort of nauseous at the insinuation that you could ever grow tired of the effervescence that was James Potter. 

“I overheard people talking about me.” He admitted shyly from the crook of Remus’ neck. Remus’ movements stuttered before he quickly resumed his ministrations.

“Who?” You said simply, hands balling into fists at your sides. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” You argued.

“Easy, dove.” Remus placated, pressing a gentle kiss into James’ hair. “I don’t need to know who it was, because they are so far off from the truth.”

“Can’t be too far off, I’ve known her my whole life.” James muttered.

“McKinnon?” You asked with a scoff. You were answered by James’ silence.

“Jamie.” You said sternly, stepping towards your boyfriends and causing James to look up at you. “You have been nothing but pure joy since the moment I met you, and any moment I get to spend by your side is an absolute honour; do you understand me?”

James sighed and tried to turn back into Remus’ shoulder, but you gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

“I love you so unbelievably much, I worry about my sanity sometimes. One of the best things about me is getting to love you, and having convinced you to love me back. Okay?”

“Okay.” He whispered back, offering you a soft smile.

“Yeah?”

James chuckled sadly and took your hand in his. “I love you, Y/N.”

“That makes me the luckiest girl in the world.” You promised him.

Remus continued rubbing James’ back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you got into uniform. 

“You okay, Rem? I’ll catch up with you guys later?” You asked him quietly. Remus nodded at you and accepted a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pressed a kiss to the top of James' head, reminding him again that you love him and you’d see him later before heading out in search of the person on your radar. 

Sirius had gotten up today to find James already gone on his morning run and you and Moony still asleep in bed, so he decided to take the initiative and organise the supplies for the Marauder’s next prank.

“Oi, Black.” Sirius heard, causing him to pause in his steps down the corridor. 

“Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were in nappies; I’m pretty sure we were engaged to be wed at one point. I think you can go ahead and call me Sirius.”

Your eyebrows furrowed almost comically as you looked him up and down once, seemingly almost disgusted at the thought of calling him by his given name.

“Right, I will not be doing that. Listen, you’re friends with McKinnon, yeah?” You redirected, falling into step with him as he carried on towards the potions supply closet. 

“Marlene? Yeah.”

“‘Kay, deal with her then, because it won’t be pretty if I have to.” You said darkly, causing Sirius to pause again and grab you by your elbow.

“Whoa there; what are you on about?”

You turned towards him with darkened eyes, quite possibly the most like your parents he’d ever seen you. “She upset James.” You said simply. 

Sirius scoffed. “Please. James doesn’t get upset. She probably just cheered for his rival team at the World Cup or something.”

“Black. My sweet, lovely, wonderful boyfriend is upstairs crying right now because he was told he was too much and exhausting.” You said severely, causing Sirius’ heart to stutter. 

His heart picked back up in double time when he noticed your eyes fill with tears.

“And if McKinnon is left to me, it won’t be pretty.” You concluded, sniffing quickly and stuffing your emotions back down deep into your stomach like Sirius knew you’d been raised to do.

“Crying?” Sirius asked breathlessly.

“Sobbing.” You corrected.

Well.

Well, this just wouldn’t do.

Turns out, Sirius was going to get detention for hitting a girl today. 

“Oi! McKinnon!” Sirius called out when he spotted Marlene sat under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds. “Take your earrings out, you and I are fighting.” He called as he got closer, pulling his earrings own out pre-emptively. 

Marlene scoffed. “Have you taken one too many bludgers to the head there, Black?” 

“What’d you say to James?” He carried on.

“Potter?”

“Sod off, McKinnon. What’d you say?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we all left practice yesterday!” She argued.

“Well you said something, seeing as he’s now apologising to his boyfriend and girlfriend for being ‘exhausting’.”

Sirius watched understanding pass over Marlene’s face as she sighed.

“Oh for- …he wasn’t meant to hear.”

“Make it a habit of talking poorly about your friends behind their back?” Sirius accused.

“Take it easy, Sirius… she didn’t mean it.” Dorcas interjected, causing Sirius’ stormy glare to look her way.

“Then why’d she say it, huh Meadows? Are you calling her a liar then?”

“I was just tired and sore after practice yesterday, Sirius…” Marlene mumbled.

But Sirius didn’t care; he didn’t want excuses. He wanted everyone to see the James that he saw:

James, who had so much love to give.

James, who gave everything he did 110%.

James, who took care of everyone around him like his life depended on it.

James, who pushed his team to victory because he knew they were capable.

James, who knew he was pushing his team hard so let them all leave early whilst he cleaned up after them.

James, who brought out the best in everyone around him.

James, who offered him a home when he had nowhere to go.

James, who was everyone's safety, smile, sanctuary.

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much of your life finding flaws in everyone else, Marlene, you’d have a little more time to work on your own. I suggest starting with your poor fucking attitude.” He shot at her, feeling the generations of vile, vicious Black’s creep into his psyche. “Perhaps then you’d manage to be even a quarter as loved as James is.”

“Was that really necessary, Black?” Meadows barked angrily. Sirius scoffed in return.

“No more necessary than what she said about James. No one upsets Prongs like that, you hear me? So tell your girl to watch her fuckin’ mouth.”

And he stormed back up to the castle. 

Remus was understandably distressed.

If having his usual bright, sunny boy so down and turned in on himself wasn’t bad enough, you seemed to be equally if not more distressed on his behalf.

He’d been sort of nervous when you took off this morning, but when Remus saw Marlene in one piece in Charms later in the day, he knew you hadn’t done any (permanent) damage.

James was glued to your and Remus’ sides for the remainder of the day, and you were both more than happy to fawn over him as much as he needed. His mood didn’t seem to improve for your efforts, however.

The three of you were eating dinner with Sirius who was carrying most of the conversation on your behalves, which you and Remus (and likely James) appreciated, when Barty approached the Gryffindor table.

“Hey Y/N, I just had the most brilliant i- whoa, wait, whoa, what the fuck?” He cut himself off, looking to the group in horror.

“What’s up, junior?” You asked calmly, feeling particularly defensive of your boyfriend and keeping an eye on James in your periphery.

“What happened to Potter? What’s going on?” He asked, sounding particularly disturbed causing Remus’ brows to furrow bemusedly. 

No one seemed to have a good answer; Sirius and Remus exchanging confused glances, James lowering his head in shame, and you rolling your eyes at your friend's dramatics.

“Who did this?” He asked then, voice taking on a shrill quality. “Y/N? Did you do this?” He demanded, gesturing to James.

“I did not do this!” You shouted back.

“Okay well this is bad!”

“I know it’s bad!”

“No, this is bad, bad. This is like… this is. I have no words. Y/N, fix it, fix it right now.” Barty insisted, roughly jostling your shoulder as if you were simply standing here negligently as your boyfriend suffered. 

Remus, James, and Sirius all watched in abject fascination and horror.

“Who did this, Potter?” Barty asked quietly, turning his attention to James when he felt he wasn’t getting answers from you. “Give me names; who disturbed the delicate balance of the universe?”

James’ eyebrows were in his hair as he looked between you and Barty.

“Oh gods,” Barty breathed. “It’s worse than I though.”

Barty shoved his hand into his robe pocket and pulled out a lolly. “You like candy, Potter? Here.” He said as he threw the lolly at him without waiting for a response. “I have more, one sec.” 

With that, Barty turned his pocket inside out and piled what had to be almost thirty lollipops in front of James.

“Why do you have so many lollies, Junior?” Sirius asked, reaching over to grab one from the pile which earned him a squeal and a harsh smack on the wrist from Barty.

“None of your sodding business, Black.”

Remus delighted in hearing a slight chuckle under James' breath.

“Why do you have so many lollies?” Remus asked instead, knowing Barty was slightly less volatile with him than with Sirius.

“I was trying to quit smoking. Now I’m just addicted to sugar and cigarettes. Also, Y/N likes them.” He said, producing one from your pocket with a flourish to hand it to you.

“M’lady.” He said with a bow before resuming his piling of more lollies in front of James.

“I think that’s enough lollies, Junior.” Sirius suggested, earning him a scowl.

“The world is fucking topsy-turvey right now, Black! I don’t see you doing anything to correct it! Absolute tosser, thinking I can just go about my day when everything is wrong.” Barty was mostly muttering to himself at this point as he pulled his bookbag over his shoulder and started discarding various things onto the table.

“Why are you all just sitting there? Do something, for the love of Salazar!” He shrieked. “Fix this Y/N! Fix it now; I’m running out of candy!”

And with this, James dissolved into a fit of laughter, causing Barty to pause and whip his head to face him.

Remus wasn’t always Barty’s biggest fan, but he knew that you cared for him and more importantly, he cared for you, and right now Remus could kiss the sod right on the mouth for managing to bring a smile to James' face.

“Is this a fucking joke to you, Potter?” Barty asked incredulously, causing James to laugh harder and even encouraging a laugh from you. Barty’s face softened immediately at the sound and turned to beam at you. 

“There!” He proclaimed then. “All better!”

And with that, Barty headed towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

“You’re welcome everyone! I just corrected a major blip in the universe; but this is the last time I do it for free!”

James began to catch his breath and wipe away tears from under his eyes. 

“See?” You said, reaching across to gently shake James’ wrist. James caught your hand before you could pull it away from him. “Even Barty likes you just the way you are. And he hates Gryffindors.”

James barked another laugh at that and let out a steadying breath. 

“Not as much as we do, though.” Remus pressed, resting his forehead against James’ temple as he pulled him closer into his side. 

“Thank you guys.” James admitted quietly, squeezing your hand that he still held captive over the table.

“There’s nothing to thank us for, bubs.” You insisted, causing Sirius to snort.

“Yeah. These two did fuck all; you should be thanking Junior.” 

You all started laughing again, distributing lollies to the younger students sitting around you.

[darkbluekies]

The track runner reader fic w/Silas got me thinking👀

Hear me out okay..

Ballerina reader x Silas

How would he react to see her practice,her shows

Swan lake, Giselle..

Italian fouettés, Entrechat quatre x3 royale, Developpe A la Seconde etc

Yk the high extensions,leg holds the whole shebang

Just a thot👀

Stolen part

Yandere!mafia x fem!reader

Summary: you've finally been granted to do ballet, but when Silas sees you upset, everything turns into a nightmare

Warnings: yandere, mentions of blood, broken bones, a lot of guilt and confusion, panic attack(?), reader just feeling horrible

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I took some creative liberty with your request, I hope that's okay. And uh, I know 0 about ballet, so take this with a handful of salt<3

One performance — that’s the deal. One single performance and then you’ll go back to normal life. You nearly fainted when he told you that you could do one dance, after months and months of begging, pleading and crying. You almost started threatening him when you became desperate enough. 

“Well … we’re here”, Silas sighs as his men stop the car. “You know the rules, don’t you? Do we have to go through them again?”

“No, I know them”, you smile. 

You take his hand while exiting the car. Silas smiles and squeezes your hand softly. It’s worth all the trouble, he tells himself. If you’re happy, then it’s all worth it.

When you enter the practice room, you’re met by a dozen other girls wearing the same clothes as you. It’s been such a long time ago that you’ve felt so … included. There’s a certain feeling about wearing the same thing that creates a unity you can’t explain. 

“Run along”, Silas tells you, giving you a small push towards the group. 

He walks over to the instructor. He can tell right away that she knows who he is. He braces himself. She can either call the police or let him go. If she decides to call the police, he’ll have to create a blood bath and snatch you back in the car. 

“Can I have a word with you?” Silas asks politely. 

“Sure”, the woman answers hesitantly. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you know very well who I am, so I want to make a deal with you.”

“What type of deal?”

“If you don’t call the cops on me and give my girlfriend an honest chance — because I know that she’s magnificent — I will fund your entire club. All clothes, all expenses, all props, venue, is on me. Fair?”

The woman thinks for a moment. Silas know that the club is underfunded. He knows that she has to agree.

“Okay”, the woman says shortly. 

“Good”, Silas replies and waves at you to come over. 

You skip over with sparkling eyes. He pulls you in to kiss him, in front of everybody. His kisses are always controlled by him, but they always show extremely much love for you, a deep hunger nothing can satisfy. 

“My men will stay to supervise, to make sure nothing happens to you”, he says and gives you another kiss. “Have fun now, little thing. I’ll see you soon.”

You nod. Silas squeezes your shoulder, gives the group of ballerinas a warning stare and then leaves. 

You return to the group. The people who knows who Silas is give you nervous gazes and the ones who don’t look at you with jealousy. 

Well, this is starting off great, you’ll absolutely make many friends.

Time goes on. Silas enjoys seeing the wise smile on your face every time you exit the building after a practice. Every time you’re in practice, he takes the opportunity to do some errands. He always makes sure to come pick you up clean, never covered in blood. 

But one day, you’re crying when you meet him. His heart drops in an instant and he thinks that putting you in ballet was a mistake. It wasn’t worth it at all. 

“What happened, baby?” he asks worriedly and takes you in his arms. “What did they do to you?”

You struggle to talk through your violent sobs. He believes that you’re having a panic attack, but you can still move relatively well. Silas grabs your shoulders and waves at his men to come over. 

“Y/N, what did they do to you?” he asks and looks at his men. “Did any of the others hurt her?”

The men shake their heads. 

“Y/N!” Silas says sharply. 

“I-I didn’t … get … the ... lead role”, you manage to get out through your sobs. 

You know it’s silly, of course. Honestly. It’s childish to cry over not being the main character, but this was your only chance to be on stage before you’ll get pulled back into capture. You’ll never have this much freedom again. It’s embarrassing to cry about this, and you know that very well, but they don’t know how much you’ve suffered to even be in the practice room. 

“You didn’t?” Silas asks shortly. 

“No”, you cry. 

Silas turns to his men and hands you to one of them. 

“Bring her to the car”, he says. “I will be back soon.”

He disappears into the building. The practice room is empty, apart from the constructor who is cleaning up after today's class.

“Oh”, she says, noticing him. “Can I help you?”

“If you're smart, you can”, Silas says coldly. “I heard that Y/N didn't get the lead role. I'm just wondering why?”

“She wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this particular role … I mean, she's extremely good, but just not what I had in mind when I visualized the lead. She's a runner up, though.”

Not good enough, Silas thinks.

“Okay”, he says and nods. “I see.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns around and leaves. Anger is burning through his chest. Seeing you so upset makes him see red. He would burn down the entire world for you to watch you smile. He walks back to the car where you sit in the backseat and the two men in the front. 

“Hey, baby”, he smiles and sits down beside you. “Are you feeling better? Should we get some food on the way home?”

You nod. Silas smiles and wipes your tears. His men are forced to hear how he sucks the air out of you in the backseat. He devours your lips, trying to comfort both you and himself. He holds you in his arms, letting you cry. The more you cry, the more embarrassed you feel. You’re ashamed because you can’t understand why you are so upset over it. It’s just a role, you’ll still be on stage, won’t you? Is it because you think that you’re better than the others? That you deserve the position of the lead? Do you deserve it because you’re so good or because this is your only chance? The others have many more opportunities to get the role you want, why can’t you just get one? You’ll never be seen again, why can’t you get it?

Why are you thinking like this? You’re not entitled to anything. Has Silas imprinted the narrative that you’re so special, so wonderful that deeply into your brain? Do you believe that you’re this special, one of a kind person that deserve everything because you’re so special? 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Silas asks, caressing your cheek. “You look so thoughtful. Let me in.”

“I- … I- …”, you start, but can’t seem to talk — you can’t even formulate your own thoughts.

“Breathe, baby. It’s okay, you’re with me now.”

“I am breathing … I just …”

“Just …?”

You shake your head. 

“Just hungry”, you lie. “And tired.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get some food soon”, Silas promises and kisses your lips once again. “We’ll stop by McDonald’s.”

You get your food and you eat together with Silas in your bedroom, but you can’t stop thinking about the lump in your stomach. Why are you so upset? Why can’t you put words on your feelings? 

You lay awake the entire night in your empty bed (because Silas is out working) and think. Crying over not getting the lead role won’t make you enjoy the last few weeks in the club. Ballet is your true love, you should do everything you can to enjoy it — specifically because you’ll not get it back. You should be happy with your role — you’re even a runner up! That’s fantastic. You breathe out. Ease sets into your heart. It doesn’t matter what role you get, as long as you have fun. 

When you enter the practice room the next time, you can tell that something is wrong right away. The girl who got the lead part … has crutches. You feel a shiver run down your back. Mortified, you shake your head. Silas. He must have done something to give you the lead role, that you so desperately wanted. He never got to know that you became satisfied with your original role. Guilt washes over you, suddenly you feel extremely sick. You need to take a hold on the wall to not fall. One hand presses against your chest to not vomit. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” one of the body guards asks as they hurry over. 

You nod sloppily. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god. This is all my fault. 

This is what you had been feeling bad about — finally you can put words on that weird feeling in your stomach. You were scared that Silas would do something to the girl that got the lead without even noticing it. If anything, that shows how close you know Silas.

“He … he did this … didn’t he?” you whisper, feeling distant. 

“The boss couldn’t stand to watch you be upset”, one of the body guards answers quietly, only for you to hear. “He made sure to get you the role he wanted.”

You’re freezing. That poor girl. Suddenly you don’t want that part anymore. The part is dirty, and your hands are covered in blood. 

Your mind is anywhere but in practice when you dance your stolen part, but your body works for you. 

Silas is standing out in the parking lot a wide smile when you walk out. He opens his arms for you, but you don’t walk into them. 

“Are you happy now?” he asks. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Silas …”, you say quietly and shake your head. 

He tries to grab you, but you jerk back. Silas frowns. 

“But you wanted it”, he says. “You had a panic attack. I gave the part to you.”

“Silas, I feel extremely guilty. I stole her part. It’s not fair.”

He grabs your shoulders and force you to look at him. 

“The world isn’t fair, little thing”, he says. “If you have some power, use it. I want to use my power to make you happy, baby. You’ll do better than that girl ever could. You should have gotten that part from the very beginning.”

He gives you a kiss and brings you to the car. 

When the day for the performance arrive, you refuse to come out of the dressing room. The costume looks horrible on you. You can only see the other girl in the mirror. None of the other girls have talked to you after the lead girl ended up with crutches. They all know why you got the role. And how you got it. 

“We start in five minutes, get out!” the instructor tells you and basically pulls you out on stage. 

You see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. Silas has brought as many of his men as he possibly could. Silas himself is sitting in the front row with his right hand man beside him, smiling at you. You look around. All his men are smiling at you. Weirdly enough, it’s somehow cute. They all look like they could kill anyone in any second, but the second you look their way, big, genuine smiles creeps up on their faces. Turning them from killer machines to teddy bears. 

You dance to the best of your ability. This is what you’ve been begging and pleading for. Better enjoy the spotlight while you can. You can’t help but feeling dirty throughout the performance. Silas, however, has never looked this proud before. 

The second the applauds roll in, you fall to your knees, crying. You fulfilled your childhood dream, but at what cost? A girl broke her leg because of your emotions, you stole her role … you’re covered in dirt that you can’t wash off. You don’t deserve these applauds. You don’t deserve any of this. 

“Y/N!” Silas gasps and runs up on the stage with his right hand man by his side. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I want to go home”, you sob. “Get me out of here.”

Silas nods and waves at his men to walk out. He picks you up and follows his men. 

“You did so well, baby”, Silas smiles while walking. “I’ma always proud of you, but this was something else. Everyone saw how absolutely fantastic you were. You’re an absolute badass, baby. I fucking love you so much.”

You smile slightly. It’s finally over. You’ve achieved your dream — although you wish that you never had done it — and now, you’re going back to your locked bedroom. You almost long for it. 

[heliosundercover]

Batboys and

how they talk about you

Bonus fic as a thank you for allowing my jason fic to do well 💋

Dick Grayson-

, who talks about you like a goddess walking the earth, loves you more than words. The type to talk about you so much that people doubt your real

 

“My girlfriend is so sweet, guys. Today we went to that one library I like. Guys, have I told you even her favorite book is adorable?”

It doesn’t help that he tends to get caught up in certain details, completely ignoring other ones. No one knew your name until a week into dating.

 

Jason: “If you asked me before, I would’ve never believed him; weve all gone a little insane, but now that Ive seen proof, I'm happy for him. He gets to be well-dick, and she gets to smile and nod, but I swear she enjoys it. They’re weird together.”

 

Tim: “We love Dick. A lot, but we were looking at a wonderful facility that has an in-patient gym in the beginning. But the way he looks at her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did miracles.” 

 

Damian: “At least I believed him at the start. He was smitten and absolutely whipped. I thought it was just like Dick. I don’t know why I, of all people, was the only one that caught it.

 

Bruce: Yeah, I knew she was real. Why would I ruin everyone’s fun? I mean, Dick is a bit. Aloof sometimes… I'm not exactly surprised; he’s not exactly amazing socially sometimes, but with her, he’s extra awkward, and I watched him flirt with men and women. But look, as long as he’s happy, we’re happy for him.”

 

Dick is a completely drunken idiot, with so much training thrown out the window. 

(Can you tell I'm not a fan of a playboy dick😞 im sorry i love a good love stuck man)

 

Jason Todd-

, who is extremely protective of his peace, sometimes acts as if you’re fragile. He was the type to invite you to a family game night where he called a family meeting an hour beforehand, forcing everyone to be on their best behavior. Needless to say, it was awkward, but one uno round later, he realized you fit in just fine. 

 

“I knew my girl would win. She's a gangster.”

boast when you absolutely dominate everyone playing in the game. You never quite beat the cheating allegations.

 

Dick: "I don’t know how he did it, but he found someone who brings out a side of him I haven’t seen in years. No one is that good at uno; naturally, at least, I think she’s a meta. I'm not saying that non-metas aren’t good at uno.”

 

Tim: "You know how in movies the girl animals just have lashes, and how the boy is always darker and the girl will be like a lighter color? It's like she was made for him. I'm glad he found his anamorphic girl, Wolf. But, can I be honest? I think Alfred was telling her our cards.”

 

Damian: "I'm glad Jaybird is happy. He’s definitely earned it. Even if she cheats at UNO, they’re perfect for each other. Hell, the cheating is what makes them perfect for each other.”

 

Bruce: "I'm glad to see Jason happy. The sparkling in his eyes, the boyish smile, is the same joy I saw after he hit me with a car iron and ran off, giggling. I like her.”

 

 

Bruce Wayne-

is proud to show you off publicly. He’s not one to spoil someone, but sometimes he can’t help but pick up trinkets for you. Sometimes you’d wake up to keychains, jewelry, or even clothes somewhere in your shared room. 

 

He tried so hard to be there for you and protect you from his line of work. Some nights, he wouldn’t come to bed at all to avoid waking you. Some nights, if you worried too much, he would send Dick out in the Batman costume so he could be by your side. 

 

"Shh, baby, its ok... Tonight, I'm staying with you, okay? I love you; do you know that? And I know sometimes the risk scares you, but I’ll always be here for you.”

 

Dick: "It's nice knowing Bruce isn’t constantly brooding about it. Well, I knew that fact already, but this is different. I only see a light in his eyes when he’s doing stuff he absolutely loves. Like when he talks to his parents tombs and we pretend we don’t see him.”

 

Jason: "i think that man would come back from the dead more dramatically than I did for this woman. And I waged like 3 wars.”

 

Tim: “Sometimes I see them sitting in the library together in silence. All they do is enjoy each other’s presence. Its adorable”

 

Damian: “Dads earned it. And when I say he’s earned it, I mean he’s earned it!”

 

Bruce isn’t the easiest to be with, but he always makes up for it.

[manias-wordcount]

um !! so ive totally been using ur page as my nightly routine teehee and like. sorry in advance if ur requests r clsoed , im new to tumblr so i seriously have no idea how to check😭😭

but i was thinking ;; could you please write a smut for totk link and fem reader ? in whichhh u both hide in a closet together in like the castle or smth.. and to calm u down he like lets u ride him HAJHAH

so embarrassed, but imagining the shakey breaths and sounds of his armour clanking against the wall as he thrusts upwar ds .....

i know im a slut but im only a girl !! i cant help it..!

- r 🍒

Hero's Duty (BOTW Link x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘀𝘀𝘆 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be giving in like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t be  wanting  this. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.  He shouldn’t. 

  But fate is a cruel mistress. And he can’t stand it when you squeeze your thighs together and look at him like he’s the only thing you’ll ever need.  He can’t stand it.

  Still, He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. Disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified.  Honorable.  He’s supposed to be  all those things.  And he is! He swears, deep down inside he is. He knows he is.  Everyone  knows he is. He’s been congratulated by the king directly before. Called upon by him to take up arms and join the fight. And He serves Princess. He serves the people. He serves the kingdom. Hell, he’s even wearing some of his royal armor right now. He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. He’s supposed to be  protecting you  right now.

  Not lifting up your dress and gripping your hips as he bounces your needy little hole down onto his cock over and over and over and over again. 

  It’s not what he should be doing. He has a mission. He has orders. He has a task to complete. Duty to fulfill. People to  protect.  People who  need  him. But your pussy feels so tight and so warm and so  wet  around his cock it’s amazing how he managed to last this long. But now that he started, he knows he can’t stop. He  won’t  stop. Not until he’s finished. Not until you’re  both  finished. 

  “ Ah….um, Link- Ah~”

  However long it takes. 

  “You like that, princess?” He murmurs lowly, blue eyes narrowing in on your face as your eyes cross and your mouth falls open into a lewd expression. You don’t respond- at least, you don’t respond with words to his question. But at this point, he’s not even sure if you would have been able to hear him over the sounds of your cute little whimpers and moans as he thursts his hips into you. Or maybe it’s the dirty sounds of your  soaking  wet little cunt taking in every single inch of his dick that keeps you from hearing the sound of your lover’s voice. He doesn’t know for certain, but the selfish,  selfish  part of him likes to think it’s a combination of the two. And the rational part of him? “You’re taking me so well pretty girl.  So well. ”

  The rational part of him  knows  it’s a little bit of both. Plus the fact that you always manage to get a little dick drunk when someone fucks you good and proper. And luckily for you, Link’s happy to play knight in shining armor to his needy little princess and her  perfectly tight little holes -

  Fuck,  you bring out the worst in him. But you know that don’t you? He swears it. He swears you do. He swears you  have to .  Goddesses,  he doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing right now. He knows it was supposed to be something important. Something only he could do. But then you started getting anxious. After every battle, after every fight- you still manage to worry about him. You still manage to fear that your powers and your efforts as his support won’t be good enough. 

  It’s cute how you worry. It’s cute how you care. But he had a job to do. And he needed you in good shape to do it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quell your nerves. Your silent shaking. Your quiet whimpers. And worst of all? Every promise that he’ll protect was starting to fall flat in your ears. Every comforting touch didn’t seem like it worked. Didn’t seem like it was  enough . But he had a job to do. A job that included your safekeeping and your safe return. So he did what any good knight would do. 

  He pulled you into the nearest closet he could find and got you nice and relaxed on his fingers before stuffing you nice and full with his cock. 

  Now your moans bounce off the walls like hymns in a church. Now his name falls off of your lips like deities in a prayer. Now you can be protected. Nurtured. Cared for. All by him. All for you. 

  And maybe there were better ways of taking care of you and your fears. Maybe an orgasm and a good dicking down isn’t exactly what you need in this moment. But your precious little pussy is taking his cock so effortlessly that he’s starting to feel less of a knight and more like a man. A man who can’t help but have wants. A man who can’t help but feel lust. A man who can’t help but need to  fuck  a pretty girl when he’s not supposed to and make excuses about it.

  And he’ll do it again the next chance he gets. He’ll do it all over again. 

  “ Mmm, Link I’m…I’m close…”

  Your whimper is quiet, but within the four walls of this closet, it could be the loudest thing in the world right now. Louder than the loud slap of his pelvis hitting against your skin. Louder than his armor groaning and creaking under all this movement. Louder than the sound of you get exactly what you asked for when you look at your hero to distract you- to  save you - from this moment of fear. 

  “ Oh, yeah baby? You’re getting close? ”

  But that’s the thing… he knows. He knows because you’ve been getting louder. He knows because you’ve been getting  tighter . He knows because every single time his gaze falls back to the spot where your bodies join, and his dick gets swallowed up by your  perfect little cunt  time after time, he feels his own core tightening up in a way he can only assume will leave you nice and full and  messy  until he gets the chance to clean you up later on. He  knows  you’re close. He  knows .

  “ Well, that’s too bad, princess.”  He grinds out, eyes narrowing into slits as his hands tighten his grip on your hips. And  goddesses,  how you whimper. Goddesses, how you  whine . But no matter how many times you beg him and you cry to him he doesn’t change up like he knows you want him to. He doesn’t shift his angle to hit deeper. He doesn’t speed up his thrusts to hit faster. He doesn’t cater to your every whim. He doesn’t listen to your heavenly cries when you beg him to let you reach euphoria with every single breath you take. At least, not this time. At least, not yet. 

  But fuck,  you bring out the worst in him. You bring out the absolute worst in him. You bring out the  man  in him. So it’s only fair. It’s only fair that he takes what’s his. It’s only fair that he calls the shots. That he makes the orders on this battlefield. That he fucks you how he wants to. That he fucks you how he needs to. 

  That he fucks you like he absolutely should.

  Because deep down in his mind, he’s still a knight. He’s still disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified.  Honorable.  He can learn to say no to you. He can learn not to give into your every want. To your every need. He can learn. He can do it. He’s your knight in shining armor. He’s your one and only hero. Your one and only  everything . So he can do it. He can do it. He can. 

  Can’t he?