#even more so giving me a holler over at ao3

[sundogsandrainbows]

STORY SUMMARY: Trust is a delicate flower that needs to get nurtured and time to grow. Even more so love. A tale of two disparate Wardens forced together, of finding a way to overcome the distrust, and their own painful past in the time of the Blight. Very in-depth, character-focused exploration of the Dalish origin/warden, of all DA:O companions, and their relationship dynamics during the Fifth Blight. Follows and expands on canon events; AU in some ways. Multiple POV's, origins, and pairings. Slow burn af.

CHAPTER 52 SUMMARY -- SOUNDS OF YESTERDAY, PART I: In order to find the key for the chest left behind by Cailan in Ostagar, the Wardens and companions make a very reluctant detour to Lothering. Or rather what little is left of it, with it being now a destroyed, corrupted husk of a village.

CHAPTER EXCERPT:

[...] Smoke billows cloyed the firmament, obscuring what little daylight was left. Alistair had the infinite wisdom to take a torch with him, lest he’d stumble blindly through the torn down ruins of this village. What made it hard to breathe and watered his eyes wasn’t just the plumes of smoke from the fires still burning. It was the corruption here, like a leaden cobweb it wrapped itself all around them, stealing all life and oxygen. No wonder the man they’d met had contracted the taint sickness for entering here, for it was absolutely and entirely darkspawn territory now. Dead land, rotten and destroyed to what seemed its core. Unthinkable that it could ever recover from it, not with how thick the stench of death permeated the air.

“Ugh, lovely.” Lenya kicked at a stone in frustration. He illuminated the ground for a closer look at it, which was a baaaad idea in hindsight. Since it wasn’t a stone after all… but a small skull, long since picked clean. Maker, if that wasn’t belonging to an animal then… no. Nope. Nope . Refusal to complete this thought was the best course of action here, and the only valid one. “It is even worse than I expected it to be here.”

“Yeah.” Hard to imagine now that they were walking through this then-intact village almost half a year ago. Fresh-faced and thrown together after the tragedy that was Ostagar and their near death experience, in the search for information and equipment for their larger than life quest. It always had held the air of despair, filled to the brim with refugees as it were, but this here… was a completely disparate world. Theirs , to be exact. And every place would look like this, whole cities turned graveyards, should they fail. So many more people would die, futures and hopes crushed underfoot by incessant floods of darkspawn hordes. It was all the pressure, all the burden now visualized in this forsaken place; of what was at stake and expected of them both –just the two of them– that robbed him of all oxygen. How could he ever— The ground began to spin around him and with the torch still in hand, Alistair stumbled to a house's ruin at the side, to empty out his stomach into the snow-covered, decayed soil in front of it. The torch cluttered to the ground as he doubled over to heave. [...]

[CONTINUE READING] ||[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 14

part 1 | part 13 | ao3

fuckin' finally some FLUFF

Dinner is awkward.

It’s awkward, Steve thinks as he spears a Brussels sprout with more force than strictly necessary, because Dustin promised that it was just going to be the three of them tonight, and now he’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his leather-clad metalhead neighbor.

It went like this: Steve showed up at the Henderson’s front door with a pie plate and a two-liter of Grapico under his arm, looking like a dork on picture day in his best jeans and a nice polo with his hair actually combed for once, and he lifted his hand to knock only to be greeted by Eddie throwing the door open and hollering, “Be right back, Henderson! Gotta grab— oh, shit.” 

And then, more eloquently, “Uh…” 

Uh. Like Steve was the one unexpectedly crashing the party.

Steve stabs another sprout. 

They’ve been bumbling through stilted small talk about work and school and weekend plans for what feels like a painfully long time, and Eddie has his elbows on the table — didn’t even bother to take his jacket off because he was apparently raised in a barn — and it’s basically dinner with Barb’s parents all over again. 

This is finger-lickin’ good.  

God. Get him out of here.

“Okay,” Dustin cuts through the stalled-out silence in the room. He jabs an accusatory fork into the air, pointing between the two of them and narrowing his eyes. “You two are being weird.” 

Eddie startles dumbly, and Steve just says, “Hmm?”

“You.” He aims the fork at Steve. “Are being.” It moves to Eddie; back to Steve. “Weird. What’s going on? I thought you two were getting along now.” 

Steve dabs his mouth with his napkin. Wow. Okay. So they’re doing this now.

Eddie either doesn’t get the memo or just decides to rip it up, because instead of being honest he throws on a theatrical smile and flings an arm around Steve’s shoulders, proclaiming, “Of course we are! C’monnn. Me and this guy?” He reaches up to give Steve a gentle noogie. Steve wonders if you can get a more lenient sentence if the guy you murdered really, really deserved it. “Thick as thieves.” 

Claudia smiles fondly.

Dustin’s not buying it. “You’re so full of shit, you know that?”

“Dusty!” Claudia gasps. She gives him a stern look as she tops off her wine glass, then leans over to do the same for Steve and Eddie’s glasses, too. “Stevie, honey, don’t listen to him,” she soothes. “I think it’s sweet. It’s good to see you with some boyfriends your own age.”

Dustin chokes at her word choice, and Steve blushes to his ears. 

Eddie’s arm tightens around his shoulders. “Yeah, Stevie,” he smirks, leaning in a little closer. “We’re great boyfriends, aren’t we?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dustin joins in, “best boyfriends I’ve ever seen.” 

Surely murder’s just murder, right? Like, from a sentencing perspective? Does it matter how many people you off, or do you just get thirty-to-life regardless?

“Steve, tell mom more about your boyfriend.”

Steve chugs his glass of wine.

—

The conversation turns to less embarrassing topics after that, the words flowing more easily now that everyone’s warmed up with wine and making fun of Steve. Claudia asks what everyone’s doing for Halloween, and Dustin tells her that Eddie and Steve are taking the boys trick-or-treating in the neighborhood with the good candy bars (which was news to Steve, goddammit), and that leads to a discussion of costume plans. 

Dustin and Mike are going as a pair again, Marty and Doc from Back to the Future. Lucas is doing his own thing, but he's "totally delusional if he thinks a costume is gonna win Max back." Steve doesn’t really have a costume this year, so he’ll probably just pull some sweats out of the closet, throw a whistle around his neck and go as a basketball coach, and Eddie, surprisingly, has the lowest effort costume of them all. 

“Oh, I’m going as a vampire,” he says when Claudia asks. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out some cheap plastic teeth and pops them into his mouth. “Ta-daaa.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “You just carry those around?” 

“Isn’t it awesome?” Dustin asks.

“Not really, no. It’s not.” 

“But S’theeeve,” Eddie lisps around the fangs. The wine’s made him weirder, playful and too-friendly and berry pink in the cheeks. He holds his sleeve in front of his face like a vampire hiding behind a cape and drawls, “I vant to s’thuck your bloood.”

Steve vants to jump out the window. “I’m gonna go serve the pie.” 

—

part 15

tags below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow 🩷

@acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @burymestanding @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cr0w-culture @cuips-not-cute @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @heartsong18 @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @ppunkpuppyy @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @steddieas-shegoes @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @teatimeeverybody @thealwithnoname @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve

[acapelladitty]

take a drink from an empty cup

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: Pursued by the infamous ghoul who is hunting you across the wastelands, you find that he has a very creative plan in place to punish you for your continued disobedience. (3.1k words).

(warnings for: cnc play, forced deepthroat, orgasm control, rope restriants, physical violence, oral sex, blood, threats of violence, unprotected sex, fingering, mild aftercare, dark humour, subspace, predator/prey)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Rapid feet kicking up soft plumes of red dirt as they pound across the dusty ground, the heat of the sun on your exposed skin bears down like a sheepskin blanket - your slickened skin feeling hot and uncomfortable despite the chill of anxiety which powers your frantic movements.

Panting as you duck behind the corner of a building, your ears strain for any sound, any whisper of your attackers whereabouts. Wearing only a tattered shirt and light-coloured panties, you're too consumed by fear to have any shame about your state of undress.

A low whistle forces your spine to straighten, eyes peeking around the corner as you watch him appear from the depths of a side street.

"Running ain't gonna save you, sweetie. Best give up before you really piss me off."

The Ghoul.

Cooper Howard.

The man hunting you with the casualness of a cat preying on an injured bird, certain of the victory to come.

You could hear it in his voice, in the way that his low tones carry with ease across the abandoned town as they swept across you with the breeze.

"If you're unlucky enough, you might catch the attention of the gang in the next town over. I hear they use their finds to entertain the dogs or sometimes the odd deathclaw if it's behaved well enough." Cooper paused, his head visibly scanning the ground as he sought out your messy tracks. "Hell, might even do that myself if you keep playin' so hard to get."

His footfalls are steady as they approach the corner you're hiding behind, the polar opposite of your own trembling limbs, and a surge of strength forces you to push off from your hiding spot and make a break for it. You don't dare turn around and look at him but you hear his speed increase as he zeroes in on his hunted prey.

He's faster, he always is, and his hands lock around your shoulders as the solid heat of him pulls you flush to his chest.

"Caught you, sweetheart. Now let's see about taking what's mine."

Body thrashing as the hard bulge of his cock presses against the lower end of your back, a feral howl - half fear and half rage - claws free of your throat and you slam your elbow back. It connects with his groin, and his hands drop from your shoulders like they had burned him as his face twists into a violent scowl.

"Motherfucker!" Cupping his cock through his slacks with a tender motion, you take the momentay distraction to run once more and refuse to look back at him as he recovers and continues to hollers his threats after you. "You'll pay for that, darling. Eye for an eye and I take mine with teeth."

You run on adrenaline, the frayed shirt whipping around your upper thighs with every quick turn as you seek out an escape route. Eyeing up a set of wooden stairs which lead to the upper level of a nearby building, you bolt for them with a sudden swing of your hips.

You don't feel the rope of the lasso closing around your foot until it's too late.

One moment, you're running, and the next you find yourself slamming into the wooden boards with a pained yelp - your knees and tits catching on the edge of the stairs as your mouth glances off the banister, bursting your lower lip in a sharp flash of pain as the taste of copper immediately fills your mouth.

Stunned as hell, you can't even catch a breath as you flip to your back, staring up at the unforgiving sun.

Cooper, his hand coiled around the other end of the rope, is just as unforgiving and he tugs the length with a vicious heave - the pressure enough to snatch you closer and pull you down a few stairs. The strong wood clatters against the back of your head with a horrid intensity, the bump of two stairs causing stars to flash in your vision as they leave a dull ache in their wake.

He's on you like a pack of wild dogs, his body dropping atop your own to pin you to the stairs by the sheer weight of him. Bruised and battered, you can't muster the strength to fight him off and instead the pathetic writhe of your body only seems to excite him more as his face swims before your own.

"Seems to me like you owe me an apology, little lady. Now," Cooper pauses and his hand wraps around your chin to force you to meet his eye, "I could be a bad man and treat you nasty, beating that lovely hide til it bleeds and glows even redder than mine, but that's not what's gonna happen here."

Whimpering, his knee drops to press roughly against your lower stomach, emphasising just how utterly trapped you were as his smug, leathered face blocks the sun from your gaze.

"Where I'm from, we kiss and make up, and since it wasn't my mouth you chose to smack up, I think you'll be better suited putting those pretty lips elsewhere."

"N-no." You stutter out, a low whine increasing in pitch as his other hand pulls at your hair, his grip igniting fire in your scalp. "Please, no."

His hand scores across your face, the blow not enough to cause any real pain outside of disturbing your busted lip, but definitely enough to put an end to your refusals as you gaze up at him with watery eyes.

"Bite and I'll take those teeth, mind." Cooper warns, his brow furrowing in warning as the hole of his nose flares. "One by one. I'm sure you've taken ghoul cock before, sweetheart. What's one more, huh?"

As he speaks, he frees his cock with an excited grunt and his grip on your hair grows even more rough while he yanks at the strands to encourage your lips to part, uncaring of the split lip which is still gently bleeding.

"Nice and slow."

Incapable of doing much more, you open your mouth and accept his cock with a low whimper. He's already excited and as the tip of his cock glances off your tongue, you can taste his pre-cum, the pearly liquid more acrid than anything you'd tasted before. His cock is thick, the girth of it already threateneing to make your jaw ache as he slides himself across your mouth a few times - testing out your limits with a tight control.

"Oh yeah." Cooper rumbles. "This'll do. Time to work on your breathing, sweetheart."

Canting his hips forward, the tip of his cock buries itself down your throat and the suddenness of the movement makes your body startle - reawakening the various aches of your earlier fall as you choke around his cock and desperately claw at his clothed thighs with your fingers.

He ignores your distress, instead focusing on his own pleasure as he alternates between using his hand to guide your head along his cock and thrusting his own groin forward; both actions merciless in their treatment as an obscenely wet noise fills the space.

Head bobbing along his cock forcefully, nausea rises in your chest as his textured skin rams into the back of your throat - sparking your gag relax as you swallow around his cock in open panic.

"Keep massaging my cock like that, darlin', and I won't make it to the main event."

Cooper growls the words, smirking down at your misery as your vision swims, and he snatches his cock free with one swift pull.

Coughing and spluttering, you inhale big gulps of air and they burn your lungs like fresh hell - a light-headedness making your skull pound as you desperately try to fix yourself.

Lying like a broken marionette doll, your strings well and truly cut, you can't do anything but whimper anew as his rough hands grip their way up your thighs to cup at your cunt though your panties.

"You'll not be needing these any time soon." Cooper grunts, ripping the panties from you with a wicked strength; the fabric tearing like paper as you shudder and attempt to close your thighs around his hand. A move which quickly draws a low cry from your lips as he responds by pinching at your clit roughly with two fingers.

"Play nice, sweetheart, or I'll play rough. And you won't like that as much. In fact-"

The world spins as he flips you from your back, strong hands easily maneuvering you to ensure that your body is positioned on the stairs to allow him easy access to your holes - your head pressing into a higher stair as you tilt your face to allocate the pressure on your busted up lip.

Something like a sob slips free of your lips as one of his hands presses down heavily on your lower back, forcing your ass to arch up higher, as his other hands cups at your sex once more.

"Hmm, but which hole to use? I'm sure that hole has seen enough action to make any ride as smooth as a whisky sour." His fingers tease along your slit, refusing to push any deeper as they trail up to your skin and brush along the rim of your ass. "But then, if I want a tighter ride then maybe this fine ass would be better, might even learn you a lesson about showing respect too. I ain't afraid of a bucking bronco and I'm sure you'd take it like a champ."

"Not there." You mutter out, voice defeated. "Please."

"Hmm, then you better be good and I'll see about giving the little whore what she wants." You can hear the smirk in his tone as he gropes your body like a butcher measuring up a fresh hunk of meat. "Say it, sweetheart, ask me to fuck you and I'll let you choose."

"Plea-please fuck me?" The words taste sour against your tongue, the heat from his body making your head feel fuzzy. That, or the multiple knocks on the stairs were finally getting to you. Regardless, tears threaten the corners of your eyes once more as you are forced to play his little game. "I want you to- to fuck me."

"Well now," giving a low whistle as he lines the blunted head of his cock up with your cunt, Cooper has the gall to sound smug at the ask, "what kind of gentleman would I be to ignore such a request from a pretty little thing?"

With a single thrust of his hips, he buries his cock to the hilt within your cunt and the sudden burn of your flesh as it's forced to stretch and give way to his cock draws a strangled yelp of pain from your lips. His earlier actions having sparked some arousal in your traitorous frame, you weren't fully dry and Cooper chuckled lowly as his felt the moisture surrounding his cock as he stilled his hips.

"Well, well, well." He growls, his groin hot against your own as his balls hang heavy against your cunt. "Looks like this little hellcat isn't as unwilling as she wants me to think. You're soaked, sweetie."

Hot shame making you slam your eyes shut as you adjust to the pressure of his cock, you feel the heat of your walls being pulled roughly as he starts to lazily thrust. Every stroke is awful in how determined it is to make you feel every textured inch of his cock, Cooper pulling free until only the head is breaching your hole before slamming deep once more - his cock glancing off your cervix painfully.

Worse than that, is just how good it feels.

The ridged and slightly rough texture of his cock stimulates every nerve in your heated hole and the betraying arousal only serves to make the growing band of arousal in your gut even more cruel in its intensity.

It's uncomfortable, it's hot, and it's so fucking good.

Body aching despite the distraction of his cock, you try to focus on the building pleasure as a means to escape the other more shitty feelings which afflict you. In spite of it all, the tight band of pleasure across your groin is undeniable and his cock seems to brush the sensitive spot inside you with pinpoint precision, every thrust making your toes curl while you whimper and whine.

You come with a startled gasp, waves of pleasure crashing through your body as your cunt spasms around his cock - pulling him deeper as your walls milk him for what he's worth. He seems to appreciate it though, as his pace - if possible - grows even sloppier and his groin makes a obscene slapping noise while it bounces off your ass.

Overly sensitive, you squeak in discomfort as he continues to fuck himself into you without mercy; dragging your orgasm out until you're cunt feels heated and your limbs ache from the constant flex of the muscles. He's vocal too - grunts and low growls of pleasure marking his movements as his thick hands pin you into place to give his cock unfettered access to your hole.

Eventually, you feel his cock give a very definite twitch within your cunt and you gasp anew as a fresh heat floods your walls; his release pumping itself as deeply within your hole as it can while he remains flush against your ass.

"Goddamn, sweetie. Ain't nothing like it."

He pulls his cock free, the hardened length only just beginning to wilt and you feel the mess that coats every inch as it slips free. Body feeling well used and deliciously uncomfortable, you stay in place, unsure of what he plans for you next and in no fit state to escape without further injury.

"Smooth as a whisky sour." Cooper repeats his earlier words, his voice sated and low with his satisfactory use of your hole. "But i'm sure you got another good one in you."

His hand is harsh against your back again until the pressure forces your ass up higher - the combined mess in your cunt dripping free to the wooden stair below.

Panic reignites in your chest as a sinking feeling alerts you to his plans.

"I can't- please, don't! Please!"

He ignores you and you feel his rough fingers pressing along your slit until he finds the target of his little game - your clit already swollen and making itself an easier target. His forefinger grazes the nub and the intensity of the touch makes you howl as fresh lightning scores across your spine.

It only takes him a few deliberate movements, rough strokes giving way to a more gentle circling motion and your cunt clenches around nothing as he easily pulls a second orgasm from you; your legs painfully tense as you bury your cries in the skin of your forearm and hump your cunt in the warm air, wordlessly encouraging his fingers to push you even further.

"Greedy little thing." Cooper chastises, enjoying how pathetic your movements are as the shame of being forced to come around his fingers only serves to make the pleasure all the sweeter. "Look at how shameless you are, darling', pretending that you aren't desperate to be wrapped around my cock again."

Denying it with a frantic shake of your head, you ride his fingers regardless until he takes pity and pulls his hand away from your overstimulated and aching cunt - your legs trembling and fists clenching against the hard grain of the wooden stair.

Cooper exhales deeply, his body rolling from your own as he lays flat out on the stair by your side. The scent of sex and sweat hands heavy in the heated air, a pungent aroma that speaks to just how roughly he had treated you and your fingers are quick to sink into the lapels of his leather duster as you inch closer to him.

Sensing your movements, Cooper extends his arm overhead and allows you to burrow in close to his side, your legs hooking within his own while a pained gasp slips free of your lips as the motion causes the ache in your sex to sting anew. The gasp forces a soft coughing fit, your abused throat really forcing its attention as you shiver in place.

Wordlessly, Cooper sinks his hand deep within his side pocket and pulls free his flask, handing it off to you with a pointed look.

"Thanks." You croak out. Taking a deep swig, the warm water may as well have been taken from the most pristine, crystal blue spring as the relief it pours through your gritty throat and aching, heated limbs is like pure heaven.

Thoroughly fucked and satisfied, the comedown of your activities draws a fresh shudder from your spine as you hand Cooper back his flask - his blazing eyes watching your every move with pinpoint precision.

"Need anything else, sweetheart?" His voice is low and raspy, saturated with the same satisfaction as your own and his features are loose as his arm wraps around your lower back to keep you close.

Shaking your head, you blurt out the first thing that springs to mind. "Didn't mean to hit you in the dick."

At that, Cooper chuckles; a genuine laugh that rumbles through his chest as his head tilts back ever so slightly. Like this, in the post-fuck haze, he's at his most muted and content - his expression open and relaxed as he enjoys the feel of you against him.

"Liar." He accuses without fire. "Suited me fine though, darlin', cause it made it easier to smack you down those stairs."

Your little games were an idea of your own making, his enthusiasm taking some time to come around until he was convinced that you were eager and willing despite your actions.

"Great." Tired and slightly nauseous, you can't help but smile at him as the ragged edge of his nose hole flares with his suppressed amusement. "You banged me up good. My lip is fucked."

"Fucked more than just that, sweetie. You almost got away this time."

"Liar." You parrot his earlier words.

"Gotta say though, you're getting much better at swallowing my cock down-"

Interjecting quickly, you roll your eyes at him. "Didn't have much of a choice."

"-getting a bit too good mind. Might have to start making some scratch from those skills. Put you to good use. What do you think?"

The sun beating down on your skin as the uncomfortably sticky mess from between your thighs continues to drip free of your abused cunt, a weariness sets into your bones as you cling to him with desperate fingers - a strong desire to drift off into a short nap clawing at your senses.

"You're too much of a jealous son of a bitch." You sigh out, closing your eyes as you focus on the beat of his heart as it thrums beneath your ears. "You'd kill the first man to look at me funny."

Sensing your fatigue, Cooper matches your exhale with one of his own as he fixes his hat across his forehead.

"Sleep, sweetheart. We'll pick this dumbass conversation up when you're not dripping like an old faucet."

Eyes slipping close, the nasty comparison draws a smirk from you regardless as you wrap your leg around his own with a tighter grip and settle in for a recovery nap.

[fierymiasma]

𐂴 Firewhiskey and Apple Tarts 𐂴 // Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Sebastian is tasked to take a drunk hero of Hogwarts back to her dorm after a wild party in the Slytherin Common Room.

Easier said than done.

Tags: Humor, Fluff, Pining, Drunk Shenanigans, Sebastian being a gentleman, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Drunk Piggy Back rides

Word Count: 3.4k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

The music from the self-playing ghost instruments was enchanted so loud Sebastian could barely hear his own thoughts.  The Slytherin common room floor was sticking to his shoes from all the spilled butterbeer and firewhiskey.  Sebastian wasn't a stranger to Slytherin House parties.  Staring across the common room, he couldn't take his eyes off of the hero of Hogwarts.  The moonlight reflecting off the Black Lake illuminated her, shining an ethereal spotlight on the only person who mattered at the party.  Jumping, laughing, and swiveling her hips in a poor imitation of a dance, she looked so carefree.  It was rare to see such an expression on the Hufflepuff, especially after the horrible events of their 5th year. 

Sebastian's expression softened.  It was a shame that the party was drawing to its end.  She brought a natural light to the dreary common room.  He wished he had a couple more hours to memorize every tiny detail of her form.  What he wouldn't give to break through the crowd and sweep her off her feet.  Show her how a real Slytherin parties.

"Sebastian!  Sebastian!"  Natty hollered as loudly as possible over the blaring music.  She waved Sebastian down, and Sebastian grinned back.  Now there was a friend who would always have his back in a fight.  "Are you able to escort our friend back home?"  Natty asked, knowing full well that Sebastian knew who she was referring to. "I would do it myself but the Gryffindor tower is the complete opposite end of the castle and-"

"And no one can sneak around at night like Sebastian Sallow."  Sebastian finished for her.  "Of course, I'll make sure she gets tucked into bed."

Natty hovered, a bit nervous.  "She's ah, how you say, not very sober right now."  She giggled before schooling her expression to a more serious one.  "Can I trust you to make sure she can make it back home safe?"

There was a pregnant pause.  The quickly developing relationship between Sebastian and his newly acquired friend had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the school.   It was obvious to anyone with eyes (or without good eyes Ominis would say) how much that Slytherin boy pined for her. 

In light of all this, Sebastian felt somewhat humbled that Natty trusted him enough to entrust him with the task of walking his very inebriated crush home without any foul play.  Though Sebastian might not have been as close with Natty as he was with Ominis, he still considered her a good friend.  And, the only good Gryffindor worth knowing. 

"You needn't worry.  She'll be unharmed, except for a pretty wicked hangover.  Trust me.  You Gryffindors aren't the only ones with chivalry around these parts." 

Natty laughed.  "Good!  Thank you for doing this for me.  I truly appreciate it."  Natty turned around and waved back to the crowd.  "I found Sebastian!  He's right here!"

Natty turned to Sebastian, hiccupping a bit before giggling madly. "Well, all I can say is, nkwagaliza emikisa, good luck!  She is quite the handful."

Before Sebastian could ask Natty what exactly she meant by that, a very loud presence announced herself. 

"Sebastian!"  The Hufflepuff in question shouted, throwing her hands in the air.  She pushed quite roughly through the crowd, heading straight for the Slytherin in question.  "Sebastian!  Good evening!"

"It is a good evening now that you're here."  Sebastian agreed, wondering exactly how drunk she was.  "I believe it is my duty to escort a certain someone to their bed."

She deflated like a Shrivelfig. "Oh…okay, see you later then."

It turns out she was very inebriated.  "It's you.  You're the someone I'm escorting to bed."

"Oh!"  She smiled using all her teeth, then quickly hide them behind her hands, giggling madly.  "Why didn't you just say so, silly?  This will be great!"  She shouted over the music.  "It'll just be like our very first night together!"

Several heads turned to look at the pair of them.  Sebastian could hear voices whispering behind them.  The back of his neck turned red.  "Yes, just like our first night where we broke into the restricted section to study and did nothing else slightly interesting or nefarious."  The crowd behind them look disappointed.  "We need to be just as quiet and sneaky as we were back then.  Are you up for the challenge?"

"Yes!"  she shouted and jumped on the balls of her feet, only to catch herself on a side table, off kilter with the room spinning.

"Shhhh."  Sebastian reminded gently putting a finger to his lips.  "Quietly."  he whispered.

"ohhh ok….quietly."  she whispered back.

Sebastian gently guided her to the entranceway to the Slytherin common room.  Waving goodbye to the party patrons, he helped her clumsily climb past the threshold.  Sebastian had escorted the Hufflepuff back to her dorms many times, curfew or otherwise, despite her insistence that it was really not needed.  He waved his wand around himself as he crouched, casting the disillusionment charm.

She attempted to repeat the movement.  She wildly waved her wand before crudely tapping the tip to her forehead.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, attempting to do the charm multiple times, to no success.

Sebastian sighed.  Well, this was going to turn out to be a lot harder than it usually was.  But, he was a man of his word, and he was looking for a new type of challenge.

"Alright, it's okay just follow my lead."  He crept to the corner of the corridor, trying to peak out to watch for any prefects prowling the hallways.

Before giving the all clear, something brushed up against his hand clumsy.  He jumped in alarm, disillusionment charm disappearing quickly.  He looked down.   Oh, she was holding his hand.

"My hands are cold and lonely."  She pouted.  "Can I hold yours?"

Sebastian couldn't hold back the smirk if he could try.  Oh, this was great blackmail fuel when his Hufflepuff returned to her very sober self.  "Of course, whatever you need."

In a stroke of luck, they managed to avoid the snitching prefects for a while.  Her warm hand never left his as they snuck around the dark shadows of the castle.  It was going rather well for a bit before the pair hit yet another roadblock.  Her hand was getting heavier in his, almost dragging him down with dead weight. 

"Is everything alright?"  Sebastian asked, finally taking a look back at the other girl.

She sighed.  Her hair was a mess, plastered over her face like a heavy curtain.  She seemed unbothered to fix it.  Her head bobbed down, as if the weight of holding it up was too much for her.  "Nooooo, it's not alright.  My feet are tired and this castle is wayyy to big."

Sebastian chuckled.  He let go of her hand, much to her displeasure.  Bending down, he gestured for her to climb onto his back.  It was going to be far easier to carry her.

"Alright.  Upsie Daisy."  Sebastian said, lifting her into a piggy back ride.  Her soft chest was pressed firmly against his broad back.  Sebastian flushed, glad she wasn't able to see his facial expression.  His arms wrapped under her strong thighs.  Her kicking feet dangled against his sides.

She laid her heavy head on his shoulder.  Sebastian could feel her hot breath tickle the back on his neck.  Now, much closer to her, he could smell the spicy firewhiskey on her breath mingling with her usual honeysuckle perfume.  The walls of Hogwarts spun a little.  Sebastian could get drunk on that intoxicating scent alone.

His throat felt dry.  This might have been a mistake.

"Thanks for the piggy back ride.  You're a much better ride than Boffle Loft."

Sebastian frowned.  He didn't know any Hogwarts boys with such ridiculous names.

"Who?"

"My broom."  She mumbled sleepily into his hot skin.  He could feel her lips lightly brush against his skin.

He shivered.  This was definitely a mistake.  He proceeded to walk.  Part of him wanted to get her to her dorm as soon as possible, not knowing how much of this his poor heart could handle.

Another part of him never wanted this night to end. 

Situated very comfortably on his back, the Hufflepuff was subdued for a while before her boredom got the better of her.  Her face was as close as it has ever been to Sebastian's hair.   She had always wanted to touch it ever since they first met.  How she yearned to run her fingers through those soft curls.  How she wanted to tug at those roots seeing what fun noises she could pull from him.  Listening to her most baser thoughts, she boldly patted Sebastian's hair.  Wow, it was a lot softer than she anticipated.  Sebastian didn't seem to mind.  She continued petting his hair, marveling at it.

Sebastian's neck burned hotly.  His steps faltered.  He hitched her higher up on his back for the umpteenth time.  Sebastian's sweaty hands shifted to get a more stable grip on her thighs.

"Everything alright back there?"  He tried to ask in his most, 'I'm not affected by this', voice he could muster.

She hummed happily, now tangling her hands through his curls.  "My little Puffskein."

Sebastian halted in his tracks.  "Puffskein?"

He could feel her sigh, as if disappointed Sebastian wasn't thinking on her level.  "You know, your hair?  It's so fluffy and cute and curly.  Like a Puffskein.  I always wanted to play with your hair.  I bet it feels exactly like my new Puffskein, all fluffy and sweet."

Oh this was truly too good.  She would be mortified when she woke up in the morning. 

Sebastian continued his journey, trying not to drop her every time her wandering hands tugged on his hair just right.  He stopped walking occasionally to position her more securely since she seemed to take on the bone structure of a kneazle.

"Well, I believe this is your stop."  Sebastian stated, silently mourning as he put the drunk girl down.

She frowned, looking up at the wooden barrel that hide the Hufflepuff common room entranceway.  "I don't want to go in."

Sebastian blinked.  "Don't you want to sleep?"

"Yes, I'm exhausted."

Sebastian patiently explained to her as if she were a five year old.  "This is your dorm.  This is where your bed is."

She pouted, trying and fumbling to cross her arms before determining that motor skill far too difficult.  "I don't like sleeping here."

Sebastian was about to pull his hair out.  Why could she had not said that before all of this. "Why?"

She looked at her shoes.  "There are three girls to a dorm.  And Lenora, Adelaide and the others are nice but I just can't sleep when they're around.  I know it's so silly and so stupid.  When they're in the same room with me, my head's just a buzz.  There's just so much going on.  Constantly wondering what they need, if I'm doing anything to upset them, if they like me, or if they just downright just don't tolerate me."  She shook her head.  "Plus what if the nightmares come back, and I start screaming again?  I don't want them to see that.  I can't have them see that-"  She was starting to breathe a little too shallow and fast for Sebastian's liking.  "Oh Merlin, what if they already know?  What if they heard one of my nightmares and think I'm a freak and just haven't said anything about it.  Hufflepuffs are so nice and polite they probably just haven't bothered to mention it-"

"Stop."  Sebastian interrupted, rubbing the Hufflepuff's back, trying to soothe her.  "Enough of that nonsense.  Breathe."  She took a shaky breath.  "Be a good girl for me and breathe."  She exhaled then took a much deeper breath this time trying to steady herself.  "Good, that's it.  There is nothing to be ashamed of."  No longer annoyed, he straightened her hair, tucking the tangled strands behind her ears so she could finally see him.  "Where do you usually sleep?"

"The room of requirement."  She mumbled, not looking at Sebastian. "Right next to my plants, and my potions, and my creatures.  That's where it's safe."

Something in Sebastian's heart gave a little.  He wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly, but he didn't dwell on it.  "Well, let's get you there alright?"  He searched for her hands, lacing their fingers together.  "C'mon, follow me." 

Somehow, despite the much greater distance, the journey from the Hufflepuff dorm to the 8th floor of the Astronomy tower was much quicker.  Mostly due to the Hufflepuff's subdued behavior.

Opening the Room of Requirements door, he was just glad to see that Deek had already gone to bed.  He didn't want anyone but her to see how badly he was falling for her.

There was a dragon's hoard worth of pillows piled up on her four poster bed.  Merlin's beard, it nearly touched the top of the canopy.  Clumsily, she collapsed on the bed, attempting to undo the intricate laces of her high-heeled boots.  Without thinking, Sebastian knelt down on one knee in front of her.  He gently reaching for her shoe to untie it, just as he had so many times for Anne.  Placing her boot on his thigh, his rough hands started undoing the laces.

For the first time the whole night, her body stood at an absolute standstill.  She was quiet, patiently waiting for him to help her get to bed. 

Sebastian's hands were firm and so sure as he helped take off her tight uncomfortable shoes.  She didn't know why but she quite liked the sight of Sebastian on his knees in front of her.  Once her shoes were neatly put together at the bottom of her bed, Sebastian stood back up.  She quietly mourned the loss of his closeness.

He summoned the blanket that had been rudely thrown on the floor.  He covered her gently with it, making sure she was sufficiently comfortable.  Satisfied at a job well done, he turned, looking to find some random furniture of the Room of Requirement to pass out on.

A small hand grabbed the back of his jacket.

"You're not going to join me?" she asked.  Her voice soft and innocent.

Oh Merlin, the founders were really testing him tonight.  His vow to Natty rang in the back of his mind.  Despite every fiber of his being screaming yes, he turned around, gently removing her hippogriff-like talons on him.  "No, I'm afraid not.  There's a very nice couch that has Sebastian Sallow written all over it."

She frowned before mumbling to herself.  "I thought I got rid of that one."  She threw herself back onto her pillows, incredibly distraught.

Pulling up the covers so they met her chin, he took one last look at her.  Sebastian's eyes soften, as he moved to brush the hair away from her eyes.

"You're not going to kiss me goodnight?"  She asked sweetly.

This had to be punishment for all of Sebastian's wicked deeds.  He swallowed thickly.  Her usual well-groomed braided hair was a completely mess sticking to all the pillows.  Her make up had already left probably permanent stains on her pillows.  She looked like she took a wrestling match with a giant and somehow won.

She was gorgeous. 

"No, I'm afraid I'm pushing it enough as it is."

She looked completely devastated at the rejection.  "Is it 'cause you don't like me?"

Well, Sebastian couldn't have the love of his life thinking something as absurd as that.  Bending at the waist, Sebastian leaned over to give a light and very quick peck on her forehead.  Just like his mother used to do when Sebastian was little.

She erupted into giggles as she retreated under the confines of her blankets.  The heavy quilt did nothing to muffle her maniacal laughter.  As if she were a niffler who stole a noble's best earrings.

Fuck.  That one was probably too far.

Sebastian climbed onto a comfortable couch that the Room of Requirements managed to summon for him.  He curled around a pillow that smelled of her perfume, hugging it close to his chest.  In the furthest depths of his mind, he wondered if the hero of Hogwarts liked it when someone took care of her.  Goodness knows, the Hufflepuff was always doing favors and moving the very heavens for strangers.   Someone ought to be looking out for her as well.  As he drifted off to sleep, his tired and slightly tipsy mind, clung on to one last thought.

Sebastian Sallow wouldn't mind taking care of her for the rest of his life.

[Keep Reading Here]

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXIII

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Unlike the oracles of Day, the witches in Autumn have been known to prompt visions of the future using herbs easily found within the forest… 

Elain felt her heart thudding against her chest, almost painfully. She tracked the following lines with her fingers. The aged ink was rough on her skin. She had to hold back a grin, growing increasingly more pleased with the information she had found. 

Jewelweed. 

Primrose. 

Oak leaves. 

Elain whispered the name of each plant, committing them to memory. 

Her first instinct was to tell Lucien, to have him know as soon as she did that she had finally stumbled across information that seemed useful. 

They had been searching the library with Cora’s help, carefully going through each book case, reading the titles on every shelf. Elain could hardly remember how many chapters she had read, and how many pages she had flipped through. Words had begun to melt together, and she much preferred to spend her spare time learning a little bit more about her mate. 

Lucien was with his mother, though, and in the silence of their shared chambers, Elain remembered his warning. She needed to become more familiar with her abilities. The thought was enough of a push to get her started on one of the larger and more intimidating books she had thrown onto the coffee table. 

Aster.

Sugar maple. 

Hemlock. 

Elain skimmed over each word on the list one final time, deciding she would instead go and find Cora. She had last seen the other woman with the High Lord’s wife, going over floral arrangements for the wedding. Cora seemed to enjoy all of the planning, and while Elain had initially been resistant to giving her opinion on the reception, she could admit there was a part of her that was secretly looking forward to seeing it all come together. 

Elain had to remind herself she was not actually marrying Lucien, not in any real sense. 

She quickly wrote a note on a piece of paper Lucien had already used to jot information he planned to further look into. Placing the side with her looping scrawl onto his pillow, Elain took a moment to straighten her skirts and slip on her shoes. She had told Lucien that she would simply stay in their rooms, but her mind was whirling with thoughts. 

While those in Autumn refer to themselves as witches, they are more commonly referred to as seers across Prythian and in most of the regions on the continent…

Elain tucked the heavy book close to her chest as she walked into the corridor, slamming the carved door shut behind her using her foot. She blew a stray curl away from her eyes, hoping that Cora had returned to her room but had not yet gone to sleep. 

The Forest House was always a little more quiet in the evenings, and Elain liked walking the torchlit halls better when there were less people around. She had not been expecting to see anyone, especially since Cora’s room was not really too far from her own. 

As Elain spotted Callum slowly approaching, she inched ever so slightly closer to the stone wall, hiding the title of the book with her arms. She smiled but chose not to wave, maintaining her friendly expression as he came closer. 

Unlike Felix and Ronan, who tended to holler her name and flash her viper-like grins, Callum was usually content to ignore her presence. He seemed very serious on most occasions, and while Lucien insisted he cared very little for his brothers, her mate always seemed to have good things to say about this one. 

“Lady,” Callum said in greeting, his rough voice ringing in the empty hall. He bowed his head, the short strands of his hair looking like copper coins in the light of the flickering torches. 

Elain was a bit surprised that he had addressed her at all, but she had become very talented when it came to hiding her emotions. She mirrored him, tilting her chin down politely in a practiced gesture. “Good evening.” 

Instead of continuing on his way, Callum slowed down. Elain watched as he awkwardly adjusted his dark jacket, as he cleared his throat. “Looking for Eris?” 

Elain shook her head, not entirely certain why he was interested, but she saw no harm in telling him the truth. “I’m going to see Cora,” the book she was holding felt heavy in her hands and she adjusted her hold on the ancient object. “My lady’s maid,” she added to clarify, thinking that perhaps he would not recognise the name. 

Elain saw as Callum scrunched his nose, familiar. It was almost as though she was looking at Lucien whenever he heard something he did not particularly like. He quickly replaced the expression with a tight lipped smile. “Have a nice night.” 

“You as well,” Elain offered, but Callum had already turned his back on her. She had to fight a frown, trying her absolute best to convince herself that he was simply in a hurry. The torches in the corridor flared brightly, shocking Elain into releasing a little yelp. Before she continued walking towards Cora’s room, she cast a glance around her to ensure no one else had witnessed her small moment of embarrassment.

Elain decided that she would not dwell on the interaction with Lucien’s older brother, balancing the book in one hand as she reached for her skirts. She skipped steps as she went down a flight of stairs, turning a sharp corner and finding herself face to face with Lethe. 

If Elain had given it a moment’s thought, she would have assumed that the Autumn Court noble was blocking her path. She was not entirely fond of the other woman, but she smiled despite it, eager to maintain a level of peace between them. Elain remembered the way that Lethe had danced with Lucien during their first few nights at the Forest House, jealousy a wild beast within her, but she swallowed the feeling away. 

“Good evening, Lethe.” Elain said, keeping the slight annoyance from her tone, choosing to ignore her title. 

The smile she received in return was vicious, embers dancing in her eyes. Elain tried her best to just move past her, but Lethe blocked her path again in a flurry of black skirts. Elain noticed, for the first time, how pale the other woman was. It gave Lethe an eerie appearance, even if Elain could admit that she was lovely. 

“Lady Elain Archeron,” she responded, her brown hair styled in a braid that made it look as though she were wearing a crown. 

“Can I help you?” Elain asked, losing whatever patience she had for the creature in front of her. She remembered her manners, tilting her head to the side as if she were genuinely curious. 

Lethe shrugged, the movement elegant, like a dancer. She looked Elain up and down, her eyes falling to the book. With a small frown, she spoke. “How kind of you to ask, but no.” 

Elain attempted to move past Lethe one final time, but as she was blocked once more, her urge to groan grew significantly. Nose in the air and trying her best to imitate the Lady of Autumn, Elain’s tone was serious. “I’d like to get by,” she said, making it very clear that she was in no mood for courtly games. 

Lethe hummed, “I suppose you can pass.” She shifted out of the way, leaving a very small space for Elain to squeeze through. She looked at the nails of her hand in a gesture obviously meant as a slight. Dark brows raised, Lethe asked a final question, the words a seductive drawl. “Have I been distracting?” 

While Elain could detect the amusement in her tone, she had no idea what Lethe might be referring to. Ignoring the courtier, Elain moved around her, using all of her self control not to shoot her a frustrated glare. She could not help mumbling an annoyed “unfortunately” under her breath as soon as she was sure that Lethe would not be able to hear her. 

Elain quickened her steps, she had had enough interactions for the night and she really only wanted to speak with Cora. She held onto the book in her hands tightly, hoping that neither Callum or Lethe had seen the title or recognised the spine. 

As soon as she found herself in front of the thick door leading into Cora’s room, Elain felt as her shoulders dropped in relief. She had not even noticed that she was tense, but she was glad at the very least that Cora’s presence was always enough to ease her nerves. 

Elain raised her hand, fingers closed into a fist, ready to knock on the aged wood. Before Elain could do so, the door opened suddenly, Eris marching through the arch of stone in a blur of red hair and white shirtsleeves. 

Elain lost her breath as the heir to the Autumn Court crashed into her much smaller frame. She dropped the book as she collided into him, but Eris snapped out his hands, catching her before she could stumble. Her nose was pressed uncomfortably against his chest and she had loose curls of her own hair stuck between her teeth. 

Elain looked up, ready to make her displeasure clear, and to perhaps even bother Eris a little bit, but a wave of foreboding went over her. She felt unwell, like the stone floor had given way beneath her feet. 

Elain heard as Eris said her name, but it was a faraway sound, as though he were speaking underwater. She could still feel the grip he had on her arms, gentle. Golden eyes flashed brightly as Elain gasped, air pulled from her lungs. She was shocked at how easily her body went limp, at the feeling of her muscles losing their ability to keep her upright. 

Elain tried to ask Eris for help, but the world was a blur, and as everything snapped back into focus, she was no longer in the Forest House. 

There was a dagger made of gold in Elain’s hands. She held the weapon carefully, the blade flashing in the light of the setting sun. Elain let her finger drag along the edge. 

Rose petals, dark as blood, fell against a leaf strewn path. Elain took a small step, twigs snapping like fragile bones beneath her bare feet. 

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, and agony ripped through Elain’s chest. The sound echoed in her ears, sharp and loud. 

Over and over, again and again, the wolf howled. 

Elain dropped the dagger, put her hands over her ears, and clenched her eyes shut. 

All she could see was unending darkness. 

Elain woke up slowly, pins and needles traveling up her legs uncomfortably. She shifted, placing her fingers against her temple in an effort to steady herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the room stopped its spinning, everything returning back to normal. 

Elain wanted Lucien, but she instead found herself with Eris. 

He would have carried her, she decided. Eris had placed her carefully on a small bed, the skirts of her dress trailing off of the mattress and onto the carpeted floors. The room came into focus, the flames in the fireplace were stoked to brightness and shadows fell across the walls.  

Elain blinked just as Eris leaned over her. Worry lined his expression, a frown pulling at his lips, but his voice sounded angry as he spoke. “What was that?” 

Elain took a moment to respond, choosing instead to sit up. Eris helped her lean against the headboard, offering her his hand so she could scoot along the covers. She looked around Cora’s room, taking in the familiar and neat surroundings. 

Elain’s eyes fell to the small sketchbook on the nightstand, where a lovely drawing of a hound was on the open page. She breathed in deeply to ground herself and to gather her thoughts, keeping her gaze pointedly away from Eris. Mixed with Cora’s scent of mountain air and spruce trees lingered the smell of apple orchards and campfires, distinctly Autumn. If Elain were less worried about what Eris would have said about her visions, she might have asked him why the pillows smelled like his jacket. 

“Elain, what was that?” He repeated, dragging fingers through his hair. He said it softly, encouraging her to speak freely. 

Elain frowned, finally meeting his eyes. “I had a dizzy spell,” she blushed, hoping Eris would believe her lie. 

“That’s a human ailment.” He replied, waving her comment off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The worry was slowly leaving his features, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. Elain watched his eyes sharpen with a calculating edge, and could practically sense the way he was going over the events leading up to her vision. 

Even worse, Elain could feel as the level of trust carefully built between them began to crack, on the verge of shattering completely. 

Eris watched her, tracking each small movement with a predator’s precision. Elain sighed, knowing Lucien would not like the idea she was contemplating. Her resolve broke entirely as Eris raised an auburn eyebrow. 

“Eris,” she began, licking her lips and remembering who exactly Eris was. He was known for being awful and cruel, Lucien had accused him on multiple occasions of being selfish and manipulative, her entire family hated him with a passion. Elain placed a hand on his arm, overstepping perhaps in a way, but he did not flinch from the pleading look she cast him. “Eris, I need your word.” 

He held her stare, tilting his head. Flames flashed in his eyes as he nodded. “You have it.” 

Elain knew he could very well be lying, that Eris could simply turn around and share what he learned with his father, but she somehow knew that would not be the case. A memory flashed in her mind, one from years before, Cassian mentioning how Beron had tortured his own son, a frown on his usually smiling face. 

“You can’t tell a soul,” she said softly, but she tightened the hold she had on his arm. 

“You have my word, Elain Archeron,” Eris smiled, his promise cutting the tension in the room. Unlike his fleeting amusement, the genuine emotion transformed his sharp features until he became a softer male. The torches flared around them in response. “I do love a good secret.”  

And so Elain told Eris Vanserra, prince of Autumn, one of the Night Court’s most well kept ones. 

[gimmethatagustd]

venor (10) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 4,022

○ Warnings: Minor violence, lots of kissing and hickey-giving

○ Notes: Today's chapter is a bit shorter because I decided to split the chapter in two. The good news is that after this chapter, there's no more angst for our babies 🥹

○ Post Date: March 17, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

Jungkook remembers with clarity the first time he attended a kickboxing class. As part of a new athletic curriculum at the university’s gym, Jungkook signed up for kickboxing classes to strengthen his body, not for sparring or self-defense. When Jungkook learned that prey hybrids, especially rabbit hybrids, were seen as timid and weak in society, he was determined to be different. The desire wasn’t to prove everyone wrong; Jungkook has never looked to other people for acceptance. Jungkook wanted to show his narrow-minded parents and the world that forcing people into boxes isn’t so easy. 

People don’t belong in boxes. Not Jungkook, or Taehyung, or even Byungchul. Unfortunately, not everyone wants to believe that truth.

“Shit, bun, are you okay?” Taehyung reaches for Jungkook, but Jungkook doesn’t move.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to reorient himself after Jackson knocks him over. The fall was more disarming than it was painful. Either from shock or being braver than he thinks he is, Jungkook doesn’t tremble in fear as he gazes up at the horrible scene playing out before him. 

Jackson recovers much faster. Blood trickles from a split in his bottom lip and his blazing orange tail is bristled from the sudden assault, putting his instincts into overdrive. From what Jungkook has learned about Jackson, he’s more level-headed than Taehyung’s other friends, making it all the more shocking when he lunges for Byungchul. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jackson hollers and lets out a loud yelp when Taehyung grabs him by the waist to stop him from attacking Byungchul. 

“Jackson–” 

“Let me go! Fucking let me go, hyung!” 

In Jungkook’s peripheral vision, he sees Suyun push through the crowd that has formed a wide circle around the friends. No one bothers helping Taehyung calm Jackson and Byungchul down, the latter shouting curses and turning even redder in the face. 

Jungkook wonders if fights like this are normal and if that’s why the other predators merely look on with curiosity rather than concern. Meanwhile, his heart is pounding so quickly that it hurts like it’s growing in size with each beat and taking up so much room in his chest that his lungs can’t expand. 

“Jackson,” Suyun calls out with outstretched arms, attempting to beckon him away from Taehyung and Byungchul.

When Jackson doesn’t even look at Suyun, she steps closer. She’s on wobbly legs, and her eyes are brimmed red from drinking or crying or both. She isn’t a threat, but Taehyung growls at her like she is. 

Jungkook draws in an audible gasp when Taehyung bares his teeth at Suyun with his pupils dark and dilated and his ears lying flat in his curls. He looks wild, even feral. Jungkook is reminded of the danger he felt crawling up his spine when he first met Taehyung. Tall and broad, Taehyung wears intimidation with ease. 

Immediately cowering, Suyun retracts her steps until she bumps into Hoseok, who has snuck up behind her. He places a calm hand on her shoulder and whispers something to her that Jungkook can’t hear. With Taehyung’s display of dominance, the crowd starts to buzz to life, passing whispers and shouts between each other until the entire room erupts in noise that drowns out Jungkook’s ability to think straight.

Everyone is distracted.

Everyone is distracted, and they don’t notice the fear that radiates from Byungchul, turning his scent so bitter that Jungkook practically tastes it on the back of his tongue. Despite being sensitive to smells, Jungkook has always had difficulty picking out the pheromones of other hybrid species. With Byungchul, though, his reaction to Taehyung is so strong that even Jungkook senses it, making his entire body shudder with how horrible it is as it washes over him. He thinks Byungchul will back down, hoping with his entire soul that whatever pissed Byungchul off will fall away, so Byungchul can calm down enough for Hoseok to help him. 

Instead, Byungchul’s fear fuels him. Jungkook practically sees it ripple through him, puffing out his chest and giving him the renewed energy to wind up his arm with a fist toward Taehyung, who is still struggling to calm Jackson down. 

Taehyung, Jungkook’s sweet Taehyung, who is nothing like the pained, panicked animal Jungkook sees him as right now. 

Rabbit hybrids are known for moving quickly. In high school, Jungkook was on the track and field team, humbly becoming one of the star students despite his quiet personality. It was all for fun then, nothing serious, but now Jungkook uses his natural skill to his advantage when he springs up from the floor and punches someone for the first time in his twenty-one years. 

It hurts worse than the punching bag Jungkook was accustomed to using during his kickboxing classes, his knuckles meeting the bony edge of Byungchul’s jaw. He thinks he hears a crack, isn’t sure if it is his hand or Byungchul’s face, and watches Byungchul’s large frame stumble back and crumble to the floor. 

“Jungkook!” 

Multiple people shout his name, but Jungkook stares blankly at Byungchul groaning on the floor, his bottom lip split down the middle like Jackson’s. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Jungkook says with an airy, faraway voice. His hands won’t stop shaking, even when Taehyung grabs them to inspect his reddened knuckles. “I didn’t. I didn’t mean to. I just, I, he was going to…” 

Jungkook punched someone. He made Byungchul bleed. 

Despite that, Byungchul ignores Jungkook when he stares up at Taehyung and Jackson from his position on the floor, with his hand cradling one side of his face.

“If you keep letting them around, what happens to us?” he spits, and his saliva is speckled with blood that lands on his white t-shirt. “There won’t be anywhere for us! ” 

Byungchul’s bitter fear mingles with the acidic bile rising in Jungkook’s throat. He closes his eyes as Taehyung runs his fingers through his sweaty hair and whispers that everything will be okay. 

Will it? Can it? 

“Come on, we need to get him outside. I think he’s having a panic attack.” 

Jungkook thinks he hears Taehyung, maybe Hoseok. He can’t breathe without being hit with Byungchul’s bitter pheromones, can’t listen to anything but Byungchul’s heavy breathing and the frantic buzz of the crowd, can’t open his eyes without seeing a few of Byungchul’s friends helping him off the floor and wiping at his face. 

“He’s afraid,” Jungkook whispers as he feels someone hook their arm around the back of his thighs and use the other to cradle his back when they lift him up bridal style. 

“Who?” Taehyung asks through gritted teeth as he carries Jungkook through the house. 

“Byungchul.” 

Taehyung snorts. 

“Good. He fucking should be.”

Jungkook is serious, though. His soul aches even as Taehyung’s scent calms him, forcing his heart to slow and his breathing to regulate. He wonders if Taehyung does this intentionally, emitting relaxing pheromones, or if he’s just like this. 

Before, Jungkook was afraid of Byungchul. Byungchul seemed intimidating, intentionally hateful, and downright discriminatory. 

But now? As one of Taehyung’s friends helps him lower Jungkook into the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car, Jungkook realizes he isn’t afraid of Byungchul anymore. He isn’t even angry at Byungchul; he pities him. 

Byungchul is just like Jungkook’s parents. The fear of the unknown is a valid fear. Not everyone handles fear like that well. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how to say all of this to Taehyung. He wants to, but when he finally opens his eyes and watches Taehyung slide into the driver’s seat, Jungkook can tell that he still has that wild look. Though the rest of his body is calm, Taehyung’s eyes tell the story of what’s happening inside him. Jungkook has learned to read Taehyung through his eyes when he can’t understand anything else. 

Taehyung must sense Jungkook looking at him. At the next stoplight, he reaches over to squeeze Jungkook’s thigh.

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung’s voice is tight and rough like it’s being forced out from deep within his chest.

There’s no reason for him to apologize; none of this is his fault. Jungkook doesn’t try arguing with him, though. Instead, he hums softly and misses Taehyung’s touch when he pulls away.

It feels strange to let Taehyung take care of him like this. He even brings Jungkook to his dorm without asking because he knows Jungkook won’t want to be alone, and he’s not in the proper state to be around Yoongi right now. 

They’re quiet as they slip into Taehyung’s dorm, careful not to bring attention to themselves since Jungkook isn’t supposed to be there, and he’s already radiating nervous energy that could set someone off.

Hoseok is still at the party, dealing with Byungchul, so the apartment is dark and quiet when Taehyung holds the door open for Jungkook to step inside. The moment Taehyung closes the door behind them, he ushers Jungkook down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Clothes,” Taehyung commands, his voice still tight and his molars digging into each other to make his jaw muscles flex.

“What clothes?”

“Change,” Taehyung grunts with a nod toward his bedroom door.

Jungkook chews his bottom lip as he stares at Taehyung. His makeup is nearly smudged off, and his bunny ears and tail are gone, probably trampled somewhere on Jackson’s floor. Despite the messy appearance and crazy look, Taehyung is gorgeous, as always.

It saddens Jungkook to see Taehyung reduced to this grunting, scowling, animalistic self. Tonight was their first date, and it has ended in the worst way possible.

With a sigh, Jungkook gives Taehyung a small smile and turns toward Taehyung’s dresser, where he’ll find soft sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into. He should probably shower as well, but he’s unsure he has the energy to do so. All he wants to do is cuddle in bed with Taehyung, and he hopes that’s Taehyung’s intention for bringing Jungkook home. He’s so shaken up by everything that happened with Byungchul at the party that he isn’t even nervous about getting into such an intimate position with Taehyung.

Jungkook’s fingers just barely brush the drawer handle when Taehyung grabs his hips and pulls him backward. It hurts somewhat when he shoves Jungkook up against the wall, Jungkook’s shoulder blades making hard contact with the wall. However, the pain is temporary and quickly forgotten once Taehyung cages Jungkook in, his large body covering Jungkook’s more petite frame. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung calls out to him, his name hissed through clamped teeth. 

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, heart palpitating from the uncertainty surrounding why Taehyung is behaving this way. 

“I didn’t protect you,” Taehyung growls into the crook of Jungkook’s neck. His hot breath sends tingling goosebumps down Jungkook’s arms. 

“Yes, you did.” 

“You got hurt, and now you’re sad.” He isn’t wrong, but Jungkook is too breathless to speak up.

Taehyung noses against the crook of Jungkook’s neck again, this time more aggressively. He whines when the collar of Jungkook’s shirt stops him from accessing more skin. Slipping his hands up the back of Jungkook’s shirt, Taehyung slowly pushes the striped fabric up as if he’s waiting for Jungkook to stop him. 

With his heart beating erratically in his chest, palms hot and sweaty, and eyes squeezed shut, Jungkook gradually raises his arms so Taehyung can lift his shirt over his head. 

There’s no time for Jungkook to be self-conscious about the way his body looks; Taehyung immediately latches himself onto him, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses across his shoulders and down his pecs. Jungkook throws his head back and barely feels it hit the wall behind him as Taehyung covers him with kisses and leaves goosebumps in their wake. 

“You need to smell like me,” Taehyung growls against the sensitive skin of Jungkook’s sternum. The deepness of his voice makes Jungkook shiver, reminding him of how Taehyung sounded when he chased Jungkook through the apartment.

“O-okay,” Jungkook sighs.

He doesn’t know where to put his arms as Taehyung's soft lips and smooth palms travel lower on Jungkook’s body, caressing his sides and gliding across his ribs. Jungkook can hardly regulate his breathing. Looking down, he can see his stomach flutter with how desperately he tries to keep himself from squirming with each wet, hot kiss.

When Taehyung drops to his knees and begins tugging down Jungkook’s shorts, Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s hair and gently guides his head away from the hickey he’s sucking on Jungkook’s hip. 

“Tae, what are you–” 

“Thighs.” 

There’s a flicker of light behind Taehyung’s dark eyes, but his pupils are still blown out, and he stares at Jungkook with a carnal look that makes Jungkook slick. It’s embarrassing how obvious his arousal is, now more than ever, because Taehyung is right there, and his loud inhale tells Jungkook that he has already noticed.

As invisible spots on a hybrid’s body where their scent is the strongest, scent glands are mostly a mystery to Jungkook. As far as he can remember, he was never taught much about them. He knows that the scents they emit are how hybrids can identify each other, especially when picking each other out in a crowd is necessary. He also knows that scenting is important for comforting babies and creating bonds, but, based on Jungkook's experience with Taehyung, scenting seems more important to predator hybrids than it is to prey hybrids — either that or Jungkook’s parents were weird and never cared for these types of things.

It could very well be that Jungkook’s parents were weird.

Tugging down Jungkook’s shorts and leaving him in only his underwear, Taehyung lets out a quiet hum as he leans forward to nuzzle the inside of Jungkook’s left leg. He presses a kiss against the side of Jungkook’s knee, then kisses upward until he reaches the soft skin of his inner thigh.

With each nuzzle and kiss from Taehyung, Jungkook feels himself fall deeper into the haze of comfort and lust Taehyung is creating for him. His gasped exhales come out shuddery and sound increasingly like moans the closer Taehyung’s mouth gets to Jungkook’s half-hard cock.

“Tae, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispers, tugging lightly at Taehyung’s hair again. “I think I smell like you now. It’s okay. I promise I’m okay.”

Is it true? Is Jungkook okay?

He looks down at Taehyung, who leans back on his knees and blinks a few times. He watches how Taehyung’s pupils return to a normal size and the amber glow of his eyes burns a bit brighter. He can tell that Taehyung is trying really hard for his sake.

Taehyung breathes heavily, chest heaving, not quite a pant but close to it, as he tries to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry, bun. I’m so sorry.”

Jungkook smiles softly and brings his fingertips to skate along Taehyung’s jaw. His lips are swollen and bright red from scenting so much of Jungkook’s body, and all Jungkook wants to do is kiss them even redder.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jungkook insists. He coaxes Taehyung to stand up by lightly pressing his fingers beneath his chin.

Taehyung rises to his feet immediately, drunk off Jungkook’s scent and pliant under his fingertips. He wraps his arms around Jungkook’s waist and pulls him close to capture Jungkook’s lonely lips with his own, as though he knows that’s the comfort Jungkook is missing.

Despite how turned on Jungkook is and the heat of Taehyung’s hard cock that Jungkook can feel press against him when he shifts in Taehyung’s embrace, the kiss is gentle and slow. Aside from a desire to reassure and ground Jungkook, there's nothing behind it.

And maybe Taehyung, too. He deserves just as much comfort.

“Can we sleep now?” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s lips. He has his eyes closed, relishing the feeling of Taehyung’s hand slipping into his hair to massage his scalp and occasionally explore the fuzzy fur of his bunny ears.

“Of course.”

They part reluctantly so Taehyung can grab fresh clothes for Jungkook to change into in the bathroom.

It feels like deja vu as Jungkook rolls up Taehyung’s too-big sweatpants so they fit better around his waist, except this time he has to wash his face of tiger makeup and already smells like he’s been drenched in Taehyung. His fingers skirt a dark, reddish-purple spot on his hip as he rolls the waistband. It hurts to press, but Jungkook does it anyway, finding the pain a reminder that this is all real. He had Taehyung on his knees, kissing him as if his life depended on it, just to make Jungkook feel calm, taken care of, and…

Well, and loved, Jungkook dares to think ��� but he doesn’t take it any further than that.

In the mirror, Jungkook watches himself pat his face dry and finds two additional reddish-purple spots, one on the side of his neck and one half-hidden by the collar of his t-shirt. These don’t hurt as much when he presses his fingers into them, but they’re bright and real. Jungkook has never received (nor given) a hickey before. Seeing them decorate his skin like handpainted flowers makes Jungkook feel giddy. He already knows he won’t cover them even though he has the makeup to do so.

Once he’s done with the bathroom, Jungkook trades places with Taehyung who has already changed into a pair of soft pajama pants but still needs to wash the residual makeup from his face. It should be simple, just two bodies crossing the same threshold, but Taehyung can’t keep his hands to himself.

“You can put your clothes on the dresser, and I’ll get you a bag in the morning,” Taehyung murmurs as he slides his hand behind Jungkook’s head to slip his fingers in his hair and tilt his face toward his.

The kiss is still soft, as if Taehyung is afraid of scaring Jungkook away. Jungkook is convinced there’s no way Taehyung could scare him away, but he appreciates the gentleness anyway.

It isn’t until Jungkook slips under the bed covers and waits for Taehyung to return from the bathroom that the nerves start to kick in. Jungkook feels like he sobered up rather quickly, and understandably so, but now he doesn’t have liquid courage to keep him from trembling when Taehyung eventually appears in the doorway to turn off the lights.

Taehyung closes his bedroom door, so Hoseok won’t disturb them when he eventually comes home, and Jungkook’s fate is sealed.

“Which side do you want?” Taehyung asks quietly when he kneels on the edge of the bed. Moonlight illuminates parts of his shadowy figure as he crawls toward Jungkook, tail playfully flicking against Jungkook’s body.

“Whichever side you don’t want.”

“Bun,” Taehyung scolds, but he slips under the covers next to Jungkook so Jungkook doesn’t have to move over.

When Jungkook reaches out to adjust the covers, his fingers brush against Taehyung’s bare chest.

“I normally sleep without a shirt, but I can wear one if you—”

“No.” Jungkook responds too quickly and too freely.

Taehyung chuckles in return, wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s waist and falling back onto his pillow to pull Jungkook against his chest.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook whispers into the dark.

Probably noticing how nervous and rigid Jungkook is, Taehyung grabs his thigh and hikes it up so Jungkook’s leg rests over Taehyung’s waist. Jungkook naturally shifts so he can cross his arm over Taehyung’s torso.

“Comfortable?” Taehyung asks and purrs with satisfaction when Jungkook nods his head.

Nerves give Jungkook loose lips, but he keeps his thoughts to himself this time when he remembers how he fantasized about lying his head on Taehyung’s chest to feel him purr. Jungkook can feel the sound rumble through Taehyung’s chest. It’s just as comforting as he imagined, and Jungkook knows that it won’t take long for him to fall asleep like this, with Taehyung purring and massaging his scalp and the two of them wrapped up in the smell of a sweet summer rain while autumn's fallen leaves skitter in the cold outside.

“I still can’t believe you punched Byungchul,” Taehyung whispers after a few minutes of silence. 

“He was going to punch you.” 

“I know.” Jungkook can’t see Taehyung’s face, but he can hear the smile in his tone. “My tiny bodyguard. You packed a solid punch, too. Better than I could’ve done.”

“Shut up! I told you I know how to kickbox.” 

Taehyung’s laughter makes Jungkook’s head bounce against his chest, but he can’t even be bothered about it. It’s nice to feel Taehyung’s warmth, and once his laughter dies down, Jungkook can hear the steady beat of his heart. 

“I’ll never doubt you again, bun.” 

Jungkook closes his eyes as Taehyung brushes his bangs away from his face to give him a forehead kiss. Maybe their date became a shitshow, but Jungkook would do it all again if it meant he’d end up like this, cradled against Taehyung’s chest, more at home than he’s ever been. 

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up in the same position he’d been when he fell asleep. He’s sweaty from Taehyung’s body heat, making the skin of his cheek uncomfortably unstick from Taehyung’s chest when he lifts his head.

Turning, he inspects Taehyung, who is still asleep despite the horrendously high-pitched blaring of his phone alarm.

“Tae,” Jungkook grumbles, shaking Taehyung’s shoulders. "Tae, you have to go to work.”

Taehyung lifts his hand to Jungkook’s face with his eyes still closed. Jungkook assumes that he feels around for a moment to orient himself. Once he’s figured out the map of Jungkook’s face, he presses his index finger against Jungkook’s lips and shushes him.

“Fuck capitalism, bun. It’s the source of all evil.”

“Oh my gosh, Taehyung, you’re so dramatic.”

Jungkook thinks the boxy grin his pestering triggers is  almost  worth being thrown onto his back so Taehyung can roll on top of him, crushing Jungkook with his heavy body.

“Mmm, I’m even  more  comfortable like this. I might need to go back to sleep,” Taehyung announces loudly. His body has Jungkook’s arms pinned to the bed, and no amount of wiggling and kicking can set Jungkook free.

Suddenly, banging on the bedroom door finally makes Taehyung sit up in bed. His curly hair sticks out like crazy, so high up that his ears aren’t visible.

“Taehyung-ah! Wake up and turn that alarm off! I didn’t get home until four in the morning because of you!” Hoseok shouts with another bang against the door when Taehyung laughs, muttering under his breath about getting a new roommate.

“He loves me,” Taehyung insists with a kiss on Jungkook’s forehead.

Jungkook thinks there’s at least one other person in the apartment who also loves Taehyung, but that’s something to consider when he’s in his own bedroom and has at least two cups of coffee in him.

“You can hang out here if you want. I’m sorry I have to dip,” Taehyung apologizes as he rifles through his closet. “But Hobi hyung can make you breakfast. He never does for me, but he will for you. Here, you can keep this.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says softly as Taehyung carefully packs his clothes in a small duffle bag.

“And you can keep the clothes you’re wearing,” Taehyung gives Jungkook a once-over with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. “I like you in them.”

Flushing bright pink, Jungkook sinks further into the blankets while he watches Taehyung fumble through his dorm to get ready for work. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, and there’s a dangerous temptation running through him to see what would happen if he never left Taehyung’s bed.

“What are you going to do after work?” Jungkook asks without expectations, even though he knows what he wants the answer to be.

“Thought maybe we could go on a second date. Y’know, without all the punching and blood. Maybe something a little more PG.”

Jungkook hides half his face behind Taehyung’s pillow when he asks, “Only PG?”

He should have expected Taehyung to pounce on him for that one. It doesn’t matter much; Jungkook has found that he enjoys being smothered in kisses if they’re coming from Taehyung.

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd &daddytaehyungie).

[laundrybiscuits]

(young man what do you wanna be tag | Ch1-2 on AO3)

“Hey, did you and Jonathan tell Will to ask me about—” Steve glances around like the world’s worst spy, and leans close even though they’re the only living souls in the trailer. “About gay things?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “No? Wait, Jonathan might’ve.”

Steve pushes both his hands through his hair. “Why would you do that! Shit!”

“Again, I did nothing in this scenario,” says Eddie. “I’m pretty sure this one specific thing is not my fault.”

“He asked me about our relationship,” says Steve. “He wanted gay advice.”

Eddie swallows down his first impulse, which is to demand to know whether Eddie’s advice isn’t good enough for Will all of a sudden. “Okay,” he says instead. “What did you tell him?”

“I don’t know! I quit giving Dustin advice on girls, like, years ago! By the time I was Will’s age, I was pretty busy fucking up the only serious relationship I ever had.”

“Sure, maybe, but you can’t think about age that way. It’s like…” Eddie tilts his head. “For a lot of us, there’s a—a late start, right? It’s like a whole different time scale, because we gotta figure ourselves out first. We don’t get the manual to all this shit, so we either waste our time chasing some kind of picket fence life that we don’t actually want, or we just make it up from scratch.”

“Right, cool, okay,” says Steve. “I didn’t say anything like that. I told him to keep his chin up. I—think I called him slugger.”

Eddie pats him on the shoulder sympathetically, definitely not feeling at all vindicated about the fact that he’s clearly winning at gay mentorship. “Could be worse. What did the littlest Byers say?”

“He’s taller than Jonathan now,” says Steve.

“So not the point, sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, how’d it go?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” Steve huffs out a breath and pushes his hand through his hair. “Not good, I don’t think. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with that kid. He just wanted to know how I figured stuff out, and like—why I wouldn’t just go with girls.”

“Yeah, uh, on that note,” says Eddie. “Is this a new development? Like.”

He pauses, trying to figure out the exact right arrangement of words.

“Like…” he says, slowly. “I’m just wondering, you know, why it hasn’t come up before. I mean, you already know about me, everybody knows about me. Is it—”

Did you not want me to think—

Did you not want—

“Pretty new, I guess,” says Steve. He lies back, arms folded behind his head, taking up more than his fair share of Eddie’s bed. Eddie climbs over him and takes his usual place tucked up against the wall, keeping a careful distance.

Steve’s parents are leaving again tomorrow, so this might be the last time for a while. It’s not like they won’t be seeing each other all the time; at this point, they’re so tangled up in each other’s lives that it’s not so unusual for them to hang out every day for weeks without even trying.

But it might be the last time for a while that they lie here like this, in a shadowy space where the line between thoughts and words gets slippery enough to cross. Eddie tries real hard not to think of it as anything special; it’s just his stupid fucking heart running away with him, the way it always does.

“Okay,” says Eddie.

After a while, he says, “Goodnight.” Steve doesn’t answer.

———

“Eddie!” Robin hollers from across the store. “We’re enemies now!”

“Okay!” he yells back. “Why?”

“Why do you think, asshole!”

This is getting unsustainable, so Eddie wanders over to the counter where Robin’s cashing out.

“Is it because I’m giving you a ride home out of the goodness of my heart? Unconventional, but I respect that.”

She chucks a balled-up receipt at his head. “Steve, dumbass.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, ducking out of the way and holding up his hands like he’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I dunno what he told you, but I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Exactly,” snaps Robin.

“Robin,” he whines, switching tactics. “C’mon, don’t be pissed at me. You know you’re my favorite lesbian in the whole wide world. You’re the cheese in my burger, the fries in my shake. My wretched soul cannot bear the weight of your scorn.”

He can tell she’s still trying to be mad, but the corner of her mouth is twitching, so he drapes himself over the counter and wails, “Milady Robin! Say only that you can forgive my dark and unworthy deeds, whatever they may be, or I shall perish right here in this fine establishment.”

“You really don’t know what you did, huh,” she sighs. “God, you’re the worst.”

Eddie peeks up at her through his hair. “Planning to enlighten me any time soon? Or are we going straight to pistols at dawn?”

“We are going to be driving me home,” says Robin. “And we’re going through Taco Bell on the way. We’re still gonna be enemies, but you can purchase a temporary peace treaty for the low, low price of two chalupas and a large Sprite.”

———

“Hey, Harrington, why’s Robin mad at me?”

“Mad at—? Oh. Uh, I think she misunderstood some stuff.”

Eddie groans. “Is this about the fake dating thing again?”

Steve looks a little pained. “Maybe?”

“Byers needs to go his own way! Call it another—lonely day, or—you know what I mean. Buckley can’t take in every wounded baby bunny that stumbles across her path.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”

“Sure, okay. So, do I need to defend my honor by finding Will a boyfriend or something?” Eddie pauses. “I realize that sounds like an insane scheme, but consider this: it’s still better than Operation Happy Ending, so I’m standing by it.”

“Not cool, man,” calls Argyle from the floor. Eddie has a theory that Argyle likes lying down on the floor because he’s tall. It’s not a very well-developed theory.

“No, no, I’m fully on board with the name,” Eddie assures him. “Baller name. You hit it out of the park on that one, dude.”

“Righteous,” says Argyle. “Appreciate the support.”

“The idea still sucks,” says Eddie. “But that is one hundred percent the fault of Jonathan Byers, and you remain the utterly blameless light of my life.”

A sudden thought strikes him, and he sits up, dislodging Steve’s hand in his hair.

“Hang on, Steve—did you ever actually tell Will that we’re not dating?”

“What? Yeah, of course.” Steve frowns. “Uh, probably? Man, I don’t really remember.”

Eddie shoots him a squinty look, and Steve holds his hands up. “Dude, I don’t know! I wasn’t trying to lie to the kid, there was a lot going on. Don’t know why he didn’t go ask Argyle instead.”

“Oh, he totally did, my bro,” says Argyle. “I think he’s, like, doing the rounds. I just told him not to worry about a thing and let the Lady Fate lead the way. I dunno if he was ready to embrace the Lady, though. He didn't really seem to get it.”

“Fucking great.” Steve leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Between the three of us, maybe he’ll get some kind of actual goddamn life lesson or whatever.”

“Fuck you, I am an amazing Gandalf. I mean mentor,” says Eddie. "Wait, shit. Does that mean Byers has been getting most of his actual gay advice from me? Holy shit, we can't let that happen. I'm like—the worst possible future for that kid. Steve, you gotta go back and try again."

He smacks Steve's shoulder. "Go back and tell him some real stuff! And tell him we're not dating, or he'll think he has to settle for the first loser that threatens him with a broken bottle!"

"Wait, is that—you don't actually think that, do you?"

"I mean, I'd like to say nobody will ever threaten him with a broken bottle, but Lady Fate works in mysterious ways. And frankly, given his whole…" Eddie waves a diffident hand. "Penchant for sniffing out trouble like a bloodhound after a T-bone, he's definitely going to wind up on the wrong end of a bar fight at least once or twice."

He pauses. "Don't tell Jon I said that, he'll wig out."

"Okay, but like—you know you're not—a loser, right?"

Steve touches Eddie’s back, a warm brush of fingers, and Eddie shrugs uncomfortably. "Just a figure of speech, Harrington. Don't worry your pretty little head about my ego, I'm doing great."

"Hell yeah you are," says Argyle. "Great as Gandalf."

Eddie is like 90% sure Argyle doesn't actually know who Gandalf is, but he appreciates the gesture.

"Thanks, dude," he says, poking Argyle’s head with his foot affectionately. "You're a great Gandalf too. The most Gandalferous."

"Can everyone stop saying Gandalf please," says Steve, so obviously Eddie has to bellow "Gandalf Gandalf Gandalf" right in his ear until Steve puts him in a headlock.

It's a pretty good afternoon.

[bibuckkinard]

In the Name-Epilogue

Ao3 appears to be down at the moment, so I'll add the link when it's up, but here's the whole epilogue. Thanks for the support! Eventually, there's gonna be more. Almost certainly a honeymoon fic, but I have another idea I want to work on first.

Here we go!

Epilogue: Eddie

Eddie’s sipping a whiskey at the open bar when he spots Buck and Tommy holding court at their table, standing with their arms around each other, so damned happy that Eddie can practically feel it from across the room. He’s been keeping an eye out for trouble all night because you never know. There’s been too much his family has gone through in the last few years and Eddie will get Buck and Tommy through their wedding day if it kills him.

He’s gratified to see that the Buckley parents really have turned a corner, which he wouldn’t have believed had someone told him it would happen a year ago. Tommy had even danced with Margaret Buckley and he only looked a tiny bit uncomfortable so Eddie supposes he’ll count that as a win.

“Gross, right?”

Eddie looks to the side to see that Lucy Donato has sidled up next to him. She orders a beer and turns to him, looking at Buck and Tommy (who have shifted position just slightly, but somehow still have their arms around each other) a little wistfully.

“They’re so in love,” Lucy continues and Eddie snorts.

“Try being around them more,” Eddie says affectionately. “They really are like that all the time. Being married now will probably make it worse.”

Lucy laughs as she takes the beer the bartender just handed her.

“I’ve been around them enough to know in the last two years.”

“Fair enough. Doesn’t take much.”

“So, Diaz,” she says, taking a sip. “Wanna dance?”

He’s about to say ‘sure’ when he spots Maddie motioning to him from the entrance to the reception hall, giving him the hand signal that can only mean one thing.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters.

“What?” Lucy asks and he turns to her.

“Tommy’s dad’s here.”

Lucy’s face clears of confusion and Eddie thinks she must know enough because now she looks pissed. “Seriously? He’d actually show up?”

“Yeah, Maddie and I worked out a way to tell each other without letting on to Buck and Tommy.” Eddie looks towards them to see that they’re now talking with Hen and Sal. They’re facing the entrance hall and he looks at Lucy again.

“Hey, can you just make sure they stay distracted? I’m going to go take care of this.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Of course.”

Then she turns to where they’re standing and hollers, “Hey, Kinard!”

Eddie has the presence of mind to snort a laugh as both Buck and Tommy turn to her.

That works.

He walks calmly over to Maddie before following her out the door and to the entrance of the venue.

“He showed up about ten minutes ago,” Maddie says. “Amanda thought she could warn him off with the Persona Non-Grata, but that didn’t work and she sent another employee to find us.”

“God, what an asshole,” Eddie says. “Tommy says he made it very clear he wasn’t welcome.”

“I know.”

They get to the entrance and Eddie hears the smarmy, too polite, voice that reminds him nothing of the warm way Tommy tends to speak. Even if he’s shooting out one of his deadpan remarks, he never sounds like this, like the person he’s speaking to is so far beneath him, they’re not even work listening to.

“...my son’s wedding, and…”

“You’re not welcome here,” Eddie snaps, stepping in front of Amanda, who had glided back when she saw Eddie and Maddie.

George Kinard looks at him disdainfully. “And you are?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, not bothering to introduce himself. “I was there when you accosted Tommy at his former workplace.”

George scoffs. “Accosted, please. I simply went there to have a discussion with him.”

“In which you made it perfectly clear how you feel about him and his husband,” Eddie snaps. “You were told not to come and I’m here to enforce their wishes. Leave. Now.”

“And who do you think you are to talk to me like th-”

“Mr. Kinard,” a familiar voice says from behind Eddie and he turns to see Bobby and Athena rushing up, Athena holding up her badge. “I’m Sargent Athena Grant of the LAFD. You were warned not to come. If you don’t leave now, I will arrest you for trespassing.”

He sneers at her. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh please, try me,” Athena says, planting her hands on her hips, looking authoritative and a little scary in her dark blue gown.

“Tommy and Evan don’t want you here. Go. Now.”

He looks at them all. “Well,” he says with another scoff. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Do you, though?” Eddie wonders and Maddie stifles a laugh next to him.

George gives them all one last disdainful look before spinning on his heel and stalking off to the town car waiting some distance away.

“Thanks, Athena,” Eddie says. “How did you know?”

“I spotted your little exchange in the doorway,” Athena says.

“When you didn’t come back right away, I figured there was trouble.”

“Come on.” Bobby wraps an arm around her. “Let’s head back inside. I think they’re going to cut the cake soon.”

They all troop back inside and Eddie knows he’s going to have to tell Buck and Tommy about this but when he spots them at a back table, Buck sitting on Tommy’s lap, an arm around his neck and kissing him sweetly, Eddie sighs.

He’ll tell them in a couple of days. He wants them to enjoy tonight.

For now, he’ll go find Lucy for that dance.

Tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin

[ryin-silverfish]

JTTW Discord Summer Contest Entry: South Seas Sojourn

AO3 Mirror

-In collaboration with the amazing @ejaysstuff, who did the art!

-I'd say "This is mostly me nerding out about folklore", except that sums up all my recent one-shots.

-An LMK fanfic about Wukong going on a vacation, set between S3 and S4. 

---

"I'm going on a vacation!"

Before anyone in the noodle shop could let out a groan or a cry of "Again?!", Sun Wukong immediately added, "And you are coming too, MK. I ain't leaving my disciple out of the fun, not after, well, everything."

"But it's okay to leave me out of the fun?" Mei sulked, as she tried to make the tea inside her cup rise up, yet only created a little ripple. 

"Hey, I'm not the one who signed you up for that internship at your uncle's place." Sun Wukong said. "But maybe we can drop by once we are done! Take a break from the heat in the cool air of the North Sea."

"Yeah, the nice, cool, sub-zero-degree air of the arctic zone..." Mei sighed. "Don't wanna beat on that dead horse, but I'm so, so sick of icy stuff."

"Aw, bummers. Guess you won't be a fan of my new tea recipe, then." Sandy poked his head out from inside the kitchen. MK could hear ice cubes clinking inside a glass, and so did Mei, since she perked up within seconds and looked like she was on the verge of backflipping over the counter.

"Sandy, Sandy my man, I'll never not be a fan of your tea recipe!" 

"Uh, where are we even going?" MK asked, in between the sound of icy lemon tea being slurped through a twisty straw. "Don't get me wrong, I'm super duper up to it! But Mr. Tang had been complaining non-stop on MeChat about Pigsy's decision to drag him to Chang'e's virtual concert during summer break, where every major tourist spot is packed with kids. I hope we are going somewhere...quieter, that's all."

"Oh, no worries. It won't be deserted, but it ain't gonna be nearly as crowded." Sun Wukong paused, striking a pose. "We are going to the South Seas, bud!"

"...Where?" MK and Mei asked in unison, drowning out Sandy's faint "Wait, like, Guanyin's place?".

"Out south. In the oceans. Duh." 

"That explains nothi——"

"And no, my big blue friend, I won't be knocking on her doors at Potaloka unless someone needs saving! She's gonna be real busy in the next few weeks anyways." Sun Wukong continued. "For you less geographically gifted kids: it's where Lion City and Betel City are. Ring any bells?"

Mei made an "Oooo" noise. "You mean the place with the mermaid lion? Man, I was so disappointed when I found out it wasn't a real critter working for the South Sea Dragons." 

"I still have no idea what you are talking about!" 

"Ah well, MK, you'll be finding out soon enough." Sun Wukong said. "So go give your Dadsy a holler, and start packing up! We'll be leaving next week or the week after that, depending on when Nezha gets off work." A pause. "Yeah, he's coming too."

...

"We aren't really going on a vacation, are we?" MK asked, as he dragged his luggage up the creaky wooden walkway near the Megapolis harbor beach. 

Dangit, who knew that mosquito repellent and sunscreen could weigh so much? (Tang and Pigsy were very adamant about the importance of taking enough of these, once they heard the news over MeChat.)

"What makes you think that?" Sun Wukong replied, swishing his tail at the daring seagulls who kept trying to peck it. 

"Well, last time you said you were going on a vacation, you weren't really telling the truth." MK let out a nervous chuckle. "And Nezha's coming too. I don't know him all that well, but he doesn't sound like the kind of guy who'll, uh, join in on the fun just because?"

"Yeah. Sorry again, MK," he sighed. "But you are half-right. It's not a complete vacation, and more of a vacation-slash-summer school, slash-free exposure therapy..."

"What was that last part?"

"Nothing!" Sun Wukong exclaimed cheerfully. "Basically, you are gonna learn how to be a god, MK."

"I——WHAT?!"

"Relax, bud! It's not as serious as you think." A pause. "How do I put it...hmm, it's like being a hero, but more down-to-earth. Where, instead of people asking you to save them from big bad demons, they are asking you to solve their personal problems."

"Like?"

"Win lottery tickets. And discipline their kids for them."

"Speak for yourself."  

A familiar voice echoed through the evening air. The next second, in a blaze of pink fire, the Third Lotus Prince was standing tall on his wheels, his sash flowing in the wind. 

"Oooh, what did I just hear? Good ol' Brother Nezha, Electro-Techno Third Prince, The Other God You Go To For Lottery Tickets, acting all uppity and serious!" Sun Wukong stuck his tongue out at the new arrival. "Nice entrance, by the way. Very flashy." 

"You know very well I don't answer every desperate addict who doesn't know when to quit, nor do I play games of chance for fun! I play them to win!" Nezha retorted. "Also, thanks for the compliment, Great Sage."

"You are welcome, Laodi."

"Are we really going on a vacation to...help people gamble?" MK nervously raised a hand. "Isn't that, like, against the law?"

"Goodness, what have you been telling your disciple before my arrival? No, what have you left out?" Nezha groaned. "Well, since your mentor clearly hasn't explained our goals properly, I suppose I'll have to substitute for him. Again."

"Hey! Professor Sun is getting to it, Teaching Assistant Nezha——"

"In the next week, we shall be visiting and staying in multiple cities of the South Seas. Now that my true body isn't guarding the Samadhi Fire, I can finally start answering the more tricky prayers," Nezha sighed, "Which will only continue to pile up, since the Seventh Month is imminent."

"Seventh Month?" MK asked, reaching into his pocket with one hand. "But it's August the third already! Lemme check the calendar again..."

"Lunar Seventh Month. Also known as the Ghost Month." Nezha shot a look at Sun Wukong, his expression a mix between annoyance and slight concern. "Someone has picked a great time and place to take his student on a trip."

"What could I say? It sure is less depressing than Qingming nowadays. And they won't fine you for burning paper effigies in the South Seas, or so I've heard!"

"I…no matter." Nezha's look softened a bit, but not by much. "Back to what I was saying. Once the gates of the Underworld open, all the spirits will come out, go visit their families, enjoy the offerings as much as they can under the watch of Dashi Ye, Lady Guanyin's ghostly manifestation."

"We'll be assisting him, much like my brother and all the local gods. Keeping order, giving directions, and all that. In between these shifts, I’ll finally get to perform my duties in my actual physical body instead of the youthful manifestations mortals expect to see, and your mentor is free to monkey around with you and his worshippers at his own temples. All clear?"

"So we are gonna be, like, tour guides and security, but for dead people?" MK asked. "That doesn't…sound too bad, actually! Also, you have a brother, Nezha?"

"No, I pop out of a rock, just like your master." Nezha said flatly, then added, "Goodness, I wish. Muzha can be a bit much, but he's a lot more bearable while on the job, so no worries."

"Someone's getting jealous again, I see," Sun Wukong reached over to pat him on the head, and received an annoyed glare. "Oh, and don't let Nezha's sour attitude fool you, MK. We are still on a vacation, it ain't gonna be all work and no play! And the work won't start until several days later, so we'll have plenty of time."

…

This didn't seem like a great start for our vacation, MK thought. 

Okay, it did, for about three minutes, after they got off the somersault cloud. 

The palm trees were swaying in the wind, the two-story buildings with red-tiled roofs were glowing under the tropical sun, and Nezha reluctantly glamoured a lotus-patterned T-shirt and some baggy pants over his armor after rejecting Sun Wukong's more outlandish suggestions ("You should totally change your wheels into flaming flip-flops!"). Not a single dangerous, vacation-ruining, world-destroying threat in sight.

Then a giant rain cloud appeared out of nowhere, driving most of the crowd indoors and leaving the unfortunate ones seeking shelter under the nearest rooftops and bus stations. 

Not that it helped much——MK felt like he was standing behind the waterfall at Flower Fruit Mountain again, as raindrops slammed into the ground with a fury and created splashes of watery mists.

"Okay, Nezha, Did you anger the local dragons again?" Sun Wukong asked, holding the monkey-hair-turned-umbrella over MK's head.

"Nonsense! Not even the East Sea ones hold a grudge for this long, and I've never seen a South Sea dragon other than their king," Nezha said, then added, "and my brother's co-worker. Are you sure you have a temple nearby?"

"Eh, maybe. I saw a bunch of faith beacons up there, all clustered together." Sun Wukong shrugged. "Some of these have to be mine."

"Have to be yours? Oh, that's rich, coming from someone who hasn't visited the South Seas in person since the 19th century——"

"And they still love me, bud. Deal with it."

"Um, what's a faith beacon?" MK wiped the water droplets off his phone screen with one thumb, trying and failing to steer his luggage away from the puddles. "I'm not seeing any on CloudMap."

"Well, you won't, unless you are a patron god of IT workers or some other technology-related stuff!" Sun Wukong said. "How do I put it, hmmm…after people have prayed to you for a while, offered enough incense, you can just sense the places they are doing it at. Usually, it looks like a beam or a glowy aura, but some gods can smell or hear it too."

"Wow, that's so cool! It's like a mystical VR goggle. Is it something you can learn, though?"

"Look, I'm glad that you are doing your job as a mentor, but can we please get some actual directions?" Nezha sighed. "Temples here aren't always their own separate buildings. I've been summoned inside too many HDB flats to count, and you won't know that by looking at the beacons alone."

"We are heading in that direction right now. It'll get clearer once I get closer to the place. So be patient, will ya'?"

"Well, isn't that just the most reassuring answer I've ever heard. 'We'll get there when we get there'." Nezha muttered, as the group took a turn into a narrow side street, ducking below the swaying lanterns and multilingual shop signs. "Just so you know, if the rain doesn't stop and we don't get there in two hours, I'm dragging both of you onto a bus and to my temple instead."

"Why, you three sound like you are lost! Need a tour guide?"

Abruptly, a high-pitched, child-like voice resounded through the torrential rain, coming out of the alleyway to their left. MK turned to look at the speaker—

—and stared straight into the lifeless glowing eyes of a chalk-faced monstrosity, its red tongue hanging out of its mouth.

With a scream, his staff was out, and in a split second, connected with the thing's head and sent it flying into the nearest wall. It slid off the yellowed concrete, landed with a splash, then went completely still. 

A spiderweb crack was spreading across its porcelain mask——Oh goodness, it's a puppet, which was somehow even worse.

"Ah. The answer is 'No', it seems."

He nearly extended the staff and hit the puppet again when it spoke, had Sun Wukong not dashed forth and, in one swift motion, dragged a pale specter out of it by the robe collar.

"Glad to see you again, Xiao Xie!" He grinned in a rather dangerous way, like what Mr. Tang said non-intelligent monkeys really meant when they bore their teeth. "Is there any particular reason why you are jumpscaring my student in broad daylight, or do you just have nothing better to do?"

"Yes, because this one knows it will happen!" The specter, still in Sun Wukong's grip, said in a cheerfully oblivious voice. “The vision caught this one by surprise too. It's not every day that you see the Great Sage's golden staff approaching your face at lethal speed, especially when you have done nothing to offend him. Good thing this one did not come in his contractor's body!"

Behind them, Nezha let out a groan. "Oh joy, it's these two clowns again."

"W-W-What the heck just happened?! And what's THAT?" MK pointed at the specter. Outside of that creepy puppet, it just looked like a lanky, unnaturally pale youth in an oversized mandarin jacket and a tall hat.

Before Nezha could answer, another sullen voice cut him off.

"You knew you'd get smacked in the face if you came, so naturally, you possessed the creepiest vessel you could find and headed straight in this direction." The air suddenly got a lot colder. "I don't need precognition to know you deserve to be smacked at this point."

The water in a nearby puddle rippled. Okay, technically, it never stopped rippling because of the rain, but this one was a lot bigger, as if something was about to crawl out.

MK took a step back. Seconds later, the murky water turned inky black, rising up into the air and coalescing into the form of a short, stern-faced kid, wearing the same clothings as the pale specter, except they were all black-colored.

"Darn right, Lao—" Sun Wukong paused, as he turned and took a closer look at the newcomer. "Xiao Fan? Huh, didn't expect to see this you here. Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm absolutely complaining." The kid replied. "Our main souls have been attending one meeting after another at Fengdu since the Ivory Lady Incident, which is why I'm currently on," He shot a pointed look at his ghostly companion, "babysitting duty. You gonna smack him or not? Cause I won't mind if you do, Great Sage."

"Aww, really, Xiao Fan? You, of all people, should know that everything this one sees will happen, even if he doesn't know how or why. Since trying to avoid a future is the best way to unknowingly make it come true, this one can only try to soften the impacts and minimize the risks."

"By making sure you would, one-hundred-percent, get hit in the face by someone?" Fan snorted. "Way to go, brother."

"By making sure that staff wasn't slamming into this one's soul, or a flesh-and-blood vessel!" Xie replied. "And the mission is a success! Only a single puppet is harmed."

Nezha threw his hands up in the air. "How did you manage to be even more annoying and nonsensical than your main soul?"

"Welcome to my fucking un-life." Fan mumbled.

"Um, hello?" MK waved awkwardly. "Have you guys suddenly started speaking in some sort of secret code mid-conversation, cause I don't understand a single word you just said."

"Gosh! Sorry, bud," Sun Wukong finally let go of Xie's collars (now that MK thought about it, how did you even grab a ghost's collars? Mystic Monkey Magic at play again?) "Get a bit carried away there."

He pointed at the two specters. "Meet the Heibai Wuchang. The ghost cops, or rather, parts of them. Remember your hair clones? Xiao Xie and Xiao Fan here are kinda like that, but with their souls."

"T-The ghost cops?" MK squirmed. The downpour had become a light drizzle, but he still felt chilly, and it wasn't because his T-shirt sleeves and socks were now soaked. "Like…the ones you see when you are about to die?"

"Don't worry, bud! They aren't here to take any of us away. I think." Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes slightly, "and even if they were, I'd like to see them try."

"Nah. Not a chance. This one still values his un-life—"

"Yeah? Then apologizing to my student and stop wandering around in that thing will be a good start!"

"—so yes, he is very sorry for the distress he caused, young one. The 'wandering around in possessed objects' part, though, is perfectly legal, and this one still has to take the puppet back to his temple, so sorry, no can do."

"You have a temple now?" Sun Wukong let out a chuckle of disbelief. "You two?"

"You really haven't been around here in a while, have you, Great Sage?" Nezha said. "Yes, unfortunately. It's a new South Seas trend, and I hope it stays where it is."

"Our main altar here is still inside the City God's temple. But there are more temples dedicated to us alone, across the strait." Fan said. "And I'm obligated to inform you that all deities who visit the South Seas in their true bodies instead of using clones or astral projections must notify the local City God's temple beforehand, or submit the relevant paperwork immediately after arrival."

"Hmm, and if I don't?" Sun Wukong raised an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do?"

"Other than following you around and staring at you judgmentally? Nothing substantial." Fan said, before sighing deeply. "But if you can at least pretend to respect us and not treat Underworld officials like the complete pushovers we are, we'd really appreciate it."

Sun Wukong hollered at that. "Y'know what? I think I'll do just that, since this you are a lot cuter and not a raging jerk!"

"You know my main soul can hear you, right?"

"Exactly." Sun Wukong grinned. Unlike a few minutes ago, it was a lot less tense. "So lead the way, Xiao Fan!"

…

When MK heard the whole…ghost temple thing, he was expecting skeletons, eerie lighting, spooky stuff.

Okay, some of the statues and puppets were still creepy. Same for the possessions. 

Sure, the ghost cops had explained that they had human "contractors" who'd let them possess their bodies willingly, after signing a lengthy form where all the risks and duties are spelled out clearly.

But when he thought of possessions, the only images that came to mind was LBD's host, shaking like she was in the middle of winter again despite sitting inside the safe, cozy confines of Pigsy's Noodles. And Sun Wukong's golden eyes glowing frost blue, devoid of all warmth and emotions.

Well, better get used to it now. Gonna see a lot more ghosts once the…summer school part of the vacation-slash-summer school starts.

MK took a deep breath and began to make his way back through the corridors, a small incense burner in hand. The exterior of the temple was dated and slightly out of place, sitting beneath towering skyscrapers and surrounded by neatly trimmed park lawn.

Past the main hall and the altar room behind it, however, the place could be mistaken for any modern office building. Or the background of a Monkey Cop episode, except the cops were all ghosts and the monkey was filling in the divine equivalent of a customs form.

"There, done." Sun Wukong said, putting the pen down, "Right in the nick of time! For real, though, couldn't you ghosts just burn the paperwork together with the rest of the effigies?"

"And get them stuck beneath a mountain of sports cars, or whatever insane vehicles people decide to send to their ancestors nowadays? No thanks." 

As he handed the incense burner over to Sun Wukong, who crumpled the form into a ball and tossed it inside, MK caught a glimpse of a dark blue aura, enveloping the handle of the back door before it opened on its own. Two more uniformed ghosts hovered in, telekinetically carrying multiple pitched paper objects.

"Speak of the devil…" Fan turned towards his partner, who was leaning leisurely against a wall. "This year's bunch are already coming in, and if you bothered working with a contractor today, you better put that physical body to good use and start helping!"

"Alright, alright, This one hears you." Xie yawned, then walked over and grabbed the floating effigies. "Hmmm, no helicopters or private jets this year? That's a bit disappointing."

"Well, Mr. Chow sent a pretty big table, boss. We don't think it's gonna fit through the backdoor, so we left it in the park pavilion."

"Excuse me?" MK perked up. At last, a chance to do something instead of just standing there and watching awkwardly. "Do you need something resized? Cause I have just the power for that!"

…

"Y'know, I was wondering what's so special about a table," Sun Wukong poked his head out from behind the door frame, trying very hard to suppress the giggles, "or why they'd make a live-sized one in the first place. Now I get it." 

"Kudos for dedication, I guess?" MK shrugged. "I'm sure their loved ones would, uh, appreciate the gift down there."

With a snap of his fingers, the paper Mahjong table returned to its original size, drastically reducing the remaining space inside the storage room. 

Yeah, the "craft" part of "Arts & Crafts" wasn't really his strong suit, but a piece this detailed and lovingly crafted? It probably took weeks to make. And cost more than an actual Mahjong table.

"Are you two done admiring the beauty of that absurd object? Can we please leave and go somewhere else now?" Nezha's muffled complaint came from the corridors. “It's raining outside again, and if we don't hurry——"

"Even if you do hurry, this one doubts you will be able to get any further than the bus stop, in the two minutes it shall take for the drizzle to become a downpour once more." Xie said, then tossed the last stack of golden joss paper into the storage room.

"Great! Wonderful! Yeah, I'm just looking forward to spending more time with you and your clowns-in-training." Nezha snarked. "How will we ever get anywhere in life without your nifty short-term prophecies?"

"Hey hey, Nezha, chill out. A dash of salt is good n' all, but you are getting spicy over there." Sun Wukong said. "But, speaking of ways to pass the time during a rainy day…"

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he turned to look at Xie. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Judging by what this one just saw? Yes."

"Great! Come here, bud, I have something that will make our stay a lot less boring."

Sun Wukong beckoned MK over, back into the big guest room, then pulled out a tuft of hair. Seconds later, an actual Mahjong table landed squarely on the floor with a thud, complete with chairs and Mahjong sets, followed by an "Ohoho, lovely!" and two simultaneous shouts.

"Seriously? Don't set a bad example for your student!"

"Don't you dare corrupt our guests, Xiao Xie!"

"Please, this one is just joining in on the fun. Our guests have no problem 'corrupting' themselves, so to speak!"

"Oh, c'mon, it's not gambling if you aren't betting actual money!” Sun Wukong exclaimed. "It's like poker, but…for old people. Right, MK?"

"Um, one problem: I don't know how to play Mahjong! Or poker!" MK said, scratching his head. "The only card game I know is Uno."

"Great! You can just learn it on the fly, then, under the watchful eyes of Professor Sun and Teaching Assistant Nezha!"

"No way, Great Sage. I'm not helping you lure your student astray into a potential lifetime of wasted hours and petty vices."

"Really?" Sun Wukong flashed a taunting smile. "I bet you only said that 'cause you don't wanna lose too badly to me. Again."

"Oh, you take that back right now, monkey!" Nezha jabbed a finger at him. "If we were back in the old days and in a gambling house, you'd be going home in nothing but your undershirt and breeches by the end of the day!"

MK did not miss the implication that, at some point in the past, these two had indeed been to an actual gambling house.

"A bold challenge if I've ever heard one!" Sun Wukong's grin widened. "Or is your bark worse than your bite? Brag all you like, but the only way to prove it is to get on the table yourself."

"I——Screw this, I'm in," Nezha took a deep breath, “But only because it will be quite satisfying, kicking the collective behinds of the two most annoying gods I've ever met." A glare at Sun Wukong, then, at Xie. "So. Get. Ready."

"That's the Third Prince I know!" Sun Wukong gave him a thumbs-up. "Bring it on, lad!"

MK gulped. "Yeah, sorry, I think I'm just gonna watch you guys play first. Get a feel of the game before jumping in. Is that alright?"

"No prob. Though this did put us in the most classic bind in the entire history of Mahjong…" Sun Wukong paused dramatically. "The 'Short of a Fourth' problem."

"That won't be me." Fan immediately said, before walking through the nearest wall. "Still have a job to do." He turned, poking his head out of the wall once more. "But by all means, teach Xiao Xie a lesson for me."

"Ah well." Sun Wukong shrugged, reaching towards his head. "Guess this calls for my clone——"

"No!" Nezha smacked his hand away. "That's just blatant cheating!"

"But literal future vision isn't?"

"Hey, it's not like this one can turn it off." Xie protested. He looked like he wanted to say something else, before Sun Wukong stood up, dashing out of the door and towards the altar room. 

"Guys! We are one person short of a Mahjong game here!" A pause. "Niang Niang? Ah Pek? Datuk? Hello? Anyone up to it?"

"...What's he doing?"

"The divine equivalent of spamming telephone calls." Nezha rolled his eyes. "Yelling into the ears of every deity's idol he can find, and hoping for a response."

"For your knowledge, we have a three-people variant of the game here," Xie added, unhelpfully.

…

Way after Sun Wukong had returned, sulking a little but soon jumped right into arguing with Nezha, MK heard a chime. 

Like someone had just dropped a bunch of coins onto a marble floor, but…louder. Okay, he wasn't too sure about that last part, because if the others heard it too, they did not react to the noise at all.

"It's still not gambling! Just a way to keep the score, yanno?" Sun Wukong continued, tossing a tangerine back and forth between his hands——one he probably pinched from a random altar table on his way back. "Also, the game will be pretty boring if you aren't winning something."

"That's the very definition of gambling." Nezha said, with a deadpan expression. "Wagering money or other stakes in a game of chance."

"It's only a stake if it's something of value, and outside of sentimental ones, these offerings have none." Sun Wukong turned to Xie. "Otherwise you won't give them away to folks for free before they spoil, right?"

"Indeed, for we've already eaten them." 

MK squinted at the fruit; not a single bite mark or patch of peeled skin was found on its exterior.

"Ewww." Sun Wukong grimaced. "Anyways, that just makes them even less valuable and further proves my point."

"Is that supposed to be convincing? Because I'm not taking home a bunch of ghost-eaten fruits even if you give them to me for free——"

"Greetings," someone cleared their throat, then said in a deep, magnetic voice, "Is it you who invited this Zhao to your humble temple for a game, friends?"

The door curtain jingled; in walked a dark-faced man with an impressively bushy beard, clad in gilded black armor and red-gold robes. The only thing that didn't make him as intimidating as he should was the black tiger cub, clinging onto his shoulder pauldron like an oversized housecat.

"Yep, Lao Zhao!" Sun Wukong cheered, "Didn't think you'd have the time, but here you are!" He winked at MK, "Now, ya' ever seen a God of Wealth statue in your Dadsy's store? If you did: this is your guy in the flesh, Zhao Gongming himself."

"Oh yeah! The statue," MK tried his best to recall something that looked like the man, yet the only thing that came to mind was the adorable and totally dissimilar one on the counter. "You mean he's..the cat?"

"Ha! I like your little disciple, Great Sage." Zhao Gongming laughed. "Sadly, no. The only feline here is my steed, Biandan Hua." He pointed to the tiger cub. "In her baby form, so I don't get animal control called on me again. Mortals these days are so easily startled, I swear."

"Aww, that's the cutest name I ever heard." Sun Wukong cooed, earning an unimpressed look from the tiger. "Anyways, since we have our fourth guy here, without further ado, let's begin——"

"A second. I'm here for business too. Serious business," he held up a hand. "Have any of you seen a golden scissor? It's about this size, but becomes a lot bigger when transformed," a gesture, "about the size of a city block. Ah, and it can turn into two flood dragons."

"Nope!"

"Hmm. This one doesn't think so."

"The Golden Dragon Shears?" Nezha’s eyes widened. "How did you lose *that*, Marshal Zhao?!"

"I didn't! It's probably my youngest sister again. Bixiao is still rummaging through our study, so I may as well check in the Lower Realms while she's at it." He said. "Make sure no one has 'borrowed' it without their permission."

"Why are y'all looking at me?" 

Awkward silence ensued, broken immediately by Sun Wukong's indignant huff.

"Okay, first, I'm insulted by your insinuations! You eat a few peaches, and suddenly you are THE suspect whenever something goes missing up there." He shook his head. "Second, you have sisters, Lao Zhao? Huh, never know that."

"Well, unless you are planning to have kids in the immediate future, Great Sage, your paths are unlikely to cross!" Zhao Gongming laughed, before resuming his frown. "Our scissors are far from the only missing treasure, though. Other palaces have also reported similar cases over the last hour. I'll just have to go shake down Spirit Official Ma again——wouldn't be the first time that little candlewick bugger tried to pin his thefts on someone else."

At the mention of Spirit Official Ma, Nezha mouthed something that sounded suspiciously like a swear word. Sun Wukong made a face. 

"Yeah, show that Huaguang brat who's boss! But before that, surely you still have time for a Mahjong game? It'll only be a minute up there." 

"Hmm, I suppose it won't hurt." Zhao Gongming replied, twirling his beard. "But with one condition: no one uses their godly powers."

"Define 'godly powers'?" 

"Anything that requires intent to activate." Zhao Gongming said. "Your golden vision, active divination instead of passive, uncontrollable foresights, my power over fortune..."

A sigh. "I've played enough games where that is allowed. With my disciples it always turns into a teaching session, and playing against my fellow gods of wealth feels more like a power-measuring contest than a true match of skills, especially when Bi Gan was involved." He shook his head. "For a scholarly god of wealth, the old man can be more competitive than us martial ones."

"I feel ya', Lao Zhao. It's always the old geezers who play dirty."

"Hello? Excuse me?" Nezha asked. "Am I the only one who's more concerned about the missing treasure of mass destruction than the silly Mahjong game?!"

"Yes, yes you are." Sun Wukong smirked. "It's just a tiny scissor! What mass destruction can it cause, other than to Art & Crafts materials?"

"Says the blissfully ignorant monkey who has never seen it in action," Nezha retorted, then lowered his head with a defeated look. "Whatever. I don't care anymore. Just don't mention me when the Celestial Host starts pointing fingers and your sisters come knocking, Marshal Zhao."

"You have my words, Third Prince." Zhao Gongming made a fist-and-palm salute, almost jokingly. "For I'm not one to tattle, even if it means enduring Yunxiao's scolding alone. Now, what are the stakes for this game?"

…

After a brief discussion, the four had settled on using some unopened and unoffered snacks as their stakes. Which still didn't beat the gambling allegations, according to Nezha. 

Well, it was better than betting all your belongings on a rigged game and losing them all, at least. And after watching a few rounds of their play, MK's only thought was Dang, if that goldfish demon chose this game back then, he wouldn't even need to cheat to wipe the floor with me.

"You know, if someone tells me I'll be watching the Great Sage, two celestial gods, and a ghost play Mahjong like old people at a community center during the first day of our vacation..." MK mumbled to himself, "I'll probably believe it, actually."

Despite having only the vaguest idea of the rules——whoever completed a set of certain tiles first won the game——and not getting any closer to understanding them, he was determined to keep watching. 

If only because Sun Wukong winked at him right before tossing the dice and starting the round, and he was pretty sure it meant "Watch and learn, bud!" in a way that suggested the message went beyond a simple Mahjong game.

"What you are seeing now is not a typical day for most of us, if that makes you feel less disillusioned." Fan said, without looking up from the documents he was flipping through. 

A while ago, the ghost had returned with a stack of them, and the papers were now floating around him in a ring, suspended by the dark blue glow of telekinesis. If that wasn't the most stylish way of doing paperworks, MK didn’t know what was.

"Uh, but I'm not?" MK said. "It's just…a lot less serious than I thought, this whole 'gods' business, and honestly, I'm not complaining! The Great Sage looks like he’s having a good time too."

Back on the table, Sun Wukong and Nezha yelled "Pong!" at the same time, then immediately glared at each other.

"Hey, I said that first!"

"That doesn’t matter, because you are cheating!" Nezha huffed. "It is impossible for two players to Pong at the same time unless someone has sneaked an extra tile in there while shuffling them, and we all know who that is."

"Well yeah, but I'm just evening the odds in a rigged game, Laodi." Sun Wukong said, eyeing Xie sharply. "For the sake of fairness, I'll allow you to cheat back too. How 'bout that?"

"Good grief, and I thought Master Taiyi was the most unabashed cheater I ever met on the table." Nezha took a deep breath and announced, "New battle objective: show the two cheaters who's boss, without lowering myself to their level."

"Well, this one can't blame the Great Sage for it. Two more turns, and he’ll claim the first win."

"Keep your visions to yourself, ghost!"

"Thanks a lot, Xiao Xie." Sun Wukong grinned. "That gives me even more reason to do it."

A few more turns, a few more clacks, and the monkey was left staring wordlessly at the table.

"Hey, what the heck! Your vision isn't right."

"This one's vision is always right. That, however, isn't one." Xie gave them an innocent look. "It's just the time-honored tactic of 'lying', friend."

"Serve you right for trusting him and cheating." Nezha snorted, before reaching out to claim the discarded tile.

"Why, ya' little——!"

"Credit where credit's due, that sure is a more entertaining use of precognition than the average Dipper Mansion chess game." Zhao Gongming commented, amidst the chaos. "I look forward to what you will bring to the table next, budding little wealth god."

"More bullshit, that's what he'll bring." Fan crossed his arms. "And he wonders why I don't play chess with him anymore."

"Well, I guess it could be worse." MK said. "They could be playing Monopoly."

"What's a Mono-poly?"

"A game that ruins friendships and turns family members against each other. Mei tried introducing her cousins to that during a New Year gathering." MK shuddered. "Some of them still won't talk to her."

"Sounds like it needs to be exorcized." Fan said, without a single hint that he was joking. 

"Please don't."

MK kind of got the impression that he was the "by-the-book" cop of their buddy cop pair, who sounded serious whether he meant it or not, but maybe the kiddy soul would take things just that literally.

Sadly, his clarification ended up killing the conversation. For the next few moments, they just sat side-by-side, listening to the clacking of Mahjong tiles.

And the clacking had intensified, as the game picked up speed. Sun Wukong in particular was speeding up into a blur, fidgeting in his chair, using only one hand to move the tiles while juggling the same poor tangerine with the other.

Now, he was always in motion, gesturing as he talked, grabbing something or the other wherever they went. But the fidgeting had intensified to a point well beyond what MK was used to, which was making him fidgety too.

After a loud "Would you please stop that?" from Nezha, MK finally mustered enough courage to half-prod at Fan——and immediately drew his hand back! Wow, ghosts are freezing to the touch. 

(Okay, he wasn't really touching anything solid, but it felt like reaching into a pocket of sub-zero-degree air, made even more jarring by the heat of summer.)

"Sorry sir, one question." MK asked. "I don't really have a good grip on the rules yet, but is the Great Sage in trouble now? Like, is he losing?"

"No idea. I'm not bored enough to watch and guess their sets." Fan said. "But if you are talking about his hyperactivity, that's not a result of panic."

"Then what’s he doing?"

"He's teaching you how to fight someone with precognition."

"By…acting like a wind-up toy?"

"On the surface level, yes." He answered. "How much do you know about divination?"

To pain. 

No, not that one. MK shook his head wildly. "Next to nothing, I guess."

"Good. You aren't losing out on much." Fan said, before frowning. "I'd rather know less about it, but Xiao Xie just has to be an insufferable prick, so here we are. Essentially, think of Fate like a game of cards, or Mahjong, or whatever game of chance of your liking."

MK chuckled. The idea of Fate being a Uno game was quite a funny one, not gonna lie, if only because he'd get to figuratively shout "Reverse!" at someone.

"The Way is the ruleset, what is allowed and not allowed to happen. The winning and losing conditions. The cards and tiles are the individual events and outcomes, happening to a being as they draw them, one by one."

"To the Dipper Mansion celestials in charge of Fate, divination is like having your master's golden eyes and fiery vision. They can see through the cards and tiles, know what's on them instinctively, and are thus banned from playing, only able to shuffle and deal them out on the Celestial Host's orders."

Zhao Gongming's tiger, having jumped off its master's shoulder long ago, pawed at Sun Wukong's twitching tail. This only egged the monkey on, as they promptly began a game of 'catch my tail if you can' off the table.

"For some," he looked at Nezha, his face a mask of intense concentration, "it isn't so much divination as making snap-second, highly accurate guesses, aided by superb memorization skills. To the more unfortunate mortals, however, it's like seeing recordings of multiple games playing side-by-side, with no way of knowing which one is theirs."

"Lucky for my sworn brother and almost no one else, he can see snippets of a single recording, which just happens to be ours." Fan said. "It's also random, very short-reaching, and makes the part of his soul that bears the brunt of it into a kooky brat with no self-preservation instincts. But I've complained enough. Now that you know how his precognition works, what will you do to counter it?"

"Does not playing the game count?"

"A wise choice. But suppose you don't get to choose."

"I, uh." Think, smartie kid, think! What is the relationship between ultra-hyperactive monkey behavior and beating a ghost with future vision on the Mahjong table? (Oh geez, it's like that one question about ravens and writing desks in that foreign children's book again…)

"I guess I'll make myself, well, unpredictable and even more random?" He finally said, hesitantly.

"Not very specific, but you get the gist of it." Fan nodded. "Going back to my analogy, your master knows his opponent is making a random draw too, except each card he draws allows him to see others claiming or discarding a certain tile."

"So he decides to add more useless cards into the pool. False maneuvers, feints," Fan pointed to the tiger, still pawing at Sun Wukong’s tail, "Artificially creating another game on the side to divert the visions. Nothing can be a hundred percent predictable, not even literal future vision, and if only my partner realized that, he'd be a lot less annoying and not on the way to getting absolutely destroyed in this game."

"Wow. That's very clever and all, but should you really be telling me this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know much about the Underworld, outside of how Monkey King wrecked the place and scribbled him and his monkeys' name off the Book of Life and Death——" MK waved nervously, "No hard feelings 'bout that, ey? But if the Great Sage is teaching me how to counter you guys, does that mean you'll be going after us at some point in the future?"

"Technically, we'll be going after everyone who isn't an immortal or formally ranked celestial, sooner or later." Fan said. "Your master is firmly in the first category, and for you, that won't be in a long, long time, if it eases your worries."

"Yeah, no. Not at all. Thanks."

"You don't like ghosts very much, do you." He said, then, before MK could reply, added, "Which is fine. We don't like ourselves either."

"Uhhhh, don't be?" Oh gosh, was there really a way to word this without offending ghosts more? "It's not like I dislike you guys! Like, you and the other ghost cops seem pretty chill. It's just, y'know, a bit freaky, seeing the walking reminder of my inevitable mortality and all, ahahaha…"

"It is. And I won't tell you what to feel about that." Fan held up a finger, and the documents he had been reading were instantly sorted into neat little stacks in midair. "But if there is one thing you remember from our conversation, let it be this: no game lasts forever."

"One has to end in order for another to begin, and a game where no one wins or loses is gonna be a very boring one. We, officials of the Ten Courts, are but the keepers of scores, and you don't have to win in order to have fun while it lasts."

"Hu le." Zhao Gongming's calm voice cut through the chit-chat, followed by a light thud of him pushing the tiles over. "Four Kongs."

All eyes were immediately on him.

"By Buddha, Lao Zhao! No wonder you've been so quiet."

"Ugh!" Nezha facepalmed. "I was so close!" He shot a half-hearted glare at Sun Wukong. "This is all your fault, by the way. Without the extra tiles you snuck in there, he'd have never gotten such a rare combination."

"C'mon, maybe he's just that lucky?"

"Very enlightening." Xie hummed, handing over the bag of peach-flavored chips to Zhao. "This one knows he won't be winning the first round, but its certainly a great start!"

"And this is why you don't gamble with a literal, formally ranked, celestial god of wealth." Fan said, after a long, stunned silence. "Even when he isn't actively using his influence, for fairness's sake."

"He's not?"

"If he did, he'd just win every round, and there wouldn't be a game to speak of."

…

They stopped playing when the rain stopped, at which point the sun had already disappeared below the horizon. Zhao Gongming left halfway after getting an astral call from his sisters, shaking his head, giving MK the chance to finally join in. 

Sun Wukong had stopped cheating after that——at least not as blatantly, if Nezha's words were to be believed. To MK, he just settled back into his old laid back attitude, which, in turn, made his own palms less sweaty as he faced off against the other two.

He still lost, badly, only barely managing a win at the very end. Not that it mattered, since Nezha had soundly kicked everyone's butts like he wanted, coming out at the top by a wide margin of three bags of chips and a single Tau Sar Piah.

"Let this be your lesson, Monkie Kid," he said, with a hint of childish glee, "That hard work, knowledge of statistics, and memorization skills will always triumph over luck and a bunch of cheating clowns."

"Ah well. I'll let you have your moment, Laodi, since it's pretty much the only fight you can win against me." Sun Wukong responded with a cheeky smile, then tore open his bag of chips and started munching loudly on them. 

"Yes, keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll actually start believing in it." Nezha smirked, before standing up from his chair. "I'll just be over here, basking in the glow of victory and trying to not run into my brother on the way back——"

As if on cue, a shout came from outside.

"GREETINGS! This Hui An pays his respect to the City God and his attendants!"

"Annnnnd there goes my good mood." Nezha muttered. A formation started glowing under his feet. "Goodbye. If anyone asks, I've never been here."

Almost immediately after he disappeared in a blaze of pink fire, the speaker outside with the loud, booming, megaphone-against-your-ears voice marched through the doorway.

"Oh. Hi there, Muzha."

"HI THERE, as the younger generation says these days!" The tall man replied cheerfully. The dangling green ties on his hair bun were swaying back and forth, as he made a bow. 

"Heard you yelling into Lady Guanyin's statue a while ago, Great Sage, so I decided to pay a visit. Is my brother here too? Longnü said she saw you two flying together, while weaving the storm clouds with her kins."

"Well, in Nezha's exact words, 'If anyone asks, I've never been here'." Sun Wukong shrugged.  "So no, he is not here." 

"Ah. Embarrassed, I see!" He exclaimed, making his way to the Mahjong table and staring down at the tiles. "He really shouldn't be, though. By my religious vows, I'm supposed to refrain from such worldly pass-times, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be preachy about it!"

Now MK was starting to have an idea of what "Too much" meant. Namely, his complete lack of volume control.

"Well, looks like I've dropped by at a rather inopportune time, so I won't keep you fellows any longer, Great Sage. Thanks for keeping my little brother company, though——"

His sight met MK's, and only then did Muzha seem to notice his presence. "And DEAR ME! Is that your new disciple I've heard so much about? A pleasure to meet you too, young one!"

He reached out for a handshake. MK made the mistake of taking it, and immediately winced. 

"Oww, owww——Nice to meet you too?!"

"Please stop crashing my disciple's hand, Muzha."

"Sorry, sorry!" He laughed, releasing his iron grip at last. "It's just so wonderful to see the juniors coming into their own, I get a bit carried away. Still, this acolyte looks forward to working with you in the days to come!"

"Man, we are busy here today, aren't we?" Xie commented, just as the overly cheerful and loud immortal made a turn and headed for the backdoor. "So many visitors. Not that this one is complaining."

"...Yeah." MK agreed, after awkwardly waving Muzha goodbye.

Well, one thing was certain: godhood internship or not, he'd sure have one hell of a story to tell once he got back home.

[murfpersonalblog]

I had to pause reading this to scream laugh holler rolling in my grave at @siahatha's new fic & Louis's arm-burning scene--it's SO good! 👏 This is just me fangirling & thinking out loud; it was way too long to put in the comments at AO3.

Four little bars have been burned (and must have burned for a while, Jesus, he sleeps like the dead) into Louis’ forearm, hand, and fingers from where they smoldered in the little bit of light. Lestat must have moved Louis’ hand when he realized. Impulsively (premeditated), Louis slides his hand back into the light, eyes on Lestat. “Absolument pas!/ Absolutely not,” Lestat snarls, wrenching Louis’ hand back into the shadow. It hurts a little, but maybe only because of the burn on his arm.  “Joues avec moi/ play with me,” Louis whines, and he means it. Lestat is overreacting (typical, Louis can only be harmed on Lestat’s terms apparently) and Armand would have gotten it, would have let him burn just a little, and allowed him the grace of repentance.  “I will not,” Lestat works his jaw.... "....What’s wrong with some sexual processing? What’s the difference between a spanking and a little sun?” “....The difference, mon amour, is that I am not Armand. I get what I want, and what I want is my darling safe and sated."

I LOVE the contrast b/t Armand vs Lestat, and the diametrically opposed ways they handle Louis' mental illness--enabling vs enforcing. There's good & bad on both unhealthily toxic sides ofc; pampering & spoiling vs protecting & domineering; and there's a time & a place for both/either--but what really matters most is what LOUIS wants in a husband:

Lestat’s nostrils flare. “Impossible! I wake up to the smell of you burning your arm off, and now I’m being punished with century-old pettiness, for what? Declining to indulge your suicidality through the thin veneer of sado-masochism? Why would I pleasure you with pain when I am so very skilled at pleasuring you with pleasure? No, Louis, I will not burn you with the sun when I can take you into my mouth instead. Now, please, let’s go to coffin so that I may do just that and we can get some fucking sleep.” So there it was. Lestat was the best lay of his life and he wouldn’t let him hurt himself. And brother, Louis does feel warm here in the shadows with Lestat and all his loving firmness. Louis continues to be pleasantly surprised by New Lestat’s patience. He’ll return the blow job. He feels his honey deserves it.  “I think antidepressants would be a more apt metaphor,” Louis says, because he’s not about to just roll over.... Lestat rolls his eyes, actor expressive. “Regardless. A—what is the English?—a pushover! I am not. I will not allow you to hurt yourself and I do not give up. I will always be there to steady your hand.” Lestat tightens his grip on Louis’ arm. “And I will play no more of these games,” Lestat says, ending the discussion, scooping Louis up and carrying him to coffin, where he enjoys feeling weightless as Lestat steps over the coffin room’s threshold.  Later, Louis is being held in the true dark of the coffin, where it smells like Lestat and everything that means to Louis. He smiles, ignoring the sinking feeling. He’s gotten what he wanted. “I love you,” he whispers into the dark.

As pridefully independent & stubborn as Louis is, he still WANTS someone to snatch his hand away and tell him NO and bodily carry him out of the room and put him in a safe cocoon/coffin and hold him close & make everything better.

I'm just reminded of our very first scene with Lou demonstrating to Daniel what vampirism looks like in the sun; and Armand's reaction.

Like, it was wild that Lou even went that far, burning his arm just to prove to Daniel that he's really a vampire; when back in SanFran all he needed to do was flash his fangs & move at super speed.

Lou's chronically suicidal, but burning in the sun isn't the only way to self-destruct; he's BEEN slowly killing himself EVERY DANG DAY.

Armand erroneously thought Lou reading Claudia's diaries & being interviewed was what was gonna send him off the deep end again; but Daniel's proving that Louis NEEDS to face the past & confront his trauma so it can be processed & he can truly start healing--not bury it under the rug & force himself to forget.

Sure, Armand pulled him out of the sun in SanFran, but he had/has been doing LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE to pull Louis out of his continuing spiral; often contributing to Louis' bad practices; or standing back and watching Louis "act out"--these are CRIES FOR HELP; but Armand can't see it; he just judges Louis & resents him in silence. The 100+ drunken/drugged blackout sexcapades eff-off-and-find-me-laters; asking Armand to lobotomize him 3 days after he'd had a terrible mental breakdown; taking on the Dom role when Lou's not even good at it & doesn't enjoy it; squirelling himself away in Dubai eating human food that tastes like glue--it's ALL self-mortification; it's ALL suicide. Louis wants to get OUT, but he needs help that Armand just can't give him.

Sadly, Lestat, for all his flaws & faults, is the one Louis REALLY wants; and (giving the devil his props) he's much better equipped to handle Lou, cuz he's not afraid to bully Louis go head-to-head with him. Fighting is NOT the right way ofc; and Loustat aren't inherently predisposed to fighting at all--they're both actually incredibly sensitive & soft--but the struggles in Loustat's life hardened them & conditioned them to become fighters--nurture versus nature.

Loustat's problem is that they needed to learn how to communicate WITHOUT the crutch of telepathy (which clearly hadn't helped Loumand anyway ); and realize that as companions/husbands, every conversation/connection doesn't actually NEED to be borne of violence--seeing each other as obstacles to be crossed or fights/battles to be won.

One of my favorite lines in a fic is from BlueBloodBruise's Go Fetch God:

He could hear Lestat pacing downstairs, playing music that galloped nowhere, raging at the world with two fists up. If he closed his eyes, Louis could still hear him weep, howling sobs so freighted with grief they reminded Louis of the screams of mating herons.... "What, Louis?! What in God’s rotten hell do you want? You know I can't read your mind!" "You." This is the definition of madness, Louis thinks dimly...trying to convince his murderer to let himself be loved. "I want you to let me in. I want to let you in without being afraid you’ll tear me to pieces, like God would have if he'd peered into my soul when I was mortal. If I fear you, I can’t love you, Lestat. You have to share yourself with me—" "I did! I shared my blood, my home with you, my—" "No. I need you to put your fists down and look at me. Not like some object you created, but like an equal, your hus—" .

They needed to find a balance--as EQUALS. Passivity & cowardice isn't the right way either, and sometimes when you see your loved one doing dangerous stupid ish, you HAVE to step up and stop them; even if they get mad and it causes a fight and they yell & holler that they hate you.

ARMAND NEVER HAD THAT! Armand went from a sheltered childhood in poverty to parents who sold/threw him away; to sex slavery & captivity; to white-savior hero worship living with uber-hedonistic Marius who spoiled him rotten & taught him to mix pain w/ pleasure via BDSM; to 200+ years in a brainwashed Satanic cult of self-loathing & self-mortification (all pain & zero pleasure); to LEADING that Satanic coven & brainwashing others to follow the Great Laws & gaslighting humans to not notice that the calls are coming from inside the house. This is all Armand's ever had.

Louis was his first/only "real" relationship with a normal person (someone not his Maker & not a coven-member). Armand overcorrected all the harsh treatments he got & gave b4, to treat Lou with kid gloves--when really, Lou needed tough love--not someone to "chop his hands off" the way Armand treated Nicki, but someone to really HELP him cuz they UNDERSTAND & love him.

Lou was deeply traumatized by his formative years, too--his baby brother Paul in & out of mental asylums, cast off by Papa DPDL & coddled by their mother Florence; who babied Paul but HATED any signs of LOUIS being ANOTHER "fragile son." Anything "wrong" with Lou he'd need to figure TF out how to get rid of ASAP!

Louis couldn't afford to be mentally unstable, depressed--he needed to buck up & take care of this nasty AF family that hated/resented/didn't understand him. The only one he'd ever connected with was Paul--who committed suicide right in front of him after Louis told him he loved him; only for Lou's own mother to blame him for Paul's death like wtf.

The only one who understood even a fraction of what Lou'd gone through and how Lou operated & what he'd want/need IS LESTAT. Cuz he'd been there, too.

Les grew up dirt poor, but his family dynamic was uncannily similar to the DPDLs; only instead of Paul, Les had Gabrielle. Les saw his mom Gabrielle in Louis, (and Armand KNOWS this; which is why his whole backstory/account of Lesmand in Paris is SUS AF). Louis was SEEN by Lestat--they're kindred spirits; two sides of the same coin--for better and for worse; cuz when Loustat's in sync it's beautiful; but when they clash THEY CLASH. 💀

Loumand has never been in sync; they're only ever on the same page when they're performing/pretending/role-playing. Armand constantly says/does the WRONG thing--

--then victim-blames Louis afterwards; redirecting any and all culpability OFF himself and ONTO LOU (or Claudia, Daniel, Santiago, Tom, Dick and Harry....), as if it's all Louis' fault what happened to him, and not the result of Armand's contributing/mishandling of Louis' PTSD.

As opposed to the way Lestat talks to Louis--

--not focusing Lou's suicide attempt as the result of something Lou did to HIMSELF, but rather something done TO Louis--(mental) illness isn't HIS FAULT; it's something he can get HELP for; and Les loves him and is just waiting for him to be ready to talk to him.

But don't wait too long! At Rue Royale Lestat often sat silently letting all their messes simmer & boil over. What's amazing about fanfics like @siahatha's Alligator Tears (a sequel to Renaissance) is that it gives Loustat the chance to sit down and have those much-needed talks, hard as they are, so they can finally MAKE PEACE and HEAL as a better couple. Lestat also KNOWS Louis, and that's why he can get in Louis' face and ALSO tell him that he's not gonna sit back and let Louis hurt himself--and their relationship--anymore. Lou's anorexia's a symptom of a much more complicated issue (a vegan vampire still grappling with what it means to kill people in order to feed healthily), so that is a delicate matter that will take time for them to negotiate--one of my fave parts of Renaissance is when Loustat's in the blood donor truck--but any self-immolation will be nipped in the bud IMMEDIATELY. 😤👏

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 17: [DRAGON AU] twins, newspaper club / rescuers

ao3 link

note: requested by @innocent-beano! i got kind of sidetracked/carried away bc i was thinking recently about these other characters' stories in this au, so this might not be 100% what i was meant to do... hopefully i still got a bit of that big dog energy for beel you wanted?

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“Look at this guy! Doesn’t he look like you?”

Beel leans very, very far down and sniffs at the lizard perched over my knuckles. A strange look comes over his face, and I quickly snatch my hand away before he can attempt to swallow it.

Belphie wanders out of the bushes with a low grumble, then shakes himself and ducks down to face me. There’s a tail hanging out of his mouth that I can’t quite identify, but I’d rather not ask, or else he’ll drop it half-eaten at my feet.

“Anything good?” I ask him, helping him pick some spiky berries out of his crest. He snorts, then tips his head back and swallows whatever poor critter he’s caught. “At least you had a snack.”

He grinds his teeth, then turns and clomps off in search of something with a little more substance. I crouch down and gently tip the lizard back into the undergrowth - with a little persuasion, it soon scampers off.

Beel watches it leave with an air of clear gloom. I pat his snout apologetically.

“You’ll catch something better soon,” I tell him as he huffs. “You don’t even like lizard. Actually, do you think that’d be cannibalism?”

He gazes back at me. His big purple eyes are somehow both dizzyingly deep and completely devoid of thought. “...you don’t know what that is.”

“—OFF—”

“...do you hear something?” I ask after a moment, turning to the side. Something buzzes past my nose. “Whoa—”

“—ARGH!”

Beel jumps to his feet so quickly that his claws leave deep grooves in the dirt. A moment later, Belphie comes cannoning back out of the forest, and immediately starts nosing anxiously at my feet.

“Guys,” I say, a little exasperated. “That wasn’t me.”

Belphie blinks up at me, then exhales and quickly sits up straight again. Beel still looks anxious.

I listen hard for a moment. Sure enough…

“—DAMN DOG—!”

Same voice as before - it sounds like it’s coming from the overhang corridor. Lucifer keeps watch there sometimes, but even if he is there, I’m not entirely sure he’d bother trying to help.

“Let’s go check it out,” I announce, seizing one of Beel’s horns and hauling myself up onto his back. “It sounds like someone’s in trouble.”

“Oh, for— GET OUT OF HERE!” hollers a suit of armour - a knight? - as Beel grinds to a halt in the middle of the road. “We have got ENOUGH TO BE DEALING WITH! I am NOT FIGHTING DRAGONS TODAY!”

“Hey, hey, it's alright,” I call, and pause to give him a pat on the back before sliding down his side. “He’s not going to eat you.”

Belphie chooses that moment to drop out of the air and land directly behind me. I’d half expected him to go flapping off back home at the idea of having to get involved in an altercation. “...he won’t, either.”

The knight stares at me blankly. Somehow, despite having their entire face obscured by the helmet, they manage to look completely bewildered.

A split second later, the person beneath the helmet abruptly tears it off, and squints at me in disbelief. “You’re a baby!”

“I’m fifteen,” I say, stung, then pause and look around. Apart from the knight and the three friends they’re still determinedly shielding with their arm (don't knights usually have swords?), there’s nothing else here. “...was that you screaming?”

“Wasn’t screaming,” She says, suddenly evasive, and rubs a little self-consciously at a deep scar across her cheek. “Anyway, love to chat, but we don’t have time for this—”

Belphie - who’s been sniffing curiously at the air - growls softly and nudges my arm. I blink. “...someone’s bleeding.”

“Sorry,” says one of the knight's companions dryly - the one with pink hair and an easy smile, despite the substantial wound in his leg. “Would you like me to stop?”

It’s not an enormous injury, but it’s worrying nonetheless. It looks like something bit him, actually. “What happened?”

The group of four exchanges a look.

“...well, they’re dragons, so…”

“Still, you never know….”

“Oh, come on, as if—”

A woman in a cloak steps out from behind the knight. An odd shiver runs down my spine as I meet her brilliant green eyes. “I’ll keep it short. Mephisto here just got bit by a Huntsman hound, so we’re fairly sure the troops’ll be here any minute to execute us, or whatever it is the king pays them to do—”

“Huntsman?” I repeat. Last I checked, they didn’t go after innocent civilians. Have we walked into something dangerous? “What did—”

“Stolen valour,” She says, then points to the not-knight, apparently. “That’s not Alecto’s armour.”

“It’s not my fault,” Alecto grumbles. “I literally can’t take it off. They ought to have clearance for curses, right?”

“Wouldn’t be the first thing they haven’t thought of,” mutters the last man, adjusting his glasses. Something glints from just beneath his shirt collar as he shifts.

“We really don’t have time for explanations right now,” The cloaked lady interjects, shooting them both a rather testy look. “Best we all get out of here as fast as possible, or—”

She stops dead. Belphie lifts his head with a snarl. There are people coming from below the mountain - people with a lot of equipment. They’ll be here within ten minutes if we’re not careful. It's probably nothing the dragons can't handle, but under the circumstances....

“Get on Beel’s back,” I say suddenly.

“What?”

“Get on his back,” I say, more severely this time, and pat his side until he lowers himself to the ground. “We’ll get up in the sky and distract them. He’ll take you somewhere more hidden. It’s getting dark - you’ll have good cover.”

“That’s an awful idea,” says the lady, but Alecto is already ushering her over.

“We don’t have any other options, do we?” asks the pink-haired man, limping after her. “Hey - Astaroth. Don’t tell me you're staying behind.”

Astaroth - the one with glasses - purses his mouth, then clicks his tongue. I catch his eyes flickering analytically over the dragons, and feel myself tense a little.

After a moment, he starts, “My crutches…”

That’s what you’re worried about?? I sigh and give Beel another pat to get him to stay still. He’s starting to shift restlessly on his claws. “Just take them with you. Beel can handle it.”

“No guarantee this’ll work, you know,” says Alecto, despite the fact that she’s now helping shove Astaroth up Beel’s flank as well.

“I don’t have any other ideas." I watch as she snaps the helmet back over her head. “Besides - if they see a dragon, they have to go after it. It's basically what they do.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” She replies, then hauls herself up as well. “You sure your buddy here won’t eat us?”

“He doesn’t like the taste of metal— ahem, Beel.” I tap him on the nose, and he quickly turns around from sniffing hopefully at the lady’s cloak. “You’re lucky it’s him, ‘cause Mammon does.”

“There’s another one? You know more dragons?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about that right now—” I pause. “—um, what’s your name, miss?”

“Just call me Wiz,” She says with a twinkle. Despite (presumably) having never ridden a dragon before, she’s already made herself comfortable.

“I’m Mephisto,” adds the pink-haired man with a dramatic drawl. “If anyone cares. I hope you don’t mind, by the way, but I’m bleeding all over your friend here.”

I open my mouth to respond, then finally realise just how loud the pursuit is getting. “...and I think their hounds are leading them straight to it. Hold extra tight - Beel, let’s go!”

For the briefest of moments, I’m afraid he’ll just sit down again - but Beel snaps straight to action, and thunders up the overpass, digging his claws deep into the mountain to clamber up the sheer face. A shower of rocks tumbles down the pathway, and the sound of footsteps grows louder.

At the same time, without prompting, Belphie ducks down and uses his snout to smoothly flip me onto his back, then kicks off the ground and into the air. The huntsmen are visible as soon as he does, and all eyes turn to us as he climbs towards the clouds.

Their faces are about evenly split between the bewilderment of someone whose payslip doesn’t cover for targets of this degree, and the sharp focus of someone whose payslip most certainly does. Those are the ones move in with almost choreographed efficiency, pointing all manner of weapons up at us, and Belphie rears back in preparation.

But then the white-haired man at the forefront - the one in the captain's badge - throws out an arm, and gestures further up the overpass, holding tight onto the leash of a hound straining to sprint up the ridge that Beel just scaled. As he speaks, though, he meets my eyes, and it seems to stop him in his tracks.

Belphie doesn’t wait for an instruction. He falls upon the moment of weakness as instinct declares, and dives down before it can pass.

The sheer force of the air as he drops pushes me flat against his back. As I attempt to regain my bearings, his claws close around a man at the back of the group - snarling, Belphie swerves up again and throws him, struggling, down into the rocks again. He lands with a horrible thud, unmoving, and he trills as if in victory.

I duck into the fur at the base of his neck as a great roar rises from the men below. This time, they ignore the captain’s orders. There's a hail of darts - some kind of great flaming contraption - spears, a net weighed down by rocks - some of which Belphie only just evades. He guides them in almost a dance, always flying just a little bit more out of reach, forcing them to follow along with his game of tag.

He climbs higher, higher still into the sky, only to dip down again; closer each time, circling like a taunting vulture. He folds his wings in, a cold chill expanding and blossoming as if from his core - and as he makes another ascent, suddenly, I make eye contact with another of the hunters below.

I look into the pale face of a boy who can barely be any older than me - blue eyes narrowed in terrified concentration, drawing back the string of a bow. Before I can finish wondering what on earth he’s doing with the Huntsmen, something hits me in the chest, and the entire sky turns sideways.

Belphie screeches, and it’s only once I take in his silhouette above me that I realise I’m not on his back anymore. The entire rocky mountains and dark forest open up from below, as if to swallow me whole.

Two things happen in very quick succession. Belphie roars - properly, fully roars - and it feels like the atmosphere itself freezes solid, if only for a moment. Then I land on soft fur, and he shoots off into the horizon, leaving behind a vast expanse of white ice.

I don’t look back to see what became of the Huntsmen, or the boy who fired the arrow. Mostly, I’m focused on the arrow itself.

“Shit!” I hear someone exclaim nearly as soon as Belphie touches ground. “I knew there weren’t enough of ‘em after us!”

A cold hand catches me by the arms and attempts to pull me off his back. Belphie snaps at them. “Hey— easy. We’re trying to help.”

“Hello,” I mumble absently as Astaroth - balancing himself on a crutch with one arm, and supporting me with the other - peers into my face. “Where are we?”

“Hell if I know. Somewhere in the forest, I guess.”

That makes sense. There’s a tree over there. “You get here okay?”

He grimaces. “About as okay as we can be.”

I lift my head, then pause. There’s an arrow sticking out of the eye-slit in Alecto’s helmet.

“I know,” She says with a loud sigh. “I think it’s stupid, too.”

I was more worried about her potentially getting shot in the eye, but she seems in decent spirits. She darts forward to help Astaroth lower me to the ground. Isn’t she going to do anything about it?

Belphie lets out a low whine and puffs a blast of cold air into my face, as if to keep me awake. I give his snout an appreciative rub. “...I’m alright, Belphie.”

“So you really did give them names,” says Alecto with a small grin.

“Well, they already had names. They just told me.”

“...you can talk to them?”

“Sort of. Well, not really. But we get each other anyway.” Belphie chooses that moment to release a long, grumbling sigh. “...Belphie’s telling me off for getting shot.”

“We should really do something about that,” Astaroth says, eyeing the arrow.

“It doesn’t hurt that much, actually. If I just don’t look at it…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He replies. “That probably just means it’s got venom on the tip. Come on— Mephisto’s building a fire.”

‘Setting random bits of the undergrowth on fire’ seems to be a more apt description for whatever he’s doing when we push through to the little clearing ahead. Beel, watching him with rapt fascination, turns around quickly as Belphie pushes out of the bushes first, wearing the dragon equivalent of a toothy grin. Then he spots me and immediately deflates.

Belphie slinks over to the dark side and the clearing and firmly sits down, tucking his legs beneath himself and setting his head on the ground. His fur flops over his eyes, as if he’s sulking - he only responds with a quiet grumble when Beel attempts to nudge him for answers.

“Goodness,” says Wiz, though she doesn’t actually look that surprised. “I was hoping you’d gotten away. They must’ve split up…”

Beel is circling anxiously around me, and he keeps putting out Mephisto’s fires with each apprehensive sweep of his tail. He opens his mouth as if to snap at the arrow - attempting to get rid of it the only way he knows how - but ultimately can only sit down again, staring at me mournfully.

“It’s fine, Beel,” I assure him. “It doesn’t even hurt much.”

“Yes, the panic will do that to you,” Wiz says a little wryly, gently forces me to sit down, and forms a triangle around the arrow shaft with her hands. “Hold your breath.”

“What? Ow!” The arrow seems to come out cleanly of its own accord. I stare down at the hole in my clothes in bewilderment, then finally notice the odd shimmer at Wiz’s fingertips. “Oh.”

“Oh?” She repeats without looking up, making a motion as if stitching something up. The wound closes before my eyes. “There you are, sweetheart. You’re lucky it didn’t hit anything vital - whoever shot that arrow wasn’t very strong.”

Mephisto, evidently defeated by Beel's flame-quenching tail, finally gives up and sets about building an actual campfire in the middle of the clearing. I catch Belphie peeking at him from beneath his fur as he does. I'm a little jealous of how good Mephisto seems to be at coaxing sparks from rocks.

“You did check for venom, right?” Astaroth asks Wiz. “They use some real nasty mixes, you know.”

“Nothing I couldn’t dilute.” She pats me on the head with a smile and lets me lean back against Beel. “You might get a bit of a fever in a few days, but you should be right as rain after that.”

“...so you’re a witch?” I ask a little nervously. I feel like I should be more surprised, but I guess hanging out with dragons kind of numbs your reaction to these things. “That’s why you were…”

“You didn’t really believe the stolen valour thing, did you?” asks Alecto. “Nah, we're on the run for a lot of things - but not that. Best you don’t know any details, though…”

She seems to spot a question in my eyes. “...I wasn’t lying about the curse, though. I literally can’t take the armour off.”

“For now,” Wiz murmurs, a dark look on her face, then gestures for Alecto to come closer. “Come on, love. Need me to sort that out?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Alecto declares, and yanks the arrow out of the eye-slit, then sweeps off her helmet to reveal a grin. I flinch a little. The arrow did get her in the eye, and it looks just about as bad as I could've expected it to.

She catches the look on my face again and shoots me a thumbs up. “No worries, tiny. I don’t feel it. Literally.”

“You’re all working me overtime,” Wiz sighs, cradling Alecto’s face tenderly as the magic does its work. “Watch, Roth's going to have a secret scrape somewhere, too.”

I watch her work, unable to look away as the muscle and skin repairs itself before my eyes. If this is what the village people thought I was capable of… maybe I should’ve been a bit more flattered when they tried to burn me. I have so many more questions about what she can do. For something there’s so much fear mongering about, I really don’t know that much about witches.

Meanwhile, across the campfire, Astaroth snorts. “Don't have anything magic can heal, no.”

“You could’ve mended my pants while you were there,” Mephisto sniffs, lifting his leg and gesturing at the very conspicuous chunk missing. The ragged edges are coated in dried blood. “Look at the state of me!”

“We’ll get you new pants when we find a merchant who doesn't want to kill you,” Alecto says, then glances at me. “Where do you live, tiny?”

“Hm? Oh…” I gesture up at Beel, who’s still watching me worriedly. “With the dragons.”

“So the rumours did hold water after all,” Mephisto comments. “There really is a little girl communing with the sky-lizards.”

I look at him for a moment. There’s something almost calculating about his eyes; the sun is setting in earnest now, and in the dark they look more blue than purple. Briefly, his shadow seems to warp into otherworldly shapes on the grass behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” I say shortly. “And they’re not all sky-lizards. Beel doesn’t have wings.”

His eyebrows lift a little. After a moment, his expression softens. “...sorry. Well, we’ll be on our way after tonight. You could always go home now - you should really rest up.”

“No way. The forest’s dangerous,” I refute. “Beel and Belphie can protect us."

"...well, we'd better find something to do before bed." He digs around for a moment, then abruptly conjures a pack of cards from the front of his shirt. "Ever played old maid?"

It's only one night, I reason with myself as the dark creeps across the forest in earnest. They won't miss us too much. Unless Lucifer spots the ice sheet. Which he probably will, actually. But I think he'd actually explode if he realised what happened...

…this all feels weird. I feel like we’ve started something a lot bigger than this.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze?

Ok so I wanted to start posting my Soulmates AU for Raindrop month, but writing for my Medieval one is going waay better than planned and it's confusing me to have 2 separate backstories in my head at once, so while I still have *checks calendar* 5 DAYS, here's a little stand-alone ficlet!

What if we kissed in the Maize Maze? A Midwest Emo Ghouls AU ficlet

Rating: T Content: fluff, literally that's it just fluff Words: 615

Lots of love to @alwaysjustmina for organizing this month again this year, I love any excuse to write about our soggy boys!! 🌦️🖤

hello @revengeghoulette, here is your summons as promised!! 🫡

Read below, or on AO3!

Haymaking season was coming to an end, and Swiss, Mountain and all the ghouls who pitched in to help were looking forward to a well-deserved break. To celebrate the end of the season, Swiss had built a maze out of hay bales for the children and kits of the town, as well as some of the more enthusiastic adults.

The whole community had come together to put on a party at the ghouls' farm. Mountain and his colleagues from the hardware store had built fairground games, Dew had dragged the church's speakers down on a trailer and was playing records Mist had brought from her shop. Aurora's cafe had a small pop-up, and Cirrus had brought a vat of apple cider, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, for the younger guests. Cumulus was in her element, her little face-painting stall attracting such a sizeable queue that Sunshine had jumped in to help out. Phantom was taking his new role as Youth Pastor – and more recently Sunday School teacher – very seriously, replacing her in supervising a very intense game of tag. While Mountain minded the hay maze, Swiss was giving rides on the haycart he had hitched to the back of his tractor, driving the children and kits up and down the field in the warm afternoon sunshine.

After closing time, once the families had gone home, the ghouls had the place to themselves without getting in the way of the fun of the younger members of the community. Rain and Dew were the last ones left inside the maze. Aurora and Mist had quickly disappeared somewhere together, Sunny, Cirrus and Cumulus were deep into their mission of finishing off the cider now that their responsibilities were over, the three of them covered in rainbow paint and body glitter.

Dewdrop and Rain walked hand in hand through the maze, quietly drinking in each other’s company in the balmy evening air. Making it to the centre of the maze they sat down on a bale, surrounded by golden walls on all sides as the amber glow of sunset spread across the sky. Dew leaned his head on Rain’s shoulder, utterly content in the moment.

“It’s beautiful.” Rain commented, as they watched the play of colours around them. “Just like you.”

Dew turned his face to bury it in Rain’s neck, bashful.

“You are, and I’m so proud of you, taking over from Aeth like you did. You’re doing such a great job, love! Look at how the town and harvest are flourishing. I’m honoured to call you my husband.”

Never one to take compliments well, Dew redirected Rain’s affections by capturing his lips in a searing kiss. The pair lost themselves in each other, the cooling temperatures went unnoticed past the warmth of their bodies, the slight prickliness of the hay nothing compared to the soft slide of their lips.

By the time they came up for air, Dew having squirmed his way into Rain’s lap, the sky was glowing a deep russet colour. From outside the maze, they could hear the sounds of the others packing up to leave.

“Alright lovebirds, time to come out or I’ll send the dogs in!” they heard Swiss call. The pair only giggled, Rain placing feather-light kisses across Dew’s cheekbones while he blushed the colour of the sky.

“You don’t have a dog!” Dew hollered back as he struggled to hold in his giggles.

“Hi Dewy.” deadpanned Mountain.

Eventually, Dew and Rain managed to find their way out of the maze, neither wanting to be found and carried out by the giant earth ghoul.

“Nice straw hat, Rain.” smirked Swiss, “although normally you weave it into itself, not directly into your hair!”

[areyoudreaminof]

Sleepover House Rules

I was chatting with some friends and were talking about Nesta as an awesome aunt, so I wrote something real quick, specifically for @velidewrites, @xtaketwox, @thesistersarcheron, @popjunkie42-blog, @itsthedoodle, @the-lonelybarricade, and @c-e-d-dreamer

Update: you can read this on AO3 now!

Nesta swept into the river house without knocking. She didn’t need to anyways, she knew where she needed to go. Waving absently to the twins, she hiked her skirt up as she went up the stairs, following the carpeted hall to the little room where her nephew was playing. Nyx had his back turned while he played. A large tower of blocks and connecting parts stood in front of him as his wings twitched and flapped absently. Cassian’s wings did the same thing when he was bored. Nesta was going to rectify that.

She softly tapped on the door before Nyx turned around. Bright recognition melted his surprise away as he flung himself into Nesta’s arms. His feet rose off the floor as he flew to her.

“Aunt Nessa!” he hollered as he latched onto her with his arms and legs. Nesta held him back just as tight, softly rocking him back and forth before planting a kiss on his cheek. She loved his small little lisp and the way he couldn't quite say her name right. She secretly hoped he’d always call her Nessa. “What are you doing inside on this nice day?” she asked, as she set him down. 

“I’m playing with my new building set. Aunt Elain and Uncle Lucien sent it to me from the Day Court.” he said as he held the small toy brick in front of her. “Mama is at class and Papa’s meeting with someone in his office, so I’m playing up here for a little bit. We went to the park this morning.” Nesta sat down on the rug to join him as he slowly scooted his tower forward. Nyx began to add more bricks and poles to the tower, so she began to latch the bricks on, taking great care not to tip anything over. 

“Well, Uncle Cass had to go to Illyria tonight, and Uncle Az is going to be off doing whatever it is he does. So, I thought we could have a sleepover at the House.” she said, knowing his answer already. Nyx gasped as he shot to his feet, his tower wobbling dangerously. 

“Yes! Can we go now?” Nyx’s blue eyes were lit from within, as he began to bounce on his toes. Nesta laughed as she rose to her feet, “If you pack we can go when you’re ready.” she said as she crossed to Nyx’s closet. 

Nesta and Nyx descended down the stairs hand in hand while she carried his small overnight bag. As they stepped down into the foyer, Feyre entered through the front door with a surprised look on her face. Nyx rushed over, hugging his mother around her waist, “Mama! I’m gonna have a sleepover with Aunt Nessa at the House, she said it was okay.” Nyx was breathless with excitement as Feyre threw her head back and laughed. “Well then, if Aunt Nesta said it was alright. Is it alright?” Feyre asked. Nesta nodded, “Cass is in Illyria, Azriel has to pick up some things in the city before he leaves, but he’ll fly us up. I thought we’d have a sleepover. You and Rhys could have some alone time.” 

Feyre nodded as she wrangled her excited boy, guiding him towards the living room. “Do you have everything you need Nyx?” The boy nodded firmly. “Yep. I got my pajamas, and an extra coat.” 

“What about your toothbrush?” 

“I got that too!” he protested, looking at Nesta for confirmation. “He has it. Even so, the House would give him an extra one if he forgot.” 

“Who’s got a toothbrush? Oh, hello Nesta. We weren’t expecting you.” Rhys said as he entered the living room, crossing to kiss Feyre. Nyx wiggled with impatience as he tolerated a hug from his father. “I’m taking Nyx for a sleepover tonight.” Nesta said. 

“Taking?” Rhys said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“That’s what I said. I’m giving you two some alone time. Be grateful.” Nesta replied with a smirk. Rhys chuckled as he pointed to the door, where Azriel entered, “I take it you don’t need a flight up?” Nesta shook her head, as she watched Nyx pounce on Azriel. “We’ll be fine.” 

“Alright then, but please Nyx, don’t eat sugar all night and go to bed at a reasonable hour please,” Rhys said as Nyx rolled his eyes and grumbled, as if he was fourteen and not four. “We’ll have some cookies and cake before bed, and we’ll turn in at 10, I think.” Nesta exclaimed as she met Rhy’s eye. “We have different rules at the House.” Feyre doubled over laughing as Rhys threw his hands up in surrender. 

The flight up to the House was something of a success, as Nyx held tightly to Azriel’s arm as he practiced his flying. An entire flight up was too hard for him just yet, but with some supervision from his father and uncles, Nyx could practice at higher altitudes. The flight up stopped being an issue for Nesta years ago. After depositing their bags inside, they hugged and waved Azriel off, watching his form fly south out of the valley. Nesta spun, placing her hands on her hips in mock authority. “So, what is on the itinerary tonight?” Nyx scratched his head thoughtfully, as his wings absently flapped in thought behind him. 

“We’re gonna build a fort and sleep in it! Then we can go down to the library and see Gwyn and get a book to read. Then we can eat dinner and cake on the lawn for a picnic.” he said with finality. “Can we eat fried chicken and cheese noodles?” 

“We certainly can. What kind of book are you thinking of?” 

“A scary one! I want a scary one this time. I won’t have nightmares, I promise.” Nesta nodded as she asked the House to provide an age appropriate book. “Well then, Nyxie let’s get going. We’ve got a fort to build!” 

The room that the House provided was littered in pillows and blankets. Nesta layered the thickest and softest blankets and pillows down for their bed, while Nyx set the sheets and fleece blankets over the chairs that were strewn around them for coverage. The House added small little fae lights inside their cavern and had deep fried chicken shaped like bats and cheese noodles waiting for them on the lawn. Nesta and Nyx watched the late summer sun set behind the mountains, the sky melting pinks and purples across the city. “It looks like lightning bugs from up here.” Nyx said as he gobbled down his chicken bats that he slathered in a thick white dipping sauce. “They do, don’t they?” Nesta said as she pointed to the multicolored lights by the river, “Do you see that? I think that’s The Rainbow!” Nyx gasped with excitement as more lights began to flicker through the valley. He then showed Nesta all the constellations and planets he knew, explaining that it was summer and the most planets were out. The soft breeze dropped in temperature, making Nesta rise from her spot on the lawn, rubbing her sore bottom and stretching. “Why don’t we go down and see if Gwyn is working and say hi. Then we can grab a book.” Nyx shot up and ran inside. 

In the library, Nyx and Nesta greeted Clotho, who produced a small caramel candy in gold foil for Nyx. They found Gwyn a level down, Nyx slowly creeping behind her as he flapped his wings, mussing her hair and papers. “Boo!” 

“Ah! I thought you were a ghost!” Gwyn said as she gave Nyx a bear hug, “What are you doing here?” 

“Sleeping over at the House with Aunt Nessa. We’re getting a scary book to read in our fort! We built it, it’s really neat!” Nyx exclaimed. Gwyn giggled, “I’ll bet it is! You’re a master builder, Nyx.” 

 Nyx nodded with agreement before he turned to the shelves. “Is Em’rie here, too?” he asked. 

“No, she’s in Illyria with Uncle Cass.” Nesta said, “They’ll be back tomorrow.” As Nyx searched the shelves, Gwyn produced a small leatherbound book from her cart. “I take it this is what you’re looking for? It’s scary stories for children. Nothing too terrifying, just lots of ghosts” Nesta nodded as she flipped through the volume, assessing the strange illustrations that looked like water and smoke. “It’ll have to do. What time are you off? You should come up and join us.” Nesta said as she slipped the small book onto a nearby shelf within Nyx’s eyeline. 

“Thanks, but I’m working on a project for Az and I’ll be up too late.” Gwyn sighed as she motioned toward the cart piled high with papers and books. “Come up for breakfast then, if you’re up.” Nesta insisted as they watched Nyx snatch the carefully placed book from where Nesta had placed it. “Ooohhhh, I found a good one!” Nyx said triumphantly as he held the book up, “I want this one.” They said their goodbyes to Gwyn before they returned to the fort. Nestled into pajamas, Nesta read two ghost stories and one vampire story to Nyx, before she announced it was time for dessert. The stories weren't terribly scary, but the illustrations were a bit frightening. The House left two slices of chocolate cheesecake and milk on the small table in the fort room, and Nyx devoured his slice in what felt like a breath. The small clock in the hall chimed ten times, making Nesta realize how late it was. Crawling into their fort, Nyx insisted he wasn’t tired at all. But as Nesta rubbed his arms, the boy’s eyelids drooped. 

“Good night Nyx, I love you.” Nesta said, giving her nephew one last kiss. 

“Love you too, Aunt Nessa.” he slurred as sleep took him. With Nyx’s small hand in hers, Nesta drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face. 

Nyx and Nesta met the morning over the table, as Nyx devoured scrambled eggs and pancakes swimming in syrup. Nesta sipped her tea absently. The fort had felt comfortable when she fell asleep, but the crick in her lower back confirmed that maybe sleeping on the floor wasn’t her best idea. 

The dining room door swung open, as Cassian, wind chapped and smiling, bounded over to Nyx. “I didn’t know we had a guest!” he said as he kissed Nyx’s head and ruffled his hair. “Yep! Me and Aunt Nessa had a picnic and made a fort and read some scary stories. Sorry you missed it, Uncle Cass.” Nyx exclaimed as he turned back to his food. Nesta rose and greeted her mate, who smelled like morning fog and cedar. “You made a fort? Where?” Cassian asked with excitement. “Upstairs. It’s actually quite nice. Though I think next time we’ll drag a mattress in there.” Nesta said as she rubbed her lower back. Cassian turned to Nyx, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Hey Nyx, what do you say about spending the night again tonight?

[fierymiasma]

💔 Tear You Apart 💔 || Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Request: Are you still taking request? If you do, can i request angsty to fluff sebastian and f reader (optional) being off from each other after solomon died. He was rumored to be dating other students and both mc and seb try to make each other jealous.

A/N: Very brief Leander Prewett x f!MC for plot purposes only.  Bullied Leander a bit but please do know that I do like him as a person. 

Words: 3.7k

Tags: Angst into Fluff, Jealous!Sebastian, Possessive!Sebastian, some slight Leander x f!MC (For plot reasons), Making out, petty schoolboy behavior

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

She paced back and forth on the wooden deck of the Summoner's court.  Leander Prewett was ahead by at least 50 points, but the Hero of Hogwarts wasn't ready to give up her title of Champion of Summoner's Court just yet, especially not to people like Prewett.  He was a right enough chap off the court, but when it came to this game, he was a pretty sore loser. 

Sebastian wasn't here to cheer her on today.  He wasn't a fan of the game, but in their 5th year, he managed to find the time to watch every single one of her games.  She missed the cheering and the hollering of the confident Slytherin as she scored an impressive win.  Even more, she would miss how her heart would skip a beat every time she would look back at the crowd and they accidentally locked eyes.  His eyes would always crinkle in affection and on the rare summer days, the sun would hit his hair at a certain angle and give some strands of his hair a golden shine. 

They've seen so little of each other since the start of their 6th year.  Actually, she's so little of him since….since the events of the end of their 5th year.  Life got in the way, they drifted apart.  She chewed on her bottom lip as she finalized her finished move.  Maybe she should find him after the game, check in on him and see how he was doing. 

Of course, she had to win first.  Figuring out her next move was much harder when a rather loud group of girls were gossiping in the watching crowds.

"Did you hear?" One particular Ravenclaw, well known for her love of gossip, whispered far too loudly,  "Sacharissa Tugwood has a crush on Sebastian."

"Accio."  She flicked her wand towards her, pulling in the blue ball gently around the obstacles.

She hated Sacharissa and her stupid make up and her vapid head, and her stupidly beautiful hair.

A high-pitched nasally voice floated above the rest of the crowd.  "I heard that those two were already dating!  Someone in Transfiguration saw them shopping together at Hogsmeade."

Fwwap!  Her spell broke.  Her ball snapped off from its trajectory and bounced dangerously off of a cone.  It rebounded, shooting off and hitting a small 1st year directly in the face.  Leander cheered, jumping on the balls of his feet and celebrating his first victory against the reigning champion. 

She paid no heed to this.  The cheers of the crowd were muffled against a piercing scream in her ears.  Sebastian and Sacharissa?  Dating??  They weren't even friends.  Sacharissa barely even knew him.  Where was she when he needed help finding a cure for Anne?  Where was she when Sebastian needed a shoulder to lean on?

Every fiber of her being wanted to scream or maybe cry, she wasn't too sure.  Well of course, Sebastian would want to move on as quickly as possible.  It made sense really, erase everything they had together.  Move onto someone who was an easy date and who's history was uncomplicated.

She refused to cry.  She spilled enough tears for dear Professor Fig.  Sebastian wasn't worth getting worked up for.

She wouldn't cry over a boy who didn't even return her feelings.

"Prewett."  She snapped, her mind wrapping around a rather dangerous idea.  "You and me, let's go to Three Broomsticks some time."

The taller boy's mouth dropped open, clearly not expecting this reaction to losing a game of Summoner's Court.

She rolled her eyes.  "I'm asking you out on a date, Leander.  Are you interested?"

The Gyffindor's thin eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline.  His face turned nearly as red as his hair.  Trying to suppress all of his insecurities, he titled his chin upwards.  "Why…it's about time someone recognized my charm.  I was waiting for you to say something about the two of us."

She gritted her teeth, already starting to regret her choice.

"Oi!  Prewett!" 

Leander could recognize that annoying voice even if he were deaf.  The boy walked faster down the Transfiguration corridor, pretending to not hear Sebastian calling out to him.  Maybe he shouldn't have gone on that date with Sebastian's best female friend.  Leander's life was much easier whenever he wasn't dragged into Sallow's drama. 

Sebastian's fast walk turned into a light jog.  The loitering students quickly stepped to the side, not willing to stay in the way of the Slytherin's wrath.  Prewett was not going to ignore him, not when Sebastian knew where the other boy slept at night.  "Are you deaf?  I'm talking to you Prewett!"

Several heads turned, and the hallway seemed to quiet in anticipation. 

The poor boy sighed, stopping in his tracks.  He turned to face Sebastian.  There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

"Is it true that you're dating the hero of Hogwarts?"  Sebastian asked haughtily, his shoulders tense and hands fisted at his side.  "Reyes said she saw you two on a date last Saturday."

No one ever accused of Leander of being a coward.  "And why does it matter to you, Sallow?" 

"She's my best friend."  Sebastian's eyes narrowed.  He got much closer to the other boy.  "I didn't even know she even gave you a second thought." 

Prewett's hand slipped into his robe pocket where his wand was hidden.  He didn't think Sebastian would be so low to stoop to an unsanctioned hallway duel, but you could never be too sure with a Slytherin.  "What do you want Sallow?  Here to duel me for the affections of your girl?" 

Sebastian's face twisted into a sneer.  "She's not my girl.  She doesn't belong to anyone."  He stated with as much conviction as he could muster despite the fact that he didn't believe in a single thing he was saying. 

The Gryffindor clearly didn't believe him.  "She chose me." He reminded the other boy.  "Chose me over you, Sallow.  You best remember and respect that." 

He turned his back towards Sallow, done with this conversation.  As he walked towards his next class, he could hear the other Slytherin swearing up  a storm to anyone and everyone who could hear.

════▣◎▣════

"What does she even see in him?  He has the face of a mandrake and the personality of a troll."

Ominis sighed.  It was hard to read when Sebastian kept distracting him.  He could hear how Sebastian was pacing back and forth in their shared Slytherin dorm.  His heavy stomps interrupted his train of thought forcing Ominis to reread the same sentence over and over again. 

"Ominis, what can I do that would make her come back to me?"

Ominis instantly knew who Sebastian was referring to without even having to mention her name.  His best friends had the oddest relationship with each other.  Ominis always had trouble placing if they were annoyed with each other or madly in love.  Probably both.  "Have you considered…talking to her?  It's been a while since you guys were fifth years.  Tell her how you really feel."

Sebastian snorted, telling a girl how he "really felt"?  He would rather be hit in the head by a troll.  Sebastian snapped his fingers.  An idea suddenly striking like lightening.  "Perfect, I'll give her a gentle reminder on what she's missing out on.  Rumors are saying that Tugwood fancies me.  One date with Sachrissa, and she'll come back to me."

Ominis wanted to smack his face.  He covered his book with his face; the braille itched his skin.  He gave up on reading entirely, trying to use the book as earmuffs to drown on Sebastian's insane rambling.   

════▣◎▣════

Herbology was the one class that they couldn't avoid each other.  Their potting stations were side by side ever since she first came to Hogwarts.  They worked in tense silence, an easy job when their fresh Screechsnaps screamed so loud that it would drown out any conversation.  Herbology used to be one of his favorite classes in their 5th year.  Sebastian didn't care for the subject, but it was one of her favorites.  Surrounded by the beautiful flowers and fresh leaves of the greenhouse, she would look absolutely stunning.  Sebastian often spent the whole class, mindlessly listening along to Professor Garlick's lecture while staring at her, the "most beautiful rose".  Her face was always smeared with some dirt, and she would always laugh carelessly whenever Sebastian got a wet cloth to clean her face. 

Of course, she hadn't been smiling of much late.  He spied on her out of the corner of his eye.  Her hair was down today, obscuring her face from his view.

What in Merlin's name was she thinking?  Allowing someone like Prewett to court her.   What did she even see in him?  His bumbling insecure fragile masculinity?  What did Leander have that Sebastian lacked?  He was never there for her.  Sebastian was the one that stayed at her side when she uncovered the Keepers' secrets.  Sebastian was the one who accompany her on silly little quests.

It was Sebastian's shoulder she cried on when Professor Fig had passed.

Or maybe, he was more bothered by the fact she hadn't even bothered to tell him.  If she truly did fancy Leander, why not tell Sebastian?  Confide in her coolest friend?  They used to tell each other everything: their deepest secrets, their confessed emotions…

Sebastian jaw clenched as he accidentally decapitated the head of his Screechsnap.  The poor plant shrieked in agony. 

"There you are, darling."

Both Sebastian and her turned around.  Leander was standing there, a bouquet of flowers in hand.  Sebastian grit his teeth.  He could feel a headache starting to form. 

Sebastian's eyes followed even the slightest of movements.  He saw how her expression soften, saw how she accepted the flowers, inhaling their scent deeply.  He watched them as they huddled together, whispering over something.

He inhaled sharply, trying to stop himself from going absolutely bonkers. 

"It is always nice to see young roses freshly blooming in my garden." Professor Garlick's voice interrupted their frantic whispering.  "It is even nicer when our fresh blossoms focus on their work."

Prewitt grumbled in protest.  Ever the chivalrous courter, he planted a kiss on her hand, biding her goodbye before drifting back to his herbology station. 

They returned to their work, pruning the Screechsnaps.  Sebastian's breath was so hot, he could have been mistaken for a dragon.  "So…you and Prewitt."

She sniffed, sticking her nose in the air, just waiting for another one of Sebastian's sarcastic, rude comments.  "Yes, me and Prewitt."

To her surprise Sebastian said nothing.  He was staring at his plant, as if it was the most interesting thing in the greenhouse right now.  There was a moment of tense silence, only interrupted by the sharp snipping of pruning shears.

Sebastian couldn't take it anymore.  He was going to explode if he didn't say anything.  "So…what's the best part of dating Prewitt?  Sebastian asked conversationally.  "His lack of brains or his lack of looks?"

Ohhhh, she was going to chop Sebastian's head off with her shears.  "Sallow, that is incredibly rude to say about him!" She slammed her gardening tools on the table hard.  It would be poor form to commit murder in front of the very sweet Professor Garlick.  "Leander is a great guy…he's….um…He's very…brave."

Sebastian rolled his eyes.  Was that really the best she could come up with?  Gryffindors are brave.  Slytherins are cunning.  What's next?  A smart Ravenclaw? 

She folded his arms.  "What's your problem with Leander?  He's a proper gentleman, unlike some.  I could trust his eyes would never stray too far."

Sebastian's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.  What an accusation.  "I have no problem with Leander.  He's a nice enough bloke."

She snorted, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"My issue is with you.  You don't even like him." 

She stilled before turning to him.  His face was turned away from hers, pretending like he hadn't hacked his poor plant into a million pieces. 

"I do like him."  She insisted, her bottom eyelid twitching.  "What makes you think otherwise?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes again.  "I see how you look at him.  He sees how you look at him."

It's nothing like how you look at me.  How her eyes would soften.  How her body would twist towards Sebastian whenever he entered the room.  How she teased Sebastian mercilessly as Sebastian flirted unabashedly with the Hero of Hogwarts.

She snorted uncharitably.  "You have no idea what you're talking about, Sallow."

He huffed, hands on his hips as he stared at his dreadful hack job on his sapling.  "You could do far better than Prewett.  That's all I'm saying."

She growled.  "Oh, and, who could I possibly be with who could be better?"  She baited.

Me.  You could be with me. 

His usual smooth lines and calculated wording fell completely by the wayside.  "You could at least date someone who's at least semi-desirable." Sebastian's tongue felt heavy and crude.  "Not even Leander's own mother likes him.  Girls cannot get enough of me."

Her knuckled whited as held onto her shears too tightly.  She hated the reminder of how popular Sebastian was.  It only just showed how not special she was to him.  Before she could process her own words, she spat "And why would anyone want to date a rake like you?" 

Sebastian dropped his gardening equipment, whipping around to finally look at her in the eye.  Brown eyes met hers.  They each could see the hurt and pain in each other's soul, yet neither was willing to back down.  His heart was tearing apart.

"And who would want to be with someone at heartless as you?"

That was it.  She couldn't take it anymore.  With a wave of her wand, she levitated the largest pile of Dragon Dung fertilizer she could find in the greenhouse.  It hovered ominously, just at the perfect height to hit Sebastian square in the face. 

Sebastian's expression morphed from contempt to genuine horror.  He fumbled for his pockets, no doubt trying to find his wand to cast Protego.  She smirked.  She always was the better dueler. 

"Wingardium Leviosa"

"Depulso!"

At the same time she uttered her spell, she found herself flung backwards a good five feet.  She landed in something very soft and squishy….a very …smelly.  She lifted the sleeve of her robe and almost gagged.  Great, that twat managed to push her into some Dragon's Dung.  She snapped her head up searching for Sebastian.

Much to her satisfaction, he was absolutely covered in fertilizer.

"Aaaaanddd, that's detention…for the both of you."  Professor Garlick's voice hovered over her shoulder, very much not amused.  "I expect to see the two of you in Greenhouse 5 right this weekend after dinner."

Sebastian swore, trying to shake the dragon dung fertilizer out of hair like some dog. 

The professor's nose wrinkled in disgust.  "And please do freshen up before then."

════▣◎▣════

Much to the displeasure of both of them, they were forced to work together for their detention.  They picked the Sopophorous plants, unshelling the pods and setting aside its beans.  The pair worked in tandem with only the stray glowbugs outside the glass window panes illuminating their work.  They discarded the beans in a clay bowl in the middle of them.  Every time her hand accidentally brushed against hers, a shiver would shoot up his arm.

"Are the rumors true?  Have you and Sachrissa gotten together?"

Childishly, Sebastian ignored her, breaking apart the pod in his hand with more force than strictly necessary.

She scowled, not liking to be ignored.  "I mean, all of 6th year, you jump from girl to girl to girl….What exactly are you looking for, Sebastian?"

You…I've been looking for you.  This whole time.  It's always been you. 

He said nothing.  What was there to say? 

She ground her back molar in frustration.  Was this it?  The end of their friendship?  Doomed to just drift apart.  Her vision swam as she fought back tears. 

Sebastian's shoulder fell.  Even without looking at her, he could tell exactly what she was feeling.

  "I…I thought I meant something to you."  his voice was so quiet, she almost missed him speaking.

She stilled, begging for him to continue.

He couldn't bring himself to look up from his work.  Choosing instead to speak to the stupid Sopophorous beans.  "Our 5th year…when we first met back in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Merlin, you were extraordinary.  You were the star of Hogwarts, so bloody brilliant.  Everyone loved you."

Who wouldn't?

The back of Sebastian's eyes felt so hot.  He blinked rapidly, his vision getting a bit blurrier.  "But you chose me.  Out of everyone, Natty, Poppy, even Ominis.  You asked for me to help you find those stupid gobstones.  To ride on a Hippogriff with you.  To clear those disgusting vile spider caves."

"I thought…we…I don't know what the fuck I thought."  He finished bitterly, some emotions too painful to say out loud.

"After….my uncle…the relic and…Ranrok.  You just…vanished."  Droplets of water started spilling onto the back of his hands.  Oh Merlin, here he was crying, like a little pathetic girl.  "It was like…now that you knew the real me…you…you didn't care for it." 

It was hard not to feel cast aside after the new student became "The Hero of Hogwarts"  and she was constantly swarmed by an adoring crowd of eager followers.  She avoided him like the plague until the summer hit and she was whisked away for their break.  No owl posts, no letters.  Sebastian returned to an empty home and a cold twin, now and truly alone for the first time in his life.

It stun.  The abandonment.

He tried to wipe his ears discretely with the edge of his robe sleeves.

She was stunned.  Taking off her dragon scale gloves, she approached the boy in front of her, daring to get closer.

"Sebastian…I….I hadn't had the faintest idea."  She wanted so badly to touch him but found herself too scared to do so.  "If I had known how you felt…"

She remembered the end of their 5th year.  A beautiful service to the closest thing she had to a father figure.  She couldn't help but notice how everyone was staring at her, knowing that she was the only one to be with him as he drew his last breath.  She could feel the thousands of eyeballs staring deep into her watching every twitch and facial expression.  Her lips bled so badly from how hard to bit them to prevent herself from crying in public.  She remembered after Professor Weasley had finished the eulogy how everyone and their friend felt the need to swarm her, to personally thank the hero of Hogwarts.

She had never felt so surrounded and yet so alone.  The loneliness followed her as she drifted through her summer break and well into her 6th year when the growing distance between her and Sebastian forced them apart. 

She bit her lip.  "A-after Ranrok…after F-f…Professor Fig died.  I didn't know what to do anymore.  H-he's…he's all I had left.  I needed time for myself, Sebastian.  I hadn't meant to…I never meant to abandon you." 

Sebastian clenched his fists, "After Ominis and Anne distanced themselves from me…you were all that I had left, and you still chose to abandon me."

Gently, she reached for his hands.  They opened up slowly for her.  She threaded their fingers together.  He was looking away from her, refusing to meet her eyes.

With one hand, she reached up.  Her fingers brushed against his soft cheeks, guiding his face to finally look at her.

His brown eyes were wet, staring at her with naked adoration. 

"I'm sorry, Sebastian."  She whispered.  "I'm here with you, right now.  I'll always be here for you."

He barked out a strained laugh.  "What about Leander?  Aren't you still with him?"

She laughed, a private joke only she could understand.  "Leander dumped me the second that Herbology class was over on Tuesday.  He said it was obvious I was still very much in love with you."

Huh…maybe Leander wasn't such a bad bloke after all.

Wait.  Sebastian's eyes blinked rapidly, finally fully processing her words.  "So, you do admit, you do love me."

She blushed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and refusing to look at him in the eye.  "I…I wasn't the one to say it!"

He hummed in delight.  He pulled her closely to her.  Her chest flush against his.  Her sudden blush framed her cheeks so prettily. 

"I never stopped thinking of you."  Sebastian breathed.  "Every day, every time I see you next to me in Herbology, my mind goes crazy.  You drive me absolutely barmy."

"You're everything to me." Sebastian breathed.

Words escaped her, and she felt exceptionally stupid.  Before she could ask Sebastian for a kiss, warm lips met hers.  He was bold.  His hands traveling to her jaw pulling her impossibly closer to him.  Her hands shot upwards, tangling their fingers in his soft curls.  Sebastian dipped his tongue past her slack lips.  She shoved back, devoid of skill but so desperate for him.  He tasted of fire, of sweet tarts, of Sopophorous beans. 

He tasted like Sebastian. 

She surged forward, revealing in the way Sebastian met her passion with full force.  Her tongue met his, fighting for dominance.  Her teeth nibbled at his bottom lip.  Her sharp canines pierced his soft flesh.  He moaned, enjoying the twinge of pain.

Sebastian pulled back, trying to catch his breath.  His hair, normally a tamed well-controlled storm of curls was in complete disarray.  Sebastian's brown pupils blown so wide they looked entirely black.  His plump soft lips, normally so perfect, were bleeding and bruised from her sharp teeth and rough kissing. 

"Oops."  She drawled in a dry tone.  Sebastian looked so pretty with his soft lips marked up.  Looked so gorgeous when he belonged with her. 

Sebastian's eyes darkened.  "Oh, you'll pay dearly for that." 

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: descriptions of a panic attack

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

A cacophony of voices fight to be heard over the other, everyone shit talking around the game of Mario Kart that’s currently set up in our living room. The boys and I watch as the four players duke it out on the big screen, witnesses to a friendship-breaking competition.

Loud stomping abruptly interrupts the taunts, “Y/N! What the hell? Is that my fucking shirt that you’re wearing?” My brother violently hollers from his spot, standing halfway down the stairs to peer down at the rest of us.

“The one you’ve been looking for all morning? Yup.” I lazily drawl from my spot on the couch, obnoxiously popping the “p” in my reply. My head slightly shifts as Tweek attempts to neatly braid my hair, Butters gently coaching him from the side.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Made me waste a bunch of time looking for nothing.” Stan continues as he finishes his journey down the stairs.

“You act like you have better things to do, loser. No girlfriend, no job—nada. So I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you on your period or something?” An accidental sharp tug makes me wince, Tweek muttering apologies as he quickly kisses the top of my head in repentance for his mistake.

“Shut up! Quit stealing my shit!” He's standing off to the side of the couch now, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

I glare at Stan and say around a mouthful of orange chicken at the top of my lungs. “Quit stealing my weed then!”

”God, you’re such a fucking pothead!” He shouts, fists clenching in anger.

”Says the alcoholic who starts his day with a shot!” It’s a low blow but all I can see is red.

“Bro, quit being a whiny bitch. You’re not dirt poor like Kinny. Just buy a new one.” Said blonde flashes Cartman his middle finger so he rolls his eyes and attempts to correct himself. “What? Fine, at least you weren’t born ginger and a Jew like Kahl. Talk about a double whammy, I’d honestly kill myself.”

”You don’t need a reason to kill yourself, Cartman. Make all of us happy for once and just do it. If you really need a reason, just think about how fat you are and how much wasted space you take up.”

”Aye!”

The match concludes with Jimmy coming out on top and the boys deciding to abandon the game entirely. They resume eating the Chinese takeout that’s laid out on the coffee table in front of them and half-heartedly listen to the sibling’s routine bickering.

“Take it off.” He scoffs at me, face heated with anger. Tolkien rolls his eyes so hard that I’m surprised a headache doesn’t occur.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re stupid, not deaf. Want me to ask mom to get you hearing aids? I said: take. It. Off.” Comes out of my brother’s gritted teeth, each word growing more impatient and strained.

“Big deal, Stan! There’s so many other fucking shirts in this house. Feel free to get one from my closet if you need one so bad.” I retort in exasperation, clenching the denim on Tweeks legs that lay on either side of my body in frustration.

“Ack!” The frenzied blond yelps from behind me and I let go, fiddling with the creases on his jeans instead.

“No! Didn’t you hear me, r-tard? It’s mine, I bought it. Now, take it off!” Kyle closes his eyes at the elder Marsh’s words, tired beyond his years.

“Able to throw some money away for a dumb shirt but you can’t even pay me back my hundred dollars.” The local space enthusiast mumbles to himself, a chorus of ‘shut up, Craig!’ resounds from the boys in Team Stan.

“Fine!” I smirk and get off from my perch on the couch, a sly yet very bold idea pops up into my head. The perfect little thing to piss my dear older brother off. If you want petty, I’ll give you petty.

I grab my shirt from the hem and start to slowly lift it off of my frame, quirking a smug eyebrow and taunting my brother with a smile when more skin starts to show.

“Woohoo!” Kenny hollers excitedly at me, his hands in the air.

“F-f-fuck! No! Quit it, will you?! Don’t fucking do that!” Stan pushes those in his way aside and the boys make it hard for him on purpose by sticking out their legs to trip him. My brother scrambles over to me, forcing my hands down.

“Aw. What’s wrong, Stanley? You’re starting to sound a lot like Jimmy, how cute. I thought you wanted your stupid shirt?” I jeer at him. It’s like what Bebe always says: boys never know what they want and that’s the problem with them. Amen, sister.

“Ewww, Marsh. No one wants to see your underdeveloped body.” Craig socks Cartman on the arm, hard and the larger teen squeals like a dying pig.

“Don’t listen to them, sexy! Keep on going!” Clyde joins in laughing, sliding off his jacket and twirling it over his head in support of the apparent stripping going on.

“You’re voluptuous! Curvaceous! I’m already down on my knees at the sight of you, sweet thang!” Clyde continues to exaggeratedly hype me up, comically imitating the sound of a barking dog afterwards.

“I don’t know how you guys can take her seriously when her hair’s only halfway done. Looks like a damn hippie.” Cartman mumbles, more focused on inhaling his food and rubbing his now sore arm.

“Pffft, b-buh-baby Marsh gone w-wild!” Kung pao chicken accompanies Jimmy’s words of encouragement and he grabs one of his arm crutches, twirling it above his head too. My hands are still at the hem of my shirt, lifted up slightly and exposing a sliver of skin, even when my brother lets go.

I turn my head and catch Craig’s eyes trailing down as he smirks at me, his eyebrows lifted up playfully. A glint in his deep blues as he nonchalantly says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

While I’d normally giggle in amusement at the normally stoic teen and the contribution towards further riling my brother up, my face immediately flushes red after my talk with the girls at the party. I’d say that butterflies are invading my stomach, struggling to break free but it honestly feels like a whole damn zoo down there.

Feeling the adrenaline rush from my brother’s anger, the boys egging me on, and Craig’s attention, my heart beats at record breaking speed and I can feel my cheeks shyly heat up. This development doesn’t go by unnoticed as Kenny stops his playful cheering and laughing, watching the interaction between us two with furrowed brows.

“Fuck off, Tucker. Actually, fuck both of you all the way to hell.” My brother grumbles, angrily throwing himself onto an unoccupied space on the couch with his arms crossed. “It’s the fucking principle of things.”

“Big word, Stanley. Is that your word of the day? Did you learn it from this week’s episode of Sesame Street?” I mock him with a pout in fake sympathy.

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your fucking teeth in!” My brother’s stupid face goes red with anger.

He pouts when Kyle holds him back and rolls his eyes, ever the voice of reason. “They were just joking, Stan.”

“Yeah, Stanley. I was just joking.” My eyes continue to follow Craig as he lifts a bite of food towards his handsome face, wooden chopsticks pressed against his still smirking plush lips.

“Craig.” My brother says sharply this time, straightening up his back to glare at the teen over Cartman’s bigass head. I’m slightly confused as to what’s happening but still loving the attention Craig is giving me.

“Relax, Marsh.” Craig chuckles with a challenging look in his eyes. Tension begins to grow in the room and I’m lost because the other guys would normally laugh at suave shit like that and instigate a fight.

I roll my eyes and figure that it’s just them being overly protective, going back to my spot in between the cute coffee addict’s legs so that he can finish his attempt at doing my hair. Butters has a small braid done in between tufts of silky blonde from when I demonstrated the process to Tweek. He rubs his knuckles together, nervous energy exuding from his body as I return next to him.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls excitedly informed me of tryouts and the process, which involves practice with the already established team and the new potential recruits. A week and a half is given to learn a few cheers before the day they hold the official tryouts, which was today. It’s here where I finally meet Nichole Daniels, Tolkien’s girlfriend. It would’ve been nice if he brought her over from time to time but I can understand his vehement refusal of bringing her anywhere near a number of dumb boys. Trouble seems to follow the guys wherever they go.

As promised to the parentals, I attended and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with the friends I’ve already made being here. I’ve never had problems with dancing as it comes easy to me so it’s nice to just hang out and bask in the feminine energy.

My parent’s request has continued to go under the radar as the boys have been busy with the football season starting. Their practice allows me to not have to think of an excuse for staying out late since they’re already busy, extracurricular activities taking up their time after school as they prepare for the season.

I shove the heavy front doors of the school open, the sun almost fully set as a gradient of red, yellow, and orange bathe me in their hues. The girls always remember to offer me a ride home from their parents but I always politely reject, my guilt not allowing any of them to go out of their way and use their gas on me.

My hands are shoved into my pockets, trying to accumulate as much heat as possible while I begin the journey home. Wisps of fleeting, misty clouds escape from my mouth after each puff of breath I let out and I watch them disappear. I bask in the rare moment of solitude and the quiet that comes with it.

I’m colder than I normally would be tonight because a freshman accidentally spilled her gatorade onto the duffel bag that I’ve been using for cheer. Not only were the sweats that I usually throw on over my shorts drenched in sticky sweetness, but the clothes I wore to school earlier were also an unlucky casualty to the liquid electrolytes.

I wonder if I’ll make the cheer team, I ponder to myself.

The rhythmic sound of my steps on the concrete sidewalk accompany me on my walk and I hum to myself until I hear sharp, rambunctious laughter. I’m startled as my head shoots up and see that across from me in the distance are a group of boisterous, older teens. Fear resounds within me when I faintly remember them terrorizing my brother and friends when they were in the fourth grade, them having been in the sixth at the time.

I pray in my head that they don’t notice me but my prayers go unanswered as they cross the street, now joining me on the same sidewalk. I know I can’t outrun them so I panic and impulsively decide to take a detour, turning right into an alleyway until I dreadfully notice that I can still hear them from behind. What was once just the sound of obnoxious laughter is now the noise of thundering footsteps following closely, beginning to get louder and louder.

My feet hastily pick up their pace and I can feel the tremors reverberate through my now sweating hands, anxiety filling me to the very core. My trembling makes the process of pulling out my phone agonizingly slow and I silently curse at my misfortune.

The white puffs of air that once brought me entertainment on my walk now serve as a reminder of the danger I’m in. Unlike before, they come out of my mouth in quick intervals and I clench my teeth to bid them away.

Out of nowhere, someone roughly yanks on my ponytail and they’re quick to cut off my yelp as a rough hand forces itself onto my mouth. The assailant painfully holds onto my other arm, both grips enforcing excruciating pain.

“Hey, I recognize you. You go to our school, always around those dumb boys.” One of the perpetrators in front of me sneers as he brings his face up to mine, his rancid breath invading my senses and making me feel even sicker than before.  

“Lucky, aren’t we? We got baby Marsh!” Their eyes lighten up in both delight and recognition. I can feel upcoming bile trying to force its way up my throat from hearing the term of endearment the boys call me used like this, the connotation eerie in this situation.

Trying to make a sound is futile as all my cries for help are muffled, my captor getting annoyed at my squirming and relocating his hold on my arm to my neck instead. He squeezes and I whimper in fear, my breathing becomes more desperate when my kicking and elbows do nothing to deter him.

“Why’re you crying? You’re just asking for it when you walk around in fucking shorts. We live in South Park. No one would dress that way outside in the snow if they weren’t a total slut.” They all degradingly mock me, laughter resounding throughout the cold air as foreign fingers begin to play along the edge of my shorts.

“Pffft, dumb bitch.” One of them slaps me just because they have the power to do so in my vulnerable state before squeezing both of my cheeks together with one hand, hard.

“Who wants to go first?” They all fight over the answer to the question and I clench my eyes shut in dread, the color draining from my face.

Before they can do anything, yelling can be heard and I’m dropped by my captor. I stumble to the dirty ground of the alleyway at the loss of my previous support. On the floor, I painfully dig my nails onto my thighs. My breath hitches and my chest tightens, my panicking intensifying despite finally being free.

Short breaths rake through my trembling body and my nails dig deeper. Crescent moons appear on soft skin, invoking blood. My head starts to feel a little light and I try my hardest to calm myself down but it’s to no avail, my attempts prove to be futile. My unoccupied hand trembles as they reach up to touch wet, stinging cheeks. I didn’t even notice that I‘ve begun to sob as every gasp for air racks my body.

“Holy shit.” Varying voices can be heard from around me but my mind barely registers their words as my head continues to feel even lighter than before.

Even though I’m unable to determine whether or not I’m safe, I don’t flinch when someone crouches next to me and hastily crushes me against their hard chest. I’m numb to my surroundings and everything feels distorted. It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning.

“Ack! She’s hyperventilating! Gyah!”

“No fucking shit captain obvious!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The chest I’m against rumbles and my brain finally registers it as the sound of Kenny’s voice. I muster up what little strength I have to look up and see my boys around me. My brother is directly crouched in front of me and from my peripherals, I can just barely see that it’s Kyle in the same position next to him, eyes wide in panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Fuck! What should we do?!” It’s Tolkien this time but I can’t look away from my brother. My eyes are begging him to do something, anything to make it stop. Oh how I wish twin telepathy were real.

“Breathe, baby. You need to breathe for me.” The world tilts around me as a soothing voice near my ear urges. A resounding gasp of air struggles to be inhaled but it’s too shaky and tears of frustration continue to fall. My breathing isn’t slowing and I just want this to be over.

“Someone needs to do something before her heart gives out!” Someone loudly kicks what sounds to be a trash can in anger, messily spilling its contents all over the floor and I flinch at the blow.

“Y/N, breathe.” Stan coaches me, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. His large hand encompasses my smaller one, exerting slight pressure until I can feel his heartbeat.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice and follow me. In, and out. In, and out. I’m here. You see me, right? You’re here with me at this very moment and you’re safe. You’re always safe with me. Big brothers always got you, yeah?”

I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t.

I’ve been trying and nothing is happening.

It won’t stop and I can’t fucking breathe.

I don’t want to disappoint everyone but I’m tired.

“Shh, shh. You can, love, you can. I know you can.” Kenny patiently encourages me as he gently brushes strands of my hair away from my sticky, tear-stained cheeks. Heavily disoriented, I didn’t seem to realize that I was verbalizing all of my thoughts.

“You know why? Because my girl is the absolute best—the best girl ever and everyone who's anybody knows that. She’s resilient and just so, so strong. As long as she tries her best, I’ll always be proud of her no matter what and nothing she can do will ever disappoint me. Literally, nothing. She could put a bullet through my head and I’d just pass away in euphoria because my last living memory is of a goddess with ethereal beauty.” Kenny continues and ever so slightly, a corner of my lip lifts up.

This is familiar. This is comforting. I know this. The playful flirting and cheesy, over the top exaggeration. His soothing voice helps guide me back down to Earth as I focus on the rising chest of my brother under my fingertips. This is familiar, too. It’s a sound I’ve always known, even before I was born. Whenever I’m feeling sad or scared, my big brother will always hug me to his chest, my ear pressed against the faint beating of his heart. The rhythmic sound let’s me know that I’m safe, I always am when he’s here. This sound is the other half of me.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. Really great. You always do great and I knew you would.” It’s the voice near my ear again and this time, I’m finally able to look away from my brother to see that the voice belongs to Craig. It appears he had a hand on my shoulder throughout the whole ordeal, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over my jacket.

I now notice that Butters has my other hand firmly in his, tears streaking down both his and Clyde’s faces. They all must have found me after practice and I’m thankful that I wasn’t too far from the school before everything went down.

When they ask me what I was doing out so late, in athletic shorts no less, I mumble an excuse about the girls inviting me to workout in the weight room back at school. They don’t know that it’s not just today that I’ve been trekking home alone at night and I don't want to correct their assumption when they sternly lecture me on how dangerous it is.

After taking me home and getting myself cleaned up, they decide on an impromptu movie night filled with blankets, pillows, and snacks. Last minute texts are sent to their parents, notifying them of an emergency sleepover. They place me in the middle, a cocoon of softness, warmth, and comfort. They let me choose all the movies for the rest of the night and the food we order for delivery.

Our faces are colored a pale green from the clay mask I put on everyone, those with longer hair having mini palm trees at the top of their head from being tied up away from their faces.

Self care, they told me.

This isn’t edible so don’t try to lick it off your face, I told Cartman.

I slowly look around and take in the bright light of the television reflecting off of their individual faces. Some people, like Tolkien and Kyle, are starting to nod off, fighting the last dredges of sleep for my sake. On the other end of the spectrum, Butters and Clyde jump at every loud sound that accompanies the suspenseful music, paranoia painting their faces white. Tweek catches my eye and gently feeds me a kernel of popcorn.

Surrounded by my boys, I smile knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with them.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

I’m sitting in front of my vanity, carefully applying some makeup to cover the faint bruising on my cheek, the process therapeutic. The occasional clicking of buttons could be heard, Craig lounging on my bed with a handheld gaming console in his hands. I softly mouth along to the words of the low music playing from my phone while faint laughter can be heard from downstairs.

I chance a glance up and catch Craig’s reflection from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t turn my head around as we make eye contact through the mirror. My lips unconsciously quirk up, fondness of the boy behind me fills my entire being from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “Hmm? What’s up, Tucker?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a thoughtful look adorning his attractive features. Ever since the night the boys found me, I’ve been catching their lingering gazes on me from time to time. Eyes distant, as if they’re looking past me.

I settle both of my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands carefully framing both of my cheeks lest I smudge my hard work. My smile doesn’t falter, never when I’m with him, and I lightheartedly tease him, “What? Never seen a good looking Marsh before? I know you’re around my brother all the time but he's not that ugly.”

I’m successful in getting a reaction from him because I’m soon rewarded with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, his expression softening, “Come here.”

His deep voice is firm, filling my room with its gentle demand and I blindly obey. With Craig, I’d do just about anything for him. He’s now seated upright and has positioned himself at the edge of my bed, legs open and his thumb tapping a beat onto his thigh.

When I’m close enough, the boy grabs both of my hands, interlocking our fingers together. He gives the intertwined digits a swift, reassuring squeeze before guiding me to him to close the short distance between us. I stand in between his legs and he elicits sudden goosebumps along my arms as he carefully drags his long fingers down the length of it, slowly before finding purchase at my hips.

I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, bringing us closer together and he gently squeezes in response. He murmurs so quietly, “Are you okay?”

I softly reply, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his neck, catching strands of smooth black hair. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Our voices are hushed. There’s no need to be quiet but it feels like we’re in a bubble and at any disruption, no matter how slight, might pop it.

“Yeah… You know I’m always here for you, right?” I softly nod in response, a slight shift in this space of intimacy we’ve created.

“You know you have me, right?” Again, I nod as I hang onto his words.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it is—big or small. At the asscrack of dawn or in the middle of the night. I'd drop whatever I was doing if it meant getting to you when you need me.” His long fingers reach up to lightly smooth his thumb at the area where soft skin meets makeup.

“If you ever have any doubts or feel upset about anything, just talk to me, okay? And I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to erase those doubts and remind you of how much you mean to me. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or less of anything, not when you mean everything to me.” The ravenette continues as he moves his hand, this time tucking silky strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

I shyly giggle in bliss at his soft touch and even lighter voice. “Where is this coming from, Craig?”

He ignores my question, persistent to convey his message to me. “You do know that, right, Y/N?”

“Of course, I’ve never doubted it or thought otherwise.”

“Good.” The teen says, satiated before bringing us down onto the bed.

My hands lay themselves against his chest to keep myself upright and he caresses my head with both hands, angling my head down to give my forehead a soft kiss. His lips lingers before pulling away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It wasn’t hard for the girls to see the slight traces of lingering purple under my attempted camouflage. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, yet they persisted in trying to make up for it due to the guilt they all felt.

I had just finished applying my daily cover up and was adding the final touches to my hair, making sure that every single strand was in place. Satisfied, I turn the brightness of my computer screen back up until the reflection of myself on the glass disappears. I had time before I was due to head out so I loosely curled every lock cascading down my shoulders, braids adorning either side of my head. The girls wanted to take me out later in the day as an otherwise unnecessary apology and I hummed to myself in excitement.

“Wow, doll. Is this all for me?” I look up from the boss battle I was currently engaged in, pausing to identify the intruder that let out a low whistle.

Kenny leans off from his laidback position on my door frame and lazily walks up behind me, the end of his lips quirked up. He gives me an appreciative hum as he takes his time scanning my appearance, indulging his eyes on my figure. I patiently smile at his appreciation.

“Ah, scratch that. That was a stupid question, you’re beautiful every single day to anyone who lays their eyes on you. You don’t even need to try so I meant to say that this is a welcomed treat.” I turn around in my seat to face him, giggling at his words of praise. I greedily drink them in as I loop my arms around his waist.

“Beautiful?” I seek more of his validation, a deepening blush rising on my cheeks as I parrot back his compliment.

He takes a small section of my hair and gently guides his hand to his face, kissing the soft locks in his possession. He hums to me, “Beautiful, bewitching, alluring… You’re every synonym and every iteration of the word, babe. You define beautiful, you’re the very embodiment of it. That word was created because of you—if I were to look under the definition of it, your name would be there.”

My smile grows wider and my cheeks start to hurt from the action, resulted by the constant influx of euphoria that the blonde never fails to provide me. Whether from being drunk on the male’s compliments or shyness, the color red has made its permanent residence onto my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair and gently cups his large hands on either side of my face, angling it up towards his taller figure.

“Pretty.” He quietly utters to my skin, kissing my forehead.

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to my nose this time.

“Irresistible.” A kiss to my left cheek.

“Ravishing.” A firmer kiss to my right cheek with a playful growl, melodic laughter gets pulled out of me.

“Lovely.” He says much softer this time, watching me with gentle eyes. He keeps his devoted gaze onto my visage, his thumb lightly goes over my lips once. “Everything a guy could ever ask for in a person. Everything that I could ever want in life. If I could have one wish, it’d be you.”

My eyes flicker between bright azure orbs, the air between us charged. Before I can say anything, the sound of muffled yelling from my brother’s room startles us. I hastily look away embarrassed, the moment between us broken.

“Can I make you pretty, too?” I flash him a toothy grin and he playfully rolls his eyes, seeking refuge onto my bed. That’s all the answer I need before I push at his shoulders to guide his back down before I settle myself onto his lower stomach, giggling with an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.

Washing flecks of glittery white over his eyelids, I bring my face closer to his and take the time to study the teen under me while his eyes are closed. His slender hands find purchase at my hips and I find myself mesmerized at the mini constellations that adorn his handsome face. Albeit not many, every freckle looks like a tiny star, accentuating the blonde’s mesmerizing features.

I lean in closer to get a better look as I carefully paint a streak of black, a steady hand making a line. I inspect my latest stroke when his hand gently grabs the wrist of the hand I have hovering over his face, the same one holding my eyeliner brush. His eyes slowly open as to not disturb my art, our faces close to one another. Kenny showcases his boyish smile, flashing me with deep dimples at the lack of space between us and my eyes inadvertently lower, seeking plush lips.

“Haven’t you noticed that yeah, the boys are overprotective over you. But when it comes to Kenny and Craig, it’s different?”

Fuck.

[moonlightpirate]

Return to The Madding Crowd

Chapter 1: The Storm

You are Bathsheba's cousin who now lives with her and Gabriel on their farm and helps out. Bathsheba and Gabriel felt bad about what happened to William and have just bailed him out of jail so he can live in his house.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added 😊): @ingeniousvemon

Ao3

It was a dark and stormy night, the lightning lighting up the path ahead was the only thing that was helping you find your way home. You were soaked to the bone and had been walking for what felt like an eternity, you couldn’t believe that you had been that far away from your cousin’s house. Finally, after several hours, another flash of lightning showed you the farmhouse and it wasn’t too far away. You wanted to run to the house as you were ready to be out of the rain and forget tonight even happened. But the pain that was shooting up your leg with every step reminded you that running would not be happening. Slowly you approached the farmhouse wincing with pain as you went up the porch steps. You opened the front door and could hear talking coming from the dining room area which was odd with how late it was. Quietly you closed the door and tried to sneak inside but the old farmhouse floors were so creaky and your limp was getting worse.

"Y/n is that you?" Bathsheba hollered.

"Yeah it's me. I'm…um…. tired I'm going to go to bed." You shout in reply.

Your mother had wanted you to marry a wealthy soldier instead of helping your cousin Bathsheba on her farm. But you had no interest in marriage, at least not yet, and if you were to marry you wanted it to be for love. Tonight your mother insisted that you meet with the soldier for a date and he decided to try to propose to you. He was mad when you turned down his proposal and took his anger out on you. Afterwards he left you to find your own way home. You didn’t want to alarm Bathsheba or Gabriel so you tried to appear to walk normally as you passed by the dining room so that they would not notice your limp. 

"Hold it….you're limping…..what did he do to you?!" Gabriel demanded as he jumped up from the table grabbing your shoulders as he observed you.

Shyly you turn your head and look into the dining room causing Bathsheba to gasp. You noticed a rather handsome man sitting at the table who was also looking at you in shock. There was a mirror behind the man and you could just barely see your reflection in the mirror. Apparently the downpour outside hadn’t managed to wash all the blood off of your face, and it looked like bruises were beginning to form from where he had hit you.

"Gabriel, I'm fine really." You mumble trying to push him away. 

"You're covered in blood and limping, no you're not fine. Where is he?!". 

"Gabriel,what are you going to do? Please leave him alone!" Bathsheba begged. 

"No, he deserves to be punished, look what he did to her!" Gabriel shouted as he stormed out the front door into the storm. 

Bathsheba jumped up from the table and ran out after him hoping to stop him. You blush and  glance down in embarrassment as you realize you are now alone with this strange man. Slowly you attempt to keep walking to your room as your ankle gives out and you collapse to the floor.

"Oh goodness miss! Please let me help you. You're badly injured." The man pleaded,  rushing to your aid. 

"I'm fine really……" You stutter, blushing in embarrassment. .

"I insist. Please.".

He holds one hand out for you to grab onto and the other wraps around you for support. Gently he uses all his strength as he helps you up and guides you over to a nearby chair.

"Thank you." You whisper, your eyes are practically glued to the floor in pure embarrassment at everything.

"Can I offer you tea or anything to help make you more comfortable until they get back?" The man inquired.

You could feel him hovering over you and had a feeling he wouldn't leave your side until you said yes to tea or food.

"Sure tea sounds lovely." You smile, finally looking up at him. 

The way his face lit up made you blush a little harder than you already were. You watched as he quickly grabbed the tea pot and a tea cup and quickly poured some tea. When he gestured to the sugar you shook your head no. You just wanted something warm to take the chill out of your bones. He handed you the cup and finally sat back down. Quietly you drank the tea waiting for Bathsheba to return with Gabriel. You could feel this man's eyes boring into you and you knew he was burning to ask you questions. Just as you were about to break the silence, Bathsheba and Gabriel returned. Gabriel stopped and glared at you.

"If I see him again I'm going to make him pay for what he did to you." He growled before turning away to put on dry clothes.

"William, I must ask you to leave. I am sorry. We will pick up this conversation another day. Y/n let's get you cleaned up and dried off before you catch a cold." Bathsheba consoled, gently putting a hand on your back.

The man, William, nodded his head and left. He gave you one final wistful look before closing the door. Using the table and Bathsheba's hand you hoisted yourself up and you slowly made your way upstairs where Bathsheba helped run you a warm bath. Once you were in the bath Bathsheba ran to your room to grab you your nightgown. Afterwards she left you alone to relax knowing you didn't want to talk about what had happened with the soldier. Little did she know you were curious as to who William was and why he had been here. After the bath you carefully made your way into your bed and laid down glad to finally be off of your feet for the night.