#every other one seems to be going at least one year back

[bazpire]

Doing my own take on this.

The equinox. The most important holiday. For werewolves, at least. The moon was at it's highest, and the fresh air of the forest filled up the lungs of every living creature in it.

Willa sat, restless, in front of the table filled with her pack, or rather, her father's pack.

He cleared his throat, silencing everyone. She could see the spark in his eyes. Her father was drunk in power, way before drinking even a sip of wine, he loved being able to silence any room he entered in, he loved the intimidation and fear he caused in others.

He was a fucking sadist.

"As we all know, my dearest daughter is turning sixteen this month, my beautiful little pup." He looked at her, and Willa felt her heart, feral and wild, ramming against her ribcage, screaming for blood. She hated him.

She didn't hate him for his borderline dictatorship on the pack, or his sadism, or the way he looked at her as if she was a doll, a tool, a pretty little decoration he could move and control as he pleased.

She hated him because of the woman in front of her.

She hated the way he'd make her mom lower her head, make her smile disappear, make her flinch with every touch, she despised the way his eyes would look at her like a trophy, like a pray well hunted, like a meal meant to be devoured.

Willa looked up to her mother, who was already gazing at her, sending her a nice, soft, calming smile. That's the one she always had. She was relaxing, calming, she'd make Willa feel that everything would be okay, even when it wouldn't be.

That just cemented even more the decision she took.

"And that means that she's old enough to officially join the pack, so we can all welcome out new member." Vères finished his speech, with everyone giving an applause.

As he sat down, he widened his eyes and felt his blood freeze by his daughter's actions. She got up, still with everyone's attention, full of tension and palatable rage.

"And as an official member of the pack and the next in line as alpha, I believe my first action will be... to fucking kill you." She pushed the chair behind her until it fell, turning towards the other members. "I, Willa Domhnall, challenge the alpha of the Bahutan pack, Vères Domhnall, to a battle to death for the position of alpha of the pack and," this time she turned her head, looking into his eyes, deeply and unbroken "for the freedom of my mother, Adeena Zyanya."

The whispers and gasps filled her ears and made her blood boil.

Adeena's hand was over her mouth, a horrified look in her eyes, she was terried. What would happen now? How would her kidnapper/abuser/mate react? Was her daughter in danger? What was happening?

Vères started manically laughing.

"Oh, my darling puppy, you have a killer sense of humour."

"Not the only killer sense I have, father. Now get up." She spat back

"You- you must be kidding, dearest, why would you ever-"

"Shut up!" She interrupted him, slamming her hands into the table, making everything shake. "Are you really asking why? After all of these years of abuse, pain, suffering, torture-"

"I never laid my hands on you!"

"I'm not talking about me!" She shouted, making him flinch. Willa didn't even have it in herself to feel happy about it. "I'm talking about my mother. What? You think I don't know? You think I'm so fucking stupid that I wouldn't realise? All of these years... all of the wicked shit you'd do to her... well, not anymore, Vères. You made me, you gave me life, and now I'm going to take yours."

She straightened up, starting to grow, starting to change, starting to shift. She became bigger, so big that all of her clothes were ripped off, she was covered in fur, long sharp claws were visible in what once were her soft, delicate hands, now more like paws. Her face, now a snout, was dripping in drool spilling from her monstrous fangs.

She quickly attacked, barely giving her father time to change as well, as he growled and pushed her back.

"C'mon! Fight me, old man! You seemed very fucking tough when you were forcing my mother down into the floor to hurt her, weren't you? What? Can't handle someone your size?" She screamed, in a language that only her father, already shifted, could understand.

Adeena, the other members of the pack, and even the non-werewolf mates stepped back. The werewolves started to howl and growl and scream, and Adeena felt like she couldn't breathe.

Her daughter was going to be killed because of her.

"I never hurt you! Not a single time, I always treated you like a treasure! You were my precious, treasured pup!" Vères growled as he dodged he daughter's claws.

"I'm not your fucking pup! I never was!" Willa kicked him in the stomach, receiving a scratch on her face that made her whimper, but it was worth it to see her dad fly to the ground. "Since I was ten years old, I stopped seeing you as a pup or as a daughter. My eyes looked at you as a woman, and I hated what I saw." Her growls, her words were laced with venom, pure and utter hatred. Something ancient. Something that is hers, but isn't at the same time.

The hate in her eyes, Vères realised, was the same hate Adeena had the day he took her.

And he snapped, jumping on his daughter and trying to beat, scratch, bite her, anything to take her down. But Willa wouldn't go down. She was as free and feral as the forest itself.

Blood spilt all over the forest dirt, the wolves howling ringing on their ears, the screams of the mates fueling the fire.

Willa felt like she was about to explode, and Vères was ready to drop the match, but before anything could actually happen...

Willa felt something hot dripping on her face.

She looked up, her father was bleeding from his mouth, and looking down at her with a shocked expression. They both looked down, seeing a dagger sticking out of Véres' chest and slightly cutting Willa's.

He dropped to the side, letting her have a view on who had a hand on her survival.

Adeena.

She dropped the weapon, falling to her knees and bringing her daughter into a hug.

"You stupid, foolish little girl," she cried, holding Willa like she was going to disappear into the wind.

Willa slowly started to shift back, becoming smaller in her mother's embrace, limp, and in pain. "Mommy, what...?" She wanted to ask what happened, if she was okay, what was gonna happen now. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was the woman crying while holding her, the woman who gave life to her, the woman that had everything taken from her. Well, almost everything.

Willa hugged Adeena back, holding her so tightly she could've swore she heard something crack and pop, but her mom never even made an attempt to push her away, still sobbing her heart out. "It's okay, Mommy, it's okay. He's gone now. You're safe, and he will never hurt you again. I'll take care of you, I'll take care of everything, we'll be alright." She comforted.

I've been wanting to ramble about this so bad all day.

Yanderes who baby trap their darlings (especially when they're non-human or not fully human) are dumb.

Babes. You just created your own demise.

Sure! Maybe for the first couple years you've got what you wanted, you'll get a mini you/them and they'll be stuck with you.

But kids aren't stupid, they'll notice.

That little pup you forced upon your prey? Will notice the way you stare hungrily at their mother, and they'll smell their birth giver's fear.

Like, have you met children of fathers who were abusive to their mothers? They're incredibly protective, I have a friend who heard his father call his mother a bitch and sent him to the hospital. At 16.

I was deadly terrified of my dad, but he threw a plastic bottle at my mom (granted, it was accidental) and I bitch slapped him into next week.

And why do i say non-human yanderes are especially stupid? Because sure, the victim (be that a prey hybrid or a human) can not fight back. But the child can. They have it in their genes, the yandere's blood, the yandere's non-human-ness.

Once they're old enough, it's done.

Now I wanna see a platonic!yandere!werewolf!daughter against a yandere!werewolf!father.

[freshbakedbreadstick]

Missing You, Needing You - Season 2 Arcane Sevika x F!Reader

Arcane Season 2 Sevika x F!Reader

Summary: After everything that has happened in Zaun, Sevika is forced to be the one to step up in place of Silco. Because she is so busy, she does neglect you, but she will do whatever it takes to make it up to you. 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Spoilers for season 2 of Arcane, be warned. Reader is described as having a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. Mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, established relationship, submissive reader, grinding, girls kissinggggg, one armed Sevika (i love this big buff woman), that's it i think (other than this being PWP). Brief mention of canon major character death. 

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I'm not okay after act 2 . . . Anyways I wrote Sevika PWP to comfort myself after this because she's hot and I'm terrified something will happen to her in act 3 😔 enjoy besties !

Sevika sighs, forehand in hand as she reads over the hundreds of papers on her desk. Demands, pleas, apologies, and even curses littered the pages, all addressed to her. Her hand fell onto the desk with a plop as she rolled her eyes at the latest letter's contents.

"I'm not made for this shit," she growled to herself, fingers creasing the corner of the paper.

The light of the window streamed in, darkening every corner of the room as it fell on her. She hunched over the desk, back to the door as she had for days now. 

Just outside, your hand hesitated at the door, hearing her grumbling just beyond it. Her voice was thick and raspy, more than usual, and it worried you to no end. But no matter how many times you begged her to take a break, to get some extra rest, to take care of herself a little more, she always said the same thing.

"I need to fix this mess for him," she would murmur, "Even if he isn't around anymore. It's the least I can do..."

Always so loyal. Guess the rumors were true, she really was like his loyal dog. 

The bags underneath her eyes seemed to darken as she looked up to the door, watching you step in, wearing the silky nightgown you knew she loved to see you wear. The one she would moan and palm, murmuring how smooth it felt on your skin and how it flowed perfectly over your body.

"...Vika?" You whispered, balancing the small tray of tea in your hands as you went inside. 

Her head snapped toward you, dark eyes hardened by the years of life in the Undercity softening at the view of you stepping into the light. She sighed softly, gaze dropping back down to that damn paperwork.

"Sweetheart..." she murmured, "Not right now..."

"I know, I know... m'sorry." you stepped closer, feet padding softly toward the desk to place the tray down at the edge. 

"Just brought you a little something to keep you going..." 

This made the corners of her mouth twitch upward. 

You knew there was no point in fighting her anymore; you just couldn't stop her from spending her days and nights trying to get Silco's mess back in order once again. So you gave in, deciding to do what you could to make this process of grief a little more comfortable for her. Whether it was making sure she ate or brushing her hair back, you would do it. 

She would insist she was fine, brushing you off or pushing your hands away, but you saw the way she left the plates of food completely empty and the way she would still when she felt your hands on her hair. 

Sevika sighed, leaning back in her chair. You listened to it squeak with a small frown, moving to pour the steaming tea into the cup. 

"Two sugars, one lemon wedge," you announced, smiling softly as you placed the cup to the side. 

She said nothing, continuing to glare at the stack of papers in front of her. 

Your hand scooted the cup a little closer before you stepped back, hugging yourself while watching her carefully.

Her eyes flickered toward you, eyeing you before eyeing the steaming cup. It lured her with the soft scent and the golden liquid, glittering as the wedge bobbed softly. It smelled heavenly, like laying in a soft bed with a cooing lover after a long day with no sleep, how she desperately wanted to be. 

But she couldn't.

With a small growl she turned back around and sat up straight, glaring at the larhe empty chair in front of her before going back down at the papers with even more ferocity than before. Her hand came down, fist pounding on the desk and making everything rattle. 

"Stupid fucking idiot Silco..." you just shook your head at her voice, hearing the annoyance laced with grief spill from her lips before she went quiet. 

After a beat of silence, she sat up and spoke again, "...Come here." 

Your eyebrows shot up, body still. 

"I said come here."

Her demanding voice made your feet begin to move before you could even react, moving toward her and stopping right beside her.

"Yes-"

"Sit."

You blinked, watching as she spread her legs, leaning back to give you some room to slide upon her lap. You know she loved to have you perched on her lap, but right now? While she reads over laments of grief over the loss of Silco and the supposed downfall of Zaun without him?

"U-uh... baby," You murmured, "Are you sure-"

"Sit on my lap, fuck!" She moaned, exasperated. 

Quickly, you placed yourself on her lap. Your movements were careful, but her hand soon came up to your hip and tugged you back against her.

"Vika..." you whined, cheeks dusted with a flush as a strap of your nightgown fell off your shoulder. 

You felt your exposed skin press against the leather of her shirt as she pressed your back against her chest, making you shiver a bit with a stifled whine. You couldn't see the way she smirked, eyes focused on you instead of the paperwork. 

She pressed her nose against your hair, blatantly inhaling the comfort of your scent. 

"Damn place is falling apart and I have to pick up the pieces..." she rumbled, voice so close to your ear that you jumped a bit. 

Her hand, still gripping the plushness of your hip, felt hot through the thin material of your gown. It was large, gripping you tightly against her in a way that made your heart race and thighs press together. 

"But..." her nose pressed against the side of your head, lips by your ear, "I still have you."

This made you hum, "You do..."

"So that's worth something..." 

Both of you smiled to yourselves. 

Her hand wandered, pressing against your body as it slid up your side to grip the softness of your chest. Her thumb caught the edge of the strap that fell, twisting it as her palm enveloped your skin. 

"Still got you and these pretty tits all to myself..." she breathed. 

Her warm lips began to press against the skin of your neck as your head lolled to the side, giving her ample room to feverishly kiss you, teeth nipping as she panted. 

"Been neglecting you, baby..." she murmured, teeth gently biting you before sucking sweetly as an apology. 

There's definitely going to be a mark there tomorrow, but you didn't mind. All the marks she would leave on you have since faded, bites and love marks lost to time. She was very diligent in marking what was hers, taking the time to replace the old ones with the new.

"Gotta show the world your mine," she would murmur as you panted, her fingers buried deep in your drooling cunt as her mouth continued its assault on your skin. 

But it's been a while now that she has locked herself up in the office, mulling over complaints and going into meeting after meeting. She had been neglecting you, forcing you to bury your face into one of her shirts inhaling her scent as you cried her name in the darkness of night, alone, your fingers trying to imitate the roughness of her pinches and thrusts. But you failed every time, leaving you to gasp and whimper as you laid back, the unsatisfied feeling in the pit of your stomach making you roll over instead of finishing yourself off. 

But by the way her hand slid down your body, smoothing down the nightgown before she reached the edge that hiked up your thighs. Her hand slipped under it, eagerly moving to catch the lace of your panties. 

"Wore my favorite ones?" She murmured, hot breath hitting your ear and sending goosebumps down your spine.

"Y-yes, just for you baby," you whispered, stuttering.

It felt like it had been ages since the last time you two were like this, making you feel like a bashful virgin letting their lover grope them in the cover of darkness for the first time. It made you flush, clit throbbing and pussy no doubt leaving a wet mark on your panties. 

Sevika gripped your panties, gently tugging the front of them to press firmly against you. You whined, hips rising with her actions as she laughed at the way you reacted to the feel of the rough and wet lace sliding against your neglected clit. 

Your skin felt hot, chest rising and falling with every pant as you felt the sparks of her touch on your skin, fingers opting to let go of your panties to slide down the front, down to the puffiness of your labia. 

"Oh sweet girl," Sevika cooed, fingers stilling when she was met with the soaked fabric, "Miss me that much?"

"Like you have no idea..." you moaned, head falling back against her. 

She smirked, watching your reactions carefully. With a lick of her lips and narrow of her eyes, her fingers carefully pressed against your panties, putting more and more pressure. 

One of her knees slid between your legs, knocking them open in one clean movement. Her hand then dove into your pants, pushing aside the fabric to press her thick calloused fingers against your clit. 

You cried out, hips bucking and head jerking at the sudden movement and sudden pleasure, feeling her hand making small tight circles right over where you needed it the most, exactly how you imagined all those restless, lonely nights. 

"Oh sweetness...." she murmured, smirking, "Making all these pretty noises for me? From just a little touch?" 

A strangled cry came from your throat, cheeks burning from the patronizing tone she used, but fuck did she sound good. Her movements were fast and rough, making your hands slap onto her forearm, nails digging into her skin. She laughed heartily at the sight of the crescent marks you left behind, a slight shiver going through her body as she bit her lip.

"Gonna mark me up too, babydoll? Gonna show off to everyone I'm yours?" She moaned into your ear, listening to the way you cried out jumbled words. 

It's like your hips had a mind of their own, foregoing whatever shame you had to thrust up and meet her fingers, putting more pressure right where you needed it the most and making the knot in the pit of your stomach tighten.

"Fuck need it so bad Vika," you slurred, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

Her gray eyes trained themselves on your body, feeling her own hips thrust up to meet your movements, "Yea? Fucked your fingers to the thought of me everynight?" 

You nodded rapidly, crying out, "N-never enough, couldn't cum without you!" 

Sevika laughed again, moving her hand to slip her fingers down, pressing against your entrance. She slipped in easily, making you cry out at the feeling. The heel of her hand returned to your clit, moving from side to side as she fucked her fingers in, "I know sweetness, I know... would sometimes come back to watch you through the crack of the door... my poor girl missed my thick fingers in her cunt, didn't she?"

Her thick fingers stretched you, sliding against your gummy walls as she finger fucked you on her lap. You could feel the way you dripped over her hand and onto her lap, most likely going to leave little wet marks on her pants. She was going to tease you about it after, for sure, but you didn't care right now. 

"Fuck, need... so bad..." you slurred, eyes watery and vision blurring at the delicious way she sucked on your neck and made you feel so good.

"Cum for me, use that pretty pussy of yours to drench my fucking fingers, miss the way you taste, the way you sound, miss you so much." She moaned, hearing your cries. 

"Vika, gonna... gonna cum!" You whined, hips stuttering. 

But her force never relented, hand jerking against you nonstop as your words got more and more high pitched, reaching the overwhelming peak of your orgasm.

"Oh pretty girl!" She moaned out loudly, feeling her own clit throbbing as you rode out your orgasm, your hands squeezing her thighs as you came. 

"V-vika!! Mmm, fuck, baby!" Your voice was unrecognizable to yourself as you screamed, head swimming and eyes screwed shut.

Her hips bucked against you as you bucked against her hand, grinding against one another. Your arms ached as you gasped for breath, coming down slowly with every thrust. You could hear a deep rumble coming from her chest as she hummed, soothing your trembling thighs.

Her fingers slowed, becoming teasingly slow as you slumped against her, a mess of whimpers and heavy breaths.

You could feel the way her thick fingers slowly slid out of your pulsing hole, gently rubbing against your clit in tiny motions. 

"...feel better?" She said after a while. 

You nodded, head falling back onto her shoulder as you laid limply against her. She smiled softly, eyes half lidded as she carefully brought her hand up to her lips. 

You could hear her greedily sucking as you looked at the blurry ceiling, body feeling heavy and pussy throbbing in the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

"Mmm... taste as good as I remember..." her voice was husky as she purred. 

Her sticky hand came to grab your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks as she turned you to look at her. Before you knew it, her tongue was sliding between your parted lips to give you a taste of yourself. 

"Mmm," you both moaned, the combination of her and you sending shivers across your bodies. 

Pulling away, you could see the small string of saliva connecting from your lips to hers glistening under the light of the room, reminding you of where you were. But before you could squirm at the sight of the office, the view of her parted lips and glistening gray eyes took your breath away.

The two of you stared at one another, pausing to take in the way you both looked so wrecked for one another, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair messy, and tongues tingling with the taste of one another. 

"Come on, this can wait," Sevika suddenly murmured, eyes flickering over you before moving to stand, her arm firmly wrapping around your body.

She took you with her as she got up, making you yelp as you were placed onto your feet in such a quick motion that you were wobbling like a freshly born doe.

You could hear her chuckling at you, but were too focused on the way she threw down a pencil onto the abandoned sheets of paper littered all over the desk. 

"Need to remind you how much I love you some more..." she said softly, feeling your gaze on her. 

You were giggling in her arm in no time, your arms wrapped around her neck and clinging to her as she whisked you off, secure in her embrace, leaving behind the stacks of paperwork, the now cold cup of tea, and her grief behind. She would eventually come back to clean it all up, but for now she needed you... and you needed her. 

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 ♡⃕ spider boy, king of thieves:

spiderman ! percy jackson

▰▰▰ pairing(s): percy jackson x female!reader.

Spider-boy, king of thieves Weave your little webs of opacity

author: percy jackson is the textbook definition of a peter parker variant, fight me

y/n loved Percy Jackson, she was sure of it. Had been sure of it for years now. For some time, she had been sure, too, that those feelings were one hundred percent reciprocated.

Percy and her, they had this pull towards each other, or that's what everyone else seemed to believe when they said the two of them were perfect for each other. Sadly, y/n was aware that the fairytale everyone seemed to buy was far from perfect and, as much as she wanted to be with him, something always seemed to get in the way.

This was the thrid time they broke up, and y/n was sure it was going to be the final time. Of course, they always seemed to find their way back to each other but she couldn't allow that to happen another time. As much as she loved him, she simply couldn't.

Because dating Percy was a mess, a hurtful mess. it wasn't always like that. they used to be happy and in love, but then he started disappearing for hours with no communication, arriving late to pick her up or standing her up on dates, and he always gave some kind of made up explanation about it. The last straw was when he arrived two hours late to the winter dance he had promised to take her and then refused to tell her why.

y/n's friends seemed to think there had to be two explanations: he was cheating on her or losing feelings for her. Either way, she didn’t want to find out, so she broke up with him before he had the chance to break her heart again. Now there was absolutely no going back, even if all she wanted to do was call him back and take back everything, that wouldn't even work since he never even answered his phone.

"so this is the last time, huh?" her best friend said skeptically, as if she really didn’t believe her. Fair enough, she had already gone back to him two times already.

"yes, and you'll see I really mean it this time." she reassured her friend as she held her phone in between her ear and her shoulder, her hands busy while she went through her closet. "this trip is just what I need, when I'm back I won't even remember who Percy Jackson is."

That was hardly the truth, but at least she hoped she could begin to get over him while she was away for the holidays. She was going to Boston to visit family there, and maybe some time apart from the city and from Percy would be just what she needed.

"y/n, you know I love you" her friend started and she was taking the clothes she needed for the trip but she paused when she heard her tone. "but I find that hard to believe."

y/n was about to reply in her defense, when her gaze landed on a blue sweater in her closet. Percy's sweater. She didn’t even know how long it had been there, but she knew exactly what to do.

"i'm being serious, I'll even go and give him his things back before I go to Boston." she decided, dropping her own clothes in her suitcase before taking the sweater from her closet.

that was something she had never done in the past two breakups, and she did have a lot of his stuff just hanging around in her room. Some of his clothes, his camera from the last time he came around, some of his books, drawings, comics, even the christmas gift she had already bought and wrapped for him weeks ago.

She hadn't realized how much of his stuff she had until she hung up on her friend and she already had a box full of his things. It was difficult not to cry while going through it all, everything held a memory behind it and every memory having anything to do with Percy was painful enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Still, she managed to keep her feelings in check as she took the box and walked out of her apartment, thankfully her parents seemed to be too busy packing to have any questions as she slipped out of the front door. Then, walking to Percy's was easy enough since he didn’t live too far from her, so twenty minutes later she stood upside of his apartment with the box in one hand as she knocked with the other one.

It wasn't Percy that came to open, and she should've been grateful that it was Sally instead, but her smile almost dropped because maybe she had wanted to see him. Still, Sally was too sweet not to smile at her as she opened the door. "y/n! what are you doing out in this cold? and without sweater!"

something she could admit was that she was going to miss was Sally, Percy's mom was just the sweetest and always cared for y/n like she was family. And now the tears were threatening to spill again.

"I wasn't planning on spending too much time out of my house." she started, biting the inside of her cheek because she couldn't, for the love of God, cry in front of Sally. "I was just dropping Percy's stuff off."

Sally looked at the box in her hands and finally seemed to register what was happening, her smile fading slowly as she now looked at the teenager with pity. y/n knew she was probably aware of the break up, Percy always told Sally everything, but it was hard having to stand there and act all tough when the woman was looking at her with such sadness.

still, Sally was nothing if not positive, so after a second she smiled again. "he's not here right now, but you can come in and wait for him if you want." she opened the door further, as if welcoming her in.

and y/n knew she shouldn't, she should just leave the box with Sally and forget all about Percy, but she simply couldn't say no to Sally. And, well, she hadn't seen Percy since last week, it would hurt to see him one last time. Maybe make sure he was doing alright.

"okay" she nodded and stepped into the apartment, following behind Sally as she beamed at her.

Of course, Sally gave her some hot cocoa and blue chocolate chip cookies while she waited, and she made sure to avoid the breakup topic when they both sat down to talk. y/n loved Sally, she was always full of stories and advice and a kind of motherly love y/n herself wasn't used to receiving from her own mother.

But after an hour, Percy hadn't came back and Sally didn’t have a clue where he was, so she sent y/n to wait for him in his room while she went to run some errands. Which y/n should've refused to do but yet again didn’t.

"And y/n?" Sally called as she opened the door, the younger girl was still amazed at how much the woman trusted her just to leave her there. "I can't say I know what exactly happened between you and Percy, but I can tell you he cares about you."

Yeah, that's what y/n had wanted to believe for years, what everyone always told her. But now she wasn't so sure about it, still, she smiled at Sally and let her go before she went into Percy's room, which was exactly how she remembered from the last time she had been there.

She tried not to look around too much, knowing she would feel too nostalgic about it all, instead she busied herself with playing some game on her phone while she waited. Unfortunately, thirty minutes later Percy hadn't arrived and she was already too tired of waiting for him. That's all she ever did. So she stood up from his bed, leaving the box there and shortly after making her way to the door while the dissapointment settled in her stomach.

but then just as she was about to turn the knob, she heard some ruffling behind her back and then the noise of Percy's window opening. She immediatly turned around, her heart racing as she expected to find some thief entering through the window, yet she had to stop herself from screaming when she didn’t find thief but, far from it, Spider-man.

what was Spider-man doing in Percy's room? As he entered the room, y/n put her hands over her mouth to stiffle a stragled sound. Spider-man didn’t seem to realize she was there as he started crawling through the roof.

y/n was gaping at the superhero, unsure of what to do as her mind raced through countless scenarios. Yet, nothing could have prepared her for what happened next. She let out a squeak she couldn’t contain when Spider-Man started to remove his mask, catching his attention

wait wait wait y/n froze when she realized- first she recognized the hair. his hair. the one she had ran her fingers through countless of times. When he finally turned around, she already knew who he was.

Percy looked as shocked as she was once his eyes finally found her, her pale face and her back against the door she had been trying to open just seconds before. "this is not what you think it is." he blurted out, still hanging from the roof.

She had trouble finding her voice again. "so you're not Spider-man, you just go around crawling on people's ceilings dressed as him?" she asked, surprised at the slight sarcasm in her shocked voice.

He let go of the roof, y/n was about to point out that his amazing landing didn’t exactly help his case at all, but he looked at her with panic in his eyes so she shut her mouth. "well maybe it is what it looks like."

She lost her breath, and she knew she had to sit down soon, so she simply walked past him and took a seat in his bed, exactly where she had been minutes before. Percy's eyes shifted at the box placed beside her, and he looked like he was about to question it before he shook his head and pushed it away so he could sit.

"So you're Spider-man." she managed to say after a few seconds of silence that felt like hours.

"I guess I am." he replied, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal at all, for a moment y/n wanted to throw something at him but now that she knew he was Spider-man, it was likely he was going to catch it before it even came close to hitting him.

That thought opened the door for many others as realization dawned on her: Every time he caught something without even looking, every time he was late to dates or disappeared for hours only to reappear suddenly—she realized it all added up. The missed calls, unanswered messages, and the times he stood her up, and-

"Oh my god, is this why you were late for the winter dance?" he seemed to hesitate before he nodded slowly, she averted her eyes to look at anything but him, she couldn't look at him right now. "so you let me break up with you instead of just telling me the truth?"

"it's not-" he stopped himself, taking a deep breath before he could go on. "it's not like that, I just wanted to keep you safe."

She didn’t know if she was annoyed or sad, but she sure as hell wanted to cry. "Percy you've been lying to me, that's not fair."

Percy rubbed the back of his neck, looking directly at her even though she wasn't looking at him. "I know it’s not fair. I know I messed up. But I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me. I thought you’d be safer if you didn’t know, if I kept you away from me."

"Safer?" she scoffed, finally meeting his gaze with her eyes filled with tears. "Percy, you don't get to decide that for me. Do you know how much it hurt to think you didn’t care? I thought I wasn't enough for you for so long."

Seeing the tears in her eyes made Percy want to reach and hug her, but he knew her too much to know that she would probably pull away. "I care about you, that's why I did it." he felt like he was drowning as he tried to explain himself. "you mean everything to me, I wouldn't want to risk putting you in danger."

Her lips trembled as the anger melted into exhaustion. She wanted so badly to just let it go and fall back again into his arms, but the wound in her chest still ached. "You should’ve told me. I would've understood you."

He hesitated, his shoulders sagging as he admitted, "I was scared, okay? Scared the people after me would use you to get to me. Do you think I wanted you to feel like this? To lose you to this?"

The room fell silent again, but after a moment she looked away and stood up from the bed, she couldn't bear another minute there "I don’t know if I can forgive you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Not right now."

And with that, Percy let her go. He had so many things to say, but he knew it wasn't the right time, it was better to just give her some time to think. But he also knew that she wouldn't let her walk away again, not this time. Not ever again.

y/n's parents were very mad at her but she couldn't bring herself to care just yet. The boston trip would've been an excellent idea after all the mess with Percy, but instead she had decided to skip it altogether and stay home for christmas.

Fortunately, New York was big enough so that she could avoid running into Percy. Unfortunately, it was difficult not to think about him when everything reminded her of him.

y/n loved to spend her afternoons walking through the bustling streets of New York. Right in that moment, she was trying to distract herself, but everything reminded her of him: the street vendor they always stopped by for pretzels, the bookstore where he had listened to her talk about every book she had read, the park where they had shared their first kiss just under a snowy day like this. Every way she looked to, there was a memory of him hidden.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice him hidden, following her every step until suddenly strong arms wrapped tight around her waist, and before she could even gasp, she’s was already soaring into the sky. Wind rushed past her as she looks at the the familiar red-and-black suit. "Percy!" she yells, half-angry, half-dizzy from the height.

He chuckles, the sound muffled through the mask. "Hey. Missed me?" she wanted to keep screaming at him, but she looked down and realized just how high they were so she gasped intead, holding tighly onto him.

He swung them higher, the city blurring beneath them until they landed on the rooftop of some random building. She stumbled a little, trying to catch her breath, but Percy steadied her.

"What the hell, Percy? you can't just do that and-" the words died in her mouth once she looked at what was waiting just in front of her.

"Surprise." he said softly, motioning to the cozy picnic blanket and basket waiting for them. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over the skyline, the view breathtaking.

He pulled his mask off as he turns to face her, his sea green eyes full of guilt. "I know it won't solve everything, but I just need you to listen to me, and after that if you hate it, you can push me off this roof."

That made her smile just a little, unintentionally showing the lingering affection she had been trying to bury. "as if that would work, you would probably land on your feet."

He laughed, and she realized just how much she was missed that laugh.

However, before she could even try to commit it to memory, he turned serious again as he took a step closer to her. "I'm really sorry for not telling you the truth sooner, I should have never let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I can't take what I did back, but from now on I swear to you that I'll never keep anything else from you again. Just let me show you how much you mean to me. One day at a time"

She tilted her head to the side, giving him a soft smile. "You’re really not going to give up, are you?"

"Not a chance," Percy replied almost immediatly, as if he didn’t even need to think about it. "You mean too much to me."

She looked at him for a long moment of silence, but she didn’t say anything, she simply stood there in silence before she finally sighed and went to sit on the blanket he had set up, he seemed confused but immediatly followed her to sit beside her. He didn’t push her, didn’t try to force a resolution. He just sat there, letting her process, letting her feel.

"Does this mean I don’t get pushed off the roof?"

"Don’t push your luck, Jackson," she replied, rolling her eyes even though there was a smile tugging at her lips.

They both sat right there in silence until she finally speaked again, looking up at the sky before going back to find his eyes, that were already on her. "one day at a time." she granted finally, and before he could even begin to smile, she continued. "but no more secrets."

Percy’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he nodded. "no more secrets."

She smiled at him, and he smiled at her. And they both knew that maybe not everything was okay just yet, but they would work it out. They were both in silence, except this time it was peaceful knowing that there was no secret between them.

However, as much as Percy was happy, he was also Percy so he couldn't hold the silence for much longer. "have you ever wanted to see New York the way I do?" he asked.

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him. "What does that mean?"

He stood up, offering her a hand as his eyes had a certain playful shine on them. "trust me, just let me show you."

And because y/n would follow that boy just about anywhere without any doubt, she took his hand after a second and let herself be pulled by him. It all happened so fast, one moment she's was standing up and the next he had her arms wrapped around her waist, stepping backwards off the ledge of the rooftop.

"Percy!" she shrieked, clinging to him instinctively as they both hung upside down.

"Relax, I’ve got you," he told her, chuckling softly. He started to walk slowly along the side of the building, his movements careful. She clutched onto him tightly, her heart racing from the adrenaline... and maybe from being so close to him again. "I always do."

When they reached a quiet spot where they could see the skyline, he stopped, holding her steady. "Look" he said softly, holding her with one arm as he uses the other to point to the city.

She followed his gaze, her breath hitching at how breathtaking the city lights looked shining beneath them. "it's beautiful, Percy" she mumbled.

"You’re beautiful" he didn’t meant to say it out loud, but he did and maybe he didn’t regret it, because when she looked at him, just a moment, the weight of their recent struggles melted away.

She rolled her eyes, but a small laugh escaped her. And it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "That’s the corniest thing you’ve ever said."

"hey! I’m trying here" he replied, grinning. "besides, you deserve all the cheesy lines in the world."

y/n shook her head, but she couldn't hide her smile. And maybe, she thought, it isn't perfect at all but it's right. He's right for her. They are right for eachother.

They stayed there, just looking at the city underneath them as the night stretched on until it's was time for her to go back home. With the city humming below, Percy swung her back to her apartment.

The night air felt cold against her face, but thankfully her apartment wasn't far away. in no time, Percy was settling her down on the fire scape by her window.

"home sweet home." she couldn't see his face since he had put on the mask, but she knew he was grinning.

"thank you for dropping me home, quite literally." she smiled at him as she opened her window, but she didn’t step inside just yet because she wanted to be there with him for a longer moment. "and for everything else."

"anytime." once again, y/n wished she could see behind the mask because she could swear he was smiling, and she loved seeing that smile. Percy seemed like he was also buying time before he had to go. "hey, we're ok?"

"we will be" she nodded, and that seemed to be a good enough answer for Percy, who nodded back and took a deep breath.

Not knowing what else to say, she finally stepped into her room. Percy he took a deep breath as he saw her, then legs hooked over the ledge and he hung upside down, his head poking through her winsow.

"good night, y/n" he mumbled softly, ready to swing away. but just as he was turning to leave, she finally spoke.

"wait, Percy" she called for him, making him stop and turn his face back to her almost immediately, he looked alarmed, like he was bracing himself for something terrible to happen.

He was about to ask what was wrong, but y/n didn’t even stop to think before she pulled his mask down, uncovering his lips. Percy, perched outside her window, let out a surprised gasp just as she leaned in and claimed his lips with hers.

Percy's breath caught in his throat as he froze, surprised. But when he finally did react, he steadied himself, and leaned into the kiss, his heart pounding so hard he was afraid it might jump out of his chest at any moment.

The kiss started tentative, a mix of hesitation and longing. But as they melted into each other, the city around them faded away. For the first time in weeks, she felt whole again.

When they finally pulled apart, she could finally see the smile on his face. "and there it is folks, Spider-Man always gets the girl."

She rolled her eyes, swatting his chest lightly, but she couldn't possibly fight the smile tugging at her lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you love it." he replied, his grin widening.

y/n chuckled, looking down at him, her heart full. "I’ll see you soon, Percy," she said, her voice playful yet fond.

"make that tomorrow." He winked at her, then swung away into the night, leaving her standing by the window, knowing that they would be alright.

[inkandtension]

Tie That Binds.

Minho adjusted his tie for the third time, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. Weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions, weren’t they? Celebrations of love, laughter, and promises of forever? Yet, here he was, standing in an impeccably tailored suit, about to marry a woman he barely knew, feeling anything but joyous. His reflection stared back at him, the crease between his brows deepening with every second. The tie felt like a noose.

“Stop sulking, hyung,” came Changbin’s teasing voice from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “You look good. A real scholarly heartthrob.”

Minho shot him a glare that would have silenced most people. Changbin, however, was immune. “I’m not sulking,” Minho muttered under his breath, though even he didn’t believe the words. His fingers tugged at the tie again.

“You’re brooding, then,” Changbin replied cheerfully. “Brooding scholar. It’s a vibe.”

Minho sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. His mind wasn’t in the room; it was too busy turning over the absurdity of his situation. Years spent lecturing on logic, dissecting literature, and championing the idea of individual agency had somehow led him to this moment—a meticulously arranged marriage, orchestrated by his mother and some aunt whose face he couldn’t even remember.

“Can’t back out now,” Changbin added, pushing off the doorframe with a grin. “Unless you want to send all the guests home and deal with your mother’s wrath. And trust me, hyung, I’ll be the first to sell popcorn and watch that drama unfold.”

Minho shot him a flat look but said nothing. Changbin wasn’t wrong. Backing out wasn’t an option, not when the woman he was about to marry came with glowing recommendations. A surgeon, his mother had informed him with a delighted clap of her hands. Accomplished, brilliant, kind, and apparently drop-dead gorgeous. The perfect daughter-in-law material, in other words. His family had done everything short of hanging her résumé on the wall like a trophy.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his blazer. As he shrugged it on, he couldn’t help but feel like he was stepping into a role he hadn’t auditioned for—a leading man in a play where the script had been written long before he entered the stage.

Y/N’s palms were sweating, and no amount of discreetly dabbing them with the edge of her dress seemed to help. She stood at the altar, her heart pounding in her chest, as the murmur of guests filled the room. Her eyes flitted to the door, waiting for Minho to appear.

For the past week, her life had been a whirlwind of surgeries, late-night meetings with wedding planners, and answering endless texts from her mother. It felt surreal, like she’d been thrown into someone else’s dream wedding—one she hadn’t exactly volunteered for.

“Why am I doing this?” she whispered to her best friend, who stood beside her in a pastel bridesmaid dress, looking far too amused for Y/N’s liking.

“Because your parents threatened to disown you if you didn’t at least try,” her friend whispered back with a barely-contained laugh.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. It was true. Despite all her achievements, she was still that shy little girl seeking her family’s approval. Being a world-class surgeon hadn’t changed that. The wedding might have been their idea, but here she was, going through with it because walking away felt too much like failure.

Her thoughts scattered like confetti the moment the doors opened. Minho stepped in, and everything else seemed to fade into the background. He was tall, lean, and devastatingly handsome. His black hair was styled to perfection, framing his sharp features. His suit hugged him like it had been crafted by someone who understood the definition of precision, and the air of quiet confidence he exuded was enough to make her breath hitch.

Her best friend let out a low whistle, leaning closer. “Okay, I take it back. If you don’t marry him, I might.”

“Shut up,” Y/N hissed.

Married life was... odd, to say the least.

Minho spent his days teaching university students, delving into the intricacies of Shakespeare and Kafka. Y/N spent hers in a hospital, saving lives and dealing with emergencies that left her too drained to care about trivial things like cooking or cleaning.

They had an unspoken routine:

Y/N would come home late, exhausted, and Minho would have dinner waiting for her.

Minho would stay up grading papers while she crashed on the couch, sometimes falling asleep mid-sentence while recounting her day.

They’d exchange polite “good mornings” and “have a nice days,” but deeper conversations were rare.

It wasn’t awkward, per se—just... unfamiliar.

Over the weeks that followed, something shifted.

Minho started texting her during the day, little things like, Don’t skip lunch, or Did you sleep last night?

Y/N found herself bringing home snacks for him, claiming she’d picked them up on a whim, though she’d actually spent way too much time in the store debating which ones he’d like.

They started watching movies together on weekends, bickering over genres. Minho preferred psychological dramas; Y/N loved rom-coms.

“You seriously think this is funny?” Minho groaned one night, watching the lead actor trip over a series of increasingly ridiculous obstacles.

“It’s hilarious,” Y/N shot back, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t miss the way her laugh made his chest feel warm.

…

“You know,” Minho said, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, “I didn’t think married life would mean sharing my coffee stash with someone who performs literal surgeries before I even wake up.”

You glanced up from the stove, where you were stirring scrambled eggs for the both of you. "I didn’t think it’d mean coming home to someone who alphabetizes their bookshelf and gets irrationally angry when one book is out of place.”

“Touch my books again, and it’ll be war."

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Good morning to you too, husband.”

The word still felt foreign. You’d been married for three months now, after a whirlwind of family introductions and a mutual agreement that, while neither of you believed in love at first sight, you could give companionship a chance. He was a literature professor, calm and composed with a sharp wit, and you were a surgeon, thriving on adrenaline and precision. Two opposites in every sense of the word, now sharing the same roof and calling it home.

“Don’t burn the eggs,” Minho teased as he set the table, placing his usual cup of black coffee at your spot.

“They’re perfect, thank you very much,” you replied, sliding the pan off the burner. “Unlike someone’s last attempt at cooking pasta.”

Minho feigned offense. “Excuse me, my pasta was avant-garde.”

“It was burnt.”

The morning ritual of trading barbs had quickly become your favorite part of this arrangement. Despite the awkwardness of the early days, you’d found a rhythm. You respected each other’s space, cheered each other on, and occasionally stole moments like this—warm and light, like the eggs you plated and brought to the table.

Minho sipped his coffee, glancing at you. “Long shift today?”

“Not too bad. Just six hours,” you said. “You?”

“Grading papers,” he said with a grimace. “Seventy essays on whether The Great Gatsby is a love story or a cautionary tale.”

“Ah, the joys of shaping young minds,” you teased.

Minho shook his head, but his smirk softened. He looked at you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“At what? Mocking you?”

“That too,” he admitted, “but I meant… this. Us.”

You froze, caught off guard. He wasn’t usually this candid. “I guess we’re both trying,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’d say we’re succeeding,” Minho said, reaching out to steal a bite of your eggs with his fork. “Even if you do insist on putting ketchup on your eggs, like a heathen.”

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.

The truth was, Minho had a knack for sneaking past your defenses. Whether it was his quiet attentiveness when you came home exhausted or the way he made sure to send you texts during your long shifts (“Don’t forget to eat. And drink water. And sleep. I’m grading your habits, 2/10 so far”), he was making it harder not to fall for him.

As you cleaned up the dishes together, Minho cleared his throat. “By the way, my department’s hosting a dinner next week. Spouses are invited.”

“Oh,” you said, your heart skipping a beat. “Am I—?”

“You’re coming,” he interrupted, looking at you like it wasn’t even a question. “I need someone to laugh at my jokes when my colleagues inevitably talk about Chaucer.”

You snorted. “You’re assuming your jokes will be funny.”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “I don’t need them to be funny. I just need you there.”

Your breath caught, but Minho had already turned away, heading to his study. “Have a good day at work, Dr. Ketchup.”

“Have fun with Gatsby, Professor Burnt Pasta,” you called after him, hiding your grin.

You stood in the kitchen for a moment, fingers brushing the counter where his hand had been seconds ago. Maybe this marriage wasn’t just about making it work. Maybe, just maybe, it could be something more.

(You couldn’t make it to the party, an emergency surgery happened, you apologised though, his colleagues were a bit too sad when you didn’t make it)

It was supposed to be a peaceful Sunday morning for Minho—his one precious day to lounge in sweatpants, sip coffee, and enjoy the rare luxury of a slow, uneventful routine. He had even entertained the idea of making you breakfast before you left for work, something simple yet thoughtful. But fate, as always, had other plans.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted his rare moment of domestic bliss. With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself away from the stove, glancing warily at the pan on low heat. As he shuffled to the door, half-asleep, he wondered who could possibly be bothering him on his sacred day off.

The door creaked open, revealing Felix, one of his students, standing there in all his youthful glory. A textbook was tucked under his arm, his expression bright and hopeful.

“Professor Lee!” Felix greeted, his tone unnaturally chipper for a Sunday.

Minho blinked slowly, still processing the intrusion. “Felix? What are you doing here?”

“You said you’d help with my essay on Sunday,” Felix reminded him, his tone tentative but insistent.

Minho racked his brain, piecing together fragmented memories from office hours. “Right…” he muttered, groaning internally. He vaguely remembered agreeing to it but hadn’t expected Felix, the popular, gossip-loving, poster-child of charm, to actually follow through. “Yeah, come in.”

As Felix stepped inside, his eyes scanned the space with open curiosity. It was his first time seeing his professor’s home, and it wasn’t what he expected. The cozy, lived-in atmosphere seemed at odds with Minho’s perpetually serious demeanor in class. His attention was quickly snagged by a pair of stylish, feminine glasses sitting on the coffee table. Girlfriend? Felix wondered, tilting his head.

Before he could dwell on the thought, the distinct sound of heels clicking against the floor made him freeze. A moment later, you emerged from the hallway, dressed sharply for work. Felix’s eyebrows shot up, his thoughts immediately scrambling for an explanation. You blinked, just as surprised to see someone new in the living room. “Oh,” you said, your tone polite but slightly off-guard. “Hi.”

Felix, now officially overwhelmed, managed to blurt out, “Hello”, he said, before his gaze flickered back to the coffee table, then to you, as he didn’t know how to address you.

No way, he thought, it’s the doctor who came on news for saving a K-pop idol, from almost death.

“Minho!” you called, turning your head toward the kitchen. “Is this one of your students?”

Felix, his curiosity reaching critical levels, edged closer to the source of your voice. Peeking into the kitchen, he found Minho by the stove, a pan in hand. Smoke curled lazily upward, and the sharp scent of burning food filled the air.

“Minho,” you said, stepping into the kitchen with an incredulous laugh, “are you burning food again?”

Minho startled, nearly dropping the pan. “I’m not burning it! I’m… enhancing the flavor,” he argued, his tone defensive.

“Enhancing?” you repeated with a laugh. “Minho, cooking is about creating something edible, not staging a kitchen fire. It’s amazing how often you mix those two up.”

“I was trying to make you something before you left for the hospital,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed but reluctant to admit defeat.

Your playful smile softened at his admission. Gently, you reached over to turn off the stove. “That’s sweet, but maybe stick to teaching literature instead of culinary experiments.”

Felix, lurking just out of sight, stared wide-eyed as you roasted him. The banter, the easy familiarity—it all added up. They’re married?

“Go sit down,” you told Minho, nudging him out of the kitchen. “I’ll make something quick before I leave.”

Minho grumbled under his breath but obeyed, brushing past Felix on his way back to the living room. Felix hurried to take a seat, trying to appear nonchalant, though his mind was racing.

When you passed through the room moments later, coffee in hand, you offered Felix a warm smile. “Nice meeting you. Don’t give him too hard of a time with your questions.”

Felix nodded mutely, watching you leave. The moment the door shut behind you, he turned to Minho, who had returned with two glasses of juice.

“Professor…” Felix began slowly, his voice thick with disbelief. “Is she your wife?”

Minho raised an eyebrow as he sipped his juice. “Yes. Why?”

Felix blinked rapidly, struggling to reconcile this new information. “No reason,” he mumbled, though his expression betrayed his shock.

Moments later, you returned to the hallway, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Minho met you by the door, leaning casually against the frame.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll try,” you replied, a familiar warmth in your voice. You both knew it was a promise you likely wouldn’t keep.

Felix, still reeling from the day’s revelations, hovered awkwardly nearby. As you stepped outside, he called out suddenly, “Have a good day, Mrs. Lee!”

You froze, the unexpected title catching you off guard. It wasn’t unpleasant—just unfamiliar. Slowly, you turned, offering Felix a polite but flustered smile. “Uh… you too,” you managed before hurrying to your car.

Minho chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched you leave. “Mrs. Lee, huh?” he mused aloud, mostly to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I like the sound of that.”

Felix, now thoroughly overwhelmed, buried his face in his hands. Sundays, he realised, were never as peaceful as they seemed.

Minho shook his head, walking back inside. “Come on, let’s get to your essay before you start narrating this like a drama.”

The next day at school, Felix did exactly that.

Felix leaned forward dramatically, hands splayed wide as he began recounting his Sunday adventure to a growing crowd of curious students in the cafeteria. His voice, filled with excitement, caught the attention of several nearby tables, each eager to hear more.

"Guys, listen up," he said, flashing a grin. "You won’t believe what I saw at Professor Lee’s house yesterday."

A few students glanced at each other, intrigued, as Felix's words hung in the air. He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to keep everyone hanging on his every syllable. "So, I went to his place for some essay help, right? And the first thing I notice when I walk in is this super cozy vibe. You know, soft lighting, a hint of fresh coffee... real domestic bliss. But then—then, I spot these feminine glasses on the table."

Hyunjin, who had been lounging back in his chair, rolled his eyes. "What’s so weird about glasses?" he asked, unimpressed.

Felix raised a finger, signaling that this story was about to take a turn. "Wait for it. So, as I’m trying to figure out who’s glasses they are, out walks this stunning woman. She’s in full professional attire—like, the whole deal. She’s walking like, like a CEO walking into an important meeting. And guess what? She’s his wife. Dr. Y/N. The surgeon."

Hyunjin blinked, his expression shifting from indifference to shock. “His what?” he practically shouted, hands flying to cover his mouth as his eyes widened.

The murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire among the crowd, each person leaning in a little closer, straining to catch every word.

"You’re making this up," Jisung said skeptically, shaking his head as he crossed his arms.

Felix smirked, leaning back in his seat with an air of triumph. "I’m not! They’re so romantic, it’s almost nauseating. I’m telling you, it’s like one of those cheesy rom-coms. He even tried to cook for her."

"Professor Lee? Cooking?" Hyunjin scoffed loudly, half-laughing in disbelief. "That man lives off convenience store meals. There's no way he was cooking anything decent."

Felix leaned in closer, lowering his voice for effect. The group went quiet, eager to hear the juicy detail. "He burned it," he said, his face full of mock sympathy.

The table erupted in laughter, the absurdity of the image painting a perfect picture in everyone's minds.

"But that’s not even the best part!" Felix exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. "No, no. The best part is how she roasted him. And I mean roasted him. And then, do you know what he said? He said he was trying to make something special for her before she left for work. I mean, come on—imagine that. Your husband burns breakfast out of love for you. Isn’t that just... romantic?"

Jisung couldn’t help himself and muttered, "That doesn’t sound romantic. That sounds tragic."

Felix ignored him, continuing with the fervor of someone who had just witnessed the most entertaining drama. "And the way they bantered? Oh my god, guys, it was like something out of a rom-com. She laughed at him, and he got all offended but secretly pleased—it was like watching this whole love story unfold before my eyes. You would think they had a love marriage, not some arranged one."

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued now. "Wait, they’re in an arranged marriage?" he asked, trying to wrap his mind around it.

Felix nodded solemnly, as if he were revealing some deep, hidden truth. "Yeah. But you’d never know. The way they looked at each other, the way they interacted—if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were madly in love."

By now, half the cafeteria was hanging on Felix’s every word, the whole campus’s girls were there(for felix’s charm) of course.

And, as expected, the rumors began to spread like wildfire. What started as Felix’s casual recounting of a Sunday visit quickly turned into a full-fledged mystery. Everyone was dying to know more about Professor Lee’s mysterious wife—and, more importantly, if they could have a glimpse into this romance that Felix had so dramatically described.

…

Minho was halfway through grading essays in the faculty lounge when his colleague, Chan, approached him with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Minho,” Chan started, plopping down in the seat across from him.

“What?” Minho asked without looking up.

“So… I heard some interesting things about you and your wife,” Chan said casually, his tone laced with amusement.

Minho froze, his pen hovering over a student’s paper, Felix’s. “What things?”

“Oh, nothing major,” Chan said, feigning innocence. “Just that you’re apparently head over heels for her, cooking her breakfast and all that. Burnt, of course.”

Minho’s eyes traveled through the paper in his hands and it clicked. “Felix.”

Chan laughed. “So it’s true?”

“Partially,” Minho muttered. “He came over to the house for essay help and caught us in the middle of a normal morning.”

“Normal?” Chan raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, you’re living in a K-drama.”

“Don’t start,” Minho groaned.

Chan grinned, leaning forward. “Come on, though. Is it true you tried to cook for her?”

Minho hesitated before muttering, “I might have… attempted.”

Chan burst out laughing. “Wow, you really are whipped. I didn’t think you had it in you, Minho.”

Minho shot him a glare. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not,” Chan said, smirking. “But, honestly, it’s nice to see you so… happy. You’re usually such a grump.”

Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up his pen and went back to grading(maybe unfairly) , pretending not to notice the smug look on Chan’s face.

As Chan got up to leave, he clapped Minho on the shoulder. “By the way, I think Felix might be your biggest fan now. Watch out, or he’ll start writing a romance novel about you two.”

Minho groaned, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Meanwhile, you were eating lunch with your colleagues, when a message from Minho popped up.

Minho: Felix told half the campus we’re madly in love. You: We’re not? Minho: That’s not the point. You: It’s not a bad rumor to have, Professor Lee. 😉

Minho stared at the screen, shaking his head. Felix might’ve been overly dramatic, but maybe the kid wasn’t entirely wrong.

[girl-named-matty]

Little morning - Life after Hogwarts

synopsis ✧ Being a parent wasn't exactly easy and Sebastian found that out the hard way after the birth of his first son--who was now two-years-old and they were also expecting another. But regardless, he loved being a father. But the biggest problem with having a pregnant wife? A little toddler who just so happens to be a big mummy's boy that tries to wake her up at any chance he gets.

tags ✧ Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, like so much fluff you guys. Talks of pregnancy and babies (ofc), toddlers (thats a warning in itself haha), marriage, just all the domestic cutesy stuff we all love. .

word count ✧ 1.6k

a/n ✧ Just some random cute idea I got and I have been ITCHING to write Seb and Matty as parents. You've probably seen my other posts about their kids when they are older but I really wanted to do some of the younger stuff as well because the baby fever is strong rn and I need a outlet LOL.🥺 Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Sebastian Sallow severely underestimated how difficult being a parent would be and just how much sleep he would lose by being one as well. Sure, he knew kids were difficult, and his wife had told him countless stories of the kids she had nannied or worked with who were difficult, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the real deal.

Little Eleazar was just past two years old by now, and yes, he was an abnormally well-behaved child; he still was a toddler, and well—toddlers did toddler things.

But despite the lack of sleep, the rough days, and the struggle of learning how to be a first-time parent, it was all worth it. They loved their little boy, and they loved him just the way he was.

And apparently it was “so worth” it enough that Matty was now pregnant with their second child. Or at least in Sebastian’s words, it was “so worth” having another. Matty had always wanted a couple of children, so she was up for having a second, but Sebastian was definitely the one who pushed the idea to have another.

Hence why she was now seven months pregnant and dealing with a toddler. But thankfully, Sebastian was a very hands-on and involved dad, and it made it all so much easier. He was an amazing husband and father. (She couldn’t lie and say that wasn’t the reason why she considered a second.)

It was nearing seven am when Sebastian, who was half asleep, heard the little pitter-patter of footsteps nearing the bedroom door. They had moved Ele into a different room a couple of months ago so he could get used to sleeping without Mum and Dad, especially once the new baby was around. But almost every morning, like clockwork, he managed to climb out of his crib and sneak off to Mum and Dad's room.

Sebastian, immediately knowing who it was, sat up and rubbed his eyes. The little footsteps stopped right at the door, which meant the door needed to be opened. Eleazar wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the door handle and turn it, so usually Sebastian would have to do it himself since he was the first one up.

He could practically hear his son pouting on the other side of the door, so he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Matty, who was still peacefully sleeping.

He walked over to the door before opening it, looking down at his son. “Well, good morning,” he said, his voice still gravelly.

Eleazar quickly put his hands up, babbling a little to let his dad know that he wanted to be picked up. Sebastian leaned down and grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “You’re two years old; you gotta start using your words, buddy.” He softly encouraged. But it seemed like Ele was too tired to speak anyway since he was rubbing his eyes the moment he was up in his father's arms.

Sebastian sat back down in bed, Eleazar placed in between him and Matty. “If you’re going to be here, you gotta go back to sleep.” He said, trailing his knuckle against his son's chubby cheeks. Of course, he was only saying this to try and get more sleep himself, but when did toddlers ever listen to anybody?

Instead, Eleazar turned around, seeing that his mother was in bed. “Mummy,” he babbled with a big smile, crawling over to where she was sleeping.

Sebastian’s heart almost jumped out of his chest as he had to quickly grab his son and pull him away from his mother in order for him not to wake her up. She definitely needed more sleep. “Wait, wait, no, we can’t go to Mummy right now, okay? Mummy is sleeping.” Sebastian tried to explain.

However, Eleazar did not like being told no. Especially when it came to his mummy. The corner of his lips curled down, forming a little frown, and by the way his little bottom lip quivered, Sebastian could quickly tell that he was going to start crying.

Panicking a little more, Sebastian quickly grabbed the little boy up in his arms. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” He soothed. “We just can’t wake up Mummy right now; she’s resting.”

He knew Eleazar couldn’t understand a lick of what he was saying, but he hoped the tone of his voice would help calm him down. “Mummy is very tired, and she has little brother or sister to deal with too, okay?” He continued. “I can assure you that definitely isn’t easy.” He half mumbled under his breath with a chuckle. But that was more for his own amusement than an explanation.

Ele didn’t cry, but he looked up at his father with his big blue eyes that he had inherited from his mother, a pout still on his face. “Mummy.” He repeated, this time more determined.

Sebastian sighed, shifting to where he was now lying down with the child in his arms. “Mummy is asleep. Which is what you should be doing right now too. You’re still so young to be waking up this early.”

“No.”

Sebastian sighed again. He hated the fact that usually one of the first five words for children was usually no. It was helpful when they could communicate what they wanted, but it also happened to become their favorite word very quickly. Saying no to everything mummy or daddy needed them to do.

“Yes.”

“Mm-hm.” Eleazar shook his head, clearly conveying that he was saying no.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckled, pinching his son's cheeks.

But luckily for the both of them, Matty shifted a little, signaling that she was indeed finally awake. Ele quickly looked behind him, seeing his mother begin to wake up. A big smile instantly appeared on his face, and he slipped out of his dad's arms and immediately crawled over to his mother. He was a big mummy’s boy and always wanted to be with her.

When Matty felt two little hands on her arms, she chuckled, opening her eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, the sleep still obvious in her voice.

Eleazar immediately plopped his full body weight onto his mother, giving her a big hug. She laughed, giving him a hug back before sitting up. She looked over at Sebastian and then back down to her son. “Something tells me you’ve been giving your father a little bit of a hard time.” She said, poking her son's little tummy.

“I’ll say,” Sebastian muttered. “Little bugger tried to wake you up the moment he got into bed.”

Matty smiled. “He just loves his mummy,” she cooed, shifting little Ele so she could have him comfortably against her.

Raising a toddler and being pregnant definitely wasn’t easy, but to Matty, it was worth it in the long run. Not all mornings did she wake up as nicely as she did now, but these mornings definitely helped and made up for the bad days.

“Well, thank you for letting me sleep in a little longer.” She said to Sebastian before leaning in for a quick good morning kiss from him. Sebastian smiled into the kiss, enjoying the attention from his wife. Sometimes that was scarce between work and raising a baby, so he was always loving any attention he got from her.

Meanwhile, little Ele was looking at his mother's belly, still wondering what on earth was going on there. It started to frustrate him that he could no longer sit on his mummy’s lap, but he slightly understood the concept of having another new little sibling that was seemingly “in mummy’s tummy” and that it was a baby.

Matty looked down and chuckled. “Say hi to the baby, Ele.” She urged.

Eleazar didn’t say anything, but he did wave, thinking that his little brother or sister could see him do so. Matty giggled a little bit at her son's expression, and she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. “In just a little bit you’ll have a new brother or sister, and it’s gonna be sooo fun,” she said.

“Sleepless nights and screaming babies are an interesting thing to consider fun.” Sebastian joked sarcastically.

“Remind me whose idea it was to have a second?” Matty said, raising her brow at her husband. She knew he was just joking, but she did like to poke fun at him because, after all, it was his idea to have another baby once Eleazar was a little older.

“It was mine, and I’ll totally own up to that.” He chuckled, pulling his wife close to him. “And I can’t wait to have another. Anything from you is a complete blessing, and I’m lucky to have you and our children.”

Matty smiled and leaned her head against his chest. She had married the right man, that’s for sure. And boy did she love him.

“I hope it’s a girl,” Sebastian mumbled into her neck.

“Don’t want another little boy?” She chuckled, looking at him with a raised brow.

Sebastian shrugged. “I’ll be happy either way. I just want a healthy baby. But since we have a boy already, I think it’d be nice to have a sweet little girl. Beautiful and intelligent, just like her mother.” He said, giving Matty a little squeeze.

“And here I thought you wanted a little mini-you.” Matty said.

“Oh trust me, I do.” Sebastian replied. “But who's to say that a little girl can’t be my mini-me? We can get into all sorts of trouble together.”

“Mhm, right. Not on my watch.” Matty joked with a laugh.

“Worth a shot.” Sebastian grinned.

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much for reading! 🥺❤️

[leifyposting]

Klee’s fortnightly sleepover at the Gunnhildr mansion, originally some scheme cooked up by Lisa to force Jean to bed on time at least once every two weeks, has devolved somewhat into an opportunity for all the people who love Klee to gather for dinner at Jean’s place and swap stories and gossip far too late into the night.

But now Klee is in bed and the dining room is quiet, and Albedo, who is the last one out, having had the honour of putting Klee to bed tonight, is stepping out into the crisp fall air.

He turns around and looks up at the figure of the Acting Grand Master silhouetted in the doorframe. She seems softer, like this, with the strong lines of her body blurred by the golden light of her foyer lamp.

“Thank you for coming, Albedo,” she says. “I had a lovely evening. I know Klee did too.”

“It was my pleasure,” he says, the polite human response coming instantly to his tongue. 

It is almost too easy, these days, blending in among the humans. He is a far cry from the awkward, socially inept homunculus he was only a few years ago, the one whose mannerisms marked him out as other even if not necessarily as inhuman. The vendors in the marketplace smile at him now when he passes — and, which is more, he finds himself smiling back.

And he forgets, day by day, little by little, who he really is. And he forgets that he does not belong here.

Which is perhaps why he says: “Master Jean, can I ask you a question?”

She shifts, her head tilting. “Of course.”

“How far would you go to protect Mondstadt?”

She blinks down at him, apparently thrown. “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” he clarifies, “if for some reason Mondstadt was in danger because of me. Or, to make it more tangible, if I had put Klee in danger somehow. Would you kill me?”

She makes a tiny, horrified noise. “Why are we talking about this hypothetical?”

“I’m a man of science,” he says, letting his voice tip halfway to joking. “Humour me.”

He watches the protests hover on her tongue before she swallows them down. “Walk me through the scenario again.”

“It’s quite simple,” he says. “The context doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I have put Klee and the rest of Mondstadt in danger somehow, and the only way to save her is to kill me. Would you?”

Jean swallows, but he can see her answer in the set of her jaw even before she opens her mouth. “Yes,” she says. “I would.”

Albedo nods. This is the answer he was looking for. He is the anomaly, the transgression, the liability; she must be willing to kill him to save the people they both love. He shouldn’t feel as betrayed as he does.

“Still,” Jean says, before he can thank her and turn to leave, “there must be other options.”

“Pardon?”

“Either I kill you or I let Klee die. Why are those my only two choices?”

“I…” He trails off. “Just because.”

She shakes her head. “From a man of science, that’s not very scientific.”

He laughs a little incredulously. “I suppose I never saw any other way forward.”

“Well, the forced dilemma is part of the fun,” Jean allows graciously. “But real life is messier than that.”

“I think, in this hypothetical, there would be no other options.”

She makes a low, noncommittal noise. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying that maybe you aren’t seeing the whole picture.”

“How do you mean?” he asks, echoing her earlier words.

“I mean…” She pauses. “Eula is out in the field a lot, so she sees much more of the day-to-day workings of the Knights than I do. But as the Acting Grand Master, I have a bird’s-eye view of the organization as a whole. As a result, when faced with a quandary, she often offers solutions I would never have come up with on my own, and vice versa.” She makes a small motion with her hand, like she’s going to touch his shoulder, then drops it again. “That’s why we have people around us. So they can catch things we miss.”

“I see,” Albedo says. 

Jean’s blue-grey eyes, shadowed in the dim light, search his face. He fights the urge to look away from that piercing gaze. 

“I would hope,” she says finally, her voice low, “that if you believed you were a danger to yourself or others, you would come to me. I’m not saying I can always help. But the Knights look after our own, Captain.”

“I see,” Albedo says again. His chest is tight. “Thank you, Master Jean.”

She scrutinizes him for a moment more, then smiles a small smile. “I hope my answer was satisfactory?”

“Very much so.”

She looks relieved. “Oh, good. I was worried I wasn’t making much sense there.” 

“You made perfect sense,” he reassures her, strangely endeared by her earnestness. “But now it’s late, and you should get to bed. I’ll take my leave.”

“Very well. Have a good night, Albedo,” she says.

He turns away, and watches the sliver of golden light from the foyer fade into shadow as the door shuts. The chill autumn air threads around his ankles as he sets his feet towards home.

If he ever loses control, she will not be able to save him. He knows that already. 

Still, it is nice to know that she would try.

[writing-hat]

shattering

/!\ Spoilers for Dragons Rising S2P2!

(very original title) hiii i'm still not dead <3 sorry i'm not active but y'know. life.

here's a jay fic!! about him experiencing shatterspin for the very first time but this is actually more me trying to make the wolf masks kinda gory and made out of flesh it's. it's an experiment. as well as like. physical effects

i'm just having fun and trying out some things (ig it's not really a fic then but idk adfkjsegd)

/!\ TW : Blood, Gore, Wounds, Death (tell me if I forgot something)

Also not beta read and I don't read that well behind myself yaddi yadda y'know the drill (especially since this is more of a bunch of scraps assembled together and not a real fic akfjzsgv (I might cross post it on AO3 at some point we'll see))

This is around 6.8k words so it's half a short? anyway enjoy

Jay narrowed his eyes at the mask he held.

It seemed to be looking back at him. And to be frank, he wasn’t a fan of how it looked back.

A shiver crawled down his spine as he passed his fingers on the front. It was meant to be a mask, but the fact that there was hair there, even if short, was somewhat disturbing to realize. He didn’t know how to feel about the idea that these could be made of real fur. Or worse, that they were somewhat organic, and used to be alive.

He checked the eyes; they seemed colorless, and dull, when inactivated. Glassy.

Dead.

That last realization brought relief. Yeah, it was dead.

Whatever it was.

He knew he was supposed to put that shit on at some point, but… it didn’t seem like a great idea, in hindsight. At least that’s what his guts were telling him.

His mind was on a whole other setting. He trusted Ras, after all. Why shouldn’t he? He had saved him, from the insanity that the Administration had been.

Thank goodness this is over. He was grateful to the man, and had taken the time to hear his interests, and plans. Things Jay wasn’t bothered by, too big to be of a concern to him. But since they were important to his savior, well, who was he to refuse helping him?

He passed a hand on the fur again, before turning it around to see the inside. He winced.

It had been… somewhat ‘polished’, but one could not look away from the flesh that had probably been ripped apart from some unfortunate creature, the whole mask made of stitches between different kinds of skin. But he didn’t dare to touch it to confirm his fears. Had it been the same specie, every time? He did wonder if asking himself that wasn’t the most unimportant question of all.

Living beings had to die, for these masks to be made.

Jay hated how his brain was sure of it.

That, and there was some… sort of taint, at the bottom of it. Where the mouth was supposed to be.

It wasn’t on all the masks, but enough of them had it to pique Jay’s curiosity.

He hadn’t talked about it to Lord Ras yet, of course. He doubted others had noticed what these visages were made of. He wasn’t even sure how he had noticed the details in the first place.

Perhaps due to his weird anxious nature about everything that’s been happening since starting his life in the Administration. His only life, actually, since he couldn’t remember shit from before.

The medallion felt heavy in his pocket. Its sudden presence making itself known made him frown.

This piece of metal was all that was left to him. He wasn’t even sure how the ones that had found him in the Land of Madness hadn’t taken that away from him, just like all his previous belongings.

He placed the mask back in its place, giving it a final glare, before walking away.

He looked at himself, unsure of what to think of his clothes.

They were comfy, that was for sure. Much better then the suit he’d been forced to wear for years in this damned Administration. And looking much better. He did enjoy the patterns that had been added to go along his powers. Symbols of wolf could be seen as well, on his chest, making sure people would know which clan he belonged to- in case the mask wouldn’t be enough.

But the fur covering his neck, and the gloves… he didn’t like as much. They hid away scars, important parts of himself.

Then again, he still had the ones on his face, definitely due to his own powers when it came to the lightning paths, and probably from fights where there were cuts, and skin that had been torn.

He wasn’t a fan of keeping them away.

But, having his body completely protected when it was clear he was going to fight in the future wasn’t that bad of an idea. Are we going to fight now? Jay doubted it. A lot of the new recruits had probably no idea of what they were getting into. Had probably been enrolled with the idea that they were going to become better fighters, with something close to powers. Lots of people didn’t listen fully when about to drastically change their lives, he had seen it many times in the Administration.

With a heavy sigh, he passed a hand on his face. To be honest, Jay hadn’t thought that long about this idea of joining Lord Ras’s forces as well.

But I owe him. He was there when no one had tried to help. It was all that mattered.

Jay could hear people getting closer. He turned around, seeing Cinder and Ras coming towards him.

The latter still had the same expression as always, severe, and mildly pissed off at people for breathing in front of him. The master of smoke, on the other hand, often had a smug expression there, knowing he was above everyone else, and enjoying it way too much. Not too far from them, he could see Jordana, the sort of witch- he didn’t completely understand what her deal was- who looked away as soon as she saw Jay noticing her.

He didn’t get to focus on that, though, when Ras made sure to be the only thing in his vision.

“I take it you’re ready for today.”

No. Not at all. But this wasn’t what their Lord wanted to hear. “Yes.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to resist the need to fidget with the fur around his collar.

“A first test, to make sure everything will go smoothly for the first battle.” Cinder chuckled at Jay’s expression, before handing him the wolf mask. “You’re lucky to try it before the real deal, Jay.”

He glared at Cinder. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Though, with how the master of smoke was looking at him, mocking, he wouldn’t call any of this luck.

Inhaling sharply, he tried to not let himself show how nervous he felt. He hadn’t expected to wear it so soon. He grabbed the mask that was given to him, nauseous at how he was about to wear unknown skin on his own.

He tried to compare it to leather, but fuck that had nothing in common. He passed trembling fingers on the inside, wanting to confirm his fears.

…Yup. Organic tissues. It was repulsing.

Cinder quirked an eyebrow. “Are you hesitant now?”

There was a threatening growl coming from Ras that echoed with the other’s words. Jay closed his eyes, and shook his head. At least… there weren’t any smell to go with the thing. “No. Not at all.”

“Good.” Ras crossed his arms behind his back, walking towards the arena. “Then get ready. You will be tested along our new soldiers.”

Soldiers. Why did he hate that designation? Wasn’t he supposed to be more, with his elemental power?

He adverted his gaze, focusing it back on the inside of this mask. “Sure.”

It was the first time he entered the shadow dojo. The outside had been eerie, with nothing but the strange orange and red light on their paths, but the inside was a whole other deal.

It was… poorly lighted, somehow, despite the bright lights coming from outside, with candles offering a soft blue glow all around them. He wasn’t sure how the flames managed to stay in that hue, but couldn’t really focus on that when he was trying to avoid all the others that entered with him. Some were chatting, apparently already knowing each other.

Jay didn’t want to know anyone in here. He didn’t see the point.

There were runes everywhere as well. He had no idea of what they meant, but they were glistening too, in that same color as the candles. Plants had grown as well on the wall, somehow.

He sat on the ground, unbothered to stay up like the others. From here, he could see that the only one on the ground like him was someone with a large hat, covering most of his face. His eyes were revealed briefly when he raised his head to watch who had come here for the first trial, allowing Jay to recognize him.

He was the guy he had seen many times speak with Ras. Although speak was a light statement; more so yelling and arguing, with the latter always having the last word, letting the other clearly frustrated.

Nokt. That was his name. He remembered him due to the electrical device placed on the back of his head. Even if he wasn’t sure he had heard his name right earlier, since it seemed like he preferred to keep to himself, as proved when he lowered his hat down again, effectively shielding his expression away from everyone else.

But there was something Jay managed to see before he did.

A spark of amusement, of all things, akin to one about to watch some sort of entertainment unfold.

…Jay didn’t think he was going to like that guy.

His attention shifted back to their leader, when he hit the ground with his hammer. He gave a speech, one Jay half-listened to, about being ready to change their lives for this better form of power, and so on and so on. Monologues are always so tiring.

…Where had he heard boring monologues like these before?

A glimpse of- something, from before, barely there, that escaped him as soon as he tried to look for it, smothered away by another hit of Lord Ras’s hammer against the ground, and someone getting on their feet and walking to the center of the room. Jay thanked his luck helping out for once, since he definitely wouldn’t have heard his name if he had been first.

Watching the guy, he gave way to his urge, and started to play with the fur around his neck to keep himself calm. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like his anxiety was eating him alive, starting with his insides, and pulling on his guts and get him to run away from there as fast as he could.

He gnawed on his lip. He couldn’t make himself worry about nothing. This was just… apprehension, that came with every test he had to take.

Except if he failed this one, he might’ve to be forced back into the Administration. Damn it.

Deciding on ignoring the painful cramps his overreacting unconscious gave him, he focused back on the scene before him, observing the one that had been called.

The guy nodded his head to Lord Ras, and placed the mask on his face. Jay winced, clutching his other hand around the one he was holding; he really didn’t want to know how centuries old flesh would feel on his face. But he supposed he had no choice.

Holding his breath as Ras approached the gong, he tried to think of the power that wearing this mask would mean for him. He knew there was something about a forbidden technique of some sort, the Shatterspin, which he’d been taught the basics, but what about his powers? What would be the effects?

He’d seen Cinder. He’d seen how much quicker and agile he became whenever the mask would fuse with him, and gift him an armor instead of staying as a mask. The red eyes, he wasn’t that fan of, but if it meant finding who he was supposed to be, by feeling his powers better then ever before…

The scar under his left eye throbbed, forcing him to rub it. Not that he didn’t feel his power now, but he didn’t quite think he had a good grasp on it. He managed a few zaps here and there, and sparks to help him when it was completely dark, but other then that, not much else.

There is potential within you, Jay Walker. These had been Lord Ras’s words.

And he couldn’t wait to unleash that potential.

The gong was hit a first time.

Jay jumped out of his skin when the one put on trial shrieked in pain. Someone beside him gasped, letting him know that he definitely wasn’t the only one to be surprised.

He walked back, holding his face in pain and doubling over as the mask’s glowed that bright cyan. Not letting him the time to rest, or even wonder what was happening to him, the gong was hit a second time with a sound that echoed all around them. It was enough to make the room shake, and dust fall from the unexpectedly stable walls of this place. All the blue lights turned red.

The guy screamed again. Jay watched as he tried to remove the mask, pulling on his hair when trying to remove the strap that kept it in place. But it didn’t budge, despite his knuckles turning white from the force he was using for this one thing.

Jay felt sick, witnessing all this. Glancing around, he noticed how disappointed Lord Ras looked, and the way Cinder let his disgust appear.

…Shit.

His attention shifted back to the man in the center when he heard him puke. From here, he couldn’t really see what came out, and couldn’t help his flinch when the sound of retching reached his ears.

Chocking sounds could then be heard. It surely didn’t help when he threw his head back, gasping for air, too far gone to realize that he was making things worse.

Jay couldn’t look away from him. Doing so… doing so would mean he wasn’t cut for this role. It would mean showing weakness, and not being worthy of the chance offered to him.

Doing so would mean abandoning the man to his fate, a far side of his brain whispered. Jay took a deep breath, brushing that thought aside, just like he always had back in the Administration. Kindness and pity weren’t the way to go when one wanted to master Shatterspin, and the power of the Wolf Clan. He remembered Ras’s warnings too well.

Speaking of which, he couldn’t help but check a second time their leader, breath getting stuck in his throat when he did.

Lord Ras was watching them, not the poor guy struggling to survive against the surges of powers that went in his body forcefully. He was quick to understand; he wanted to see who was able to stomach it, and who would be useless in the future to him. And fuck, Jay didn’t think he could do that, but he didn’t have a choice. His body and mind didn’t have a choice.

The man screamed in pure pain and terror one last time, turning Jay’s insides. His hands grabbed at his skin, scratching with abnormal nails that had grown after the gong had been hit a third time. It made deep wounds, forcing crimson to pour out, but it seemed like the man couldn’t care less, just wanting to get rid of that cursed mask.

He heaved, then coughed, falling on his knees with a final yell, yielding to the pressure of energy that must’ve been coursing through his body. Unable to adapt.

And then…

He fell to the ground.

As soon as he did, the red lights came back to the blue hue they had first seen when entering the room.

When others gasped, and some cried, one, Jay heard a snicker. He looked around, trying to see who was sick enough to have that kind of reaction to someone dropping dead in front of them.

He frowned when he found out who.

Now he knew why Nokt had seemed amused at the beginning. He must’ve known this could happen. What a fucking psychopath. He looked away from him, and back at the center of the dojo.

Ras growled, stomping his boot on the ground at the result. He then turned towards Wolf Warriors, a finger pointed at the now dead man. “Get it out of here. We aren’t done yet.”

Shit. Shit. Jay swallowed hard, unable to look away from the blood, as well as the one the corpse left behind when pulled away in a messy trail.

Their leader hit the ground with his hammer, demanding attention from everyone in the room. “The reason he failed, was his resilience against our power. To become powerful, one must learn to bend to the rules that make it all. Only then, can you be one with the Wolf Clan’s powers.” He pointed his weapon towards the recruits, snarling when most of them took a step back in front of it. “Another one of his mistake was doubting me, and being a coward.”

His eyes scanned the room, glaring. “If any of you feel that way as well, you may as well leave. Now.”

That would be a mistake. Yet, some people immediately hurried out, not needing to be told twice. Not a lot- four of them, he counted. Jay closed his eyes, and tried to ignore how two Wolf Warriors followed after them, their claws ready.

What had he gotten himself into? What was going to happen to him?! How many others were going to die? Not that he questioned of the others’ loyalty, but there was no doubt that witnessing that guy’s death must’ve changed their will to join.

Now that Jay knew this was the consequence of failure… fuck. Fuck. His guts were twisting in there, hurting his stomach physically, at this point. His ears were ringing, clouding his mind from everything else. What if all that he had done, all this ‘surviving’ shit, had only lead to his demise?

Jay clenched his fists. He’d never allow that. Cinder had managed to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

This was an opportunity. To find purpose, and a place where he would belong. He couldn’t screw this up. He wasn’t a damn coward. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fight back the power that was about to allow him a new beginning.

This was a cruel world after all. Hadn’t he learned that over and over again? And he couldn’t be at the bottom of it all just because others weren’t able to keep up.

He would not. He would survive through it all, no matter what it meant to wear that mask.

No matter the price.

Ras called his name. He was the second one to be tested.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, and faced the Lord’s eyes with a fierce glare.

Slowly, he got up, ignoring how his stomach still felt like a pit, and how his head was still hurting from the panic he had felt earlier when seeing that man die, his pulse somehow perceivable in his ears.

Still, he got to the center of the room. Only when he did, his eyes found themselves unable to detach from the splatters of blood everywhere. Some were older. Some were on the walls.

They had all witnessed that many times, hadn’t they? And they hadn’t told anyone.

It was… it was…

He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to loose it.

A dark paw handed the mask to him. It allowed Jay to focus his eyes in front of him, and away from the red splatters. Something he regretted doing, when meeting Ras’s eyes.

They were harsh, and unforgiving.

Jay couldn’t mess up.

He was being given a chance. A chance, that could be taken back, and handed to any other elemental master. He wasn’t the only one gifted after all, Cinder was the proof of that. Ras didn’t need him for this grand plan; he had an army, and people ready to follow his every order.

On the other hand, Jay needed Ras. And he owed that new chance at freedom, to him.

Straightening up, he grabbed his mask, and tried to not think back on how it was made of skin. Instead, he tried to concentrate on how there was metal there as well. When tying the strap behind his head, he tried to not remember how the one before him hadn’t been able to remove it when wanting to escape.

No turning back.

Darkness cornered his vision, the latter becoming defined by the constricted sight given to him.

Once settled, he placed both his arms along his body, and nodded to Ras with a dry throat. The latter growled, rearranging his hold on the hammer.

The gong was hit a first time.

The wave of its sound exploded in the room, reaching Jay’s body. It froze him, both his physical shell, and thoughts. Everything had gone silent in his mind, and around him. And he wasn’t sure if this was due to the effect of its power.

Even breathing seemed impossible, in these short seconds. He was completely petrified, finding himself feeling as if he’d been stuck in something so dense and heavy, holding him back. No noise could make it out of his mouth, despite the pain that had started to build up in both his face and chest.

Something had cracked inside of him.

Just as he sensed it, the gong was hit a second time.

It felt like a blow to his chest, making him back away. His bones felt breaking as he did, making him wonder if they could’ve been weakened by the power he had been hoping to obtain.

His ears unblocked. It caused him to be suddenly dizzy, and made his head heavy with the lack of oxygen.

Then his breath hitched, as soon as he noticed the paralyzing effect was gone.

Like breaking out of shallow waters and reaching the surface, he gasped, greedily sucking air. His legs wobbled, making him feel like he was about to loose balance, as both his hands reached for his neck to protect the precious air he was barely able to keep in his trachea.

His skin was itchy everywhere. Something was going on inside of him, turning his veins icy cold.

Something was wrong, and hurting. Something was very wrong.

The rush of his blood too was fast, and strong, making him think that his blood vessels were doubling in size, and perhaps stretching his skin as it grew, leading to his articulations becoming harder to move. It left the impression that everything was about to blow inside of him.

For a second, he wondered if he had died, and if he was about to fall on the floor, just like the man before him had, but then realized that the sound of his heartbeat was still there, and as fucking loud as it was quick.

He was alive. He was-

The gong was hit for the third, and last time.

The final wave forced him to puke, which he went along with, trying his best to not suffocate with it like the first guy. A blink, and he noticed that it was blood, coming out from his mouth in worrying amounts.

His insides abruptly felt like shattering, and he yelled, as his whole body seemed burning up, a harsh and painful contrast compared to what he’d been feeling seconds ago.

Jay wasn’t able to keep a shriek from escaping him, when the power he’d felt in him for as long as he could remember reached for his limbs, and exploded. The scent of burning skin made it to his nostrils, and he held his middle, as if trying to stop his insides from escaping him like his powers had. Only when he did, he sensed his lightning breaking apart.

Millions of pieces, made of parts of his powers, going absolutely insane, and making his body spasm.

Getting electrocuted was a familiar feeling. One he despised, but was never able to escape for too long when it came to dealing with his own incompetence and ignorance. Or when he would redirect lighting on their ship, to protect the ones he cared about.

But just like his power, these thoughts were shattered, making him cry, as his head hurt too much for him to keep up with.

So he didn’t.

He let these words and images get torn into pieces, shards feeling like they came to his heart, pulling his whole torso in a constricting sensation that once again made him think like he was about to die, just like that. The boiling sensation kept on increasing, causing his whole body to feel like he was burning alive.

Something clicked, then, and his vision became too blurry to understand. The red lights made it so he didn’t know where he was anymore, the distant image of people he used to know breaking apart again and again, causing his mind to shatter as well.

And once it was all gone, he vomited again, hugging himself tightly as if trying to at least keep his body in one piece. His shoulders slowly felt heavier, and the fur that had been around his sensitive skin suddenly ceased to be.

Though this was the last thing Jay cared about, as he fell to his knees, the collide with the ground making his bones almost rattle. The way his fingers kept twitching made him wonder how they hadn’t broken yet.

His breathing was difficult, with a voice that had turned hoarse at yells and cries of pain he hadn’t even been aware to be letting out.

He was about to die. He didn’t know how the feeling was so familiar, perhaps due to the blood that accumulated in his breathing pipes, akin to water, filling his lungs until there could be no air passing through. His heartbeat was diminishing, yet it stayed as the only thing Jay could hear.

So he caught it. He caught his heart, for it was all that was left to him.

His will to stay alive. His will to have something of his own, that would make him whole.

And it was a heart burning with rage.

This, was what pulled all the pieces back. What once had tried to escape him, was now caught back by the sheer amount of anger he felt at how fate and destiny had treated him.

What does it mean? The question went away as soon as it brushed his mind, the violent waves of power crushing anything that wasn’t meant to be like it away.

Thoughts. Feelings.

They no longer mattered.

All that mattered was power. Stitching back all that had been separated.

His lightning felt growing. Launching itself and balancing his body in positions and forms that meant both a cry for a help and the picture of a violent force forbidding anyone to get close.

Then came the fusion.

The skin that made the inside of the mask slithered in through his pores, pulling and tearing its way through to have full possession of him, and share its cursed strength to the one that had dared to agree with its ways. Jay wanted to wonder if this was what it meant to meddle with dark magic.

But he couldn’t even do that, screaming again with his broken voice at the violent intrusion he had allowed for someone else’s game.

Foolish. Foolish. He always was foolish.

The foreign matter didn’t bother to be careful, before settling in- although not without damaging the inside of his mouth some more. It forced out more blood out, kicking out whatever was left that wouldn’t be useful to this newfound power.

A final deep breath, and Jay felt…

Liberated.

Gone, was the weight that had been caused by his soul and mind shattering and leaving behind too many pieces to carry. His whole body now felt light, lungs freed enough to give him as much space as needed for the air he needed to live.

The power felt lurking in his systems, flowing and giving him feelings he’d never felt before.

It was pure bliss.

After a few minutes, Jay blinked, his vision coming back, although with nothing to muffle it this time. The euphoric sensation slowly escaped him, letting reality settle back in his mind. Feelings of what was around and on him came back, making him tighten his fists.

He felt as though his sweat had drenched all of his clothes, along the blood. His chest kept expanding in grand moves, each breath making his body quiver, as he tried to catch his breath properly, and return oxygen to his brain.

When he did, his head returned to its previous heavy state, with each pulse increasing the pressure at an impossible rate. Yet, this stayed incredibly dull compared to what having worn the mask the first time had felt like.

He opened and closed his mouth, stretching his jaw to check if it hadn’t changed, or if the muscles there hadn’t torn apart. They had certainly felt so. He checked his limbs as well, particularly his hands, by opening and closing them multiple times.

Everything was good, it seemed.

Bringing his hands up, he checked his face, wanting to make sure everything was still there, and if he hadn’t just imagined the mask going inside of his skin.

But he hadn’t. The mask wasn’t here anymore.

He rubbed at his neck, but scratched himself, making him hiss. He looked at his hands.

Claws had grown, there. The gloves hadn’t even torn, having adapted to the new form they had gained. Closing his eyes, he then oversaw how his powers reacted to the newly added strength.

The response was immediate, surge of powers making his body twitch, and forcing him to gasp for air again. Opening back his eyes, he saw these bridges of electricity between his fingers, going all the way to the tip of his fingers, before disappearing, over and over again.

He chuckled, snapping his fingers. It created a small blow, enough to shake his curls. He then got back up, not bothered to look at the people around him, despite the loud whispers. Directing his gaze in front of him, he then aimed for a wall with his fingers, before sending his lightning there.

The stone that made the wall exploded, pieces of wood and rocks flying everywhere in the room, and allowing dust to float freely.

Jay snickered, feeling this happy buzzing inside of him, always here in the aftermath.

Fuck yeah.

He had missed this so much.

…I wonder who thisused to be.

Walking away from the gravestone, he added the wood to the fire he had prepared for the night.

A caravan was in that junkyard, but he didn’t feel like he was allowed to get inside, even if no one was there. No matter how cold it could get in the desert at night, this wasn’t his home, and he was simply there as a guest. He wasn’t even sure why he had traveled all the way here, but by the time he had realized where he had gone to, the sun had been long gone, leaving him with no choice but to set up camp here.

At least this spot was empty. It was a welcoming change compared to the crowded and suffocating places that had been the Administration or staying with the Wolf Clan. Although he had always been on his own in these previous positions, here the loneliness was one much better then what he’d dealt with in these last few years.

Jay hoped that there at least wouldn’t be any wild creatures to attack him. Fighting back without his powers had proven to be more difficult then he had expected. Thankfully, he had kept the gun from his time in the Administration; a great way to defend himself.

He sat on the ground, and looked at the fire crackling in front of his feet, relieving the itch on his face by scratching it as much as he could. No doubt his skin had not only turned red, but with marks left behind as well. Damn it.

…Being without that mask was going to be very hard. It had adapted to his skin- or maybe it had gifted him a second one. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t understand any of this.

All he knew, was that whenever he had been wearing it, even if for a short time, it had been granting him such an incredible thrill that he already knew just couldn’t be compared.

Oh, he had felt like he was on top of the world. As if nothing could’ve ever stopped his powers and him, from getting back at everything that had been unfair to him up to this point.

Now, all he had left were scars. From wearing this cursed mask, and bearing these powers that had never been truly his, but another’s hidden through his own element.

Jay had no idea if he missed the mask, its power, or if this was all caused by how much he missed his lightning.

His eye twitched; he should’ve listened to his urge, in that moment, and killed her. Destroyed her. And now that he hadn’t, the feeling of regret was unbearable.

He wanted to tear at his skin, but he didn’t even have the claws left for that. Only his poorly taken care of nails, dirty and gnawed by his need to relieve his anxiety and surges of powers every time he hadn’t been wearing the mask.

…Jay missed it all, as much as he cursed it all.

Had he not followed Ras, he would have never lost his powers. Had he stayed in the Administration, in this false life of his, he would have never been bothered by flashes and addictions he had never been prepared to face. He would’ve found his own way to his demise, sure, but at least through a path never led by others.

How had any of what I heard so farsounded right? How could I fall for their lies?

Jay frowned, thinking back on what he had listened to again. He didn’t believe them at all. Their fake stories…

Everyone lies. They’re all the same. Great warrior my ass. Jay now didn’t doubt that Ras could’ve lied to him, and it upset him greatly. What for?! To give him hope, and then crush it all in the next moment because of his so called failure? Gah!

He thought back on that woman he had fought. She too, had pretended to know him.

The sweet tone he could remember from her voice made him grit his teeth.

Even if she and her team had been right, why had they never come for him? It had been years. He had found himself all over again, since then.

“Let’s theorize that it was because they had no idea of where I was. Fine.” Jay clenched his fists. “Why didn’t they come get me when I was kicked out?”

His words were barely above a whisper, not even heavy enough to be carried around by the wind.

He stopped moving, forbid himself from flinching, focusing on the sounds of the burning fire so he could shift it as a background noise so his brain wouldn’t have to bother itself with. He then closed his eyes, and just… listened.

Strong wind, making the abandoned metal around him creak softly, and passing through small and tight openings, whistling all around him.

Deep down, he knew he waited for another noise. The snap of a branch, or the crunch of the sand under someone’s shoe that would make his hair bristle in apprehension. The sign that someone would come for him.

So he waited.

Until moments later, silence was still all that answered him.

He cursed, bringing his knees up to hug them, and huddle in a smaller position.

Jay didn’t know what else he had expected. Of course this wouldn’t happen.

He was alone. He’d always be, in the end. And it seemed like… he wasn’t enough. Not enough to make up for the help given to him, nor enough for people that were supposed to care about him to come back and find him. Loneliness was all that awaited him. He understood that.

… And despite feeling like this, he didn’t feel as he thought low he would’ve.

No. Quite the contrary.

Jay was… appeased. After all, that meant he could finally build a life. Even if it wouldn’t be much.

Throughout the years, he had learned that he had to move forward in order to survive. To do as told, and never question what he was ordered to do, or face consequences. Whether it had been the Administration, or Ras’s Wolf Clan.

So now, knowing for sure that no one and nothing was going to hold him back was freeing. Enough to get rid of these incessant thoughts bugging his mind, at least. Yet not quite enough to get rid of that pressure in his stomach.

Because all of this meant that he had nothing. He never had, and he never would. It left him… empty.

At the end of the day, it meant that he was nothing.

He watched the sparks escaping the fire. Like lightning’s, in a sense, but much less volatile, and not as comforting. He followed their trails, until his gaze ended up towards the stars. Had he known their names, a lifetime ago? The paths they traced, and how they never changed?

But it must’ve changed after the Merge. There was no doubt about that. Even something supposed to never be in motion except throughout centuries had completely shifted, no matter how infinite and big it must’ve always felt to him.

Everything had changed.

How was he supposed to find his past self if nothing was the same?

I don’t. That’s how. There was no need to waste time for something so meaningless. At least he hoped.

He sighed, glad to be protected from the chill of the night.

Warmth whenever it was cold was always a better thing. It was a comforting presence he had never admitted to enjoy in front of him. His… his heart kinda regretted that now.

Jay blinked at the dark sky.

…Who-

Something flashed before his eyes, too fast for him to identify what it was. It aimed for him, reaching its target in a millisecond.

Lightning had just struck him.

He shouted, feeling his powers immediately coming back to him, making him fall on his hands and knees.

Fuck. He hated that feeling. The one of his body getting electrocuted by his own life source, because he just couldn’t control it right.

Come on! He hit the ground with his fist, spitting on the grass as he grasped at the insanity of his power. He kept gritting his teeth, until finally, the lightning settled in, and buzzed happily to be back in its rightful place, with its rightful owner.

Jay took a deep breath. Yeah. Missed you too.

Since the start, his lightning had been the only thing there for him. To be reunited with it again brought tears to his eyes, both of joy, and anger.

At having lost them in the first place. At losing them to that damned water ninja.

I love you, Jay. I will always love you.

The memory of the woman’s desperate face flashed back when he shut his eyes to get rid of his tears.

An act. It wasn’t that difficult to pretend emotions after all, was it?

If he ever saw her again… he was pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

She hadn’t hesitated to defeat him. Pretty fucked up for someone who was supposed to care, like she wanted him to believe.

Or maybe she’d been following orders, like I was.

Jay shook his head. Whatever the reason, it clearly wouldn’t justify anything. Nor would it tarnish the way his heart dripped hatred into his blood, making him even angrier then before.

The medallion felt heavy in his pocket.

Too heavy, this time.

He took it, and looked at the shape.

…It was a missing piece. He could see that now.

Jay didn’t want to be that. The missing piece of someone instead of being his own person. Of a puzzle he had nothing to do with.

What kind of life could he expect if all he was supposed to be was a pawn placed by others, and never able to have his own free will? The piece in a long chain of supposed important people. Full of important tasks, to serve the greater good of some kind of Great Administration, or a Great Cause of some Delusional Clan.

He’d be no one’s missing piece. No one’s lost part.

He was his own soul. No matter how shattered it felt, and how many little pieces of it were left.

Jay threw the heavy piece in the fire, the weight in his heart never tarnishing during the long time he watched it in the flames, as the moon advanced its course. He stayed that way, holding his limbs tightly against him, while taking deep yet suffocating breaths.

Until, it finally started to melt.

The slightest tint of gold, pearling down as it became a liquid again, and advanced on the darker metal it was attached to.

Never again.

[electricea]

on being 30.

my birthday is this weekend and i don't really know how much free time i'll have to spend on here, so i did want to poke on here and at least say something - thank you for another year together, whether we've just met or have known each other for ages, i genuinely appreciate being able to spend another year on this website with so many great folks, sincerely - i appreciate every dm, every image, it doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated.

i've sort of touched on before on how 2024 has been a sort of a slump for a year for me - i've always sort of battled with self doubt and self loathing and just for some reason this year, it seems to just keep coming back and i hate that i actually doubt and question myself - if there's still a place for me here and when i get in my own head like this i really isolate myself and try to just deal with it in private because i don't like being a downer so if you have noticed me not exactly being the most responsive or talkative lately, that’s why - i’m not angry with anyone, i’m not trying to be cold with anyone - going back into my shell is just what I do and how I cope, it always has been, i don't even like writing this. and to make this clear, this is a me problem - not an anyone else problem, period - this isn't a vague or to point fingers, the issue is with me.

i think what sort of prompted this was seeing a lot of people open up about their own feelings and insecurities and I get the sense that 2024 hasn’t exactly been a great year for a lot of people either and my mindset has always been so long as it's not being passive aggressive or directing the blame at others, i honestly think it's good to have an outlet to just say how you're feeling once in a while - how else will people know what you're struggling with? of course what they choose to divulge is up to them and no one has to divulge if they don't want to, we're all just here for rp and for fun but i think sort of seeing others also struggling with having a crappy year and seeming to be in similar slumps was what really prompted me to write this. i hope it's just down to 2024 being a cursed year or something, lol.

like i said, i do genuinely appreciate all of you - i think more than anything else, more than rp or writing, the people are what keeps me coming back to tumblr - getting to write with and meet so many different writers from across the world (and possibly even talk with some of them and hang out with them??) is honestly a privilege and honour and even if i may not respond right away, please just know i appreciate every interaction, every message, every person. thank you all for being a part of my tumblr experience for another year and for already getting this birthday off to a lovely start. take care of yourselves.

[laswells-ashtray]

Your writings are so good that I’m entrusting you with this simple prompt: Dragon Hybrid Price and (Any Hybrid) Nikolai.

Do what you will dear wizard writer.

For the sheer sake of you never implied how silly I could get with this, I'm sillying it up:

Bear hybrid Nikolai [because it's too fucking good] and dragon hybrid Price standing about one day, the two sergeants and the lieutenant are training together while the older two men watch. They're on someone else's base, a hybrid-less base but they're making do with what the have.

John's leaning back against the wall, wings pressed up against the brick in a way that has to be uncomfortable or at least that's what everyone assumes. He's rubbing at the base of one of his horns as if trying to soothe a headache and he looks quite frankly exhausted when another Captain appraoches.

John decides that in comparison to this man, he looks like Marilyn fucking Monroe.

"Captain Givens, you look about as good as I feel." John is at least trying to keep a good relationship with the other team even if they have a habit of pissing off each of them.

"Too fuckin' right. Just got off the phone with the Missus and had to help her convince my little boy not to shove his Batman figure up his nose. It's exhausting." The man complains, running a hand over his face tiredly.

John makes a sympathetic noise but doesn't hide his amused look. "Oh, I'm all too familiar with that feeling." The other day he'd had to convince a group of rookies that Soap is indeed a liar and that oil paint is in fact not edible just because it has oil in the name.

"You have kids?"

"Yes." John should've been smarter than to think that Nikolai's silence was a good thing, he doesn't get a chance to correct the bear hybrid before the other Captain asks:

"How many?"

"Three." Nikolai tells him while watching the boys train in the distance.

For a brief moment, John wants to tug on one of his fluffy ears and tell him to quit it. On the other hand, fuck it, why not?

"Yeah, three over there are mine. Different mums but I was a bit of a tart back in the day." He's reliant on the fact the human knows nothing about hybrids, specifically dragon hybrids for it to work. It's no secret that dragon hybrids can live a lot longer than the average human if they're careful about it but to those types of hybrids, John is still a toddler, horns still in one piece with wings that are still vibrant and healthy.

He can see the amusement in Nik's big brown eyes, he likes it when John sinks down to his level of teasing humans. The only one exempt was Kate, they respected her too much and she wasn't an idiot, she'd never believe half of the stupid shit they've all told people throughout the years. Besides, Kate is family. She has five hybrids protecting her back and the average CIA agent is still more scared of her.

"Riley, MacTavish and Garrick? They're yours?" The human asks in disbelief. Simon was going to kill him for this later, Kyle and Johnny would inevitably laugh themselves hoarse.

"Aye. Didn't find out about Riley until he was a teenager and his Mum got in contact. Looks fuck all like me but he's certainly mine. Lad certainly wasn't a chipper wee thing but I managed to win him over, SAS was his choice, I just put him on the task force because I owed it to his Mum to keep an eye out." He's talking out of his arse now and he knows it but the captain seems to be hanging on his every word. Nikolai is making the conscious decision to look away from him but he can see the faint shaking of the bastard's shoulders, he's laughing.

"MacTavish was from an eventful night up in Glasgow one evening, we didn't know if he was mine or Nik's until we saw the little blighter's eyes."

Good on Nik for how quickly he sorts himself, turning around and nodding approvingly. "Ah, but young MacTavish has always favoured me. Would've been a good bear cub, very grizzly."

The captain looks over to the three men training with wide eyes, tilting his head as he stares at them all, surveying them before he looks back to John.

"And Garrick is yours too?"

Kyle had been ripping on him for being old earlier so maybe he plays it up just that little bit more.

He nods, looking over at Gaz with the most proud look he can muster, it's real but he can pretend it isn't just for the bit. "He was an angel when he was a tot, good sleeper and learned to talk quick. Was always a little grumpy that he didn't have horns too but he got over it eventually. Got him a blanket with a dragon on it when he was two and he didn't get rid of the thing until he was fifteen. Big Mumma's boy though, spitting image of his mother and more than proud of it."

It almost saddens him that the interaction ends when a sergeant whose name he can't remember calls over the captain about something but the sound of Nik's deep, gruff laughter is anything to soothe his short-lived annoyance.

Truthfully, he forgets about the entire interaction within a few hours until Soap barges into his temporary room on the base with a positively gleeful look.

"Price, I don't know what the fuck you did but Gaz is due to kick yer heed in."

"Excuse me?"

"Givens won't stop asking him about his dragon blankie."

Shit.

"And what's this about you and Nik playing who's the daddy when I was born?"

Shit.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Birthmark

@jegulus-microfic November 20, Word count 922

Previous part First part

James was seething all over again. He couldn’t believe that Snape could sink so low as to have Regulus’s room destroyed like that because he was jealous of his art. James was glad Regulus was living with him because he would have ended up camping outside his door every night to make sure he was safe. He may only be in his twenties, but he didn’t fancy sleeping on the floor for the foreseeable future. He suddenly became aware of the scuffle beside him. Sirius was trying to get to Mulciber and Remus and Regulus were holding him back. James had thought Regulus would be more upset over the matter, but he seemed to be handling it well. James decided to stop pondering and actually help with Sirius. He came up behind him and lifted him off the floor. Sirius’s legs and arms were flailing everywhere, but James just walked him out of the doors and onto the grounds, heading towards the carpark. 

“Put me down, Prongs!” Sirius growled angrily as he tried in vain to weaken the grip James had on him. Regulus and Remus were just behind them. Remus had hold of Regulus’s hand, but Regulus seemed more concerned about calming his brother.

“Sirius, it doesn’t matter. I won anyway; my art is on show and his isn’t. I don’t need you to avenge me,” He pleaded, but Sirius wasn’t listening. 

“James, let go of me! Snape’s going to regret the day he messed with my little brother!”

“Sirius, will you calm down!” Regulus groaned. James got them to the car but then realised to get his keys, he’d have to put Sirius down, and that bugger could run like lightning given the chance. He’d never catch him if he got away now. 

“Reg, love, could you get the keys out of my front pocket?” He’d ask Remus, but these were some of his tighter jeans and the pockets weren’t all that roomie. Regulus’s hands were more slender than Remus’s. 

Regulus didn’t even hesitate. He plunged his hand into James’s pocket and fished out the keys while avoiding Sirius’s kicking legs. He unlocked the car and held the back door open for him. “Remus go round the other side and put the child locks on,”

“I am not a child!”

“Then stop acting like one.” 

Remus ran around, and after a second pause to click the little switch in the door, he jumped in. “Right, Padfoot in you go,” And James threw Sirius in feet first. Regulus jumped in after him, flicking the child lock at the same time and slamming the door. James could still hear Sirius’s protests from inside the car, but he could deal with that. He went over to the driver's door and got in, ignoring the profanity spouting from Sirius’s mouth, and drove them home.

“I take it you guys really don’t like Snape then?” Regulus asked during a lull in Sirius’s tirade. 

“Yeah, we were all living in halls last year and, unfortunately, so was he. He lived in the room next to mine and Sirius’s, and Remus was on the other side. He did not appreciate that we knew how to have fun, and he didn’t. He was always making complaints about us. We even offered for him to swap with Remus, and that way, he’d have an entire room between us, but he refused to give up his room. We, er, we may have pulled a few pranks on him.” James said as he stopped at the traffic lights. He pulled off again and turned into the carpark outside their block of flats. “Let’s just say we don’t get on and his friends aren’t much better than him.” James finished as he got out and opened the back doors to let his passengers out. Sirius, thankfully, had calmed down. He was clearly still plotting vengeance, but at least he wouldn’t go and do something stupid straight away. 

James’s phone rang and he answered it. 

“Oi, Potter. I’ve got space tomorrow if you still want that tattoo,” Mary said cheerily down the phone to him. 

“Yes! Definitely! I swear this time I’ll show up.”

“You’d better, or I’ll tattoo it on some rando,” She warned him mischievously. 

“I swear I’ll be there,” James promised. 

“You’d better. Love you,” Mary cooed at him and hung up. 

They walked up to James’s flat, and they all went inside. 

“Was that Mary?” Remus asked once they’d found seats and flopped down. 

“Yeah, I was on my way to get a new tattoo but then…” Regulus winced. 

“Sorry,” He murmured into James’s chest where he’d snuggled into. 

“Don’t be daft,” James chuckled, stroking Regulus’s hair out of his eyes. “That was important and Mary didn’t mind.” 

“What are you getting?” Remus asked with interest. 

“Regulus’s stag painting.”

“Sweet, where?” James leaned forward and dragged his t-shirt off over his head and, after moving Regulus a bit, he managed to swivel towards Remus and pointed at his chest.

“Right here, under Sirius’s stars and your moon. I thought the sunset would look good under them.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll look great,” Remus beamed at him. Regulus’s finger brushed against his side; he tensed a bit at the touch as it tickled him. 

“You’ve got a birthmark,” Regulus said quietly as he traced the darker patch of skin. “It looks like antlers,” 

“Yeah, it does,” James laughed. “That's how I got the nickname Prongs,” James told him, and they broke into the story of how they all got their nicknames. 

[misaerabl]

Feeding The Fire

Academic Rival Abby X F!Reader

MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count : 8k

SUMMARY: In the elite world of Ravenswood Preparatory Academy, your rivalry with Abby Anderson has always been a blaze of ambition and sharp words. Forced to work together on a high-stakes project, the fire between you begins to shift as late-night study sessions and unguarded moments reveal the vulnerabilities behind Abby’s perfectionism. When an argument at her house exposes the weight of her relentless drive, sparks ignite into something far more intimate. What starts as a battle for dominance becomes a journey of understanding—and something else as fiery as your rivalry.

WARNINGS: Plot with smut, eating out (r & a receiving), a riding on r's face, swallowing come, fingering (r receiving)

A/N: Since you guys were looking for something like Off The Ice... found this on my google docs, I decided to finish it and post it now. This is kind of in a different format than how i usually write but here it is cuz I think its good! (this was actually written the same time as Off The Ice)

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

Ravenswood Preparatory Academy wasn’t just a school—it was a battlefield. Not in the way of physical fights or dramatic standoffs in the cafeteria, but in the quiet, cutthroat war of academics. The halls buzzed with the chatter of straight-A students, all vying for valedictorian, internships, or that one golden-lettered acceptance from the Ivy League. You were no stranger to the competition. In fact, you thrived on it.

But then, there was Abby Anderson.

Where you clawed your way to the top with late-night study sessions and sheer determination, Abby seemed to coast through effortlessly. She was the Abby Anderson—student council president, captain of the debate team, and the top of every leaderboard. She didn’t just ace her exams; she annihilated the curve, leaving you—and everyone else—in her wake.

Your rivalry wasn’t personal, at least not at first. It was just a fact of life, like the sun rising in the east or Ms. Callahan assigning an absurd amount of reading. But over time, it evolved into something more. A sideways glance during test results. A clipped comment in class discussions. A subtle smirk when one of you outdid the other.

By senior year, the rivalry had become the stuff of legend. Teachers tried to keep their distance, afraid to spark a wildfire between you. The rest of the school watched with bated breath, waiting to see who would claim the top spot once and for all.

And then, Ms. Callahan dropped the bomb.

“Your final project will be done in pairs.” Her voice carried across the room, calm and steady, as if she didn’t just upend the lives of her most competitive students.

You barely had time to react before she added the kicker: “And the partners… have been assigned.”

The tension in the room was palpable. A few students groaned, others exchanged wary glances. You sat frozen, gripping your pen as Ms. Callahan began listing names.

When she got to yours, you heard it before you saw it: the sharp intake of breath, the audible pause.

“...Anderson.”

Your head whipped around, locking eyes with Abby, whose expression mirrored your own disbelief. It wasn’t anger or annoyance—not yet, anyway. Just pure, unfiltered dread.

Ms. Callahan’s voice pulled you back to reality. “I expect great things from the two of you.”

Of course, she did. Of course, she thought pairing the two fiercest rivals in the school was a brilliant idea.

You didn’t even hear the rest of the assignments. All you could think was: This is going to be a disaster.

The Aftermath

The bell’s shrill ring echoed through the room, but you remained seated, the words “Anderson” still ringing in your ears. Your classmates filed out, some throwing you sympathetic glances, others shooting amused smirks.

“Guess it’s just you and me now,” Abby said, stopping at your desk. Her tone was light, but there was an unmistakable edge to her smirk—one that ignited the familiar spark of irritation deep in your chest.

You forced yourself to look up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you take over this project.”

Her smirk widened, like you’d just issued a challenge. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’m sure I’ll need someone to double-check your work.”

Her words hit like a match to kindling, and you felt the fire flare. You opened your mouth to respond, but she was already walking away, her ponytail swaying with each step.

This wasn’t just a project. It was war—or so you thought.

The First Meeting

Monday after school, you found yourself heading to the library with a mix of dread and determination. Abby was already there, seated at a table with her laptop open and a cup of coffee by her side.

“Right on time,” she said, not looking up.

“Let’s skip the small talk,” you said as you sat across from her. “What’s your grand plan for making this work?”

She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing in a way that seemed both casual and calculated. “I’ve already outlined a few ideas. You can handle the visuals—I’ll take care of the research.”

You snorted. “Of course, you think you get to decide everything.”

Abby tilted her head, her smirk softening into something almost playful. “Do you ever stop arguing?”

“Do you ever stop being insufferable?” you shot back, but there was no real venom in your voice.

For a moment, the fire between you burned differently—still hot, but less about competition and more about the way her eyes lit up when she laughed softly under her breath.

Sparks Beneath the Flames

The first week of working together was a rollercoaster. Arguments about the direction of the project turned into hours-long brainstorming sessions, punctuated by Abby’s dry humor and your exasperated comebacks.

“You’re not bad at this,” she admitted one day, her tone grudging but honest.

“Wow, Abby Anderson complimented me,” you said, feigning shock. “Someone mark the date.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As the days passed, the rivalry that had defined your relationship began to shift. It wasn’t just about outdoing each other anymore. Somewhere in the late nights at the library and the shared coffee runs, you started noticing things—like how she always brought an extra pen because you’d forgotten yours, or how her confident exterior cracked when she doubted an idea.

And then there was the way her hand brushed yours as you both reached for the same book. It was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you—like a spark catching on dry wood.

Feeding the Fire

By the second week, the lines between rivalry and something more had blurred. Your arguments had turned into playful banter, and your stolen glances lasted just a little too long.

One evening, as you sat across from Abby in the dimly lit library, you found yourself staring at her—not in frustration, but in curiosity. The way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, the way her lips pressed together as she scribbled notes... it was mesmerizing in a way you didn’t want to admit.

She looked up suddenly, catching your gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged with something new.

“What?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, looking away, but your cheeks burned like an open flame.

And that was the moment you realized the fire between you wasn’t just about rivalry anymore. It was something deeper—something you weren’t sure you were ready for but couldn’t stop feeding.

The Vulnerable Truth

You didn’t know what to expect when Abby invited you over to her house. The idea of crossing into her personal territory felt... strange, like stepping into the heart of the storm. Her place was just as polished as you’d imagined—pristine furniture, meticulously arranged decor, and an eerie quietness that seemed at odds with Abby's fiery energy.

“I’ll grab us something to drink,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Left alone, you wandered around the living room, your eyes scanning the shelves and walls. Tucked among pristine family portraits and school trophies was a photo of Abby as a little girl. She was holding a medal, grinning wide, her eyes sparkling with pride. Beside her stood a man—her father, judging by the striking resemblance. His hand rested stiffly on her shoulder, his expression as cold and composed as the room itself.

It all clicked.

“Find something interesting?” Abby’s voice broke the silence, sharp and cutting.

You turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a guarded look on her face.

“I wasn’t snooping,” you said quickly, though you couldn’t shake the weight of what you’d just realized. “I just… saw the photo.”

Her jaw tightened. “Congratulations. You’ve cracked the case.”

“Abby, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” she snapped, stepping closer. “Didn’t mean to dig into things that aren’t your business? To play armchair psychologist?”

You hesitated, then spoke softly. “I just wondered if that’s why you push yourself so hard. Why you have to be the best.”

Her eyes flared, the fire in them unmistakable. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She turned on her heel and stormed down the hall, disappearing into what you assumed was her room.

For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure whether to follow. But then you heard the muffled thud of something hitting a wall, and your feet moved before your brain could catch up.

The Confrontation

You knocked once on her door, but when there was no response, you pushed it open. Abby was standing by her bed, her back to you, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Abby, I—”

“Why are you here?” she interrupted, her voice trembling—not with anger this time, but something far more vulnerable.

“I just wanted to help,” you said, stepping closer.

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “Help? You think you can help me? You don’t know what it’s like to have someone expect perfection from you every single second of every day.”

Her words hit like a punch, raw and unfiltered. You’d seen Abby angry before, but this was different. This was Abby exposed, stripped of the armor she always wore so effortlessly.

“You think I like this? Being the one everyone’s watching, waiting for me to slip up?” She laughed bitterly. “Well, guess what—it’s not about being the best. It’s about not being a disappointment.”

“Abby…”

Your voice was soft, almost pleading, but she was already pacing, her energy frantic. “Do you know what it’s like to see it in their eyes? The second you’re not good enough? I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, her back to you again.

You didn’t think. You just moved, closing the space between you. “Abby, look at me.”

She turned slowly, her walls cracking further, and for the first time, you saw the weight she carried. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand brushing hers.

“I don’t care if you’re perfect,” you said, your voice steady. “I just care that you’re... you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the air between you felt electric. She looked at you, her guarded expression softening into something you couldn’t quite name.

And then she closed the distance, her lips crashing into yours.

A New Kind of Fire

The kiss was urgent, fueled by all the tension that had built between you—weeks, months, maybe even years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Her hands gripped your shirt, pulling you closer, as if afraid to let go.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. Abby’s forehead rested against yours, her eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, understanding, maybe both.

“I hate you,” she whispered, but there was no venom in her voice, only a shaky vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “No, you don’t.”

She huffed a laugh, the tension between you easing slightly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” you murmured, your thumb grazing her cheek.

For the first time, the fire between you didn’t burn—it warmed.

The Fire Between You

The air in Abby's room felt heavier, charged with something that neither of you could deny anymore. The soft hum of the outside world seemed miles away, and all that mattered was the space between you and Abby, the heat that radiated from her touch as she pulled you back in.

Her hands gripped your waist with a desperation that matched the fierce hunger in her kiss, her lips pressing against yours with a sense of urgency, as though she was trying to make up for lost time. The tension from earlier—the unspoken words, the anger, the vulnerability—had all bled away, replaced by something far more consuming.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, to her hair, tugging her closer. There was nothing delicate about this kiss. It was messy, raw, a clash of need and emotion. Abby’s body was warm against yours, her breath shallow as she deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, never letting go.

Her arms wrapped tighter around your waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt as if she was afraid to lose you in this moment. You could feel her heartbeat, fast and erratic, mirroring your own, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like a battle. The competition, the rivalry—it all faded, and what was left was just the two of you, tangled up in each other.

When she finally broke away, both of you were gasping for air, your lips swollen from the intensity of it. Abby's eyes were wild, her pupils blown wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

"God," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would be like this."

You could barely form words, your mind racing from everything that just happened. "Neither did I."

But there was no going back now. Not when the fire between you had been lit, not when everything that had once seemed like a fight now felt like something else entirely.

Abby ran her fingers through her hair, her breath shaky. "I—I don’t know how to do this," she admitted, her voice laced with hesitation. "I’ve never... with anyone... not like this."

You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "You don’t have to have all the answers, Abby. I don’t either."

She met your gaze, the uncertainty still flickering in her eyes, but something else too. "Are we... are we really doing this?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss across her forehead, a silent answer to her question. "Yeah. I think we are."

And as you held her, her body pressed against yours, you both realized that maybe the fire that had always burned between you wasn't meant to destroy—it was meant to light something new. Something neither of you had expected but both of you desperately needed.

The Fire Ignites 

Abby’s hands slipped underneath your shirt, her touch warm against your skin. A mischievous glint flashed in Abby's eye as her hand slid under your shirt, savoring the feel of your heated skin. She traced her fingertips teasingly along your stomach, feeling them tense under her touch.

Her hands reached around your back, finding the hook of your bra with expert ease. She unhooked it slowly, her eyes locked onto yours, daring you to pull away. As the bra fell open, she slid her hands around to your front, gently pushing the fabric aside to feel your bare skin.

As the bra slipped away, Abby's hands cupped your breasts, her thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples. A soft gasp escaped her lips, feeling them harden beneath her touch. Your body arched instinctively into her hands, craving more contact.

A few moments ago, you had uncovered a vulnerable side of Abby, the reason behind her fierce drive. Now, everything had shifted—she was kissing you with a desperate intensity, her hands pulling you closer, touching you in ways you would've never thought would happen between you two, as if she couldn’t get enough. The heat between you escalated, your bodies pressed together, skin meeting skin, the air thick with desire.

With deft fingers, Abby started unbuttoning your uniform blouse, her knuckles lightly grazing your skin with each button she undid. Your breath caught in your throat as she pushed the blouse off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

You stood before her in just your skirt and underwear, feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. "You look so pretty in your uniform,”

You blushed deeply at the compliment, your heart racing in your chest. Abby reached out and gently traced a finger along the waistband of your skirt, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "I've always loved this uniform on you," she murmured, her voice low and husky. 

"You do?" Normally, you prided yourself on keeping your cool, always ready with a witty comeback—especially when it came to Abby. But right now, in this heated moment, your usual confidence slipped away. Your mind felt scrambled, and all you could focus on was the sensation of her close to you, leaving you dizzy and lost in the moment.

“You're so beautiful," she whispered, her words. Her voice was a breathy whisper, full of longing. She reached out and gently pulled the skirt aside, revealing your matching panties. Abby's eyes lingered on the delicate fabric before looking back up at your face. "So beautiful” 

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your eyes darting between Abby's face and her hands. You bit your lower lip, your breathing growing faster as she slowly began to trace patterns on your thighs, her touch light and teasing. You squirmed slightly, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Abby's touch ventured higher, her fingertips brushing against the edge of your underwear. She looked up at you, her blue eyes filled with a fiery intensity. "Can I?" she asked, her voice barely audible. Her fingers hooked into the elastic band of your underwear, waiting for your response.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your heart pounding in your chest. Abby slowly pulled your underwear down, letting them pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, feeling completely bare before her. She stood up and gently pushed you onto her bed, kneeling between your legs. "You're so perfect,”

Abby slowly leaned in, pressing her lips to your inner thigh. She kissed and nibbled her way up, her touch gentle yet firm. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping the bed tightly as anticipation built up inside you. When she finally reached your center, she paused and looked up at you.

With a smoldering gaze fixed upon you, Abby leaned in slowly, her warm breath tickling your most sensitive spot before she finally made contact. A surge of electricity coursed through your body as her tongue found its mark, your hips instinctively lifting off the bed sheets.

Abby wrapped her arms around your thighs to keep you in place, her pace slow and deliberate. She looked up at you again, her eyes filled with desire as she continued to lavish attention on you. Your hands flew to her hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as your breathing grew heavier.

You couldn't hold back a moan as Abby's tongue danced around your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your body shook, your legs trembling as she worked her magic. "Abby, oh god, Abby," you whimpered, your voice strained with pleasure. "I'm…”

Her arms tightened around your thighs as she felt you nearing the edge. She quickened her pace, her touch becoming more insistent. Your back arched off the couch, your fingers gripping her hair tightly as you shattered, your voice echoing through the room as you cried out her name. "Abby!”

Abby continued her attentions as you rode out your high, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the bed, your chest heaving. She placed a final kiss on your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Still caught in the throes of ecstasy, you could only manage a breathless giggle, your body tingling all over. You reached up, cupping Abby's face in your hands and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.

As you kissed her, you gently pushed her back, breaking the kiss. You looked up at her, your eyes shining with desire. "Now it's my turn," you said softly, reaching out to grasp the hem of her shirt. "I want you to strip for me, Abby. Slowly.”

As you broke the kiss, you looked up at Abby and whispered, "Strip for me." Your voice was husky from pleasure, your eyes dark with desire. Abby's smirk grew wider as she stood up, slowly reaching for the hem of her shirt. "With pleasure,”

Abby pulled her shirt up and over her head, revealing her toned midsection and the  bra barely containing her beautiful breasts. She tossed the shirt aside, her eyes never leaving yours. Her hands moved to her pants, unbuttoning them teasingly slow.

Abby shimmied out of her jeans, kicking them away as they pooled around her ankles. She stood before you in just her bra and panties, a sultry smile playing on her lips. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her breasts.

“You look so good Abby…” 

Abby's smile grew wider as she heard your praise, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs. As she stepped out of them, she kicked them aside, standing before you completely naked.

With a mischievous grin, you patted your chest and said, "Come here, I want a taste." Abby's eyes glinted with amusement as she climbed back onto the couch, straddling your chest.

Abby slowly positioned herself over your face, her thighs on either side of your head. She lowered herself until her most intimate area was hovering just above your mouth. Your hands instinctively went to her hips as she gazed down at you with a look of pure lust. "Go ahead”

You eagerly buried your face between her thighs, your arms wrapping around her thighs to pull her closer. Your tongue explored her soft, wet folds, tasting her sweet nectar. Abby let out a low moan, her head falling back as she grinded against your face. "That's it…” 

In that moment, all you wanted was to make her feel good—wanted to be the one to lift her up, even if only for a while. As Abby was on top of you, every thought, every worry, faded away. You weren’t thinking about rivalry or perfection anymore. It was just about her—about giving her something real, something she might not have allowed herself to feel in a long time.

Abby's hands gripped the sheets as you worked your magic with your tongue. Her hips undulated in a sensual rhythm, riding your face with increasing urgency. Soft gasps and moans spilled from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss. "Don't stop…” 

Your dedication to pleasing her was unwavering, and it showed in the way you devoured her pussy. You sucked and licked with reckless abandon, your fingers digging into her thighs as you held her in place. Abby's legs began to shake, her body tensing as she approached her climax.

With a loud cry, Abby's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Her back arched, and she ground her pussy against your face, fucking your mouth with wild abandon. Her juices poured into your mouth, and you drank it all in, not stopping until she collapsed forward, her chest heaving.

Abby turned around and reversed her position on you, She shifted, moving to kneel between your spread legs. Her fingers trailed teasingly up your inner thigh before she suddenly plunged two digits deep into your aching core without warning. "You want this?"

You gasped, your hips bucking forward as Abby's fingers filled you. The sudden, intense sensation was both welcome and overwhelming. Your hands gripped the couch cushions, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself. "Yes... please, Abby," you panted, your voice barely a whisper.

Abby grinned mischievously, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly began to move her hand. Her fingers curved upward, expertly finding that spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your breathing quickened, becoming shallow pants as she steadily increased the pace. "Abby... it's…”

Your words were cut off by a sharp cry as Abby added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. She could feel your walls fluttering around her digits, knowing you were close. "That's it, baby," she cooed, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles.

You thrashed your head back and forth, your mouth open in a silent 'O' as Abby's fingers worked you into a fever pitch. Your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling hard as your hips lifted off the couch, meeting her thrusts. "Abby... I'm... I'm…”

Abby's eyes darkened with triumph as she felt your body tense, your orgasm imminent. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "Let go. Come for me," she commanded, her fingers plundering your soaked depths with increased fervor.

Your back arched sharply as your climax hit you like a tidal wave. You cried out Abby's name, your voice echoing through the room as your inner muscles clenched rhythmically around her fingers. Abby held you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the cushions, spent and trembling.

Abby's expression softened as she looked down at you, cuddled against her chest. She stroked your hair gently, her voice tender. "That was… You were-" she murmured.

Abby chuckled softly, her fingers trailing down your back. “Incredible. You're incredible.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

Then, the air shifted—suddenly, she grew quiet, her expression turning serious. She held you close, but there was a tension in her grip now, as if she was reminding herself of everything she had tried to guard against. She remembered what had brought you both to this moment, and it hit her all over again—this couldn’t be a sign of weakness, of letting her walls down completely. She didn’t want you to see the side of her that she had fought so hard to keep hidden, especially now that you knew why her drive for perfection had always been so intense.

Her fingers tightened around you, but the tension in her grip was clear—she was holding on, but not entirely letting go. Abby’s gaze flickered to yours, then quickly darted away, like she was trying to avoid something she wasn’t ready to face.

“I don’t... do this,” she murmured, her voice unsteady, the words almost lost in the quiet. “I don’t let people in.”

There was a sharpness in her tone, something defensive, reminding you that this wasn’t the Abby you’d come to know—the confident, determined girl who had always kept a distance. This was someone else, someone raw, someone afraid of being vulnerable.

“I’m not asking you to change,” you said softly, your hand brushing her arm. “I’m not asking you to let your guard down completely.”

Abby looked away again, her breath catching slightly as she shifted, pulling back just enough to create space between you. "You should go," she said, her voice suddenly more distant, the walls rising again. "This... doesn't change anything. You were right about me—about everything. It doesn’t just vanish."

You could feel the shift, the sudden return to the distance she’d always kept. Her walls were back up, thick and impenetrable.

"You don’t have to keep pretending with me," you said, your words barely more than a whisper, but they seemed to hit her harder than you intended.

She stiffened, her jaw tightening. "I’m not pretending," she snapped, her voice sharp. "This is just... it’s not normal for me. I’m not... like you. I can’t just... I can’t just let go. There’s always something to prove. To everyone."

Her words cut deeper than you expected. You knew she was driven, had always been, but hearing her admit it so plainly—how much she’d built her life around that need for control—made you realize how much harder it was for her to let someone in.

"I’m not asking you to," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I’m just here. I’m not going anywhere."

She met your gaze again, but this time there was something different in her eyes—hesitation, doubt, maybe even a little fear. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the same guarded expression she always wore.

"Don’t say that," she said, almost pleading. "Don’t act like I’m some... I don’t need someone waiting around for me. I don’t need anyone thinking they can fix me."

The words stung, but you knew they weren’t meant to hurt. She was trying to push you away, but this time, it felt different. Her voice, though sharp, wasn’t as certain as it usually was. You could see the cracks, but she wasn’t ready to let them show yet.

"I’m not here to fix you," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "I’m just here. And if you want me to go, I’ll go. But I’m not going to pretend like this didn’t happen."

Her eyes softened for just a moment, but before you could say anything else, she turned away, pulling the blanket around her tightly. "Please. Just go."

You hesitated, but nodded, the weight of the unspoken things between you heavier than the room around you. Without another word, you left, knowing that whatever had happened wasn’t over—not yet. And whether she would admit it or not, neither of you were the same as you were before.

Quiet Before the Storm

The next day, the library felt heavier than usual. There was a thickness in the air that you couldn’t quite shake, as if everything from the night before had followed you here. You'd barely seen Abby throughout the day. When you did, she seemed like she was in a different world, not meeting your gaze, not acknowledging you like she usually did.

You both had agreed to meet in the library to finish up the project, which was nearly done, but somehow it felt impossible to focus now. You were both supposed to be competitive, to push each other to be the best, to always come out on top. That was the deal. But now, after everything that had happened, things were different—this wasn’t just about grades or outshining each other anymore. It was something deeper, something much worse. There were feelings tangled up in it now, things that neither of you knew how to navigate.

You arrived early, trying to settle your nerves as you stared at the empty table. The clock on the wall ticked in time with the erratic beat of your heart. When Abby finally entered, you felt her presence before you saw her. She was just as you remembered—indifferent, guarded—but this time, there was something else in her eyes. A flicker of something unspoken, something that made you pause.

She didn’t acknowledge you, not in the way she usually did. Instead, she just walked past, set her things on the table, and sat down, almost mechanically. The usual fire in her eyes was gone, replaced by a quiet, almost unsettling calm.

"Let’s just finish this," she said, her voice devoid of the usual sharpness, flat and cold.

You nodded, but as the minutes passed, you realized this wasn’t the same. You weren’t just competing to finish a project anymore. This felt like a competition of something deeper, darker—something that neither of you had signed up for. The connection, the tension, everything that had happened between you both, was still hanging there in the space between you. It was worse than before, because now it wasn’t just academic pride or the need to be the best at school. This was about something more fragile, more vulnerable.

The silence between you both grew, and with it, the understanding that something had irrevocably changed. You both could feel it, but neither of you dared to address it. Instead, you kept working, but every movement felt heavier, as if the weight of your own thoughts and the lingering tension between you was suffocating you both.

It wasn’t just about competing for grades anymore. It wasn’t about who could be the smartest, the most driven, or the best in class. This—this was something worse. It was about what happened when all those walls you built around your pride and your achievements crumbled, and what you were left with was something real, something raw, something neither of you were prepared for.

You didn’t know if this was the end or the beginning of something far more complicated. But you did know one thing: it wasn’t going to be easy.

Something Beneath The Surface

The day of the presentation arrived, and despite the lingering tension between you and Abby, you both found yourselves sitting next to each other in class, preparing for what was supposed to be the grand finale of weeks of hard work. The project that had brought you together was almost complete. Almost. The day felt like it was going to be just another day—until it wasn’t.

Before the bell rang, there had been a quiet unease between you two. Abby had barely looked at you since you both walked in, her eyes focused on the project folder in front of her as she nervously fidgeted with a pen. The usual competitive spark in her eyes had dimmed, and she seemed distant—like she was holding herself back. You couldn’t help but notice the way her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper as if trying to keep herself from unraveling.

You sat quietly, your mind running through the final details of the presentation, but no amount of preparation could silence the knot in your stomach. You knew you couldn’t hide what had happened between you both, but now, in front of the entire class, everything was different. You weren’t just presenting to finish a project anymore. You were presenting as something else—something uncertain, tangled between unspoken feelings and unfinished business.

When the class started, you were called to go up first, and the usual nervousness was replaced by a tension that had nothing to do with the project. Abby stood beside you, her expression unreadable. You started presenting your section, your voice steady, but each word felt like it carried more weight than it should have. The class was watching, but it wasn’t the eyes of your classmates that made you feel exposed—it was Abby’s. She stood there next to you, speaking in her usual calm, collected tone, but her gaze never once met yours. She was speaking as if she were still trying to maintain control, as if this whole thing was just another task to cross off her list.

When it was over, the class clapped politely, but you barely heard them. All you could focus on was the space between you and Abby, the silence that lingered like an elephant in the room. You turned to her, hoping for something—some acknowledgment that you hadn’t just been two strangers presenting a project, but two people who had shared something much deeper.

She nodded stiffly, her eyes still avoiding yours. “Good job,” she muttered, but the words felt distant, like they weren’t meant for you at all.'

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and Abby didn’t wait a second longer. She gathered her things quickly, her movements sharp, like she was trying to escape something. Before you could say anything, she was out the door, leaving you standing there, unsure of what had just happened.

The rest of the class seemed to blur as you walked out, your thoughts racing, not about the project or the presentation, but about Abby. It wasn’t just the project that mattered anymore—it was the looming presence of Ivy Week, just around the corner. Everyone was preparing, everyone was talking about it. It was more than just a week—it was the culmination of years of hard work, of everything that mattered to Abby. And you? You were caught between that and everything that had happened between you two.

You stood there, thinking of what to do next. Should you follow her? Talk to her? Or should you focus on Ivy Week like everyone else and just let everything go?

But even as the question lingered, the anticipation of Ivy Week hung heavy. You could almost hear the voices of your classmates, already strategizing, preparing for what would come—the pressure, the competition, the stakes. Abby, as driven as she was, wouldn’t let this chance slip away, and neither would you. But with everything that had happened between you two, it felt like the real challenge wasn’t the Ivy Week itself—it was figuring out how to move forward when you both seemed to be walking on different paths, yet so undeniably intertwined.

Tipping Point

Ivy Week had arrived in full force, and with it came the heavy anticipation that hung over every conversation, every glance. You could feel it in the air—the competition, the tension, the pressure that had been building for months. It was everything everyone had been working for, and now, it was all coming to a head.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before the news broke. Abby was in the hallway, talking to a group of friends when you overheard her name—your stomach dropped as you realized what they were saying. Abby had been accepted into Harvard. Of course, she had. She had everything it took—the perfect grades, the relentless drive, the ambition. It was all there, like a sign that her efforts had paid off. You felt a small sense of relief; you'd heard about your own acceptance into the Ivy League, and even though you had been so focused on the future, part of you had been dreading what it would mean for your relationship with Abby. You knew it had to come sooner or later—the fact that you were both destined for the same future.

As the day dragged on, it was clear that the excitement surrounding Abby’s acceptance was only making everything more complicated. The halls buzzed with congratulations, but to you, it felt almost suffocating. You’d worked just as hard—maybe even harder—to get to this point. But something about Abby's success, the way she held herself with that quiet, smug pride, made you feel like there was more to it than just academic rivalry.

The day ended, but the weight of the news was still hanging between you two, pulling at your every interaction. You couldn’t avoid Abby for long, and as the evening wore on, she showed up at your dorm room, her face unreadable.

“Congratulations,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual. She hadn’t come to celebrate, not like you’d expected. Instead, there was an emptiness in her words.

“Thanks. Same to you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn’t know what to say. There was so much tension between you two that you couldn’t even look at her without feeling like you were both trying to hold onto something that was slipping through your fingers.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” she said, a small, almost sad smile flickering on her lips. “But I guess... I guess it was inevitable, huh?”

You could tell she was trying to joke, but the bitterness in her voice was hard to ignore. You stood up, not sure if you wanted to get closer or push her away. "It doesn't feel like a win. Not yet," you said, your voice quiet, unsure if you were talking about Harvard, or about everything between you and her. "You were always going to get in. You always do."

Abby tilted her head, studying you carefully. “And you?” she asked, her tone suddenly more serious. “You think I’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? That this is the end of it for me? Getting into Harvard? It’s all just part of the plan, right?”

You were taken aback by the question. You didn’t know what to say. “It’s not just about that, Abby. We’ve been… we’ve been competing for so long, it feels like this whole thing was a game.”

She laughed, a small, dry sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe it was. But I don’t know if I know how to stop. Even now, even after everything that’s happened between us.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could feel the tension crackling. “You don’t have to keep proving anything to me, Abby,” you said, voice wavering slightly. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

Her expression softened, but only for a second, before she seemed to close off again. "I don't know how to not keep proving it," she said quietly. "I’ve spent my entire life doing this—focusing on my goals, on everything being perfect. It’s who I am. And maybe, in some twisted way, I wanted you to be a part of that too. But I’m afraid, if I stop now, I might lose everything."

You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “You won’t lose anything,” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm. "Not if you let yourself live a little. Let yourself have something outside of all this. Something that isn’t about competing. Something real."

Abby met your gaze, her eyes flickering with a mixture of confusion and fear, but also something else—something deeper, something raw. She stepped back, shaking her head. "I don't know if I can," she murmured, voice shaky. "Not after all this time. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed.”

The words stung, but you knew she was still in the process of understanding everything that had happened between you two.

"I get it," you said softly, trying to mask the hurt. "But maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s about winning. Or maybe you just don’t want to let go of the fight we’ve been having. Either way, we’ve been running from this for too long."

Abby didn’t answer right away, but the way she avoided looking you in the eyes told you everything you needed to know.

And as the night fell silent, the weight of Ivy Week, the pressure of the competition, and the uncertainty of your future together loomed over both of you. The storm wasn’t over, but it felt like you were both too exhausted to fight it anymore.

In the silence, all you could hear was your own heart beating, wondering what would come next.

After the Storm

It had been a few days since the tension had shifted between you and Abby, and though things had slowly started to feel lighter between you both, there was still a quiet sort of distance. You hadn't heard from her much after your last conversation, and while you didn’t mind the space, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside her head.

That’s when the knock on your door came.

You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not Abby, so when you opened the door to find her standing there, looking slightly apprehensive, you blinked in surprise. She was dressed in her usual cool, effortless way—jeans, a hoodie, and her sneakers, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. But her eyes, the ones you had come to know so well, were different this time. Soft. Vulnerable, even.

"Hey," Abby said, her voice a little rough. "Can I come in?"

You stepped aside, heart pounding for reasons you couldn't quite explain. "Of course."

She hesitated for a moment before walking in, her steps slow as she looked around your living room like she was unsure of how to act. The quietness between you two was palpable, but there was something in her expression that told you she was here to say something important.

You offered her a seat on the couch, and she took it without a word. You sat down across from her, crossing your legs, unsure of how to begin.

"So," you said, trying to keep your voice casual. "What’s up? What brings you here?"

Abby ran a hand through her hair, a nervous habit you had come to recognize. She seemed almost distant for a second, like she was debating whether or not she should say what was on her mind. Finally, she sighed.

"I’ve been thinking a lot lately… about everything," she started, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard. "About the competition, about how everything was always about being the best. About how much I pushed everyone away, including you."

You blinked, taken aback by her honesty. Abby had never been the type to open up about her feelings so easily, especially not with someone she had been so competitive with.

"I get it," you said softly. "You were just doing what you thought you had to do. It wasn’t about me or anyone else, it was about you trying to be perfect in your own way."

Her eyes softened at your words, and for a moment, you both just sat in silence. The weight of everything that had happened—the arguments, the distance, the unspoken feelings—seemed to hang in the air between you, but there was something different now. Something that felt like the storm had passed, even if the aftermath was still lingering.

"I don’t want to keep pretending like I have everything figured out," Abby admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I don’t want to keep pushing you away. You… you mean more to me than I’ve let myself admit. I’m just scared. I don’t want to mess this up."

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest. She wasn’t the same Abby who had always been so focused on her grades, her goals, her need to win. This was a new Abby—a more open, vulnerable version of herself that she’d kept hidden for so long.

But then, there was the hesitation, the quiet fear that lingered behind her words. "And my parents..." she trailed off, looking away. "They’ve always had these expectations for me—about what I should do, who I should be. They push me so hard, and I always felt like I had to be perfect for them. I didn’t want them to see you as… a distraction. I didn’t want them to think you were just some mistake. I didn’t want to disappoint them."

You listened, your heart sinking as you understood what had been holding her back. The weight of her parents’ expectations had been another chain keeping her from fully embracing what she wanted—what she needed.

You gently reached out, placing a hand on hers, feeling the coolness of her skin as she glanced back at you. "Abby, you don’t have to be perfect for them. You’re allowed to make your own choices. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to have someone who sees you, not just the version they want you to be."

Abby met your gaze, and you saw something shift in her eyes—something lighter, like a part of her was letting go of the weight she’d carried for so long. "I know," she whispered, her voice quiet but firm. "And for the first time, I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if they disapprove of me being with you. I’m tired of living my life for them. I want to live for me."

The relief in her voice was palpable, and you couldn’t help but smile, your chest swelling with affection for her. You had always seen Abby as someone strong, driven by the need to be the best, but now you saw her in a different light—vulnerable, human, real.

She leaned in then, her hands cupping your face as she kissed you softly, her lips warm and tender against yours. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, an unspoken vow between the two of you that no matter what happened, you were both going to be okay.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, and you could feel her breathing even out, the tension from before finally dissolving.

"I don’t want to be scared anymore," she said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I want to see where this goes. I want us to figure it out together, no more fear, no more pressure."

You nodded, your heart full of hope. "We will," you said, voice soft and sure. "Together."

And in that moment, everything felt right. The storm had passed, and what was left in its wake was a new beginning—a chance for both of you to be yourselves, without the weight of the past, without the fear of judgment. You didn’t need to be perfect. You just needed each other.

Together.

[slothquisitor]

Brittle Bones

Summary: In which Lucanis’s new reality sinks in and he realizes just how fucked up the team he’s now part of is. Eventual Rook/Lucanis, 2.8k.

Also on AO3.

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During his yearlong imprisonment in The Ossuary, if Lucanis had thought about freedom at all it was only in a nebulous, abstract sort of way. It had been important not to dwell, not to spend too much time on longing or hoping or wanting. He had always been taught that emotion was weakness, and he was good at emptying himself of it. He had to be. Besides, hope and optimism might have clouded his only goal: survive. 

And he had, and now he’s out, and he’s dropped back into the world, into his life, but nothing is the same. Treviso is occupied by the Antaam, Caterina is dead, Illario is unwilling or unable to see the danger they’re all in with Zara still at large. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d been told that the elven gods are not only real but that he’s expected to help kill them. And then he’d willingly followed Rook through a magical mirror to the fucking Fade. 

He asked for work, didn’t he? And this is the last contract Caterina ever made, and he never was good at telling her no. And alive or dead there is some part of him that cannot refuse. And there is a larger part of him that desperately needs this job, the reassurance that after a year and a demon, he is not so different from before. Killing Calivan, fulfilling his outstanding contract had helped somewhat, but he knows he is out of practice. That’s fine, it gives him something to focus on. So, he treats the Lighthouse like any other job. 

The first thing he does is learn the place, taking stock of his surroundings. He meticulously charts the place, peering into every room and making note of every entrance and exit. This entire dilapidated place makes the backs of his eyes itch, but a few hours later he has a mental map of every room and hallway and stair. The Lighthouse is a sprawling mess of a place, but Rook insists that they’re safe here. Which is all fine and good, but he isn’t safe anywhere. Not like this. 

His next order of business is informed by the first: his own lodgings. It’s an easy choice to settle on the pantry. Rook did tell him he could have any room, and it’s not a real room, but it is what he needs. It’s furthest away from everyone else, putting at least three doors between him and anyone else’s rooms. The door opens inward, which means he can block it, but he can’t be locked in. It’s also dark and dank and not terribly inviting. He doesn’t plan on sleeping much anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s comfortable. It’s better if it’s not. 

He’s doing his best to ignore Spite. Even if Spite isn’t taking very well to being ignored. Last night, he’d hit him in his temper tantrum. Lucanis is used to that, but Rook, Neve, and Bellara…they had stared at him, afraid of and for him. He won’t let that happen again. He can do this job. He can work. 

And that brings him to the biggest job of all: observation. There is plenty to learn about the other inhabitants of the Lighthouse. And it’s only been a day or so, but he’s good at watching. Harding keeps to herself, rarely emerging from her room beyond mealtimes or if she’s going somewhere with Rook. She’s clearly grieving and Neve seems to be offering her a distant sort of understanding, but there’s something else running through it that he can’t quite put his finger on. All four women are consciously and specifically kind to one another, but there’s something frail…brittle about the whole group. Every conversation he witnesses is laced with a fragility of everything they aren’t saying. 

He doesn’t trust a single one of them. It’s not that he’s concerned that he’s in immediate danger or anything, but he hasn’t survived this long through blind trust of anyone or anything. Bellara is the easiest to read, her every thought and emotion that doesn’t come through her many, many words, clearly present on her face. She’s brilliant but easily distracted, and he’s noticed the way Neve tenses whenever Bellara fawns over her, the way her smile grows just a little forced. And then there is Rook. 

Under all the bluster of humor and sarcasm lies her poorly concealed secret: she’s overwhelmed at being somehow in charge of all of this. She’s quick to take responsibility for her hand in releasing the gods, though it sounds as though allowing this Solas to continue with his ritual was probably going to be worse. Probably. She also clearly feels responsible for the cuts and bruises on Neve’s face, but no one is talking about it. He can tell he’s right by the way they don’t talk about it. Even so, Rook’s quick to laugh and faster to smile even through her clear and persistent worry as she tries to buoy up everyone else’s mood. It takes Lucanis less than a day to conclude that this whole group of women are holding each other together with the tremulous threads of hope and a shared cause. 

He’s a mess himself, so he’s not exactly in a position to judge. 

“You have files on everyone?” he asks, sifting through the pile of papers Neve handed him when he walked into her office. He suspects that these are the public files, the ones left where anyone could read them. The real ones she’s probably keeping better hidden. Probably encoded too. But still, what she thinks is safe to share will still tell him much about this new team of theirs. 

Neve doesn’t trust him. But that feels right. He wouldn’t trust him either. Neve’s distrust at least feels familiar. She is calm, collected, and distant. She’s being nice to him despite the clear distrust, and unlike other inhabitants of the Lighthouse, she hasn’t threatened to kill him yet. At least Spite is quieter in her office, he suspects it has something to do with the wisps.  

Neve doesn’t even look up from the notebook she’s writing in. “Of course.”

He opens up his own file, curious what she’s learned. Most of it is the basics: the structure of the Crows, the Talons, and his relation to Caterina. But then there’s a list of his jobs in Tevinter. One in particular catches his eye. “I didn’t think anyone knew about the hit on Magister Dravenus.”

Neve looks up then, mouth twisting in a wry smile. “Not everyone knew that he was part of the Venatori.”

“How did you know it was me?”

Her smile widens. “He was three days dead before the murder was reported. That gave his slaves time to get to the Shadow Dragons. Not many assassins give a shit about a magister’s slaves.”

If that’s his tell, he’s not about to be mad about it. “Professional courtesy. My contract was for him, not his household.” Somewhere in another time, he can hear Illario complaining about his having too much of a heart for his line of work. 

“And helping his slaves was simply a side benefit?”

It had been the right thing to do. “Sure.”

He’s given the wrong answer and he knows it by the way Neve’s mouth turns down, but that’s the only indicator. He returns to the files, opening up Rook’s. Rook’s and Bellara’s are the thinnest by far. Bellara’s isn’t exactly a surprise, since she’s spent most of her life in Arlathan Forest. He’s surprised that Neve has anything on her at all. 

Rook’s is more interesting. He learns her given name for one: Camina Ingellvar. Where the moniker Rook came from is still a mystery that Neve’s file doesn’t solve. But there’s something else. 

“Rook was kicked out of the Mourn Watch? What does someone have to do to offend a group of necromancers? ” Between her Nevarran accent and her manipulation of spirit energy as they’d fought their way through The Ossuary, he’d quickly figured out Rook was a mortalitasi. He’s not exactly thrilled about it, seems like a waste of a good corpse in his opinion, but she had rescued him, so he’s not about to be overly picky. 

Neve looks up from her work, rolling her quill between her fingers. “Everything I’ve learned is in her file; it’s not as if Mourn Watch interpolitics made the Tevinter papers. The way I understand it, she disobeyed an order and pissed a lot of powerful people off. She wasn’t removed, but she’s officially listed as ‘on sabbatical’ and apparently that’s the same thing.”

He has a hard time imagining Rook purposefully doing anything to piss anyone off. Even with an ancient elven god in her head and two others supposedly wreaking havoc across Thedas, she’s maintained an enviable optimism. 

“Things are strained with her and Harding,” he mentions casually.

“Did I tell you Varric Tethras was the one who hired me for this job?” Neve asks. 

Ah. Finally, a name he has heard before. “No.”

In this, some of Neve’s carefully constructed aloofness falls away. “At Solas’s ritual, things went sideways fast. Varric tried to reason with him, but Solas killed him. Afterward, it was so strange…we tried to tell Rook what happened, but it was like she wasn’t there. Like her mind was somewhere else. It was terrifying, but she did hit her head pretty hard, so I let it go. The first day or two she kept talking about Varric as if he was still here. She’s stopped doing that, but she goes to the infirmary a lot.”

She shrugs. “Everyone processes grief differently. I think Harding resents how easily she’s carrying on as if nothing has changed.”

He thinks of Illario’s clear carelessness, of the way he keeps telling himself Caterina is dead as if this time is the time that the words blow will actually land, that he’ll feel something, anything. “Grief is hard.”

People come in three types: Family, contracts, and enemies. He’s still trying to figure out who exactly his are while also feeling out this particular contract. He’s no stranger to working with others, to making alliances and contacts to get him what he needs to get a job done, but this is…different. This is a team and he’s somehow been included in it even with everything that he is. 

And isn’t. 

Later, with a fresh cup of coffee, he retreats into the pantry he’s claimed as his room. He’s tired, but when isn’t he? He’s been awake for days on end during jobs before, so this should be easy. Besides, with enough coffee anything is possible. 

“Not keeping. Your promise,” Spite grumbles, but there’s no rancor in it.  

Lucanis isn’t sure what the demon keeps going on about. He’d kept his side of the deal with the demon. Some part of him was convinced that once he was out of The Ossuary, Spite would go too. That it hasn’t happened that way is…inconvenient. 

Abomination. That is what he is, he supposes. But even in that, he’s not quite right. Because his demon doesn’t have control all the time, only when his slips. When he lets his guard down. So, he won’t be doing that. He sips more of his coffee. It’s passable, but he really needs to get back to Antiva and get some quality coffee in this place. Also groceries. There’s hardly anything edible in this place.

He hears footsteps approaching and he freezes, hand already reaching for his hidden dagger. But the steps are casual, leisurely even; Rook’s by the sound of them. There’s a hesitation at the door as if she isn’t quite sure if she should knock or not. He wonders what the hesitation is about, but then he glances at the demon pouting in the corner and wonders no longer. 

A moment later, she knocks anyway. He maintains his position leaning against the wall. “Come in.”

She’s not in her armor but instead wears a simple blouse and pants. That means this is a social visit. He tenses a little, hoping that with her reappearance that Spite isn’t going to violently demand to speak with her again. She’d looked rather horrified by the whole thing. He’d prefer not to have a repeat. Spite is clearly interested, but he is quiet. For now. 

She smiles as she enters the pantry, her purple eyes glancing around the space. Neve’s file didn’t tell him her age, but he guesses she’s a few years younger than him. She’s elven, but not Dalish, and she plays with the ends of her long, brown hair when she’s nervous. She’s doing it now. “I…uh…just wanted to drop by. See how you were settling in? You know we have other rooms, right? You don’t have to sleep in the pantry.”

He forces a smile and a twisting truth that’s not quite a lie. “Are you asking why the trained assassin prefers a quiet, unassuming spot with good choke points?” 

If she catches any hint of a lie, she hides it well. “Well, so long as you’re comfortable then.”

“Thank you.” He’s not used to such concern over his comfort, but he can see that this is Rook’s way. 

“Is…uh…Spite here?” she asks. 

“Here,” the demon replies, with a sing-song lilt of his voice as he stalks a bit nearer to her.

Lucanis sighs. “Perpetually.” 

Rook nods once and then addresses a spot she clearly assumes Spite is. She’s about three feet off. “Spite, you are quite welcome here as well, but there will be no more hurting Lucanis. Am I clear?” 

Lucanis is surprised at how firm and unyielding her voice is, at the sharp edge the usual light-hearted sarcasm has given way to. He suddenly sees the person from Rook’s file, the one who would disobey an order, make the call that needed to happen if she believed in it enough. She’s talking to Spite, but it’s him who has the ridiculous compulsion to stand a little straighter. 

Spite approaches him. “I want. To Talk.” The demon is insistent, but not in the same way as last night. 

Lucanis can’t help but smile. “She asked you a question.” It’s nice to be able to needle him back for once. 

Spite glares at him and then at her. “Not. Hurting.”

“I think that was agreement to your terms, but it’s hard to say,” he shrugs. 

“Thank you, Spite,” Rook replies with a smile. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

She looks utterly confused. “Do what?”

“Talk to him.”

She crosses her arms. “But he’s standing here in the room. That would be rather rude, don’t you think?”

“Rude. Yes. Want to talk.” 

“Don’t encourage him. I’m trying to get rid of him, not make him more comfortable.”

There’s an emotion in her eyes he can’t quite place, isn’t sure what it means. It feels familiar, almost disappointment. He worries he’s managed to say the wrong thing again. “If we can help you with that, we will. Are you sure you’re okay being here?”

He’s a professional. Of course. “I’m fine; Spite won’t be a problem again.”

She looks surprised at his response and then immediately sorry. “I should have been clearer. You just lost a family member. I know you said you needed to work, but if you have responsibilities in Treviso or if you’ve changed your mind now that you’ve had some time to think about it…”

Oh. More…concern for him. He wants to appreciate the sentiment, but he can’t go home anyway. Not like this. Caterina is dead, and it is only because he is free…but he’s not really free so what has he really gained and what has he lost?

He doesn’t say any of that. 

“When the First Talon of the Crows gives you a contract, you do it. Especially if she’s your grandmother. Besides, I owe you a debt, and after a year in that hole, I’m looking forward to stabbing a god or two in the back.” It’s the last contract his grandmother made, and he intends to see it through. 

“Alright then, if we’re going up against gods, we’re going to need all the help we can get. But…uh, I’m glad you want to be here.” She smiles before she goes, something soft and honest and true. 

He’s almost sorry to be alone again until he realizes that Spite was hanging on every word. 

[seaofreverie]

So I wanted to apply to the second level of studies at the university where I did my bachelors degree after a year long break and it was lowkey my only plan for the forseeable future (2 more years of studying until I have to start thinking again about what in the actual fuck I want to be doing with my life). And today I learn that despite me passing the final exam one year ago with 100% points and them saying on their website that results from last year will be taken into account during this year's recruitation for the second level... it turns out that no, you have to pass the exam THIS year, and those start in about two weeks from now. I emailed them about this because they were giving me some contradicting information to put it mildly and they tell me that ooops, sorry about that, that thing on our website was outdated. So, you're saying that you have chosen war.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[princessmyriad]

.

[bigpeepee]

okay so i am once again in a bit of a pickle due to the fact that i never learn from my mistakes :)