#flank trio

[smokesandsonatas]

I just want to see the Octavinelle trio get surprised, tongue-tied and amused because the reader is cunning.

Characters: Azul, Jade, and Floyd.

Warnings: None, just the old contract signing the Octavinelle way. First person pov. Mostly in Azul's pov. Tension (?).

Not beta read.

Shrimp Cocktail.

Apparently, it does not take a lot to amuse the Octavinelle trio. Or the story where you took a deal with Azul and it went unexpectedly.

They should learn not to underestimate Shrimpy.

Azul had always underestimated you. In his eyes, you were a mere human—a dimwitted fish floundering in the waters of Night Raven College. You lacked the cunning and intelligence of Jade, who could manipulate any situation with a few well-placed words, and you weren’t a lazy smartass like Floyd, who could memorize an entire book but discard it just as easily if he found it dull and boring. With your easy-going nature, you seemed like the perfect prey.

Well, you are the perfect prey.

Here you are, sitting in Azul’s office at the Mostro Lounge, the twins flanking you in chairs beside you. Floyd lounged with a lazy grin, manspreading on the sofa, while Jade sat, poised like a gentleman, a smirk barely concealed behind his gloved hand. Grim had been left behind at the ramshackle dorm, leaving you alone in the scammer's den. Azul could barely contain his amusement—you had just fallen into his trap, one he fully intended to exploit. You sat quietly in front of him, your face poised with a neutral expression. To Azul and the twins, you looked kind, naive—perhaps even a little stupid. They think you are an airhead. Their excitement was barely contained. They got you right where they wanted you to be. Here in Mostro Lounge, with no one but them watching over you like predators waiting to pounce and choke their prey.

"You're here for the favor of us providing Grim with food three times a day, seven days a week, for the duration of your absence with Professor Trein as the school's official photographer at an event outside Night Raven College," Azul began, his voice dripping with the saccharine politeness he used to mask his true intentions. "In exchange, you agreed that you will work for fourteen days, regular shifts, without any compensation for Mostro Lounge. I expect you to fully commit to your duties."

You nodded, hands neatly placed on your lap, a small smile on your lips. "Yes, that’s exactly it."

Jade’s grin widened slightly. You were so naive, so predictable. Pathetic, really—but there was something endearing about your earnestness. Everyone in Octavinelle liked this about you—how you walked into traps with your eyes wide open, never realizing until it was too late. You really are a shrimp, through and through. No sense of survival, no sense of fear.

Jade could feel his twin looking earnestly in you, their expression one of amusement.

You will never survive in the ocean.

"Very well then, Prefect," Azul continued, practically trembling with excitement as he handed you a golden scroll, a quill magically appearing in his gloved hand. "Sign this contract, and the favor you ask shall be yours."

You took the pen, hovering it just above the dotted line. Azul’s eyes gleamed with anticipation—just a few more minutes—seconds, and you’d be bound by his terms, forced into two weeks of unpaid labor. The satisfaction was almost too much to bear. You would be working without compensation, and Azul could even charge you for any drinks or food you will consume during your shifts!

Azul had also noticed that whenever you work, customers come flocking in! Is it because you're the famed Ramshackle dormleader? He can only suspect so. He might also have you gather more customers—all for free, technically, you are working free to him anyway.

Azul raised an eyebrow when he saw you set the pen down and lean back, that small smile on your lips widening into something sharper, more calculating.

Azul frowned.

"Azul," you began, your voice light and casual, but with an edge that made the room’s atmosphere shift. The twins noticed it too. Jade’s eyes narrowed slightly yet the smirk remains in his lips, and Floyd’s grin widened a little more as they both watched you closely—their eyes glued to you as a clear sign of their newfound interest.

Azul blinked, thrown off by your sudden change in demeanor. "Is something wrong, Prefect?"

"Not at all," you replied smoothly. "I’ve just been thinking about our arrangement. Fourteen days of unpaid work for three meals a day for Grim. It sounds like a fair trade, but then I realized something interesting."

Azul’s hand twitched slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. The contract is perfect in his eyes, all will favour him, how could it not be perfect? "And what might that be?"

You leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "Well, the contract is almost perfect. Almost. But there’s one tiny detail that caught my attention—the meals for Grim. You’ve agreed to provide them three times a day, seven days a week, but the contract doesn’t specify the quality of those meals, does it?"

Azul’s smirk faltered, it is common sense that Grim will be given tuna in cans, isn't it? "The meals will be adequate, and his favourite tuna—"

"Ah, ‘adequate,’" you interrupted, your tone almost playful. "That could mean anything, really. Some stale bread, leftover scraps—technically, that would fulfill the contract, wouldn’t it?" You giggle, a sound so sweet it almost had the twins—in their fascination, to stand up and hover behind you. You heard a thud, no doubt it was the twins. Jade’s eyes narrowed, yet his smirk remains, replaced by a look of intrigued and amusement. Floyd sat up straight, fully intending to be by your side yet his uniform was immediately yanked down by Jade, stopping him from interfering. Floyd almost let out a hiss at his twin, though eventually he relents.

"But here’s where things get interesting," you continued, voice dropping to a near sweet tone that Azul use. "If Grim receives such ‘adequate’ meals, he might not be satisfied. A can of tuna alone won't cut it, he needs meat. A properly cooked, healthy meat seeing as he is a carnivore. He could get hungry, irritated—perhaps even cause trouble." You pout—a gesture which distracted Azul for a second as his eyes fell on your lips—appearing as meek as possible, "And as his caretaker, his henchman, I’d be worried. Distracted. And a distracted worker is an inefficient worker."

You locked your eyes against Azul's blue ones.

Azul’s eyes widened as he began to see where you were leading him. He blinked in intrigued and a mix of irritation and amusement.

"And," you pressed on, now leaning on the table, merely inches away from Azul's face. "if Grim were to get sick or cause problems because of poor nutrition, it wouldn’t just be a problem for me." You roll the scroll and use it to poke Azul's chest. "It would be a problem for Mostro Lounge. After all, you’re responsible for providing his meals, for almost a week at that. Any disruption he causes would reflect poorly on your business, wouldn’t it?"

Azul’s mind raced as he tried to find a loophole, but you had him cornered. Refusing your amendment meant sticking to a contract that could end up causing more trouble than it was worth. Agreeing to it, however, would mean committing to a higher standard of care for Grim, cutting into his profits. Twenty-one cans of tuna is not a big expense for him, but if you're to insist on nutritious meals... Well, that would cost him much more than what he intended to provide for your gremlin of a cat.

A simple overlooked in his part really, perhaps it is his fault for thinking you're one of those anemones that will blindly agree to anything without reading the fine print.

Finally, Azul forced a smile. "What do you propose, Prefect?"

You smiled sweetly, as if this were all a friendly discussion. "I propose that the meals provided for Grim meet a specific standard. Balanced, nutritious, and satisfying. A mix of tuna and properly cooked meat. A steak even. That way, Grim stays in good condition, I stay focused on my task outside of Night Raven College, and Mostro Lounge continues to run smoothly." You smiled at Azul as you lean at the table—mere inches away from his face, the octomerman can practically inhale your scent, have you always smelled this good?

"I also propose that I won't do overtime during my shifts for fourteen days, though I will not get paid, I would love it if my meals and drinks are free of charge—all within the time of my shift, of course."

You smiled sweetly at Azul—the way you don't break eye contact. It's exhilarating. It's making him sweat under his dorm uniform. "It’s in everyone’s best interest, don’t you think?"

Azul hesitated. This was not the agreement he had envisioned. His meticulously designed scheme had been dismantled by your shrewd maneuvering. We're you secretly a trickster? Appearing naive and helpless yet you are the one who catches people in your trap of being a false prey.

With a begrudging sigh, he conceded, "Very well, I’ll agree to the contract your propose. The meals provided for Grim will meet the specified standards, and you shall have the favours you asked during the course of your shift at Mostro Lounge."

You picked up the pen again, a triumphant glint in your eyes as you prepared to finalize the deal. A sweet, sweet, smile on your lips. "Thank you, Azul. I’m so glad we could come to an agreement."

As you signed the contract, Azul's sense of triumph morphed into a tumult of frustration and begrudging admiration. It's disgusting, your body language appeals to him—he knows it appeals to the twins too, given how Floyd is laughing right now, with Jade snickering beside him. You're one of the first—if not the first who had successfully turned the tables on him. It is not even a heavy contract, just an agreement for food and yet, Azul concedes to your demands. Though he suppose it is not bad, since he will see you everyday for almost two weeks. What had seemed like a one-sided victory for him had morphed into a more balanced exchange. You had come into his office alone, seemingly naive, and yet you had outmaneuvered him with words that unsettled him deeply, yet amused him greatly—jellyfishes swimming on his stomach. Perhaps during that time for your compensation he will invite you to his office so he can give you a proper assessment.

Heh, not bad at all.

Jade and Floyd had their mismatched eyes glued on your form, as you stand. Admiring the sway of your hips as you walk outside the room where nobody ever comes out as victorious as you are. You, a small shrimp, had greatly amused the twins. Unfortunately for you, Floyd hates being bored and Jade loves unpredictability—both qualities you tickled the moment you succesfully negotiated a deal with none-other-than Azul Ashengrotto.

As you left the room, Floyd let out a low, almost purring chuckle—how dare you Shrimpy? His blood is now pumping in excitement because of you. "Hehe, Shrimpy’s got some real bite, huh? This is gonna be interesting."

Jade’s gaze followed you with a newfound intensity. "Indeed. The prefect is far more dangerous than they appear. Heh, perhaps they relish the game, much like we do."

Azul was left staring at the contract, his frustration intertwined with a growing, unsettling admiration. You weren’t the dimwitted fish he had thought you were. No, you were a tempest—a captivating, unpredictable force in the waters of Octavinelle. The way you had twisted the terms of the agreement had left him both disturbed and intrigued. Your brilliance was both unsettling and exhilarating, making him realize that you were a much more dangerous fish than he had ever anticipated.

A shiver of something dark and obsessive crept into his thoughts. You had managed to turn a simple negotiation into a display of strategic dominance, leaving him with a dangerous mix of respect and a growing, unsettling fascination. The twins are no better, Jade glues you into his memory, the way you answer casually—it is attractive. Floyd is well, Floyd. He might visit you later and compliment you for outsmarting Azul!

Hehe, who would've thought you are a predator in your own right? Perhaps the shrimp cocktail is a dish best served cold after all.

[vintagerpg]

Black Sword Hack: Ultimate Chaos Edition (2023) is a beautiful little system derived from David Black’s Black Hack of D&D. The obvious literary touchstone is Elric and Moorcock’s larger cosmic conflict between Law and Chaos. There are many other clear influences, though — Jack Vance’s Dying Earth, Lankhmar, Kane, Poul Anderson. I suspect that is Jirel of Joiry on the back cover, flanked by Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. Perhaps they’re a trio of entirely different people — Goran Gligovic’s art vibrates on strange frequencies, as if you’re looking at archetypes from a parallel universe.

The core systems work essentially as they do in Black Hack, so I won’t go into them here. The additions contribute to the doomful atmosphere. These amount to a set of different sorts of pacts — demons, evil swords, fairies, and so on. There are a varieties of powers to draw on and be consumed by.

The rest of the book is given over, mostly, to tools for collaboratively creating a world and a central city for players to inhabit, explore and, eventually, ruin and destroy. Goes with the territory, really. A couple scenarios round things out. A fantastic appendix lays out a method to create adventures using your favorite paperback fantasy novel.

Black Sword Hack touches on many of the same themes as Chaosium’s Stormbringer, but in a more minimal, smoother sort of way. It’s more direct, really. It’s also its own thing, and every game is unique, thanks to the world generation. I’m keen to see it develop further.

[andromacheofappalachia]

Viking AU where Viking!Gaz has given up raiding and now hunts and farms with his thrall turned wife reader who forages and weaves. The two are disgustingly devoted to the other despite their initial differences in everything from tongue to the land that each was born on. Soulmates in every sense. Isolated from the rest of the world aside from the eyes of the Gods. That is until Viking!Price appears within their field, flanked by Viking!Ghost and Viking!Johnny. Gaz feels true fear in that moment. The kind that sinks the heart and turns bones to stone. For the first time he has something to fear other than death and that is his fear for what would become of you. Should this be a raid. Should those men get their hands on soft, sweet you.

Price claims to only wish to trade for some food and a roof for one night. That they had merely stumbled upon the cottage. Gaz doesn't believe it at first--not entirely--until you notice that Johnny is injured and offer to tend to him. To allow them into your home.

Neither could have prepared for the fact that the trio did not just stumble upon them.

Or perhaps the even worse one, that they did not plan to leave either.

[filmtv2022]

Your Fate Is My Own

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Synopsis: The reader finds herself trapped in the shadow of her brothers, Geta & Caracalla. When General Marcus Acacius returns to Rome at the behest of the emperors, she is forced to face the very person she thought she'd lost forever.

Warnings: Kiss(es) + some swearing + period-appropriate expectations of women.

A/N: So to be fucking for real... I have no idea if this story complies with the plot of the movie or what actually happened in history. I have some working knowledge of Roman history, but I wasn't too pressed about getting things "right" for this story. If that bothers you... just move on. I wanted to focus on an interesting relationship backstory between the reader and Marcus. If you guys like this and/or I feel like it, there is the possibility I'd write more for these two (probably after watching the movie here in a couple of weeks.) As always, all mistakes are my own, forgive me!

Also... just to clarify... the reader may be a bit younger than Marcus, but she is meant to be read as far closer in age to him than to her brothers (older sister). Writing for large age gaps is something I'm NOT comfortable with and did NOT incorporate in this story.

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

Echoed voices traversed the cavernous halls of the palace, greeting you long before the men to whom they belonged reached the marble and gold gilded room you inhabited. Perhaps it would have been prudent to stand, to adjust the layers of your flowing cotton dress, or even to consider in any way your appearance ahead of such a meeting with your illustrious guest, but no part of you could find it within yourself to care. Not when more pressing matters weighed heavily on your mind. 

Wood groaned under the brutish touch of the emperors’ posse. The guards that constantly flanked them entered the room first, posting themselves near the windows and door, their faces stoic or bored, more likely the latter considering the vapid tirade of shit flowing from Geta's mouth. The wine was bitter against your tongue, burning the delicate skin of your throat with each sip. A haze had settled over your limbs, leaving them heavy and your tongue loose. 

Your brother’s diatribe continued unchecked even as his guest’s attention waned. The General’s armor-clad chest practically gleamed in the flowing torchlight. The world seemed to move and sway around the trio, their power and might on display, but there was a difference to be sure. Geta’s slight frame held no weight,  and yet every ear turned to him, every hand either sought to please him or to protect him. Caracalla was somehow even less imposing, his attention to Geta so fervent it bordered on the obscene. The same could not be said for the General. His mere presence in the space filled it to the breaking point. Energy, passion, and intelligence poured off of him, setting those around on edge, wondering about his next step. His attention was rightly divided between the twittering men beside him, the guards stationed around him, and strikingly, the addition of your presence before him. 

The soft swish of your dress as you stood was lost in the chaos of the moment, but your words were not. They were out of your mouth before their implication could be considered, something you’d likely pay dearly for later. 

“Marcus Acacius.” The room stopped, and footfalls drew silent as every eye fell on you, now standing beside the head of the table. “How lovely to see you! " Thinly veiled disgust and temperament sharpened each word.

“It’s General, dear sister. Address him properly or I fear I must ask you to leave.” Geta’s voice grated at your nerves but now was not the time. 

“Do not pretend any of you wish for my company, but I shall do my best to acquiesce to the niceties you desire.” A sly smile turned the corner of your lips as you addressed the statuesque figure beside Geta. “General Marcus Acacius, how are you finding the Rome you’ve so diligently protected? I’m sure my brothers have spared no expense in treating you to our finest. One can only hope it's been enough to cover up the stinking pile of shit that festers in the heart of this city.” 

“Sister!” Geta snapped, spittle flying from his lips as he scolded.

“Brother.” You paid him only momentary attention, just long enough to freeze his protests before turning back to the General. “You’ve yet to answer to me, General? Don’t tell me the great warrior's afraid to speak his mind.” 

Hesitant, he searched for the words he hoped wouldn’t further inflame the situation,  and fell short, “It has been adequate.” 

“Adequate.” You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that tumbled from your lips, “Just adequate? You mean to tell me that the blood sport of the arena doesn’t hold the same allure as it once did? But I mean how could it after all those years spent traipsing about in carnage? Burning and bloodying foreign lands all for a scrap of glory. I'm sure nothing can compare to that.”

Caracalla grumbled, but his words were stilled by Marcus’ subdued response, “You disagree with the expansion of Rome?” 

“What I do or do not agree with is of little importance.” Reaching for the decanter of wine, you sloshed more into the empty crystal glass that sat perched before you. 

“But you do? Disagree that is?” He held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes while divulging nothing of his own feelings. 

“Those are your words, not mine.” Clearing the edge of the table, wine in hand, you stepped closer to your brothers and their esteemed guest. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening.” With only your eyes, you met Marcus', the soft brown of his seemed to glow, “General.” 

“My lady.” 

With no further words of departure, you left the room stunned to silence. There would most certainly be hell to pay for the way that conversation had gone, but that was indeed a problem for later. 

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

The inky blackness of the night sky and shadowed land blended seamlessly into the horizon. Free from the burden of the public eye, you luxuriated in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open balcony door. Below the soft murmur of voices had given way to the occasional clatter of armor as the guards settled into their usual spots, for no matter your differences Geta would be damned if you were left unprotected. Sadly, and to his lack of understanding, the guards he’d so carefully chosen had a deep penchant for showing up to their watch three sheets to the wind. 

You couldn't be sure of the hour,  but it had been quite some time since you’d made your exit. Greeting the General with words of derision hadn't been the anticipated outcome and still, you felt no qualms about it. For the General was astute in his assumption, you did disagree with the expansion of Roman territory. For Rome was long past the point of needing more and the conquest had become one merely for the purpose of appearances. How better to convince the world of your prowess than to eliminate the threat of opposition? Ply them with entertainment, blind with enthusiastic and unbridled patriotism, and pray to the gods no one noticed the foundation crumbling beneath them. That was the plan, tenuous and strained though it was. 

Laying back upon the pillows, their silk coverings ran cool against your wine-flushed skin. The weight of your frame pressed into the bed below, forming to your curves and hugging you tightly. It was glorious and yet it was a comfort you knew too many hardworking and loyal Romans would never experience. The safety of a warm room and a bed for rest, without a care or thought as to where their next meal would come from. It seemed unfair that you, of all people, should have so much when so many did more with far less.  But that was never to be your lot, fighting for Rome, for the poor farmer, for those who were the backbone of society. No, there'd never be a place for you to do that. Instead, you found yourself resigned to a life behind closed doors, seen and not heard when in public, and entirely ignored in private.  

A quiet knock sounded across the room, snapping your eyes open and pricking at your nerves. The ever-present danger that lurked within the inner circle left you cautious, but when a second knock met your ears it removed the choice of inaction. The marble was chilled beneath your bare feet, sending a silent shiver down your spine. At the door, you pressed your ear to the wood, listening for any sign of distress beyond. Hearing nothing, you cracked the barrier and took in your surroundings. 

No longer dressed in his formal attire, General Marcus Acacius stood no less formidable than before, and yet the lines beside his eyes told of the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed him down like a heavy trading ship caught in a violent storm. 

“General Acacius. If you are looking for my brothers they are not here. And at this hour it is likely that are… otherwise engaged.”

“It is not them I seek.” His demeanor remained that of a battle-trained soldier, calm and collected.

“I see.” Turning away, you stepped back into the room leaving the door open behind you while closing those that marked the balcony. Marcus took that as an invitation to enter the space, closing the door behind him, and stopping just beyond it.  With your back still to him, you continued to speak, “Then how may I be of assistance? For we've already established I have not the eyes nor the ears of the Emperors. And as unfortunate as it may be, the senate has their heads so far up their own asses I fear the only thing they can see is the putrid brown of the Tiber during a flood.”

“Drop the act.” Marcus struggled against his instinct and remained glued to his spot. 

“There is no act, Marcus.” You snapped back to face him, your jaw clenched with every word. “There is only a role which must be fulfilled. And as thankful as I am to the gods for only time parting us and not death, I'm afraid you no longer have a part to play in my story.”

“Don't do this.” His voice was even, unfazed despite the swell of emotion that barreled toward the surface. 

“Do what? Speak the truth?” Your stomach flipped, sending bile burning in your throat. The General’s brows knitted together, sharing barely a fragment of his pain, but it was enough for you to see the war he waged inside.

“Push me away.” And with that, his steadfastness broke. Quick and powerful steps brought him to you, his broad hands falling to your waist and cheek, tipping your face to his and pleading for you to listen. 

“I am not the one who left, remember that.” The bridge of your nose burned and wetness pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the stunning vision of the man before you. “I am not the one who has stayed away all these years.”

“There was no choice! They told me to go and I went. If I’d refused… they would’ve-” 

“Killed you, I know, and I fault you not for it. And yet that changes nothing of what I've said. ” Your forehead dropped to the center of his chest as his sure fingers threaded through your hair, cupping the back of your head. Reaching for him, your fists twisted in the front of his tunic. The maroon fabric was soft to the touch, but it was the heady scent of him that filled your senses forcing the tears from your eyes. “I cannot be your Marcus, not in the way that is desired. We cannot do this, fall back into each other’s arms, and pretend as if nothing has changed. You are here to appease the Emperors and I am… I am nothing more than a pawn to be owned and then put into play at the right time.”

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster, Marcus lifted your face to his. The timber of his whisper traveled gracefully to your broken heart, “No matter what they desire, you are no one’s property for they cannot steal the wonder that is your loving heart and tenacious mind. Rome would be a far better place if people such as yourself were given the space and power to make it so.” 

His calloused thumb brushed tender arcs along the high point of your cheek. Trapped in his gaze, your voice quivered, “And Rome is better with you as her General. Never forget the kindness in your heart, Marcus. That desire to protect those in need. They’ve tried to twist you into something brutish and lowly, but they do not know the goodness that runs deep within you. May the gods never let them steal it.” 

The silence that fell between you was heavy with desire, and unspoken need, for words were not enough. Knowing this and throwing all caution to the wind, Marcus brought his lips to yours. The embrace was slow and passionate. Drinking in the taste of you, his lungs hitched at the feeling of your hands on his body moving along the broad expanse of his chest.  You toyed delicately with his tunic, memorizing the feel of him beneath the thin fabric that separated you. A deep grumble reverberated in his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Only the distant sounds of heavy footfalls broke the pair of you apart. 

With chest heaving, Marcus rested his brow against yours. The warmth of his breath drifted over your face, comforting you in the wash of emotions that battered in the wake of your shared embrace. Sensing the moment waning, you spoke the truth you’d feared to share but knew could mean the difference between life and death. “Hear me Marcus, do not trust them. Move with them only so far as is necessary. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end, listen not to their praises and promises. Your fate rests squarely in the hands of men who care little whether you live or die.” 

The General swallowed hard, catching his breath before he replied, “I hear you. And I promise you, from my lips to the gods, I will fight to stay by your side if you’ll have me. I am yours for as long as fate will allow. No more running. No more putting glory above all else. I made the mistake of leaving you behind, and there is no future in which I intend to make that mistake over again.” 

“Your fate is my own. If you burn, I burn with you.” Once again you found each other, your lips working in perfect synchronization. For now only the power of the gods could stop the pair of you. Together you’d face the tempest and weather the storm for the hope of a brighter tomorrow stood just beyond its shadows.

[simplyhughes]

A Hughes Summer: The Arrival

Synopsis: A Hughes Summer is an ongoing series about a HughesSister!Reader x Connor Bedard! This will follow multiple scenarios of their summer together spent at the infamous Hughes Lake House! If there are any specific scenarios you’d like to see, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

Content Warning: none!

Pairing: Connor Bedard x Hughes!Reader

Part One

wc: 1k

Navigating dating the best rookie in the league while being surrounded by three brothers, all notable players themselves has been extremely chaotic, to say the least. Hockey has permeated all corners of my life, not that I necessarily mind, but being born into a hockey family has definitely altered my taste in men. Connor, my boyfriend, and my trio of brothers have clashed on the ice before, obscured by layers of gear, battling fiercely for the puck. But today marks the moment of formal introduction, and I can't deny the flutter of nerves within me. My brothers are intense; Quinn has this odd maternal instinct toward me, Jack is just downright wild... and with Luke, I'm actually not too concerned, as long as I keep him supplied with a snack to gnaw on.

As the 2024 hockey season drew to a close, Connor and I made the spontaneous decision to embark on a road trip from Chicago to Michigan, where I planned to introduce him to the beloved Hughes summer lake house tradition. Every summer for as long as I can remember, my family has spent the majority of the summer in Michigan, lounging at the lake house. With every mile closer to our destination, my heart quickened its pace, anticipation mingled with nerves as the moment of collision between my two worlds drew near. Yet, amidst my own jitters, I couldn't help but notice the anxiety radiating from the driver's seat beside me, where Connor sat, his nerves seemingly even more pronounced than mine.

It seemed like he was on a timer; every couple of minutes, he dragged his palms against his thighs, wiping his sweat to keep his grip on the wheel. In between that, he’d run his hands through his hair and check his reflection in the rearview mirror. After watching him do this a few times, I couldn't help but chuckle. Connor glanced over at me before turning back to the road and smiled. “What?” he chuckled back at me.

“You are just cute, that's all,” I replied, still with a smile plastered on my face.

“Oh yeah?”

“For Sure”

The car fell into silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence, but you couldn't help but feel bad that he was nervous. “Connie, they are gonna love you. I promise.”

“I really hope so, y/n.”

“I know they don't know you yet, but I do know they already admire your skill and drive. But they are gonna love you, promise.”

Connor looked at me, his eyes softened and gave me his signature lopsided smile. I stretched my arm out to the car's console and turned up the radio's volume.

The car rumbled along the graveled, mud-plastered driveway, flanked by towering trees that resembled skyscrapers, the only resemblance to the city we had just departed. Finally, the vehicle came to a halt. Connor shifted the gear to park and wiped his palms once more. He unbuckled his seatbelt, popped the trunk, and went to retrieve some of our luggage from the back. Before handling our belongings, Connor opened my door and offered me a hand. I grasped his hand, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you, Con. Chivalry isn't dead, I suppose. But you gotta do something about the sweat, baby,” I teased.

His eyes rolled, and he bumped me jokingly with his hip. Together, we made our way to the trunk. As I started to gather my things, Connor swiftly snatched the bags from me.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“Chivalry,” he smirked.

Connor, busy with all the bags, let out a huff as he unloaded his arms on the front porch. I rammed my finger into the doorbell multiple times, rapid-fire style, just to annoy my brothers.

“HOLY SHIT MAKE IT STOP!” I heard one of my brothers yell, muffled by the walls. The door swung open revealing the shortest of the three brothers. “QUINNIFER!” I shouted, jumping into his arms. “Hey, Peanut!” he shouted back. We shuffled back into the house where I was then greeted by the other two. After almost being squeezed to death, the attention shifted to the awkward blonde standing alongside the bags. I cleared my throat, “Guys, this is Connor!”

“Hey man, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Quinn said, giving him a handshake. Luke followed suit while Jack just stayed back. The middle brother narrowed his eyes, watching his other brothers greet the new guy. “Jack quit being a dickhead and say hello.

“I’m just busting his chops y/n, don't worry,” Jack smirked. “What's up?” He finally spoke, shaking Connor's hand.

“Quinny, can you please handle our bags while I give Connor the grand tour?”

“Whatever, anything for my favorite sibling,” he replied, immediately getting hassled by the other two.

I managed to grab Connor's hand and sneak him around the brawl leading him into the living room. His eyes trailed along the pictures that decorated the mantle; pictures that told the Hughes’ past summers, the quilt that was draped against the couch; the quilt that was ripped and resewn back together, it held too many memories to throw out. He soaked in the room, observing all the details laid before him. I plopped down onto the couch, also soaking everything in. “What do ya think?” I questioned.

“I think that you were adorable,” Connor gushed while picking up a framed picture from almost 14 years ago. He looked it over for another minute, then put it back down in its spot. I smiled watching Connor, seeing him in this house that meant so much to me. He fit in so perfectly, it’s like he's been here all this time. My smile only grew thinking about the events this summer longs to unfold, how this will be his first summer in Michigan with many more to follow.

[apompkwrites]

the school-bound kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: Mwezi Miji Trio (OCs), Leona, Ruggie (platonic) genre: Angst contains: (Brief) Swearing, Possible OOC moments (depending on how you view Leona and Ruggie [mainly Leona]) summary: Following the admittance of Night Raven College's newest freshmen, both Kingscholars begin to come to terms with the newest changes in their lives. notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AGAIN OTZ. Unfortunately, my lapses of writer's block and demotivation have only increased since I last posted. I'm trying to get back into the hang of posting things (as evident by my art account suddenly coming alive again). ALSO! As you can tell by the formatting, I'm actually writing with proper grammar on Tumblr now! Right now, I don't plan to go back to reformat the older chapters, but maybe once I find the drive to do it, I will! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it <3 parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

Leona felt something knock the air out of his lungs. To Ruggie, who stood right beside him in a robe that was a few inches too long, it was hilarious. Seeing the very prince (well, second prince) of the Afterglow Savanna lose his composure was enough to make Ruggie let out a quiet "Shyeheehee" under his breath before he ultimately straightened his posture under Leona's pointed glare.

Nothing could have prepared Leona to see (Name) again. Honestly, he had long since come to terms with the fact that his little sibling was missing, lost to the Outlands and likely a rotting corpse in the middle of nowhere.

He's lying, he could never come to terms with that, no matter how much he deluded himself.

But they were here. They were here and they were walking closer and they looked exactly the same as he remembered them.

Well, obviously, not exactly. But they looked so familiar and yet so different at the same time. Leona didn't even notice the tip of his tail swishing behind him until he heard one of his dorm members complaining about a tickling sensation against his ankles. And that only caused Leona to grumble under his breath and snatch the base of his tail to stop it from moving.

By the Seven, had they changed. They seemed bolder and more confident compared to the last time he had seen them. The way their shoulders were no longer hunched forward and instead rolled back in a pride strut he wished he could attribute to someone who had come to accept their own status or the way their eyes seemed sharper rather than soft and wide with innocence. And their hands. By the gods, what happened to their hands...? No, they had changed severely, akin to the way Leona recalled seeing the royal guards before and after their training.

Something had happened, that much he could figure out. And as much as he wanted to advance the board, reach out, and capture them like a king in a game of chess, he couldn't. Not when they were surrounded by a queen and two rooks.

"Ignore him," Nuru advised, although his words were more of a formality if anything. He knew how well you could handle yourself, but this was a unique situation.

"I know," you replied curtly, flipping your hood back on and sidling up to Nuru's right side. Jabori immediately flanked your other side in turn, followed by Jabali. It was a familiar formation, one that the four of you had cultivated for as long as you could remember.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you whisper. However, the sharp pain lingering in your chest said otherwise.

Student after student soon began trickling out of each coffin, repeating the painstaking process of standing in front of the mirror, listening to its spiel about their innermost workings, before joining whatever dorm they were assigned to. Until finally, finally--

"We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?" One of the hooded figures lamented, his hand perched prim and properly on his hip. If you didn't any better, you'd assume that he was royalty or nobility. But, judging from his scent alone, he wasn't.

"Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever," Leona yawned, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned on his heels, facing the mass of hooded figures now under his care. "I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me."

He went to take a step amidst the other chattering dorm leaders before the doors slammed open, the handles banging against the wall from the force at which it swung. Leona groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Psst, Nuru," Jabali called from his spot beside Jabori, leaning forward to actually see him. "Are you sure this is the right place? We're actually supposed to find answers from..."

Jabali paused and motioned out towards the commotion now terrorizing the mirror chamber. The little gray cat scampered around the floor, setting fire to whatever he could in some strange show of physical prowess and magical ability. "...These people?!"

Nuru said nothing at first. From where you stood beside him, you could tell doubt was beginning to creep up behind him. Lucky for him, Jabori decided to take the lead.

"This is Night Raven College," he points out, pulling back the hood of his robe by a hair to peer over at his twin. "Pretty much everyone here, especially the dorm leaders, are adept at some kind of magic. I mean, look."

This time, Jabori pointed towards the commotion, his finger following the way that the redhead shot a spell in the cat's direction, materializing a red and black collar around its neck.

"It's the best shot we have," he concludes, nodding in support of Nuru. That single gesture instantly calmed Nuru down, his shoulders no longer hunched up and his wings relaxing behind him. You merely smiled and patted his forearm in response. Jabali, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms in begrudging compliance.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna get along with 'em or nothin'," Jabali huffed, rolling his eyes. Jabori laughed lightly at his brother's annoyance while Nuru let out a single huff of air.

"I wasn't gonna ask you too, either," Nuru hummed, glancing at Jabali from his peripheral. "Same goes for both of you, (Name), Jabori."

"Copy that," you nodded, the quiet chuckle that seemed to bubble from your throat disappearing the second Leona turned to face you and the rest of the new Savanaclaw members.

"You heard the headmage. I'm headin' back," Leona grumbled and, without missing a beat, brushed past the crowd and headed towards the door. Another hooded figure, one who had been standing beside Leona the entire ceremony, let out an exasperated sigh before raising his hand.

"Savanaclaw! Follow me," he ordered, earning a few half-hearted "Yes, sir"s from the rest of the huddled crowd.

You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching Jabali and Jabori marvel at the size of the campus halls. And Nuru too, if only he'd have more obvious reactions rather than just a single flick of a wing or a tilt of the head.

While the halls were nothing compared to the Kingscholar home, it was still pretty big. If you were any smaller than you were now, you'd probably react the same way.

"No way they need these doors to be this big," Jabali murmured, lightly elbowing your arm and pointing at one of the classroom doors. Your eyes followed his finger and a snicker managed to escape you. He wasn't wrong, those doors were freakishly huge, both in height and width.

Jabali went to comment on something else before he stopped, his eyes drifting over toward the new mirror chamber everyone had been led to. The doors were held open to accommodate the crowd, letting handfuls of students walk towards a mirror and get sucked into it, the glass rippling as if took wisps of bodies and left nothing in its wake.

"Savanaclaw House! This'll be your only way in and out of the dorm," the same hooded figure that led you all here called out. He had hopped up onto the lip of the mirror's decoration, using one of the rib-like sculptures as an armrest.

"Hurry up and get in! The faster you do, the faster you'll get to claim your rooms," he snickered before skipping ahead of the first dorm member and hopping into the mirror.

The prospect of first come first served seemed to spur on the first years, causing a near stampede of people trying to get into the mirror first. Nuru hooked an arm around your waist while Jabali did the same with Jabori, the two of them finding a single break in the crowd to get away, Nuru through flight, and Jabali through scaling one of the pillars by the wall.

Lucky for the four of you, the mirror seemed to accommodate more and more people as the crowd diminished. Perhaps through how many bodies reached a specific threshold, you thought. Regardless of the magical mechanics, it allowed Nuru and Jabali to let you and Jabori down after a few minutes.

"So many people," you grumbled under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Jabori. Nuru and Jabali nodded at your observation before the four of you hopped into the mirror yourselves.

Immediately, the four of you felt the familiar searing heat of the sun beating down on your skin. It almost felt like home if not for the increased heat coming from the fire serving as lights just outside the dorm's entrance.

Jabali and Nuru were the first to shrug off their robes, the former because he finally had enough of the stuffy fabric, and the latter because the heat was already starting to congregate around his feathers. You and Jabori followed suit, although the two of you merely hiked up your sleeves and flipped down your hoods.

Nuru shook out his wings and let out a soft grunt, one of his feathers falling into the sand beneath your feet. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shot the three of you a soft, almost comforting smile.

"Off we go, then," he hums, waving for you all to follow. If it were anyone else, you three probably would've found offense to a command as expectant as that. But it wasn't just anyone else. It was Nuru, the Guardian, and your dear friend.

The inside of Savanclaw was nothing really to marvel at like the rest of the school's campus. It wasn't cramped, per se, but it was quite a bit more tight than to your liking. Luckily, the walkway opened up the building quite a bit with the roped bridges connecting each floor.

Nuru scanned the room for a moment before his eyes landed on a room on the top floor, tucked all the way in the furthest corner. You figured everyone else left it since it was so far and their mentalities were focusing on that first come first served promise your leader from before declared.

Nuru unfurled his wings and shot up past the bridges, making a beeline towards the unoccupied room. He didn't have to go that fast, of course, considering only a few students were lingering in the walkways who sure as hell weren't planning on making the long walk up there.

Jabali seemed to share their sentiment considering his frustrated "Damn it, Nuru" muttered under his breath. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips before he trudged up along the nearest bridge, his hands shoved in his pockets and his robe slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

You and Jabori took a more relaxed walk up behind him, appreciating the familiar decorations that reminded you of your hometown. Of course, that appreciation turned into apprehension at the thought of Mwezi Miji now being unguarded by the main four.

What if something happened? What if they had sent word of an all-out war between themselves and the Dens and you hadn't heard of it since you all were knocked out in coffins? What if they were all already--

"On your right," Nuru called to you from the doorway, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder. Ah, you had gotten distracted. Nuru shot you a concerned glance, his brows furrowed in the same way they always were when you got stuck in your head before he ushered you into the room.

Jabali and Jabori had already claimed their beds on the left side of the room, Jabali near the door and Jabori near the window. This left the entire right side open for you and Nuru.

The winged beastman glanced over at you, patiently waiting for your next move. You caught his glance and mustered up a small smile before heading towards the bed closest to the door. Nuru subtly lit up at your decision, a little skip in his step as he moved towards the window.

You managed to hold back a snort at his hidden excitement. He always loved the window spot. Maybe it reminded him of when he was small enough to fit through them back home.

"So, what's up with you and that new first year, huh?" Ruggie huffed as he walked straight into Leona's room, leaning down to pick up a discarded shirt and dropping it in the laundry basket. "I've never seen you react that way other than with them."

"Watch your words, Ruggie," Leona growls from the bed, his head already buried in his pillow. His back was facing Ruggie who still stood in the doorway, but with the way his ears were perked up, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

"My bad," Ruggie snicked in response, holding up his hands defensively. "But, seriously, who was that? Someone I need to watch the pockets of? I mean, who else would it be if not roy--"

"Out," Leona demanded, his hand latching onto his pillow and launching it backward at Ruggie, the soft fabric turning into dust and scattering across the floor as he muttered the incantation under his breath. Ruggie yelped and scampered out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him before he could see the pillow disintegrate into sand.

Leona took a single breath through his nose before slowly sitting up. He rubbed at his face before reaching over to the desk placed beside his bed, his fingers curling around the drawer's handle and pulling it open.

Underneath notebooks thrown carelessly inside lay a single photograph. It was small, yet free of any creases. He lifted the books off of it before slipping the photo out, nearly cradling it in his palm.

Back when he first found the photo tucked neatly in one of his notebooks, he grimaced. It was an annoying keepsake, one that only served to remind him of the bothersome family waiting for him back home. But now...

Now the sight of his little sibling smiling ever so brightly while his older brother screamed in the background about a bug in his hair brought the smallest twitch of a smile to his lips.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @kenma-izhu @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @munchkinkazooie @venusdandy @Leviathansgamerbuddy @poorunfortunatesimp @yarnoverpullthru @potablee @sunnydaze4ever @anxious-chick @silvers-tongue @minteaspoon @kitty-chan33 @hornehlittleweeblet2 @letskeepitsimpleshallwe @atsuki-mitsuri @catgirlwannabe @miss-puregotti @havens-not-here @sacrificialwife1 @cherrykissesss890 @a-random-bored-person @shuriiiewrites @chaos-inperson @1midnightcoffee @mizucika @lunavixia @gasoline-eater @thesirenwashere @rainingdandelion @thomanok @BakabaneSimp @mariesakamari @steruberry @potatohuman04 @illnesscomm @blu3b3rri-p4yn3 @kahunap @turtleducker @BooPleg03 @twst-rui @rotting-nerium @devilfishcafe @marisely03 @angelthoughtz @valka-230 @kih-lux @honestlyyoungcandy

[the0doreslover]

Obliviously in love | t.n

it’s not that you were dumb, not at all.

you were just… oblivious.

To be fair some people would call you dumb but not for the same reasons they would oblivious.

Theodore nott had his eye on you from the moment you slumped in his charms class in year two.

There almost wasn’t a single person who didn’t know of theodore’s attraction towards you.

Almost

You must of been the most blind witch ever.

Theodore gave you answers?

“you’re such a good friend”

Theodore wanted to take you to hogsmede?

“sure let’s ask everyone if they want to join”

Theodore wanted you to meet his mother?

“family is important of course i will”

Here you were in your fifth year still with no ounce of knowledge that theodore nott was still hopelessly inlove with you.

“good morning, nice to see you finally up” pansy snickered watching as you rubbed your eyes and took a seat next to theodore

“it’s still too early for your voice pansy” you sighed

you looked at theodore who was making a plate of food. “can you pass me a plate please pansy”

“no need, this is for you” theodore finally spoke

“oh! thank you theo”

“by the way i was thinking we should go to hogsmede today” he smiled turning to face you

“sure, pansy would you like to joi-“

“just us!” he quickly added

“oh, yeah sure” you smiled confused at the smirk pansy was giving you.

you and Theodore finally began your way to Hogsmeade together after finally getting out of pansys gossip session,

you remained blissfully unaware of theo’s true intentions. The two of you strolled down the cobblestone streets, the village bustling with students and locals enjoying their weekend.

Theodore casually slipped his arm around your shoulder as you walked, his fingers grazing gently against your arm. You simply shrugged it off, thinking it was a friendly gesture to ward off the chilly autumn air.

you went into various shops, while Theodore finally managed to stop your swinging arms and hold your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. You assumed it was simply because he didn’t want to loose you, and you continued chatting away about your favorite books and Quidditch teams, completely oblivious to his racing heartbeat.

Theo's attempts grew bolder as you entered the Three Broomsticks for a warm butterbeer. He slid into the seat beside you at a cozy corner table, his knee brushing against yours. Still, you regarded it as nothing more than accidental contact.

As you sipped your butterbeer and chatted, Theodore couldn't help but steal glances at you, searching for any sign that you might reciprocate his feelings.

You were in the middle of talking about your plans for the holiday when a familiar trio entered the pub. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy, strolled in with smiles on their faces as they spotted you and Theodore sitting together.

You waved enthusiastically, calling them over.

Pansy exchanged a knowing look with the boys before they sauntered over to your table. Draco grinned mischievously, taking a seat opposite you and Theodore. Blaise and Pansy flanked either side of Draco, creating an oddly symmetrical arrangement.

Draco leaned in," i didn't know you and Theo were on such an intimate outing."

You blinked in confusion, glancing at Theodore, who looked both embarrassed and hopeful. It Finally dawned on you that perhaps there was more to this outing than you initially thought.

Pansy chimed in with a sly grin, "Oh, don't mind us, we're just here to witness this romantic moment."

Blaise added, "Yeah, we wouldn't want to intrude on your 'date.'"

The room seemed to close in on you as the realization hit. Theodore had been trying to express his feelings for you all day, and you'd been completely oblivious. A wave of guilt and embarrassment washed over you, making your face turn bright red.

You mumbled an excuse about needing to use the restroom, and with a quick, apologetic look at Theodore, you hurriedly got up and practically ran out of the Three Broomsticks.

coming to a halt a sense of embarrassment washed over you. You realized it was silly to have run away like that, especially from Theodore, who had been nothing but kind and patient with you.

Turning around to retrace your steps and face the awkward situation you'd created, you suddenly bumped into Theodore's chest. Startled, you took a step back, "I'm so sorry, Theo, I didn't mean to—"

Theodore interrupted your apology with a warm chuckle. "It's okay, really. No need to apologize."

You sighed, looking down at the ground and then back up at him. "I... I just realized how stupid I've been all this time, not seeing what was literally infront of me."

Theodore's gaze softened as he listened to you.

You continued, your words coming out in a rush, "All those times you wanted to spend time with me, I thought it was just friendship, but now... I see that you've been trying to tell me how you feel."

Theodore simply stared at you

“the time you wanted me to meet your mother— oh god! i told you ‘family is important’ i’m so stupid”

Finally, you paused upon noticing his gaze, and he asked, "Are you done?"

You nodded.

Theodore grinned. "Well then, let me show you in a different way." And before you could react, he kissed you, his lips meeting yours with a gentle warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

As you pulled away, breathless, he whispered against your lips, "I would wait three more lifetimes if it meant you would kiss me like that, but for now i’m just happy i’ve finally got you"

You couldn't help but smile at his words, and without another moment's hesitation, you leaned in and kissed him again.

“This means you are asking me to be your girlfriend right?”

“right” he laughed

[pr0cyon-lotor]

Ignore me for a moment I'm having bingyingfan thoughts (mostly in relation to my previous post but this is actually meant to be nonplatonic or you can see it as a qpr I don't mind either)

Them at their wedding night and they're getting undressed and LBH finishes first. And NYY and MF just pause and go "absolutely fucking not 😨🤝😥". And they postpone it until someone says they could just top LBH and they go "wait..." "Oh yeah." Luo Binghe is quite happy with the arrangement.

NYY and LBH teaming up against MF to torment him and his poor bi sensibilities. He's trying to escape but they both have him sandwiched between them while sweetly calling him "shixiong". MF not dealing with it well.

NYY and MF naturally flanking LBH whenever they go anywhere together because they had to stay in that formation while in the abyss so often that it's been ingrained into their subconscious. And LBH feeling incomplete if either one isn't there at his side.

NYY and LBH arguing (jokingly) about who would be the "wife" in their trio. NYY insists because she's the only girl that she's the official wife. LBH retorts that he's the homemaker so he is the wife. MF doesn't join the argument, but he is usually dragged into them to pick. He picks neither and hides until they stop pouting.

LBH being the resident cook and MF being the one to always make the tea. NYY is quite spoiled by them, but usually insists on cleaning so she doesn't feel useless.

Some demon asking LBH who's his primary spouse/empress and who's the secondary spouse/concubine and with a straight face LBH says "No, I'm the concubine." And then leaves without explaining himself.

LBH brings dead beasts as gifts for NYY and MF. Usually to cook them dinner or make something from the hide. That's to say, he got really good at sewing and most of the stuff NYY and MF wear are made by LBH. And maybe the official tailor.

MF tends to make paintings of LBH and NYY. He doesn't give the majority of them to his spouses because he doesn't think they're up to his standards. When they find the drafts drawer they have a field day seeing the moments MF thought were important enough to capture on paper. Most of them are sweet domestic moments or them fighting. MF is deeply embarrassed when he finds out they saw the drafts.

NYY makes crafts and sometimes weapons for them. Their sword ornaments are completely made by her. And MF has an obsidian dagger hidden on his person made by NYY. LBH had a crystal hairpin made by NYY he tried to use but it got lost in his hair, so he asked her to turn it into a pen. Now he has a favorite crystal pen that he uses for his diary or notes he writes to MF and NYY.

[g3tinl0ser]

MASTERLIST

🦇

<<<PREV

The Watchtower's sleek meeting room hummed with a low, persistent energy as the Justice League gathered around the central table. The faint glow of Earth through the massive windows illuminated the space, casting sharp angles of light across the polished surfaces. Seated at the head of the table, Batman leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his signature scowl deepened to a point of near-permanence.

"Stark," he muttered, the name alone weighted with irritation. The rest of the League exchanged glances, some amused, others weary.

"You’ve faced Darkseid without flinching, but Tony Stark makes you twitchy?" Barry quipped, the Flash’s grin stretching wide as he leaned against his chair.

“This isn’t twitchy,” Batman replied without looking up, his voice clipped and icy. “This is calculating. Working with Stark requires a level of patience no amount of training can prepare you for.”

Diana, seated gracefully across from him, raised an elegant brow. “Tony Stark isn’t the entire Avengers, Bruce. Perhaps you should reserve your judgment until we see how they handle this collaboration.”

“They brought him to the gala,” Batman snapped, his gaze finally meeting hers. “First impressions were made.”

Superman watches his.. Friend? He knows there's more to this, “This sound personal.. Is it?”

Aquaman chuckled deeply, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. “Sounds like someone’s holding a grudge.”

Before Bruce could respond, the Watchtower’s AI chimed in. “Incoming transmission from the Avengers.”

A shared look passed among the League members before Batman stood, cape billowing as he moved to the console. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

The holographic projection flickered to life in the center of the table, revealing Steve Rogers flanked by Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark, whose usual smug grin was already in place.

“Justice League,” Steve began with a nod of respect. “Thank you for making the time to meet with us.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. “Captain.”

Tony, of course, couldn’t resist. “Well, this is cozy. Love what you’ve done with the place. A little cold, but I suppose that’s on brand for our favorite brooding bat.”

Bruce’s glare was sharp enough to cut steel, but he kept his composure. “We’re here to discuss collaboration, not your opinions on interior design, Stark.”

“Touchy,” Tony replied, smirking.

Diana placed a steadying hand on Bruce’s arm, her voice calm but firm. “Let’s focus on the task at hand, shall we?”

Steve gave Tony a pointed look before clearing his throat. “Right. The Avengers want to ensure open communication and coordinated efforts between our teams, especially with the threats we’re all seeing crop up globally.”

Bruce remained silent, his calculating eyes studying the trio. He didn’t trust Tony, and likely never would, but for the sake of the world, and for his team, he’d do what was necessary.

But as the meeting continued, one thing was clear: this alliance was going to test his patience like never before. 

The hologram of the Avengers flickered off, leaving the Justice League seated around the table in a charged silence. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the Watchtower’s systems. Then Barry broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin.

“Well, that was... something. Did you see Stark? I mean, he’s like the Flash of billionaires. Non-stop talking.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened as he adjusted the gauntlet on his wrist. “If he were even half as useful as you, we’d have no issues,” he said flatly, his tone a mix of annoyance and thinly veiled sarcasm.

Barry blinked, not entirely sure whether to take it as a compliment. “Uh, thanks... I think?”

Arthur chuckled, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “You’re wound tighter than usual, Bruce. Stark really that much under your skin?”

“He’s careless,” Bruce shot back. “And arrogant. His ego drives his decisions, not logic or strategy. That makes him a liability.”

Diana leaned slightly forward, her calm and regal presence a sharp contrast to Bruce’s simmering irritation. “He’s also resourceful and brilliant in his own right. Whatever history you two share, we need to set it aside. This is about global threats, not personal grievances.”

Bruce gave her a look, his eyes narrowing beneath the cowl. “It’s not personal.”

Diana arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Isn’t it?”

“I agree with Diana,” Clark said, his voice steady and diplomatic as always. “We don’t have to like them, Bruce, but the Avengers are powerful allies. And let’s be honest, they probably think the same about us. They don’t know how we operate any more than we know them.”

“They have Captain America,” Victor added, speaking up for the first time. “He’s disciplined and focused. If anyone can keep Stark in line, it’s Rogers.”

Bruce huffed, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling beneath his chin as he stared at the blank space where the hologram had been.

“Let’s just hope Rogers is as good as everyone thinks,” he muttered. “Because Stark alone will have us cleaning up his messes in no time.”

Barry tilted his head. “Do you think it’s weird that their whole team is named after him? Like, the Stark...vengers.”

Arthur snorted. “That’s not what it’s called, kid.”

“It might as well be,” Bruce said dryly.

Clark sighed, ever the voice of reason. “Let’s focus. We’ll need to establish some kind of system for communication and coordination. We can’t let egos, on either side, get in the way.”

Diana nodded. “Agreed. If this alliance is going to work, we need to show them we’re as committed as they are.” She glanced at Bruce. “Even if that means extending an olive branch.”

Bruce’s scowl deepened, but he said nothing. The truth was, he’d already accepted that this collaboration was necessary. He didn’t have to like it, but he would do what needed to be done.

After a moment, he stood, his cape sweeping behind him as he headed for the door. “Let me know when the next call is scheduled,” he said over his shoulder. “And someone remind Stark that this isn’t a game.”

As the door slid shut behind him, Barry glanced at Diana with a grin. “He’s definitely taking it personally.”

Diana smirked but didn’t respond. There was no need, everyone in the room already knew the truth. That didnt stop Clark from following him.

The Justice League sat around the conference table in the Watchtower, the room quieter than usual. Bruce and Clark were absent, leaving the others with the space to speak freely, though the topic at hand was one they approached with caution. Diana broke the silence first.

“Do we think this... tension between Bruce and Stark will affect the mission?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over the group.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “It’s Bruce. He’ll do the job. He always does. But let’s not pretend he’s thrilled about working with Stark.”

Barry nodded quickly, looking between the others. “Yeah, I mean, Bruce is all about compartmentalizing. He’ll show up, save the day, glare at Tony a bit, and then go back to brooding in the Batcave. Right?”

Victor sighed, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. This feels... different. He’s not just annoyed with Stark. It’s personal.”

“Of course it’s personal,” Diana said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Stark abandoned someone Bruce cares about. And not just anyone, his family. You’ve all seen how fiercely Bruce protects those he considers his own. This isn’t something he’ll let go of easily.”

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, but that’s exactly why we should be worried. If Bruce gets too caught up in his feelings, it could cloud his judgment.”

“Do you really think he’d let that happen?” Barry asked, his voice uncertain.

Diana shook her head. “No. Bruce is disciplined, perhaps more than any of us. But even the most disciplined warrior can falter when the heart is involved. We should keep an eye on him.”

Victor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I think we should be more concerned about what happens when Stark pushes him. You know he’s going to. That guy thrives on getting under people’s skin.”

Barry winced. “Yeah, that’s... not great. Bruce isn’t exactly the ‘let it slide’ type.”

Arthur shrugged. “If Stark tries something, Bruce will handle it. Probably by terrifying the guy into silence. Honestly, I’m kind of looking forward to seeing that.”

Diana shot him a look. “This isn’t a game, Arthur.”

He held up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. But you have to admit, Stark could use a reality check. Hes convinced his little group is the what.. ‘Protectors of the world’ he doesn't even know the half of it.”

Victor sighed again. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. We’ve got enough to deal with without Bruce and Stark butting heads.”

Diana nodded, her expression resolute. “Agreed. We focus on the mission. And if Bruce needs support, we’ll be there for him.”

The group exchanged quiet looks of agreement, the weight of their unspoken trust in Bruce heavy in the air. Whatever came next, they’d face it together.

Clark caught up with Bruce just as he stepped into the Watchtower corridor, his boots barely making a sound on the metallic floor.

“Bruce, wait.” Clark’s voice was calm, but it held that familiar note of persistence, the one Bruce always found annoyingly difficult to ignore.

Bruce didn’t slow his stride. “What is it, Clark?”

“You know what this is about,” Clark said, quickening his pace to match Bruce’s long strides.

Bruce stopped abruptly, turning to face Clark. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his jaw gave away his frustration. “If you’re here to lecture me about Stark, don’t bother. I’ve heard it all before.”

Clark folded his arms, standing firm. “I’m not here to lecture you. I just want to understand why you’re so...hostile toward him. It’s more than professional distrust, isn’t it?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Stark is reckless. He plays with fire and pretends it’s all a game. That kind of behavior puts everyone around him at risk.”

Clark tilted his head, studying Bruce with his unerring, patient gaze. “You’re deflecting.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m stating facts.”

“Maybe,” Clark said gently. “But that’s not the whole truth.”

Bruce turned away, his cape sweeping behind him as he started walking again. “I don’t have time for this.”

Clark followed, his voice firm now. “Bruce, you’ve always been honest with me. Why stop now? This isn’t just about Tony being Iron Man. It’s personal. I can see it.”

Bruce stopped again, his fists clenching at his sides. For a moment, the silence was thick, his shoulders rising and falling as he wrestled with whatever storm was brewing inside him.

Finally, he turned back to Clark, his voice low and sharp. “You want the truth? Fine. Stark walked away from something he had no right to walk away from. He abandoned someone who deserved better, someone I care about. And now I have to sit at a table with him, pretending like none of it happened.”

Clark blinked, surprised by the raw emotion in Bruce’s tone. “You’re talking about her, aren’t you?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “And Damian,” he bit out. “He left her to deal with everything on her own. And now that boy, my son, has to wonder why the man who gave him life didn’t think he was worth staying for.”

Clark’s expression softened, his voice quiet. “Bruce...you’ve done everything for them. Damian doesn’t see Stark as his father. He sees you.”

“I know,” Bruce said, his voice still tight with restrained anger. “But that doesn’t erase what he did, or didn’t do. Now I have to tolerate his smug ass face like it doesn’t matter.It's going to be one of the hardest things Ive ever had to do as Batman.”

Clark placed a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “It does matter. But you’ve already won, Bruce. You’re the one who’s been there. You’re the one they trust. Stark may have walked away, but you’re the one who stayed.

Bruce let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly under the weight of Clark’s words. “It doesn’t make it easier.”

“No,” Clark agreed. “But it makes you the better man.”

Bruce gave a small nod, the storm in his eyes calming, though the resolve remained. Without another word, he turned and continued down the corridor, this time with a quieter, steadier step. Clark watched him go, knowing there were some wounds time couldn’t completely heal, but also knowing Bruce was the kind of man who wouldn’t let them stop him from doing what was right.

The tension Bruce had been carrying since the meeting with the League eased as he descended into the Batcave. The familiar hum of the computers, the glow of the monitors, and the soft rustle of activity always gave him a sense of focus, but tonight, something else caught his attention before anything else could.

You were sitting at the workstation, your legs tucked under you on the chair, completely absorbed in the screens in front of you. The live feed showed Jason and Dick out on patrol, their banter coming through faintly on the speakers. You looked so at home there, wrapped in one of his old Princeton hoodies that practically swallowed you. Your hair was slightly messy, and you had paired the hoodie with simple leggings and fuzzy slippers. It was such a domestic, unguarded moment that it stole the breath right out of him.

Bruce paused at the base of the stairs, just watching you. His heart gave an unexpected, almost painful skip. This, this was everything he never thought he’d have. Everything he never let himself hope for.

The weight of the earlier confrontation with Clark and the looming alliance with Tony Stark felt like a distant memory as he stood there. For all his plans and calculations, he couldn’t imagine ever being stupid enough to not want this. To not want you.

You must have sensed his presence because you turned, your expression brightening instantly when you saw him. “Hey, you’re back,” you said, your voice soft and warm. You gestured to the screen. “Jason and Dick are trying to see who can take out more guys tonight. It’s a whole thing now.”

He moved closer, his lips tugging into the faintest of smiles. “And you’re the official scorekeeper?”

You grinned. “Of course. Someone has to keep them honest.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately. He just stood there for a moment, looking at you, the glow of the monitors casting a soft light on your face. You looked so peaceful, so natural sitting there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in his chest wasn’t from worry or guilt, it was from an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your shoulder, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “You look comfortable,” he murmured, his voice low.

You glanced down at yourself with a small laugh. “Well, your hoodies are the best, and I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” You gave him a knowing look. “Not all of us have secret identities to maintain.”

Bruce’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. “You don’t need one. You’re perfect just like this.”

The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your cheeks flushing slightly as you looked back at the screen to avoid his gaze. “You’re getting sappy, Mr. Wayne.”

“Maybe I am,” he said quietly, stepping closer so that his hand rested lightly on your shoulder again. “But only because I’ve finally realized what’s worth it.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your expression softening as you met his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he said simply. “I wouldn’t trade our family for anything.”

Your smile widened, Bruce eased into the chair beside you, the weight of the day finally starting to melt away. As soon as he sat down, you instinctively climbed into his lap, a move that had become natural. He welcomed you without hesitation, his arms winding securely around you, one hand gently ran up and down your back. His lips brushed your temple softly before he leaned back into the chair with a sigh.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was a sound you’d grown to love, it grounded you, made you feel safe. But you could tell something was weighing on him. His touch was soft, but his silence spoke volumes.

You tilted your head to look up at him, your eyes searching his face. “You’re thinking about something,” you said gently, tracing slow circles on his chest with your fingertips. “Want to talk about it?”

For a moment, Bruce hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. But then he looked down at you, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. There was no point in keeping anything from you, not when you always seemed to see right through him anyway.

“It’s about Damian,” he said quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful. His hand stilled on your back but stayed firmly in place, anchoring both of you in the moment. “We talked before the gala. About... Tony.”

You nodded slightly, encouraging him to continue. “How did it go?”

Bruce exhaled slowly, his gaze distant as he recalled the conversation. “He asked me if Tony would be there. I could see it in his eyes, he was trying to act indifferent, but he wasn’t. He’s... curious. Hurt, maybe. And I hate that. I hate that Stark’s absence, his choice, still lingers over him, even after all this time.” His jaw tightened. “I told him I’d always be there for him, that nothing Stark ever says or does will change the fact that I’m his father. But... I could tell it still bothers him.”

You reached up, cupping his jaw and guiding his gaze back to yours. “You are his father, Bruce. You’ve been there for him every step of the way. You’ve shown him what real love and commitment look like. He knows that.”

Bruce searched your eyes, as if looking for reassurance. “I just, he’s mine. My son. I want him to know that he doesn’t need Stark to validate anything. He has a family, a real family.”

“He does,” you said softly, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “And he knows it. But it’s okay for him to have questions, Bruce. He’s young, and this is complicated. Just keep being there for him like you always have. That’s all he needs.”

Bruce’s arms tightened around you, his gaze softening as he rested his forehead against yours. “You always know what to say,” he murmured.

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “That’s because I know you. And I know how much you love Damian. He’s lucky to have you.”

Bruce pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand on your back sliding up to cradle the back of your head. When he pulled back, his eyes were clearer, the weight of the conversation seeming lighter now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted quietly.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you promised, resting your head back on his chest.  In that moment, everything felt right, like the world outside the Batcave could wait, at least for a little while.

The conference room aboard the Avengers Compound was quieter now, with the Justice League’s call ended. The tension left behind, however, was anything but subtle. Steve Rogers stood near the large table, his arms crossed, the weight of frustration evident in his posture. Across from him, Tony Stark casually leaned against the table’s edge, arms spread as if trying to shrug off the intensity with nonchalance. But Steve wasn’t buying it.

“Tony,” Steve started, his voice firm, though not angry, yet. “What the hell was that?”

Tony raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What was what? You’ll have to be more specific, Cap. I do a lot of things.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “You know what I mean. The quips, the jabs, picking a fight with Batman of all people. We’re supposed to be working with them, not starting a pissing contest.”

Tony scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, come on. You heard him. The guy’s a walking mood swing in Kevlar. I wasn’t picking a fight, I was making things... lively. Besides, do we even trust them yet?”

Steve stepped forward, pointing a finger at Tony. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about professionalism. You know how high the stakes are, Tony. This isn’t some boardroom negotiation where you can snark your way through it. You need to stop acting like this.”

Tony’s easy demeanor faltered for a split second, his defenses bristling. “Like what?” he challenged, crossing his arms.

“Like the guy you were before the first Snap,” Steve shot back, his tone hardening. “You’ve come so far since then, Tony. You’ve grown, you’ve changed. Don’t throw all of that out the window just because you’re in a room with someone who challenges your ego.”

Tony straightened, his posture stiffening. “This isn’t about ego. Something about the guy rubs me wrong!”

“Isn’t it?” Steve countered, his voice calm but sharp. “You know what we’re facing. You know how important it is that we work together. But instead of focusing on that, you’re busy throwing out cheap insults and one-liners like we’re still fighting Loki in Germany. You’re better than this.”

For a moment, Tony was silent, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Steve, I, ”

“No excuses,” Steve interrupted. “You’re not that guy anymore, Tony. You’re the guy who built a suit to save his life and then used it to save the world. You’re the guy who put himself on the line, again and again, for people you care about. You’re the guy who’s supposed to be a leader.”

Tony looked away, his jaw tightening. “I wasn’t trying to ruin anything,” he muttered, almost too quietly for Steve to hear.

“I know,” Steve said, his tone softening slightly. “But you can’t let your past habits creep back in. Not now. We need you focused. We need the Tony who’s grown into the man who gave us a second chance after the Snap.”

Tony’s gaze flicked back to Steve, something unspoken passing between them. Finally, he gave a small nod, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

“Alright, Rogers,” Tony said, his voice quieter but still carrying a hint of his usual bravado. “I’ll dial it back. But don’t expect me to roll out the red carpet for Bat-Dad. I’ve got my limits.”

Steve smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Just... try. For all of us.”

Tony tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “You know me, Cap. I always aim to impress.”

“Do it for the mission,” Steve corrected firmly. “Not for me. And definitely not for Batman.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. For the mission. But if I see him brooding in the shadows, I reserve the right to make one Bat-joke.”

Steve rolled his eyes but let the faintest smile show. “One. That’s it.”

Tony smirked, his trademark charm slipping back into place. “Deal.”

A FEW DAYS LATER

The dim glow of the Batcave illuminated Damian’s face as he sat alone at one of the workstations. In his hand was a photograph he had found and tore out of a tabloid as a few years ago—Tony Stark, smirking and effortlessly charming as always. Damian’s fingers traced the edges of the picture, his brow furrowed in thought. He had been sitting there for a while, lost in his own head, when he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason’s voice broke the silence, casual but laced with curiosity. “What are you doing down here all broody? That’s usually Bruce’s thing.”

Damian glanced up but didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable.

Dick appeared right behind Jason, his tone lighter as he tried to gauge the mood. “We figured we’d find you down here. Thought you might want some company.”

Jason leaned against a nearby workbench, arms crossed. “Yeah, or at least someone to make fun of. But looks like you’ve got something on your mind.” He nodded toward the photograph in Damian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Damian hesitated, his grip on the picture tightening slightly before he held it up for them to see. “It’s... Tony Stark.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s a surprise. Didn’t think he was your type.” He smirked, but his tone was teasing rather than mean.

Dick shot Jason a look before pulling up a chair next to Damian. “Ignore him. What’s going on, Damian?”

For a moment, Damian didn’t answer. He stared down at the photograph, his voice quieter than usual when he finally spoke. “I’ve been thinking about him since the gala. About what it means that... he’s my biological father.” He swallowed hard, his usual confidence wavering. “I feel... conflicted. I don’t know him, and yet I feel bad that I don’t want to. Is that wrong?”

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of Damian’s words settling over them. Dick leaned forward, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Hey, listen to me. It’s not wrong to feel that way. You’re allowed to be curious, to have questions. And you’re allowed to feel conflicted about it too. This isn’t an easy thing to navigate.”

Jason uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, his tone softer than usual. “Yeah, kid. Nobody here is going to judge you for that. Hell, I’d be surprised if you didn’t have mixed feelings. Stark might’ve been a crappy dad, but that doesn’t mean you can’t figure out how you feel about him in your own time.”

Damian looked between them, his brow furrowing. “But what if I want to meet him? What if I want to ask him why he... why he didn’t want me?”

Dick’s expression softened, his voice steady. “If that’s what you want, we’ll support you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. This is your life, Damian. And you’ve got a family here who loves you no matter what.”

Jason nodded, his usual sarcasm absent. “Yeah. If you want to meet him, then meet him. And if you decide you don’t want to, that’s okay too. Either way, you’re still our little brother, Demon Spawn.”

Damian’s grip on the photo loosened, and for the first time that evening, a faint smile touched his lips. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Dick ruffled Damian’s hair, earning a glare that was more habit than genuine annoyance. “Anytime, kiddo. Just remember, you don’t have to figure it all out at once your still a kid. We’re here for you, whatever you decide.”

Jason smirked. “Yeah, and if Stark gives you any crap, we’ll handle him. I’ve been itching for a good fight anyway.”

Damian chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Jason grinned. “And you’re stuck with me.”

The soft hum of the kitchen filled the early morning air as you flipped through your mental checklist for breakfast. You wore one of Bruce’s oversized shirts, sleeves rolled up, and your hair loosely tied back. The aroma of coffee and warm pancakes lingered in the air, a comforting start to the day.

Jason was, as always, up early with you. He leaned casually against the counter, sleep still clinging to him but his loyalty to “helping Mom” unwavering. He had already cracked the eggs and was busy whisking them, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You know,” he said, pausing his whisking to glance at you, “Dick thinks I only do this because I want to score brownie points with Alfred. But we know better, don’t we?”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed. “Jason, you’re a momma’s boy through and through. Own it.”

He snorted, grabbing a spatula to start flipping the pancakes you’d poured. “Yeah, yeah. Guilty as charged. You make it too easy.”

For a while, it was just the two of you moving in sync—pouring, flipping, and chatting about nothing in particular. But then, Jason’s movements slowed, and you caught him glancing your way, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked gently, setting down the whisk.

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck before sighing. “It’s about Damian. Something came up last night.”

You turned to face him fully, concern immediately flickering to life. “What happened?”

Jason leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I found him down in the Batcave late last night, staring at a picture of Stark.”

Your heart sank. “Oh.”

“He’s... struggling,” Jason continued, his voice quieter now. “He said he feels bad for not wanting to know Stark, but at the same time, he’s curious. Like, he wants answers, but he’s scared of what they might be.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you processed that. “Did he say anything else?”

Jason’s gaze softened, and he shook his head. “Not much. But it’s eating at him. Kid’s trying to figure out how he feels about a guy who walked out before he was even born. That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone Damian.”

Your hand instinctively moved to his shoulder, the maternal instinct to protect all of your children—biological or not—kicking in. “And you? How did you handle it?”

Jason smirked faintly, though there was no teasing in his tone. “I told him he’s got a family here, no matter what. That we’d support him if he wants to meet Stark, or if he doesn’t. It’s his choice, and no one’s gonna judge him for it.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you stepped closer, cupping Jason’s cheek in your hand. “You’re such a good brother, Jay.”

He rolled his eyes, though his cheeks reddened slightly. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him in line. Can’t let Demon Spawn carry all that by himself.”

You smiled, pulling him into a quick hug. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to him.”

Jason hugged you back, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “Just don’t make it obvious I spilled, okay? Gotta keep my cool big brother reputation intact.”

You laughed, pulling back and ruffling his hair. “Your secret’s safe with me, Momma’s boy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed the spatula again, turning back to the stove. “Now let’s finish this up before Alfred comes in and critiques our technique. Again.”

As the two of you returned to your morning routine, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude for the family you’d built. No matter the challenges, you knew you’d all face them together.

The Avengers had gathered in the common room, screens arranged in a semicircle as they decided to delve deeper into their new counterparts—the Justice League. Captain America thought it would help the team prepare for collaboration, and surprisingly, Tony had agreed, though he called it "research with entertainment value."

They started with clips of Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash, marveling at their powers and unique approaches to heroics. But when the video on Batman began to play, the room’s energy shifted.

The screen flickered to a chaotic scene, grainy security footage capturing Gotham City at its worst. The Joker's maniacal laughter echoed through the speakers, a sharp contrast to the silent figure of Batman moving in the shadows. And then the camera panned, and the room went silent.

You.

You were on your knees, your face pale but defiant, a blade pressed to your throat by a grinning Joker. Your hands were tied behind your back, your body tense but not trembling. The Joker’s voice rang out, taunting, “Oh, Batsy, I know your secret! Tell me, how does it feel to have your precious everything in my hands?”

The Avengers collectively leaned forward, the tension palpable.

"Wait," Natasha said sharply, her eyes narrowing. “Is that…?”

“It’s her,” Steve confirmed, his voice heavy with concern.

On-screen, Batman moved closer, his voice low and commanding. “Let her go, Joker. Now.”

The Joker laughed harder, pressing the knife closer to your skin. “Oh, you’ve got your serious voice on, don’t you? But it doesn’t scare me, Batsy. Because if I go down, I’m taking your whole little game with me. How’s that sound?”

Tony froze, his gaze glued to the screen. He recognized that look on your face—the mixture of fear and defiance, the stubbornness that wouldn’t let you beg for mercy. And then the words hit him like a truck.

“Shes always known who Batman was? This is dated from just a few months after she left. ” Natasha said slowly, her voice laced with realization.

“She knows,” Bruce Banner echoed, his brows furrowing. “And the Joker knows she knows.”

Steve shook his head, his jaw tightening. “That’s why Batman’s so desperate. He’s not just trying to save a hostage—he’s trying to save her.”

The footage jumped ahead, showing Batman finally taking down the Joker and pulling you to safety. The moment he untied your hands and pulled you close, his mask briefly brushed your temple. It wasn’t just relief in his body language—it was something deeper, something the Avengers couldn’t ignore.

“And she knows who he is,” Steve repeated, his tone troubled. “This isn’t just a partnership between her husband and a hero group.. There’s trust there—more than we’ve seen from him in anything else with anyone else.”

The room fell quiet, the weight of the realization settling over the team.

Thor, who had been unusually silent, finally spoke. “It seems our ally is more connected to the Bat than we were led to believe. But that does not change who she is—a formidable woman in her own right.”

Natasha nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No, it doesn’t. But it does mean she’s got a target on her back, one bigger than any of us thought.” Bucky looked towards his love, he knew her well, she knew more than she was letting on as well. 

Tony exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing at the frozen image of Batman carrying you away from the chaos. “We’re gonna have to have a conversation with her. If she’s tied to him like that, we need to know everything.”

Steve looked over at him, his gaze steady. “No, Stark. If she wants to tell us, she will. It’s not our place to push. Right now her and her husband are the only link we have to batman, and in turn the Justice Leauge. You promised.”

Tony didn’t respond immediately, but the frustration in his expression was evident. Finally, he muttered, “Fine.”

The Avengers sat in silence for a moment longer before Clint turned back to the screen. “So… are we gonna finish watching, or are we just gonna sit here brooding like Batman?”

NEXT

[shortnotsweet]

HEAD HEART HANDS

The trio in Dystopia; the red and blue color scheme crosses city lines.

[ Henry stares at a distant focal point with an unreadable expression, flanked on both sides by silhouettes of Charlotte and Jasper, both of whom sport one visible red eye. Henry’s hands are loose at his sides, with no visible weapons. His clothes are worn, with ambiguous scuffs and tarnish. A pair of sunglasses is hooked into his waistband. Above their heads hang a bright blue sun. ]

[stingynugget]

Bowuigi Mating Dance Idea

Again, another crack Bowuigi idea that I'm not sure how to flesh out. For this one, Bowser steals a serum/potion from the Mushroom Kingdom in hopes that it will make him invincible. However, instead, it reveals his subconscious desires. And one of those desires is to have Luigi as his partner.

Wrote some copy for this, but again, not entirely fleshed out:

Mario and Luigi stood up with a grunt. Princess Peach’s throne room was a mess, with rubble everywhere and a gaping hole where the room’s doors used to be. From behind them, Peach reached over to see if they were okay, but Mario gently pushed her back, straightening himself. 

The toads who had been in the room had already fled. They had been in the middle of a meeting when Bowser so kindly interrupted. 

Bowser guffawed as he strolled through the hole his airship had just made. His advisor, Kamek, flew on his broomstick above Bowser’s head. Green-shelled koopas marched behind them, and they quickly flanked the trio. 

Luigi took a deep breath and tried to stop shaking so much.

“Well, well, did I catch you guys on a bad day?” Bowser crooned. “That’s too bad.” He looked as menacing as usual, especially with the setting sun on his back. 

Mario rubbed the dust off of his mustache. “Can’t you just leave us alone? We all know how this ends.”

Luigi nodded in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bowser pretended to look at his claws. “I’m afraid things are going to be a bit different this time.” He smirked as he reached into his shell and pulled out a bottle full of strange, pink liquid. He held it up into the sky and roared, “Behold! My raw strength is about to increase tenfold!”

Peach pushed past Mario and Luigi, a confused look on her face. “Wait, why do you have that?”

“My dearest Peaches, it was actually quite easy to steal from your castle’s boring research facility. And now, I’ll use it to rule the world.”

Peach raised an eyebrow, and Mario and Luigi looked at each other. 

“I would highly recommend you don’t use that, Bowser,” Peach said slowly.  

“Hah! As if,” Bowser sneered. He opened the bottle and downed the contents in one go. 

Mario and Luigi readied themselves, clenching their fists and opening their stances. Peach covered her mouth in surprise. 

Bowser grinned and looked down at his body in expectation. But… nothing about his body really changed. He glared over at Kamek. “You idiot! I thought you said this would make me invincible!”

Kamek held up his hands in placation. “I couldn’t quite examine it, sire, because you didn’t want me to waste a single drop. So I made a guess based on what it looked and smelled like.”

Bowser growled. “That’s it. When we get back, you’re—” Bowser stopped talking mid sentence, his snout twitching like crazy. He tried again, “You’re…” He shook his head and stumbled a bit.

“Your majesty! Are you all right?”

Luigi glanced over at Peach, who was rolling her eyes at Bowser.  “Um… what exactly does it do, princess?” he asked.

Peach opened her mouth to respond, when Bowser let out a loud grunt. They all looked over at him to see his pupils had dilated. He was staring right at them. Luigi and Mario both took a step in front of the princess.

Bowser didn’t move for a second, then he leaned forward and let out a low bellow that sounded like chainsaws trying to start up. Luigi had never heard such a sound from Bowser before. 

Turning around, Bowser’s tail swept across the floor, flickering and moving in a strange pattern. Even stranger, his spikes started raising and lowering in some sort of rhythm.

Luigi had no idea Bowser’s shell could do that. Looking over at Mario, Luigi could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Bowser faced forward again and let out another bellow. This one was accompanied by a small burst of sparks from his muzzle. Then he turned right back around and kept doing that weird shell and tail combo.

“Well… that’s a thing. I guess,” Mario said, stroking his mustache.

Luigi kind of wanted to laugh. But they were still surrounded by Bowser’s minions. “Hey, how about I take the right side, and you take the left side?”

Mario nodded and said, “Peach, keep Bowser distracted?”

Peach hummed in agreement. 

The two Mario brothers took off. The koopas charged at Luigi, but he easily hopped onto their heads and kicked them out of the hole Bowser made. He hit a few with his hammer and kicked those, too. 

“Luigi, look out!” Peach called.

Luigi turned around and came face to face with Bowser. He jumped back with a shriek and held up his hands in defense. The koopas he had been fighting now took cover behind Bowser.

“Sire! What are you doing?” Kamek called. He shot a blast of magic at Mario, who dodged it easily. Mario’s end of koopas were already out of commission. 

Bowser didn’t answer, he just stared at Luigi with his red eyes. When Luigi continued to stand there, Bowser let out a rumbling bellow and bobbed his head up and down. 

Luigi had no idea what was going on. Maybe he should just leave this sort of thing to Mario. He tried to run back to Peach’s side, but Bowser stepped in front of him. Luigi didn’t dare breathe. But Bowser didn’t hurt him. Instead, he turned around and slapped his tail up and down on the floor. 

Now Luigi was really confused. What exactly was in that bottle?

A blast of magic surrounded Bowser and lifted him towards the hole in the room. “Your Craziness, we must retreat!” Kamek cried. He barely managed to dodge Mario trying to jump up and grab his broom. 

Instead of listening to his advisor, Bowser let out a fierce growl. Kamek froze in his tracks, dissipating the hovering spell, and stared at Bowser in bewilderment. Mario managed to grab the tip of Kamek’s broom and yank him down. The magikoopa freed himself by shooting a small lightning bolt at Mario, who avoided it gracefully.

Bowser let out one last growl towards his advisor, then he approached Luigi again. Smoke billowed out of Bowser’s mouth as he approached.

“What do you want?!” Luigi cried hysterically, glancing around the room. 

A piece of debris hit Bowser in the head. Luigi and Bowser turned to see Peach winding up to throw another one. Bowser blew a plume of fire in her direction. Mario dove onto her, getting both of them out of the way. Mario dragged Peach out of the way when another one of Kamek’s lightning bolts struck the ground.

Luigi returned his attention to Bowser, who had managed to get up close to Luigi’s personal space without him noticing. Luigi held up his hands in surrender; the last thing he wanted to do was set Bowser off in his crazed state.

Bowser stared down at Luigi, his blown up pupils nearly drowning out the whites of his eyes. Luigi tried to take a step back, but he got poked by something. He glanced behind him to see the few koopas he didn’t manage to take care of standing there. One of them had a long spear, which they used to push Luigi towards their king.

Luigi covered his head with his hands. His legs shook violently, and he muttered prayers to himself in Italian.

However, instead of Bowser biting his head off, Luigi felt something warm and soft rub against his face. He opened his eyes and moved his hands away, right when Bowser leaned back from Luigi. When Luigi didn’t do anything, Bowser leaned down again and rubbed his cheek on Luigi’s. 

Luigi froze. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Mario, Peach, Kamek, and the koopas staring at the scene.

“Seriously, Peach, what was in that elixir?” Mario asked. His eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. 

Peach hummed. “It was a serum that revealed your subconscious desires… We were testing it for interrogation purposes…” She tapped her chin in thought. 

Kamek shook his head. He flew down and wacked Luigi’s face away from Bowser’s with the back of his broom. Luigi sputtered and tripped on something behind him. He heard a low growl and something firm wrap around his body. He looked down to see Bowser’s hand around his waist. 

With a gulp, Luigi slowly looked up at Bowser, whose eyes were half lidded as he stared down at Luigi. Was it just him, or was Bowser’s face getting closer?

“Sire! Enough of this nonsense!” Kamek screeched. He flew up to Bowser’s head and wacked the back of it with his wand.

Bowser’s eyes shrunk back to their normal size, and Bowser shook his head to clear it. 

“W-what?” Bowser groaned. He glanced at Luigi, then at Mario and Peach, then back at Luigi with a look of bewilderment. 

“Um… hi…” Luigi muttered. He tried to tug Bowser’s fingers off of him, but his grip was strong. 

Bowser’s face morphed into his usual cocky sneer. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“H-hey!” Luigi protested, “I’m not the one who was making googly eyes earlier! And is still holding onto me!”

Bowser glanced down at his hand and blinked, as if just noticing he was holding onto Luigi. He dropped Luigi unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Your highness, I suggest a tactical retreat!” Kamek called.

Bowser grumbled. “FINE!” He blew flame towards Mario and Peach, so they wouldn’t follow after them as they ran back to their airship. 

Luigi watched them go with absolute confusion. Mario tried to chase after them, but he was too late. Luigi didn’t bother standing up, his mind still stuck on what had transpired.

I like to think that the bellowing Bowser's doing is like an alligator's bellow, but much louder.

[thaliagrayce]

Jason was headed to the Big House when he caught sight of Nico leading a trio of terrified-looking twelve-year-olds to where Mrs O’Leary lay napping in the strawberry fields. It had been Nico’s idea to introduce some of the younger campers to monsters in what passed as a safe environment. He’d argued that Mrs O’Leary could be a great tool for teaching, and for making the kids less likely to panic when they first met monsters in the wild.

Nico looked more and more relaxed as the group got closer to Mrs O’Leary. She lifted her head to give a sniff, and Nico went straight to her and leaned on her sun-warmed flank. Jason always liked watching Nico interact with her. He looked so much more at ease around the hellhound than he did around most campers.

“Spending a lot of time with him recently, huh?

Jason did not jump. It took effort. Leo had materialized on his left, and he was looking at Jason as if he expected a response.

“Yeah,” Jason said once his heartbeat had returned to normal. “Nico’s really cool, once he gets comfortable around you.”

“Hm.” Leo squinted into the fall sunshine to where an Ares kids had tentatively held her hand up for Mrs O’Leary to smell. It was going well until Mrs O’Leary sneezed, and the kid flinched hard enough to fall on her butt.

Jason could almost hear Nico’s laughter from here, if he focused hard enough. He felt himself smiling in response.

“Should I be, like, nervous?”

Blinking, Jason turned back to Leo. “What?”

“Di Angelo isn’t trying to replace me or anything, right?”

Jason snorted. “Of course not.”

“You sure? He looks like a man who’s gunning for the Jason Grace Best Friend title belt,” Leo joked. Jason rolled his eyes at him. Nico looked like a boy who needed to lean on his SUV-sized dog to stay upright when he laughed.

“Aw, come on. You know it’s not the same.”

“How?!” Leo’s tone was light, so he was probably teasing, but Jason still had a hard time differentiating sometimes. Leo was good at hiding his real hurt behind jokes, but he also told a lot of jokes with no substance to them. Whatever raised a reaction. Jason wasn’t sure how serious he should treat this line of questioning.

“I don’t know, it just isn’t. We mess around a lot, right? I’m usually nicer to Nico—”

“So what I’m hearing is it’s different because you treat him better! I’m too late!” Leo cried out, finally pulling free a wire from the walkie talkie he’d been messing with. He flashed a grin at Jason, showing off the disemboweled gadget.

Teasing, then. Jason felt himself relax.

“You wouldn’t want me to be nicer and you know it. Besides, we both know you can take it.”

“And Nico can’t?” Leo was already turning his attention back to the walkie talkie.

“It’s not that, it’s more like…” In the field, Nico reached out his hand to the kid who’d stayed in the back of the group up until now. Even from this far away, the kid looked scared. Nico supported them as they walked up to Mrs O’Leary, though. He held their hand through something that had obviously scared them. It was such a Nico gesture, Jason couldn’t help but smiling.

“He could take it, sure, but he shouldn’t have to. He deserves to be treated gently.”

There was silence for a while, and Jason only really became aware of it when Leo slowly leaned forward into his field of vision. His eyebrows had made a migration toward his hairline, and they didn’t look like they were dropping anytime soon. Jason thought back over what he’d said and blushed. When had he started looking at Nico again, anyway? He turned away from the strawberry field to look at Leo full on.

“Dude,” Leo said.

“Shut up.”

“I was joking before, but like, now I’m not sure. Do I legit have to be worried you like him better?”

“I don’t like him better, I just like him different. It’s totally normal.”

It was true, too. Even more than he’d even realized when he said it. Friendship with Nico didn’t feel like any other friendship he’d ever had. It was… quiet. Intense. It felt charged, but relaxing at the same time. It was contradictory and almost addicting, Jason couldn’t really describe it. He caught himself before his eyes drifted back to the strawberry fields and made himself focus on Leo, who looked dubious to the point of being borderline offensive.

“Different, or—”

“Different,” Jason insisted. “Just like I like you and Piper different. Not better or worse, just… Different.”

Come to think about it, though…

“Sure fuckin' hope you like me and Piper different,” Leo grumbled. “You’re my bro, but I don’t want you pulling your Loverboy moves on me. I mean…” Leo kept going, but Jason was too busy spiraling to pay attention.

He’d said he liked Leo and Piper different, but did he? The way he felt about Leo was a lot closer to the way he felt about Piper than it was to what he felt for Nico, if he stopped to think about. Remarkably similar, really. His palms started to sweat.

Oh gods, he thought. Do I have a crush on Leo?

[5sospenguinqueen]

CURSES & CONFESSIONS - GARRETH WEASLEY

Summary: The four times people told you Garreth was in love with you, and the one time Garreth did. Slytherin F!MC. Seventh Year.

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

Warnings: Fluff, unrequited love, shitty writing.

Word Count: 4957

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#1. Imelda Reyes

Rolling her shoulders back, MC exhaled deeply, hoping to ease some of the tension in her form. The incessant nattering of her roommate was doing little to help her efforts. Side by side, the teammates trod across the dew-dusted field, unbothered by the growing moisture on their shin pads. Morning mist clung to strands of their hair; both of them sporting green ribbons securely tying back their long locks. The Quidditch field loomed in front of them. The cheers of their fellow students beckoning them forward. Having spent the entirety of Sixth Year begging, Imelda finally convinced her competitive friend to join the Quidditch Team as their final Chaser. 

Imelda noticed the steps of her friend falter as they drew nearer. “The first game is always nerve-wracking but once you mount your broom, all worries about impending injuries vanish.” 

“Very reassuring, Reyes. Why not just tell her to take a Bludger to the head?” Sebastian Sallow commented, long legs easily catching up to them. “It’s a good thing it’s not your job to give motivational speeches to the team- Oh, wait… Maybe that’s why we lost the House Cup last year?” 

Slinging his arm across his friend’s shoulders, he grinned down at her ashy face. “Merlin, you almost look nervous,” the Beater jeered playfully, poking her in the cheek.

MC frowned, a crease forming across her brow. Goblins? No problem. Giant trolls? Easy. Embarrassing herself in front of the majority of the school? Mortifying. 

“Shut it, Sallow. We’re not going to lose this year. We have the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ on our side.” Imelda’s tone was teasing, watching her friend chafe against the title she had earned in their Fifth Year. And hated ever since. 

Eyes landing on the Quidditch tent, Imelda honed in on a smattering of red lingering outside the entrance to the changing rooms. His dark eyes were trained on the muscular arm that Sebastian had draped around MC, ready to storm over and rip it off. 

Loudly, Imelda declared, “Besides, we’re playing against Gryffindor today. We already have the upper hand against them.”

“Is that so? Do feel free to share with the group.” Leander’s haughty tone broke through the cacophony of excited spectators.

The trio turned to find him looking down at them, arms crossed against his chest. Garreth flanked his left side, expression at odds with the relaxed posture of his body. Gravitating towards the mop of red curls, MC discreetly shuffled towards him, close enough to see the condensation forming on his robes. The cool air clashing with the natural heat of his body.

Similarly to the Slytherin Beater, Weasley had undergone an enticing transformation over the summer. Even whilst slouched against the wooden beam behind him, he towered over her. The second-hand uniform that used to hang loosely on his frame, now strained against the broadness of his shoulder, pulling taut at the muscles of his biceps. When she lifted her gaze to his, he offered a genuine smile, green eyes twinkling. Her brow smoothed, eyes lightening as she smiled back at him. 

“You may be an awful strategist, Prewett, but I know better than to give the enemy important intelligence. Why would I share my secret weapon with you?” 

“I hope you’re not referring to the little witch cowering behind Sallow. If so, you’ve lost already. After all, magic is banned from Quidditch and without her extra magic, she’s not very skilled.” 

Garreth clenched his fist, knowing his friend was only trying to intimidate the group of Snakes. Punching his teammate before the Game began wasn’t the best way to win the Quidditch Cup. 

“She is going to kick your arse for talking about her like she’s not here.” MC glared up at Leander. “I didn’t realise you were so eager to relive the humiliation I dealt you at Crossed Wands, which I did without extra magic.” 

Garreth sniggered, covering it with a cough before his Captain could scold him. Opening his mouth to retort, Madam Kogawa interrupted, yelling out that there was two minutes left until the start of the Game. Prewett dashed inside the tent, remembering he still needed to strap on his knee pads. Sebastian followed closely behind, muttering about how badly he needed to piss before climbing onto his broom. 

Shifting awkwardly on his feet, Garreth hated how his large frame made his discomfort more apparent. Both women turned to look at him as he moved, unable to move subtly anymore. Having noted the trepidation on his Potions partner’s face, he wanted to offer words of encouragement. Except her Captain was looking at him as though she were plotting all the ways to throw him from his broom. The trees swayed as the wind picked up. Not the best weather for a first match. 

“Don’t get blown away out there.” Garreth internally cursed himself.

Why did his mouth insist on saying the stupidest things his brain conjured up? Instead of telling her how he wished she had a good match. How some part of him wanted her to win so that he could revel in her joy. 

An alluring spark flickered in her eyes as the competitive side of her was ignited. “Have a good game, asshole.”

“You too, Princess,” he called out after her retreating figure. The scent of her shampoo filled his nose as she brushed past him. He watched her go with a dopey grin on his face, unable to wipe it off before Imelda walked past him. She didn’t look at the redhead but he watched the Slytherin Captain shake her head in disgust, knowing it was aimed his way. 

“Forget everything I said about keeping an eye on the Quaffle.”

“Excuse me?” MC questioned, turning to face her friend as they entered the Slytherin section of the changing rooms. “Doesn’t the defeat the purpose of my position?” 

“Your new job is to tail Weasley.” Imelda had a wicked smirk on her face. One that usually accompanied words of insanity. “Weasley has been infatuated with you since you stole the Fwooper feather for him. And, as much as the babbling buffoon bothers me, once he’s in the air, he’s exceptionally talented. I need you to put a stop to that. Whenever you’re around, you’re the sole focus of his attention. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it.”

The flaps to the tent rolled back, allowing in bright bursts of sunlight. Emerald and maroon robes filed out onto the grassy pitch. 

“You’re so full of shit.” MC muttered, pushing aside the way Imelda’s words made her feel.

The only response she received was a knowing smile before Imelda slowly sailed out of the tent, and into the roaring crowd. When the whistle blew, MC was further convinced of her friend’s dishonesty. Dashing after the Quaffle, she was elated when her hands were the first to wrap around the ball. Darting across the sky, she was unable to dodge the mass of red barrelling towards her left side. The two collided. She released the Quaffle, dropping it into Natsai’s awaiting hands below. Tightly grasping the handle of her broom, it took all her strength to avoid tumbling off it.

Oblivious to the Quaffle sailing past his head, Garreth’s attention remained on MC until he was confident she wasn’t plummeting to the ground. Furious eyes snapped up in his direction but he simply winked at her, flying back into the fray. He attributed the red tinge of his cheeks to the biting wind. Not the fact that his skin heated from where it had made contact with the beautiful Snake. 

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#2. Natsai Onai

Sunshine illuminated the two Seventh Years lounging in the Transfiguration Courtyard. Bags and outer robes discarded by the bench, the pair of them curled up on the neatly-trimmed grass. Taking a much-needed break from studying, the pair of them soaked up the warm rays. Even though it was only two months into the school year, NEWTS were bogging them down. So, instead of discussing the terrifyingly long Potions essay they’d been set, the pair were gossiping about their fellow classmates.

Entering the Courtyard, Garreth was alerted to his friend’s presence when her familiar giggle reached his ears. His head whipped round, searching for her.

“Is it true that Sebastian has a basilisk inked onto his back?” Natsai asked, when MC’s laughter upon hearing about Leander’s disastrous date subsided. Her hands weaved a small pile of flowers together. 

MC lifted her head up from the cushion she had transfigured her cloak into, squinting at her friend. “Pardon?” 

“Some of the Ravenclaw girls were discussing it in the Library. I may have overhead, and decided you would be the best person to ask.” 

“And you thought to ask me, and not Ominis? Why do you think I am the most knowledgeable about Sebastian without a shirt?”

A dark shadow fell over her, stealing away the warmth that had likely burnt the skin of her nose. 

“Who’s seen Sebastian without his shirt on?” Garreth dumped his bag beside MC’s before collapsing onto the grass beside her. His hand picked up a strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers absentmindedly. “Can you believe the length of Sharp’s essay?” 

MC smiled up at him, amused by his actions. 

“I was just asking whether MC could confirm the rumours regarding Sebastian’s tattoo,” smiled Natsai, watching her housemate’s reaction closely. 

“The one on his back?” Garreth’s jaw ticked, fingers dropping the hair. “Why have you seen him shirtless?!”

Without letting MC reiterate that she hadn’t seen Sebastian without a shirt, Garreth spoke again. His teeth clenched tightly together as though the words pained him. “Although, I suppose the pair of you as a couple makes perfect sense. You would compliment each other nicely.” 

MC pulled herself into a sitting position, eyebrows knitting together. “What is that supposed-?”

“Oh, Garreth! We need another player for Gobstones.” Poppy shouted across the Courtyard, waving eagerly at him. 

Wanting to escape the bubbling feeling in his chest, Garreth excused himself, clambering to his feet before his mouth blurted out anything else he might regret. Watching the redhead make his way towards Poppy, MC felt a nauseous feeling arise in the pit of her stomach. 

“What was all of that about? Sebastian and I? Together? Merlin, it would be like dating a brother. A really annoying brother.” MC rambled. “And, could he have escaped us any faster? You would think he hadn’t seen Poppy in months instead of a couple of hours.” 

Guilt coursed through her at the ugly thoughts she was possessing, not enjoying how the idea of her friends together was making her feel. Poppy was a delightful witch, and if Garreth were to date anyone, MC couldn't think of someone who could be nicer. 

Natty snickered at the words tumbling from her friend’s mouth, watching her suck in a deep breath. “They were playing Chess in the Library earlier, but you had your head buried in your Herbology book.”

“Oh…” A dejected look overtook her face, watching the dark-haired witch laugh loudly at something Garreth said. “I wasn’t aware he felt that way about her. Although, I suppose it’s impossible not to like Poppy. She’s the sweetest. Now that I think about it, he is always patient with her, and they do spend a fair bit of time together. I think everyone should love Poppy. Oh, no… I’ve been trying to convince Ominis to tell her how he feels about her, but clearly that would be counterproductive if she and Garreth are courting. I wouldn’t want to interfere with that. Not when he looks so happy and-”

“My friend,” interrupted Natty. “Breathe.” 

Natsai looked at the witch across from her, wondering how somebody who had duelled Rookwood and survived, could be so oblivious to someone she looked at every day. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“What is going on with you and Garreth?”

“Nothing. We’re just friends.”

The fact that she didn’t ask for a further explanation told Natsai everything she needed to know. She shook her head in disbelief. “I have watched that boy almost snap his neck because he heard you laugh and wanted to see what was causing it. Even worse, I watched him smear mashed potato over his face because you walked into the Great Hall, and he was too busy watching you instead of where his fork was going.”

“I remember that,” mumbled MC to herself, before turning back to her friend. “It is sweet of you to try and boost my ego but Garreth and I don’t feel that way about each other. Poppy was next to me that day in the Great Hall. He was clearly looking at her.”

Natty enjoyed the discomfort on her friend’s face. MC clearly didn’t understand why the idea of Garreth and Poppy was so unsettling to her but Natsai certainly did. She just hoped the pair of them would figure it out soon. She had done her best to prompt her friend but it was not her place to declare the redhead’s love. That was something he needed to do himself. Ignoring the knowing smile on Natsai’s face, MC’s eyes zeroed in on the flowers in her hand. Changing the topic of conversation, she commented on the beauty of the flower crown. The Lion leaned over, placing it atop the Snake’s head. 

“I feel like a faerie princess.”

“I believe you are as frightful as one sometimes.”

“Oi! I haven’t duelled anyone in two whole days.”

“A new record.” Natty deadpanned. 

MC laughed, loud and clear. Fumbling his gobstones, Garreth’s head snapped up. His lips quirked into a smile at the joy on her face and the flowers in her hair. He paid no attention to the foul-smelling liquid spraying his robes. 

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#3. Sebastian Sallow

Legs aching, MC wished she was curled up on the couch in the Undercroft, reading to Ominis. That was how she was supposed to be spending her frosty Sunday. Instead, she was trudging along the icy pathway to Hogsmeade, eager to get to J. Pippin’s Potions. She’d overheard Garreth complaining that he was out of Bicorn horn and his latest experiment required some. Unfortunately, he had managed to land himself in detention for the first weekend of December. Professor Sharp hadn’t been overly impressed to find his hair transfigured into snakes, having been on the receiving end of the redhead’s latest concoction. The redhead had spent all of dinner last night complaining about his plans for the day had been ruined. 

Wanting to surprise him, MC decided to brave the harsh December weather to go for him. Because that was what good friends did. Nose pink and goosebumps dotting her arms, she snuggled further into her scarf and cursed when she slipped on black ice. 

Large hands wrapped around her arm, pulling her upright. “Remind me how you managed to save Hogwarts when you can barely stand on your own two feet?” 

“Are you stalking me, Sallow?”

“Absolutely. I bet you’re glad for it now.” Sebastian grinned, falling into step beside her. 

“Only because you saved me from cold and bruised buttcheeks. I shall sorely miss the peace and quiet though.” 

Sebastian pressed a hand to his chest in faux offence. “You mortally wound me. Even more so upon discovering you failed to invite me on your little outing. I thought we agreed you would stop fighting Ashwinders and Poachers alone,” he scolded. His expression turned questioning when she continued past the Forbidden Forest, instead of venturing into it as he had expected. 

“Fret not. I’m simply running errands today.”

“Even better. Any adventure with you is thrilling but the best ones involve Butterbeer and free samples from Honeydukes. Are we looking for anything in particular?”

“I need to stop by Pippin’s,” mumbled MC. 

Whilst she enjoyed Sebastian’s company, and was pleased that he preferred outings to Hogsmeade than skulking around Catacombs these days, she’d slipped away quietly that morning in the hopes of being alone. Only because she hadn’t wanted to explain what she was doing. 

“I thought you stocked up on potion supplies last week? Don’t tell me you’re out already.” Sebastian chuckled, eyes honing in on the blush staining her cheeks.

Damn him and his perception, she cursed. 

Clearing her throat, her spine straightened. “I’m not actually going for myself. Garreth mentioned he was low on some supplies.” 

“Where is your boyfriend? Why isn’t he accompanying you?”

Pace picking up as they neared the Wizarding village, she prayed that the sight of Honeydukes would be enough of a distraction to keep Sebastian from prying too deeply into the meaning behind MC’s deed. She, herself, wasn’t willing to look past the fact that she wanted to help out her friend. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she protested

To her dismay, Sebastian persisted, following her down the cobbled streets. “Have you told him that?” A gleeful grin lit up his face. 

“What are you blabbering on about?” 

“I happen to have it on good authority that he spent the entirety of Potions convincing Andrew Larson not to ask you to Hogsmeade today. That’s why he messed up his potion. For once, he wasn’t brewing his own recipe.” 

MC stopped in the middle of the path. Sebastian smacked into her back with a soft ‘oomph’, unable to slow down in time. “That’s why he’s in detention? Why would he do that? I’m not complaining because at least I didn’t have to find a polite way to deter Andrew but…”

“Why would you decline Andrew’s offer? Perhaps your answer is the same reason why Garreth convinced him not to ask in the first place.” 

“Or maybe you’re listening to gossip again, and they got it wrong. Who is this so-called good authority?”

Sebastian’s smirk deepened. “Ominis.”

“Oh.”

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#4. Ominis Gaunt 

Splattered with mud, strands of hair slipped from her low bun, sticking to the sheen of sweat coating her face. Her entire body groaned in protest as she and Poppy sullenly made their way up the stairs before the Great Hall. Neither were feeling particularly victorious despite having saved all animals caged up in the Poacher camp. When Poppy had suggested Flooing to Irondale to dismantle a Poacher camp, the two witches had thought they would return before dinner, pleased with themselves and the good they had done. Instead, dinner was in full-swing and all the witches wanted was to reach the Hospital Wing without detection.

The three Wiggenwelds they had taken with them were long gone, and yet numerous injuries remained. Poppy had taken a nasty hex to the chest, and MC hadn’t hesitated to shove all three of the healing potions into her mouth. Unfortunately, that meant there had been none left over for when she was thrown from a platform, body slamming into the hard ground. Despite her twisted ankle and Poppy’s bleeding forehead, they had managed to get back to the Floo flame but were deposited all the way down at the Boathouse. 

“Is that blood?” A horrified voice exclaimed.

Footsteps hurried over to them. Warm hands reached for her cheek, pulling her face into the light so that green eyes could inspect the cut marring her face. Beside her, Ominis was reaching for Poppy, wand waving to assess the damage. 

“Don’t worry. It’s not ours. Well.. not most of it.” 

“Is that supposed to reassure me?!” Garreth shrieked, looping his arm around MC’s wait to help take some of the weight off her swollen ankle.

The two men accompanied their wounded witches to the Hospital Wing. Easing MC onto the stiff white sheets of an unoccupied bed, Garreth dashed into Nurse Blainey’s office, dismayed to find it empty. Tugging at his curls in frustration, he paced back and forth, fretting about his friends. 

“Gar, it’s dinnertime.” MC reminded him, voice soft and comforting. “She’s likely in the Great Hall. We can wait, we’ll be fine.” 

“No, you can’t,” he said firmly. “You’re injured.” Pain shone in his bright green eyes. 

Demanding that Ominis keep a close eye on them, (to which the Gaunt boy promised he’d do his best, prompting MC to giggle), Garreth announced he would go hunt down their healer. Before MC could ask him to stay with her, he was dashing out of the infirmary, robes flapping behind him. She didn’t care about the pain. She had just wanted him to stay. 

“I do believe he genuinely forgot how to breathe when he caught sight of you hobbling into the castle. I almost thought I was going to have to carry all three of you into here.” Ominis spoke up, hand twitching as he fought against the urge to reach for his favourite Hufflepuff. 

“He did go rather pale when he looked at us,” snickered Poppy.

MC shifted, easing her body into a more comfortable position. “Yes, well, you seem to have that effect on him.” She winced, attributing it to the heat lancing down her spine. Nothing to do with the words she spoke crushing something deep in her chest. 

“I don’t think it’s Poppy that makes him forget oxygen is vital to living. Regardless of how adorable she is.” Ominis drawled, taking joy in the pink flush blossoming across Poppy’s cheeks. 

“I told you she was oblivious.” squeaked the Hufflepuff. 

MC scowled, discontented with the running narrative that she was unobservant. Her perception had saved Poppy’s life earlier, and her body was bruised enough to prove it. It was as if her friends had teamed up to insult her consistently this year. 

Fed up with everyone tip-toeing around the fact, Ominis decided he was no longer waiting for her to figure it out. “Please tell me that you are aware Garreth is in love with you, and has been for the past year.” 

“If not more.” Poppy chimed in, supporting Ominis’ decision. The rest of the gang decided to let Garreth tell her himself but Poppy knew he would never do it. 

“No, he’s not.” 

Ominis snorted. “He’s so infatuated with you. Even a blind man could see it.” 

“You are blind.” 

“Exactly. And I can see it.”

“You can’t see anything,” shot back MC.

She shot her tongue out at him immaturely and whilst he couldn't see it, he had the sense to lean over and punch her in the shoulder. He shrunk back in terror when MC winced and a furious voice reverberated off the flagstones; amplified for his sensitive hearing. 

“Why the fuck would you do that. She’s already injured, Ominis. I asked you to look after her whilst I was gone.” Garreth thundered, storming in.

Poor Nurse Blainey was rushing to catch up with him. A slice of carrot cake was cupped in her hand, having been grabbed just as dessert was served. 

“Mr Weasley, you made it sound as if the poor thing was on death’s door.” Blainey scolded, saving the blind wizard from Garreth’s wrath.

The healer took MC’s ankle in hand, examining the swollen ligament and apologising as the Hero of Hogwarts gasped in pain. Poppy wrapped a hand around Garreth’s wrist to prevent him from trying to push the healer away.

──────── . ☆ * ☽ * ☆ﾟ. ────────

#5. Garreth Weasley

Mended and amused by the tension in the room, Poppy thanked Nurse Blainey for healing her before taking her leave from the Hospital Wing. MC had insisted that Poppy be seen to first, despite the Hufflepuff being mainly mended by the earlier Wiggenwelds. MC watched her and Ominis leave, hand in hand. A pitiful sigh escaped MC’s mouth as she watched them. That’s what she wanted. Someone who loved her enough to hold her hand in public, propriety be damned. The only issue was that she would only be satisfied if it was with the man beside her. The man who was also watching the new couple go, an unreadable expression on his face. Most likely agonised over watching the woman he liked walk away with another man. Ominis had finally worked up the courage to ask Poppy to accompany him to The Three Broomsticks. 

“Best drink it all in one go, dear.” Nurse Blainey advised. She had mixed numerous healing positions into one foul-smelling tonic, handing it over in a wooden goblet. “You’ll have to stay here for the night whilst your fracture mends but Mr Weasley is welcome to stay with you until curfew. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hoping I can catch the end of the Feast. I’ve been looking forward to the choir all week.” 

Thanking the healer, MC immediately mentally cursed her when she swallowed the contents of her cup. The vile taste of the potion had her gagging, coughing loudly. Instantly, Garreth was there, a glass of orange juice in hand to chase the taste away. He had listened to MC recount the events of her fight - and the extent of her injuries - to Nurse Blainey in complete silence. Even now, he said nothing as the door shut behind the healer. The loud click echoed in her ears, reminding her that the pair of them were entirely alone. 

“You don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure you have better things to be doing.”

Garreth nodded but made no effort to move. An uncomfortable silence settled over them for the first time since their friendship developed. Their time together was usually filled with babbling antics and loud laughter. Now, the pair struggled to string a sentence together. MC’s hands moved towards each other, Garreth’s eyes tracked her movements. Fingers cracking her knuckles, she was desperate for something to focus on. Something aside from the hollow look in Garreth’s eyes. His hand shot out to still hers, and stayed there. His fingers enveloped hers, curling around her. As if he were grounding himself, reminding him that she was still here. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The tissues in her ankle slowly started realigning, pulling a pained gasp from her mouth. The sound dragged an anguished noise from Garreth’s chest. 

“Garreth, are you okay?” She whispered, concerned by his unnerving silence.  

A bitter laugh escaped his mouth. “Me? You’re the one who had to drag herself back to the castle, injured.” 

“I’m fine.” She grabbed his other hand when he turned his head away in disbelief. Garreth’s eyes instantly shot to hers. “Look, I’m alive. Unharmed.”

“But you weren’t!” He snapped. “You went out, alone. In the dark with only Poppy as your backup, and the pair of you came very close to not coming back.”

Her eyes stung at the harsh tone directed towards her. She chalked it up to being overtired and emotionally drained. Not because she felt as if she were being reprimanded. 

Garreth charged forward, oblivious to the look on her face. “I spent all evening looking for you, worried out of my mind because nobody knew where the pair of you were.”

“I told Sebastian-”

“Who was hidden away all day in some secret underground only you and Ominis know about!” 

Infuriated that tears were still pooling in her eyes, MC snapped back. “I don’t have to tell you where I am every minute of every day. You’re not my keeper! If you’re concerned that I’m dragging Poppy into danger then you should take that up with her! Besides, she’s the one who suggested we go. She made it quite clear it didn’t matter if I came or not so I went for her safety.”

“I don’t care about Poppy!” Garreth exploded, not meaning it in the way it sounded aloud. “Why must you bring her up in every conversation we have? Godric, you make it so hard to care about you sometimes.” 

MC sniffed before icily responding. “Then don’t bother. Walk away, Garreth, I’m not your problem.”

Garreth stood, and she thought he was going to listen to her, and leave. She didn’t truly want that but if she were such a burden- The pot at the end of her bed sailed across the room, smacking into the floor with a loud thud. When he turned to face her, there was no anger on his face. Only anguish. He wasn’t mad at her. He was furious with himself, for not being honest. For not being able to say the words desperately hanging to the tip of his tongue. If he had told her the truth last year, perhaps he would’ve been with her at the Poacher camp. Maybe he could have saved her from the bruises welting her back. 

“You don’t understand. I want you to be my problem. I want to worry about you, and I want to drag you to the Hospital Wing when you’re injured. Although I would really prefer you remain unharmed. But because I want to hold you in my arms afterwards, knowing you’re safe. I want to comfort you when defeating Poachers doesn’t go the way you expected. I want to take you to Hogsmeade, and hold your hands around the shops. I want to see you laugh, and know why you did so. And, I want to kiss you before a Quidditch match and when you win, even if that means I’ve lost. You are the cause of all my distractions, and the only regret I have is that you fail to understand how deeply I care for you.” 

“But, you and Poppy and seem so close?”

Was that really all she could say, MC chided herself. 

“Because she’s been trying to convince me to tell you how I feel.”

“Oh.”

“I love you. I am so deeply in love with you that every potion I’ve invented for the past year smells like you.”

And, as his thumb brushed her cheek and he leaned in closer, MC truly believed Garreth Weasley loved her. 

[starvory777]

the perfect bet🚩

part 1

pairing: bad boy!Jay x new girl!reader.

genre: romance, angst, fluff, bad boy-good girl trope, new girl trope, smut, strangers to lovers, the bet trope, fast paced story.

warnings: smut, violence, use of alcohol, lots of dialogue.

taglist: @yourbeomiebear @kyunlov @jooniesbears-blog @yizhoutv @en-happiness @cloud-lyy @star4rin @engenesengenes333 @deobitifull @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @kirinaa08 @avaleyshin @heeseungswifefr @icepshrince @sophi-ee @seonghwaexile (16/25 people on my taglist. comment or send me an inbox to be added! if i can’t find your account, i will not tag you)

masterlist

on your first day at decelis high, you and your younger sister wonhee navigated the crowded halls with a mix of nerves and anticipation. your younger sister, wonhee, being the social butterfly that she is, easily found her place among a group of friends, leaving you alone at an empty table in the cafeteria.

the bustling cafeteria of decelis high hummed with the energy of students chatting and laughing, trays clattering against tables.

suddenly, your reverie was interrupted by the arrival of three figures who sauntered into the room with an air of confidence that demanded attention. jay, flanked by his best friends jake and sunghoon, scanned the room with lazy indifference until his gaze landed on you.

"check her out," jake muttered under his breath, nudging jay with a smirk.

jay's eyes lit up with mischief as he followed jake's gaze, his lips curling into a sly grin. "well, well, what do we have here?"

sunghoon raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his gaze flickering between jay and you. "new girl, huh? she's cute."

“what do you say, jay, if we give her a little decelis high welcome?” sunghoon snickers at jake’s comment.

the trio exchanged knowing glances before jay turned his attention back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. with a casual flick of his hand, he motioned towards you, his voice low but carrying across the room.

"hey, glasses, come join us," jay called out, his tone laced with a hint of challenge.

you looked up in surprise, your heart pounding in her chest as she met jay's intense gaze. unsure of what to expect, you hesitated for a moment before gathering your courage and said “i’m fine here, thanks for your offer.”

that was a first for jay, and as he looked around everyone was looking at your encounter, which made jay embarrassed. trying to avert the situation, jay sat down and started talking to you.

"new girl, huh? what's your name?" jay asked, his voice smooth and confident.

"lee y/n," you replied, feeling a flutter of nerves at the attention of the a guy.

"well, y/n, consider yourself lucky. you've just been graced with the presence of decelis high's finest," jay said with a smirk, gesturing to himself.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his arrogance, but there was something undeniably charming about him.

jay launched into a lively conversation, effortlessly keeping you entertained with stories about his various exploits. before i knew it, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang, and jay stood up, stretching languidly.

"so, y/n, there's a party tonight. you should come," he said casually, as if inviting you to a casual hangout.

you hesitated. this is a first for you, no one has ever invited you to anything, ever. especially the popular kid.

"i’ll think about it." you found myself saying, surprising yourself with the decision.

a genuine smile spread across jay's face, and he leaned in closer. "great. here’s the address." he hands you a piece of paper.

with that, he sauntered off back to his group of friends, looking back at you once more and winking. he and friends laughing as they walked away, leaving you with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. what had you just gotten yourself into?

the rest of the day passed in a blur as you tried to focus on classes, but your mind kept drifting back to jay and the party tonight. you couldn't shake the feeling of excitement mixed with apprehension.

when the final bell rang, you found wonhee waiting for you outside your last class, bubbling over with excitement.

"guess what? i got invited to a sleepover tonight!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

"that's great, wonhee," you replied, forcing a smile despite the knot of nerves in your stomach.

as you walked home together, you couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was going to change everything. maybe your last year of high school might be different after all.

on the other hand, jay and his friends were chilling at sunghoon’s house, where the party’s going to be held.

“dude, are you sure new kid’s gonna show?” jake asked, looking up from his phone.

“i’m sure. i definitely charmed her during our encounter at the cafeteria just now.” jay smirked.

“she might show up, but what would she look like? it would be a bother to have a stuck pig at our first party of the semester.” sunghoon groaned, thinking about how you would show up.

“don’t worry my dudes, i know what im doing. she has potential.” jay assured his friends.

“please never use my dudes in a sentence.”

[danika-redgrave124]

A Witchy Shopping Day

The bustling streets of the local market were alive with the chatter of merchants, the clinking of wares, and the enticing aroma of fresh pastries. Among the throng of shoppers were Yuu and Grim, flanked by Cerezo—a fully-fledged Umbra Witch whose very presence seemed to radiate sophistication—and Vil, who naturally drew the gazes of admirers like a magnet. Behind them, trudging dutifully under the weight of numerous shopping bags, were Ace, Deuce, and Epel.

"I don’t see why we had to be the ones carrying all this," Ace griped, shifting a large bag of potions and fabrics to his other hand. "Seriously, what do witches even do with this much stuff? Open a boutique?"

"Quit whining, Ace," Epel muttered, barely breaking a sweat under the weight of an ornate vase and several spellbooks. "This is nothing compared to haulin’ apples back home. You sound like a twig about to snap."

Deuce, on the other hand, walked with practiced ease, balancing several bags on his arms. "It’s not so bad. I used to carry groceries for my mom all the time. You just need to pace yourself."

"Oh, of course you’re fine with this," Ace groaned. "But my arms feel like they’re gonna fall off!"

"Perhaps if you spent less time complaining and more time moving, you’d find it easier," Vil interjected, glancing back at the trio with his signature air of unimpressed authority. "If you drop so much as a single bag, spud, I’ll ensure you don’t see the end of my next lecture."

Ace grumbled something under his breath, but the look Vil shot him quickly silenced any further complaints.

Ahead of the group, Yuu and Grim were inspecting a collection of enchanted trinkets laid out on a merchant's stall. Grim's eyes glimmered with excitement as he pointed to a jeweled charm. "Ooh, Yuu! Look at this one! It’s all shiny! Can we get it?!"

"Grim, focus," Yuu replied with a patient sigh, holding up a shimmering black brooch in the shape of a crescent moon. "We’re supposed to be looking for practical items, not things that catch your eye."

"Well, I think this one looks very practical," Cerezo remarked smoothly, his voice rich and lilting like a dark melody. He picked up the brooch and held it to Yuu’s chest, tilting his head appraisingly. "See? It complements your aura perfectly."

Yuu flushed slightly, brushing the brooch aside. "Cerezo, we’re not here for accessories."

"Ah, but what is an Umbra Witch without their style?" Cerezo purred, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I insist you take it. Consider it a gift from me to you."

Behind them, Vil let out a soft hum of approval. "Cerezo has a point. Presentation is everything. Perhaps I should assist in curating your wardrobe, Yuu."

Yuu groaned quietly, muttering, "Not you too..."

Meanwhile, Ace, Deuce, and Epel continued their trek behind the group, with Ace nearly tripping over his own feet as they stopped at yet another stall.

"Are we seriously stopping again?" Ace complained. "At this rate, I’m gonna need a stretcher to get back to campus!"

"Shush," Epel said, adjusting the bags on his shoulders. "If you keep whining, Rook’s probably gonna pop outta nowhere and make you carry his bags, too."

As if on cue, Rook emerged from the shadows nearby, his voice a theatrical whisper. "Ah, mon brave camarades! I see you toil under the weight of duty, such noble perseverance! Truly, a sight to behold!"

Ace jumped, nearly dropping his bags. "Gah! Rook! Could you not sneak up on people like that?!"

"Ah, but I must remain vigilant," Rook replied, his tone playful but his gaze sharp as it flicked to Vil. "Where beauty walks, danger often follows. I cannot allow my Roi du Poison to come to harm."

Vil waved him off with a sigh. "Your dramatics are unnecessary, Rook. Focus on blending in rather than drawing attention."

As the shopping continued, Cerezo paused, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He turned to Yuu, lowering his voice so only they could hear. "By the way, I’ve secured something quite special from your dear headmaster."

Yuu raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What did you do?"

"Persuasion," Cerezo said with an elegant shrug. "Let’s just say Crowley and I had a... productive discussion. I took his card."

"You didn’t threaten him, did you?" Yuu asked, though the answer was obvious.

"Lightly," Cerezo replied with a wink. "Nothing he couldn’t handle."

Grim snickered. "Finally! Someone who doesn’t let that featherbrain off the hook!"

By the time they reached their final stop—a small café to rest—the three bag carriers slumped into their chairs, groaning in unison.

"I can’t feel my arms," Ace whined, rubbing his shoulders.

"You’ll survive," Vil said coolly, taking a sip of his tea.

Cerezo, ever the picture of poise, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Well, this has been a most delightful outing. Don’t you agree, Yuu?"

Yuu gave him a flat look. "Delightful for you, maybe."

Grim, munching on a pastry, chimed in, "Yeah, but we got food outta it, so I’m not complaining!"

Ace groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never. Again."

Cerezo belongs to @fungifanart

[koolades-world]

i had a vision with this ok please tell me you guys see this

dance battles?

It was a nice evening in the Devildom, as nice as that could be. The cloud cover seemed a little less heavy that usual, and it just so happened you had plans today with three of the seven brothers. While it wasn’t odd to see Satan, Asmo, and you out and about, it was peculiar to see Lucifer tagging along. Despite their differences, Lucifer and Satan had agreed to go out to dinner with Asmo and you. It has taken much pleading, but you’d eventually gotten them to cave.

You and Asmo were in the front of the group, happily chatting. Lucifer and Satan hung back, occasionally glaring at each other. As the four of you were walking, a trio of shadowy demons leapt out of a nearby alley, directly into your path. It almost reminded you of something that would happen in one of Levi’s games. They crossed their arms without saying anything, made it clear you wouldn’t be passing through the area with them in your way. You rolled your eyes. This was childish behavior. You moved to step onto the street to get around them, but you were stopped by an arm being wrapped around your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Asmo asked you.

“Going around them? We don’t have time for this.” You sighed.

“We can’t go around.” Lucifer spoke up. The fact that the shadow demons hadn’t moved, or even blinked for that matter, at the sight of Lucifer put you on edge.

“Why? We can just cross the road.” Nobody responded to you. It was like you'd broken an unspoken rule.

They pretended like they hadn't heard you. Instead, Asmo stepped forward and pushed you back. Like clockwork, Lucifer and Satan moved you to the back of the group.

"We..." Asmo narrowed his eyes, "have a reservation to get to." He got within arms reach of the three shadow demons. Lucifer and Satan flanked either side of him, arms crossed. You began to sweat and really thought they were about to fight. So, you tried to step forward from where you'd been shoved behind the boys, but what they did next caused you to freeze. Instead of throwing a punch, Asmo struck a funky move: a dance move.

For whatever reason, Lucifer and Satan matched him, and hit pose after pose beside him. It was like they had done this before. The way they were so synchronized had to be because they’d practiced, right?

What was even crazier to you was that the demons they’d begun dancing in front of joined in. They created the same formation, just opposite of the brothers. They hit equally as jiggy moves, and looked just as intimidating as they had before. You’d expected them to burst out laughing, or be confused.

You were too stunned to speak, no less move. Honestly, since you were already watching, you figured you might as well see it out to the end. While you didn't really get it, it seemed as if the brothers were winning. The dance battle ended swiftly. The shadow demons stepped back into the alley they'd come from, allowing you to pass. You were still stunned.

"What? Did you actually think we were going to fight?" When you merely stared back at Asmo, blinking confused, he shook his head laughing. "Humans are so odd." The demons began to walk away, but you stood exactly where you'd been the entire time, stunned.

"Come on Mc! We might be late." Satan yelled back to you. You rushed to catch up with them.

And they called you the strange one.