#fold up your wings ; close your eyes ;; musings

[darlingdeare]

tag dump.

[daycourtofficial]

Cassian: the annoying brother

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 2.7k | warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, slight violence

Summary: You and Azriel are mates, but haven't told the rest of your family. Cassian is suspicious of the two of you and does whatever he can to try to rile up a newly mated Azriel or get you to accidentally let it slip.

Author's note: This has been in my drafts for AGES and I'm so glad you guys wanted it. Shout out to @lady-of-tearshed for the line about allergies.

“Azriel, you have to go.”

Your voice is soft as you lightly kick him, pushing him towards the edge of the bed. The house was still, the sky dark beyond your balcony doors. He grunts, wrapping his arms around you tight, his foot catching your bedpost, pushing against it to stay on the bed.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles, rolling over on top of you, his wings draping across the bed. His breath tickles your ear as he has you pinned beneath him, his arms and legs circling around you. You wiggle your hand up to poke him in the side repeatedly, “you have to get up, babe.”

He huffs in your ear, “I don’t have to do anything.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, his refusal to get out of bed worsening each day. “You agreed to train the Valkyries against magic wielders today.”

“That was the old me, the new me doesn’t care.”

“That was the you from a week ago.”

“I could kick his ass.”

“Not if you stay in this bed, you can’t.”

He moaned once more into your neck as he held tightly to you before pushing off, spinning you two so you were on top of him. He closes his eyes, his head falling back dramatically on the pillow.

“Oh no, looks like there’s something keeping me from getting up. Send Cassian my regards.”

You giggle, trying to push off of him but his grip won’t budge. “As if Cassian won’t come in here the second he can’t find you in your own room.”

“Your door has a lock.”

“I know for a fact he would fly outside and fly in through my balcony doors.”

He sighs, his grip on you loosening. “Fine. Will you at least be there for family dinner tonight?”

You nod your head against him and he rolls you off of himself, slowly climbing out of the bed. He shakes his wings, stretching them out before folding them back behind himself. He leans over the bed, reaching towards you. You shuffle enough across the bed to give him access to your forehead, where he plants a swift kiss.

“It’s too early for sneaking around,” he muses, checking to make sure he didn’t leave anything he might need during training. At least, that was the excuse he gave every morning. All of his training gear was in his room - he just wanted to linger in your presence for a few more minutes.

“You agreed we’d wait a few months because you didn’t want any of your family butting in.”

You sat up on your knees, wrapping the comforter around you as you did so. You leaned up, pushing your lips out and making obnoxious kissing sounds at him until he cooperated once more. He brought his head down to you, kissing you back. He pulled back just a few inches before diving his face onto yours once more, peppering kisses across your cheeks. Despite the rising sun, it felt unbelievably warm to be wrapped up in his arms, giggling about the day ahead.

“And I bet you’re going to throw it in my face that it was my idea, hmm?” He kisses you again, “much like you have done every time I complain about sneaking out of here before anyone wakes up.”

“You know me so well.”

-

Cassian was walking down the hallway past your bedroom, hurriedly on his way towards training when he stopped mid step at the scent that lingered around your door. He sniffed the air, detecting both yours and Azriel’s scents. The scent was so strong it stopped him in his tracks - so distinctive. It wasn’t just individual scents, it was another scent all together. 

He looked utterly ridiculous dressed in his fighting leathers, his hair in a messy bun atop his head, spinning in circles as he sniffed the air. Something was lingering, much stronger than either scent. He paused, looking at your door, listening for any noises. He glanced up and down the hallway, and after finding it empty, he pressed his ear up to the door, listening for your breathing.

You were clearly asleep, the soft slow breathing of slumber coming from you. But Azriel’s scent was quite fresh - no way it was even half an hour old. He took another inhale, this time trying to really focus on that scent he couldn’t place. He found Azriel’s night-chilled mist and cedar scent, your scent of lilacs and fresh rain, but something else-

Gods dammit.

Cassian can’t help the range of emotions that go through him at the realization his brother had been lying to him. Joy and happiness for the two of you, excitement to tell Nesta. Excited to rub it in Rhys’s dumb face that he knew you two were up to something.

And he was absolutely, completely pissed off at Azriel for keeping this from him.

-

Cassian watched the two of you at dinner that night, his eyes assessing every movement between the two of you. Everything seemed normal. The two of you were acting normal - the bastards, both of you. He was starting to doubt himself - the scent was nowhere to be found anymore, the two of you were acting normal, sharing jokes, telling stories about the week, laughing at whatever joke was made.

It all made him sick.

He was clutching his fork a bit too tightly when he had his opening, his moment. Everyone was focused on something Rhysand was saying, so you and Az took a moment, one stolen moment, and Cassian knew he was right. 

He watched out of the corner of his eye as you gingerly caressed the black eye he had given Azriel this morning during training. He couldn't help himself - the anger he felt at not knowing such a big thing in Azriel’s life culminated in him being much more aggressive than usual, leaving Azriel a bit bloodier and more bruised than normal. Azriel had chalked it up to Nesta being gone for a few days, taking Emerie and Gwyn to the Day Court to see the pegasi with a personal tour from Helion himself.

Watching the moment end for the both of you, your hand falling back to your lap was just what Cassian needed to get his mind off of Helion flirting with his mate: a rare opportunity to annoy the ever living shit out of his brother. 

And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

-

“Good morning,” you chirp, walking into the foyer, smiling at Azriel and Feyre. The three of you and Cassian had plans to go shopping for Nesta, helping Cassian find the perfect gift for their mating anniversary. Nesta’s absence allowed Cassian ample time to shop for her, as well as ample time for you and Azriel to undoubtedly wrap her gift once Cassian comes to you both asking for help.

“Ah, we were just musing if any of Helion’s charms have worked on any of the Valkyries,” Feyre’s grin full of amusement at imagining her sister seeing Helion again. You quip, “I’m certain he very rarely ever hears the word ‘no’ so I’m sure he’s very happy to have Nesta so close by.”

Feyre giggles and is about to reply when Cassian’s boots can be heard stomping into the room. You turn to greet him, a snappy remark on your tongue, when he quickly bounds into the room and scoops you into his arms before turning to Azriel.

“Race ya,” is all Azriel and Feyre hear before he shoots off the balcony with you in his arms. He takes off incredibly quickly. Your hair was whipping around you - you were going to tie it back right before take off, but your inability to do so made it impossible for you to see. Cassian’s haphazard flying was making things worse - the shops in Velaris were a quick straight shot from the House of Wind, but by Cassian’s trajectory, you’d think you were following a winding river.

“Cass!” Your shouts are met with chuckles as he finally lands, a bit harsher than Azriel does, but he keeps you in his arms. Azriel and Feyre land next to you two, Azriel’s shadows crawling all over Cassian to get to you. Cassian kicks at them a little, and you swear you can almost hear a hissing sound in response.

You’re finally able to see, moving the strands of hair out of your face and coaxing some of the shadows out of the way for you to find Azriel glaring at his brother. Cassian takes no notice of his brother’s annoyance, patting your leg before gently setting you down.

You reach out trying to stabilize yourself, a bit woozy from the ridiculous flight. Azriel’s eyes roamed over you as his arm reached out so you could hold on. Feyre looks between the two brothers, unsure of what’s going on. You laugh to diffuse the tension, “that was a fun ride, Cassian.”

He winks, “I’m always a fun ride.”

Feyre laughs, slapping his bicep, but you feel Azriel go rigid beneath your hands. You send some soothing feelings down the bond, double checking that the both of you were still glamoured from anyone scenting it. Azriel breathes deeply, fighting every instinct in him to kill Cassian for putting you in such danger. His anger was on an incredibly tight tether, one he would have let erupt if it weren’t for the various bystanders around you four.

The rest of the afternoon was just as tense as the flight Cassian had taken you on. Well, Feyre and Azriel were tense. Cassian was living it up, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. In fact, Cassian seemed to be particularly chipper, and particularly touchy. Cassian strutted around the city with you tucked under his arm, and it was really difficult for you to keep the rage you were feeling through the bond to seep into your own mood.

The four of you meandered through: book stores, where Cassian completely ignored anything Azriel recommended, jewelry stores, where Cassian held up every piece he was considering up to you, saying “you have a similar neck to Nes.” 

Azriel’s rage was palpable, almost like a fifth companion for this outing, but it became overbearing when your group headed into a bakery. Cassian would pick up the bite size cake samples and feed them to you, his fingers too close to your mouth for Azriel’s liking.

“This one’s divine,” Cassian’s voice rang out, but as he pushed the piece towards your mouth, Azriel yanked you away from him, muttering a piss poor excuse about having something important to do before flying off with you.

Dinner that night was just as atrocious as the earlier outing, despite your requests to Azriel to behave. Immediately Cassian sat in Azriel’s usual seat, and after Azriel growled at him to move, Cassian told him, “my butt’s already made a nice imprint on this chair. Do you want to sit in my butt imprint?”

Cassian knew he was being childish, but he couldn’t stop himself from wiggling into the seat further before sighing, “just the way I like it.”

Azriel began to turn before Cassian threw his arm around you, bringing you close, “besides, if I sit next to my favorite girl, maybe she’ll feed me instead.”

His wink after that almost lost him his arm. Azriel clenched his jaw, took some deep breaths like you told him to, and stalked over to Cassian’s usual seat across the table from you. He practically shook with rage the whole night, avoiding any and all conversation around the table in favor of watching Cassian continue to touch you and flirt with you all night.

He avoided Rhys and Feyre’s occasional mental taps to try to speak to him, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t you. He eventually tuned back into the conversation when Mor was discussing an atrocious outfit by one of the courtiers from Summer, stating no one could look good in such a ridiculous outfit.

“What are you talking about, I could pull it off -  I look great in anything!” You laughed, eyes bright in amusement at the ridiculous description of the dress with feathers, tassels, and copious amounts of sequins.

“And nothing,” Cassian retorts, his smirk growing even larger at Azriel’s growl. You cough in a piss poor attempt to cover the noise, but everyone just looks between Azriel and Cassian, the latter staring down the former.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Your eyes widen at Azriel taking Cassian’s flirting as more than-

Oh.

Oh. 

“What’s wrong, Azzy?”

You start shaking your head no, trying to get Azriel to look at you, but his rage makes his focus narrow in too closely to Cassian to see the warning signs.

“Don’t you have a mate to flirt with?”

You quickly tug the bond, trying to get Azriel to look at you, but it was too late. Cassian smirks, having finally gotten the upper hand on Azriel. Cassian leans in closer to the table, his eyes on Azriel as he asks, “don’t you?”

Azriel pales, surprised at Cassian’s deception. The room is completely quiet as everyone waits for Azriel’s response, but only a second passes before he lunges across the table, throttling Cassian to the floor. Chairs scrape as everyone rushes to pull them apart, save for Amren remaining seated and sipping from her wine glass.

“After I kill you with my bare hands, I will ensure your grave will be covered in flowers so that your allergies will haunt you forever.”

“You bastard!”

The two are rolling around on the rug, throwing punches and insults at each other. Their wings made it impossible to know who was winning. The knocked over a few chairs, but eventually Rhys sees an opening and pulls Cassian off of Azriel. You and Feyre move to Azriel, keeping him from attacking again. Azriel is snarling in your arms, and Cassian keeps baring his teeth back at his brother.

“What is going on?”

You all still at the tone of his voice, a high lord making his dominance known. Cassian looks at Azriel, “tell them, you dumb dick.”

Azriel snarls at him, and you and Feyre quickly hold him back. His chest is heaving as he shrugs off Feyre’s hold on him but places one of his hands over yours.

“We’re-“ he looks at you, and you nod subtly, “mates. We’re mates and we kept it a secret and somehow Cassian found out.”

Azriel glares at Cassian, who glared right back.

“Why was it some secret you were keeping from me?”

“We kept it from everyone, Cass,” your soft voice did little to calm the Illyrians staring each other down.

“I thought I was your friend-“ he pointed at you, “and your brother.” He aggressively poked Azriel in the chest, and your mate deflated just a bit at how clearly hurt Cassian was. Cassian crossed his arms, looking away from you two before Azriel put a hand on his shoulder. “You know we do care about you, right?”

You step toward Cassian, wrapping him into a hug. “Cassie, we just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a bit, can you blame us? You would have gone shouting it from the rooftops as soon as we told you.”

He sighed, “I know. It just... hurt that you guys didn’t want me to know.”

You squeeze Cassian tighter before Azriel comes over, squishing you between the two of them.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Cass. It was nothing personal. Nobody knew.”

A beat passes, the warmth from being surrounded by the two Illyrians making your cheeks hot.

“How about this Cassian - if we ever want any of you guys in our bedroom, we’ll ask you first.”

Azriel growls at your joke, moving to pull away from the hug but Cassian holds on tighter.

“Deal.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

[inkedinshadows]

Illusions of Reality

Day 5: Shadow play — Azriel x f!reader

Warnings: p in v, sprinkles of edging and restraint

Word count: 889

You had never thought shadows could fuck you, but being mated to a Shadowsinger came with its perks.

Azriel was comfortably lounging on the other side of the bed, letting his shadows have their way with you. Tendrils of darkness slithered along your body, curling around your nipples and teasing your clit. They had been at it for so long that you were desperate for more, but every time you tried to push yourself up and reach for your mate, the shadows pinned you down again.

“Azriel…” you whined as you got pushed down on the bed once more. “Please, stop teasing me…”

He only chuckled. “Believe it or not, they’re acting on their own accord.”

You weren’t sure you actually believed that. All you knew was that no matter how nice their touch felt, you wanted Azriel’s hands to replace them.

“But I need more,” you tried again. “I want you.”

Azriel smirked. “You want me?”

You nodded, turning pleading eyes to him. A whimper escaped you when the shadows gathered around your clit and slid down to your glistening folds.

“Alright, then.”

Relief flooded you at his words. You watched him finally move closer to where you were sprawled, and he knelt between your legs, his scarred hands caressing your thighs and then pushing them further apart.

“Close your eyes, love,” he said softly. “No peeking.”

You frowned but did what he asked without questioning. As long as it got you what you so desperately wanted, you didn’t care.

The shadows flew up to circle your breasts, but your senses were focused on the movement between your legs. There was a quiet rustle, and a moment later you felt Azriel’s cock against your entrance. His hands still held your thighs as he slowly pushed in, eliciting a soft moan.

And then you froze. Your frown only deepened.

Nothing moved.

“That’s not yours,” you muttered.

You could tell he was smiling by the amused note in his voice. “I’m glad you can tell the difference.”

More confused than before, you opened your eyes to find Azriel kneeling in between your parted legs, wings folded behind him, in the same exact position he was a few moments ago. He hadn’t moved. Yet he had pushed something inside you.

You realized what it was only when it pulled out, right before sliding back in.

Azriel had somehow shaped the shadows into a cock that was smoothly flowing in and out of you on its own. You gasped, legs shaking slightly.

“How does it feel, love?” Azriel mused, his eyes focused on your face.

“It’s… it’s weird,” you murmured.

You had no other words to describe what it felt like. It was dense and thick enough to bring you pleasure, and it pulsed inside you, filling every empty space and massaging your sensitive walls. At the same time, though, it was still made of shadows—real enough to bring you to the edge of an orgasm, but not enough to push you off.

“Bad weird or good weird?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

Azriel’s fingers drew slow circles on your thighs, watching as that shadow-cock thrust into you over and over. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yours feels better,” you complained. You wanted his, needed it more than ever. “And bigger.”

He simply smirked. “I’m flattered.”

You groaned, and the sound seemed to spur on the shadows. They resumed their teasing dance over your nipples and down on your clit, pinning your wrists down when you try to lift your hands. You were a squirming, whimpering mess, but your mate was doing nothing to help you.

He even had the nerve to say, “Come for me, love.”

“I can’t…” You shook your head, almost on the brink of tears. “The shadows… they’re not enough…”

“Not enough?” His voice was a low purr. “I have such a greedy mate.”

He leaned forward to caress your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. His shadows moved faster over your sensitive body, that makeshift cock pumping deeper inside you, making your legs quiver.

Azriel kissed your brow. “Is this better?”

In a sense, it was. You could feel the tension in your lower belly, the pleasure building up even more, but you were still teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

“No,” you whined, your chest heaving. A single tear rolled down your cheek, and Azriel brushed it away with his thumb.

“Okay,” he murmured soothingly. “Okay, my love. I’ll give you what you want.”

The shadows dissipated from inside you, only to be immediately replaced by Azriel. He pushed in with a single thrust and a groan.

“Oh gods, yes…”

You wanted to cry at the familiar feeling, at the thick drag of his cock filling you, at the punishing pace he set.

You never got the chance. You had been on the brink of release for so long that you came at the fourth thrust. Your moan was swallowed by Azriel’s kiss, and he groaned into your mouth when you clenched around him, though his rhythm never faltered. He fucked you through it all.

When you came down from your high, he slowed only for a few moments to let you catch your breath, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You might have come, but I haven’t,” he whispered softly. “I’m just getting started, love.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk

[giggly-squiggily]

Hoodie (My Hero Academia)

Heyo! Bringing back some NOSTALGIA! :D So this was actually a fic I submitted to @otomiyaa's old blog waaaaay back when I was still a baby fic writer. The submission has been lost, but I figured why not blow off the dust, give it a fresh coat of formatting and editing and bring it here! :D I don't know if you're still a DabiHawks shipper Ginny, but I hope this brings some good nostalgia to you :3 Keep being amazing, friend!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @nutzgunray-lvt @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mochi-giggles @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @sp1racle

CW: Swearing- It's Dabi after all

Summary: Dabi likes to steal Hawk's clothes-even if they feel "weird" with all the feathers stuck within. Hawks decides to explore what that really means.

With Dabi, Hawks could never predict what was coming. And he loved it.

The villain had a way to him that drew at Hawks. It was endearing and baffling and all and all an addiction Hawks didn’t want to kick.

Sometimes the Villain would break into his home while Hawks was on patrol. When the Pro-hero checked his security alert, he would be given the sight of Dabi lounging about in his apartment, drowning in the birdman’s hoodie and eating his hot Cheetos.

Other times Dabi would tell Hawks to meet him in the most obscure locations, ones that required lots of twists and turns and always leaving the Pro hero exhausted by the time he got there. The information he received wasn’t always worth it, but the scarred yet gentle kisses Dabi gave him were.

Today was no different. Dabi had made himself at home in Hawks' apartment when the Prohero got there, once again wearing his hoodie as he stretched out along his couch. No snacks this time. Dabi’s jacket was folded behind his head in a makeshift pillow, and his boots were kicked off, placed neatly by the front door.

Hawks bit down a laugh as he closed the door, taking his time removing his jacket and boots before walking over. A sight like this must be savored. “Seems like you’re quite attached to that hoodie, huh?”

Dabi cracked open an unfairly blue eye, looking up at Hawks through tuffs of black hair. “Hmmm...” He drawled, stretching his arms lazily over his head and leaving them there, hoodie riding up and revealing a line of silver skin. “It’s warm. ‘S not like you wear it, anyway.”

“That’s because you're always stealing it.” Hawks replied with a smirk, making his way over to the cozy villain and climbing on top of him. A few adjustments later he was  bracing his arms on either side of Dabi’s head. “Not that I’m complaining, though. You look good in my clothes.”

Dabi rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips at Hawks' words. “Whatever. It’s too big, and it's always full of feathers.” Dabi reached a hand out, running his fingers through the soft red wings that encased him. The gesture earned Hawks’ hum of approval. “I have to pluck them off before I can wear it.”

“Do they bother you?” Hawks asked, eyes curious as he reached up, capturing Dabi’s hand, rubbing his thumb along the scarred knuckles. They were old, no longer raw and painful. He wanted to kiss them again and again, even if Dabi couldn’t feel it.

“Not really. They just feel weird.” Dabi mused, smoothing out the miscue feathers with gentle fingers. “Pretty bird...” he murmured, making Hawks blush.

 The Prohero watched him curiously, hung up on Dabi’s earlier comment. “Feels weird, huh?” He let his free hand fall to Dabi’s hip, sneakily pushing the oversized cloth up with his hand.

“Yeah. They’re too- niieh!” Dabi flinched with a yelp when he felt something soft brush his skin. He glared down at the lone wing close to his exposed waist, then at the smirking hero above him. “Just what do you think your do-ah!” He flinched again when the wing brushed his side, aiming for untouched skin. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he glared fiercely, trying to ignore the growing blush filling his face. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Hawks grinned, eyes alight like a child just discovering Christmas for the first time. “Weird, huh?” He asked again, quickly reaching up and trapping Dabi’s hand within his own.. “You’re ticklish?”

The villain didn’t respond, opting to glare instead. Hawks flexed his wings.

“Hawks, I swear to god, if you tickle me-“ Dabi didn’t get to finish his threat, clamping his mouth shut and squirming about as Hawk’s feathery appendage traced his skin, the tickly touch leaving trails of goosebumps along the pale skin.

“Hm? What was that?” Hawks teased, his smile growing as Dabi squirmed and quivered beneath him, cheeks flushed a soft pink and jaw set in an attempt to keep the embarrassing noises at bay. “Aww! What a cutie! Trying so hard to hide it-come on, let me see that smile!” Hawks teased, finally slipping a hand under Dabi’s hoodie and gently clawed at the sensitive skin.

“GAH! Ahehehehhahahahaha! F-Fuahhahahaha! Stahahap! Dahahahamn y-yohoohhhohou!” The dam broke. Dabi threw his head back and cackled, eyes squeezing shut with mirth as Hawks tickled him mercilessly. He thrashed and squirmed, kicking his feet against the couch cushions as he tried to wriggle free. “Freahhahahaking wiihihings!”

 The Pro hero grinned, delighted by the reaction from the usually somber villain. “There it is! I knew you had some semblance of joy in you! Tickle tickle tickle, Dabi!”

“S-SHuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhp! Ahehehehahhaha! GAH! Nohohohohoho bihihiihihrdie  stAhahahap!” Dabi arched with a squeak when Hawks’ fingers brushed over the lower parts of his stomach, fingers and feathers very gently teasing the terribly sensitive skin like a dance. It left the brunette howling with laughter- the tops of his cheeks burning like the flames he could create. If he still had working tear ducks, he was sure he’d be misty eyed right now.

And Hawks- oh that freaking Hawks. He was laughing with him,seemingly overjoyed by the sight of him so vulnerable! Though- he had to admit; the sound of him laughing was rather nice…

Finally, when Dabi couldn’t take it anymore- when he was just barely getting out a wheeze that embarrassingly sounded like a dog toy- did Hawks stop. The tickles came to an end; his hand opting to rest his hand against Dabi’s warm chest. As the villain gasped for air, he rubbed soothing circles into it, helping him compose himself.

“Ahehehehe..hehehehe…fuhuhuhuck..” Falling back into the couch cushions, Dabi closed his eyes-willing himself to calm. He felt both humiliated and exhausted and…free. Relaxed. At ease. The feeling of Hawks’ hand against his scarred chest- that comforting pressure as he listened to his racing heartbeat- it was nice.

Bastard.

“F-Fuhuck you...Birdie.” Dabi growled, reaching up and punching Hawks in the shoulder. Only the punch was more of a tap, and Hawks laughed as he caught his hand, bringing the scarred limb up and kissing his knuckles.

 “Hey, you enjoyed it! You could have broken free at any time.”

That comforting feeling grew as he realized…he was right. The entire time Hawks had him, he wasn’t holding on that tight- and if Dabi really wanted to escape, he could. The fact he had that option from the get go did funny things to his chest.

Then the humility came crashing back- leaving the scarred villain redder than Hawks wings, which was what he promptly shoved his face against to hide in mortification. “S-Shut up! I- don’t laugh!” His muffled stammering was enough to send Hawks into a laughing fit, flopping against the embarrassed villain and pulling him entirely into his chest.

 “Come now. Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone's ticklish. Even you.”

Dabi groaned against him, only peering out to glare at his feathery boyfriend. “I hate you.” 

Hawks smiled, leaning down and kissing him gently. “I love you too.”

Thanks for reading!

[pursuitseternal]

“The Second Day” of “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” staring Batstarion🦇

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 1.3K Pure antics and comedy

🦇 art by @marimosalad Link to full art

Summary: You can’t pick a lock without your Rogue, even if he is Ascnedant now. So you wait… and wait… until a new unexpected visitor flies in.

CW: Banter, Poop jokes, Tav filtering Astarion’s threats and antics, sneezes, and cute fluffy vampiric bats with an attitude 🦇 (no smut)

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterist

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Hells, what is taking him so…flipping long?”

For a split second, you think Gale might actually swear, but no. The goody-two-shoes scout wins out in the end. You giggle anyway.

“Said he’d be back quick with a new set of lockpicks ready to go, Mister Ascendant Lord and expert of the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate…” Gale huffs and folds his arms crossly.

Karlach snorts next to you, both your backs leaning against the alley walls. You keep to the shadows, eyeing up the house you need to enter… surreptitiously. Those Flaming Fist have been everywhere lately, and you still needed your Rogue to break you in nearly everywhere in the City.

“He’s probably too busy doing Ascendant things to hurry, Gale,” Karlach chuckles, peering her horned head into the street.

“Like what?” you ask, folding your arms and pouting your lips, “what could he possibly be doing but rushing back to be with me?”

Gale rolls his eyes, seeing the wry expression on your face, he realizes you joke. “Oh, good one,” he chortles. “Oh lots of things, I would imagine if I applied my wildest musings…”

“Get to the point wizard!” Karlach slaps him on the back. “More taunting, fewer words.”

Gale sputters for air after having it knocked from his body. And you laugh at that.

Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass your face. A blur of white settles on the wall beside your head. Hanging upside down.

A fluffy white bat. It chitters at you.

“Oh shit,” Karlach jolts at the sight. “That thing is massive.”

It seems to chitter more.. proudly at that. You narrow your eyes at it… your other companions draw away a step, leaving the beast with space.

“If Astarion were here, he’d probably call it a snack and snatch it from the air…” Gale jabs, a self-confident smile on his face, proud of his own humor. His own best entertainment.

“Naw… he’s too busy picking out new fancy clothes…” Karlach peers into the street.

“Too busy trying to burst into a sea of mist…” Gale laughs.

You giggle, thinking of something he did just that morning, for an hour, “Preening his hair into a perfect coif before kissing his reflection…”

Gale’s mouth snaps shut. The bat on the wall chitters noisily again, flapping its wings as it comes to dart around your head. “That bat is all over you,” his eyes narrow, “but I’m fresh out of Speak with Animals potions for now.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind, maybe he’s lonely…” You hold out your hand, an offering to let the little mammal rest somewhere soft. “Gives me something to look after until Astarion comes back.”

“Don’t let him see you’ve got a new pet…” Gale taunts, leaning closer to peer at the creature that now rests in your palm, “He might get jealous and snap it up in his fangs.”

Does… is the bat… glaring at Gale?

You look closely, but Karlach guffaws. “Oh oh, I’ve got it. I think I know what’s keeping the Vampire Ascendant! He’s probably stuck taking his first shit in two-hundred years...”

Okay, now that bat in your palm is definitely glaring, and chittering, and… pissed. You look closely at last, it’s white fur catches the sun in shades of silver, its eyes are a deep red… almost a crimson…

You stop. “Astarion?” you murmur at the little creature, patting its head with a single finger.

It… He… bounces on your hand, chittering away, pointed little face nodding.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach groans. “How the fuck did you turn into that?”

Gale leans closer… but not too close just in case. “I’ve read that some Vampires can take forms themselves, if powerful enough.” He grins widely, “Could be ferocious werewolf, or noxious cloud…” that grin twists, “Yours is adorable, if I do say so myself, Astarion.”

You can almost hear the ire in the noises that he makes in reply. Still nonsense chatter, but the emotion is clear.

He is not amused.

“Gale, you do realize he will turn back, and he will be pissed,” you warn with a shake of your head. You freeze, a whisper tickling inside your mind as the creature in your palm twitches and rests. “Astarion says it’s not his fault you're a pack of incompetent… oh,” you pause, patting him on his head with a finger, “I’m not going to say that part, my love.”

“He’s… talking to you?” Gale twists his head and raises a brow. “Like, mind to mind?”

“Yes,” you nod, “we are just as baffled at the moment, I will be honest with you, even if he said not to tell you…” the bat starts scrabbling up your arm, chittering even more noisily than before. “Stop whining, darling. You’ll figure it out.” He comes to rest on your shoulder, hanging upside down from the seam of your shirt. “And he says he would rather you never again speculate about his bowel movements either, on pain of… I’m going to say, a severe talking to.”

“That’s not what he said is it?” Karlach guffaws.

You can’t help but let your finger scritch under his little chin as he dangles from your shoulder. “No, no,” you giggle as you watch his beady little eyes flutter shut at the petting. “He used his regular ascendantly foul mouth.”

“Well, Vampire Ascendant or not, he’s not going to be much help breaking and entering in that form, is he?” Gale snips, rolling his eyes.

“He says he would be more than happy to talk us through it, if we… oh, again? I’m not suggesting that, my pet,” you shake your head, removing your scratching finger to wag it at him. “Naughty,” you chide.

“How did you get like that anyway, Astarion?” Karlach chuffs, folding her arms and swaying on her feet.

“He sneezed,” you reply. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to share that. I’m sorry, my love. You really should be more obvious about what is for my ears… er… mind alone.”

“Maybe…” Gale gives a mischievous grin, “if we get you to sneeze again… maybe you’ll change back to a form with fingers that can actually do some good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a little bit of powder, and blows.

The little bat writhes, fur standing on end, flat folded nose twitching before….

“Achoo!” The sneeze echoes off the alley walls, a burst of black mist that tingles your skin as his tall, lean and wiry body forms against your arm. You can sense his irritation, out right, cuttingly sharp annoyance lacing his angry breaths. Once the mist clears, Astarion is, in fact, glaring at you all. Crimson eyes dart from one to the next. “I am… going to fucking kill you,” he hisses.

“Shh…” you cajole, raising your finger to scritch under his smooth chin, clenched tight in his rage. Instantly, the moment you begin your gentle petting, he eases, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think he likes that, soldier,” Karlach whispers a giggle. “Do you feed him little treats when he’s a good boy?”

“Only if he gets us into that house with those dexterous hands of his,” you chuckle and slide your hand to stroke his cheek.

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated, tired, and annoyed. “But not one of you breathes a word of this to Halsin… or Wyll… or… anyone.”

“Agreed,” Karlach slaps him on the back.

He begins rummaging his lithe fingers through his pack, turning those crimson eyes on you as you watch. “And you, my consort, don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that mirror-kissing comment earlier…”

“Don’t think you won’t have to earn those chin scritches, my love,” you giggle in return as he flashes that fanged smirk at you.

“One more, my darling?” he purrs, watching the others start into the street already. “One for the road, one in case we die today?”

Your fingers reach quickly to oblige, his eyes closing to savor your attentive care. And you giggle, “Who can argue with that?”

[cloudwhisper23]

BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly.  “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

[inuhalfdemon]

Down Day for No One Can Know...

Word Count: 1,748 Words

“Luci?” Alastor growled, sliding from the shadows and stepping into the dark of Lucifer’s room within the Hazbin Hotel. Alastor’s demon eyes shown red in the dark as he approached the King’s bed. “You were missed at breakfast this morning…I know the menu wasn’t a favorite of yours, but really, did Waffle Wednesday deserve such scorn?” He meant to tease but stepping up to beside the bed, Alastor knew something was most certainly…off. Though he was no early bird, Lucifer usually greeted the day much earlier than this.

The room was dark and the room was stale: the curtains had been left drawn and there clearly had been no opening of a window or door for some time. Charlie had kindly offered days of respite for all residents of the hotel; there had been much to do following the re-build of the place and their stand against Adam…Alastor had happily threw himself into catching up on tasks he had left to address within his radio tower or among the other Overlords. Both Alastor and Lucifer had seen less of each other these past few days, these past few nights – something that was inevitable with all the responsibilities they had left to maintain; but Alastor still found Lucifer’s absence this morning as something that required his full attention.

“Luci?” Alastor asked again; softer now as he gently pulled back the mess of blankets and covers that laid across the bed.  

The covers pulled away and Alastor saw that Lucifer was curled tightly into himself; wings out and folded protectively to his sides. He shifted some; feathers shuffling as he pressed himself tighter to the bed and softly groaned.

“Lucifer…do you mean to remain restive the entirety of the day?” There was no contempt in Alastor’s question; only a curiosity. He tilted his head, carefully assessing the angel. He noted that Lucifer was dressed in only his boxers and that his long devil’s tail was coiled, wrapped and firmly holding him; loops of it stacked all along the length of one arm – a clear indication of self-soothing.

“Hmph…too tired…” Lucifer mumbled into a pillow, turning his head away from Alastor.

Alastor’s smiled twitched briefly at the corners of his mouth and he eased himself down to sit beside Lucifer.

Reaching out and saying nothing, he slid his hand to touch Lucifer’s bare arm beside him; claws dragging across soft skin. Lucifer tensed – face burrowing further into the pillow and body tightening; reluctant to move. Humming, Alastor’s claws dragged gently down Lucifer’s arm and finding that he wasn’t being pried from his position – Lucifer relaxed, softened and melted to the touch.

Tracing his hand down; Alastor coaxed and freed Lucifer’s own hand from him. Pulling it away and pulling it close; Alastor traced patterns across the back of it, following the knuckles and pressing into the palm. He turned Lucifer’s hand this way and that in his; feeling Lucifer’s arm going lax and boneless as he did. Alastor glanced back down at the angel.

Such an interesting contradiction…refusal of self-care but desperate to self-soothe…averse to being moved or touched…yet…starved for it just the same. How the ailments of the mind love to fuck with us, and those that we cherish. He mused, bringing Lucifer’s hand to his lips. He held it there briefly, softly to his mouth before a sharp end of a tooth bit into the skin.

Lucifer yelped; yanking his hand back.

“The fuck!?” he hissed.

Alastor sucked his teeth…cortisol. Even in ichor, Alastor could detect the bitter notes of the stress hormone – it would seem.

“You are depressed,” Alastor said softly.

“Yeah, no shit,” Lucifer snarled. “You couldn’t have just asked!?”

“I…wouldn’t have known how to broach such a subject,” Alastor admitted.

“Well, consider it broached,” Lucifer bit back, curling back into himself and turning away. He sighed. “Please go away, Al…I don’t…I didn’t really want you to find me like this. It’s not something I can help and it will pass, I just…I need to let it run its course. You’ve got plenty to do and I’ll be more like myself later on...” 

“Mmm…yes. Lot’s to do,” Alastor hummed. “I wonder…would you eat anything if I brought you up something?”

“No...I-I really don’t want anything right now, thank you,” Lucifer told him quietly, still turned away.

“A bath first, then,” Alastor decided; leaning over and lifting Lucifer completely out of the bed.

“The Hell!? Al!?” Lucifer objected as Alastor swung him with him; taking him with as he headed for the bathroom.

“It will do you good,” Alastor told him; pausing at the door and nuzzling him in a moment of sweetness, “and frankly…you stink, Samael.”

Lucifer huffed; his tail had slid away from his arm – lashing beside them in agitation.

Alastor was right, the bath had helped.

Moving one of the radios he kept throughout the hotel, Alastor had it placed beside were he knelt by the tub – playing soft jazz – as Alastor worked at scrubbing Lucifer clean. Alastor had set his jacket and bowtie aside; his sleeves were pulled up past his elbows; his shirt open at the collar and a little way down his chest – exposing the end of his freshly healed scar; his gift from Adam – and he hummed as he saw to his angel.

He took his time; washing and scrubbing at Lucifer’s back, under his arms and along his chest. He even dosed him with clean warm water; taking pangs to massage his scalp with shampoo and conditioner, thoroughly cleansing his hair, before dosing him again – rinsing him off.  

Lucifer never commented on it; but he also had noticed the movement of a few of the many rubber ducks he kept randomly placed throughout his suite. One sat atop the radio Alastor had brought in; another beside it. Another two were floating in the tub with him and still another sat beside the warm, fluffy towel Alastor had set aside to use when they were done.

The agitation Lucifer first had felt towards Alastor’s ministrations was short-lived; turning instead into a deep-seeded guilt that laid heavy in his gut before giving way to something sucking and cloying…something that pulled at him – demanded and commanded his body and his mind – holding him in a firm state of dullness, exhausted and forlorn.

After ensuring that he was toweled and dried, Alastor provided Lucifer with clean sleepwear; silk blue pajamas and soft, fluffy slippers. Refusing to be made to be carried this time; Lucifer led the way, shuffling dispiritedly back into the bedroom.

Lucifer was surprised to find it in a different state than what they had left it, and he couldn’t fathom when Alastor found the time to make it so. The curtains were drawn back and Hell’s muted, afternoon red rays filtered in; the fabric of them rustling in a gentle fresh breeze that wafted through the now-open windows. The bedding was changed; the duvet and the sheets all made up – fresh and inviting – the smell of sweet lavender permeating the air from the linens. At the bedside table, a steaming cup of what smelled like hot, chamomile tea, honey and a scone.

A hard lump was forming in Lucifer’s throat…that same deep-seeded guilt ebbing in his belly – telling him he didn’t deserve such treatment…that it was pathetic for him to need such kindnesses…  

 Alastor peeled back the covers to the bed whilst Lucifer kicked off the slippers.

“Eat if you can,” Alastor told him; squeezing his shoulder and stepping away so that Lucifer may slide back into the bed. “The tea I brewed with valerian root; it will help you find sleep.” 

“I have a couple of matters to address; won’t take long,” Alastor assured him.

“Al…you’ve got too much-“ Lucifer began; settling into the bed.

“Luci.” Alastor gently took his chin; forcing their eyes to meet. “ Listen to me when I tell you: You are the most important thing I have to see to today…nothing else.”

Lucifer swallowed…a dry and uncomfortable swallow; feeling nothing but a hollow ache; only hating himself more for it.

Alastor kissed him. He wasn’t surprised to find the lack of enthusiasm in return for the gesture but the unfamiliarity of it still unnerved him. Squeezing Lucifer’s shoulder again; he dissipated into shadow and quickly drifted off.

Twenty minutes later, he was back in Lucifer’s room – sooner than he could have hoped. He had canceled a late afternoon tea with Rosie; had informed Carmilla that he would have to follow up with her on some reports at a later date and had quickly checked to see that there was nothing absolutely pressing happening right then with the hotel or any of its residents.

Coming back; he saw that Lucifer had nibbled partway through the scone that he had brought and that the tea had been drained empty.

Also better than I had hoped… Alastor noted. He smoothly changed himself into his own silk sleepwear; a red pin-striped style silk set of his own – and he crawled into the bed; joining his angel.

Alastor pulled Lucifer’s tight and curled body to him; his own long body and limbs curling around him and holding him close. Lucifer stirred and Alastor saw that he hadn’t quite found the sleep his mind and his body so badly sought for.

“The valerian didn’t do the trick, huh?”

“No…” Lucifer groaned; pressing his face into Alastor’s chest.

“Hmm....” Alastor hummed. “I wonder…if you’d mind following me into the shadows?”

Lucifer tilted his head; questioningly looking back at Alastor with one eye.

“My shadow…well, he’s grown rather inexplicably fond of you,” Alastor explained. “It’s not something I normally could offer but…he’s agreeable.”

Well…more than that really… Alastor winced inwardly; dreading the sensual implications it would potentially bring in their sexual exploits with each other.

“So…would you like to?” Alastor asked him when Lucifer laid quiet. “Join me in my…shadowy domain? I assure you; it’s quite pleasantly restive.” 

Lucifer sighed; pressing his face closer into Alastor; closing his eyes. “I bet that’s what you say to all of your King’s of Hell…”

 “Quite,” Alastor smiled; happy to see that Lucifer was finding some humor in this miserable day he was having. 

“As long as I’m with you…” Lucifer said softly.

“Of course…” Alastor told him; hugging him tight.

His shadow came and in a smooth and enveloping coolness; Lucifer felt both he and Alastor being pulled into a submerging darkness…the sleep that Lucifer had so desperately needed finally found him.

“Sleep well…our King.”

Part 2: Out by the Bayou

Taglist: @nyx91; @reath-solia

[honeesucker]

Three -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 4,670

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next

Bakugo watched as the Director turned to see where he was motioning toward, watching as your form disappears down the hallway until you and the staff member turned a final corner at the end, completely leaving view. She stood silent for a moment, worrying Bakugo as her eyes were trained on the now empty hallway. Her silence stretched on and made Bakugo’s skin itch, until she turned to him with such a thoughtful look it stunned him.  

“The puppy hybrid?” She questioned him, and he confirmed with a nod.

“Yes,” he stated simply, “she’s fond of Red Riot and his hybrid TetsuTetsu and I enjoyed her company during the event tonight – though I didn’t catch her name,” and as he trailed off the Director’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile.

“She doesn’t have one she has ever cared to share,” she mused. “Mostly she just accepts when people call her ‘Puppy’ or whatever else, honestly.” The sigh the Director let go at whatever thought was in her head left Bakugo curious, but he wanted to tread carefully. “I’m not opposed to this idea; she did just get sent back to us about six months ago which has been easy enough to navigate though she has gotten returned to us a total of seven times in the last five years since her initial rescue,” Bakugo waited for the Director to go on, watching with bated breath as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “She is well-mannered and easy to handle but she has been through some tremendously heinous things before her rescue five years ago, and it appears something happens in the homes she's adopted into where a precipice gets reached that cause the adopters to return her... we’ve been trying to uncover more of what may be causing this issue but haven’t been successful,” the Director’s voice trailed off into a whisper as she mouthed something to herself, Bakugo not able to pick up on the words. Her eyes seemed far away as she put her hand to her chin, massaging the skin thoughtfully before continuing. “I agree her being around TetsuTetsu would be a positive to have in a new home as they became quite close while he was here with her, she also did take a liking to Red Riot, and she seems to have gotten comfortable around you quickly. Yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to this at all but given her background you’re going to need to be more prepared – I would like for you to meet with her rehabilitation counselor, Hana, to go over her background and ensure you’re ready to take on this responsibility. I won’t tell you no, Mr. Bakugo, but I want you to have the full picture beyond this day so you can make an informed decision for yourself – and of course per our policy the hybrid will have the final say.”

Bakugo only nodded along to the Director’s speech, agreeing to meet with your counselor, he wanted to know more about you and be the best he could be for you. His thoughts were at war with himself wondering if what he would learn would somehow change his mind in taking you on, and the competitive drive to be your last home – to not fold like the weak extras before him who returned you.  

Fucking cowards.

Bakugo was led by the Director to a different wing of the facility where he was going to have an initial meeting with Hana - your rehabilitation counselor - to discuss your past, habits, temperament and his prospective adoption of you. He waited on a small, uncomfortable chair outside of Hana's office as she had an existing appointment already. Five minutes turned to ten, turned to twenty before Bakugo's leg ceased to bounce with the opening of the office door.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Bakugo,” Hana was a stout woman in her mid-thirties, Bakugo assessed, with shoulder-length mousy brown hair and equally kind brown eyes. Her smile crinkled her eyes, and puffed her cheeks in an endearing way that reminded him of how some grandmothers were drawn in his favorite manga's – always smiling, radiating kindness. He was instantly put at ease.

“No problem,” he responded, his tone of voice always coming off slightly confrontational no matter how he tried to soften it, “I appreciate you seeing me on short notice.”  

“Please come in,” Hana motioned for Bakugo to enter, and he did. Her office was brightly lit by the large windows taking up a full wall, with a view of one of the many expansive and breathtaking gardens that seemed to surround the facility itself, like the one he spent time with you in the center. Bakugo was motioned to a seat, and he gladly fell into the plush chair across from Hana, who had a thick file on her desk with your photo pinned to it. “So, I understand you’re interested in our little Puppy,” Hana began, staring Bakugo down but in the least confrontational way.

“Yes,” Bakugo cleared his throat, words almost getting stuck with his nerves. “I’ve been able to spend some time with her, and I have regular contact with Red Riot and TetsuTetsu who she’s friends with – I feel like the benefits outweigh anything else...” Bakugo’s voice trailed off as she noted Hana thumbing through your file, red eye straining to see whatever was in there he could before he realized it was being presented to him. He took it, admiring the adorable photo of you on the front of the folder, before he thumbed it open and was stopped in his tracks.

Bakugo could hear Hana speaking but his ears flooded with white noise, her voice sounded faraway as he eyed the photos that appeared to be dated from your initial rescue.

So many of the photos documented your face and body, sunken cheeks, deep, dark circles and matted hair, blood dried and flaking on your skin and in your hair and fur. Tail matted and bloodied, nothing like the plush little cloud that followed you now. He thumbed through more photos as the bruises and lacerations across your body worsened, evidence of your malnutrition and abuse painted on your body and in your eyes.

Your eyes.

They looked so empty, so far away, compared to the glistening little jewels he could get lost in now. The way the light shimmered from within you through them, compared to the photos he was looking at, astounded him. A small scribble in red ink, in the margin of your first physical check-up stopped his heart.

Bait hybrid.

He could see the wounds across your body transform to fit the picture now the closer he examined them. How so many of them showcased the outline of different sized jaws, deep-set wounds from teeth that tore into you. Bruises that bled out into the shape of hands. In a few of the photos you had bruises consistent with being bound by the wrists and ankles, even a close-up of a deep burn around your throat where a rope would have once been. He read over the extensive notes, one of which being a transcription from a recording:

2:03 A.M. Entered the suspect villa through the front and rear entrances, encountered hostile human guards as well as trained fighting hybrids – all wolves – taken down alive and handed over to the OPS Team.

2:07 A.M. Descended into the basement area and found a hybrid chained to a wall with a rope tightly pulled around the neck. Appears to be a puppy hybrid, unmoving, possibly deceased?

2:09 A.M. Confirmed puppy hybrid alive. Signs of serious abuse, suspect bait hybrid within a larger hybrid fighting ring, released the puppy hybrid from the bindings, examined and took photos for records.  

2:13 A.M. Puppy hybrid attacked one of the OPS Team, confirmed attempted head touch, possible sensitive area as demeanor has changed once the area is avoided.

2:34 A.M. Have confirmed residence cleared of all human and hybrid residents. All humans detained by OPS Team for arrest and conviction, all aggressive wolf hybrids detained by OPS Team for evaluation by hybrid specialists to assess for rehabilitation. Puppy hybrid sent with the Musutafu Rehabilitation Rep for assessment and consideration for foster program.

Bakugo had continued to read through your file, through the different times you were adopted and sent back – your interviews upon re-arrival regarding what happened in the homes was a topic you avoided speaking on. There were notes that you always ended up biting someone in the household but would never delve into the details of what triggered the event. Bakugo read in the interviews with the adopters that the incidents all happened when they would go to pet you, they had mentioned being able to have physical contact with you before, so they weren’t sure what had changed when it came to petting your head.

When Bakugo finally shut the file, he found Hana’s kind eyes regarding him carefully. He swallowed hard, the lump of anxiety lodged in his throat after seeing and reading the details of your past, it was all weighing heavily on him. You didn’t act like someone should after having gone through so much. He’s surprised even in your earlier interviews with Hana no notes were made mentioning any anger – why weren’t you raging at everything those bastards did to you? It almost appeared like you simply accepted it.  

Accepted that life was filled with things like that.

“As you can see, Mr. Bakugo, our little puppy has been run through quite the gamut,” Hana started, accepting the file back from Bakugo’s shaking hand. “Her temperament is quite agreeable given the circumstances, but she does have habits that have caused issues in her previous homes,” Hana paused to regard Bakugo some more and continued. “Given what I have read regarding your situation and the needs for your foster pair based off what the Director has observed I agree with her assessment that you would be a good fit for our puppy – even more so with your ties to two others who would greatly help her transition back into a home. I would only ask that you give me weekly updates on her progress as she encounters new things in your home, that she still meets with me on a monthly basis until it is decided it is no longer needed, and I would appreciate you setting up some visits with Red Riot for her to spend time with TetsuTetsu – those two were thick as thieves when they were both homed here.”

Bakugo only nodded along, agreeing to any and every caveat needed to move the process forward with you. For someone so independent, so brash and unforgiving of himself and others, who prided himself on only needing to rely on himself, his instincts when it came to you were screaming at him to protect you. To show you a life beyond the scope of what you’ve been subjected to. To be the last home you would ever have, ever need, ever want. Something about your looks initially caught his eye – how precious, and tiny, you looked curled up in Kirishima’s arms, how easily he could imagine holding you the very same way. Something in him was inexplicably pulling him to you, and he only hoped you enjoyed talking with him enough to consider coming home with him.

Bakugo left the facility with high hopes, but an equally heavy heart.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Three weeks had passed. Three long, insufferable weeks but Bakugo busied himself with all the required classes on hybrid rehabilitation and ownership; he even went to all his own therapies and treatments without so much as a grumble. Today was one of the days he was returning to the hybrid center to see you, under the guise of attending the center’s bi-annual adoption introduction event as a Pro Hero endorsement liaison – an event where the community members interested in adopting a hybrid can come and meet those up for adoption in a friendly and open environment, not unlike a picnic or  field day.

He was dressed up in his hero gear, gauntlets heavy against his chest as he stood with his arms crossed. He was already briefed by the center Director, who stated that while you weren’t officially up for adoption at this time you would be attending the event in the interest of giving him more time with you in an informal setting, and as a test of your social abilities with strangers. Presently, Bakugo had been here since the first hour of the event set-up. He has seen a variety of citizens and Pro Heros alike come through and spend time alongside the adoptable hybrids, eating, chatting, playing games and listening to different informative chats with the staff as they set up spread out around the park on the center grounds they currently set up on. He hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of you but there’s no certainty you were brought down with the rest of the adoptable hybrids first thing this morning. The day was about halfway through as he waited impatiently, Bakugo assessed by the Sun’s position, red eyes scanning the area around him cautiously – he didn’t anticipate any trouble but given that the Director asked him to be here on an official capacity first, he knew there had to be a reason.

Bakugo began to walk around, his arms now at his sides, though still buzzing with ready energy. His demeanor relaxed, although you couldn’t tell from his features with his mouth set in a hard line and his eyes narrowed and sharp. He took in the sight of happy hybrids interacting with people unafraid of what the interaction would bring, could see how their eyes sparkled and crinkled with laughter as they ran around. His heart was filling up with such a light feeling seeing how happy everyone was to interact, and his hopes only lifted at the thought of at least one of the hybrids here finding a good match, and forever home. He wondered how it felt for them, to still have such hope and trust in others after what they each had gone through. He was staring fondly at some hybrids and humans playing a game of hacky sack when the back of his neck prickled with an odd feeling. His eyes darted around swiftly, taking in everyone as he tried to identify the cause of this uneasy feeling, his damaged hearing causing everything that he was once zoned in on to become muffled white noise – the high-pitched ringing becoming worse as the panic rose in his chest. The edges of Bakugo’s vision blurred as he tried to take in steady gulps of air, spinning around to see more of the area around him. That’s when he caught it – caught sight of you.  

Or rather, you while stood in an uncomfortable lean away from a man who deemed it appropriate to hover so closely over you. Bakugo’s blood boiled as his palms popped and sizzled, his quirk threatening to activate, but he simply clenched his fists and stalked over to where you were, and for such a large and imposing man Bakugo certainly didn’t lack stealth as he quietly approached you both.

“You really are something special, a delectable little cutie,” this absolute piece of trash extra had the nerve to learn in and smell the hair on your head. “You know you're exactly what I’ve been looking for! The shelters and breeders in my area just don’t have any cute female hybrid companions,” the whiney tone of the off-putting man caused Bakugo’s anger to flare but he wanted to see where this was going and where you’d take it before he made a move he’d regret. “Society has moved into acceptance of human-hybrid relationships, but they just don’t offer any that are cute enough to fuc-! Aughgk!” Bakugo’s hand wrapped around the man and cut off his sentence with a gurgled choke the same moment you had turned on the man and sunk your canines into his forearm. The man’s hands came up to scramble and tried to pull Bakugo’s grip off his throat but to no avail, his arm where your teeth were still buried wiggled weakly to get you to let go.  

“Release, Puppy,” Bakugo’s voice wasn’t harsh as it was directed toward you, but his tone left no room for disobedience and you let go, flattening yourself against the nearest tree to where you were stood. “Y’know, it’s people like you that make things harder for hybrids, scum like you make things unsafe for those who’ve already been through enough,” Bakugo’s anger was boiling to the surface, but it wasn’t a moment after he tightened his grip on the guys throat that security for the event came and gently touched the Pro’s shoulder, stating they would handle it from there. Bakugo relented only when he saw you still standing frozen in place, hiding against the tree a few feet away from the scene. Bakugo gave the pathetic man one last toothy, evil grin which caused the man to cower before he turned to you, kneeling on one knee to not look so imposing in all his Pro gear.  

“Hey Puppy,” to anyone who knew Bakugo, they wouldn’t recognize the man who softened just as he did. Kneeled in front of you with a breeze-soft tone, cooing and holding his hand out for you to take; even when he rescued women and children he was as hard as ever, a regular criticism he was met with from the tabloids, and his own agency.  “You were ready to fight, huh pup?” Bakugo’s voice held a humorous lilt, and your ears perked toward him as your eyes finally met his. “You did a real good job there, Puppy, didn’t need my help at all huh?” Your ears twitched like they wanted to flatten against your head, given your crestfallen expression, but they didn’t budge – cute little fluffy triangles Bakugo desperately found himself wanting to reach for if he didn’t already know your past triggers.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled out, slowly taking the hand Bakugo still had extended and when his fingers closed around yours, he pulled you gently to him. “I didn’t mean to bite,” your voice was small, and you began to shake in his arms, and he only pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms tightly around you until the shaking subsided.  

“It’s okay Puppy,” Bakugo assured you, “it’s okay to bite someone when they’re trying to hurt you. Standing up for yourself is okay.” Bakugo could feel you relax completely in his arms as he finally looked around him, seeing the Director, Hana and a couple other staff standing back from the two of you by about ten feet.

“I was told not to bite though,” you mumbled again, sighing as you rested your head against Bakugo’s arms.

“Listen to me Puppy,” Bakugo argued, “biting someone is okay when you have a reason – like defending yourself or someone else.”

“Have a reason...” you murmured more to yourself, but Bakugo caught it, just giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder before standing with you in his arms, your nose nuzzling against the column of Bakugo’s throat sending an involuntary shiver down his spine as the cold touch ignited something within him.

“Mr. Bakugo, can you and our little Puppy come with me? The police who arrested the man want statements,” The Director spoke softly as she watched you, remaining silent as she lead you both back into the building.

“You up for that, Puppy?” Bakugo watched as you gave a small nod, still nosing at his throat and taking in small, rapid breaths. “What’cha doing there, hm?” Bakugo raised his eyebrows as he heard you whisper, ‘smell different’, and just continued with whatever it was you were doing rubbing against him, and he had to admit a certain comfort came from your cold nose against his warm skin. No more than an hour had passed with you and Bakugo giving your individual statements, he was waiting on a lounge sofa situated in one of the common rooms while you were in a closed office with the officers. Bakugo’s anxiety was back in full force with his leg bouncing a mile a minute, his heart beating furiously against his chest wall and his palms were sweaty and ready to set off, the acrid smell of blackened sugar giving hint to the quirk activation. Bakugo hadn’t realized he was disassociating until he felt a light pressure on his lap. His eyes refocused and brought him back to reality when he noticed you were sitting on his lap, straddling his legs as you laid your body against his, your arms wrapped tightly around him as far as you could go. “What’cha doin’, Puppy?” Bakugo grumbled, heart still hammering in his chest.

“TetsuTetsu used to hug me tight tight tight when I would have a bad dream,” you stated simply, “and you smelled like you needed to be hugged tight tight tight, too.” You just laid your head against his chest over his heart and Bakugo soon found his heartrate slowing down, even though he was certain you were too light to apply what he knew to be deep pressure therapy, his cheeks burned with a cherry tinge and his heart swelled at the sight. Though you lacked enough weight to successfully do what you were trying to do, your proximity to him calmed him all the same.

“S’good, Puppy,” Bakugo mumbled out softly and you beamed up at him as you tilted your head against his chest to meet his gaze, your fluffy tail thumping away happily behind you. “Did such a good job f’me.” Without thinking Bakugo had reached up of his own accord, and rough palm went soft against the silky top of your head, ears splitting away where his hand patted the crown of your head.

Snap!

A soft, almost indiscernible sound was heard, but even Bakugo picked it up as he zeroed in on you in his lap. Your body had frozen in its place, you weren’t even breathing as he took in the sight of you.  

A small, broken rubber band was lying on the lounge sofa just beside you both, your breathing going from zero to a hundred as you began to take in panicked gulps of air. Bakugo looked up and saw one of your ears, normally cute little sharp triangles above your head, but now one was lying flopped against your head, folded over although he could see irritation and fur loss where the rubber band had been, presumably for a very long time. You went to scramble out of his lap, but Bakugo grabbed you and anchored you down against him, you were panicking and even tried to bite his forearms where you could reach but your little fangs couldn’t penetrate his Pro Hero costume, the gear made for battle and hits much stronger than your little bite force quotient*.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorrym’sorrysorry,” your eyes were glazed over, far-away and deep in a memory as you shook in his arms, fighting to get out of his grip with an admirable strength even though it didn’t compare to the little force he was exerting to keep you in place. Bakugo could see the Director and Hana, who had still been standing nearby dealing with the police officers from earlier, frozen and watching the scene, Hana was stopped by the Director before she had a chance to intervene – the Director watched on with an intent gaze. Bakugo held you with one arm, holding you against him as he used his other hand to reach up and head toward the ear still standing up tall – you snapped and bit onto the guard that usually seated itself beneath his gauntlets, fangs trying hard to tear flesh enough to get him to release you, you shook your head gently but it didn’t do much to stop Bakugo as he touched your other ear and soon heard a similar snap with the small plastic ring, now broken, falling to the floor. You were growling now, not releasing his wrist guard as you glared at him, but he could see it in your eyes: fear.

“Puppy,” Bakugo warned, tone deep and steady. “Release.” You gave an indignant snort through your nose, the gentle puff of air hitting Bakugo’s face as he held you in front of him, a quirk to the corner of his lips giving away his amusement at your fight. His eyes soon narrowed, sharp and deadly, and soon you found yourself slowly unlocking your jaw as he pulled his arm away from you. With all the fight drained out of you at his command, Bakugo watched as your eyes began to well up with tears, which clumped your lashes and fell down your cheeks in fat streaks, your nose moistening as you sniffled and relaxed against the iron grip still holding you in place against him. Bakugo released his grip on you, and you just fell forward against him, sniffling and letting the tears fall unhindered. Bakugo’s arms wrapped around you loosely as he brought both his hands up around the back of your head, fingers normally clenched in fists or pointed at villains and firing off deadly explosions now gently rubbing the soft fur of your ears as he got a closer look at what irritation he caught sight of earlier and what he saw made his stomach turn. “Why did you have rubber bands on your ears, Pup?” His tone was so marshmallow-y soft it melted away what remained of your fight or flight and left you just feeling surrounded in the best of ways. Made you feel like you hadn’t felt quite enough before...  

Safe.

“They said floppy ears were for filthy, cheap mutts, and they had spent too much money on me,” your voice got small as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, tiny fang drawing a pinprick of blood. “They sent me to go get them cropped because Master would pull my ears too hard whenever he saw them, but I didn’t wanna go-” a choked sob cut off your sentence, but you drew in a breath as Bakugo carded his fingers through your hair, occasionally reaching back up to gently rub your ears between his fingers. “I didn’t wanna go again because the first time they put me to sleep I woke up hurting so bad, so instead I went to the market and took rubber bands from the flower bouquets and wrapped my ears with bandages to look like I went... the other hybrids who got their ears cropped were in so much pain I didn’t wanna be in any more pain, I’m sorry I bit you I didn’t mean to I-” your rambling cut off as Bakugo pulled you tightly against his chest, face smushed against hard muscle as he just applied all-over pressure and soon you found yourself relaxing in his lap.

“Nothing about you is filthy, or cheap, or wrong.” Bakugo stated simply.

You didn’t anticipate the reaction you had when you heard those words, but the second they left the blonde’s mouth you were sobbing against his chest, fisting his hero costume and shaking as he simply let you sit with all you were feeling. Bakugo had continued to look up and check in with the Director and Hana; Hana, who Bakugo noted, was recording the pair with her phone – probably for records and research purposes. Bakugo didn’t mind one bit if it helped you in the end to be understood more. The Director was watching the whole scene unfold, taken back by the days' events already and hardly expecting what came of it – but she knew it more certainly than she did the weeks before when Bakugo first mentioned his interest in you.

You two were meant for each other.

*Bite force quotient (BFQ) is a numerical value commonly used to represent the bite force of an animal, while also taking factors like the animal's size into account.

[ravenwriter16]

Creative Minds Think Alike

Episode One--Episode two--Episode Three--Episode Four--Episode Five--Episode Six (Here!)

Featuring the Amazing: @sun-e-chips

Reminder! If the Content Creator doesn't approve of how I represent them, or their AUs/OCs then I edit my work or DELETE it.

It's not my intention to mock or belittle anyone's work. This series is supposed to showcase amazing creators!

AND I DO NOT BETA READ! JUST A HEADS UP!

Enjoy!

“I don’t really see how this is necessary.” I run to keep up with the tall councilman. “I recommended we focus our efforts more on—,”

Archivist #5 Zuid Refductin, with his hands folded behind his back and his hair slicked back into a low ponytail, looks over his shoulder to pierce me with his stare. His features where sharp, a long snooping nose separating his dark brown eyes.

“Afraid you don’t have any say in the matter, Archivist Ravenwriter. The Council has already decided.”

He faces forward again and starts his long strides again. His white and golden uniform looks so clean and pressed that it had to be uncomfortable. But he showed no sign of emotion, his features seemingly stuck in a permanent deadpan state.

I sigh and drag a hand though my hair. My nerves were shot and the feathers of my wings were bristling and puffing up. Archivist Refductin showed up out of the blue at my office. Saying something about inspection of the castle. Then he dragged me out of my mushroom with no other explanation.

I growl, “Sir…Even though I may not be on the council, I am still Head Archivist for the DCA Castle—,”

“For now. You are Head Archivist for now.” He turns a corner sharply, having me scramble to make the corner. He waves his hand dismissively, “The position shouldn’t have gone to you anyways. You are much too young. It should have been given to someone with immense experience.”

He places his hand on his chest, “Someone like me.”

I give him a strained smile, speaking through clenched teeth, “But it DIDN’T. And you cannot change the past—,”

“Perhaps…but I can change the future.” He muses, eyes glinting and his lips twitching. He stops abruptly, causing me to walk straight into him.

I grunt and rub my nose while backing up. I shoot him a pointed look, “What?”

“October is coming.” He states taking in the grandeur of the large entry way of the castle. It was more elaborate than the smaller backdoor entrance we came in and brighter too.

I nod my head, dusting off the sleeves of my coat. “Yes. As it does every year…”

“I could do without you sass.”

“I could do without you and your pompous as—,” I bite my lip when he turns his head sharply, warning me with his pointed stare.

I roll my eyes and start to tend to my feathers. Preening them slightly so that they wouldn’t stick up as much.

He nods his head then looks around the room again while holding his chin in thought. “The little…Halloween Festival is also coming up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” I nod again, crossing my arms, “It’s a major event for the castle.”

“Hmm…Is security adequate during these festivals?” He lowers his hand, raising a brow as he levels me with his stare once more.

“Yes, sir. I have many Creators with their Y/ns and DCAs who help out with maintaining the Castle’s defensive during festivities. No Trolls or Frauds ever sneak in.”

He nods, “I would like to meet one of these Creators that you hold in such high regard.”

“Well, before you RUDELY dragged me out from my office.” I narrow my eyes before pulling at the helm of my tunic to straighten it. “I was actually preparing to meet up with the one of the Creators who help out with the festival preparations—,”

“Marvelous!” He smirks, “Lead the way.”

I shake my head, crossing my arms as my wings fold close to my back. “I can’t do that—,”

He scoffs “As one of the High Council Members, you have to follow my orders. It’s part of the law—,”

My wings spread out as wide as they can and I bark out a laugh. “According to that law, as Head Archivist for this Castle, I have to protect every single Creator that resides in these halls. I can’t not bring a stranger, Council member or not, to a Creator’s room unannounced.”

 “Why you insolent—AH!” He flinches and jumps back, holding his arms over his head to shield him from something.

I whip around, hand outstretch and pulsing with my purple-colored mana. I blink and lower my hand when I take in a familiar face. I sigh and offer a small bow to the animatronic.

Standing there was a fairly small, seemingly wooden tiki bot. Their main colors being of a deep chocolate brown, their two round eyes being a darker shade. With slightly coral pupils, which turn into upright crescents as if they were smiling.

Causing Councilman Refductin to flinch and take another step back.

They also had beautiful, seemingly carved, teal-colored marks on their chest, arms, legs, what made up their nose, and their little head crown-piece. I always loved their Polynesian look.

And to top it all off, the little guy wore a pair of moss green swim shorts with a pink palm leaves pattern.

 I chuckle as the Tiki Bot doe a little spin that ends in a bow. They straighten up, shoulders shaking as they cover the spot where their mouth should be. Laughing. They look behind me and tilt their head, pointing.

I shake my head, “No one to worry about, I assure you. This is Council Member Refductin. He is inspecting the Castle today.”

The bot nods their head in understanding while the Councilman peaks over my shoulder. He eyes them up and down.

“An…An OC Staffbot?” He mumbles quietly. “I thought that they would mostly stay to the canon design…not—,”

“Come up with an entirely new ensemble? Please.” I roll my eyes, gesturing to my small friend with a wave of my hand, “Now apologize to our guest here.”

He harrumphs and quickly moves from his hiding spot behind my wings. He straightens the collar of his uniform, “I do not take orders from you.”

I roll my eyes once more before turning my attention back to the Tiki Bot. “How is your Creator? Okay I hope?”

They nod and start to sign with their hands. I activate my mana to better translate what they say, the Councilman copying me almost immediately.

-Creator is well! They are very busy planning and preparing for the festival. They sent me to find you because they want to go over some plans. Is that alright?-

“I would have to bring along old sour puss over here.” I jerk my head in Refductin’s direction. The man turns redder than a tomato.

The tiki-bot just nods their head, -That’s alright! The more the merrier!-

Refductin folds his hands behind his back, “Very well. Lead the way then.”

“PLEASE.” I press, shooting him a pointed look.

The tiki-bot nods their head again and jumps up to spin around. They head down one of the large hallways to the side. The councilman and I follow dutifully behind them. I smile, watching as the little tiki-bot skips and does a little dance while walking.

I nod my head to its cute rhythm, trying to ignore the stupid tsks Refductin made as he inspected the hall.

Thankfully the trip was a short one!

The tiki-bot stops in front of a pair of one simple door. Nothing too outlandish or having any special patterns. Just a nice plain door that strangely brought a sense of calm to my mind. I step forward and inspect the wooden mailbox hanging on the wall right next to the door.

The name carved into the wood was painted white.

“This is it?”

Both me and the tiki-bot look at him with tilted heads.

-What did you expect? It’s just a room…-

I snort at the bot’s retort while Refductin huffs. The tiki-bot pulls out a key from his shorts and unlocks the door He steps inside, waiting patiently as I inspect my boots for any sign of dirt. Once I’m done, I step in, keeping my wings close to myself.

Refductin steps in after me, paling as he takes in the room.

“What is this?!” He gestures to the eerie room.

Black polished tiles make up the floor, some fur-skin rugs here and there to provide some warmth to the chilling stone. Some pillars made of the same material hold up the corners of the room. The walls are lined with dark oak paneling. The wallpaper was old, some of it chipping off the wall itself. The color was faded, the baby blue flora pattern barely visible.

Long, raggedy, and old curtains cover the bay windows. Giving little natural light to the living room. The room itself full of Victorian style furniture, the wood a dark brown and the cushions a simple dark red color.

On the little side tables were small vintage lamps with stain-glass shades. The yellow, blue, and green lights giving the room most of its light. Music fills the air thanks to a brass phonograph. It plays a tone I’m VERY familiar with.

I hum the tone to the Daycare Theme while following the tiki-bot to one of the couches. The little guy claps their hands in delight while running off. Heading into another room off to the side.

“What kind of person lives here?” Refductin shivers as a cool breeze drifts in from some open vent. “A horror writer or artist? Some monster Creator?”

I scratch my chin, “Not exactly—,”

“Then who?” He crosses his arms and raises a brow.

I go to answer when I hear a few familiar voices.

“Oh! We can have a giant pumpkin filled with fairy lights and it dispenses candy every ten minutes!”

“That sound like a bunch of fun, Sunspot! We can set up some buckets around the pumpkin that way the passing person could grabs some candy if they so happen to miss the dispensing!”

A tall animatronic steps out into the room, a bright contrast to the otherwise dreary living space. His metal seemed to be made of stone. The material having playful patches of bright teals, yellows, oranges, and small bits of red that made up his feet. On his forelegs, forearms, shoulders and chest where patterns that seemed to be Aztecan in origin.

And like the tiki-bot, he wore a pair of swim shorts. These being a dark teal green and having the same patterns as his metal. Flower-like petals fan out around his face. Giving him his namesake.

“Yes, yes. But what about my idea for a haunted water slide?” A deeper voice asks, the body belonging to that said voice steps out.

“Moonie~…” Sun rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“What?”

Another animatron with darker colors and instead of a stone-like metal, this one had a more wooden texture to it. His shorts made of a red fabric with white flowers as a small pattern. But they were ripped a bit in the back part of the leg-sleeve-things.

His colors were a dark brown, a dark teal and a light blue. His metal’s patterns wasn’t Aztecan-themed but instead a Polynesian pattern. Much like the tiki-bot.

Then finally, the person I wanted to see!

“Sun-e-chips!” I get to my feet, smiling brightly, “It’s so nice to see you again!”

The creator in question looks at me, blinking for a second before they smile as well. They wore a simple pair of black boots, that look like they’ve seen better days. Their dark blue bootcut jeans pairs well with their dark green turtleneck.

Their long brown hair was done up in a high ponytail, with a small flower clip holding back some of their bangs.

“Raven!” They run forward at full speed towards me.

My eyes widen and I back up, wings outstretched, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa—!”

They tackle me to the ground and my wings poof up and surround us out of instinct to cushion our fall.

“Archivist!” Refductin shouts in shock. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Sun-e-chips pops their head out form my feathers. “Who’s your stuck-up friend here?”

I just plop my head down on the floor, sighing heavily. “Friend is such a STRONG word…”

Refductin clenches his hands and turns red again while grinding his teeth. Sun and Moon snort, Sun covering his mouth.

“He’s redder than some of our worst sun-burnt customers.” Sun chuckles.

Moon joins him, hissing slightly. He walks deeper into the room, scooping up Sun-e-chips as if they were a cat. And they didn’t seem to mind all that much.

Sun walks over and offers his hand, “I take it the tiki found you?”

I nod my head and yelp as he pulls me up. I rotate my shoulder and sigh, “I keep forgetting how strong you guys are.”

I dust off my uniform and wave a bored hand in Refductin’s direction. “Before he blows a blood vessel, may I introduce High Council Member Refductin.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mx.?”

“Sun-e-chips is my creator title.” They bow their head still held aloft by Moon, who looks very content holding them like that. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes the pleasure is all mine. Now I would like to—,”

“So Raven!” Sun-e-chips wiggles out of Moon’s hold, grabbing my hand and leading me back to the couches. “Which would you prefer? A candy puking pumpkin or trauma inducing water slide?”

“Rude…” Moon grumbles.

I shrug, smiling as I take my seat. “Still caught up on that?”

They plop down next to me, sighing loudly. Refductin stares blankly at us while Sun and Moon join in the festival planning. Sun sits in the chair next to the couch while Moon sits on the armrest next to Sun-e-chips.

“Raven is obviously on my side,” Moon puts a hand on his chest, “A haunted waterslide will gather the most screams for the Halloween Festival.”

“Moon.” Sun deadpans, rolling his eyes, “We don’t want to scare away Residents…”

“Shh!” Sun-e-chips, turns their attention to me. “So what do you say, Raven?”

“Why not both? You’re already going all out this year, so if you need more supplies or funds, just say the word and they’re yours.”

I yelp when they hug me again, “THANK YOU! This is going to be AMAZING!”

“EXCUSE ME!” Refductin loudly clears his throat. Sun, Moon, and Sun-e-chips looks at him with raised brows.

“Yes friend?” Sun asks with a cute tilt of his head.

“I have a few questions regarding your life in this castle under Archivist—,”

“OH! That reminds me!” Sun holds his chine and looks at me, startling me slightly. “Will you be visiting the park again with your little siblings? It was so much fun last time!”

I chuckle and rub the back of my neck, blushing from embarrassment, “I-I would like too—EEP!”

Sun is quick to hug me a well, “OH I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE LITTLE BIRDIES!!!”

“Sunny~.” Moon snickers, “Let the bird breathe.”

“Oops!”

I gasp as he lets go. He even pats my back as I cough. He smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, sunshine…”

“I’m fine.” I give him a small smile and pound my chest, “Takes more than that to keep me down.!”

“Does no one here have any manners?” Refductin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry about the boys.” Sun-e-chips rubs the back of their neck. “They’re very animated.”

“I see…Creator?” Refductin steps closer, eyeing me as I let Sun play with my feathers. “ I would like to discuss the upcoming festival with you—,”

“What about?” They tilt their head and count off things while holding out their fingers, “We can talk about security, rides, contests, the buffet table, decorations, the weather, new attractions?”

He blinks at them, mouth closing and opening like a gapping fish. “That is…”

“A lot.” I shoot my friend a concerned look, “You know if you ever need any help—,”

“It’s fine! Everything is going smoothly and we should be finished with preparations ahead of time! And my Auroa helps with keeping my strength up!”

To showcase their point, they hold out their hand and snap their fingers. Refductin and I shiver as a building coolness seems to gather at their hand. A glowing orb of shimmering blue lights (looking like an orb of water) hovers over their opened palm.

I look over at Sun and Moon and see their eyes glowing the same color as the orb. They seem at peace, shoulders sagging as if a weight as been lifted off their shoulders. Their Creator, splits the orb in half and hands one to each of the animatronic twins.

They take their halves and hold them close to their chest. Their markings glow bright as they absorb the Auroa. They slink onto their seats, sighing happily.

I smile and get to my feet, Sun-e-chips joining with me. I turn to face them and hold out my hand, “I fear we have taken up much of your time.”

They take my hand and smile as they shake it, “don’t worry about it so much! I enjoy the company!” They turn and face Refductin, bowing their head a bit while folding their hands behind their back. “And it was an honor to meet you, Councilman!”

Refductin sighs but returns the bow, “The honor was all mine.”

I snap my fingers, remembering something. “I forgot to bring the blue-prints for the ‘Exploding Star-Disco Ball’! I’ll make sure to send a raven by later today.”

“No prob!” They smile, “Take your time. October is still a month or so away.”

I nod my head, “Thank you again for helping plan the Festival.”

“You know I love this stuff! And I have to beat last year’s Festival record. Me and the boys are going to blow it out of the water!”

Refductin pales, “Not literally, correct?”

Sun-e-chips and I exchange long glances before we burst out laughing…hysterically. Sun-e-chips doubling over and holding their stomach while I cover my mouth as I cackle. Sun and Moon snort, the glow in their eyes dying down slightly.

Refductin looks back and forth between the four of us, confused. “You aren’t going to blow up the Festival are you? Why are you laughing? It’s not funny…”

I and Sun-e-chips collapse to the floor, cackling like crazed witches.

We were like this for THREE HOURS…

And I enjoyed every second of it!

***

THANK YOU SO MUCH @sun-e-chips!!! If you haven't checked it out already, go check out their Waterspark Bay AU! The same AU featured in this episode.

I'm so sorry that this took so long Chips! I hope my writing is up to your standards! Stay awesome!

I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your day or night!

[mirrored-movements]

A Rock and a Hard Place

(Miguel O'Hara x reader)

Synopsis: You'd always consider yourself an older sibling to the younger spider-folk, often taking them under your wing despite Miguel's distaste for it (Something you ignored knowing he'd have to just tolerate it) So what happens when you meet Miles and everything you'd looked at from behind rose-tinted glasses changes?

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE- YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED (Also plot change- sue me if you don't like it IG)

Since joining the Spider society you’ve accomplished three things:

One, taking anyone younger than you under your wing and practically acted as an older sibling to them. Two, established yourself as one of the higher ranking spider-people - Surprisingly enough, and three, somehow making it onto Miguel's good side- the man shockingly enough taking a liking to you despite the rambunctious and loud nature you had.

He was a grouchy man from what you could tell, stiff and nearly the equivalent to a locked box- however with enough prying and enough unannounced visits you found him beginning- albeit perhaps a bit reluctantly- warming up to you.

“You’re a pest (Y/N), you know that?” Letting out a deep sigh from where he stood Miguel casted his gaze back at where you sat, suit-clad feet resting up on one of the consoles while a screen hovering in front of you.

Some strange sitcom that you and Lyla had begun watching was playing across the screen.

Folding your arms over one another your gaze moved to meet his own, a playful hint to your expression. “Well if I’m a pest then why don’t you just kick me out?”

Starring at you for a good second he simply grumbled a few choice words, head shaking as you’d scrunched up your face in success.

You and Miguel were in some sort of unspoken relationship it seemed, neither wanted to say anything but also enjoying one another's presence to the extent that either of you would miss the other when they were gone on a mission.

“Whatever.” Rolling his eyes he huffed in annoyance, however the faintest of smiles quirked across his lips.

Moving to resume watching your show with Lyla the soft ping of your watch halted you from doing so, the edges of your lips fully quirking up at the series of messages sent from one of your ‘children’ as you’d like to refer to them.

Seeing you pop up and out of your chair he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “Where are you going now?”

“Just going to check on the youngsters.” At the mention of that you could see Miguel roll his eyes, however, the man didn’t do anything to stop you merely just casting you a look that said ‘Stay out of trouble.’

Not that that was something you could easily do.

---

Honestly, you only meant to check in on Gwen and Pavitr, the latter of the two having sent you a quick message about the new guy who’d dropped in as well as the appearance of Hobi- much to your confusion. But upon arriving you were quickly met with- a mess.

“What even- what is that?!” Your feet skidded across the cement, the eyelets of your mask widening as you turned around to address the four standing behind you; almost as though the hole would somehow leap out and drag them in.

“Well, I said it was a metaphor for capitalism.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets Hobi mused out, his tall frame coming to peak into the void down below. “Poetic innit?”

You rolled your eyes at that, holding back a laugh knowing that the situation should be taken seriously. “I came here to say hello to the ‘new guy’ not deal with-” Looking down at the gaping hole you finished. “A black hole.”

“Sorry but mi-” “New guy? That’s me!” The slim form occupying the space beside Gwen piped in right away, the kid almost instantly hopping over to shake your hand despite you not offering it. “Miles Moralis, or Spiderman- but I mean Spiderman of my world of course but were not there right now obviously- so just call me Miles.”

Leaning to the side a bit in order to spare Gwen a look, your attention returned to Miles, eyes partially closing and hand returning the handshake. “Nice to meet you Miles, you seem like a good kid.” At the slight praise, he visibly perked up. “(Y/N) is the name.”

You already liked the kid.

Slumping a little as an arm was thrown over your shoulder Hobi leaned his weight onto you, other hand motioning towards where you stood. “(Y/N) is like our big siblin, we can get away with anythin- well almost anythin.” Using his hand to cover part of his mouth as though he were telling a secret he added on. “They’re a little cushy with the big man though so-”

“Ok ok enough of that,” Cutting Hobi off and shaking off his arm you let out a mix between a huff and a laugh. “It’s nice to meet you though.” It was your turn to cover part of your mouth, “Gwen talks a lot about you.”

“Hey-” “Sorry not sorry!”

There was some more quick conversation between the three of you, Pavitr coming to join soon after inquiring on how his world would be- to which despite not knowing what had happened or who they were facing- you decided to reassure him.

Something that Jess did as well when her and a few others arrived in order to assess the damage and whatnot.

She seemed a little displeased with your presence however waved it off and gave you the brief instructions to bring the others; Hobi, Miles, and Gwen, back to HQ.

“The big boss- what’s he like?” Coming to walk beside you Miles spoke, hand fiddling with the day pass he’d been given in order not to glitch out.

“Scary-” “Kinda like a dictator a little.”

You gave Gwen and Hobi a look at their comments, the two hushing right after upon knowing how you and the man they spoke of were.

“He’s straightforward,” You began casting a quick look towards Gwen, “maybe a little scary,” Your eyes then moved back ahead. “But he had what’s best for all of us in mind.” Since entering HQ You’d taken off your mask, deciding now yo flash Miles a reassuring smile. “He has a kind heart and I trust in his decision.”

Taking your words to mind he nodded his head, a question popping into his brain quickly. “Uh are you and you know this boss uh-” “They're fuck buddies, respectfully.”

“Hobi!��� Nearly hissing his name you flashed him a glare, finger pointing accusingly his way before your attention quickly returned to Miles opting to correct what was said. “Miguel and I aren’t fuck buddies- Just close, I mean I’d like to say we’re close.”

“That's why I’m saying you’ll be fine.”

---

Boy did you feel like a liar.

With the way Miles stared at you in disbelief- you might as well have traveled into his world to kill his dad yourself.

You had no clue this was the course of things, no clue of the pent-up anger and resentment held for the boy you’d just met, and you certainly had no clue he was going to contain Miles to a cage- basically.

Now, you just stood back, stunned at what was going on and stunned at the way Miguel handled the situation.

“Miguel, this- this isn't right.” Raising a hand you moved to place it on the man's arm, his attention flickering over to you. The angered and irritated look he had when addressing Miles softened only a bit as he spoke.

“This is what needs to happen. For his sake. For your sake. For all of us.”

Your heart fell at this, Miles’s banging against the containment shields growing more frantic until it stopped- a wave of electricity firing from the device or rather from Miles rendering it deactivated.

The shockwave had sent everyone tumbling to the floor, the first one to act being Miguel who’d lurched forward clawing at the ground in order to move quicker.

Your eyes met Peters from across the floor, a torn look being shared between you two- however, unlike you, he’d gotten up right away following after the herd.

Sucking in a few breaths trying to make a decision you’d slipped on your own mask, webs firing from your wrists in quick succession.

Your mind was made up.

You’re helping the kid go home.”

---

“Miguel!” Finally finding yourself catching up enough to call out you swung from side to side in order to avoid the traffic within the highway to the moon, body right away swinging full throttle into the man having caught him while he’d been pinning Miles. “This is wrong! What’s wrong with you?”

Recovering quickly from being tackled he stared back at you, a glare clearly shining through his mask as clawed hands gripped the vehicle you’d swung into. “This has to be done (Y/N)! You can’t change what is already written.” Despite not wanting to engage in a fight he let out an irritated breath, hand roughly gripping your shoulder intending to move once he’d noted Miles recovering.

“He’s just a kid!”

“He’s an anomaly!” Having enough Miguel shot his own web forward, the force of it dragging himself and by default you away from the vehicle you’d dragged him into, “He shouldn’t exist in the first place!” Shouting the last part he shot another web forward intending on continuing his pursuit.

“That’s not for you to decide!” Following suit and firing your own web you caught up quickly, heart hammering within your chest as you’d begun trying to deter him. “You preach for justice but is this really is?!”

“Stop interfering (Y/N)!”

Coming to swing at his side once more he caught your leg using your momentum to toss you back. “Just stay down!”

“I can’t!” 

The (F/C) strings of your webs came back, splatters of them sticking to Miguel's mask, inevitably leading him to backtrack for a moment- the surprise on your face must’ve been evident as you hadn’t expected to be football tackled and pinned to the side of the tunnel. Miguel’s angered frame towered over you, the front of his mask deactivating for a second as he spoke, ruby hues boreing through your mask.

“It’s me, or him (Y/N).”

Biting your tongue at the statement you watched his jaw tighten, gaze hardening at the lack of response.

Without much else to say he’d raised a hand, neon webs right away stucking your limbs down despite the protests that left your lips.

“Miguel wait-” “We’ll talk when I get back.”

Rising back up he casted you one last look, something that was almost disappointment before bolting off.

To say you were stuck between a rock and a hard place was an understatement.

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

<Unedited>

Little but rushed tbh bc the exact plot of ATSP is escaping my brain at the moment <3

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

@dragonprincedrabbles

Gren + Pip, Clear

Gren has an epiphany sitting in the dungeon with Pip, and maybe even a plan for a coup (that is not really a coup because Lord Viren is an illegitimate ruler, but he digresses).

An important fact about Commander Gren is that he was a teacher’s pet.

So of course he would raise his hand as best he could to be called on before speaking, chained up in a dungeon with the elf that had killed his king in a side chamber nearby, and said king’s bird stuck in his cage hanging from the wall.

Their imprisoner strode in, hands neatly folded on top of his staff, eyes shadowed and hanging heavily, bloodshot.

“No hot brown morning potion?” Gren asked, letting his wrists fall as limp as he could. It was hard to sleep standing up.

“No,” Lord Viren sighed, pinching his nose.

He kept on talking. “I have another-”

“Complaint? I’ll send a piece of paper. It will be promptly burned.”

Gren waggled a finger, grinning. “No! Not complaint- constructive criticism! We can all stand to do a little better, dontcha think?”

“If I humor you, will you silence?” Viren groaned, exasperated.

Gren was fairly certain the only reason he hadn’t done worse than chain him up here was because even the strongest mage would be helpless against General Amaya when she got wind of the predicament.

Still, he shrugged. He wasn’t the best at cards, but even he knew when to play an ace. He wasn’t commander to the revered general for nothing. “Sure!”

Viren mustered the most pleasant expression possible for him, one that was still the exact opposite of comforting, and smiled, though it came out a grimace. “Please do share your concerns, Commander.”

“Cool! I think…” He pondered for a moment. “I think it’s a little counterproductive- no, that’s not right. I think, yeah, I think it doesn’t make sense to keep the late king’s, may he rest in peace, bird in the dungeon.”

“And what would you rather I do with him?”

He pursed his lips. Gren hadn’t thought he’d get this far. “I dunno. Let me get back to you?”

“Yes, you ponder on that. Good tidings.”

Viren strode into the elf’s private cell, slamming the door behind him.

Gren leaned back against the hard, damp stone and released a long breath, looking to an oddly silent Pip in his cage hanging from the stairwell. “So. How are you?”

The bird squawked and ruffled his wings.

“Me, too, buddy. Hope you can get out of here, at least. No one’s built for this life.”

Pip tilted his head and picked at something under his wing.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

The bird moved his head in a little circle, and Gren chuckled.

“Hope it’s not long. If he cares this much about keeping me off the rescue mission, we could’ve compromised,” he mused. Gren had never been one for complete leadership, instead preferring to follow guidance and lead based on that. He would’ve been more than happy to co-lead the mission with Claudia and Soren, odd as they were. Just more opportunities to get to know them better, because one could never have too many friends.

Pip hopped forward on his perch, leaning his head so close to Gren that his beak poked through the bars. “Harrow,” he squawked.

Gren nodded. “I miss him, too.”

Pip shook his head, vibrant green plumage drooping and dirty. “Viren. Power.”

“I know he wants power,” Gren sighed in frustration, which was very counterproductive–and that was the right word this time–to what he’d worked on in therapy, channeling frustration and anger into productivity and paying things forward. But being productive in his current situation was very difficult, in his defense. No excuses, only doing, Ashton’s voice echoed.

 He gestured loosely to the door, taking a breath. “I don’t use the word lightly, but he’s cra-” He paused, the message the songbird was trying to relay growing more clear by the second.

“Are you telling me that Lord Viren let King Harrow die because he saw an opportunity to take power? And that’s why he’s keeping us here, so we can’t interfere?” He leaned towards the bird, struggling to keep his pitching voice from raising too high in excitement as the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Satisfied, the late king’s pet nodded. “Power-hungry fuckface.”

Gren burst out laughing. He had no doubt Queen Sarai had taught the bird that language that was quite accurate in describing the usurper.

“You’re not wrong, buddy. Hey”–he shot the bird appreciative finger guns–“you’re a good friend, Pip. Opened my eyes. But now I have to do something about it.”

Kick him where the sun doesn’t shine and chain him up in your place, Amaya would have said, but Gren didn’t possess her disregard for authority, nor her strength. No, Gren had to be more cunning about it. But how to outsmart a snake?

He thought back to the few words Pip had said, how Amaya had always complained, disgruntled, about the High Mage after every interaction with him.

“He’s manipulating Harrow,” she’d told him once in confidence after a few rounds of drinks, and Gren hadn’t breathed a word of it because not only would that have been treason, but betraying his best friend. “He’s selfish and you could swim in his sea of pride. I keep telling Sarai to work her way to getting him out by getting close to him, but she doesn’t listen. Tries to coexist.”

Pride. That was it.

Lord Viren couldn’t crack the Moonshadow elf who’d killed their king–who Viren might have let kill their king–and it was grating on him, breaking him down bit by bit until he’d do something less than humane- as if he hadn’t already.

Pride. He just had to play to his pride.

Gren had no more aces left. A king would have to do.

A voice echoed from the chamber, angry and piercing. “Would you stop talking to that blasted bird?!”

[missmoondrops]

Thinking about a scene where a fallen angel is ensnared by a dark enchantress. She finds him, wounded and sobbing, at the foot of the grand staircase which pours down into the entrance of her castle. He is bathed in moonlight, his olive skin kissed by its silver, his once-striking wings now fragile and broken. As the cries flee his throat and echo throughout the many, many halls, her bare feet slither closer, until he finally senses her coming down those plush steps. His reddened face whips her way.

"What troubles you?" she would ask, her face cold and irresistible.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here."

"You've been cast down, haven't you? Denied grace?"

His features contorted at her words, conveying something bitter, yet powerless–something between anger and agony.

"For so long, He was my north. And now..."

"Now you're godless," the enchantress concluded, as she drew a leg out from between the folds of her dress and calmly sat at his side. "Whatever your sin, He must've thought it unforgivable," she then mused.

"To Him, I was unforgivable."

"Yes. You were. Always," she asserted, drawing close. "If He wanted you to know what it would take for you to be forgiven, you would. But you don't, do you?"

The angel painfully shook his head in response. For a passing moment, it was as though he now sought such forgiveness in her eyes. The enchantress carefully put a hand on his chest, and began to rub at his heart. A tiny smile touched her lips. It lulled, and lulled, and lulled the angel until she caught him unawares, gripping his jaw.

"Make no mistake. This is by design. He liked you when you came close. So close," she drawled, as she cinched her brow. "But He loved you most when you came up short. What you need is a new god. One you know exactly how to please."

She let out a little laugh at the sight of him then. His chest as it nervously rose and fell, his lips quivering between her fingers, his robe tenting as his eyes begged her not to look...

"You don't want me. I'm lesser now. I've lost my strength, my insight, my way. I can't even fly," he managed, in his broken voice.

"Say 'please'," was all the enchantress said, as she let go of his jaw, finally allowing him the room to cover his immodesty.

"W-what?"

"You want me to feel sorry for you? Pity you?" She rose to tower over him. "Beg for it."

The angel was disturbed to find a deep, uncontrollable passion take root in his chest. He struggled against it briefly before he let the word slip past his lips. "Please," he entreated, under his breath, and the enchantress saw many things in his face when he looked up at her: shame, willingness, humility.

Most of all, however, she saw pain–the kind that can only be excised when it is deepened.

Months later, his cries can be heard in the castle's halls again. There is no corner they do not reach. Whether in chambers, in corridors, or in courtyards, his obscenity fuels the enchantress. It is the best way, he has learned, to provoke her disrespect. As she fills and fucks and berates her angel into ecstasy, he will thank her for her mercilessness. And as he lies exhausted with his head draped over her chest, he will thank her for the two scars on his back, where his wings used to be.

[nocasdatsgay]

Ch. 1 of From the Shadows the Beast will Rise

Masterlist here/ Prequel “Chokehold” Here

Summary: Eris gets a visit from Azriel months later and is summoned to the Night Court.

Rated: M

Warnings (I forgot 😅): sexual themes, Azriel’s past trauma, discussion of mor’s trauma,

AO3 Link Here | Chapter 2

**Also read below**

It had been months since their last encounter, but Eris knew Azriel was watching him. He could smell hints of evergreen from the shadows in the far corner of his room in the Forest House. They had followed him around all evening, except during dinner when they had the right mind to make themselves scarce around his father. Eris reasoned it was probably due to his lack of responses to the letters in his study. 

It was only when the smell got stronger he knew Azriel physically arrived. Anger flared for just a moment within. Azriel knew better than anyone the sensitivity of the wards on the house. However, Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead he schooled his features and looked down at the book he was reading and flipped the page. 

“Are you going to hide in the corner all night?” He asked loudly, not bothering to read the text in front of him. When no answer came he sighed, annoyed. “I can smell you, idiot.”

Eris looked up to see Azriel step out of the shadows. He smirked at the displeasure etched into his features. Spymaster wasn’t used to being caught. Eris folded his page and closed the book, setting it to the side table. He let his gaze run quickly over the male in front of him. 

“You have a lot of nerve coming into this house uninvited,” Eris folded his hands together in his lap and lifted his chin. “Just because I let your shadows linger doesn’t mean you’re welcome to enter.” 

Shadows whirled around Azriel, more pronounced in the light casted from the fireplace. If Eris didn’t know any better, they seemed agitated as well. Azriel didn’t move, save for his wings twitching. 

He glared at Eris. “Rhys wants to know why you’ve ignored his summons.”

Eris scowled. “Rhys overestimates his importance. He also underestimates mine. I’m not his citizen to be summoned. Maybe he should start asking politely; requesting instead of demanding.” Eris slumped back in his seat and grinned. “He’s so used to ordering you around like a dog, he forgets what it’s like to actually communicate with someone of decent intelligence.”

Azriel stepped forward. Eris didn’t ignore the glance he casted to the roaring fireplace before focusing back on Eris. 

“You’re the one who begged for an alliance.” Azriel emphasized the word beg just enough for Eris to notice. He didn’t react even if trousers felt slightly tighter. “If you wish for Rhys to honor it, I suggest you stop being an entitled bastard.” 

“Did he send you?” Eris snapped in reply. “Or did you come on your own to waste my time? I assume it’s the latter since Rhysand is fully aware of the stipulations of our bargain.” 

Azriel crossed his arms. Shadows slid to the carpet, and Eris watched them creep forward. 

“Where is your bargain mark, anyway?” Azriel tilted his head. 

“I don’t have one.” Eris felt the cool touch of a shadow circling around his ankle. 

“Has to be somewhere your father won’t see it,” Azriel mused. Another shadow circled Eris’s other ankle. “Does he weld the knife himself? Or does he make his guards extract information from you while he watches?” 

Both shadows slipped up his pant legs. 

“Himself.” Eris answered honestly. Phantom pains from all the times he’d been questioned lurked in the back of his mind.  “It’s strictly politics. You should know; Rhysand would rather bloody your hands than his own. At least my father is willing to do that part himself.” If that stung, Azriel didn’t show it. “Call back your shadows.” 

Shadows slid down his legs again, slinking out his pants and back onto the carpet. His eyes lost track of where they went when they merged with the others. 

“Inside your left thigh.” A hint of smirk graced his lips. “Of course it’s somewhere slutty.” 

“Are we done?” Eris finally stood and straightened his jacket. 

“Only if you want to be.” 

There was sincerity in those Hazel eyes. An offer. It was nighttime. Besides some guards, no one else  was up at this hour.  Eris debated for a split second if he wanted to risk it. 

“Not in this house,” Eris replied after a moment, more softer than he intended. 

Azriel nodded slightly. “Rhys did send me. He was wondering if you were dead.”

Eris laughed, the hollowness of it evident. “My apologies then, for disappointing you both. All of Pyrthian will know if I die before my father. My brothers would make sure of it with their bragging.” 

Eris could have sworn there was a scowl on the shadowsinger’s face before he stepped back, disappearing and taking his shadows with him. 

***

Eris waited two days after Azriel’s visit to send Rhys a letter. The meeting in the moonstone palace three days after the response was just as tedious as he anticipated. There wasn’t much he didn’t already know. He knew from his correspondence with Jurian that Koschei sent a warning to Vassa. He knew already of the efforts with Day Court to research; Lucien told him of that weeks ago. 

He didn’t like his brother being the one in talks with Helion but vocalizing it would draw suspicion none of them needed. The only surprise of the meeting was the presence of the middle Archeron sister, Elain. She sat silently beside Azriel, watching him. Eris waited until the end of the meeting to put his amber gaze towards her. 

“You never explained why you’re here, little sister.” He loved the way she scowled at him and bristled at the sarcastic endearment. “Are you even still to be my little sister? I can never tell with the way you string him along.”

He heard a scratching of wood. Probably Feyre’s claws since she hissed at him. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Why not? We’ll be family eventually.” 

He turned to Rhys and Feyre and he smirked at his correct assumption. He felt Azriel’s glare and a shadow slip around his ankle. He kicked out his foot, shooing it away. He then felt a claw against the wall of his mind. He mentally sighed and opened a crack in it. It was Rhys who spoke to him. 

Why do you always cause problems? Elain is here for a reason. 

What reason is that? I thought her sole job was to ensure Lucien stays tethered to your court. 

Eris shut down his walls again when Rhys growled at him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. They always acted as if they were above court politics; like they weren’t playing games of their own. Eris leaned back in his seat, debating if he should just leave them to stew. But Elain kept her doe eyes focused on him. He stared back.

She whispered, “Autumn blooms wilt without the sun.” He furrowed his brows at her but she continued. “They weep for the lost fox and the slaughtered hounds. They weep for the sunlight.” 

“Poetry?” He cut his eyes to Rhys and Feyre. 

Elain continued and a chill went down his spine. “Only out of the shadows, will the beast rise. Autumn blooms make the path. If they falter the beast shall fall to the depths. The blooms will be set ablaze and burn to ash.” She blinked and looked at him like she was just now truly looking at him. “Kill your father before he kills you, Eris Vanserra.” 

Realization settled over him. Eris’s eyes cut to Rhysand. A scratch in his mind told him Rhys was listening. 

A fucking seer?

Or poetry. Rhys physically smirked at him. Heed her warning Eris. Time is running out.

***

Eris could have lit his entire guest room on fire with the rage welling in him. Of course Rhysand was hoarding Elain away from his brother, not only for his allegiance but also her powers. A fucking seer. There hadn’t been one in Prythian since before he was born. 

He continued to pace the room, chewing on his nail while he thought. The other sister- the witch, she lost her powers. He never anticipated she’d accept his marriage proposal when he asked but he wished she had. A waste of power. He didn’t know how Nesta lost her powers- his informants heard whispers of Feyre nearly dying in childbirth and Nesta used her power to save her and the heir. Now Elain, with her own abilities, was at risk.

His informants also told him of how a certain shadowsinger was close to Elain. Too close. A flower pendant necklace purchased by him was telling enough. Probably an order from Rhysand to keep Elain occupied while putting just enough distance between her and his brother. It kept Lucien tied to Night Court without risking him taking Elain away. He scoffed loudly. Rhysand and his games, an annoyance to the world. 

Eris stopped, dropping his hand when he smelt the air change. He waited and turned to the opening of the bathing chamber. There stood Azriel, his shadows a frenzy around him and making him look more dark and broody than usual. Eris slid his hands into his jacket pockets. 

“And what do I owe for this visit, Azriel?” 

Azriel walked up to him. Eris watched the shadows try and reach out to him when he stopped within arms reach. 

“I told you to stop antagonizing Mor. I didn’t mean for you to start taking your shit out on Elain.”

“Does she know what you did in this room, Azriel? Does she know you rutted like a mindless beast atop her mate’s brother until we both came undone?” Eris sneered when a hand came around his throat. “You think I don’t know about that? You’re the one who pursues her knowing she’s mated. And knowing you like to fuck males. Don’t act angry about it now.” 

“I’m sick of your fuckin mouth.” He squeezed before shoving him back by his throat. “You’re the one who begged for a lesser male to choke you. Choke you until you came from that alone.” 

Eris coughed, stumbling back and throwing out his hands for balance. “I asked politely. That isn’t begging.” 

“You asked because I told you to. You think you’re better than me but you’d get on your knees and choke on my cock if I pulled it out. Do you even like females? Is that why you left Mor to die?”

That was the wrong thing to say to him. Eris felt his temp rising and he set his arms ablaze with his magic. 

“When will you brutes let that shit go?” Eris stalked up to Azriel, who took just as many steps back. “You found her, didn’t you? I smelt your fucking shadows even back then. I smelled them coming. If I took her, she would have been murdered by my father.” Eris let the rage blind him as he cornered Azriel against the wall. “I’m not the one who put a nail through her womb to make sure that bastard’s seed didn’t take. Stop blaming me for her father’s doings.” 

He would have kept going if the smell of pure terror hadn’t reached his nose, snapping him out of his rage. He realized several things at once. Azriel was utterly still, wings tucked tight and eyes glazed over. Shadows covered his hands until they were no longer visible. Shadows also circled Eris’s arms as if they could suffocate the flames dancing on them. Eris shook out his magic and stepped back, shadows disappearing with the flames. 

Eris always knew those scars on Azriel’s hands were from burns. He knew because he had burn scars of his own, just hidden. Azriel seemed to come back to himself but the shadows didn’t leave his hands. Eris glanced down at them. 

“Who gave you those scars?”

Azriel slumped against the wall, wings drooping in a slump. He blinked a few times before responding. “My brothers. I try to not,” he shook his head. “I normally don’t let it bother me. But the way your magic,” he stopped again, like he might be ill if he opened his mouth. 

“I won’t do it again,” Eris whispered. 

The shadows eased away from Azriel’s hand and Eris grabbed his wrist. Azriel jolted but didn’t yank his arm away. Eris knew he shouldn’t but he traced the scarring with his other fingers while he held up Azriel’s hand with his own. 

“For what it’s worth, I like your scars.” A confession he said so softly he wasn’t sure he even spoke it aloud. “What happened to your brothers? After they did this.”

Azriel snatched his hand away. “Nothing happened.” Eris cut his eyes to see Azriel scowling. “Don’t patronize me, Vanserra.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eris straightened his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “Stay away from my brother’s mate and we’ll call it even.” 

“Jealous?” 

One of his shadows floated away and brushed against Eris’s cheek, wrapping around to file through his hair. Azriel’s eyes tracked it while he scowled. Eris pulled a hand from behind his back and lifted it. More shadows came and twirled around his fingers. 

“Something tells me jealousy isn’t necessary.” Eris shook away the shadows. “You should go. Keir will be here and the last thing I need is him thinking I’m in good graces with Rhysand’s inner circle. Unless you plan on fighting me as a cover.” 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Keir wants to smell how you react when I fight you.” Azriel then stepped back and slipped away into the shadows. 

[lookinghalfacorpse]

ttdtn extra scene 1 (?)

honestly surprised that i haven’t written any extra scenes for ‘the trees deny themselves nothing’ yet! everything has just kinda fit inside the main fic. 

i’ll be honest, idk if this will be an extra scene or if it will be part of the sequel.  so, if it’s part of the sequel, then enjoy the preview i guess!

read the full fic on ao3 here, info and trigger warnings here 

Chex was the biggest ram in the barn.  Being a big ram didn’t mean much; he had a lot of respect among his fellow sheep, sure, but he still felt small alongside the horses next door, the mules they could see from their field, and even the goats across from them.  He had a solid set of horns upon his head, sure, but he couldn’t hope to reach much further than a human’s lower thigh (or a piglin’s upper calf).  But, neither the horses, the mules, nor the goats could reach him from within their enclosures, so Chex confidently trekked across the stall and bumped his dark snout against the feeders, wondering why they were still empty at this hour of the morning.

Philza was still in bed.

Technoblade was worried.  Upon waking, he liked to play a game where he guessed what breakfast was based on just the smell.  He was very good at it– sometimes he’d walk into the kitchen with his eyes closed, listing off the ingredients he recognized and the way he thought they combined, while Phil chuckled at him.  But there was no breakfast that morning; not for Chex or for Technoblade.  Philza was still in bed.

“Phil?”  Techno pushed a knuckle against the slightly open, wooden door.  Since Dream has been staying with them, Phil kept the door ajar in case he was needed throughout the night.  But Dream wasn’t there anymore, and Philza was still in bed.

“Eh?  Phiiiiil?”  

Phil was lying comfortably on his side, hands placed gently on the mattress beside him, wings gently folded.  Poised and beautiful, even in his sleep.  Placing a knee on the bed, Techno’s weight indented into the fabric and dipped it, jostling his partner’s body.

“Philza…”

“Mornin’,” came Phil’s drowsy answer.  His voice was a bit odd.  Heavy with slumber, yet brittle.

“Mornin’.”  Techno laid more of his body on the bed, reaching an arm across Phil so he could brace an arm against the other side of the mattress.  He knew from experience that if he put too much weight on Phil, he’d hurt him, so he was careful about where he placed his limbs.  It was difficult when he was bigger than the bedframe.  “You’re still in bed.”

Phil stretched, pulling his body into a straight line, from his spine to his feet.  Techno felt him shuffle, the fabric of his robe and blanket bunching up.  “Nothing gets past you, hah?”

“Never.  I’m brilliant and observant.”  When Phil settled back into position, making no real effort to get out of bed, Techno nuzzled his head into Phil’s shoulder.  “Chex is gonna be mad at you.”

“Mm.”

“And Saffron.  And the chickens.”  

"Mm-hm."

"And there's a big pig who, uh, is a bit worried about ya."

A smirk made an indent on the side of Phil's cheek.  "Donna?"

Donna was one of their heavier pigs.  Techno grinned as he answered, "Yeah.  Donna.  Totally."

"Well, I'd hate to make her worry.  But my head hurts like a motherfucker," Phil replied, solemn and musing, "and I'm finding that I'm not all that helpful these days, anyway."

Techno worried that it was about this.  A few days ago, Dream stormed off into the forest, limping with his wooden prosthetic, and they haven't heard a peep from him since.  Not even a letter.  Techno knew his old roommate well, and he knew that Dream's shame was often misplaced.  He assumed that the kid must be embarrassed or afraid of being a burden.  Philza assumed he must be angry, which is an easy assumption to make when you’re also angry with yourself.

Techno rubbed the flat plateau of his forehead and snout on Phil's shoulder.  "You were helpful." Techno responded in a low tone, "Not your fault certain people had ulterior motives."

Phil sighed as he rolled over, pressing his back against the mattress.  He adjusted himself so he could meet Techno’s forehead with his own.  “I should’ve known better.”

“He should’ve known better.  I’m almost done fixin’ up your armor, you know.”

Phil hummed, satisfied, and let himself sit still under Techno’s warmth.  Techno let his eyes fall shut, and they burned behind his eyelids.  In truth, he didn’t sleep too well, either.

“Painkillers for your headache?” Techno offered.

“Please, mate.”

-----------

Dream was still in bed.  He didn’t know why.

It wasn’t his bed.  Not the bed he set up in the prison, which was a little bit too soft and made his hips ache in the morning (He wondered, sometimes, if there was something wrong with his hips.  What are the chances he’d broken something?).  Not the guest bed in the arctic, where he’d spend the night under a pile of dogs (He felt cold without them).  

He was in Sam’s bed.

He didn’t remember how it started.  They were arguing– no, debating– and then it turned into an argument when Sam raised his voice.  The logic made no sense, and it was moving too quickly, as things usually go with the Warden.  Dream knew this type of conversation well, and he thought he was good at navigating them and taking advantage of obvious inconsistencies.  But Sam said something that really pissed him off (He didn’t remember what), and Dream pushed him back, and then somehow they were even closer.  Dream was scared, and he was angry, and he was betrayed.  It felt better when they were kissing.

He woke with a burning pain at the amputation site.

He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep.  Sleep was a favorite pain reliever these days, especially when he felt lethargic and heavy enough that he was able to ignore his body in favor of rest.  But today, the pain gripped his lungs and made his teeth grind together, the muscles of his back contracting as he curled in on himself.

Sam seemed to manifest from nowhere.  Pain made Dream’s mind fuzzy, which he hated, and he often missed important details such as when someone entered or exited a room.  Perhaps Sam spent all night beside him, or perhaps he just walked in from the kitchen.  Either way, he towered over Dream, eyes scanning along his body the same way he might look at a machine that wasn’t working.  Dream was used to it.

Wordlessly, Sam took the blanket off of him.

It wasn’t an aggressive movement– in fact, it was actually rather slow and unrushed, but it was authoritative enough to convey a typical agreement of their relationship: “I will look at you now.”  Sam took the stump of Dream’s leg in one of his palms and lifted it slightly.  The incisions he made a while back were now pinkish scars, blending in well with all the other scars that littered the area.  It was an ugly limb, Dream thought.  But it wasn’t any uglier that morning than it was any morning before– no extra swelling, no leakage, and no redness.

“Does it hurt often?” Sam asked him.

“Yes,” Dream replied stiffly.

Sam’s expression didn’t change.  Dream wondered for a moment if he didn’t hear him, or if his own voice was too hoarse to be audible.

Quietly, Sam raised the leg up even further, and Dream whimpered from the strain.  He barely even felt as Sam pressed his lips, softly, against the scarred skin.

“I have potions,” Sam stated.

“Don’t,” came Dream’s stern reply.

[calethelettuce]

SaSi Prinxiety Week 2/7: Feathered Fallacies

Prompt: Feathered Wings

Tags: @prinxietyweek

Synopsis: [Fallacy (noun): A false or mistaken idea.] Logan does an experiment incorrectly. To put it simply, Roman accidentally gains a pair of silky white wings. Virgil's simping over- I mean admiring how hot the Prince looks with them.

Relationships: Romantic Prinxiety

Characters: Brief Appearance Logan, Roman, Virgil

TW: Small panic attack, Remus being mentioned

~

“Erm…. Logan?”

Logan sat at his desk, working on schedules. He looked up as he heard Roman call his name. “Yes, Roman?” He called back, taking a sip of his coffee- was it actually wine? Who knew.

Roman paced outside the door. “We’ve got a problem!”

Logan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

Logan stood up, adjusting his tie and glasses. What in the world could be so important? He unlocked the door, it open. He pauses mid-movement, looking Roman up and down.

“Roman, how on Earth did you manage to gain wings?”

Roman crossed his arms with a huff. “Gee, teach, I wonder. Think about it for a second.”

What- Oh.

Logan internally cringed. “You were nearby when I was working with those chemicals, weren’t you.”

Roman have him a look that clearly meant that he was. “No shit, Sherlock! Fix this right now!”

Roman’s newly gained wings lay folded against his back, the feathers a dove white. They were fairly large, though not large enough to be considered an issue fitting through doors. They were rather beautiful, Logan had to admit, although the princely side clearly wasn’t enjoying it much.

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is why I specifically state that nobody is to come near my house when I’m working with chemicals.”

Roman shrugged. “Patton said you might have an extra jar of Crofter’s! I ran out!”

“Terrible excuse.” The blue tied side summoned a clipboard and a pen. “Now, about your issue…” he scribbled a few things down before continuing. “I’m unsure if there is a cure I can conjure this very second. I’ll get back to you when I find one.” Logan went to close the door, but Roman placed a hand on the doorknob.

“What do I do in the meantime? If Remus finds out they’re about to be fried chicken wings.”

Logan thought about it for a moment. “Go to Virgil.” He forcefully closed the door this time, relocking it.

Roman groaned in frustration. “Damn you, scientific laws of the Mind Palace!!”

“I heard that!”

“Oh shi-“

~

“Virgil, stop petting them.”

Virgil ran another hand over the soft and fluffy feathers. “No,” he concluded, “I will not.”

“You’re acting like a five year old right now!”

“Okay, well you’re the one who decided not to listen to Logan!”

Roman felt a shiver run down his spine as Virgil continued to run his hands along the wings.

It wasn’t very often that Virgil was interested in things. But these wings? The greatest thing he’d seen his whole life. Period.

“So you can feel this?” He asked.

Roman was not about to admit he was enjoying this. “Sure can, emo. Can you stop that? I don’t like it.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Your face says otherwise, you royal pain in the ass.”

The prince blushed, scoffing. "Does not!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, fine." he removed his hand from the feathery limb. "There, are you happy now?"

Roman stared at him. "No." He grabbed Virgil's wrist gingerly, placing his palm back onto his wings. "Keep going."

"You confuse me."

"Just shut up and do it!"

The two sat in silence as Virgil continued to pet Roman's wings.

"They're very pretty," Virgil mused after a while, examining the feathers, "What the hell was Logan even doing that day?"

"I have no idea." Roman adjusted his sash, brushing off any possible dirt or lint that could have gotten on it. "I did see Remus at the door, saying something about 'cephalopods' and tentacles, but that was it."

Virgil hummed in response. "Your wings need to stretch," he concluded, standing up, "They look tense."

"Oh! Okay." Roman stood up as well, observing Virgil's room. Very emo. Just like him. "Shall we head to the Imagination, then?"

"You want me to come with you?" Virgil looked confused.

Roman gave him a soft look. "You're the only side I trust with this right now and Logan's busy. Patton would probably die from cuteness overload, Janus is Janus, and Remus- well, I don't want to become fried chicken."

Virgil snickered. "You got that right. They'd probably taste like glitter."

"Haha, very funny." Roman playfully nudged him in the side. "Now come on! I can sink us out!" He placed his hands on the purple-clad side's shoulders and sunk them out.

Virgil shrieked, not expecting the sudden change of gravity. He latched onto Roman, as he randomly shot out any curse he could think of.

It was certainly different than sinking into Thomas' house.

"Woah, are you okay, Virge?"

Virgil's breathing was rather heavy as he clung onto the prince from the side. "HOLYSHITDON'TFUCKINGDOTHATTOMEAGAINOFISWEARTOGOD-"

“Hey, hey! Breathe.” Roman brought him into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “4, 7, 8. Remember?” His tone was hushed, soft and caring. “Breathing is good for you, yeah?”

“We’re imaginary you- you dipshit.” Virgil was surprised he even managed to get that sentence out. His chest was tight and gee, was he shaking.

“Focusing on breathing, my prince.” Roman supplied, holding him in a gentle embrace, “you can cuss me out later.”

Roman helped Virgil sit on the ground next to him, keeping a protective arm around him. They were quiet as Virgil focused on his breathing.

The sides sat on a grassy hill, surrounded by flowers. The Imagination’s castle was in the distance, it’s winding and tall towers looking small from their spot.

Roman carefully opened his wings for the first time, being surprised at how big they really were. They looked much smaller folded, he decided. He tried flapping them very slowly as if he already knew how to use them.

Virgil had become much calmer by then, and watching intently.

Roman gave him a bright smile. “I have to admit, they are rather cool.”

“They really are..” Virgil cuddled up to Roman’s side, smiling. “I’m kind of sad I have to see them go.”

Roman chuckled. “Me too.”

The red-sashed side extended a wing, carefully folding it over Virgil’s like a blanket. “For protection,” was what Roman said, “Just in case.”

Virgil scoffed playfully. “Protection from what? Your terrible humor?” He pauses. “…it feels like a weighted blanket.”

Roman beamed. “Well, you look tired, creeping beauty. Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll protect you.”

Virgil blinks up at him. “Oh, okay. If you say you.”

There’s a blissful silence between them as Virgil drifts off to sleep. Roman observes the fluffy clouds, before looking down at his dark and stormy knight. He pressed a gently and loving kiss to the top of Virgil’s head. “Have a good nap, dear.” He whispered with a smile.

Roman wasn’t too happy when Logan called him a few minutes later.

“Not now, nerdy wolverine!”

“But-“

“If you wake Virgil up with how loud you’re talking through this receiver I’ll kick your ass.”

“Okay. I’ll just text you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Roman rolled his eyes and hung up.

On the other side, Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed an unopened bottle of red wine. “I can’t deal with this shit right now.”

He drinks half the bottle.

~

Listen, I just wanted some Logan in this- I thought it would be funny

[instant-angel-chaos]

Plot inspo

Set in: ?? 1700s, 1800s?

Setting: Your muse finds Dakota locked up in an abandoned castle/ruin/tower/cell writhing away from having gone much too long without feeding. How will your muse react upon seeing the demon chained up?

Respond: On discord! (if you don't have mine, you can ask!) This is open for anyone. If smut is desired I'd prefer f or nb.

The sound of metal dragging across cold, damp stone made his ears beg for mercy. Muscles flexing, adjusting beneath the weight of his shackles, Dakota rested his wrists upon his thighs, as if it would somehow make the burden lighter. Stop the heavy, dark metal from relentlessly digging deeper into his flesh. As he leaned his head back against the cool stone wall behind him, the pale and distant hazy glow from the small hole of a window above him made him squint his eyes. Had he been able to see himself reflected upon any surface, he'd have known his normally fiery stare had dulled to a lifeless, dead yellow; so devoid of color it was practically translucent. He closed his eyes and the light made the backside of his eyelids light up like a forest fire. It filled him with comfort, familiarity. Although, the natural instinct to spark flame from his fingertips made his body wail in agony now.

The last living thing he had seen was a lifeless husk laying on the floor not too far from him. It was face down with its throat torn open, devoured of its pathetic soul after getting one step too close to the demon. Dakota did not know why it had come to him, nor had he attempted to ask before using it as his last meal. How long had it been since then? He did not know. Long enough for rats to come feast on its flesh, crows to poke holes into the carcass. Turns out rats or crows didn't have much of a soul to feast on either. Of course the demon had had to try at the very least.

It was torturous to not be able to die from starvation, not of natural causes. Hunger felt like a burning hot coal stuck in his throat, an intruder trying to pound its way out of the confines of his skull. His body ached, no longer having the energy needed to heal itself, to make him strong again. So his back still remained sliced open from the cracks of a whip, dried black rivers of blood staining his porcelain skin and the wall behind him.

Despite his starvation, his senses still remained all the same. So the faint echo of footsteps approaching made the demon's ears perk up. The chains dragged against the stone floor as he shifted to be on his knees, leaning forward as long as the chain around his neck allowed him to. The iron bar dug into his flesh, causing a low grunt to vibrate up his dry throat. He could smell the life approaching. A soul. Something to feed on. His arms, ink black growing from the tips of his claws all the way up to his forearms, flexed forward from the wall and dragged the chain across his thighs until the bars around his wrists restricted their movement any further. The portiong of him that was starved made his body pump with adrenaline, a pulse of fire traveling with a faint glow beneath his skin. His wings twitched, black and stained crimson feathers fluttering around him, white sharp bone exposed from where the wings folded at the top.

His breathing was low, ears intent on the approaching footsteps.