#have no idea if he would get along with anyone else

[yueichihara]

A date with Mephisto

Our little pretty crow was feeling down for being left behind on Sylus' birthday! So I thought about taking him out for a date.

cw: major fluff | yearning looks | Sylus x MC |

word count: 1,656 words

“I’m pretty sure there’s no need for this.” 

You don’t need to turn around to know Sylus is still lingering behind you, his arms crossed and one brow arched as he shaked his head. “I am sure I need to do this.” 

It had been about a week and a half since Sylus’ birthday, and Mephisto had yet to forgive you both for leaving him behind. Again. This wasn’t the first time you two went on a date alone, but it seemed to have been something he had been expecting to be allowed to tag along to. According to Sylus, he’d been pouting since that day, following instructions but refusing to get closer to you like he always did. You’d tried luring him out with snacks and shiny things, but he’d only let out a noise that resembled a snort and turned his head away. 

You’d come to the conclusion that there was just one option left: a date with him. Of course, it wouldn’t be something you’d usually do with Sylus, but you needed to get his trust back. Both of you. So you’d go with this: Mephisto and you would go on a date, visit a few places, go for dinner by the beach, and Sylus would stay. Mephisto had cawed with an eager flap of his wings when you’d presented him with the idea, turning to look at Sylus with a smug glint in his eye, earning a glare from his boss. 

You were currently in Sylus’ garage, looking for a bike to use as tonight's vehicle. Sylus had not been pleased with the idea, immediately refusing to stay behind and let you two go out alone. He’d only backed down when you’d teased him about Mephisto being more charming than him and taking you away. He’d laughed mockingly and closed the distance, lifting your chin with one finger as he leaned down. His voice was low, almost a whisper “Sweetie, I don’t think anyone else is ever gonna be able to satisfy your desires.” and then he’d kissed your cheek, his lips lingering more than necessary, before pulling away.

Now you turned to him and couldn’t help but snort, all that sass had suddenly turned into some kind of uneasiness, trailing behind you and still trying to dissuade you from going.

Narrowing his eyes, he walks closer “Care to share the reason for your good humour?” 

Not letting him have his way, you walk away from him towards the bike that had caught your eye, acting unimpressed at his attempt to corner you. “My humour is good because I get to have a date with the most interesting character in the N109 Zone.” You take your helmet that had been hanging from your elbow and put it on as you settle yourself over the motorbike. You’d agreed to drive to the entrance of the base and get Mephisto from there. The garage’s door opens in the distance. “I am the ruler of this place and you find him more interesting?”

Smiling at him, you put your visor down and start the bike, making the engine roar to life. “It’s because you rule over this place that you’re not, mafia boss.” You don’t let him react to your teasing before driving away.

Mephisto lands on your shoulder as you take off the helmet, leaving the bike parked near the beach. There was a gathering of people in the distance, a band playing indie music was giving a free concert at the fair according to your research. It was a warm summer night, you’d worn a light dress and shorts beneath it for the ride, your make up matching the pink of your dress. It didn’t matter that it was Mephisto, you wanted to give a good impression to your date companion. 

You wandered in between stalls, looking and enjoying yourself, talking to Mephisto about trivial stuff, him cawing in response every now and then. He nipped at your neck when you passed in front of one specific stall, filled with handmade jewelry and exquisite sea themed gems. 

“Oh those are so pretty, Mephi!” You exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better view. “Tell me which one you want, I’ll get it for you.” Beaming with energy, he nuzzles against the side of your face before jumping on the table. “Careful!” You send an apologetic smile to the vendor. 

“Oh don’t worry, I can see your buddy is eager to get something nice. Here,” He says, offering a box that was stashed away “these are the ones I save for people who have a good eye.” 

Mephisto peeks into the box and uses his beak to rummage inside, looking for something that might catch his eye. You see movement from the corner of your eye a few stalls away, but when you start to turn towards it Mephisto caws at you, signaling that he’s made his mind and grabs the gem with his beak. You help him choose a matching chain before paying and heading towards the restaurant you’d made the reservation at. Wind was starting to rise this close to the sea, and you make it a point to dress better next time you came regardless of the season. You rub your arms as you curse at yourself for leaving your jacket inside the bike’s compartment. 

Mephisto looks at you curiously and you smile at him, changing the topic. Announcing yourself at the door, the staff guides you to one of the outdoor tables where the view of the sea was stunning. The lights from the boats drifting in the distance contrasted with the darkness of the water, the stars shimmering in the midnight sky. Some of the other customers looked at you weirdly but you paid it no mind in favour of enjoying your company.

One of the waitresses brings over the menu, looking at Mephisto with curiosity but saying nothing about it. You’d obviously mentioned your companion for the night when making the reservation, and the staff had been kind and open about it. A sudden cold breeze makes you shiver, wondering if it would be worth it to change this beautiful scenery for a table indoors. But as soon as you see Mephisto watching the waves and the reflection of the stars in the water, as if they were pearls drifting away, you decide not to. 

The smile vanishes from your lips the moment you feel a touch on your neck, your body tensing and readying for battle. Mephisto looks over and tilts his head, his eyes gleaming.

“Aaand… you’re dead, sweetie.” With an irritated sigh, your body relaxes as you turn to look at Sylus, his expression relaxed, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You shouldn’t get your guard down just because you’re having fun.” He puts a jacket over your shoulders -your jacket-, before sitting before you on the empty chair. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, but your words lack curiosity or bite, already knowing he’d been tailing you since a while ago. 

He points to Mephisto with the tip of his chin “You should ask him that, he’s the one who called me over, kitten.” 

Your eyes narrow on Mephisto and you playfully pinch his beak, your eyes then softening as you proceed to pat his head. “If you wanted us both to come, you should have said so, Meph.” 

“Caw” He flaps his wings and motions to Sylus and you with his beak. “Caw”

You laugh looking over at Sylus, his gaze warm as he watches the two of you. Your eyes meet and you stay like that for a while before Mephisto nudges your hand. 

“Caw” He says and points to your purse. 

“Right! You want to give it to him now?” Reaching inside, you take out the necklace with the gem you’d bought before. “Here.” He grabs it with his beak and jumps over to Sylus. “What is it?” Sylus says, trying to sound annoyed but failing completely. “Oh. Is it for me?” 

“Caw” You see as Sylus’ gaze softens surprisingly more as he takes the necklace offered from Mephisto’s beak, with a gentleness that leaves your heart aching.

“You should have seen the glint in his eye while he rummaged through the gems. He found something that goes with your aesthetic.” You lean your elbow over the table, your chin on your hand as you watch Sylus examine the gift. It is a deep red translucent gem, shaped like a natural heart. A delicate golden metal thread framed it, as if it were veins. The golden chain you’d chosen matched it perfectly. 

“Thanks.” Sylus says looking at Mephisto, patting his head. “You, too.” He smiles at you and you grin at him. The sea’s icy breeze disappears as your dinner unfolds, lighthearted chat and laughs filling the space around you.

When dinner’s over, the three of you head over to the shore, few people around now that the stalls have started closing down for the night. Sylus holds your sneakers with one hand, the other firmly clasped in yours, fingers intertwined. You feel the sand between your fingers, still warm from the afternoon’s sun. Mephisto suddenly flies overhead, perching on a rock further away, giving you both space. You feel Sylus’ thumb softly stroking the back of your hand before he speaks. 

“I initially refused, you know.” You look at him, knowing he’s referring to Mephisto’s invitation. He lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a kiss. As he puts it down again he looks back at you. “But he told me I shouldn’t be missing out on how beautiful your smile looked today.”

Your heart fills with warmth as you look over at Mephisto, his eyes locked on the moon. Looking back at Sylus, you say, a wide smile tugging at your lips “See? He is the most interesting character in the N109 Zone.”

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Baby Blurb #3

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Animal Kingdom Masterlist Pope x Hawk Playlist Well Enough Alone Baby AU Masterlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and J discuss turning his room into the nursery Word Count: 1.2k Content Warning: no warnings AN: this one is a little longer than the others. we get a further look into J and Hawk's dynamic. please comment & reblog :)

Once Hawk and Pope made it through that first trimester, Hawk had to have the slightly uncomfortable conversation with J about converting his room into a nursery. He hadn’t stayed with Hawk in over a year, and had his own place at this point, so she didn’t think it was going to be a big deal, but those hormones were working overtime. 

Hawk had been in hiding from the rest of the family, more or less, and they still hadn’t told anyone -other than Jane (obviously). 

So when Hawk opens the front door and J sees the bump for the first time without any kind of head's up? 

He felt faint. 

Lightheaded. 

Nauseous. 

His mouth was dry and his heart pounded in his chest. 

His ears rang and he swore he could taste metal. 

“Hawk.” He says, eyes still zeroed in on her stomach. 

“Mhm,” Hawk’s hand comes to rest on the curve of her stomach. 

“Is that-”

“-Yup,” Hawk pulled the door open, “come in before you pass out. We gotta talk about a few things.” 

He took it better than she expected, but J still had his reservations about Pope and now Hawk was officially tied to this family and it made J sick to his stomach. 

While Hawk yapped about seeing if there was anything he wanted to save from his old room, his mind was elsewhere as he watched her. Hawk’s skin was glowing and she looked happy, happier than he had seen her previously. He stared blankly at her when he noticed she was staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“Huh?” He asked dumbly. 

“I asked if you were okay with this? This is still your room and I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you out for the baby, you know? If you still want to keep it, we can figure something else out. There are other areas we can convert.” Hawk always thought of him, even now as she was prepping for a baby she still kept him in her orbit of consideration. 

“It’s your house, Hawk. I think this room stopped being mine a while ago.” He said it as a way of moving on, but it still hit Hawk like a sack full of bricks. J noticed Hawk’s eyes watering as she quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Hawk. It wasn’t meant in a bad way. I just meant that it’s been over a year since I’ve stayed here and you’ve grown your own family here with Pope and Lena while I’ve done my own thing out there, you know? I think the baby taking over the room is a good thing. It served its purpose with me and now someone else will get to experience what I did -the good parts.” He tried to explain rapidly, but Hawk just waved him off.

“It’s the hormones, J. Everything makes me cry, but that was actually a beautifully grown up thing for you to say.” Hawk sniffed, rubbing under her eyes. “I saw two bumblebees bouncing together on a flower in the yard yesterday and I lost it for over an hour, so anything sets me off these days.” 

“That actually sounds kind of cute.” He played along with a teasing grin -the same grin he used to send her when he’d drink straight from the orange juice carton just to piss her off. God, how the time flew. 

“Don’t patronize me, kid. I’m a lethal weapon right now.” Hawk warned, laughing through her tears. 

“Duly noted. So…you know what you're having yet?” J asked with a soft grin as he eased further into the idea of Hawk having a baby. His brain left the ‘with Pope’ part out, just to soften the blow, but it was progress. Hawks hand returned to her belly, rubbing it gently. J picked up the empty box that Hawk had on his bed and started to put some of his old keepsakes in it to put in Hawk’s garage for safekeeping. Everything else would either get donated or repurposed through the house. 

“We’re finding out next week.” Hawk said softly, watching J move around the room. The babbling two year old toddler she brought into this house, who walked those same steps through that same room, was now a man making his own way in life and here she was, sixteen years later, restarting her own journey all over again. 

The tears returned, but this time it wasn’t because of the hormones. Sure, they played a small part, but the memories that played through her mind in tandem with J in the present was a lot. So much had happened since he was a baby, since she bought this house when it was just the two of them, and Julia, for so long. Hawk never would've imagined that this is where she'd end up in the grand scheme of things. 

“What do you think it is?” J’s question broke Hawk from her thoughts. She cleared her throat and brought her attention to him. 

“Firstly, I’m hoping it’s human. Pope’s dad was a one-eyed dolphin, so who knows.” She cracked, making J bark out a laugh. “In all seriousness though, I’m leaning towards a boy. Pope’s convinced it’s a girl though.” He nodded. “Either way, I’ll be happy.”

“This’ll be a piece of cake for you. You’re good at this, you know? I’ve never outright told you, but I’m grateful my mom had you in her life. You took care of us, her, when no one else did, and you didn’t have to, but that’s who you are. You’ve got the heart for this. Now you get to do it because you want to, and while I may not be the first choice of a babysitter, I’m here for whatever you guys need, alright? If Pope needs a hand painting or anything to get it ready, just give me a call.”

“You’re gonna make me cry again, J.” 

“To be fair, I don’t think you’ve stopped crying since I got here.” Hawk smacked J’s shoulder as he laughed and it felt so close to how things used to be before Julia died. Their connection was still there, though frayed as it may be. They still loved each other, through and through. 

“You told anyone else yet?” Hawk shook her head, too choked up to answer. “Smurf’s been asking about you. She might come sniffing around sooner or later. My money’s on sooner. She's gonna flip when she sees you.”  

“Yeah…” Hawk sighed, “My pregnancy has been relatively stress-free up until this point and I’d like to keep it that way, so keep this between us until we’re ready, please?” J set the box down on his old dresser and came up to Hawk, who instantly pulled him into a hug. 

“Of course. And I’m happy for you, Hawk. Really. I already know you’re a great mom.” Hawk squeezed him tighter. 

“That means the world to me, J.” J let her go after a few moments and moved over to the dresser to pick up the box so he could take it to the garage. 

“You know Nicky is going to lose her mind when she finds out, right?” Sweet, good-intentioned Nicky. Hawk could already see the baby shower she dreaded looming in the distance. 

I'm not crying, you're crying (Hawk's crying).

[nartblartmallcop]

human swap AUs

some more pics and also ideas for each scenario under the cut

human Mud AU

Mud has spent the past 50 years of his life lying, cheating and weasling his way through a world that would instantly kill him if it found out who he truly was

this includes painting any visible skin, hiding injuries as soon as they appear, slinking through crowds as unnoticably as possible and, yes, disposing of rotlings who find out his secret

he really wishes the prophecy could've chosen anyone but him. he'd love to relax for once and just be. maybe even for eternity. not worrying about death sounds like such fun

he hasn't even had any visions of the end times or guidance from the angels like he always imagined he'd get when he was younger

enter Ken, a Rotling who sees Mud bleeding from a wound and quickly reveals himself to be embarassingly hard to dump in the ocean

and despite his expecations, Ken makes him an offer: to come work at his butcher shop. they could use a clever guy like him as an accountant

this is deeply baffling, but as Ken explains, he gets a free employee and Mud gets a safe space and an easier way to get rid of any witnesses

what Ken is mostly thinking is that if he tries to kill Mud now it could very well cause a chain reaction awakening whatever forces of fate lay dormant around him. going 50 years without setting it off is too good a record to waste on a creature that'll only live for like 30 more

so Mud eventually agrees, coming to live and work at the whale belly butcher shop (no crime association in this universe) and having a single person to confide in. they'll develop a brotherly bond eventually

the whole plot becomes a story about trying not to set off the prophecy. will it work? probably not lmao

ken is playing the long game in killing Mud sooner by offering him cigarettes at any given opportunity. Mud doesn't even mind, but by the time he'll die of lung cancer Ken will be so attached that he'd be sobbing about it. ironic <3

human Ken AU

Ken has never been one for hiding. or even particularly good at it, so most of his 40 years of life have been spent out in the open and fighting to survive

somewhere along the way he accidentally created a yeast golem, but really, this became his greatest gift

ken had been achingly lonely before breadhead' creation, so finally having somebody to confide in and to trust pretty much saved him from going completely insane

and breadhead also has a deep affection for Ken, mostly expressed in his readiness to crush anyone and everyone who dares to threaten the duo, and in the enthusiastic way he offered himself up as Ken's mobile knife holder

i dont have as many ideas for this AU tbh, it would largely just be an action fest. loads of fighting because Ken just can't hide who he is (shrek 2 reference)

human Breadhead AU

i like just calling him Bready in this AU :]

Bready is around 30 and has been doing relatively okay on his own, but that hardly mattered to Melancholy, the spoiled rotten Mafia Princess of the Smiling Dead (who are far more powerful and influential in this AU)

she found the human from the prophecy all on her own and she wants to be right there with him when he brings in the end times, however he plans on doing that

so she decides to keep him, almost in the way that one would keep a stray cat

but of course, nobody else can know about that. it's their little secret. So she fashions him a disguise in the form of a massive Bread Head. he's totally tall and strong enough to just look like an "underbaked" one

and while Mel does regularly give him delicious food and a soft bed, Bready hates it here and would love to leave. But the Smiling Dead have henchmen everywhere on the island. He couldn't go anywhere without being found out immediately. in a way it'd probably be worse than his human identity being found out

this AU would take on a more comedic tone while still keeping in mind how much Bready's autonomy is being ignored. definitely imagining him snapping in the middle of a fancy ball or smth

bonus: all four humans meeting each other

mud would be salty to hear how comparatively cushy a life mel and bready have, while ken would just get protective of everyone

[ryker-writes]

(･.･ﾉʰⁱⁱ

I have a request! Also new to your account >< so hello! I love your writing. Seriously. It's too bad I'm no good with words because I'd go on about how well your writing is.

Now, my english probably isn't the best. I apologize if anything is spelled wrong.

I request a twisted wonderland x male reader ( because we're lacking in male readers 😔 ) but actually if you wanna change the gender of the reader go ahead!

The reader is deaf. How would they react? Would it change anything?

You can choose which characters, I don't mind 🙃

Thank you for considering my request!

- a { partially } deaf user ^°^

Thank you so much anon! And don't worry, your english is good! I've decided to do Malleus, Kalim, and Vil. Hope those are okay! I tried my best but wasn't sure what all to go over for this one, so I hope it's good :)

Request rules and Masterlists

Malleus:

I'm going to be honest, he doesn't know how to react in the beginning

I sincerely doubt in his long life, that he's met someone who's deaf, and even if he has, the fae in Briar Valley use magic to communicate anyway

All this to say, he doesn't know, nor can he understand sign language

At first he suggests using magic, but depending on your level of magic, you might not be able to communicate well like that

So, he resorts to the classic of "I don't know sign language or anything, so we'll write to communicate"

and I do mean write, because we all know he's not great with technology, so he has a whole notebook that he dedicated to communicating

It's one of those super thick and high quality notebooks too

He does eventually learn sign language, but he keeps that notebook close and sometimes still likes to communicate with you using it because he likes looking back at your past conversations and reliving the memories of them

If you think he's leaving you out of conversations due to his inability to use sign language, you're dead wrong because he will recount everything people say in exact words, even using magic to make their words appear in the air like a screen translator

The only time he'll ever stop translating, is when the person is saying something offensive to or about you, but you'll be able to tell anyway by the flash of lightning outside and the look on Malleus' face that says "if you don't take back what you said about my human, you will face the fury of a dragon directly, and will end up being deaf yourself"

He is a bit more protective of you because you're deaf, and the entire school knows it too

Like I mentioned earlier, he does eventually learn sign, and Lilia helps him too! Sebek learns alongside Malleus because if Malleus is learning it, he feels he should too in order to be a better knight

if you ask anyone else to translate for you, he might get upset and pouty

Kalim:

Yeah, he's so lost and confused at first

Kalim knows and has met deaf people before, but he doesn't know sign language, nor does he have the idea to use magic

When he's met deaf people in the past, there's usually been a translator nearby to help him communicate

And if we're being completely transparent, he probably doesn't notice at first

I imagine your first meeting is him talking like crazy, and you trying to find a good way to tell him and communicate to him that you can't hear what he's saying

It isn't until he stops and asks you a question that you get a proper chance to try and communicate that you can't hear him

our sweet Kalim, once he realizes, he makes Jamil come over because Jamil knows sign language

Jamil begrudgingly comes along and helps translate the initial conversation

Sweet sweet Kalim, he's trying to learn sign language after that to be able to communicate as smoothly with you as Jamil does, but until then he almost always has Jamil translating, or hires a translator to travel with you around campus in an effort to make it easier for you to communicate with other students

He absolutely forgets sometimes that you're deaf and will run up to you trying to talk, and excitedly start telling you something, but sometimes his lips move so fast and he's bouncing around so it's hard for you to tell what he's trying to say

Much like him, his sign language is very rushed and messy

He's not necessarily protective or anything, but he gets really excited after he learns sign and tries to translate for everybody

Jamil is just happy he doesn't have to translate anymore

If Kalim is desperate and can't get his sign right, or forgets how to sign something, he might write it down for you

It does take him a bit to adjust to, so be patient, and sometimes he just signs without speaking or he'll automatically start signing to other people out of habit

People are confused when Kalim comes up to them signing quickly

So he's a bit forgetful, and he takes a bit to realize and learn sign, but he absolutely tries his best to accommodate you and adapt to communicate better

Vil:

Doesn't even blink

Vil has worked with many different types of people, and some of them have had hearing impairments, speech issues, or just uses sign language to speak often for various reasons

He likely already knows sign language prior to meeting you, so he has absolutely no issues communicating with you!

He speaks out loud while he signs so you have both his lips and his signs to read depending on whichever you'd like

Vil personally encourages just about all students around him to learn another language, and that encouragement gets worse after meeting you

Suddenly 90% of Pomefiore is learning sign language

Much like him, his sign language is very smooth and elegant

Even when others are talking and don't know sign language, he signs what they're saying to help you keep up and understand the conversation

He's not really overprotective, or treats you any different actually

He just treats you like another person (with a little more gentleness because he cares about you more than them of course)

Vil would only write in notebooks or on a device to communicate if that's what you wanted, but personally, he thinks it's a much slower and ineffective way of communicating

Even when signing with others, he's paying close attention to your expression and the way they sign, making sure they get it right and you're able to understand

Now, Vil is a part of the film studies club, so films and videos are something big he wants to share. That being said, because you can't hear them, he makes sure to carefully select what movies are selected and the quality of it without noise, and of course the quality of the subtitles

He wants you to be able to enjoy it as much as he does, and while sound is a big part of filmmaking, it's not a very good film in his eyes if it can't be enjoyed by people without sound

All in all, it makes no difference to Vil! He has no issues with it at all, and it changes nothing to him

[medeaft]

Demon seed

Author's note: This is a scene from before the events of Bloodlines, during the time that my self-insert PC is getting to know their future Sire. Maybe it bears explaining that the "symmetrical sensations" is just a thing that I do; sometimes I feel a sensation, and I feel an urge to feel it on the other side to make it symmetrical, and maybe repeat it a few times on each side. This scene was prompted by the excellent idea of @essie-essex, as written in this post.

Contents: slice of life (unlife?); friendly conversation; discussion of reproduction (with unfavourable sentiments); discussion of semen; discussion of food substances; very cursory discussion of illness; secrets

Characters: Kai (Tremere PC's Sire); Medea of Angelopolis (future Tremere PC, at this point still alive, viewpoint character)

881 words

I crouch and scoop the can out of the vending machine. It's cold and smooth and slippery with condensation, so I run it along the inside of one arm, then the other, then one arm again, then the other again, so that the sensation is symmetrical. Then I straighten up and pop the tab.

At that moment I hear a familiar voice calling out "Wait!", and before this brief word could even be completed, the can is snatched out of my hand by an extremely speedily returning Kai.

There is a moment of silence as I stare at him in confusion, still arranging the events of the previous second in my mind.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

I'd probably be angry normally, but I trust him, and he's looking like he just managed to pull me out of the way of a car in the nick of time. So I just ask, "Why, what's wrong with it?"

He grins lopsidedly. "Well, not wrong, it's useful for what it is. I've used it as a reagent before. Don't drink it though. It's called that for a reason." He holds the can out to me so I can see. It reads, 'LIQUID DEMON SEED - Genuine demon semen - Stygian flavour'.

"They can't really make it out of real demon seed, right?" I ask. "Besides, I eat fish sperm just fine, you know, in soup. I'd drink demon seed if it tastes good and has good texture."

He turns the can around a little and puts it back in my hand. "The label is more obvious on the bottles," he says apologetically. "You'd probably have noticed if you saw those first."

The label is legible enough now that I look at the can from the other side. 'Win a real demon baby,' it says.

"Most people think it's just there to be edgy," Kai says. "It's absolutely for real though, you could get pregnant. It's not probable, but it's possible, and you can't take that chance."

If it was anyone else saying it, I'd take it for some kind of fundagelical tinfoil-hattery. But it's Kai, and what use is it to be friends with an occultist if I don't even believe him about demon seed? So I nod.

"Or is it okay as long as it's not human?"

"No," I say. "It's better if it's not human, but make no mistake, I'd still rather disembowel myself than reproduce."

He nods. "I thought so."

I look warily at the can. "I mean, I'd be putting it in my mouth, normally that doesn't, you know, cause reproduction…"

"Normally. But this does. It's meant to, I mean, it's sold as a drink, and it's as a drink that it says you can get a demon baby, so…"

"Right."

"Not that you should put it in any other orifice either."

I laugh. "No, now we're looking at a yeast infection and a demon baby."

"Exactly."

"I admit I'm curious what 'Stygian flavour' is, though," I say. "Or any of the other ones. …Do you think one gains arcane knowledge from ingesting demon seed?"

"Not by itself," he says, "or Los Angeles would be full of wizards."

I smile and raise my eyebrows. "I mean, I don't know that it's not. I did meet you here, and I don't really know anyone else…"

"Okay, that's fair." He grins. "But it's not. You were just lucky."

A feeling of warmth spreads in my chest. "I really was, you know. I'd like you even if you didn't have arcane knowledge."

His expression grows very earnest all of a sudden. "Thank you," he says. "I hope I can be your friend forever."

I'm so flustered I don't know how to answer, even more by his tone than by his words; I just sort of crumple the edge of my cloak and pull it to my face, like I'm playing peek-a-boo, which I'm sure is extremely dignified of me. So I eventually go back to my previous thought process. "I really am curious about this though. I wouldn't ever actually drink it, but I'm very curious."

"I very much understand. You know," he says, "if you do want to try, someday it will be safe."

"After menopause?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't put it past this thing to still work after menopause. After the initiation. It'll make sense, I promise."

I fall silent for a moment. I mean, I kind of knew. It was in the air. There were obviously things he was waiting to reveal to me, it was already pretty clear he must be in some kind of secret society, so I already have been assuming there had to be the prospect of an initiation of some kind if he is talking to me the way he is. But I think this is the first time he's said it openly, and it makes my heart beat faster. "The initiation," I say. The word tastes like honey and destiny.

He nods, his expression serious but warm. "The initiation."

"Can you tell me about it?"

He smiles. "It's a secret, of course. You'll find out soon."

I hand the can back to him. "So… do you want this, to use as a reagent?"

"Thanks," he says. "I'll get you something else to drink. Fruit juice?"

"Yes, please."

[swiiivet-screamathon]

"What's got you sitting here then?"

"Ensuring nothing catastrophic occurs and mild amounts of watch duty."

"Is he up to... mild mannered not-worth-standing-up-for trouble?"

"It is him yes, but I wouldn't quite call it trouble, not as of now at least."

Lily sits down next to Pv on the wooden bench, following his eyesight to Crepe's workshop, its large barge doors wide open with dark smoke pouring out and within are two small cookies doing... well, something, it's hard to tell at this distance with it being so obscured.

"That's, not- trouble?" She asks as she lays her head on Pv's shoulder.

"Seems to be working as intended in fact. Crepe knew this would happen and wanted to make sure no one bothered them thinking the place was on fire."

"Because they knew everybody would listen to you?"

"I don't want to be that egotistical, I'm sure our kingdom would listen to Raisin too."

"Hmhm~"

They watch on as they continue working on it, Smilk floating around in circles around Crepe as they both seem to be working on what best can be guessed as some sort of engine.

"I know I'm the problem in this sentiment, but I still can't believe out of all cookies the two of them paired up into what sounds like a functional duo-- You've got any idea how that happened?"

"I wouldn't say I do, probably some curiosity killing cats though."

"Ah, right, of course thats the case. Has he gotten along with anyone else so far?"

"He was certainly less sociable than he is now, that's for sure."

"Not the grandest of friendpools then, huh? More than one is still a positive though."

"Agreed."

"...My mind is just occupied with him now, how funny. After everything we've been through and yet he still manages to be the main character whenever he's around after so much time. You've still not managed to get him into a new set of icing?"

"He's got a loud presence, a good skill for an actor I'd say. Though you are right, I have not."

"Have you tried at all?-- Nevermind, I'm not even sure what I mean with that question; forcing him into a shirt seems very strange hmhm."

"I have asked him, though no forcing anyone in any shirts-- but he seems incredibly apprehensive about it. Every time I get a status update it seems any comment made by anyone of an kind makes him give up on trying for long bouts of time."

"I didn't take 'obvious' to be a trait of his, power of a title I suppose. I've got motivation to throw my hat in the ring though given the circumstances."

"Really? Did your encounter with Salt make you into fashion? :p"

"I suppose fashion tends to aim in the direction of bold, doesn't it? If I can be frank with you though, I think I mostly want to build rapport; bringing the Fount of Knowledge into the modern day sounds quite interesting, and you've sure been taking your sweet time getting him to act in line. ^^"

"Don't be so restrictive on him, and don't let your ulterior motives get the better of you. You're the most curious person I know but you know what happens if you go wild with it."

"Dramatic sigh-- She can be crumbled in the crust for hundreds of years and I will still be haunted by it. /lh I've got little desire to hinder your rehabilitation, I'm just not quite the same kind of altruist as you are. :p"

"If you start studying him like you did in school--"

"Wha~at-- There's no grade on the line, and I'm sure the teacher won't notice."

"No matter the form you take you'll always be a disaster. :D"

"x)"

[backtothedrawingboard]

Cutesy Stuff

Jax x Reader

Summary: You've been leaving little gifts in a secret spot in the playground for months. After receiving a gift in return, you decide to see who it was all along.

CW: Some content could be interpreted as gender dysphoria. However, it does not need to be interpreted as such.

TW: None

~~~~~~~~~~

You padded down the colorful halls of the Circus, lost in thought. Nothing was better than playing a song in your head to daydream about. You had no idea where anyone else was, but that was perfectly fine. Constant socializing was too exhausting to keep up with anyway.

You wandered over to the main sanctuary and hopped along a hop scotch board before heading to climb up a slide. No one else seemed to care about the indoor playground, but you thought it was pretty rad. You had a secret spot that you always climbed up to, placed something down, and returned later to find it gone. Maybe Caine took it? Or Bubble? Or maybe someone else. Whoever it was, you enjoyed the little interaction every time.

You crawled up into the tower and pulled back the hidden cabinet. As you expected, the small figurine you placed down a few days ago was no longer there. You smiled and pulled your pink seashell from your pocket. The last adventure on the beach was good for something. And Caine never caught the fact that you snuck a seashell out.

You placed the seashell on its spot. Hopefully whoever accepted your gifts would like it. You admired the view from the top of the tower, gazing around the open room. Zooble and Gangle were sitting together on a couch, apparently reading a book. Ragatha, Pomni, and Kinger were laughing about something on the stage. Jax was nowhere in sight, but he was probably either reading or planning a stupid prank.

After a while, you stretched and slid down a slide to get to the floor. Just a few days of waiting for your token to be taken...

~~~~~

You carried your new paper flower bouquet to your room happily. When you had checked your trinket hiding place, you found a small stack of different kinds of flowers made out of newspaper. As you went to open the door, your foot caught on something and you stumbled to the floor.

"Ha. Thought you would've learned better than that by now." That voice was unmistakable. When you looked up, Jax was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his face settled on his usual half-lidded, smug grin. You rolled your eyes and sat up.

"Thanks. I needed all the nutrients that come from the floor," you said sarcastically. The rabbit just grinned more.

"I'm here to make sure you maintain your health," he replied with an amused lilt. You just rolled your eyes again and got up off the floor.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." You picked up the bouquet again. Jax's composed expression flickered to confusion momentarily.

"Where...did you get that?" he asked slowly.

You gave him an equally confused look. "Uhh. One of the towers in the playground. Why?"

The rabbit regained his composure and shrugged, looking bored. "Eh. Just curious. Ragatha give it to you? Seems like something she would make."

"No. I've been leaving little trinkets in the tower every few days and someone takes them. Guess they decided to return the favor."

Jax nodded. "Hm. Good for you. You have a secret friend." He sounded bored and slightly mocking. You sighed and pushed your door open.

"I...You don't...Ok. I'm leaving. Bye," you muttered. You caught that smug smirk again as you closed the door behind you.

You sighed again and looked around your room. The vase next to the lamp was the perfect place for the paper flowers. You arranged them to look nice and then crawled into bed for a nap. The flowers were so thoughtful. You had to figure out who made them. And who left them.

~~~~~

The Circus was quiet. There was no set day and night cycle, but there was an unspoken agreement amongst everyone of when "night" was. You climbed out of bed with a stretch and crept into the hallway, wincing from the sudden light. As you trotted out to the main sanctuary, you noticed a shadow in the tower. It was too quick to make out the shape, but it could be the culprit.

You hurried to the base of the tower and scurried up the platforms as quietly as humanly possible. This was it. After months of mystery, your secret friend was about to be revealed.

You hopped onto the last platform and looked up excitedly. It was a tall, slim figure. It must be Kinge-!...Jax? Your eyes widened in shock. He looked equally surprised.

"Uh...Jax?" you whispered. The rabbit was holding a small figure in his hand and quickly shoved it in his pocket.

"What the $&!@ are you doing here?!" he whisper yelled.

You flinched. "I-...! What are you doing here?!" you answered. After a few moments of staring at each other in silence, Jax bolted down the slide. You jumped to your feet and watched in dumbfounded confusion a second before diving after him. As soon as he hit the floor, the rabbit's long legs propelled him at top speed towards the dorms.

You panted as you followed. &!$? it, why was he so fast?! Stupid rabbit legs! You slid to a halt at his now-closed door. "Jax! Let me in! I wanna talk!"

You didn't get an answer. Typical. Jax always pretended not to be there when anyone came knocking. You huffed in annoyance.

"Jax! Please! At least come out so we can-!" You squealed in surprise as you tumbled into the room. Your apparent friend looked just as surprised when you hit the floor.

"What the- Why were you leaning against the door?" he demanded. You groaned and looked up. You couldn't help but gape in surprise. His room was...mostly pink? And the decorations didn't look like what most men would want. The rabbit seemed upset and slapped a hand over your eyes.

"Hey! Who said you could snoop, creep?!" he growled. You smiled sheepishly.

"Uh...Sorry...I didn't mean to. But...Why is your room so girly?"

"Shut up." There was a clear defensiveness to his tone. "It's not like I designed it myself."

You pulled his hand off your face and glanced around. It definitely resembled the average college woman's dorm. Just bigger, of course. You looked to a shelf and saw all your little trinkets set out on it. So that's where they went after they were taken. You sat up and smiled at Jax.

"Aww...You collected all of it and set it on display...?" you asked quietly.

Jax growled and averted his gaze. "Shut up...I'm allowed to enjoy things like that...N-not that I do, of course..."

You patted his foot reassuringly. "No, no. It's alright. I'm not judging. You're allowed to like 'em. I'm just...a little surprised it was you who was collecting it all along."

The rabbit's ears folded down and he crossed his arms. His pupils were small as he stared at the floor. "Yeah, well...Don't leave your £$?& lying around for people to take..."

You looked around a bit more quietly. Everything in his room was laid out neatly and nicely. The pastel colors were a huge contrast to his personality. You couldn't help but wonder the cause.

"Um...If you don't mind me getting personal...Why is your room so...bright? I know you didn't originally design it yourself, but our rooms are still based off of us," you muttered softly.

Jax scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Whatever. Caine just throws stuff together however he wants. I don't know what goes through his head."

You nodded slowly. "Yeah, but...Even still, you did choose to the take my gifts and use them for decoration. And a lot of them are all cutesy."

The rabbit huffed again. "I don't...I don't know...Are men not allowed to enjoy things now?!" he practically yelled.

You held up your hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't say that. You can enjoy whatever you want. I was just curious. Sorry for prying."

The two of you sat and stood in tense silence for a little while. Jax's crossed arms finally loosened and he reached into his pocket. He held it out to you.

"Here..." he mumbled. You took it and looked down at it. It was a tiny, translucent green duck figure, no bigger than a quarter. You smiled.

"Thank you, Jax..." you said. It was adorable. "Um...Do you want to keep doing this?"

There was a hesitant pause. "...Yes."

You smiled wider and nodded. "Cool!"

"But don't you dare tell anyone." Jax glared at you. But it was softer than before.

You nodded in agreement. "Got it. I won't."

The rabbit slowly sat next to you, his tail wagging a little. "I just..." He growled.

You couldn't help but giggle a little. "Hey, I get it. Don't worry. I'm self conscious about liking this kinda stuff sometimes, too."

Jax rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands. "Yeah, but...I'm a man."

"So?"

"Ugh. I'm the pinnacle of masculinity," he stated snarkily.

You giggled. "Oh, I'm not denying that. Men are allowed to enjoy cutesy stuff. No problems with it."

Jax scratched his chest. "Yeah. I know."

You admired your new duck and yawned. The rabbit rolled his eyes and jabbed at your arm. "Jeez, get to bed, Princess. Did you even sleep at all yet?"

You smiled sheepishly. "I mean...We don't exactly need to."

"Too bad." Your friend got up and pulled you to your feet. "I want to sleep, so get going." He pushed you out of the room. You noticed his tail wagging before the door slammed closed on you. You smiled and shook your head.

You wandered over to your room and stepped inside. You looked around the shelves and decided the duck should sit next to the vase of paper flowers. You set it down and patted its head with a fingertip before climbing into bed. You turned off the lamp and rolled onto your back. You didn't expect any of this at all. But...you certainly weren't complaining.

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

I was rewatching some mlp episodes for fun and then a thought came to my mind: fairly odd parents a new wish x my little pony 😞 (a lot of the yaps on my page are going to be crossovers sorry I adore them)

So dev is basically twilight! He studies at the canterlot school for gifted unicorns. Now Celestia sees how alone he is and he usually to keeps to himself. She sends a letter to twilight and is like “I got you a new student :3333” and dev becomes twilight’s student. He’s very good at magic and stuff but SUCKS at friendship. He always has his nose in a book to either learn about magic more or business like his dad. Twilight sends him to the school of friendship where he meets Pegasus Hazel, unicorn Jasmine, Earth pony Winn! They try to befriend him but he’s having none of that!! Nope!! Friendship is lame!! I just think it would be really funny to see the whole mane 6 + maybe the princesses + starlight trying to get this kid some friends but no matter what they do bro doesn’t care 😭 like they try every friendship lesson in the book and he still fails ☹️

I like to think Luna sometimes visits him in his dreams to talk to him because they can somehow relate you know?

It would be so funny if he became the next twilight 😭😭

I have no idea if Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri exist in this au but I don’t really think it would change the story if they did 🤷‍♀️ so you can imagine them in there if you want!!

[no-i-will-not-shut-up]

ill be honest i dont like how its implied iruma should be the demon king that guy just wants to live a normal life with his polycule

now sabro on the other hand

[imwritesometimes]

This is the shit democrats need to be out in the streets banging the drum over right now. You voted for him and he's already fucking you over. You rural farming voters who thought you'd be safe from his anti-woke agenda. It's already coming for your livelihoods. Can you afford 4 more years of this shit?

[corioliseffect]

new curse dropped: having fic ideas but i refuse to write rpf/don't think i even could

[pynkhues]

https://x.com/pixielayer/status/1818003659675869381

since you're in your smut writing renaissance era... i'll just leave it here and hope it sparks the creative juice flow *wink-wonk*

(ok that sounded weird. i'm out)

Lmaooo, anon!! LOOK, I will keep it in mind.

[khioneee]

TAPPING OUT

synopsis. caleb graduates from the academy, but when you unexpectedly tap him out, a tradition where loved ones step forward to formally release a pilot from their duty, he realizes no achievement compares to having you by his side. (based on this.) word count. 1.1k an. loved doing this for codghost so i might as well do it for this man. lets pretend they have the tradition in their universe. okay? okay.

caleb stood in the crowd, his posture rigid and form still with precision despite the celebration around him. cheers echoed through the room, but they sounded distant, muffled. he watched as pilots, one by one, were tapped out by their loved ones. parents embracing their children, lovers reuniting in tearful hugs.

his chest tightened as his eyes scanned the room. he was waiting for gran, the one person he knew would come. gran had always shown up, had always been his anchor. he learnt not to expect anything more, not to hope for anyone else.

but then, like a shift in the universe, caleb felt you before he saw you.

when you stepped into the room, it was as if the entire world faded away. time slowed, the noise dimmed, and the lights seemed to soften, catching on the edges of your features. you looked beautiful, achingly so. heartbreakingly out of reach. you weren’t supposed to be here, not after the fight, not after the cruel words you’d both thrown at each other before he left.

you moved toward him with purpose, cutting through the room like you were meant to be there all along.

caleb couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t think.

his hands trembled at his sides as he watched you close the distance between you. he could act all stoic, but his heart didn’t feel stoic enough to make him calm.

when you stopped in front of him, there were tears already brimming in your eyes. his carefully constructed control, unshakable during training, steadfast through every grueling challenge, began to crumble.

caleb had faced impossible physical challenges, the grueling expectations of training, and the endless psychological evaluations that pushed him to the edge. but none of those had broken him nearly like you did. you, standing here, looking at him like that.

you were his undoing.

you should be his first sign. the first sign that there was something wrong with him. because you were his obsession. the one he was slowly losing control over.

caleb was not allowed to fall in love with you.

he trembled as your fingers brushed against his, tapping him out of his frozen misery. the soft touch was meant to symbolize recognition, acknowledgment. but to caleb, it was so much more.

you were here. you were real.

there was no second-guessing, no hesitation. before he could stop himself, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with a force that left him breathless. a strangled sigh escaped his lips and found its home in the crook of your neck, right where your heart beats: friends, friends, friends.

he held you like a man drowning, and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. he felt the soft shake of your shoulders, the warmth of your tears against his neck, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

‘i didn’t think you’d come,’ he whispered, his voice low and raw, breaking under the weight of his emotions. you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. there was something in his gaze, but before you could respond, he spoke again, quieter this time, like a vow. ‘i’ll never let you go.’

the words made you shiver. they were so soft you almost didn’t catch them.

‘you can try,’ you joked, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the mood. a nervous laugh escaped as you gently pushed against his chest, pretending to escape his embrace. ‘you love me, i get it.’

but caleb didn’t loosen his hold. instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. there was a quiet laugh, quiet and unsteady, before he murmured, ‘you have no idea, pipsqueak.’

his voice was filled with something raw, something deeper than you could fully understand. it wasn’t just love. it was obsession, devotion, a yearning that had no end.

you smelled like honey. like the same thing you’d been smelling your entire life that made you feel like home in a way that hotels and dorm beds could never manage.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, shining pin they’d given him for finishing aerospace academy. it gleamed in the light, a symbol of everything he’d fought to achieve. without a word, he placed it carefully in your palm.

your fingers brushed his as you took it, and the touch sent sparks up his arm. with careful, deliberate precision, you pinned it to his chest. caleb didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you, watching every motion, every soft touch of your fingers against his uniform.

‘they should give you a medal instead for doing so well,’ you teased softly, smiling up at him.

once the pin was secure, you smoothed down his uniform, your fingers lingering against the fabric. it was such a small gesture, but it felt so intimate that caleb’s breath hitched.

he tried his best not to be frantic, but it was almost impossible when he was overloaded with want, want, want, and with the feeling that this might not happen again, with the fear that if caleb thought about it too hard, he’d stop himself before he did too much.

he couldn’t stop himself any longer. leaning down, he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin. he didn’t move away immediately, letting the moment stretch as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of you.

he felt like a criminal on the run, but it was too good to withdraw from. so, he overdosed on unrequited love.

when he finally pulled back, there was a soft, almost shy smile on his lips. his voice was low, but full of meaning. ‘i already have my reward.’

you looked up at him, your cheeks warm, his cap still sitting crooked on your head. for a moment, neither of you spoke, and the weight of everything unsaid lingered between you.

and caleb, looking at you, standing there with your fingers still on his uniform, knew it was the absolute truth. you didn’t realize it, but you were the center of his universe. his greatest test, his deepest weakness, and the one thing he could never, ever let go of.

i’m a fool, he decided. damned in the bits of exhaustion at pulling and pushing at whatever’s left of trying.

the noise of the crowd finally broke through the haze, the sound of laughter and celebration pulling you both back to the present. caleb stepped back slightly, watching as you adjusted his cap, your smile soft but hesitant.

you didn’t have to know the struggle he’d endured to get here, the battles he’d fought within himself.

you were his obsession. his reason for everything. and he was losing control, but he didn’t care. because having you here, now, was all that mattered.

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐃-𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The tension between you and Xavier had been building for the past ten minutes. The living room felt smaller with each passing second, the space between you charged with unspoken frustrations. He remained still as always while you gesticulated wildly, your frustration mounting as you paced back and forth.

“You can’t just disappear for hours without telling me, Xavier! I was worried sick!” Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying how genuinely frightened you’d been.

He stood with perfect posture by the window, hands clasped behind his back. “I apologize. I was helping a neighbor downstairs with their computer system. Time escaped me.” The words were perfectly reasonable, delivered in that maddeningly measured tone he always used.

His calm demeanor only fueled your irritation. How could he be so composed when you’d been imagining the worst? Fatal accidents. Hospital rooms. All the terrible possibilities that had played through your mind on repeat.

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, closing the distance between you. “This is the third time this week you’ve vanished without a word. Do you have any idea what that feels like? To call and text and get nothing back?”

Standing this close, you noticed subtle changes in his expression—his eyebrows furrowed slightly and the corner of his mouth turned down just enough to be noticeable. The tiny muscle along his jaw twitched, and you caught the quickening pulse at his neck despite his outward composure. These microexpressions—so small anyone else would miss them—revealed the emotions he struggled to articulate.

“I didn’t intend to cause distress,” he said quietly, and for once, his voice carried a hint of genuine regret. “The repair was more complex than anticipated. The family had lost access to critical medical records.”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly a mechanic or something?” You exhaled sharply, running your hands through your hair. “Just... call next time. Or text. Anything.”

His eyes met yours, searching. “The thought didn’t occur to me. That was... an oversight.”

Something in his admission—the rare acknowledgment of an emotional mistake rather than a logical error—made your frustration shift into something else entirely. You suddenly become aware of how close you were standing, you can faintly smell the subtle scent of his cologne. Your anger was still there, but beneath it stirred something warmer.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, fingers gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie, and pressed your lips firmly against his. For a moment, everything froze—the argument, your racing thoughts, even time itself.

Xavier went completely still, clearly caught off guard by this abrupt change. You felt the slight intake of his breath against your lips, the momentary tension in his shoulders. Then, like ice melting in the sun, he yielded. His shoulders relaxed, and his hands—initially hovering uncertainly—found their way to your waist, steady and warm through the fabric of your shirt.

The kiss lingered longer than you’d intended, your anger dissolving with each passing second. His lips were surprisingly soft, with the faint taste of the mint tea he always drank in the evenings. What had started as impulse deepened into something tender, the physical connection saying everything words had failed to express between you.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were wider than usual, pupils slightly dilated. Xavier’s carefully composed expression had cracked completely open, revealing vulnerability you only got to see. A flush colored his cheekbones, making him look younger, more boyish.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice softer than before, slightly breathless in a way that made your heart skip.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, equally breathless. “I’m still mad at you, though.” The declaration lacked conviction even to your own ears, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if processing a complex equation. His thumb traced a gentle circle on your hip where his hand still rested. “I understand your concern,” he said finally, each word carefully chosen. “Next time, I’ll message you.”

You sighed, feeling the last remnants of your anger slipping away. “I just... when I couldn’t reach you, I imagined all these terrible scenarios.” Your forehead dropped against his chest, suddenly exhausted from the emotional whiplash.

“That hadn’t occurred to me, because I usually came back just fine,” he admitted quietly. His arms encircled you fully now, pulling you into an embrace. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, reassuringly present and real.

“Though if this is how our arguments conclude,” he whispered, that subtle teasing tone emerging that only you ever got to hear, “I might be tempted to provoke them more often.”

You smacked his chest lightly, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Don’t you dare.”

“Noted,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Though I make no promises about forgetting the time again. But I will promise to let you know where I am.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” you whispered against the soft fabric of his hoodie, breathing in his familiar scent. The argument had dissolved, leaving something stronger, more honest in its wake—another layer of understanding between you and this complex, fascinating man you’d fallen for.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital cast everything in an unflattering glow, including Zayne’s stern expression as he worked on your arm. The sharp antiseptic smell permeated the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood—your blood—that had soaked through your uniform.

“Hold still,” Zayne commanded as he dabbed antiseptic on the gash along your arm. The cool liquid burned against the raw wound, making you inhale sharply.

You winced at the sting but tried to maintain a brave face. “It’s just a scratch,” you said dismissively, though the throbbing told a different story.

His eyes flicked up momentarily from his work, dark with barely contained emotion. “A ‘scratch’ that nearly severed your brachial artery,” he countered, his deft fingers working methodically on the sutures.

You watched his hands as he worked—steady, precise movements born from years of practice. The precision of his gestures contrasted sharply with the tightness around his eyes and the muscle jumping in his jaw. The silence between stitch pulls felt heavier than artillery fire.

“What were you thinking, charging like that without proper clearance?” he finally asked, voice too controlled, too measured to disguise the emotion underneath.

With each stitch, you could feel his conflicting emotions—the methodical doctor warring with the man who clearly cared for you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes remained focused on the wound, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

“I had intelligence that couldn’t wait,” you defended, though your voice lacked conviction. The pain medication was making it hard to maintain your stubborn front, and his proximity was distracting. Zayne had always been handsome, but there was something about the intensity of his focus, even while angry, that made your pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with your injury.

Zayne’s jaw tightened visibly as he reached for the surgical thread again. “Intelligence. Right.” He tied off a stitch with perhaps more force than necessary, making you flinch. His eyes immediately softened with regret for causing additional pain, though his voice remained stern. “And that intelligence was worth risking your life?”

“The mission was—”

“The mission would have failed entirely if you’d bled out in that alley,” he cut in, his voice sharp as a scalpel. “Do you have any idea what it was like—” his voice wavered, “—knowing you’re out there, but not knowing if you’d come out alive?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment filled the silence, counting the heartbeats where neither of you spoke. You hadn’t considered that perspective—hadn’t thought about Zayne possibly remembering other battlefields where he’d arrived too late.

As he reached to wrap your arm, you noticed the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. It was subtle—anyone else might have missed it—but you knew those hands too well. They had patched you up countless times, had grabbed you out of harm’s way, had steadied you during your hard times. Now they betrayed his composure in a way his disciplined expression never would.

“You could have died,” he said more quietly as he smoothed the bandage over your skin, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. 

Something in his vulnerability made your chest tighten. The walls you’d both maintained through professional necessity suddenly seemed absurd in the face of how close you’d come to never seeing him again. The realization hit you with unexpected force—what if this had been your last interaction? An argument in a sterile hospital room?

Without overthinking it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, effectively silencing his lecture. You felt his momentary surprise, the stiffening of his shoulders before something like surrender washed through him. The kiss was gentle, an apology and a reassurance wrapped into one. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours.

For a suspended moment, the hospital, the mission, the injury—everything disappeared except the point where you connected. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, careful to avoid jostling your injured arm. The professional mask he wore so carefully had slipped entirely away, revealing the vulnerability underneath that only you were trusted to see.

When you pulled back, his expression had transformed. The stern doctor was gone. His breath came slightly faster, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You gave him your best innocent look, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. “Doctor, am I going to make it?”

For a moment, he appeared stunned, lips slightly parted in surprise, a flush rising from beneath the collar of his medical coat. Then he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing. The corner of his mouth twitched upward—not quite a smile, but getting there.

“Your prognosis is favorable,” he murmured. He finished securing the bandage, his touch had gentled considerably. “But I’m prescribing close observation for the next twenty-four hours. My office would be the appropriate location for such monitoring.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then traced a path down to your lips again. This second kiss was different—unhurried and deliberate, carrying promises neither of you had voiced aloud. You felt the last of his anger dissolving.

You smiled against his lips, victory achieved. “If that’s your medical opinion, Doctor.”

“It is,” he said, carefully helping you sit up. His hand lingered at the small of your back, steadying you. “And next time, wait for backup. Please.” The ‘please’ was barely audible, a rare moment of naked vulnerability.

It was a plea from someone who couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

“I promise,” you said softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, and—” Rafayel checked his watch with exaggerated timing, spinning around to face you as you entered his studio, “—fourteen seconds. That’s how long I’ve been waiting.” He threw his hands upward. “Do you know what I could have done in that time? I could have watched Titanic. I could have baked a soufflé—actually, no, three soufflés! I could have learned the basics of Spanish!”

You closed the door behind you, exhaustion evident in your movements. Your muscles ached from the tension of the mission, and your uniform still carried the faint smell of smoke and sweat. The emergency operation had taken everything out of you, but Rafayel was clearly in no mood to be sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. The situation was critical and—”

“Critical enough to not send a single message?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He paced the room with exaggerated steps, hands gesturing wildly as if conducting an invisible orchestra of grievances. “We had plans. Specific plans that involved a sunset and a dinner reservation that I can’t get back. Do you know how many strings I had to pull? How many favors I called in?”

You dropped your bag with a heavy thud, wincing as your bruised shoulder protested the movement. “Rafayel, please—”

“The restaurant had a two-month waiting list!” He spun again, his silk shirt billowing slightly with the movement. “The chef was going to prepare that ridiculous flaming dessert you like—the one with the sparklers that always makes you smile like a child at a festival.” His voice softened momentarily before hardening again. “I even wore the shirt you like. The one that’s actually uncomfortable but makes my eyes look nice or whatever.”

He wasn’t wrong—the color of the silk did make his eyes look particularly striking, even now as they flashed with indignation. You noticed he’d styled his hair as well, and the realization that he’d put such effort into the evening made your heart twist with guilt.

“There wasn’t time to message anyone,” you explained, sinking onto the couch, too tired to remain standing through his complaints. “The comms were jammed. We barely made it out at all.”

Rafayel narrowed his eyes, studying your face for any sign of deception. “Oh, so it’s technology’s fault now?” He threw his hands up again, accidentally knocking a decorative vase that he caught with surprising reflexes before it could shatter. “Humans and their excuses. Always something or someone else to blame. ‘The sun was in my eyes! The dog ate my homework! The communications were jammed during my super-secret mission!’”

He set the vase down with care despite his agitation—a reminder that for all his dramatic flair, Rafayel was actually quite meticulous. “Next you’ll tell me there were explosions and car chases, like some absurd action movie.”

The accuracy of his sarcastic guess made you hesitate just long enough for his eyes to widen.

“Wait, there were actually explosions? And you’re just walking in here like it’s nothing?” Something flickered across his face—genuine concern breaking through the outrage—before he quickly composed himself again. “Well, that’s... that’s beside the point! The point is I was abandoned. Left to wither away on my own.”

Despite your fatigue, irritation sparked. “I didn’t exactly choose to be ambushed and pinned down for two hours! I wasn’t having fun, Rafayel!”

“And I didn’t choose to sit alone at that ridiculous restaurant while the waiter gave me pitying looks!” he shot back, voice rising as he threw himself into the armchair across from you. “Do you know how humiliating that was? Waiting and waiting while everyone whispered about the poor abandoned man? The maître d’ actually patted my shoulder, like I was some... some tragic figure!”

He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, mussing it in a way that somehow made him look even more attractive—an infuriating talent he seemed unaware of. “I ordered wine. I checked my phone approximately nine thousand times. I made up elaborate excuses about my date being a super great hunter called into an emergency mission to save Linkon City.”

The genuine hurt beneath his outrage became suddenly clear. Behind the dramatic gestures and exaggerated language was real pain—the vulnerability of someone who had been genuinely worried. 

You rose from the couch, crossing the small space between you. He continued his rant, though his voice lost some of its conviction as you approached.

“And then I had to walk home alone, past all those disgustingly happy couples who—”

You stepped forward, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips firmly against his. You could feel the exact moment his indignation melted, his body language transforming from rigid offense to relieved surrender. For a moment, he remained stiff, clearly determined to hold onto his righteous anger. Then, with a small sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, his arms encircled you, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap.

The kiss tasted faintly of the expensive wine he’d mentioned—he hadn’t been exaggerating about waiting at the restaurant, at least. His fingers tangled in your hair, gentle despite his earlier theatrics, cradling your head as if you were something precious he’d feared losing.

When you pulled away, his pout remained, though considerably less convincing. His lips, slightly reddened from the kiss, contradicted his attempt at maintaining his anger. His fingers traced your cheekbone with a gentleness that contradicted his dramatic words—the clearest sign that you’d been forgiven, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

“This changes nothing,” he mumbled, even as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back, discovering and carefully avoiding the spots where you’d been injured. “I’m still upset.”

“I know,” you acknowledged softly, resting your forehead against his. “And I really am sorry about dinner. I know how much trouble you went through to arrange it.”

“You should be,” he huffed, but then rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? The things I imagined? You could have been hurt or—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “A few bruises, nothing serious.”

His eyes searched yours, seeing through the minimization. His hand found the tender spot on your shoulder that you’d been trying to hide, his touch feather-light. “Liar,” he said softly, with none of his earlier accusations. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s part of the job,” you reminded him gently. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“A job that consistently interrupts my meticulously planned romantic gestures,” he complained, but his voice had lost its edge. His fingers moved from your shoulder to your neck, then to your face, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, whole and safe. “But I suppose I’m glad you weren’t permanently damaged. That would have been extremely inconvenient for my future plans.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“You seem distracted today,” Sylus remarked, watching you from across his office room in the Onychinus’s base. His voice carried that peculiar blend of observation and judgment that never failed to set your teeth on edge. “Something troubling that brilliant mind of yours?”

You’d been on edge all morning, his casual observations hitting every nerve. The mission report in front of you blurred as you tried to focus on anything besides his piercing gaze from across the room. Each time he passed behind your chair, you could feel his presence like electricity, deliberately invading your space as if testing your limits.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied tersely, gripping your pen tighter.

“Clearly.” His lips curled into that infuriating smirk that made you want to either slap him or— No. You refused to follow that train of thought. “That’s why you’ve been glaring daggers at the same report for twenty minutes. Fascinating reading material, is it?”

“I’m concentrating.” You made a show of turning the page, though you hadn’t absorbed a single word from the previous one.

“On setting it ablaze with your eyes, perhaps?” He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth like aged whiskey—a sound that would be pleasant in any other context, from any other person. He pushed away from his ornate desk, crossing the room with that grace that seemed to define his every movement. “Come now, sweetie. You know I can see right through you.”

Your grip tightened on your pen until your knuckles whitened. Today, his typical banter felt like sandpaper on raw skin. The weight of the failed mission hung heavy on your shoulders—a mission he’d asked you to accompany him. The subtle way his eyes had followed you since your return suggested he knew exactly how it had gone wrong, and was simply waiting for you to admit it.

The mission had been stressful enough without his commentary, and you’d specifically chosen to work in his office for the quiet atmosphere, not the running commentary. The irony wasn’t lost on you—seeking peace in the devil’s lair—but the alternative was the bustling common areas where questions about the mission would be impossible to avoid.

“Perhaps it’s the negotiations?” he continued, leaning against your desk, invading your personal space with calculated precision. The subtle scent of his cologne—something expensive and custom-made, no doubt—wrapped around you like an unwelcome embrace. “Your strategy was... unconventional. Though I must say, watching you attempt to outmaneuver your opponent was quite entertaining. Like watching a chess novice challenge a grandmaster.”

His words struck with precision, targeting exactly where you felt most vulnerable. The negotiations had fallen apart spectacularly, though not for lack of preparation on your part. Sylus had blamed it on a few of his henchmen, he’ll deal with them later for forgetting to mention some details that caused you to stress yourself out.

“Or maybe it’s that little encounter with one of my rivals the day before yesterday?” he pressed on, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that forced you to incline toward him despite yourself. “I heard of how that meeting concluded.”

That was the breaking point. The pen in your hand snapped, ink staining your fingers like evidence of a crime. In one fluid motion, you stood from your chair, the sudden movement causing Sylus to straighten, a flash of surprise crossing his features before his customary smirk returned.

“Would you just—” The words caught in your throat, frustration making it impossible to articulate exactly what you wanted from him. Silence? An apology? Some acknowledgment that he’d set you up to fail although it’s not entirely his fault?

Instead of finishing your sentence, you grabbed his perfectly pressed collar and yanked him down, crushing your lips against his. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was pure frustration translated into action, teeth clashing, fingers gripping fabric tight enough to wrinkle the expensive material.

The stunned widening of his eyes gave you a flash of satisfaction—finally something had caught the ever-composed Sylus off-guard. For a heartbeat, he remained completely still, his usual grace abandoned in genuine surprise. Then his hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he responded with unexpected intensity.

What had started as an impulsive act of defiance quickly transformed into something more. The kiss deepened, his other hand finding the small of your back, drawing you closer with surprising strength. Heat bloomed where his fingers pressed, spreading through your body like wildfire. The taste of him—bitter coffee and something sweeter underneath—was intoxicating in the worst possible way.

When you broke away, breathless and disoriented, you glared up at him. “Shut. Up.”

For perhaps the first time this week, Sylus appeared genuinely caught off balance. His usual perfect composure had slipped, collar askew, a hint of color high on his sharp cheekbones. Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, certainly, but also something darker, more intense that made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Rather than appearing offended, Sylus looked thoroughly entertained once he recovered, eyes gleaming with intrigue. He straightened slowly, adjusting his collar that drew attention to his long fingers.

“Well,” he murmured, voice slightly rougher than his usual polished tones, “that’s certainly one way to request silence.” His tongue darted out to touch his lower lip briefly, as if sampling the taste you’d left there. “Effective, if unorthodox.”

But true to your demand, he didn’t speak further. Instead, he returned to his chaise lounge across the room, picking up his own work with an amused expression that should have infuriated you but somehow didn’t.

The silence stretched between you, no longer suffocating. You returned to your report, finding it suddenly easier to focus with Sylus’s voice no longer needling at your concentration. Occasionally, you felt his gaze on you, but whenever you glanced up, he was seemingly absorbed in his own work, though the ghost of a smile played around his lips.

After you’d made significant progress through the stack of files, a steaming cup of your favorite tea appeared at your elbow without warning. The delicate china cup—part of an antique set Sylus guarded jealously—was filled with the precise shade and aroma that you preferred, complete with the exact amount of honey you favored.

When you looked up questioningly, Sylus merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘See? I can be helpful when not talking.’ His smirk had softened around the edges, a truce offering in the form of perfectly brewed tea.

Despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. You raised the cup in silent acknowledgment, a momentary peace established in the aftermath of that impulsive kiss.

As you sipped the tea—prepared exactly as you liked it, proving he’d been paying far more attention than you’d given him credit for—you wondered which one of you had actually won this particular skirmish. Based on the satisfied gleam in his eye whenever he glanced your way, Sylus clearly thought he had the upper hand.

But as the afternoon wore on in productive silence, punctuated only by the occasional meaningful glance, you weren’t entirely sure you’d lost either.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The drive back to Caleb’s apartment was suffocating with silence. Rain streaked across the windshield, city lights blurring into watery halos as he navigated the evening trafficking Skyhaven. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw set in that way that meant he was holding back words—a dam of frustration ready to break at any moment.

You stared out the passenger window, your reflection ghostly against the glass, unable to look at him directly. You’d avoided him for three days after the mission went sideways. Three days of ducking into supply closets when you heard his footsteps in the corridor, of swapping shifts with anyone willing, of ignoring the increasingly terse messages on your comm unit. It wasn’t rational—you knew that—but facing him after your mistake in the field felt impossible.

The car stopped at a red light, engine humming. Raindrops raced down the window, merging and separating like the strategies you should have coordinated better during the operation. In the reflection of the glass, you could see Caleb’s profile—strong jaw tensed, eyes fixed straight ahead, the small scar above his eyebrow more pronounced in the harsh street lighting.

Neither of you had spoken since he’d found you in the briefing room, simply saying “We need to talk” in that Colonel voice that brooked no argument. Now, pulling into the parking space at his building, you still hadn’t found the words to bridge the chasm between you.

He unlocked his door, letting you enter first. The familiarity of his place—the orderly bookshelves, the single plant you’d given him that somehow thrived despite his frequent absences, the subtle scent of coffee and cologne he wore—made your chest ache with a complicated emotion. You couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead around the room—everything in its place except for the emotions threatening to spill over between you.

The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, the tension broke.

“Three days,” he stated, voice unnervingly calm as he set his keys in the exact same spot they always occupied on the entryway table. “No communications, dodging my calls, switching shifts.” Each offense listed with the precision of military charges being read.

You shrugged, aiming for casual while removing your jacket, though your hands betrayed you with a slight tremor. “I’ve been busy.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” he said, stepping closer, the controlled anger in his voice making it lower than usual. “Never has.” He moved into your space, not touching you but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the rain on his uniform mingling with his cologne. “I know exactly what you’re doing. Running away because you think I blame you for what happened.”

Your breath caught. Of course he’d figured it out—he always did. Caleb could read encryptions and enemy movements with uncanny accuracy, but his ability to decode your thoughts sometimes felt even more disarming.

“People could have died because of my call,” you whispered, finally voicing the fear that had been haunting you for days. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides, the phantom feeling of your weapon during that critical moment when everything had gone wrong.

“But they didn’t,” he countered. His voice remained firm but had lost some of its edge. “The team is safe. The mission objectives were achieved, if not in the way we planned.”

“That’s not the point,” you argued, finally meeting his gaze. The intensity there nearly made you step back. “I ignored direct orders—your orders. I put everyone at risk because I thought I knew better.”

“You made a judgment call in the field,” he corrected, running a hand through his rain-dampened hair. The gesture, so uncharacteristically nervous for him, revealed just how deeply the situation had affected him, too. “What I can’t accept is you avoiding me afterward. Avoiding the team. Avoiding the debrief where we could have addressed what happened.”

“And avoiding me doesn’t change what happened or help us prevent it next time,” he continued, his voice softening. “The team needs you. I need—” He stopped, seeming to catch himself. “The mission requires all officers and you, Miss Hunter, to be present for debriefing. That’s protocol.”

The retreat behind protocol stung worse than his anger. The distance he was deliberately placing between you—falling back on rank and procedure—felt like a physical wound. The intensity in his eyes was too much to bear.

Before he could continue his lecture, before he could retreat further behind the wall of Colonel, you surged forward, grasping his collar and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. The kiss was both surrender and defiance—an apology you couldn’t voice and a desperate plea to move past the wall building between you.

For a heartbeat, he remained rigid, hands stiff at his sides. Then, like ice thawing, he responded, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against him. The rain had chilled his lips, but they quickly warmed against yours, the taste of something uniquely him making your heart race.

What had begun as impulse deepened into something more profound. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. The carefully maintained distance of the past days dissolved with each passing second, replaced by an urgency that spoke of relief and lingering fear—fear that the rift between you might have been permanent.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, his expression had transformed. The stern Colonel was gone, replaced by just Caleb—your Caleb—with unguarded emotion in his eyes. His shoulders relaxed for what felt like the first time in days.

“Don’t be mad at me like that...” you whispered. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your bodies pressed together.

His expression had softened even more, he could never stay mad at you for long, not when you looked at him like this.

“That won’t work every time,” he murmured, though the smile playing at his lips suggested otherwise. His thumb traced gentle circles at the small of your back.

“Seems to be working now,” you replied, relieved to see the anger dissipating like morning fog. You pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow to its usual steady rhythm.

Caleb sighed, one hand still tangled in your hair, gently massaging your scalp in that way he knew always calmed you. The rain continued to patter against the windows. “You know why I was angry, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice rumbling through his chest against your ear.

You nodded slightly. “Because I disobeyed a direct order.”

“No,” he said, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Because you disappeared afterward. Because for three days, I didn’t know if you were okay—not physically, but here.” He tapped gently at your temple. “Missions go wrong. Plans fall apart. That’s the nature of what we do. But we process it together.”

“I thought you’d be disappointed in me.”

“I was disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to face me,” he corrected, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “We’re partners in this, in all of it. The good calls and the bad ones.”

“I promise,” you whispered. “No more running. No matter what happens, we face it together.”

Something in your tone must have convinced him, because the last traces of tension left his body. He pressed his lips to your forehead, the gesture tender in a way that made your heart ache. 

“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “Because the next time you go dark on me for three days, I’m sending the entire squadron to find you.”

After five hours of writing with plenty of breaks (read: procrastination and distraction), and I finally finished my longest scenario yet. This ended up being one of my favorites, as I truly enjoyed the writing process and got completely carried away.

[transmasc-tabris]

More screenshots (bonus, managed to find Bull a shirt and don't know how to feel about that)

[fragmentedblade]

I hate that when I look up the "Kalpas" tag here there's me and then there's me again, but on another blog. Fake moustache me