#he brushes his cat's hair after he does a spell and messes up his hair

[captain-amadeus]

text doodles pt 1/(?)

[reverieblondie]

I can feel it in my bones, he was MEANT to be a girl dad

Okay...I know I should be writing my WIPs but GIRLDAD ROLAN!!!

I mean look at him! He would have the most gorgeous daughter! I would give him as many as he wanted...

Adorableness under the cut!

I know for a fact he's the type to aways hold his little girls hand when they go out for walks. If she is pointing at things he will explain what it is with a sweet smile. Does she want to pet the kitty cats? With a quick spell she's talking to them and letting her feed the cats treats.

His daughter only wears the finest and softest of clothes, that he has a matching outfit with, because when she wears blue she wants to match with daddy and it always puts the biggest smile on her face when he does.

Every morning after Rolan wakes you up with a sweet kiss and a cup of tea or coffee whatever you prefer. He will go to her room and wake her up so gently rubbing his hand softly on her back to have her wake. Once she is up and had a big morning hug from dad, she's brushing her teeth with him, having him set out an outfit for her, then explaining to him how she wants her hair done for the day. (please imagine his daughter with her holding her hair in pigtails and Rolan just listens patently with a smile on his lips while crouching down on his knees with a brush in hand)

She attends the best primary school in the city and makes top marks due to Rolan wanting her to have every opportunity he never had the chance at. Never pressures her however, if she seems upset or over whelmed they will have a nice daddy daughter talk with her telling him how she feels as he holds her in his arms. Loves to call her his smart girl.

Often gets swept up in impromptu dances after dinner, spinning her around and dipping her so much till she is just a mess of giggles. Tickle fights and hide and seek are some other of her favorite games to play with dad.

Don't let Rolan find out a kid has a crush on his daughter, will defiantly send him into a pout of "she's too young, my little baby!" Will defiantly death stare said kid at drop off where you have to nudge him to stop.

During thunderstorms or scary dreams its always dad she is crying to first. Though she wants to sleep in your bed with you two Rolan is the one to give her a glass of water and walk her back to bed. She has to be his brave girl, but he will wait their with her telling stories of him and mommy till her little eyes get heavy.

Learns spells like how to make flowers bloom to always give her a surprise. Learns how to make her favorites along with yours, this will be the first spell she ever learn she made daddy's favorite flower: Orchids

Will begrudgingly let her do makeup on him and do his hair for practice, then if he needs a little break will send her to do the same to auntie Lia because "She told me she was jealous and wants a make over as well..."

When she starts developing hobbies he will always be in full support of them, like when she tried baking. Rolan endured eating a batch of burn and somehow raw cookies that she had spent all day trying to learn. He couldn’t take seeing her face flush and cheeks stained with tears of defeat. He told her that they were very good, but next time he will teach her his secret recipe instead and they can bake it together. Rolan will help teach her and support her always, he wouldn’t dare crush her dreams.

Tries his best not to spoil her, but she is just such a sweet and polite girl he can't help but what to shower her in anything she could ever want. He is wrapped around her little finger and everyone knows it. He is always bragging about her. Praising her achievements, just like she is always bragging about him to the other kids in her class.

Rolan always makes sure her birthday is exactly what she wants, a huge breakfast all her favorite people invited to the tower for a party to celebrate her. Gets so many presents anything she wants, one year she even got a kitty from Rolan

Everyday when he puts her to bed he reads a story to her till she gets sleepy, when he thinks she is asleep he will close the book and pick up her room for her. Before he walks out he leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead, and no matter how many times it happens when she mumbles out "I love you daddy." in her sleepy voice it always makes his heart swell.

"I love you too, my sweet girl."

(cut to Rolan coming to bed holding you tightly kissing your neck till finally whispering in your ear, "I want another baby...")

[highdramas]

the world’s a little blurry | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

word count: 2107

summary: bucky is home, and he is yours

note: this is a one shot for now, but i definitely have more ideas for these two <3 this’ll be heavily inspired by tfatws so this is a spoiler warning for anything mentioned! also this is my first time writing bucky so pleaseeeeee give me some mercy lol

enjoy! <3

it’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re lucky if you stay up past midnight, so bucky makes a point to be quiet as he tiptoes into the apartment. after a mission gone awry in the apartment building where you had been neighbors, you’ve been staying with the superhero. something about not losing you and you’re safest here. bucky’s not stupid— caring about someone is a gamble, and it had become clear to his enemies who exactly it was that he cared about.

living with you came lots of things that bucky was not expecting. first off, you’re very cluttered. you call it controlled chaos, he calls it a mess. he’s fascinated by the state of your night stand, mostly. a dying plant and one loose airpod, two half empty water bottles, an empty starbucks cup.

second off, you have a cat. her name is katherine, but you call her kitty, occasionally kiki. and while bucky had been determined not to get attached, after awhile, it was difficult not to. she rubbed up on his legs, cuddled in his lap on the couch, slept on his chest in the middle of the night. she’s fucking adorable, and not even the winter soldier can deny that.

third off… you. you as a whole. he’s sure that it would’ve been a shock living with anyone, but the care that you give him… he’s not used to having someone making sure he’s eating. he’s not used to someone checking up on him throughout the day. he’s not used to having someone to come home to.

it’s nice.

it feels safe.

and he’ll kill anyone who tries to take this peace away from him.

bucky groans as he shucks his jacket off, feeling exactly where his muscles ache. he tries to keep his volume minimal. finally, he opens the door to the bedroom. the bedroom that you share.

this was the biggest adjustment of all.

he’d barely slept in a bed at all before you came along. too soft, too comfortable. he told you as much that first night, and what you had said shocked him.

“well, i’ll just sleep on the floor with you.”

no, oh, just get in bed. no, c’mon, it’s nice. none of those things. just understanding.

but it was more than understanding. it was meeting him exactly where he was.

that was three months ago, and you had kept your word. if you weren’t sleeping on the floor with him, you were on the couch with your hand tangling down, brushing along his hair, his shoulder. every time he felt you bucky swore that he could cry.

it was two months ago that he suggested you both sleep in the bed. and while it wasn’t every night, and some nights he padded out to the living room with a blanket and pillow… it was progress.

and he would wake up to find that you had joined him on the floor.

the nightmares weren’t gone. he’s not sure if they ever would be. but they were growing few and farer between, and the ones he did have were growing more manageable.

things were getting better.

of course, they were not perfect. and he knew that you didn’t expect them to be. he has therapy once a week, sometimes twice during the particularly hard weeks. he’s grown close with sam and his family. and… you.

his girl.

as the door creaks open, he almost chuckles at the sight of you. you’re laying horizontally across the bed, taking up both your side and bucky’s. katherine is curled in at your chest, her nose nearly touching yours. your mouth is open and he can see that there’s a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth, and that does make him laugh. it stirs you and he freezes.

bucky watches as you slowly wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and then rubbing the drool from your mouth. “ew,” you mumble, still half asleep, and bucky leans in the doorway wearing a smirk.

“go back to sleep, doll.”

you hum and stretch, and so does katherine, giving a wide yawn. “you’re home.”

home.

had he ever had a home before? 

he did once, as a child. a time that feels so distant, so separate from the life that he leads now. sometimes, it’s hard to even picture the faces of his family members.

he had this apartment, but it never felt like home. not until you waltzed into it with your clutter and your laughter and your vibrancy. not until you cooked dinner hip to hip, not until you listened to music that he had never heard of, not until you watched some movie that was your favorite.

you’re home.

bucky smiles and he nods, sitting on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair back. “i’m home,” he says quietly. “i’m sorry i’m so late.”

you shake your head, your hand taking his. he still wears the gloves. you raise your eyebrows at him. “can i?”

he nods. you make quick work of removing each of his gloves, tossing them across the room, which makes bucky smile. he knows he’ll be picking those up in the morning. you press a kiss to his palm, the one that is flesh and bone. and then you take the other and do the same. “missed you, buck.”

something in his heart constricts as he watches you-- washed in moonlight that comes in through the window, sleepy smile on your face, eyes fixed on him. he knows that look, and he knows what it means. he doesn’t know if he deserves it, but he tries. he’ll always try for you.

“i wasn’t even gone twenty four hours,” the smirk is evident in his tone even if you can’t see it, but you scoff and roll your eyes. “i think you’re needy.”

“needy!” you repeat and laugh, falling back onto the pillow. kitty stirs and looks up at bucky, letting out a loud meow. “she’s the needy one. look at her.”

“both of you.” he scratches kitty’s head and then kisses the top of yours before he stands again. “i’m gonna shower.”

sleep is escaping you and you push yourself up onto your palms. “can i join you?”

he chews on the inside of his cheek and shrugs his shoulders innocently. “better pick up the pace then, soldier.”

with a laugh, you kick the sheets off of you. “yes sir.”

he rolls his eyes and you both shuffle into the bathroom. now, in the light, you’re able to get a good look at him. and your jaw drops slightly at what you see. “bucky,” you say and he already knows what’s coming. you touch the side of his face where a bruise is blossoming. “how the hell does this even happen?”

“part of the gig.”

you groan and he smiles and he does so because he loves you. he loves your mess and he loves your doting, he loves your cat and he loves coming home to see that you’ve taken up the entire bed. “you’re an old man. one of these days you’re gonna have to retire.”

“got unfinished business first.”

you know of his past. of course you do. although, you’re a firm believer that it’s not his past, rather than a past that was decided for him against his will. you’ve made a point of making your stance in that clear. you have heard stories of what bucky has done, but you have tutted and shaken your head. “what hydra did.”

these are the things that bucky tells himself, but it is different to hear it from someone else. someone who is not steve, or sam, or another avenger who has also committed morally grey acts. because, yes, they are all good and trustworthy and worth listening to-- but you. you are his girl. you are his girl who laughs at his jokes and teases him and never once babies him for what happened to him, but you’re also the girl who has woken him from nightmares, who has tended to his wounds, who has been held back from a fight just to defend his honor. you have seen him in his entirety, and you have never balked.

“alright, well--” it’s not lost on you how his eyes trail down your body as you undress, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “as soon of this business of yours is finished…”

“i know.”

the two of you share a look and he gives a crooked grin. “you look nice.”

“there’s dried drool on my face.”

“yeah, i know.”

it’s been nearly a year since you met james buchanan barnes and yet he still gets you to blush. he practically lights up at the sight of the color on your cheeks. “are you--”

“shut up and get in the shower,” you retort, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the steaming water.

“yes, ma’am.” you hear the shuffling of his clothes falling to the floor and then he is behind you, hands going up and down your arms. you let out a sigh and tilt your head back, peering up at him. water trails down his nose, dripping off and onto your forehead.

you don’t tell bucky, but you do worry. you worry every second that he’s gone on a mission. you know that you don’t have to say it, that he knows. and you trust that he will come home to you. bucky turns you and he holds your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours and you know that he feels the same way.

i’ll always come back is spelled out in the way that he kissed you, the way that he holds the back of your head. we have forever is heaved from your lungs as he sucks the air from you.

when you part, you smile at his lips-- slightly swollen, pinker than normal. you rub your thumb along the bottom one and he catches your hand. he presses it on his chest, right where his heart hides beneath skin and bone. “you don’t have to do all of this to make up for what they did to you,” you say over the sound of water. “you’re allowed to have a normal life, if you want it.”

“i know.” he pushes a piece of wet hair from your face. “i just don’t--” he shakes his head and you know this all too well-- he doesn’t quite know what to say, he starts closing up and off and away, the high walls that guard his heart and mind beginning to take shape. “i feel like if i don’t… what was it all for?”

delicate hands move across his torso. you lather up a loofah and begin washing away blood and grime. “bucky,” you say and he looks at you, steely blue eyes staring right into yours. “you make people happy. you have people who love you, who care for you. you don’t owe the world reparations.”

he winces as you go over a particular bruise and you slow your movements, make them featherlight. “all i know is,” you begin. “whatever it is you want, whatever it is that fulfills your life… make sure it’s for you.”

a smile curls on his face and he stills your hands. “thank you.” he takes the loofah from you. “let me get you.”

“but i’m not done--”

“please. let me.”

you surrender and he begins to wash you, and your forehead falls to his shoulder, calm washing over your body. you could’ve been standing there for minutes or hours, you’re unsure. he pushes your hair back and at some point you realize that he is washing your hair, and you press gently open mouthed kisses against his chest and you hear his breath catch and you fall in love with him all over again.

“let me get yours--” you mumble around a yawn and you watch as he smirks down at you. “really, let me.”

bucky shakes his head and he turns the water off. “tomorrow,” he says.

you towel off and when you clamber into bed, you feel the weight of him beside you, your cat nestled between the both of you. you feel him pull you into him, his breath against your neck and his lips against your pulse point, and your eyes flutter shut. before sleep captures you, you murmur, “i love you, james bucky barnes.”

the feeling of his smile against your skin is imprinted on your heart, and his words coax you into sleep-- “i love you too, doll.”

bucky barnes sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake once.

[hakkais-hoe]

Love your aggressive s/o x Bonten headcanons lol

If possible can we get a version where they find out the only freaking reason she's so aggressive is because she's literally hungry and sleepy... Like all the time? Like she'd need food in her hand 24/7 and constantly eating something (or napping) in order to not go off on someone for breathing wrong for more than an hour lol (you can ignore this if you'd like idc I just think it's hilarious to see them with what's essentially the equivalent to a pissed and grouchy cat lol)

Bonten x reader with hanger issues n a food complex.

'm glad ya liked em :)

love this idea too

Warnings: swearing, blood, fighting, gun references, drug reference (sanzu ofc).

Bonten: Mikey, Sanzu, Koko, Ran, Rindo, Kaku.

Mikey-

finds you rummaging through your bag after a fight

after you come back with nothing from it and a sour look on your face he cant help but ask

"What's up with you now?"

notices your similar to him after he hasn't had a snack for a while

if you ignore he'll leave you to your little tantrum as usual

after a long bonten meeting you're sat drifting off in your chair when someone bursts through the door

you do one of those freaky slow look ups a glare as cold as ice on your face

"You're really gonna come shouting in here n wake me up you fucker?! I'm fucking tired and hungry af n you have the balls to do this shit. I'm gonna cave ya head in dickhead."

'oh' Mikey knows exactly what the problem is now

he grabs a dorayaki out of his stash n throws it to you

you grumble a bit before going silent and munching on the treat

promptly moving to a couch and taking a nap

from then on Mikey keeps extra snacks for the both of you and you take regular naps in his office, sometimes with him.

your aggressive little attitude seems to get a lot better which keeps the rest of the executives calm.

Sanzu-

tbh i don't think he'll realise, he likes it when you're a bit psycho n that

takes Takeomi or Mochi telling him that you seem calmer when you have snacks for him to realise

straight up asks you

"Soooo you got like a food complex or something babe? Cos I get it I get antsy when I don't have a pill for a while, I can get those food supplement drugs if ya want love."

like boy no who tf wants ur shitty drugs

"I want snacks motherfucker not some boring ass supplements, actual food n several naps a day."

our boy only gets it when you spell it out n will buy you all the snacks n food you want

also keeps a blanket n pillow in his office so you can take a nap with him

watches you sleep like a creep can't lie

whips random snacks out when you get n attitude during meetings

loves it when you have a little anger tantrum cos you wanna nap n lets you drag him down onto the couch to use him as a pillow

probably can't sleep cos of the drugs but good effort

"Think you should take a chill pill on the drugs, love."

"Which one's that is it in my bottle? Is it a downer? They're boring baby."

sir you have a problem >_>

Kakucho-

chances are he already clocked it after the first few times he saw you beat a bitch then walk straight into a shop n buy snacks

wont actually mention it he just makes you take scheduled naps under the pretence that he needs one

will gently massage your kneecaps during meetings when you start to get grumpy

pulls random snacks and drinks out of his pockets

tries to keep you calm all the time

practically throws a blanket at you when you get ratty

will bundle you up even in meetings n make you take a nap on his lap

human burrito

very devoted to looking after you

will let you fight when you're really angry but prefers to keep you as docile as he can

"Love, enough. C'mon come sit down wit me and have a snack leave that piece of shit there."

ur surprisingly obedient when he's waving your favourite snack at you

Kokonoi

honestly he just thinks you're a bit nuts plus you spend too much time with sanzu according to him

most of the time he just lets you do your thing n he doesn't get involved

only realises that there's something odd when the Bonten executives plus the boss go out for a meal after a meeting

you're silent for once n you even seem calm as you practically bounce in your seat with all the food in front of you

once he realises that you're a lot calmer with food he offers you his

will send someone to buy snacks as soon as he sees a hit of aggression coming from you

you fall asleep on his shoulder later in the evening

Koko adjusts you slightly to keep you comfortable

hears your light muttering about nonsense

he ignores the conversation that all the executives are having in favour of listening to you sleep talk

he can make out your quiet words at some points which cause him to chuckle

until you mutter about how much you love him

an unusually soft smile on the both of your faces is there until late into the night

tries to make you take naps often after that just so he can listen to you sleep talk

feeds your grumpy self often he orders some expensive snacks just to see your reaction.

Rindo-

if you think this cocky shit would ever question your angry self you have another thing coming

he enjoys watching you beat the living daylight out of anyone

coincidentally brings you some snacks during a meeting one day

usually you'd be snapping and threatening to fight sanzu by now but you're silent for once

he stops listening to Kaku's report to observe you n notices that you're only silent cos ur stuffing snacks in you mouth

"Uh babe? Did you actually just calm down cos I brought you food? If I'd known it was that easy I woulda brought you a whole ass shop."

"Mhm buy me a whole convenience shop n I'll marry you."

the boy definitely does a Koko n buys you way too much to keep in his office and your apartment

please let him pamper you

he realises that he enjoys your happy food enjoying self more than the little psycho you usually are

comes into every meeting with food

when you sleep on his office couch n wake up even calmer than with food he encourages you to sleep more

buys an expensive ass weighted blanket for his office

bless him he heard that they keep people calm from Ran

sometimes sits at the couch reading paperwork with your head on his lap

strokes your hair to help you sleep better

"Love ya Rin..."

your sleep talk is his favourite thing

Ran-

already knew

this man is very aware of everything you do

he may seem lackadaisical but he knows everything that you like and everything that keeps you calm

he plays it off as a coincidence that he started bringing snacks 3 weeks after you started

when he figures out your favourite he keeps them in his office 24/7

also like Rin he has a giant weighted blanket in a cabinet for you

has it out as soon as you come into his office

leaves it so that you can wrap yourself up in it when you're both going through paperwork

you ofc inevitably fall asleep in it

your boyfriend gets you all comfy and lays down with you for a quick nap

he wakes up wot you gently brushing his now messed up hair away from his face

you seem gentle and calm for once as you smile down at him

"Hi handsome. Did you have a nice nap?"

he's shocked ngl

falls in love with you all over again

"You look like an angel my love."

pampers you and makes you sleep a lot in his office just so you can wake up and be calm with him

he wants all your calm attention

will still cheer you on when you have a "tantrum" as Rin calls them

[lunar-wandering]

Fool’s Finale

“I’m taking my headband back, lil’ bud.”

And with that, Qiu Shi dumps a bucket of water over top of Wukong’s head.

Wukong yelps, the water being ice cold, the force of it knocking the headband off of his head, taking it’s small glamour along with it.

And with the undoing of one glamour, all the other ones come untangled too.

“Oh... wow.” MK says in shock, taking in the sight of his mentor, and really, it is quite a sight.

Wukong, alongside with now being drenched, looks like a mess. Now his regular height, he has glitter and feathers throughout his fur, as well as traces of spider webs. His hair looks like he didn’t even brush it that morning, and there’s even some pieces of green confetti stuck in there.

“So you didn’t escape all my pranks this morning after all!” Mei laughs.

“Um, I think maybe we should focus more on the fact that Monkey King’s fur is purple?” Red Son says, and, yes, Wukong’s fur is a light purple. “How did that happen??”

Wukong huffs, crossing his arms and sitting down on the floor, clearly not interested in answering. Macaque does his job for him.

“I swapped out his shampoo last night. That’s why he ended up waking me up with cymbals, instead of just sticking to tying a cat bell around my tail.”

“...You have a cat bell around your tail?” Qiu Shi asks, and Macaque stiffens.

“Um.”

“It’s tied there with magic ribbon.” Wukong smirks a bit. “It won’t be coming off until the spell wears off.”

“So that’s what the jingling was about...” Mei mutters.

Finally over coming his shock, MK looks over his mentor again, and finally bursts out laughing.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you ended up falling for the bucket of water trick!”

[thebadbatch]

Hii there, sweetheart, can I request reader going around and giving the batchers little rocks with symbols that represent them drawned on it? I just think the thought is sweet. And sorry if I’m requesting too much, I just really like your writing and such

A/N: Aw thank you so much for your request! I love them all, you can request as many as you want! :3 I love this idea! I'm into magic so I was thinking that the reader could have some special force and magic abilities! I really hope you enjoy this! :)

The Bad Batch x ForceSensitive!Reader

Plot: You and the Bad Batch get some much deserved rest on a new planet. You use this as a chance to explore and get some gifts for the boys.

Warnings: None! Very fluffy and fun :3

----------

Runes

Taking a breath inwards, you shut your eyes and allowed the familiar feeling of the force to greet you once again. You had been born force sensitive but no jedi or other force sensitive users had been known in your family, you were the force and you were no Jedi. Order 66 had occurred decades ago and you were yet to bump into a Jedi who would reach you their ways.  You didn't mind though, you had a new family and each of you were unique in your own ways, enhancements or not. This family are known as The Bad Batch and you adore every single one of them just like they adore you.

"Are you still watching me, Tech?" Opening your eyes, you allowed the rocks that were floating around you via the force to fall upon the grassy floor. Tech had sat opposite you, watching intently with his usual serious expression.

"Ah yes, don't mind me." Rolling your eyes lightly he began to type into his datapad quickly before his eyes met your own, "Your abilities are absolutely fascinating y/n." 

"Still? After all of these years?" You replied, dusting off your robes that were coated with dust. He simply nodded, standing with you and showing you the data that he had been so intent on capturing.

"Your skills have been strengthening rapidly without any professional training." You had no idea what the data ment so you just shrugged in return walking toward the others who had set up a small camp.

"I'm just friends with it I suppose." Taking a breath in you smiled, hearing its usual high hum. "I talk to it and it sings this beautiful tune in return!" Tech stopped and rapidly typed in your words into his beloved datapad. Finally reaching the small camp Echo had greeted you with a light hug. 

"Hey kid!" He beaned which made you laugh and wave, a nickname he had used forever but it never grew old. "You alright? Tech annoying you again?" Grinning softly you just shook your head,

"Nah it's okay, he's just like an excited Loth cat." Chuckling at your response he walked toward Wrecker who held two large logs upon his shoulders. Moving your hands gently, you allowed the force to hold them and bring them softly to the floor, Positioning them around the area Hunter had prepared for the fire.

"Thanks, y/n!" Wrecker laughed, messing up your hair as he walked past you with a big smile upon your face. This was your only time to have a break, and this was a perfect plan for you all to be able to let off some steam. Having a break between constant missions and blaster fire did feel strange, but it was the perfect chance for you to finally strengthen your connection with the force and beliefs you held. 

"What now?" You asked, turning toward Hunter who had walked back off the ship that stood before the small campsite all whilst fiddling with his knife.

"Suppose we do whatever we want, it's our break so no more missions for two or so days." His eyes met Crosshair who was quietly tending to his Firepuncher rifle, focused on Cleaning it as per usual. "Try to do what you enjoy and use this time to do something new, unlike Cross over here." You laughed a little before nodding a little, ideas floating around in your mind.

"Well I'm off then! I know exactly what to do." Hunter just laughed and nodded, waring as you wondered where the trees lined the ground.

"Be back by nightfall!" Echo's voice called after you which just brought a smile to your face. 

 Wandering past the trees, Jour fingertips brushed past the rough texture that coated them whilst the wind ran through the deep elven green leaves that clung to the branches. Allowing yourself to walk further, you felt the force pulling you toward the sound of rushing water - a light hum of its song guiding you toward it.  Waking up, you crouched beside the stream which was accompanied by a Strong rush of water - a waterfall Tech said it was called. Dipping your hands into the cool rush, you enjoyed the sounds it made and the calming feeling it gave out. Chuckling you turned behind you, seeing Hunter walking to you.

"I hope you don't mind me joining you? Everybody's doing the usual, I really wanted to do something new." Smiling at his words, you Stood and stepped into the Stream with a shiver rushing up your spine.

"You've come to the right place then!" He laughed at your enthusiasm whilst your hand reached out for his own, "Come on, this is fun!" 

"What are you exactly doing?" He asked, stepping beside you and feeling the same prominent shiver.

"I'm not sure - the force took me here." You paused for a moment, kicking your feet against the water before your eyes fell upon six smaller stones along the stream. "I wanted to make a gift for you all and I have an idea now!" Tilting his head he crouched beside you as you grabbed the stones, stepping out of the river and listening to the force to guide you to the next Step. "Come on!" Pulling him behind you, the sound of the water grew distant as you both arrived at a patch of flowers.

"What are these?" He asked, panting a little at the sudden run.

"These are Ryolahs, you can paint with these." Humming softly he sat beside you as you picked some petals and began crushing them in your hand.

"How did you find out?" Hunter watched you, enjoying Your curious mind. You had never really had the time to have fun or just be curious Or Craft, you were always busy in battle and winning.

"Tech taught me!" Once the flower petals turned into yellow paint against your hand, you used a finger to paint a symbol against one of the stones you took.

"What does that mean?" You couldn't help but laugh at his constant questions, blowing against the paint and passing him the stone once the paint had dried.

"This ones for you! The rune means leadership - a warrior and authority, I think is perfect for you." He held it in his head, fingertips running across the surface. "I'm making them like protection charms for battle, keep it with you okay?" Before you began on the next ones, he pulled you into a hug. 

"Thank you y/n - you're amazing." 

You continued to paint each one with passion, whispering into the force a protection spell for each individual one. Echo had the rune for Protection and peace whilst Wrecker had the rune for Strength and reliability. Techs had the rune for knowledge and inspiration and Crosshair held the one that meant power and courage. Once returning to them all, you had passed them all their gift and explained their meaning one by one. Each member was thrilled, even Crosshair as he pulled you into a hug. Upon your next battle you noticed their individual  runes upon their onmoor in black, the stones  hanging against their armour So it would always be with them.

[matthewbeilschmidts]

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

-

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

-

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

-

And so their friendship starts.

-

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

-

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

-

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

-

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

-

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

-

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

-

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

-

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

-

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.

[nuclearnik]

Like Disco Lemonade - Read on AO3

Pairing: Nina Zenik + Matthias Helvar Rating: M Summary: Matthias doesn't care much for his own birthday, but Nina does and always makes it special. This year her utterly indecent cake decorating makes him turn beet red in front of their friends.

A/N: Takes place in some nebulous time after the events of Crooked Kingdom but everything is fine and nothing hurts. Join me as I continue to pretend chapters 38 through 40 don't exist. Inspired by this photo

Matthias didn't care much for birthdays.

Each one was one more year without his family, one more year being a man without a country.

But it was also one more with Nina. More kisses, more waffles so sweet they give him a toothache, more nights falling asleep with her in his arms, more obscene jokes from her with the sole intent to make him blush and stammer.

More of her smiles. Her hand in his. More of the simple pleasure of existing in her orbit.

They were not meant to be, opposite sides of a war, driven by diametrically opposed purpose, an impossible pair doomed to failure from the start.

But the fire in her heart is a twin to his, and it is what pushed them together. It is what gave him the strength to continue, setting forth in a whole new life, not in his country or hers, but their own, somewhere where the only things that mattered were the steps they took forward.

Nina, on the other hand, goes mad for birthdays. She has since she was a little girl, she told him, always making sure the younger children in the orphanage felt special, felt seen. Always thinking about how to make the people around her happy.

So he muscles through the unwanted attention, accepts the cake, blows out the candles, smiles in a way he cannot suppress when Nina and their friends serenade him about as well as a gang of feral cats.

He is pulled from his ruminations on age, time, and the meaning of life when Nina comes sweeping into the main hall of the Crow Club—devoid of customers at nine in the morning—bright and beautiful, with a cake covered in petal pink frosting perched on one palm.

With a flourish, she sets it down in front of him, lights the single, lopsided candle, and leads the others—some enthusiastic, some begrudgingly—in a rousing chorus of happy birthday.

Wylan is beaming, belting out the lyrics while Jesper hums along beside him, raising a glass of liquid probably not socially acceptable at this time of day.

When the warbling tune limps to the finish line, Matthias looks down at the cake for the first time, heat flooding his cheeks.

Instead of a simple birthday greeting, flowing script spells out, "You're really good in bed" across the top, in deep, incriminating red.

Before he really thinks it through, he drags his index finger through the words, coming in a little too hot and making the cake wobble. Less of a swipe, more of a stab.

From her spot just to his left, Nina leans into him, warm breath coming in little puffs against his neck as he licks the frosting mess from his fingers and attempts to act casual.

"I knew you liked it rough."

A quick glance around the table reveals that no one else is really even paying attention. The other four are mostly enamored with each other, though the affection between them is delivered in starkly different fashions: Jesper has thrown an arm around Wylan, whispering something most certainly indecent in the younger boy's ear, while interaction between Kaz and Inej is comprised of barely there touches—a brush of a gloved pinky against a knee, stolen glances.

Pulling away before he can respond, Nina passes out plates and leaves him sitting there with his face on fire.

Everyone has a slice of cake except for Kaz, who sits at the head of the table looking stoically resigned to a torturous fifteen minutes of celebrating, and Matthias feels a kinship with the stone faced demjin.

But then he looks at Nina, radiant and laughing at something with Inej, and suddenly all that matters is keeping that look on her face, forever, if he can.

Kaz barks out an order to get back to work, and everyone else disperses to do Djel knows what, leaving him alone with his siren, who throws a coy smile his way and grabs his hand, tugging him down a hallway to a broom closet.

"Nina…"

Raising a finger to her lips, she shushes him, maneuvering him into the closet and quietly shutting the door behind them.

The dim light bulb flares to life as she tugs on the chain, giving just enough of a glow to see her features, the shape of her before him.

With one hand on his chest, she backs him up until his spine meets the precariously perched shelves lining the small back wall of the closet, and walks her fingers up his chest, over his collarbone and behind his neck to entwine them in the loose hair at the back of his head.

"Hi," she says, her tone sweet as sugar as goes up on her toes to press a kiss to his chin, his nose, his jaw. And then she is sucking on that spot on his neck right behind his ear and his brain whites out like an ice storm, his hands dropping to clutch her hips as the only thing still tethering him to this earth.

Nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, Nina pushes aside the fabric to trail wet kisses down his chest, her mouth going lower and lower with each one, dislodging his grip on her waist. His fingers scramble to hold onto the edge of the shelf behind him as she unfastens his belt and grins up at him, sinking to her knees with all the grace of a queen.

What happens next is a blur of sensation: the warmth of her mouth taking him in, her hands stroking his thighs, his heart pounding in his ears.

No matter how often they come together now in the dark—and sometimes in the day, and not in their bed, which has taken some getting used to, to say the least—it still feels like the first time with his hands shaking as they worked to unlace the stays of her dress and reveal the soft glory of her body each by inch, kissing her with all the pent up desire he'd been harboring, the press of her curves against him.

He'd been eager to learn what she liked, what felt good for her. Each new spot uncovered that made her moan or shiver felt like opening a present made just for him, wrapped in shiny paper with a pretty red bow.

Now, she is unwrapping him, unraveling him thread by thread and putting him back together all at once, and just before he loses his mind completely, he pulls one of her hands free from his leg and tangles their fingers together.

She squeezes his fingers once in response, and his chest warms with affection, matching the molten heat in his belly. Then she does something with her tongue that pushes him over the edge and he can no longer think clearly, can barely breathe.

When she finally pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and smiling, and he's caught his breath, he tugs her to her feet and switches their positions, pressing her gently back into the shelves.

She is soft and warm against him as he kisses her, his mouth straying from hers to kiss and suck at the delicate line of her throat in the way that always made her breathe catch.

"My turn."

"But it's your birth—" Whatever she was trying to say melts into a sigh as his hand slips beneath her dress, and he smiles against her skin.

Happy birthday, indeed.

[lailyn]

Stephen stepped out of the portal, expecting to be assaulted by a flurry of arms anytime now, but they never came. He looked around. The living room was empty.

Their house was never silent. Between Tony's music and the noises of his trade, the clangs and bangs were a normal part of Stephen's life now, one he took comfort in every day. 

And more recently, ever since a bundle of heavenly mischief by the name of Loki joined in the cacophony, it made rolling out of bed in the morning that bit harder, and coming home every evening easier.

He had been blessed, not once, but twice in the search for true love.

Stephen walked down the stairs toward the basement and true enough, he found one of them hunched over a table, hard at work. 

He watched Tony for a while before patting the Cloak of Levitation a few times; he could almost sense its disappointment as the sentient relic flew to give them a moment to themselves.

"How was work today, hun?"

Engrossed in his latest project, Stephen could barely hear Tony's mumbling through his welding helmet. Which was a shame because Stephen could have used a welcome home kiss or two, on the account of his very -

"Shitty day," he sighed. "It's that time of the year again. Wannabe witches and wizards dabbling in things they can't understand. I have to sweep in and clean up all the mess."

"You do it very dramatically though."

Stephen could just see the outline of Tony's suggestive grin through the visor. "The sweeping in."

Stephen only snorted. "You're one to talk. You spent hours talking over the latest colour scheme for Mark XXVII in bed with Loki yesterday when you two were supposed to be sleeping. Green and red? You'll look like a flying Christmas Tree."

"Hey, that was private pillow talk!" Tony protested with an embarrassed chuckle. "It's all about aesthetics, darling. That's why I insist I walk in the middle when we're on the streets."

Tony had a habit of not looking where he was going most of the time, so it was only natural Loki and Stephen be his eyes on the road. Stephen had never really wondered about it, and Loki never really minded getting hit by a car or two in Tony's stead, but now that Tony had brought it up...

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?"

"Ever watched Mean Girls?" At the blank look on Stephen's face, Tony tried again. "Charmed? The one from the 90s, not the reboot?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about and I know everything."

"Pretty things always walk in threes, Stephen. And the prettiest one always walks in the middle." 

With a smirk, Tony slid his visor down; he turned the music up and purposely turned his back in the hope that Stephen would miscontrue it as a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. 

"Where's Loki?"

"He's around somewhere," Tony mumbled. "Go look for him, would you? He's going to think we don't care."

Stephen only chuckled and gave Tony one last peck on the top of his head. "Come find us when you're done."

"Will do."

Tony waited until Stephen's form disappeared up the stairs before picking up his soldering iron once more.   

In truth, Tony simply did not want Stephen to see what he was working on.

He may be a little late to the bandwagon but wearing one's lover's colours? Into battle? Tony was sold. Besides, he was only taking a page out of Renly Baratheon's book. 

(Who, according to Loki, had taken to wearing the stag of Baratheon in the fight against his brother Stannis, but in the colours of House Tyrell, obviously an homage to his lover Ser Loras.)

In Lokispeak, that meant Tony'd better be wearing Loki's colours the next time they went into battle together. And Tony Stark was not going to be outshined by a fictional character.

Mark XXVII was going to have the most gorgeous chest plate in metallic navy blue. 

(Because hello, two lovers! Beat that, Renly!)

It matched Stephen's Sorcerer Supreme costume perfectly, and Tony could not wait for the next villain to show up so he could show it off. 

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

The energy signature powering up the wards around the house was strong, indicating that Loki had not left the house, but for some reason, Stephen could not find him anywhere.

He searched high and low, up and down all three storeys of the mansion, but there was neither hide nor tail of his mercurial lover. 

When the search had gone on long enough that pangs of worry were beginning to collect in the pit of his stomach, Stephen knew he had no choice but to resort to magic. 

He began to panic when reading a strand of Loki's hair (he always kept a few on him for moments like this) brought him right where he started, in the middle of an empty living room that felt bigger than ever now that he was utterly alone. 

Okay. Loki was officially missing. 

He was about to raise all hell when he remembered that there was another locating spell he had not tried.

It worked!

Stephen followed the mage light as it led him somewhere into the bowel of the house. He grew more and more curious as the mage light took him down a long hallway, the end of which only had a utility room where they would do the occasional laundry.

Then he saw it, the outline of a sleek Bombay cat inside the washing machine. 

"Oh, Loki…"

It seemed to be sleeping, comfortably ensconced on a small mountain of towels. 

Stephen opened the front load washer and carefully extracted it from its fluffy throne. 

The cat blinked blearily, its eyes a familiar, brilliant green. It meowed in hissy annoyance but settled almost immediately when Stephen held it to his chest. 

"What's the matter? This isn't the place to sleep," he admonished gently, scratching the cat's chin. "It's very dangerous, you know. One of us could have turned it on by mistake."

The cat pawed its way up Stephen's chest until they were eye to eye.

The hovering mage light illuminated the intelligence behind the cat's eyes, as did the Inuit kiss Loki gave Stephen's nose. 

Stephen chanted a word to close the loop on the spell, and the mage light turned into a wisp of golden smoke that disappeared into the bell dangling from Loki's neck.

Stephen fussed with the slightly askew collar to fix it when the pads of his fingers brushed against something; he turned the fine leather outward, revealing the silken lining inside. 

If found, please return to S&S, it read in gold stencil letters. 

He chuckled, remembering the first time Loki shifted and the argument that had ensured between him and their worrywart of a boyfriend.

"What does S&S stand for?"

"Why, Stark and Strange, of course."

"Why can't it be Strange and Stark?"

"Don't you know your alphabets, Doctor? A comes before R."

"Loki thinks it stands for Stephen and Stark," Stephen said triumphantly.

Tony wished he could look into Lokitty's eyes but he had to fasten the collar and check the fit before he could get it engraved, diamond-encrusted, and of course, magically and electronically tagged. "No, he doesn't. And why do you get to be Stephen, and I'm Stark?"

"It was your idea. I'm perfectly happy with S&T." 

Stephen had never been a cat lover, but for Loki he could make an exception. Loki made such a fine, handsome feline. 

"Alphabetically and perfectly happy. Yes, yes, I am." 

"What's all this?" A pair of arms snaked around Stephen's neck from behind. "A party in the laundry room and I wasn't invited?"

Tony then noticed the bundle of fur in Stephen's lap. "Is Loki alright?"

"Yeah. He's just bored."

"And hungry." Loki rematerialised, and now instead of a furball, he was a tangle of arms and legs that quickly held Stephen down in place, but Tony felt equally grounded, such was the intensity of his glare. "You promised we would go fonduing."

Stephen burst out laughing. "Loki, I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"What are you talking about? Of course it does!" Tony leaned forward over Stephen's shoulder to give Loki an apologetic kiss on the lips. "Cheese or chocolate?"

Loki's eyes lit up like gems. "Oh goodness, is it my turn to choose?"

"Of course it is, Princess."

Loki nuzzled his forehead against the underside of Stephen's jaw like he had spent too long in cat form and forgotten to hard-reset to factory settings. "Hmm. I feel very spoiled now. I can't decide."

Like Tony, Stephen too was getting better at deciphering Lokispeak. "We'll do both. Cheese for dinner, chocolate for dessert."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's very decadent of you, Doctor. I'm impressed."

"Wouldn't hurt to indulge once in a while."

Stephen stared at Loki's lips and imagined them dripping with cheese, and surely chocolate, later. "It's a convivial affair, fonduing."

"It warms my cockles when you talk dirty," Tony sighed happily.

"Cockles?" Loki's face fell. 

"Just a saying, darling." Tony held out a hand for Loki to take, and hoisted him out of Stephen's lap and off the floor. 

He addressed his next question to his partner who was taking his time picking cat fur off his clothes one by one, no doubt to store away for safekeeping. Every bit of Loki was magic after all.

"Shall we? I forgot to feed the cat today," he said sheepishly.

"That's why it's 'Stephen and Tony', Stark," the Sorcerer Supreme said proudly, and wasted no time demonstrating why. His portal opened up onto a nondescript sidewalk, and across the street was one of Greenwich Village's well-kept secrets, a hidden treasure trove of restaurants and cafes. 

"There!" Tony pointed at a sign that said 'The Melting Pot' in big, flashing letters. 

"Watch out for traffic, Tony," came Stephen's customary warning, but Tony was way ahead of him.

With one hand, Tony grabbed Stephen's hand, "Mine." Then he grabbed Loki's with the other. "Mine."

"All mine," Tony said possessively and pulled them both in.

Together as one, they crossed the street, with the prettiest (arguably) one in the middle, as always.

"Wanna get matching tattooes later?"

"Tony!" "Stark!"

[cedric-stories]

Swear You’ll Never Hurt Me (Cedric x Reader)

       Warnings: Angst, talk of some verbal abuse, suggestive towards the end (but in a cute way)

           Word Count: 2,180

Reader pronouns: she/her

      Pot: Cedric had just started dating you and he noticed something weird. Every time he tries to initiate affection, you seem to not want it. One day, you come over to help him make a potion and he tries to kiss you. You backed away and when he asked what’s wrong, things are more complicated than they looked.

     So, this is a more self-healing fanfic than anything. I have some emotional issues I believe are because of things my parents had told me when I was young. I just felt like if I wrote this, it could give me come closure. My ex never quite understood my problem with affection, so I never got a loving gesture like this. I guess when you never get to have love you write a fanfic about it, lol. Okay, now into the actual story and not my sob story…

                                          Swear You’ll Never Hurt Me

         Cedric had been working on potions all day. It was one of the busiest times of year. He had recently gotten an order in from the king of about 20 different potions! While most of them were easy, there was one that needed his full attention. It required him to cast a spell on someone he was in love with. He had called his girlfriend and asked you this morning if it was okay for you to help. You happily accepted.

      It was about 2pm when he heard a knock.

“It’s me!” you shouted cheerily from behind the wood.

    Cedric got up and headed for the door when Wormwood started squawking.

Cedric signed. “Wormy, I know you can talk now, what is it?”

   Wormwood fixed his feathers and looked him strait in the eyes.

“Well, it is that woman. She’s always here.”

   Cedric’s expression turned cold. “Wormwood, if you are going to complain about her today you can kindly leave.”

The raven spread his feathers and rolled his eyes. “Gladly.”

    “Hello?” you called again.

Cedric once more turned to the door. “Coming! I’m very sorry.”

   He unlocked the door and ushered you to come in.

“Thank you so much for helping, potions like this requires a…certain person to activate.”

    You smiled shyly at the last few words, not quite understanding what he meant. “No problem, I always want to help you.

    After coming in, you put your stuff down by his table. As he began putting in items, you could smell the potion start brewing. It was a lovely smell. Something like a vanilla and mocha coffee.

    Cedric watched you place your things neatly together on top each other and he wanted to help. Walking over, he put his hand on your spine.

“Oh, god!” You barely got out between breaths.

   “I-I’m sorry, I did not mean to scare you, sweetheart.”

     You turned around to face him and flattened yourself against the wall. A look of fear and embarrassment creeped onto your face.

“I-It’s fine, I promise.”

     “Are you sure you’re okay, my dear?” Cedric asked. Things in the past like this happened between the two of you. Every time he tried to even so much as put a finger on you, you would back away or appear frightened.

“Yes, you just scared me was all.”

      After watching you for a few minutes, Cedric finally decided you were okay and headed back to the cauldron. About five minutes later, it was beginning to simmer. He bent down and smelled it with a smile.

“Alright, Y/N, I think it’s ready whenever you are.”

      Once you had gotten over to the table, you looked up at Cedric and awaited instructions. He cleared his throat and began.

           “Y/N, I will need you to stand about three feet from me, okay?”

    You nodded and started walking away from him. When you were in position, he started speaking again.

           “Now, I will need you to stand still and close your eyes. It will not hurt a bit, but it does take a minute to finish. When I am done, I will tell you.” He had his teaching voice on until he looked at your big Y/C eyes and gave a small giggle. He had almost forgotten how cute you looked. Your cheeks a light shade of pink, your nose giving a slight twitch as you smelled the potion. He just couldn’t believe he had found a person like you. You were his dream girl, his everything. The day he met you he fell in love, but he never expected you to feel the same. Now, looking at you gave him a sense of pride. You were his. You wanted to be his. The very thought of it made his heart swell.

           After taking a minute, he grabbed his wand and took a deep breath.

“Ready, Sweetheart?”

           You smiled. “Ready, Love.”

           Cedric lifted his arm to his chest and closed his eyes. He said a few words and flicked his wand. A white glow appeared on the tip of the magical instrument. The light started streaming towards you and began circling around your body. The light grew brighter and you shut your eyes tighter; trying to shut out the brightness. With a small crack, and a small jump from his girlfriend, the light stream topped into small sparkles and disappeared.

           Your boyfriend dropped his wand. “Alright, Lovely, it’s over.”

     Cedric immediately walked over to the vat of boiling liquid and placed his wand over the side. He said two words and a ray of golden sparks poured into the cauldron.

           You looked into the pot and noticed how the potion’s smell turned into pure vanilla.

“Cedric?” You asked.

           “Yes, darling?”

“What is this for?”

           Cedric brushed his hair through his bangs. “It is for the king’s friend. He is dying and the only way to save him is by giving him this. It’s a potion that is quite hard to create, if I do say so myself. It requires…” He contemplated saying it. “It requires true love to form it.”

           Your eyes stinged as they began to water. “Really?”

       “Yes, that’s why I asked you to help.” Cedric looked to his side and noticed a mug sitting on the bench next to him. “Y/N, would you mind staying for coffee?”

           “I’d love to.”

     Cedric made a pot and brought a cup back for you. The two of you sat down on the couch in the living room and began talking.

     “I-it’s been such a wonderful month, Y/N. I truly do believe I have found the one I love. Well, I know I have.” Cedric wiped a few tears from his eyes and looked into yours. Oh, how your eyes gleamed. The light coming in from the window reflected off of your skin and made you glow. He was completely fixated on your beauty.

     “Y/N,” he paused.

“Yes?”

     He hesitated a moment, “May I kiss you?”

                    You looked at him stunned. He could see the wheels turning in the back of your mind as you contemplated the idea.

                       “If it is too soon, we can always- “

           “Yes.”

                        His eyes were wide. “Yes?”

           “Yes.”

                       “Aright,” he took a breath. “Let’s give this a try, shall we?”

           You nodded.

           He started to lean towards you. His hand raised up and cupped your face and his body started to shift towards yours. He knew this was a big step for you both, so he didn’t want to mess it up. He was about to lean in when he noticed the terrified look on your face.

           “Lovely, what is wrong?” He asked again kindly, putting his fingers into your hair.

                       You just stared.

           “Y/N?”

           Tears filled your eyes, and you couldn’t help it anymore. You collapsed into your arms and started sobbing.

           “I’ll mess it up! I’ll mess it all up! Everything I have worked for with you. I’ll ruin it!”

Cedric wrapped an arm around you and rubbed your back.

“Lovely, what are you talking about?”

           You looked up at him and shifted your body away.

           “They’ve always told me I’d mess it up. I know I will mess it up. You can’t date me; you’ll never be happy!”

           “Whoever told you that?”

You locked eyes with him for a minute then broke the gaze in a flash.

      “M-my parents.” You breathed. “You see, ever since I was a little girl, they’d tell me just how wonderful I was, only to tear me down in the next sentence. They told me I’d never be enough for someone. All I’d do is treat them miserably and he’d leave. I’d end up alone with my cat. Sometimes they’d treat me like I was an uncontrollable monster. All I did was hurt people. And in the beginning, I believed they were wrong, but as I got older, I started thinking maybe it was true. Maybe, I am a monster. Now, I see it is all I am. I know this is what I’ve become. I will only destroy you. I will make your life a living hell.”

      Cedric looked at you in horror. At first, he did not believe it.

“Lovely, if you do not desire to be with me, you are under no obli- “

           “Not desire? Do you know what my desires are? My desires are for you! I want you. I want you so badly. But if I let you give me love; all it’ll do is give me fulfillment. I’ll never fulfill you. All I’ll do is tear your poor soul apart. I am a being that should be hated, not loved. I do not deserve to be happy and feel a loving touch. Who am I to think I deserve love? I’m nothing.”

           Cedric had no idea what to say. You had been deeply hurt as a child. Finally, words appeared into his mind and he began to speak.

           “No, they are wrong.” He lightly grabbed your hand, and when you tried pulling away, he followed. “No one deserves to be alone. You do not deserve to be alone. You are not a monster; you are an angel. An angel that has been ripped down by people who tried to destroy you. You are worthy of love and affection, you are worthy of being cared for, and nothing would fulfill me like knowing I have fulfilled you. I want you too. I want all of you. Not just the beautiful parts, I want everything. Every ounce of you is what I crave. I love you. Do not ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Y/N, if what is holding you back is fear that I will not be happy with you, let that go. I know for a fact you are all I need.”

You looked at Cedric with a tear-stained face and felt a warmth inside you’d never felt before. For the first times ever, you felt at home with someone.

“You mean that?” You questioned.

“With my whole heart, yes.”

“I love you, Cedric.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

           Without another word, you started leaning towards him and closed your eyes. Cedric followed suit and wrapped his arm around you. You put your hand on his leg and continued moving forward. Then, you felt soft lips touching yours. It was something so gentle, something so kind, something you had never felt before. You felt safe and secure for once in your entire life, and you loved it.

           The kiss began light, but a few seconds later, the spark turned to fire. You felt his hand firmly grip your side and your arms wrapped around his neck. You began running small fingers through his thick hair. Cedric tried sliding backwards onto the couch when you pulled away.

           “Y/N, I’m sorry if I scared you. I just thought that maybe you were somehow- “

“Are you enjoying this?” You asked him bluntly, looking him in the eyes with all your emotion while your chest pounded up and down.

           Cedric’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, of course I am enjoying this. How could I not?”

“You promise? Be honest.”

           Cedric’s upper body shifted towards yours, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m enjoying this more than you could imagine.” He said, starting to blush.

           You were so close to just letting go and giving into your needs, but you still restrained yourself.

           Cedric could sense you were still trying to control your actions.

“Y/N? Please tell me what you are thin- “

           “Oh Cedric, swear you’ll never hurt me, like, on purpose. But also swear you’ll never stay with me unless you want me. Please, I beg you to swear it to me.” You finally let out.

           Cedric immediately kissed you. “I swear.”

Suddenly, you snapped. You weren’t afraid of yourself anymore. You let your lips crash hard against his and the two of you fell backwards. You ended up laying on top of the sorcerer, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you close. You sat up slightly and looked down at his clothes.

           Tugging at the strings to his robe you looked down at him.

“My I?” You asked.

           His face turned bright red.

“I-I-yes.” He answered, coughing out a laugh. “I’d love that.” He broke eye contact and smiled sheepishly.

           “Promise?” You asked him once more, using your hand to guide his face back to your glance.

He gave another small laugh. “Yes, I just-I didn’t think you’d-well, I guess I just- “

      You cut him off with another kiss, only this time you tried opening your mouth slightly. Cedric caught on and the two of you started up again. You traced around his chest down to his waist and pulled on the strings to his robe. Once the tie came undone, you slipped your hands up his sides and pressed down onto his body. You hungerly kissed the man once more and then looked into his eyes. His expression was somewhere between shocked, dazed, and drunk.

“You know, Cedric…I think I could get used to this.”

He gave a silly smile. “I think I could too.”

The End

           Okay, author’s note: I really, really, really wanted to keep writing this last scene, but I thought I’d save some of that stuff for the next ones. 😉 I know it seems like it was cut short (that’s because it was, lol).

[aleator]

day 30 - magic au (thor/tony)

Tony has never taken a familiar. It’s not that he does or doesn’t need one, it’s just unusual that at nearly forty years of age it hasn’t really crossed his mind. He’s never met a familiar he felt particularly attached to, and he’s gotten along with his work just fine without the assistance. The other witches and wizards and magic folk he’s come across all inquire about it, but he never has anything interesting to say in response. He lives in his little cottage on the edge of town and does his work as a healer perfectly well and that is that.

He’s in the forest one morning gathering fresh ingredients for his spells and potions when he hears the sound of a monster yowling in the distance. These are mostly peaceful woods, so if something dangerous has gotten too close to town, someone needs to take care of it. And that someone will just have to be him.

So with his basket full of flowers and mushrooms and other assorted foraged items he goes deeper into the woods, searching for the source of that eerie sound.

He finds it a few minutes later, trapped amongst the trees and bushes of the forest--a great beast of a lion, larger than any creature that normally roams these woods. Its front paw is caught in a trap, and even from a distance he can see the trap is bespelled so that any creature caught within it cannot escape on its own. Tony narrows his eyes at it, ready to have words with whoever would put such a thing in these woods.

But first he has to deal with the creature caught inside it.

He sets down his basket and approaches slowly, hands open to show he’s unarmed. The lion smells him coming--or perhaps hears him--before it sees him, and it swings around toward him with a mighty roar. The lion lunges and swipes with one free paw, but with the other stuck in the trap it can’t go far.

“How dare you attempt to trap me here, human?” the lion says in a deep voice, and Tony doesn’t even bat an eye. “Release me at once so I may tear the flesh from your bones.”

“I didn’t set this trap, but I’m going to try and get you out of it,” Tony says as calmingly as he can, hands still up as he moves closer. “Though if I had, threatening to eat me wouldn’t make me too keen to release you.”

“Oh, I would not eat a human,” the lion says, and Tony swears he can see it wrinkle its nose up. “They would taste abysmal.”

“Good to know,” Tony murmurs, and he slowly crouches down near the lion to inspect his paw in the trap. He tenses up as he tears his gaze away from the lion’s teeth and claws, but his trust is rewarded with no tearing of flesh from bone and he slowly relaxes.

“I think I can trace the magic back to its creator,” he says as he pokes at the energy surrounding the trap.

“Good. Tell me who set this foul trap so I may--”

“Yes, I know, tear the flesh and all that. The person who made the spell may not have been the one who laid the trap.”

He ignores the magic for now and begins to work on opening up the trap. The lion shifts restlessly for a few minutes, eventually settling down and watching Tony. Finally Tony is able to pull back the top half of the trap and release the lion’s paw, the lion growling lowly to mask the pain.

“No, don’t stand up,” Tony says to it, holding out a hand. “Wait here.”

He gets up and brushes dirt from his pants before going back to retrieve his basket of supplies. Then he returns to the lion and kneels back down with the basket at his side. Surprisingly, the lion sits patiently while Tony works, watching him with a piercing stare, one eye ice blue and the other a piercing gold.

Eventually Tony has a poultice made, and with a few quietly spoken words he imbues it with his healing magic. Ever so gently he puts the poultice over the lion’s injured paw, smiling when the lion squirms but doesn’t say anything.

“There. Give it a few minutes and you’ll be good enough to walk,” he says, sitting back on his heels and putting the rest of his supplies back in the basket.

The lion stays still and continues watching him, but Tony doesn’t pay any mind. He goes back to inspecting the trap, looking for any magical signatures on it, until those few minutes have passed and he turns his attention back to the lion’s paw.

“You are a very trusting human,” the lion says, muscles flexing beneath its sinewy skin.

“You don’t strike me as someone I shouldn’t trust,” Tony replies.

The lion cocks its head. “How do you figure?”

“You haven’t eaten me yet, have you?”

“I don’t--”

“Eat humans, yes,” Tony says with a smile. “Look. The bleeding stopped.”

He gestures to the lion’s paw, where the poultice has healed the worst of the lion’s injury. It will take a while longer to be fully healed, but he doubts the lion wants to sit here in the woods that long.

Tony takes a moment then to disable the trap so it can’t hurt anyone else, then looks back up at the lion.

“If you come back to my cottage I can make something stronger to move the healing along faster,” he offers, standing back up with his basket. The lion watches him warily and he adds, “You don’t have to. You should be able to walk now.”

Growling, the lion moves to stand on all four paws, only to wince and lift his injured paw from the ground. After a long moment of consideration, the lion looks back at Tony and says, “I will come with you.”

With a smile, Tony turns and leads the way back through the woods to his cottage, unconcerned with having such a large, dangerous creature trailing behind him. After a few moments, however, he doesn’t hear the rustling of a lion moving through the underbrush behind him, but of something else. Turning back, he sees not a lion but a man, tall and broad like a lion, with long golden hair and the same mismatched eyes. He’s holding his injured hand to his chest and isn’t wearing a single stitch of clothing.

“Okay,” Tony says calmly, like this happens to him every day. “It’s this way.”

He continues on toward his cottage in silence, reminding himself to be polite and not ogle the mystical creature following him home. The lion hasn’t hurt him yet but when it comes to magical creatures one can never be too careful. It really would be foolish to make it this far only to mess up because he wanted a peek.

Thankfully there is no one waiting for Tony at his cottage and he’s able to get the naked shapeshifter inside without anyone seeing.

“Have a seat,” he says, setting down the basket and going to fetch a blanket from his bed. He delicately drapes it over the lion for some modesty, then turns toward his workbench, which is currently a mess of bottles and beakers and scraps of paper covered in notes.

“This might take a while. Are you hungry?” he asks. The lion hesitates a moment, then nods. “Do you have a name?”

More hesitation, but then-- “Thor.”

Tony smiles and goes to quickly put together something for Thor to eat while he works on a spell to hasten the healing of his paw. Er, hand.

“I’m Tony,” he tells him, finding some leftover stew that should be fine to eat cold and ladling it into a bowl. When he brings it over to Thor, he takes a moment to look him over more openly, wondering if this is just what he naturally looks like or if he’s purposely making himself so attractive.

“Don’t worry, it’s not human,” he jokes, and Thor rolls his eyes but takes the bowl from him.

“I would be worried about you if it was,” Thor says as he carefully balances the bowl in his lap and uses his good hand to hold the spoon.

Now that Thor’s settled, Tony starts making something stronger for Thor’s injury. He gets out the right ingredients, finds the right page in his book, and gets to work. Thor is mostly quiet, setting aside the empty bowl once he’s finished eating and just watching Tony while he works. Eventually he gets up and goes over to Tony’s bed instead, lying down with a yawn. Tony glances over but doesn’t stop him, letting him sleep if he needs to.

When the potion is finished, Tony leaves it to simmer and lets Thor keep sleeping, puttering around the cottage in the meantime and cleaning up a bit before he sits down with a book in the rocking chair by the hearth. He reads for a bit until he dozes off too, the book sliding out of his hands and into his lap.

He wakes a little while later to find his book on the floor and Thor staring at him from across the room. Tony smiles at him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and bending down to pick up the book he dropped.

“Did you see the potion I left for you?” he asks, not concerned that Thor was apparently watching him sleep.

Thor nods and holds up his previously injured hand. “I took it. It’s a lot better now.”

“Good,” Tony says with a sigh, sitting back in his chair. “I’m glad. You’re free to stay the night if you’d like before you move on.”

Thor is silent for a long time--long enough that Tony starts to think he’s said something terribly wrong--but then Thor finally speaks up to say,

“I think I’ll stay.”

Caught by surprise, Tony just says, “What?”

“You don’t have a familiar,” Thor says with confidence. “I’ll stay.”

“You want to be my familiar?” Tony asks, not sure he’s understanding this correctly. He’s never had any kind of spirit or creature or what have you just decide it wants to be his familiar before. “I can’t just-- You’re a lion. I don’t have the space.”

Surprising him once again, Thor gets up without saying a word, the blanket slipping off him. Tony politely averts his eyes, and the next thing he knows a golden-brown cat is padding quietly over to him and hopping up into his lap.

Startled, Tony sets aside the book and rubs a hand over the cat’s back, listening to Thor purr at his touch. Thor looks up at him with those same gold and blue eyes, and Tony scratches under his chin, smiling.

“I suppose you can stay, if you’d like,” Tony says. “I still have to find out who set that trap in the woods. You can help. But you can’t--”

“I know, I know,” Thor says with a sigh, and Tony holds back a laugh at that big lion voice coming from this small cat. “No tearing of flesh.”

“And no eating,” Tony adds, laughing out loud this time as Thor nips at his fingers with his little cat teeth.

He pulls his hand away and goes back to petting Thor instead, soothing him until he’s a loudly purring, relaxed ball of fluff in Tony’s lap. Tony smiles and thinks that maybe having a familiar won’t be so bad after all.

[alilbihh]

hocus pocus — 3

masterlist  previous part  next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both.

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 14k

There’s a caw by your window, a fluttering of feathers. A knock on the glass. You lift your head warily, eyes squinted, still stuck in a sort of dissociative post-morning state. One, two.. Eight. There are eight crows outside your window.

Crows are often seen as bad luck, omens of death - but people forget they could mean good news. Upcoming wealth. New beginnings.

You watch them for a long while, still under the comforting weight of your quilt, until there’s a sound and the flock flies away with a flourish.

There are eight crows by your window. A sign of a life altering experience soon to cross your path.

You close your eyes and burrow deeper into your pillow.

You think you fall in love the same way you fell into Petz. Accidentally and while making a fool of yourself.

Namjoon comes running over, phone in hand. He frowns. “Did you just trip and I didn’t see? Dammit. This is what happens when I volunteer to take cute pictures of puppies for Jin-hyung. Do it again.”

“I will not.” You say as you right yourself, walking inside the pet store properly this time. Namjoon steps inside behind you, cleaning his shoes over the carpet for more time than necessary.

The pet store is large and cozy and has puppies. It’s everything you expected but you’re still caught by surprise. Namjoon looks around in wonder, only really here under the pretense of wanting a fish but when you turn he’s cooing at a barking labrador, his hands and cheek pressed to the glass.

“Do you think Kimbap would mind if we got a dog?”

Your brows furrow, watching the labrador from beside Namjoon. The dog paws at the glass, and Namjoon boops at where its nose is.

“Kimbap is a cat.”

“He is.” Is all Namjoon says and that’s that.

You leave him to his fantasies as you walk around, not a worker in sight. No one in sight, really. By now you’d expected to be jumped by someone with a Petz logo on their shirt and convinced to buy an entire alpaca farm and multiple chew toys for a dog you don’t even have, but it’s completely void of people.

You pass by puppy cages and reptile tanks and find the fish, too, before you find a single person. You wonder if you came to the wrong pet store. Jimin said he volunteers here, but maybe it’s another Petz entirely. You suddenly hear a commotion somewhere in the back rooms, so you head there, hoping to find someone.

And you do find someone. His back is facing you and there’s no logo on his shirt but there are, like, three to four kittens clinging to his arms, so he’s either thinking of adopting all of them or you’re witnessing the beginning of an abduction.

The kittens are clutching at his arms and emitting tiny meows as he sets them into their little cat houses, muttering something to them but you can’t make out the soft words and you’re distantly aware you’re staring. Not just at the kitten’s heads poking out through the arms but at like- the actual arms. They’re tanned and muscular and have kittens on them. This is just devastating.

He looks up and straightens and it’s three seconds before he turns to you that you notice the antlers on his head and the boxy smile. Oh no.

The boy suddenly stands as straight as a board as his eyes meet yours. His hair is as blue as the ocean he loves so much. There’s a streak of kohl over his lashes that’s a bit smudged on one side, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.

There’s only one kitten on his arm now, black fur tipped with brown and almost dozing off, all curled up and comfy. He raises its paw in a little wave. “Hi.”

You don’t know what to do. He doesn’t mention that he knows you, doesn’t even look too surprised, only smiles like this was inevitable. It makes you smile, too. “Hi.”

“Are you here to adopt?” He says- Taehyung says, your mind supplies even though you didn’t ask it to- tickling at the kitten’s tummy as he does, “A kitten, maybe?”

No you are not, you’re definitely not. "Um. Maybe,“ you answer, stepping in closer.

Taehyung stares at the kitten cradled in his chest for a little while longer before turning, gingerly placing it with the rest. He brushes a finger lightly over its head before stepping back and you’re now absolutely devastated.

The boy bites at his lower lip, considering you with narrowed eyes. "A reptile, maybe..” He mutters, more to himself than anything. “Come!”

He takes your hand, quick and excited but soft as he tangles his fingers between yours. Good god.

The deer hybrid leads you to the reptile tanks, pauses by one, tap tap taps at the glass and you both watch as one of its inhabitants comes padding out with surprising agility.

“That’s Guac! She’s a bearded dragon and is also very much pregnant. Me and Jiminie consider stealing her every day.”

You laugh, staring at the reptile’s beady eyes as she blinks, one eye then the other. “She’s pregnant?” Guac doesn’t look at all pregnant at first glance, but there’s a slight bump on her stomach that you have to squint to even notice.

“I was surprised too! She was alone in her enclosure and we still have no idea how the dude got in there to impregnate her. Kookie said something about horniness surpassing all boundaries, but, well. I have no comment on that.”

“He is a menace I am so sorry.” You say but you’re laughing and it makes him laugh, too. “You know Guk?”

Taehyung makes a soft sound as he opens the enclosure, like a hum and a yeah all rolled into one. You watch as he picks up Guac as he would the kittens, soft and gentle and fond. You think he’s like that with everything. You think you’re looking at him like that, too. “Kook visits every so often. He’s cute and funny and has a boopable nose and gave me a rock. Oh!” He startles, raises a hand over his mouth. “Not a rock. Sorry. Crystal,” he corrects.

He’s rocking the bearded dragon softly like he would a baby, bouncing it lightly in his arms. Guac doesn’t seem to mind. You’re fully endeared.

“Did Guk tell you that?” You tickle under Guac’s chin and it makes Taehyung giggle.

“Yeah,” he smiles, bordering on fond. Kisses Guac’s head before placing her back in the tank, watching as she scampers back to the little cave by the corner. Too fast for a pregnant lady, you think, but who are you to judge. “He talks about you a lot, you know,” He whispers, like you’re being let in on a secret. Turns to you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

You don’t know what to say to that and you don’t want to regret it if you do, so you only nod.

There’s a shout and Taehyung’s head jerks up, smiles something wide and giddy, spots Jimin before even you do. He dashes past you before he’s jumping half on Jimin, tugging him towards you, and then jumping half on you too for no reason except maybe that he can, pulls Jimin in for a soft kiss that goes long and flushes both their cheeks and leaves them both breathless and giggly and there it is-

a little pang.

You scratch at your chest, look around, spot Namjoon idling by the tanks where a school of fish whiz by. Namjoon’s a doctor. A sorta-doctor. An actual witch. A little bit of a seer, if he thinks hard. He knows cardiac arrest and medicine and sickness symptoms and the like. He’ll know you’re dying.

Or he’ll catch you staring, turn, and send suggestive eyebrow raises before scampering back towards the puppy section. Great. Amazing.

“You look happy,” Is all Yoongi says as you slam your stack of books onto the table, sitting opposite him with a huff. He looks soft today, an earring shining from the peak of one pointed ear.

He’s joking, he has to be. Your clothes are a wrinkly mess and your hair’s disheveled and you think you need, like, a mint. Maybe two. But he’s looking at you like he knows something that you don’t. So you don’t say anything, only blow a few raspberries in his direction.

You open a spell book, skimming through it with hasty eyes. The photographic memory potion would be really useful right now, its side effects maybe even more.

“Don’t you have finals soon?” Namjoon mutters beside you, and you look up with a start because you hadn’t even seen him get here.

When did he get here. “When did you get here?” You ask out loud.

“I was always here,” is all he says. You think you’re in a fever dream but you’re not too sure.

“Huh,” You breathe out, looking into the distance.

You look back down at your book. Phoenix feathers, lemon, dragon liver… Dirt? Graveyard dirt? Where are you supposed to get graveyard dirt?

“Namjoon. Joonie. Buddy ole pal.” Looking up at the man from beneath your lashes, you flutter them a bit for a better effect. The man, very much gay and very much in a committed relationship, doesn’t really look amused. “Do you wanna go to a graveyard with me?”

Yoongi looks up with a start, “Oh shit, who are we killing? Who are we burying?”

“What? No one, you absolute heathen. I need it for a potion. Witchipedia says so.”

“It’s not a reliable source,” Namjoon exclaims with a frown. “I gave up on it after it made me burn my frying pan.”

“How does one burn a frying pan,” You deadpan. The man shrugs.

It’s as you’re flipping through pages absentmindedly that your thoughts stray to your dinner not-date. Should you bring drinks? You should probably bring drinks. You wonder what kind of drinks they like.

“Should I bring drinks?” You mutter out loud. The duo’s heads turn towards you.

“For your dinner date?” Namjoon grins, and of course Yoongi told him. You glare at the faerie, and he smiles cheekily. Namjoon continues when you don’t bother correcting him, “You should buy wine. It’s a sexy drink.”

“Namjoon!” You exclaim, horrified. He giggles a bit sporadically. Yoongi just keeps smiling at you, just a bit too close to looking fond.

Faeries can sense auras better, even, than witches. Faeries can see it with only a glance, blues or reds or pinks hovering just over your form. Pinks can be admiration, confidence, love. Yellows can be envy, lust, cruelty. Wine red means only one thing; a red, ugly fury. It’s Yoongi’s least favorite color.

You can’t imagine what it’s like to see an overwhelming amount of colors every day against your will, but Yoongi likes to joke that there’s at least a little color to his life.

Witches are different. Witches sense auras completely based on a whim, a hunch. Sometimes you walk past a complete stranger and are keenly aware of what they’re feeling - and sometimes when Jungkook laughs too hard you taste something akin to cherries, hidden just under your tongue.

Yoongi’s a bit like mangoes. Hoseok is a little bit of everything, a little bit of cinnamon here and a little bit of blueberries there. Jin is a bit like cookie dough and Namjoon is a lot like chamomile tea. Jimin -

Jimin is sweet. Something sweet you can’t quite describe. Like sweaters straight out the dryer and the first spring morning where there’s no frost, only dew. You wonder what Taehyung’s happiness would taste like, wonder if it’s just as sweet.

“Your aura’s pink.” Yoongi mutters with a knowing smile, lips curled just the slightest bit. You slam your book closed with more force than necessary, and he laughs heartily as all the blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No it’s not shut up.” You grab a random book you’d separated and hide underneath it, hoping your cheeks aren’t as pink as your aura.

It’s a while later that you find the solution, only after reading through multiple ingredient guides (including the advantages of using dirt), three books for safe potion usage and two potion textbooks. It’s nestled under a glossary for everyday ingredients, and the pages are printed in the obnoxiously indecipherable cursive that witches tend to use.

Namjoon is long gone, carrying with him a stack of books that go past his head and nearly tower over his form. Hoseok appeared seemingly out of thin air, sat between you and Yoongi and flip, flip, flipping through his book, not quite reading like he’s supposed to but it’s okay. He doesn’t read a lot, just tends to learn in that intuitive way of his.

Hoseok laughs heartily at something Yoongi says and hops excitedly in his seat, the pixie perched on his shoulder squealing and gripping onto his shirt sleeve helplessly. He turns, coos, plucks a petal from the posy of daisies in the vase on the center of the table, delicately offers it with pouted lips. The pixie playfully nips at his thumb before snatching the petal from between his offering fingers and taking a bite– tiny hands smaller, even, than the size of his thumbnail.

The merman laughs and you’re absolutely enamored. With what, you don’t know. Maybe with how easy it was for them despite their difference in size, despite their lack of communication. It continually amazes you how important words can be and how at times they’re not needed at all.

The liquor store is big and intimidating and has one too many wines.

“You looking for something specific?” the lady behind the counter asks. She has soft eyes and her hair’s tied in a bun.

“Uh, wine, I guess.” You stammer.

“Can’t pick?” She’s rearranging the bottles on display behind her as she speaks over her shoulder, the glasses clinking together almost melodically. “Any special occasion?”

“Um.” You pause. “No?”

She quirks a brow.

You feel all the blood rush to your cheeks as you elaborate, “It’s for my familiar’s friends, that I guess are also my friends now, and I wasn’t going to bring anything but my other friend said I should bring wine, and I don’t want to look like a complete scrub in front of them but I don’t know anything about wine so I guess I am. A complete scrub.”

The lady laughs and you guess that your moment of oversharing is the moment you blacklist the liquor store and everything it stands for.

“What about sparkling wine?” She offers. She continues at your confused blinks, “It has bubbles.”

“Um. Sure. I mean. I like bubbles.”

So you show her your ID and pay for your wine and she packs it neatly into a bag. “Good luck with your familiar’s friends,” she says with an almost knowing smile as she hands the wine over, and you just nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak at that.

It’s another day. The day. You blink slowly awake and when you look outside your window it’s still dark out and you think you can feel Jungkook somewhere nearby, probably lying restless in his room.

You blink. The crow outside your window blinks back. There are nine crows outside this time, sitting around and staring as if they’re waiting for you to notice them. Nine crows. Positive recognition.

You groan and squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see colors.

(Love. Nine crows could also mean love).

You look at the door number. Then back down at the address on your phone. Then back up at the door. Down again.

Jungkook groans from beside you, tail flicking in slight irritation behind him. Or maybe it’s nervousness. Maybe even excitement. “Can’t we go in already?” He groans, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nod and nod and nod but don’t do anything. Jungkook uncrosses his arms at that, sighs, pats your head fondly but you swat his hand away anyway. “Are you nervous?” He asks, his hands combing through your hair now and you let him. You nod. “Well we can’t stay out here forever, you know.”

“We can try.”

Your familiar shakes his head, “What’s the point of that?” You grunt but don’t shift your gaze from the door. “I’m gonna ring the doorbell now, okay?”

You wonder when the tables turned. When it was you that was nervously skirting around them, when Jungkook was the one confident enough to get close.

You nod because there’s no point in delaying it, anyway. No point in you getting nervous, either.

Jungkook rings the doorbell and you look down at your shoes when you hear approaching footsteps, like they were just by the door and waiting. Their doormat says "enter if you dare" and has a little skeleton on the bottom. You stifle a laugh.

The door swings open and Jimin’s head pops out first, smiles at you both, opens the door wider. “Hello, hello!”

Jungkook greets him first, only smiling before handing over the bag in his hand. While you (read: Namjoon) had the idea of bringing wine, Jungkook wanted to bring juice, so he did.

“We brought stuff!” He smiles, and you hand the bag of wine over as if on cue.

“Wine!” Jimin cheers, quickly followed by footsteps and “juice!” from Taehyung.

You slip off your shoes and hang your coat by the wall hook, stare at a mustard colored peacoat and wonder whose it is.

The floorboards creak as you pad farther inside and you like that, the creaking - it means the place is old and lived in and you like old and lived in places.

Then there’s this rush of vanilla and strawberries and warmth and then the shyest boldest most beautiful boy half in your arms tugging you in whispering

hello, hi, Y/n, c'mere, it’s nice to see you again! sorry for the mess, Y/n, wait how did that get on the ceiling Y/n, Y/n.

Smiles this smile so big it hurts, cracks something big across your heart.

You’re dragged into their kitchen and Jimin is there, Jungkook close by sipping on something warm in his cup. Jimin is watching him, smiling something small and giddy, playing with the long earrings dangling from Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook flushes.

You thought you were ready for this softness. Early this morning you’d drank a soothing potion mixed with some sugar– you even bathed in lavender and rose water and a bit of neroli, just to soothe some smaller nerves. Standing here, you think it didn’t do much of a difference. You’re feeling everything all at once.

“Rule number one is that you have to ask Tannie if you can sit on the couch. I don’t have a rule number two because I haven’t thought that far, but please regard rule number one with utmost respect.” Taehyung exclaims with exaggerated hand gestures just as the dog in question trots towards you, angry eyebrows sizing you up despite his size. You feel very much intimidated.

Everything is great. Yeontan sometimes lets you sit on the couch and Jimin and Jungkook are laughing and Taehyung is telling you of this strange dream he had and of this strange album he listened to and of this art museum he went to that was absolutely terrible. Jimin interjects to agree that it was, in fact, terrible, the kind of museum where everyone’s a snob and thinks that art has to look and be a certain way.

Then when Jimin and Jungkook disappear somewhere Taehyung appears beside you, asking if he can take you somewhere, tangling your fingers together just as gently, as if to say you can let go if you want, you can say no if you want. But you do want it, so you let him tug you into their hallway.

His and Jimin’s shared bedroom isn’t particularly big, but it’s soft and smells like them. Almost but not quite like sugar and strawberries and lavender. There’s a cactus on one of their nightstands by the corner, a little bow on its pot, sitting by an over-filled vase of sunflowers. There are dried flowers by window ledges and framed prints and hanging by their headboard.

You’re both sitting in a corner, sharing earbuds, flipping through a poetry book you’d recognized the second he picked it up. The one Jimin bought from you that must have been for Taehyung. You smile at the thought.

“They don’t know we’re here,” Taehyung says suddenly with a giggle, tapping his feet to the song in his earbuds a bit out of rhythm. He says it like you’re sharing a secret. You find yourself grinning.

Then Jimin comes stumbling in, Jungkook not far behind, both of them giggling and tripping over their feet as if drunk but they’re not, they’re just giddy and excited and maybe a little bit in love.

Jimin looks over at you two in the corner and you freeze. You freeze but you don’t know why, feel as if you’ve been caught but that’s not right, you and Taehyung weren’t doing anything, there’s no reason to feel as if you should apologize.

Yet you feel an apology on the tip of your tongue, even if Jimin and Jungkook’s faces are—aren't—

“There you two are,” Jimin says, nothing short of fond.

Jungkook behind him grins, pads over to plop his head on your lap. Jimin follows, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of both your and Taehyung’s heads before sitting in front of you three and you feel—

You feel warm. Loved. Safe. Sandwiched from both sides, Taehyung curling in closer, Jungkook’s hair tickling the exposed skin of your leg, Jimin taking a hold of your hands, teasingly pressing a few kisses to the back of it.

You play games after that and argue for over ten minutes on which movie to watch. There’s only the living room and it’s already a small space to start, so you all end up pressed together on the couch, but no one seems to mind. You get winks whenever you meet someone’s eye and everything is warm and makes you feel sleepy. You feel adored and cared for and think your worlds are colliding in the most wonderful of ways.

Except sometimes you feel as if you’re intruding, as if you shouldn’t be there at all. It’s hard to think otherwise, with them being in love and whatnot. But it’s unfair, unfair to think that you’re being left out when there’s nothing to be left out of, so you sit and try to convince yourself that these almost-feelings are thoughts of

wow, what a kind bunch of people I know, how lucky I am to have them in my life, what a great group of friends this is.

“Are you feeling okay?” Namjoon asks the second you walk inside his shop. You don’t remember walking here, don’t remember at all. “Because everything suddenly tastes icky and I literally just ate some of Jin-hyung’s lemon pie so you better get happy quick.”

The inside of the store still smells of sage and rosemary and butter cookies, and there are still objects lying around in places they shouldn’t. Namjoon picks up a copy of Alice in Wonderland that appeared on his desk this morning and tucks it away neatly between the shelves and shelves of other books. You wonder how he finds space for it.

There are no light switches anywhere, no bulbs hanging overhead. But there’s a fire crackling by the fireplace that never seems to go out, and there are lanterns floating just the tiniest bit, hovering just above the tables, burning with green alchemical fire and tinting everything a warm emerald color. The lanterns seem to stick a bit closer to whoever is nearby.

The interior is surprisingly lush, probably (definitely) courtesy of Jin. Carpets are layered one over another. There are heavy wooden tables and chairs, vines curling around their legs, their stems a vivid green. There is nowhere to sit that doesn’t seem to be crawling with plants.

You laugh and he smiles but there’s still a pinch of worry somewhere in his eyes, in the crease between his brows - just more on the edges now. “m'fine, Joon,” You say, then immediately want to swallow your words back in. You don’t want to give such an answer, not to Namjoon. "At least, I will be.“ you add.

The witch is about to interject just as Jin walks in, Kimbap striding behind him with his tail just as high as his head. "Joon-ah, the chimney smoke is blowing south.”

Namjoon nods, like there’s more to the phrase than just the direction the smoke is blowing. He stands up, and you have no choice but to follow. “I’ll deal with it later, hyung. Y/n-ah, do you wanna join us for pie?” And so you do.

You’re at a pleasant level of tired, the kind in which everything is just a bit funnier than usual, where walking feels like you’re wading through knee-deep water. Jin slices you some of his lemon pie in a piece that ends up breaking apart, and he releases a gut wrenching scream when some of it falls onto his jeans that has you and Namjoon laughing so hard you see colored spots.

“So what’s got you in such a mood?” Seokjin asks as he shoves a forkful of pie into his mouth that’s way bigger than necessary, the man barely even managing to chew it. He’s wearing shorts now.

“It’s her failing love life, hyung, keep with the program.” You flick Namjoon on the forehead at that and he laughs, quick and sharp. He tries to hide it but his smile keeps slipping.

“No it is not.”

“Lies, your shoulders are all scrunched up.” Jin points out through a mouthful of pie, and it’s then you notice your shoulders bunched up into an irritable shrug. You try to relax but it’s too late.

“Did they say something to you?”

“No!” You’re quick to say. “No. They didn’t say anything to me.”

Namjoon and Jin look at you, then look at each other. Squint. There’s a second of silence, and then a quiet, “Let’s curse them.”

“What!” You snap.

“Not a malicious curse! Just a tiny one.” Namjoon nods, proud of himself.

“May their phones run out of battery quicker.”

“May their socks always step into puddles.”

“May they forget a family member’s birthday.”

“Oh, that’s a little mean,” Namjoon frowns.

Jin looks sheepish. “Was it too mean?” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his chin, wings fluttering a bit. "May they burn their toast more often?“

A smile, and they high five. Namjoon sits up, his chair scraping backwards. "I need, like, five candles. And hyssop. Hyung, do we have hyssop?”

You watch these two adult men scramble around their own house with narrowed eyes. “Guys! I don’t want to curse anyone! They didn’t do anything, really!”

Namjoon turns, candle in hand as he sighs, places it back in its shelf. He walks back towards you, places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure? You can tell us, you know. We’re here to help.”

“I know.” Is all you say, and you do. You do know. They’re always trying to help, always are. “Thank you. I just need to sort my feelings through, I think.” Namjoon is frowning but nods, pinches your cheek, laughs at your squeal.

Jin walks in, dry bay leaf in hand. “So we don’t need this?”

“No.” You deadpan. His shoulders slump, and you laugh when he trudges back out the way he came.

Everything seems a bit off, a bit odd - like the universe shifted one centimeter to the right, everything off kilter.

Jimin picks you up after your afternoon classes that day, arms crossed and leaning against a wall like they do in all those books and movies and dramas. He’s wearing skinny jeans and fake glasses. It’s kinda unfair that people like him exist, people that can see without any visual aid whatsoever.

He smiles when you reach him, ruffles your hair, kisses your nose - the very tip of it, lips barely even grazing your skin.

“Hi, hello,” he says, grins, pinches your arm like it’ll distract you from his own embarrassment, laughs when it works.

The vampire takes your hand, tangles his fingers with yours, swings your intertwined hands softly.

“Taehyung’s making pasta,” Jimin says, pauses, “well, Taehyung's watching the pasta, actually,” he corrects with a chuckle.

“Am I invited to your pasta endeavors?”

“Do you want to be? You’re going to have to spend, like, hours with us.” His tone makes it sound like it’s the most terrible thing but his smile says otherwise. The breeze is teasing him, fluffing his hair like a baby chick.

“Oh no. Oh no, not hours.”

“Hours.” He says dramatically, giggles– really giggles, even though he’s vehemently opposed to the term whenever you bring it up.

Jimin is charming, haphazard all around the edges kind of charming. He smiles a lot, smiles at everyone, smiles like he has an infinite number of them to offer when you have, like, seven in a day at most. He smiles at the ice cream vendor and at the bulgogi vendor across from it. He smiles at the stray cats in alleyways and apologizes when he nearly bumps into a trashcan. Smiles at you, too.

“We’re home!” Jimin yells out when you both arrive, his fangs poking out through his smile and you know he must be talking to Taehyung but for a second it really feels like you’re home. Not because of their home, exactly, even with the streaks of paint on the ceiling and sprawled out video games on the floor and a bonsai on the windowsill that you just know is Taehyung’s, but just because of–

them.

And it all feels like so much.

You’re all watching Ponyo like Jungkook wanted to so much and him and Jimin are half asleep on the futon just below the couch, all curled into each other and warm and comfortable.

(You try to cover them with a blanket like they do in every romance ever known to man, but Jungkook immediately kicks it off with a might you’ve never seen before, and you blankly watch it flop to the floor. Taehyung muffles his laugh as much as he can manage).

Taehyung shifts closer to you somewhere between the credits rolling and Jungkook’s particularly loud snore, and something about his hesitation and the little smile almost makes you coo.

You don’t comment, simply crawl closer to Taehyung on the couch. He shifts so he’s closer and his antlers just barely graze over the armrest before he settles, nuzzling into the throw pillow. He smells like Jimin’s body wash and shampoo; citrus mixed with something boyish, something like honeysuckle and cedarwood, something that just might be Taehyung.

“Is this okay?” he mutters sheepishly, his hand grazing over yours as he shifts, shifts, shifts positions.

You swat at the couch a bit before finding the bare skin of his arm. His inner elbow, most likely. You tap twice, not willing to speak, not willing to break the sweet sweet cotton candy of this moment.

A moment of silence goes by. A quiet one. Quiet moments with Taehyung are nice, like there’s nothing needed to be said, no need to fill the silence. It’s quiet in a loud way, a thousand words to say and not a single one good enough to be put into words. But it’s nice, even though it shouldn’t need to be.

Taehyung suddenly turns, takes his phone from the nightstand, unplugs the charger from it before turning, settling, squinting at the screen’s brightness. You laugh, a breathless thing, and he smiles.

He type type types before pausing, glancing at you from beneath his lashes. You’re so close you can count the number of eyelashes he has, the number of freckles, the little mole by his nose and his bottom lip that would look unnecessary on anyone else but on him it’s just right.

He hands the phone over. Taehyung does this sometimes, tells you things through the phone despite how close you might be, says it helps him think his words through, helps him not say things he’ll regret.

There’s something on my mind, the phone says, short and simple, and for a second you think that this is it, he noticed your sticky feelings, they all did, you messed up. Either in many little ways and one big way or many big ways and one little way, you don’t know. He’s here to be mature about it, here to say

stop looking at my boyfriend like that please

and the worst part is that they have every right to.

Because you don’t have a right to think of Jimin’s boyfriend like this, you don’t have a right to think of Taehyung’s boyfriend like this, that you don’t have a right to think of Jungkook like this- sweet Jungkook in love with them both.

Your mouth is dry and tastes like salt as you curl up, type tell me? before handing the phone over. You just hope they don’t hate you. You wouldn’t be able to handle them hating you.

Sometimes you think there’s something wrong with you, to think like this, to think of all three of them like this. That maybe you’re doing this wrong, doing something wrong. You googled it once, just to see - and some of what you saw hurt, hurt a lot. A lot of people, a lot of what you saw said that you can’t love more than one person, that you can only fully give your heart to one person. But that’s not right, you don’t believe that one bit, don’t want to believe that, because there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just love, and there’s nothing wrong with love.

Jimin and Taehyung and Jungkook are so gentle with their love for each other, all this patiently impatient love, their sweet tangle of fingers and gentle smiles. Jimin and Taehyung with their lingering kisses that shouldn’t linger because they’re fifteen minutes late for class. The two on either side of Jungkook on the couch, one messing with his hair and the other falling asleep on his shoulder and you love it. Love them together.

And you don’t know what to do with this not-jealousy, with this almost-jealousy, with this-

love.

You watch Taehyung’s fingers move as he types, pauses, deletes. You think it’s better this way. To end things before the sticky feelings clogging at your insides spreads until it hurts too much to hide.

He hands the phone over. You hope your fingers aren’t shaking. I think I’m sad is all it says. You feel relieved even though you know you shouldn’t.

do you wanna talk about it?

His hands clumsily brush against yours as he takes the phone from you.

could u talk out loud? if you don’t mind? i like ur voice.

“okay,” you whisper, feeling small and warm in all the right ways, and he laughs that ehehe laugh.

He motions for you to get closer. You comply, curling in closer to read over his arm as he writes. sry my spellign sucks, i’m bad even tho i need to know how 2 communicate

“You used both the number two and the word two in that one sentence,” you exclaim with a muffled laugh, mindful of the still sleeping Jimin and Jungkook, and you feel him smile before he even does, big and unreserved and then you feel it, the little pang in your chest, warmth warmth warmth spreading through your veins.

i think i like many someones, but i don’t know how to tell them!!!! this is then followed by a stream of emojis, only some of them resembling anger. You almost snort at the sight of a weirdly placed clown emoji and a little gray haired grandma.

There’s a moment of silence as you think of what to say that you won’t regret later. “I think you need to tell them,” you continue right as Taehyung starts typing a drawn out nooo, “They won’t treat you any differently, honey boy.”

Taehyung visibly recoils, shivers, takes a hold of your hand and types with his other, dont use logic ur mortal rules do not apply 2 me, he writes, only erases it when you’re done laughing, types again with shaky fingers, how do u know that?

You inhale a shaky breath. “Because if they really love you, romantically or not, they’ll want to see you healthy and happy regardless of whether they reciprocate your feelings.” You pause. "Which I’m sure they do.“ You attempt a knowing smile at him but he doesn’t get it, only stares blankly at the screen, thumb still tracing patterns on your skin.

im scared

You wriggle forward so that your brows are pressed together with his. He shivers. "You shouldn’t be. People that are meant to find each other will, remember? So people that are meant to stay with each other will, too.”

Silence. Taehyung stays still and for a moment you think you messed up, gave too much away, but then he leans down and presses his lips to your temple. Almost kissing you but not quite. “Thank you.” he murmurs against your skin, “Goodnight, baby doll.”

His head plops onto the throw pillow before he pauses, sits upright to lean dangerously close before nuzzling his head into your shoulder, hiding his face in the pillow quick. Scenting, you consider, then dismiss the thought.

You can’t see his face but there’s a faint taste of strawberries on your tongue. Ah, you think offhandedly. So that’s what his happiness tastes like.

You stay wound up in each other even as the heat is sweltering, and you wake up on a bed with Jimin pressed behind you and his legs tangled with yours and Jungkook somewhere between you and Taehyung, his cheek pressed to your collarbones and snores loud enough to reach the heavens and it all feels a little disorienting. Just a little bit too right.

You hope things with Jungkook will go well.

Even when you wake up before the sun, it’s warm.

Everything is warm, feels like lavender and rosemary and something soft all around. You think you can taste cherries and strawberries and something sweet, everything sweet.

And then you open your eyes and it all makes sense. Because that’s just how Jungkook and Jimin and Taehyung are, soft and sweet and floral until all the edges are safe enough to press against, all sugar spun words and sugar spun smiles. It makes you long for it, long for their sugar scrubbed lips against your skin.

But that’s not right, it’s not right to think that, so you steel yourself and peel open an eye and think that it’s best to get it over with quickly, like jumping into cold water. It hurts less that way, you learned.

“Guk,” You mutter first, softly, the man stirring only slightly beneath you. He turns and nestles his head deeper into your neck, his lips dragging a bit over the skin and you shudder because you can’t help it. “Kook,” you repeat but it’s even softer, your hands combing through his hair.

He hums a bit, and Taehyung shifts from behind him. The man opens his eyes in a sort of dissociative state but he still smiles, eyes meeting yours over Jungkook’s head, and you both share a knowing kind of smile, like you’re being let in on a secret. Jimin shifts from behind you, his touch cold in a way all vampires’ are, but oddly warm as his arms tighten around your middle, nose nuzzling the back of your neck.

You close your eyes and sleep a bit longer. You allow yourself just that. It’ll be the last time, you tell yourself, even though you’ve said that for way too long already.

When you wake again, it’s just you and Jungkook. Unsurprising, since Jungkook is the one that sleeps in the most, sleeps whenever he finds the chance. You look at the time, the clock blinking 10:36. You realize you’re not on the couch anymore, that someone must have moved you while you were sleeping. Heart aching at the thought that you must have been a bother.

You just lay there for a while in thought, reverting between looking at the ceiling and looking at Jungkook. The little constellation of freckles and blemishes on the apple of his cheeks. His cupid’s bow. The tangle of his eyelashes.

Laughter trickles through the closed door, bouncing around and fitting itself into all the corners and crevices, soft and warm and sweet. That’s the thing about them. You hear their voices, their laughter, and it burrows itself somewhere in your chest and makes itself at home and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out. You find trails of their laughter everywhere, find it when you open cabinets and it comes tumbling out, find trails of their smiles under cushions and fogging up all your mirrors.

You brush away Jungkook’s hair with your palm, lightly press your lips to his forehead in an almost-kiss. You think he shivers, but you were busy untangling your legs from his so you can’t be too sure.

When you close the door softly behind you and pad further into their apartment, you hear a noise of exasperation by the couch.

“The creature has risen,” Jimin remarks ominously.

“Amen.” Taehyung says, feigning surprise when you turn to look at him.

“You all suck,” you say and watch as they burst into a fit of giggles, your heart dangerously warm. “Sorry for staying over, I wasn’t planning to.”

“No, no, no,” Taehyung’s the first to reassure, gesturing for you to come closer. You comply, standing hesitantly by the back of the couch, and he turns to take your hands into his, his thumb drawing circles onto the back of it. You almost shiver. “S'okay, not your fault. And it’s nice having you here.”

You don’t comment. Try not to stare at his hands tangled in yours, try not to think of how warm he is. “Guk’s still sleeping,” you start, if only as a distraction, "I would wake him, but I don’t have the willpower.“

Jimin bursts from the couch, muttering an excited mantra of "I’ll do it!" as he does so. He almost passes you by but pauses, presses a kiss to your temple and a hand trailing softly down your arm and then— "Good morning, my little love.” before he disappears down the hallway. You try to steel your expression into something less soft and fond but when you turn Taehyung’s looking at you like he caught you in the act, his eyes and smile all giddy and warm. You look away quick, speed walking into the kitchen.

Their kitchen is a normal kitchen by all means, nothing overly exciting there. But when you turn there’s a teapot with a little cartoon bear and their oven mitts have polka dots on them and there are reminders glued to the fridge with little magnets that look like cats.

Dance practice at 2!, one says in cute cursive handwriting; Buy pickles at the grocery store!!! the other says covered in scrawls and doodles and too many exclamation points. You remember last night, remember the way Taehyung texts and just know it’s him, and feel hopelessly endeared.

The man in question suddenly trudges into the kitchen, and you try to purse your lips to keep yourself from smiling even as he pats your head and grabs a carton of juice from out the fridge. You catch a glimpse of several bags of blood in there and wonder what Jimin is up to with Jungkook. Jungkook’s sleepy noises and pursed lips and puffy eyes. Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed, combing through the werewolf's hair and looking down at him with a smile. Good god.

Taehyung grabs your wrist and leads you toward a cabinet, grip hopelessly soft. He opens it, takes out a mug with a printing of a dolphin jumping out the water. There are too many colors and it kinda looks like a Picasso painting. “Jiminie bought it for me from the last time he visited his family back in Busan. It’s the ugliest mug we own and also my favorite.”

He places it on the counter, pours juice into it as you laugh. The hybrid reaches to grab another mug, hands you one with a smiling Cinderella on it. “Thank you,” you mutter, soft.

He lunges forward abruptly, and there’s a smack on the center of your forehead when his lips meet your skin. He pulls away just as quick, shuffling away with his mug, but it’s still warm where he kissed you.

God. You’re so far gone.

You steel yourself as you approach Taehyung. He’s sitting on the far end of the table, pouring cereal into a bowl. You laugh lightly, going to sit opposite him, but he pulls you by the sleeve of your shirt to sit beside him, so you comply with a laugh.

There’s silence as you sip on your drink and as he eats his cereal. Then suddenly you mutter, just for the heck of it, "What’s your favorite color?“

The boy looks up, blinks, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you called him honey boy in the first place. He’s so, so pretty. "Hm?” he hums at first, chewing slowly at his cereal. “It, uh. Starts with a b and ends with a loo.”

“Ah.” You nod, “I like purple, too.”

Taehyung laughs, quick and sharp, then covers his mouth with a hand because otherwise he’d spit cereal all over the counter. You grin in delight because how could you not?

“Not funny,” The hybrid mutters after the laughter stops. He tries to keep a poker face but his smile keeps slipping.

“You laughed, though.” You point out but he doesn’t say anything, moves the cereal box between you both so you don’t see his face. You laugh.

It’s quiet again after that. A nice quiet. Like the ones you experience with family members and friends, people you’ve known your whole life. You haven’t known Taehyung your whole life - haven’t known him for much time at all, actually. You’d like to, though. Like to know where he’s most ticklish, what makes his brows furrow, what makes him laugh so hard he’s in tears and has everything tasting like strawberries.

“Hey, Taehyung?” You speak up for the first time in a while, Yeontan’s tail tickling your legs from under the table. He hums for you to continue, so you do, “Is it Jimin that dances?”

Taehyung’s expression contorts into so much open admiration your heart kinda aches a bit. “Yeah,” he says a bit breathlessly, “He’s really good at it, too. So pretty.”

“Oh.” You nod, because it makes sense. He’s graceful and slim and his legs are a bit too muscular, but you thought that had something to do with him being a vampire. Protein and all that. “I can imagine,” you say because you really can.

Taehyung nod nod nods and it’s then that the wood creaks, and you turn to find Jimin standing nearby, like a hell-beast you summon using words of praise. Jungkook is standing behind him, and you look down and see their hands intertwined and Jungkook’s face a bit flushed.

“They’re cute,” you hear Taehyung mutter, and you nod because it’s true. They’re good for each other. And if the way Taehyung stands up and throws himself on top of both of them says anything, all of them erupting into giggles and everything tasting sweet - he’s good for them, too. They all are. So good.

“Noona!” You blink blink blink and look up and Jungkook must have materialized beside you or something because he definitely wasn’t there before. “Jimin-hyung is complaining that Tae-hyung only fed you juice so now he’s making food! Don’t worry, it’s not some lame cereal or anything.”

You nod and he nods back. Ruffles your hair. Doesn’t kiss the crown of your head like he does sometimes, on some mornings where he’s cold and soft and half-asleep.

Jungkook coaxes you out the chair and leads you to the stove where Jimin is making eggs. Taehyung is there, too, and your familiar suddenly lets go of your hand just to burst into a sprint and slap the hybrid’s butt, says something about him having a perky bum before Taehyung is chasing him around the table while Jimin is laughing and you’re laughing and it’s a mess.

It all kinda feels like true love.

You really want it to be.

You’re in an aquarium. You’re not usually in aquariums, not without company, not with the children chasing each other around and the occasional happy couple that walks by to stare at an octopus or something. The things people do for love.

“I wanna be a marine biologist,” Hoseok says, chewing on a shrimp cracker. He’s wearing swim trunks and a navy blue shirt with a little fish on his chest. The gills on his neck are swaying softly. "I get to see fish and maybe show them to little kids sometimes. Oh, and swim in the big tanks after hours.“

"You can do that?”

He turns to you, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “Nope.” He says, popping another cracker into his mouth.

“Do all mermaids like to swim?” You ask, turning to him expectantly. He offers you a cracker from his little packet and you politely decline.

“Not really,” he hums in thought. “Some just prefer the land, ya know? I’d like to think their soul will always be tied to the ocean, though.”

You hum. “Yeah. I like the way you put it.” Is all you say. When you turn to look at him, he’s smiling.

Hoseok lets you look over his shoulder as he shows you pictures of him with his tail, blushes a pink just as bright as his tail when you compliment him. He pauses at a picture of him with purple seashells over his chest like Ariel, bursts into laughter with you.

You appreciate it. Appreciate that he’s not asking why you’re really here, sulking at a school of trouts.

“Hoseok-ah,” you say, pause when he hums in acknowledgement. He doesn’t push, just waits. His hair’s a bit wet, you notice. Smells a bit like chlorine and something soft. He’s shining with pixie dust and something else. “Um. At what point did you know you were in love with Yoongs?”

His whole body melts, human fondue. “It wasn't really a big revelation. At one point I just made a face at him and watched him laugh then thought ‘oh shit, do I love him' then I couldn’t unthink it, couldn’t undo it.” You watch as everything about him instantly melts with his smile. It was just the tiniest bit of tension, so small you couldn’t even notice it until it wasn’t there, that’s what melts away.

“Huh.” Is all you say, because there’s nothing you could say to that. “Then what made you tell him?”

“Red bull,” He says, laughs, “And tears, too. Can’t forget about those,” He looks at you and softens, looking impossibly honest. “And the thought that maybe I’d regret it if I kept it to myself.”

The mermaid turns and watches the same school of trouts pass by with you. Doesn’t say anything until you hear a gasp and he says all too loudly, “Holy shit that dude totally just winked at me.”

And you laugh, slapping lightly at his shoulder, “It’s a fish, they can’t even blink.”

“I swear that one just did.”

“They don’t even have eyelids!”

And maybe things are just a little more okay.

It’s another day. Another day that feels like an early morning but it really isn’t. A time of day in which the air is not yet cooled by autumn and the sun lines the side of your face lovingly.

Except the curtains are drawn and the air conditioner is at full blast, and Jungkook is napping on your bed when it’s five in the afternoon and his own bed is, like, down the hall.

“Guk,” you whisper, spot a blob of blankets that must be Jungkook and only a nose sticking out of it, as if he were under the covers until recently but had to get out for some air. You’re so fond. “Gukkie. Time to get up.”

You try to gently shake him awake but he only groans, trying to shuffle away from you on the bed. Breathing out a chuckle, you place the drink in your hand onto the bedside table before plopping yourself completely on top of him, hear it when he lets out a low oof.

He whispers a mantra of drawn out noo's under his breath before you see his head pop out, chin propped over the blankets as he watches you with his brows furrowed. You laugh in delight, catch it when he purses his lips to fight back a smile.

“What’s that smell?” The werewolf asks, voice low and groggy from sleep, his arms bursting from out of the covers to wrap themselves around your middle. You shuffle from on top of him until your cheek is laying on his chest, warm and comfortable, feel it whenever he draws in a breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

“Potion,” your voice is muffled from where your cheek is laying on his collarbone, but you know he hears you when you feel rather than see his face scrunch up in adorable disgust. You continue before he can voice his concerns, "But! It’s sweet. I put in some honey and a chocolate bar and some maple syrup. The syrup needed a little more persuasion to dissolve but a little flirting did the trick, I think.“

"Sounds like it tastes very sweet,” Jungkook says with a toothy grin, sitting up without letting go of you so you’re forced to sit up, too. You watch as he slowly moves to grab his drink, other arm resting on your hip, as if to stop you from moving, to keep you close. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “What’s it for? I don’t know what Tae-hyung told you, but I don’t have bowel problems, I swear.”

You laugh, tucking the comment away for another time. “Nothing like that, I think. It’s just warm.”

He hums, blowing ripples in his cup as steam wafts upwards and around. You watch-- feel – as he sips at his cup, as he shudders a bit when the warmth flows through his veins, as he presses the cup to his chest with half-lidded eyes, breathes out a little sigh.

You get up before you can stare any longer. You almost do, shuffling back and untangling your legs from his, but Jungkook startles and stops you with a hand lightly gripping your arm.

“Dinner- Guk, I gotta make dinner-” You say but it’s only to convince yourself, only to stop yourself from getting closer— but it hasn’t worked before and it isn’t working now.

Jungkook drags you back to bed, grip hopelessly gentle, as if to say you can go, you can leave if you want—but you don’t, you never do, so you let yourself be dragged; helpless for him, for this pretty boy in your bed.

His legs are around your waist and pulling you closer and you want this, you want this but you don’t want to want this, don’t know how to get closer without the words spilling—I like you I like you, like you so much, liked you for ages.

A chin is propped over your head, both his hands resting on your hips. The silence sticks, gentle with sleep and afternoon fog.

“Noona,” he murmurs, and you hadn’t realized when he started rocking you gently back and forth. “Noona, s'okay, right?”

You hum but it sounds distant, like you hadn’t said anything at all. It’s a pretty dream, you decide. It’s a pretty dream and you’ll sit here while Jungkook tells you pretty things.

His hands are trailing up and down your arms and you shudder, feel each individual line, and it’s skin that will never be the same now that it remembers what Jungkook’s touch feels like. It’s too much. Not enough.

(Jungkook had kissed you once before, back when you were both tipsy on secrets and laughter and a bottle of wine, alcohol no longer in any of your systems but you were both pretending it was. He'd leaned over, unthinking, when you’d laughed at something he said, had pressed both your lips together. You hadn’t reacted at first, were still for enough time to make him reconsider, make him recoil back, but then you were slipping your hands into his hair and tugging him back and he’d kissed you again, softly, soft enough to make you ache for it for weeks afterwards, like a bruise that wouldn’t heal.

“Guk,” you’d started the next day, finding him hunched over the couch, “could we talk, maybe-” but he’d cut you off cheerily, much too cheerily, “it’s okay, noona, I get it, it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine—”)

“Shit,” Jungkook says, sounding pained, almost. You look up at him but he’s already looking. He’s close. So close. Not close enough. “This is okay, right?”

You nod, not sure what he’s asking about but sure that it’s okay. With Jungkook, it always is.

He makes a soft little sound, like a hum and a growl and a sigh all mixed into one. It burrows somewhere in your chest and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out.

You’re not sure when the dam breaks. Not sure who moves first. But at some point you both do, meeting in the middle, angle off, teeth clicking. You kinda want to break it off just to laugh, just to blink and make sure this is all real, but Jungkook’s hands move to cup both your cheeks and keep you in place and then

then you’re kissing.

He doesn’t taste salty with wine. He tastes of lip balm and something sugary sweet. Just like you remember. Just like you dream of, sometimes. You think of this and smile so hard your cheeks ache and feel him smile back. It should be an awkward kiss, if anything- practically all teeth- but it isn’t, it’s nice, gentle.

Jungkook pulls back to breathe, to mutter something that sounds like oh, god, before he’s swaying back, back to you, pulling you close, impossibly close. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again—eyes shy and determined, lips careful and caring.

You pull back and Jungkook growls, something raw and oddly feral, but when you look up at him, startled, he looks equally surprised. "I swear that wasn’t on purpose.“ He sounds a bit out of breath. His too long bangs brush against his eyelashes and there’s a little bit of stubble on his chin. You laugh and kiss him there, right on his chin, hear it when he makes a soft little thing that sounds like a sigh. You wonder how many more sounds you can get out of him, how many more sighs you can steal from his lips and eat like summer cherries.

He does taste like that, though, you think. He tastes like cherries. Like happiness.

Jungkook gets closer still, whispers a breath against your lips, this is okay, right? this is okay? and you feel it even without words, feel it in the gentle press of his lips to yours. Feel it even when it’s not gentle, when it’s something deeper and hungry, sweeter and messier and open. It’s embarrassing how easy you say yes each time, but he doesn’t comment. Only smiles. Swallows the embarrassing sounds you make.

There’s a gentle press of a tongue to the seam of your mouth, to your bottom lip, let me in, it says, let me in, if you want. And you do, you do want it, so you let him, feel as he melts and sighs and sinks into you deeper still. He’s so pretty. You say so, when you both part, watch as he blushes the same color as the cherries he tastes like.

You don’t realize when you’re being set down softly on a pillow, Jungkook hovering over you, pressing kisses from the apple of your cheeks down to your jaw down to your collarbones. So beautiful, he murmurs, suddenly shy, and it makes you both smile and you can’t come back from this. Can you come back from this?

Dark eyes meet yours when you look up, round as truffles. Jungkook smiles a toothy grin, something giddy in his eyes that widens when you smile back. Then he’s leaning down and kissing you so softly it melts you down to your bones. You can’t come back from this.

You want this. You want to kiss him until he’s trembling and his bangs are sticking to his forehead. You want to hold his hand when he’s sad and have your hand held when you’re sad and sometimes hold hands just because. You want to have baths, sexy ones sometimes, with candles.

But you also want early mornings. You want to wake up to the sound of keyboards and Jungkook ushering you out of bed, noona let me help, noona look at what I made, noona let’s go outside, noona, noona, noona.

You want Jimin and Taehyung. You want to make them smile, want them to make you smile, want to wake up to their smiles. You want to give them presents and watch their faces contort into gentle surprise. Want to hang ornaments on Taehyung’s antlers and watch him smile when they jingle.

You can’t come back from this.

"Wait,” you gasp, “wait, wait, wait.”

Jungkook sits up so fast he looks dizzy. “Noona?” His voice sounds small and panicked. He comes to when you sit up, too, shuffling away from you quick, “Oh god. Oh god, I—I’m sorry, I don't—Oh, oh god.”

He tries to get out of bed but you grab him quick, “Wait, don't—don’t go. Just give me a second,” you’re breathing too quick. You breathe more slow, the way Jimin taught you how; three seconds in and three seconds out. “Just… give me a second.”

Jungkook looks up then down then up again. “Okay.” He sits back. Not close like before. There’s still a bit of panic in his eyes, just more on the edges now.

He holds his hand out to you wordlessly, looking down at the sheets. You accept the offer, intertwining your hands softly.

“You don’t, like, owe me an explanation or anything,” he speaks quick, “we don't—have to do anything,” he grimaces, "obviously. We obviously don’t have to do anything. If you wanted to before but don’t want it anymore, that’s fine, that’s fine too—"

“Guk,” You interject softly. He’s breathing too quick, too. “I want to do those things with you—I do, I really do. Wanted to for some time,” he’s looking at you now, and you try not to flush but fail miserably. “I just—wanted to get some things straight, and thought, um. WWND, you know?”

Jungkook smiles, the curl of his lips slow. “…What Would Namjoon Do?”

“Exactly!” You huff. There’s more to be said but you’re both smiling, so maybe that’s something.

“Um,” The werewolf says as the silence drags on, ears drooped against his head, “I’m still confused maybe a little.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I just need to know of, like. Feelings that may or may not be happening.”

“Feelings.” He mutters softly. His thumb is rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Looks at you shyly. “I like you,” he says all too easily—looks relieved at saying it, too, like the words have been waiting a long time to get out. “Those are my feelings.”

His words spread to the pit of your stomach, heavy and sweet, like how honey seeps into tea. It’s so fast. Everything is happening so fast you can’t wrap your head around anything. “Me?” you breathe in and breathe out quick. “You like me?”

Jungkook nods and nods again, hair bobbing with the movement. He shuffles a bit closer, hesitates, shuffles further away.

“Hey, no,” you almost coo, pull him so he can get closer and he does. “I like you, too. Liked you for ages.”

“Yeah?” He smiles slow, something big and giddy, teeth and all, shuffles closer still, “Yeah?” He asks again, almost nonsensically, not sure what he’s trying to confirm.

You smile just as big. “Yeah.”

Then Jungkook melts, turns to mush, shoulders drooping, “Oh, thank god. I just went through, like, nine stages of grief over our friendship that I thought I’d just ruined by making out with you.”

“Five—” you manage through your laughter, “Five- There are only five stages, Guk-ah.”

“Oh my god,” He looks at you, unimpressed, “I had, like, extra ones. I was that distressed. I like you so much.”

There’s silence and you both settle, let today’s events sit and simmer for a bit. It still feels unreal. Jungkook’s hand is still in yours, tethering you back to earth, and you feel the calluses of his skin as he trails nonsensical patterns on your hand.

“But,” you stutter when the silence drags for too long, “But I thought you were in love with Jimin and Taehyung?” You sound too vulnerable, you think. Too small.

“I am. I am,” He breathes in too quick, too sharp, breathes it out shakily, “but before I fell for them, I fell for you. It was always you.”

You want to say something, want to interject; and you’re about to, lips parted and everything, "But—"

You startle at the high pitched squeal Jungkook suddenly emits. He’s staring at his hands now, uses his free one to tug at his hair. “The hyungs! We planned to all talk together—Shit, dammit. Argh.”

You blink. “What.”

“Um!” He turns towards you resolutely. He lets go of your hand, regrets it, reaches back for it. “There are words that need to be said but I can't say them. Yet. And—” He makes another noise of frustration. “I wanna do this right. Will you let me do this right?”

You don’t know what he means by that. You’re still half expecting to wake up, to realize this is all a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

You let yourself daydream sometimes, tell yourself it will ease the hurt. It never does, never eases, but you let yourself do it anyway. It’s all three of them in your daydreams. All three of them in this pretty world you created, in this little house where all four of you could wake up surrounded by warmth and everything is safe and soft enough to press against.

So you don’t know what to do. Don’t know what there is to do right. But you agree because it’s Jungkook, and you trust Jungkook, and sometimes he knows more than he lets on. “Okay.” you murmur.

You stay wound up in each other like it never happened, speaking softly to each other, Jungkook occasionally wrestling you for the blankets. You don’t talk about anything specific, just tiny things; that’s when I knew, that’s when I realized, that’s when I hoped. Sometimes Jungkook holds your hand while he talks and sometimes he doesn’t but that’s okay, too. When he lets go it’s cold but a sort of gentle one, makes you think,

look, look at how warm you can be.

There are still things to talk about but it’s fine. You have tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and so forth. For now, you’ll stay here where everything tastes like sugar. Spun-sweet.

That day didn’t come.

It’s been tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and even the day after that. Three days of you and Jungkook toeing around each other, three days of seemingly eternal suffering, only three days and now you’re in another person’s home sipping on another person’s cup of juice.

“Hey!” Namjoon frowns even as you give the cup back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” You say, not apologetic in the slightest and he knows it, too.

There’s a month and a half left until Jin and Namjoon’s anniversary and they’ve both consequently used it as an excuse to bring everyone together. Again. Jin had said something about making use of our youth, even baked a cake and everything, and him and Hoseok are currently in the kitchen decorating it. Or, at least, they were.

“Jin-hyung, I think we failed a bit.”

“We? We? Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong! There is no we! What is this blasphemy! Where is your sense of propriety!” Seokjin shrieks while flailing one of those icing bags, and Hoseok ducks just in time to avoid getting nailed in the head by it, cackling loudly.

Yoongi intervenes, stepping between them, looks down at the cake and promptly bursts out laughing.

You follow and laugh lightly at what you see.

It’s a round vanilla cake and on top — written all too messily — are some almost indistinguishable handwriting written with some kind of blue paste. It says “happy anniversary na" then, as the space obviously wasn’t enough, the mjin is squeezed in at the side.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind and you all know Seokjin is only pretending to be annoyed, so you shuffle through the cabinets and hand Hoseok the single candle you’d found, watch as he sticks it in on the top. An act of redemption, on his part.

You all squeeze out of the kitchen after Yoongi as he carries the cake into the living room, sets it down onto the dining table. You feel oddly proud. Or maybe you’re just feeling what they’re feeling, simmering a bit in the pit of your stomach.

You all gather around on the couch where Jin pops a musical Hoseok had recommended into the TV. You somehow fall asleep somewhere between him dancing along with the characters and Namjoon belting out the lyrics and wake to a little bit of drool trickling down your chin and a bit onto someone’s shoulder.

You sit up with half-lidded eyes. Pat the person’s arm in sympathy for them, hear a deep chuckle in response and then — and then—

And then you look up and it’s Taehyung. Taehyung, whom you hadn’t even seen walk inside. Taehyung, who willingly sat next to you and let you sleep on his shoulder.

You drooled on him.

Drooled.

You stand up quick and panicked and try to mask it by wiping off your clothes and strolling into the kitchen like it never happened. You kinda either feel like questioning all your life decisions up to this point or letting out a long-winded shriek and you don’t know which to do first.

The latter option will be first, you think as Taehyung follows you into the kitchen.

"Um,” he mutters at first, clutching at the hem of his sweater. It’s beige and has a little chicken on the top right corner and is a pinch too short on him. You briefly wonder if it’s Jimin’s. “Hello.”

You blink and your tongue is suddenly ten times too big in your mouth. “Hi.”

“There’s icing on your shirt.” He grins.

You look down and there really is. You hadn’t even eaten cake, there was no way for it to get there. “There is.” you agree.

He hums. You hum back. Sometimes people associate your social failures with the fact that you’re a witch, and although you’re mildly offended, you mostly just like to roll with it.

The air’s a bit tense and you wish you could just go back to when talking was easy, when you’d ask where he got his belt and it would release the floodgates — that the belt was, in fact, a tie, of which he painted over to mimic the colors of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Which he then said is how he wanted to paint his wall, paint the wine shelves he’d keep beside his bed for when he wants to classily watch anime. He has big dreams. Makes your heart hurt.

Today, Taehyung’s eyes are painted a brighter color than usual. Makes your heart hurt, too.

He has nice eyebrows. You say so out loud, and he laughs. “Thank you. You have nice eyebrows, too.”

What is this. What is happening. Why are you complimenting each other’s eyebrows. “Um,” you start, “what’s up?”

“Oh!” He says, as if he’d just now remembered. “I just wanted some, um.” He grabs a cup out the drawer, one that’s red and made of plastic, not cute like the ones he has at home, the ones he’s so fond of. “I just wanted some punch.”

Taehyung pours some grapefruit punch into his cup, pale-pink in color. “You should dye your hair that color,” you start, almost regret it when he turns to look at you, but he looks curious so you continue, “it’d look nice on you.”

His cheeks are that color, you think. Pale-pink. “Yeah.” He says and that’s that.

You two walk back and the credits are rolling and everyone’s spread around separately. Jimin’s here too, you notice, see him laughing in a corner with Hoseok. Convince yourself it’s not you he’s looking at when you pass him by.

You and Taehyung end up sat together on the couch, curling in close. This is nice, you think, startle when he turns to face you. “What’s nice?”

“Uh,” you panic and hurry to elaborate, “being close, I guess. With someone. S'nice.”

For a second you think he might laugh but he only turns, considering. His arm is around you, hanging loosely over your waist. You feel cocooned and safe despite yourself.

“Do you want that?” You face him but he isn’t looking at you, only looking ahead intently as if deep in thought. “Do you want someone to be close with?” His eyes are open and soft and somewhat unsure.

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. Taehyung turns, frowns. “Do I?”

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, and your smile droops at how hesitant he sounds.

“What do you mean?” you retort, brows furrowing.

Jimin pads over just then, as if sensing the slight commotion. You half expect him to ask what’s going on, half expect yourself not to know how to answer because what is going on?— but he doesn’t, doesn’t do that, only sits on your other side, places a hand on your knee.

“This, see, you do this,” you start, gesturing to Taehyung’s arm over your waist, to Jimin’s hand on your knee and his hand on your back, thumbnails dragging softly over your spine. “But it’s not real, I know it isn’t.”

Taehyung’s looking at you a bit too intently. Jimin is, too, his eyes glinting gold. You see the surprise cross both their faces.

“Who says it isn’t real?” Taehyung says with a frown.

“Y/n, love, we like you.” Jimin adds, voice hushed as if he’s telling a secret.

“..I know,” you start, brows furrowed in confusion. You know they like you, at least a little bit, otherwise they wouldn’t have invited you over to their home so many times. Then why are they looking at you like that? “I mean, I like you, too.”

“Baby, what Jiminie means is that we’ve been trying to court you for, like, two months.”

Your mouth is dry. You try to swallow once, twice, taste salt and feel your throat get icky.

“Should we settle this at home?” Jimin asks, more to Taehyung than to you but you answer anyway,

“No! No. I just—need some air.”

Outside is a bit cold and Namjoon’s windowsill has too many potted plants he most likely can’t care for and the sky is softly settling, clouds hanging gently overhead. You look up and Taehyung’s face is a bit blurry but his antlers are easy to spot. They make him look taller, softer. Sometimes when you’re talking his ears flicker towards you and that’s when you know he’s listening even without saying anything at all.

Right now, he’s shifting from foot to foot as if he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. But that’s not right, Taehyung’s not one to be uncomfortable in his own skin, so this gentle rocking of his makes you feel strange. Seasick, almost.

Everything seems sort of suspended, like the world is hanging by a drop of nectar, waiting.

“Let’s talk, my little love.”

You almost startle at the term. Jimin looks proud at having said it, too, pretty grin and all. You need to focus. “Okay.” You nod. Taehyung gestures for you to continue, so you do, “You said you were, um. You were courting me?”

Taehyung nods. “Yes.” He says with so much confidence your heart kinda ached a bit.

“So.. what does that mean?”

“It means we want to date you.” Jimin’s the one to say, a nervous but firm whisper.

The silence drags on like a lip being dragged through teeth, slow and deliberate. Your organs feel wobbly inside. They’re doing that thing where they communicate with their eyebrows. They all have impossibly expressive eyebrows.

You feel the immense need to sit down, so you do. You sink to your knees and they’re reaching out quick, ready to console, but freeze when you let out a long-winded shriek. “WHAT?" you sputter, ”WHY?“

"Why?” Jimin says, hums, considering. “Because we like you. Maybe not love yet. But we’d like to,” he crouches so you’re both face-to-face, smiles soft, “we’d like to love you. If you let us.”

“But—” you feel the need to say something, but don’t know what. “But Jungkook?”

“Baby,” Taehyung’s crouching now, too, almost taking a hold of your hand but stopping himself, “we talk about this, like, every wednesday.”

“What? It’s, like, a reunion sort of thing?” You sputter, mouth agape.

Jimin huffs out a small laugh, almost of disbelief, slapping lightly at Taehyung’s shoulder, “No, no, Taehyung-ssi here doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Taehyung tries to look serious, fails, and Jimin is smiling when he turns back to look at you. “We talk about it at least once a week, though.”

You still feel the need to say something but you feel like you’re running out of things to say. “But you’re all,” you run out of words then, gesture wildly at them from top to bottom.

Taehyung looks delighted. Jimin waits for you to elaborate, bites at his bottom lip when you don’t, asks tentatively, “…Yes?”

“You’re all— so pretty.” You mutter, exhausted. “And nice. And funny. And I’m just—” your arms drop to your sides.

“Little love,” Jimin’s the one to say, the one to get close, not afraid to get his clothes dirty as he shuffles towards you, “you’re also absolutely pretty, and nice, and funny, and beautiful.”

“I am?”

They grin. “You are.”

“Oh.”

The three want to date you. The three have wanted to date you for a while. The three are pretty and kind and make you feel seen, think you're pretty and kind, care enough to talk about it at least once a week and it all feels a bit unreal.

Your throat goes tight. You pick at your nail beds. Feel your blood pump the wrong way, its gentle waltz out seemingly of rhythm, one, two, three, one, two—what goes next?

“I–okay. Okay,” you stand up quick, rub some dirt off your knees, see Jimin point at them and giggle a bit. “Can we tell Jungkook? Do you wanna tell him now? I just. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

Jimin coos, takes a hold of your hand, kisses your temple after a second like he couldn’t help it. You think you hear Taehyung laugh from behind you.

They walk you home and you let them inside, their hands lingering on your back and on your shoulder, and Jungkook sputters when he sees you three, sitting up from the couch with a start. “Huh?” Is all he says.

“Hello!” Taehyung says with the biggest grin before getting straight to the point, "We confessed!“

"Y/n said yes!” Jimin adds, equally giddy.

“I’m a little drunk on punch!” You say, “But I still want to date you!”

Jungkook looks like a gaping fish for a second before there’s a twitch of his lips and then he’s smiling, slow and deliberate, pretty pretty pretty. He stands, pads over slowly and then quick, knocking the breath out of you, his arms tight. The rest join in and you’re all laughing and you’re all hugging and it feels like the beginning of something.

I want to be with you all,

then they’re all on you, soft and sweet, and

are you sure, and liked you for so long and are you super sure, don’t you need time to think, don’t you need more time to think, and smell so nice, you smell so nice, wait is that weird, and noona and little love and baby doll and—

they taste like love, like could-be love, and they feel like

y/n

home.

Jungkook’s planting tangerines in your backyard, spurred on by Jimin’s love for them. Taehyung’s there too, energetic and wild in a way only Taehyung can be, but gentle when he volunteers to fill up the watering can, patting and smoothing at the humid soil. He dyed his hair again. It’s the color of pink hyacinths now, the color of the punch he’d drank — pale-pink.

You’ve grown even more fond of your store. Or maybe you’ve grown more fond of what’s inside. Who’s inside. You like how it smells like licorice tea now, how Jimin always opens the windows to let the warm spring breeze inside, the vines and buds and flowers spilling inside like overeager children. You like the music that Taehyung plays on the speakers, jazz and Kehlani and the occasional Girl’s Generation. You like how your sheets always smell a bit like Jungkook.

Yoongi’s staring at you. He stares at a lot of people, but he’s been staring at you the most these days. You tear your gaze from the window, raising a brow at him as he occupies the entirety of the love seat in the corner that’s actually meant for two people. “Why’re you looking at me?”

“Ah.” Is all he says at first. You wait for some sort of sheepish smile, but it never comes. “Your aura. It's prettier these days.”

“Oh.” You blink. “What color is it?”

He turns, gaze shifting to the window you’d just been looking out of. You stare, too. Taehyung looks up just then, waves at you, a streak of dirt on his cheek. You smile lightly, wave back with the same amount of enthusiasm. When you look at Yoongi again, he’s already looking at you.

“You know when the sun is just about to set, and the sky is a mix of pinks and blues and oranges?” He smiles, a soft thing, and stands up. Touches lightly at an invisible barrier around you that’s not at all invisible to him. "That’s what it looks like. Like the gold of the sunset.“

a/n: here it is folks!! i didn’t like some of the scenes but i tried my best. some parts didn’t fit well here so i had to rearrange them a lot, and others i fit into the epilogue!! hope you enjoyed! spaced out is next i swear

[sevsnapeposts]

Snapetober Day 6: Hostage/Trapped.

hello, this one is post-war, settled around 1999. please, feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if yoou'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 6 - Hostage/Trapped.

--

The situation was, at the very least, ridiculous.

Severus had expected many things in his life, and not good ones, but he had never imagined that he would be kidnapped in his own room.

On the other side of the door, Prue talked to him, concerned.

"I believe that if you do not go near him, he will eventually calm down", she was saying, her husky voice with a tinge of amusement in it. Severus frowned, staring at what was sitting in the doorway, staring back at him, ears back and low, and a murderous look.

Oh, right. He was trapped, in his own room, by a cat.

Of course, it wasn’t just any cat. If so, he could have transfigured it, or petrified it, or enchanted it to make it so tiny that it would fit in his hand. But no, it was Lucifer, Prue's pet, and the bloody beast was even more protected than Nagini had ever been. Any spell would bounce back, and he didn't want to make a mess in his room. Furthermore, since the Ministry was still in a mess from the intervention of the now-turned-dust Dark Lord, all wizards and witches outside of specifically areas of the wizarding world were forbidden to use magic unless it was a matter of life and death, and Severus was very sure that Spinner’s End didn’t count as a magical area.

Therefore, the only thing left for him was to wait.

"And how long is that going to take?", he asked, choosing to climb onto the bed again, Lucifer following his movements very closely, showing his fangs every time he moved too fast.

There was silence for a couple of moments, and Severus was able to imagine Prue's face as she thoughtfully remembered some similar event.

"Last time he did something like this was with Draco", she began. Severus heard her sit on the floor. ”About half a year ago. He did it because Draco called him ‘nasty’”.

“I understand. But you didn't answer my question, Prue”, he said, and he already knew that when Prue avoided an answer it was a bad omen.

Several long seconds of silence passed.

"Draco had to go out through a passage 6 hours later".

Severus considered how bad it would be to jump out the window from that second floor.

Prue went out to buy some food for Lucifer, under the idea that maybe some candy would distract him enough to calm his unjustified annoyance. Severus indicated which path to take to get to the closest store, asking her to be careful. Prue assured him that nothing would happen and soon after he heard the keys jingle and the door open and close.

Now only he and the beast remained. Lucifer had laid down, so huge he covered more than twice the length of the door frame. He wasn’t asleep, anyway, as he was wagging his tail from side to side, gently, although the movement would become erratic if Severus made any noise when changing position.

It was frustrating, actually. He had known the damn animal for almost ten years, and although they had never gotten along very well, he didn't expect this either.

The worst part is that he didn't even know why he was doing it. Severus had no opinion of him, he had never called him ‘nasty’ or anything else —at least not when Prue, and therefore Lucifer, were around. He, too, hadn't even thought of hurting him in any way, much less had he done something to Prue so that the animal wouldn't want him to get close to his human.

I would’ve liked, he thought as he lay on the other side of the bed, that one of those spells cast on you would give you the ability to talk. At least that way I could argue with you.

Lucifer opened his eyes just then and looked at him, yellow pupils almost as piercing as his owner's.

Severus felt a chill run down his back.

Two hours had passed since Prue's return, which added to the other two since the start of the kidnapping, resulting in four.

Four bloody hours in there.

Severus was a patient man, and Lucifer a patient animal. They had been in a staring contest most of the time, increasingly charged with contempt for the other. Severus had given up on the idea of ​​escaping through the window, instead giving into Lucifer's game, out of sheer pride that no hairball was going to make him run away.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Prue wasn't that patient.

"Okay, enough", she growled, and flung the door open with a spell, sending Lucifer flying, who landed on Severus' lap. The animal snorted furiously at him, but before he could do anything, Prue stopped him by pinching the skin of his neck and pulling him to the floor, climbing onto the bed and standing between the animal and the man.

Lucifer, offended by the favouritism, let out an angry meow and left.

"Beast", Prue snapped, to which Lucifer mewled back at her, and judging by the sound, he already was at the stairs. "I am sorry. Lucifer usually does not do that".

Somehow, Severus doubted that.

"I do not know why he was mad at you, though...", she murmured, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

Severus wanted to be angry with her, complain to her about her pet's rudeness, but the truth is that he had wanted to go back to bed with her all day and he was also exhausted by so much tension, so he simply laid down next to her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I swear I didn't do anything to him".

"I know", the young woman whispered, and a hand tangled in his hair, caressing his scalp and causing him to sigh.

They stayed like that for a long time, completely ignoring that it was almost nightfall and they should really eat something. But food was the last thing on their minds when they spent time like this, in silence, just caressing each other.

Severus kissed her shoulder as his hand brushed her hips, the fingers in his hair pausing for a second, and it would have ended in something else if it hadn't been for Prue, who bolted upright, pulling herself off from Severus. He looked at her profile with curiosity and a bit of annoyance, Prue turning to see him.

"I think Lucifer thinks you made me cry".

"What? Why?", he asked, sitting down too, trying to hide his–

"Earlier in the morning –well, afternoon, I got up to go to the bathroom. When I opened the door I hit my little finger", she explained. Severus rolled his eyes.

"There's a reason for me telling you not to go barefoot", he scolded her, and Prue blushed a little.

"The thing is that it hurt me so much I teared up. I even thought I had split my nail", she continued, completely ignoring what he had said. "But I did not want to wake you up, so I covered my mouth and went out".

"I'm going to cast a spell on the floor", Severus said, and Prue smacked him on the arm. "Terrible accident, but what does it have to do with your cat?".

"It seems to me that Lucifer was in the hall when I came out".

Severus didn't have to ask any more. He could understand that, from Lucifer's perspective, seeing Prue come out of the room with teary eyes and covering her mouth to keep quiet was his fault, because there was no other reason why she would cry.

Except for a nearly broken nail, of course, but that was hardly ever going to cross an animal's mind.

"Oh no, he was just worried and I threw him", Prue whimpered, lying back down, dramatic as ever. Severus rolled his eyes yet again, following her actions, lying on his back. Not two seconds had passed when the young woman was already snuggled with him.

"Give him a candy and an apology and he'll forget all about it", the man said, placing his arm around her slim shoulders. "And make him bring me one. I think I deserve an apology, too".

Prue pricked his rib, laughing softly.

"I have something else for you", she purred, kissing his cheek, mischievous fingers running down his waist.

Severus decided, before returning her affections, that even if it would take a while to adjust to living together, it was worth every damn second to try to win Lucifer's favor.

[mengyan]

I’ve been really enjoying your sge au so far and absolutely love the dynamic you’ve created between Carmen and Julia in it! Im curious to know how their relationship progressed from their first meeting was it in a similar way to cannon or differently? Also how they eventually started dating and how they even managed a relationship between a never and an ever.

thank you so much anon!! honestly these two create the dynamic themselves, they’re such fun characters to write and make it so easy for me!! again, replies are under the cut!

i’d say they were “rivals/enemies” for the first week? julia was just super skeptical at first and thought she was stubborn, hotheaded and had a bad temper (not a poor assumption, considering carmen had her fingerglow lit in her face) and overall only tolerated her because of player. i’d say after carmen opens up about her father and how she just wants to learn more about her past, she starts to warm up a bit? she begins to understand carmen’s motivations and how her upbringing with the faculty made her the way she is.

carmen on the other hand thinks julia is too uptight and serious. she always tries to crack jokes and like, shapeshifts sometimes and singes some poor kid’s hair while hiding in the trees during their surviving fairy tales classes just to get her to laugh, but julia’s mostly unimpressed and tells her to pay attention.

“how you’re evil’s top student amazes me. are you sure it’s not nepotism?”

“how you’re highest ranked at good amazes me,” carmen scoffs back, dropping her shift and stealing some of julia’s berries they were forced to gather (to distinguish what’s edible and what’s not). “all you do is hang out in the library and ruin my plans.”

“i’d hardly call them plans. childish pranks at best, maybe. and so what if i spend most of my time at the library? at least i didn’t get ranked second during yesterday’s surviving fairy tales class because i messed up the wicked witch of the east and west.”

julia grabs a handful of berries from carmen’s basket and puts them back in hers, and continues along the forest path. carmen sputters and chases after her, yelling. “hey! that was a simple mistake!” (she was distracted staring at julia, trying to figure her out and definitely not because she looked pretty in good’s button up shirts, but she couldn’t just say that, could she?) “anyone would have gotten them mixed up!”

“right,” julia deadpans, not even looking at her. “i didn’t.”

anyway. they bicker a lot, and player unfortunately has to witness most of it. (zack and ivy usually spend lunch brewing potions or learning the borderline illegal spells that carmen wrote down for them.)

how they eventually started dating... hmm. i’m a sucker for angst and moments of realization like “oh my god please don’t die on me turns out i don’t hate you and i’m actually in love with you”, so during the trial by tale, i think? one of them stumbles upon the other and finds them unconscious or badly hurt. i love the idea of carmen finding jules lying near the river barely keeping herself awake and immediately shaking her like:

“jules?! jules, what the fuck? who did this to you?! i’ll kill them,” she seethes, pulling her into her arms and her fingerglow absolutely blazing red. (magic follows emotion!!!!!!)

“carmen,” julia wheezes, eyes slipping shut. “my flag’s in my boot, just let me go. i don’t want to slow you down.”

“not until you tell me who did this to you,” carmen says fiercely, gripping her tighter.

“it was dark, i couldn’t see very well-” julia coughs, her ribs aching. carmen turns to look at her glasses- they’re cracked, one of the lenses completely gone and the other punctured. “they had, uh- light bending. manipulation. made it darker. even with my talent i couldn’t see who it was because it was so dark.”

carmen freezes. she recognized that talent. “mime bomb,” she snarls. “that stupid teacher’s pet.”

“at least those other classmates of yours didn’t find me. i think the cat one would’ve torn me to shreds, or the electric one would’ve shocked me with his lightning bolts.”

julia coughs again, shifting in the moonlight. it illuminates just how scratched up she is- blood and dirt stains her breeches and her armor is pierced through. carmen’s fingerglow gets impossibly brighter as she hauls her up to her feet, throwing julia’s arm around her shoulder so she can carry her.

“not going to drop my flag, huh?” julia asks weakly, the two of them limping down the river bank. “that’s not very evil of you.”

“i’m starting to think that being evil is overrated,” she says softly. “and i- look, you’re a pain in my ass sometimes, but i care about you, okay? we’re friends.”

“friends,” julia echoes. “thought evil didn’t have friends, just henchmen.” carmen opens her mouth to retort, but julia continues. “you’re like... a good kind of evil, i think,” she whispers. her words are starting to slur, the pain and exhaustion catching up to her. carmen slips her makeshift sword into the sheath at her side and lifts julia gently, carrying her bridal style.

“a good kind of evil,” carmen repeats. “i like that.” julia closes her eyes, humming. carmen speaks softer, brushing her hair from her face. “i like you, jules. i’ll get us out of this, okay? trust me.”

���always,” julia mumbles, falling asleep.

carmen finds some herbs and stuff, does some illegal spells, heals some of her wounds and all that jazz. there are like 5 students left in the woods at this point, the other 3 being mime bomb, gray, and chase.

chase effectively takes out mime bomb (as a pun, i’d like to think his talent is super speed and agility, so whenever mime bomb tries to hide in the shadows chase can get there in time), but gray takes out chase (because like, even if you’re fast, lightning can take you out).

once julia can walk again, they start searching for gray, and aksfjfkdfkj omg gray shocks carmen or something and julia is furious and screams, channeling enough of her power to override his lightning and disrupt it, reducing it to small, harmless sparks.

carmen wastes no time and grabs his flag, throwing it down. he disappears into the clearing, leaving both carmen and jules as the last two students.

they’re both exhausted and don’t want to fight anymore and julia brings up the earlier “i like you” thing, both of them leaning against each other propped up against a tree and she’s like “for the record, i like you too.”

they kiss just as the sun comes up and the trial ends!!! everyone bursts in and sees them holding each other and are like. Well. What The Hell Are We Going To Do Now.

not me practically writing a whole fic for this response ASKDKFJ BYE i hope this is enough anon! thank you again for asking and fueling this niche au!! <3

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 19- Exhaustion

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

On their way to lunch, the hermits are attacked. Jealousy rages within the guilds that are losing, but the hermits are unable to fight back. Will they even make it to the event in time? 

___________________________________________

“We make a great team, that paper birdy didn’t even know what happened to it.” Tango laughs, grabbing Grian into a headlock and playfully nuzzling his fist into the golden locks. His body aches, and he feels weak, but prideful. The other hermits around them chatter excitedly, walking down the smooth, clean roads of the noble district. Even the canals of swampwater are tiled and cleaned of dirt and debris. Streets Mumbo knows well- he grew up here. So of course he took the chance to go to his favorite cafe. 

“I’d say I’m happy with bronze, but I really wanted to beat that Mitch guy. Plus, pirates always love gold.” Cleo hums, looking at the medal around her neck. Of course, she’ll always take beating some 30 other guilds to get this medal, their moans and complaints of being beat in the wrestling challenge. She rubs her wrist, wincing. “Though I’ll admit, I haven’t felt this burnt out from magic in years. It’s like that one event sucked it all out of my body.” 

“I feel that way every time I step into the ring.” Tango states, earning a nod from Grian as well. “After day one, I could hardly get out of bed. I felt like a dragon was sitting on my chest.” A few others murmur agreement, and the conversation stops. Not for long, thanks to Grian.

“Scar, Mumbo, are you two ready to show everyone your skills?” Grian grins, fluttering to the front of the group. 

“I was born ready for the creative event. I’ve been dreamin’ about this since I was a boy.” Scar sighs, feeling giddy. He’s already got an idea in mind, building and creating within his own head. 

“I...I’m not so sure. Can’t someone else step in for me? I don’t think I can get my magic to work well enough, much less to beat the others like you all have.”  Mumbo’s terrified. He wishes he had the confidence that Scar just exudes. He has no clue what he’ll build. He’s not even sure if his magic will appear today. 

“You’ve got it, man.” Doc appears beside him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t doubt yourself, otherwise I’ll take control and make you believe.” Mumbo freezes, smiling weakly. He’s not sure if he should be comforted or not by Doc’s offer.

He turns, eyes glimmering upon setting his gaze on the cafe. He came here all the time when he was younger, before he joined the hermits. He would come here to study, to relax, sometimes just to get his favorite tea from the shop. Being back here is strange, the nostalgia mixing with nerves. What would his friends think of this place? Are they out of the normal? Doc and Grian definitely are. 

Mumbo reaches out, grabbing the door’s wrought iron handle. His hand goes right through the metal, iron warping and wiggling like air in the summer heat. “What in the…” 

The ripples cascade out, across the air and townhouses. The mosaics shatter before reforming, and the entire street is empty. But the hermits aren’t alone. “You freaks think you own this place, don’t you? That you’re anything like us? That you can just waltz into the noble district because you’ve won the past two days?” 

Doc immediately summons his magic, ready for a fight. More than a dozen other mages appear from the illusion. Torn shoulder pauldrons, glistening with gold spikes, announces them being from the Guild of Gedeon. A council guild. Behind Doc, he can hear other hermits drawing their circles, blues and yellows shimmering off the illusion they're trapped in. “Let us go, you’re messing with the wrong guild.” 

“Ohoho, win a couple of events and suddenly you think you’re a guild? No, no.” A burly man with feral eyes stares down Doc, shoving him and Cleo towards Scar and Mumbo. “You’re messing up everything. I don’t know why Magistrate Dolios let scum mar such a prestigious event.”

“Maybe it’s because he realized ‘scum like us’ are better at magic than you. Didn’t want the crowd to get bored of the same old dopey outfits and subpar spells.” Cleo’s words have hardly crossed her lips before fists collide with them, sending her splayed across the ground. Doc needs no further initiative, activating his circle and taking control of the mage that struck his friend. His eyes close, and open again looking at himself. Ugh, this body smells. He turns around, meaty hands instead crashing into the Gedeon’s own guildmembers. Three fly out of the illusion, out of the bubble that traps them where no one can watch the fight. Beneath another, the ground opens up beneath her to reveal hellfire. The flames claw at her feet, dragging her into the open chasm. Swallowing her up. 

Doc is thrown out of his puppet, head spinning and blood pooling from his own nose. Grian’s shout rings in his ear, making his head spin and splinter. He looks up, seeing the magical bludgeon disappear like a ghost from a Gedeon member. “You’re gonna regret messing with us. Messing with the order of things. You don’t belong here, none of you do.” 

The illusioner stoops low, snapping his meaty fingers and nodding the gang forward. “And we’ll show you why you don’t mess with the Council. The wrath of  the Guild of Gedeon is not something you walk away from.” 

The fight is intense. Six hermits against about a dozen combatants. What’s worse, the Guild of Gedeon is an offensive group. When the arcane guard can’t do a job, when a strongarm is needed, the Gedeons are the first in line. Cleo holds her own, blood boiling under her dead green skin. Her sword doesn’t back down from a fight, and neither does the poltergeists she summons to aid in the attack. She’s exhausted, but that doesn’t stop her from being in the middle of the battle. Doc jumps from person to person, tapping into their magic and turning it back onto their own teammates. Scar does his best to protect Doc in the process, throwing up walls of rock only for them to be crushed by a volatile spell shot their way. 

But they aren’t winning. Cleo and Doc’s attacks aren’t enough to stave off the fights and fragments of magic flown their way. Tango’s magic is all but gone, sapped from his body. Where did it all go? He had it all this morning, and the bird chase event couldn’t have been enough for him to lose it all! Even worse, Grian’s magic sputtered and died halfway through his attack. Mumbo peeks out from behind Scar’s barrier, hissing with pain as a bolt of hot rock is flung against his forehead. “Grian, what in the world is going on with your magic?” 

“I...I don’t know, Mumbo!” He flicks his wrists, but nothing happens. His arms snap in a quick dance, and he does manage to summon his spell. The wind is hardly more than a summer breeze in his hair. “It’s not there, I’m drained of magic, of energy! But how, I hardly used anything!”

“It’s like you’re me!” The four hiding behind the wall are crushed as the rocks collapse. Trapped, unable to fight off the onslaught. Scar can only block the worst attacks, but bruises and cuts blossom across the hermits.

Until the bell of the capitol building tolls a single time. As quickly as the fight started, it stops. Scar lowers his walls and arm, brushing the blood from his cheek. Immediately, he searches for his friends. Doc struggles to his feet, ready to fight. But Cleo, Grian, and Tango look like they’ve been fighting for hours. They’re completely out of magic, skin pale and eyes glazed with weakness. Something is very wrong. Is there a suppressor mage here? No, that would affect everyone. Mumbo scrabbles backwards, wrist hanging limp. “Good luck getting to check in for the rest of the events, freaks. We’ll see who’s in the labyrinth event now.” 

The illusion drops, and the busy street returns. Bustling crowds, horse-drawn carriages and carts passing by the hermits. As alone as when they first arrived at the cafe. People step around them, glancing at the battered group but never offering help. Scar gasps, wobbling to his feet. “The competition! Mumbo, we’re going to be late!” He pulls Mumbo to his feet. 

“You guys go ahead.” Doc growls, sitting down on a pile of rubble. He rubs blood off of his cheek. “I don’t think the others can get up. They’re too weak.” 

“What caused that? How could Grian not use his magic?” He’s an S-Class, he has ultimate control of his magic. But he acted like he was...well, Mumbo. And now? Now his friends are hurt. They lost the fight- no, they were thrashed. And he wasn’t even able to do anything. 

“I don’t know, but I have a sneaking suspicion who the dark mage is now.” Doc waves the two off, before snarling. “Go! I’ve got the others!” And he’ll be sure Gedeon’s leader, that monster Sidero, gets a taste of what he just did to his friends. He must be the dark mage, trying to stop them. 

But as Doc watches Mumbo and Scar flee, and he helps Grian, Tango, and Cleo to their feet, he’s only made them angrier. 

_____________________________

“How am I...gah, how am I supposed to take a giant cat statue and make it move?” Mumbo hisses, looking up at the relief. Scar’s winning sculpture for the creative event was incredible. He could practically see every hair and whisker of Jellie, carved from stone using her owner’s terraforming magic. Even her wings are feathered, each barb as thin and interlocking as the real thing. It’s easy to see why Scar won the creative contest, hands down.

And here he is ruining it all with his own magic. The council really outdid themselves, pulling a twist like this. His magic falters, and the redstone dust collapses to the ground. Mumbo’s chest feels heavy, lungs pressed and heart clenching. His head feels dizzy, and his magic is nearly impossible to tap into. Surely this is all just nerves? But even Scar looked exhausted, like he was struggling to breathe, to stand after his magic. Exactly what Grian and Tango looked like. 

What’s happening? He can’t help but look over his shoulder. Other guilds are working on the creations their teammates created. Whatever was before them, they had to automate. And from what Mumbo can see, most others are well ahead of him. Especially Ian, deep in the bowels of the contraption Sky had built. He can be heard swearing, the conductive gold making his machine move when he doesn’t want it to. At least Mumbo doesn’t have to worry about that. 

But that doesn’t mean he can do it. The redstone dust falls apart, showering the ground beneath him. He’s going to disappoint everyone, he’s going to ruin Scar’s wonderful statue. He’s going to be the only wizard in this event that can’t even get the thing to move! He falls to his knees, the pressure mounting in his lungs. Making it hard to breathe, crushing in on him. And he’s exhausted, even though he’s barely used any of his magic. He can’t even get it to appear. Like always. All this work, all his hopes to win, will mean nothing if he can’t get his magic to summon. He’s a multi-mage, but he can never prove it. He can never show off his powers, and it’s exactly why he could never join any guild. Looking around, he can see all the guilds in the field he applied to. All of them said no, laughed in his face and ridiculed him when his magic failed to show itself. And now here he is, proving them all right. Making a laughing stock of the Order of Hermits. 

“You can do it, Mumbo!” He picks his head up, looking around. He doesn’t recognize that voice. It takes him a moment to realize it’s not coming from any of the hermits. The voice is loud, echoing over the crowd’s low roar. It’s Ecto, one of the wanderers. Beside her, the other two teammates are cheering him on as well. Red’s practically bouncing in his seat, about to fall over the railing as he yells as loud as possible.

More voices join them. He can hear Iskall, shouting for him to breathe, to remember his training. He can hear some sort of soliloquy being written across the sky, intertwined with Joe’s voice. Zedaph and Impulse are holding up a sign, nearly knocking False and Wels with the board. Even the rest of Team Crafted was cheering for him. TFC is watching Mumbo, blue eyes gazing through silvery hair. He gives a small nod and a smile, his own way of showing his encouragement.

All of the hermits are his family, the family he never had. A family that would support him, help him, be with him no matter what. That never gave up on him. And TFC was like the father he never had, with a calm voice as smooth as obsidian and as strong as diamond. Someone he could go to with all his fears and faults, and know he wouldn’t be ridiculed or put down. That TFC would listen, and offer sound advice. Advice he can hear echoing in his head now. “It isn’t about the amount of times you fall down, Mumbo. It’s about how many times you get back up.” 

So he gets back up again. He brushes the sand and dirt off the black fabric of his trousers, ignoring the physical pain in his chest and the unwieldy way his head spins. He closes his eyes, hand outstretched. In his mind, he can see his magic circle. The ninety degree turns ending in dots, the petal-like curls from the center. His hands move unconsciously, following the pattern of motions he created. It’s like ramming open a door, trying to find his magic. Trying to connect to it. But once he’s in, it washes all over his body. 

He opens his eyes, his circle cast and the redstone moving to his bidding. Climbing up and ingraining in the pores of Scar’s stonework, following lines weathered through the rock. Lightning shoots through the circuits, from his fingertips and breathing energy into the cat. The haunches of the massive statue move, toe beans uprooting from the sand as Jellie comes to life. Redstone dances across her granite tail, flicking side to side. Mumbo can’t help but laugh, knocked over into the sand by a giant stone cat head rubbing into his chest. Scar’s incredible creation, brought to life with his redstone magic. Given energy through his lightning. 

Statue Jellie opens it’s mouth to meow, but no sound comes out. She turns her head, gazing across the crowd surrounding her. Her eyes stop at the crown seat, where the Council sits in awe. Redstone turns on all across her body, his magic branching out onto each hair as it rises and her back arches. “Whoa, what’s all that about?” 

Mumbo has never seen Jellie hiss at anyone, and even if this stone statue is just a version of her, his magic seems to have brought her to life. And her eyes are as thin as paper, ears turned back and hissing as she faces the Council. Mumbo runs over to the massive kitty, trying to calm her down. Lightning spreads across the redstone, forcing the stone statue to calm. For a second, Mumbo swears he can hear Magistrate Dolios’s voice, though his head is swimming from exhaustion. “Well done, boy. What i wouldn’t give for such...raw power. Soon.”

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part IV

(Author’s Notes: Does anyone even read this part? I’m going to pretend like you all do... Hello everyone! Here is the next installment of my Jordelia fan-fiction based on the characters created by the amazing Cassandra Clare in her trilogy Chain of Gold. This is really turning into what the cool kids call a “slow burn”. I never intended it to have such an extensive plot, but this quarantine is really bring forth my imagination. Anyway, if you enjoyed this please give it a like, reblog, comment, or feel free to just pop in and say hi. As always, thank you for reading! Happy and safe quarantine to you all. P.S. I have added an original character “Martin” for the selfish reason that I didn’t want to kill Cyril. Please forgive the inconsistency.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Part IV

“Maybe he should lie down?”

“I don’t need to lie down, mother,” said James, not unkindly, but with a bit of annoyance. “He’s removing a bracelet, not my arm.”

“If you don’t remain still,” said Magnus, his dark eyebrows glistened with flecks of glitter when he arched them, “it might well be.”

Magnus stood in front of James in the center of the Institute library with James’s hand suspended between them while the warlock focused his attention on the seemingly inconsequential silver band that adorned James’s wrist. If one were looking from afar without any context at all it might appear comical. Flecks of blue light danced from Magnus’s fingertips causing the silver to rattle against James’s skin. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or if the bracelet had begun to glow. No. It was most certainly glowing and hot. It rattled and spun until it became so hot that James ripped his arm away on instinct. 

Magnus looked up, resigned and slightly paled. “It’s a much more powerful spell than I initially realized.” 

“How do you mean?” Will asked from where he sat on the desk under the arched stain glass window cut and stained to look like the angel Raziel rising up to the heavens. Rain hit the glass as thunder crackled against the Institute’s walls rattling the crystal chandelier above them. “Will it come off?”

“It’s the strangest thing.” Magnus picked up James’s wrist again. “An absolute work of genius, actually. It’s as if it’s alive and it’s fighting against my magic.”

“Well I’ve had quite enough.” Lucie stood up from the floor where she had been petting Church in long, absentminded strokes. The cat gave a placid meow when she’d stopped. She smoothed out her dress and walked towards the door. “There seems to be only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” Matthew asked from where he stood in front of the door, blocking her way. He seemed more steady than his usual self. His hand wasn’t twitching where it held the door frame; his eyes remained focused and clear. They had all wondered what brought on his sudden sobriety. It seemed after one conversation with her father and he’d dropped the sauce like one of his waist coats that he deemed “out of style”. Will had that effect on people. It was best not to question it.

“I’m going to collect Grace Blackthorn and drag her here so that she can ask James to remove the bracelet her-bloody-self.” Lucie came to a stop in front of Matthew. It may have been the shadows cast across his face, but Matthew almost appeared afraid.

“No, Lucie, we aren’t sure what Grace is capable of,” said Tessa. “You said only moments ago that she confessed the truth about the bracelet, but you failed to think to bring her here to remove it?”

Lucie’s mouth opened in defense, but closed as if she forgot what she intended to say. She turned back to Matthew with a quizzical grimace. “Why didn’t we bring Grace back with us?”

“She—“ Matthew raised a pale eyebrow. “I must say I don’t recall.”

Lucie turned her back against the wall and crossed her arms over chest. Heat radiated to her face despite the chill that surrounded the room. Anxiety prickled underneath her skin like the desire to run as far and as fast as she could. 

It’d been a whole day since she last spoke to Cordelia. They’d stood in the foray of her Aunt Cecily’s home after having walked in on her brother ravishing Grace Blackthorn against a wall. It was not an image that would soon evaporate from her memories. A blind rage filled her so suddenly that she feared she might have blacked out for a moment. When she came to, the walls behind James and Grace started to ripple and crease as translucent figures emerged from the atrocious paisley wallpaper. Their fleshless hands reached for the disentangled couple when Cordelia wrapped her hand around Lucie’s wrist and the door closed between them. 

No one had seen anything. Not even her brother whose eyes were fastened on Cordelia. No one knew the dark depths to which her power could reach— not even herself. 

“I know you’re upset, darling,” said Tessa, from beside her daughter now, “but have faith that Magnus can remove the bracelet and we will figure this all out.”

“We don’t have time for faith and waiting.” Lucie dropped her arms back to her sides. “Cordelia is on her way to Idris and after what James did, she’s likely to rune her room with wards not even the Angel himself can get through.” 

James grimaced. Good, she thought. He deserves to be in pain.

“That doesn’t sound like Cordelia to me,” said Tessa and pressed a hand to Lucie’s cheek. “You’re warm darling, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.” Lucie insisted. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment I think I’ll pop into the kitchen for a glass of water while I have faith and wait.”

Tessa looked resigned. “Maybe someone should go with you.”

“It’s only down the hall,” said Lucie, skirting past her mother towards the now empty doorway. Matthew stood beside James, an arm around his shoulder, as the two of them studied the bracelet. Matthew said something in James’s ear that brought a small smile to her brother’s face. Whatever they had fought about only days ago, it seemed not to matter now. Or if it did, other things took precedence at the moment. 

Tears stung her eyes as she turned from the scene and exited the room.

The framed pictures on the hallway walls rattled with the thunder. Lucie stopped to readjust one that had tilted slightly of her sitting in a deep purple velvet arm chair studying a book. She secretly hated the likeness— not because it didn’t capture her respectfully— but because of the memory of it. She had to sit for nearly four hours listening to the artist drone on about his holiday in the Americas while her brother clashed swords with Matthew in the training room next door. 

“Chin up, dear.” Bridget would say from time to time. “You’ll look like a potato.”

Lucie left the photo off center and pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. To her relief, it was empty. Bridget was probably in her room reading or minding the Institute’s many chores. The kitchen always smelt like rosemary, freshly baked loaves, and exotic spices. It was heavenly and had an instant calming effect on Lucie. Memories of being a child and helping Bridget beat dough with her tiny fists until she was covered in flour from her mess of mousy brown curls to her apron came to mind. What she wouldn’t give to have a mound of dough to beat now.

Lucie walked around the center island, covered in a thin layer of flour, to the cupboard that housed the glassware and pulled a cup from the shelf. The pitcher of cold water sat beside the sink; she filled her cup to the brim and took a sip when a slight chill brushed against the exposed skin on the back of her neck. 

“Not now, Jessamine.” Lucie stared down into her reflection in the cup. The soft wispy hair around her face stood out in delicate curls she’d inherited from her father. A leaf sat tucked behind her ear. The coal she’d lined her eyes with had run making her eyes appear wide and fatigued. 

“Should I return later then?”

The cup fell from her hands and shattered at her feet, but she hardly seemed to notice. She spun around and faced the voice. “Jesse.”

A smile curved at the corner of his mouth. His straight black hair fell against his pale skin and swept across his green eyes that studied her from across the room.

“Where have you been?” The shattered glass crushed under her shoes as she moved forward to meet him. An uncontrollable desire to grab him around the shoulders and collapse into him made it difficult for her to breath evenly. She knew she couldn’t; that it wasn’t possible anymore, but reality rarely dissolved desire. 

“Tracking my fugitive mother,” said Jesse, his lips curled over his teeth. “I thought how hard could it possibly be to find a woman who still chooses to wear an enormous Victorian bird hat? Well, it turns out that it’s extremely difficult. If you needed me why didn’t you summon me sooner?”

Lucie averted her eyes to the ink stain marks on her fingers. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

After commanding him against his will to take her to James, she’d made a promise not only to him, but to herself to never command him to do anything again. That included summoning him to her even when she longed to just hear his voice. 

“It’s alright, Lucie.” Jesse stepped towards her but stopped. “Why did you summon me now?”

She looked up aghast. “I didn’t.”

“I heard you,” said Jesse, his expression softened. “It was faint but I heard you.”

Lucie shook her head. “Jesse, I promise you that I did not, or if I had, I hadn’t meant to.”

Jesse opened his mouth to reply when he looked to the kitchen doors. “Someone’s coming.” 

Lucie waited for the doors to swing open to reveal her mother, or father, or Matthew coming to retrieve her after being gone for too long. The air in front of the door rippled, like heat rising on pavement, until the form of a man materialized out of the haze. He was dressed in a rain soaked driver’s uniform, but his back was bent out of shape and his right leg curved out at an unnatural angle.

“Martin?” Lucie balked, recognizing the man that has driven her carriage since she was a child.

Lucie and Jesse both moved towards the ghost from either side of the room. The water that dripped from his coat splashed onto the floor and instantly dissolved into mist. 

“What’s happened to you?” Lucie demanded.

Martin looked between them as if he wasn’t all together sure how he’d come to be standing in front of them. “I was told by others that you would be able to see me; that you would be able to help.” He looked down at his hands. “I feel so strange. Everything and nothing at the same time.”

“Martin?” Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that he was dead; a ghost standing in her kitchen as he had all of her life. Always casually slipping in to steal a fresh biscuit behind Bridget’s back with only crumbs and Lucie’s giggles left to give him away. He would listen to her stories on long drives and praise her for her prose. He’d laugh in all the right places and made her promise to sign a copy of her first published work, so he could keep it on his mantle. “What happened to you?”

“I was taking Mr. and Miss Carstairs to the London Portal when we were attacked.”

“Cordelia.” Lucie rushed forward. “Where is Cordelia?”

“I don’t know—“ Martin’s body began to flicker and wain, “I don’t have much time. I’m not supposed to be here, you see, but I fear something terrible may have happened. Something truly, truly terrible.”

Lucie burst through the library doors, the hem of her dress wet from her cup of water and her face noticeably pale.

The previous occupants of the room where joined by three more: Christopher stood beside Magnus surveying the bracelet and Thomas towered next to Matthew. Anna Lightwood was holding Church like a baby beside the fireplace. They all looked to her as she entered.

“It’s Cordelia.” Lucie shouted, her hand gripped the wall to keep her stable. “She’s been attacked.”

The room fell silent except for the small yet noticeable ting of metal hitting stone. Lucie’s eyes, along with everyone else’s, looked down at James’s feet where the bracelet now rested half on the toe of his boot and half on the floor.