#i did draw this while listening to queen

[bugbugboy]

Bebop

I think he's grown quite fond of the bebop music Crowley loves so much (not as much as his angel tho)

Also check out this

[carewyncromwell]

"You want a ride to fame? I've got the fastest route! What's it gonna be? Are you in or out?"

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // Rakepick's outfit // Duncan's outfit // the more "court-worthy" outfit Duncan eventually bought for Jacob

x~x~x~x

The day Jacob Cromwell first arrived at the palace of Spades, he earned more than a few skeptical side-eyes. It was hard not to judge Jacob poorly, when he strolled inside dressed in clothes more appropriate to working in a mechanic's shop than in one of the most powerful royal courts in Cinderhaven. His black slacks and white shirt were clean and his boots were polished, yes, but he'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and the lone pop of color in Jacob's outfit -- his red suspenders -- were far too informal for such a setting. And yet Jacob walked with his head held high, almost arrogantly so, and went straight to work in his new workshop just down the hall from the office of his boss, the also very recently installed Jack of Spades, Duncan Ashe.

One of those most skeptical of Jacob -- at least at first -- was the Ace of Spades, Patricia Rakepick. She had been the one hold-out in selecting Duncan as Ulrich Scheller's replacement, citing his young age and subsequent lack of experience as rationale, but she'd ultimately been overruled. Not only did the King of Spades, Oskar Doyle, support Duncan's promotion, but the Queen of Spades had agreed with it too, before her tragic death. Even Ulrich Scheller himself was steadfast about Duncan being the one to take his old position.

"Mr. Ashe may be young, but he has discerning judgment -- far better than even I had at his age," the former Jack had said. "I've always valued his counsel as my subordinate, and I think the Court of Spades will come to appreciate that very same counsel once he takes my place."

Rakepick was not convinced. And, to be fair, it was hard for her not to feel some resentment at how seemingly easily it had been for Duncan Ashe to climb the ranks of power, while still fresh out of university. Perhaps it was dumb luck or the fact that Duncan was a young man with a good sense of dress from a reasonably well-respected family -- a more objective source might also have pointed out that Duncan was a far more likable person than Rakepick. Even despite his brusqueness, he could be witty and funny and yet also dedicated, down-to-earth, hard-working, and supportive. Duncan chased his ambitions with laser-precision, and yet he also never failed to take helpful input from the people around him. His pride was never so inflated that he couldn't take constructive criticism or admit when he was wrong, nor was it an obstacle to him making iron-clad friendships that gave him people in his corner who stuck with him solely out of sincere enjoyment for his company.

Rakepick's critical view of Duncan Ashe, however, completely justified her initial suspicion of Jacob Cromwell. This suspicion quickly flickered out, though, when she made a point to stop by the Jack's stooge's new workshop.

It was still quite early that morning — most of the King’s, Jack’s and Ace’s staffs had only just started their work for the day -- and yet that oddly chipper new "favorite" of the Jack of Spades' was already hard at work. He’d arrived a good half hour before his scheduled shift and used that extra time to hang up the blueprints for the couple dozen projects he'd already hashed out to show "Ashe" when he arrived later that morning. Then, at his formal start time, Jacob set about testing out his new power-saw (which the curly-haired young man had fanboyed over when he first saw it) to cut out a metal skeleton for his blimp prototype while also making some alterations to the blueprint on his desk.

By the time Rakepick dropped in, she found Jacob in the midst of a short "break" in his work, which entailed him adjusting the screws on a device set up under his desk.

Because Jacob was so preoccupied with what he was doing, he didn't get a good look at who had entered. And because he was so used to being an overworked part-time mechanic, cook, and librarian, his first instinct was not to stop what he was doing, introduce himself to the person, and ask how he could help them, but to greet the stranger cheerfully without even looking up from his work.

"Hey there! Come on in and look around if you’d like — I’ll be right with you!"

Rakepick cocked her eyebrows at the young man largely obscured under the desk, tightening the screws on what looked like the foot pedal of an old sewing machine. With a roll of her eyes, the Ace looked around — only to be startled by the prototype hanging over her head.

It resembled — for lack of a better term — a small mechanical dragon, with its “head” and “limbs” cut into halves hanging from separate wires. The wings were crafted out of aluminum, carved wood, and fabric, and the “body” was a balloon with multiple model stairways attached to it and aluminum “legs” hanging off of them and cut open to show off rooms on the inside. Even the head (adorned with two thick lightning rods as horns) was cut down the middle to show off a miniature cockpit on the inside.

Rakepick actually raised her gloved hand to shift the head around, her eyes widening with interest upon the intricately designed interior. It even had a miniature control panel with what looked like tiny fuses. When she tapped at one of the levers inside the model, two spotlights appeared out of the dragon’s mouth, casting a light down onto the multiple blueprints laid out on the desk.

"It’s a modified blimp," said Jacob’s voice from under the desk. "Those mouth lights would be hydroelectric-powered, via collected rainwater -- I originally thought of using solar power, but too much concentrated heat could run a risk of the thing catching fire, since the blimp itself would use hydrogen...much less rare alternative to helium…"

Rakepick raised her eyebrows. "Hydroelectric power, you say?"

Didn’t Duncan Ashe bring up something once about hydroelectric power in one of his meetings with Ulrich Scheller…?

"Yeah!" said Jacob cheerfully, still not looking up. "I brought it up to Ashe a while ago, shifting our main source of power away from coal and toward hydroelectric -- and he thinks it’d be a great way to save money for other projects. Plus water's much less hazardous to work with…though if coal can be mined more safely, I reckon it could still be used, just in smaller amounts…still need to make a prototype or two for that project…"

Then this person was where Duncan Ashe stole that idea from. Rakepick pursed her lips. It seemed this new Jack really was good at getting credit not rightfully owed him.

"But hey, there's only so much time in a day!" Jacob laughed to himself. "Only sent my letters of resignation in yesterday morning — didn't really have time to get all these ideas out of my head, before that…"

Rakepick glanced around. By her count, she could see five unfinished blueprints hung up on the wall, one more and several printed graphs on the work bench next to an old phonograph, and what looked like a row of small plant boxes with thermometers stuck in each one.

"…You did all this just in one day?" she asked.

"In half a day, a night, and some of this morning. But yeah."

This boy works hard, thought Rakepick.

"Though a few ideas I'd been ruminating on for a while, beforehand," Jacob pressed on. "I just hope it's enough…I've never worked as any kind of advisor before. Don't really know how much my work will be commission-based and how much will be free-lance…"

Rakepick crossed her arms, considering the young man's spade-gloved hands under the desk testing out the little sewing machine wheel he'd attached to the leg of his desk. Only when he turned it did Rakepick realize it was attached to the phonograph on the desk, and the wheel turning also made the crank handle rotate.

"I think that depends on whether that project on your desk is something the Jack commissioned," said Rakepick, "or if you came up with it for him by yourself."

Jacob laughed. "Oh, this? Nah, this is just a personal project...I wanted to use it back at the mechanic shop, originally, but I didn't have proper room for it...Wyn, my sister Carewyn, she let me keep it in pieces under our window, until I could figure out where to put it -- "

Once Jacob had finished his adjustments, he got up off the floor at last, sat down in his chair in front of the blueprint, and pressed the foot pedal. The pedal made the wheel rotate, which subsequently turned the crank on the phonograph so that it could play the record set on it.

"When the red, red robin comes bob-bob-bobbin' along...along... There'll be no more sobbin' when he starts throbbin' his old sweet song..."

Jacob's almond-shaped blue eyes lit up in delight seeing his invention working right, and he cheerfully sing along to the next few lines.

"Wake up -- wake up, you sleepy head! Get up -- get up, get out of bed! Cheer up -- cheer up, the sun is red! Live, love, laugh, and be happy..."

Rakepick's eyes trailed over the modified phonograph, along the careful metal-work attaching the disparate pieces and the screws securing them to the work bench. All this effort and inventiveness, for something this boy wasn't intending to get any reward for from his employer...

Rakepick's lips curled up in a very slight smirk. She had to admit -- she was impressed.

Still pedaling away to play the song on the record, Jacob finally looked up at the person who'd entered his workshop with a smile. That smile dimmed, though, when he realized just who he was talking to.

"Oh," said Jacob, startled. His foot stopped pedaling as his eyes flitted quickly to the sword at Rakepick's side and the stylized silver-white pauldrons on her shoulders. "Uh...you with the military or something?"

Rakepick smirked. "'Or something.' Patricia Rakepick -- Ace of Spades. And you'd be Jacob Cromwell, of course."

"Uh -- yeah." Jacob looked sheepish.

Rakepick's smirk widened a bit. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Sorry -- I didn't think anyone outside of Ashe's people would be interested in any of this," said Jacob, sounding slightly abashed as he crossed one leg across his lap. "I mean, this stuff's really more for interior projects -- nothing that fancy..."

"You sell yourself short, Master Cromwell," said Rakepick. She once again indicated the prototype of the blimp hanging from the ceiling. "Frankly I'd say with a brain like yours, you could make a rather fine Jack yourself, some day."

Jacob's blue eyes went very wide. Then, almost immediately, his expression gained a much darker look -- one that swept through offense and disgust so thoroughly that it was close to revulsion.

"Uh -- no," he said incredibly bluntly. "Ashe is the Jack."

"I never said he wasn't," said Rakepick, "merely that you're more than qualified for such a position. More qualified than many candidates I could envision as Jack...or King, for that matter..."

"I wouldn't want the post, in any case," Jacob cut her off. "I'm not here to do Ashe's job, or the King's."

So this boy had no ambition in that direction? That was reassuring, to Rakepick.

"Good to hear it," said the Ace, before she added a bit more lowly, "...Though it occurs to me that may be why you were brought here in the first place."

Jacob's eyebrows furrowed. Rakepick folded her arms behind her back as she considered him.

"Mr. Ashe brought up your ideas to the rest of court, long before your arrival," she said grimly. "He's glided to where he is partly on the back of your creativity -- is it so surprising that he'd want to keep leeching off of your efforts and use them to earn further prestige for himself?"

Rakepick's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Your talents are far too impressive for you not to get full credit for them, Master Cromwell. I can think of quite a few projects outside of the Jack's domain that could use a mind like yours -- ones that would pay very well and offer further rewards, for your efforts."

Jacob, however, had already closed himself off visibly -- he slouched back in his chair and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

"No offense, Madam Ace, but I'm not here for money or 'prestige' or whatever. I don't give a damn about politics -- I'm here because I want to do something useful, not prance around like a show horse, schmoozing with people. The only power I care about is the power in my brain and in my own two hands -- and I intend to use them to work really hard and make things that solve real problems. I want to help Ashe and the Country of Spades, however I can."

Rakepick's brows raised. This boy wasn't interested in financial reward either? A truly rare breed, to find at court.

"...That's quite noble of you, Master Cromwell," she said, and she meant it. "And it's for that reason that my offer still stands. If you wish so much to be of use, your talent and creativity would be incredibly useful, in giving the army the means to protect the Country of Spades. Your blimp prototype, for instance -- I imagine it could be a perfect flagship, with some minor alterations and a proper set of guns -- "

"Guns?" Jacob repeated, appalled. "Madam, the blimp of that prototype is full of hydrogen. Anything using gunpowder could risk setting the whole thing ablaze. That flying machine is strictly meant for long-distance transport, to reduce travel time and be more resilient to bad weather..."

"A very good idea, when our King has to travel frequently to other parts of Cinderhaven."

The stylishly dressed Jack of Spades had materialized seemingly out of nowhere and walked up behind Jacob's chair, bringing his hand onto his subordinate's shoulder. Jacob looked up at him, and his expression immediately brightened.

"Ashe!"

"I'm flattered that you approve of my staff appointments, Madam Ace," said Duncan, though his voice betrayed a notable edge, "but as you might've noticed, Jacob has quite a few projects already in the works for his place here, working for me. I'm afraid any commissions you might wish to offer him will have to wait."

Rakepick pursed her lips. She got the feeling that Duncan had overheard a lot more of her and Jacob's conversation than he would've admitted -- he was more than clever enough to eavesdrop for important information before making himself known.

"Perhaps," she granted. She turned on her heel, but paused long enough to shoot a cold smile over her shoulder at Duncan. "But don't hoard him away all for yourself, Mr. Ashe. A young man of talent like Master Cromwell could change the world, so long as he has the freedom to chase his own success."

Duncan clenched his jaw as the Ace strolled off.

"Don't hoard him away" -- you dodgy geebag, if you even think of trying to snatch Jacob up for yourself -- !

"What a weird woman."

Duncan looked at Jacob, startled, to see the man frowning very deeply at Rakepick's retreating back.

"She acts like she's complimenting you, and then she says things that make absolutely no sense," Jacob muttered irritably. "'So long as he has the freedom to chase his own success' -- as if I somehow don't? And insinuating that I'm here to do your job...I'm a technology guy, I'm not here to waste time kissing up to people..."

"Good to know you think I'm wasting time," Duncan said very dryly.

Jacob looked sideswiped. "Huh? What, no -- I didn't say that! I said it'd be a waste of time for me to do that..."

"Of course it would -- I'm already doing it," Duncan cut him off smoothly with a wry smile.

His smile then faded as his face grew more serious.

"...Jacob...what Rakepick said...it's not true, not a bit of it. Of course, yes, I did share your ideas at court -- but I did not take credit for them...I told the former Jack they were yours. And I didn't want you here so you could do my work for me or make me look better. I wanted you here because...well, your ideas are useful, and I..."

I want you around. I want you around all the time, not just at that old tavern every Tuesday and Thursday...

Duncan swallowed, his dark eyes flitting down to Jacob's lips and back up into his blue eyes.

"...I do...want you to succeed. I want your work to be appreciated. All of it -- whether it's for me or not."

Jacob grinned. It made his blue eyes sparkle, even though his face lacked any light of revelation about the unspoken sentiment in Duncan's posture.

"I know, Ashe," he said. "And that's all I want, really, to know my work means something. Sure, the paycheck's great -- " he gave a cheekier grin, " -- makes it easier for me to support myself, Wyn, and Mum, you know...but I took the job because you wanted my help, needed my help. And well, you know me...I like to help people. Especially the ones I care about."

Duncan tried very hard to bite back the flush rising in his cheeks. Somehow Jacob completely missed it, though, because his focus was drawn to the blueprint he'd left on his desk.

"Speaking of which!" he said brightly. He snatched up the blueprint and held it up for Duncan to see. "I sketched out a concept for a new hydroelectric generator, for your upcoming meeting with the King of Spades! I suggested several dimension sizes, since I wasn't sure how big the boiler here is, but I thought the palace would be a good place to test its efficiency and ability to heat multiple levels..."

Duncan looked it over and nodded in approval.

"Not bad," he said, and his lips unfurled in a more mischievous smile. "I think the King and the rest of the court will be very impressed with it, and you, when you accompany me to the meeting."

Jacob was taken aback. "Wha -- ? You want me to -- ?"

"Yes -- but only after I take you shopping for some new clothes. I'm not introducing you to Oskar Doyle in red suspenders."

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[luvsupa]

“PRINCE GOJO?!”

tags: fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to lovers (eventually), slow burn, bully!gojo, angst, royalty, lots of tension, smut-ish, kissing, gojos very cocky, there will be multiple parts to this! mdni.

w.c: 2.7k (sorry)

a/n: THANK U ALL FOR THE SUPPORT!! I had to make a different blog bc my old one @luvsupas was not working :(( so this is my new blog !! (I’ll be reposting the sukuna fics soon)

part 2!

the grand halls of the gojo estate echoed with the quiet elegance of centuries-old tradition. white and blue hues filled the castle, weaving through the curtains and tapestries. each door bore the rich blues of the family crest with gold accents.

this year, the gojos have invited your family to spend the season at the estate—a common occurrence given the close relationship between your families. however, this is the first time they have personally invited you. usually, your parents would spend the warm season at the gojo palace while you remained in your quarters, convincing them each year that you had more important activities to tend to. little did they know of your personal dislike for gojo satoru.

growing up, you and satoru never got along. he always belittled you and excluded you from activities. as you both reached your mid-teens, your bickering became more extreme. he would embarrass you during family dinners and important gatherings. initially, you thought he might have feelings for you until he and his friends humiliated you with a fake confession. just as he leaned in to kiss you, you found yourself pushed into the garden pool, their laughter echoing around you. that day hurt more than any argument you had ever had with him. you felt a sense of freedom when satoru and his family moved estates to a bigger palace, as if the old one wasn’t big enough.

walking behind your parents, you are stopped by the guards who open the double doors to the drawing room. inside, you see satoru’s parents already engaged in conversation, which halts as the doors open. “your majesties,” your parents say as you all bow slightly in respect.

“please, no need for formality!” the queen, satoru’s mother, says, embracing you in a warm hug. her bright blue eyes catch your attention, her royal blue gown making the color pop, similar to satoru’s eyes.

soon, the king, satoru’s father, and your father are deep in their own conversation, while your mother and satoru’s mother catch up, leaving you alone in the gigantic room, observing and listening. you begin to wonder where satoru would be—

“you’ve changed since i last saw you! adulthood suits you well,” satoru’s mother compliments your appearance, interrupting your thoughts. “thank you, your majesty,” you respond, quickly apologizing for the formality at her glare.

“satoru will attend tomorrow’s gala,” she continues, and your ears perk up at his name. “he’s been studying abroad, and it’s perfect timing for his return!” the queen informs you. how did she know you were curious about his whereabouts?

as the conversation winds down, the king informs you all that your rooms are prepared, allowing you to get comfortable in your temporary home.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as night falls and the estate quiets down, you busy yourself unpacking, trying to make your new room feel like your own.

just as you’re almost finished, the grand doors slam, followed by cheers and applause. did i miss the gala? you hurry out of your room, following the noise to the grand staircase. from the top, you see gojo’s parents, guards, and servants clapping—there he is, his tall figure embracing his mother and father, basking in their affection.

quickly and quietly, you retreat, hoping to avoid any interaction with gojo. but on your way back to your room, you bump into your parents. “oh, there you are, darling. we were just looking for you to welcome satoru home!” your mother says, guiding you down the stairs despite your resistance. “i can’t—i’m not dressed in formal attire,” you protest, glancing down at your pajama gown. “nonsense, dear. wear my robe. you must greet him,” your mother insists, wrapping her silk golden robe around you as you descend the steps.

you curse yourself for leaving your room. this cannot be happening. “our little prince, we’ve missed you!” your mother exclaims, nudging you towards satoru. he greets your parents warmly, but when his eyes land on you, his demeanor shifts. he ignores you at first, addressing your parents with practiced charm.

you stand there, awkward and tense, as the one person you despise charms your parents. suddenly, he grabs your hand, his touch both surprising and unwelcome. “it’s been a while, hasn’t it, my lady,” he says with a disingenuous smile, softly kissing your hand. you stand there, slightly pouting, stunned by his audacity. then he leans in, his breath warm against your ear, “did you want me to kiss that pout like before, hmm?” his tone is condescending, followed by a dark chuckle.

you gasp as embarrassment floods your senses, old humiliations resurfacing. you shove him away, and he stumbles back, drawing your mother’s attention. she starts to scold you, but he intervenes smoothly. “don’t worry, it was a playful shove, wasn’t it, my lady?” his blue eyes lock onto yours, and you feel the weight of everyone’s gaze. “i’m sorry, i don’t feel well. goodnight,” you manage to say, rushing up the stairs and into your room, praying for the season to end quickly so you can escape his presence.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as the morning light floods the room, you’re met with bright sun rays directly in your eyes, eliciting a groan of distress. the thought of last night’s events churns your stomach in embarrassment. pushing aside the memories, you get dressed for breakfast to join the mothers calm breakfast outside.

approaching your mother and gojo’s mother, they turn their attention to you, their expressions lighting up with amusement and boosting your ego.

“how beautiful! It’s delightful to have breakfast with you two!” gojo’s mother remarks, her eyes shifting between you and behind your figure. two? your smile fades as you turn to see satoru standing behind you—ego crushed. walking together to the dining table, you take your seats across from each other. how much worse can this morning get?

“we were just discussing the gala happening tonight. this will be good upon arrival, ‘toru,” his mother explains. tou notice his visible annoyance at the nickname. he doesn’t like being called ‘toru—noted. you sit in silence, quietly eating the food prepared by the hardworking chefs. just as you’re enjoying your meal, you hear an obnoxious squeal, “my prince! you’re finally back!” all four of you turn towards the noise. a beautiful tanned skinned woman draped in a lilac gown, runs towards your table as her maid struggles to keep up.

you watch her movements, as she runs straight to satoru, tears filling her eyes. she jumps into his lap, smothering him with kisses. the entire scene makes you wish you had never attended. without any shame, they engage in a heated make-out session in front of everyone. satoru opens his eyes to see your visible shock as he smiles into the kiss, while still maintaining eye contact with you.

the queen coughs, breaking the moment. the unknown woman apologizes to the queen without looking, maintaining her gaze on satoru. “ruru, I missed you so much! we should go up to your quarters soon,” she whispers, but unfortunately, you hear. “ayana, that’s enough. my mother was discussing the gala tonight,” satoru replies, disregarding her request as she pouts. so that’s her name.

“hello, your majesty. I apologize for my behavior; I haven’t seen satoru in so long!” ayana formally apologizes to the queen and everyone who had to witness that display. gojo adjusts her position, propping her up on his lap with her back against his chest. as gojo’s mother looks annoyed from the interruption, but she continues where she left off.

as breakfast continues, you try to focus on the discussion about the ball, but it’s impossible to ignore the tension radiating from across the table. satoru’s voice is low, murmuring something to ayana that makes her giggle. your curiosity piqued, you glance up- and nearly choke on your food.

satorus hand is shamelessly sliding up ayana’s thigh, disappearing beneath her dress. her breath hitches, a soft gasp escaping her lips but her eyes are locked onto you. he’s doing this on purpose, you realize. the sick twist in your stomach intensifying. he continues fingering her under the table as she’s holding back from releasing a loud moan, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

your heart pounds in your chest as he continues his sinful acts publicly. you abrubtly push your chair back, catching the attention from everyone as you quickly excuse yourself, standing up on shaky legs. satorus eyes follow you, a triumphant gleam as ayana clings to him, her giggles haunting you as it echos in your ears.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you’re getting ready for the long-awaited ball, adorned in a gown that perfectly complements your skin tone. as you make your way to the drawing room, you realize you're ready before anyone else, which allows you to kill time and explore the estate. eventually, you find yourself in the grand library, which is far larger than you anticipated. a beautiful fireplace is placed near a cluster of chairs, offering a cozy spot for reading. browsing the bookshelves, you find yourself drawn to scientific novels that capture your interest.

“library’s not your usual scene, sweetheart. did you get lost on the way to the ballroom, or are you trying to impress me with your newfound scholarly interest?”

you quickly turn around at the voice. great. “trying to impress you? I have better things to do than seek validation from someone like you,” you spit back. he steps closer to you, and you already hate the proximity between you two.

“feisty, aren’t we?” he continues to walk closer, both of you now toe-to-toe as you look up at him, his towering presence looming over you. “you’re still the same girl I used to taunt,” he mocks with a fake pout, his voice dripping in condescension.

he closes the space between you, his warmth radiating off his body as you inhale his rich, masculine scent. “used to follow me around like a lost puppy—always trailing around, desperate for my attention. how pathetic.”

your jaw clenches with frustration, but you refuse to show him how much his words affect you. “maybe I did back then,” you retort, your tone laced with defiance. “but that was long ago. I see you exactly for who you are, satoru—someone who gets off on belittling others.”

his laughter rings out, grating on your nerves. he leans in, your faces dangerously close, your lips almost touching. “am I now?” he smirks, a look you want to slap off his face. “but deep down, you still crave my attention, don’t you? admit it, darling.”

his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, and you’re betraying yourself- slowly leaning in to kiss someone you so desperately hate—

“ruru! where are you? I hope you’re dressed!”

you’re the first to move back, breaking whatever spell he had you under. you look up at him in fear, while he looks at you with amusement. he has you wrapped around his finger, and you both know it. with a final smirk, he leaves to find ayana, leaving you alone in the library with so much to process.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as you composed yourself and caught a breather, you exited the library and made your way to the ball room. the grand space was adorned with vintage antiques, paintings, a live orchestra, and all the opulence one would expect from a gojo event. the ballroom teemed with more people than you anticipated, their gowns and suits a beautiful contrast against the castle backdrop.

feeling nervous, you scanned the room, seeing your parents conversing with the king and queen. the refreshment bar catches your attention and make your way to the bar as you help yourself to a cool drink. suddenly, you felt a presence too close for comfort behind you. turning, you see ayana.

“you’re ruru’s friend, right?” she said, eyeing you up and down.

“ehh, I wouldn’t really say—" you began, but she cut you off.

“well, he’s told me so much about you! especially before he started his studies!” she informed you, causing your heart to skip a beat. he talks about me? “ahh good things I hope,” you reply with an awkward chuckle at the end.

“good? oh no, honey! he was always telling us how obnoxious you were, driven by your hopeless feelings for him,” she continued with a smirk.

oh.

“I’m very amazed at how you still came to see him despite your little feelings. after all, him and I are together,” she said, trying to flaunt her status. your mood shifted, and the desire to leave resurfaced. she rambled on, recounting embarrassing moments you wished were never brought up, as you zoned out of her relentless gossip. suddenly, your conversation was abruptly interrupted. finally.

“ladies and gentlemen,” one of the guards loudly caught everyone’s attention, silencing the room. “welcome back your prince, gojo satoru.”

as corny as it could get, gojo walked in with full confidence, the center of attention as the room filled with cheers and clapped for his arrival. internally scoffing, you discreetly made your way to the doors leading to one of the gardens, exiting the ballroom to avoid his speech.

taking in the scenery of the fountain and lush greenery, the orchestra continued playing, indicating gojo had finished his welcome speech. “not interested in what I have to say?” an annoying voice pierced through from your peripheral vision. you were so fed up with the past events that you just stared at him in annoyance.

“what troubles you, darling? do you seek my attention now?” his voice dripped with a sly undertone, causing your jaw to clench in frustration.

“I’ll see you inside, prince gojo,” you replied through gritted teeth, your tone dripping with bitterness. with a curt nod, you turned away, walking back to the ballroom, leaving gojo stunned for the first time—not by you leaving him alone, but by addressing him with such formality. it was always satoru.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

part 2!

[drexee]

And finally, Mikey!!!

Bayverse!Mikey x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, spelling maybe?

Raph | Leo | Donnie

Mikey Sleep HCs

Michelangelo used to have a twin bed, actually! It really didn’t bother him! He would just face plant into the mattress and knock out

fun fact: that was the same bed he’d had since he was little! Yes, the bunk.

But it wasn’t until you came along that he thought maaaaaybe he should get a bigger bed😭

He’s rolled off the side one too many times when you slept in the same bed together 🥲

Now he has a queen sized bed! Very plush, you sink right in

He has a comfortable and large blanket, it’s tattered at the edges but, “It’s well loved! It adds character ;)”

Mikey has a LOT of pillows on his bed. And one (1) body pillow he did not nab from Donnie’s room

Also has clothes on his bed, clothes he’s been meaning to fold and put away, but he just… never got around to it

Honestly, when you first walked in, you didn’t even know he had a bed

But it’s there, trust

He’ll knock some off and boom! A bed!

He. Snores. LOUD.

like, hONK shooo HOONNK mimimimi 😪

If it weren’t for those thick cement walls, you’d be able to hear him clear across the lair!

But it mellows out the deeper he goes into sleep

Now, about the sleeping positions

He has no favorite!

if you’re in bed with him, he’s happy 🥹

Sometimes Michelangelo will have you wrapped up in his arms, other times he’ll be laying on his back (propped with a few pillows) and have you up against his side

It depends on how he’s feeling that night

But you always wake up with at least one of his limbs draped over you

If it’s been a long day, he’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beat

It gives him a chance to rest his eyes and his very busy brain for a bit, allowing himself to just focus on you and clear out everything else

Your fingers would draw lazy circles on the back of his head, and across his neck, over his carapace, down his shoulders and lightly scratch his jaw

Maybe even kiss his forehead too?

He’s Swooning, oh my god

He loves it

Mikey will be chirping and churring so much he’s practically vibrating

He’d also be drawing pictures with his hands over your skin, tracing your shape and committing it to his memory

He’d see the goosebumps that follow his fingers and he would go back and trace over them, slower

Mikey loves loves LOVES your voice, so he’ll ask you to talk to him while he’s cuddled up with you

Pillow talk is a big thing for him, from various topics to deep conversations to cracked out stories that have you both gasping and dying with laughter

And honestly the raw emotions that come out in the dead of night? When it’s just you and him bundled up together sharing every random thought that comes to mind until one of you drifts to sleep?

That’s what he lives for

It’s intimate in a way that nothing else could ever replicate

In the mornings, he will lay onto top of you

Like, he will CRUSH you. Lovingly. 😌

He wants to be close to you!! And soak up all your sunshine!!!

and he’s not above peppering every inch of you with as many kisses as he can

You have to literally shove him off of you to get him to stop😭

Even then, Mikey will grab your arm (or whatever you used you get him away) and start kissing that

And once you’re properly awake, he’ll have you two head over to the kitchen to have some breakfast together

Voila!! That’s all four! Sorry these took a bit! I have like, a full time job and I’m in school, and honestly only get these ideas when I’m right about to fall asleep 😭

Anyways! Hope you enjoyed! Til next time!

[shesmore-shoebill]

braindump of additional smosh vs zombies thoughts after the final episode:

In general, @ the players. Everyone did SO fucking good, okay. All of them I think hit a perfect blend of committing to the characters, trying to make smart choices, but also not getting so attached to keeping their characters alive that they weren't willing to take big swings. Shayne, whose character died TWICE. Was definitely not too precious about keeping his character alive, but like. WOW Courtney Amanda and Spencer all really were unafraid to both try to give their characters growth and change while still leaning into character-appropriate moves.

Amanda especially did such a good fucking job of like. Making big swings that made sense. As Gracie's worms progressed, Amanda actively gave Gracie character growth and depth even while committing to the comedy and horror of the worm infections. Shes so unafraid of committing to the character both comedically and narratively, its a fucking gift.

And of course, Brodie's character being hilarious until the very end coupled with the sacrifice.....

It was VERY satisfying to see Savannah full of (justified) rage throughout the last episode. Aware that she's not being treated well, aware that she's saving everyone's asses and is hands down the most capable person there. And ANGRY about it.

But even when she is angry. She is loyal. She sees a worm under Gracie's skin and- walks away, but doesn't leave, doesn't reveal it. She recieves the key and rages about being left- but still chooses to go after her. She's furious, but still, goes to the research area to get Gracie the cure. She is furuous, she knows she deserves better, she knows how capable she is now. And still she chooses. Gracie. And if that's not wildly codependent pretty toxic vaguely homoerotic gay girlie bffism idk what is.

Also Savannah fucking COOL AS SHIT in this episode. Hello. Action hero shit. Evades the blue worms. Gets the cures. Cures HERSELF. Queen shit.

Gracie's aggressive dedication to her father was obvs played up for comedy but can be so compelling if taken seriously. She doesn't even know how to conceptualize disagreeing with him. She's sure he'll keep her safe and to an extent she's RIGHT. He will. But only her. And in this world that means something different. Unquestioningly trusting him, unquestionably listening to him means something more. Her father asks her to kill Brodie and she basically does. Because she loves Brodie but loves her father more.

(And then they get there, and her father asks her to get rid of Savannah and Gracie doesn't. She doesn't want to.

Actually that alone has me unwell, Gracie tries to kill Brodie at her dad's request and then draws the line at Savannah. yk? yk? yk?)

Its so compelling to have Gracie as a character understand empathy and sacrifice and start unlearning her selfishness in the same moments that she is being devoured by worms and losing her control and humanity. Its VERY compelling. She is finally trying to look inward a bit, and its when being devoured from the inside out. The scene of her in the bathroom, turned away from Brodie, telling him to leave while half her face writhes with worms. She is trying to be better and probably won't survive long enough to actually do it.

Its also very comedic of like. She got some worms that ate her brain a little bit and not only is she not that much worse off, shes actually better as a person. Character development brainworms. Its kind of hilarious.

Brodie's fascination with and love for and dedication to Gracie despite her being terrible to him generally and their relationship being so new was both hilarious and touching in the way of classic horror/apocalypse/action movies. He's at the top of the bunker going "Well i gotta go get my gf!!!!" and its toxic and hilarious and like. vaguely sweet in the tropey movie way. Same thing with the love confession. And same thing with the heroic sacrifice. It was ridiculous, hilarious, dramatic, sincere, and deeply genre-appropriate. Fantastic way to play a romance in this genre with character who are generally pretty unpleasant and are only getting an ounce of growth in, truly, the 11th hour.

And honestly I was obsessed with the dynamic at the end. It was really "Gracie, her boyfriend Brodie, and Gracie's Savannah". No questions about it. It didnt even feel like Savannah would have been thirdwheeling it was just . Of course. Brodie loves Gracie. Gracie loves Brodie. Savannah loves/is devoted to Gracie, until the end. Gracie loves/is dependent on Savannah. Until the end. Obsessed with this. Obsessed.

Gracie saying to Savannah: "thank you for saving my life." Savannah saying: "Anytime." wow.

I probably need to write a separate post about Savannah/Gracie if I want to take their dynamic seriously actually. Its so compelling.

Savannah and Gracie in a nearly-empty shuttle shooting towards the moon together while Earth succumbs to manmade worm apocalypse is not a happy ending, but it also felt so right for both the genre and these trashfires of protagonists. They were all a little self absorbed and rash and foolish. Going to the moon doesn't actually solve any of the issues. The world is still dying by worm. Gracie's father is furious. I don't think Savannah or Gracie know how to fly a ship, much less survive on one? Or the moon. They're probably fucked.

But in this kind of scenario that's as good of an ending as youll get. And if nothing else, wow what a win for codependent toxic yuri-ism. Gracie finally realizing how valuable Savannah is, how much she loves her friends and how valuable it is that they love her- loved her. Savannah coming into her own confidence and still choosing Gracie as her priority- but consciously making that choice. Alone in a shuttle to the moon while the world dies. fucked up. very fun. veeery fun.

[coconut-dreamz]

king of my heart

"the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" || tom blyth x singer!reader

a/n: inspired by ts once again !!!

i'm perfectly fine, i live on my own i made up my mind, i'm better off bein' alone

you had spent the last few years being single and throwing yourself into your work. that was evident through the sheer amount of music you'd made in the last five years and the world tours you'd gone on.

after your messy break up a few years ago, you'd sworn off love and relationships lately. though, they did make great inspiration for music. but throwing yourself into your work for the past three years had consequences. you were feeling burnt out after your latest world tour and your manager had strongly urged you to take a break for awhile. not to mention you were in a rut. you hadn't wrote a single song in months. nothing inspired you, all of the songs you tried to write sounded wrong. 

we met a few weeks ago now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes

rachel was a good friend of yours, you had met on at a red carpet once and became fast friends. she had recently finished up filming for a project and was in new york. she wanted to meet up with you and introduce you to her cast mates. 

that's when you met tom. there was an instant attraction between you two, there was no doubt about it. everyone in the room could feel it. tom, luckily, also lived in new york. but he lived in brooklyn while you lived in manhattan. but he was constantly calling you, asking you to meet up or come over and hang out. nearly every day he was free he'd call you up. 

salute to me, i'm your american queen and you move to me like i'm a motown beat and we rule the kingdom inside my room

you two were just hanging out in your bedroom, listening to your vinyl records. stand by me started playing, softly filling the room. "dance with me," tom stands, offering his hand to you. you just smile and agree, standing up. his arm snakes around your waist as your hand makes its way to his shoulder. you lay your head on his chest as you two sway to the music.

"this is nice," you whisper out as the song ends. "i like spending time with you. hours feel like minutes here," he responds as he spins you around, causing you to erupt in giggles at his antics. you continue to dance around the room until the sun sets behind you, lost in your own world with tom. when you were with him, everything else melted into the background. it was like the only thing in focus was tom. 

'cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite where you do

you had reluctantly agreed to a date with someone one of your model friends had set you up with. he picked you up from your apartment in his flashy car, drawing attention to you two from everyone around you. you weren't quite used to all this attention, you had been a lot more private in recent years. 

the date was absolutely terrible. he took you to some upscale restaurant that served expensive dishes that were only 1-2 bites each. as he drove you back to your place, all you could think of was how you wish you'd just stayed home and gotten take out with tom. you'd be a lot less hungry and a lot more happy if you'd done so.

after being dropped off, you texted gigi that you're never letting her set you up again. after texting her, you called tom. he picked up almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you. "that was the worst date ever!" you shout, once the call connects. all you hear is his melodic laugh in response. "i wish i would've just stayed home and gotten take out. i'm starving. the restaurant we went to didn't fill me at all!”

"how about i come over and pick up something up on the way there? we can watch a movie or two and you can tell me more about how much of a disaster it was." you smile at his suggestion. "that sounds great, i'll see you soon?" you answer, happily. "see you soon, love." he hangs up. you smile, couldn't wait.

and all at once, you are the one i have been waiting for king of my heart, body and soul

being with tom felt easy. you didn't realize it at first, but then all of a sudden he was embedded in every part of your life. being with him was as easy as breathing. it came naturally to the two of you. he had somehow snuck in and captured your heart. 

"i love you," you whisper out as the two of you stare up at the stars. you'd decided to go on a camping trip upstate. you were laying on a blanket, cuddling. it just felt right with him. nothing was ever forced. it was simple. 

tom sits up abruptly at your words, looking into your eyes "do you mean it?" he asks, unsure. "you're the king of my heart, body and soul." you state, staring back at him. a huge grin making its way onto his face. "i love you, i have for awhile. i was just too scared to say it first. i wasn't sure if you felt the same." he admits, a little shy. 

"you are my everything. there's nothing i wouldn't do for you." you admit to him, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on his lips. you feel him smile into the kiss as he deepens it, pushing you to lay on the blanket and crawling on top of you. 

late in the night, the city's asleep your love is a secret i'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

"shhh, don't be so loud! it's like 3am." you whisper shout at tom as you two walk through london. it was a stunning city, even more so with him by your side. "i love this woman!!!! i'm so glad she's mine!!!" he shouts into the open air, spinning in circles and laughing. his silliness causes you to laugh at him, playfully slapping him on the chest, trying to get him to shut up. 

tomorrow was the world premiere of the ballad of songbirds and snakes. you were so excited for him and the rest of the cast, but there was a selfish part of you that wanted to keep him to yourself. you didn't want him to become the internet's boyfriend or the 'white boy of the month'. you wanted to keep your love a secret from the world.

you wanted to shield the budding love from the cruelty of not only the world, but the tabloids. the press had ruined your previous relationships, breaking the trust you'd previously shared because of false rumors and speculations. you know tom wasn't like that, but you didn't want to be proved wrong. you just wanted to hold onto this secret for a little longer.

change my priorities the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

some people may have labeled you as materialistic in the past, your countless new shoes and outfits adding fuel to the fire. but, as of late, your priorities had changed. you no longer cared for material goods, the only thing you desired was tom. everything about tom, you wanted. his hugs, his kisses, and especially his love for you. his love would be worth more than anything money could buy you. 

is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending

shortly after meeting tom, you were reinvigorated. he was your muse. he mended your heart and gave you inspiration to write once again. no longer were you writing sad songs about ended relationships, but songs confessing your love to him. by the time you had known him for six months, you'd already written enough songs for two 20 song albums and a few extra for deluxe editions.

the more time you spent with him, the more songs you were inspired to write because of him. your agent had wanted to kiss him on the mouth personally for the amount of songs he had inspired you to write after over a year of nothing. your fans would be thrilled to hear you'd be releasing new music after three years of nothing.

"what are you doing there, darling?" tom walks into your office as you play around on the piano and write down the notes you were playing. "just composing a new song. i was inspired during our date last night. i just finished writing the lyrics and now i'm trying to come up with the melody." you answer him, not looking up from the notebook. his eyes widen at your words. "you wrote the lyrics already?" he asks surprised. 

you look up from you notebook at this "of course i did, you're my muse. i've completed two albums dedicated to you now." you answer him and continue playing, trying to find the right notes. "you what?" he asks, unaware of his influence on your creativity. you stop playing at this and stand up to face him. "from the moment i have met you, i have written and composed exactly 47 and a half songs. you are my muse, tom blyth. you occupy my mind at all times. i love you" you confess to him with a grin. "my god, i love you." he captures your lips in a searing kiss. he truly was the king of your heart.

[rip-quizilla]

Meet the Teacher

Pairing: Modern!Older!Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Summary: Eddie meets his daughter's new kindergarten teacher and he's pretty sure you're his wet dream come to life. AKA: single dad!Eddie fantasizes about you while he jerks off.

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, masturbation, implied road head, pervert!Eddie, switch!Eddie (sort of)

A/N: She's a short queen, standing just over 2k words tall- barely more than a blurb. Quick 'lil read, but I hope y'all enjoy her ❤️

🍎🍎🍎

Eddie needed to calm down.

This wasn’t the time for him to be straining against his jeans, getting hot and bothered at seven o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Wasn’t the place. Hell, given his history with school in general, he should feel uncomfortable as fuck in all sorts of other ways, sitting in a classroom for the first time in over a decade. The last time Eddie remembered being happy to be in a classroom was Miss Adami’s fifth grade class. She had always been nice to him. 

Eddie wouldn’t mind if this teacher were nice to him…

Fucking. Stop. You horny bastard. Eddie chided himself mentally, Get it together, Munson.

He crossed his leg over the opposite knee, willing his half-mast dick to soften the fuck down, and fast. Eddie did his best not to draw attention to himself as he readjusted his position in the too-small plastic chair, scooted about a foot away from the hilariously low table he was currently sitting by. 

He focused his gaze on Raven, his daughter, who sat criss-cross-applesauce on the rainbow-colored rug at the front of the classroom. Her big brown eyes were wide, rapt as she watched her new teacher leading her and all the other five-year-olds in a song that required various hand motions and claps and whatnot. Eddie couldn’t help but grin fondly at the little tyke as she listened intently to every direction, determined to do every little thing her teacher asked of her without a single flaw. 

The only problem was that no matter how cute his daughter was, no matter how much Eddie tried desperately to control himself, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you.

He knew schools were loosening up on rules and regulations and all that- more and more school districts now allowed teachers to dye their hair unconventional colors, show tattoos, have more than just their earlobes pierced, blah blah blah…

But he hadn’t expected his daughter’s kindergarten teacher to look this fucking hot. 

You were something straight out of his fantasies. Like some hybrid rockabilly/alt girl/teacher hybrid, with hair that shone such a vibrant red that he knew there was no way it was natural. Fine by him. Tattooed sleeves of black-inked flowers crawled up your arms, showcasing some of the most beautiful linework and shading that Eddie had ever seen. His eyes followed the vines without his permission, taking account of the foxglove at your right forearm, the hyacinth on your left elbow, the cluster of lilacs that peeked out of the capsleeve on your shoulder. 

And oh, god, he couldn’t look at the snake that coiled around your knee. He hadn’t seen it at first, but when you’d sat down in your chair at the front of the classroom, your dress had crept up your lower thigh, allowing the snake to slither into view, and fuck, Eddie wasn’t sure he’d be able to pay much attention to whatever information you’d be delivering that he probably needed to know. All he could hope was that you’d been considerate enough to print out any necessary information so he could read it later.

Tearing his eyes from his daughter’s teacher (christ, Eddie really was a horny bastard, this was in no way okay), he pulled his phone from his pocket in an effort to provide himself a distraction.

“Ahem.”

Eddie’s gaze shot up from his phone screen, realizing shamefully that your eyes were trained on him, catching him red-handed in the middle of using his phone in class (which was funny, since he technically wasn’t ‘in class’, just in a classroom). Still, that didn’t seem to make a difference to you as you raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to do anything other than slip that phone back into his pocket. Trapped under your authoritative glare, Eddie gulped, cock twitching slightly as he slid the phone back into the pocket of his charcoal jeans. 

The moment your eyes left him, you were back to wide smiles that crinkled around your lashes, clapping along with the kids who already adored you, even though you technically wouldn’t be their teacher until next week. It didn’t matter- they were infatuated with you, a sentiment that Eddie could understand completely. 

When Eddie stepped up to shake your hand on the way out of your classroom that evening, his heart had leapt at the look that you gave him- one eyebrow raised, the corner of your lipsticked mouth clipping up in a wry, knowing smile. 

Just like you’d done for every child before they left your classroom that day, you first crouched down until your eyes were level with Raven’s and asked if she would prefer a hug or a high five. Unsurprisingly, the little firecracker had responded by simply throwing her arms around your neck, clinging to you with the reckless abandon and generous trust that only a five-year-old could give so freely. When you stood to shake Eddie’s hand, he had to bite back a what, I don’t get to pick a hug or high five? 

“Raven,” you said, voice still lifted with excitable inflection that would make any little ankle biter’s ears perk up like a doberman’s. “I can already tell you’re an excellent student. Do you think you can help your daddy remember all of the things we talked about today?” 

Raven’s eyes lit up, and her wispy curls shook as she nodded her head in agreement. “Uh-huh!”

Eddie gave his daughter’s hand a squeeze and nudged her lightly with his knee. “Yes ma’am.” he prompted, and it was echoed in her tiny, polite voice upon hearing his reminder. 

Your eyes flicked up to his, approval in your gaze dancing with the teasing sarcasm in your smile. “Excellent manners.” you praised, and Eddie wasn’t sure if you were talking to him or to his daughter. Either was fine with him. 

You took his hand in yours, shook it all-businesslike with a polite “Nice to meet you, Mr. Munson.” and before Eddie knew it, he was out the door. However, his mind was still on the cherry-red shine of your hair. The crimson varnish on your nails. The sweetheart neckline of your fifties-style dress, and how when you crouched down and he stayed standing he could see the top of a black lace bra underneath. 

Good god, he was a pervert.

It was all he could think about on the way home, all he could think about while Raven watched one of those Minions movies for the twentieth time before bed. All he could think about after he’d tucked her in, kissed her goodnight, and retreated to his own bedroom to think about you while he touched himself. 

Eddie was old-fashioned- he didn’t need porn. His imagination was a talented machine, fine-tuned after decades of dreaming up campaigns and writing songs. When he laid down on his mattress, it didn’t take long for him to conjure up the image of you there with him, climbing onto his lap, hiking up that black and white polka dotted dress until he could see the tattoos that he imagined must decorate your thighs. 

He spat into his hand, sighing as he felt the slick coat his cock with each pass of his hand. He applied the most pressure with his thumb, flicking it over that ridge beneath the head that felt fucking phenomenal when touched the way he liked. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine your red-painted nails slipping over the head of his cock, tongue poking out to kitten-lick the very tip while you looked at him with big, bright, forbidden eyes.

Your crimson-stained lips, shiny with spit, would envelop him warmly, causing him to groan ecstatically as his hips bucked into your mouth. His cock, fully hard and throbbing, would slide down your throat as you shoved your lips- no, as Eddie shoved your lips further and further down his shaft until your nose smushed against the hair at his groin. His hand would span across the back of your head, pushing you down and holding you there until you gagged around him, and God, that would feel so good, your desperate swallowing around his throbbing dick and the noises you would make- what noises would you make?

He imagined your voice as he fisted his cock, wove melodies of moans in his head that he could pull from your mouth. Would they be deep? Guttural? Or would you be the kind of moaner that whimpered at the highest register you had? Would you be loud, so loud that the neighbors would hear- either that, or he would just have to gag you. Slap his hand over your mouth. Stuff your panties between your lips (which he was sure were black lace to match your bra). Or would you be more assertive, quick to put Eddie in his place like you did today when he’d taken out his phone?

Which did he want to call you: baby? Or ma’am? He imagined trying both out on you while he was balls-deep in your wet little pussy, and thought about which word would make you squeeze him tighter. 

God, Eddie was so fucking horny. It had been so long since he’d cum inside anything that wasn’t his own hand. He thought about whether or not it would be inappropriate to text the cell phone number you’d provided in the email you’d sent out to the parents/guardians of your class. What would he even say? 

Evening, miss. Was nice to meet you tonight. Feel like grabbing a drink? 

Could he? Would that be appropriate?

He got harder just thinking about it. It definitely would not be appropriate… but what if you said yes anyway? What if you actually agreed to see him? What if you both hit it off? What if you actually did come back to his place with him, let him slide his hand around your waist, hold you close enough to smell the perfume on your neck? Let him see that lacy bra in all its glory?

The fantasy of an evening played out in his mind’s eye: Eddie would pick you up at your house, and you would answer the door wearing a cherry-colored dress that hugged your curves, painting you red to match your hair, your nails, and the angry shade of his cock. In the car, his fingers would brush the skin of your thigh, tracing the inked designs that lived there as you answered his questions about what you liked, what you didn’t, what you wanted or hated. Your hand would snake over to his thigh in turn, trace the seam of his black jeans- the ones that hugged his legs in all the right places- and the sensation would get him hard on the spot, right there in his car. 

Would you be scared away by that? By how quickly you turned him on, drove him nuts. Or would it turn you on too, making you sigh, a rumble through your chest as he felt your delicate, red-tipped fingers brush his hardening cock through the tightening fabric. Would you unbuckle his belt? Unbutton his pants? Unzip his fly and free his throbbing dick into the cool night air, only to shock him with the warm, wet feel of your mouth while he continued to cruise down a Hawkins country road?

Eddie groaned, feeling his release creep up on him. Closer and closer he drew, and with every stroke of his cock he succumbed further into his hazy vision of you. Now you were back in bed with him, naked and bouncing on his cock. You were rubbing your clit as you moved your hot, wet pussy up and down his shaft, leaving milky white wet in your wake. In his fantasy, you were arching your back, moaning as he thrust himself into you at a pace that hit places within you that made you cry out his name. 

His movements were getting faster, his grip growing tighter as it slipped over his cock at a speed that he knew would result in a sore arm tomorrow but he didn’t care- his release would be worth it. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, imagining your knees quivering as you made yourself cum on his cock. Imagining your body convulsing under waves of pleasure, your thighs threatening to close against his strong hands holding them open. You would moan and mewl and chant his name, and conjuring up the sound of his name as it left your lips was what did it for Eddie.

Heavy, white ropes of cum dripped over his knuckles, painting his stomach and sliding over the shining crevices of his rings. He stroked himself slower, coming down from his release with a shuddering sigh. 

It only took a few moments for the fact that he just jacked off to the thought of his daughter’s kindergarten teacher to sink in. 

Eddie didn’t feel… creepy… but he could tell there was a definite line he’d crossed somewhere. However, he was tired, and decided that he would deal with the moral implications tomorrow. 

***

The next time Eddie saw you, you were working the car line after school. He’d taken note of the Metallica shirt you were wearing, and rolled down his window, turning up the volume on his stereo. He watched as your smile broadened when you recognized For Whom the Bell Tolls. 

“Here for Raven?” You’d asked with a lopsided grin. Your voice was just as sweet as he remembered.

“Yep,” he’d replied, nodding to your t-shirt, “but if you want to keep her for a few more hours, I think I just decided I trust you with my kid even more than I did before.”

You grinned, showing all of your teeth this time. “She’s a cool kid.” you paused, as if debating whether to finish your sentence. “...I can see where she gets it.”

Eddie beamed, his smirk reaching up to the crow’s feet at his eyes. “You think I’m cool?”

You matched him, smirk for smirk, going as far as to lean your forearms onto the passenger side window sill. “You carry yourself like someone who knows they’re cool.”

Eddie stared at you for a moment, debating for an entirely too-short length of time whether or not he should shoot his shot. 

Fuck it. 

“Cool enough to buy you a drink sometime?”

[loveswrites]

Something with the Volturi, literally can be anything.

Poly Volturi x Reader

Time

Time it took me: 2 hours and 2 minutes

Word count: 1839 words

To anon~ Hello lovely! I hope you liked it, I did! I was excited seeing your request for something with the volturi. I just couldn't wait to write it. Let me know if you want more like this! <3

The arms around you wrapped onto you tightly. The music in your headphones was blasting a little too loud but you didn’t mind. You're basically in heaven right now. You felt the energy around you change and the tempo of Caius leg bouncing change. This let you know immediately that something was wrong. Taking off your headphones while opening your eyes that were previously closed, you were faced with Caius red eyes staring straight ahead with a deadly glare. Different from the one that was always on his face. You had taken your headphones off just in time to hear the end of the growls that were coming from your other mates.

You were currently sitting on Caius’s lap who was sitting in his throne. You were the only one who was allowed up here like this of course. It’s not like you hadn’t fought for this spot. All of your mates and all of the kings were considered for your safety as “We have a lot of enemies.” But you assured them that you would always be safe with them all in the room. So you were then granted permission to sit with the kings in the throne room during trails. Which didn’t matter cause you knew you were going to be in there anyways. You 're the future queen for heaven's sake.  

“You keep your mouth shut about things that have nothing to do with you.” Caius growled out. Sending waves of vibrations through his body making you shiver. You always liked the way he would growl when he was mad. It made you feel some type of way if you know what I mean. 

“I-Her music is very distracting! I can’t concentrate on the words coming out of my mouth!” The scared vampire kneeling stuttered out making you tear your eyes away from caius. You could stare at him all day if you could.  

The vampire looked terrified. He was shaking, his clothes were wet. You wondered if Felix and Demetri had to chase him through a lake or something as they were also wet. The two were holding him down to kneel in front of the kings as he tried to run away once already. You knew he was guilty of his crimes. You could smell it. And so could everyone else. 

“You wouldn’t have to think about anything if you weren't lying.” You stated, making all eyes turn to you. The kings had always preferred you to be silent so no unnecessary attention was drawn to you. You never listened. I don’t think they ever expected you to either. You’d always randomly laugh during trails. Or sing random words from songs that were stuck in your head. Or throw out random compliments to your mates or the other kings.

“I-I’m not lying I’m telling the truth!” He said, stuttering.

 Swinging your feet you stared at the vampire tilting your head you simply said. “Was that also a lie? You know after all these years of living or dying, Whatever you call it. I’d think you would’ve mastered the art of lying.”

Your comment brung a evil smile to Caius' face. His eyes were full of adoration 24/7 whenever he looked at you. 

“The level of the future queen's music should be of no concern to you.” Aro said, turning his head back to the Vampire. They always took pride in calling you their queen. Seeing that you were still human kinda shocked you but I guess there's an exception for mates.

“Mia cara, put your contraption back on and relax please.” Marcus said softly. You knowing exactly what was about to happen. You put your headphones back on. Turning the volume back up you closed your eyes and relaxed in Caius' grip. You felt Caius drawing patterns on your leg and his bouncing went back to normal. Kinda putting you in a rocking motion. You were very relaxed. You felt safer than ever. Somehow you fell asleep because when you woke up next you weren't in the throne room. Confusion ran across your face until realization came across you and you remembered that this was Jane’s room.

“Finally you're awake. You slept for hours.” Jane said, making you roll over to face her. Her face sparkled a little as some sun was coming through her balcony. You always loved watching her sparkle. You always teased her about being the bright star on earth. She’d always tell you to stop but you swear if she could she’d blush and be as red as a tomato all the time.

“You missed me?” You smiled up at her.

“Of course not you were right here this whole time. How could I possibly miss you?” Jane said with a straight face but couldn’t help herself with stroking the side of your waist. All of your mates had a favorite spot on your body they just looked to touch. It’s like you were just a stress ball for them. Made for them to grip, rub, bite etc. You loved it.

“But you stayed and watched me sleep? That sounds like fan behavior to me.” You stated softly dragging your fingers against her cheek. She leaned into your hand telling you she loved it. 

Jane was the hardest out of all your mates when it came to physical touch. You thought Caius would be the hardest to get to seeing as his awful hate to humans. But you're convinced that Jane’s is 10x worse. Rightfully so as her past with Humans wasn’t so good.

“I couldn’t just leave you alone.” She softly said with her eyes closed. She relaxed in your touch bringing a bigger smile to your face.

“Why not? Scared someone would come in here and snatch me away?” You giggled. Making her snap her eyes open bringing you to a halt with everything you were doing. Including breathing. 

“If someone dared to lay a hand on you I’d kill them all. Everyone, no hesitation.” Jane said sternly. Her piercing red eyes would scare any normal person, but with her words and lovely eyes you knew damn well you weren’t normal. Because with all of those things combined you felt Loved.  

“I know you would but I’m okay so you can relax, pretty girl.” 

“I am relaxed.” She said, You shook your head and brought her in for a kiss. Just a soft reassuring kiss. 

Jane responded to the kiss by pulling you closer to her by your hair deepening the kiss. It was a little aggressive but you knew that she was being gentle. She and Caius had a hard time being gentle but you loved them nonetheless. A few minutes into a kiss that was supposed to last only for a few seconds a knock was heard on the door.

You pulled away getting off her lap which was where she pulled you to a minute after the kiss got deepened. Making Jane huff in protest. 

“Brother, go away!” She only but slightly raised her voice knowing he could hear her.

“Sister it is now my turn, You said when she awakened I could spend time with her. She’s awake, I hear her.” Alec’s voice mumbled through the door.

Kissing Jane on her nose you smiled at her getting up from the bed.

 “I’ll be back later.” 

“But-”

 “You're the one who told him he could spend time with me after I had awakened, I didn’t agree to that. I’m only keeping your word, My pretty girl.” You smiled seeing her face which you knew she was flustered but also annoyed. The moment you opened the door you were snatched up by multiple hands making you squeal out in surprise. Wind rushed through your hair and hit your face. The world was blurry around you. It made you sick. You closed your eyes tightly in attempts to help with the splitting headache that you knew was on the express train to your head.

Finally you were put down on your two feet so suddenly making you stumble and hold your head. You already knew what was happening. You were being ambushed by Alec, Felix and Demitri. Your other mates. They liked to just grab you and run away no matter how many times you told them that their speed made you feel sick. They would always get cocky with themselves after you said it, so you stopped.

“What the hell again?!” You yelled out the moment you could hold yourself up without swaying side to side. All you got in response was chuckles and laughs from your lovers.

“I swear you guys may be older than the sun but you fucking act like you where born yesterday! How many times do I have to tell you that that shit makes me feel sick! My human shit can’t handle that! One of these days I’m gonna throw up on all of you and I’m not going to feel bad!” You ranted on holding your head as you felt the headache you were talking about earlier come on. 

“I’m sorry La mia bella ragazza.” Demitri said softly, coming up to you to wrap you around in his arms. He kissed your forehead in an attempt to make you feel better. You mumbled a few cuss words into his chest making him laugh softly.

“I know I know, we just wanted to try and spend some time with you before Caius came back from feeding.” Demitri said.

“We didn’t think you would sleep the whole day away in Jane’s room. It’s almost like you like her more than us or something.” Felix said. Even with your face hidden you knew that that 6 '7 teddy bear was pouting about you sleeping too long with someone else that wasn’t him. 

“Cauis said he wanted to capture you in your true beauty when he was done feeding. So with that information we knew you’d be gone for the rest of the day tucked away with the king.” Alec said coming up to you behind your back. Your face was still in Demetris' chest as Alec wrapped his arms around you from behind so he could kiss your neck softly. You let out a soft moan in response. 

Felix seeing this he came up to the on space that was available. With both sides of your neck now being kissed you had no choice but to keep your eyes closed and let out small whimpers. You were surrounded by three pieces of your heart. You felt nothing but happiness and joy right now. You can’t even remember what your life was like without them. Your lovers. You always felt safe. You never had to question if you were loved. They would always show it without you even asking. What more could you ask for?

“Mia cara! Where are you? I had that horrible excuse of a receptionist gather more paint for us now, come!” You heard Caius yell out.

Except more time.

[pep-rambles]

Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely  Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though 

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor,  Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it 

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW) 

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

        -Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now. 

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine. 

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers. 

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny) 

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song 

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

[crushedsweets]

spare me a fantasy crumb??.. i know they’re from marble hornets but Tim and Brian??

maybe as some sort of prophets???

oh my god finally i actually did it. i was fighting for my LIIIFE to finally draw these two. anyway ok yall know the drill i will ramble now

let me clarify that so many characters(including those who have nothing to do with her in canon) are deeply connected to Jane bc 1. she's the princess/queen 2. i need someone to connect the story 3. she's pretty and deserves to be the mc

ok so tims a knight. he climbs up the ranks despite wavering loyalty to the king and queen. he's prob like 40 something in this and watched princess jane grow up. im debating between him going rogue after jeffs attack, or if he has stronger loyalty towards jane since. yk. hes been protecting her since she was a baby and now she's so young and lost her parents and has an entire kingdom on her shoulders now.

regardless, he's always been doing shady shit as a knight, but he was always smart and strong and held up a great image to the public n the royals. decent guy

NOW BRIAN IS MORE FUN TO ME . he was an executioner. i have no real reasoning for this aside from the mask felt very very fitting. i was thinking id put him as an executioner under janes parents, since they'd be more cruel than her, But jane disassembles that bc its freaky and puts him as a knight, getting trained under tim.

although . . you mentioned prophets and i like that idea. maybe smth smth he was an executioner who always had these weird visions and stuff while chopping off heads. and he went to king n queen rambling shit and stuff. and they tell him to shut the fuck up but JANE LISTENED and REMEMBERED and went to him after her parents death and he got put into a brand new weird position. although, i cant really think of a reason Why jane would remember/care if he was just giving prophecies from the operator or something... maybe the operator was the one who got into jeffs head to lead the attack so brian said smth? idk.

maybe ill just make him an executioner prophet turned knight prophet. and obv the prophecies are on behalf of the operator. but jane would follow slender..SO WHO KNOWS

regardless u implanted a very wise thought into my head. im fond of this. thank uuuu

[varpusvaras]

I've had a headcanon for a while that Breha and Fox are really into the romance genre - like, in a way that if the book/show/movie is good, they enjoy it as a good piece of media, and otherwise, they read or watch things together and have fun with it. Bail is...not so much into this, as much as he can also enjoy a good piece of media, but the second part of the experience is kind of lost to him.

He will listen to Breha and Fox talk about them and tries to guess what is going on in any given book/show based only on what they tell him.

(If he is actually a bit invested. Shh. No he isn't. No, he's not watching this- alright, fine, you menaces)

So, there's this relatively new show. It started a bit before the war, and gained a lot of popularity then, and when the show was put on hiatus because of the war, the fans were impatiently awaiting for more. The show is about mostly fictional planets and their high-society, royals and nobility.

Breha and Fox watch the part of the show that came out before the war, and make Bail watch with them as well (Bail watches, because they are asking and he wants to spend time with them, and, hey. He likes looking at them when they are happy and joking around). Then, some time after, the show announces that it will be coming back with new episodes!

The episodes start releasing. Breha and Fox watch them, and make Bail watch them as well (no, he isn't invested at all-). One week, there's a new character introduced. A Princess, who is going to become a Queen soon. She is from a very old and rich planet, that does arts and peace and nature. Breha says that it reminds her of Alderaan a bit, perhaps they have taken some inspiration.

One episode, the Princess meets a nobleman, who is very politically idealistic and believes in equity, and is striving for making the galaxy a more peaceful and unified place. The actor is very tall.

Fox jokes that they kinda remind him of Breha and Bail. Breha laughs. Bail squints his eyes at the screen.

The Princess becomes a Queen, while becoming increasingly close with the nobleman. Then, one week, they introduce another new character. A former soldier, who has now returned from the war, and the Queen and the nobleman meet him when they are in an event, discussing how to make more peaceful solutions.

Bail frowns at the screen. The actor is not a clone, but looks very much like one, with his tanned skin and dark, curly hair.

Fox looks at the character as well.

"Oh", he says.

"Oh", Breha says as well. "I do think...that they have taken inspiration from close by."

You don't say, Bail thinks.

He's not super stoked about this development, but at least the two other actors do not resemble him and Breha too much. He can...sort of understand the choice of casting someone who looks kind of like the clones into the role of the soldier. It's commentary. Easy to understand. It's....fine. They are just drawing inspiration from their overall dynamic, nothing more. There's nothing else that seems too recent.

Then Bail goes for work to Coruscant, and gives statements regarding his views on the clone rights, the war, and his relationship with the clones and how, even though he cannot claim himself to be a part of their culture, he and Breha and Alderaan as a whole have tied themselves into it and consider it to be a part of their culture as well.

It's a good statement. Bail is proud of it and the reaction it causes. The way Fox and Breha look at him after is the best reward he could possibly ask for.

Then, a few weeks later, a new episode comes out. The nobleman gives a speech about the war and cultures and how he relates to them. It's very much the statement Bail gave, but just reworded to fit the world of the show.

Oh, Bail thinks. Oh, it is on.

Bail decides to have his own fun. He starts to make very showy gestures to Breha and Fox in public. They know immediately what he is doing, and go along with it.

Some of the things he did end up in the show. Bail can deduce from what those things are when whoever it is who is gathering material is present.

Bail knows the press. He knows how they dress, he knows how they operate. Once he knows where to look, it is very easy to spot them.

It's a rare occasion that both Breha and Fox are accompanying him to Coruscant. Bail is playing it up, until he notices the person who is very much not press but who is very much recording and making notes, when Bail is not even saying anything to any of the people surrounding them.

Bail turns to look straight towards the camera.

He person holding it stiffens, but doesn't turn away instantly. Not so easily intimidated, then. Bail can respect that at least.

Bail continues to stare at the camera, not saying anything. Just staring. Fox and Breha have caught on to what he is doing by then, and they are trying their best not to burst out laughing.

Bail continues to stare at the camera. He has stared down bounty hunters, separatists, assassins, the sith. He can do this all day.

Finally, the camera turns away. Bail smiles, and clims into their speeder with Breha and Fox.

As soon as the doors are closed and the speeder starts moving, Breha and Fox lose it. They cannot stop laughing the whole way, and are barely able to contain it once they arrive to the Senate.

Unsurprisingly, at least for some, the plotline of the three characters in the show starts to steer to entirely new directions in the very next episode.

[basmentdwealer]

Ok ok listen

What if.... TADC Swap AU but a bit different?

Ok so Pomni arrives at the digital circus so much more earlier than the current cast, even Kinger. Pomni acts just like how she did in the pilot, trying to find the exit at first. She made friends with the past cast and tries to find the exit for all of them but as time goes on, they all started to abstract... one by one.

Pomni is the last remaining person there, along with their ringmaster (not Caine in this AU). The ringmaster then says something about failing their job and turns to Pomni, asking her to hold out her hand. They then get teleported to THE VOID and the ringmaster tells Pomni she's the new ringmaster now and some weird as code thing happens and the old ringmaster just disappears in a cloud of codes.

Pomni after going over the fact she's now the new ringmaster fell into a trance like state and hears a voice. As she wakes up, she doesn’t remember much of the encounter, just the commands she heard. This type of encounter keeps happening until the first ever person came into the digital circus after what seems like years. During these encounters, Pomni after she realized she was the ringmaster and have all of these new abilities, tries to make an exit. After multiple tries, she just gave up. She couldn't keep doing this since she was still technically a "person" so with all the emotional distress she was experiencing, she was also abstracting. See, being a ringmaster also gives you a type of defense system so while she is abstracting, she can't exactly fully abstract so she was stuck with basically 30% of her body abstracted. She feels some spikes of pain from time to time but it doesn't hurt as much as the time she almost abstract before all of this.

Years after dealing with the abstraction and cleaning up the circus and giving it a much needed redesign (as the voice had said to do so), a new person arrived. Kinger and his beloved queen, Queenie has popped into the digital circus. Pomni seeing this put on her performer voice introduced herself and explained everything that had happened. This cycle continued on and on until the newest MEMBERS came, Caine and his pal, Bubbles.

So a rundown on the swapped aspect of this whole au issssssss

Pomni and Caine have switched ROLES, not personalities. Though Pomni acts a bit like Caine when doing the adventures and everything (but not to the extreme like Caine either)

The rest of the cast has swapped personalities

Ragatha acts more in a way where she doesn't care for anyone and is less like the caring doll she was.

Jax is more shy and sweeter. He tries to help anyone in need (god that'll be weird to write about and draw)

Zooble gladly joins in any type of activities and adventures Pomni makes. (There'll probably be more but I can't think of anything right now)

Gangle is happy all the time but she does act like a people pleaser to the point where she doesn't care for herself anymore, always putting people first before her.

Kinger is more confident but after losing Queenie, he acts a bit mean and has a but of a short temper. He still like bugs so the cast will give him insects as a way to apologize.

Caine is the jester now with his pal Bubbles as the uhhhhh jack of all trades? Bubbles can do anything if they feel like it.

And Kaufmo? Yeah no he still abstracts when Caine is introduced into the world. (Poor guy)

This AU will mostly be mainly focused on Caine and Pomni but the rest of the cast will still have their own stories (if I can think of any)

Also JesterDoll of course. They're pretty open about their relationship.

I hope y'all like this AU idea I had swimming around my head seeing just two fanarts of a swap au lol

[aioliravioli-69]

Yo, I am so sick of this drawing, I just wanna post it to get rid of it lol

Happy Mermay!!

yeah, yeah, listen.

I HAD to do a Mermaid au. Technically I already did, but!

This time: I didn't have the motivation to draw Chase as one😎

I might continue with sketches of the mermaid au, but for this picture specifically I had a story planned out(you can skip this if you don't wanna hear me ramble lmao):

Chase had promised Deacon at least one book of his choosing for a reason I'm still searching for(his birthday/seeing the stress he's being put under and wanting to cheer him up without thinking it through) and after a lot of back and forth they decide to enter a book who's heroine is a hybrid mermaid princess who's kingdom was attacked by the evil and villainous siren clan. The mermaid decides to join the first pirate crew she sees and falls in love with the captain(because of course she does) and out of the kindness of his stoic heart the captain decides to help this fair maiden out.

If it sounds bad: good, I wanted to make it as clichée as possible

The mermaid princess has like a magic piece of jewelry that lets her transform between human and mermaid whenever and like 50% of the time she is somewhere underwater, perfect for Chase.

The other 50% she's being smooched up by the captian

This scene specifically was supposed to be kind of like an interrogation scene?

Buddy, either the siren queen or princess is hauled onto deck during/after an attack, maybe while the rest of the kingdom flees the queen is snatched up and spends three days and nights on deck in a goddamn barrel

Imagine the muscles cramps💀

[slutforreginageorge]

Rejanis headcannons :)

Janis hates talking about her feeling (Trauma, mental illness etc.) doing it over text and afterward not talking about it in person is just fine, she just hates doing it in Person.

Regina is kind of the same she just is fine with talking about it in person afterwards. She does not force Janis to do the same, she just wants to talk about it in person at some point and Janis knows that.

They both love horror movies but while Regina loves psychological horror, Janis loves comedy horror

They traumatized Damian on way too many occasions

Sometimes Regina does not know when to stop making fun of Janis’s height, so Janis will actually get annoyed or sometimes even mad at her. Regina will make it up to her

They take care of each other when Janis is sick or has bad period cramps or when Reginas back is acting up

Janis still has the beanie baby and rainbow pin, but she wanted to burn both after her fall out with Regina

They competent with Fetchen for prom queens in senior year (Reginas was one step away from making fake votes for her and Janis)

Janis love language is to bite, with a hint of physical touch and acts of service

Reginas are acts of service and with Janis only physical touch (when Gretchen, Karen are sad or it’s a VERY special occasion she will let them hug her or she will hug them as well)

Regina always acts like she hates Janis’s biting when in reality she loves it

They listen to Billie Eilish and Chappell Roan together (They have made out while listening to them and we all know it)

Mrs. George did make a TikTok post about Regina and Janis listening to LUNCH by Billie Eilish (my daughter and her girlfriend have been listening to this song for the last 30 minutes) on which Damian commented, that she would leave the House as soon as possible.

Janis teaches Kylie how to draw and paint. Regina can’t help but think about their future and Janis doing the same with their kids

Nether of them are really a small or big spoon they just switch positions depending on their current mood

Janis also boxes affectionally, especially Damian in the stomach or hands

Regina has a thing for Janis’s secret surprise arm muscles and abs (Janis did gymnastics for sometime as a kind and every now and then she likes to do it when she has free time or needs to get out of her head for a bit, that happens only when she has really no idea what to paint. Every now and then she plays badminton with friends)

First post :))

Please don’t look at/mind my grammar English is not my first language and I am dyslexic

Feed back is always welcomed

[c-rose2081]

Dragon’s Flight (Dragon AU)

This wasn’t what Mal was ever expecting to find. She had to change herself a lot for Ben. He never asked her to, but she couldn’t ever be what she wanted while standing beside him. The Kingdom would never accept her and she couldn’t have it both ways. Despite all that had happened, despite all the change they’d made for the better, she wasn’t the same girl as before and couldn’t ever be while standing as Ben’s queen. Mal was willing to change because she loved him, she would always love Ben (who didn’t?). Yet there was a part of her that found it cruel, demeaning, and against her instincts to be something she wasn’t.

But up here, away from Auradon and Ben, free of the burdens of her life and the chains that came with humanity, there was immense beauty. And with Audrey of all people? It seemed so far fetched. Yet there was a beauty to her too, her pale pink hide shimmering like a million diamonds in the dying light of a bleeding afternoon. Mal’s heart swelled, watching a once burdened Princess dance on her updraft, having spent months after her curse alone in the wilderness, exploring a forgotten part of herself that Mal could only dream of finding. Her angelic birdsong—more animal than human—echoed on the breeze, bouncing off the walls of the Aurorian Valley. The Princess of this place truly belonged amongst these trees, far more than she ever did stuck within marble walls or behind gilded bars.

Audrey was more dragon than royalty. She was more dragon than Mal. And that made her simply breathtaking.

—

—

Dragon girls! It’s officially Maldrey now, sorry not sorry. I really wanted to draw this scene. It’s been nagging at the back of my mind for a while.

Audrey wasn’t able to return home after becoming a dragon, so she’s been living in the woods, getting in touch with this new part of herself and losing more and more of her humanity every day.

Mal is opposite, having spent so much time trying to surpress her dragon except for emergencies that she doesn’t really know how to listen to her instincts or what it means to be a dragon. As kin of the same breed they are naturally pulled together despite their previous animosity, as dragons cannot be solitary and need a mate.